#I’m saying this as a light skinned artist of color. And it’s just been something on my mind

[raemeh]

there’s a part of me that’s tempted to design/talk about light skinned poc because I swear sometimes it feels like people overreact to characters with light skin with poc features.

[feyhunter78]

Lab Partners

(Image taken from Pinterest, I believe the artist is teletwobees) More Nerd!Miguel here

Also, plz feel free to ask me about college/nerd!miguel bc he is in my thoughts now

Regret, that’s what you’re feeling as you bury your face in your arms, the lab table cool against your skin. You should’ve brought a jacket, but you didn’t have time, just raced out of your apartment to your car in leggings and a t-shirt with your letters printed across the back in purple and white bubble letters.

“Y/N are—are you okay?” Miguel’s voice is soft, the sound of his chair scraping against the floor not as soft, your head aching, pain piercing through your brain at the noise.

Your stomach rumbles and a wave of fatigue washes over you as you lift your head to look at him. “Got dragged to the bar last night.”

He’s wearing a soft looking, long sleeve dark blue shirt, the sleeves pushed up exposing his forearms, his glasses flecked with raindrops, his hair is tousled and slightly damp curling slightly at the ends.

“On a Thursday night?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowing as he unpacks the lab equipment.

“It’s the night everyone goes out, I don’t know why, and I hate it.” You whine, massaging your temples.

Miguel’s large warm hand presses against your forehead, and you startle for a moment, causing him to jolt back, stuttering apologies.

“I—I just wanted to make sure you weren’t sick.” He says, a light dusting of pink across his tanned cheekbones.

He’s got great cheekbones, really, he’s got great everything. Maybe it’s just the hangover talking, but you really want to kiss him. Well, you’ve wanted to kiss him since he sat next to you on the first day of class. And when he slid his notes over to you the month after when he saw you struggling to keep up with the professor’s supersonic lecturing speed.

“I mean, a hangover is a kind of sickness, I’m pretty sure.” You say, your own face burning, but you can’t tell if it from his touch or the hangover.

“Don’t they say to drink something for a hangover? A Bloody Mary or a mimosa? I heard the café off campus sells them until noon.” He suggests, nerves coloring his tone.

Is he trying to ask you out? No, he can’t be. He’s Miguel, the genius, shy and sweet, and definitely not interested in you, and your hectic, dramatic life with sisters you both love and hate depending on what week it is.

“Can’t drink in letters.” You tell him, fumbling for your water bottle and taking a long drink, your eyes fluttering closed as the cool water soothes your sore throat.

“Really?” He asks, and his eyes are on you when you open yours, lingering on your lips, then darting away.

“Yep, it’s like the number one rule for all sororities all across the U.S. movies always get it wrong, really pisses me off.” You grumble, putting your water bottle back in your bag and trying to muster the energy to focus on the assignment in front of you.

“Interesting.” Miguel says, taking his glasses off and cleaning them with the hem of his shirt.

Like an absolute pervert, your eyes shoot down to the exposed sliver of skin. Tanned and toned, you swallow hard as you rip your eyes away.

“Yep, Hollywood, they always try to make us look like drunk sluts. And look, I may be drunk occasionally, but I’m not a slut.”

Miguel’s eyes widen and he shakes his head. “I would never call you that—never think you were one, ever.”

You smile and pat his shoulder. “I know, Miguel, you’re too sweet for that.” You can’t help but let your hand drag down to his bicep, his stupidly firm bicep. “My sweet boy.”

His glasses clatter onto the lab table and Miguel scrambles to pick them up, slipping them back on. “Did you get to finish your assignment yet?”

You screw your eyes closed, swearing under your breath. “That’s what I forgot.”

“It’s due tomorrow.” He reminds you.

You nod and press the back of your hand to your forehead, willing your headache to recede. “Yes, yes, I know, I just shit, I totally forgot, and I’ve been so busy, we have this major philanthropy event coming up, and I’ve been up till two am all week helping paint the banner and I really don’t get anything we’re doing in here.”

You pause, sniffling, your eyes welling with tears, as you bite the inside of your cheek trying to keep from crying in the back of the lab.

“I could help you?” Miguel offers tentatively, fidgeting with his pen, his eyes darting between you and the table.

“Really? Miguel, that would be amazing.” You say, unable to resist the urge to lean over and wrap your arms around him.

He smells good, like expensive cologne, and old books.

You take a moment longer than necessary to pull back, basking in his warmth, in the way his strong arms wrap loosely around you before he gains the courage and crushes you to his chest.

“It’s no problem, why don’t we meet in the library around four? It looks like you’re almost done with it, so we shouldn’t be there for too long.” His voice low, calm, and warm vibrates in his chest, and you relax into his hold before pulling back and nodding.

“That would be perfect, thank you.” You beam at him, headache receding, the knot in your stomach unraveling, there’s something about him that’s so comforting, makes you feel safe.

He nods and focuses in on the PowerPoint the professor is going over. He looks so handsome, warm brown eyes flickering over the typed words, his broad shoulders still half turned towards you, his full lips parted ever so slightly as he mumbles to himself.

You rest your chin in your hand and watch him out of the corner of your eye, unable to keep from daydreaming about what it might be like to be his.

Miguel is going places, you know it. And you? You’ve always thought it might be fun to be a trophy wife, maybe Miguel needed a trophy wife?

You can see it now, standing next to him in a gorgeous red dress, your hand around his bicep as he accepts some award for genetics. You can almost feel his lips against yours as he thanks you for your support and dips you old movie style.

“Y/N I’ll see you at four, yeah?” Miguel’s voice pulls you from your daydreams. Class is over, you’ve taken zero notes, and he definitely caught you zoning out.

You nod, and quickly gather your things. “Yeah, yeah four, I’ll meet you there!”

(Also ummm I was in a sorority my entire time at college, so I am actually the expert and Hollywood gets everything soooo wrong it makes me legit angry😭)

Miguel TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps

[laviefantasie]

It Kinda Makes Sense

Pairings: Alive!Luke Patterson x Alive!Reader

Summary: Los Feliz High School, the best school for future actors, singers, or any kind of artists. Home to the top couple formed by Luke Patterson, the perfect boy soon-to-be rockstar, and Y/N Y/L/N, troubled goth girl with the voice of an angel. A match make in heaven... or hell.

{ BASED ON VICTORIOUS’ JADE AND BECK }

| MASTERLIST |

If you asked Julie Molina what had been her first thought once she had stepped foot on Los Feliz she would say it had been... confusing.

The school was beautiful, with bright blue lockers decorated in unbelievable ways to adolescents dressed as bright blue bobcats. It was truly a sight.

The other thing that was a sight was the group of students that captured most of the other teenagers’ attention. Especially two teens who happened to be having what appeared to be a screaming battle. Screaming battle that ended once ice e/c eyes found Julie’s across the hallway.

“Lost something, shorty?” The unknown girl snaps, “MIND YOUR BUSINESS!”

Her words had caused the boy she had previously been fighting with to sigh in shame before looking her way.

Julie’s breath got stuck in her throat.

The boy was beautiful. Scratch that, he was handsome. Untaimed brown hair with wild hazel —maybe green— eyes, the boy could be anyone’s dream boy.

“Y/N, could you not?”

Julie’s brown eyes move to the girl glaring daggers at her only to have her heart skip a beat. The girl —Y/N apparently— was breathtakingly beautiful. She had wavy h/c hair with some dark blue streaks that matched her skin color perfectly and powerful e/c eyes.

Said girl rolls her eyes before glaring at Julie once more before focusing once again on the pretty boy besides her.

“Fine. I won’t. But this conversation is over”

“We haven’t even had the conversation!” The boy argues back.

“And it’s over!”

The dark-dressed girl stomps off leaving the boy groaning in frustration. Julie taking that opportunity to check out the rest of the group.

With her back pressed to a locker decorated with different colorful fabrics stood a light brown haired girl —could be dark blonde— with brown eyes dressed in a beautiful pink dress and black heels to match. She seemed to be debating whether to follow her friend or staying still.

Besides her was a dark-haired boy with sky blue eyes standing out thanks to his pale skin. He was wearing a leather jacket on top of a white shirt, with a red flannel tied on his waist, and black jeans. His eyes glued to the floor.

Lastly, there was the blond boy with a pink hoodie and blue —sometimes green— eyes. He seemed to be pretty used to what had just happened.

The blond one is the one who noticed her still staring at them, offering a sweet smile before walking towards her and stretching his hand.

“Hi, I’m Alex. I’ve never seen you before”

She grabs his hand with a small smile, “Julie. I’m new”

Her name seems to snap the leather jacket boy from his trance, his bright blue eyes soon finding hers with a big smile adorning his features.

“You’re the girl that sang for Flynn on the school’s talent show! I’m Reggie”

Julie blushes as soon as he speaks, everyone’s eyes staring at her with realization and a little of awe.

“Flynn is my best friend, I just wanted to help her out”

“Well, it worked for you. You got a scholarship” pretty boy adds, “I’m Luke”

Julie cannot help the way her smile grows as soon as he smirks at her. He seriously had to be the most gorgeous boy she had ever seen.

The pretty light brown haired girl with the pink dress joins her friends in greeting her, Julie blushing under the vibrant smile she gives her.

“Hi! I’m Carrie”

Julie goes to grab her hand but the girl —Carrie— pulls her in for a hug. The gesture has Julie’s shoulders tensing, she hadn’t willingly hug anyone after her mother’s death a few months ago, but she soon forced herself to relax.

This was a new start. No pity stares or whispers directed at her.

“It’s nice to meet you guys”

After that meeting the curly-haired girl became a part of their weird group of friends. Soon learning that the beauty ice queen dressed in all black was Y/N Y/L/N, Los Feliz High School’s prodigy and Luke’s girlfriend.

It was no secret that the girl was talented, but she was as talented as scary. Julie hadn’t listened too much of everyone’s warnings, she was sure it was all because of how she dressed and acted and not at all for the kind of person she truly was.

Boy, was she wrong.

She learned that the hard way after getting a role on a play Y/N wanted. A role that played Luke’s romantic interest.

She had ended up one rehearsal with hot coffee thrown at her and icy e/c eyes glaring daggers at her with a sweet —fake— smile. Luke’s apologies were not enough to calm the humiliation Julie felt.

And even if the brown-haired latina wasn’t fond of vengeance, she couldn’t stop herself. And if she kissed Luke longer than necessary after sending a wink the goth girl’s way, it was a mere coincidence.

A coincidence that resulted in her having to watch her back every time she stepped on school’s property.

But things did get better with time and Julie and Y/N became kinda friends. At least enough for Y/N to tolerate Julie and for Julie to not be afraid to sit close to the scissors fanatic.

They were okay. As okay as someone could be with the girl who kissed the other’s boyfriend. But okay nevertheless.

But the more time she spent at the school and the closer she got to all of them, the more she doubted the health of Luke’s and Y/N’s relationship. Today being one of those days.

“What are you saying?!”

“I’m just saying, what kind of friend sends you eight messages in a lapse of five minutes?!”

As soon as the words leave the screaming girl’s mouth, Luke’s phone rings signaling the arrival of another text message making Y/N’s glare darken.

“Nine” she growls.

“You don’t even know if it’s from her!”

Y/N glares at him in disbelief, “Okay! Then prove me wrong!”

With a scoff, Luke gets his phone out before checking the recipient of the message only to let out a sigh that proves his girlfriend right.

“Nine?”

He nods in defeat, “Nine. B-but this is ridiculous! She is my FRIEND”

“How naive are you?!”

The couple fights for a couple more minutes before Luke’s gaze finds Julie in front of her butterfly and music doodles decorated locker. The rockstar grabbing his girl’s hand before tugging her towards the latina.

“Julie!”

Her brown eyes find the couple, widening when they see the coldness in Y/N’s eyes before trying to make a run for it.

She doesn’t make it far as Luke’s hand grabs a hold of her wrist keeping her in place.

“We need your help”

“No, we don’t” Y/N argues back.

“YES, we do”

Julie looks at her surroundings looking for a way to get out of there but finding nothing. Where was Alex when she needed him?

“Guys, I really don’t want to be in the middle of whatever this is”

She tries to leave but once again Luke pulls her back, “Too late. If you were my girlfriend—”

“HA! What a perfect way to start”

Luke glares at his girlfriend for the interruption before turning towards Julie once again, failing to notice how uncomfortable the situation was making the latina.

Somehow she was once again in between them, although this time it wasn’t her fault.

“If you were my girlfriend” he starts again, “Would it bother you if I was friends with Kayla?”

“Who cares what she thinks?” / “Honestly, it would”

Both girls speak simultaneously. Y/N’ eyes widening as soon as the Latina’s words register, grabbing a hold of the girl’s shoulders to keep her in place.

“I care what she says” Y/N smiles.

“I want to leave” Julie adds before trying to move only for Y/N’s hold to tighten.

“You stay” she barks.

The argument wasn’t unlike many others, Y/N’s temper wasn’t the best and that meant she sometimes got too jealous. It didn’t help that Luke Patterson didn’t know when to say no nor know the difference between friendly and flirty.

It was just another Luke and Y/N argument, nothing to worry about. Except it was different. Julie realized that as soon as Y/N let go of her and started walking away.

“We’re DONE”

The words had everyone in the hallway quiet down and stare at the ‘it’ couple. Eyes settled on Luke’s surprised reaction and Y/N’s tensed body.

“Come on” Luke voices “You’re being ridiculous”

“What do you care?!” She screams back before starting to leave, “You’re not my boyfriend anymore”

Word around the school traveled fast and soon girls were following Luke around begging for his attention, much to his annoyance.

On the other hand, every time a guy tried to get near Y/N she would turn her icy glare at them and have them running away in seconds.

It was a weird and new situation. Especially at lunch. It was weird seeing the former couple sitting on opposite sides of the table instead of at the side of the other with Luke’s arm resting on Y/N’s shoulders.

It was new territory to have Luke inevitably —as a habit— reach for Y/N only to have her snap at him to not touch her, just as she did to everyone else.

But that was what they had to deal with for two weeks.

Two weeks is how long it took for Y/N to ask Luke to take her back only to have him reject her. Two weeks that made Y/N go crying to Julie’s house, the only one of her friends —not really her friend— whose opinion mattered much less than the others.

“What are you doing in my house?” Is the first thing that Julie says as she sees the other girl.

Y/N gets into the house without waiting for an invitation before starting to sob, Julie standing there in panic as she sees the cold hearted teenager break down.

The latina tries to go for a hug only to be pushed back.

“I need your help”

A long talk later, Y/N convinced the Molina girl to help her get Luke back. Somehow, Julie had the fantastic idea that she had to change.

Y/N Y/L/N was a time bomb. Always ready to explode without a care on who she takes down. That had to change.

Julie realized then that the girl was truly in love with Luke. Y/N was letting her —Julie Molina— see her cry her eyes out just to ask for help to get him back. She was letting Julie give her a makeover just to get him back.

She was truly in love.

