#i just take plain colored paper and draw on them

[divorcedwife]

my jar of cranes

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Wrapping Paper - Mike Schmidt X Female Reader

Title: Wrapping Paper

Mike Schmidt X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Abby

WC: 2,449

Warnings: The incident at Freddy's mentioned, post FNAF movie, pining, Mike's nervous, sort of idiots in love, teasing, flirting?, ~hand holding~, mini angst, and fluff

It was Abby's birthday, and Mike still didn't have a present for her. For weeks he had been looking around craft stores when he could before heading to work or after - having found a well-paying job that he hadn't been fired from yet. But even after weeks of searching, he still had nothing to give her. Mike had probably been to the craft stores more than a dozen times at this point, checking the clearance items for anything that he thought Abby would like. But, the clearance section was a small rack at the back of the shop that had half-empty boxes of crayons from unruly children taking them in the store, scribbled on notebooks, and so on. This was all he was able to afford too, he'd go to great lengths for Abby, but it saddened him that he couldn't even afford brand-new supplies like the sixty-four pack of crayons or a nice big notebook for drawing. 

Tapping absentmindedly on the wheel of his car, Mike drove home yet again empty-handed. Pulling up to his house, Mike let out a sigh as he leaned back against the seat of his car, shutting his eyes briefly before raising his arm and reading his watch. Getting out of the car, he grabbed his backpack and headed inside. Dropping his back off into his room, Mike went to the kitchen to start making dinner before Abby came home from school. But just as he was putting the spaghetti noodles in the pot of water, there was a knock at the door. 

Shutting off the stove, Mike brushed his hands on his jeans before making his way to the front door. Opening the door, he was pleasantly surprised to see you standing before him. You had a smile on your face, and you were holding a large box wrapped in colorful paper.

"Hello, Mike," You greeted him, tilting your head to the side slightly as your grin became more of a nervous one, "I hope I'm not too early," Shuffling the present under your arm, you pulled out the folded invitation from the front pocket of your jeans. The plain piece of printer paper doodled with little pictures of what you had assumed were you, Mike, and Abby, along with the date and time of Abby’s little birthday celebration. "It says three, but I thought that maybe you might need help setting things up?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah, sure," Mike stumbled out, moving to the side to let you in. Mike watched as you placed the present on the table, dropping your bag beside it. 

You had been Mike's neighbor for the past year, recently moving in only a couple of weeks after the incident over at Freddy's. He remembered the day he met you vividly, watching Abby ride her bike up and down the sidewalk as your car pulled into the previous vacant house beside his. Stepping out of your Jeep Grand Cherokee, he watched as you opened the back of the car to begin carrying boxes into your new home. Gaining the courage after watching you struggle to unlock the front door with two cardboard boxes in your arms, Mike rushed over. 

Fumbling with your keys as you tried to unlock the door, shuffling the boxes to rest on your arm and propped-up knee as strands of your hair fell in front of your face. The way you smiled at him, grateful as he took the two boxes out of your straining arms, helping you move the rest of your boxes and furniture in. Breathily, you thanked him, offering to bake him cookies or something for him and his sister, and from then on, you, Mike, and Abby would spend a lot of time together.

You'd come over for dinner sometimes, Abby adored you, always asking about you and drawing pictures of you with her and her brother. You do the very same, inviting the two to come over for lunch or dinner, or to play board games, or to watch movies. 

Mike couldn't help but be attracted to you, ever since he watched you pull into your driveway. He didn't say anything though, pushing those rapidly growing feelings to the back of his mind, in fear of ruining the amazing friendship that you and him shared. Sometimes Mike would have to stop himself from staring at you across the table during dinners. His heart would race when he saw you spending time with Abby - seeing both of your smiling faces always brought warmth to his chest, and his breath would hitch slightly at the sound of your laugh. But he deeply cared about the friendship between you two, and wouldn't ruin the good relationship by doing anything stupid. So he held his tongue. And for the most part, you did the same thing.

