My Nikto Art So Far!! || Art Dump

my partner is only 40 but nestled within him is the soul of an elderly man

I can't stop thinking about Nikto being a melodramatic bitch, you can't talk to this man for shit.

Like you're trying to plan a date:

"Hey baby are you free tomorrow?" You ask with your phone pressed between your ear and your shoulder, comparing packages of chicken for dinner. You know he eats a lot. "No man is free when he has to work for a living," Nikto tells you without a hint of hesitation, "but we are available."

or he cuts himself helping with dinner:

He holds his sliced finger up to the light, inspecting the wound while your eyes widen. He seems to sense you panic, probably with the way you're furiously googling "how to tell if you need stitches" and glances your way, setting the knife to the side. "The only pain we cannot suffer is being away from you." He assures you. "That's great baby," You tell him in a rush, already grabbing your keys, "wrap a towel around that and get in the car.

Or worse still running into one of your friends:

You'd sent Nikto to grab some beer from the cooler, while you chat with your work friend at the pharmacy counter. She's nice, you like her, definitely could see her becoming an outside of work friend. Until Nikto shows up with the six pack in hand. "Woah, he is big." She grins, Nikto grunts and glances towards the bustling pharmacy technicians. "I bet you don't get much sleep with this guy around," Your friend jokes, nudging you with a wink. You feel yourself warm, your cheeks pulling at your lips with an embarrassed smile. "We do not sleep," Nikto grumbles, "we only fall into darkness until the sun brings us back." You wince. You friend gives you a look with a strained smile.

You just want him to stop saying odd shit.

hapy new year everynyan

thank you buddy @enigmaue for the tag! i love this kind of personality quiz :3

no pressure tag: @vxmpyree @koeni9in @milkteaarttime @simp4konig @madstronaut and anyone else who would like to do this :3

here it is, the only personality quiz that matters: what vegetable are you?

i’m starting this, i’m tagging @sunsetskylane @shatterthefragments @branches-in-a-flood @vamprlestat @alkalineghoul @bubacorn @stellasplendens please i want to know lmao

i need to get through this week

i need to get through this week

Nikto is chopping wood when it hits you. You're watching from your back porch door, a porcelain mug of hot chocolate cradled in your warm palms.

It's cold- far too cold for Nikto to be chopping wood in your garden right now. A thick layer of frost blanketing everything in sight- in which he had scraped your car for you earlier this morning whilst you were still in bed. He's still in his sleeping clothes; his thin black shirt that stuck to his body in a thick sleeve or fabric, and those baggy grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips. He's still refused to let you stitch the hemming- which is frayed and worn. Insisting that it is no use fixing it. There's no fixing it, llubov. I'll let it fray and throw it later. No use.

It was certainly a sight. He had drunk his tea down quickly once he noticed your shivering shoulders. Wrapped you up in that fluffy cream nightgown of yours, and set out to fill the fireplace. A silent promise to keep you warm. To provide. He had shot you a stern look at the sight of you lingering in the doorway- your pyjamas shorts and lack of slippers irking him. You wanted to roll your eyes at him. Used to his picking. You are a little warm soft thing. You need to stay warm.

"you're acting like a husband". You quip softly. Playfully, that smile that could warm butter on your pretty lips. "Do you want to be my husband, Andre?".

"yes".

Nikto's sincere raspy voice is sincere as he answers immediately- stunning you into silence. Glancing up at you to fix you an intense stare as he split the log with his hands. Something soft and eager in his eyes. Apprehensive on his own behalf, but filled with longing.

"you'll always be warm". He vows. Eyes filled with something- devotion. So tremendous, that it rattles you to the bone. His eyes meet yours, and you're not sure you can look away. Can't find your hands to sever the line. Pinning you down. He makes the first move- leaving the axe by the tree stump, shoes crunching in the glittering frosted grass. Approaching you like a weary hound.

"then in that case, may I mend these then?". You mumble. Now shy, your heart quivering at the intensity in his face. His hand meets yours as it brushes over the frayed hem of his sweatpants- a warm, halting hold. An unsure pause, you think... Before his shoulders relax a little, and his fingers wiggle softly between yours to melt into an embrace of hands. A gesture so sweet, so unsure and new to him, it was his turn to fluster. Feline eyes wandering from your eyes to your fingers clasped with his.

"yes. I... Let's try".

it is done, i am free, i shouldn't have put that gel in my hair

i will take a small nap

i just finished my resume, it sucks but i hope it's not too late

that is true, i have lost..... i have an excuse though, my ancestors are not milk consumers.........

i will stop drinking milk, it has done numbers on my skin

i'm a big man but if Captain Price says i'm his pretty little missus then by golly i am his pretty little missus