The next day at school everyone stared wide-eyed at the beauty that was Y/N Y/L/N in a colorful outfit and a wide smile —though it was a fake one—.

Everyone except Luke. The brunette boy stared at his former girlfriend with furrowed eyebrows not liking the change, his expression not changing even when Alex and Reggie complimented her.

He also couldn’t help the glares he sent any boy who came to flirt with her, his glares darkening every time she flirted back. This was not his girl and he knew whose fault it was.

His now dark green eyes find Julie’s proud smile across the hall and soon he stomps towards her, grabbing her by the arm before taking her to the janitor’s closet.

“What did you do to Y/N?”

Julie furrows her eyebrows in confusion as she sees the angry look the guitarist is giving her, but soon smirks as she confuses it with jealousy.

“What? Jealous of the attention she is receiving?”

“Actually, I’m mad that she is receiving the attention for dressing like a Barbie” he argues back, “That is not her, that is not the girl I love”

Julie’s eyes widen after the boy’s words before he storms off, leaving her with an unexpected knowledge.

The latina goes to look for Y/N as soon as she snaps out of her trance only to find said girl in the bathroom back in her black clothes while doing her dark eyeshadow.

“Wha—ho—I’m confused”

“Being nice sucks” she answers as she finishes her makeup, “Thanks for the help but, if I can be honest, I was better without it”

“Bu— and Luke?”

“If he ever wants to get back together it has to be with me, the real me. Not a version of me dressed in awfully ridiculous clothes”

“Those were my clothes”

“Exactly my point”

With that Y/N walks out of the bathroom ignoring the looks that followed her figure, leaving Julie once again at loss of words.

A week after, Luke and Y/N were back together and closer than ever. But the honeymoon phase faded and the fights started once again. But Julie learned to see the beauty in their arguments.

Every argument got Luke out of his perfectly peaceful demeanor and got him to voice his thoughts out more, it helped him stand up more for himself. And every argument showed the depth of Y/N’s feelings for the guitarist, it showed how much she cared.

It’s just that sometimes they didn’t know when to stop arguing.

Of course now Julie wasn’t blind to their little moments. The way Y/N always stopped when Luke asked her to or how Luke always kissed the girl’s temple sweetly.

Or how when Bobby —Sunset Curve’s (which was the boys’ band) rhythm guitarist (who she hadn’t met)— left the boys, it was Y/N who approached the curly-haired girl thinking she was the perfect fit for the remake of the band.

It was Y/N, who barely tolerated her, who adviced them to change the band’s name as they changed their sound slightly. Julie and the Phantoms, had been her idea after the boys ghosted the girls on the group chat.

Julie knew the only reason why Y/N had done that was because she knew how much the band meant to Luke.

She wasn’t blind to how Luke would only ever snap when it was to protect Y/N, even if he knew she was perfectly capable of doing it herself. Or how he always bought a hot chocolate with his coffee for her.

With time, Julie realized it kinda made sense why they were together even when she couldn’t quite completely understand it.

But soon the fights started again, this time worst than ever. It was different because instead of bickering until one gave in, neither seemed interested enough in fighting.

It worried all of them because their fights —as annoying as they sometimes were— showed how much each cared. Now it seemed they didn’t.

To be completely fair, Julie understood if anyone outside their group saw the relationship as toxic. She had seen it as toxic once. But it just made sense in a weird way. It just made sense for the kind of people they were, they complemented one another.

But this time the fights were just too much. That’s why when the traditional friend group game night happen, Y/N and Luke weren’t invited.

Carrie —Y/N’s undoubted best friend— was sick of fainting every time she got stuck in the middle, the innocent and kind girl couldn’t take the stress.

Reggie, the boyish teenager with the purest heart ever, didn’t want to cry anymore. He couldn’t handle the screaming and that’s all the couple did.

Alex, on the other hand, was tired of having to grab his asthma medicine every time they appeared. The fights making him get too anxious which always caused him a panic attack which led to his inability to breathe which led to an asthma attack.

No one could take it anymore.

So they decided to have an evening free of them, one well deserved. But it didn’t work as planned as the couple stormed into Julie’s home half an hour after everyone started playing Monopoly.

“See! Told you they’d be here”

Y/N rolls her eyes, “So? What does it matter if they’re at dumbass’ house?”

Julie rolls her eyes at the insult but nevertheless listens closely to the couple, all her friends groaning in annoyance at the interruption.

“It matters because our friends, our best friends, don’t want to be near us anymore!” He argues “Doesn’t this bother you?”

“Not really” she shrugs, “Should it? Wait... does it bother you?”

“It does! They’re our best friends and they can’t stand us”

Y/N crosses her arms across her chest before turning to glare at their friends, Carrie hiding under the table with a shriek as soon as she sees her best friend gaze at her.

Seeing the icy glare that the girl throws at them, Reggie shakily takes a deep breath before standing up and looking at them with annoyance.

“Yes! We can’t stand either of you!” He shouts, “We wanted a day free of you both because all you ever do is fight! And, somehow, you always seem to drag us to the middle of it. We’re tired!”

As soon as Reggie finishes, the dark-haired boy sits down with a huff. His shoulders feeling less tense as he let out his emotions.

The couple watched their best friends with mixed feelings, neither expecting the outburst and much less from Reggie. Reggie who had always been one to avoid conflict.

“I cannot believe this” Luke sighs “Reggie snapped at us. REGGIE”

“This is you fault!” She accuses “How hard is it to just agree with me?!”

“BUT I DON’T AGREE WITH YOU”

“BECAUSE YOU ARE WRONG”

The four friends sighed in defeat as they listened to the couple bicker once more with one another, how had a fun night turned to a nightmare all of a sudden?

They silently decided to just stay in their seats waiting for the couple to stop the nonsense as they always did.

“WHAT BOTHERS YOU SO MUCH?!”

“THAT I AM NOT HAPPY WITH OUR RELATIONSHIP!”

The words cut through Y/N’s strong façade in a second, the glare faltering as Luke’s eyes widen after realizing what he had said.

No one dared move nor say anything. Everyone had their eyes on the couple that seemed to be coming to terms with how bad the situation had become.

“Fine” she sighs in defeat “You have a choice. I’m walking out that door and counting to ten, if you’re not out before I finish we are DONE”

Luke sighs frustrated as he watches her leave, the door closing with a thud behind her.

“One”

He stays still on his place with his fists clenching as he fights the urge to run to her and scream at her what was the reason for this ultimatum.

“Two”

Luke knows he needs to calm down. He has to. He had to if he wanted to be able to go after her without fighting as soon as he saw her.

“Three”

Y/N counted behind the door, staring at it with nerves as she asks herself how he could take so long to come after her. What was taking him so long to decide that she was worth going after?

“Four”

The four friends behind Luke stare with wide eyes as they try to figure out what is it that the brunette is going to do.

They want him to go after her. Carrie, Reggie, and Alex more than Julie. The three best friends had been there throughout all the relationship. They had seen Luke be the only one brave enough to pursue the cruel beauty. They had seen Y/N being the only one that cared more about Luke’s heart than his looks.

They knew how much this relationship was worth. Even with all the fights, they knew the love the two had for one another was deeper than any outsider could understand at first sight.

He had to go after her.

“Five”

Luke sighs looking towards his friends once before deciding what he wants to do. He can’t lose her, no matter how much they fight.

No one understood him like she did. No one cared enough to tell him when he was wrong or to fight with him until he fought for what he wanted.

“Six”

Y/N feels her eyes widen as she realizes how much time he is taking. It should’ve been easy, he shouldn’t have even let her count to three.

He should’ve opened the door the second she closed it.

“Seven”

Sighing, Luke starts slowly making his way towards the door. His best friends sighing in relief as they see him do it.

Julie, though, watches closely as the boy’s shoulders tense the closer he gets.

“Eight”

Carrie furrows her eyebrows once she sees Luke starting to halt in his steps. She knew Y/N better than anyone, Y/N had been the only one willing to take the ‘obnoxious naive superstar’s daughter’ under her wing and be completely honest with her.

She knows better than anyone that if Luke lets her walk away just like her father let her mother walk away with her, that’ll break her.

“Nine”

Luke grabs a hold of the handle but for some reason he can’t bring himself to turn it and open the door.

Something feels wrong about opening it, almost as wrong as it feels to not open it.

He is scared of what it means if he opens it, or how easily he gives in. Something had to change. Maybe he needed to let her walk away, Y/N always came back. She would go to his house in the middle of the night and they would fix everything.

It would be okay, they would be okay. They always were. This was no difference, they just needed some time to think, to breathe.

So he doesn’t turn the knob.

“Ten”

Y/N feels her heart stop the moment she screams the last number. She feels her heart sink to her stomach as a feeling of abandonment settles in her.

She feels her skin pale and soon reaches for the knob, but she doesn’t allow herself to touch it. He made his choice.

So with every ounce of strength she could find within her, Y/N turns around and makes her way to her car knowing that he could catch a ride with Alex. The tears started accumulating in her e/c eyes but she didn’t let them fall.

Y/N Y/L/N didn’t cry. She wasn’t about to start... at least not in a place where someone could see her.

Inside the Molina’s household, the best friends stare at Luke in disbelief, neither knowing what to say or do now. The Patterson boy makes the decision for them.

“Let’s play some Monopoly”

The statement has everyone else following his movements in silence, knowing better than to act against him.

Carrie, though, is the one that finally breaks the silence as she lets out a quiet sob. She was angry, mainly at herself for not being able to go after her best friend. But she knew better. Y/N was a person who protected her feelings more than anything else, she was in pain and she wouldn’t let it out if someone was watching her. So Carrie had to stay on her seat even if she wanted to run after her.

“You hurt her” whispered the sweet teenager, “I trusted you, she trusted you, with her heart and you hurt it”

It was at that moment, with Carrie’s pretty brown eyes filled with tears as she glared at him with all her willpower, that Luke realized how wrong he had been. He thought it would be okay but Carrie’s reaction proved him wrong.

Carrie showed him that this time was different from the others. If the sweet girl willingly glared at him with so much betrayal than it meant that Y/N wasn’t gonna go to his house at midnight.

It meant he had lost her.

Still, as Luke realized that, he stayed on his seat staring intently at the fake money in his hands. He couldn’t change what he had done.

“Let’s start”

The following weeks were a pain for the group of friends. The group had to divide their time between the former couple and it was exhausting.

But things got better and after a couple of months Y/N and Luke started sitting at the same table with their friends once again. It brought some relief to the group.

The hurt from the breakup still pained them though. Y/N was not used to watching so many girls flirt with Luke and watching him flirt back, and Luke was not used to Y/N moving away from his touch while also enjoying the way some guys’ eyes linger on her figure.

Things had changed and it pained them both, but they were finally okay. As okay as they could be at least.

They still loved each other, but they became good at pretending. Soon three months became five and five became seven. And things were okay, they were friends again without any awkwardness surrounding the group.

Still, Julie was sure she wasn’t the only one who noticed the love they still had for the other. It was the little things. The way their eyes lingered on the other when they thought no one was looking, the smiles they faked to play the part; all signs of how much they still loved the other. Even after everything.

So it did come as a surprised when Y/N announced she had a date.

Apparently some senior that participated on the play with her had the balls to ask her out. And she said yes.

While everyone congratulated the mean girl, Luke made some excuse to leave the table while everyone tried to stop themselves from asking the questions that they new neither of the former couple wanted to answer.

‘Are you okay?’ ‘Do you still love her/him?’

Neither wanted to be asked that because the answers broke them. They weren’t okay. They still were in love with one another.

They were afraid they would never stop being in love with the other.

But neither had to say it. All their friends knew it, because they knew them. That’s why no one was surprised when Julie and the Phantoms was saved by Y/N on their concert at a cafe the night of her date.

The girl had screamed at them for keeping the presentation a secret, the band excusing themselves with the thought of not wanting her to miss her date —although they didn’t want to give her the opportunity to bring her date with her to their concert since that would break Luke.

Either way, they boys’ amps had stopped working and in a panic Julie had texted Carrie. Carrie had been helping Y/N get ready and said girl had grabbed her amps and drove them both to the small cafe.

Date completely forgotten without a care.

“You didn’t have to miss your date for this” Luke tells her softly.

She looks at him as if he had lost his mind, “This is your band, Patterson”

Luke’s heart feels heavy in his chest as he realizes the depth behind her words. This was his band and that meant it meant something to her. It meant as much to her as it did to him because it was his.

The brunette boy feels a smile overtake his features along with a small blush, wanting nothing more than to kiss her right there.

But he didn’t. Instead he kissed her cheek.

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise and soon her perfect skin started acquiring a deep scarlet, which she hid by hurrying Carrie to go find some seats.

If that night Luke sang looking at her too often, then damn him. Who could blame him? Y/N had just giving him more reasons to love her.

After that neither tried to date again. They were silently pining after one another, too afraid to make a move considering the way things ended between them.

But Julie grew tired of it and soon started bugging them to date other people if they weren’t going to date one another.

That’s why when Luke was rejecting Kayla’s date, Julie intervened.

“Sorry, Kayla” he apologizes, “I have rehearsal with the band”

“No, we don’t” Julie smiles “Actually, why don’t you guys come to the concert the school is holding together?”

Luke glared at the talented singer before fake smiling towards the Hawaiian beauty who agreed instantly.

Though once Kayla is out sight, Luke grabs Julie’s arm and pulls her towards the janitor’s closet where he glares at her with dark green eyes.

“What are you doing?”

“You need to date! Get out there, mingle a little”

He shakes his head, “When Y/N finds out about this she’ll despise me”

Julie frowns with confusion, “No, she won’t. She has moved on, you should too”

Luke shakes his head in disbelief making Julie scoff before getting her phone out.

“What are you doing?”

She shushes him before putting her phone on speaker, making Luke’s eyes widen once he sees the called ID being the one of his ex.

He would never voice out loud the way his heart skipped a beat.

“I’m blocking you”, came her cold voice as soon as the call is picked up.

“Wait—Y/N! Don’t hang up!”

A groan is heard making Luke involuntarily smile.

“You have five seconds to tell me what the heck you want before I block you”

“Okay, look, I’m here with Beck—“

“Julie, don’t”

“He’s going with Kayla to the school’s concert, as a date” Julie continues “Just wanted to make sure that’s okay with you”

There’s a ten seconds silence through the line. Ten seconds in which Julie realizes that maybe she was wrong, that maybe she should’ve minded her own business. For so long she had found annoyance in the ways she always ended up in the middle of their problems and here she was, butting in herself.

Ten seconds in which Luke panics. Realizing that he is also awaiting the answer anxiously. There are two ways this could go: Y/N could snap, voicing loudly how she didn’t give a damn, or she could scream asking for answers to questions she shouldn’t have and bad-mouthing Kayla. Both were common in their past. It was a way to showed she cared, that she was jealous and that she wasn’t ready to let him go yet. Both answers would give him the last drop of hope he needed to do something about what he felt towards her.

But when the ten seconds came to an end, neither got an answer they expected from the impulsive ice queen.

