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[writingwithfolklore]

Describing Foods - A Masterlist

                As a broke university student, I love reading about food. It’s almost like eating a real meal myself <3.

I get a little angry when characters are eating a meal and I barely get to experience it with them. In that, I mean I don’t just want to know what it is, but what it’s like to eat that food—how it tastes, smells, sounds, and feels. Is a perfect croissant still a perfect croissant without the crack of the exterior, the airiness of the pastry inside, the smell of yeast?

                Probably not. When writing about a dish, the smell, texture, technique, taste, and how it looks are all important to painting the experience, so here’s some words to use when describing a meal:

Taste:

Acidic: Sharp tasting. Often used to describe tart or sour foods as well.

Aftertaste: A different taste that remains in the mouth after eating something

Bitter: Tart, sharp, and sometimes harsh flavour.

Bittersweet: Less harsh than bitterness. Tartness + sweetness.

Bland: Has no significant flavor or texture

Briny: Just means salty. Often describes pickled foods.

Citrusy: Bright flavour like… well citrus fruits—oranges, lemons, limes, etc.

Cooling: Mimics that cooling feel—like mint.

Earthy: Reminiscent of soil. Can be used to describe wines, root vegetables, and mushrooms.

Fiery: Another word for spicy.

Fresh: Light and crisp—describes produce or herbs.

Fruity: Sweet and reminiscent of fruit.

Full-bodied: Rich and ‘feels heavy’ in your mouth. Can describe wines or soups.

Herbal: Bright, fresh, sometimes earthy from the presence of herbs

Honeyed: Sweet or candied taste like honey.

Nutty: Taste similar to the flavors of nuts. Often used to describe certain cheeses.

Rich: Full, heavy flavour. Often dishes that contain cream taste rich.

Robust: Rich + Earthy. Used for lots of wines or aged liquor.

Savory: Describes meaty, earthy dishes and soups.

Sharp: Harsh, bitter, or tart taste. Used to describe acidic foods.

Smoky: Reminiscent of the smell of smoke.

Sour: Biting, tangy, tart flavor.

Spicy: Burning taste.

Sweet: Sugary.

Tangy: Tart, biting taste—feels tingly

Tart: Sharp, bitter, or sour flavour. Used to describe acidic foods.

Woody: Earthy, sometimes nutty taste. Describes some coffees or cheeses.

Yeasty: Earthy taste reminiscent of yeast. Describes beer and bread.

Zesty: Fresh, vivid, or invigorating flavour.

Sound/Texture:

Sound has a lot to do with texture, so I've combined them for this section!

Airy: Light, pillowy texture (think inside of croissant)

Brittle: Hard but easy to break

Bubbly: Usually during heating, when bubbles rise to the surface—low sound.

Buttery: Smooth, creamy texture (think certain pasta sauces)

Chewy: Food that needs to be chewed thoroughly. Can be light and bouncy (chewy bread) or heavy (steak) and sticky (candy)

Creamy: A smooth and rich texture, comes from dairy.

Crispy: Light texture with slight crunch.

Crumbly: Food with loose structure that falls apart into crumbs.

Crunchy: Firm, crisp texture with a sharp, loud noise.

Crusty (behave): Food with a hard outer layer and soft interior (many loaves and breads)

Delicate: Light and fine, feels like it can come apart easily.

Doughy: Soft and heavy, usually pale colouring.

Fizzy: Usually liquids—a hissing sound, feels like ‘static’

Flaky: Light, characterized by layers that come apart during eating.

Fluffy: light and airy.

Frothy/Foamy: Airy bubbles, usually in a drink like a latte.

Gamey: Usually refers to meats when they’re very “meaty”

Gooey: Viscous, sometimes sticky texture from moisture in a dense/solid food.

Hearty: Firm, robust texture.

Juicy: Tender and succulent texture from liquid in a solid food (steak)

Molten: Hot, gooey

Oily: Slick, heavy, lingers on the tongue.

Silky: Fine, smooth texture that feels sleek.

Smooth: Texture free of grit, lumps, or edges.

Snap: A quick, sharp, crackling sound when broken.

Squelch: A soft sucking sound when pressure is applied. Somewhat gross.

Sticky: Gluiness in the mouth.

Succulent: Tender and juicy

Tender: Soft and easy to break down

Velvety: Smooth and rich

Smell:

Acrid: Strong, bitter, unpleasant

Comforting: pleasant, probably calls back to a nice memory

Damp: Wet smelling—probably a bit earthy

Delicate: subtle, faint, not overpowering

Earthy: reminiscent of soil

Fetid: Caused by decay—unpleasant

Fishy: reminiscent of fish

Floral/flowery: Reminiscent of flowers

Fragrant: Sweet or pleasing

Fresh: Cool, crisp, refreshing—produce, probably not cooked

Funky: Something’s gone off

Heady: Strong smell, pungent, rich

Musty: Not fresh

Perfumed: Pleasant, reminiscent of something (can be perfumed with citrus, say)

Piquant: stinging, pungent—tickles the nose

Powerful: strong

Rancid: Definitely gone off, decomposing

Ripe: Strong, usually unpleasant smell

Savory: spicy, salty, no elements of sweetness

Sour: has gone off

Spicy: Sharp, tingles the nose

Tangy: Strong and bitter but in a good way

Tart: Sharp

Woody: earthy smell, reminiscent of wood

Sight:

Usually texture gives us a really good picture of what a food looks like, so here’s some non-texture sight additions:

Blistered: Bumpy exterior.

Caramelized: Usually golden brown

Cloudy: Splotched. Almost see through if not for a slight white or grey mist.

Colourful: Bright and vibrant

Glassy: Resembling glass

Glossy: Smooth, shiny

Marbled: Two colours intertwined

Opaque: Not transparent. Can’t see through.

Ripe: Colourful (can be to a fault). Nearing the end of its edible state.

Scaly: Covered in scales, fish.

Shiny: Appears wet or glossy

Sparkling: Glimmers under the light

Stuffed: An ingredient placed inside a larger part with no additional space.

Translucent: Allows light through

Vibrant: Striking, bright

Food Prep:

How the food is prepared gives it these other attributes. If your character is familiar with cooking (or is the cook themselves!) they may describe food this way.

Baked: Cooked in an oven. Results in browned or crispy outer layer.

Blackened: When food is dipped in butter and coated with spices then cooked in a hot pan—spices darken, making it appear ‘blackened’

Blanched: Food scalded in boiling water and moved to cold water so it stops cooking. Texture comes out soft.

Braised: Food that is briefly fried in fat and then stewed in a pot. Results in seared, crispy exterior with a tender interior.

Breaded: Coated with breadcrumbs/batter then baked or fried so it turns crispy

Broiled: Food cooked with intense radiant heat in an oven or on the grill. Results in a darkened appearance and crispy texture.

Caramelized: Food slow-cooked until it’s browned, nutty, and has a bit of sweetness.

Charred: Grilled, roasted, or broiled and gains a blackened exterior and smoky flavor.

Fermented: Food that’s sat with bacteria, yeast, or another microorganism and has produced acids, alcohols, or gases. Results in a biting, pungent flavor. (Kimchi is fermented)

Fried: Food cooked by submerging in hot oil. Creates crispy, crunchy texture and golden colour.

Glazed: Food with a coating brushed onto its surface. Appears glossy with a thin, flavorful, and crisp outer layer.

Infused: Food steeped in liquid with another ingredient so it carries the essence of that ingredient. Used with herbs usually.

Marinated: Usually meat soaked in liquid containing flavourful herbs, spices, vinegar, or oil.

Poached: Food cooked in near boiling water. Results in tender, moist texture.

Roasted: Food cooked with dry heat in an oven or over the fire. Results in browned exterior and crisp coating.

Sautéed: Food cooked quickly in small amount of fat.

Seared: Food cooked in small amount of fat until caramelized. Finished by roasting or grilling. Results in crisp exterior and tender interior.

Smoked: Food exposed to smoke from smoldering wood for a long time. Results in that distinctive smoky flavor.

Whipped: Food beaten to incorporate air. Light and fluffy.

What did I miss?

[tgcg]

ms paint. you know her. u used her age 8 to make loads of rainbow ovals all over the canvas and then scramble it with selection tool. now u will know her true powers with my handyrandy tips under the readmore. some will be pretty basic and others are very special.

this post has 8 cool trix to learn for you. enjoy and i may do another in the future if i remember/learn more stuff

some of it might be common knowledge. but its got some deep cuts. all tips have gifs to show process easily.

🙂 enjoy and i hope this encourages you to fuck around in mspaint more

soundtrack for this post (loop it while you learn for advanced learning experience)

TIP 1) the right click trick

left and right mouse click correspond to col1 and col2 respectively, which u can see in the top bar. this applies to all brushes and the fill tool like above. when using shapes col2 will be the fill colour (if you have solid fill selected). right clicking with shape maker will reverse the colours use on the shape.

TIP 2) right click eraser

this one is extremely helpful for lineart or add shading. the eraser always uses col2. so your eraser can technically be any colour. but here's where you get powers: right clicking with eraser will only erase onto col1, with col2.

TIP 3) transparent selection change a guy destination

the beloved transparent selection tool works based on what is selected as col2. so long as you have the correct colour as col2 you can make any image transparent and put it on top of anything else. and yes this works with photo bg as you can see.

TIP 4) the gradience

this one is a little more complex. you want to start off with any canvas size, and make as many diagonal coloured bands as you want. (protip: holding down shift makes a perfectly diagonal line with line tool)

then you need to resize the canvas to a width of 1px (make sure you resize by pixels, and do not maintain aspect ratio). then resize again back to its original width (or a different width i cant stop you). you will have your lovely gradience.

TIP 5) superimposter

so. you got a cool gradient and wanna put a guy on it. heres what i do:

i open a 2nd mspaint with same canvas size and draw whatever i want on there. i then pick a completely unrelated colour to my entire piece, and set that as the bg. you could use white, pink, geen, whatever you want as long as it doesnt appear somewhere else in ur drawing. copy the guy.

go back to your gradient tab. ensure that col2 is set as that bg colour you picked (lilac for me). have "transparent selection" enabled. paste your guy in. cue fanfare

TIP 6) advanced superimposter

the great thing about this method is u can put multiple gradients in multiple areas of the image. this is where it gets all japanese printmaking type of shit. ukiyo-esque

all you need to do is make another canvas with a new gradient, ensure col2 is set as the colour you want to replace, then paste your original piece onto the new gradient. now my guy has a soft fade. you can do this as much as you want. (you could even make a canvas with a texture or photo and paste your drawing onto there)

TIP 7) "sketch layer"

so as you now know, col2 is what is removed when you click "transparent selection". which means you can also remove any instance of a colour from ur drawing. which means you can have a unique colour for sketch layer and remove it from the drawing later. i admittedly dont do this but it is a great trick to have.

now combine this with lowering your dpi for smoother lines. may seem obvious but it helps. its like a free stabiliser whenever u want.

TIP 8) rainbow art

now this is where you can get dizzee rascal "bonkers". check out my small and shitty rainbow trick. you can select anything and hold down shift, then drag with left mouse, to turn that selection into its own brush. i even did it with a guy. and you can of course do this with a photo as well.

🙂well that it for now. hope you liked it thanks for reading now back to your regularly scheduled tgcg programming

[liveyun]

EYES LIKE STARS | 2

banner by the amazing @itaeewon 🫧

summary. “He was everything you were not. He was perfect—too perfect. Always kind, always excelling, always loved by everyone, even your own parents, like a reminder of everything you weren’t. And you hated this. You hated him. You hated the way he always included you, the way he tried to help, as if you ever needed his pity. He was always there, almost like a shadow you could never escape.

Returning to the town that holds both your earliest memories and silent secrets, you’re forced to confront not only the unsolved knots you’d left behind all those years ago, but the boy who was always at the center of your pain. Whose eyes have always seen right through you : Jungkook.”

title. Eyes like Stars

pairing. Jeon Jungkook x afab reader/oc

status. ongoing

genre. e2f2e2L (you get it), angst, drama, romance, boy next door sorta situation, emotional baggage, slow burn, eventual smut

wc. 13k+

warnings. (for this chapter) angst kinda. . . tbh, slight nsfw (nipple play, wet dreams), mythical creature reference, uhh kinda post nut clarity but also not so? , scene of drowning/possible near-drowning, parental neglect / toxic parenting, flashbacks, anxiety / panic attack 😬, our girl is learning to heal ❤️‍🩹, A NEW CHARACTER IS INTRODUCED 👀, some light-hearted fun and bickering, not proofread cause im tired byee it’s like really 3:15 am, “english isn't my first language,” the last part tho. . . . . . .

flash backs are highlighted in italics.

← previous | chapter index | taglist | main masterlist | next →

There’s a very small line between fear and curiosity.

The silence of the ocean isn’t like any you’ve known before. It’s thick, hurled down with a stillness that presses against your ears until you’re sure that you’ll be crushed underneath it.

The water stretches endlessly in every direction, dark and silver, the colour of ink spilled beneath a dim moon. It laps against your skin as if testing you, as if inviting you deeper. You float weightlessly on the surface, arms outstretched, as though surrendering yourself to the vastness of the world. But this surrender—it isn’t frightening. No, it’s rather. . . soft. Gentle.

The water laps at your skin like a soft caress, welcoming you, inviting you deeper into her embrace.

You’re truly floating—and for a moment, it feels like surrender. Like peace. The kind that numbs your bones and soothes the chaos inside you.

And you can’t resist. You’ve never been able to resist the pull of the sea. And you don’t think it would be the first time you’d be able to do so, too.

The horizon looks like it’s shimmering — blurring where the water meets the sky. Stars scatter above, their reflections rippling across the surface like a thousand tiny lights dancing just out of reach, sprinkled on the vast sky like dust particles.

Why are they so far away from you ?

Somewhere in the distance, you hear a thump. A faint hum that lingers, a low, hypnotic sound that pulls you closer. It’s as if the ocean itself is singing — a song only you can hear, a melody that fills your chest with a longing you don’t understand. A yearning which feels similar to the feeling of being homesick. It feels like silk, easing the tension from your muscles; it feels like coming home — though you don’t know why.

You sigh.

You sink deeper, arms brushing against the cool, endless expanse. It feels refreshing — cool. The water cradles you, and yet, it feels like something more. Like someone more. There’s a presence here — intangible, unseen, but there nonetheless. It circles you, watching, waiting. You feel the eyes on the back of your head, but it’s not unpleasant or something closer to.

The touch comes without any warning.

It’s a gentle pressure against your arm, light and delicate, almost as if it’s barely there. At first, you think it’s the current, or you’re just hallucinating, but it’s too precise, too careful, too textured. You freeze, breath catching in your throat, but the touch doesn’t retreat. It lingers, tracing along your skin like a very delicate caress. A voice whispers through the water, soft as the tide, as clear as the waters. It’s familiar, achingly so, but you can’t place it, no matter how hard you try. It’s almost like you’re squinting your eyes to look at a distant image better, but you cannot.

The sound curls around you, weaving through your mind, like how tendrils of a plant wraps itself around its support. And for a moment, you think you’ve recognized it — think you know who it belongs to.

It traces along your arm, delicate as a breeze, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. Your eyes snap open, scanning the dark water around you, but there’s nothing. Only the vast, endless sea, and the sparkling waves. And yet, you can feel it— him —there with you, unseen but present, lingering just out of sight.

What was he?

The touch returns, sliding up to your shoulder, and this time, it’s more certain. More real. It trails down your spine, igniting something inside you that’s both comforting and terrifying and . . . arousing? Your breath catches in your throat, heart stuttering as you try to make sense of the sensation as goosebumps prickle all along the expanse of your flesh. It’s intimate, overwhelming — like the sea is alive, drawing you into something deeper, something you can’t escape.

But do you really want to, though?

The question flits through your mind, and without even thinking, you lean into the touch, letting it guide you further. The water swirls around you, cool but not cold — its surface now shimmering with an ethereal light that seems to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. The stars overhead blur, their reflections weaving through the waves like a dream. And then, you feel it — his breath, warm against your ear. The voice is clearer now, low and resonant, like a gentle plea. A delicious shiver runs down your spine at the sensation, as you feel your eyes close again.

You feel him — his nose rubbing against the expanse of your neck. A hum escapes your throat at the sensation when the slope of his nose rubs against the sensitive underside of your jaw, and then, you feel it.

Your stomach swirls with pleasure.

You hear him whisper something in your ear. Softly, almost like soft silk brushing against your skin— and though the words are foreign, you understand them. Not with your mind, but with your soul.

Don’t look.

The warning seeps into your bones, a quiet plea wrapped in something more dangerous. You’re afraid it’s all too much, too intense. You cannot understand the sensations in you — the bubbling heat in your stomach and the ringing bells in your head. But you can’t help it. You have to see. You have to know who he is.

Slowly, as if fighting against the pull of the ocean, you turn your head. You know he is behind you. The water parts around you, thick and heavy, slowing your movements as if the very sea itself is trying to stop you.

Don’t look.

The words echo in your mind, louder now, edged with desperation. But it’s too late. You’re already searching, eyes scanning the dark water, desperate to catch a glimpse of him. The one who’s been pulling you deeper, holding you close, whispering words of praise so sweetly that you’re afraid you’re going to fall apart.

You reach out, and you feel your hand trembling as it cuts through the water. And then you see him—just a shadow at first, a silhouette drifting through the water, a figure submerged in the hues of the darkness. He’s close, so close, but still just out of reach. You squint, straining to make out the details, but the sea keeps him shrouded in darkness.

You cannot see him.

The moment your fingers brush his form, a jolt of electricity shoots through you, a pulse of energy that sets your nerves alight, a type which makes the heat in your belly intensify.

