#but I want it to be as easy as using a sketchpad.

[kcdodger]

Artfight Attack on @kalivasquezart!

As it turns out, I can be somewhat airheaded, and as such, I wholly, completely forgot to post my art here on tumblr. Admittedly, I'm not used to actually... putting, anything on the platform. It'll take time. Twitter did a number on me that way.

[sugarverse]

Hiii! I was wondering if I could request either long or short fic about Tenya Iida. Likes it can be set in a modern setting where's he's a senior college student who's majoring in business and he has to take one more class to get his degree. It just so happened that the class is in the art building, and it is figure drawing (aka nude drawing) . Since he's just now hearing of the extra class he has to take, he's suddenly shocked when the model is an old friend of his from back home, whom he had a childhood crush on. Not only does his feelings for her come back, but he also has to have 1 on 1 section with the model for educational purposes. I kinda want it to be smut and fluff or however you see it fit. Anyway, I hope it's enough+

hi babe! omg I love this idea I kinda went a lil crazy and made it way too long. I hope u enjoy :)!!

𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙬𝙣 𝙏𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧

word count: 3.5k

mentions of: This is really just the fluff portion of it, kinda suggestive bc he pops a boner and leads to sex in part two. I think I’m going to make a third part simply so the two of you can go on a genuine date andsotheresmoreiidaxblackreaderouthere.

a/n: hells yeah that’s enough, hopefully I did what ya asked and so sorry I went overboard I have serious problems. here’s the smut part bc a 6.7k fic is doing too damn much but i can’t stfu my fault gang

moodboard here!

Tenya Iida.

4th year, Senior in college majoring in International Business and minoring in Spanish at Angelwood College of Arts and Sciences.

The visual arts building had only been a few minutes away from the business side of campus, which he gladly enjoyed the walk. This spring all he needed to finish was two gen ed classes, the rest revolved around his major and minor. His counselor helped set up his ‘missing’ classes before winter break considering he had to fly back to Japan to see his family for the holidays. He was ecstatic to learn all he needed was an art class with lab and a communications class. 

When he asked what the class entailed, all he was met with was “beginner artists learning anatomy.” It didn’t sound difficult, just draw what you see. It would be nice to try something new anyway. He was not much of an artist but like all things Tenya does, he planned to give this class his all. The first week had been pretty easy, learning how to draw what you see with the use of models, shapes, and lines. Nothing too hard to follow. He would practice drawing his friends on the sketchpad he bought specifically for the class as a form of studying in the free time he had.

He neverminded it for the most part, excelling his knowledge in different countries in his free time to get better at his major. Sure they could teach you the technical way to do things, but in the end, everyone is still human. It would be inconsiderate to do business with a country and know little to nothing about their culture! It took almost two weeks for him to finally be able to even start the art project anyway.

As time went on and the January snow grew less and less, it was time to start their first real project of the semester. One on One figure drawing. The class needed to fill out a form explaining their free hours due to the limited art space and everyone's different schedules. Tenya happily filled it out when it was posted, continuing to work on class work from the library so that the lecture room could also be used for said project.

Their professor had explained that in-person class would remain on Mondays and Thursdays. It just worked out better for the models and students to have so much space.

He made the small walk over to the arts building for his last class of the day, a small shine in his glasses as he entered the white light of the room. The walls were anything but bare, artwork and unfinished projects sat in every corner of the room. Paint racks, canvases big and small, even stacks of unused clay. There was a stool sitting on a small platform in the middle of the room, assuming where the model will sit. 

He stood next to the stool for a moment, looking up at the grey February sky through the skylight. The natural lighting was great, almost like a spotlight. He adjusted the lights in the room a moment, dimming them slightly so the white light hadn’t been so harsh on his eyes. He headed over to a more organized table, setting out the art supplies how he liked. He knew he was early, but he wanted to make a good first impression. What’s better than being on time?

He pulled out his laptop, checking that the few assignments for today were done and submitted. A small frown tugged at his lips as he realized he hadn’t finished something completely, typing in the last few answers. He always double checked, technology was reliable.. When it wanted to be. He couldn’t hear the shuffle of slippers against the floor over his typing and frankly, loud thinking. 

He could see someone walk past in a teal robe representing the university's colors. Glancing up from the computer to give the model a proper hello, Tenya opens his mouth to speak but pauses. 

“Y/n?” He asked, almost in a whisper in case he was wrong. A small look of confusion caused him to tilt his head to the side slightly. He hadn’t been able to see you for awhile with such busy schedules, but he knew your silhouette by heart. 

You turn at the sound of your name, mid sliding off the slippers and fumbling with the gold silk of the belt. “Tenya?” You smile, asking as you turn to slide your shoes back on and quickly shuffle your way over to him. He felt his face burn red, frozen in place for a moment with his jaw slack. He stood as if needing to detach from the seat, smiling at your happy demeanor and your quickness to wrap your arms around him. 

“It is you! I know those shoulders from anywhere!” You beamed, feeling his hovering hands slowly place themselves on your back to return the hug. He was very hesitant, simply because you were only in a robe. You pull away, hands resting on your hips and giving him a big smile. “Now what are you doin’ taking a figure drawing class, Mister businessman?”

He let out a sheepish chuckle, “I needed an art credit, W-What are u doing here?” He never had any classes with you at Angelwood, A few honors classes and gym in highschool but other than that, nada. Throughout the course of growing up, your interests drove you to different classes. 

However, classes don't matter when your families are as close as yours and the Iida family. Shared Holidays, playdates, game nights.. It wasn’t like you were some stranger. You both always made time to hang out a few times during the year to catch up without the family just to give a real check on each other. It was his favorite, almost like a mini holiday to talk to you.

He loved spending time with you. You were smart, articulated and incredibly creative. You never took slack from anyone.. Even in middle school he can remember you being the one to stand up and say something when things weren’t right. You were headstrong and determined in anything that you did.. Art majors always get a lot of grief but you never let that deter you. And that was admirable in itself! ..And he had always thought you were so pretty. 

He felt like a kid again, heart feeling as if it’d beat out of his chest at the mere sight of you. It had been around Halloween the last time he saw you, and here it was. Almost Valentine's day.. Still as pretty and bright as he remembered. Your next hangout wasn't for another month or so, so it was nice to see you sooner than that.

“I'm your model, silly!” You head over to the stool, continuing to speak. “The art department asked if I’d help in modeling and I said yes! People were too scared to sign up for the most part. I’m surprised this is the class you picked. Did you want to learn how to draw people?” You slide your slippers off once more, untying the cute bow on your hip that held your robe shut. 

Suddenly the room was very hot and he couldn't breathe. Now his heart really WAS beating out of his chest. He quickly did a 180, shielding his eyes and removing his glasses for extra measure. “WHY– do yoU have.. nothing on underrrrneath?” He croaked, voice cracking as his tone raised slightly.

You tilt your head at such a question, the gears clicking a little later than they should have. “Figure drawing is um.. Nude drawing, Tenya. You didn't know that?” You slide the robe back on, giggling at the flustered man across from you. You could see his shoulders tense, shaking his head slowly.

Now how the fuck could he have missed that.

“I um.. No, I didn't. I thought that it was.. I don't know what I thought. My counselor picked it for me and I.. Most models we've used so far have.. had skin colored undergarments… On.” He let out a nervous laugh, keeping his glasses off. He turns around, cleaning them with the end of his shirt but refusing to look up at you. He needed to mentally prepare his brain to be professional in a situation like this. Not that he minded the glance, he just never thought this would be how..

You prop your feet onto the edge of the stool, interrupting his thought. You held your knees up to your chest so he couldn’t see anything but your bare legs. “Oh Ten, I’m sorry! I can ask someone else to-”

“No! I am perfectly.. capable. It's professional and I can be.. professional..” He put his glasses back on, hand refusing to be steady as he did so. He let out a shaky sigh, smiling at you and finally looking at you once more.

You let out a small laugh at the blush on his cheeks. He was so handsome, but to see him so flustered over little ol’ you? It made your week. “We can start slow, that might help.” you slide the robe down your shoulders, slowly putting your legs back down so he could see your robed torso once more. You stopped at the top of your breasts, letting your collarbone show. “Do you have any specific poses..?” You ask quietly, trying to hold back your amusement.

He sits down, red faced and completely flushed. A nude model.. jeez. From sleepovers to recess, studying together to graduating, and now almost graduating for the final time together. That's something you don’t get to have in every lifetime. But why do these thoughts keep coming back to him now? 

There was no way he could still have romantic feelings for you. He’d never put your friendship at risk like that!

..right?

“I um.. yeah, small.” He cleared his throat, “Could you um.. Could you stand slightly off of the um.. Almost like getting up?” He fumbled over his words, staring at the empty paper as if he could burn the quick image in his brain onto the page to get the embarrassment over with. He sighed once more, trying to focus as he began sketching circles and lines as a starter sketch of the pose he wanted.

“When you need to draw a certain part I'll move it, Sound fair?” You ask, resting one foot onto the stool and one onto the ground. Your hand gripped the seat as your butt sat on the edge, similar to when people do that supposedly hot thing where they throw their head back and pull some weird rope to have water get poured on them. 

It was second nature at this point for people to see you. Of course some of them were flustered and it was pretty awkward at first, but normally not to the point of stuttering and stammering. It wasn’t often that you saw Tenya fall apart, but this was way different. Especially considering you flashed him without warning. He was one of the most endearing people you had ever met, there was no way you would have done that without proper context.

He could only nod in response, not wanting to further make a fool of himself. Lightly tapping the pencil against the table, He looks up at you. “You can um.. re.. remove the top part, y/n..” It was hard to simply draw your arms and collarbone without including the robe, so you might as well rip the band-aid off and start with the top. 

You nod, dropping it happily and letting the robe pull around your hips and between your legs. You close your eyes, facing up toward the skylight in an attempt to make him less nervous. “Sorry for flashing you at first, I would have explained but I assumed you had already known..?” You laugh quietly to yourself at your own mistake. Why would someone like him even take this class if he knew what it actually entailed?

And God, did he feel like a pervert staring at your chest like this. The boner poking his thigh almost immediately didn't help, making it even harder to concentrate. Way to keep composure. He pressed his lips together for a moment before speaking. “I had no idea, I’m sorry for my r..reaction.” He answered, stopping the pencil tapping to actually begin sketching more than just circles and lines. He hadn’t meant to yell, but he felt like he was close to passing out. 

“I think it was a pretty valid one.” You send a reassuring smile his way, seeing him send you one right back. Trying to ease the mood, you look back up at the ceiling and close your eyes to avoid staring at the ugly overcast sky above you. “How was winter break? You get to go home and see your family? How are they?” 

His smile grew wider at your question, scooting under the desk a bit more so that you hopefully wouldn’t notice his body reacting. “They’re great, Tensei is getting married soon,” He sounded excited at the thought alone, incredibly proud of his brother. 

“And my mother has started a hobby making soap, if you can believe it. She sent me some to bring back one that smells like lavender and another that smells like oranges mixed with I believe she said papaya.? She made a coconut smelling one for you– I was going to give it to you the next time we saw each other,” 

The sound of his sketching stopped and started as he spoke, giving your body small glances as he tried to study each part of your upper torso. The way your stomach creased, The way your shoulder was slightly lifted causing your collarbone to be more prominent, the curve of your breasts.. “How was your Holiday, y/n?”

“No way, Tensei is getting married?!” You accidentally stop posing, fully facing him in genuine shock. The robe was still covering your lower half, you had tied the belt to avoid accidentally flashing him again but here we are. You watch his face become even more red, eyes very obviously not meeting yours but still like a deer in headlights. 

You quickly get back to posing how you were, “Sorry Ten, That's amazing!! I hope everything goes smoothly for him and his soon to be wife.. And tell your mommy I said thank you for thinking of me. I can't wait to try it!”

A smile stayed on your lips as you thought about the times you’ve spent in the Iida household. His mother always had the best candles and incense burning, you were positive the soap would be the same. “My family is up to the same old shit, you know them..” You let out a small groan, the holidays weren’t an absolute disaster, but after not being home so long makes you remember why you aren’t going to school anywhere near home. 

“I did get some cool stuff for Christmas though! I got some new clothes and they got me a few art kits. You know, where it teaches you how to crochet? I also have a new diamond painting kit, I haven't opened either yet because it's just been so busy.” You replied, tapping your fingers on the side of the stool where your hand sat. 

You look up once more, this time because the skylight was beginning to be covered in snow. You watched as it fell, thinking back to old times when you and Tenya would spend the last three major holidays with each other. You’d always make sure to trick or treat together, your families have been sharing Thanksgiving for as long as you can remember, and spending the night in your basement on Christmas eve to wait for Santa until you were both too old. Then instead of waiting for Santa, you’d all eat at least one meal together on Christmas day. Sometimes homemade breakfast, other times a small trip to IHOP or Waffle House.

“God damn it.. It’s snowing again..” You let out a small laugh, looking over at him over your shoulder, fingers still tapping away at the base of the stool. “Hey Ten, Do you remember when we used to have those big snowball fights? The one near Red Fern?” 

“Of course I do! You refused to wear any kind of gloves and my mother would make you at least put socks on your hands so you didn’t get frostbite!” The two of you shared a small laugh at the memories of being young and dumb.

“Gloves always made my hands too itchy! They still do– But I kicked your ass in snowball fights with gloves or not.” You retort, a smirk appearing on your face. “Ice queen y/n of everything.” You could remember the insane snowball fights the neighborhood kids would have every. time. It snowed. If there was enough to make a few snowballs, there was enough to start a war. Tenya was always on your team, but it never stopped you from throwing a few his way. The ‘winner’ was King or Queen of the hill and first to sled down, which often enough was you.

