#his landscape paintings have such dynamism in them

[mydaylight]

Title: Stormy Landscape with Houses

Artist: Frederik van Valckenborch (1566-1623)

Age: ca. 1605–1610

Location: Museum of Fine Arts, Budapest

[sansaorgana]

— THE FAVOURITE

PAIRING — Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — As Feyd-Rautha's favourite concubine, your position is threatened after his affair with Lady Margot.

REQUEST — (1)

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Once again I couldn't help myself and created some twisted & toxic dynamic between Feyd and The Reader full of mind games and scheming lol 😏 Thank you @little-diable for "letting me" to write this story. 🌹 I reached out to her after getting this request since she has a similar (and amazing) fanfic – "Guilt".

WARNINGS — Reader is some sort of a slave/servant, harm to Lady Margot and her child mentioned, mentions of sexual activities including non/dub-con (no actual smut)

WORD COUNT — 3,520

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

THE FAVOURITE

Being Feyd-Rautha’s favourite concubine made your position on Giedi Prime secure. Coming from nothing and having no drop of noble blood flowing in your veins, you ended up with a luxurious bedroom and your own team of servants. Baron Harkonnen allowed this arrangement only because of the little agreement between you and him – you were to spy on his nephew and your servants were doing the job when you personally could not. The stench of schemes and lies surrounded the fortress like a thick fog.

So, when your lover didn’t come to you after his own birthday party – even though you were waiting for him all dressed up and prepared – you wanted to know why. Your servants came back to you quickly, bringing you the news of Feyd-Rautha spending the night in a guest wing. In the bedroom of Lady Margot Fenring, to be exact. A known Bene Gesserit sister.

Concubines had no right to be jealous. They knew their place. Noblemen couldn’t marry a random woman they favoured just because of some sort of affection or sentiment. They had to keep their options open in case a political union would be proposed. And apart from that, noblemen had their responsibilities when it came to the Bene Gesserit order and their own plans and schemes. You knew enough to have a feeling what Lady Margot wanted from Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. To secure his bloodline.

Concubines didn’t exist to secure bloodlines – unless the circumstances were desperate. But usually, concubines existed to bear bastards.

You tore your dress off of your body, removed the jewellery and let it fall down on the cold, black marble as it shattered. The servants watched with terror in their eyes as tiny pieces of gemstones scattered all over the floor. You told them all to leave but they were petrified. So you yelled, you gave an order. And only when you were left alone, you allowed yourself to lay on your bed and cry.

You had sacrificed nearly everything to be in this position. Losing the title of Feyd-Rautha’s favourite concubine meant death to you. You knew what he was doing to the toys he was getting bored of. In fact, you often encouraged those acts. Now, you had to face a threat of becoming the next tossed aside pet.

You were finishing your breakfast when Feyd entered your chambers without a word or a knock upon the doors. He was the only person allowed such entrance and all your servants stiffened at the sight of him, bowing their heads and taking a few steps back. You decided to ignore him as you were sipping on your beverage and staring at the large painting on the wall in front of you. It was a landscape from your homeplanet. Or rather, how it had used to look like before The Harkonnen invasion and occupation.

As a little girl, you had been taken with others to Giedi Prime and forced to become a servant. Your hair had been shaved, the back of your neck tattooed with a Harkonnen sigil like you were a slave. Slaves died like flies on this court. Befriending the young na-baron had been your only chance of survival. And once you both had been old enough, the friendship developed into a romance. But sometimes, when you were forgetting yourself – too drunk on your own influence these days – you would touch the back of your neck and trace the tattooed mark. You had long hair again, covering it from the world. But you knew it was there. You were only a servant that had been promoted because of a spoiled boy’s whim.

“I have news for you, pet,” Feyd-Rautha stood above you with a proud smirk, showing off his black teeth.

You continued to ignore him and it made the smile turn into a frown.

“What is it?” He asked but you still refused to lay your eyes on him.

“I know where you were last night,” you finally decided to address the matter as you lazily leaned back on the chair and looked up at his face. He snorted at you.

“Not the first time I spent a night with another woman. Having a title of my favourite whore means that you are one of many – not the only one,” he reminded you and your jaw clenched at his choice of words.

“Not every night is your birthday. And not every woman is a Bene Gesserit witch,” you stood up angrily. “And I am not a whore.”

“Concubine is only a nicer way to put it but you’re big enough to handle the truth, pet,” Feyd was angered, you could sense that. But he was still amused by your little tantrum.

“Leave us,” you ordered to the servants and they bowed down before walking out of the chambers as fast as possible.

“What do you expect me to say? That I’m sorry?” Feyd’s voice was full of contempt as he observed your pacing around with squinted eyes. “I am not tied to you by any word nor oath.”

“What did she want?” You asked him and he shut his mouth. “She wanted to secure the bloodline, did she not?”

Feyd did not say anything and that was an answer for you. You nodded and walked away to stand by the window and gaze upon the cityscape of Giedi Prime. 

“I didn’t have a choice. And I probably will never even see that child. They mean nothing to me and will never be recognised as my heir. What does it matter to you?” Feyd tried to explain himself awkwardly as he sat by the table and put his feet up on the surface in a careless manner.

“Did she use The Voice on you?” You turned around to look at him with a furrowed brow.

“Yes,” Feyd nodded, looking away. “Does it change anything?”

“It changes everything to me,” you approached him to stand behind and put your hands on his tense shoulders. “They keep using you. Your uncle all this time, now her. And you just shake it off and pretend it’s no big deal but it is, Feyd-Rautha. Have you ever been able to make your own decision? Even choosing me as your favourite had to be accepted by The Baron.”

“Don’t pretend to suddenly care about me,” Feyd barked at you. “You’re spying on me for him.”

“Because I have to,” you whispered.

“And I have to do some things, too, which makes us fair,” he shrugged his arms and you let your hands fall to your sides again. You watched him reach for an orange as he began to peel it slowly in silence.

He was right but it was not enough for you to know that he was right. You were still raging inside; filled with jealousy and betrayal even though you had no right to feel these things. Swiftly, you reached out for a short knife that Feyd always carried by his waist. He was so relaxed and trustful around you that his reflexes didn’t catch on your actions. 

You pressed the tip of the blade to the back of his neck, the exact same spot where your tattoo was.

“I wish I could mark you as my own, too,” you whispered and he only chuckled, not fearing the knife at all.

“Do it then, pet. If that brings you relief, that is,” he dared you. “The pain will be welcomed.”

“I can’t do it,” your hand shivered as you lowered it.

“Then don’t threaten me with empty promises,” Feyd barked as he turned around rapidly and grabbed your wrist. He twisted it painfully, making you drop the knife as you hissed out of pain. “I don’t belong to you,” he reminded, his voice cold and sharp. You winced at the pain shooting up your arm but refused to show weakness.

“And I don't belong to you either,” you shot back, your voice trembling with anger and hurt you had been suppressing. “If I am to live here my whole life like a slave, kill me then.”

For a moment, you just stood there, staring at each other with hatred and passion as the tension crackled between you two like electricity. Finally, Feyd released your wrist with a dismissive shove, his expression hardening into a mask of indifference.

"Fine," he spat. "I am to inherit Arrakis and you are not coming with me. Stay here and rot, find yourself a new Master or leave, I do not care," he informed you and left your chambers just like that.

You were still standing there, petrified, as you blinked a few times before the meaning of his words made sense to you. He was abandoning you… but you couldn’t blame him. You showed weakness of your jealousy and that was something concubines were not supposed to do. Instead of playing your cards right, you snapped. And now there was no turning back from that mistake.

Your privileges were not gone overnight but everyone could see that something was wrong. While Feyd-Rautha was preparing to leave for Arrakis, you were not preparing at all. Your servants were nervous since their position depended on your own. And you were trying to work on a plan to be back in your lover’s good favours.

But The Baron was quicker than that. He requested your presence a few days before his nephew’s departure. You expected a punishment but, surprisingly, he was not as angry as you thought him to be.

“You lost the grip,” he informed you in his raspy voice, taking a puff of his pipe.

“I am sorry, my Lord,” you bowed down, nervously; humiliated.

“I should get rid of you. I’ve heard my nephew granted you freedom but we both know you have nowhere to go anyway,” The Baron pointed out and you swallowed thickly at his words.

“If I was only given one more chance…” You dared to look up.

“That is what I want to grant you,” he nodded as your eyes widened. Baron Harkonnen was not known for being generous or forgiving. “You see, on Arrakis I will need a spy next to Feyd-Rautha. Someone I trust. And you… We’ve worked for quite a long time now. You have never disappointed me nor showed any sign of disloyalty towards me. Looking for someone new, especially for such an important task… It would not be advised. I need you on Arrakis with Feyd-Rautha,” The Baron pointed his chubby hand at you.

“I understand, my Lord. But… He does not want me there. Not as his concubine at least,” you looked down, ashamed that you had to admit it out loud.

“That boy will soon start missing you. But we can’t wait until then,” The Baron agreed. “Since he has carelessly given you freedom already and you’re no longer a servant, I can promote you, child,” The Baron hummed to himself as you tilted your head out of curiosity – Feyd-Rautha’s habit you had picked up from him a long time ago.

Because your whole life had been about being his companion. It was about mimicking his behaviour and learning how to make him happy. Now, when he was somehow gone from your daily life routine, it felt oddly empty and pointless. It was painful to realise that Feyd-Rautha was your reason to live and your position as his concubine defined not only your position on Giedi Prime but also your whole life and personality.

“You will be sent to Arrakis as The Fremen Expert,” The Baron informed you and you couldn’t help letting out a little laugh.

“The Fremen Expert, my Lord? I do know nothing of them and their customs,” you reminded him.

“And we do not care about them nor their customs. We want nothing but annihilation of their race. But what we also want… What we need… Is your presence on Arrakis. Feyd-Rautha will be informed that you must take part in every council, in every meeting; making decisions alongside his generals,” The Baron whispered and you straightened yourself, suddenly feeling a bolt of electricity going through your veins. From feeling like a beaten dog, you began to feel confidence and pride in your new role, even if the title was made up for The Baron’s scheming plan.

“Yes, my Lord,” you bowed down with all respect.

“Now, go, prepare yourself for the trip,” he dismissed you and you turned around to walk away with your head held high.

Feyd-Rautha kept avoiding you but those few times you saw him in the corridor, he was giving you hateful looks. He had to be not very pleased with his uncle’s decision. You gained the courage to finally talk to him in private when you were on the ship to Arrakis, locked together in space with nowhere to run. Forced to spend time together since the ship was not as huge as the Giedi Prime fortress.

You chose the nighttime for this. In the evenings he was more vulnerable – you had learnt that over the years spent by his side. You entered his room on the ship without any guard stopping you as they knew your role in this mission. The Baron had given them direct orders to never stop you when you were about to spy on the na-baron.

Feyd was not in the room yet, so you waited, sitting on the armchair and nervously playing with the rings on your fingers.

“What are you doing here?” You finally heard his raspy voice after the doors opened. Feyd walked inside, visibly irritated at the sight of you. “Congratulations, you’re a full-time spy now. What a promotion,” he sneered. “Still his puppet.”

“And you’re not? His puppet?” You sneered back. “How does it feel to not be able to get rid of your own concubine just because The Baron does not approve? I told you. You can’t even choose the whores for yourselves,” you stood up to approach him but he walked away.

“You’ve sealed your fate, pet. Once I become The Baron myself, I am going to kill you,” he ignored your presence and began undressing to change into his nighttime attire. As if you were only an air in the room but it also meant that he still felt comfortable around you and allowed himself to be vulnerable enough to step out of his armour and expose. He trusted you, still.

“It’s not like I’m that valuable to your uncle. If you killed me now, he would be frustrated. But he wouldn’t even punish you for that,” you shrugged your arms. “So why won’t you kill me now?” You teased as you raised your eyebrow at him.

“Come here,” Feyd ordered as he sat on the edge of his bed. 

You walked up to him, a little scared of what was inside his head at that moment but you tried not to show it. You had mastered the act of not showing fear around him already. He hated cowardice and vulnerability only inspired him to be even more cruel.

“Since I can’t get rid of you, there’s still use of you, is it not?” He smirked as he looked up at you. “Please me, pet,” he ordered.

“I am no longer your concubine,” you pointed out, trying to keep a poker face on and a straight back. The truth was, you missed him. You missed his touch, you missed the intimacy, you missed how safe you felt with his arms around you. You missed the nights when he would fall asleep in your bed. But you couldn’t fall back so easily. He liked to chase, he liked to play. And you had gotten the title of his favourite because you knew how to provide it. “You dismissed me. I am The Fremen Expert now,” you added and he laughed contemptuously.

“The Fremen Expert, and what is that exactly, my little one?” He teased, pulling you closer by your waist. “And what do you know of these savages? You’ve been trained in different arts.”

“What sort of arts, na-baron?” You asked, placing your fingers on his muscular shoulders to keep steady on your feet.

“Pleasure,” he sat you down on his lap and you joined your hands together behind his neck. “I missed your cunt,” he whispered into your ear, his fingers pulled on the fabric of your dress around your hips, exposing your thighs.

“You forget yourself, my Lord,” you teased with a smirk as he looked up, questioningly. “You see, in your anger, you set me free. You released me and I am no longer your servant. I am my own person now,” you reminded him.

“I am still your lord na-baron,” he reminded you. “And I shall do as I please with you.”

“But having me back in your bed will cost you. I am not free of charge anymore,” you stopped his hands and watched his expression carefully. His jaw clenched and his gaze hardened with anger and curiosity.

“What do you want?” He asked harshly.

“Depends on how much you are willing to pay to feel my sweet cunt again,” you tilted your head.

You knew that it was just a game and he knew it, too. Because he didn’t need your permission. Feyd-Rautha didn’t care if you were his servant or a free woman now. He didn’t care if you gave him your permission or not. He was free to take what he wanted. Because that was his nature and that was the harsh reality of The Harkonnens.

“You want money?” Feyd could not hide the sheer disappointment in his voice. He had thought better of you. But you only laughed at his accusation.

You needed to take a deep breath in to say out loud what you wanted. It required lots of bravery for a woman in your position to say.

“I want to bear your heir,” you told him.

“Impossible,” Feyd pushed you aside on the mattress as he moved away from you. “Is it part of his plan?”

“He doesn’t know. He would kill me if he knew,” you assured him, truthfully. “He wants you for Princess Irulan, I think.”

“He mentioned to me he would make me an Emperor. But he didn’t mention how. I don’t think I have to marry her. We are strong enough to just take the throne with force,” Feyd told you. “I don't want her. But you cannot bear me heirs. Only bastards. Is that what you want? To push out my bastards?” He asked as he hovered over you to intimidate you, looking intensely into your eyes.

“Bastards, then. Let it be,” you nodded, swallowing thickly, confusing him. “I’d rather give you bastards and live on crumbs than to be dismissed like in the past few weeks.”

Suddenly, his face softened, confusing you as much as you were confusing him. Feyd caressed your cheek with gentleness that was unusual for him.

“Do you know why you are my favourite?” He asked in a whisper.

“Because I know how to play the way you like it,” you answered.

“No,” he shook his head. “Because you actually like me.”

You didn’t know what to say to this confession. It caught you off guard, surely. And Feyd leaning in to place a kiss upon your lips – a soft, delicate kiss that you had only shared a few times before – that only intensified the feeling of confusion.

“It’s cute to see you jealous, pet,” he breathed out after breaking the unusual kiss. “I swore to myself a long time ago I would never marry even if he forced me to. And my only heirs will be the bastards you bear me.”

You felt warmth in your cheeks at his words. Realising that what you had been asking for did not have to be said out loud. For him it had been obvious for a long time. It was the only way for Feyd-Rautha and you were a fool to ever feel jealous.

“All you have to do,” he added in a mysterious whisper, leaning in to steal another kiss, “is to help me with bringing him down.”

“You fool,” you giggled and cupped his face delicately, confusing him. “It has always been my plan,” you assured him. “And once I have the power of The Emperor’s Concubine, I will hunt down the Bene Gesserit witch and her spawn for I am the only one who shall bear your bastards.”

“You were such an innocent child when you came to Giedi Prime,” Feyd sighed but not without an excited sparkle in his cold eyes. “And look what a monster I have made of you, pet.”

You chuckled at that, relieved to have him back and much more than that – already planning out a future that was even more promising than in your most secret daydreams.

“You taught me well, Master,” you only said and pulled him back down. “But next time you put a child in another woman, I’ll make sure you won’t be able to father any more,” you threatened sweetly before a passionate kiss.

MASTERLIST

[luvvyouforever]

headcanons: marriage and domesticity with acotar characters ♡

↳ includes rhysand, feyre, azriel, cassian, morrigan, lucien, tamlin, and amren. unfortunately, those are the only characters i know well enough to write for but more will come in the future!

