#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.

[prettybouquets]

𝓑rushstrokes of 𝓐ffection ᯓᡣ𐭩˚ ༘

fem!reader x viktor

𝓻𝓮𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽; none

word count; 1.2k

context; established relationship, reader is a expressionism artist

cw; kissing

The workshop always hummed with the sound of Viktor’s inventions—a faint whirring of gears, the occasional hiss of steam, and the rhythmic scratch of pencil against paper. Tonight, it was no different. You stood at your easel, positioned by the wide window of his lab, where moonlight streamed through and mixed with the flicker of arcane light.

You glanced over your shoulder, smiling softly at the sight of him hunched over his workbench, golden eyes focused intently on the mechanical pieces in front of him. His cane rested against the table, and his brow was furrowed in that familiar way you’d grown to love.

“Taking a break anytime soon?” you asked, swirling deep red paint on your palette.

“I could ask you the same,” he replied without looking up, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’ve been staring at that canvas for over an hour.”

You chuckled, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “I’m waiting for inspiration to strike.”

“Perhaps you should start by capturing your muse,” he teased, finally glancing up from his work. His gaze lingered on you, his expression softening. “You always say you need him nearby, no?”

You rolled your eyes playfully but felt warmth bloom in your chest. “If my muse ever sat still long enough, maybe I could.”

He chuckled, low and warm, and turned back to his project. Despite his reply, you noticed how his posture shifted, the lines of his shoulders relaxing just a touch. Viktor wasn’t one to admit it often, but he liked having you here, your presence bringing a quiet balance to the chaos of his inventions.

With a deep breath, you began moving your brush across the canvas. Broad strokes of crimson and violet danced under your hand, meeting sharp streaks of black. Your art was always vivid and emotional, your expressionism capturing feelings in a way words never could. Tonight, your work was inspired by him—the brilliance of his mind, the quiet strength of his presence, and the warmth he showed you in the little moments.

“What are you working on?” Viktor’s voice broke the silence.

You didn’t answer immediately, biting your lip as you added a streak of gold to the chaos of color. “Something complicated,” you finally said.

“Sounds like you’ve taken a page from my book,” he replied, standing with a slight wince before crossing the room to stand beside you.

You looked up at him as he leaned on his cane, his golden eyes studying your work. His proximity was enough to make your pulse quicken, even after months of being together.

“It’s... expressive,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly. “I see motion, strength—chaos, even. And yet, there’s harmony beneath it.”

You smiled, dipping your brush into a shade of deep blue. “Maybe I’m painting the way you make me feel. You’re a bit chaotic, but there’s always a sense of purpose in what you do.”

His gaze softened, and he reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your wrist. “And you think I’m the muse here?”

“You’re always the muse,” you replied, your voice quieter now. “You’ve brought so much color into my life, Viktor. I think I’m just trying to capture a fraction of that.”

For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze fixed on you. Then, with a rare tenderness, he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. “And you bring light to mine, moje slunce.”

Your heart swelled at the endearment, a term he rarely used except in moments like this. You leaned into his touch, your brush forgotten as you reached up to rest your hand over his.

“Stay still for a moment,” you said suddenly, stepping back from his touch.

Viktor frowned slightly, confused, as you grabbed a clean brush and dipped it into the gold paint. Before he could protest, you dabbed the tiniest streak of gold onto his cheek, laughing at his bewildered expression.

“What are you doing?” he asked, though there was no real irritation in his voice.

“Adding a little sparkle,” you teased, grinning as you stepped back to admire your handiwork. “You wear brilliance so well, after all.”

He shook his head, a quiet laugh escaping him. “You’re impossible,” he murmured, but his eyes were warm, his smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You reached for a rag to clean his cheek, but he caught your wrist, his grip gentle but firm. “Leave it,” he said softly. “If it makes you happy, I’ll wear it.”

Your breath caught at the sincerity in his tone, your chest tightening with affection. Viktor wasn’t one for grand gestures, but his quiet acts of love spoke volumes.

“Come here,” he murmured, tugging you gently toward him.

You obeyed, your hands resting lightly on his chest as he leaned down. His lips met yours, warm and soft, the kiss slow and deliberate. Viktor wasn’t often one for public affection, even in the privacy of his lab, but moments like this were precious—filled with a quiet intensity that left you breathless.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his eyes closed as if savoring the moment. “You are the most extraordinary thing in my world,” he whispered.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, and you smiled, brushing your fingers lightly against his cheek. “And you are the reason my world feels full of life.”

For a while, the two of you stood there, the hum of the lab fading into the background. The air between you was warm and steady, a quiet promise of love unspoken but deeply felt.

When you finally returned to your easel, Viktor settled back at his workbench, though he kept glancing your way. The streak of gold still marked his cheek, catching the light whenever he turned his head.

You smiled to yourself, dipping your brush into a fresh pool of paint. Tonight, your masterpiece wasn’t just the canvas in front of you—it was the life you and Viktor had built together, full of quiet moments, stolen kisses, and endless inspiration.

© prettybouquets 2024. all rights reserved. please do not copy, modify, or repost any work as your own.

[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.

[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 :)

[scriptsofheaven]

Preview // chaewiwon

1. altering the minds of carats is something that my charm would do the best, and i can be your most sensational heart-stealer through the newest edition of cosmopolitan with bare chest and bulgari.

2. modesty has become an undeniable bearing that resonates with my true self as an artist. wearing a simple sleeveless black top whilst being adorned with bulgari’s finesse gold statements, i am thriving for life.

3. as i’m blessed with the greek god’s-like physique, nothing has ever come close than me when it comes to flaunt my grace. with a touch of bulgari’s finely carved trinkets and wristwatch, cosmopolitan were able to captured such masterpieces.

4. behind the lense of cosmopolitan and bulgari with me started with me posing akin to royalty even without shiny crown or dangles, but only with black long blazer, leather boots, and trouser. deadliest stare that you have ever seen, isn’t it?

5. by the urbane touches and suave compliments, cosmopolitan were able to capture me through many milieu. i honestly love both of my looks here because it showcased impeccable charms of mine.

6. romance is dead, as the petals of rose were burned, in flame. this is one of the unique photoshoots that i have with cosmo and bulgari and i was ecstatic when the result came so flawlessly. the last picture look a bit like zoro, don’t you think?

7. my statement color has always been black or dim colors, because it accentuates my natural brown skin. under the gleaming light in the cosmo set, i am the star of the show, effortlessly stunning in every pose.

8. just like the popular saying goes, when the photographer said cut, all i hear is cunt! perfectly resembles the excellence of greek gods, i am graced by the presence of bulgari’s gold statements on my necklace, wrist, and fingers.

9. blurred by the insufficient brightness would not hinder me from creating intriguing poses, as the camera lense were clicking here and there. the white silky shirt eventually becomes the main highlight of the shoot.

10. fukuoka carat-deul! thank you so much for brightening up my days with your loud cheers, and i can’t wait to be back for another occasion. here are a few dumps of mine to make you feel less yearning, hahah.