“Remember when you almost broke my glasses throwing one right at my face?” He snickered, watching your smirk turn into a small pouty frown. He knew you didn’t mean to, that same day you helped your mom make cookies for him and his family as an apology, even though he wasn’t upset to begin with. But you knew it could have broken his glasses and you would be devastated if you were the reason for it. You were a real sweetheart, even if you had a weird way of showing sometimes.

“Hey! You know that wasn’t on purpose, I felt really bad after! I even let you get me back!” Which was true, but he never aimed for your face. Always a spot on your fluffy coat, never your legs because you hated your pants being wet… and a face shot just felt wrong to him. 

“Yeah, Yeah. I remember that part too,” He smiled to himself. “Those were really good times.. I remember Tensei always bringing us hot chocolate and we’d sit on your porch and draw things in the snow..”

“Oh! And when we’d come back all wet and mom already had spare clothes in her hands because she didn’t want it on the carpet. We’d put on too big clothes just to sit and watch Christmas movies..” You missed those times. But they never really had to stop, you two could have a huge snowball fight after this if you wanted to and the snow stuck. Was he too grown for that? Would it even sound fun to him?

“Do you still watch A Year Without Santa Clause every year?” He asks, breaking your train of thought. You nodded quickly at his question, grinning like a maniac. “Of course I do! And I watch Charlie Brown’s Christmas, Rudolph The Rednosed Reindeer.. And sometimes Spongebob's Christmas Special. Do you still watch old Christmas cartoons?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Don’t wanna ruin tradition.” He answered, pressing his lips together slightly as he stared down at the paper. You can tell he freezes a bit, the sound of his scribbling coming to a stop. He set the pencil down, rubbing the sweat of his hands onto his thighs.

 “You can um.. remOove-..” He quickly cleared his throat, “The rest.” He let out a disappointed sigh at his inability to keep composure. This wouldn't be half the problem it was if it was someone else modeling. But this is you we're talking about. 

“You sure? If you need a minute we can take a break, honey.” You gave him a sympathetic look, still smiling but this time more.. warm. The kind of smile someone gives to another when they genuinely care for them. Or love them for that matter. He adored it, it was the same smile you'd give him when saying he needs to take a break, the same smile you give him when the two of you out to get coffee and catch up. The same smile he's fallen for many, many times. 

But to tell you the truth? It’s driving him crazy. All of this. Was driving him crazy. No matter how hard he tried to be professional, he could stop his wandering mind. You were a goddess. What else was there to do besides take a break and hopefully release some steam in the bathroom or something. Completely inappropriate, but the pain from being hard for so long was starting to cloud the best judgment. 

He looks down at the sketch so far, then back to you as he rubbed his hand upward against his face. It pushed his glasses up, causing them to be crooked when going back down. “I um.. I think I do.. need a minute.” His voice died out as he watched you slide the robe back on, words failing him because couldn’t think completely straight.

© if you like what you see please reblog! It means a lot and helps me out. Want more? Heres my m.list! I write for x black reader so throw me some requests :P my other account are icons and x black reader moodboards if you’re interested!

thank you @thecutestgrotto for the banners and thank you @fizzintine for coloring the top pic!

have a good day/night/whatever!

[n0vazsq]

Pretty Boy | LN4 x Reader

pairing . . . lando norris x gf!artist!reader

summary . . . While you're sketching a drawing of Lando, you notice that something's off with him. Then, you remind him that he's much more than what people think of him

request . . . no!

word count . . . 759

warnings . . . none! just one use of 'damn'

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . first lando fic!!! a bit short but i hope you guys like it <33

. . . The room smelled like salted caramel and the leather of the couch you were currently sitting on. Lando sat across from you, sat on the arm of the chair, one leg bouncing restlessly. The glow from his phone lit up his face every few seconds, softening the sharpness of his jawline, but it didn’t hold his attention for long. He set it down after scrolling aimlessly, leaning back with a sigh.

"You know," you started, stretching out your legs, "you really need to learn how to sit still. You’re stressing me out."

He flashed you that damn grin, the one he knew you hated for how effortlessly it made you forgive him for everything. "You sound like my engineer," he laughed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"Maybe I should be," you shot back, holding up the sketchpad in your lap. "You’re not exactly making this easy for me."

His eyes flicked to the page, and he tilted his head, squinting slightly. "That’s me?"

"Who else do you think I’ve been sketching this whole time? Your mum?"

Lando grinned, leaning in closer to get a better look. His hair was slightly messy, still damp from the shower he’d taken earlier, and you could smell the faint trace of his shampoo as he hovered over your shoulder. "Not bad," he said with mock seriousness, tapping his chin. "You almost got my nose right."

You turned your head, glaring playfully. "Almost? You’re lucky I even attempted that ski slope you call a nose."

He pretended to be offended, leaning back dramatically, a hand on his chest. "Ski slope? That’s rich coming from someone who-" He cut himself off, laughing at your raised eyebrow.

"Go on," you urged, smirking now.

"Nah," he said, still laughing as he settled back into the chair. "You’re not worth the fight."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. Lando had this way of lighting up a room without even trying, of making you feel like the only person who mattered when he turned that adorable charm your way. It was infuriating, really.

But tonight, something about him seemed quieter. The usual spark in his eyes was dimmer, and the edges of his grin didn’t reach as far.

"What’s going on with you?" you asked, setting the sketchpad aside.

He shrugged, looking down at his hands, which were fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. "Nothing. Just thinking."

"About....?"

He hesitated, chewing on the inside of his cheek before finally meeting your gaze. "You ever feel like… I don’t know. Like people only see what they want to see when they look at you?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Where’s this coming from?"

He shrugged again, more defensively this time. "It’s just… I don’t know. Everyone’s always saying stuff, you know? About me. Pretty boy this, golden boy that. Like that’s all I am."

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees. "You know that’s not true, right?"

"Isn’t it?" he countered, his voice softer now, more uncertain.

"My beloved Lando." You said his name like it was the answer to a question he didn’t want to ask. "You’re so much more than what people say. You’re brilliant, and kind, and funny, annoyingly so, actuall. You care about the people around you more than you probably should."

He didn’t say anything, just stared at you with this look that made your chest tighten.

"I don’t see some ‘pretty boy,’" you continued. "I see you. The real you. And if other people don’t, that’s their loss. But just saying, you are pretty."

The corner of his mouth twitched, and he looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "You’re too good at this whole therapy talk thing, you know that?"

You smirked, leaning back against the couch again. "Yeah, well, someone’s gotta keep your ego contained."

He laughed then, the sound breaking through the tension like sunlight through a cloud. And when he looked back at you, the spark in his eyes was there again, faint but unmistakable.

"Thanks," he said simply.

"For what?"

"For being here. For being… ," He took a deep breath, arms raising and falling, like he was trying to cut the air. "You.”

Your smile softened, and you shrugged. "Someone’s gotta put up with you."

He laughed again, shaking his head. "Lucky me, huh?"

And in the glow of the room, with the soft hum of the music in the background, you thought maybe you were the lucky one.

[treatbuckywkisses]

Perspective

Summary: artist!steve and .... you weren't supposed to find out like this

A/N: this was written on my phone:) I've had this idea for 3 years now and finally fully executed it and I feel good enough about it to post it!!! please let me know all your thoughts & reblog!! love you big🩷 moodboard made by yours truly💛 dividers made by @firefly-graphics

Warnings: literally so soft and fluffy, mentions of insecurities, my blog is 18+ only. I do not give permission for my work to be translated, copied, or shared.

Steve loves art.

He loves that there are multiple ways to express himself; drawing, painting, sculpting. Oftentimes he found himself lost in whatever medium he was using. Hours passed without him noticing and he felt lucky to have so much time and freedom with his arts. But that freedom required frequent check-ins. Always making sure he wasn't too lost and keeping up with himself.

A few years back he'd gotten so immersed in a project he hadn't eaten for a whole day and when he finally remembered it might be a good idea, his mild hunger he previously ignored had turned into a splitting headache along with his stomach screaming in agony, and by then, it was too late. He'd found himself dehydrated and damn near passed out from it. So now if he doesn't answer the phone within half an hour, you show up with a full spread and a list of questions.

And without fail, every time you let your self in the studio asking for signs of life, he has no choice but to fuss and whine, "Don't you know I'm a bit old for a babysitter?" (His easy smile tells you he's at least partially joking.)

Still this remark results in a scoff or a pointed look. He likes knowing that you care so deeply.

Besides, you're the only person he doesn't mind showing his art to, even before it's finished. Because somehow, you always see his vision, even when others don't. Steve likes that a lot. You're always there for him even if it's not physically and he's unsure if you know this or not.

Being friends with Steve since uni, you've been his model plenty of times but that didn't mean Steve got used to how intimate the setting was. Honestly, you've been his model enough times, Steve can sketch you by memory. Every part of you has been embedded in his mind. Your lively essence the only thing lacking compared to you lounging around his studio.

He had such intense focus on watching both you and his sketchpad. He had to be sure not to miss any detail. From the way your hair sprawled out over your shoulder, down to the tip of your cute nose and over the curves of your cupids bow. Even though this wasn't new to you by any means, he could tell you were a bit squirmy when he finally met your eyes.

It was intriguing how impressive Steves talent was, and always has been. Especially with the typical artist ego some folks get. No matter the amount Steve prospered, he remained as humble and dare you say bashful as ever. Cheeks pinking up with his blue eyes shining at the praise. Remembering that minor detail from professors in uni till now with big time art collectors.

Steve may have fucked up. 

Scratch that. Steve definitely fucked up.

He forgot to tell you about a consultation he had today. Depending on the client consultations could be pretty lengthy. Looking at his portfolio, recommendations from previous clients, credentials, blah blah until finally getting to what this client expected to receive from buying something Steve made. It was a whole process you knew all about, having to wait on Steve to potentially celebrate afterwards.. if you'd been told that is. He has no one to blame besides himself. Yet for some reason, he hadn't expected this to happen so soon..

He doesn't mean to be a creep, really! He just can't help himself. He would definitely be mortified if you ever found out. It's the only thing he's ever kept from you in your entire friendship. Not that he wants to! He just can't possibly imagine a positive reaction to you being the only material in an entire sketchbook. He knows you. That's why he keeps it hidden. 

You can't find out he has two pages full of just your eyes. Or that he's drawn you in every angle he could without being lewd. (Not that he hasn't thought about it, he just really, really  couldn't risk that getting out.) All the things you've ever nonchalantly complained about. Every curve of your body, stretch marks varying in color, the size of your nose. Everything you view as an insecurity perplexed Steve. At first it was supposed to help you. When you got bad about it and didn't think anyone noticed until Steve brought it up. He had this grand idea. If he made it, you'd have to think it was gorgeous! The thing was, once he started, he couldn't seem to stop. Not in a bad obsessive way, in a way that allowed him to see you, to truly see you.

Normally, when you model for Steve you're just there for him to double check his vision while he gives it life. They don't always look exactly like you, he just mimics your movements, but in the end he does get to sneak in a detail he knows is from only you, that's what makes his pieces stand out. That he's certain of. You know you're the base for quite a bit of his works both in paintings and sculptures. Knowing deep down you're the same shape as whatever he decided to turn you into. And you always compliment his work, so Steve couldn't understand why it was hard for you to view yourself the same way he does.

When Steve is finally finished with his consultation he's able to check his phone on his trek back home. There's one missed call from about half an hour ago, which he knows is all it takes, so he's expecting you to be awaiting his arrival, most likely with takeout. 

What he didn't expect, however, was to walk in on you flipping through sketchbooks. You hadn't heard him come in the front door so he sets out to look for you. Once he finds you..It's as if time is standing still.

He doesn't know why but he's frozen. He can't even allow himself to breathe as he watches you pick up his yellow sketchbook. You open it like you probably opened all the rest, not knowing what you were about to see, and Steve can't believe he's allowing this to happen. He's so confused in himself he doesn't even feel like he's thinking. Why did he think plain sight was a good hiding spot? If he didn't hide it then it wasn't a secret, right? Oh, fuck him.  

He takes the risk to make his presence known, softly knocking on the open door so he doesn't startle you too badly. The first thing he notices are the tears in your eyes as you look at him for the first time all day. He can't decipher what the tears mean for you, but his stomach flips with his own interpretation in mind. 

"Steve.." 

"I'm sorry—" 

A small huff escapes you at your sudden burts to each other and Steve knows. That look in your eyes he couldn't make out earlier. Those eyes he's etched into his own, blanketed in tears, are also filled with admiration. 

He releases a light sigh and starts explaining himself. "For once I can't positively say I know what you're thinking. It wasn't meant to be exactly the way it turned out somehow." He hates how vulnerable this feels, which is a bit ironic if he lets himself think about it. He takes a deep breath and decides to take another (arguably bigger) risk, "I couldn't stop myself. I know how that sounds believe me, but honestly. I just couldn't get you out of my head now matter how hard I tried to. You've been there for me so much I'm not even sure you fully realize how much you've helped me. Hearing you talk about yourself so negatively? I don't know, I just felt that I needed to help you see how beautiful you are." Steve looks over at you and the tears are streaming down your face, he didn't know they could be so enamoring. 

You can barely choke out his name and he's thinking the worst. But when you follow it with a soft kiss to his lips, he feels like he can finally breathe. Foreheads pressed against each other he smiles the most he ever has before. "What can I say? I found my muse." 

[odyssean-flower]

The Chief Justice and the Worst Painter in Fontaine Chapter 4 - The Chief Justice, the Painter, and the Lovely Picnic

Summary: It was supposed to be your time to relax and get in touch with your (extremely) buried creative side…but then your boss showed up. A/N: 4th and final chapter! tbh i feel like that title doesn't apply to the work that well, but i like the sound of it so i'm not changing it! Word count: 6.3k Masterpost here

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 (Bonus Scenes) || Chapter 4

The hot and sultry summer changed into a cool and crisp autumn. Unlike the seasons, your relationship with Neuvillette didn't change so drastically, but it did change.