↳ fluff to the max and then more fluff. children, pregnancy, marriage, family, home dynamics.

rhysand:

-strives to have a very welcoming, comforting home. buys luxurious throw pillows from stories in velaris even though you scold him for each one he adds to his already huge collection. he just wants every surface to feel comfortable so he also buys the best mattresses and couches and will spend hours in a store picking them.

-loves to have an occasional meal cooked entirely by your family. he puts on a silly apron and dances around the kitchen, sprinkling spices willy-nilly. "accidentally" gets food on your cheek which he will happily kiss away.

-feels so proud to have his own family that loves each other unconditionally and would do anything to protect that. you and your kids are the most important thing to him and he could be a very scary person if he ever feels that you're being threatened. is much more careful in his day-to-day life because he knows that there are people who wait on him to come home.

feyre:

-if you were pregnant, feyre would be as caring as she could be. she'd wait on you hand and foot and massage anything that hurt. she'd find you the best calming and soothing lotions for your tummy. every so often, she'd lay on your tummy and tell your kid all the the great things they'll be born into.

-feyre's paintings all over the house :(( she has a little art studio which is constantly messy but you proudly hang everything she does in special little spots everywhere. she loooooves doing portraits of you and the two of you together.

-her life is already very grand so she loves nothing more than having a peaceful night indoors with you. she holds out for the weekends when you can sleep in, cuddle all day, and read together. she makes the best teas and surprises you with them on cozy sunday mornings!

azriel:

-his home is immaculate, cleaned spotless, and a little minimalist. if this isn't your style, he will gladly give you the ability to decorate the space as long as it's clean. azriel scrubbing the kitchen in bright latex gloves is not a rare sight. he just likes the comfort it brings him after the gory things he does for his job.

-he gets you the prettiest, most personalized engagement ring ever. he listens to you so closely and is so attentive that he knew exactly what you would like. he had it designed by a jeweler in velaris and it's probably engraved with something incredibly sentimental.

-he loves matching clothes in the privacy of his home! like matching silk pajama sets? yes please! listen, i've said it before and i'll say it again, azriel lives for the fancier things in life and he just wants to share that with you! he encourages you to wear the same soft and comfortable pajama pants that he is.

cassian:

-destroys the house with his kids! makes a big mess while playing with them. like pillow fights and paints and water and intense acting with toys. you continuously scold him for it and he always cleans up all nice but he can't help it! he just wants to give his kids the most fun childhood ever.

-would lose his SHIT if his kids had wings oh my god. wants to show them how to fly and take them on flights above beautiful landscapes. is probably the dad to push the kid into the water to get them used to it and this applies to flying. "it's just how illyrians learn, baby!" "he's not even a full illyrian!"

-his house is colorful and full of memories everywhere. pictures of the inner circle, of you, of the kids, anyone. keeps anything his kids make him. keeps any gift you give him. tapes notes and invitations to the fridge. he's just so sentimental like that!

morrigan:

-cried like a baby at your wedding. no matter if you walked down the aisle or if she did, she was crying instantly. rhys nudged her shoulder and cassian and azriel laughed at her afterward but you only smiled at her and helped her touch up her makeup!

-is a little hesitant to begin a family. it's more to do with her past and her family than anything else. she doesn't want to give anyone that power over her. if you are really excited about starting a family, she would certainly hear you out and if it did happen, she'd be the best mother ever.

-comes home to you with gifts every day. you keep telling her you don't need them but you gotta let her spoil you! one day it is a new ring that perfectly matches the stone in your engagement ring and that you should totally put on your right hand pointer finger because it would look best!

lucien:

-would totally thrive with a big family. like he would know everyone's interests, what they're up to, their friends, their food preferences, everything. gives them all equal attention and can wrangle them all together with expertise.

-i feel like he really loves showers and baths with you. like unless he was super stinky or unless you were gone, he would just not shower unless it was with you. he loves the intimacy and the closeness it brings!! and he loves washing your hair for you or brushing it or braiding it for you!

-one of his hobbies is mixology! i can't explain it but just imagine lucien having this home bar cart with all kinds of syrups and fancy alcohols and he cares about the dates on them and pairs the perfect wine with his meals! you can give him any three words that'll describe the drink you want and he'll mix it all up and it will taste amazing!

tamlin:

-GIRL DAD! imagine him taking her out to buy dresses for anything she needs, putting little flowers in her ear when they go on walks together, doing tea parties with her. tell me you don't see this. i dare you.

-usually gets up pretty early to go and do his high lord duties but he will come and check on you throughout the day, giving you kisses and treats and notes! he always wants to spend meals with you and will stop anything he's doing if alis tells him that you're ready to eat lunch! you've never seen a man set the table faster and pat the seat next to him.

-any room in the house that you want will be yours! if you want one of the guest bedrooms to be turned into a craft studio, done. if you want a section of the library dedicated to romance books, done! i'm serious when i say he'd give you anything you want to make sure his home is just as comfy for you as it is for him.

amren:

-values alone time just as much as she values time with you. she likes when the two of you can spend time inside doing your own thing but then can come back together at night and talk about your days! she's not ashamed to ask if she can spend the night in her bed because she's had a long day! but she's always reassuring you that it has nothing to do with you so you don't worry!

-probably isn't a very big kid enjoyer but wouldn't mind adopting someone older! or, even better, a cat! amren would spoil the hell out of a cat that you raise together. "am, i don't think she needs another sweater. she doesn't like wearing them anyway." "but this one says be paw-sitive!"

-people don't believe you when you talk about how soft and sweet amren is when you're at home! they don't think that she's capable of hugging you tight and covering you in kisses but she is! she's a private gal and you respect that entirely! but you also can't help telling mor about all of the sweet things she whispers to you as you're falling asleep.

[babyflorencee]

Jealousy

Gilbert Blythe x fem!Reader

The sun dipped below the rolling hills of Avonlea, casting an amber glow across the landscape. Gilbert Blythe, with his characteristic disheveled hair and thoughtful gaze, strolled through the orchard, a place that had witnessed the blossoming of friendships and the unveiling of tangled emotions.

Avonlea was abuzz with preparations for the upcoming fair, a festivity Y/n L/n held dear in her heart. As Gilbert walked past the vibrant stalls and fluttering banners, he couldn't help but notice the vivacity in Y/n's step, her eyes sparkling with an enthusiasm that painted the world in hues of her imagination.

Yet, beneath Gilbert's calm exterior, a storm brewed. A quiet jealousy, like an unexpected visitor, had taken residence in his heart. It wasn't the kind born out of malice but rather a realization of the changing dynamics between them.

Yln, oblivious to the tempest within Gilbert, happily chatted with Cole and Diana, her laughter weaving into the summer breeze. As Gilbert observed from a distance, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was standing on the periphery of her universe.

His heart, usually steady as the Avonlea river, now raced with an unfamiliar cadence. Why did he feel this way? Gilbert grappled with the turmoil, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of the fair's prize ribbon he held.

Later that day, under the canopy of stars, Gilbert found himself by the bridge, a place where moments unfolded like chapters in a story. The rhythmic sound of cicadas filled the air as Y/n approached, her gaze alighting upon Gilbert's contemplative silhouette.

"Hey, Gil. Are you alright?" Y/n inquired, a glimmer of concern in her eyes.

The words struggled to find their way out of Gilbert's mouth, but the truth, as elusive as it was, demanded expression. "Y/n, do you ever feel like things are changing, and you're not sure where you fit in anymore?"

Y/ns brow furrowed, a reflection of her confusion. "Change is a constant, Gilbert. But you'll always have a place in my heart. In my world." With the last sentence that left her mouth, her eyes softened, feeling sadness for the boy standing by her.

His heart, still entangled with vines of uncertainty, yearned for more. With a breath held in the quiet night, Gilbert spoke the words that fluttered within. "Y/n, it's not just about the changing world. It's about me, about us. It's about what we could possibly be. I can't stand on the sidelines anymore, y/n. I want to be more than a distant star in your sky."

It was a balm to Gilbert's restless heart, and yet, a lingering question remained unspoken. As they stood on the bridge, the moon casting its silver glow upon the water, the bond between them seemed to shimmer with an understanding beyond words.

Y/n's eyes widened, finally realizing the gravity of his confession. "Gilbert..."

Before she could say more, he took a step closer, his hand cupping her cheek. "I can't hold back any longer," he admitted, and in the soft glow of moonlight, he kissed her.

Their lips met, a silent promise of untold emotions and uncharted paths. The orchard witnessed the quiet culmination of a friendship blossoming into something more, as the stars overhead continued their timeless dance. In that stolen moment, Gilbert and Y/n discovered a new chapter in the story of Avonlea—a chapter written with ink that glistened with unspoken feelings.

[blueparadis]

❝ HAUNTED ❞ + XAVIER THORPE !

+. CWs —» f!reader, switch!reader, outcast!reader, fluff, she/her pronouns, mutual pining, sexual tension, family drama, flirting, manipulation, mentions of abuse, blood, wounds & therapy, flashbacks in italics, supernatural themes ; explicit smut, s & d dynamics, bottom-dom!xavier, cowgirl position; word count-3.5k

+. PRECIS —» Xavier Thorpe has finally found the girl of his dreams after being haunted by her.

+. NOTES —» this is for my beloved sister @zoraedits ’s brainrot contribution.she won't stop making edits on him. && I'm tagging @orchid3a cuz i luv u

you can browse more of my works here. || also available in AO(III). reblogs and comments are very much appreciated.

feel free to send in thirsts and suggestions for this show, Wednesday. This is my first time writing for shows like this; my main fandom spectrum is animanga but I do hope this was a good read for ya’all as much as I enjoyed writing it. <3.

The table calendar was full of red inks all over, dirt sedimented on the sketchbook, and the pencils laid in the case in absolute solitude. Xavier looked at the calendar kept on his desk near his bed in all despondency and a heavy sigh escaped from his lips. It has been days since he stepped into his studio, have not touched his art accessories for almost a month. One thing was for sure, he was plagued by visions in his dreams but this time it was nothing demising. 

This time his sketchbooks were not filled by a monster, this time he was not afraid to draw rather he was drawn to it; part of him was stoked while sketching while a part of him was reluctant to draw the whole picture. He had spent countless sleepless nights before, not resorting to sleeping as he was threatened by nightmares. And now his sleep was peaceful as if entering into the realm of dreamland.

Xavier was sure that his mind was captured by a girl who came to visit him in his sleep, never showing her face, only showing herself in bits and pieces. He had spent his childhood receiving showers of praise for his talent for drawing but the origin was never happy. Of course, he enjoyed it and liked to show off his talent for art but secretly he wished his power would vanish into oblivion, for it was never pleasant.

People say that the art of someone reflects one’s persona, one’s raw feelings but Xavier always begged to differ since those memories, those incidents were never his. There always had been a wave of remorse that washed over him after he stepped out of his art studio since the praises he received never belonged to him. 

Many were astoundingly taken aback by his knack for drawing and suggested he pursue art, to be a renowned artist but he knew he would lose all the glory once he stopped having those dreams. Moreover, he did not always have such dreams so the possibility of waking up one day and being unable to paint and as a result, staring at a blank canvas scared him to death. Heck! He even considered going to Doctor Kinbott so that his sanity would not be hanging by thread.

For the last couple of weeks, he has been dreaming of odd landscapes. Xavier had never seen them in his life yet he saw how the dusky crimson hue smothered the snowy mountain ranges, how the clouds gathered before the arrival of a rainstorm, how the birds sang songs and all the owes and pangs of nature. One thing he could conclude from those dreams was that whoever it belonged to was a chaser of freedom, that is, was a soarer of the sky.

Xavier had not told anyone about his dreams, nor put them on paper to ease his mind. What would he tell? What would he draw? Last night was particularly odd concerning the regular pattern of his dreams. He dreamt of falling from a high cliff into the water and a broken wing. When he woke up, he was all soaked, even his bed, and his olfactory senses did not miss the subtle scent of stagnant water. He was breathing rashly as if he was the one who drowned as if he was the one to fall.

He closed his eyes and tried to recapitulate his dream, searching for a mark, searching for a recognizable feature, searching for something, anything, anything at all. His desperation knew no bounds when left his dorm and rushed into his studio in the middle of the night since somewhere at the corner of his hopeless heart he knew he found one, a ray of hope.

A lot of crumbled papers surrounded Xavier as he tried accumulating the pieces from his puzzled mind. Around two o’clock he left his studio on his bicycle, the paper where he drew tucked in his pocket. He was sure he had witnessed the scenery before unlike the others.  When he finally reached the top of the highland, he witnessed the view from his most recent dream. 

The only thing that engulfed his presence was the sound of the waterfall echoing through the woods. He noticed a pond nearby and an adjacent high plateau near it. It was higher from where he was standing. After looking around for a few minutes he figured that there was no way to go there unless one swam through the stream or flew toward it.

On his way back, he felt happy, he felt sane. At least he had proof of the existence of a creature that haunted him, even in his wake. Xavier showered before going to bed just to clear his head before a good night's sleep. He kept a white feather as a bookmark in his sketch pad while a smile smothered his face. He was right. He was haunted by a fairy-like creature.

“Two cappuccinos”, Xavier mumbled as he went back to the counter at Weathervane. It was another event where all the students of Nevermore set foot into the world of normies to carry on the ties between two polar opposite worlds. But no matter how much one tried, the other always tried to retaliate. Their relationship was always on a tightrope, it could snap at any moment. And it certainly did.

“And you did not bother to tell me about this. . .”, Principal Weems trailed off as she left her seat, walked past her desk, and inclined against it, “until everyone in town became aware of it.”

“I thought I was going to be called insane or bullied. Last time I told something about my dreams, I found myself behind the bars.”, he responded, keeping his eye on the ground. Principal Weems exhaled grudgingly. She had no grounds to punish this boy since he was not entirely wrong. Hence, Xavier was dismissed with mere detention. 

Xavier was forbidden from the school campus for a week. Everyone felt sorry for him, in his situation but secretly he could not be happier because he had all the time to draw, sketch, paint and think — and it was all about her, y/n. 

That day at the café, Xavier was the sole witness of a crime. It happened so quickly, so fast that all she could do was succumb to her fate. A man was standing near the corner of the kitchen with his back facing Xavier. Xavier was not supposed to be here but he had to fetch some ingredients for making pastries and cupcakes. 

As the man turned around, Xavier saw a bloodied butcher's knife in his hand. Near his feet lay a girl with a bloodied back the blood quickly spread all over her blouse. She stood motionless, like a statue. The eye contact was merely for two seconds and he immediately smashed the sugar jar on his head, distracting him, to tackle her out of the way.

The other townies turned up for help. Not all people in the world came to be cruel and heartless. All Xavier did was contact Principal Weems so that she could swiftly take care of this matter, which she had to otherwise the reputation of the Nevermore Academy would be in danger. The girl was taken to a nearby hospital. 

Y/n L/n was her name. After the untimely death of her parents, she was raised by her uncle, by a normal family. Naturally, when she began to bloom, she was forced to be normal. One would think she tried to run, tried to hide or fight but Alas! none was the case for this matter. She felt indebted to her uncle and his family, for taking care of her, aiding her upbringing, fulfilling the role of parents, and hence helping her to be normal. But Xavier's presence on that day turned her life upside down. She was now a student at Nevermore Academy, funded by Principal Weems’ study forum. 

After you recovered within a week, the first thing that dawned on you was to meet him, Xavier, the ‘ hero ’ of your life. You knocked on the door of his studio and waited for a while. There was no answer for a few minutes and when you finally made up your mind to leave, Xavier showed up. He was in his casuals with a teeth-flashing grin on his face.

“How’re you, y/n? The last time I saw you, you were in a hospital bed and now you’re here. in front of me.”, Xavier danced on his toes as he walked into his studio. You followed him and the moment you stepped into his studio you were taken all in awe. The room was filled with artboards, canvases, and sketch supplies, and everything reflected you. Indeed, y/n did not come here to be thankful for what he did since she was not. She was not happy with how her life seemed so devoid of any family. Her uncle was the last of her family and now he is gone. All because of him, Xavier.

“You look better than the last time I saw you.”, Xavier added as he felt the silence between the two of you deafening. You swallowed hard as he tried to ease the tense ambiance thinking how rude of him to remind you of the very wound he was responsible for. There was a desk with a closed sketch pad that caught your attention. 

“Your drawings are very beautiful.”, you pitched in opening it and your heart dropped at the sight of your feather that was kept safely in between those rusty pages. A short gasp escaped your lips as the whirlwind of your life hit you.

Xavier was standing behind you, close to your shivering body. “They are all about you.”, a low whisper before he extended his hand to remove the veil from the canvas. The cloth dropped at your feet revealing every bit of dreary in you that you always wanted to hide. You hated how he could see through your pangs and pathos, you hated how he could and would have eradicated all of it, even if it meant being burnt by it. You swiftly tackled out of his towering frame, feeling naked even though you were more dressed than him. 

“Stay away from me. You shouldn’t come near me.”, Surprise took Xavier in all proportions. His eyebrows became congested as you continued. “I’m grateful that you saved me but do not do that again, ever.” With that, you walked out of his studio but a firm grip on your wrist kept you from running away anymore.

