When I received my Intuos5 in 2012, I expected it to turn me into a drawing grand master with all the cool extra functions it had.
I was a bit disappointed to find out that it drew exactly like my old Bamboo, except the pen was nicer to hold. Since then, I’ve tried not to throw more money at Wacom
than I absolutely have to.
I’m currently using a medium Wacom ONE, which is Wacom’s cheapest tablet. The pressure sensitivity is great, and it draws
perfectly well. However, it’s less comfortable to use compared to my
previous Wacom tablets. Since I do use the tablet for hours every day I decided
to do a bit of DIY!
Changing the nib
The Wacom tablet pen comes with the default
plastic nib which works but I like the other nibs better.
I found that the white-tipped flex nibs are
nice for smooth, worn out tablet surfaces. I used them a lot last year when I did
Nowadays, I spend a lot of time sketching and
doing detailed lineart on the computer. I find the grey felt tips more suited for
this task, for they provide a more pencil-like texture.
The nibs used to be marketed as only compatible with
professional range tablets. Honestly, though, they work with any cheap Wacom
tablet! I’ve tried these nibs on my old Bamboo Pen and Intuos Draw and they fit
Protecting the surface with Bristol Board
Ever since I started working on my comic in
2015, I spend around 3 hours using my tablet every day. I managed to create a
smooth shiny bald patch on this tablet in a month.
I couldn’t find any good surface protectors
on the internet so I experimented with different types of papers.
So far, my favourite is the Bristol Board.
It has an extremely fine paper texture that comes pretty close to the original
surface texture of the tablet.
he’s done and it’s turned out nicer than expected!!!! if I look at it too long I start to see faults but on the whole he’s looking cute! I drew it first in pencil, then on another bit of paper using a light box and watercolours I added in the colours, then put them together on photoshop.
drawn from a pic from this post of @endeavourfiles ‘s. if by chance you want to creep through some of my other art it’s here!
Practicing with less lineart, more painty, and a nice brush!! It turned out a lot nicer than expected…
Rem’s outfit is simultaneously both more and less frilly than it looks. Like, the placement and shapes give off the feeling of frilliness without being obnoxious like straight-up ruffles, which lets them cram in even more of it. It’s honestly one of the nicest maid outfits I’ve seen
title: you make my heart smile fandom: haikyuu!! pairing: yamayachi summary: yachi and yamaguchi and the moments they share, just the two of them. or, have we basically already been dating all this time before we’ve even actually officially dated: the fic.
Hitoka places the last octopus-shaped sausage into the bento, and then leans back to admire her handiwork. She thinks she’s improving on the cooking. Yamaguchi has been giving her tips, but she’s still getting the hang of it.
Mondays are the only days of the week when Hinata and Kageyama are allowed to use the gym for extra practice during their lunch break. She usually eats with them, along with Yamaguchi and Tsukishima, trying to force a little studying in them so they won’t have to close calls with supplementary lessons again. Tsukishima always managed to have some excuse to disappear on Mondays, too, though Hitoka can never remember why. First it was running a teacher’s errand and then it was extra studying at the library, but (and Hitoka feels a little mean thinking this) Tsukishima doesn’t really have any other friends, so Hitoka isn’t sure where he disappears to.
So Monday lunch breaks are for Yamaguchi and Hitoka alone. And that’s just fine with Hitoka.
They’ve taken to sharing lunches, since they both make their own. It’s pretty fun to do, thinking up recipes and surprising the other with the designs. Yamaguchi doesn’t have the same eye for aesthetics as Hitoka does, but he can make a mean tamagoyaki. Hitoka finds herself looking forwards to Mondays.