“We’re not dating” she reminded them in a voice too soft to be recognized as hers, “We haven’t been for a long time. You don’t have to make sure if it’s okay with me”

“What?”, Luke asks softly, “Y/N, I…”

“I’m being serious right now, Luke”, she continues, “I do appreciate your concern but it’s none of my business who you date”

Silence. Neither Julie nor Luke know what to say or do next. Neither expected the mature response from the H/C haired beauty. Neither knew if they liked it.

“Well, if that was all, don’t call me again”

And she hung up.

Julie stared at her phone in disbelief, but what did she expect? Was she secretly hoping that Y/N would finally snap and this agonizing secret mutual pining they were all forced to endure would finally end? What exactly had she expected to achieve from this?

Definitely not the way Luke was looking right now.

The guitarist looked completely heartbroken and hopeless. The fire that normally resided in his eyes had ceased to exist. And as he looked at one of his best friends while holding tightly onto his backpack’s strap, all that could shine through his eyes was a deep feeling of betrayal.

“I…”

“You should’ve stayed out of it”, he voiced numbly “She doesn’t despise me. It’s worst, she doesn’t care at all”

“Luke…”

“I’ll go on that stupid date, just bug out, will you?”

The days before the concert were painful for every single one of them on their friend group. It was definitely a weird sight to see Luke look so out of it and Y/N so unbothered by it. It was the first time since their break up that their friends doubted the possibility of them ever finding their way back to each other.

When they finally had the courage to ask Luke what was going on, the guitarist told them he had a date with his eyes glued to Y/N body. He was waiting for a reaction, no matter how small it was. Anything really.

But she gave nothing away.

All she did to answer their friends’ curious and astonished gazes was shrug her shoulders and voice she was just trying to finish her song for the school’s concert.

The unbothered air that surrounded her was heartbreaking for everyone around her. It was as if she was truly okay either letting go of Luke and their history. As if she had already given up on them. They couldn’t blame her, it had been a long time since they last were together, but that didn’t change the fact that they all truly believed they were meant to be together and that it was unsettling to see it come to a real end.

Especially by the look on Luke’s eyes. His face may have remained neutral and unfaltering but his eyes could never deceive from his true feelings. He was hurt.

And being hurt but not wanting to show it meant he tried to keep himself as busy as he could until the school’s concert, avoiding all his friends and Y/N especially. And when the time to meet up with Kayla came, Luke had to pretend to be invested in everything she told him; even if most things were just compliments to suck up to him, agreeing to every little thing he said. He didn’t even know if anything that she actually told him was her actual real opinion or if she was just trying that hard to agree with everything he said to be reciprocated.

He didn’t even know anything about who she was and they had been talking for the hour that concert had already been going on.

Favorite song? She would ask his first before saying how much she also loved it. Methods of acting that they found more suitable? She would giggle and twirl her hair waiting for him to answer before giving what she would fake is her own opinion.

It was tiring.

Where was her own fire? Why didn’t she fight back when he disagreed with something she said? Why didn’t she try to show him why she was passionate about it instead of just nodding and giving in?

Why was she making it so easy?

He didn’t like it. He was hating it actually. So he took the first chance he could, excusing himself by saying he needed to refill his drink, to run for it.

That’s how Julie found him after helping the boys set up the instruments for Y/N’s set, which was up next.

“Ooohh, hello, loverboy” she teased him, “Where is your lovely lady of the night?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care”

Julie blinks, surprised by his answer, before grabbing a cup and filling it with the first soda she saw.

“Date not going well?”

“It’s a disaster” he scoffs, “She’s just agreeing with everything I say”

Julie nods, “Isn’t that a good thing, though? Means you have things in common”

“Not really. Not if I don’t know if that is truly what she thinks” he shakes his head “Feels like she’s just trying to agree to everything I say”

“Well, it’s the first date, you know” she sighs, “She probably doesn’t want to fight you on it. Next one will be better”

He shakes his head, “There won’t be a next one”

“WHAT?!”

Luke drinks from his cup while Julie starts stumbling upon her words after what he said. She couldn’t believe it. He wasn’t even gonna give it a chance? The date wasn’t even over yet.

“I think I learned something about myself”

Julie scoffs, “That you’re ungrateful to your friend who tried to help you by fixing you up with a cute girl?!”

“No, I just…” he sighs “I think I kind of like to date a girl who, you know… fights back”

Julie looks at him dumbfounded, not understanding his point.

“I mean a girl who has strong opinions” he continues, “you know? A big mouth”

“Why?”

He shrugs his shoulders, “Cause it’s not easy. Easy is boring”

Julie stares for a good minute before sighing. It kinda made sense. At the end of the day, love was all about growth. Growth didn’t exist without different opinions and dialogues that fought each ideal. It was all about pushing each other to become your very best. How could you do that without bumps along the way?

“Okay…” she sighs, taking a sip of her drink, “Then, who’s not boring?”

Their conversation is cut short by Reggie’s voice on the stage, he had been assigned as the concert’s host and had been doing a magnificent job all night.

“Okay, people! Let’s hear things up with F/N L/N! Let’s go!”

Reggie soon goes to grab the bass as Alex appears behind the drums. Other two students grabbing the guitar and keyboard left.

Luke and Julie take a step closer, that way they have a better view of the stage.

The guitar starts playing the intro as Y/N walks into stage in a cute short black goth dress with fisher nets and combat boots, her hair’s normal blue streaks a dark purple this night. Shortly after she makes her way to the microphone stand the drums join the melody.

And soon her melodious and angelic raspy voice sounds through the place.

“You think you know me

But you don't know me

You think you own me

But you can't control me”

As if it was destined to be, the lyrics bring light to the situation at hand.

There was a reason why Luke and Y/N always ended up gravitating towards one another despite all the horrible fights they endured with each other.

“You look at me and there's just one thing that you see

So listen to me

Listen to me”

Julie feels like smacking herself across the face. The truth was so obvious that she feels dumb to have been so oblivious to it.

“You push me back

I push you back

Harder, harder

You scream at me

I scream at you

Louder, L-L-L-L-Louder”

Luke Patterson was probably one of the most carefree and easy going people she had ever met. He was always carrying this certain peaceful atmosphere around him. He needed someone or something to push him to thrive, to become better than he already was. To fight for his ideals and his dreams. It wasn’t enough to just want them to happen, he had to make them happen and his calm self usually hid from conflict.

F/N L/N was probably the most loud and impulsive person Julie had ever met. Never once had she silenced her opinions, always speaking the truth no matter how cruel it could be. She wasn’t someone who hid from a fight and whenever she wanted something she never stopped until she got it. She needed someone who could stop her when she was going to far, someone to calm the fire that never cease to light up inside of her.

“I'm dangerous so I'm warning you

But you're not afraid of me

And I can't convince you

You don't know me”

There was not one person in the whole world that was meant to be with the other but themselves. They pushed each other, for better and worst. They had the possibility of being the best and the worst thing that could happen to the other.

And as the song keeps going, the truth becomes blinding.

“And the longer that you stay, the ice is melting

And the pain feels okay, it feels okay (hey)”

Luke’s eyes never once stray away from the powerful force that is Y/N as she sings. Her voice loud and powerful as raspy and angelic. His heart beats to the song’s rhythm, unveiling a silent truth that he had been trying so hard to push to the bottom of his being, to afraid of what it truly meant. To afraid of it being to late to mean it.

“You push me back

I push you back

You scream at me

I scream at you

Louder”

Her e/c cold gaze meets his green eyes and suddenly it seems all the iciness in it melts away. As if only his gaze could have that power over her. As if only he was allowed to see the true kind soul hidden behind the cold walls she had taken so long to build around herself.

“You push me back

I push you back

Harder harder

You scream at me

I scream at you

Louder, L-L-L-L-Louder”

And he knows right there and then, as does Julie and his friends, that it is her. It has always been her. It will always be her.

It is Y/N who pushes him until he finally snaps. It is Y/N who fights for him whenever he doesn’t find the will to do so. It is Y/N who loves him so much that she fights to control her impulses whenever he asks her to.

It had always been her and he had been a fool to ever let her walk away without giving a fight. Especially when she had never stopped fighting.

“I'm dangerous so I'm warning you

But you're not afraid of me

And I can't convince you

And I don't have to I think you know me”

Their relationship was flawed. Maybe even toxic. But it was magical. It was powerful and passionate. And it was real.

Never had they ever been afraid to voice their opinions to the other, even fighting back when they disagreed; yet never settling. Never had they ever been afraid to be vulnerable by showing each other how much they truly cared for one another. Never had they ever stopped loving each other.

The applause make Luke blink out of his daze and realize all this time he had been staring right at Y/N. And she had been staring back.

She offers him a soft smile that to anyone else would look like her usual smirk, but he knew better. He had always known better. And that’s how he knows she is fighting, one last time, for him. She has ignited the flame and it is leaving it to him to turn it off once and for all or help it grow as fierce and wild as it can.

Julie smiles softly, “So, Luke… who’s not boring?”

And he smiles.

Step by step he gets closer to the stage where Y/N is still on, nodding at the standing ovation that is applauding her. Only taking her eyes her eyes off the public once he makes it right at her side.

Everyone’s eyes are on them. Silence.

They stand there for a minute just staring at each other. Y/N with her hand folded in front of her and Luke with both his hands buried in his jean’s pockets.

“I’ve missed you” he finally voices.

She shrugs, acting indifferent, “So what are you gonna do about it?”

Two seconds of silence follow in which Luke pauses to admire her challenging e/c gaze, before taking enough steps to be face-to-face with her. His hand leave the safety of his pockets and find their way to the warm of her cheeks before pulling her towards him, lips meeting anxiously.

And it was like a weight was lifted of their chests, letting them finally breathe without struggle.

No matter the fights, the misunderstandings, disagreements or the toxicity. They would always find their way back to each other because of the truth and purity of their love, which was real. Love was never meant to be perfect but it is meant to keep the other grounded, to push the other to grow.

And that’s what always brought Luke and Y/N back. It’s what always would bring them back.

[tulip-room]

elodea - o. tooru || wc:5.2k || tags: childhood friends to lovers, mermaid au, artist yn, muse oikawa, "pen pals" of sorts, touch starved, something keeps them apart, second chance,depression <//3, bad parental relationships, first time saying "I love you", 5 +1...sort of ! || hq works

i.

When she first meets the boy she’s unsure what to make of him, she knows he looks different than her, she asks where his legs are as they’re hidden under the water and he just laughs. It sounds like the sea breeze itself and refreshes her in a way she had yet to experience. “I don’t have those,” she sees a shine under the water and tilts her head. 

“Everyone has legs.”

“No they don’t.” To prove his point he swims closer to the dock she’s sitting on and flicks up what looks to be a tail. The scales shine decadently in the golden summer light, his skin is tanned and there’s an easy smile on his face. “I told you,” she leans down and her hands graze the water. He turns and the motion splashes her with water and she almost falls in. “I didn’t say you could touch it,” his small fingers are just curled over the edge of the wooden dock and his brown eyes stare into hers. 

“Sorry,” there’s a slight lisp as one of her front teeth has yet to grow in yet. “What’s your name?”

“Oikawa Tooru,” the water moves gently as she assumes his tail pushes it to keep him upright.

“I’m L/N Y/N,” she holds out her hand and he takes it. When he spreads his fingers she sees the webbing connecting the joints together, she turns his hand over and examines it in comparison with her own. Her mind doesn’t wrap around just what he is until the sun threatens to set over the horizon. They spend hours discussing everything their brains could think of from the color of the water to their favorite foods. “Will you be here tomorrow?” He nods and she hears the call of her grandmother from the top of the hill. 

“Will you be here tomorrow?” He tries to ask inconspicuously but fails as she catches on.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would say you enjoyed hanging out with me today.”

“Well…it’s a good thing you know better then.” There’s smiles on both of their faces as her name gets called yet again. “You better get going, come back tomorrow.”

She almost can’t wait to wake up the next day but her grandma reminds her of the chores she has to do. She tries to rush through them, the dishes not dried and put away, mud prints on the tiled floor from when she ran out to feed the horses, her yellow rain boots squeaking as she runs around the townhouse. “Get back in her,” she hears sternly behind her just as she’s rushing out the door. There her grandma stands with his hands on her hips and a stern but soft look on her face. “And where are you off to this morning in such a rush? You have mud on your face,” she licks her thumb and wipes the dirt away much to Y/N’s protest. 

“Grandma, stop it!” She pushes her away and tries to wriggle free from her grasp. There’s a moment of laughter from both of them and with a kiss on her forehead her grandma lets her go. 

“Okay, go be a kid. Have fun, don’t pick up any snakes you find.” Her grandma warns teasingly before she runs off down the hill yellow rain boots squeaking the whole time.  When she makes it down to the dock she sees a familiar head of brown hair and the same shining tail as yesterday.

“What took you so long,” he turns around excitedly before trying to cover it by crossing his arms. “Not that I was waiting or anything.” He makes a point to close his eyes and turn his head away.

“Sorry Fishy, I had to do chores.” She sticks her tongue out at him as she lays down on the dock, it creaks under her movements and she looks up at the clouds. “Have you been waiting long?”

“No, I only got here a few minutes ago.” She hums in response and closes her eyes as she allows the sun to beam down on her. “Do you live here?”

“No, I’m only visiting for the summer.” There’s a strange pang in his chest at the words, he’s only known her for a day at most and he already knows he’s going to miss her presence. He shakes the thoughts away and pulls himself up so only his tail is left in the water and joins her laying down. She can hear the splashes of protest from the water and hear his breaths as he hoists himself up. “Do you live here?”

“Yeah, I live by where the lake meets the ocean.”

“That seems far,” if she remembers where he’s talking about.

“It’s not bad, maybe a five minute swim?” He questions himself and then they sit in silence. “Where do you go after the summer?”

“My mom got a new job so I have to go move in with her. I want to stay here though, it’s where all my friends are.”

“Oh, how far away?”

“Two hours,” she sighs and crosses her arms over her chest. He finds his head shifting to look at her, the light tracing her face and he wonders if her skin is as soft as it looks. 

“Oh, that’s really far.” There’s a somber tone for a few minutes before the children start pointing out clouds and what they look like. 

He knows the time is passing because her front tooth has started growing in and her lisp starts to go away. “Are you coming back?”

“Next summer,” she hums. It’s become routine for them to lay on the dock together. They pretend the time doesn’t pass as quickly as it does and live in their moment. Their moment of warm sunlight and frogs croaking in weeds, of the wind whistling through cattails, and of dragonflies buzzing and flying along the water’s edge. “Can I see you here next summer?”

“Of course.” They both know their weeks together are drawing to a close. Can feel it as the weather starts cooling down and their days get shorter. She goes to school to finish out the year but she always comes back to him when she gets back. By the final week of summer her tooth has grown in and her lisp has gone away. It gets chillier at night and he stops joining her on the dock. 