“Listen, I’m being haunted by you, your pain, your emotions, and everything you feel for the past few months, and all you could say to me was to stay away from you… not even a proper thank you.”, His breath hit your lips as he drew in a sharp breath before his amber eyes landed on you, your shaky lips and pale eyes.

Embarrassment rushed into your cheeks and you pushed him lightly uttering, “Stay away” with a little glare to ward him off but when you vanished out of his sight he was not dejected, not at all. Sure, he was conflicted but the way you told him to stay away whereas your body spoke otherwise made him relish the chase that has haunted him for months now.

They say one can only save people only if one wants to be saved. You neither needed help nor saving but you could see why Xavier begged to differ, wanted to be the odd one out, and craved the crown from saving you from your only family. You always had been a rebel since your childhood, going against the flow of the stream. Somewhere in the corner of your heart, you knew you were different, you would be different. 

It was the end of June when you first felt your body ache, back arch, muscles cramping excruciatingly as if someone was poking needles in your skin. Your arms clung to your body as your back bled for the first time. The wailing of such lethal agony submerged amidst the sound of rain as two enormous wings grew with lustrous hues of carmine and amber. Your breathing became regular again, your body stopped hurting as the wings flapped open involuntarily. Every mark, scar, and wound on your body since you were a child began to heal, all by themselves. 

Everyone rejoiced when you went through the family ritual and stood in front of your clan as the last phoenix of your bloodline. It was a miracle that a phoenix had been born in the bloodline but just like with blessings it came with a massive price. You were a healer and a destroyer at the same time. Somewhere something has to die to keep you alive, again and again. Every time you were wounded or hurt, your mother had to lose some of her life until she became lifeless, forever. But the family oracle told your father that it is a part of the process, part of a phoenix's journey that every one of their loved ones had to sacrifice in one way or another. 

Your father just had a miraculous idea to save you and himself from the bottomless pit of despondency and mutual hatred lurking in his heart because of you. He volunteered to sacrifice himself even if that was against his will. The oracle seemed to be unsure about the idea, saying that the cycle might shorten but not cease. But your father was right, the cycle did cease and you became aware of it when your uncle tried to chop off your wings, uprooting the evil once and for all, and no one in your family was harmed. Still, unfortunately, you were under the radar of an outcast, Xavier Thorpe. ‘What would happen if someone not from your bloodline were to sacrifice? What would happen to your mate if they were not an outcast? What would. . . thoughts would not cease to bombard your mind until a knock disrupted your trail of thoughts.

You lifted your eyes for a glance only to find Xavier inclining against the bookshelf with a saccharine smile on his face. Your stomach turned at the sight of him. ‘How can a person be so forgiving?’ but it seems that he is rather forgetful than forgiving. He picked up a random book from the shelf and sat in front of you.

“You’re hurt. . .”, you murmured to which he responded, “more than you think . . .” while turning the pages of the book and occasionally stealing glances from you. You rolled your eyes and leaned towards the table eyeing his hands that had a lot of scratches. It was probably from a silly fight with other boys, maybe the normies; for him, it was just a scratch yet for you it was an opportunity to apologize for the other day. 

“Give me your hand.” As you extended yours, Xavier's reflexively recoiled under the desk. “I’ve no intention of harming you.”, you uttered touching the palm of his other hand that was still on the desk. “Besides, I’m just clearing my debts.”

“Um-hm.”

You inhaled sharply before you flapped those lustrous enormous wings to heal with him, his wounds. Your wings glowed for almost a minute and the hand that was hurt was healed which he was hiding under the desk. It is impressive how Xavier hurt the very hand that can create masterpieces. What a clutz!  He interlaces his fingers with yours as he murmured, “A touch . . . is all you need.”

You begrudgingly pulled your hand away standing up and yelling whisperingly, “stop it. stop this. . . and don’t come near me.” With that, you grabbed your book and went towards the exit of the library. Xavier sat like a child who would mourn for the broken toy rather than demand anew.

“Wait.”, Xavier followed you. He kept yelling in the middle of the corridor, “Y/n. wait.”

“Your wings.”, you finally turned your head but not without letting out a sigh of annoyance. “You’re hurt. . .bleeding” and that is when fear crawled underneath the skin. 

“I never bleed.”, you retorted.

“And, I never lie.”

If it were someone else, you would have shooed them away. But this was Xavier, who saved you from an inevitable, to whom you owed nothing but the truth. Even though you tried to heal yourself you could not, perhaps because you healed someone and that too for the first time. 

Xavier might be persistent but he was not dull. It didn't take him long to connect the dots and hence you had to do the very thing you wanted to avert from the first place. His room was not tidy but not neat and clean either. With Rowan gone he has the room all to himself. You wanted to go to the infirmary, but there wasn't anyone available. Besides, with all the mess you are in you didn't want to risk it.

“I promise I'll behave.”, he said, swinging his hands up in the air in a form of surrender. That made you smile a little as you turned around so that he could tend to the wound. He unzipped your dress and carefully tucked it along your waistline without harming the feathers. Even though you had your camisole on, you still felt naked. His fingers brushed against your skin. It was ice cold. You had to hold your breath as he dressed the wound. 

Xavier noticed how your shoulder blades had been marked. He grazed his fingers over the part from where your wings grew that made you instantly shriek and move away from him. 

“Are you done?”, you asked, surprise and embarrassment coursing through your skin. Your upper body was barely clad, nothing but an unhooked bra. 

“No.”, and within a blink, his lips were already on yours. You could taste the longing and desperation with each suck. Your hands curled around his nape as his hands got rid of the minimal clothing from your upper body. “First time?”, he asked as he moved away leaving you breathless yet craving for more.

“Why? You care?”, you blurted out stepping out of your dress. Xavier eyed you from up and down. You did not flinch but rather smiled as you noticed his astonished face. You had nothing on but just the underwear. 

“I do.”, one of his eyebrows jumped as he knelt near you. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”, he murmured grabbing your calf muscles and kissing your femininity over the cloth. He took a glance before tucking the hem of the panty in between his fingers and undid it. Your hand reflexively went over his head as he kissed your entrance, lapping over your pussy lips that made you suck in a sharp breath. He sucked on your skin, followed by a feeble bite into your inner thighs. 

“AH!”, you winced pausing his ministrations. “Don’t you taste divine?”, he whispered kissing your lips, wetting them with the blend of his saliva and your slick. He was too dressed. You cocked an eyebrow at him and he took the hint. You co-operated as he became almost naked, and was back up even though you wanted him to continue.

“You won’t hurt me. worry for yourself.”, you said as you felt his hands palming your cheeks a little too long than they should. His hands traveled back to your entrance and you moaned under his slight touch.

“What? Never played with yourself?”, he added that surely turning the cogs in your head. You pushed him onto the bed, sitting on him struggling to take his cock in and he was not even helping. All he did was watch you let out whimpers of frustration as you lazily glided on his cock. He rested himself on his elbows saying, “Look at me.” And as you did, his fingers dig into your plush ass cheeks slowly adjusting you at a proper angle and stretching you. You kissed him so break the eye contact that made you feel naked, even though you were. Both of you jolted as you could feel his cock inside you.

His hands clamped around your waist as you bobbed on him, with greater force and broader strokes but slow. With each sloppy hit you felt his cock twitch inside you; your hands desperately roamed all over your body, heat bubbling as you could feel your body tensing, picking up the pace he was setting you in, and the orgasm lurking underneath. You can tell; a few more strokes and you would cum so easily. 

He can feel it too. Xavier winced as he felt you clenching around his cock. His legs folded to support your back while your hands flew to his shoulder blades, his knuckles turning white, his grip growing stronger around your waist and you came right away, back arching and your wings flapping open involuntarily, eyes rolling white relishing the high as your thighs squeezed in.

With your breathing rash and heavy, you felt all mushy in the head and so was he. Xavier could have sworn that he has not seen anything more beautiful than this, than you sitting on him with his cock buried inside you; your skin glistening in sweat with your gorgeous wings at the display. 

As soon as Xavier’s breath relaxed a bit he pulled you into his embrace for a kiss. He could not help it, you were too beautiful to look at. Besides, he was not done, not yet.

—

by @blueparadis

[shebunie]

hi! heard you're taking requests for mizu... if you're able to, I'd love to see mizu with a y/n that gets super flustered around her! like, she just stutters and fumbles over her words, her face getting all red just because mizu may have looked at her a certain way. she's bad at hiding her obvious crush, but mizu finds it endearing, even cute! she allows herself to be a bit of a tease to y/n, knowing she'll get super red! your fics are super cute, I'd love to see how you'd portray this dynamic!

𝐀 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐞

𝗠𝗶𝘇𝘂 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝗳𝗹𝘂𝗳𝗳, 𝘁𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲, 𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗵𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗩𝗜𝗟𝗘 𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁 𝗳𝗶𝗰 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟭𝗸 𝐀/𝐍: 𝗜 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝗜 𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗮𝗽𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹!

In the quaint village nestled amidst the serene snow-covered landscape of Mihonoseki, a delicate dance unfolded in the chilly air, unseen but felt by those caught in its subtle web. Amongst the bustling streets and traditional wooden structures, Mizu, a captivating figure with a mischievous glint in her eyes, held a certain fascination for one in particular—you.

The snowy month painted the village a monochrome masterpiece, the soft flakes of snowfall transforming everything into a serene dreamscape. Mizu, with her flowing dark hair and piercing eyes that mirrored the deep winter night, seemed to effortlessly command attention wherever she went. It was not pleasant.

You, however, found yourself ensnared by more than just the beauty of the season.

One chilly afternoon, as the village bustled with activity, a festival was underway, bringing together children and adults alike to wish for a better year. Hanging their desires, wants, and wishes on a tree was a cherished tradition.

The village was filled with joyous chatter, and laughing children created a symphony of happiness. Various stalls displayed an array of food and trinkets that had you in awe. However, amidst the vibrant festivities, you failed to notice the lingering stare of someone.

“Such a pretty hair jewel! Did you make them?” You asked the owner of a stall, gently picking up a delicate hairpin with their hands.

The stall owner, an elderly woman with a warm smile, nodded and began sharing the story behind each meticulously crafted piece. As you listened intently, a shadow fell over the scene. Mizu had silently approached, her eyes fixated on the interaction between you and the stall owner.

Unbeknownst to you, Mizu had been observing from afar, her curiosity piqued by the genuine interest you displayed in the artisan's work. The mischievous glint in Mizu's eyes intensified as she silently decided to join the conversation.

“Ah, those are exquisite pieces indeed,” Mizu chimed in, her voice like a soft breeze carrying a hint of mystery. You turned, startled by her sudden presence.

Mizu continued, her gaze locked with yours, "I couldn't help but notice your keen eye for beauty. Perhaps," Mizu's eyes sparkled, and with a sly grin, she plucked a delicate snowflake-shaped hairpin from the display.

"This one," she declared, seemingly confident in her choice. "It's like a piece of winter captured in silver and crystals."

With a quick motion, she gracefully slid the hairpin into your hair, her fingers brushing against your locks. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but meet her gaze, finding a world of mystery in those deep, piercing eyes.

"It suits you."

The festival's joyful ambience seemed to fade, leaving only the two of them in a suspended moment, like snowflakes frozen in midair. The sword wielder’s action caught you off guard, face burst into a flushed tone, you froze. Struggling to voice out a reply.

Grinning at your baffled state she leaned in, beside your ear her voice a soft whisper only you could hear over the festive clamour. 

"You look beautiful." 

You could feel the weight of Mizu's words hanging in the air, the roughness of her voice adding to the enchantment of the moment. The festival's vibrant colours and cheerful sounds dimmed as the atmosphere between the two of you intensified. The delicate snowflake hairpin glistened in your hair, catching the soft glow of the surrounding lanterns.

The flush of warmth spread across your cheeks worsen, you spoke in stammers as Mizu pulled away, her sly grin turning into a gentle smile.

"Than– Thank you, Mizu. You didn't have to buy this for, me." You gazed down at your hands, fiddeling with the digits to keep you distracted from the womans close proximity.

The festival noises gradually seeped back into your awareness, but Mizu's presence remained magnetic. She slyly grabbed a hold of your hand as the other was placed behind the small of your back, gesturing towards the lively stalls and the swirling dancers with a tilt of her head, "Shall we explore the festival together? There's so much more to see, and I'd love your company."

Her invitation hung in the air like a promise of further adventures. With a nod, too stunned to utter a word, you found yourself drawn into the flow of the festival by Mizu's side. The vibrant lights, the tantalizing aroma of festival treats, and the lively music enveloped you both as you meandered through the bustling crowd.

Every now and then, your eyes would meet, which you’d avoid in embarrassment, gaze now fixated on the snow-covered path. Mizu couldn't help but be amused by your bashful demeanour. Her laughter, like wind chimes on a crisp winter day, rang through the air. "You're charmingly shy," she remarked, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint. 

"For whatever reason you think it is– stop, stop teasing!”

Mizu's giggle, like a playful melody, filled the air. She leaned back, her gaze meeting yours with a glint of amusement. "Teasing? Me?" she said, feigning innocence, but her eyes betrayed a subtle mischief. "Perhaps a little."

Your playful retort, breaking through the lingering shyness. "You are oddly playful, and I'm getting concerned. Bring my Mizu back." With a turn of your head, facing away from the woman with crossed arms while you huffed.

Her sly grin persisted but now softened with a touch of sincerity. "I can't help but indulge in a bit of fun, especially when your emotions are so effortlessly displayed on your face."

Your heart skipped a beat as Mizu's fingers gently guided your chin, redirecting your gaze to meet hers. The warmth in her eyes seemed to deepen, capturing a sincerity that echoed in her words. The festival's enchantment, once a mere backdrop, now felt like a cocoon enveloping the two of you in a world of shared secrets.

A playful smile played on Mizu's lips as she continued, her voice a whispered melody in the winter night. "There she is," she breathed, as if uncovering a hidden treasure. "You look so endearing right now, how could your Mizu not resist?"

The compliment lingered in the air, creating a moment suspended in time. The festival's vibrant energy seemed to ebb away, leaving only the soft glow of lanterns and the gentle fall of snowflakes. It was as if the world had paused, allowing the connection between you and Mizu to deepen.

Mizu's hand, still cradling your chin, traced a delicate path down, along the veins of your neck, the dip of your collarbone, till she reached the smooth supple skin of your hand, where her fingers interlocked with yours. The touch was tender, a silent promise woven into the fabric of the winter night. As you sat side by side, the festival transformed into a canvas for a shared story, each moment etched with the magic of the unexpected.

The night beckoned with a sense of wonder and anticipation, and Mizu, with a glance filled with unspoken promises, suggested, "Shall we continue our exploration of this enchanting night? There's still so much more to discover, and I'd like nothing more than to have you by my side."

[pmamtraveller]

ALEXANDRE-MARIE COLIN, "THE THREE WITHES FROM MACBETH", 1827

This oil painting portrays famous characters from a Shakespearean play. The witches are in a striking yet spooky setting, which highlights their mystical attributes. Colin's depiction is in line with the witches'roles as harbingers of fate and chaos, showcasing their enigmatic presence within the narrative.

Colin emphasizes their supernatural abilities by portraying them in a dark, foreboding landscape, which enhances the sense of mystery and danger associated with their character. The witches are shown in dynamic poses, indicating their power over destiny and nature, as they handle forces such as thunder and lightning. Their facial expressions and body movements demonstrate a creepy level of certainty, highlighting their understanding of what's to come and their control over human events.

One major challenge Colin encountered when creating this piece was getting approval from the Salon juries, as his early works were often rejected due to their painting style, which was unpopular at the time. Additionally, Colin struggled to achieve the same level of fame as contemporaries like Delacroix, potentially impacting his self-assurance and recognition in the art world.

Currently, this painting remains in a privately owned collection, and information about its current ownership is not made public. Over the years, it has not been widely exhibited, which contributes to its limited accessibility and visibility in the art world. The fact that the painting is privately owned implies that it may not have been passed through many different owners since it was created.

[artnwill]

My art inspirations

William Heath Robinson- He was an English Cartoonist that lived though 1872-1944. Not only do I enjoy his drawings because of the fun elements that he would bring into them with machines, but I really like his use of line. His use of a single width for his line work and other artists have directly affected my own works. I also really enjoy the flat colors that he uses in his works.

John James Audubon- He was a American- French artist and ornithologist ( study of birds) who lived from 1785-1851. He recorded and painted many species of birds that are native here in America. I love his art. The composition, the colors, the accuracy of the birds is to die for. Huge inspiration when it comes to drawing birds. Recommend studying his art if your interested in bird drawing!

(Also the last bird picture is of a Carolina Parakeet, which was the only parakeet native to the southwest of North America)

(unfortunately it went extinct around the 1900's, which is a shame as it looks like it was such a pretty bird)

He also drew some mammals from America (tbh though some of them look a bit..... odd). This guy looks hella cursed lol

(both bird and racoon pics were from my collection of books based on his art)

Joe Weatherly- He is a California based artist that focuses on animal art. His artworks are very dynamic in nature and I love his use of color in his artworks. He also has done multiple books on drawing animals and of his own art (first picture is of his book Animal Essence). I highly recommend him to anyone interested in learning how to draw animals!