Hitoka likes eating with the other first years in the volleyball club, but she likes the lunch breaks with just Yamaguchi, too.
frantic use of illusions plus a tight bra because he used to try to bind and it hurt too badly, especially with his scars
liliana knows, jace is super afraid she’s going to tell the rest of the gatewatch and they’ll hate him
sometimes he worries that it’s all because he screwed with his head one too many times
of course eventually they find out
Nissa is like “well that’s who you are, of course it’s fine”
Chandra is just like “I am so confused as to why this would matter”
Gideon goes out of his way to be supportive and ask Jace if he needs anything and reassure him that of course this isn’t something wrong with him, why would he even think that
Ral immediately starts researching biology and sneaking around Simic labs, even though he doesn’t have an expertise in the area, because Jace, as the Guildpact, doesn’t think he can just go to the Simic himself
Bonus college AU: the Gatewatch at a beach party and Jace is refusing to undress until everyone finally just gives up and is like “okay, so he hates fun”. Liliana gives him this smirk, and Ral, who is, if anything else, not an idiot, is like “do you want me to punch her dude”? and is like “I don’t like swimming either, let’s go stare at tide pools instead.” And Jace hasn’t paid a lot of attention to Gideon’s roommate until now but the two of them get really into SCIENCE and ECOLOGY together and there’s gonna be a kiss but Jace freaks out and finally comes out to Ral via text later in the evening and Ral is like dude I do not give a fuck, I literally could not give less of a fuck if I tried and again there’s all sorts of supportiveness and general people being nice to Jace because he totally deserves it.
-Alm is a sweet boy and the dorkiest FE protag yet
-Clair is nicer than I expected her to be
-Faye has less personality than I had hoped but I’m still holding out on her and she makes a good cleric
-Kliff is a terrifying mage and I love it
-Dungeons are fun and I love them
-Mila’s turn wheel is saving me from the misery of chapter resets, amen (I’ve only used it on one map so far but I’m glad it exists)
all in all I’m really enjoying Echoes so far! gameplay-wise, it’s definitely shaping up to be more fun than Awakening and Fates imo. I can’t speak too much for the characters yet, but I’m fond of them.
I Believe This May Call for a Proper Introduction (Part One)
Title: I Believe This May Call for a Proper Introduction
Summary: You’re working at a record store, when some guy who won’t take off his sunglasses comes in, browses through the entire store, then leaves without buying a single thing. Rinse and repeat.
You’re going to kill them. That’s it, it’s that simple. You’re going to kill them, and you’re going to go to jail, and you can’t even find it in yourself to be upset.
It’s not that you hate hipsters or anything. That’s not it at all. You’ve never been a music purist, never thought, hey, this album is new, it shouldn’t be on vinyl, because yes it should. Everything should be on vinyl, vinyl sounds really cool.
The problem with the pair of teens in the corner is that they’re not /buying/ anything. And you wouldn’t mind that either, because Lord knows you’ve gone to your fair share of stores to browse and not buy anything. But not only are these two not buying anything, they’re laughing loudly and making noise and you’ve already had three customers walk in, take one look at them, and walk out. But you aren’t allowed to ask that they leave, even if you do it respectfully, even if they’ve been there an hour and are doing nothing more than driving customers away. They’re stuck there, and you’re stuck behind the counter chewing your gum that’s long since lost its flavor and cursing the owner of the tiny record store as loudly as you can in your head.
The bell above the door rings, and you know it’s not because the two teenagers have left, because they’re still being obnoxious in the corner. You wait for the bell to ring, for whoever it is to turn around and walk back out, but they don’t. You look up, interest officially piqued by this newcomer, and almost give up on him being any better.
You try not to judge people without getting to know them. It’s just not the kind of person you are. But this guy is wearing skinny jeans, a shirt for a band that not even you have heard of, and a leather jacket. Plus, he doesn’t bother to take his sunglasses off. He just leaves them on as he flicks through the records.
The problem with vinyls, you think idly, is that the most ample supply is the newest music, because nobody wants to part with the old ones. And someone dressed like the douchiest brand of hipster is not about to want one of the mainstream records that you’ve got plenty of. The apparent boredom on the part of his face you can see confirms this, so if you wrote it down you’d have scientific proof.
You don’t watch him as he moves through the aisles. You don’t. You’re making a point of it. You’ve got your eyes locked on the pages of your comic, and you don’t care if he buys anything. Don’t care if the two in the corner buy anything. You’ve given up caring about anything going on in this store.
