inside the sketchbook

A Roll of the Dice

Miraculous Ladybug fanfiction/oneshot

Word Count: 10,254

Rating: Teen for sin

Pairings: Marichat/Adrienette

Summary: Alya gives Marinette a pair of adult love dice for her 18th birthday. Later that night, Chat Noir suggests to Marinette that they play a game with them to see if they work.

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Heart and Clover! 

Heart is like a mother to Clover, who’s really protective and affectionate over the smol bean. The ribbon child doesn’t seem to care much tho. 

Extra info below the cut!

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Another messy sketch of one of @cynphonium‘s oc’s.

Stephanie Brown
  • she’s never wanted to be a doctor, but she had her mom teach her some basic first aid just in case
  • both a dog person and a cat person
  • she’s a gum person
  • she has anxiety
  • she’s petite and it makes a lot of people underestimate her (especially the batfam in the early days)
  • if she doesn’t sing Girls Like Girls in the shower, there’s probably something wrong
  • she’s toilet papered Titan’s Tower multiple times
  • she has like six inside jokes with Harley Quinn
  • her chocolate chip waffles are always like 80% chocolate and 20% waffle
  • always has some glitter on her person
  • she and Duke prank call each other constantly
  • Damian’s always at her apartment
  • You know those two Muppets who sit on the side and make fun of everyone? That’s her and Tim at galas
  • she and Harper are like sisters
  • she makes too many jokes about Dick’s name
  • she kinda hates Jason a little bit but also admires him
  • She and Cass dance in their socks in Steph’s kitchen wayy too much
  • she’s asexual
  • she can skateboard hella well
  • “Do it for the Vine” –even after Vine is dead
  • since she’s so tiny, when she was Robin she used to climb all over Bruce all the time during patrols, and sometimes she still does
  • she’s an artist and she has dried fingerpaint on her piano keys
  • she loves to paint and she still plays piano
  • she doodles on her shoes
  • she’s allowed to see the inside of Damian’s sketchbook–only three others have been granted that honor
  • she likes to do acrobat stuff with Dick
  • she loves running 
  • if there is a stuffy, conservative person at a Wayne gala Steph is at, she will find out and offend them with a shit-eating smile on her face

This commission was done inside of a sketchbook for the commissioner, where he was collecting pictures of Pearl– they all looked super rad and it was really fun to look through the others :U

Shoutout to @delphina2k for kindly letting me borrow her markers. A dude came over from the Copic booth saying he’d come back with marker samples, but he never showed >:U


5.6.17 // What’s in my backpack? 

Happy Monday! Today I’m sharing with you all the inside of my new backpack, which I bought for my trip to Vienna, Austria. It’s from H&M, all black and smaller than my Herschel’s Little America (which I used for studies). I enjoy the smaller size as it helps me carry less stuff! Inside I keep my sketchbook, a leuchtturm 1917 red journal, which I use for travel journaling, two standardgraph fine liners in 0.5 and 0.2 and my Polaroid Eyewear glasses. I also keep a wallet, some random beauty products and a book that I’m reading at that time (all of which are not featured in the photo).

The second photo consists of some new notes that I’ve been revising from Khan Academy about drugs. It’s a great way to refresh and review your knowledge either for your university major or high school classes. I’m sure a lot of you use Khan Academy as an extra learning resource. 



Tony + Steve + Tattoo!AU

So yeah, a few days back, I sent this headcanon to @tonystarktogo about Tony being this kind of crazy tattoo parlor manager who just hired random guys and girls, and mostly helped them get out of bad situations.

The result was a beautiful text that you can find right under this post, but I couldn’t get this idea out of my head, and I had to write about how everything began, with homeless, scrawny Steve.

It’s rushed and not very good, but I needed to write a fun thing after a day writing about assisted suicide, honestly.