Here's a link his website for anyone interested https://www.joeweatherly.com/

(Images were taken from my own copy of his book Animal Essence)

Group of artworks from Pauline Cherrett's book "Chinese Brush Painting: A Beginner's Guide"

I have always been a fan of brushwork in artworks and have always been inspired by Chinese brush painting and Japanese woodblock art. I've always liked nature and landscapes and flowers which tend to be the main subjects of this type of art and honestly I just really enjoy them ( I mean look at the brushwork its amazing).

(all of these pictures come from my copy of the book)

So this was just a small list of some of the artworks and artist that inspire me and my art. Wanted to write this blog for myself as a sort of reference point and to show others different artists that they may not know of. I also have another blog like this one which I'll link if anyone is interested.

Honestly this was so much fun to write! I mainly write a ton for college and it can be a bit taxing but it's nice to write something for myself and on a topic I really enjoy!

[silverview]

maybe the details of art are common knowledge, but i only read up about it yesterday. it's interesting! it opened in the west end in 96 & was something of a popular hit

it's about three old friends who fall out when one of them buys an expensive painting that's an almost-blank white canvas (a quiet night in); one of them aggressively disapproves, calling it pretentious; and the third is caught in the middle trying to keep the peace

had a ton of casts – a new one every three months. (the effect of this is interesting – more on that below.) tlog were selected to be the last lot before it closed in 02. if you don't already know, who do you suppose played each role? it has nothing to do with the weirdly deceptive promo pics. answers & more below the cut

mark played the friend who buys the painting, steve played the one who disapproves, and reece played the guy caught in the middle. i wonder how that decision was made. i wonder if they considered any alternative configurations (bf had steve & reece switched, which i think makes a lot of sense). as always i'm like. but what does the character say about YOU

they got mixed reviews. nearly every review singles out reece's delivery of this monologue, though they disagree on whether it was good or not. perhaps surprisingly, they don't uniformly characterise it (or his performance in general) as particularly angry. not to be dramatic but i would kill and die to have seen it, just that monologue alone

so below i've collected the most interesting parts of surviving reviews. the last one is my fav. some of them have interesting things to say on the effect of the rotating cast, sort of the opposite of the in9 meta-character effect, which i think is pretty funny & fitting

BBC

Reece Shearsmith is a little too giddy with Yvan's furious diatribe about his impending wedding - the laughs are landing so hard that some others are being lost in the process. But he is a particularly touching and vulnerable go-between, desperately sitting on the fence in the conflict that erupts between his friends Serge (Mark Gatiss) and Marc (Steve Pemberton), and finding - as you do - that those who sit on fences are liable to get splinters.

GUARDIAN

[A] play as bland and flimsy as this requires actors who are not only heroically talented but who also have formidable technical skills. Pemberton, Gatiss and Shearsmith don't. They are likeable, even mildly engaging but you are always aware that they are putting on a performance. What's more, they are far less funny than the two other casts I've seen. Shearsmith, for example, flunks the timing of his long monologue so instead of making an audience rock with waves of laughter, he gets only one big laugh right at the end. The silences in the evening, in particular the famous olive scene, are not eloquent, just empty.

THEATREGUIDE

I've heard, though, that other casts have had other dynamics. With some, it plays as light comedy, satirising everyone's pretensions to high passions. Others make it a touching study in the fragility of friendship and all three men's hitherto-unrealised need for it. The cast changes every three months or so [...] Just be prepared for the fact that the show you see will be different in tone and effect from the one your friends saw last year, and will probably be a glib skating over the emotional issues and implications it raises. [...] And while the laidback, indeed colloquial, approach of Mark Gatiss (perky Serge), Steve Pemberton (laconic Marc) and Reece Shearsmith (wickedly neurotic Yvan) may not be to everyone's taste, it's undeniably perfect casting to complete the spectrum of wall-to-wall talent that's made the show such a feature of London's theatrical landscape. [...] Playing cheekily with rhythms of speech and timing, they create a very English rendition of what is essentially a French play, substituting the de rigueur dramatic devices and flourishes with frighteningly real personalities that transcend the dramatic crutch of Yasmina Reza's Continental-style philosophizing text and sub-text. Admittedly the first ever cast of Courtenay, Finney and Stott all those years ago set the benchmark for the production (though I found them yawnsome and wooden) - and the League have the advantage of tapping into the accumulated performances that followed.

i think "laidback," "colloquial," "cheeky," "English" and "real" might be euphemisms for northern – more on that below

CIX

Having now seen Art three or four times (to be honest, I forget which), I've begun to muse that in some strange way it's a metaphor for itself. It's not just the performance dynamics, our impression of the trio's relationship, that varies from cast to cast... it's the very sense of how much real content there is in Reza's play, of whether it takes its thematic concerns about inherent versus attributed qualities (whether of a painting or a person) very far or not. In a sense, the performers are the series of diagonal white lines painted on to the white canvas of the play. And like the lines in the painting on stage (or so we're told), they're not pure white: some are vaguely yellow, some are sort of ochre-ish... In the case of the League, the bizarrely unrelated publicity images make clear that what's hoped for is a kind of fake-blood crimson tinge. So although there's no real indulgence, director Jennie Darnell allows the three to turn in a slight caricature of the naturalism with which the piece has usually been played, that little unreality often seen in the kind of sketch comedy where the group cut their teeth. The elegant apartment set is a world away from the League's fictional town of Royston Vasey, but the casting of the individual members plays to respective strengths familiar from their various screen guises. As Serge, who has paid 200,000 francs for the picture, Mark Gatiss exudes an appropriately smug and supercilious cleverness. As Marc, who faces off against Serge by declaring the canvas "shit", Steve Pemberton is more mercurial, with an air of suppressed violence. Reece Shearsmith, the relatively cuddly one [sic], succeeds in focusing audience identification on Yvan, the less smart piggy-in-the-middle. All three are of course skilled performers, and you can see the rapport gained from up to fifteen years' collaboration in, for instance, the way Gatiss and Pemberton trade facial "mugs" as they first consider the painting. However, this very affinity with each other enables them to skim over deeper elements in the play. When Shearsmith gabbles out Yvan's great bewildered set-piece about the complications of his wedding arrangements, we applaud the high-speed delivery but don't pick up enough of what he says to engage with Yvan's travails.

kissing this reviewer on the mouth for specifically describing what he thinks their respective strengths are & especially for describing reece as THE CUDDLY ONE like... idk if it shows but i'm obsessed with how people see them, and how they see themselves & each other

EVENING STANDARD

Not so much a piece of headline-grabbing stunt casting as three trained actors flexing their thespian muscles [...] bona fide drama graduates, not comedy chancers. This immediately shows, from their poise, projection and presence. Only the dimple-chinned Pemberton as intolerant Marc comes close to his rogues' gallery of BBC2 personae during moments of rage when he cannot come to terms with Serge's purchase of an overpriced minimalist painting. By contrast, Mark Gatiss as the punctilious, pretentious Serge is the epitome of restraint, as cool as his sharp, charcoal suit. The comic moments are all in context. Shearsmith, as the boyish Yvan, is increasingly troubled by his imminent nuptials. This eventually spills out in a breathless pseudo-Pythonesque rant against marriage that is as funny to witness as it is difficult to say. But throughout, the trio respect Reza's text, sidelining their insatiable appetite for the grotesque that has made their their brand of humour so distinctive. This may, however, be problematic. Having sold out in the West End with their sketch show a couple of years ago, some of the threesome's intensely passionate fans may see Art as a follow-up and feel shortchanged. The eye-catching poster may compound the deception, the chopper, axe and chainsaw being wielded suggesting some Grand Guignol flourishes which never materialise.

BBC AGAIN

The northern accents do not quite ring true in the sophisticated setting of a Paris apartment and often lead to flat performances, where one gets the feeling their brand of wit is not quite enough to portray Parisian conceit. The strongest display by far comes from Mark Gatiss (Serge) - the eerie butcher in League of Gentlemen - as the tall, slightly effeminate doctor who acquires the painting, striking just the right balance of preciousness and acerbic wit. The diminutive Reece Shearsmith is adequate in his portrayal of Yvan, the put-down-upon soon-to-be-married stationer caught in the middle of the feud between his two friends. But the biggest disappointment comes from Steve Pemberton, who plays Marc, the critical compadre who takes Serge's indulgence for contemporary art as a personal slight. Pemberton, normally the trio's strongest performer, well-known for his brilliant turn as Pauline in the League of Gentlemen, seems ill at ease in the role. His northern persona cannot quite stretch far enough to inhabit the part of Marc, an angry homeopathic freak whose insecurity finds it hard to cope with his friend's show of independence over the painting. Like the painting, the play does not remain colourless throughout however. One of the highlights is Shearsmith's 10-minute tirade about the difficulties of coping with the women in his life ahead of his impending wedding.

yeah this one is definitely my favourite. casually calls them ALL scallies, then calls each of them out INDIVIDUALLY for being a) gay b) short c) shit. absolute legend. did they ever find this reviewer's body

related, from this article in the guardian:

"When we first did Art, a review said 'Yes, but can they act?' and that made me angry," said Shearsmith. "I remember thinking 'What have we been doing in The League of Gentlemen? It's not standup."

in 2013, reece said art was his favourite ever play to do. highlights from the replies

[writingforstraykids]

Lessons in love - Chp.1

Pairing: Hyunchan (mention of Changlix | Minho)

Word Count: 4013

Summary: Chan and Hyunjin, both teachers at Stray Seoul University and roommates, are hopelessly in love with each other, too scared to admit anything. Chan's best friend Minho tries to help after he gets jealous of Felix and Changbin casually flirting with Hyunjin all the time.

Warnings/Tags: college!au, fluff, angst, mutual pining

A/N: So this whole thing is based on this reblog by miu @slutforchanlix and the following rambling with azzy @galaxycatdrawz. This developed into a series real quick and will focus on different dynamics between the rest of the boys as well. I hope you'll have fun reading🖤

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

In the quaint corridors of Stray Seoul University, where ancient oaks whispered old secrets and the breeze carried the scent of fresh paint and old books, Hyunjin and Chan found their sanctuary a few years ago. The two of them were close friends and roommates, each harboring a secret that was as beautiful as it was terrifying. This secret was their unspoken love for each other, a silent symphony that played in the background of their everyday lives. It had been for years.

Hyunjin, with his delicate hands and bright eyes, was the Arts teacher. His classroom was on the third floor of the main building, a room with wide windows that bathed his workspace in natural light. Here, canvases burst into life under his guidance as he taught his students the dance of brush and color. His methods were something new, and his critiques were always constructive but layered with an enthusiasm that made every student feel like a budding Van Gogh. His passion for art was evident in the way his eyes sparkled when discussing the texture of a painting or the gradient of a sunset.

Chan, on the other hand, loved his position as an English teacher. His domain was just a corridor away, in a classroom filled with the rich aroma of old books and new paper. Chan’s lessons were a journey through the landscapes of literature and the intricacies of language. He had a reputation for making Shakespeare relatable and teaching grammar without the usual dread associated with it. His students loved his animated storytelling sessions and the way he could bring characters to life, making metaphysical poets as compelling as contemporary novelists.

Their home was a small apartment just a few blocks away from Stray Seoul University’s campus. It was a cozy little apartment, where each room was filled with the artifacts of their professions - Hyunjin’s sketches adorned the fridge, while plenty of Chan’s annotated copies often lay scattered on the coffee table. They moved around each other with comfortable ease, a rhythm perfected over time, shared smiles, and an occasional brush of hands that neither dared to acknowledge the way they’d love to.

Despite their closeness, both Hyunjin and Chan were guarded about their feelings. Their friendship was a delicate vase on the edge of a table, beautiful but terrifying in its fragility. Evenings often found them on their small balcony, where they talked about everything but those feelings. Hyunjin would describe his latest project, his hands painting the air as he spoke, while Chan would listen, his eyes often lingering a moment too long, full of words he couldn't voice.

At college, they maintained a professional but friendly demeanor. Students often speculated about their closeness, their seamless cooperation during faculty meetings, and their mutual admiration when discussing school projects. They were known for spending their lunch breaks together, and every student knew if there were a field trip planned, the other would be the additional teacher. Both were beloved for their dedication and the safe space they created in their classrooms. Their colleagues respected them for their talents and the subtle ways they supported each other - Chan providing literary quotes that Hyunjin might use in a lecture on art history, or Hyunjin recommending visual materials that could help Chan illustrate a point about descriptive narratives.

Yet, in those quiet moments between tasks, when the world seemed to slow down, Chan found his thoughts drifting to Hyunjin more often than he would admit. He remembered their first meeting, an accidental encounter in the university library back when they just started studying themselves. Chan had been searching for a particular book on Elizabethan poetry when he had spotted Hyunjin, a few shelves away, deeply engrossed in a book on Renaissance art. Their eyes had met briefly, and something unspoken had passed between them that neither of them could explain.

From that moment on, their paths seemed to intersect more frequently. Shared lunches in the cafeteria turned into evening strolls around the campus, and those strolls led to late-night conversations that stretched into the early hours of the morning. Each interaction was a new layer added to their growing bond, a bond that was as comforting as it was confusing for Chan.

He often found himself mesmerized by Hyunjin's presence. There was something about the way Hyunjin moved, with a grace that seemed almost ethereal, and the way he spoke, his words like gentle strokes on a canvas. Chan admired his friend’s passion for art, the way he could lose himself in a painting for hours, completely absorbed by the play of colors and textures. It was during these moments, watching Hyunjin in his element, that Chan felt the stirrings of something deeper, something that went beyond friendship. Shit, he was in love, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Hyunjin’s love for Chan had grown slowly over time, like a seed taking root in the fertile soil of shared experiences and mutual respect. He cherished their friendship, but the intensity of his feelings often left him breathless. He admired Chan’s dedication to his students and the way his face would light up when discussing a particularly engaging piece of literature. Hyunjin found himself mesmerized by the passion in Chan’s eyes, the way his hands would move animatedly as he spoke. It was in these moments that Hyunjin felt the stirrings of something deeper, something that went beyond friendship.

Every day, as they walked to the university together, Hyunjin would steal glances at Chan, hoping to catch a glimpse of the emotions that might mirror his own. The soft morning light would play on Chan’s features, highlighting the lines of his jaw, the curve of his lips, and the warmth in his eyes. Hyunjin’s heart would beat a little faster, a silent testament to the love he kept hidden.

One rainy afternoon, as they sat together in the university café, Chan was grading papers while Hyunjin sketched absentmindedly. The sound of rain tapping against the windows created a cocoon of intimacy around them. Hyunjin looked up from his sketchpad and watched Chan for a moment, admiring the way his brow furrowed in concentration.

“What are you working on?” Chan asked, glancing up from his papers and catching Hyunjin’s gaze.

“Oh, just a rough sketch,” Hyunjin replied, a blush creeping up his cheeks. He quickly looked down, feeling the weight of his unspoken feelings.

Chan smiled warmly at his friend's shyness. “Can I see it?”

Hyunjin hesitated for a moment before handing over the sketchpad. The drawing was a portrait of Chan, his features captured with an intimacy that spoke volumes of Hyunjin’s admiration. Chan studied the drawing, a look of surprise and something else - something tender - crossing his face.

“This is incredible, Hyunjin,” Chan said softly, his voice filled with awe. “You’ve captured…so much.”

Hyunjin’s heart raced as he searched Chan’s eyes for any hint of recognition, any sign that his feelings might be reciprocated. But Chan’s expression remained unreadable, and the moment passed, leaving Hyunjin with a bittersweet ache in his chest. “It's nothing,” he waved him off, taking it back.

Chan chuckled at him, fondly rolling his eyes. “Always so modest.”

Hyunjin hummed gently, staring out of the window as Chan continued working. He watched the raindrops painting their vivid pictures along the glass, but his eyes went back to Chan much sooner than he’d like. He often found himself caught in moments of quiet admiration for Chan, his eyes tracing the contours of Chan's face with the same intensity and focus he applied to his art. 

A sliver of late afternoon sunlight streamed through the window, breaking through the clouds and illuminating Chan’s profile. The light danced across his face, highlighting the arch of his cheekbone and the curve of his jaw. Hyunjin watched as Chan read, completely absorbed in his students’ work, his brow furrowing slightly in concentration. It was these unguarded, intimate moments that Hyunjin cherished most - the quiet, the soft rustling of pages, and Chan's expressive eyes moving swiftly across the text.

Chan’s beauty was not just in his features but in his movements and expressions. When he laughed, his eyes lit up, creasing at the corners, and his whole face seemed to brighten the room. When he was deep in thought, his lips would purse slightly, and his fingers would tap rhythmically on the surface beside him. These nuances, these small, everyday gestures, drew Hyunjin in deeper, his admiration growing with each passing moment.