“Hey, man, fuck off,” one of the teens in the corner snaps suddenly. Shades has made his way over to them, and is still flipping through records, the same bored expression on his face, but the Tweedles have matching looks of anger on theirs. You silently root for Shades, because if he pisses the Tweedles off enough then they’ll leave and you can maybe salvage your commission for the day.
Shades says something in response, but he’s too soft-spoken for you to catch it. Whatever it is, it makes the Tweedles even angrier, before one of them takes the other’s arm and they stalk out of the shop, bell twinkling merrily after them. The juxtaposition makes you want to laugh.
Shades resumes his slow meandering through the shelves, and you return your attention to your book. You could (should) probably be using your free time to do some of your coursework; you’ve got a midterm in two weeks for a class in which, in spite of your best efforts (really), everything just goes straight over your head. But you kind of, sort of, have an illicit love affair with BPRD Hell on Earth, and that’s much more important than a midterm for a class you’re almost certainly going to fail.
Towards the end of the chapter, Shades comes to stand in front of you on the other side of the counter. He’s empty-handed, but since he got the Tweedles to leave, you’re not going to be upset about it. You do wonder what he’s at the counter for, though.
“Can I help you find anything?” you ask, because that’s what you’ve been told to do when a customer’s standing in front of you.
“How often do you get new shipments in?” he asks, a sort of haughty tone to his voice. Like he thinks this place is beneath him because he didn’t find what he wanted.
“New music comes in with distribution, but most of our out-of-print selections are secondhand.” It’s a rehearsed answer, but the response it gets is always different.
This time, Shades just sighs, as if he had known better than to expect anything else. He turns and leaves without another word. You don’t stare at his ass as he walks out, and you certainly don’t note that it’s quite nice. Far nicer than the guy it belongs to.
It’s a couple weeks before you see Shades again. You failed your midterm, not that you expected any different. You’re talking to a teenaged girl, with a shock of bright green hair, looking through the box of records she brought in with her, when he walks through the door. He starts browsing through the nearest crate, and you ignore him.
“I can give you ten bucks for the whole box,” you tell the girl, waiting for the nearly inevitable backlash. It’s the entire Grateful Dead discography, it’s worth way more than that, what do you mean you can only give me ten?
“Dude, take them,” she says surprisingly. “I don’t want them.”
You blink in shock, but don’t push it any further. Free records are free records, and you’re not going to argue about free records.
She’s gone almost immediately, before you can even say /thanks/. You take hold of the crate so you can move it into the back when Shades is at the counter.
“Anything good?” he asks, peering into the box.
“Come back in a couple days to find out,” you say, pulling the box off the counter. “We’ve got to make sure they’re sellable.”
His mouth pulls into a small frown, and you find yourself wishing that he’d take off those stupid sunglasses so you could see the rest of his face. It probably looks just as annoyed as the lower part of his face.
You go into the back room and set the records down on the table. You then decide that you’ll go ahead and grab a can of (favorite soda) before heading back out into the main part of the store.
Shades is, once again, methodically moving through the crates, flipping through and studying each sleeve carefully before moving on. You don’t think you’ve gotten anything new, at least not enough new that he actually needs to go through everything this carefully this go round.
Maybe he just doesn’t remember everything you had last time he was here?
You actually do ignore him this time, surreptitiously checking your Tumblr on the computer that’s technically only meant to be used for cataloguing. He leaves without another word, clearly deciding that there’s nothing in the store worth spending his money on.
“And play this one for the whole store,” the store owner says, handing you one of the new vinyls. There’s two crates full of it, whatever it is. You look at the front.
“I thought Panic wasn’t a thing anymore,” you say, staring at the top corner, proudly proclaiming Panic! at the Disco.
The owner just shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. There’s been a high demand for this one, so play it so people know it’s in.” He walks out, leaving you alone with the records. You shrug, moving over to the player behind the counter and put the new record on.
Sometime around the third track, Shades comes in again. It’s been a few days since the last time; clearly, he took your advice about coming back to see if there was anything good in the girl’s donation.