Turning around to face Mike, he swiftly snapped out of the daze he had been in, meeting your eyes as you smiled at him, "So, what can I help you with? Do you need help with decorations or maybe a cake?"

Scratching his cheek, Mike shrugged a shoulder, looking around the room, "Uh, I don't have any decorations. I was about to start making the spaghetti when you arrived." He spoke, watching as you simply nodded, making your way into his kitchen. "I- I totally forgot about the cake… I’ve been so busy…" He finished, a bit embarrassed at his realization.

Noticing the pot of lukewarm water and the opened box of spaghetti noodles, you hummed to yourself before looking through the cupboards. Mike followed, leaning against the entrance of the kitchen, watching as you pulled out a small bag of flour, sugar, and a small circular pan. "Well," You huffed, a bit out of breath as you pulled out a large plastic bowl from the lower cupboards. "At least you still have some of the ingredients from our last bake day." As you began to start making the homemade cake, you glanced over at Mike, whose gaze was staring down at the floor at his feet. "You alright, Mikey?" You asked, gaining his attention.

Looking up, he let out a deep sigh, shaking his head as he pushed off the wall, "I haven't been able to find Abby a present. I've been looking for weeks but I still can't find anything for her."

You paused, pouring some flour into the bowl, looking over at the man as he began to pace the room slightly, "You couldn't find anything?" You asked, raising your eyebrows as Mike nodded his head.

"Nothing! I checked two craft stores every day after work for like three weeks." He explained, rubbing his hand over his forehead, "But I can't seem to find anything that isn't damaged or just something I think she'll like." Stopping his pacing, Mike's shoulders dropped as he let out a sigh, "I really am trying my best, y'know. It's frustrating." He admitted, glancing over at you as you turned around to look at him.

"You are doing your best, Mike," You spoke softly, slowly stirring the flour and other dry ingredients together, "And you know that Abby knows that and that she loves you." Pausing you glanced at him with a small reassuring smile, "I don't think Abby will care if you gave her a present or not, just you spending time with her, celebrating her birthday, is enough for her."

Mike nodded and walked over to stand next to you, watching you as you began to crack the eggs into a separate bowl, "You're right..."

"As always," You sang, unable to stop the grin on your face. Mike looked down at you, softly smiling to himself as you began to hum some song you liked or probably had stuck in your head. Looking up at him, your grin softened as you noticed Mike already looking at you, making your cheeks burn as you quickly looked back down at the dismantled cake ingredients in front of you. "Want to help me maybe, Mr. Schmidt?" You asked, using the remaining courage you had left to give him one last glance.

Nodding, Mike smiled lightly and picked up a whisk, beginning to help you with the mixing. He felt his heart flutter, and his mind wondered, but it faded as he began to focus on the task at hand.

It didn't take long though before the cake was finished, baked, and topped with vanilla icing and colorful candles; unlit and ready for the birthday girl. You and Mike were finishing up the spaghetti, you were working on the sauce while Mike made the meatballs. You bit your lip as you chuckled, watching as Mike almost lost his grip on the spatula he was using to roll the cooking meatballs around in the pan. Looking over at you, Mike felt his stomach twist, seeing the amused smile on your face, "What?" He questioned, glancing from you to the pan and back.

Smiling to yourself, you shook your head, "Nothing. Just enjoying my time with you, is all," Pouring the pasta sauce into a pot and putting on the lid, you leaned against the countertop to look at Mike. 

Biting the skin on the inside of his cheek, Mike turned off the stove, meeting your gaze, "Look, Y/N..." He hesitated, swallowing hard as he looked away. He was quiet for a moment before sighing and taking a step closer to you. "Thank you... For coming here today." He mumbled, his voice soft and gentle. That's not what he was meaning to say, though he did really appreciate you helping him. 

"Mikey, you don't have to thank me," You reached over to place your hand on top of his, "I'd do anything for you and Abby." You replied quietly, giving his hands a soft squeeze.