Hyunjin's sketches often contained these details. His sketchpad was filled with lines attempting to capture the essence of Chan’s expressions. Each drawing was a silent testament to his deep affection - a collection of moments that Hyunjin treasured. 

The sound of the door opening pulled him from his thoughts, a soft smile covering his lips, spotting Felix. Felix, the owner of the cafe, was a charismatic Australian who had quickly established his little shop on campus as a warm, inviting haven. With his sunny smile and talent for remembering his customers' favorite orders, Felix had become particularly popular among the university crowd. His friendly banter and the occasional free pastry for his regulars only added to his charm.

"Hyunjin, Chan! Good to see you guys," Felix greeted them with his usual broad smile, putting aside his jacket. His gaze lingered slightly longer on Hyunjin, something that didn’t escape Chan’s notice.

"Hey, Lix," Hyunjin replied, his own smile a mirror of Felix’s enthusiasm. "It’s getting chilly out there, isn’t it?"

"Yeah, perfect weather for a hot cup of your favorite," Felix chuckled, already turning to prepare their usual orders, spotting their empty cups on the table. "The usual for you both?"

"That would be great, thanks," Chan interjected, trying to sound casual but feeling a twinge of discomfort at the easy banter between Hyunjin and Felix.

As Felix set about making their drinks, Hyunjin browsed through some of the new art magazines stacked on a nearby shelf while Chan watched Felix. He had noticed the way Felix moved with an effortless grace around the café, the way his eyes sparkled when he laughed, and how he seemed particularly animated, especially around Hyunjin a while ago. He knew Hyunjin and Lix got along quite well, and he wouldn’t be stupid enough to try and destroy that. It still bothered him.

When Felix brought over their coffees, his hand brushed against Hyunjin’s as he passed him the cup. Chan’s heart sank a little at the sight, the warmth in Felix’s eyes seeming to hold a hint of something more than just friendliness.

"So, Hyunjinnie," Felix started, slipping onto the bench next to him with a casual air, "how’s the new project going? You were telling me about that abstract piece you were working on."

Hyunjin’s face lit up at the question. "It’s going well, thanks for asking! I’m trying some new techniques, so it’s a bit of a challenge, but I’m enjoying it."

"That sounds amazing. You’ll have to show me sometime. I’d love to get a better understanding of your process," Felix replied, his interest seeming genuine but his tone perhaps too eager for Chan’s liking.

Chan watched as Hyunjin nodded, his eyes bright with the prospect of sharing his work. "Definitely, I’d appreciate your feedback."

The conversation flowed smoothly, and Chan felt increasingly like an outsider, his contributions to the conversation feeling forced and hollow in comparison to the natural rapport between Felix and Hyunjin.

The rest of their café visit passed in a blur for Chan. He laughed at the right moments and engaged in the conversation when necessary, but his thoughts were clouded with an unwelcome jealousy. He found himself analyzing every interaction between Felix and Hyunjin, each smile and each glance adding to his growing unease.

Chan tried to talk himself out of his feelings. Felix was just being friendly, he reasoned; it was part of his charm and why the cafe was so popular. Yet, no amount of rationalization seemed to soothe his unease.

One day, driven by a mix of desperation and a desire to understand, Chan decided to confront the situation. He waited until he and Hyunjin were alone, their steps echoing slightly as they walked through the quiet university campus back to Chan’s classroom.

"Hyunjin, can I ask you something?" Chan’s voice was hesitant, a stark contrast to his usual confident tone.

"Of course, Chan. What’s on your mind?" Hyunjin looked at him with concern, sensing the seriousness in his friend’s demeanor.

"It’s about Felix… and you," Chan paused, struggling to find the right words. "Do you feel like he’s… well, flirting with you?"

Hyunjin looked surprised, his eyebrows arching slightly. "Flirting with me? I… hadn’t really thought about it. He’s always nice, but I just thought he was like that with everyone,” he said, pulling the door to Chan’s classroom closed after himself.

Chan nodded slowly, the response not quite easing the tightness in his chest. "Maybe, but it seems different with you. More personal."

Hyunjin considered this for a moment, then sighed. "I suppose I can see how it might come across that way. But he’s with Changbin; he can’t mean much with it,” he giggled. “Changbin does it too, and you never mentioned it.”

Chan anxiously chewed his lower lip, thinking of Felix. There was something undeniably captivating about Felix - his demeanor exuded a warmth and magnetism that drew people to him. Watching him, Chan couldn't help but feel a mixture of admiration and a curious twinge of envy.

Felix's laughter could fill the café, a sound that seemed to echo off the walls and infuse the space with an extra dose of vitality. His hair was tousled perfectly as if each strand had been artfully arranged to give him a carefree, effortlessly charming look. His eyes sparkled with genuine interest as he listened to his customers, making each person feel like the center of his world. It was this quality, Chan thought, that made Felix not just a great café owner but a person who seemed to love his life and his interactions genuinely. It was hard not to think of Felix as someone out of a feel-good novel - the charismatic, adventurous protagonist that made Chan sometimes feel like he was missing from his own life. Sitting there, sipping his coffee, Chan allowed himself a moment to imagine what it would be like to live with that kind of joy and confidence. He couldn’t really blame Hyunjin for preferring his presence over his own.

“Yeah…but Binnie has stated quite often that he’s joking,” Chan argued weakly, his thoughts lingering on Changbin, the PE teacher whose presence seemed to lighten the mood wherever he was. There was an undeniable vitality about Changbin, an enthusiasm that he brought to his classes and interactions. Changbin’s face wore a constant, warm smile, making him approachable despite his imposing physique. His kindness was not just in his gestures or words but in his eyes, which sparkled with genuine concern and interest whenever he engaged with his students or colleagues. Today, Chan had watched him from afar, helping a student perfect their volleyball serve, his patience evident in his calm demeanor and encouraging nods. Chan admired how Changbin treated everyone with the same level of respect and kindness, whether they were star athletes or struggling novices. It was this treatment that truly set Changbin apart in Chan's eyes, making him not just physically attractive but deeply admirable. 

Reflecting on this, Chan thought about the subtle strength underlying Changbin’s kindness. It was a reminder that true strength was not just physical but the grace with which one treated others. Changbin’s hands, so capable of demonstrating sports techniques, were also gentle in offering a reassuring pat on the back or a high five. There was a natural charisma about him that made people feel valued - a trait Chan not only admired but also aspired to include in his own teaching. 

Hyunjin remained quiet for a moment, frowning softly. “I’m sorry, Chan, I didn’t realize it was bothering you. I thought you liked Lix."

Hyunjin's words caught Chan off-guard, stirring a mix of feelings within him. "I do like Felix," Chan admitted, his voice tinged with reluctance. "He's a great guy, but seeing him around you like that... it made me feel unsettled. And I guess it's because..." Chan hesitated, the words stuck in his throat.

"Because what?" Hyunjin prodded gently, almost hoping for Chan to make a confession right here and now.

Chan sighed, the weight of his unspoken truths pressing heavily on him. "It's because I care about you, Hyunjin. More than I probably should,” he said, missing the hopeful glint in Hyunjin’s eyes as he stared at the floor.

Hyunjin's expression softened, his eyes conveying a mix of surprise and compassion. He reached out to place a reassuring hand on Chan's shoulder. "I care about you too, so much...so, please be honest. What’s suddenly bothering you about it?"

Chan looked into Hyunjin's eyes, finding in them a reflection of his own fears and hopes. "I just don’t want you to get hurt," Chan said, managing a small smile despite the tumult of emotions inside him.

“Oh,” Hyunjin nodded, forcing a smile onto his lips. “There’s no need, really. Lix just loves to flirt a little,” he said, swallowing down the bitter taste of disappointment lacing his throat. “I should get to class; I’ll see you later.”

“Okay,” Chan nodded, staring after him. A shaky breath left his lips as the door shut close behind his friend, and the silence around him grew awfully loud. “Coward,” he whispered to himself, groaning softly. He checked his watch and nodded to himself. One more period until lunch break. Which meant his best friend had his break now, teaching a class later. Slipping his papers into his bag, Chan made his way to the faculty lounge, where he knew he would find Minho, the beloved Dance and Performing Arts teacher and his best friend since childhood. Minho was already at their usual spot in the corner of the university's bustling cafeteria, his tray filled with food. As Chan approached, Minho's face lit up with a welcoming smile.

"Channie! How's the master of Shakespeare today?" Minho teased, pushing a chair out with his foot for Chan to sit.

"More like the master of self-conflict," Chan muttered as he sank down into the chair, his shoulders slumping.

Minho's expression shifted to one of concern. "What's up? You look like you've lost a fight with a couple of your metaphysical poets."

Chan chuckled weakly. "It's not the poets giving me trouble. It's...it’s about Hyunjin."

Minho raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Hyunjin, huh? What about him? Don't tell me you finally confessed?"

Chan shook his head, stirring his coffee absentmindedly. "No, nothing like that. It’s just... Felix was flirting with him again, and I don't know; it made me feel weird."

Minho's laughter filled the air, a light-hearted sound that made a few nearby students glance over in curiosity. "Oh, Channie hyung! That’s classic!"

"It's not funny, Minho," Chan protested, though a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I can’t help feeling... jealous."

Minho burst out laughing again, covering his mouth with his hand. "Jealous? Of Yongbokie? That man flirts with anything that breathes—it’s probably just his way. But this is good!"

Chan frowned, puzzled. "How is any of that good?"

"It means you’re finally facing your feelings head-on instead of burying them in your lesson plans and Shakespearean monologues," Minho chuckled, then became more serious. "Look, Chan, it’s obvious to anyone with eyes that you’ve got it bad for Hyunjin. Maybe it's time you did something about it."

“Do what? He’s probably happy about Felix showering him with love,” Chan sighed heavily. “He might…oh fuck you,” he snorted at Minho’s intrigued grin.

"Might fall for his devilish charms?" Minho finished for him, his voice dripping with mock drama. "Come on, Chan. Hyunjin’s got eyes for someone else, even if he doesn’t know it yet."

Chan sighed, knowing Minho was referring to him. "I wish that were enough to stop me from feeling this way. I just hate feeling so... powerless."

Minho reached across the table, placing a reassuring hand over Chan's. "Listen, hyungie, what you’re feeling is totally normal. But you can’t control how Felix acts or how Hyunjin responds. What you can control is what you do next. How about you focus on showing Hyunjin just how much he means to you?"

"And how do I do that without spilling my guts and potentially ruining everything?" Chan asked, his voice tinged with frustration.

"Subtly, Channie. Subtly. Start with small things. Be there for him, make him laugh, and share more of those deep poetic thoughts you keep locked up in your brain...do it with him for once instead of drooling all over my food during lunch break,” he teased softly, pulling a small smile from him. “Build the connection you already have. Trust me; actions speak way louder than confessions thrown out during a moment of jealousy."

"But what if it ruins everything?" Chan’s voice was tinged with worry. "Our friendship, our living situation... I can't lose him, Minho."

Minho nodded, understanding the depth of his friend's fear. "I get it. But consider this—what if telling him opens up the chance for something amazing? You won’t know until you try. Besides, Hyunjin's a great guy; he won’t let this ruin your friendship."

Chan considered Minho's words, the fear mingling with a flicker of hope. "I... I don’t even know where to start."

"Start with the truth. Tell him how you feel, how you've been feeling. It’s not about Felix or anyone else. It’s about you and him," Minho advised, his tone gentle yet firm.

"And if he doesn’t feel the same?" Chan’s voice was barely a whisper now, the weight of his unspoken love heavy on his chest.

Minho’s face softened. "Then you’ll deal with it like the mature, sophisticated intellectuals that you are," he said with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. "Seriously, Chan, honesty is terrifying but liberating. Hyunjin deserves to know, and you deserve to be honest with yourself and him."

Chan considered Minho's advice, feeling a semblance of a plan forming in his mind. "Maybe you're right. I just need to be patient and more... proactive."

"That's the spirit!" Minho exclaimed happily. "And who knows? Maybe Hyunjin is closer to seeing the truth than you think. You've got to give some credit to our boy; he's an artist, after all. He sees beauty where others see the ordinary."

“Talk about being poetic,” Chan giggled at him, and Min winked at him fondly.

The bell signaling the end of the break rang, pulling them back to the reality of their day. Minho stood, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Think about it, okay? I’m here no matter what happens. And who knows? Maybe Hyunjin is waiting for a sign from you."

Chan nodded, feeling a mix of dread and determination settling in his heart. "Thanks, Minho. For listening... and not making too much fun of me."

Minho laughed, pulling Chan into a brief, tight hug. "What are friends for if not to listen to your romantic worries and push you out of your comfort zone? Now, go inspire the future lovers and poets. And think about what you want to say to Hyunjin."

"Thanks, Minnie. Really," Chan said, feeling genuinely grateful for the pep talk.

"Anytime, Chan. Now fuck off and finally be the leading man of your own love story," Minho cheered, giving Chan a playful shove toward the door, giggling as the older flipped him off. 

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

As their ways parted, his mind raced with possibilities and what-ifs. The thought of confessing his feelings to Hyunjin was daunting, but Minho's words echoed in his mind, a mantra of encouragement and challenge. Maybe it was time to stop hiding behind their friendship and take a risk that could potentially change everything.

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):

@atinyniki @silverstarburst @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @michelle4eve @harshaaaaa @rylea08 @heeyboooo @manuosorioh @gisaerlleri @andassortedkpop @lailac13 @bbokari711 @kazuuuaaa @rssamj @wolfyychan @stellasays45 @chrizzztopherbang @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @silentreadersthings @myforevermelody143 @sapphirewaves

[b-biltz]

Tips and classes for Drawing and painting!

Hi!

The other day I saw a comment on Tumblr from someone who was just starting out in drawing and was using AI to help study their drawings. I decided to put together some resources that I know can help artists study and use as a reference without feeding this algorithm that is being so harmful to so many people in the artistic field.

Feel free to add more in the comments and reblogs!!!

Note: Some YouTube channels and profiles mentioned here I don't follow for so long or/and I didn't have time to analyze the content posted in full, but they were recommended by other people. Some channels/profiles are on these lists because of these recommendations or because they were useful with a post/video/tutorial at some point in my life. If there is any controversial/questionable conduct, I make it clear that I didn't know before posting! (We never know, right? hehehe)

LET'S GO:

1. You and your environment:

That's right, YOU. Your person and what you have available at home can be great references! Photos of family or friends, your pet, everyday objects that you barely pay attention to, the landscape around your house (even if it is not considered the most beautiful landscape or if it is just a wall), your food, the forgotten plant in the pot, your shoes, your clothes, your own body! They are physical objects, in YOUR hand, where you can rotate, position, arrange as you wish, and as a bonus you can do light studies on them with your cell phone's flashlight or natural daylight.

2. Follow your favorite artists and styles you like:

By following profiles of artists you like on social media, you can study their drawings, to understand how they do what they do, and, little by little, develop your art with your personality based on the styles you like!

Just be careful not to plagiarize! There's a difference in taking art from your artists to study, and keeping it for yourself and posting copies of other people's art or copying someone else's design! Study, understand and end up developing yours! DO NOT base your studies purely on the arts of others, but complement with them!

3. Follow photographers:

Photographer profiles are a treasure for anyone who likes to draw! There are photographers who capture images of people, animals, plants, landscapes, cities, etc. There are several categories! And different styles! Black and white, evidence in the shadows, play of colors and perspectives! It can be a fun exercise!

4. Follow model profiles:

Templates also provide good references. Today there is great variability in model profiles (if you know how to look well), and it can be a good exercise to design clothes and accessories on people! Study of fabric, movement, makeup and pigments in skin, hair, pose, among others

5. Media:

You can pause and take a screenshot of scenes you like from series, films, documentaries, cartoons, anime, or even take a panel from your favorite comic and draw it in your style, or study that image and try to copy it before applying in your style!

6. Pinterest:

The classic of classics! Great for references, using PHOTOS, of REAL people, animals, objects and landscapes. In addition, there are also several posts with drawing and painting tips, and even several mechanisms about various objects and elements, which can allow you to better understand the dynamics of what makes up your drawing, making your drawing, design and painting easier! There are even ready-made folders shared by other artists with several images, but you can make your own, in your own way! Mine have more than 60.000 pins!

7. Tumblr’s focused on tips for drawing and painting:

There are several names that we can mention and it is very easy to find these Tumblrs!

8. Follow artists here on tumblr:

These artists often share tips, techniques and brushes!

9. YouTube channels focused on drawing and painting:

There are several channels focused on art, tutorials, classes and drawing tips!