(The answer was no, not really; whoever owned the records first either loved them or didn’t care about them. Either way, they were in abysmal condition.)
He stops, just inside the door, clearly listening to the music filling the store. He doesn’t hang around much longer, just turns around and walks right back out.
He’s back the next day, and you almost wonder if he’s going to leave again. He doesn’t though, just walks in and goes through the shelves with the same care that he has the past two times. You aren’t behind the counter this time; you’re on the floor, shelving the records you got in yesterday that you hadn’t gotten around to shelving then. You leave him to his own devices, wanting to get as much done as you can. The owner doesn’t like it when it takes more than a couple days to shelf the new stock.
“Does it ever get boring?” Shades asks suddenly, taking you by shock for a moment.
“Care to elaborate?” you ask, trying to figure out what genre you’re supposed to shelf Sia under. She’s pop, right?
“Working in a store by yourself,” Shades explains. You can’t tell if he’s looking at you or not, but he’s still flipping through records, so you’re assuming he’s not.
You shrug, sliding “This is Acting” into the New Releases crate, deciding you’ll find out where it actually belongs later. “Could be worse,” you tell him, going back to the counter to grab a new stack of records. “I get to choose the music that plays, normally.”
“Normally?” he repeats, hands pausing where they are. You think he might be glancing up at you now, but give up on trying to tell for certain.
“Sometimes there’s a record that’s in high demand,” you explain, moving around to Soundtracks and placing the stack of “Hamilton” records in with the Hs. “And the owner wants that one played over the speaker. So that people know we have it.” Which is a totally dumb rule, you think to yourself.
“How many times does that happen?” he questions curiously, resuming his perusal of the records.
“Don’t know,” you say with another shrug. “Once every couple weeks, I guess. Comes with high anticipation. Are you looking for anything specific, or just looking?”
“Trying to rush me?” he retorts.
“No, but this is the third time you’ve come in looking through every single crate we’ve got, and you’ve yet to buy anything,” you point out. “If I knew what you were looking for, I could keep an eye out for it and hold it if we get it.”
The corners of Shades’s mouth turns up in a small smile. “That’s nice of you,” he says, “but I’m just looking for something that I don’t have yet.”
You don’t say anything, but you do raise an eyebrow pointedly. There’s no way that he owns every single record in the store.
“That interests me,” he adds.
“Fair enough,” you grant him. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”
“(Y/n),” the owner calls, the second you walk into the store. “I need you to look through these crates whenever you’ve got the chance.”
You nod, knowing that there’s no real chance of winning an argument with him, and also having no real problem with going through three boxes of secondhand records. It’s not like you get much traffic on a daily basis, and most of the traffic you do get doesn’t really need you to walk them through the store.
The copy of Pink Floyd’s The Wall is in absolutely terrible shape, but it’s Pink Floyd’s The Wall, so you’re going to have to do anything and everything in your power to make it sellable.
Shades might even buy something for once, if you got it working.
“I’m really starting to see the benefit to choosing the music.”
You look up.
“No sunglasses, today?” you ask, as Shades moves further into the store.
“It’s raining,” he points out, shaking water droplets out of his hair. You’re impressed; he’s as far from any of the displays as he can get, being considerate of the records.
“Is that what they call it when water falls from the sky?” You’ve lived in LA for a little over three months now—coincidentally, the last time you’ve seen rain was a little over three months ago too.
“It’s what I’ve heard the Elders say,” Shades (who has really pretty eyes, now that you can see them) replies with a huff of laughter.
You snort. “The Elders are wise,” you agree sagely. “And all-knowing.”
“Indeed they are.”
You both stare at each other before giving up and breaking into a fit of giggles.
“Anyway, I almost didn’t recognize you without them,” you explain, going back to your careful cleaning of the Pink Floyd vinyl. You really, really want to salvage this.
“Excellent,” he says. You wonder if he ever gets bored, going through more-or-less the same records every single day. “My master plan is working.” He glances up, seeing the crates still on the counter. “Do those still need to be gone through?”
“This one’s in abysmal condition,” you say, holding up the copy of The Wall.
