So, I said last night that I really wanted to draw silly stuff of characters I’ve seen, but never watched or played their games. Yeah, it was Layton. I never played his games before, though I remember watching a movie or something several years ago. So I know him from that and my friend, Doodlechill, used to talk about him quite a lot.
Since the 2nd image is inspired by some of SquigglyDigg’s recent text posts, I’m holding her partially responsible for this. The pozzls broke me.
“Hmm?“ he murmured against her neck, relishing the feeling of her hair on his skin. It was really silky and so uncontrollable he sometimes was afraid that it would strangle him.
“Can you move away for a second? I need to—“
He shook his head and buried it deeper in the crook of her neck, her whining be damned. She had such a delicious scent, vanilia and magnolias, so innocent and so untainted. It aroused him to no end.
“Draco!“ she barked again, but still no answer. He was sleep-deprived and so exhausted that even breathing seemed to be hard enough to be done all by himself. “You need to move if oyu don’t want to suffocate your own son! Does the name Scorpius ring any bells?“
And there it was.
He landed on his backside on the floor, in confusion, blinking up owlishly and the white-washed haired toddler that had very effectively kicked him in the ribs.
Fuck that sprong - he grumbled - mummy is mine!
The toddler - as if understanding what his dad was mumbling - flashed him a radiant smile.
My mum will hear about this! - he mouthed clumsily.
Nursey likes playing with the calluses on Dex’s hands. He doesn’t get much of a chance, as they don’t hold hands often, but sometimes Dex gets distracted enough not to care or, like now, he’s too sleepy to protest. The latest episode of B99 is rolling into the credits on Dex’s laptop, and they’ve been at this long enough that the Still Watching? shame notification has popped up, and Nursey sticks his tongue out at it instinctively.
They don’t have anywhere to be tomorrow. The snow cancelled practice and, since it’s Sunday, they don’t have any classes. Bitty is going to have one of his few Group Baking days, where he drinks boxed wine as they make a mockery of his kitchen trying to make cookies that come out looking lopsided and horrible but don’t taste half bad. Which means that, truly, Nursey can sit here and play with Dex’s hands as long as he wants.
He likes the difference between the skin of Dex’s calluses and his palms. Just beneath where his fingers start there are little bumps of rough skin, patchy in places where they’ve worn down again. His fingertips are a bit rough, probably from playing guitar (which Nursey only learned about after Spring C their frog year, when Dex got drunk and sang I’m Yours with a flush high on his cheeks). The skin on his palms is so soft, though, tender, and Nursey likes brushing his thumb over it, reveling in the vulnerability.
He knows it’s a bit cliched, but Dex is a bit like his hands. He’s got calluses, sure, and they’re always going to be there, but he lets a few people into his soft side, his smooth palms, his quiet smiles, his good deeds. Nursey likes being one of the few who gets that, likes being someone special for Dex.
It’s just. Well.
Nursey has a callus himself. On his middle finger, from holding pens and pencils too much. Really, it’s the one deformity on his hand. His nails are manicured, currently just a clear color, and he’s used lotion for years because his skin gets dry too easily, so his hands are mostly smooth. To the world, his hands are perfect.
But sometimes, when it all gets too much and he can’t handle it, can’t handle the looks and the judgement and the unending cruelty of the world, his hands shake. His fingers twitch when he’s nervous, and he can never get them to work right when he’s holding something off the ice and sometimes they can’t write beautiful words like they’re supposed to and-and-
And he likes the way Dex’s hands feel in his. Dex has strong hands. They can hold Nursey’s shaking ones still. Nursey’s smoothness can soften Dex. Their fingers interlock prettily, and Dex, even mostly asleep next to him in Nursey’s bunk, easily holds on without fail. Unrelenting, Nursey once called him during an argument. It’s one of the things Nursey likes most about words, how they have a hundred different meanings. It’s one of his favorite things about Dex, that he somehow manages to encapsulate every one of those meanings at once.