For one thing, you two finally stopped apologizing to each other every other sentence. After your friendship was "officially" decided, the tense and polite formality between you two had dissipated. Of course, you weren't hugging him or anything like that, but you felt at ease enough to put your hand on his shoulder or touch his arm. Although, you noticed that he would only reciprocate if you touched him first.

And another thing-you two were conversing more. Well, it was mostly you talking and him listening. Neuvillette seemed to be the type who didn't mind staying silent for long periods of time until someone talked to him, and he was a good listener. You talked to him about trivial things like what you've been reading lately, or a new dessert you've tried. You tried to avoid talking about your personal life or work-related things. He was still your boss, after all, and your friendship with him was so delicate and fragile, like a glass orb, that sharing too much felt like it would strain it. 

With the cost of buying canvas and paints hurting your wallet, you decided to switch to a more affordable art-related hobby: sketching. Now you no longer had to lug around your easel and canvas. With just a sketchpad and pencil, you had more freedom to move around than before. You took to it like a fish in water, sketching little animals, flowers, and buildings. You didn't want to brag, but you felt like you were much better at this than at painting. Or maybe you improved your art skills in general through painting?

When he heard about your money troubles, Neuvillette offered to buy the supplies for you, but you adamantly refused. You didn't want him to spend money on you when he had already done so much, and painting was always just a means to an end anyway. 

Neuvillette still took you around to various scenic places. He would tell you about the historical events that occurred there like he had been there in person (though he never talked about his own past), and point out all the interesting but unseen things about them. But more than learning, you loved listening to him talk and watching his face as he did so. The elusive, nearly imperceptible curving of his lips or the way his eyes would soften whenever they landed on a water creature was fascinating to study. How can anyone think he's cold and unfeeling? You wondered.

But sometimes you felt a painful tug on your heart, though you didn't know why. You felt it when you looked at his tall, broad back as he walked in front of you, or in the silences that followed after you finished chattering about something. You had an inkling as to the source of these feelings, but the fear of exactly what you would find there made you deliberately not think about it.

However, it was easy to push such things to the back of your mind when you walked with Neuvillette under the warm sun or sketched something that caught your eye while he waited patiently for you. It was your secret, fervent wish that such golden days would last forever.

On a certain autumn day, you and Neuvillette were on the slopes of Mont Automnequi, admiring the changing colors of the leaves. From a distance, it looked as though the slopes were covered in flickering red and orange flames. You had brought colored pencils for the occasion and couldn't wait to use them.

The two of you settled down in a spot that had a good view of the trees but was also within a short distance of the water. It was almost an instinctual thing by now, how you two would always gravitate to the sea.

As you were getting out your sketchpad, a cool breeze suddenly blew through you, causing you to shiver. You were wearing a sweater, but it seemed that it wasn't thick enough. 

"You should be dressing warmer for the weather. You'd catch a terrible cold," Neuvillette scolded you. 

"Yeah," you agreed. "But it's fine. I don't get sick easily."

It was true. You could count on one hand the number of times you've ever gotten sick.

But Neuvillette didn't seem convinced. To your amazement, he took off his outer jacket-or rather, jackets, you didn't even know he was wearing two-and placed them over your shoulders. They were voluminous and heavy, practically drowning you in their fine fabrics.

"Y-You can't, sir!" you spluttered. Without his two coats, Neuvillette was only in his vest and white shirt. "What if you get cold?" 

"I am made of much sturdier stuff than that. There's no need to worry about me. Humans are such fragile creatures, you must take good care of yourself."

You tried to protest some more, but he wasn't having it. You eventually stopped as the warmth from his jackets seeped into you. They held a scent that inexplicably reminded you of clear waterfalls and the pavement after it rained. It was a pleasant, refreshing scent...wait...

Your face turned bright red when you realized what you were doing. Not only were you surrounding yourself with the Chief Justice's body heat, but you were smelling his clothes as well. 

Don't be weird, don't be weird... You chanted in your head. You snuck a peek at Neuvillette to see if he noticed how flustered you got and turned even redder.

Without his customary--dare you say, trademark--deep blue coats, Neuvillette almost looked like a completely different person. Less imposing and grand. You would even go so far as to say that he looked vulnerable, but he had a sturdy, virile build--

Stop thinking and start sketching, the tiny part of your brain that remained your voice of reason commanded. 

Your hands moved on their own, moving across the paper with the pencil. In order to distract yourself further, you spoke as you sketched.

"Monsieur Neuvillette, I heard that you're going to be presiding over an important case next weekend."

It was a complicated case of fraud that involved a great many people, so it was necessary to question them all. This wasn't the first time Neuvillette had to miss a weekend. You were surprised that it didn't happen more often.

"Yes. I truly regret that I can't come here with you again next week. That is when the leaves are at their most beautiful."

"Well, I think they look incredible right now. I wish I'd brought a picnic basket. It's the perfect weather for baked treats like pies and brownies."

"A picnic, huh..." Neuvillette stroked his chin. "A fine idea."

"We can have one after next week. What kind of foods do you enjoy eating, sir? I can try making them." Come to think of it, you had never seen Neuvillette eat. Sometimes, you would bring sandwiches and offer one to him, but he would always decline. Maybe he didn't need to eat?

"Hmm...I suppose I do enjoy bacon. Stews as well."

"Bacon?" That was unexpected. You thought it would be something fancier. Maybe you could make bacon sandwiches or something.

You switched your pencil for a colored one and started coloring idly. The red and yellow leaves fluttered this way and that, sometimes landing in the water. The contrast between the colors of the leaves and the water was very pretty. You should sketch that too...

You looked down at your drawing and choked back a gasp. There wasn't a single drawing of trees in sight. Instead, the paper held a sketch of Neuvillette's face. 

It was a surprisingly nice sketch. In fact, you would call it one of your best works yet. It was Neuvillette's head in profile, his eyes fixed on some distant point, his hair a waterfall down his back. You had been coloring the blue streaks in his hair. 

How did this happen! You wanted to scream. Luckily, Neuvillette wasn't facing you then, but he would want to see what you drew. You quickly tore the sketch out and stuffed it in your pocket. 

Neuvillette heard the tearing sound and turned around. "Was there something wrong with your drawing?"

"Um, y-yes! Something very wrong! It's not fit to be seen! At all!" you stammered. 

"I highly doubt that. Every one of your works is a treat for the eyes."

You laughed shakily. "You really do know how to encourage someone, sir. Have you considered coming around more to the Maison Gestion? I think just a few of your words will be able to boost the morale there for a whole week."

"Really? If you say so, then I shall try doing that."

"Oh, no, that was a joke--" Just then, a red leaf twirled and fluttered, landing in Neuvillette's hair. Reflexively, you leaned forward and picked it out. Your fingers brushed against the silky white strands. He was taller than you, so you had to stand on your tip toes and lean close to him in order to reach the leaf. Too close, in fact. Your noses were practically touching.

For a heartbeat, neither of you said anything. You saw yourself reflected in his eyes. Did he also see himself in yours? His throat bobbed. You were probably making him uncomfortable. You should step back now. The sun was beating down on you harshly. How strange. It was supposed to be cooler today. You really should move back--

Neuvillette made the first move and took a few steps back. The leaf spiraled down from your hand.

"T-There was a leaf in your hair, sir," you said weakly. 

He simply nodded. 

You turned away to hide your flushed face. Your heart was pounding wildly. What happened back there? Where were all these feelings coming from?

"[Name]," you heard him call out to you and turned around. "It may be presumptuous of me to ask this of you, but I would very much like for you to--"

There was the loud blaring of a ship's foghorn. It drowned out the rest of Neuvillette's sentence.

"What were you saying, sir? I couldn't hear you."

Neuvillette stared at you for a few seconds, then shook his head. "...No, it is nothing. Please forget about it."

You spend the rest of your time together in companionable, albeit somewhat tense, silence. When you got home, you reached into your pocket for the sketch of Neuvillette's face but discovered that it wasn't there. Where had it gone?

"Hey, do you want to go watch the trial tomorrow? They say that it's going to be a real spectacle."

Your roommate asked you on Friday night. She was referring to the fraud case. It was all over the newspapers and all that your coworkers were talking about this week. It was rumored that the tickets had sold out within ten minutes.

"How did you get tickets for that?"

"I have my ways," your roommate said mysteriously. "So, do you want to go?"

You thought about it for a moment. Normally, you would have said no. You had never really found trials entertaining, and ever since you became friends with Neuvillette, it felt even weirder to go to a trial. It felt like you were crossing some invisible line, even though you couldn't think of any reason why it would be inappropriate.

You won't lie, you were kind of interested in the outcome. And besides, it wasn't like you had anything to do tomorrow.

"Sure, I'll go," you nodded.

Your roommate raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Really? I thought you'd turn me down, considering how you're always out doing art stuff on the weekends."

"Well...it's good to change things up once in a while. Plus, it always rains after a trial, right?"

"Yeah. Although there hadn't been any trials scheduled on the weekend lately."

"Really?" You didn't pay attention to that kind of thing.

"Yep," your roommate gave you a sly look. "I heard that the Chief Justice himself specifically arranged things like that.

"Huh..." you said, trying your best to sound nonchalant. You were sure that you never gave anyone any hint of your relationship with Neuvillette.

Your roommate gave you another meaningful look. "Alright, then, let's get up early tomorrow so we can get there on time."

The trial was as dramatic and intense as you had expected, but you found that your mind wasn't focused on it, despite--or because of--how loud the whole performance was, you caught yourself longing for the clear air of the outdoors, the sounds of the waves and birds.

The one thing that did keep your attention was Neuvillette himself. Though this wasn't your first time seeing him presiding over a trial, you were struck by just how different he was at work. He questioned the witnesses thoroughly, and his reprimands for the rowdy audience descended like a towering wave crashing down into the seats. He was seated high above the audience's seats, but you could feel his apprising gaze distinctly.

If it weren't for the times you spent together, you would have never imagined him capable of speaking to anyone warmly with that voice. Or be a water connoisseur. Or compliment your amateurish paintings so sincerely that even you began to wonder if they weren't as bad as you thought.

You briefly wondered if he, like you, longed to be in the wilds of Fontaine. It was an impertinent thought. Neuvillette was a man who took his job with the utmost seriousness.

You were sitting near the back row, which was more elevated compared to the front rows, but you still had to crane your neck just to see that blue and white figure. You wondered if he could see you down here. Probably not. You were just one small speck among many. 

You felt that painful tug on your heart again. 

The trial eventually ended with the accused being pronounced guilty and sentenced to prison. As you got up from your seat to join the masses of people leaving the opera house, but your roommate tugged at your sleeve and said, "Hey, mind staying behind? I want to talk to you about something."

You blinked in confusion but shrugged and sat back down. However, she didn't speak right away. It seemed that she was waiting for everyone to leave. You had a bad feeling about this.

When the last stragglers finally left, your roommate took a deep breath and turned to you.

"Are you dating Monsieur Neuvillette?"

You stared at her. Her eyes were completely serious. "W-What? No, of course not! Why would you even think that?" you splutter. Stay calm, stay calm. It's the truth, I'm not d-dating him!

"Well, I don't have any concrete evidence," your roommate admitted. "But there are some things that don't add up. For instance, you know how I mentioned that the Chief Justice personally arranged his schedule so that he wouldn't have any trials on the weekends. Well, that all started happening around the time you took up your painting."

"So? It's just a coincidence."

"I also noticed that the weekends where you don't go outside the city match up with the weekends where there are trials."

"Because it rains on those days!"

"Hmm, makes sense," your roommate nodded to herself. "Oh, another thing. The Melusines have been getting really friendly with you lately."

It was more like the other way around. The Melusines you ran into the streets or at work would all run up to you and greet you happily. Some of them even offered to help you carry your bags or give you little gifts, like wildflowers. It was a bit embarrassing for you.

"Aren't they always like that with everyone?"

"Sure, but not to this extent. And like I mentioned before, it only started happening when you started painting."

"That doesn't mean anything! Maybe I just befriended them while I was out."

Your roommate sighed, like she was fed up. "[Name], I saw the note in your drawer. It mentioned Monsieur Neuvillette."

"...Huh?" What note? You retraced your memories until you finally remembered. The note you left in your drawer before you left to go underwater with Neuvillette. Looking back now, you were extremely paranoid. "Oh, that note!"

Yeah, you weren't explaining your way out of this one. "Okay, fine. Yes, Monsieur Neuvillette and I are...acquainted. He takes me around to different drawing spots on the weekends. But we're not dating each other! We're just f-friends!"

"Friends, huh... Okay, I won't pry into what you do on the weekends. But I just wish you told me about it."

"It's not something I can just tell someone."

"Is it?" your roommate raised her eyebrows. "Even though you're just friends? You know me, I'm not the kind of person who will sell you out to the tabloids or anything. I just...felt a bit sad. We haven't been hanging out together on the weekends lately."

"..." You looked down. You and your roommate both worked at the Palais Mermonia and came home pretty late at night, so you usually relaxed together on the weekends by going shopping together or going to cafes. You haven't done that at all recently, though. 

I'm such a terrible friend, you thought to yourself.

"Hey...I'm not blaming you. If I could spend alone time with the Chief Justice himself gazing at the beautiful scenery, I'd also ditch you in a heartbeat," your friend laughed, which only made you feel worse.

"I'm sorry...I swear I'll make it up to you! Next week!" you remembered the picnic. "No, the week after that!"

"Oh, not next week? You've got some special plans with Monsieur Neuvillette?" your friend teased. 

"No...not really..." you mumbled.