“They’re all probably in similar states. What’s salvageable will be shelved within the week.”
Shades hums in thought. “Fair enough. Guess I’ll have to come back then, won’t I?”
“Guess you will.”
As he walks out, you wonder when your relationship got to the point where you’re flirting with each other, because you’re pretty sure that’s what just happened.
By some miracle, you were able to get the Pink Floyd album into a decent condition. It was, unarguably, the worst of the set, so you’re going through the store and shelving the contents of all three of the crates when Shades comes in again (once again wearing his sunglasses).
“They’re decent, but not shelved yet,” you tell him, not looking up at him. “You’re just a tiny bit early.” You’re extremely proud of the restoration work you did on The Wall; maybe you’ll be able to get a raise out of it.
“Damn,” he mutters, coming over and peeking over your shoulder at the record on top of the stack in your arms. “Oh, that’s a good one.”
“Want it?” you ask, holding it out to him.
He shakes his head. “Already got it.”
“Of course you do,” you mumble, moving away to shelf it. You can’t figure out why he keeps coming in; clearly, he’s not finding anything here worth his time or efforts, and you would have given up by now. Seriously, this guy’s got to be coming in solely on faith at this point.
“I don’t have that one,” he adds, pointing at TheWall and looking (possibly) absolutely elated.
“My pride and joy, right here,” you say, handing it to him. “Not in the best condition, but passable.”
He takes it, actually taking his sunglasses off for a better look. You are, once again, finding yourself struck by how pretty his eyes are. (And the rest of his face; he is startlingly pretty.) You had been right, his entire face is lit up, looking awestruck and honored to be holding the record.
You feel a stab of pride; you’re about to sell an album that you had thought was going to have to be trashed, and you’re about to sell it to Shades of all people. This is the absolute peak of your career (even though being one of the only clerks of an under-the-radar record shop isn’t going to end up your career), and you’re definitely going to get a raise out of this one.
You move around him, shelving the rest of the records. He starts following you again, clearly looking to see if there’s anything else that he doesn’t have yet.
You aren’t sure if he will or not, but you let him follow you anyway.
Which is strange, because you’ve usually got a pretty serious thing about personal space. He’s not incredibly close—you can’t feel his breath on your neck or anything—but you have a hyper-awareness of people less than two feet away from you. But for some reason, you don’t mind it when it’s him.
(You decide to ignore the implications of that because you are not getting a crush on another guy whose name you do not know.)
In the end, Shades actually ends up with a small stack of records himself—there are four, including the Pink Floyd, and you’re ridiculously proud of yourself for finally selling something to him.
As he leaves, you realize that he may or may not come back—depending on his logic, the store is either actually worth his time, or has expended its usefulness to him. You try to convince yourself that you won’t be disappointed if he doesn’t come back in.
Hey folks, so here’s another nasty story about banging Kylo Ren. Spent more time on this one, it’s a bit longer but not overwhelmingly. Hope you enjoy it!! ;)
I paced the hallway nervously several times before I reached his door. I knew sooner or later he would sense me so I choked down my fear and stepped up to his door; with a surprise he opened it immediately. He probably knew I was out there the whole time, I thought and grimaced to myself.
I was a little curious as to why he had his mask on. He didn’t have it on earlier, why the sudden need for concealment?
“Hello again, Kylo Ren. Found your mask, I see.” I said, nearly floating into his room.
“These are risky times. The resistance scum lurks and one must always be prepared.” He responded quickly and led me into his room, locking the door behind us.
I looked around at the dark room, the lights were very dim and I didn’t see a bed. Just a small table, and a few chairs against the wall.
“Nice place, but where’s your bed?” I turned to look at him. He walked over to the small table with his arms folded behind his back, “Darkness never sleeps.” He looked at me and after a brief silence he continued, “Just kidding…” He pulled a handle on the wall and a bed folded out. I was not expecting to see silky smooth, bright white sheets. They looked immaculate as if untouched by any human before. I assumed he rarely slept, and immediately felt the need to tuck him in and watch him drift off, but I also wanted his naked body on top of me again.