Some are: New Masters Academy; FZDSCHOOL; Proko; Alphonso Dunn; SamDoesArts; Marc Brunet; HABOOK; Brad's Art School; KeshArt; 조맹 Chommang_Drawing; NIRO; Sinix Design; Mmmmonexx; Draw like a Sir; fjordwind; Angel Ganev; Desenho Mestre; Pikat; One Pencil drawing; Bluebiscuits; SulaMoon; Uncomfortable; Bob Ross; Kevin Oil Painting; Fine Art Academy; Sycra; Moderndayjames; Kaycem; Tim Mcburnie - The Drawing Codex; Swatches; Ahmed Aldoori; Jordan Grimmer; Justin Donaldson

10. DAZ Studio:

It is a free program that allows you to model characters. You can customize and position the avatars however you see fit. You can even work with light incidence. You can also set up scenarios.

The free program already comes with some basic elements and on the website you can download more elements to compose your scene, such as other avatars, animals, objects, clothes, textures, among many others. However, it should be noted that some of these elements are paid. But the free basic elements already help A LOT in reference position, proportion, anatomy, scenery and study of light and shadow

11. Sketchfab:

It is a website that has several 3D elements generated by other artists. It has a free basic plan, with certain limitations, but it helps a lot when photos and other drawings are not enough for the pose you want!

12. PixelSquid:

It offers 3D models that can be useful for reference.

13. Floorplanner:

Allows you to create 2D and 3D house plans with a free account. This can help you with references to compose the scenario!

14.Dimensions:

It allows the notion of the dimension of different objects and figures.

15. Comparing Heights:

Website that allows you to compare heights between two figures

16. SculptGL:

Free basic 3D sculpting tool

17.Textures.com:

It has 3D molds and textures. There are free options in its gallery

18. Justsketch.me:

It has a free version with basic human models to create positions for reference. They are somewhat reminiscent of the articulated dolls used in the past.

19. Reference Angle:

Offers photographs of people that match the position of a 3D mold. You can select facial expressions

20. Photo reference X 3D model:

It gives you some 3D molds of human and animal skeletons and correlates the position you leave with photos

21.Bodies in motion:

Provides several stop motions of people moving. There is free and paid content

22. Sketchdaily:

A website that offers several reference photos for drawing, with different poses. You can select whether you want photos of structures, vegetation, animals, body parts, people and other specifications. One cool thing about this website is that you can choose to set a timer for the image, allowing you to leave it exposed for you to draw for 30 seconds to 1 hour (or not, you can choose to leave it without a timer).

23. Line-of-action:

It has an interface that is very similar to Sketchdaily, but the maximum time for displaying an image is 10 minutes. It has the categories of human figures, animals, hands & feet, faces & expressions and scenes & environment and basic shapes & still life.

24. Reference.pictures:

Site with several posed photos. However, there is paid content.

25. Croquis.cafe:

Various reference photos of people. Paid content

26. Pose tool:

Selection of multiple reference images that can be selected according to a filter

27. Clip Studio Tips:

Various digital drawing tips provided by the clip studio website itself

28. CecelyV:

Blog created by Cecely Valderrama (CecelyV) where she provides free tutorials

29. Drawawesome:

It has free content for artists

30.Will Kemp Art School:

A blog with free painting and drawing lessons

31. Blog Art Instruction:

Offers free art instruction. Created in 2007 by Ralph Serpe.

32. Draw Mix Paint:

Offers a series of tips, classes, videos and content focused on painting and drawing for free

33.The Dimensions of Colour:

Material created by David Briggs for coloring

34.Guide To Drawing:

A guide from Bill Martin

35.Artyfactory:

Offers some tutorials for free

36.Art Lessons Online:

This website has some free content

37. Ctrl+paint:

Offers a range of free and paid content

38. Drawspace:

It has free and paid drawing and painting courses

39. Paid classes:

Domestika

Sketchbook skool

Proko

Teacups

The Virtual Instructor

40. Color Palette Cinema:

Instagram account that creates and publishes palettes based on scenes from movies and series

41. Canvas color palettes:

Create color palettes from an image upload

I can do a drive collecting books for drawings too, but that's for another post or for someone's reblog hehe

[justatypicalwizard]

Rough and new | bakugo | part two

✦ Summary: You meet a new and interesting creature that seems to share your curiosity. Both of you have motives to your actions that turn out to be vastly different.

✦ Warnings: mer!Bakugo, fem!reader, adult reader, smut(ish) content due to the curcumstances of the story do not expect full smut, dubcon

Minors do not interact

Humans are specific, very weird in their actions and customs yet, like every other creature in the world, they deserve respect. Some mers know a lot about humans just as some humans know a lot about mers but on a daily basis the sea specimens don’t really care for the two-legged. They were always present in the world and that’s just it. 

Due to that, humans were never really present in Bakugo’s mind. He never anticipated he would become so attached to one of them.

It was a peaceful day of hunting, guarding and all of the other shit he has to do for the colony. The dynamic of the group he’s in fluctuates easily. It’s a mixed group of mers, which in his mother’s opinion is healthier than living in a similarity-exclusive one. Because of that the mers living in this place are of all colours and shapes. Because of that he was also destined for a certain role. His mother taught him, from the very beginning, how to be a warrior, a tough and resistant one. At a very young age he picked his weapon- a sword. 

Now he was sitting on a rock next to the main gate of his group habitat. It was hard to give a proper name for places like this. Mers mostly availed what the natural landscape gave them, building their homes from what they found. Bakugo’s home was situated in an underwater cave hideout. The undetermined and rough shape of its inside has been softened by decorations, lamps and various different signs of family life. Yeah, the whole group of mers was mostly like a big family. Smaller caves, often connected to others by winding tunnels and corridors, were occupied by single mers or families. Elders and adults spent their time educating the younger, pursuing the groups history by painting murals or telling stories or just simply scolding the youth for their dubious games and horrific lifestyle. The stronger ones went hunting or guarded the main, and a few smaller gates. Pup’s swam everywhere when it was not lesson time playing the, earlier mentioned, dubious games. 

Bakugo rested his back on the stone grumbling to himself out of boredom. He was well aware of how important keeping guard was. Even though nothing happened to their hideout for years it didn’t mean they could underestimate what the sea hid beneath its dark waters. As important as the job is, it is also painfully boring. Sitting with his sword sheathed on his back he looked at Kiri situated on the other side of the gate. The redheaded mer swung a heavy war hammer in his hands, back and forth. Ditching the designated sitting spot for a guard, Bakugo swam to his friend.

‘’Whatcha doin’ Katsuki?’’ Kiri’s soft yet masculine voice rang through the silent, slightly too loud.

‘’You saw me for the last thirty minutes, what could I be doing?’’ Bakugo asked, slightly annoyed. He wasn’t irritated by his friend but more because of the overwhelming boredom. 

‘’I don’t know, I’m gonna fall asleep any second now.’’ The redhead sighed, not losing the wide smile from his prominent face. He was so used to Bakugo’s causticity that he didn’t mind the snarky remarks.

‘’Better not, my old hag is gonna bring us food any minute now and she will kill you if she finds you asleep.’’ The blonde smirked at the thought of his mom giving Kiri, yet another, earful. She treated Kirishima like her own son which ment hard love and a lot of scolding.

‘’Thanks for reminding me that I’m hungry, now ‘m not only bored but also starving.’’ Kiri deflated on the stone he was sitting on. 

‘’Worry none.’’ Another blonde mer swam their way making Kirishima perk up on the stone and Bakugo turn around with an always present frown. ‘’Here boys.’’ His mother handed them fish placed neatly on seaweed. It was chopped and decorated with some seasoning but still pretty much raw. ‘’And why exactly are you not sitting on that stone?’’ Bakugo’s mother pointed to her left with a scrutinising glance.

‘’To piss you off.’’ He spat before digging into his meal.

‘’Thank you for the food.’’ Kirishima tried to sooth the growing tension between the two explosive mers but his tries backfired instantly.

‘’Yes, thank you to Eijiro. Don’t you think using magic words would be nice brat, eh?’’ Bakugo’s mother swam closer to him, yet her son kept ignoring her, on purpose. ‘’Do you really think this is a fucking game between you and me?’’

In their pup’s years Bakugo always fought with his mother. Having no proper fatherly figure he was forced to rely on her. She never let him down but there was one certain problem. The two shared nearly identical tempers which turned out to be a minefield. From the very beginning Kiri remembered Bakugo always ranting about how stupid his mum is and how much she expects from him. Of course he didn’t really think like that, at least not about the first part. On the other hand the expectations… they were high.

Bakugo’s, Kirishima’s and a few other families had been the main guards and warriors of the whole colony for a long time now. Raising him a certain way was obvious and the blonde didn’t have a problem with it, at least with most parts. He loved being a warrior, training and fighting, bathing in the glory that no other speciality could encompass (at least that’s how he saw himself in his head). Unfortunately there was one thing that he never agreed to and always fought off.

The mating.

Kirishima was well aware that the same responsibility lay on his shoulders, but for his own peace his parents didn’t pressure him about it. The thought rooted in his head was enough for them to be calm about their son living up to the expectations. Bakugo on the other hand openly voiced out his total disagreement. His tossing around made a handful of elders disappointed in him which also took a toll on his mother's reputation. These old pricks were so dramatic.

The duty was simple. As a warrior, mate in the best and most fertile years of your life. The later you’d start the lower the chances of breeding another great warrior. That’s something the colony could not suffer. Actively look for a mate or at least don’t brag about ditching your responsibilities (like a certain someone). The colony gave you the best meat, the best sleeping quarters, the best jewellery, all in thanks for your sacrifice, your hard training, your long hours of guard and your simple, natural duty of passing down your power with your blood.

This is why some looked at Bakugo with a mixture of emotions. He was great in everything he did, except for that one little thing. Why can’t he just obey? 

Why? The answer is simple and one that the explosive blonde would never voice out to anyone. He was sacred. Mers mated for life so he had only one choice, for eternity. This made uneasiness bubble inside of his chest as if someone constantly reminded him that one mistake would doom him. He didn’t want a life of spite. For the one person in the whole sea who is supposed to be his soft spot and safe shore to be his collar. 

Bakugo couldn’t believe how careless Kiri was about the topic. How little fear he felt. The redhead always said that he’ll just wait a bit more. Maybe the person isn’t from their colony, maybe he should visit some neighbour mer hideouts and look around there. He believes that when he meets the one he’ll know in an instant.

Oh yeah, Kiri was all ears for the elders' stories about how monogamy is rooted in mers DNA, how meeting the right person sparks something in you. It only takes the scent of the other person to recognise that you only have a half of your heart, the other piece is in their hands.

Bullshit.

Bakugo never believed in this shit. It was all a bluff to make them less hesitant about the mating for life. Nothing like that happened, at least not on a daily basis, not with everyone. The harsh truth was that he’d have to court someone he doesn’t even probably like and then bear with them for the rest of his life. And produce pups, oh for fuck’s sake, he’s so done with this. Nothing in the sea will make him end up like that. Not a chance.

Lately such thoughts clouded his mind every time he talked with his mother. Bakugo saw that behind her eyes, felt that in her angry tone. She was counting time for him, she was well aware of his statement, she hated it. Yet, she cared for him. If it wasn’t for the sheer fear of being kicked out of the colony which meant countless dangers for her son and a lifetime of loneliness, she wouldn’t pressure him as much.

Just bear with it, accept it and don’t be so hung up on the one small topic. You just have to make a few pups and move to a different pit. Later you can live your life how you want it to. Please…

Yet, she knew he wouldn’t listen to her begs. Softness and sweet words never laid in their dynamic. It was anger, frustration and ambition that pushed them, both of them, to the goal. She knew she had to do it like that, even if it wounded her heart.

‘’Not a chance.’’ Bakugo spat at his mother. ‘’Leave me.’’

She rolled her eyes knowing well, spotting it in his composure, that he didn’t mean the food she just brought, the long hours of guard he had to keep today or anything else. He was already deep down spiralling in his self-destructive thoughts.

She had to pressure him.

‘’Can you at least once in some time do what you’re asked and supposed to.’’ She growled at her son.

‘’And what the fuck do you mean by that?’’ His gaze was piercing but so was hers.

‘’You know damn well what I mean by that.’’ She pointed her finger straight into his muscular chest. He was bigger than her but their presence was identical, clashing, none of them able to take complete power over the other. ‘’What do you plan for mating Eiji?’’ Both of their blonde heads darted Kirishima’s way. The redhead prayed for this to stop before they smash him to the ground with their hateful gazes.

‘’I don't know yet…’’ He tried to wiggle out not hurting Bakugo but also not getting on his mum’s bad side.

‘’Don’t you lie to me.’’ That scrutinising finger pointed his way this time and he felt daggers shot at his chest in embarrassment. She read him like a book.

‘’I think I’ll visit some… other… colony…’’ Each word that rolled out of his mouth was more and more quiet until he was mumbling under his breath looking everywhere except for the two mers in front of him. If he’d stand up he'd be bigger than both of them but unfortunately he sat on that damn rock, looking small and not very serious afraid to move even an inch under Bakugo’s mother’s gaze.

‘’See? Is it that fucking hard to do anything?’’

Pretend, just pretend you’re doing something. You don’t need to settle down if you hate it that much. I don’t care if you breed another warrior, I just want you to be at peace finally.

She couldn’t tell him what she really thought. It would be wrong, not educational. She just prayed he would finally get to it on his own and pretend until people forget about this issue. He could say that he tried but never found anyone and they would believe, take care of him, saying how sorry they are that he didn’t find the one. And he would have lied to them for a bit and it would all be over.

‘’I’m not doing anything like that. Leave me.’’ Her son was unmovable, his feelings carved deep down into his soul. Stupidity and lack of cleverness too. Maybe also being truthful, he couldn't lie like that to himself or anyone else. What a disaster.

She left, huffing and puffing. He was also fuming for the rest of the guard with Kiri trying to lighten his humour, telling him that they can go together to search in other mer hideouts. 

As his job for today neared its end Bakugo found his way back to their lair, having changed the guards. He was still angry, the intrusive thoughts never leaving his head. The blonde swam around pointlessly hissing at the pups that bounced off of his tail. He wasn’t able to find a place for himself. This feeling was familiar to him, as if the multiple layers of water above pressured him too much, crushing his form.

‘’Another fight for mating?’’ The blonde heard a familiar screeching voice.

Skula, one of the most elderly elders, swam up to him. Subconsciously he slowed down his pace for the crippling mer to catch up. She looked as if she was to fall apart any second. He honestly asked himself how old she was. Some said she forgot and came up with a random number every time someone asked about it. That way sometimes she was 98, other times 105, on better days 21.

One thing about Skula distinguished her from the majority of elders. She honestly liked Bakugo and believed in him without even a tint of dissapointment. Skula remembered the old days when the sea wasn’t as peaceful as it is now, maybe that’s why she had a soft spot for any warrior, or maybe she just recognised Bakugo’s distress.

Nevermind her motives, she held onto his fin, the one situated beneath his back. Usually that spot was reserved for more… intimate situations but Bakugo knew damn well that this old witch wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to entertain herself before she dies (and she looks like she’s ready to die anytime soon).

‘’Oh, you just swim too fast, I need some help.’’ She laughed at his eyes rolling.

‘’You just want a handful old hag.’’ Skula brushed off his remark. 

‘’Another fight?’’ She pressured the youngster.

Bakugo only nodded. He never knew why but this woman always made him open up, even if it was just a tiny crack in his various defensive layers.

‘’Go clear your head before you bite any pup.’’ She patted his back a few times.

‘’No place for it here.’’

‘’You’re hot-tempered, angry and aggressive.’’ She began in a slightly lower tone, as if she didn’t want anyone else to hear her. Bakugo looked at her wrinkled face that held a mysterious tone in it. Was she about to start again with the stupid shells and rocks she’s been looking into all day long? Prophecies and shit? ‘’The ocean’s cold and calm, deep, dark and mysterious. You’re none like it. You shine my young Bakugo.’’ She circled soothing eights up and down his back. ‘’Don’t blame yourself for feeling out of place here when your heart’s not at peace.’’

‘’Do you really mean that I’m just a shity mer?’’

‘’No stupid, listen to me.’’ She huffed at his flat response. ‘’You need something else. I want you to see something. The waves told me about it.’’ There you go again. ‘’There’s something matching your temper that you need to see with your very own eyes. Something as hot…’’

If she’ll really tell me in a second that this hot thing is my butt then I’ll honestly kill…

‘’It’s up there.’’ Skula pointed her crippled finger upwards, following with her eyes. ‘’It’s big, hot and golden. It’s gonna speak to you, listen to all of your problems and tell you what to do.’’ She was mysterious yet enthusiastic.

Normally Bakugo didn’t follow Skula’s different prophecies and things she read out of scattered stones but this time…

‘’D’you mean above the water?’’

She nodded her head a little too fast, it looked like it could crack.

‘’You want me to swim to the surface and talk to… something big and fucking golden?’’

‘’Exactly.’’

This was stupid enough to entertain him. Beside there was one crucial thing that Bakugo was interested in. He never swam to the surface. It’s not forbidden but why should anyone do it? There was nothing interesting there for him. He heard stories that the surface felt hot, or extremely cold. It depended on something but he didn’t remember what it was called. Sometimes water poured from… something there. Ah shit, he didn’t know anything about the surface… and this only made him more interested.