"Now that I know who you're hanging out with these days, it makes sense to me why you turned that person down when they asked to grab a coffee with you last Saturday, even though they've been your obsession ever since you started working at the Palais."

"Oh, them," Your friend was referring to a coworker who worked in a different department. You have had a huge crush on them, but strangely, you haven't been thinking about them at all recently. "I already had plans that day to go see the autumn leaves."

"And Monsieur Neuvillette, too, right?" your friend grinned. "Ah, I feel sorry for that guy. If only he knew who he was up against."

"I told you it's not like that!" you punched your friend's arm lightly, but your mood had considerably lightened. As you looked at your friend's laughing face, you made a promise to yourself that you would definitely spoil her the week after the next. 

The two of you finally decided to leave the opera house. However, as soon as you went outside, you were met with slate-gray skies and torrential rain. "Huh, that's weird," your friend muttered. "It hadn't rained like this in a while."

Neither of you noticed the flutter of stately blue robes, or the wearer of said robes gripping a piece of sketch paper in his hand.

The rain continued without ceasing that day, or the week after. 

People were getting worried, and some were even whispering that the prophecy was beginning in full force. The streets were grey and sloshing with water, and the sky was always covered in thick clouds. 

You must have been the only person in Fontaine who wished for the rain to continue on forever.

On the Monday after the trial, you received a note from a strangely desolate-looking Sedene.

You soon found out why she had that look on her face. 

"I am writing to inform you that we will no longer be meeting each other on the weekends as before. I sincerely apologize for any inconvenience I have caused you."

That was all that was written.

It felt like the world had crashed down around you. You read and reread the note over and over, wondering if you had read something wrong, or if you missed something. But the words didn't change. You even asked Sedene if Neuvillette had said anything, but she told you that he didn't. 

Neuvillette no longer wanted to see you.

You didn't really remember how you got through the day after that. It felt like a blur. The rest of the week went by in the same way. You spent the weekend in bed, crying.

The next week was no better, both in terms of the weather and your mood. It felt like something vital had been taken from you. All you could think was, Why? Was it because you went to the trial? Was it because you were taking up too much of his time? Yes, that must be it. Your roommate had said that he rearranged his schedule to make his weekends free. Everyone knew that the Chief Justice was swamped with work. You should consider it a miracle that he was able to spare so much time for you. And now everything was going back to how they were before. That was how it should be. 

Yeah, you knew that this couldn't last forever. 

Telling yourself that, you threw yourself into work. Just because your boss didn't want to see you anymore, it didn't mean that work was over. You couldn't quit, since you were no good at anything else. You even took on extra work, staying late at night in the office. Your worried coworkers and friends kept trying to get you to rest, but you brushed them off. It might seem counterintuitive to spend so much time in a place so closely linked to Neuvillette, but anything was better than being alone with your thoughts.

Your roommate, unable to just watch you work yourself to the bone anymore, forced you to take a day off. 

"You need to talk to him," she said after you told her what happened.

"...I can't do that," you mumbled. You were lying in bed. It was so warm and comfortable here. You wished you could stay under the covers forever and never go out. 

Your roommate sighed and put her hands on her hips. "Why?"

You looked at her incredulously. "Because he's the Chief Justice of Fontaine? I can't just barge into his office and demand answers from him!"

"I didn't say that. Although, I wouldn't blame you if you did. My point is, what does his being the Chief Justice have to do with this? You two are friends, aren't you? Friends are supposed to be equals. Yeah, you're in a lower position than him, but that doesn't mean you don't deserve respect!"

"But this is different..." you insisted feebly. "He'd done so much for me, and all I've done is take advantage of his kindness."

"From what you've told me, it doesn't sound like that's the case at all. He was the one who kept offering to take you to places, and he never asked for anything back, right? He never used his authority over you. You know what I think? I think you do mean something to him, or else he would have stopped bothering with you a long time ago. Something unexpected must have happened to cause him to break it off with you."

"..." You turned over.

You heard a sigh. "Listen, [Name]. I've seen your face when you get back from painting. You looked happier than I had ever seen you. Do you really want to give all that up without a fight? Or even just closure?"

The sound of footsteps exiting your room eventually faded, but your friend's words remained in your mind.

The second offensive was far more blunt and overt. 

"I'm being mobbed," you said to no one in particular. 

You were surrounded by a gaggle of Melusines. Their heads only reached up to your thigh, so you could probably get out if you tried, but it was their tear-filled eyes that stopped you.

"Please make up with Monsieur Neuvillette!" they cried out in unison.

"...Huh?"

"He's miserable without you, can't you see?" one of the Melusines, Everallin, said, gesturing at the sky. You looked up. It was raining as always.

"See what?" you said, confused.

The Melusines looked at each other for a moment, then said, "Never mind." 

Another Melusine named Menthe spoke up. "Anyways, please go talk to him!"

"But...he was the one who told me not to see him anymore!" And besides, you heard that he hadn't been in his office for the past two weeks.

"Our Father isn't the best at expressing himself to humans," a third Melusine, Liath, piped up. "Especially the ones he really likes."

"Wait," you suddenly felt dizzy. "He likes me?"

"Yeah," Everallin nodded. "You always talk to him, and you treat him like a normal person! He always asks us for advice on how to act around you. He's so busy all the time, so you're like...his sanctuary!"

You didn't really know how to deal with this information. "He talks about me to you all?"

The Melusines looked at each other again. "Uh, Everallin, you weren't supposed to tell them that," Menthe whispered.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, you felt like laughing. Maybe, just maybe, your roommate was right. "Okay, everyone. I'll try."

The crimson leaves had mostly turned brown and rotted off of the branches, leaving them bare. The ground was somewhat damp, although you brought a thick blanket with you that blocked the moisture from seeping through. It was no scenery for a picnic, but there was nothing you could do about it. 

At least it wasn't raining anymore. However, the sky was still overcast, still threatening to rain at any moment. 

You put down your picnic basket and sat down, gazing off into the distance. Today, you would find out once and for all if your relationship with Neuvillette was truly over. 

After the meeting with the Melusines, you decided to confront Neuvillette once and for all, if only to put your own mind at ease. 

First, you wrote a note for Neuvillette. It read as follows:

Monsieur Neuvillette,

I hope this finds you well. I have received your previous note, and I respect your decision. However, I would very much like to have that picnic with you, one last time. Though I can't possibly imagine your thoughts and reasons, I do know one thing for certain: our relationship deserves to end on a good note. 

I will be waiting for you at the spot where we viewed the autumn leaves together. Please feel free to come or disregard this note entirely. I am fine with either choice and wish you the best.

You entrusted it to Sedene, who eagerly assured you that she would get it to Neuvillette no matter what. Did all the Melusines in the city know about you two? 

Next, you and your roommate worked together to make the picnic. You also asked the Melusines for advice on what to make, and they were only too happy to help. You made a promise to yourself that no matter what happened (and the big dent it would make in your savings), you would treat your roommate and the Melusines to a big meal in the future. 

You had been hesitant about the picnic at first since it felt foolish to do all that work without even knowing if Neuvillette would show up. But your friend reasoned that "at least you'll have a nice meal to comfort yourself with," and you agreed.

And now the day had arrived. 

You weren't sure where you should be looking. You didn't think you could handle looking at him approaching you directly, but you had no idea which direction he would be coming from. You adjusted your seated position several times. Should you sit cross-legged or with your legs stretched out for a more casual, nonchalant feel? Your stomach was making little flips, and your palms were clammy despite the cool temperature. You tried not to think about anything, especially the possibility that he wouldn't show up. 

The clouds threatened to rain at any moment. They loomed so closely that it felt like you could practically touch them. 

Inexplicably, you recalled that old legend of the hydro dragon and how it rained when it cried. You wondered what it was so sad about these days.

"Hey, hydro dragon!" you shout up at the sky, mostly to relieve your own tension. "I'm going to need you to hold back those tears for today! Or else I'll never forgive you!" Man, yelling does feel really good.

You glare at the clouds, which, to your astonishment, parted a little before your eyes. Oh Archons...is the hydro dragon listening to me?

"The hydro dragon would not deserve your forgiveness," a familiar and, as you realized now, dearly missed voice sounded from behind you.

Why does he keep showing up at the worst times? You resisted the urge to jump into the sea and turned around. 

Neuvillette looked as stately and elegant as he always did, but you thought that his eyes held a hint of melancholy that wasn't there before. 

"Monsieur Neuvillette!" your voice cracked, and you cleared your throat. "You really came! I'm so happy to see you...haha..."

Neuvillette didn't say anything but simply stared at you. He was probably thinking he made a huge mistake coming here. You decided that you would simply barrel on without thinking about anything. That could all come later.

"Sit, sir!" you patted the blanket. "Now, I know that you said that you no longer want to see me, but I think it's a shame to end things on such an abrupt note. Even though the weather isn't cooperating with us right now, I do want to enjoy this lovely picnic with you. It's made by me, my roommate, and the Melusines."

You smiled with what you hoped was a reassuring smile, but it seemed to backfire once again, as Neuvillette seemed to clench his jaw and step back. Maybe he thought you poisoned the food. 

You opened the basket and took out the food to show him that it was completely safe. "See, I've got bacon and mushroom sandwiches, apple pie, Poissonchant pie, and a nice warm carrot stew made from the purest waters in Fontaine. Oh, and I also have bottles of that water if you prefer that. The Melusines helped me get it from the mountains up north." 

Neuvillette was still standing, looking down at you with an indescribable expression. Act cool, [Name], you told yourself and bit into a sandwich. It really was good. You tried your best to act unbothered and nonchalant.

Finally, Neuvillette sat down and reached for one of the bottles of water. He brought it to his mouth and drank it, then slowly closed his eyes. Success! But now you suddenly realized how small this blanket was. Your knees were practically touching his. You turned your head to the side to avoid staring at him but felt a gaze on the back of your head as you did so.

The two of you ate and drank in silence. It was awkward, to say the least. You kept thinking about how to bring up the main topic. Should you subtly lead up to it or ask him outright? The picnic was diminishing; soon it would be finished, and he would have no reason to stay here any longer. You imagined him his tall back walking away from you. Maybe that would be the last you'd ever see of it. Your heart clenched. You didn't want that to happen, not while you still had the power to stop it.

"Um..." you ventured, but before you could say anything, Neuvillette spoke first.

"...You shouldn't have wasted your time and efforts on me. I'm unworthy of it after how I treated you." His voice was quiet, so much so that you had to lean closer to hear him.

"Well, it was a pretty cold move to suddenly tell someone you're not going to see them anymore through a note, without even giving them a reason," you admitted. A raindrop landed on your nose. "But I don't think we're past the point of no return yet. After all, I decided to do this, and you agreed to meet with me."

Neuvillette didn't say anything. You decided to take this as a good sign.

"So...why did you send me that note? Was it something I did?" 

"No, of course not. You've never been anything less than delightful," the speed with which he said that was surprising. "The fault lies with me. I completely forgot my position in regard to you."

You tilted your head, not understanding.

There was a brief pause before he continued. "I was very pleased when you agreed to join me on the second weekend, and the subsequent weekends after. I believed that you...enjoyed my company, just as much as I did yours. I wanted to take you to as many places as I could, just so I could see your reactions to them. And yet, I failed to consider the fact that you might not want to go on these trips, or that you might have felt an obligation to accompany me because I am your superior. And then I learned that because of me, your personal life has been affected negatively."

"Huh? What do you mean by my personal life?"

Neuvillette's expression didn't really change, but you thought that he looked a bit embarrassed. "...I overheard your conversation with your friend in the opera house. Because of my willfulness, you have been neglecting your friends and...unable to pursue romantic relationships."

Your mind was whirling with all this new information. "Wait, wait, hold on. You overheard that conversation? Does that mean you saw me in the audience that day?"

"Yes."

"Oh...if you were close enough to hear us, does that mean...you wanted to talk to me after the trial?"

"Yes. I wanted to compliment you on your sketch."

"Sketch?" At your quizzical look, Neuvillette slowly pulled out a well-thumbed piece of paper from his pocket. It looked like it had been opened and closed many times. He handed it to you, and you opened it. 

It was the sketch of Neuvillette you had unconsciously done all those weeks ago. It felt like an eternity had passed since then.

You looked up to see him staring at you intently, his eyes filled with naked hope and self-loathing. It was like you were looking at yourself in the mirror.

You were also somewhat reminded of those otters you saw underwater, but you weren't about to tell him that.

Laughter bubbled up within you. Your roommate was right. When you got right down to it, the two of you were the same.

You carefully placed the sketch back in his hand and closed his fingers over it. Then, you looked right into his eyes. "Monsieur Neuvillette...you are a great fool."

He blinked, then nodded. "Yes."

"At first, it might have been as you said. I went to the places you told me to be because I was so scared of offending you. But as I got to know you more, I learned that you were nothing like what I was expecting, and I began to look forward to our time together eagerly every week. Because of you, I saw and learned things that I would have never encountered. I chose to spend time with you because I like you," Realizing that could cause misunderstandings, you added, somewhat weakly, "As a very, very dear friend to me. If anything, I'm the one who should be feeling guilty for forcing you to rearrange your schedule just to make time for me or making you feel obliged to take me to places."

"It's no great matter. I can simply make up that work during the week. And thinking of places to invite you to has never been a chore."

"Don't overwork yourself," you couldn't help but scold. "So, you see, we're both chronic worriers who constantly overthink everything, not realizing that everything can be solved by just talking to each other."

Neuvillette smiled. It was a small smile, but your breath caught. "Yes, I suppose we are."

"Next time, I'll be the one inviting you somewhere. I actually know some pretty niche spots in the city. Oh, but you might already know them, though."

"Please don't worry about that. I'll be happy to follow you to wherever you may take me."