He’s solid, real, but he doesn’t move. Just hovers there, watching you with an intensity that makes you want to squirm endlessly.

The figure moves closer, the water parting around him, and your pulse quickens. You can’t make out his face — yet again — but you can see the outline of him now, clearer than before. Broad shoulders, a lithe, sinewy body tapering to a narrow waist. His movements are smooth, fluid, as he floats, his arms very delicately holding your waist.

When did he get so close?

And then you see them—the scales.

They glimmer faintly beneath the water, catching the light in shades of deep violet and silver, fading into skin as he draws closer. The scales ripple down his torso, shifting into skin that is smooth and supple, as though he exists somewhere between the human world and something far more ancient. His long hair drifts around him, dark as midnight, curling into waves that fall across his bare chest — though the details remain elusive, just out of reach, like a blurry portrait.

You feel his hand— which feels slightly slimy and rough in texture, move up your waist, stroking your skin. His touch is cold, electrifying — and you feel your sanity leave your soul when his knuckles brush against the swell of your breasts.

Your pulse spikes, and you suck in a breath. You cannot go this far, even if your body is screaming to him to end what he’s started. His hands keep on stroking the exposed skin of your waist, delicately and tenderly, like he’s working you to the oblivion of endless pleasure, because why the hell is this arousing you so much?

You’re already breathless by the time you scramble to get a hold of his wrist which feels rather cold to touch before it gets too far away beyond your control.

He doesn’t pull away.

Instead, he leans into your touch, his skin warm and soft beneath your fingertips, though you can still feel the faint ridges of scales beneath the surface. Your heart hammers in your chest, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe. He feels real. He feels alive. You are exposed and vulnerable in his hold.

The ocean swells around you, and the hum in your ears grows louder, more insistent. He shifts, his body turning towards you, and finally — finally — you see his face.

Sharp jawline, high cheekbones, plump, soft lips which are curved in the faintest of smiles. His eyes are unbelievably dark, pupils abnormally wide and endless as the sea — lock onto yours, and you feel like you’re drowning all over again, and yet they feel like they’re glowing like the scales on his skin, a blunt, gentle glow. They draw you in, pulling you deeper into a whirlpool of emotion you can’t name, can’t understand, don’t want to understand. There is something very familiar about him which you cannot exactly pinpoint. But before you can even think of something else, you feel his thumb brush against the peak of your nipple.

Gods.

You moan, a high pitched one which you didn’t know you were capable of making, hands flying to his arms, leaning in submission. Your eyes close themselves as you feel a spark of pleasure travel straight to your clit with each flick of his fingers, and you nearly tremble in his hold.

This can’t be happening.

But the pleasure, it’s so intense — you are torn between your own desire, your own curiosity. It’s just too much for you, and a needy whine escapes your lips when you feel him pinch your nipples gently, twisting the bud in his hold. You squirm, feeling your centre pulse and ache with need, and you hear a small chuckle from his side.

You’re just so close to succumbing to this pleasure. You’re almost ready to voice out your inner thoughts, your need for him, but your body freezes when you hear him.

“Will you run away?”

The question hangs between you, low and velvety, his tone both teasing and somewhat serious. Your eyes fly open as your brain finally acknowledges the voice, his words wrapping around your heart like a vice. You open your mouth to respond, but no sound comes out. Your throat is tight, your lungs burning as though the air has been stolen from you.

He cocks his head, the faintest hint of confusion flickering in his gaze. His hand reaches for you, fingers grazing your arm as though testing your reaction, unsure of your response. But there is something else in his gaze, something that stirs a memory long buried beneath the surface.

Him.

It’s him.

You know him. You’ve always known him.

The realisation crashes into you like a wave, and your breath hitches. You gasp, twisting in his hold as bells ring in your head again. You cannot be doing this. You feel his hands move from your chest to your shoulders, a small tap on your blade as a sign of concern, interrogation. His touch is oddly warm, gentle, but there’s a hesitation in the way he holds you now, a question in his eyes.

He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know why you’re pulling away. His brows furrow, and you can see it in his eyes—he thinks you don’t want him. He thinks you’re afraid of him.

“Will you run away again, like you did tonight?”

Huh?

The question sharpens, the confusion giving way to something more desperate, more exposed. His grip tightens, but not in a way that traps you, but makes you feel oddly seen. His hands caress your shoulder blades, as though he’s pleading with you, silently asking you to stay, to tell him that he isn’t the reason for your fear.

But the truth is — he isn’t. Not entirely.

Your heart races, your mind swirling as fragments of memories begin to unfold. You see flashes of a different ocean, a younger version of yourself pulling someone from the depths. Water in your lungs, panic in your chest, eyes burning — and a boy — struggling to breathe. Your hands shaking, his eyes wide with fear, and your heart pounding so loud it drowned out everything else.

And then . . . . nothing.

Silence.

But now, here he is again.

You twist in his grip, again, afraid of the lack of your words, the silence which stretches forever alongside the soft waves of the ocean, and his hauntingly pitch obsidian eyes — your body reacting on instinct, and the moment you do, his expression crumbles.

His confusion turns to hurt.

He pulls back, just a fraction, his gaze clouding with uncertainty. He doesn’t understand. He thinks you don’t want him. He thinks you’re running from him . . . again. His lips stretch to a snarl, and you catch a glimpse of death lining the inside of his mouth.

The water grows heavier around you, your eyes widening as you beat the water around you as you feel like you’re drowning. Being pulled down all of a sudden. The stars overhead dim all of their light as the weight of the ocean presses you down as his voice echoes once more, softer now, filled with a quiet kind of sorrow.

“So you are going to run away.”

Your lungs burn, your vision blurs, and the ocean swells around you, pulling you deeper into its embrace as you feel yourself immersed, despite your attempts of resistance. The ocean feels like a thousand knives stabbing you all around, unlike the soft blanket of comfort you felt a few moments ago.

The siren’s eyes are the last thing you see, his endless gaze filled with a longing that tugs at something deep inside you — something you’ve kept hidden for far too long.

He doesn’t even attempt to save you as everything goes black.

And then you wake.

It’s all so dark once again. Except, there’s no ocean around you, and you’re sitting on your bed in the middle of the room.

It takes you sometime to adjust to the darkness in your room — the moon is barely visible through the slits of your closed windows, and yet it feels like some sort of hallucination — almost as if your heart is going to burst. Your throat is cracked up as you gulp down on your own saliva, feeling each second passing by killing your throat as the moisture travels down your throat.

Your skin is damp with sweat, hair sticking on your face like some sort of icky school glue. And for a moment, you can still feel the ocean around you, his touch lingering on your skin.

When you recover a bit, you notice that there’s an undeniable discomfort in between your legs — your underwear sticking to your core, soiled, and slick coating your inner thighs as you cringe.

You had a wet dream. Like a fucking teenager. Or, a mixture of something arousing and horror. Was there any specific label to it? Possibly not.

You feel the wrath of shame wash over you as you duck your head down. Why him and why exactly. . .

But it’s gone—just a dream, a memory that slips through your fingers like sand, confusing you all again the more you think of it with each passing second. There are a flurry of questions in your mind which feels way too overwhelming to answer, ponder about, and you feel a splitting headache slowly spreading in the back of your head.

Yet, a question stands out the most amongst all. His voice, low and haunting, still echoes in your mind.

Will you run away again, just like tonight ?

The sea has always been your solace.

It was a vast, open space that offered more comfort than the people crowding your life ever did, or ever could. You sit at the edge of the beach, far enough from the others that their voices are nothing but distant clatters, but close enough that you still feel the spray of the waves on your skin. It feels soothing — yet warm as you bask in the slightly hot weather. The sun is high in the sky, yet all you can focus on is the steady rhythm of the ocean, like a quiet lullaby which rocks your body to a peaceful slumber. You draw idle patterns in the sand, your fingers trailing through the grains as your mind drifts, far from where you are, far from everything.

You’ve never liked being here, atleast, not with them.

The smiles, the laughter, the way everyone seems to fit in so seamlessly—everyone except for you. No matter how hard you’ve tried, you just couldn’t. The latest magazine in your school library had that little “self care corner”, which was fascinating, but absurd to you at first, but it’s been a matter of a few weeks since you’ve been following it. It says that you should be grateful for your blessings and try to improve yourself first before you justify why you feel so wronged and hurt. “It’s a hard pill to swallow”, were the exact words, and you do realise that heck yes, they were.

You had tried so many ways you could improve yourself, with some help from the limited internet access you’re provided from your computer. It said that regular journalling, walking, or activities which overall help you in reflecting on yourself and your thoughts assist in healing. But all that it ever did was make you feel like a bitter fool who had nothing to do but to complain all the damn time, without even putting in the effort to do anything.

So you’d tried putting in the effort. You’d tried mingling in with your friends and classmates. You’d even tried to actually be in the same room as your parents and be involved in whatever they were.

In the end, all that you were met was a cold, dead end.

You felt like you were pretending to be someone who you could never be. You were quite literally pushing yourself off the edge of the ground trying to fit in while others — he — shines without effort. Jungkook has always been at the centre of things, his laughter louder, his smile brighter, his presence bigger than yours could ever be. You just felt like another blurred character in the background who acts like a prop to enhance the overall photo.

And you hated it, hated how you couldn’t stop noticing him, couldn’t stop being reminded of all the ways you fell short.

You kicked the spare pebble nearby you, frustrated at having him in the centre of your thoughts again. One of the many things that the small self care centre had taught you was that nothing other than your own thoughts can hurt you as much as others, and it’s solely your own thoughts which can bring you happiness. So you try and keep your chin up high, trying to think of things which aren’t the constant nagging and pleading of your own parents about how you are no longer a star student and nothing can help you improve now, reminding you why you’re content to stay in the background itself.

But the ocean never judged you. It never asked anything of you. It just was — vast, open, endless, inviting. You can feel the familiar tug in your chest, the pull toward the water, a place where you could lose yourself if only for a moment, and forget everything which pesters you so much.

It’s that pull that keeps you grounded as you sit alone. That, and the nagging feeling that something is off. At first, you don’t pay much attention to it.

Why would you?

You’re used to being ignored, used to being an afterthought. But there’s just something in the air which feels odd, something unsettling that has your senses prickling, your chest tightening. You tell yourself that it’s nothing. You’re just anxious, that’s all. You don’t need to be involved, don’t need to care. Let them handle it. You’re done trying to be a part of something that always leaves you feeling more isolated.

And then, you hear it.

A splash. Sharp and out of place. It’s followed by a frantic noise, like someone struggling, thrashing against the waves. You freeze, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest. You tell yourself it’s not your problem, that it’s probably nothing.

But deep down, you know better. Something is wrong.

Your heart leaps into your throat. You rise to your feet before you can even think ; your eyes dart across the water, scanning the waves, searching for the source. And that’s when you see him.

Jungkook.

He’s far from the shore, too far. His arms are flailing, desperately trying to keep himself afloat. The water pulls him under, and for a terrifying second, he disappears beneath the surface. Your eyes pop out, your pulse spiking up violently as you feel your chest tightening. For another moment, you see his head poke out of the violent waves, his arms still struggling, and in another, you lose sight of him. It feels like your whole body has been frozen, your limbs refusing to move despite your mind screaming for otherwise.

Your body moves before your mind can catch up. You’re on your feet, the sand slipping under your soles as you sprint toward the shore. You should hate him. You do hate him— or at least, you’ve convinced yourself of that.

But none of that matters right now. Not when his head breaks the surface again, his eyes wide with fear. He looks at you, a flicker of something — hope, maybe — crossing his face even in the middle of his panic and terror.

You hate that look, hate that it stirs something inside you, something that makes you pause for just a second. But you don’t let yourself think about it.

You don’t have time for that.

You dive into the water, the cold shock of it hitting you like a slap to the face, but you don’t stop. The current is strong, pulling you back with each stroke, but you push against it, swimming toward him with everything you have. You hadn’t realised that it’s been that long since you’ve been engaged in any other physical vigorous activity, or is it just the fact that the current is way too strong that the resistance it offers to you nearly stops you from gliding forward.

The water is blurry, your eyes stinging with the saline as you swin forward to locate him.

When you reach him, his body feels heavier than you expected, his limbs weak and movements uncoordinated. He’s coughing, choking on seawater, his breaths ragged and desperate. For a second, his weight drags you down, and you both sink slightly under the water. Panic rises in your chest, but you force it down.

You’re not going to let him drown. Not today.

With every fibre of strength left in your being, you push yourself forward. The moment your hands hold his arm, you pull him close. You feel a strong sense of electricity run through your whole arm, but you ignore it. You hook your arm under his, pulling him closer to you, and you start swimming back to shore. Every stroke feels like a battle against the ocean, but you don’t stop. His body presses against yours, his breathing uneven as he clings to you, and despite everything — despite how much you want to hate him — you don’t let go.

What’s more important is to save him, and that’s all what matters now. His weight feels heavy in your arms as you drag him toward the shore, your calves crying with the stretch and your arms cramping with exerted strength already lost, but that’s not your priority.

“I got you”, is all that you can offer as a silent statement in your head, your main motive being taking him to the shore safely.

By the time your feet touch the sand, your muscles are screaming, but you don’t care. You haul him out of the water, your breaths coming in sharp, painful gasps. The waves crash behind you, but all you can hear is the sound of Jungkook’s coughs, his chest heaving as he gulps down a mouthful of air.

You collapse onto the sand next to him, your arms trembling from the effort. For a moment, neither of you say anything.

He’s still recovering, his eyes closed as he lies on his back, his chest rising and falling unevenly. You feel the thrum of your own exhaustion settle in, but more than that, you feel that of the silence between you.

After quite some time, he’s just silent as you are, sitting up in a somewhat upward position as you. The sun fades away to shadows, and the waves feel stronger as cool winds blow from the shore, touching your feet in a gentle fuzzy wash. The clouds overhead dim further as you crane your neck up, indicating rain.

You’d nearly lost him.

What could’ve happened if you hadn’t heard him back then?

Your heart clenches at the thought and you feel even more exhausted mentally than physically thinking of the probable possibilities of your thoughts. You look at him — his profile silent and calm as he watches the waves dance in the distance. He looks deep in thoughts, still a bit ragged.

Your heart skips a beat out of nowhere.

And then, without thinking, you reach out and pull him into a hug.

It’s not something you planned, not something you would ever admit to doing if anyone asked.

But at that moment, it felt right.

His body is warm against yours, smelling like the soft saline ocean, still damp, still buzzing. And despite the lingering taste of salt on your lips and the sting of exhaustion in your muscles, you hold him tight. Your heart pounds in your chest as your brain threatens you to process something scary, as scary as a life without him. But with him in your arms, you feel better.

Maybe it’s relief. Maybe it’s something else. You don’t know, and you’re too tired to care.

Before you can feel anything more, though, the sound of running footsteps breaks through the quiet. Your parents. His parents. They come rushing over, calling his name, their voices frantic and full of worry.

“Jungkook!” It’s your mother. You watch her as she runs to the boy, panic settled in her features with dark, teary eyes as she grabs him by his shoulders, checking him for any signs of injuries. You watch silently as her tears stream down her eyes, shaking.

She doesn’t even spare you a glance.

“Your dad saw you struggling in the sea. Oh, my dear child, we rushed to you right there and then! Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Jungkook’s parents fuss over him, their hands gentle as they check him over, making sure he’s okay. Your own parents linger nearby, but as usual, it’s him who gets all the attention. You stand there, dripping wet and still trying to catch your breath, but it’s like you don’t even exist.

“I think he needs to see a doctor! His skin is way too cold to touch!”

Oh.

You let go of him, pulling back just as they all hover around him, some sobbing, some worried, and once again, you find yourself shoved into the background.

It’s Mr. Jeon who finally acknowledges you, his eyes warm with gratitude as he hands you a towel. Oh. You’re caught quite off guard, you’re being honest — not when you feel his affectionate gaze at you and a warm hand pat your shoulder.

“Thank you,” he says softly, his voice filled with sincerity. “You saved him,” his voice is full of kindness. Like the kind which always feels like a far echo to you. His eyes were always gentle, the kind which made you feel oddly at ease. “We owe you a lot, child.”

“It’s nothing,” You nod, but there’s no satisfaction in it, even if you’d try to feign some. You did what you had to do, and yet, it feels like nothing has changed. There’s a churning feeling in your tummy, one that makes you feel fidgety and anxious again, like all the emotions you hate mixed into one. Selfishness, greed, envy. Afterall, he was in danger. He deserves to be treated and taken care of; you were just a rescue.

However, it just feels so. . . you cannot name it. You’re still the one left behind, still the one who doesn’t quite blend in.

As you watch them lead Jungkook away, his movements clumsy and sputtering, you can’t help but feel the familiar sting of resentment rising in your chest. He’s alive, he’s okay—and yet, you can’t shake the feeling that no matter what you do, you’ll always be the one on the outside looking in, trying to blend in, like how oil does with water — but is it ever possible?

The feeling in your stomach is so ugly that you physically have to fight the urge to kick the sand.

You turn to face the sea once again, lost in the ocean of your own thoughts as the sky growls with thunder.

But what you don’t notice, is the way his eyes follow you as he’s led away. There’s a flicker in them, a quiet gratitude, a longing that he wanted to show you. He wants to thank you, to reach out and pull you back into the hug you’d given him so freely, so sincerely that he’d felt like his world had stopped for a few minutes. But the words stick in his throat, each step feeling like a tug away from you.

You don’t see the way his gaze lingers over his shoulder as he looks at your retreating figure. How he watches you with something deeper.

Something silent, before the tide of people pulls him away from you once again.

The kitchen feels too quiet this morning.