‘’And when should I go, oh mighty oracle?’’ Bakugo asked Skula theatrically.

‘’Now.’’ She stated simply as if it was nothing.

‘’Now?’’

‘’I thought I was the deaf one.’’ She snickered.

‘’Don’t laugh at me old hag.’’

‘’Go, nothing’s gonna happen. Nothing bad my child.’’ 

‘’Mum will…’’

‘’I’ll tell her it’s my fault. What will she do? Shout at me, an elder?’’ Bakugo honestly loved this old witch and how she still fearlessly lived her life. Jokes will never leave her side.

So Bakugo went, up and up and up. With only his sword, frustration and the stupid little prophecy that a golden thing will cure his problems. It felt tiring, as if the water above was endless. He imagined what it would look like, the very top. Would it be a single, straight line or did the water disappear gradually? Swirling and turning he went up, climbing layers and layers of water. It started to feel warmer. Why?

After a long journey he neared what looked like a breaking point. The water looked weird here, like it was pierced by something light. He had to squint his red eyes, slowly nearing the edge. Anxiety flooded over his body, pumped by his racing brain. Was he scared? Yes he was but he’ll never recognise it. Clenching his fists he swam up, finally breaking the surface.

‘’Ah fuck!’’ The mer growled as the sun burned his eyes.

After what felt like an eternity of pain his eyes finally started to adjust to the new light source. It was so bright, so hot it fact. He felt it on his cheeks. Was this why the water here was so hot? Guarding his eyes with his hands he looked around. The surface was weird, not exactly flat but also not gradual. It moved constantly, splashing aggressively. He liked it. There were some elements in his field of vision that seemed to stand still. One of them was a big rock. At least that’s what the thing looked like, it was similar to boulders down in his hideout so he just assumed the obvious.

Bakugo swam up to the rock. It sank deep down, reaching the downhill seabed. Behind this one there were a few more on them. Then he remembered. Big, hot, golden thing. Groaning, he felt the need to do as Skula pleased. She was the one that gave him this idea and he had to admit, the surface was more than he imagined. He felt so good here, between his and this world. The blonde honestly started to like how that hot feeling falling from above him kissed his wet cheeks, whatever it was.

He looked around, not spotting anything in particular. Then, he looked up.

‘’Fucking shit my eyes!’’ Once again he was blinded.

Shielding his face with his palm he took a glance up. There was something big there, yellow or maybe orange… gold? A very warm colour at least. The warmth seemed to flow from that. Was it the thing that Skula talked about? Did her prophecy really come true? Then did every one of her prophecies mean something? (If yes then he had a problem because she often foretell for him various stupid things)

Should he really talk to that thing? It seems pretty static and… not doing anything. He hated feeling dumb and that’s exactly how he felt right now.

Suddenly something splashed into the water near him. Instantly he lowered himself, burying his head under the surface. From behind the sunken boulder he saw some commotion in the water. Something was there, something big in fact. Should he retreat? No, he’s not a coward. 

The thing stopped moving after a few seconds and he waited. It seemed like an eternity of him, hiding behind the boulder observing the very same spot, waiting for the thing to make its next move. It never came, the water splashed above him like it did all the time, swaying him back and forth against the stone.

His turn. Bakugo swam up closer, slaloming between the few stones underwater. Finally, he reached the one that particularly interested him. Something above the surface moved there and then went still. He couldn’t make out the exact shape because of the waves. He had to swim closer.

Putting both of his hands on the stones surface she went up once again, nearing the strange thing. The closer he got the clearer the image. The thing started to look just like him… at least its upper part. It had a face, hair, a torso, hands that held it form as if it was scared and…

As if he’d been lightstruck something clicked in his brain. That smell, that faint tint. He felt intoxicated as if he could only breathe this for the rest of his life. What the fuck was that? Why did he never feel it? Where is the source?

The thing moved, and he saw a hand stretched his way. The palm, the fingers looked just like this, except for his membrane. It didn’t have a membrane… that’s a human. The first human Bakugo ever saw in his life.

The faint smell hit him again. The human put their hand under the surface and touched his hair. He didn’t have a clue why he allowed all of this. Some mere human roaming their hands all over his head… but he liked it. The small fingers grazed his forehead slightly, their touch soft and subtle. It moved lower. With its palm just under his nose he finally got what he was looking for. That sweet intoxicating smell came from this human.

Bakugo felt a million emotions rush at one time. He was hungry, desperate, interested, intoxicated and horny. Could it be? Is this his mate? Do they feel the same?

He grabbed the tiny wrist connected to the small arm (at least compared to his). The human jumped back and started to squirm but Bakugo didn’t care. He was too high on the new feeling springing inside his ever so cold body to acknowledge that the human didn’t look at bliss like him. He pushed himself more and more wanting to show off his body and inspect the mate, subconsciously knowing how to court.

Suddenly the human screamed. The primal sound tore him out of his clouded state and he dipped back into the water slightly. The human hugged their wrist, then looked at it and finally after some time showed it to the mer. He saw a bruise in the shape of his hand.

Did he just hurt his mate? Were they this delicate? Fuck, he should have known. This was definitely not very courtesy of him.

‘’Fuck.’’ He mumbled.

Looking up at the human’s face he saw that the earlier fear subsided to curiosity once more. Were they also interested? He had to check.

Emerging from the water he sat next to the thing. It was harder than he anticipated, slipping at the first try. Something pulled him down like it was crashing down from above him, he felt heavy here. It didn’t matter, the intoxicating smell was more important.

Bakugo followed the human’s eyes and spotted that they’re looking at his tail. The small hand of the creature neared his scales. He felt excited, deep down he wanted this touch, he wanted that human’s hands all over the place where his skin met with orange scales. He wanted to tangle the human, wrap around them, claiming all of their body. He was blind to the crucial differences between him and them. Yet, his mum raised him to be somehow a good boy, or at least to have some manners. This was too intimate for seeing each other for the first time so he slapped the human’s hand away, much to his own displeasure.

He was happy, no, he was in a state of complete bliss. The creature, his mate, wanted to be close to him, wanted to claim his body just as he wanted to take theirs, they just showed it. The eagerness, that look in their eyes. Do they also feel intoxicated by the scent of his body? Should he show off more? Should he unsheathe his sword and show combat skills? No, he could scare them just as he hurt them a moment ago. This creature’s very delicate. 

Bakugo was honestly out of his mind right now, blinded by something written deep down in his DNA. He wanted to touch the human, subtly, let them know that he wants to take it slow, the right way, and court them like they deserve. They didn’t once talk to him so he also stayed silent a bit scared after what he did to the human’s wrist.

Bakugo dipped his hand into the human’s hair. It was soft, extremely soft and delicate. It felt like nothing he had ever touched in his life. He smeared his hands all around the weirs texture wanting to feel the most of it until he heard something pierce his ears.

It was the human’s sound. He had no clue what it meant, not understanding a single thing but he loved it. The tone, so much more melodic than how he and his species spoke. Or at least that’s what he thought. He wanted more of that sound so he continued to play with the human’s hair.

That smell, it was still all around him, dripping off of the creature’s body. He wanted to scoop closer. Bakugo held the human’s hair and exposed their neck for him. The smell was thick there so he buried his face into the crook of their neck. It made his insides twist out of hunger and need. He wanted to devour them, have all this sweetness to himself, bathe in it, let his own skin soak with it. But he’s gonna play it nice, just like they deserve.

What did your body look like? He wanted to know every inch, every important thing. Their teeth, were they sharp like his? Do they have pointy canines just like him? He dug his finger inside the human’s mouth searching for an answer. They started to squirm. Did he annoy them a bit? He liked the thought. Loved the feeling of their body moving under his. He could make the trash, he wanted to hear those primal sounds erupting from their throat just for him and because of him. But he’s gonna play it nice.

Bakugo found his answer. The human’s canines were short and soft, just as he imagined. It was not perfect for raw fish but he didn’t care, the feeling of his mate being weaker and softer than him made him want to claim here and now. But he’s nice. 

The blonde straightened his back moving away from his mate. He looked them up and down, pleased with what he had, excited for what he would do next, how their relationship would bloom and how he’d make them feel. He was still blind to the fact that your bodies were very… different.

PART ONE | PART THREE

SERIES MASTERLIST

[kald-dal-art]

Do you have any headcanons about the underrated victors? (sorry i love them)

I have so many headcanons here are some of them that I like

Along side Mags and Finnick there were 4 other former Mentor/tributes duos for the 75th game (Beetee & Wiress, Cecelia & Woof, The Morphlings, and the D9 duo)

Speaking of the D9 duo here my headcanon for the names of the Victors of 5, 9 and 10 is

D5: Nikolai and Wren, D9: Rye and Sylva and D10: Filip and Lucia

Gloss really didn't want Cashmere to volunteer for her games, but she was very determined.

The tribute that Enobaria killed by ripping their troat was her District partner.

Wiress owns multiple cats, they calm her down :^) One of her cats have an unexplained beef with Beetee though. They don't know why.

Mags has mentored 5 Victors, the most successful mentor in the games history.

Cassius (M.Morphling) have a very dry sense of humor, usually cracking jokes or making very dead pan observation when people don't expect it.

Even though they both like art, Cassius and Maureen (F.Morphling) usually draw/paint very different things. Maureen painting mostly landscapes and the abstract. Cassius usually preferring to draw buildings/urbanised places and people.

and like true artists they wish they were better at what the other is good at. The struggles of having artist friends lol

Blight comes of as a bit intimidating having a scowl most of the times and doesn't talk a lot. But in reality he is just a bit shy and awkward.

Woof got his dementia diagnoses 2-3 years before the Quell and Cecelia was one of his biggest caregiver during that time.

I feel like Cecelia and her husband's relationship is very "She's everything and he is just Ken" dynamic kajdskk

(But he loves his badass wife a lot)

sidenote but I headcanon there is at least 5 other Victors that managed to survive the purge but wasn't in the final vote at the end of Mockingjay because they were still in hiding.

[x-0ophelia0-x]

A work of Art which did not begin in emotion is not art. - Paul Cézanne

pairings: Artist!Reader x Ezra Bridger

warnings: none! just fluff and a sad ending. And not proofread yet.

word count: 2,4K

summary: You’re an artist. Drawing is your passion, something you do whenever you need to relax or do when you’re motivated. You see things in a different way, a more peaceful one. Observing things is your speciality which comes in handy when you start your anatomy studies on a certain someone, whose training sessions with Kanan seem to be the perfect opportunity for you to study.

authors note: this might be my favorite one until now- this prompt was stuck in my head like for forever now. Being an artist is part of a reason why this kind of escalated in it‘s length-

It’s also S4 Ezra, ignore the gif, was the only one I found with Kanan 😭

This wasn’t originally based on Cézannes quote, I just had a rough idea of a peaceful scenario on Lothal and his quote seemed to fit the best on how this fanfic went on.

I might make a series out of this, words can’t describe how much I enjoyed writing this one 😭

anywayyy, the Ahsoka final will air in just two hours and guess what? I‘ll miss it because it’ll be 3 am here and I‘m supposed to get up in 4h for school :D

enjoyyy <3

What is Art?

It was a question you could never really answer yourself.

It had grown into a part of you, defining the person you had become.

Art wasn’t just a drawing on a paper or on whatever material you could imagine. It was a feeling, an emotion. The desire to create something new. The desire to immortalize your emotions into the paper you were working on.

The Arts priority is to make you feel something, to understand the Artists hidden message.

Some use it to express their feelings, others indirectly use it as a love letter to their beloved ones.

Art ist a matter of perspective, some see boring studies, others see emotions at it‘s purest form and then others again see the hidden message behind it.

And yours? Let’s say that yours was a mix of everything.

- Lothals sun was low, it’s dimmed light bathing the landscape in a beautiful haze of gold. The grass fields reflecting the golden light perfectly as they were moving with the wind. Lothals mountains being highlighted by it while several loth cats where playing around. 

The whole scenery sent a feeling of comfort and warmth to you, the peaceful moment, a luxury for you and your friends since fighting against the empire was your dangerous lifestyle.

You sat by a rock, leaning against it while a loth cat was cuddling up right next to you. Going into a peaceful slumber, trusting you with it‘s life right now. As you sat there, holding your sketchbook with the one hand and your pencil with the other. You couldn’t help but to get lost in this moment. 

Everything seemed so perfect right now and the beautiful scenery in front of you really resembled a painting itself. And beside the loth cat, you weren’t alone. 

Hours like this were used by Kanan and Ezra to train, a perfect opportunity for them since they wouldn’t get distracted here as much as somewhere else. 

And this was your perfect opportunity to make some anatomy studies. 

Drawing was your passion, a hobby you shared with Sabine. 

And moments like this just boosted your motivation. Sitting on a open field while the sun had it‘s golden hour, having your pen and sketchbook right beside you, what else could you possibly want more?

Ezra also became a key figure to your studies. His training sessions with Kanan offered you dynamic poses, interesting ones that were perfect for your exercise. 

You often found yourself sketching him, being it while he trained or while he fell asleep on your shoulder due to his exhaustion whenever he finished his double trainings with Kanan and Rex. He knew about your hobby, everyone did. What he didn’t know though was that you were sketching him, that he was a constant figure in your sketchbook. Studies of him while he trained, slept against your shoulder and his face, especially his eyes.

You loved him and he loved you. You both confessed to each other a while ago, he didn’t really question you whenever you watched them train or always having you sketchbook near you since he knew that drawing was your passion after all. Ezra even enjoyed having you around, not only because you two were a couple, but because he knew that with you, he’d never be truly alone again just as he was before the ghost crew found him. 

The crew is his newfound family, there’s no doubt in that, but they wouldn’t stay together, close like they were right now forever. The day where everyone would go their own ways would eventually come, leading to them being completely united again just when they’d have a mission together or plan a trip or something. He’d have his friends but he’d again have to live somewhere alone, which was a fear of him, one he hid damn well from the others. 

But now he had you, someone he’d never imagined meeting in his life. Someone who would love to spent their life together with him. Someone who felt the same connection towards him like he felt for you. 

His training with Kanan continued, parrying each strike from Kanan while you continued to sketch him. Each pose having a different dynamic. 

Whenever you felt that you had too many poses on one page of position, you chose single parts of him, his face, his hands holding the lightsaber or just his expressions, drawing them separately next to the poses. Trying to bring in some contrast so that looking at those sketches later wouldn’t be too boring.

The loth cat eventually woke up, nuzzling it’s head against you while it watched the Jedi and the Jedi in training, train. 

Then it’s head turned to you, looking into your eyes and then into your sketchbook. It seemed to recognize Ezra‘s silhouette, looking back and forth, as if he was comparing the original Ezra with his sketched version. 

You couldn’t help but laugh at the creatures confusion, it was adorable.

„Yes it’s him“

You said, your voice just loud enough for it to hear, not wanting to risk Ezra hearing you. He didn’t know that he was the star of your sketchbook and you didn’t know how he’d react if he realized that you had a whole sketchbook of him. 

The loth cat then again looked up to you, gesturing to your sketchbook and itself.

„Do you want me to draw you too?“

You asked it, smiling down, adoring it‘s character. It was the first loth cat that didn’t attack you at first sight but instead chose to actually spend time wit/ you. 

And it seemed happy about your question, taking a position while looking straight at you.

Not wanting to hurt its feelings you changed your subject, sketching the cat instead of Ezra right now. 

It was still on the same page as Ezra though and even if it didn’t really fit with your topic for this sketchbook, it somehow fitted to him, his connection with those kind of creatures being his passion. 

When you had the bases finished, having a full body, a close up from its head and a version of it sleeping like earlier, you continued with its details. Something you loved. Hours could pass by and you’d never grow bored of adding more of them.

The difference this time was that you were fast and didn’t need too long for the loth cat‘s features and details. Being finished quicker then it thought, showing it the results. 

You weren’t a loth cat expert but it’s stunned expression, looking at your sketches of it with awe, was kind of an confirmation that it liked your way of portraying it. 

You chuckled at its reaction, it was fricking adorable. It then turned its head against to your direction, as if it was asking you if it was really him.

„Yes that’s you“

You then spoke softy, failing to notice that Ezra’s training had ended. 

Seeing you interact with the cat warmed his heart, and Kanan noticed it.

„Ah.. young love“

He teased him, receiving a smirk from Ezra.

„Don’t get me started on you and Hera.. Master“

He replied, knowing that he hit a spot with this one.

„This point goes to you“

Kanan then says, faking a defeated tone with his voice. 

„Enjoy the sunset“

Was all he said before leaving the field and walking over to their ship where the rest of the crew was. 

Ezra also made his way to you, but from behind, aiming to scare you a little.

While you still let the loth cat to look at your sketches, he sneaked up from behind you, throwing his arms around your waist and whispering a short ‚boo‘ against your ear.

„Oh my force!“

You shrieked, jumping at his sudden approach, accidentally losing hold of your sketchbook. Then realizing that it was the sketchbook. 