"So, that means there will be a next time, then?" you said.

"But of course. We need to make up for lost time, after all."

"Great! Oh, maybe we can invite my friend or the Melusines on some outings, too?"

"As long as it makes you happy, I will never say no to it."

You turned red. Sometimes, Neuvillette would say the strangest things that made your heart beat faster and your legs feel restless.

"But, there is one thing I want to ask of you," Neuvillette said. He sounded serious.

"What is it?"

"As we are friends...I believe it is improper for only one party to address the other with their title, so..." he trailed off. Was Neuvillette nervous?"

"Oh!" You got what he wanted to say. "Do you want me to call you by just your name?"

"Yes, very much so."

"Okay...Neuvillette."

The sun broke through the clouds at that moment. You saw slivers of blue sky for the first time in weeks. It looked like this bad weather was finally ending.

"Wow, look at that," you breathe. "Do you think the hydro dragon is happy now?"

You could hear Neuvillette's smile in his voice as he said, "Yes, I think he is."

[kkanabel]

caffeine addiction - chapter 11

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader / Coffee Shop! + Fashion? AU

directory/m.list

⇦ previous chapter - next chapter ⇨

words: ~2.8k

One espresso shot at a time turned into three shots of espresso at a time, but it was all being downed by you. Both you and Bakugou were currently in the back room of the Kindeki store next door for your daily work after your shift at the coffee shop, which Bakugou had to hire more employees for. The coffee shop was currently bustling– next door was loud and filled with chatter of something along the lines of “When will they be back?”

The cork boards on the walls were covered from top to bottom in a spread of photos of Gothic Architecture– rib vaults, flying buttresses, and elaborate tracery all framing stained glass windows. Papers with designs, patterns, and sketches were sprawled all over the mahogany desks. A couple of these papers had coffee stains on them. Bakugou leaned back in his chair with a sigh, flinching when the pencil tucked behind his ear fell behind him onto the polished marble ground with a thunk. You drank the last of your iced espresso shot before picking up the fallen pencil and placing your sketchpad onto Bakugou’s brown corduroy-clad lap. 

Bakugou in his zone was truly something to admire. He wore blue light glasses when researching online to reduce strain in his eyes, but did they suit him well. It was a blessing to see him in these moments– all focused while sketching up a storm– pencil lead all over his fingers from blending the graphite onto the paper. “Dramatic, but not overwhelming…” He’d mutter while taking a picture from the cork board and using it as a reference for a pair of pants. Each stroke of his pencil was so easy and well-practiced, making it look easy. He could transform something from his mind onto paper and then fabric like it was made for him– and it was. Red eyes narrowed in on a small imperfection on the paper, and it would disappear like it never existed. 

The entire day was filled with espresso shot after the other– and after that were your brainstorming sessions with Bakugou. Deep plums and jewel tones paired with blacks and grays offset with metallics filled the room along with intricate lace that you spent days designing yourself. The room was filled with a litany of different cloths and fabrics– some stiff and some flowy. Combining luxurious, draping fabrics with strong silhouettes that emphasize shoulders, cinched waists, and long, flowing elements reminiscent of Gothic cathedrals’ towering height with intricate embroidery mimicking Gothic rose windows and lace patterns that resemble wrought-iron gates.

You work on embroidery that mimics the stained glass windows of 12th century cathedrals, ensuring symmetry in the embroidery and a touch of asymmetry in the silhouette to imitate the cathedral as a whole. You’re planning on putting actual pieces of glass onto the dress’ corset later.

You take a step back and stand over the desk, arms crossed, eyeing the latest design Bakugou just sketched out. The jacket’s sharp, angular lines mimic the Gothic arches you’ve been obsessing over for weeks, but something feels off. “It’s too… aggressive,” you say, tilting your head. “We’re going for structured, but this feels like it’s about to stab someone.” “Tch. It’s Gothic. It’s supposed to look like it could stab someone,” Bakugou retorts, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. “You said ‘sharp,’ and that’s what you’re getting.” Rolling your eyes, you grab the pencil from his hand and start redrawing the shoulder lines, softening the angles just slightly. “I meant sharp in a stylish way. Not like... this is going to start a fight in the conference room.” Bakugou snorts, watching you make adjustments. “Isn’t that the whole point of fashion? Making people talk, starting shit?”

You pause for a moment, considering his words. “Okay, maybe. But I want them to talk about how good it looks, not how dangerous it is to wear.” “Some people like danger,” he quips, raising an eyebrow at you with a dangerous smirk playing on his lips. “Maybe you’re just scared to take risks.” “Risks?” You turn to him with a raised brow. “I’m the one embroidering literal stained glass into a dress. If anything, you’re the one playing it safe.” Bakugou leans in a little, his red eyes glinting with amusement. “Oh, yeah? I’d say I’m taking a pretty big risk working with someone who can’t even keep up with me.” You backup a little and scoff, ignoring the way your heart clenches at his teasing tone. “Please. I’m doing the hard part here. You just scribble a couple lines and call it a day.” His toothy grin widens, and he nudges the sketchpad toward you. “If it’s so easy, why don’t you do the pants, too?”

“Because I’m not trying to show off like you,” you say, pushing the pad back at him. “But if you need my help, just say the word.” Bakugou chuckles lowly. “Help? You wish. You just wanna see me sweat.” His eyes flit down to your lower face for a split second. You blink, not catching the double meaning in his words. “What? No, I just… ugh, whatever. Just finish the damn pants.” You check a nearby mirror to make sure you don’t have anything in your teeth– why was he looking there? He leans back, folding his arms behind his head, watching as you turn back to your embroidery. “You’re cute when you get all flustered.” “Flustered?” you mutter, not really paying attention. “I’m not flustered. I’m just trying to fix your mess.”

Bakugou chuckles again, the sound low and teasing. “Whatever you say, princess.” You pause but brush it off, assuming he’s just being his usual cocky self. “Just focus, Bakugou. I don’t want to be stuck here all night.” He smirks to himself, watching you concentrate on the embroidery, completely oblivious to the small ways he’s been trying to get under your skin. “Yeah, yeah. But don’t worry—you’re not getting rid of me that easily.” Rolling your eyes, you get back to work at your station. Your fingers glide over luxurious fabric, testing the weight, the drape. The wool you chose for the structured blazer clings to your fingertips, sturdy yet pliant under your touch. "It's still missing something," you mumble, tracing a pattern you’ve yet to commit to paper. Beside you, Bakugou furrows his brow, lost in his sketchbook, muttering half-formed ideas. The soft scratch of his pencil across the page fills the air, almost rhythmic, like a second heartbeat in the room. “Do you think we need a stronger contrast here?” you ask, holding up a swatch of deep plum silk next to the black jacquard fabric that’s been frustrating you all day.

He glances up, blue light glasses sliding down his nose. “It’ll look washed out. Try a metallics to bring out the color,” he suggests, eyes flicking back down to his sketch without waiting for a response. It’s so casual, so assured. He doesn’t doubt himself—not for a second—and the way his hands move from sketch to reference, it’s infuriating how easily his mind works through these problems.

Meanwhile, your sketchbook is a mess of crossed-out lines and question marks, drafts discarded before they even make it to the final page. You flip through your notes, eyeing the reference photos pinned to the corkboard. Flying buttresses and towering arches loom in the background, begging to be translated into the clean lines of a suit or a dress.

“I think I’ve got it.” You grab your sketchpad, pulling it back onto your lap. Sharp, structured lines—just like pointed arches—make their way onto the page. Your pencil flies, inspired. “This! Like pointed arches! Sharp, structured, but with curves!” you exclaim, waving the sketch in Bakugou’s direction.

He stops long enough to glance over. “Not bad,” he grunts, but his fingers twitch toward your sketchpad. “Let me fix the angle here. And you need a stronger taper at the waist.” Before you can protest, he’s taken your design and made a few deft adjustments that somehow elevate the whole thing.

You watch in begrudging admiration as he perfects it effortlessly. Each stroke of his pencil adds depth, structure—it's flawless, and somehow, irritatingly so. There’s no denying it: Bakugou was born to do this. 

You bite back the jealousy that nags at you, pushing yourself to sketch with renewed vigor. The stakes are high, and you’re not about to let him outshine you. Not when this collection—the fusion of Gothic splendor and cutting-edge business fashion—is yours just as much as his. 

Your hand flies across the pages, the scratches of the pencil against paper mixed with the trills of music sung in Middle English to truly encapsulate the feeling of the medieval architecture you were emulating on paper. 

Your hand cramps as you set the pencil down, finally satisfied with the latest design. The blazer dress, now meticulously sketched out with pointed arches forming elegant, sharp lapels, lies sprawled on the desk between the two of you. Bakugou leans back in his chair, one arm draped over the backrest, surveying his sketches with a critical eye.

“Looks like we’ve nailed the structure,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair, which has grown messy from hours of working in silence. You nod, rubbing at your temples, the espresso shots from earlier starting to wear off. Just as you’re about to suggest a break, Bakugou’s phone lights up on the desk, buzzing incessantly. At first, he ignores it—he's been too immersed in perfecting the collection to care about any distractions. But the buzzing doesn't stop.

He frowns, picking up the phone. You can tell from the sudden tension in his jaw that something’s up.

“What is it?” you ask, stretching your arms over your head.

“Tch. It’s my mom.” Bakugou’s expression shifts from mild annoyance to a mixture of confusion and disbelief as he scans through the string of notifications. He scrolls for a moment, and then his phone buzzes again, this time with a notification from the Masaki store’s account.

He glances up at you, his red eyes sharp. “Check your phone.”

A sense of unease curls in your stomach as you reach for your own device. The moment you unlock it, you see it—another flood of Instagram notifications, messages, and emails. All your social media apps are practically screaming for your attention. You swipe to your email, eyes widening as you scroll through the dozens—no, thousands—of pre-order confirmations. The Kindeki PR team has emailed you countless times– along with dozens of journalists asking for an interview.

“What the hell…” you whisper under your breath.

The notifications are relentless, and when you switch to Instagram, you finally understand. The Masaki Official account has posted the photo—the one from the café. The picture of you and Bakugou, mid-laugh, caught in a candid moment of camaraderie and partnership and… something else. The caption is simple but effective: “Fashion royalty at work. Coming soon: Masa x Kin x Deki collection.”

Your jaw drops as you read the comments beneath the photo.

“CUTEST COUPLE”

“fashion royalty fr… they a couple tho??”

“take all my money NOW.”

You scroll down further, but the app glitches momentarily, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of activity. Your phone buzzes again, but it’s Bakugou who breaks the silence first, reading from an email: “Sales are up by 65%. Pre-orders are through the roof.” You look up at him, wide-eyed, but he’s already dialing his mom. “Oi, what the hell did you post?” From behind you, another notification dings: Kindeki (aka your precious aunt) has just uploaded a behind-the-scenes video on the store’s Instagram. In the background, you hear a familiar cackle from Bakugou’s mom. You glance over at Bakugou, who catches your expression with an eye roll. “Looks like we’re not done yet.”

The clang of the last chair being stacked on the table echoed through the empty café, a quiet contrast to the buzzing streetlights outside. The Kindeki shop was already locked, but you followed Bakugou to his café to close. You yawned, rubbing your eyes as you pulled down the metal shutter halfway. The day had been long—filled with both customers and creativity. Bakugou was wiping down the counter, his movements deliberate, but you could see the tension in his shoulders. The quiet was almost comforting after the frenzy of the day. “I’ll lock up,” Bakugou grunted, grabbing the keys from the hook. You nodded, moving to flip off the last few lights when suddenly, the distinct murmur of voices outside the window grew louder. You froze, glancing toward the front of the café. You swore you saw a flash of light from outside the shop for a split second.

“Bakugou… what’s that?” you asked cautiously, squinting through the glass door. He moved past you, standing close enough for you to catch the heat radiating off him as he squinted out into the street. A low grunt rumbled in his throat, and you followed his gaze. Outside, you could see them—reporters, camera flashes lighting up the dusk, a couple of people holding phones up, trying to capture any glimpse of movement inside. The soft murmur had turned into a low buzz of voices and questions being thrown into the air. “Great,” you muttered, “exactly what we need.” “Tch, of course they’d show up now.” Bakugou rolled his eyes, glaring at the crowd. “Stupid vultures.” He crossed his arms, muscles tensing as he glanced over at you. “Stay behind me.” He moved toward the door, his hand clenching around the keyring in his palm, eyes narrowed like he was already considering breaking some cameras. “Are we seriously doing this?” you asked, following him but keeping a slight distance. The last thing you wanted was your face on a hundred Instagram stories and all over news articles.

Bakugou glanced over his shoulder, his lips curving into a smirk. “What, scared of a little attention? You’re the one who wanted to be in fashion, remember?” You rolled your eyes, biting back a retort as he unlocked the door just enough to speak through the crack. “Shop’s closed,” he barked at the crowd, voice low but sharp enough to cut through the noise. “Bakugou! Are you and her working on a new line together?” “What’s the inspiration for the upcoming season?” “Any truth to the rumors about your relationship?” You winced at the last question. Bakugou’s scowl deepened. “Back off,” he growled. “Get a damn life.” He slammed the door shut, locking it in one swift motion before turning to you. “We’re getting out of here.” You blinked. “And how, exactly, are we going to do that? They’re right outside.” His smirk widened, mischief dancing in his crimson eyes. “There’s two back exits, genius. You think I don’t plan for this kinda crap?”