“I got you something,” she says as she rummages through her bag, post it notes and pencils fall out as she grabs hold of what she wants. It’s a necklace, there’s a plastic bag holding it in but it’s clear as to what it is. She pulls out the delicate chain and he can spot a seashell hanging from the chain. 

“I love it,” he answers and takes it from her hands before she can say another word. After he puts it on he holds up a hand. “I have something for you too, I’ll be back in ten minutes. Wait for me?”

“Always.” Her feet dangle over the edge but she’s careful not to let her shoes hit the water. Around ten minutes later an out of breath boy pops his head out of the water. He holds a bag in his hands and holds it out to her. She leans forward and grabs it, inside she finds a bracelet of sea gems and smiles. “Thank you,” she puts it on and admires how it twinkles in the light of the setting sun. 

ii.

It’s easy to tell they’ve both grown older when she visits again the next summer break. Her limbs have grown longer and his voice has gotten deeper. Their routine continues when she returns. They manage to make it halfway through the break before he stops showing up every day. She waits for him with her knees curled up to her chest and her chin resting on her knees. Her arms are wrapped around her legs and it’s almost time for her to go back in when she can see the faintest shimmer of what she hopes are scales. A smile grows when the shimmering gets closer and she can just make out a familiar head of brown hair. “What took you so long clamshell?”

“Sorry,” he tries to catch his breath and reaches into his seaweed bag. “I can’t always be here anymore.” He hands her the conch and the inside contrasts with the rough outside as she runs her hands over it. “Just blow into it and I’ll come as soon as I can.” She nods and he must hear something she can’t because she can see his face drop. “I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay, go do what you need to do Tooru,” with one last solemn look towards her, his head ducks under the water and she watches as the shimmering scales grow farther and farther away from her. She continues to sit on the old dock for a few moments longer as she turns the shell in her hands. The air is hot and humid and sticks to her skin like glue, the dragonflies buzz as they graze the water lines and her mind wanders to last summer and what could have changed so suddenly. She stands up from the chipping dock and tredges her way back up the hill and into her grandma’s home. It’s cool inside and she can smell the beginnings of dinner being started. 

“Well, aren’t you back early.” It’s more of a statement than a question as her grandma throws her a glance from where she stands. “Where in the world did you manage to find a conch around here?”

“It was a gift,” she mumbles and sits down at the table. The cloth is a pale yellow with small embroidered flowers over it in small square designs. The shell clinks softly as the tablecloth acts as a buffer for the noise. 

“You don’t seem very happy about the gift,” she lays her head down in her arms and stares out the window. She tries not to think of the sea or the lake, it will make her think of him and the surprisingly large hole he’s left for her to fill without him. She feels a hand on her shoulder as a chair screeches against the wood. Her grandma sits down while the pot boils in the background. “What’s going on little love?”

“One of my friends that I was excited to see is too busy to hang out the rest of the break.” Her grandma chuckles lightly and she glares lightly. “What’s funny?”

“That’s part of growing up, it’s okay to not see them all the time. The person is still your friend and you still care about each other?” She nods her head at the question. “Then, nothing else matters. Get that frown off your face, little love and help me finish dinner.” The chair scoots against the wood and the table shifts its weight as her grandma uses it to help her stand. She follows close behind and they talk about school, how the garden is coming along, the horses, and everything they can think of. She’s missed this, the feeling of home and the sea breeze. 

Despite herself she goes back the next day, she waits and she waits and waits. The air turns chilly and the fireflies start coming out and she knows he’s not coming today. She pulls the bracelet off her wrist and finds herself becoming calmer as her thumb rubs over the gems, they’ve been smoothed out among the edges and she finds herself smiling. He’s not entirely gone, he’s still with her when she smells the salty air of the sea or feels the wood beneath her. This is their spot and that doesn’t change just because one of them isn’t there. She rushes back up to the house and digs through all kinds of drawers, she knows she’s making a racket but her grandma doesn’t say anything to her. She just holds a fond look in her eyes as she watches her write a short letter and take a piece of geode with her. 

The geode wasn’t very old, at least in her possession, only having it for a few months after a class trip to learn about the different kinds of rocks. Her rain boots are tighter this year than they were the year prior but they still squeak as she runs down the grassed hill of her grandma’s backyard and towards the dock, their spot. She folds the paper and sets the geode on top, with a hopeful look towards the horizon she heads back up the hill and disappears into the comforting home of her grandma. She’ll have her summer memories forever, she’ll remember the air sticking to her skin and the boy with chocolate hair that she met on a dodgy dock. She’ll remember the sea breeze and her grandma’s cooking. She’ll remember the joy she feels when she’s here even long after she’s left. 

iii.

She gets used to the walls of her school, makes friends among the people in her classes. Tries to forget her time at the lakehouse. Her grandma has been sending her letters, she’s not sure how her grandma figured it out but she hasn’t made up her mind about whether she’s happy with it or not. Her heart hurts when she thinks of the lakehouse, how she hadn’t been able to go this year. Regardless of her feelings, she still sits at her desk every night and writes the perfect response to Oikawa’s letters. She sometimes sends little trinkets she thinks he’ll like and he’ll send back pieces of sea glass or a piece of coral. The space on her desk begins to fill quickly. 

She enjoys the little letters they exchange because although she’s not with him it’s like she can still smell the sea and hear his laughter in her mind if she closes her eyes it’s like she can picture herself laying on the dock with a warm body next to her own, knuckles just grazing against each other slightly and not making motions to move further. The quiet breaths she can almost hear over the buzz of bugs and the croaking of frogs. She misses the sticky air and the words that hang in the air and her grandma’s cooking. She misses her sea breeze. 

The weather grows colder and she finds the letters coming slower and fewer. Soon they stop altogether and her mind starts straying from pretty eyes and prettier smiles. She finds herself trying to latch on to anything that she thinks she can keep. She finds safety in art, in making something from the ground up, she enjoys the chalk that stains her fingers and the paint that litters her clothes and winds up on her cheek. Her sketchbook is filled with scales and pretty brown eyes, it’s filled with landscapes of the sea and a creaky old dock with a hill behind it. Of sea gem bracelets and seashell necklaces. 

She finds herself driving to the sea more often than she thought she would. She sits there for hours on the beach and just looks towards the horizon, smelling the air and listening to the birds chirp and the children laugh. She finds the cold air nostalgic in a way, the breeze hitting her cheeks and making her nose run. She wraps a cardigan around herself to sit on the rocks for longer. The sting of the wind is a familiar friend and is almost as familiar as the sting in her eyes. She doesn’t bother wiping the tears away, she has grown to the familiarity of them rolling down her cheeks as she tries to keep her breathing level. It’s a failing attempt and she lets out a dry cough. “I didn’t think I would miss you this much this soon.” 

The day her bracelet breaks is the day she stays home from school and doesn’t move from her bed. There are parts of chipped gems embedded into the carpet of her floor, when she gets up to grab water she cuts her foot on one of the pieces. She pulls the shard out with a pair of tweezers but can feel it already cemented in place and forever a part of her. A part of the sea will be with her. 

She finds it in her the following day to tediously pick the pieces out of her carpet. She steals the superglue from the junk drawer in the kitchen and spends the rest of the day gluing them back together. It’s not the same as it was before but she makes a pair of earrings and a hair clip. The cord holding them together is beyond saving. She wonders as she clips her hair back how Oikawa is doing, if he misses her like she misses him. She hopes the answer is yes, hopes that she lives in his mind as much as he lives in hers. 

“Where are you,” her words die like a whisper in the wind. Realistically she knows where he is, the same place he has been that she hasn’t. She feels her phone buzz in her pocket and sighs as she stands up, the wind almost blows her over as she gets up on unsteady feet. She makes it to her car and sits with her head against the horn of the wheel for a few moments. She drives home fifteen minutes later, she’s unsure of where the time passed. It’s been doing that a lot, jumping around and hiding from her when she’s not looking. 

Her keys clatter against her wooden dresser, it’s covered in paint; some of it peeling off already as she hadn’t wanted to seal it in place. She needs to get a new carpet but that means letting go of the pieces she couldn’t find but knows are there. There’s a lot of things she needs to do but hasn’t. She’s tired.

iv.

The day of her graduation is the next time she sees the lakehouse. Her home in the process of being sold as her mother has to move yet again for her job. This time she won’t be pulled along every which way. She doesn’t let go of her grandma for what feels like hours, just basks in her warmth and honey smell. She gets pushed off weakly and her grandma shakes her head. “Quit that, people will think I’m dying if you keep that up,’ she sends her a wink and Y/N finds herself laughing. 

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.” Her grandma lets out a hearty laugh and bumps her hip lightly. Her legs want to pull her to the door leading down a familiar path but she refrains. There’s no chance he’ll be there or want to talk to her. She hadn’t realized how long she had been looking at the door until her grandma speaks up.

“Go see him,” there’s love in her eyes as the two make eye contact. She motions with her head to the door. 

“He won’t want to see me,” she turns her head away and her grandma shakes her head. 

“He’s been waiting for you, said that’s why he stopped sending letters. To force you to see him.” 

“I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“Don’t leave him waiting for too long dear, love like that may not be fickle but it’s difficult to care for when there’s no one helping you.”

“Okay,” instead of going to the dock she locks herself in her old room. Her yellow rain boots sit in the corner and her vanity is still as she left it. There’s a printed photo of her with Oikawa hanging in the top right corner, the edges are curled and it’s entirely too bright but it’s obvious to her what it is. There’s pearls and rocks, and all kinds of trinkets she remembers Oikawa bringing her and her rushing back up the hill squeaky boots and all to give him something in return.

“A kiss will do,” he jokes and presents his cheek to her. She laughs and pushes his head away.

“In your dreams,” she sticks her tongue out at him and trips slightly on the wood as she races up and over the hill. He had grown used to the sight, of her ponytail bouncing as she ran over that grassy hill. He wishes he could go with her but he knows he can’t, he’s fine with how things are. Both of them here and happy. Comfortable, just with each other.

Her hands comb over the old stacks of homework she hadn’t gotten to throwing out before her move. Her stuffed animals are still on the bed and her bed is made with the same pink sheets that they had 8 years ago. There’s decals on her wall of sea creatures and she remembers painting a fish near her bed (she hadn’t quite figured out how human anatomy worked yet). She smiles as her hands trace over the slightly raised surface, her head laid on her pillow and her hair furled out around her. She felt at home again. 

She doesn’t end up going to the dock. She avoids it while she moves her stuff and the only box left to unpack is the letters. It stays taped shut and in a corner in her closet. 

v.

“You’ll never make a living this way darling,” the words are already festering as she eats lunch with her mother. “I mean really? Art is a hobby not a living.” Her mother’s tongue clicks against the roof of her mouth as she brings her cappuccino up to drink it. “Go get a degree in something useful.”

“I like what I do.” Her grip on her fork tightens but she does her best to keep her voice level.

“A children’s book? And about a mermaid? I mean, this just isn’t going to sell enough for you to live off of. You don’t want to mooch off your poor grandmother for the rest of your life do you?” Her teeth grind against each other and she shoves another bite of food in her mouth to keep herself quiet. “Come on darling, I’m just thinking about what’s best for you.” Her mother’s hand rests on top of her own across the table. She turns her head away and pulls her hand back. “Oh, don’t be like that.”

“Art is what I want to do Mom, I want to be an artist. I am an artist.”

“You’re just someone with too many thoughts and access to paint. Talk to me again when you let go of this silly ‘dream’ of yours.” Her mother wipes her mouth and throws some bills on the table before walking out the door. She stays there until the waitress comes and she pays the rest of the bill. Her walk home is cold, the heat of the air not doing anything for her. She pours all of her frustration into her art. By the end of the day she has two books drafted out and they’re sent to a publishing company. 

She finds herself on the dock with the conch in her hand, she flips it over and brings it up to her mouth. Her forehead rests against the shell as she sighs, this isn’t what he meant when he said to use it if she needed him. She does need him, she’s missed him more than she’s allowed herself to. Without another thought she blows into the shell, nothing happens for a little while but then she sees a shimmer in the water. 

“Hi,” she doesn’t need to look from where she now lays on the dock to know he’s there. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” There’s a plop as he lifts himself to lay next to her. “Want to talk about it?”

“Not really. Do you?”

“Not really.” They sit there with their knuckles grazing each other and she doesn’t have the energy to make comments on how nice he looks, she turns to him and puts her head on his chest and he wraps an arm around her. “Let’s just stay like this for a bit.”

“Yeah,” she starts. “Yeah, I would like that.”

In six months time, before her birthday, the books are put on shelves and when she sees them in libraries she can’t help but smile. She signs any copy that someone brings her. Six months after that the second book comes out. Her grandma throws her a small party when she comes back home. “I’m so proud of you,” she’s pulled into a tight hug. “Go tell him,” her grandma ushers her out the door and she laughs a little. 

The conch has become a way for her to ask to see him instead of a danger tool. He doesn’t complain and tells her how he enjoys seeing her again. “I did it,” she whispers as her head rests on his shoulder. 

“You did,” he whispers it gently into her hair like a kiss. 

“Thank you for coming back.”

“I didn’t leave.”

“Turns out you were the one waiting for me,” it’s meant to be a joke but she knows he sees through it when his hand rubs up and down her arm slowly.

“Always.” 

“I got you something,” she lifts her head and sees his smile as he shakes his head. He’s grown into his face, his tan has evened out and there’s a trail of freckles on his shoulders and down his arms. “You can’t say no.” He laughs and it still makes her think of the sea breeze. He’s still the place she feels most calm. 

“Okay, let’s see it.” She reaches into her satchel and it reminds him of the girl he used to know. The girl with a missing front tooth and a lisp, whose pony tail bobbed as she ran up the hill away from him, the one who rummaged through her bag and gave him something he wasn’t aware would be so dear to him. She pulls out a plastic bag and he can’t help how his smile grows. 

“I know you fixed it but…I wanted you to have a better one. Not something I bought at a bookfair for cheap.” The chain is golden and the seashell hanging from it is different from the one he’s since turned into a bracelet. It’s a conch shell and he shakes his head. He carefully puts it on and he wants to kiss her so badly he leans forward, she shifts closer to him too but he pulls her into a hug. His face is buried in her hair and he takes a deep breath. Lemongrass and lavender. 

“Thank you for coming back.”

“Thank you for waiting.”

vi.

“You never told me what you wrote the book on.” He asks as her feet dangle over the edge and his arms rest on the end of the dock. 

“Us,” she finds no reason to be embarrassed although she can feel her face burning. He laughs and she finds a smile appearing on her face as he does so. “Stop laughing, what’s so funny?”

“How did we get turned into a children’s book?” He looks at her with a lopsided smile and she leans down closer to him. Their foreheads close to touching and a piece of her hair falls from behind her ear. 

“Remember all those games we made as kids?” He tucks the stray strand of hair behind her ear and she can see his eyes looking at her lips before darting back up to her eyes. “The ones where we were pirates or royalty?”

“Yeah,” he says quietly as he tries to force himself to stop looking at her lips, it’s difficult when she looks so excited. There’s a hammering in his chest and he wants to hide away. The gold chain feels tighter than usual as it sticks to him from the water. “That’s what you wrote about?”