The sound of coffee dripping into the carafe snaps you out of your thoughts, its steady rhythm grounding you in the early morning quiet. The aroma of brewed coffee does little to clear the fog of your tired brain, because once again, you’d failed to get even an ounce of sleep. All you could do was toss around endlessly in the bed. The sheets felt warm, the pillows felt warm, and everything inside your thoughts were so warm you felt like you were getting grilled in your own thoughts.

With no BBQ sauce, though.

But finally, finally when your eyelids had felt too heavy to be kept open, your body clock had decided that it was time to get up.

You sit at the counter, gaze drawn to the espresso stone — an indulgence you’d bought in a phase of believing that rituals like brewing coffee would help settle the storm of your mind. But right now, it does little to nothing.

You’d always preferred instant coffee anyways. Easy, quick, and effortless. Call you lazy or whatever, but let’s be real, who the fuck has the allat energy to do that stuff when it’s the first thing you need in the morning?

(Some real coffee lovers might be giving you the stink eye, but well.)

You absolutely respect others who have, though. But you’re okay with warm water and a sachet of instant coffee. It doesnt taste quite as authentic, but it does work.

Or maybe you were just habituated.

What surprises you is that your parents were awake, but they didn’t come to wake you up this time. Not like before, when the first sound of life in the house was your mom’s footsteps hurrying up to your room. Now when you woke up, it felt like you weren’t even present in the house — perhaps you just expected much more than you should have.

The rich, dark liquid pools into the pot as you stare down at the counter, a knot of emotions tying in your chest. It’s strange, the way time has moved here — everything looks the same, but it feels unfamiliar. The tension that used to live in these walls, seeping through the cracks of their arguments and filling the spaces between your breaths, has softened.

For once, they're not fighting.

You don’t know what to make of that.

You close your eyes against the wave of discomfort that rises in your chest, refusing to let yourself spiral again, but it lingers, just like the faint bitterness of over-brewed coffee.

The morning light is soft, creeping through the windows, and you let your fingers trace idle circles on the countertop, waiting for the espresso to finish. Something about the silence feels unnerving. Not the comfortable, soothing kind though, but the kind that crawls into your bones and makes you hyper-aware of everything — it suddenly dawns on you that you weren’t awakened by that alarm of your phone.

Your phone.

A flood of memories flash right in front of your eyes, remembering him, holding it in his hands while you trembled like a fool and fled from him, again.

You’re so stupid.

You close your eyes. Fuck. Those eyes, those eyes. You were never successful to run away from them, even if he was in a state where he didn’t recognise you. They made you feel exposed, like a deer caught in headlights.

And suddenly, that touch, which is still so prominent in your senses, washes over you. The dream — his touch—lingers like a shadow on your skin, and you’re ashamed of the warmth it stirred in you. Confused, even. Your fingertips twitch, an involuntary reaction to the memory of the way the siren’s — Jungkook’s — hands had roamed over your body in the dream. The way his voice had sunk into your bones, asking, Will you run away?

The question was more than a dream. It was a reminder. And it makes your stomach churn.

You feel a shiver run down your spine.

No. You shake your head, you definitely will go insane if you think about it anymore. You try to shake it off, breathing out a sigh. It’s just a dream, you tell yourself. Get over it. You pour yourself a cup of coffee, inhaling deeply as if the scent could calm the knot in your stomach. There's no running from your thoughts this morning — no distractions, no excuses, and certainly no phone to hide behind. It hits you that without it, you’re forced to confront the very things you’ve been avoiding.

The what-ifs, the what-nows.

You just hope that the bitter coffee would ground you, but it doesn’t.

You take a sip, but it’s scalding, and the sudden burn against your lips yanks you from whatever you were lost in. You wince and place the cup back on the counter, feeling oddly betrayed by something as simple as a morning routine. Without your phone, you’re left feeling vulnerable, like your connection to the outside world has been severed.

You are definitely not a chronically online person, but a few instagram reels certainly do not feel as shitty as the coffee you’ve just made yourself.

You sigh. You wish that you did not rely on your phone for nearly every detail and necessities needed, and you seriously wish you had written down all those log in passwords and passkeys in a diary or something like that. They contain email IDs which you genuinely do not remember, and those unfinished drafts of that novel which you were working in. . .

Argh. You already feel the slight throb develop in the back of your head. There’s a sting behind your eyes, which you blink away. What the fuck ? You cannot lose your shit over such a mundane thing. You’re an adult, and you have enough cash to buy yourself a new phone. (What stings you is the fact that you definitely didn’t need one, but you are petty enough to not get the. . . err, lost one back.)

Anyways, you’re lucky enough to have a laptop with you, and if you can remember correctly, you do have your important e-mails registered in it and hopefully, you can do enough to not lose all your precious details.

(You feel silly as hell.)

But a small part of you trusts that Jungkook wouldn't mess with your details, right? He wouldn’t snoop through your life. . . would he?

You shake your head, pushing the thought away. There’s no point in obsessing over it. Trust him, you tell yourself, even if it’s easier said than done.

— — — —

As you settle down in the living room, laptop perched on your knees, you try to throw yourself into work, your fingers moving swiftly across the keys.

So far, you’ve been successful in logging out of all the devices and recovering your passwords, and you thank the technology for that. Although, those small manuscripts are something which you feel like are in the point of no return. The soft hum of your parents moving about the house barely registers at first, until you glance up and see them together, not at each other’s throats like they usually are.

They’re seated together, your father’s profile hidden behind the newspaper he’s so absorbed in reading, and your mother silently sipping on her tea.

How long have they been like this?

A flicker of surprise ripples through you, followed by an unfamiliar feeling you can’t quite place. They’ve been civil for the past few hours. No shouting, no being on each other’s throats anymore. Just... quiet, almost peaceful.

The same kind of quiet that you once craved for as a child.

You shift in your seat, a strange discomfort setting in as you observe them. It’s unsettling — this lack of chaos between them, and you wonder if they’re simply pretending for your sake. Ha. As if they would actually care.

You push the thought aside, not wanting to linger on memories of their constant arguments, of how they never seemed to notice you slipping through the cracks while they tore each other apart. Now, it feels like they've forgotten those days, moved on without you. But you haven't — If they didn’t bother then, why now when you are now just a temporary guest here?

The past has always found a way of sneaking up on you.

Suddenly, your father calls out your name, breaking the silence. His eyes are casted directly on you, his reading glasses slipping down a bit from his nose as he folds the newspaper he’d been reading to keep it back on the table. “The Jeons have been asking about you,” he says, his voice casual but pointed. Your hands freeze over the keyboard, and your heart skips a beat. “They’re very enthusiastic on hearing that you’re back.”

You force yourself to breathe, but the air feels thick in your lungs. Of course, they are, you think, trying to keep your expression neutral. They have always had maintained the image of that perfect neighbour next door, and this is no exception. However, a plethora of words rises to your throat, unsolicited. Is Jungkook with them?

The question burns on the tip of your tongue, and for a moment, you nearly let it slip. But before you can, your mother re-enters the room, carrying a tray — the rich, earthy scent of doenjang-jjigae fills the room, cutting through the tension like a warm breeze. You hastily cough, swallowing the words back, silently grateful for the interruption.

Although you’re now looking down at your laptop, you feel your father’s eyes flicker towards you, and the weight of his narrowed gaze, knowing he hasn’t missed the hesitation in your response. You are well experienced in this sensing emotions from your parents, and you know your father is suspicious. Let him be. But he says nothing more, choosing instead to focus on taking off his glasses and stretching a bit, preparing himself for his first nourishment of the day.

The silence stretches between you again, but at least for now, he doesn’t press the issue.

You exhale softly, your heart calming from the near slip-up.

A miss is as good as a mile.

That old fear of speaking in front of your father —cof saying the wrong thing, of upsetting the him — surges briefly, but you realize it’s not fear anymore. Not really. You’re no longer scared of him like you were as a child. His glare doesn’t topple you over the edge, and it barely has the same effect it did some few years ago.

You’re just not interested in talking to him, in engaging in a conversation you know won’t lead anywhere.

You can only offer a tight smile to your father as a response.

However , his words swirl around in your head, stirring up old emotions you thought you’d buried. It’s like some sort of a bitter nostalgia ; you’d run from him once already, bolted out of the cafe without looking back. And now, with this reminder that he’s close, that meeting him is inevitable, you feel a wave of fear rise inside you.

Fear, and something else.

Excitement ?

The idea sends a shiver down your spine. Why would you feel excited? You don't understand it. You’re supposed to hate him, aren’t you? For being perfect, for being everything you weren’t. For caring, even when you didn’t want him to. For not recognising you. Why? Why?

But there’s that small, rebellious spark inside you, one that flares at the thought of seeing him again. Those memories of seeing him so close creeps up your neurons like an surge of electricity, and you feel your heart pick up it’s speed again. Despite the fear, despite the confusion, you can’t deny the tug of anticipation. That sort which confuses you so much, that you feel like you’re someone really crazy.

No. You push the feeling down, gripping the edge of the table until your knuckles turn white. You shouldn’t be excited. You should be running again, like that voice in your head keeps whispering, urging you to flee before it’s too late.

Run away. Before he gets too close, before he sees you like this.

But you won’t.

Not this time.

You’re done running.

Even if your heart is racing, even if you’re terrified of what will happen when you see him again. You’ve been running for so long, without ever getting to catch a break — and you do not want to keep running away anymore. You are no longer a teenager, and you have to learn to face your challenges, although, this one is something which rather than being a challenge, feels like something which your whole life has revolved around so far.

You have let yourself suffer for consequences which you never were a part of. You have blamed your misery on someone, who was just as misunderstood as you were. Perhaps, that’s where the list of your flaws begins.

You won’t let yourself fall apart again. You are strong enough to face the storms which threaten to sweep you away. You’ve spent too long building these walls around yourself, and you won’t let him tear them down.

Not yet.

Your bottom lip gets a break from the non-stop nibbling upon hearing the empty bowls clink on the table, your mother chatting idly as she serves the food, and you nod along, though your thoughts are still tangled elsewhere completely.

You should feel relieved, thankful for the quick distraction, but instead, you feel like a thin thread is holding everything together, and it’s just a matter of time before it all unravels.

But when the first morsel of the warm strew hits your tastebuds, it was then when you realised that everything else can wait, but the food cannnot.

You were literally starving.

— — — —

Some things are easier to forget, even if they don’t deserve to be.

The park is quiet, the sound of leaves rustling in the soft breeze filling the humble air. It somehow feels like a place from another world — quiet, peaceful, as if it’s untouched by the dilemma that you’re trying to avoid. It’s funny, how this same peace stretched in between the coats of your house, yet you felt suffocated there, almost as if you weren’t meant to share that with your parents.

You sit on a weathered bench, legs curled beneath, pulling the collar of your coat closer as the cool, crisp autumn air brushes against your skin. Auburn leaves fall in slow spirals, collecting at your feet, a reminder of how everything changes — even when you’re standing still, despite how it felt like nothing had changed.

Perhaps, it was just you, or your home.

It felt fuzzy. Like the fuzz which collects at the rim of a carbonated drink when you shake it too hard. It was raining and was hot enough to feel sweat trickle down your spine just yesterday, and now. . . you feel like it’s about time you treat yourself with some mooncakes.

Speaking of which, you think red bean paste ones are slightly overrated, but you enjoy the taste as much if someone offered them to you for free.

You absently flick through the pages of a book you found tucked in a small “self-care” corner of a bookstore. The name of the corner had absent mindedly brought a smile to your lips, amazed at how this word was used so openly now, compared to that small section neatly tucked at the corner of that magazine you used to be so fascinated with.

The book. . . well, it’s not a bestseller, and it’s not something you’d normally pick up, (neither did anyone seem to, given the layer of dust the shopkeeper had to sweep away before handing it to you,) and you’ll be slightly embarrassed to admit that the name of the corner solely made you buy that book.

Well. . . now, you’re just thumbing the corner of a slightly dog-eared page idly, zoned out.

You turn the pages, but the words don’t really . . . stick. How could they, when your mind keeps wandering back to how everything feels so . . . lost? Like you’re floating aimlessly, without a map, without a clue as to where you’re supposed to be. Life has been a series of steps you weren’t ready to take, choices you weren’t prepared to make ; yet, you kept on running till you either bonked your head on the dead end or just chose the wrong path where you had to bear with the terrible consequences.

It sucks how even your gut feeling sometimes betrays you.

And all of it, every bit, feels like a puzzle that’s been missing pieces for longer than you’d care to admit.

You know why you’re here — not just in this park, pretending to care about a book on self-care, but why you’re avoiding the bigger thing. You’re avoiding them. The Jeons. The meeting that’s looming over you is like a storm you can’t run from. You knew your father did want to press over the topic after breakfast, but it was you who dodged it. You’ve been running long enough to know that much. But today… today, you’re trying to take your time, trying to convince yourself that maybe this is the moment you stop.

Stop running, stop pretending that running away would fix you and your problems.

But it’s hard. Hard to stop, hard to breathe, when every step forward feels like it’s pushing you closer to the one thing you’ve been trying to escape.

Your eyes flick down to the open book in your arms. Right.

You wanted to take your time, to clear your mind, and so may it be so. You’re not even a page down, when your mind registers a small paragraph.

Your eyes scan over the words again.

“Healing isn’t about erasing the past. It’s about living with it, the scars not a sign of weakness, but survival. Letting go doesn’t mean forgetting—it’s choosing peace over pain.”

Your fingers tighten on the edges of the page ; the self-care corner — the memories, the dream which you unlocked — everything you’ve been trying to run from, to “heal,” just feels . . . unfinished. And maybe that's because there’s no real way to let go of what still owns parts of you.

“Let it go,” it reads. As if it’s speaking directly to you. Let go of the things that have been holding you back. Your childhood , the nights you spent wondering if things would ever change. All the times you wondered what it would’ve been like, if you’d tried a bit harder. If you were a bit more perfect.

A deep breath.

You shake your head, trying to focus on the book again. It’s helping you realise something — you deserve to heal from your trauma, even if you weren’t the one causing it.

You close the book, your hand hovering as if touching the cover could give you answers you’re not ready to face.

You let out a shaky exhale as you close your eyes.

Someone sits down beside you.

The weight shifts slightly on the bench. At first, you don’t pay much attention to it, lost in the haze of your own thoughts. It’s just another stranger. Who’s passing through this quiet park, like the leaves that have been falling, spiralling down without asking for permission.

But then, there’s a subtle tug, a familiar feeling in the air that makes you want to turn your head. Maybe you’re just as curious to see, to subtly eyeball if they’re enjoying the calm of the fall too.

You hesitate, staring down at the words. For a moment, you think maybe you should keep staring. But your curiosity gets the better of you.

You glance over and pause. Dark eyes meet yours, and it takes a second before the recognition sets in.

“Oppa?”

Yoongi.

Your eyes lift from the page, and there he is, looking almost too casual, like he belongs in this quiet moment. You notice his glow-up immediately — the way his features have matured, how his hair — darker than how your memory recalls, falls effortlessly across his forehead, styled beautifully to part in the middle. There’s just this quiet intensity in his cat-like, sharp eyes.

Yoongi, as you know, is Jungkook’s elder cousin on his mother’s side. He’s always had this quiet, reserved aura about him. Back then, he was already on the brink of adulthood, 18, and intimidating in a way only someone as mysterious as him could be. Maybe it’s that confidence in the way he still holds himself, the way he seems so sure of everything around him.

He would seem to be very distant at the first glance to anyone, but you know he’s anything but that, given that you always felt like he was that older brother you’ve never had.

And it’s no exception when instantly, his wide, gummy smile breaks through. It’s the same one that used to make you feel at ease back then. A smile so cute, rare, and warm, it could melt the deepest of glaciers to exist. Without warning, he reaches over and ruffles your hair affectionately, the way he always used to. You blink, a little stunned.

He wasn’t exactly known to be the physically affectionate boy, back then, though. . .

“How are you doing?” he asks, his voice low, careful. Somehow you feel like it’s grown even deeper with a very prominent rasp. You can tell he’s not asking the surface-level question. He’s asking how you’re really doing, but without pushing you to say more than you’re ready for. And for that, you feel grateful.

Yoongi always knows what to say, and what not to.

“I’m . . . okay,” you manage to reply, though the word feels heavier than it should. Your voice sounds peculiar to you, but you guess that’s alright. What’s even the point of lying, though? “Just trying to figure some things out.”

He hums thoughtfully, nodding. Leaning back on the bench, his eyes scan over the park as if giving you time to find your words. “That’s good. Figuring things out is important.”

You nod, feeling a little relieved that he doesn’t bring up the fact that you’ve been gone for so long. He’s always had a way of avoiding the obvious, instead focusing on what matters now. You think back to how, in the earlier stages of his career, he always seemed to have his head on straight. If you’re not wrong, you’ve heard some seniors even gosip about how he was known to be the “campus bad boy”, which often confused you. How can a person so warm be called so?

The mixtape he released back then was proof of that, though — a reflection of everything he’d held back until he was ready to speak. His emotions came out through his art, something he was so passionate about, something you admired him for.

Anger, resentment, and hope.

You remember how those emotions warped themselves in his music, his first mixtape he released. Core hip-hop music, all produced by himself solely.

“I saw your mixtape,” you blurted out, not knowing why you’re bringing it up now. “It was… amazing.” You just wanted to let him know, although it feels like you’re a bit too late. It’s been nearly about six. . . maybe seven years, but each time you plug in, you feel like the memories are just as fresh as they were.

He chuckles softly, the sound a little shy despite the confidence he wears so well. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure anyone really listened.”