Without waiting for a response, he grabbed your wrist and tugged you along. The café lights dimmed behind you as he led you through the narrow hallway toward the back door. The sound of your footsteps echoed softly, mingling with the faint buzz of reporters still stationed outside. Once outside, Bakugou paused, glancing around before pulling you along again. The back alley was empty, the cool night air brushing against your skin as the two of you hurried through the narrow path. The distant hum of the city faded slightly, replaced by the more familiar sounds of your breathing and Bakugou’s muttered complaints about the reporters. You exhaled in relief as you made it a few blocks away, the noise fading. “Guess we’re a hot topic now, huh?” Bakugou’s voice was teasing, but there was an undercurrent of pride in it. You shot him a look, shaking your head. “I didn’t sign up for this level of attention.” He shrugged, smirking as he crossed his arms. “Too late, princess. Fame comes with a price.” There was a glint of amusement in his eyes as he added, “You better get used to it.”

You were about to retort when you felt the heat of his gaze settle on you, a little too heavy, a little too intense. He took a step closer, just enough for you to notice the way his eyes lingered on yours, something unreadable in them. Before you could say anything, he dropped the teasing smirk and muttered, “I’ll protect you from those vultures. Grew up with it. But don’t expect me to be this nice all the time.” You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden softness in his voice. He turned and started walking ahead before you could respond, leaving you standing there, heart fluttering slightly as you tried to make sense of the tension in the air. “Come on,” he called over his shoulder, “we’ve got work to do tomorrow.” And just like that, the moment was gone, leaving you wondering how Bakugou could make your heart race with just a few words. As the two of you walked side by side, the city lights flickering above, you couldn’t help but glance at him, a small smile tugging at your lips.

a/n: we're back!

lol not beta read again please let me know if you see any typos or anything that's just like. wrong.

i had a looooot of trouble with writing this chapter bc describing clothing aint my best suit, but we're workin on it (thats why im writing this fic in the first place tbh) :> also, my taglist is open! thank you to @itztaki for being the first LOL-- just message me or comment on this if you'd like to be added!

thank you for reading & stay hydrated, y'all <3

directory/m.list

⇦ previous chapter - next chapter ⇨ Taglist: @itztaki

[frutigerfischl]

SHE PAINTS HER FINGERS WITH A CLOSE PRESCISION

⌗ SONG┆the ballad of the mona lisa ★ ₊ ˚⟡

⌗ TAGS┆gn reader, could be read as platonic or romantic, art club member reader, art club member teri, wholesome ★ ₊ ˚⟡

⌗ NOTE┆im getting back into tawog since i used to watch it a lot when i was younger :3 ★ ₊ ˚⟡

Teri hadn’t meant to join the art club.

At least, that’s what she told herself as she hovered by the corkboard outside the library, her paws tightening on the strap of her messenger bag. The bright flyer pinned to the center of the board had caught her attention: Art Club Meeting – All Skill Levels Welcome! The letters were bold and playful, doodles of brushes and palettes spilling across the corners.

It wasn’t that she thought she couldn’t draw—she could, in her own neat, precise way. She was meticulous, and she liked that about herself. But “art club” conjured images of loose, messy creativity, the kind she couldn’t quite reconcile with her penchant for straight edges and perfect proportions.

Still, something about the flyer tugged at her.

She stood there long enough that you noticed. You were stepping out of the library, a smudge of cerulean paint on your cheek and a sketchbook tucked under your arm. Your voice broke through her spiraling thoughts.

“You interested in joining?”

Teri jumped, her heart giving a startled lurch. Turning, she found you smiling at her—a little lopsided, a little curious, but kind. Up close, she could see the faint ink stains on your fingertips, the worn edges of your sleeves, and the glint of a paintbrush poking out of your pocket.

“Oh, um…” Teri stammered, suddenly self-conscious. “I was just… looking.”

You tilted your head, considering her. “Well, if you’re thinking about it, you should come by. It’s not scary or anything, I promise. We’re more about having fun than being perfect.”

Her cheeks flushed—an odd, papery sensation for someone made of paper—and she ducked her head. “I don’t know if I’m very… fun.”

“Everyone’s fun,” you replied, matter-of-fact. “You just have to find your thing.”

Teri hesitated. She wanted to say no, to shuffle away and bury herself in her usual routines. But there was something in your voice, in the easy warmth of your smile, that made her nod before she could think better of it.

The art room was brighter than she’d expected. Sunlight streamed in through wide windows, spilling across shelves crowded with jars of paint, stacks of sketchpads, and brushes of all shapes and sizes. The air smelled faintly of turpentine and pencils, a sharp but strangely comforting scent.

You greeted her the moment she stepped inside, waving her over to a cluster of tables pushed together in the center of the room. The other club members were already busy, heads bent over their projects, laughter and chatter filling the air. Teri clutched her bag a little tighter, feeling like an outsider.

“Hey,” you said softly, guiding her to an open seat beside you. “I’m glad you came.”

Teri managed a small smile, her nerves buzzing. “Thanks for inviting me.”

You slid a piece of paper toward her, along with a tin of colored pencils. “No pressure or anything. Just start wherever you feel like. If you need help, I’m right here.”

For a moment, she simply stared at the blank page, paralyzed by the possibilities. But then, tentatively, she picked up a pencil and began to sketch. The lines came slowly at first—neat and deliberate, the way she always worked—but as the minutes passed, she started to lose herself in the rhythm of it. Her paw moved almost instinctively, creating clean, graceful strokes.

You watched her, quietly impressed. “You’re really good at that.”

Teri blinked, startled by the compliment. “Oh… It’s nothing special. I just like… keeping things tidy.”

“Are you kidding? That’s awesome.” Your grin was genuine, your enthusiasm contagious. “Seriously, you have such a steady hand. I can’t draw a straight line to save my life.”

She laughed, a soft, papery sound that surprised even her. “Maybe you’re not supposed to. Straight lines are kind of… boring, aren’t they?”

“Exactly!” you said, and she realized you’d been waiting for her to see it, to let go of the rigid expectations she’d built around herself.

Over the next hour, you and Teri settled into an easy rhythm. She sketched with quiet focus while you painted with bold, sweeping strokes, occasionally glancing over to admire each other’s work. You asked her questions—about her favorite colors, her favorite subjects—and she found herself answering without hesitation. There was no judgment in your voice, only curiosity.

By the time the meeting ended, Teri felt lighter, as if a weight she hadn’t even noticed was finally lifting. You walked her to the door, the last rays of sunlight spilling across the hallway.

“So,” you said, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Think you’ll come back next week?”

Teri hesitated, but only for a moment. Then she nodded, a small smile tugging at the edges of her mouth. “Yeah. I think I will.”

“Good,” you replied, your voice warm. “It’s nice having you around.”

As she walked home that evening, Teri felt a quiet thrill fluttering in her chest. Maybe she wasn’t the kind of person who splattered paint or sketched wild, messy lines. But she was learning how to let loose.

[itzynabi]

that’s so evie episode 38

posted: 15 dec 2023

word count: 1.5k

warnings: mention of crimes, kind of swearing, anger management, discussion of mental health

an: another episode out RAHHHH. insta post found here. words in [] are captions. feedback and reblogs are much appreciated 💐

eve’s masterlist // that’s so evie

“Hello and welcome to That’s So Evie,” Eve greeted from inside the studio. “Today’s guest is an ahjumma,” she said, Taeyeon’s laugh being heard off camera.

“She’s the First Ahjumma. Like, you know the First Lady? She’s the First Ahjumma,” she explained.

“Cut it out!” Taeyeon complained from offscreen.

Eve nodded. “Okay, okay. Please come in!”

[Veteran idol with unrivalled vocals, Taeyeon!]

[Coming back November 27 with a new mini-album, To. X]

Taeyeon walked into frame as the staff cheered, bowing as she approached Eve. She sat down on the left of Eve, crossing her legs. “Hello, everyone! I’m Taeyeon,” she introduced herself.

“Can you introduce your album now?” Eve asked. “Our activity for today relates to it.”

“Okay. I’m making a comeback with the mini-album To. X with the title track of the same name,” Taeyeon said. “The song is about the aftermath of a relationship after realising the other person was controlling and manipulative. Please give it a lot of love.” She waved at the camera.

“In front of us here, we have writing equipment–” she pointed at the sketch pads, markers, pens, and highlighters– “and we will be using them to write a letter To. X,” she revealed, Taeyeon gasping.

She brushed her hand against Eve’s arm. “Do you have an ex?” She asked, her lips jutting out in a pout.

Eve shook her head. “No, no. We won’t be writing to an ex, necessarily, but instead to somebody who has wronged us. You’ll write a letter to someone that wronged you and I’ll write one to someone that wronged me.”

“This will be easy for you because you don’t forget anything.”

“Nabi’s very forgiving, though,” Taewoo, one of the camera directors, said.

“Nabi?” Taeyeon looked at Eve, who was trying her hardest not to smile. “You’ve done a good job at fooling everyone,” she teased the younger girl before looking at the camera again. “I don’t know of anybody that she’s forgiven. She doesn’t even talk to them anymore.”

“But,” Eve started, “just because you forgive someone, doesn’t mean that you have to invite them into your life again. I can forgive someone and never talk to them for the rest of my life and there wouldn’t be anything wrong with that. The reason people are hesitant to forgive is because they think that they have to speak to whoever hurt them and be friends with them again, but they don’t. Nobody is entitled to be in anyone’s life.”

“That’s very wise,” Taeyeon agreed, nodding her head. “With that being said, have you ever forgiven someone?” She asked, pointing at Eve.

Eve cleared her throat, feeling cornered by her friend. “Let’s get started on our letters,” she said. She gave Taeyeon one of the notebooks — ignoring her laughter at Eve’s behaviour —, taking the other one for herself. “You can write a letter to any person you want to. You don’t have to read it out or show it to me, you can keep it to yourself and do whatever you want with it.”

“So it’s like journaling,” Taeyeon commented, opening her sketchpad.

Eve snapped her fingers in agreement. “It’s exactly like journaling.” She opened her sketchpad and reached for one of the markers. She took the lid off, getting ready to write.

“You already know who you’re writing about?” Taeyeon gasped, reaching for a pen. “I’m still thinking about it.”

Eve sighed. “It’s not my fault the most annoying people keep getting sent my way. There’s literally nothing I can do about it.”

Taeyeon laughed. “Okay, okay. Why don’t I have anyone that annoys me?” She muttered. Eve wrote the title of her letter, Taeyeon peeking over her shoulder to look at it. “Omo sesange!” She exclaimed. “Is she allowed to write things like that?”

“What did she write?” Jiho, one of the lighting staff, asked.

“The title of her letter is–”

[This is a family program]

“The title comes from my heart,” Eve said, not looking up when everyone gasped.

Taeyeon cackled, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. “Which part of your heart does this come from?”

“The bitter part. Stop laughing and write your letter,” she lightly scolded.

Taeyeon hit her thigh as she finished laughing. “I’ve thought of someone, so I’ll start writing mine now.” She uncapped her pen, writing a title. “At least my title is fine,” she childishly bragged.

Eve peeked at Taeyeon’s paper. “What’s fine about–”

[This is a family program]

“Yah, at least it’s better than–”

[This is a family program]

The next scene showed them both focusing on their letters, signifying that some clips had been edited out. They weren’t speaking as they wrote their letters.

“Nabi,” Taeyeon called out. “How do you deal with your anger? Because I know you’re a very angry person.”

“Uh, I don’t really do anything with my anger. I don’t act on anger or anything like that, I just… ignore it.”

“How do you ignore it?”

Eve frowned cutely, looking up at Taeyeon, who was still focused on her letter. “Let’s say my phone is taking a long time to load a website, I’ll feel a murderous rage and see a vision of me throwing my phone violently against the wall or out of the window. But if I act on my impulse, I’ll have to fix my phone or buy a new one, but most importantly, I’ll have to explain why I did what I did.”

“Explaining why you did something makes you realise how trivial the reasoning was?”

“Yes.” Eve nodded. “If I could do things without having to explain myself, I’d be unstoppable.”

“Normally, I tell people to express their anger and not to keep it in, but you should keep it in,” Taeyeon said, chuckling lightly. “Because if you expressed your anger, you’d be arrested.”

“What do you think I’d be arrested for?”

“Arson or aggravated assault,” she answered without missing a beat.

At that point, they had forgotten about their letters, instead just talking to each other.

“Do you remember?” Taeyeon suddenly asked. “At one of the award shows in… 2015, all of my hair accessories were from you.”

Eve stared at Taeyeon blankly for a few seconds before gasping. “I remember. Taeyeonie called me and asked me to bring all of my hair accessories to the SM building, so I got into a taxi and helped style her.”

“It was because my hair stylist was suddenly sick and all of the other hair stylists at the company were busy,” Taeyeon explained. “I had to get my hair done, but there wasn’t anyone there to help me, so I thought to myself, ‘Who do I know that has hair accessories and can do hair?’ and I thought of you. You did my hair for me that day.”

“I should add that to my resumé,” Eve joked. “One time hairstylist of Kim Taeyeon.”

“You did a really good job,” Taeyeon praised Eve. “I really liked it.”

“That’s good.”

“And I remember, when you were preparing for your audition for JYP Entertainment, I asked you why you didn’t join SM. Do you remember what you said?”

Eve shook her head, struggling to remember.

“You were like, ‘Well, the thing with SM is… there’s always something going on at that company. I don’t know how many times I’d be willing to do damage control.’ That’s what you said!” Taeyeon said, dissolving into a fit of laughter.

Eve clapped her hands as she also laughed. “I was truly onto something back then,” she said. “I was right, wasn’t I? There is always something happening at SM?”

“You foresaw the future,” Taeyeon agreed, comedically shaking her head. “How did you know?”

Eve leaned back, placing her arms behind her to lean on them. “I didn’t choose this life, this life chose me.” She momentarily zoned out before snapping out of it. “We’re supposed to be writing our hatred letters,” she suddenly remembered, picking up her marker again.