“Yeah, you were all I could draw for a while.”

“Couldn’t keep me off your mind?” He teases and pokes her arm.

“No,” she answers honestly. She’s been growing tired of their game but wasn’t sure how to stop it. She took the opening he gave her and can only hope this goes well. She sees his eyes widen and his lips part as a sharp intake of air makes his chest rise up. 

“Can I kiss you?” Finally, she nods her head and he wraps his hand around the back of her neck and pulls her down to his lips. They both smile into the kiss and have to part as she starts giggling. Once it happens a few times he can’t stop himself from laughing with her as he kisses her face. “Stop giggling,” he says between laughs. He doesn’t really want her to stop, her laugh reminds him of home. 

“I can’t,” she throws her head back with a laugh and he thinks she couldn’t look any more beautiful than she does at this moment. She’s not aware of what happens until there’s a splash and she feels water encompass her. She swims to the surface and splashes him. “How dare you!” 

They splash around in the water and once they’re out of breath he reaches up and wipes the wet strands away from her face. “I love you.” It’s the first time they’re said the words but not the first time they've felt. 

“I love you too, even if you do pull me into the water for no good reason.”

“Because I wanted you to be closer. I think that’s a pretty good reason.”

“Okay, I’ll accept it. But only because you’re cute.” 

“Gee thanks,” he rolls his eyes and it’s an odd feeling for her feet to brush against the scales of his tail. She enjoys hearing his heartbeat below her ear as they wade in the water. “You know what I’ve always wanted to do?” She hums in response and lifts her head from his chest. “I’ve always wanted to dance with you.”

“And how is that going to work?”

“Hold your breath,” she shakes her head but follows his instructions. The quiet envelopes her as their heads drop below the surface. Her eyes open slowly and she can see Oikawa already smiling at her, he holds his hand out to her and she takes it. He’s able to spin her around once before she tries to go back up for air, he shakes his head and pulls her closer to him. She tilts her head and he brings their lips together as he blows air into her mouth. She smiles at the kiss and they stay under the water for a little longer before she breaks the surface. 

“I can’t believe you did that.” She laughs although her chest heaves up and down from exertion.

“You liked it.”

“Okay, it was a little fun.” She coughs into her arm and he helps her over to the ladder of the dock and watches as she holds on to it. 

“You can hold onto me.”

“I know, I am. I won’t let you go this time.”

“You better not.”

“Why not going to wait for me again?”

“I would always wait for you, no matter how long. I just don’t think I can let you go now that I actually have you.” She smiles and pulls him into another kiss. “Oh do I get kissed if I say cheesy things?”

“Shut up,” she says against his mouth as he smiles and complies as he kisses her back.

taglist (gen, fill out this form) @cheriisae @cherrysurf @hiraethwa @hatsukeii @szyvrue

this is not only for lalechingo but more importantly for @lale-txt since it's her birthday today <333 everyone go wish her a happy birthday and I hope you guys enjoyed this story I told <3

[bloobydabloob]

Any tips on getting better at realism? I've been drawing very cartoony works forever but I really want to branch out and draw more realistically and hone that style but Everytime I try it never feels human 😔

Suuuure. Sorry it’s fairly long, answer under the split thing.

I’d say mainly just practice drawing from reference first. Before I started doing any sort of more abstractive or non referential realism, I spent time practicing with maybe 20 or 30 paintings from reference.

Here are just some that I made during that time. I think they really really helped me to learn the principles of painting appealing realism, different kinds of people, color, skin, lighting, and anatomy.

In terms of actually drawing realism (whether from reference or not) I think the most important tip I can give, as well as the most overlooked ironally, is stylisation. Most realism that I see doesn’t connect at all with me which I think is maybe what you’re talking about when you say your portraiture doesn’t “feel human”.

Learning to draw realism in my eyes is largely about learning how to shortcut every single thing you can. So instead of drawing everything exactly how it is using an image, learn how to stylise realism in your own way. I find that if you don’t find a way to simplify the process, it can end up being A : Busy and B : hard for you to create more realistic images from imagination or from real life instead of photographs.

Here is a 40 minute drawing I just drew from a random photo I pulled off Pinterest + small explanation on what helps me to break down an image. I simplify realistic portraiture by adopting somewhat of an angular style, but the best realism / semi realism artists I know of draw realism using their own stylisation methods.

I also personally find that it helps to start by blocking in instead of sketching with lines, but I understand that this is a personal preference and might not work for you.

I also say this for everything but there is no “cheating” in art and anyone who tells you there is fundamentally doesn’t know anything about drawing, especially in the learning process. Cheat if you want. Use grids to plot where things will be, colorpick, trace, liquify, transform, whatever. Although I do also recommend that you only use this as a way to learn and don’t rely on it as a crutch, it helps a lot to be able to draw independently of all of these factors. But I learned to draw partially *by* being a kid who traced and colorpicked and fucked around. Who cares

This applies to everything too but just practice a lot. I’m too embarrassed to show but when I first starting drawing semi realistic art without reference it fucking sucked. Like *really* fucking sucked because I am extremely extremely faceblind and I mean that. It takes me 3 seasons of a show to recognise an actor’s face. But because I’ve drawn hundreds of faces now I know what I’m doing kind of. I also never post any realism art immediately because oftentimes if I don’t look at it for a day or two, I’ll come back to it and notice that something doesn’t look quite right. I would say that definitely helps.

ALSO very important but look at it from far away or a little version. I always look at my drawing in the digital navigator on FA and it helps me to notice when something looks dumb.

Anyways hope this helped at all… lalala. I don’t know man. Don’t take my words as bible I’m just some guy and I am also not a professional and realism is definitely not my strong suit. Tutorials are bullshit and if you think any of this advice sucks for you then don’t take it and forge your own path. Bless

[bored-storyteller]

Warning: none, mention of bones but very metaphorical

Tokyo Ghoul, Uta X Human!Reader

Moon

You feel a lump in your throat tighten as you walk around the dark room.

Usually the light is always on, waiting for you, no matter what time you arrive.

“Uta…?” You call, while inching forward, already expecting to get no answer. Something must have happened to him, you think just before all the anxiety melts away.

"I’m here. Take it easy…"

You sigh with relief as his soft voice reaches you from the bedroom.

Even if there is not a single light bulb lit, the lights of the city color the room with warm and elusive colors, urban lights of the suburbs of Tokyo, the living Tokyo of those who hide from the sun.

He's sitting on the bed, his back to you, the red iris looking at you over his shoulder is surrounded by an artificial yellowish reflection that makes the black background shine lowly. In the clutter of an underground artist's room, all that would be missing would be the smell of instant ramen or two in the morning frying, but you know there can be no such thing in a ghoul's house.

“The scent of your fear is all too inviting.”

Yes, the only smell of food that can be there is yours.

“I wasn't afraid.” You mutter.

"I wouldn't mind if you admit it."

Even if he is joking, what you have in front of you is a serious Uta.

You lie on your stomach, your head is close to his thighs and your gaze flees beyond the window where his is lost too.

“How was your night with your human friends?” He asks you, and you think for a couple of seconds to answer; it could be a trap, or it could be a good way to figure out what's going on in that twisted head of the most complex and absurd person you know.

"Boring?" You try uncertain.

"That's a lie, but I appreciate the effort."

A submissive grunt escapes you, but you soon focus back on him: “What about you? What are you doing?"

“I contemplate the moon.”

The moon. The moon adapts to him: so fickle, surrounded by darkness, variable, never the same but always itself.

Now, beyond the lights of the suburbs, it’s a thin segment, a germ that has yet to grow, a vaguely orange hue that could resemble a smile.

“It looks like a backbone.” Uta says, and you look at him with exasperation in your eyes.

"Seriously? We can watch a horror movie if you really feel like it.”

Now even his eyes seek yours, they feed on them.

You look at each other in the silence, both of you waiting for something, but then it's you who speaks: "Do ghouls and humans see the moon the same way?"

Usually it's you who gives this kind of answers, you who justify your nature in front of him, but this time you came first. This time he is the one who has to let you know what floor each of you are on.

"I guess you see a slice of melon, or the smile of the Cheshire Cat... instead I..."

“Even the poet and the scientist see two different things, that's not what I mean.”

Now you are sitting too; your left knee brushes his right. Uta looks at them for a moment without saying anything.

"Yes…I guess the moon is the same for everyone." He finally admits.

“And it's different for every single person in the world.” You add, bringing your meditation back to the satellite beyond the bright blanket of the city.

“Was it the melon or the smile?” He asks you after a while.

"The smile."

"Banal."

“I'm tired of being imaginative!” You retort pouting, now looking at his profile who has also turned his nose up towards the sky "and it's always better than your macabre taste."

“It could also be a rib.”

You puff. You rest your head on his shoulder and a yawn escapes you, it's been a long evening.

"Stop that."

"All right…"

Your fingers begin to trace the black lines on his arm, you almost don't look at them, your touch follows them, you know his skin almost as much as yours.

"Sometimes I forget that you belong to the world of those who see the smile of the moon..." He says quietly, and you're not sure you really heard.

He won't say anything else, and you know it. It's already so much that I've discovered that little thread of his soul, the one that's always tense when you go out with someone who's like you.

"The moon doesn't care about us." You say.

"How cruel."

"Or reassuring. Ghouls or humans, we are nothing before the universe."

You raise your head but you don't look at him, your eyes remains beyond, beyond humanity and all the worries that for better or for worse are destined to end.

"This is even scarier. In theory." He tells you, but you feel his lip piercing cool a tiny piece of skin from your neck. He will kiss you, or bite you.

It doesn't really matter.

It doesn't matter if the ghoul's presence is so reassuring to the human, it doesn't matter if someone judges them. Their union is not that important, not under the sight of the moon.

[3-2-whump]

Whumper Intro: Adjusting Well

<prev next>

Set one month after events of The Auction Floor

TW/CW: pet whump, minor whump, dehumanization, talking about a whumpee as if he's not even there, light bondage (briefly mentioned), noncon body mod (briefly mentioned), nonconsensual touching

“How’s he adjusting?”

Thomas sighed. “Fine, I guess? He’s shy, skittish, and dense as a brick. Impossible to hold a conversation with, too” he added. 

“Well, you’ve only had him for one month,” Luca, his underboss and confidante, shrugged.

“Why did I ever let you guys talk me into buying him?” Thomas griped, leaning back on the sofa as he dramatically brought a hand to his brow. “Do you have any idea how ridiculously hard keeping a person is?!”

“Yes, I have two boys at home.”

“Yeah, your sons, that’s completely different!”

The mafia boss craned his neck around from where they sat in the living room to look over the sofa, and back towards the hallway leading to the second bedroom. “Khaled, I know you’re watching us, so come out,” he said. The boy peeked out from where he was hiding, face half hidden behind the corner of the wall.

“God, he is shy.”

“There, that’s it, now, come here a second.” Thomas waved him over. Khaled hung his head as he quietly made his way to them. He was small and still rail-thin, though he wasn’t as skinny as when he bought him. His dark, expressive eyes flickered up from behind thick lashes and an unruly mess of wavy black hair, hair that Thomas made a mental note to cut. The plum-colored bruises on his dusky skin were finally fading. A faint clink with each footstep prompted a questioning glance from Luca, but Thomas shrugged him off. So, he might’ve shackled the boy’s ankles –no harm in extra precautions, right?

“This is the little escape artist that broke a window and tried to climb off the rooftop his first week?” Luca smirked. “Hey, dumbass,” he addressed the boy, using a tone of condescension usually reserved for pets, “what did you do that for, huh? Don’t you know you could’ve died?”

Predictably, Khaled did not respond, instead opting to twist his fingers in the hem of his t-shirt as he lowered his gaze to his cuffed ankles.

“You’re filling out nicely,” Luca commented, pinching and groping the boy everywhere. Khaled held still as a statue. “Bet your master is happy not to be fucking into a little bag of bones-”

“Whoa-whoa, hey!”

“What?” his friend protested. “It’s what you bought him for, right? Don’t deny it, Tom!”

“Ix-nay on the ex-talk-say!” Thomas whisper-hissed.

“Wait, so you haven’t actually –” 

“He’s a minor, Luca. He’s like, thirteen or something!”

“Um, I’m fifteen, sir. I’ll be sixteen come November,” a timid voice said.

Thomas shot him a withering scowl. The boy clamped his mouth shut, eyes widening as he realized his mistake. “What did I tell you about speaking out of turn?” Khaled hung his head, contrite. “That’s right, you don’t. Speak only when spoken to,” his master reminded him.

Luca resumed their conversation. “So what? That’s literally what you bought him for! It’s already been a month, and you still haven’t popped his cherry?!”

“I’m not a fucking pedophile!”

His underboss huffed, muttering an unconvinced, “Whatever.” Fortunately, that seemed to be the end of the argument.

Meanwhile, Khaled stood quietly beside him, tense as a bow string and awaiting orders, just as he had trained him. Thomas glanced back at him and motioned toward the floor. “Sit down for a bit,” he told him. Wordlessly, Khaled settled in front of the sofa, at his feet, knees drawn to his chest and hands folded in front of his shins.

“So, if you didn’t get him for –you know, why did you get him?”

“Oh, it’s not like that’s entirely off the table,” Thomas explained. “I’d just rather wait until he’s of legal age, that’s all. Go into it with a clearer conscience, you know?” He let out a light chuckle as he ran a hand through Khaled’s fluffy black hair. “For now, he’s just a little companion, a pet, something to talk to when I get home after a long day.” He gently scratched behind the boy’s ears, much like one would have for a dog, to emphasize his point. His fingers inadvertently brushed against the bluish-black ink of the barcode tattoo. The boy underneath him shivered. Sensitive little thing. His mind filed that away for later.

“And that’s enough, for now.” It will be enough, it had to be enough. No matter how cute this boy at his fingertips was, no matter how ridiculously easy it would be to force himself upon him, he’d make himself abstain. Thomas Jackson Costa would not rape a minor. He had standards.

“Oookayy,” Luca murmured, not entirely convinced. “Enjoy the next two and a half years of blue-balling yourself, I guess.” He leveled an appraising look at Khaled once again. “I personally wouldn’t wait if I had one of those, though.”

“I always knew you were a sick fuck at heart,” Thomas said, forcing a jovial chuckle as the hand in Khaled’s hair gathered him possessively closer.

Oh yeah, I have a tag list now: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump

[salamandergoo]

STWG Prompt: Argyle

Argyle loved to go paintballing.  It had started when he was just old enough to hold the paint guns for himself and his uncle would take him out with his buddies.  Argyle had been the tiniest one there, but after he got over the sting of being hit, had the time of his life.  It had been a surefire way for him to burn out all his excess energy as a kid.  Now that he was old enough to go by himself, he spent his weekends not working with a paintball gun in his hands and splatters of rainbow paint on his skin.

The welts stung, the bruises would be visible all over his skin, but it was a small price to pay for the exhilaration.