“What do you mean?” you gawk at him, wide eyed. “Is Min PD, the very famous AgustD saying this by himself?”

He smiles again, a soft laugh escaping him as he rubs his hands together. His skin seems flawless, you notice.

“I mean, of course. I appreciate my fans always, but I feel like the mainstream nowadays is pop music rather than old school hip-hop.”

You nod, licking your lips. Shit. You should’ve brought your lip balm around. “I do understand people indulging in trends, but I do believe that there are people who enjoy hip-hop just as much. For me, it’s like a whiff of fresh air. And I assure you — that your music feels just the same. I, myself as a fan, agree.”

His eyes softened — but they were never pointed to begin with. But before he can say more, there’s a flicker of something playful in them — a hint that makes your heart skip a beat. He taps his phone absentmindedly, then glances over at you again, that quiet smirk tugging at his lips.

As if he’s thinking something else.

“I sure am happy to know that there are others who share the same sentiments as me.”

His phone buzzes in his hand.

“Oh, right…" His tone is too calm, and you already know something's up before he even finishes. “I may have invited someone.”

You blink. “Invited someone?” Your voice comes out slower than you intend, the curiosity now gnawing at the edges of your thoughts. Who?

But Yoongi doesn’t give you time to ask more. He stands up in that lazy, casual way of his, stretching like this is just another day, looking more like a cat stretching after their afternoon nap than a human being. His hand comes down to ruffle your hair again, the affectionate gesture almost pulling a smile from you despite the growing curiosity in your chest. He doesn’t answer you.

Instead, he just smiles that wide, gummy smile one more time before shrugging. “I'll see you soon, okay?”

You watch his retreating figure appear smaller and smaller in the distance as he walks away, hands in his pockets, relaxed and slow.

You’ve always known that Yoongi’s energy was different.

It’s not something you actively think about, but it lingers at the edges of your memories now that you’ve seen him again after a long time. He’s always been on the softer side, quieter — the kind of presence that fades into the background unless you’re really paying attention. Where Jungkook burned bright, a whirlwind of energy and easy charm, Yoongi was like the stillness after a storm — steady, unfazed, but undeniably there.

It’s funny, because despite those differences, Jungkook and Yoongi were close.

You saw it back then, how Jungkook would practically cling to him, always teasing him, always pushing at his boundaries whenever they both used to be together. Yoongi, for his part, would act annoyed, shrugging off Jungkook’s arm or swatting at him with that deadpan expression of his. But you knew better. You’d watched enough to see that he never really minded. Jungkook could be relentless with his affection.

Yoongi pretended to dislike it, there was always that hint of a smile lurking beneath his protests, amongst Jungkook’s giggles.

Sometimes, watching them together made something tighten in your chest — not quite jealousy, but something close. It wasn’t that you wanted what they had, but you couldn’t help feeling envious of how easy it seemed for them. The way Jungkook would wear Yoongi down with his stubborn warmth, and how Yoongi would eventually crumble, letting Jungkook in even if he’d never admit it.

That kind of bond was something you’d always wondered about — if you’d ever have someone like that, someone who wouldn’t mind your presence no matter how much you tried to push them away.

It’s an odd feeling.

Later that evening, you sit in the quiet of your room, the familiar isolation wrapping around you like a protective cloak. You’ve been actively hiding up here after you got back from the park, avoiding too much interaction. Not because anyone cared to ask where you were or what you were doing. It was more because you felt like you needed some time alone, yet, you feel like you’re alone. Your parents barely noticed, too caught up in their own world. Your mother had the formality to ask why won’t you join them for lunch, and thankfully they did not pry any further.

At least you got to have some quality time with yourself while you had the fancy lunch, which you would admit was a bit heavy on your wallet.

It made your hiding feel almost useless, but somehow, staying in your room brought you a small, bitter comfort.

You rub your eyes, feeling the strain on them for continuously typing for an hour. Your neck hurts, and your fingers feel frozen. You’re trying your best to remake the lost manuscript you’d drafted, and you don’t think this new version is anything close to that.

Sighing, you open your laptop again. It’s truly so tiring — but you guess you were a bit productive today, and that’s okay. Your finger hovers over the doc file, contemplating if you should continue any further — but ah, you’re just so tired. Even just thinking of typing a few hundred words would give you a headache. So you just let it go and log into Instagram — the only way you can connect since your phone is still missing.

A notification catches your eye. 1 new notification.

? Eh. . .?

Your notifications are always empty. Just once or twice from instagram that a celebrity has posted and you gotta catch up, which you don’t. Or a reel suggestion. Or people to follow, so this new notification brings a frown to your brows. What could it be?

Your heart jumps slightly when you see the sender.

dboy93_ : 2 new messages

Is that . . . — no way. He’s still using that same old instagram ID which he was forced to make as a dare back when you were in highschool? No way. Couldn’t be. You click on it, curiosity pushing through the haze of everything else.

dboy93_: Yo. This is Min Yoongi (edited)

dboy93_ : Sorry for leaving so suddenly earlier. Something came up

You stare at the message for a second, a slow smile hanging on your lips, then slowly type back.

you: it’s fine

you: ur still using this old ID of yours? 💀

Your eyebrows touch your hairline when you see the typing bubble bounce up immediately at the corner. You did not expect him to reply this soon. . .

dboy93_ : Ya who’s gonna bother making a new one anyway

dboy93_ : I was hoping that you won’t be mad at me for leaving that soon.

you : it’s fine, i understand

dboy93_ : Let’s meet again. I’m thinking of a café this time?

You raise an eyebrow at his suggestion. Is he suggesting a—

dboy93_ : More time to catch up, plus we have some friends here for holidays too

you : ah, so like a reunion party ?

you : sounds good yo. count me in

dboy93_ : Will send you the location soon then

you : but when?

dboy93_ : Today, evening at 7?

Your fingers hover over the keyboard for a while. Keeping yourself occupied sounds kind of very nice, especially when you’re being promised a good time with a few more faces. It’s not like you’re the busiest person, anyway.

you : super. i’ll be there !!

dboy93_ : Oh and btw, can I get your number? Instagram’s a pain to use for texting

You let out a soft laugh. That’s Yoongi for you. Direct and practical, no hesitation. But what exactly would you tell him? That my phone is with your little brother right now?

you: imma give it to you once i get it back

you : i don’t have it with me right now

dboy93_ : 👍

Well, you don’t know what kind of reaction you were expecting from him, but you don’t know what to make of a thumbs up either.

— — — —

The evening feels lighter.

You’re sitting in that same, slightly odd café you were sitting in roughly 24 hours ago —the warmth inside 134340 contrasts with the cool autumn breeze slipping through the café door, hurling you to an unexpected sense of peace.

Very contradicting to your emotions yesterday.

For once, your thoughts don’t feel as heavy. It’s funny how something as simple as an Instagram text from Yoongi earlier can spark a little joy in your chest. You feel light; especially after that power nap turned to a full nap of three hours. You woke up with a growling stomach and a refreshed mind — it somehow felt like you haven’t felt this free since so long, that you don’t remember when was the last time.

No worries, no stress, no voices inside your head.

You’d sat there in your bed, zoned out on nothing particular. It was only when the alarm clock rang, indicating it was already 6 PM.

You hadn’t put much thought into what you were wearing today, but somehow, it feels like you got it just right.

The oversized cream sweater falls gently over your frame, its soft fabric comforting against your skin. It’s the kind of comfort you didn’t know you needed, the loose sleeves almost covering your hands completely as you absentmindedly tug at them. Paired with a long plaid skirt, whose deep shades of burgundy and brown had caught your attention in your wardrobe, the fabric swaying around your ankles.

You hadn’t planned this. None of it, really.

The tan ankle boots are more practical than anything else, but something about the way they click against the pavement felt just right. You don’t mind the way they match the season’s colours, almost blending in with the fallen leaves scattered at the cafe’s entrance.

You’d even added a light touch of makeup — nothing extravagant, just enough to brighten your eyes and bring a bit of life to your face. A swipe of mascara, a hint of blush, and a subtle nude lip colour that complements the cosy, neutral tones of your outfit. A quick brush to your hair and some setting spray was enough to bring out its natural volume.

You felt good.

Maybe for the first time in a while, you feel like you’re not hiding from the world.

For once, the reflection in the cafe window looking back at you doesn’t seem so far away from who you are. You feel. . . light. Almost like the crisp air itself, fresh and unbothered.

It feels good.

It’s been a while since you felt like this. After your conversation with Yoongi, you weren’t sure if you were ready to step back into a world that once felt so close yet now feels like a lifetime away. But somehow, the lightness in your chest said yes before your mind could overthink it.

Maybe, deep down, you’re starting to believe that this reunion could be good for you.

A small start to something. . .better.

You glance around the café. A soft smile pulls at your lips. It’s not crowded—just a few people scattered around, huddled over books or laptops. Familiar, but not too familiar. It’s quiet enough that yo don’t feel overwhelmed, and for thr first time in days, you allow yourself to just . . . exist.

No pressure. No expectations. Just here.

Your teeth pull at your inner cheek at the small pulsing thought in your head, that your phone is still not with you. The lack of your phone made you realise so many things within less than 24 hours, and you’re trying to not let that small voice gnaw your brain. The idea of him having it — his hands on something that’s been so close to you — feels strange, unsettling even.

You wonder if he’s seen anything, read anything, though the rational part of you knows it’s unlikely.

Still, the absence of your phone leaves an odd emptiness.

Which, you think, is just as good as bad as it can be. Without your phone, you can observe things better. You’d been reading physical copies of books, observing the pattern of how dew forms on grass blades, or even the faintest of noises which tingle your ears right now. Your thoughts never let you actually be present in the moment, always worrying about the future or regretting whatever you’ve done in the past.

No wonder why nostalgia for you feels painful.

But here, with the faint smell of fresh coffee and the sound of pages turning softly in the background, there’s space to breathe. You can feel the thrum of blood in your veins, the soft warmth of your sweater, the smiles on the faces of the baristas as they talk within themselves.

The soft clink of a spoon from a nearby table draws your attention. A few people are scattered about, engrossed in their own worlds — reading books, working on laptops, or chatting quietly. It’s peaceful, and for a moment, it feels like you’ve stepped out of your own life, finding solace in this tiny bubble away from everything.

You absently glance toward the door, the light chatter of passing people blending with the soft music playing inside. You’re early, but that’s fine.

It gives you time to yourself.

— — — —

The café door chimes.

Your eyes immediately dart to the entrace, tilting your head to the side to get a better view. Perhaps they’re here. You glance at the small wall clock adjacent to your table, and it reads ten past seven.

Although it feels like it’s been some time since you’re here, but you don’t mind at all, especially with the small notepad and pen you’ve got on your table.

You’ll never ever be bored as long as you’ve got a paper and pen within your reach.

The first person you spot is Yoongi, his familiar, understated presence immediately calming. He’s dressed casually, in a black hoodie and ripped jeans, his usual laid-back style that somehow makes him blend into every setting, yet stand out at the same time. It’s like he carries his own layer of calm with him, an aura you’ve always admired.

Behind him, a small group of friends follows, out of which some you recognise nearly immediately — despite the course of time. Jieun, her short wavy hair neat and tidy, wearing a comfortable grey sweater, giving her a kind of homely warmth. You’ve known her as Yoongi’s senior, the sweet cinnamon roll. She waves as soon as her eyes land on you, her smile bright and genuine.

It’s been nearly decades since you’ve seen her, and it surprises you that she actually remembers you.

“____ , I didn’t know I’d be seeing you today!” Jieun exclaims, wrapping you in a quick, warm hug. Her perfume is light, floral — the kind that reminds you of spring even in the middle of autumn. “It’s been forever, hasn’t it? How have you been? Oh my, your hair is shorter than how I remember!”

“I’m good,” you manage to let out a small chuckle, returning the hug, feeling a bit overwhelmed by her energy. Of course, you were about sixteen when you last met her. “It needed some trimming. You look super cosy, by the way.”

“Please, I just rolled out of bed as soon as Yoongi told me,” Jieun says with a playful eye roll, though you can tell she appreciates the compliment. “But you, girl. If anyone is looking cosy, that’s you. very autumn-y.” she winks at you, tugging at the fabric on your arms.

You smile, feeling a bit lighter with her friendly banter. Jieun has always had this way of making you feel seen, but not in a bad way. Like she’s genuinely happy to be around you. It’s comforting, even when you don’t really know much about her.

Soobin and Amber join soon after, both nearly squabbling over something. Soobin has grown much taller than you recall, and has that same, cocky grin that you remember from old times. He isn’t that younger than you, though you’ll say that you do know him a bit better.

Amber, on the other hand, is quieter, more reserved, but her eyes light up when she sees you, and that’s enough to make you feel welcomed.

“Someone needs to explain to this guy that he still owes me from last time,” Amber says with a mock-serious tone as she puts her bag down, pointing at him. “You’re not getting away with it this time—”

“What did I even miss?” you ask, curiosity piqued.

“Ping-pong match,” Soobin grumbles, but there’s a twinkle in his eye. “And I don’t lose that easily. Amber’s just cheating.”

“I did not cheat!” she pokes her tongue out at him. “you just suck at it.”

Soobin crosses his arms over his chest, raising a brow at her. “Oh, really? That does not take away the fact that you’re short—”

“What does ping pong gotta do with height—”

“Alright kids, enough bickering.” Yoongi’s voice is deep as he pulls out the chairs for them to sit, his tone hinting at boredom, but that small smile which hangs on his lips tell a different story. Yoongi is the last to sit down, taking the seat next to you with his usual, relaxed ease.

You notice only now that your cheeks hurt from smiling so much non stop. He throws a knowing glance your way, as if to say, I told you so.

“I didn’t know you all still hung out,” you say, genuinely surprised as you glance at the familiar faces, memories of late-night study sessions and frequent game sessions surfacing. “Feels like it’s been years.”

“Not as often as we used to,” Jieun admits, picking up the menu book excitedly. “Life kind of got in the way for a while. But we try to meet up when we can, honestly. But you, Miss Vanishing Act, you need to show up more often.”

You make an embarrassed noise at the back of your throat, but you can’t help but laugh softly. “Yeah, I’ve been... around. Just not here.” You have missed out on a lot in your years of running away, and perhaps this regret would settle down sometime later.

“Good to see you’re still alive, noona.” Soobin teases, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Hyung here told us you’d be joining today, which was like a bomb drop for all of us. I’d believed in winning a lottery more than you coming back. Trust me, I was nearly convinced into thinking that he’s pranking us.”

“That’s Yoongi’s fault,” you reply, rolling your eyes, nudging him with your elbow. “He dragged me out of hibernation.”

Yoongi shrugs. “Well, I didn’t drag you anywhere. Just gave you a little nudge.”

By the time the barista returns with your orders, Yoongi looks a bit too amused at a conversation turned argument at which Amber is losing despite Jieun backing her up. They are nearly arguing about the best ramen places in town, and eventually, Soobin claims victory based solely on the fact that he knows the owner of one of the shops. Jieun listens with a bemused smile, her face acting as the subtitles to her thoughts inside her head, while Amber looks like a second away from throwing hands on the guy.

You are too busy to pass your own opinions enjoying their show.

“By the way,” Yoongi suddenly says, his voice cutting through the chatter after taking a quick glance at his phone. “One of our friends is running late.”

Frankly, right now, you’re not too concerned. You’re here, with people who’ve known you for years, and for the first time in a long time, you feel like maybe, just maybe, you can let yourself relax. You cannot be bothered when you’re actually enjoying yourself after everything.

“Well, that’s their fault. Missing some nice beef between friends.” Amber adds, giggling soon after taking a sip at her own joke.

However, you don’t catch on that look the younger lad throws at the older.

Amber taps you lightly on the shoulder. “So, are you gonna tell us what you’ve been up to, Missy?”

“Hell yeah, spill the tea,” Jieun adds, leaning forward with a glint in her eyes, excited. “What’s been keeping you so busy?”

“You’re no longer sleepy now that you’ve got tea to listen to, huh?” Your eyes are narrowed at her, but you dont mean any real bite behind it.

You take a deep breath, ready to dive into whatever story you feel like sharing.

For once, the world outside this little café can wait.

.

You’ve been laughing, genuinely laughing, for the first time in what feels like ages.

(You hate how old it makes you sound, but that’s true. Well, partially true, because it felt like you’d almost forgotten what laughing was for a while.)

The café is lit with conversation, laughter weaving in and out of the cosy hum. Amber is now dramatically recounting a disastrous karaoke night, her hands flailing as she tries to reenact Soobin’s epic failure to hit the high notes, the man in the question trying his best to convince everyone at the table that something so horrible as enacted did not happen. You’re laughing so hard you almost forget the strange sense of unease that’s been creeping up on you.

But there’s something unsettling in the back of your mind. A feeling you can’t quite shake off, a prickling touch.

You glance at Yoongi, who is watching the others with quiet amusement. But every now and then, you notice his eyes flickering to the entrance, a fleeting glance that makes your stomach churn slightly. He’s done that way too many times by now for it to be a simple glance.

Why does it feel like he knows something you don’t?

You shift in your seat, brushing off the feeling. Maybe it’s just being back here, surrounded by familiar faces after so much time has passed. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re trying so hard to be present, to let yourself enjoy this moment, even when there’s a part of ypu still trying to tug you to where you once were.

But that feeling in your gut doesn’t go away.

The café door chimes again.

You don’t look at first. You’re too focused on keeping the conversation going, on pretending you’re not hyper-aware of every sound, every movement around you. Jieun is asking you something about your recent work, her voice bright and curious, but your attention is already drifting, already far away by now.

The air shifts, like a current pulling you toward something.

Or someone.

You glance up, and your heart stumbles.