“Wow, much nicer than mine, commander. Jeez, if I get promoted again will I finally get some decent sheets like these?” I laughed nervously and looked around the room.
“Don’t be so nervous.” Kylo whispered behind his mask and stepped towards me, he was now only inches from me. I looked up at him, so tall, such strong, broad shoulders. I put my hands on his huge biceps and sighed. I don’t know why you make me so nervous all the time, I thought. He put his arms around my waist and I reached up to lower his hood, smiled and pushed him onto his bed. I thought I heard him laugh as he lied down putting an arm behind his head and the other on his belt.
I kneeled down at the end of the bed and started unbuckling his boots, I took them off one by one and looked up at him, noticing an erection in his pants. I blushed, and started for his belt when there was a buzzing at his chamber door. He growled and sat up.
“I’m not to be disturbed right now.” He yelled.
“Sir, it’s very important.” A voice said over the intercom.
Kylo got up in a rage and opened his door. I hid behind his bed and peeked to see a worker I had never seen before, I couldn’t hear what he was saying but he looked flustered. I was relieved to know that I wasn’t the only one a little unnerved by him.
“These matters concern your general, do not disturb me again.” Kylo Ren said grimly.
“I beg your pard-” he was suddenly choking and gasping for air. Kylo had his hand up from several feet away and was force choking him. I had to hold back my laughter and excitement. He threw him out and slammed the door shut. The lights flickered and he looked over to me. I couldn’t help but smile at him. Seeing him so angry and violent made me want him even more.
I got up and walked over to him, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“Won’t you take that mask off now?” I quietly spoke, trying to hide my racing heartbeat.
“The next person who intrudes on me is getting a light saber through the chest.” He put his hands on my back and tapped his fingers along to his racing thoughts. I pulled him over to his bed again and sat him down. I tried to inspect his helmet but could not figure out how he took it off. Sensing my frustration he removed it at last and looked at me with his big, dark eyes; his sweet lips pouted and his black hair curled around his face. He looked so tired and weary. I leaned over to kiss him and he closed his eyes. For the first time, I felt a vulnerability coming from him. I sensed he was unsure about something, but didn’t know what. I backed up to look at him as a whole again, as if reevaluating him.
“Stop trying to figure me out.” He said, and his brow furrowed.
I felt my face burn red, and tried to steer my thoughts back to where they were before the intrusion.
I looked down at his bare feet and got up.
“Lie down.” I said, and he obeyed. He put his hands behind his head and smirked at me. I straddled his legs and reached for his belt, unbuckled it and noticed his lightsaber under his robe. I’d never seen it before. Why was he armed now? What was he expecting to happen? Before I could reach it, he snatched it and put it on his night stand. I tried to ignore this, and got the belt off around his robes; I pulled his long black clothes over his head, his gloves came off and down onto the pile of clothes in the corner. I had to stop and admire him, lying on his pristine white bed, bare chested with his black leather pants still on, his handsome face staring back at me in anticipation.
He breathed hard and I reached down to the thick bulge in his pants. I caressed it and it grew larger. I unbuttoned and unzipped, leaned down and wrapped my lips around a giant, throbbing cock. I swirled my tongue around the head and Kylo trembled. I glanced up and caught his dark eyes watching me. I continued to gently suckle on his cock, and moved down to his balls. Licking them and stroking his penis with my hand. He was shaking now. I started kissing his thighs while I jerked him off. I licked up and down his cock, feeling every vein with my tongue and he ran his fingers through my hair. He was so gorgeous, his eyes closed and mouth gaping open in pleasure. I bobbed up and down while he moaned and panted faster. On the verge of orgasm, he stopped me so I started kissing his happy trail up to his stomach and chest. He held me in his big arms and kissed me. I touched his handsome face, feeling the stubble on his chin, and staring into his beautiful eyes. In the right light they looked almost green. He was so gorgeous, I brushed his soft, black hair back behind his adorably large ears, kissing them and biting on his earlobes,
“I want you inside me now.” I whispered.