“Oh, right,” Taeyeon muttered, uncapping her pen again. They continued writing their letters, talking every so often. They talked about Taeyeon’s trainee days, Eve’s workload and both of their mental healths.

“I’m being so, so, so, so serious when I say this,” Eve said, waving her marker around as she spoke, “the main people that help me with my mental health — other than my therapist, of course — are Taeyeonie, Jonghyunie and Kibumie. I have old letters that they’ve given me and I read them and they give me strength, they’ve given me lots of advice and words of wisdom… They’re fun people.”

“Thank you.” Taeyeon bowed her head slightly, staring at her letter. “We’re going through similar things, so it’s nice talking to each other about it and exchanging different coping mechanisms,” she added. “Since we understand what the other is going through, we’re able to personalise it and try help each other.”

“Right, right,” Eve agreed, finishing off her letter. She looked to her left at Taeyeon, seeing how far along the older woman was. Within five minutes, Taeyeon had also finished. “Okay, everyone, we’re done. I’m not going to show my letter because… Well, I don’t think it can be broadcasted. As I was writing, I could feel all of my anger transfer to the paper.”

“I’m also not going to show my letter,” Taeyeon said.

“Thank you for watching another episode of That’s So Evie. Please check out To. X. I love you!”

reactions

tagging: @seolboba // @ateezivy // @ateezjuliet // @cafemilk-tea // @smh-anon // @alixnsuperstxr // @cosmicwintr // @girlzwfun // @txt-yaomi // @moongrlz

©️ kim nabi

[phantomwritezstuff077]

The Runt - Billy the Kid

Warnings for thic chapter: hints of PTSD?, slight violence, mention of blood, kind of sad Laurie at the end

Chapter Four

(Sentences written in italics are when the characters are speaking in Spanish)

The next morning, Laurie was gently shaken awake by Billy and she instinctively shot up, quickly getting to her feet. She had been classically conditioned to be up and at ‘em the second somebody wakes her up. Just another fucked up thing she was used to after living with Jesse and the gang for three stupid years. Laurie knew that Jesse must’ve figured out she had left, maybe he sent a search party out for her to bring her back? However she knew better than to think that. Jesse didn’t care about her enough to do that, he wouldn’t waste that man-power on someone like her.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Billy reassured, raising his hands in surrender. “Take it easy, kid.” He was shocked to have gained such a wild reaction from her just for waking her up. Once he’d seen that Laurie calmed down he spoke again. “We need to get moving.”

The traveling was long, but the duo made do. The rides were usually quiet, the two just enjoying each other's company and every so often pointing out wildlife that they thought was interesting. Laurie would get especially excited whenever they would run into deer. 

After a good few days of riding Billy and Laurie finally made it to the city of Chihuahua. An old man sat on the tall hill that Billy and Laurie were riding on and the two decided to approach and see if they had made it to the right place. Artax nickered, snorting as he tossed his head. 

“This Chihuahua?,” Billy asked as he pulled his horse, Brandy, to a stop as Laurie did the same with Artax beside him. The young red-head strained her neck, trying to get a better look at the old man that Billy was trying to speak to. However, there was no answer. Billy and Laurie exchanged looks before the younger girl shrugged and coaxed Artax into a lope, heading for the city.

The two of them did eventually find out that they were in the right place, checking into an inn and going up into their room. Laurie sat on the small chair in their room, drawing in her sketchpad while Billy looked out of the window. Both of their heads turned to the door when a little boy appeared, he looked to be about 9 or 10 years old.

“Do you two want me to clean your boots?,” the little boy asked in Spanish. Laurie got up, opening the cracked door fully with a soft smile.

“I just cleaned mine, but I’m sure my friend here would appreciate it,” Laurie replied, also using Spanish, her small smile faltered slightly when she noticed the boy was on a crutch but she quickly countered her reaction as Billy also handed the boy his boots before taking out a silver coin and giving it to him. 

“This is upfront,” Billy said, “You’ll get the rest when you bring our boots back later. We need them in an hour. You understand?”

“I understand, thank you, señor, señorita,” the boy said before hobbling away on his crutch, holding the boots in his hand tightly. 

An hour later, Billy opened the door to see if the kid who had taken his boots had left them by the door. And much to the outlaw’s dismay, they weren’t. And Laurie couldn’t help but crack up when Billy cussed under his breath and stormed downstairs to buy those shitty second-hand boots. Laurie followed, still hunching over a little bit as she giggled. She found it amusing that he had fallen for a scam, even though she too had been fooled by the boy. It was much funnier to laugh at the actual victim in this situation.

Billy and Laurie stepped outside, by now, the little red-head had calmed down from her laughing fit as she looked around the unfamiliar city. Hoping to find the familiar face of her mama, but to no avail. The city was very much alive, full of people smiling and laughing with each other, trading or buying items and other goods such as food that Laurie could have never even dreamed of having back at Jesse’s ranch. A grin spread across her face as she and Billy walked through the city.

She could definitely get used to this life.

Laurie went over to a fruit stall, taking an apple and handing the vendor some coins, smiling widely as she took a bite out of the fruit and raced back to Billy, basically dancing in excitement as her hands waved around a little bit. The apple was sweet as she took another bite into it. The fruit back at the ranch wasn’t very good, so Laurie never ate the fruit back there despite having a strange love for apples. So the girl was thrilled to find an apple that was actually good and that she could eat. Billy couldn’t help but chuckle at the girl’s excitement, he was a bit perplexed by the way she expressed her excitement but he didn’t stop her because it wasn’t hurting anyone.

However, when he caught sight of the little kid who had stolen his shoes now trying to pick-pocket another kid, he immediately ran after him, calling him a ‘little thief’ in Spanish. Leaving poor, confused Laurie alone with her apple before she ran after Billy, yelling at him to stop. The chase didn’t last long, just as Billy and Laurie ran into a laundry line circle, the two were ambushed. 

Laurie was socked in the face while Billy was being manhandled by a couple of other guys, he tried to grab his gun but that was quickly kicked away. Laurie was being pinned to the wall of a house as she struggled but to no avail. She wasn’t much of a fighter, given her size and how scrawny she was. And whoever had her pinned was using that to his advantage as he quickly pulled the scrunched up cash and compass from her pocket. He then pulled her away from the wall, throwing her to the ground. Laurie kicked him in the shin with a yell. 

A loud gunshot rang out, causing the group of muggers to scatter like rabbits, stealing Billy’s gun as they booked it. Laurie heaved, she could feel the blood drip from her mouth and run down her chin before dripping into the dirt. Billy saw this and stumbled to his feet, rushing over and helping her up, visibly concerned for the young teenager. The man who had helped them noticed that Billy was still struggling and he sighed, taking him and slinging his arm over his shoulder.

“You’re a tough kid. I could use someone like you. That kid with you could also be useful if we put some more meat on her bones,” the man said to Billy as he helped him walk. 

Laurie followed next to them and pretended like she didn’t basically just get called the runt again. It wasn’t anything new to her, but it hurt even worse coming from a stranger. 

But little did young Laurie know that this meet and greet would be the start of something much bigger than she was.

Literally and figuratively. 

A/N:

Shorter chapter because I'm tired, comicon was a lotta fun tho

Again, constructive criticism is appreciated <3

Billy and Laurie are my loves

Tag:

@slutforsnow

[multiplicity-positivity]

hi! not really sure if this is the place to ask but i'll give it a shot. do you have any tips on helping alters who dont speak to communicate better? at the moment theyre only communicating using emotions/feelings if that makes sense? but when they front it gets a bit tricky since they feel uncomfortable using words at all, including writing. we have another alter cofront with them to help "translate" but we dont really want to be doing this long-term since we want them to be able to do things for themselves too

Hi! We have a few alters in our system who are nonspeaking or who experience speech loss. Some of these alters are still struggling to express themselves, but we can share the tools we’ve been using to make it easier, and others we’ve heard about!

1) AAC

We use a combination of SoundingBoard and Visuals2Go, both downloaded from the iPhone AppStore! They’re free and easy to use, but they have a limited vocabulary. We’d suggest maybe getting some free apps for your headmates to try out, and keeping what works! If they like using AAC, it may be worth it to buy a paid app that has better options and a more user-friendly UI.

With AAC, you can string together words (with pictures) to form sentences, that your device will then speak aloud. No writing required, and reading isn’t essential for many of the available words and phrases! We’ve heard there is AAC that you can use to write and make posts as well, but we don’t know the name of any programs like this - sorry!

2) Communication Cards

We’re at work now or else I would include a picture of our communication cards. We have a bunch of index cards we’ve written words and statements on and grouped them together for easy access.

One group has common starter statements. “I want…” “Let’s go…” “Can I…” “Where is…” “How many…” “I can’t…” “I can…” “I don’t want…” and all sorts of little phrases. Another has verbs like “eat” “drink” “talk” “play” “sleep” “leave” “call” “walk” “sit” “stay” “look” and “go”. There is one with nouns, sorted by category (places, people, items, foods, weather, pronouns, and animals). And one with names of different alters, our POSIC hoarde, and our support team! It’s taken us a while to put it together, but we have one alter in particular who really benefits from using the cards to communicate.

3) Sign Language

None of our alters have learned any sign language, but if it sounds like it could help your headmates, perhaps your system could attempt learning some basic signs. This way you can help them sign to answer questions and express themself!

4) Drawing

If words and language in general is difficult, maybe getting them a little sketchpad or white board and encouraging them to draw out what they’re thinking may help! They don’t have to be great artists in order to express simple ideas, and this can allow them to connect with others even if both reading and writing are challenging.

5) Accessories

It may be a good idea to get some bracelets, rings, or other accessories that can express a few basic, essential ideas. We have three bracelets that we keep on us. The green one means “I’m happy and feeling comfortable!” the yellow means, “I’m okay but I’m a bit anxious and need some space.” and the red means “I am having a meltdown/doing poorly. I need to get somewhere calm and safe.” Maybe your system can get some sort of accessories and determine beforehand what sort of messages they convey. This way, your headmates will be able to express some basic or essential ideas quickly and effectively.

We hope that one of these options can help your headmates learn to communicate and express themselves better. Be sure to use ideas in your own way to make sure your accessibility tools will be useful for your headmates in particular! Thanks for reaching out, and take care!

Followers, if you have any ideas about communication tools or how to help alters/headmates express themselves, feel free to share!

🌸 Margo and 💫 Parker

[flamebearrel]

since you're doing an osc ask game, do I ask a number to you? if so, let's go with number 14

14 - What do you care about most in an object show?

While both are important, loveable characters will always stand out over perfect writing to me! I always like it when they focus on what makes the characters unique, between their interactions with each other and how they take on the challenges or even normal situations. I mean, they’re literally objects

BFDI does a really good job with both aspects in and out of the focus of the competition! They use each others' physical quirks (magnetism, flight, machinery, etc.) and personality quirks ("Needy", DPA's pact) to progress all the time; otherwise you also have IDFB + the shorts to fill in the gaps where they can just hang out.

While ONE only occasionally references their limits as objects, it's used at very careful times to remind you of that link between worlds. In terms of personality though, the little conversations about their home lives and just. Interactions with them helping each other up, studying the world around them, etc etc. help flesh out (most of) the characters a lot and make them that much more human to the audience. You particularly get eps 8 and 16 dedicated to "hang out" time, albeit... twisted.

(Little bit of negativity/general critique towards The Nightly Manor under the cut)

Out of the other shows I’ve watched so far (II s1-2, BFC, and TNM) I honestly found TNM the weakest. Why? Because only half of the main cast feel like they have any character. Sketchpad is definitely fun, and Spraypaint and Mouse are interesting, but besides that???

It wants me to root for Top Hat and GPS but like, barely shows me anything of those two actually connecting before the latter dies? They have like one short conversation before getting split up and Top Hat spends the rest of the time grieving. The only other hinted interaction is that offhanded comment of GPS teaching him how to drive, which is easy to gloss over since they aren't named.

Maybe it's because the first half went by so fast, but since they just revealed at least one more episode is in the works hopefully these dynamics will get expanded on

[avery-straykids]

The Night Before Everything Changes

The dorm was unusually quiet.

The usual sounds — Han's laughter, Hyunjin's singing in the shower, Felix gaming, Changbin yelling at someone for eating his yogurt — were all absent. Everyone was gathered in the living room, sitting on blankets and pillows scattered around the floor. No cameras, no staff. Just the nine of them. One last night before the final evaluation.

The survival show had brought them together. Tomorrow could tear them apart.

Chan looked around, lips pressed together, trying to find the right words. He finally cleared his throat.

“I know this has been the hardest thing any of us has ever done,” he said quietly. “And I know tomorrow might change everything. But I just…” He glanced down, then looked up again. “I just want to say that I’m proud of all of us. No matter what happens, we fought. We grew. Together.”

A hush fell.

Minho nodded. “We didn’t survive this because it was easy. We survived because we had each other.”

Han gave a small smile. “Even when we wanted to throw shoes at each other.”

“I did throw a shoe at you,” Seungmin added.

“And I still have the emotional trauma,” Han deadpanned.

They chuckled softly.

Avery, sitting between Felix and Changbin, hugged her knees to her chest. “I thought I didn’t belong here when I first came in,” she admitted. “I thought… you guys would hate me. And maybe some of you did—”

“No ‘maybe,’” Minho muttered, grinning. “Definitely.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled. “But you let me stay. You made room for me. You challenged me, teased me, helped me. And I just… I’m grateful. No matter what happens tomorrow, I’ll never forget any of you.”

Felix gently nudged her shoulder. “You belong here. Don’t doubt that.”

I.N rubbed his nose, trying not to look too emotional. “Even if you turned our laundry pink.”

“Not the time, Jeongin,” Chan said, shaking his head.

They stayed up late that night, sharing memories, laughing over mistakes from training, old injuries, late-night ramen disasters, and the time Hyunjin sleepwalked into the kitchen asking for bubble tea.