Slowly, Mike flipped over his hand, now palm to palm, he intertwined his fingers with yours, bringing your hands to his lips so he could place a light kiss on top of yours before returning your hand to the counter as the front door opened and slammed shut. 

"Mike! I'm home!" Abby called out, dropping her backpack on the ground near the door, immediately spying the brightly-colored wrapped present on the table; a smile lit up on her face. Exiting the kitchen, a warm sensation flowed throughout Mike's body as you pulled your hand away from his, greeting the young girl whose smile widened at the sight of you, "Y/N!" She cheered, rushing into your arms.

Chuckling softly, you returned the hug, pulling away after a few seconds, "Hey, Abs," Pulling away from each other, crouched down as you held her by her upper arms, "Look at you... How old are you now? Twenty-Five?" You joked, making the girl laugh as she shook her head.

"No! I'm eleven!" She told you while laughing, making you nod your head and stand back up.

"Of course, how silly of me." Turning back around to Mike, you paused, seeing that he was still standing there, watching you interact with Abby; a fondness evident in his eyes. Looking back down at the girl, you smiled at her, "So, are you hungry? We made spaghetti." She nodded her head eagerly, sitting down at the table, her eyes staring at the present in the middle of the table; her eyes sparkling. You smiled, walking back into the kitchen where Mike was already plating Abby's food. Pulling out two extra plates, you began plating yours and Mike's, peeking over at Mike who seemed to be becoming more and more nervous as he spooned spaghetti on the plate. Bumping your hip with his, you caught his eye, "You'll be fine. I have a plan." You whispered with a small grin, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his stubbly cheek before bringing yours and Mike's plate to the table. Mike blinked, slowly walking over to the table, his cheeks tinged pink as he sat beside you.

Soon enough, the both of you were singing 'Happy Birthday' to Abby as Mike sat the cake down on the table in front of her. The candles, lit and aflame, flickered before being blown out, applause erupting from you and Mike as Abby made her wish after her birthday song. Chuckling softly to himself, Mike leaned forward on his forearms, "What did you wish for, Abs?"

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head, "I can't tell you, silly."

Shaking his head in amusement, "Alright then. Cake or presents?" He then asked as you readied the cake knife and three small plates for the cake. 

"Presents!" Abby declared, beaming as Mike let out a small huff, smiling as he turned to you; you could see the nervousness in his eyes as he looked over at you.

Picking up the present, Mike moved the cake out of the way as you placed the present in its place, "Here you go, Abs," You spoke, gesturing for her to go ahead and open her gift. Mike watched beside you as Abby ripped the colorful wrapping paper off the cardboard box, pulling off the tape with amazing speed. He felt tense, hoping that she wouldn't hate him for not getting her a gift. Before his mind could run off anymore, he felt your hand cover his and he lifted his gaze to meet yours. Smiling at him, you squeezed his hand which made Mike's breath hitch as he felt an odd feeling well up inside his chest. Taking a deep breath, he gave you a small smile before turning back to Abby who gasped in shock.

"Oh my gosh!" She exclaimed, peering inside the box at the many goodies that were found within, looking up at you, she gave you a huge smile, "Thank you, Y/N!"

Mirroring her smile, you waved a hand, "Don't forget your brother, he helped pick out a couple of the items," Mike turned to look at you in surprise, causing you to chuckle under your breath.

Abby got out of her seat, rushing around to hug her brother tightly, "Thank you, Mike!" She thanked him, grinning widely at him.

"Anything for you, Abs," He said, patting her on the back. He turned to you as Abby went back to sit back down, digging around in the box; pulling out craft supplies, stuffed animals, and candy. Mike couldn't help but look at you with an awestruck expression on his face; this girl was too good to be true. "Thank you, Y/N."

Resting your cheek in your hand, you gave him your stunning smile, "Don't mention it."

Shaking his head slightly, Mike looked back at Abby who was already drawing with her new multi-colored markers in her brand-new notebook. 