So when he made a new friend, it was only natural to invite him out.  He’d dug out all his old padding and promised to rent him a gun.  He even bought a pack of paintballs in Jonny’s favorite color, dark navy blue.  It wasn’t as fun as his preferred neon colors, but that was okay.  Jonathan hadn’t been so sure, but even if he didn’t like it, Argyle was proud of him for trying something new.

He parked his van at the range and hopped out, shoving his keys in his pocket with one hand, tying his hair back with the other.  “Alright, let’s get you suited up, my man!”

He opened up the back and grinned as Jonathan rocked nervously on his feet.  “I’m not good with guns, man.  Are you sure?”

“Positive.”  Argyle put on a pair of chunky goggles and handed over a helmet.  “They’re not real guns, you won’t get seriously hurt.  No one will.  Just some bumps and bruises, but like, the fun kind.”

That got a small grin out of Jonathan.  “The fun kind?”  He balked at the groin cup Argyle held out to him.

“Yeah, man.  Unless you’re into hickeys, then there’s two kinds of fun bruises.”  He gave Jonathan a once over and hummed.  “Maybe we can get you covered in both,” he said, tacking on a flirty little lilt that had Jonathan’s face turning the prettiest shade of pink.  “Put on the dick shield, you don’t wanna take a paintball to the dick, trust me.”

“Yeah, I’ll take your word for it.”  He put it on, frowning when he saw Argyle putting on a lot less than he was being handed.  “Shouldn’t you be wearing this stuff too?”

“I’ll be fine, I usually just wear the dick cup and goggles.  Gotta protect my eyes and my groin.”  He was wearing the shirt and pants he usually set aside for days like today anyway, paint splattered across his clothes that were similar to his cousin’s, who was a street artist.  He supposed they liked paint as separate mediums.  “I’m pretty good, I bet I won’t even get hit today.”

Maybe he’d been a little too cocky saying that.  Hardly five minutes in and Jonathan hadn’t taken a single shot, while Argyle had bright orange blobs of paint on his bicep and chest.  “Dude, you’ve gotta pull the trigger!”  He was shielding Jonathan as they crouched behind a wood panel on the field.  “It’s not gonna hurt anyone, I promise.”

Jonathan peeked over the wood and ducked back down just in time to avoid a pink paintball that splattered on the dirt a few yards away from them.  “You’re sure?”

“I’m so sure, I’ve been doing this for years.  And if this isn’t your thing, I won’t make you come back, okay?”

He hesitated, paintballs splatting on the surfaces around them, but then he took a deep breath and straightened, firing off three paintballs in quick succession.  His eyes lit up and someone across the field yelped.  “I hit him.”

“That’s my man!”  Argyle grinned.  “See, it’s not so bad!”  He cringed as Jonathan got nailed right in the chest by a neon green paintball, but he just laughed and ducked back down.

“You’re right.  It doesn’t really hurt.”  He sounded surprised.

“I wouldn’t lie to you, my dude.”  Argyle leaned in so his goggles bonked against Jonathan’s helmet.  “You wanna light some fuckers up with me?”

“Yeah.  Yeah, I think I do.”

They staggered out together a few hours later, both a little bruised, but bubbling with post-adrenaline euphoria.  “You’re a natural!”  He really wasn’t.  Jonathan was a bad aim, though he kind of kicked ass at dodging.  Argyle was the other way around, they were like yin and yang or some shit.

Jonathan nodded, the pretty pink blush back under some purple paint on his cheek.  “It was a lot of fun.  You said you come here a lot?”

“Hell yeah I do.”  Argyle nodded excitedly.  “You wanna be my permanent doubles partner?”

“We’ll see about permanent, but… I think I definitely want to come back with you.”

Argyle whooped with excitement as he unlocked the van.  “Hell yeah!  Pizza’s on me tonight, my man!”

[eggiesins]

Herbal Remedies

It took a second, but the UnsuurxBuilder drabble is finally done! It came out a bit longer than expected, weighing in at 3,136 words. Content warning for drug use, but it's only zaza and is not mentioned by any direct name. I hope you guys enjoy, and I appreciate any feedback! Fic starts below the cut :)

Find it on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58551973

Let me know if there's anything you'd like to read next!

Athenas grunted with effort as she lifted the last scraps of rubber into the recycling machine. She took a step back, pulled a checkered bandana from her pocket, and gruffly wiped the sweat from her face. The torn bits of tire tumbled around in the machine, a thumping rhythm to match the low hum of electricity. It had been a very long, very productive, very tiring day, and Athenas was ready to close up shop. She paced back and forth along the length of her workyard, checking that each and every machine was stocked with fuel and water before allowing herself a moment to breathe.

The sun was just beginning to set, golden rays slowly shifting into more varied hues of red, pink, and lavender as the light’s intensity gently faded into quiet night. Athenas let herself collapse into her backyard swing bench, bringing a much-needed relief to her aching muscles. She sat there for a moment, enjoying the wild and harsh beauty of the desert sunset as all the colors of the sky reflected and refracted off of the warm sands below. The summer day had been blisteringly hot, and the gentle evening breeze carried with it the promise of another bitingly cold night. But here and now? In the strange in-between of night and day? The cool air slowly dried her skin as the swirling hues of sunset danced across her vision. In the distance Athenas could hear the entire town begin to slow its motions for the day, no more ringing and clanging from the scrapyard, no thundering of hooves as the civil corps ran their patrols - even Sandy’s loudspeaker no longer rang through the town. All was quieter now, each townie exhausted from their day’s labors, all too eager to put their feet up and rest.

Athenas was more than happy to do her part enjoying the beautiful end of another long day in Sandrock. Quickly, she cast a sidelong glance to make sure Jasmine and Andy weren’t wandering nearby. Drawing up her legs to recline alongside her, Athenas reached over to empty the ash from her pipe and slowly filled it once more. She inhaled slowly, savoring the flavor of the smoke as it curled its way into her lungs, prompting her sore muscles to unclench one by one. On the exhale, she watched the vapor drift away and wondered if it was possible for her life in Sandrock to always be this peaceful. Unlikely, she knew. The town had a way of attracting danger like a yakmel to alfalfa.

She closed her eyes and allowed her head to fall softly back into a pillow she had fixed onto the bench a few days earlier. If she wasn’t careful, she might just drift away then and-

Knock knock...knock. Someone was at the gate. Athenas let out a dramatic sigh as she opened her eyes and pulled herself up from the swing, taking a quick peek around the corner of her house to try and see who in the world might need her now. Squinting, she could make out the short dark hair, brushed up and to the side like always, and the garish orange patterning of a Civil Corps jacket.

“Unsuur?” her brow knitted together in confusion as she approached the man waiting patiently out front.

“Oh, hey Athenas. You’re home. That’s good, I think. Unless you’re sitting outside because something is wrong inside. Then in that case, it’s probably not something good. I’m done patrolling early, so I wanted to stop by and check on things. Sheriff says there might be another sandstorm soon,” Unsuur babbled on, and Athenas couldn’t help but smile to herself. It was cute, she thought, to see the strong corpsman, a defender of Sandrock and capable martial artist, standing here and chatting away nervously at her gate.

“Oh! This reminds me,” Athenas interrupted, jolted from her spot and turned toward her front door. She glanced back at Unsuur. “I found something for you. Wanna come inside and see?”

Unsuur nodded, swinging his legs easily over the gate, and followed her inside the small, newly renovated house, taking note of the changes from his last visit. The first thing he noticed was the smell, a savory pot of soup bubbling away on the stove, the dried desert herbs hanging on the adjacent wall, fresh flowers on the dining table. The scent was spiced, savory, and sweet, just like Athenas. She had added a proper bedroom now, an expanded kitchenette, and even some nicer furniture. Posters dug up in some Old World ruin littered the walls, and new rugs decorated the hard stone floors. Athenas stepped through a doorway near the back, her bedroom presumably, and came back out soon after with a hand held behind her back.

“I found this in a ruin and immediately thought of you,” she smiled proudly, holding the hidden object in her outstretched palm. It was a small collection of fluorite, a few pebbles surrounding a larger stone, each one luminescent to the point of glowing. Unsuur reached out to take one of the brightest and held it up to the light for further examination.

“Whoa, this is a really cool rock. You know, rocks have a special place in my heart. You can do so much with them. Stack them, put them places, balance them on top of each other. You can even name a town after them. They’re probably the most diverse thing in the world,” he remarked, glancing over to Athenas. She flashed him a quick grin that seemed to glow brighter than any piece of fluorite could, and Unsuur felt his cheeks grow warm.

“I thought you might like it. You know, I read something once that said some Old World cultures believed that humans were created from the dirt and rocks in the earth. It seems crazy to us now, of course, but I like to think that, if it were true, it means each of us comes from these same rocks too,” Athenas responded as she took Unsuur’s hand to give him the rest of the stones. He pretended not to notice how his skin tingled at the contact.

“The Old World sure had some crazy ideas. How could soft and squishy people like us come from solid rocks? But. In a way, yeah, I think you’re right. It’s kinda like Wilson, y’know? Like, he’s my best friend, but what if he’s actually my cousin or something? Or maybe, if we come from rocks, is there a way to go back to being rocks? Our bones are full of minerals, but it’d be way cooler if I could just turn into a boulder like Wilson.”

Athenas giggled at that and nodded her agreement. Silence fell between them as Unsuur pocketed the stone he had been examining, neither knowing quite what to say from here. Athenas took the moment to really see Unsuur. He’d been a close friend of hers for a while now, but with everything going on, she felt like she never really just stopped to understand and appreciate him. The dim evening light seemed to compliment the angles of his face, accentuating the sharpness of his cheekbones, the way his brow sat low over his eyes giving them a darkened, stoic appearance. She had always liked his hair, thick, dark, and coarse - so unlike her own - neatly trimmed and tucked back according to Civil Corps grooming standards. In that moment, she wanted to know what it would feel like to run her fingers through that hair, to trace her hand gently across those sharp features from his cheekbones to his jawline, across the soft lips that seemed to only speak truth to the universe. Light preserve her, Athenas was cooked and she knew it.

Unsuur had no idea why Athenas was just standing and staring at him, but he figured he might as well take advantage of the moment too. It seemed rude to interrupt her while she was so lost in thought. His gaze turned surprisingly intense as he remembered back to when Athenas had first stepped off the train in Sandrock. He had been patrolling, of course, passing by the commerce guild as she greeted Mi-an for the first time. Her smile was warm and inviting, her pale cheeks just beginning to turn red in the desert heat. Even after two years living in Sandrock, she still turned red as soon as she stepped outside. She had immediately set to work, disappearing inside the commerce guild briefly before dashing off to Mason’s old workshop, her home now. She didn’t even stop to greet any locals until she had completely cleared the workyard, organized her storage, and placed down all new machines in the tiny space. Even then, she still took the time to find him stationed next to Hugo’s shop and say hello. Unsuur had liked her smile before when it was for Mi-an, but when it was directed solely at him? In that moment, he looked at her and simply knew that she was a person he could stand by for a very, very long time.

“Oh!” Athenas’ exclamation yanked both of them firmly back into the real world. The apples of her cheeks bloomed bright red despite the cool temperature in the room and she laughed nervously. “Uh, guess I zoned out for a second there.”

“No worries, I kinda did too. I was thinking about your first day in Sandrock, when we met. Your face was really red then, kinda like it is now. But it’s not hot inside your house so I’m not sure why -“

“Whydon’tyoustayfordinner?” Athenas cut him off, the words bursting out like steam through a high-pressure valve. She cracked her knuckles and bit the inside of her cheek. “I, um,” she stopped and took a deep breath, forcing herself to slow down. “I made too much soup, and I don’t want any leftovers to go bad before I can eat them. It’s not yellow soup with lemons, but it does contain some yellow and some lemon just with some extra stuff in there too.”

“Sure, yeah,” Unsuur nodded quickly. “Yellow soup n’ lemons plus some extra stuff. Sounds good.” Athenas watched as his adam’s apple bobbed up and down nervously. She realized that, while the two had eaten together at the Blue Moon plenty of times, this would be the first homemade meal they shared, and just the two of them at that. Somehow it felt...intimate. Athenas needed a smoke.

“Awesome awesome, cool, yeah. Though, um, the soup isn’t quite ready yet, so I was planning to hang out in the backyard ‘til it’s done,” she suggested, before quickly adding, “Unless you’d prefer to stay inside! You have been working outside all day already.”

Unsuur dipped his chin in response. “Backyard sounds good.”

Athenas shot him a quick thumbs up before dashing out through the back door. She wasn’t sure where all this nervous energy came from, or why her heart was racing suddenly, but she hoped a quick sprint might help calm her down. ...It did not. By the time Unsuur met her outside, Athenas was already sitting in the swing bench and loading her pipe once more. Unsuur quirked an eyebrow and tilted his head at the sight.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” he remarked, a somewhat sad lilt buried within his usually monotone voice. How long had he known her and he never noticed she smoked?

“Oh,” Athenas responded, a little ashamed. She knew it wasn’t good for her lungs, but when she felt just how relaxed her body and mind became, it seemed a small price to pay to feel at peace. “Yeah, it’s um, not something most people seem to approve of, so I try to keep it to myself. Especially since I don’t want to set a bad example for the kids, y’know? ...Does it bother you? I can put it away-“

“No, it’s fine. Not like it’s illegal or anything. I’ve just never tried it before so I guess I don’t expect others to do it either. Probably not a great look for a deputy-in-training to judge others based on my own experiences and without evidence.”

“Okay cool. Well, um, would you like to try some? I grew the plants myself here at the workshop. I even used biocrust, helps with the flavor.” Athenas held the pipe out to Unsuur tentatively. “Oh, and it’s a different kind of herb than most people use. You don’t have to worry about getting addicted or anything.”

“Sure,” Unsuur agreed, taking the pipe gently in his hand. “Uh, what do I need to do?”

Athenas directed him on how to inhale from the pipe so that he wouldn’t hurt his throat or burn himself. She couldn’t help but pay extra attention to the way his lips closed gently over the mouthpiece, or the determined focus in his eyes as he inhaled slowly, watching the herb packed in the pipe start to glow and fade away. He exhaled and handed the pipe back to her. The smoke drifted and curled it’s way between the two as Athenas took a couple puffs of her own. She patted the empty space on the swing next to her.

“Sit down. It’ll help when the herb starts working any second now.” Unsuur did as he was told and took his place on the bench beside Athenas. It didn’t take long for the pipe to take effect, and soon, the pair were seated in comfortable silence, watching the Sandrock sun fall ever further behind the horizon.

After a moment, it was Athenas who turned to Unsuur and spoke. “How do you feel? Do you want some water or anything?” Unsuur hummed to himself and smiled softly.