As the others slowly drifted off to their rooms, Avery remained on the couch, a small notebook in her lap and a pen in her hand. She wrote in silence, page after page, under the soft glow of a desk lamp.

By morning, she had nine small envelopes.

She slid each one into their respective places:

On Chan’s pillow, a thank-you for his belief in her.

Under Minho’s mug, a note about his quiet strength.

Inside Han’s notebook, a line about how his chaos made her feel alive.

On Felix’s desk, folded neatly — hers filled with warmth.

Tucked between Seungmin’s headphones, a message of respect.

Next to I.N’s mirror, a memory of laughter and growth.

Inside Hyunjin’s sketchpad, a reminder of how he made her smile.

And finally, to Changbin — a mix of jokes and admiration, sealed with a doodle of the two of them rapping.

Each letter held a piece of her. Just in case things didn’t go the way they hoped.

When she returned to her room, Felix stirred sleepily. “Where’d you go?”

“Nowhere,” she whispered. “Just… tying up some loose ends.”

He nodded, eyes closing again.

Tomorrow would come fast. But for tonight — they had each other.

[jaderimehardt]

Uhm, hello, hi, good evening? night? morning? early morning? It's 2:17am... So, my hours are royally borked... I guess being sick will do that to you... 🫠

I've been doodling a lot the past few days and looking up a lot of Youtube videos. When I say a lot, I mean a LOT.

A lot for me is already massive, so imagine multiplying that even further. That's... well... 🤯

At first I was looking for a way to put this pose I was trying to do in a better perspective. And then I was like y'know what, I know how to do that, it's just not coming out how I want it for some reason- so let me brush up on the pose method I typically do-

-And then I couldn't find the pose method I typically do.

... as if that method fell off the face of the planet. 🌍😵

Like, what?

So I went on a massive search for "my method" and in that search I found the official method for how I draw heads- which I didn't know was a method. I guess I've been doing it a lazy way all this time? So, now I can do a more structured version of that- holy wow. A method to the madness! (or I can continue being lazy, lol 🙃)

Before I continue and ramble on, let's start with the head method. It's called the Loomis Method. There's a ton of videos out there on Youtube and stuff but here's a good one:

His is 25 mins, and I understand not everyone has that much time to watch vids but it's worth it if you you're trying to learn something new and absorb info.

Here's another one teaching the same method in 9:30 mins. It's shorter and not as "refined" (with perfect circles. Who freehands perfect circles anyways? not me~ 🫠) but has more information packed into it about the method.

Honestly watching both wouldn't hurt as each of them bring something different to the table.

After finding that, I resumed my search for my pose method and came across something called Gesture Drawing. This isn't my method but it's pretty darn close to it, and it caught my attention.

I was looking up vid after vid- wow this is cool. The techniques used here have so much potential... but I'm on a mission here and I'm trying to get a thing done by Valentine's day.

I do think if someone is interested in getting into Gesture Drawing though, this is a good video:

Having watched so many vids, and of the dozens I DID watch, this felt the most complete and explanatory and thorough and easy to follow, etc 👍🏻

Finally in the late evening, I found what I was searching for. And it was in the Gesture Drawing category. The title of the video is called "Quick Pose Gesture Sketching" so to me it sounds like it's a mesh of Gesture and Sketching, but this is basically how I learned to sketch posing and I've been doing it this way for a long time. Its worked for me all this time and I've never felt a need to change my ways.

Or at least until this past week when I couldn't get a perspective on this one specific pose to work for me. It could just be that I haven't drawn in a very long time and everything is feeling off. I just need to tinker around in my art program and not on a sketchpad (because I was drawing with a pencil and paper for a change - which could be it too. I haven't done that for a few years now).

I guess I get to do that "tinkering" thing tomorrow because it's way too late....... this morning? *looks at the time* [3:05am] 👀 oof. I just wanted to share a handful of great helpful videos I found.

Remember a post ago, or a couple posts ago (I forget already) I posted my color palettes of my colored pencils? One of the artists I've been sharing vids of made a new video for working with small colored pencil sets and making a color wheel- essentially making your own colored sheet. It's handy if you're not too familiar with color theory;

[crystiesong]

Birthday Bash

Leaping between bannisters, Aster landed on a pile of wooden crates. She gazed across the room. Despite coming to the abandoned factory for a few months at this point, she hadn't really done much with the place. That changed today.

The first thing she'd decided to do was invite all the stray cats she could find to stay in the factory so they'd have some shelter. The second thing she needed to do was make the factory (or the catory as she'd come to call it) more hospitable for cats (maybe that should've been the first thing). Taking stuff from wherever she could find it (the forest, dumpsters and other abandoned places), Aster had begun to build contraptions and dens for the cats to play and sleep in. One day this place would be a haven for all stray cats.

Aster leapt down from the boxes and began to push a metal crate across the room, a bunch of cats sitting nearby watching her. She pushed the box against the wall and turned around to see a snow white cat walking towards her.

"Oh hi Snowball. Glad you could join us" Aster greeted. Snowball dipped her head in greeting, her emerald green eyes glimmering and her stumpy tail high in the air.

"Greetings. I have a message from Teddy" she said while hopping onto the metal crate.

Aster raised an eyebrow at that "What message did he have that he couldn't deliver in person?"

"He didn't give me many details but he said that you're needed at home"

That confused Aster. Today was her day off from school and she'd decided to not do any hero work to let herself relax. She'd told her family she'd be busy so why was she needed? Standing up, Aster stretched her limbs.

"Alright. I'm going to see what I'm needed for then I'll come back." she turned to address the crowd of cats around her "please don't make too much of a mess, I just tidied up"

She got a flurry of answers that were a mixture of 'ok' and 'no promises'. Shaking her head with a smile, Aster made her way out of the building.

Making it back home was easy enough. Aster made her way up the stairs but stopped in-front of the door. No noise could be heard from within the apartment which concerned her.

Had something happened on her way over? Had Teddy been mistaken and she actually wasn't needed? Guess there was only one way to find out. Slowly opening the door, Aster crept inside. Suddenly all the lights were flicked on and all her friends and family popped out from behind the furniture.

"SURPRISE"

Aster's heart jumped into her throat and she leapt into the air in shock and surprise, hitting the top of the doorway with her head. Her parents rushed over to the young teen who was now leaning against the doorway.

"Are you alright?" Natalia asked, helping Aster up.

Aster gently nodded "I'm fine, just a bit caught off guard"

Her Papá laughed "Well it is a surprise party, that is kinda the point. Now come on, it's time for your favourite part"

Aster's favourite part about birthdays was the present opening. It was the only time she got to be a little bit spoiled. The first present she got was from her parents; they gave her a bunch of different chocolates as she always had a big sweet tooth and a love for chocolates. The second present was from her dear brothers (who had not woken her up with a bucket of water this year); they'd gotten her a new book series she'd been wanting, she couldn't wait to read it. The third present was from Alex and Andy; they'd gotten her a toy crab, it took a lot of energy not to glare at them as she opened it. The fourth present was a joint one from Robin and Sam (and from Willa too Aster guessed); they got her a simple sketchpad which she appreciated, she'd been wanting to get back to drawing so it would be handy. The final present came from Javari and it was probably her favourite one; it was a hand carved wooden figure of a figure from a video game series she and Javari both liked. She loved everything she got.

The food was also amazing, given that it was her parent's cooking after all; and don't get Aster started on the chocolate birthday cake. Aster was loving the birthday celebrations and didn't want them to stop; but there was one more thing she needed to do before the day was over.

As the sun was starting to set, the young teen left her home and made her way through the city. She arrived at her destination and made her way over to her abuelo's gravestone, sitting in-front of it. She gently brushed against the stone, making sure everything was neat and tidy. Aster let out a small but saddened smile as she sat there. Her abuelo might not be able to spend his time with her, but she'd be able to spend as much of her birthday as she could with him.

[cloudbattrolls]

You nod. What he's describing sounds a little familiar, actually...you feel like you've read about it somewhere before. Probably when you were reading up about elemental energies. You're no expert, but it's unwise for a mage to not know at least the basics, even if it's not their domain.

Whenever any great force coalesces enough energy, it changes the world around it. Basic magical theory.

When he draws out the map you peer at it intently, ears twitching slightly as you focus.

"Yes, of course..." You murmur, thinking about how you want to do this. "This helps, thank you."

You take out your own small sketchpad, not the finest quality (you're maroon, after all) but not cheap either. You take out a small vial of magical ink as well; there's one company that sells it, and somehow the empire hasn't cottoned on yet, so it's actually quite easy to get ahold of.

Some mages divine with a forked witch-hazel branch, or a familiar with incredibly keen senses. Others use tea leaves, or read the smoke from burned offerings.

But you are a word-wizard, and you dip a pen (worn, but well enchanted) into your ink, and you describe the depths. Millions of tons of crushing water, where only the toughest of deepdwellers can ever go, where life is strangely shaped and even more strange in how it survives...there is power. Heat. Pressure. A meeting of forces.

Treasures.

A vision overtakes you, and for a moment you feel as if you might drown, as if you are actually down in those dark trenches where no moonlight has ever reached.

Where magic has. Where magic does in force.

You gasp as it fades, tasting salt water in your mouth that you swallow uneasily.

"Yes. Yes, there are pearls...a few..." you choke. "Now I just need to...narrow down where they are. Pardon me a moment."

You take a minute to get your breath back. That was a little unsettling.

>> Their nerves bleed through their cheery demeanor. You haven't even done anything.

>> Well, you probably still reek of magic, even if it is unidentifiable and hazy. The latter might be what's making them nervous- They might be able to tell you're a mage, but everything else is difficult to read.

"An abyssal pearl. Not a true pearl, but a similar artifact formed at places of high power. Primal energy from the deepest reaches of the earth, formed by the crushing pressure."

>> You were looking for one when you found The Tidality. Since that little mishap you've been hesitant to dive so deep.

>> You reach into your jacket and retrieve a little book (Is that actual parchment and leather?), and flip through it before setting it down so they can see.

>> Spread across both pages is a rough, hand-drawn but relatively accurate map of the planet. The majority of the details lie in the oceans and some points are somewhat more detailed than others. There are a few 'x's marked at places that appear to be trenches or other deep points of the ocean.

"These are places of power that I have identified. The issue lies in that these points are hundreds of miles across, with multiple wellsprings throughout. I would need to ascertain if a pearl can be found at any of these points at all, and then narrow down its location further."

>> Honestly you're not a terrible diviner yourself, and you could find it on your own. You just haven't bothered to put the time into it. Besides, you like outsourcing this sort of thing; makes others feel useful and you can get rid of some things in the shop to boot.

[griffinsstories]

Stories behind the Images

Ema sat across from Vivienne on the plush carpet of her bedroom, her back against the bedframe and her arms outstretched, her sketchpad with the groups latest painting fraud partially drawn on the page abandoned on the side as Vivienne traced her fingertips over Ema's tattoos, studying each one with a deep fascination. Ema watched as Vivienne's eyes sparkled with a mixture of awe and admiration.

"This one is my favourite," Vivienne said, tracing over the intricate design of a raven with outstretched wings on Ema's left bicep. "How did you come up with this?"

Ema smiled. "I've always been drawn to birds. Ravens especially being my favourite as it also represents prophecy and insight. Ravens in stories often act as psychopomps, connecting the material world with the world of spirits."

Vivienne nodded, her fingers trailing down to the next tattoo. This one was a quote, etched in delicate cursive on the inside of Ema's wrist. "What does this one mean?"

"It's from my favourite book," Ema explained. "It's about finding beauty in the world, even in the darkest of places."

As Vivienne continued to trace over Ema's tattoos, the two of them fell into an easy rhythm of conversation one that wasn’t present until they became more open to one another, oh sure she’d seen them when they were intimate but now…she wanted to know the stories behind the paintings on her skin that were as stunning as the ones she created for the Poppy.

Vivienne's fingers would pause over a tattoo, and she would ask Ema about its significance. Eventually, Vivienne's fingers found their way to the back of Ema's neck, where a small, intricate design was hidden from view. "I've never seen this one before," she said, her voice low and curious.

Ema's cheeks flushed as she explained. "It's a tribute to my aunt…she was the only one of my family who accepted me for my sexuality when the rest of them wouldn’t…she passed away from breast cancer a year or so before I joined the Poppy”

Vivienne's hand came to rest on the back of Ema's neck, her touch gentle and reassuring. "I'm sorry," she said softly.

Ema smiled, grateful for Vivienne's understanding. "It's okay. She's always with me, in some way or another."

The room fell into a comfortable silence, and Ema closed her eyes, savouring the warmth of Vivienne's touch. It was then that Vivienne spoke up, her voice almost hesitant. "You know," she said, her fingers still tracing over the tattoo on Ema's neck. "I've been thinking about getting a tattoo myself."

Ema opened her eyes, intrigued. "Really? What would you get?" Vivienne hummed unsure before she shrugged. "I'm not sure. Something that represents me, I guess. But...maybe something that represents us, too."

Ema's heart skipped a beat at the suggestion. "Us?"

Vivienne met Ema's gaze, her eyes shining with a quiet intensity. "Yeah. Us. I don't know exactly what it would be, but...something that reminds me of you. Something that reminds me of this moment."Ema felt a warmth spreading through her chest, and she leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to Vivienne's lips. "I think that's the most romantic thing I've ever heard," she murmured.

Vivienne smiled, her fingers still tracing over Ema's tattoos. "I mean it," she said. "I want something that reminds me of you, always." Ema's heart swelled with love as she leaned back against the bedframe, Vivienne's hand still resting on the back of her neck. They stayed like that for a long time, lost in each other's company and the promise of something beautiful and permanent on the horizon.