Jungkook.

oh.

He’s standing by the door, his eyes scanning the room until they land on you.

Your heart drops to your ass.

The world seems to blur for a second, everything fading except for him, and the heat of his gaze.

He strides toward your table easily, almost as if it’s something he does everyday. His dark hair falls slightly over his forehead, his black leather jacket snug around his frame. He looks like he belongs anywhere he goes, and yet right now, it feels like he’s stepping into a space you’ve tried to keep sealed off.

The conversation around you falters. Jieun stops mid-sentence, her eyes darting between you and Jungkook with a slight frown.

Soobin is the first to break the silence.

“Look who decided to show up,” he quips, though his voice sounds distant in your ears. “You’re half an hour late, hyung.”

You can’t tear your gaze away from Jungkook, even if you feel like your nerves go haywire. It’s like he’s pulling you in, even though every instinct in your body is screaming for you to look away, to pretend this isn’t happening.

Is this really happening?

No. No. This cant’t be happening, can it be—

Jungkook’s eyes flicker briefly to Yoongi, and there’s something in them. Something you can’t quite understand. But when his gaze returns to you, it’s sharper, more focused, almost. . . . fierce. Almost like he’s found the last piece of his missing puzzle.

You nearly flinch.

He doesn’t sit. He stands just behind the empty chair across from you, his hands in his pockets, watching you with an intensity that makes you feel like your heart is refusing to beat anymore.

“I think I might have something that belongs to you.”

His tattooed hand slips into his jacket, pulling out your phone — the same one which you dropped down yesterday.

But it’s not the phone that sends a chill down your spine.

It’s the way he’s looking at you.

a/n : i’m so sorry, for 1) taking this long to release this part, and 2) the ending 😭 i promise you guys the next part would actually be a bit more interesting, but i wanted this series to have themes of self healing and recovery too. as always, your feedback is always appreciated and fuels me to write more and more. as always, here’s the anonymous feedback box for you !! 🌹💜

[acidblum]

— Яitual ¹

Rockstar!Ellie Williams x Vampire!Reader (w/c: 2.2k)

DO NOT BUY TLOU

AO3 MASTERLIST/SERIES MAS.

⚠︎ WARNINGS: +18 MINORS/MEN DNI, reader isn't mentioned as much in this part, talks of animal consumption, sisterly banter, nothing that bad. no mentions of readers skin colour or hair texture.

ⓘ A/N: AAAAHHHHH y’all i’m super excited to start this, this chapter is a bit short and there isn’t much dialogue but i promise the next one will have more of that, i can’t wait for y’all to meet our feisty reader. i’d love to know your thoughts and all that so don’t hold back <3

a cruel big ball of nothingness. is what this world is, at least to Ellie, a rebel in hindsight should’ve never rebelled. with a heart that yearned for the unknown, a love for something bigger that was never sedated.

one could look at her and think nothing of her but a wannabe rockstar, merely looking for fame, with a level of charm that was unmatched. She got away with everything she did, coming back to the hotel after gigs with girls hanging off of her arms like trophies, waking up the next day with no memory of it at all and kicking said girls whose names she didn’t bother even learning out with no remorse. getting drunk and high like no other motherfucker in New York.

Ellie grew up in Boston with the dream of becoming just like her father, he taught her how to hit the chords right and to strum a classical guitar with soul. From then and to his disdain she switched to playing an electric guitar, making him go through many sleepless nights and a lot of yelling and shouting filling up the two story—usually very calm and tranquil house.

she also ached to be like her sister, Sarah. perfect in every way, soft with no hard edges, a pure angel who does no ill whatsoever. who did try to smoke a cig with Ellie and her friends that one time “ellie please let me try..just this one time i swearrr” big brown eyes pleading her sister even though she knows who’ll be kicked out for the night if their dad finds out. “hmph..You’re about to get me in big trouble sis” she coughed from the first inhale she dared to take—meanwhile it was second nature to Ellie from the first try, and there was no way of stopping her afterwards.

painting her room black opposite to Sarah's pink colorful and very sunny one, coming home reeking of pot, body littered with hickeys, and bloodshot eyes—getting a head shake of disappointment from her big guy. driving her truck drunk out of her mind, getting arrested and spending the night in jail as a punishment from her dad. She was mature enough to know what was right and what was crossing the line— yet she loved acting as if she didn't.

When Jesse started playing the drums and Dina was already on bass, with ellie as their front man they decided to form a nu metal band together, dina came up with the name. The Lost Of Us. and it was just something silly in their minds to pass the time by. Eventually prompting them to move in together, they started doing small gigs here and there, whilst uploading their videos on YouTube. Until a record label from New York reached out to them and they sure would’ve been dumb to refuse the generous offer.

because now they are one of the most popular bands in the entire planet, doing numbers and topping charts left and right. Everyone who claimed they were satanic and doubted them heard them on the radio and it was least to say.. inescapable

𓃭

and then there's your mother who had you and three of your immortal siblings, you were the youngest, she loved you like no other which prompted utter jealousy from your siblings, in the end favoritism existed even among the undead.

your childhood was filled of conversations that could be said to be silly and downright gory—which at least kept the household a tad bit alive

“mother can i eat Riley’s bunny for dinner?”

she tuts “no that’s the eleventh rabbit now” when your sister comes in view from the other side of the spacious dining room. hitting the table after taking a seat “she is such a spoiled cunt!”

“language Riley..you will respect each other” prompting the both of you to murmur “yes mother” flipping your older sister the bird with a mischievous glint. making the rest of your siblings laugh quietly at the both of your antics.

you're the one that ought to be hidden, for your allure was out of this world. not even the underworld could deny how divine and breathtaking u are, a menace? yes you are. leaving scattered bodies all over the fort and sucking the forbidden fruit dry. but everything can be looked over when you look like that.

You were always a lover of music, back then and now. you’ve encountered many good musicians, heard and befriended the best of them. roamed the world and lived many lives under many different names and identities—for safety purposes.

rumor says that your kind cannot mingle in the sun for a millisecond which isn’t all that wrong, you’ve gone the extra mile of asking a very dear friend of yours who is a psychic to orchestrate a special ring to keep your vessel from turning into ashes.

𓃭

"hey Ells uhmm Dina says we should head to the studio to check out this guy's samples?" Jesse peeps over the door into Ellie's room who’s sitting on the bean bag in their hotel suite "yeah sure just lemme get my phone" standing up, stretching her arms, shaking off the drowsiness, she picks her phone from the table and walks behind Jesse.

"gosh i told you to go get her what took you so long" Dina stands with her hands on her waist wearing a turtleneck sweater with black jeans and black boots "what, i had to go pee first" he whispers making Dina groan before taking the suite card out and locking the door.

With Jesse driving and Dina beside him Ellie sat in the backseat. pulling out her headphones from her jeans back pocket and putting them on she puts her Spotify on shuffle to Type O Negative, before her nose picks up on the most enchanting smell she's ever smelt and she can't even pinpoint where exactly this smell is coming from " y'all smelling this?" Dina looks at her " hm smelling what? ew Jesse did u fart are u serious right now" she shakes her head while Jesse is laughing his ass off "no why the fuck do i smell this right now"

"i think you're just sleepy Ells, just nap till we get there"

and she does just that. waking up to a blood curdling scene where she's standing in front of a mirror, naked as the day she was born in some type of a chamber with an unknown woman standing behind her in a red robe. Fangs bared with red eyes that are looking into her soul she tries to look around but sees nothing other than dead bodies lying around, on the bed, inside the bathtub and all over the floor with blood and the smell of it everywhere.

she looks back at the woman with nostrils flaring, tears welling up in horror that she can't even move her pinky finger, a sharp fingernail running from her waist to her pebbled nipple and flick, she tries to breathe in at the feeling that is almost too real, but feels like there is not enough air in her lungs to do so.

voices start whispering around her figure, the woman behind her inching closer to sink her fangs into Ellie's neck.

she jumps up feeling dread and utter fear, breathing in and out "Jesus fuck Ells you scared me” Dina looks at Ellie in confusion wanting ask more “what wa-“

Before Jesse cuts her “we’re here” she feels the cold sweat with her hand "yeah I'm awake shut up” spitting the words out harsher than intended to no one in particular. trying to come back to her senses.

They all get out of the car, her nose still plagued with the rich smell of the perfume, and the eyes of that certain woman who couldn’t be real. She tries to remind herself that vampires don’t actually exist.

They head inside with their manager, before meeting with this 'guy' their manager talks about "I swear you're gonna like this one" . He said that about the last producer and he sucked ass. Dina chuckles "you already said that last time mickey, what's his name?" mickey was one hell of a manager, he wasn’t a very well known one in the industry but he ran a tight circle that opened many doors for the band. clearing his throat uncomfortably " Orpheus, i mean he looks a bit sick as fuck but you'll like his music". Dina looks at Jesse mouthing at him "a weirdo?"

“ just like you dee, guess we found your twin”

Mickey opens the door motioning for them to head in, the air shifting around to this weird cold feeling making them all shiver before the producer greets Ellie with a stretched hand “Orpheus, nice to finally meet the band”. for a second there she swore his eyes turned red, full on questioning her sanity “yea…hey man” shaking his freezing hand, showing him a half uninterested smile before heading to the couch on the corner of the dark dimly lit brown room. Taking out her phone scrolling aimlessly.

He plays the sample and all of a sudden she’s very interested in what this guy has to offer, going to stand beside him “can we keep the backup vocals?”

“yeah of course but i’ll have to get permission from the hired vocalist”

“u need permission for that??”

“yeah trust me i better then not to get this one’s, we 100% need to do so”

he heads outside the door seemingly calling someone, she shrugs before going to the drinks tray on the right corner of the room. filled with expensive drinks and liquor that dates back to the 1950s, definitely should be displayed in a museum.

“hey Jesse get your ass over here n check this out”

“what”

“look at this bottle man”

pushing the bottle close to his face, she got so close to breaking it on his nose before he read it and turned to Dina.

“this is wild i swear dee you have to see this”

she replies in an agitated tone “stop being such kids n sit the fuck down guys” murmuring incoherent words under her breath before going to check on the producer opening the door as tiny as she could eavesdropping at him

“yes ma’am o-of course…no your younger sister will hear none of this"

he instantly spots her, turning her way with his eyes looking straight into her soul with a smile that's not quite reaching his eyes. sending shivers down her body. she closes the door so slowly with pressed lips “whoops”.

Staying for a couple of hours in the studio was no feat for the trio, but staying in a dark weirdly decorated one that smells like the most expensive musk which also had them feeling jittery was something else entirely, the producer worked amazingly with them but the vibe was entirely off, especially for Ellie whom after that weird dream couldn't get her lyrics right most of the recording session.

After wrapping it up everyone bids their goodbyes before heading to the hotel to prepare for their awaited show where their makeup and costume staff is waiting for them which also gives them no time to rest.

𓃭

“Can i get a cup of hot chocolate please Suzanne”

Ellie says to their assistant from her place on the makeup chair sighing while a makeup artist is doing a subtle dark shimmery look on her, she’s already wearing her signature fit of black on black with hints of chrome and a few patches here and there on her black jacket.

“Gosh you do actually never beat the loser allegations” Dina comes in before taking her seat beside Ellie in front of the very lit mirror.

“You claim that but I saw you with your tongue down Jesse's throat in an alley last week, much for being the bisexual of the band huh?” she looks back at her with a gaping mouth “yeah i saw that” Ellie taunts and Dina cannot but flip Ellie the bird, continuing on putting her spike earrings on.

“Do you think we should tease one of the new songs?”

“Eh no?..unless you’d like to give Mickey a heart attack??”

“I mean it’ll be funny seeing his face backstage while he's losing it” Jesse sits beside Dina putting one leg on top of the other on top of the dressing table looking at her longingly while she’s putting on some mascara. Stretching his hand to put it on her waist without Ellie seeing. “Bro I can literally see you from the mirror wha-...”

She’d rather die than third wheel these two, especially with them being in a whole band and finally gaining recognition ain’t no way this is going to be another fleetwood mac experience for her. She might’ve had a bit of a crush on Dina and maybe smoked pot with her and ended up making out on their beat up sofa. Which could also mean it's a bit too late for her to not let them live it out.

Before any of the two respond with anything the screams of their fans catches Ellie’s attention before Jessica is back with the hot chocolate and their headworn microphones

“You’re out in 30 c’mon guys i need you to kill this” Mickey comes in before doing the rock on as hard as he could, seeing the disapproval of everyone including the assistants, clearing his throat he takes a seat on the chair drinking his bottle of water as if nothing happened.

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[downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le]

Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader) - Chapter 4

Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader) Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 5438 Warnings: death, violence, fighting, bloody wounds, angst, infuriatingly oblivious love interest, slowburn Spoilers: Young Justice Seasons 1-3 plot partially, but it ended in 2022 so catch up.

Y/N Prince - miracle daughter of Wonder Woman and Steve Trevor - and Dick Grayson - first adoptive son of the Batman himself - have been best friends since day one. They went to school together, trained together, kept each other's alter ego secret from everyone else, and they founded the Young Justice alongside their friends together. 

But as time progressed, Y/N and Dick grew up and Y/N found herself wanting more than friendship with Dick. But he never seemed to indicate that he reciprocated her feelings. And when Wally died and Dick abandoned the team, Y/N realised he never would. So she heads to the one place she knows will help her become a stronger warrior so that one day she can take her mother's place: Themyscira.

Two years after his leave, Dick reaches out to his old friends to help him with a mission. But when he finds out Y/N left too, he chases after her in the hopes to bring her back.

However, when the two finally reunite, it isn't as warm as he hopes. Not to mention Themyscira becomes under siege as they go to war against Echidna, the Mother of Monsters in Greek Mythology, and her army of monstrous children.

Will Dick and Y/N be able to put their past behind them and save the Amazonians' homeland? Or will they fall, unable to tell one another their true feelings?

~~~

Dick stood on the pure white sands of Themyscira, though he did not recall how he got there. But he could not mistake the marble columns and houses higher up the mountain side, nor the crystal blue waters with the odd looking fish swimming. Without ever stepping on the great island before, Dick knew.

It felt like home.

Once Dick realised where he was, he realised another thing. He was alone. Where is everyone? he thought, deciding to walk along the beach in search of someone, anyone.

'Hello?' he called loudly, but the stone walls of the mountainside just echoed his voice back at him. And there were no stairs leading off the beach that he could find. He was truly alone.

Dick stopped when he realised it, accepted it. Devastation threatened to swallow him as the white sand did his feet. The ocean waves lapping the shore quieted for a moment, giving space for laughter and music to dance in their place.

Dick looked longingly up at the buildings on the mountainside. A childish want to join the party overtook him, and his mood soured even more, feeling left out of something huge.

'Nightwing.'

The call of his name cut through all other sounds, silencing the rest of the world so Dick could focus on the source of the call. He swivelled, hope pumping from his heart to the rest of his body, to find the most gorgeous of women standing before him. Only - her face was obscured so he could not make out her exact features.

'Nightwing.' Her voice was like smooth velvet, like soft thunder rumbling his name into the electric air.

'Y-Yes?' Dick wasn't sure how this woman knew his vigilante name. He wasn't in his Nightwing attire, just civvies.

The woman started walking towards him in answer. With each slow, deliberate step she took, her image changed before Dick's eyes. She started off muscular, then grew curves, then was small and petite, then grew to stand taller than Dick himself. One moment she was childish and youthful, the next a frail and wrinkled elderly lady.

Her hair changed colour and texture and style too, as did her skin - as if the light of the sun from different angles highlighted everything this woman was, and what she could be.

She remained faceless all the while, for not just one woman could be every woman all at once and have the same face, the same history.

But by the time she stood before him, she'd shrunk to just under his eyes, her hair morphed and her skin changed shades again until the woman started to look familiar.

Still faceless, the woman reached a hand up behind Dick's neck and brought him down so she could whisper in his ear. 'Wake up.'

'What?' He didn't understand. He was awake - wasn't he? But more importantly, why did the woman sound like Y/N?

'Nightwing.' Now that she was talking right into his ear, her voice was clear as day. 'Wake. Up.'

~~~

Dick's eyes flew open as he gasped, as if he'd been holding his breath for too long. He blinked a few times to adjust to the darkness flooding his vision. He quickly realised it was nightfall, and he was staring up at the night sky through a circular hole in the ceiling.

He sat up quickly and realised that was a mistake, as a throbbing pain pounded in his right temple. He hissed as he laid back down, gently brushing his fingers against the sizeable egg that had formed above the injury.

He was briefly distracted as someone removed his hand from his temple, and placed a cool cloth in his hand, then pressed it back on the source of his pain. Dick released a relieved sigh as the coolness eased the throbbing slightly.

'Thank you,' he half said, half whispered, tilting his head to the left to see his saviour.

The only light that filled the room were bowls of fire situated atop pillars all around the circular room. There was a slight breeze, making their flames dance and cast a myriad of shadows around the room. But from what Dick could make out, there were other beds like the one he was situated on - ones of stone, pillows and fabrics - and a table of instruments and tools beside each one.

He didn't recognise the place, which had him searching the face of the person at his bedside more earnestly, wanting answers. But he was not met with the gentle smile nor the soothing voice of an angel.

Instead, he made eye contact with a very stoic and silent Y/N, her bright (e/c) eyes cold and unfeeling. Not even the firelight could cast a flicker of warmth on the expression she looked down at Dick with.

'Y/N,' he groaned, trying to sit up.

'You shouldn't do that,' she said, and her voice was just as stoic and monotone. 'You were hit... quite hard.'

Dick ignored her and pulled himself into a seated position so his back pressed against the back wall. He was relieved to find he was still in his civvies from when he arrived on the island.