If you thought about it seriously, this crazy project actually was Steve’s fault.
Because scrawny, tiny, very young Steve had unfortunately decided that, when homeless, Tony’s front porch was the best place to sleep.
So, every time Tony went out, he passed Steve, who never ever begged for money, but was always there, silent but with avert eyes which looked at everybody and everything around him. And always with the same sketchpad on his knees, accompanied with an old and very small pencil which had both seen better days.
His eyes were so gentle and so blue that not two days had passed before Tony began to bring him sandwiches and bottles of water; sometimes a cookie that Rhodey’s mom had baked for him, sometimes a whole McDonalds meal when he had had the time to stop there. At first, Steve had actually tried to refuse them – his freaking pride, for fuck’s sake – pretending that someone else probably needed it more. So Tony had bought twenty sandwiches and given them all around the neighborhood (a habit that he had actually kept; he asked Peter Parker to make the distribution when he couldn’t do it himself) before coming back to Steve and giving him his sandwich with a blank stare.
Steve had finally accepted in exchange for a quick look at his sketchpad (and things were so unfair, because this kid had a huge lot of pure and simple talent) and things had simply became… more, somehow.

Winter had came, and with it the freezing temperatures so typical of New York. Tony had stopped for coffee and hot chocolate at the Starbucks around the corner, distributing about ten of them around and always keeping the last one for Steve.
Then hot chocolate was simply not enough anymore; every time he went back home, he found Steve shivering, lips blue and fingers too numb to draw. So he had nervously babbled about how he had a lot of free space in his flat that he would gladly share, but Steve had refused, and nothing he could say could make him change his mind. The next best step was to go to the closest sports shop and ask for them to give the best sleeping bags and blankets to as many homeless people as they could; he had kept the fluffiest and warmest one for Steve, dropping it on his lap on his way home with a small pillow and two blankets.
The gift hidden inside it – brand new sketchbook with a small selection of pencils – had never been discussed, but Tony had discreetly smiled when Steve was totally focused on a drawing the next morning.

And then, a few days after that, he had disappeared. The only proof of his presence was a drawing, carefully put in his mailbox, a truly impressive and stylized skyline of Manhattan, the words “thank you for everything, Steve” written under it.
He totally panicked, he was not ashamed to admit it. Rhodey was the only one capable of mildly calming him, giving the hypothesis – which, as he would find out, was the right one – that Steve had probably been reported by one of the neighbors who was tired of finding a homeless kid on their doorstep.
Tony had done everything that could be done: visited every homeless center, asked everybody he knew about Steve, walked at night for hours, looking for the tiny guy. But he had never found him.

And then, just as he had put the final point to his crazy project – Tony, you are going to regret this! had said Pepper again and again, without any success – and as he was leaving what would now be his tattoo parlor, he had seen a very familiar frame turning a corner a few meters away.
He knew now, looking back, that running after Steve was probably not a very smart idea, and that he probably deserved the shouting part and the I’m-trying-to-kill-you-with-a-pencil part too (he loved this scar, such a great story), but the thing was, he also knew that it was the right decision.
Because after the thousands of “You’re kidding, right?”, Steve had accepted, albeit a bit reluctancy, the job offer, and had followed him back to the new parlor.
And now, Tony knew that Steve was always safe and sound, eating more than enough, sleeping in a warm room, and never scared of being shouted at by cops or spat at by some asshole.
And he also knew that Steve was one of the best tattoo artists in the city, that people waited for about two years to get one of his masterpieces on their skin, and, more importantly than anything, that Steve loved his job.

anonymous asked:

Imagine Kraglin falling for an artistic reader. She's technically part of the ravagers but she doesn't do anything hands on-she's kind of like a secretary! Anyways Kraglin always sees her drawing stuff but she never shows him what she made because "It's not done yet, Kraglin!" But one day he sneaks into her room and steals her sketchbook. Inside is drawings of the crew, Yondu, and even some of the Guardians! But none of him. He gets sad until he a journal full of drawings of just HIM💕