#notmusa

[fightmefaye]

「festival/rave」おしゃれまとめの人気アイデア｜Pinterest｜Willem【2024】

2024/06/10 - このピンは、Willemさんが見つけました。あなたも Pinterest で自分だけのピンを見つけて保存しましょう！

@notmusa I snt u an ask about this picture. Here it is the picture. Please did you draw Ian and Donovan with this as reference? Cannot find i dug around the internet for hours now :( It is driving me insane. hep

[danasdrawings]

Happy birthday to @notmusa!!!

I love Ian he’s a whole ass mood.

[danhalen]

my @notmusa things arrived from redbubble! now my laptop will be safe and also stylish.

[reejindeed]

More doodles of @notmusa 's Ian . . . . . #notmusa #doodles #sketchbook #sketch #astroboy #screentone #halftone #ink #inking #originalcharacter #fanart #cat #cats #fuckmanIneverknowhowtotagshit https://www.instagram.com/p/CANo7I0gKhc/?igshid=1wqfbvhm4ij4d

[dimespin]

notmusa replied to your post “I just want you to know that I have a fish who got really sick once so...”

h-how big does his mouth open up?? i see u, torso-teeth

He removes them when they become a problem but they just grow back

[olivecave]

Tummy Naps?

This is a very short dumb fic for @notmusa on (@idealbraintonic on Twitter)

I’ve been following them for a while, admiring their work from afar, but I finally felt the urgent need to write something cute and dumb. I stalked their tumblr till 2 am trying to get a read on how Ian and Donavon would talk and honestly I dunno how I did so... hope you enjoy!!

Donavon was sitting on his couch when Ian burst through the front door, bag in hand, looking like he was running on hard liquor alone. Which, in all likelihood, he probably was.

Ian dumped the contents of the shopping bag on the small, cracked coffee table and fell back onto the couch 

“Sup?” Donavon offered. 

Ian’s cigarette had burned down to a butt but he still kept it clamped between his lips.

“I brought you shit,” Ian responded eventually, clearly very close to passing out. 

“Oh nice,” Donavon leaned forward to push the pile around and see what was there when he stopped, “wait why?”

“You said on the phone you were sick.”

“Uhh, nope, ain’t sick.” 

“Listen, the amount of shit I don’t remember would astonish you, but I do remember you saying you were sick.” 

“Well... I was talking to you about work, so I probably said I was sick of my job.”

“Oh,” Ian stared at his feet, the toe of his sock had a hole. He spat out the butt and it fell on his stomach where it left an ashy stain. 

Donavon reached over and plucked it off his shirt. He threw it out the open window, “You did good though! You got all my favourite stuff.”

Ian hummed, sinking lower in the couch until his chin was at his chest and his body was barely even on the cushion anymore.

Donavon picked through the crumpled heap of garbage Ian had blindly grabbed from the store. Weird porcelain baby figures, assorted model shrubbery, a paddle ball, and five packs of cigarettes accompanied various other knick knacks. 

“You really went all out huh,” Donavon tried again. 

Ian grumbled and pulled at his shirt collar, stretching it over his face and exposing his round belly. Donavon wanted to reach out and touch it. So he did. He pat Ian’s belly consolingly. 

Ian gave a final groan before worming himself across the small couch and in between Donavon’s legs. He finally gave up trying to reach his chest and opted to face plant in Donavon’s stomach. He rubbed his face into the fabric of Donavon’s sweater and relaxed, dead to the world.  

Donavon stared down at his scruffy boyfriend and smiled. He then noticed the front door was still wide open. He sighed, he’d have to wait till Ian woke up to close it. 

Donavon picked up the paddle ball and flicked it forward to start the ball bouncing. The string broke instantly and the rubber ball bounced away across the room. Ian grumbled in his sleep and slid his hands up under Donavon’s sweater. They were cold. The fucker. 

At this point Donavon’s eyes were drooping and he wasn’t sure if he could stay awake for much longer. He fixed his eyes on the door and stared intently. He would have smoked, but along with five packs of cigs, Ian had bought exactly zero lighters. 

His head lolled to one side. He snapped it back up. Ian farted. 

“Fucking. Fine.” 

Donavon let his head lay against the back cushion and closed his eyes. He was out in seconds. 

When they both finally woke up, the porcelain babies were gone. 

Along with their tv.

________________________

Was that out of character? Perhaps. Was it fun to try to recreate the low level chaotic/feral energy that these two give off? Yes immensely. 

[sibmakesart]

@notmusa ’s oc Ian

[art-estrange]

Ian i dont think thats ham..... @notmusa inspired