'You mean you hit me quite hard,' he countered, pressing the cloth once more to his temple with a slight hiss. 'Not the kind of welcome I was thinking of...'

'Well I certainly hope you didn't expect a big parade or fireworks in your name,' Y/N bit back, keeping her voice low and contained, something she never used to do before. 'Besides, Themyscira doesn't usually get visitors. let alone male ones.'

'In that case, I'm sorry to... disappoint?' Dick wasn't sure what to say. This was a far cry from how he imagined seeing Y/N again.

'A bit too late to be apologising now, isn't it?' Y/N asked, and Dick couldn't help but feel she was indicating to something else. But before he could answer, she continued, stoically, 'Don't worry about it now. Rest up. The Queen wants to speak with you as soon as you wake up. And believe me when I say she is not so easily charmed as other women.'

Dick's heart thumped faster with confusion and fear. This was all going so wrong. Where were the hugs, or even the slaps to the face and the screaming? Anything but this... coldness.

Just as Y/N was walking to the doors of the infirmary, Dick called out to her. 'Hey, wait.'

To his surprise, Y/N did stop, though she only gave him a slight turn of her head so she looked over her shoulder at him. He didn't care. He would take anything. 'It's good to see you.'

Y/N didn't respond straight away, but when she did, Dick questioned whether or not he should've listened to his friends' warnings.

'A sentiment that, I must say, is not shared,' she replied coldly, then proceeded to walk out of the room, giant wooden doors clanging shut after she left.

Dick suddenly became unaware of his throbbing temple as he stared at the doors where Y/N just was. Instead, he became increasingly aware of the twisted feeling growing in his stomach.

He wasn't sure what it was, but it kept him up until the early hours before sunrise, into which he had three hours of dreamless sleep before some women in white robes and pinned or braided back hair woke him up.

They greeted him with gentle smiles and soothing voices, checking he was all right before they prepped him for his chat with the Queen. Any other occasion he would've tried to charm the beautiful women who did not praise him, but treated him with an innocent kindness that he imagined they treated any and all with.

But he still felt as if he was going to throw up, and his mind was preoccupied by the startling image of Y/N's cold, unfeeling eyes staring back at him the previous night. She'd never looked at him that way before. Similar to M'gann, Dick wasn't even sure Y/N was capable of such indifference.

And yet, she'd looked at him just that way, and it stung more than any injury he could imagine.

He'd been allowed to wash and dry himself, and put his dirty civvies of jeans, boots, white t-shirt, and black bomber jacket back on. Then the women sat him in front of a mirror and combed his dark hair, tidying him up one final time before a guard of six strong women came to collect him from the infirmary.

The six women flanked him as they led Dick through the palace made of white marble. If it weren't for the rich colours in the rugs and the wall dressings, the place would be as cold as the sea water lapping the shoreline. Women of different sizes, skin colours, and ages milled about the palace, each of them greeting the guards warmly before looking curiously and even fearfully at Dick as they walked by.

Dick did not let their looks distract him from the real worry ahead of him, though.

Soon enough, the guards and Dick reached a giant set of doors with gold intricately painted over the door and on the archway around it. The front two guards stepped up to open the doors, and stepped aside to allow the rest of the party to enter a spacious room.

Actually, a room wasn't the accurate description for it. There was a ceiling and a floor, but the walls constituted of a few pillars holding the ceiling above the floor, allowing a stroking view of the rest of Themyscira to surround anyone in the room. From the city just below, to the mountainside further along, and then the sand and ocean at the bottom.

Every aspect of Themyscira could be witnessed from what Dick assumed was the throne room, for at the far side of the room was a simple but intimidating throne made of marble, intricately designed to have vines and fruit pop out along the arm rests, and swords and shields to support the back of the throne. Only two people occupied the room other than Dick and the six guards: Y/N - who stood beside the throne in the same leather uniform as the other guards, sword strapped to her hip - and a regal looking women with with ebony hair that billowed out behind and over her white cladded shoulders.

Grey streaks striped through her hair, and Dick could make out a few smile wrinkles on her forehead from where he stood. She wore a white cloth that wrapped around her body as she sat on the throne, pinched by a golden belt that matched the golden leaf crown holding back her hair from her face.

Though she sat down and looked smaller than Dick, she radiated a power that he even recognised to be respected. As the soon as the doors closed, the six guards kneeled to the floor and placed one arm over the chest as they bowed their heads.

'Our Queen,' the said in unison, and suddenly Dick felt very self-conscious as he looked around at the women then looked up at the Queen herself made eye contact with him.

Dick looked around at the women kneeling before their queen. Either he was hit harder in the head than he thought and he could somehow understand Greek suddenly, or they somehow knew English this whole time.

Either way, Dick rushed into a flimsy kneeling position. 'Y-Your Majesty,' he stuttered, hiding his cringe as he kneeled. The first time you meet a queen and you stutter? Good work Grayson, he internally berated.

The Queen offered a kind but hard smile. 'Please, rise, young man. Any friend of my granddaughter is a welcomed guest here on Themyscira.'

Dick's eyes widened, looking to Y/N for confirmation. 'Granddaughter? So... So that would make Y/N-'

'A princess of Themyscira,' Y/N answered monotone. 'But I can assure you, Nightwing, that I do not consider myself exempt from work because of the newfound title. I believe in strong connections, on working with others and creating a strong unit with which to fight alongside.'

Y/N looked directly at Dick, her eyes piercing his as if asking a silent question. What about you? Do you believe in the same?

Dick didn't know why he felt slightly ashamed, but he did, and feeling a great need to be rid of such a compressive feeling, he stood upright once more and addressed the Queen directly. 'I was informed by your Princess that you wanted to speak with me, Your Majesty.' Dick dialled up the charm - opened his arms in offer, and let a loose and charming smile curl his lips upward. 'I am yours to question.'

But the Queen only offered a half-smile in return, amusement never quite reaching her eyes like Dick was used to when charming other women.

'How... noble of you to think you are helping us out,' the Queen said, arms resting peacefully on the throne's armrests, but her eyes locked Dick to the ground with their intensity and fire. 'But let me make one thing clear. You are our guest because I deem it so. I'm sure you are well aware that our island isn't meant for man or mere mortals. You are not meant to be here, so it would be wise of you not to take our hospitality for absolute fondness or security.'

While always the usual jokester, Dick had always understood from a young age when someone was being serious with him. And especially when he wasn't the one in power in a situation such as this.

Dick nodded his head solemnly, and mustered up his most serious expression and voice to express his sincerity. 'Of course, Your Majesty. How can I help you?'

'Well, to begin with,' she said, pleased with his new compliant demeanour, 'you can start by telling us how you found Themyscira.'

'Through old sailing legends and odd encounters fisherman have had in this area,' Dick answered, briefly looking at Y/N as he continued. 'My friends and I collaborated and researched and came to the conclusion that this area - an area which has no volcanic or underwater mapping of any kind - would be my best bet at finding the island. That, and some reporting of odd-looking fish.'

Dick couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous he sounded. 'I'll admit that was a stretch, but one of my friends comes from the sea himself. I trust his judgement on all things sea-related.'

The Queen nodded her head thoughtfully, and Dick wondered if she was impressed by his deduction. 'But if others have been swayed for hundreds and thousands of years by our defences, how come you were not?'

Dick went to answer but quickly stopped himself. Blinked once. Twice. It was a good question.

'I-I don't know, Your Majesty,' he admitted. 'All I know is that, one moment I was talking with Alfred - a guardian of sorts, but he's pretty much family - and then I hit something invisible, twice actually, and my line to him was cut.

His gaze flickered between her and Y/N, who looked at him with a mixture of annoyance and curiosity. 'We were discussing your Princess, actually. We were just hoping she'd be out here, that's all.'

'Is that why you've come, then?' the Queen asked. 'To speak to my granddaughter.'

'Well, not just speak, Your Majesty,' Dick said. 'I wanted to recruit her for a mission back home.' He spoke directly to Y/N then, eyes locking. 'We could really use your help. I could really use your help, Y/N.'

One of the guards beside him raised her spear to point at his neck. The tip of the blade was a hair's breadth away from his bobbing Adam's apple.

'How dare you talk to our Princess directly,' she growled. 'Show some respect.'

Y/N raised a hand up. 'Easy, Calliope,' Y/N said with a soft but commanding voice that resonated like a melody through the room. The guard - Calliope - looked long and hard at Dick until she eventually returned to her post beside him, quiet and still.

Dick allowed himself a steadying breath. How many times can I be almost killed in the shortest span of time? he asked himself, before looking back to Y/N.

'If talk is what you want, Nightwing,' Y/N said for the whole room to hear, 'then talk is all you shall get. But if you intend to take me back with you, then I am afraid your breath will be wasted on words I will not hear.'

'But, Y/N, you don't even know what I am going to say,' Dick objected, disbelieving that Y/N Prince - Wonderess, his best friend for nearly a decade, the one person he always thought would be there when he needed her - was looking down at him now with no warmth, no familiarity, no room for hope and belief.

Y/N opened her mouth to speak, perhaps berate him and shun him more, but the Queen interrupted. 'He has a point, dearest,' she said, and gracefully rose from her throne.

Immediately, a guard was there helping her down the few steps from the dais that held the throne. Now that she was standing, Dick saw how her robes drowned her, and imagined how frail she was underneath it all. She spoke and appeared strong, but obviously immortality had its limits. Even the strong had to age at one point.

'We shall leave you and our guest to discuss your... personal matters,' the Queen explained further, looking between Dick and Y/N with scrutinising eyes. But she was quickly hurried out of the throne room, leaving Dick and Y/N alone together for the first time in two years.

Dick hated the silence that seemed to suffocate them, but he couldn't find the words to breathe new air into the space. So he just looked at her. She was both entirely the same and entirely different at the same time. She'd gained more muscle in her arms and legs, her face had sharpened with maturity but not to the point she looked harsh. She looked fierce, and the leather skirt, sandals, and plated armour top alongside her sword certainly added to that effect.

Dick had always found her fierce, the most fierce out of their entire team when they first formed. It had sometimes just got lost when she laughed, when she smiled, when she didn't know modern world slang because her mother never knew either.

But she wasn't smiling now, nor laughing. Now, she stood before Dick, the picture-perfect warrior, as if she was born to be as such.

As if it were her destiny.

'So...' Dick started, hoping Y/N would set the ball rolling.

'So,' she echoed back, her tone unamused and bored.

'So...' Dick found himself repeating, then realised she was never going to continue, so he did. 'There is a huge problem with the illegal trade of meta-humans and meta-human testing globally-'

'I am aware, I was fighting it when I was still with the team,' Y/N interrupted, her words unfazed, unfeeling almost.

Dick internally winced at his mistake. 'Of course you were, sorry. So anyways, there is this royal family who-'

'I don't care to hear about your problem, Nightwing,' Y/N cut in again, this time with annoyance and anger threatening to sharpen her words. 'Nor do I care that you infiltrated our island, crashed on our beaches, and waltzed into my people's home with swagger and self righteousness.'

Now Dick was getting annoyed. 'Stop calling me Nightwing, Y/N. You know my name, and I'm not even in uniform right now-'

'You've waltzed into my home,' Y/N interrupted, and finally, a spark of ire igniting in her previously cold e/c eyes, 'and have demanded I help you, when you couldn't even spare me one word over the past two years.'

Suddenly sheepish, Dick didn't know how to respond. Y/N finally stepped down from the dais and walked over to him. She only stopped when she was two steps away from him, and he could see it then, how she was straining against something internally. It was in her tight jaw - clenching and unclenching - and it was in her stiff posture.

'We might've been friends when you left,' she said softly, heatedly, 'but I found a new purpose, a new family - one that will never abandon me when times get tough or when I need them.' Y/N looked Dick up and down, then took a half step towards him so he could feel her breath. 'If you expected me to sit around waiting for you to come back like some lost puppy, you never knew me at all.'

Dick swallowed thickly as he kept eye contact with her. 'We were more than just friends,' he said softly, causing her angry facade to drop for a moment in confusion. 'We were best friends, Y/N, and I am sorry. For everything that I didn't do these past two years.'

The anger returned, and Y/N just pushed past him, knocking his shoulder hard in the process as she strutted towards the doors to exit. 'Best friends or not, sorry doesn't make up for your ignorance, Nightwing. Nor does it endear me to want to help you anymore than when you did when you entered this room.'

'Please, Y/N,' Dick said, racing after her and clasping his fingers around her wrist. He winced at how she tensed at his touched, but continued. 'I know I messed up. Believe me, everyone made me more than aware of it before I came here. But however you felt about me, I knew I had to come see you. Try and get you to come home.'

Y/N flung around with furious eyes, her h/l, h/c hair flinging as she did. 'This is my home,' she said with absolute resolve and conviction. 'This is my home, and by sundown tomorrow, you will be on a boat headed back to Gotham City or wherever you call home these days, and out of my life. For good.'

Dick's heart cracked at the insinuation. Had he really done this to her? His precious Y/N - kindhearted, welcoming, fun-loving, protective Y/N. Was he the reason for such coldness, such animosity?

'But, Y/N, the team-'

'The team were the ones who encouraged me to leave,' she answered. 'They saw I was meant for something more than just silly little missions that got us nowhere. They saw how much I'd given to the team, and saw I needed to go find myself again. They saw, because they were there.'

Y/N ripped her wrist away from Dick's reach. 'I am not some girl you can charm into thinking she is special and wanted. I know I am, and I know my place is here, with people who actually care about me. So do me and everyone on the island a favour and stay in the infirmary until your departure where you can't lie and hurt anyone ever again.'

Before he could reach out again - he wasn't sure what he'd say if he got her to stop anyways - she was opening the doors and slamming them shut again, leaving Dick alone in the throne room, the crashing of waves and the rush of wind the only sounds to be heard.

Dick stood looking at the door for a little while longer, the image of Y/N's hurt and angry eyes imprinted in his brain. He'd been warned, boy had he been warned. By Kaldur, Connor, M'gann. But he never could've expected Y/N to be so... hostile.

Are you really doing this for Y/N's sake, or for yours?

Connor's question echoed in his head as turned his attention to the ocean that lay outside of the room. Maybe he was right, Dick thought. Maybe this was all a big mistake. The biggest indicator had been in her eyes. She'd never looked at him, let alone anyone, like that before. Like she'd rather be anywhere in the world than be in the same room as him.

You're my best friend...

He raised his little finger to the door, though he was sure she was long gone. 'Alway have been,' Dick whispered, and some inner hope of his was waiting for Y/N to come back and finish their vow.

But she never did, and so he dropped his hand entirely.