He growled deeply and started pulling my long black night gown up over my head as I kissed his neck. He grabbed my breasts, sucking on my nipples, and I slid his huge cock inside me. I was riding him while he lied his head back, “I love fucking you, Kylo Ren… This is all I think about.”
“How about… I just keep you in here as my slave… I could fuck you whenever I wanted…” He said between breaths.
“Ohh please do.” I said and he smiled up at me.
He leaned forward and picked me up, threw me on my back and started fucking me with all his might. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him closer. I grabbed his ass, and ran my hands up and down his back feeling his soft skin and powerful muscles. I felt his strong arms and chest; his hair hanging down in front of his face. He thrusted hard, biting his lip, and started massaging my clitoris with his huge fingers. I couldn’t hide screaming with pleasure. He was so handsome covered in sweat, his naked body dripping on me. I kissed his chest and neck and lips and he shivered; moaning louder, I felt his hot cum inside me. I held him tight and came hard while he continued humping. I locked fingers with him and stared into his eyes, he was so gorgeous, so young and eager to please. Still hard inside me, he turned me on my side and lied on his back so that we were in a sort of scissor position. He slapped my ass and pushed his cock deep inside me. I moved my hips in a circular motion, faster and faster. I held his leg tight in front of me and we fucked each other until he was shaking again, “Kylo, I want to taste your cum.” I spoke into the cold, dark air. It must have been nearly morning now; hours had gone by like an eternity of bliss. He breathed harder, pulled out his cock and masturbated himself; I rolled onto my back and he kneeled over me. With a long sigh he ejaculated all over my face while I held out my tongue. I licked his cum off my fingers and swallowed while he watched, panting, mouth gaping open, drenched in sweat.
He finally collapsed next to me and closed his eyes. He fell asleep immediately. I pulled his white sheets over us, lied my head on his chest and held him tight. I looked upon his handsome face again and stroked his hair until I too fell asleep…
03.08.2016 // Today I found out that my faculty is one of the five faculties in the entire University that is having normal classes, because all the others (90) are still in strike. It has been three months since it started, they’re gonna have classes until january omg. Anyways, my bullet jounal is turning out nicer than I expected! I hope you guys are having a wonderful week ♡.
Okay this is weirdly specific, but a Les Mis theater tech AU? I don't even know I just desperately want Grantaire to do set design/carpentry/painting/what have you. Could be college or professional, whatever. And possibly director!Enjolras, because obviously.
(This is what I am reduced to, four and a half weeks out from a show. My self-indulgence in fic-writing has become naps rather than makeouts. I’m not even the director!)
“You aren’t Feuilly.” Enjolras is certain of that, and Enjolras isn’t certain of much, after twenty hours awake and eighteen of those spent in the theater. The only reason he left this time was to get coffee, but he has to do a hundred things, and he has the time for precisely none of them, and the set builder was supposed to be in town two days ago, and—oh. “You’re Grantaire.”
“A pretty comprehensive summation of my identity, actually. I’ve been here for an hour, you set up a meeting? But I just sort of stole your plans and I’ve been making a comprehensive plan for why they won’t work with a stage this size.” He squints at Enjolras. “You okay? I know it’s a director’s prerogative to look tired and twitchy but I’m honestly worried.”
“Two days ago,” says Enjolras. He’s certain of that too. “I set up a meeting for two days ago.”
“And I e-mailed you last week and said that my flight got canceled and I couldn’t make it till today, and I had a text back saying that was cool.” Grantaire looks increasingly unsure, which is good, because Enjolras is feeling increasingly unsure. He’s never answered e-mails in his sleep before, but he’s also never directed an off-Broadway show before. “There was even a map with very precise directions to the theater e-mailed to me three seconds later.”
That makes things very clear. Enjolras is apparently due for a scolding from Combeferre about how the post-it note system doesn’t work if he isn’t in his apartment long enough to look at his post-its. “Ah. The business manager.”
I thought I wasn’t going to like Leo because of how he was portrayed as bratty and grumpy in fan arts, but when I started playing Conquest, he turned out to be a lot nicer than I expected. I bet we’d get along pretty well if he was real.