„That’s what she said“

Was everything he said, not able to hold in his laughter while you jokingly pushed your elbow against his side.

„Very funny. Bridger.“

He sat down, right next to you, bringing his arm behind you and wrapping it around your waist, holding you into a half embrace. 

„I feel honored and scared at the same time“

„As you should“

You then also started to laugh, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

„How was your training today?“

„Like always.. I‘m just happy that it’s over for today, Kanan and Rex went hardcore.. I didn’t know that I had this many muscles until today“

You chuckled.

„Why? Did they remind you how useful they are while they let you do the galaxy’s most historical workout?“

„No. It’s because I feel EVERY single one of them right now“

He whined, letting his head fall and rest against your shoulder.

„What about you?“

He then asked, yawning as he looked at the golden hues spraying wildly across his home planets landscape. 

„What about me?“

„You were drawing again, I saw you when Kanan gave me some seconds to relax“

Ezra said, shifting his gaze from the sun to your sketchbook.

„You always seem to have this with you when I‘m around.. can I see it?“

He asked with a genuine tone, sounding almost innocent.

„You want to.. see my sketches?“

You asked, hoping that you understood him wrong but him nodding proofed you otherwise. 

„I‘d love to“

The cat noticed your unease with showing him your sketches of him. But it also sensed your bond, it somehow made it happy that you two were happy together. With the power it held right now, it decided to play the matchmaker and carry your sketchbook over to Ezra. 

„I don’t know where you found the little dude but I already love him“

Ezra said, laughing at the cats action which left you more nervous then before. He wasn’t an idiot tho,knowing Sabine meant that everyone on the ghost learned the importance of someones privacy regarding a sketchbook. It was yours after all, who was he to do whatever he wanted with it, right?

„Would it be okay for you if I see it?“

He asked you, holding the sketchbook in his hands after the cat gave it to him. And you somehow where curious of how he’d react, if he’d like them or hate them. 

So you accepted.

„Sure.. just.. you’ll see it yourself“

You said, looking down at his hands that held it.

Ezra then opened it, the first page already on full display, showing sketches of him training and his eyes. He didn’t think too much into it, thinking that it was just a coincidence but when the page after and the one right after continued to have the sketches of someone looking like him, he couldn’t help but wonder. 

„y/n.. is this person me?“

He asked, slowly rising his head from your shoulder to look at you, and you nodded.

„Yeah..“

Was all you could say right now.

„Please don‘t feel creeped out..“

This catchend him off guard.

„Why should it creep me out?“

Ezra asked her, returning his gaze to your sketches. Looking at them in awe.

„These sketches are perfect like- they are amazing.. breathtaking even“

He continued to turn the pages, looking at each portrait of him, mesmerized by how perfect you catched in his details. 

And you where completely dumbfounded. Didn’t expect this reaction.

„But.. why me?“

Ezra then asked, getting you out of your confused state.

„Uhm…“

You started, not knowing how to explain it to him at all.

„well.. I needed to study the anatomy on someone so.. I decided to exercise it on the person I care the most..“

You said, looking down at your sketchbook.

Ezra then smirked.

„Is that so..?“

A blush made its way up to your face, reddening with each word he said.

„You’re adorable“

Was all he said before he placed a kiss on your temple. 

„You even drew the cat“

„I did“

He then closed the sketchbook after he was finished, laying it down next to you. 

„So.. I saw that you studied different parts of me too… which one was your favorite?“

His head was once again on your shoulder, holding you close with his other arm while you also held him close with yours around his waist. 

„Your eyes“ 

You said almost immediately.

„They remind me of the endlessness of our galaxy and the hyperspace‘s blue. I could look at them forever and never get bored by it. They’re.. You’re mesmerizing“

Your tone was genuine, and this time it was Ezra who was blushing. 

„Thank you..“

He said, feeling kind of proud that he had this comforting effect on you.

„You’re mesmerizing too tho..“

You chuckled at his nervousness. His cocky attitude from earlier being completely replaced by it right now. 

He then had an idea, knowing that his drawing skills were terrible.

„Would you want to teach me to draw like that too?“

He asked you, feeling excited about this. And you too felt the same, sharing your hobby with someone was good enough, but sharing it with your partner was just out of this world.

„Of corse! I’d be more then happy!!“

You said, your excitement evident in your voice. 

It was a promise you both looked forward to. 

Then, you two, okay technically three since the cat refused to go aways, laying down between you two, sat there with a perfect view, looking at the sunset in front of you, staying together until it went darker and darker, enjoying each others company.

You both were still unaware of what was about to come.

Which daring challenges would not only cost you one dear person, but also another one‘s well being.

Unbeknownst to you this was one of your last peaceful moments together. 

The galaxy had other plans for your futures and soon enough your sketches of him where the only things you had left to keep his memory fresh in your mind.

To remember him whenever you felt lost, feel close to him again even if you felt the loneliest you ever felt before.

They kept you strong, for years to come.

And you knew that whenever you’d find him again, you’d need to start a new one.

[sednonamoris]

working for the knife

Pairing: John Marston x gn!reader

Summary: You and John return to camp, where an unexpected crisis awaits.

Warnings: Strong language, canon-typical injuries/aftermath of torture, references to gun violence, arguments, toxic family dynamics (Dutch being Dutch), lots and lots of dialogue, brief overtures of Christianity

Word count: 2,128

A/N: just a quick one before we get into the whirlwind chain of events that takes the gang from clemens point to shady belle… 👀❤️‍🔥

Series masterlist • AO3

—

You and John drag your feet the rest of the way to camp, and still your week’s-end arrival comes too soon. Out on the open road it’s so easy to feel like you’re the only two people in the world. You catch yourself staring at him with a lovestruck look enough that it should be embarrassing. It would be, if you didn’t catch him staring back just as often.

“What?” you ask this time with that sappy smile that hasn’t left your face.

“Nothin’,” John shrugs past a matching grin, but the creases at the corners of his eyes say that he loves you.

You love him too.

Always. Forever. You haven’t talked about what that night in the storm meant - not really - but mostly because there’s no need. The only thing that was ever waiting for the two of you were twin graves; together to the very end. As far as you’re concerned that hasn’t changed, and so there’s nothing to say. You’ve always understood one another’s silences, anyhow.

A companionable one stretches between you now, nearing camp on that wide dirt road that leads to Rhodes. The sun is a vivid orange, hung low in the early evening sky. It paints the lush landscape in a warm glow and colors the rich brown dirt beneath your horse’s hooves almost red. Creeping vines hang from tree branches bathed in gold. The crickets have started their choruses, ushering in the long shadows and pigmented sunset to come. This place is beautiful, you have to admit. Too humid, still, but beautiful.

As you admire it, movement catches your eye near the turn-off for camp; a horse and rider. You shade your eyes to see better. That big painted bay can only mean it’s Arthur, but something strikes you strange. He isn’t upright in the saddle, and his horse is flagging.

“John, somethin’ ain’t right,” you say.

The carefree mood dies in an instant. He pulls out his binoculars and clicks them in to get a closer look, cursing at what he sees.

That’s all it takes for you to spur your horses on, cantering up beside Arthur’s slumped form and cursing all over again. It’s not pretty. Dressed in nothing but his longjohns and a stolen bandolier, Arthur is half-conscious and hunched over like he’s got cracked ribs. Broken, maybe. And that says nothing about the bullet holes in his leg and shoulder. His skin is sallow and fevered. Eyes bleary. Blood is crusted across his hands and clothes.

“Jesus, Morgan, what happened to you?!” John says.

Arthur only groans in response.

You spare a furtive glance toward the road - empty, thankfully - and snag his horse’s reins. John tells you he’s going to track Arthur’s trail back a ways to make sure that whoever did this didn’t follow. If he finds them, they won't be following anyone for much longer.

Without further delay you take Arthur the rest of the way to camp, wincing in sympathy with every jostle and jerk of his saddle.

“Aw, shit,” Karen says from her post on watch when she sees you pass by. Her eyes go wide and she scrambles to follow you up.

Arthur falls from his saddle when you make it to the edge of camp, boneless, and you curse and jump down to get him. “I need some goddamn help here!”

Everyone comes running.

Karen and Mary-Beth and Dutch are the first to arrive, murmuring Arthur’s name in disbelief.

“I told you it was a set-up, Dutch,” Arthur wheezes from where he lies prone, eyes blinking sightless. “They got me, but I got away.”

“Miss Grimshaw, I need help!” Dutch shouts over Pearson’s wide-eyed apologies. “Swanson!”

More bodies rush in.

“Help me get him up,” you say, hoisting him upright in spite of his protests. Dutch takes his other side and Pearson supports his back.

“Let’s get him to bed…”

“Has anyone told Abigail?”

“Clear a path!”

The crowd moves with you, ready to catch him should he fall. He limps heavy between you and Dutch, feet stumbling and breath whinging past his cracked lips.

“You are safe now, Arthur,” Dutch promises as you set him down on his cot. It’s hard to tell which of them he’s comforting. “You’re safe now.”

Arthur laughs a wheezing laugh past his broken ribs and smiles stupidly at the tent canvas above him. “That’s pretty, Dutch. That’s real pretty.”

Your own chest constricts. This fever has him bad. You’ve seen folk die from less.

Dutch asks Ms. Grimshaw to sit with him while Reverend Swanson administers the morphine. Mary-Beth fetches Jack away so Abigail can stay by his side. Her eyes shine glassy with tears. You ask if they need you to hold him down while they cut away the bad flesh from his leg and shoulder, but they usher you away.

“What the hell happened?” you ask Dutch. He paces in front of his tent. “John and I been gone barely two weeks.”

“Where is he?” he asks instead.

“Scouting. Wanted to make sure Arthur wasn’t followed by whoever did this to him. What did he mean about a set-up?”

Dutch explains Pearson’s lead and his meeting with Colm and his boys. How Arthur was supposed to meet him and Micah back at the crossroads when things went south, but he never showed and they couldn’t stick around.

“And you never thought to look when he didn’t show up a few days later?” Having to run you can understand, but leaving one of your own behind? That’s never been the Van der Linde way. If it was, so many of you would be rotting in jailhouses right now.

“We might’ve,” Dutch says with a pointed stare, “if we weren’t missing two of our best guns. I got mouths to feed here, Ghost. Folk to protect. You should know that.”

“You think I don’t? John and I were out makin’ sure you could feed them!” you say. “I got us hundreds more on those horses than that fence would’ve. How was I s’posed to know you and Micah were back here trying to get Arthur killed in the meantime?”

Dutch stops his pacing all at once. His voice gets low and velvet-soft and dangerous. “Everything I do, I do to keep us all alive. Do you understand me?”

His change in demeanor alone is usually enough to have you begging his forgiveness, but nothing about this is usual. Arthur might die - your brother might die - because no one bothered to look for him. Family first, you’ve always been told. No one helps us but we damn well help each other. Dutch taught you that from the time you first joined up, some lost kid without a cause. He made you who you are, gave you that cause and that purpose you lacked in the family he collected over years and hardships, and now he throws it all back in your face.

“Sure,” you say venomously. “Sure. You’d better take this.”

You shove the camp’s share of cash into his chest and walk away. If he calls after you, you can’t hear it over the rush of blood and anger in your ears.

—

By the time John rides back into camp night has fully fallen. The stars shine in a blue-black sky, and the moon gazes, sly and wane, on your camp full of criminals. He slips silently past the flap of your tent and starts kicking his boots off.

“How is he?” he asks.

“Alive,” you say, seated on the edge of your cot. “At least for now. You find anyone?”

“Not a soul. He say who it was?”

“Colm.”

John’s brows lift in surprise. “Colm?”

You fill him in on the details while he strips down to his underthings and joins you on the cot, sitting close enough that his shoulders brush against yours. You lean into the contact and let your voice break when you explain your confrontation with Dutch. He reaches an arm around you to pull you close. The steady beat of his heart soothes the fresh ache in your chest.

“He didn’t mean all that,” he tells you. “Arthur’s like a son to him. He was just… lashin’ out. Tough to be that scared.”

“Okay,” you say, because that’s what you want to believe. “Okay.”

You hold him tighter.

—

That first week is rough, but Arthur recovers. The whole of camp - with very few exceptions - take turns at his bedside. On your watches you try to cheer him up any way that you can. You even break out your impression of John, which has been a sure way to get Arthur going since you were kids. He cusses you out for making him laugh with his ribs, but the smile on his face is infectious.

You send up a prayer to a silent God when you learn his wounds aren’t.

—

The girls tell you what you missed at camp while you were away. Javier sang. Grimshaw yelled. Dutch made pretty speeches. Bill made a fool of himself. Nothing much. They smile coyly when you insist that nothing much happened on your trip, either. John blushes as he passes by and they laugh.

Sean fills you in on what happened leading up to the O’Driscoll incident, gap-toothed grinning while he reminisces about the smell of burning tobacco fields. Them Grays never knew what hit ‘em, he tells you, preening. Even made off with their payroll. You have to hand it to the kid, he’s got spunk. Nevermind the fact that Hosea says he had to step on his toes in warning more than once during his game of cribbage with the Braithwaites.

Having played both families against the other, this feud business is little more than a waiting game now. Gold is about the only reason you can think to stick around, and Hosea says he’s close. He’s always had a nose for these things.

So you wait.

You busy yourself with chores around camp, careful to be present and helpful after your argument with Dutch. Neither of you apologizes, but when he nods at you chopping wood just a few days later you know things are alright. They always are, in the end.

You only ask Arthur about what happened with him and the O’Driscoll boys after he takes his first weak, wobbling steps to one of the logs along the shoreline. He sits down unassisted - just barely - and sighs. Tells you it’s a long story. Squints his eyes up at the gulls flying overhead and the shimmer of the early morning water. Sunrise reflected in blue-grey-greens.

You tell him you’ve got all day.

“Pearson called it peace,” he says after a long pause, “and Dutch, he kept goin’ on about Annabelle and his daddy and some kind of payback.”

“And you told them you’re not in the revenge business.”

He snorts his affirmation. “Whole lotta good that did. You know it really did seem like Colm was gonna stand down ‘til he brought her up again? Turns out he was after me, anyway, so peace weren’t much of an option all along. Still…”

He lets the unfinished thought hang between you.

“I’m convinced he loves them more now than he ever did when they were alive,” you say softly, shaking your head. “It’s easier, sometimes, when they’re gone. Death has made a lot of normal people into saints or martyrs - somethin’ more, now that they’re past all the annoying and betraying and disappointing us alive folk can’t seem to help.”

When your parents were alive you must have fought with them sometimes, but the few memories left to you are of golden summertimes learning to swim, grooming horses, wrapped in a loving embrace. Alive, Jenny must have annoyed you some. Dead you can’t help but miss her endless talking, always something clever to say. And the Callander boys. A meaner pair of bastards never walked this earth, but what wouldn’t you give to see their faces ‘round the fire one last time? A laughing, smiling bunch of killers.

People say only the good die young, but after seeing so much of death you’re convinced it’s about the only way people can be good.

“You might be right,” Arthur runs a hand down his face. “But either way it ain’t an excuse to keep this useless fight up. The law is after us all just the same. Dutch should know that as much as anyone.”

You shrug, and sigh. “Dutch ain’t the kind of man you can change. Some people lead and other people follow, and I reckon you and I will follow him to the very end.”

Whatever that end may be.

Arthur frowns, but he doesn’t disagree. The rest of the morning passes in thoughtful silence.

[flames-unicorns-and-sentryguns]

Blu Sniper headcannons

the last of the first Blu stand alone headcannons. There's going to be more team centric and dynamic headcannons afterwards.

The middle of five kids, grew up in South Africa instead of Australia.( Yes I'm going for that one joke In mean girls) Spent a lot of time outside to get space for himself. Likes climbing rooftops and other high places because it's quiet and god damn he can be left alone.

He doesn't hate his siblings or his family, he just needs to get Away. Likes animals and looking at landscapes. Clouds are some of his favorites especially.

In another life he would have loved photography. Or painting.

Initially took up sniping to help deal with poachers. If he's gotta take someone out someone out. If it's for a good cause he doesn't mind killing a few guys. ( After he came back to South Africa)

His family might not know about the killing people bit.

His family moved around a lot growing up and spent time in Australia for a couple of years. Picked up the accent and the slang. Is actually really good at mimicking a fair deal of accents himself. I like to think he chooses to do the Australian one in game because Red Sniper is Australian.

Likes to try and match accents with spy in a sort of who can do accents better bit between them. Likes to gossip with spy about the things he's seen from up above.

Is good at recognizing people by their footsteps and other ..kinda background noises they do due to the whole big family thing.

Doesn't really dislike anyone but doesn't really have a favorite either. Will engage in friendly conversations.

Finds himself holed up with the medic once In a while especially when they go off base.

Medic because he needs to get Away/ wants a break and Sniper because he just wants to Go somewhere and look around. See something living.

They both fell in love with a stray cat on one trip to town and adopted it together.