After some time, his party of guards from before came back in to collect him and take him back to the infirmary. Feeling deflated and having no other reason to be there, he silently complied.

~~~

Y/N slammed the doors to the throne room so loud she was sure the whole island heard them.

She let out a controlled but shaky breath as tears threatened to burst from her eyes. Thank Athena Y/N escaped when she did, or she wasn't sure how much more slander she could throw at Dick.

She'd decided as soon as she saw him at the training field that she wanted nothing to do with him. That the best way to handle him was to give him no room to charm, to speak, to be his usual self and get under her skin. So she'd knocked him unconscious, been curt and unfeeling with him, denied him passage to her mind again.

She'd convinced herself that Dick Grayson was nothing more than a lying, self-centred and self-righteous boy - and yet she found her hands yearning to embrace him, her eyes wanting to inspect him and note all his changes, and her heart yearning for the unconditional love she knew Dick to be capable of.

'Princess?'

Y/N jumped at the call of her title, but when she noticed it was only Calliope, she relaxed. 'Yes, Calliope, what is it?'

'Queen Hippolyta would like to see you in her personal chambers.'

Y/N nodded. 'Of course, thank you.'

She quickly made her way to her grandmother's personal chambers. The first half of the chambers doubled as a meeting place on more than one occasion for Y/N and her grandmother, usually preferring to discuss important matters in the comfort of lounge chairs as opposed to stiff and cold meeting rooms made of stone.

Y/N entered the Queen's chambers, walking into an open floor-plan lounge and foyer entrance, with lounges and chairs draped in fine and rich velvets and satins. Attached to the lounge was a big balcony overlooking the city of Themyscira.

She found her grandmother leaning against the balcony's edge, looking over the island, when she walked out to join her.

Y/N braced for her grandmother's first words. Would they be harsh? Would they be enraged? Disappointed even? But they didn't come initially, and Y/N welcomed the peace that came with the silence. She looked over the balcony to the city below, and the forestry and ocean below that.

This is my home, she reiterated to herself, unlike how she'd talked to Dick just moments before. Even then, her gaze slipped to the horizon line far off in the distance where it became almost indistinguishable where the sky and sea met.

If she were being honest with herself, she hadn't thought about her old life, her old friends since she stepped foot on Themyscira. Guilt tugged at her heart, but she reminded herself that it was them that encouraged her to leave, to find herself again.

Even so, with Dick's unexpected arrival, Y/N realised one thing. She missed them all dearly.

But not Dick Grayson. Absolutely not.

'Your friend,' Queen Hippolyta finally said, eyes never leaving the view in front of her, 'he is... charming, to say the least.'

Y/N scoffed and rolled her eyes. 'So he likes to think. And he's not my friend. Not anymore.'

It was silent again for a moment, and Y/N wondered for a moment if her grandmother had heard her at all. 'Either way,' her grandmother continued casually, 'he has certainly highlighted some weaknesses in our defences that we will need to remedy straight away.'

'I can get Cora and the rest of the Guard onto that right away,' Y/n said, grateful for the escape.

'Not just yet,' Queen Hippolyta said, bringing Y/N back to the balcony begrudgingly. 'Are you okay, dearest?'

Y/N scrunched her brows in confusion. 'I'm... fine? Why do you ask?'

Queen Hippolyta gave Y/N a knowing look that silently said Don't play dumb with me. 'Isn't he the boy who broke your heart?'

Embarrassment flooded Y/N's cheeks in a wave of red heat as Y/N shook her head furiously. 'He didn't break my heart. He made me realise I was better off without him.'

'Perhaps, but you are not better off without friends.'

The gentle touch of a hand on her arm brought Y/N's attention solely on her grandmother, who looked at her knowingly.

'I can see your love for this place, dearest,' the Queen said. 'From the moment you have arrived, you have thrown yourself into our way of life, into our community and given it your all.'

'Because this is where I come from, grandmother,' Y/N said. 'This is where I belong.'

'Right now it is, but it is not your home, Y/N.' When Y/N gave a confused expression, the Queen continued. 'The women all love you, so do the children, but they do not know you, you do not let them see you - the real you. Only the you that is Princess of Themyscira.'

Queen Hippolyta's hand travelled down to clasp one of Y/N's tightly, looking at her earnestly. 'Your real friends are the friends you left behind, the ones who have fought and lost and loved and laughed with you.' Her gaze flickered to the doorway briefly then returned to Y/N knowingly. 'And one of them came all the way across the world to find you, on the word of sailor stories and a lucky scientific guess.'

Y/N rolled her eyes again, and pulled her hand out of her grandmother's grasp. 'He is not my friend,' she repeated, turning her attention back to the sea, trying to focus on anything by Dick Grayson's stupid smiling face. 'He only came here to make himself feel better, not because he actually cares about me. Maybe once I needed his validation, but I know who I am now. And if he is what a friend is meant to be, then I think I am better off without them.'

'Y/N, dearest, just-'

'I would kindly ask that we never talk about Nightwing again, grandmother,' Y/N interrupted. 'Soon enough, he will be out of our lives - out of my life - forever...'

Queen Hippolyta remained silent for a moment, until she blew out a defeated sigh. 'If that is your wish,' she said, deflated.

'Yes, it is,' Y/N said with conviction, ignoring the painful tugging of her heart, ignoring the inner voice that wanted to scream otherwise. If Y/N was going to leave Dick Grayson behind, she needed to stop listening to her stupid heart and listen to reason. Like Athena, who was technically her ancestor in some respect.

Y/N turned back to the Queen and bowed a farewell. 'If you don't mind, I will go talk with Cora to discuss how to fix our defences right away.'

Queen Hippolyta gave a small nod, which Y/N took as dismissal enough, and so set a quick stride to the chamber doors. But just as she was about exit the balcony, her grandmother stopped her again.

'It's odd, don't you think,' she started, her tone coy, 'how, not even for a moment, he forgot his mission as he neared our island. Not once did he get deterred by our magic.'

Y/N turned around to face her grandmother, who gave a small knowing smile to her. 'He must have a strong will to resist such forces, or was motivated by something of equal power, don't you think?'

Y/N didn't say anything, her thoughts taking her back to the conversation they all had back in the throne room, when Dick was questioned about how he resisted the defences.

We were discussing your Princess, actually. We were just hoping she'd be out here...

Y/N rushed to exit the chambers, not even bothering to close the doors on her way out to fresh air.

What did Grandmother mean by that? she asked herself, and felt the tell tale signs of hope blooming in her. The increase heart rate, the tingles at the ends of her fingers, the small but warm ball sitting heavily in her chest. Surely she didn't mean...

Y/N shook her head; the tingles faded, the ball dissipated. I will not be tricked again, she told herself, proceeding to find her way to the training grounds, where she stayed until dusk fighting out her fears and squashing her childish hopes.

---------------

Tag List:

@valiantbouquetcloud | @epicy0n | @resistanythingbuttemptation | @lunaizhere | @nameunknownsthings | @tqrgvryen | @pariahsparadise | @edgycat | @b4tm4nn | @cynwing | @lilylovelyxo | @herondale-lightworm | @animeflower26 | @tiny-mari

[balo-badartist]

HFDOSN OMG YOUR ART IS SO LOVELY!!

I was wondering if you have any tips to rendering or the way you pick colours?? It's something I struggle with and yours are so vibrant and full of life!

HII I’m actually so happy to answer ur question! I work at the studio I took art classes at to help highschool kids learn the basics to art, so I love teaching a bit of art!!

Mind you, I’m still a younger artist, and I still have a lot to learn. And this is only talking about my style and my tastes! Make sure to look at how the true masters do it too! (My favorite master artists are Redum4, Octahooves, and Matchach on Twitter)

When it comes to rendering, values, and color, it’s all about balance and contrast.

For rending, (at least for my style) it’s all about lost and found edges. Balancing lost edges vs soft edges. Smooth vs textured, harsh vs porcelain.

In my style, I see rendering as a way to convey character and mood. Lost edges equals softness and grace. Found edges equals harshness and severity.

I utilize lost and found edges in this way! In other words, if you ignore balance (such as utilizing many found edges and hardly any lost edges) then give it a narrative/mood reason, I say! :3

But in terms of the basics, lost edges means a smooth surface, a smooth transition from light to dark (or transition of color). While found edges suggests a harsh transition from light to dark. ALSO and probably most importantly when it comes to edges in rendering: Found edges reels the eye in, creating focus. Lost edges typically lose the eye, creating a rest for our eyes. It’s important to balance them for these reasons too!

For colors, it’s all about THE GRAYS. (Ironically enough!) The basics of my coloring method can be described via this sphere:

Basically, a highly saturated color can only have its high saturation in the spotlight BECAUSE the gray tones make it pop by giving the eyes a break period saturation wise. All about contrast!

As you can see, I differentiate the colors and saturations by values. My shadows are deeply saturated, typically warm. (It’s more typical to make the lighter area warm and the shadows cool! But I find that vibrancy comes easier if you desaturated the light, make it colder, and really PUMP UP the saturation and heat in the shadows.) And the areas lit up are typically cooler and have hints of gray in them! This is great for conveying strong direct light (which is typical in my style), and it makes it look as if the light is so powerful it seeps through their skin. You can see how I do this in some of my work, I typically exaggerate these qualities in skin!

You can also do this especially well for skin with melanin!

This also works especially well digitally, because saturation and value works in tangent in the color square! Pure white has no saturation, and the more saturation you add to pure white (the further right you go on the color square) the more value you get.

The use of grays are the most important thing when it comes to vibrancy, in my opinion! Too much saturation is, well, too much. Again, you can disregard this rule if you have a reason for it. Such as a high energy mood or overstimulation you’re trying to convey! Or desaturated to convey coldness, stillness, etc.

Anyways, I hope this made sense! (And sorry about it being more of an info dump than tip-giving >w<) If anyone wants clarification on anything, feel free to ask me in the comments! 🫶🏼🫶🏼

[sugaaarcookie]

weepy baby vi - inspired by this post by @berrymoos (hi!! hi i loved it !!! she's just a baby !!!)

There had been a lot going on recently. Council meetings, paperwork paperwork paperwork, trainings, endless appointments and a packed schedule, all on top of a lack of sleep- Vi was just about ready to crack under the pressure. While Caitlyn thrived in high stress situations, Vi was becoming burnt out.

Which was why she was in Caitlyn's room alone, sat on top of the bed with a colouring book. Vi didn't much like the texture of crayons- they smelt weird and left a weird feeling on her fingertips. She much preferred using a set of beautiful brush pens Caitlyn had gifted her. Even when regressed, Vi's colouring was neat. It had to be neat, and the colouring had to be perfect. Vi didn't know how to relax- at all. There was no moment that she wasn't tense.

Vi turned over the page to find that the colours from her pens had bled through- she'd forgotten to put a protective sheet of paper between the pages. For a few moments, all Vi could do was stare at the pages, eyes welling up with tears. Distraught and overwhelmed, Vi threw the colouring book across the room, knocked her pen set over and started to sob, curling up in a ball.

It didn't take long for Caitlyn to come running, her hands rubbing at Vi's back.

"Vi? Vi, sweetheart, what's wrong?"

"Colouring-" she sobbed.

Caitlyn pulled Vi into her lap, wrapping her arms around her and beginning to run her fingers through her hair as she gently shushed her.

"Oh, my love. Did your colouring go wrong?"

Vi nodded, overwhelmed with relief that Caitlyn wasn't mocking her- she felt so stupid, so so stupid, but so upset that she couldn't even do one thing right, the thing that was supposed to help her. She could feel Caitlyn reaching over for something, pulling a few items over, but Vi was too busy sobbing into Cait's shoulder to care all that much.

"It's okay, Violet. I can fix it. See?"

Vi lifted her head, looking to see the page missing. There were no traces of the bleed-through now. She coughed, sniffling as she tried to catch her breath again.

"Do you remember how to do balloon breathing? We gotta pretend when we breathe in, our lungs are balloons that inflate and deflate."

Vi liked balloon breathing. It helped the both of them when panic attacks struck. It got a pattern going and a distraction. You couldn't inflate a balloon properly with little breaths.

"There you go, baby. Tell you what, I think that you're very very tired and you need a little break and some time with Mama Cait. Does that sound good?"

Vi gave a nod as Caitlyn handed her a paci and a soft bunny. Caitlyn stood, picking up the items that had been thrown across the room and setting them aside carefully. No harm done. Cait would rather Vi throw pens and colouring books, harmless things, than hit walls or throw heavier things. No harm done.

Caitlyn came back, lying against the pillows and opening her arms. Without hesitating, Violet curled up, snuggling into Cait's side, paci in her mouth and bunny in her arms.

"Shall we watch a film, hm? I know choosing's a little hard right now, so Mama can pick.."

It was such a soft film, and with Caitlyn's fingers gently running through her hair, it wasn't long before Vi had fallen asleep.

i made this to go with it !! theres the paci and bunny cait gave vi :3 i also made an icon for it but i dont know if i wanna share yet. maybe if ppl ask for icons i will share it

i too usually need a nap if i start getting upset over little things... even if i'm big

feel free to send me asks/requests about my regression ocs or arcane!

[laneboyheathens]

Would love yo know more about your Melshi food headcanons! And whether that causes tension with Cassian who is, I think we've all collectively agreed, someone who eats like he's about to get kicked out whenever the opportunity presents itself

Cassian *will eat takis that were dropped on the floor a week ago* Andor vs Ruescott *if you make me eat anything more flavourful than a rice cake I will barf* Melshi, oh you’ve got me started now.

Melshi, who’s spent who knows how long eating blended nutrient mush, possibly suffering from jaw muscle atrophy, the only flavour being “passably sweetened” being exposed to entirely too many food options post escape via Cassian’s month long detention and over enthusiasm for “real food” again would absolutely be disastrous for Melshi’s psyche and relationship to food again. (As seen in All that is new and exciting and One bite at a time)

Given that the rebellion is running on a shoestring budget, they are shipping in the absolute cheapest protein bricks that are pretty much universally hated. Dry and bland as hell and have the consistency of sawdust and they are about the only thing Melshi will eat because they are consistent even if the texture is absolutely dire rather than run the risk of eating anything else that might leave him feeling nauseous.

Irrationally unnerved by any kind of food that isn’t a uniform texture or colour (so help him if there is something unexpectedly crunchy in a soft food or mushy in a hard food). Completely averse to eating cooked meats (burning flesh does give off a very particular smell).

Not to mention, his digestive system was probably pretty fucked after Narkina but re-learning to eat is not a pleasant experience and frankly, he’s got better shit to be doing than crying into a bowl of stew because it has lumps in it actually.

They almost certainly clash over it, at least until Melshi agrees to taking vitamins because this bitch is for sure getting scurvy (and Cassian always keeps a crappy protein brick on hand just in case (he actually has a stash of them in his billet because he’s worried about changes to their supply))

Anyway, thank you for giving me an excuse to talk about my ARFID Melshi headcanons <3

[amustikas]

hi!!! <3 I love your art so much <3 your style is soo good, especially your coloring, it's so pleasant to look at <3 also, mind if I ask what kind of software and brushes do you use? The texture of the sketches, lineart etc. look so nice and I was wondering if there's something like that it Photoshop. Have a great day! <3

Hello!! Thank you for your sweet words!! <3

I work on procreate and mostly just use these two basic ah default brushes. I am sure photoshop equivalents exist for both of them out there somewhere!

And since I work a lot with these two I thought I would give ya some extra insight into how exactly I put them to use :)

The 6B Pencil brush has got to be my all time favourite brush and I use it for literally everything!

From rough sketches..

to lineart..

to colouring and details.

This brush is quite pressure sensitive, so you can achieve many different variations of size in one stroke by changing the amount of pressure you apply by hand. Through it all, it maintains it's relatively rectangular shape and brings with it soft grain like texture.

Come to think of it, I think I drew this whole next piece with only the 6B Pencil, start to finish. I think it really goes to show that in the end, it's not really about what brushes or software you use, but about how you make them work for you and how much fun you have while creating. I find that the drawings I have the most fun with end up being my favourites in the long run.

And to me, the 6B is just a damn fun brush to use!

It is perfect for adding silly little shapes and lines all over the place :)

And the other brush I find myself coming back to is Salamanca from the Painting category.

I use it for filling in bigger areas of colour and just colour blocking in general. I like it's subtle canvas texture and the fact that it is not entirely opaque by default, which allows for interesting variations of hues.

But that is not all! I like to size it down to use it to add details and colour to my portraits. I find that it's softness works really well on faces and it's transparency makes it easier to bring in variations of colour.

And would you look at that! More shapes and lines! It's really all I know how to do haha

At the end of the day, I try to just enjoy the process of drawing as much as I can :)

I find that young digital artists often put a lot of emphasis onto finding the correct drawing software and brushes. And while that is important, I find that it is equally as important to throw caution to the wind sometimes and to just try out new things and to not care so much.

I mean hell, people create masterpieces in MS Paint!

My drawing process usually boils down to simply trying to ensure art stays something fun for me, and these two brushes have helped me achieve that over the years.

Hope this has been some help and not all pure gibberish!

[eybefioro]

Yesterday @isiaiowin and I shared our contribution for GOetry pillow fight week 4 (you can read it here !). Together with the poem, both of us also painted something, and this is mine :D

[Timelapse and rambling under the cut, as usual]

AAAAAAAAAA I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING WITH MOON. She's incredible at this, and jumping ideas with her was sooooo good! And then the back and forth of sharing the poems was so nice 😭 I wrote Michael’s POV in this one... she was supposed to be more snarky and bossy at first but then I got too sappy 😂 I'm not mad about it though, all the love talk in the poem fits very well with the pillow fight, and honestly, I was in need to writing something very soft. This ship is also soooo good. I love Angelfish (or Institutional problem, as I like to call it 😂) so much. I should write more about them in the future. Maybe a human/office AU...

Anywaaaays. This is a different style than all my other drawings. I always tried to go for clean and smooth lines, and never messy/sketchy ones. The thing is, as I worked on the sketch I really start to like how it was looking, and when I tried to make the linear using it only as a base (as I usually do) it lost all charm. The line art wasn't looking good this time. So I just... abandoned it and embrace chaos lol

I cleaned up a bit the sketch,and defined better the shapes with a thicker pen, adding more details with finer lines here and there. I reeeeally love the result; I mean, I know it can be better, and that I can take this further, but for a first try with this kind of style I think it looks surprisingly nice.

I like how it gives a bit of a pencil drawing quality to it, something that I'd probably doodle in the back of my notebook, but it was lacking texture. The pen I was using for the lines didn't have any, just a clean straight one I use for sketches and the final line art, so I tried to compensate in the colouring.

I discovered some really good pens for texture that are native from ibis paint, and I used them here. I think it worked well enough. I didn't want to paint everything in solid colours, but rather give the idea of colour like I'd do with colour pencils. So I just filled in near the borders, making it soft and not completely opaque, showing the white of the "paper" behind.