“No, I feel really good. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this relaxed before, like I could just sit here forever like a rock. Maybe I could even become one. That’d be exciting.” Slowly, his face fell. “Oh, but then if I was a rock maybe I wouldn’t be able to talk to you or help you out on cool adventures anymore. What if you had to go on that mission tomorrow with only Sheriff Justice for backup? Sheriff is really good, but Logan’s outsmarted us before. What if Logan caught you guys trying to get his goat? If I couldn’t at least help and be there for you through that, I don’t know. I don’t think I could forgive myself. Yeah, probably better if I just focus on stacking and appreciating rocks instead.”

Athenas short-circuited for a moment, processing the depth of what he had just told her and what it may or may not mean. 'Unsuur, he really cares about me,' she thought. 'I knew we were close, and of course I really care about him too, but I guess I never realized just how much I could mean to him. Now that I think about it, I never realized how much he could mean to me either. Am I taking our friendship for granted? Unsuur is special, I’ve always known that. But for his friends - right, for his friends - Unsuur truly loves in a way that only he can, sincerely, earnestly, almost even unconditionally... Wait, I’ve been thinking too long; he’s waiting for a response! He seems kinda sad, let’s go for reassurance.'

“Unsuur,” she started. “Look at me for a second.” Athenas smiled gently. “The herb can make us more sensitive than normal, both physically and mentally. So it’s easy for one anxious thought to lead to another and kinda spiral. Regardless, let me reassure you that a) you will not turn into a rock, for better or for worse, and b) even if you were a rock, I’d still want to always keep you by my side. Heck, if you were a rock, I could try even throwing you at Logan. Then everything could all work out, right?”

The worry in Unsuur’s eyes faded away, and was replaced with something new, something more serious that Athenas couldn’t quite place. “Heh, I guess you’re right. Though if I did become a rock, I’d probably still be human sized and therefore very heavy, probably more like a boulder. I know how strong you are, but you’re not a mutant or a superhero. Sorry to say, but I have to speak realistically. And realistically, I’m not a rock, just a regular human...” His gaze flickered down to her lips and lingered there for a moment. Athenas’ heartbeat picked back up again, her vision narrowed and it was as if all that existed in the world was she and Unsuur, sitting on her swing bench. Unsuur met her gaze again and turned to face her more fully, his mouth set in a determined line, his voice low and sincere.

“As a rock, I couldn’t tell you how amazing I think you are. How you’ve done so much to save this town in just a couple years, more than anyone else, I think. You’re a talented builder, funny, stubborn, beautiful, brave.” He paused, mulling over his next words carefully. “Athenas... I may not be a smart man. But I know what love is. And I love you. And...um, may I kiss you? As a regular human, not a rock. Of course.”

Athenas couldn’t believe it at first, a deer caught in headlights. When did Unsuur go from hiding in a closet, too shy to ask her to be his best friend, to speaking his heart so confidently? Was it that he felt more comfortable with her now, or that he had grown personally? She couldn’t say. She didn’t say, either. Instead, Athenas wasted no time leaning into Unsuur and claiming his lips for her own. He tasted like citrus and smelled like gunpowder, an unusual combination but one that Athenas was quickly starting to enjoy. For a second, the kiss was tentative and soft. It was wonderful, but Athenas wanted more, needed more. Her hand came up to cup his face, deepening the kiss and drawing a low grown from him. She drew her fingers across the jawline she had admired only a little while ago, letting her fingertips trail upward across his skin and into his hair. Her nails dragged lightly along his scalp, a soft moan escaping into the quiet night air. Unsuur moved with more confidence, a hand on the small of her back and strong arms pulling her closer into him. Suddenly, he slowed pulled back, gently pressing his forehead to hers. His voice was a bit shaky as he caught his breath.

“Sorry, um, I’m enjoying this very much, really. But...do you smell something burning?” he asked. Athenas’ eyes went wide as she dashed for the backdoor of her home.

“The soup!”

[onismick]

BLACK PEOPLE LOOK BLACK IN THE SUN. BLACK PEOPLE LOOK BLACK IN SPOTLIGHTS. BLACK PEOPLE JUST ALWAYS LOOK BLACK.

It takes five seconds to go on google and look up “black people in sunlight.” I’m so tired of the bs artist excuses of “it’s the lighting.” Shut up and listen to black people for once. I’ve been black and around black people for 23 years. I promise you that standing in the sunlight doesn’t magically make melanin disappear.

And stop listening to non-black ppl in your replies saying, “you’re ok 🥺” “this says something about them not you” “it doesn’t even look like that to me” or whatever. Imo you should block anyone who says things like that bc they are a guaranteed micro-racist at the absolute least but you do you.

If someone tells you smth about their culture or race or whatever is wrong, just listen. It’s really simple. That’s how you improve both your art and as a person. And stop being afraid of using darker skin colors. Black skin is beautiful and we want and need to see more of it. If you really love the character you are drawing, show off that beautiful part of them.

[mistchievous]

Not the same anon as before, but it's been very disturbing to see a group of white people in fandom dogpile on an artist of Korean descent who lives in Korea, especially when that artist does not speak English and is obviously struggling with expressing their views in a way that might make sense to *us*. The style the artist used, even if they didn't explain it, is a very obvious East Asian style which is very popular in Koren and Japanese cultures. I looked at the artist's blog, and even if they didn't explain it in the DMs—for whatever reason—they *have*, in a subsequent post yesterday, explained their perspective as a Korean person while making this art, and I think it's extremely unfair to exclude that part of the context while talking about this. Like...idk it just feels like you guys didn't like the answer they gave or the way they answered (again! they're not a native speaker and you need to give them more grace!) so everyone has just come to this conclusion that they're a terrible person automatically. And while you personally might not have done this, I have seen other blogs—all white people—act like a bunch of bullies about it and it's super frustrating.

This fandom does have a problem with whitewashing—gifmakers do it all the time while coloring their sets! Or they make the characters of color look super unnatural because they refuse to adjust their PSDs for their skin tones! And yet I have never seen anyone call out any of the gifmakers who've done this in the past, let alone dogpile on them to such an extreme—like y'all are doing on this Korean artist. Idk. I'm Asian too, and it's super disturbing to watch.

Hey, anon. I saw this ask last night in the jungle that is my inbox, but I wanted to wait until I was awake and aware enough to answer it (and didn’t really need to go back to sleep because of work).

The only thing I would push back on here is that it’s just a group of white people dogpiling. It was not all white people speaking. They’re just the voices that ended up on that artist’s blog and got the most attention – that includes my own. Because of that, I can see why it might be perceived that way though. And I pushed people not to interact with them or the art, because that’s how you make a difference. You don’t give something attention. The lack of engagement is a stance in and of itself. The goal was certainly never for this person to be attacked, so if that’s what you’re implying has happened, that’s a problem. And that’s on me for not being more careful.

I’ve had people who appreciated the fact that I spoke up, but there have been others, like yourself, who don’t like what’s happening, and an even wider group who thought that while there was something to be said, they’re not sure I should have said it. The response has been very multi-sided. And I do believe that you and everyone else who thinks I veered too far out of my own lane are very valid in thinking that way. I spent all of yesterday debating about whether or not I made the right decision, and I had friends both white and non-white who weren’t sure either.

It also seems there have been some gross communication failures. I’ll start off by saying that I did not see the culture post. I’m blocked by the artist (fairly), so I had a friend send me screenshots this morning. I wasn’t purposely disregarding that, and you’re right that it’s important to take into consideration.

I do think there’s never going to be agreement with this person regarding Jee’s skin tone. They have the perceptions that they have because of their experience as Korean artist living in Korea, and they see Jee as being lighter than even JLH visually and because of their cultural experiences. I do not believe that's likely to change.

I’m not saying Asian people can’t be light-skinned, but this artist is drawing a character played by two very real little girls, who are not universally perceived as light-skinned, and from our general understanding, are not Korean. Their mother is Chinese, and their father has a traditional Chinese surname which leads us to believe that he is likely Chinese as well. If this is incorrect, please correct me. And when you’re making art of real people, you can’t just use your previous perceptions of a fictional character’s identity to justify coloring them differently. And they’re using gifs to defend those perceptions. Gifs are something that you and I both know aren’t trusted references. They’re colored and altered in a variety of ways.

You’re right that gifmakers whitewash regularly. I will say that people have tried to call this out in the past, but they’ve been general posts from what I remember. Nothing about individual gifmakers. It’s been a huge problem with Eddie and with turning Athena and Karen orange. However, these general callouts don’t really get a lot of traction. And that’s extremely unfair.

I’ll be blunt and say that part of that is the fact that people tend to turn a blind eye to keep the peace, and the people in this fandom who noticed this artist’s work are the ones least likely to do so.

Another issue were the DMs, and it’s been brought to my attention by @karenandhenwillson (who I will respond to after this) and in a post by the artist, that I may have misinterpreted those completely, which is unfair of me (and anyone else who has seen the messages and come to the same conclusion). There wasn’t enough patience with someone who was a non-native English speaker, and that led to some confusion that I’m going to address when I respond to the blog I just mentioned.

The fact of the matter though is that I'm white, and I'm wading into murky waters by continuing to engage on this subject. I've turned off reblogs on my original post, and after my next response about the communication meltdown, I'm going to edit it and make another clarifying that people should read the artist's posts and my previous posts to understand their position and everything that's happened.

I don't think it's fair for me to continue to place myself in a discussion I might not have had the right to be in at all, but I'm not going to leave without publicly acknowledging the communication issue because it matters and telling people not to attack this artist. That's cowardly and not really my style.

Thank you again for this message. I really do welcome people coming to talk to me.

[i-am-hughesgroup]

AN (UN)OFFICIAL INTRODUCTION

I got hit with the FanFic bug about two months ago for Thai actors MewGulf who represented a BL novel called TharnType. My passion for this has been endless. Everyone has to be hot potatoes about something right? ***Sigh***

Believe me when I say that I had never heard of FanFic as a writing platform before this! The idea of writing for someone else’s hard work seemed disrespectful. I didn’t understand it as a useful writing tool like prompts. Slowly I realized that sometimes readers become so enthused that it creates a void others try to fill.

Seriously, I’ve heard so much in conjunction with these apps authors use to publish. Watt Pad and Medium are the two I have ventured into. With AI emergence I’ve been hit square in the face, that as a new, trying to be published author, the creative space is wearing thin. The ideas are flowing but constantly in the back of my mind is ‘AI’ can do it better. I kind of feel like the most important part of me, the part that puts words to paper has gotten lost to the shuffling of time. I was always hoping others can relate, and no one, when reading my work, would be looking for the color of my skin. You got what you got. Simple.

Now I feel that writing is definitely for the young.

At this moment just from introductions I have read on Tumblr alone, it seems a writer must dig into to the very heart of themselves just to be heard. The inquiries expected when reading my work have expanded. It’s no longer whether I’m old, or I’m black, or a little too strong in vocalizing my thoughts into something easily read. It’s about influence in numbers or worry that I may not have enough influence to get those numbers. May not have enough views or likes. As I was slow at one time to understand, FanFic, is vicious! If you go there…be prepared! Social Media has definitely made it real.

Goddess I love it!

Maybe I should have said that with a little more professional candor. But I am hoping that you see my point in the messy message.

I can fight AI.

AI is the toolkit that has nothing to do until someone picks it up.

It’s prophetic future is indeed coming with a wave of solutions and societal changes. It can imitate our speech and talk about religion. It can even tell us how to solve life’s problems. But always I am reminded that with all its miraculous possibilities, it still has no heart. FanFicis a perfect example of this.

MewGulf, these FanFic idols, created The Waanjai, “Sweethearts” for the non Thai speakers, of which I am a shameless member. My crazy found a home in millions of people from all over the world! And I got my writing groove back because of it. For weeks I stood outside the light because I couldn’t answer a simple question…who am I?

For now, I am a writer, a poet, and an artist for whatever reason I may need. I love being able to better visualize my characters. I love being apart of the writers community. More importantly, my happiness comes from being a WAANJAI.

Why?

Because every writer, has so much to offer. Without writers a suffering voice can go unheard. Freedom to express yourself or fight for your rights would go unnoticed. Words are a powerful tool that move society forward. I love being apart of collective. If I had only today to tell anyone who I am as a person, as a writer, I would say I am a collective communicator. I don’t want to write just for one woman of one community. I want to want write in the voice of all women everywhere. Sharing like FanFic is shared and loved by many. Our footsteps are the same no matter where in the world we live.

As I gain my public voice and broker the silence, I can only hope my characters reach as many people as I am, with humility, allowed.

S.A. Hughes

[nightmaremp]

The City of the Night: You're Not a Monster, Love. Ch 3: Practice of the Actors

 The stage was set up and all the actors were in their outfits for the first scene of the play. Spook was standing in front of the stage. His tail dragged a bit off the floor of the theater. “Everyone! Please get in place!” yelled Manak with a smile on his snout. 

The actors get into place and wait for their boss to tell them the next direction. Roy was backstage with Max and Anala. He was watching the actors get into place. His twin brother on the other hand was talking with Anala, the makeup artist. 

Anala was beautiful, there is no lie about that fact. She has long wavy curly hair that covers her shoulders. Her hair is claret red shade. It shines a bit from the stage lights. Anala’s skin is a nice umber brown shade. The makeup artist has some eyeshadow on her eyelids. The eyeshadow is a strawberry pink shade with some white spots on the wing. 

Her lipstick was a rosewood pink shade of color. It made her well. Anala’s eyes are a seafoam green shade. It made her eyes soft to look at. Her nose is in the shape of an oval and is a periwinkle shade of blue.  She has a small gold ring piercing on her nose. Anala’s body was curvy like a goddess’ body. 

She does have a bit of chub on her stomach but it adds to her beauty. Her eyeliner was black as the coat that she was wearing over her hot pink sweater. Anala was wearing a long dark blue skirt with some red hot high heels. 

“I can’t wait to see how this scene plays out” said the claret red haired female with a smile on her face. 

“I’m sure it will be,” replied Roy with a twitch of his tail. Anala does have a tail but it was hiding under her skirt. 

Common puppets’ tails come in different shapes and sizes. It depends on the parents or family history. Some have short tails with no hair on the tip. Others have long tails with a lot of hair on the tip. It is like rolling a dice of what tail you get. 

The three watch the first act go. It was good except for a few lines messing up. “That was good everyone! Just need to work on some things” said Spook as he made notes on his clipboard. 

His dark purple pen clicked a bit as he wrote on the paper. “Manak?” asked a woman who had walked up to the phantom dragon. 

“Yes?” replied the vivid purple scaled male. 

The woman was one of the outfit designers. She was an Ichthyosaurus. Her skin is a blueish gray color with some white spots on her nose. The woman’s name is “Mrs. Castillo” Her gray hair was curly and always in a neat bun. A pair of glasses sat on her nose like a beak. The glasses have a small chain hanging from them. 

Light green beads were on the chain of the glasses. Mrs. Castillo’s eyes were a hazel brown color. She always wears dresses that look like something out of a gothic novel. Her dress is a dark pink shade with some hints of white. The dress has a pearl on the middle of the neck of the dress. Each ruffle of the dress looks handmade and the white looks nice for the ruffle. The puffy sleeves of the dress match her sweet and calm personality. 