Speaking of colours... aaaaaagh the combination of Dagons blue/green skin with her guger hair is soooo nice. I never stopped to appreciated it before and I was so wrong for it. I love her outfit, and the makeup they used for her in the show, and her scales... and the same goes for Michael. Her hair in the show is just perfection, and the subtle gold in her makeup drives me crazy, so I tried to put it in the spotlight for a but here. In my head Michael’s skin is golden and no one will convince me otherwise now <3

I'm thinking of playing with this style of drawing more now. It made me very happy to not aim for a perfect line art, and the soft colour are so pleasing to me.

Go read our poem!! I loved writing it, and I hope you will enjoy it too. I do feel like this art fits with the feeling of the poem, and so does Moon's art. It's incredible the way she paints skin!! I am still looking at those ears aaaaaaaaaaa

[starsonablackboard]

mutuals appreciation post! i've been feeling sentimental about the fact that i met so many wonderful skillfull artists and just great people here in such a short time so i want to tell each one of you a couple of nice words

@miaumiaoumao it amazes me how many art styles you can pull off. that's a very rare skill in my experience and you absolutely slay every time. your silly cartoony comics are always a joy to see, and the way you do lineart in the more realistic styles is asolutely wonderful. im staring at the "peer into the darkness" piece (the second one) while im writing this and i cant stop. the way how it's all pencil-y, grainy and textured scratches some deep itch of mine

@fanaroff i love how squishy and soft you draw your characters. your style is so interesting to me, you push the proportions yet it still looks balanced and right. also your characters often feel very grounded in their environment and space, they feel solid. like i know how they would feel if i could touch them yk? i guess that's what i mean as squishy and soft aha

@myballsitchaurghouchie my god where do i begin. your character designs? immaculate. so eccentric and bold and full of character, i love all of the wiskers-ear tufts-fly aways you give your narinder, and the way you stylise your lamb's wool and goat's hair looks insanely cool. you know how to pull off both extremely soft and gentle atmosphere and extremely dynamic one. i see your art quite infrequently but each time it's a joy to behold

@aniimoni i fell in love with your art from the first glance. despite the fact that the majority of your works that i see are digital ones, they all feel so... tactile? sensory? as if i can feel non existent grafite under my fingers, trace the brush strokes. the art that you do is so very gentle, the care you put into it is obvious even through the screen. also i love your lamb's design so very much. and narinder's penis ears. what can i do

@sriibble don't know if i should tag you since you're not in our weird cultist club and you already know all im about to say but hey, no harm in some praise, is there. i've seen you skills evolve over these years, but honestly each time i see your new drawings i feel like im awestruck for the very first time. the way you work with colour sometimes looks like magic to me, you can take the palette that makes no sense and bend and mold and twist it into something absolutely beautiful. i know you draw without lines or contours but each time i actually see im in awe. maybe i sound cheesy but it feels like you actually create art, like it runs from your fingers and molds in your palms like clay. жесть меня понесло конечно но и ладно. люблю тебя моя радость, чмаф

@greedykrab the way you work with colour is insane omg. your drawings have such pure raw energy to them, the way you draw, messy and confident, is mesmorising amd so so expressive. you convey atmosphere masterfully, that black and red drawing of narinder in the window still scares the shit out of me. i adore your dark warm kinda dirty paletts, i feel like you know very well how colour and lighting behave, your pieces always feel so real

@midia666 your bishop designs are so unique and striking, i feel like they do an absolutely awesome job at being, well, character designs -- conveying personalities through the way character looks. you have such a good grasp on human (and human-ish) anatomy, your linework is so confident yet so gentle when it needs to be. и я всегда радуюсь видя крутых русскоговорящих художников тут. спасибо за ваши труды <3

@donutfloats it's maybe a strangely specific way to start but i love how you draw wide open maws full of teeth <3 you understand anthro facial (muzzle? snout?) structure so well at such level which i strive towards. the clothes you give your charactes are always amazing and i wish i could wear them, and the diverse body types are so pleasing to look at. also mephis is my fav i love them sm

@teruuu i scroll through all of you guy's art tags so i can formulate my thoughts better and oh god ru i forgot how absolutely batshit insane your art can be in the bestestest of ways. all those scribbly lines and sharp teeth and broken colours, absolutely wild amazing and so so vivid. your designs are a delight to look at and even more a delight to draw, your characters are so expressive and fun and your lineless artstyle is so polished and pleasing and nice, it's amazing in a whole different way <3

@linvxtheghost your art lately been such an interesting middle point between lineless and line..full? and your colours are vibrant yet very balanced, it's like you draw with acrilic markers but in didgital, yk?? it's such a cool look! your more soft colouring stule is also so so nice and gentle and glowy i adore it sm. and your sketches are so dynamic and fun!! твои рисунки всегда будут близки моему сердцу леша и вообще ты крутой художник блин. (бтв если ты таки запостишь мои комишки я зареблогаю the shit out of them)

woooow that was a lot but a fun lot! i hope i didn't leave anyone out?? i double checked. you guys are all so wonderfull and skilled im so glad we're mutuals!!! have a great day and take care <3

[cosmicpancakes]

Hi! So I saw your post about wanting to talk about Will Solace (me too queen, me too) so what are your headcanons? Or funny little tidbits about him and his friends? Love your blog!

OF COURSE THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS ASK!!! to hear that someone genuinely loves my blog is so surreal cause like??? You like my blog?? Where I literally just say what's on my mind and ramble???

(P.S. TO ANYONE SEEING THIS!! IF YOU WANT HEADCANONS FOR OTHER CHARACTERS JUST SHOOT ME AN ASK!!!! I WILL HAPPILY ANSWER THEM ALL :DD)

Okay without further ado, here they are!!!

My Will Solace headcanons! ☀️

He has curly hair! Think somewhere between 2c and 3a

Speaking about hair, his hair is naturally brown and he dyes it blonde

ANOTHER HAIR ONE but he has a very extensive hair care routine! You'd think he would have very damaged hair because of all the bleaching, but that shit is SOFT

Only uses feminine floral perfume cause it smells better (hes right. it does.)

Despite insisting on healthy eating, he survives off of random snacks and red bulls

Loves indie pop and jazz music but does listen to a lot a country as it reminds him of his mother

Hopeless romantic. He will cry to laufey.

90% of his closet is made up of incredibly cheesy dad joke t-shirts.

Wears lots and lots of bracelets! All very mismatched in terms of colour and texture, but it adds to the charm (or so he says)

His hair is just long enough to put in a very short ponytail when he works (but a few loose curls always slip out)

He sticks out his tongue when he's concentrating on something

Clarrisse practically adopted him as her honorary little brother and he went to her highschool graduation!! (she totally did not cry when she saw him. nope. not at all.)

everyone at camp owes him atleast 5 favours except lou ellen because she somehow never gets injured??? Cecil on the other hand, owes him about 13 favours.

Friday is the apollo cabin's game night, and he NEVER wins (kayla swears austin is cheating, but hes just really good at monopoly.)

the cabin is always spotless because he despises stable duty

(This one is canon but not talked about enough) when he said he's horrible at every apollo thing except healing, he was not exaggerating. an absolutely horrid singer and he would miss a target 3 metres away.

okay that was a lie because he can manipulate light.... to a certain extent. he's working on it he swears!!

One of those people that are incredibly insistant about wearing sunscreen even tho he doesn't need it himself

And now for some angsty ones because I know you all love them:

A very obvious one, but he has pretty bad PTSD.

I'm pretty sure this one is canon, but he saw Lee die in botl (i have had a oneshot idea about thia for months, but i literally never finish oneshots so theres no point in trying to write it ☹️)

A lot of people thought him and Lee were biological siblings because they looked so similar and also because they were super close

him and Micheal were also really close, but they were a lot more distant after Lee died and they never really got to reconnect

Post botl, the apollo cabin had about 17 kids. 3 survived the battle of manhattan.

has a really bad habit of overworking to distract himself

Way too many scars for a medic. (He won't admit where he got them from, or why most of them are on him arms.)

Okay, that's all for today!! I hope you enjoyed those headcanons :)

Once again saying this but if anyone reading this wants some headcanons for other characters please please leave me an ask 🙏 love you all okay bye bye

[bloopitynoot]

Reading SVSSS: Chapter 11

For those who don't know, I am reading SVSSS for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag bloopitynoot reads SVSSS. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read.

I always place my bookmark at the end of the chapter when I start reading to indicate the number of pages I have in a session, and this chapter is comparatively so short! Only like 20ish pages!

Once again, Charlie has abandoned me, but I am back on my soy lattes with matcha to accompany this chapter. Oversharing but; I ran out of my ceremonial grade matcha (delicious af) and tried a local tea shops matcha (much cheaper, still delicious, but texture and colour are very different). The matcha is tasty but definitely not the same. My wallet is happy, my taste buds are forlorn.

Minor angst aside- Let's get into this chapter!

Corpse?! Already! Starting this chapter off strong with maybe another death? I mean, Liu Qingge has 0 chance against Luo Binge, but still.

I will say MXTX is great at starting and ending chapters with anticipation. Like there is no filler chapter. She ends AND starts on action every time. It has made my one chapter a day read low key frustrating, but has definitely kept me engaged!

Wait. What corpse is Luo Binhe holding??? If it's Shen Qingqiu that is so fuckedp245

Double WAIT. What are they doing in the bed together :O OMG is he sleeping with the corpse?? p246

Im shaken. LOL It IS Shen Qingqiu's corpse. p247

Fucking SAME SQQ. Necrophilia is also not for me my guy "Too hardcore...Way too fucking hardcore! Even if his imagination had been as vast as the moon covered with craters, he had still never imagined that one day he would become a character in this kind of hardcore kink play". p247

SQQ I really don't think it can be called bullying to have the guy let go of your own corpse (that was being super desecrated) p248

okay but. question: did he sleep or SLEEP with the corpse? I need to know because I am overwhelmed at this revelation. Both are unhinged, but like one of them is significantly worse.

honestly, SQQ, I too want to know how that corpse is being preserved p248

NOT CORPSE HOT POTATO p249

LOL at Liu Qingge panicking about touching the corpse's flesh. Like sure, I get it, if that was my friend/sect sibling's body I would be horrified at the man handling p249

oh! His (SQQ) sword (and Luo Binghe's old sword??) is repaired!! that's rad! p250

Oh gosh. Luo Binghe is Big Mad that they are snatching his corpse boyfriend p250

Thank god that SQQ was able to get Liu Qingge to to actually leave- this could have been awful. p251

aaaaaaaand what a time for SQQ to have a change of heart about Luo Binghe. He is SO soft for him. 10000% he is going to get himself killed -> again. p251

OMG he was so close to telling him his identity and the confession was disrupted vie him being kidnapped! p252

wait- who else broke in?? was it Shang Qinghua? p253 ofc MXTX loves to leave little cliff hangers.

Oh no, Luo Binghe did remember to activate the demon blood mites. poor SQQ. p254

meanwhile SQQ is basically dying (not actually but he sure feels like he is) and is having an entire mindmap thought journey about how Luo BInghe came to this level of infatuation with himp254

we now have SQQ questioning his worldview, his entire life, himself as an individual, every choice he has ever made, and a his own sexuality. poor babe. p255

oh shit. Wait- what's the cure for the blood mites?? Who is this guy??? p256

are you fucking kidding me. LOL omg. Another demon. I just went to my notes from yesterday and this applied, but make it 3 dimes. "Shen Qingqiu (probably): if I had a dime for every time I had demonic blood poisoning me I would have two, and that's not a lot, but fucked up it happened twice. LOL" at this point should I keep a dime count??

omg! is he attacking him now from within the dream realm??? p258 so scary!

okay he is not attacking SQQ he is attacking HIMSELF. Luo Binghe is not okay. The level of unwell he is exhibiting is frankly, quite alarming. p259

all of this self harming because he lost his shizun's corpse omg

Well... at least luo binghe is apologizing for the water prison? p261

and here we have SQQ having a crisis about not wanting to be near Luo Binghe while he simultaneously cannot resist patting his head anyways p262

oh god. baby luo binghe intentionally kept all of the scars that Shen Qinqiu gave him. what the fuck I'm emotional. p263

Wel it's about time. SQQ finally figured out he fucked up treating Luo Binghe like a character and not a person. BUT, based on the last line of this chapter, I have a suspicion that 1. luo binghe is not himself (someone else impersonating him??) OR Luo Binghe knows exactly what the fuck he is dong.

I cannot with these cliffhangers!

I need to know who this other demon is and who is controlling this dream rn. I did take a look ahead at page count and the next couple chapters are very short AND end book 2, so I am not looking forward to likely more drama and another several cliffhangers.

pray 4 me.

[blakbonnet]

ARTIST OF THE WEEK @midearthlingart ✨

This week's AOTW is Laz aka midearthling, and any AOTW event intending to bring classic ofmd art back into circulation would be incomplete without them <3 She agreed to answer a few questions for me and shared some great tips for beginners:

- Which do you use to draw (app/digital or traditional)?

I think everything posted here is digital, done mainly on Procreate, although I have started using Art Studio Pro more recently and I really like it (also an iPad app but available on other machines afaik!). I do like to doodle and do studies in my sketchbook though, I think it's good to keep me sharp and for a change of pace! And sometimes ideas come easier that way. But any completed pieces tend to be digital.

- Fave brushes/pencils/mediums (links/screenshots?)

On procreate I'm partial to using jingsketch basic’s flat brush, it’s so versatile for sketching and painting! Other brushes in my regular rotation are the default chalk and 6b brushes from procreate. I also have a soft ‘photoshop’ brush that I use to flat in colours, and a round brush I downloaded that I often use for sketching too; unfortunately I can’t remember where I got either of those ones but I’m pretty sure they were free! Sometimes I use random texture brushes, and the default watercolours in procreate.

- Your favourite piece you've drawn?

I go through phases of really loving some pieces and then hating them again (I often dislike my own art!) One of the best things I ever drew is a very nsfw comic so I unfortunately can’t share it on tumblr lmao. But in its stead, I think this and this have a special place in my heart.

- Who's harder to draw: Ed or Stede?

Honestly it just depends on the day! Both can be difficult to capture for different reasons; oddly I think for me I don’t have Ed’s face pinned down as much as I do with Stede’s. I’ve drawn them so much at this point I can bang them out without reference most of the time, but every now and again I’ll have a difficult angle and need to reference again! Stede’s nose is my absolute favourite to draw though.

- One essential tip for beginner artists?

Keep going! References and 3D models are your friend! It’s okay to make studies of other people’s works in order to learn (just don’t share and try to pass it off as your own!) Tracing photos to learn is also fine too, these are all just tools to help you hone your skill.

- Why OFMD? 🥹

It did something to my brain! I remember watching it back in March 2022 when there were only 6 episodes out at the time, I binged in one go and then the very next day watched all of them again. It just felt so cosy! I watched initially when I heard about it because I already loved Rhys and Taika’s works so needless to say it was hook, line and sinker from me from the start—I did not stand a chance! When it turned out to be a queer, middle-aged love story I knew it would be special to me forever.

[volivolition]

hey so we've been meaning to ask you, which brushes do you use on CSP? the new years event thing they're holding gives out clippy and iirc you said your main brush costed some and we finally like. Have some to spend lmao

-Siam

hello Siam!! :D oooh yes login bonus time!! i have a singular main brush i use and swear by, which is "softBrush♦B8pencil♦DryInk" [10 Clippy] (Content ID: 1944219) aka "SmoooZZz2" <33 it's soft and wispy and a bit textured and it blends very prettily, i've been using it for a long time! (issues are that it's semi-tranparent, so using it for line art can be a bit of a pain lmao but since most of my art is just colored sketches i can get away with it)

a common thread you'll notice with my brushes is that 1) I LOVE SOFT BRUSHES!! and 2) I LOVE PEN PRESSURE!! so my brushes are soft and/or have a good taper to line widths.

some of my others: - "SOIPEN" [Free] (Content ID: 1778407) used to be my old main go-to, real solid brush, but still soft! good for proper lineart, which i havent done in ages hgjkg - "Yokan brushes (羊羹ブラシ)" [30 Clippy] (Content ID: 1944592) or as i renamed it "softie brush" (it used to just be the japanese characters) is what i use for blush and shading. it's really soft, but still has a harder edge unlike an airbrush, which i like! - "SU Cream Pencil" [Free] (Content ID: 1761353) is a classic, such good textures, really solid brush with a good taper!! :3 - i think Turnip Pen is a CSP default, it came free with your xbox /ref, i basically only use this when i need to color something solidly. (i also have a duplicate one with the no anti-aliasing setting. for homestuck purposes. :3) - Rough 6B Pencil is GONE FOREVER APPARENTLY?? i've looked up the content id and there is nothing hgkjg, so sad </3

other things i recommend: - "[UP] R Colour Gradient Set (Hair/Eyes)" [20 Clippy] (Content ID: 1945188) (and their other ones, if you just go check out the creator HamR, i have White and Pink but the Blonde/Purple/Green sets are new to me, i might get them lmao hgklj) are GODSENDS i LOVE messing with these for gradient maps (let me know if y'all need gradient map advice or anything hjglk), they make colors good :3 - "close and fill tool without gaps" [Free] (Content ID: 1759448) is just like. praise be ice cream fill tool, we all love ice cream fill tool!! please get this if you don't have it already, it's really helpful. you just make a layer beneath your line art, lasso your line art as messily as you want, and it'll fill it in for you, it's WILD man hglk - "BOKE brushes" [Free] (Content ID: 1610288) are really pretty for backgrounds if you fiddle with add (glow) and opacity!! - "A brush set that draws clouds" [Free] (Content ID: 1723992) is really good, i love using this for skies <3 this creator (27pt) has a lot of other good assets too! :D

i think that's about it!! clippy does expire eventually, but not for a while! you'll probably find some cool assets to spend it on before then :D in general i think a lot of the free assets are really good, but extra clippy is always nice to have!! i hope this helps, thank you for asking my beloveds!! :] <333 <222

[ames-draws]

Since this was done in procreate, here's the process video! Some details under the cut.

Process Notes

Start with a loose sketch - I had my reference photo open on my computer screen for this. Sketch is the top layer and set to multiply

Block in basic shapes on separate layers

Start adding texture using black and white on a clipping mask set to overlay with the opacity adjusted

Build in some colour variation

I decided to break the single green layer into three to help with layering. I just duplicated the green layer twice, used layer mask to erase roughly, then applied the layer masks. Now I have 3 layers for my green areas

Then I put them on alpha lock and used a smudge brush to remove some of the definition I had initially put in, and added looser texture with more colour variation and attention to the three distinct layers of vegetation

I also decided I wanted more definition on the clouds here, so you can see I added back a lot of sky then added more defined clouds

I continue to use the black and white overlay technique to add texture to some areas

To get a good outline of the highest vegetation layer against the sky, I add a layer mask and roughly erase the top part with black, then switch to white and add back details to the edge using a leafy brush (I love this technique)

For areas like the short grass and asphalt path, I add texture to a layer then use the resize > distort tool to give it the right 3D angle, THEN I make it a clipping mask and do my overlay/opacity trick

As I get close to the end of painting, I select all 3 green layers and use the liquify tool to make some adjustments, and then focus on details like the line of grass where the path curves out of sight

Last 2 layers are a pink layer on screen mode, adjusted to the opacity I want, then a layer of black with a soft white spot in the middle, set to overlay with its opacity adjusted as well

And done!