“Spook, I must say that was a great practice run for act one.” said Mrs. Castillo with a smile on her face. 

“Why thank you” replied Manak with a smile on his face. 

“But I have some bad news for you” replied the gray haired female. Worry was in her voice. 

“Oh? What is it?” replied the vivid purple scaled male in a serious tone of voice. 

“Mr. Mejia won’t be able to play the role of the phantom” replied Mrs. Castillo. 

“What!?” replied Spook with wide eyes. 

“After months of him being late or being upset by the smallest things, he can’t play!? What is his excuse this time?” he added. 

“Mr. Mejia said he is too tired to play the role and that the role is too boarding for him” replied the Ichthyosaurus. 

Manak’s eyes narrow. Anger filled his body. Mr. Mejia has always been a pain in the ass for the dragon but this. It was the last straw for him. The man never pulled his weight or did his roles right. Mr. Mejia always complains about the smallest things. He always wants more or changes roles at the last minute. 

Spook takes a deep breath. “Thank you for telling me, Mrs. Castillo” replied Manak as he pitched his snout with his fingers. 

“Your welcome, Spook” replied the gray haired female. 

“Now, who can we get to play the role of the phantom?” asked the vivid purple scaled male. He rubbed his chin as he thought. 

“May I make a suggestion?” replied Mrs. Castillo. 

“Of course,” replied Manak. 

“Tearlit. He could play the role.” replied the Ichthyosaurus. Spook’s eyes went wide and a smile formed on his face. 

“Yes! Of course! He has always been a background character or have non speaking roles in the plays. So, why not give him the spotlight for a change.” replied the dark blue light haired male. Mrs. Castillo smiles. 

“Do you want me to tell him the news?” she asked. 

“If you don’t mind,” replied the phantom dragon. 

“I would love to,” replied the gray haired female. “I will see you later, Spook,” she added before walking away. 

“Alright, thank you for your time.” replied the vivid purple scaled male. 

Mrs. Castillo walks to the backstage area. She wanted to tell the news to Tearlit since she and him have a mother and son like relationship. He always comes to her for help or advice. In return, he helps her with things. The Ichthyosaurus cares for Tearlit. He is like a son to her. She does have kids of her own but they live far away. 

The gray haired female spotted Tearlit and walked over to him. He was leaning against the wall, watching the other actors. “Tearlit?” asked Mrs. Castillo. 

“Yes, Mrs. Castillo?” replied Tearlit. His sweet voice always makes her smile. 

“I got some news for you.” she replied. 

“Oh? What is it?” replied the masked male. 

“You get to play the role of the phantom in the play!” replied Mrs. Castillo. 

“What?” he replied in a shock voice. “I will play the phantom?” Tearlit added. 

“Yes” replied the gray haired female with a soft smile. 

“I’m so happy” replied Tearlit as he hug Mrs. Castillo. She hugs him back. 

“I’m so glad for you” replied the Ichthyosaurus. 

[ibendcrazy4-u]

The Demise of Abigail Adams

Somewhere, in a nondescript mortuary, in the middle of a graying city, someone is getting to work.

Abigail

“Hi, My name is Abby, Mr. John Doe. I’ll be your mortician this evening. It’s a pleasure to meet your dead body. If I may be so bold, I think I'm infatuated with you. May I make a confession? I love the taste of formaldehyde air in the morning. It’s the only perfume I’ll ever wear. I love the scent of Clorox stained linoleum tiled floors and the luminous gaze from the plastic lights above me when I'm working. The vibrant shine coupled with rotting flesh almost brings me to an orgasm. Almost. There’s nothing quite like carving up dead bodies. Nothing beats it. Not binge eating. Not shopping. Not even sex. I love what I do. I’d do it for free if I didn’t have to make a living. It’s an art form. And I'm the budding artist with a scalpel. A lot of people think I'm sick because I chose this profession. They say with my looks that I could be a super model and make baskets of money. Money? Money can’t buy this. Money can’t buy what I do. Money can’t buy being a mortician. I’m a blonde Swede, in case you didn’t know. Blonde Swedes are notorious for having a great time. I’m not like most Swedes and most Swedes don’t like me. In fact, no one likes me…not even my psychiatrist. He thinks I have a problem. He says I enjoy my work too much and that it’s sick that a gorgeous gal like me would enjoy what I do. He’s just biased. When in the world was it a crime to enjoy a legitimate occupation? Rose-colored coagulated blood, desecrated intestines, and the puncture and incision of virginal flesh is poetry-the only kind of poetry I’ll ever read. I love reading dead bodies. I touch your cold, bluish flesh and it excites me. It entrances me. Whoever said dissection was technical work was a moron. It’s beautiful. It’s beautiful to dislodge an eye member from its orbital socket. It’s beautiful to extract a limp, diseased heart from the chest cavity. It’s beautiful cracking open the sternum. It’s beautiful being in the morgue alone at night with you. And it’s steady, immortal work, too. It’ll never go out of fashion. It’ll never go out of business. It’ll never go away. Maybe, one day we might be buried together. I hope so. I genuinely love you when you’re dead. I'm about to cut you up. You’ve been through a lot and I want to make myself feel better. I want to make myself love you. I’m about to cut you open in the chest. The scalpel is right on the edge of your skin. I'm almost there. Now this is the fun part!”

Cadaver (thinking)

I’m lying on something cold and hard when I feel something sharp and pointed on my chest. My mind is a blurry fog and I don’t know where I am. Streams of bright light pierce my hazy eyes and as I lift them, I see you. You’re blonde and gorgeous. You grow very pale, let out a terrifying scream, and faint before me. I hear something like porcelain glass crack on the floor. I bolt upright and spin my head around in stupefied amazement. I am appalled to see various rotting, brown figures of human cadavers and dusty jars filled with milky fluid. My heart pounds and reverberates against my chest like well-oiled machine pistons. Eyelids flutter and dart to various spots of kaleidoscope color that veil my vision. My head feels light and dizzy. It starts to roll, where I see circles of maroon, thick liquid spilling from your cranium. Ivory pieces of textured skull are scattered in fragments and starts congealing with your blood. Everything around me begins to go pale, bright and the last thing I see is your petrified, gaping mouth in awe pointed towards a luminous waxy ceiling.

[nymposting]

OK WELL now I have irl friends following here so I reckon it’s high time for another pinned post~

Nym is my primary D&D/Pathfinder OC. He’s been through several systems and rewrites over time but his core identity and themes are just very dear to me so even after all his campaigns have ended I’m still writing about him. Right now his setting is a modern AU of Pathfinder 2nd Edition, with some major homebrewing going on around the magic mechanics.

This blog is just a pile of things that are On Brand as far as his characterization, sense of humor, visual motifs, lore jokes, et cetera. And possibly when I get something written that Im confident in, I might be willing to share. Maybe. Hopefully. We’ll see c:

Please don’t hesitate to send me asks or tag me in things if it seems like they fit the vibe~

Character bio under the cut 🖤✨

Vital info for the character bio girlies:

Full name: Nym Hruska. There are several aliases, nicknames, and a deadname as well.

Pronouns: he/any (genderqueer)

Ancestry: Fetchling. Fetchlings are humanoids who got trapped in the Shadow Plane ages ago and adapted to that environment. They look a lot like other humans but in greyscale, completely drained of all color, and with solid yellow or green eyes without visible pupils. Their eyes can reflect light like a cat’s or in some cases glow. Nym’s eyes are a vivid orange-gold all the way through. His skin is a medium-light grey, and his long hair is stark white. (It’s been straight in early iterations but is currently curly/wavy)

Class: Warpriest. Nym is a cleric of Nocticula, the Redeemer Queen - a goddess of the void, artists, protecting outcasts and exiles, as well as introspection and growth. It’s said that where the sun, moon, and stars hang in the sky, she is the darkness between them all. Previously he was aligned with the demi-deity Saloc; simply put, in the court where your eternal soul is judged, Saloc is your defense counsel. He’s often mistaken for a death cleric based on vibes alone but he’s deliberately blasphemed against the goddess of death before soooo definitely not in her camp lol.

Being a warpriest, while his spellcasting is competent, he excels mainly in combat. On Pathfinder jobs he wears full plate armor and arms himself with a guisarme. (And daggers. Always have a backup dagger.) His role is typically not only to neutralize threats, but to draw an adversary’s fire to protect his teammates. Despite being a cleric, he is not a healer. Healing magic is sparse in this setting, and he has a… complicated relationship with it.

Age: 41. Fetchlings have longer lifespans than humans, typically reaching physical maturity around 20, entering cultural adulthood at 50, and living to be well over 200. But they do visibly age at a closer pace to humans than one might expect. In terms of wrinkles etc, Nym looks about like a 30-year-old that’s been through the wringer.

Height/weight (avg): 6’4”/250ish lb. Due to how he uses magic and other factors, his weight fluctuates A Lot. 250 mostly in muscle is the goal, but it’s often less.

What’s he up to now: Currently he’s an itinerant priest, which is a fancy way of saying he lives out of his truck. He’s mainly a freelance field agent for what’s left of the Pathfinder Society, guarding research teams on expeditions and intervening when the modern world collides unfavorably with local monsters. He has a talent for getting into fights, whether it’s part of a job or not.

The travel is convenient for picking up a lot of contract work in various regions. But also, for totally normal reasons, he cannot stay in the city where he grew up and where most of the Hruskas still live. Officially his residence is in Hellbender Hollow, West Falmont, where he apprentices under his baba.

Notable past lore moments (i.e. from his campaign): stealing fish from essentially the Feywilds and accidentally starting a fish cult; leaving his first god’s service bc he killed one of that god’s boss’s personal soldiers one time; getting poached by a second deity and courted by a third while in a situationship with that last deity’s half-sibling who was also his senior colleague; growing gills as a result of repeatedly swimming in fey waters after the locals told him not to (I am actively trying to justify him having them in the modern AU I love gilled Nym so much)

Associated characters: his family, consisting of his mother, stepfather, four younger sisters and one younger brother; Kharinida, fellow Pathfinder agent and old friend/certified “it’s complicated” situation; Topher, local couch-surfing vampire who keeps saying he’ll join up “eventually”; others unnamed and/or still to come

And I will definitely be adding to this over time but this is the jist for now :)

[madstronaut]

a little "palette" cleanser if you will 🎨 sorry i'll see myself out

obligatory faficowrimo masterlist link: https://www.tumblr.com/madstronaut/741107471699066880/faficowrimo-the-challenge-comment-on-every

Reading: imprimatura by @eowynstwin

ahhhh one of the earliest soap fics i read and still makes me feel so tender and gooey when I think about it <3

I also loved how artist!reader’s first thoughts were “decadent muscle” HAHAHAHAHA SOAP WHO? I AM NOW CALLING HIM JOHN “DECADENT MUSCLE” MACTAVISH

“-his mouth rests at an angle that suggests he often smiles.”

fucking obsessed with this line!!!! what a description

Soap’s grip is firm, the kind of firm that suggests he can squeeze much, much tighter if he needs to. 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰yesplease

You turn his arm to see it more fully. “Oh. Nice tattoo.”

He looks at the ink as if it is entirely new to him, and then gives an easy grin. “Thanks. I’ve got a few more too. coughicanshowyounowprivatelycough Hope they aren’t hard to draw.”

this whole interaction has me shredding my pillow in my jaws - not letting go after a too long handshake? turning his arm to admire the tattoo? soap brain going brr and acting like he’s just seen his tattoo for the first time? RRRAGHAHHHGHG

i love how she clocks the colors for his eyes and skin and names of his specific muscles as they move too <3 ughh the artist reader is so well fleshed out which is a particular favorite of mine when it comes to fics <3

“It looks as if he’s moving around the sticks of vine charcoal with one outstretched finger; he pulls his hand guiltily away when you reenter the studio, crossing his arms over his chest as if to hide the evidence of his snooping.”

once again whoever at infinity ward came up with soap’s journal/sketches needs a fucking raise and promotion; it’s one of my favorite bits of canon about him and the idea of him picking it up again post-deployment just makes my heart absolutely a c h e

Beauty is cheap in art, but you notice it all the same—appreciate the strong brows, the hard angle of his jaw, the dark stubble of a beard you suspect he can’t keep shaved down, and the long scar that cuts through it across his chin. The light brown of his complexion is speckled with sun exposure, and there are the faintest of creases at the corners of his eyes, which you expect will deepen into genuine, gorgeous crow’s feet as he ages.

loved this whole exchange but that last line once again almost made me tear up knowing canonically, we won’t get the chance to see him age…but in fanfic we can and will 🥹🥹🥹

He looks at you, and catches your survey. You can see him realize you’d been watching, the knowledge of it blooming in ocean blue eyes like ink dropped onto linen.

obsessed with this last line. imho this whole fic and the way its written is a work of art itself 💙💙💙💙

And now he’s looking at you—attention flitting across your face, dropping down your body and jumping back up to meet your gaze. mmm soap can give me elevator eyes any time

His smile remains, cocksure and easy. “Let’s.” 

“That’s a shame. I’m right partial to it.”

the amount of rizz imprimatura!soap has got me full-body blushin i stg but also artist!reader setting him up to knock it out of the park with those comments? “we don’t do foreplay in this studio” MY SIBLING IN CHRIST DO YOU REALIZE THIS STATEMENT CANCELS ITSELF OUT

“There’s not a hard angle to you, all sweet and soft, but when you meet his gaze during introductions there’s a sharpness to you that skewers him through the chest.” i fucking loooooooove when writers describe the “at first sight” moments

The corners of your mouth tug upward, just a bit, and you look away, clearly bashful. Something in Soap’s chest starts beating a drum. my realtime reaction: 👅 👅 👅 👅🥰🥰🥰🥰 

“You should,” you say, and he looks at your thigh shamelessly as you pat it—even beneath your jeans, he can see the ripple of the impact. mm yes proud members of Thick Thigh Save Lives Club rise upppp

He can’t help it—Soap’s imagination runs wild. Titanic, draw-me-like-one-of-your-French-girls wild. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA this is canon to me you cannot change my mind

i am also loving the keep calm and carry on professionalism of artist!reader in the face of having to contend with seeing naked soap

he has to resist the urge to flex. Instead he watches you as you look at him.

these small revealing lil bits make me absolutely feral for this soap

He half-wishes he could step out of his body and join you, curious as he is about what you’re seeing, what your students will see. 

me too, sir, me too. i also love seeing artist!reader through soap’s eyes as well

“First time someone’s wanted to run away when I’m takin’ my clothes off, I won’t lie—” fucking CACKLING at this line

besides the absofuckinglutely incredible writing and fleshing out of this lil meetcute - i did see author's note that she drew on her own time as a fine art major <3 <3 <3 <3 and honestly some of the best stories ive read drew from IRL experiences by writers - but the suggestions and possibilities of this fic post-mwiii is what makes this such a favorite for me, peeking through a window into one of the what ifs? of another possible longer lifetime and lifeline for our beloved soap <3

so many chef's kisses and flowers being thrown at you from me madi 💕💕💕