[moonstruckme]

hey queen! i am humbly requesting some tasm!peter x plus sized!reader 🛐

maybe he was coming home from patrolling/being out as spidey and saw something in a window that reminded him of reader? like a knickknack or flowers or something like that? and he comes home and gives it to her and she’s all flustered and smitten 🤭

feel free to add your own spin to it or anything! i’m just in need of fluff and hugs from my boy 🫶🏻

Thanks for requesting lovely!

tasm!Peter Parker x plus size!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Peter knows he’s got other things he should be doing. He’s technically not done with the amount of time he likes to spend patrolling every day (plus there’s a serial burglar out there he should really be trying to catch), and if he’s not doing that he should be getting home to work on the research paper he’s got due tomorrow, and if he’s doing neither of those things Aunt May’s been begging him all week to dust the shelves she can’t reach. But when you open your door and he sees the look on your face, Peter knows he made the right decision neglecting all that shit. 

“Hi!” Your voice lilts through the syllable, happiness coating it like honey. 

“Hey,” Peter says back, immediately losing whatever advantage he had in the conversation. You’re surprised to see him, sure, but he’s surprised to see you like this. You’re still in your pajamas, evidently enjoying a day in, a large t-shirt and draw-string shorts that make you look all lazy and adorable and leave the delicate flesh of your thighs on display. Peter wants to bite them, but that wouldn’t be very gentlemanly. 

“Hey,” he says again, blinking to clear the haze from his brain. “I, uh, you said you like irises, right?” 

“Yeah…” There’s a hesitant sort of question in your voice. You eye the small bunch of flowers in his hand. “Are those for me?” 

Peter grins. “Who else, sweetheart?” He tacks on the endearment mostly to see you fluster. It’s a success; your arms come up to hug your torso as your cheeks dimple, smile half-suppressed. 

He passes you the flowers before he can fluster too. The plastic wrap crinkles under your careful touch, and you glance between him and them like you can’t decide which to admire first. 

“Thank you so much,” you say. “Did we…have something today?” 

“No,” he laughs, hooking his thumb in the strap of his backpack. “No, you’re good. I was just in the neighborhood, and they made me think of you.” 

Your eyes go all pretty-pleased at the comment, but you tilt your head curiously. “What do you have to do around here?” 

Ah, the question he’d hoped you’d be too happy to ask. The truth is, Peter’s almost never in this neighborhood if not for you. Spiderman gets around, but there’s not usually as much going on here as in the rest of the city. He’d spotted the flowers at a stand he’d webbed a catcaller to on the lower east side, and then came over to your end of town to bring them to you. It was only, like, a ten minute swing. Much more efficient than the subway. 

“Thrifting,” he says slowly. “I was, uh, just looking to update my closet a bit, and I know you’ve got a lot of good thrift stores around here.” 

“Nice.” You smile, taking a little sniff of your irises. Their bright color makes your already exquisite face look even lovelier, and it’s such a perfect image Peter wishes he had his camera on him. “Can I see your finds?” 

“No,” he replies. Too quickly, so he tries to look really put out to compensate for it. “No, I didn’t find anything. I’m…really picky about my clothes.” 

“Oh.” Your eyes drop to his plain gray t-shirt and jeans, but thankfully you’re too nice to say anything. 

“Right,” Peter blazes ahead, tugging on the straps of his backpack, “so I just wanted to bring you those, and I’ve actually got shelves to dust, so I’d better go…” 

“Okay, thanks for the flowers,” you say. “They’re really pretty.” 

“Yeah, I figured it must be hard being so pretty all by yourself,” he says, spinning around to walk backwards so he can see your reaction, “so I figured I’d get you a companion.” 

You press your lips together, flushing and tilting your head downwards as if to hide it. “Thanks,” you almost whisper. Peter grins hugely. 

You look up just as he’s turning back around, your focus narrowing on something behind him. 

“Hold on a second.” Peter halts opediently, and you come outside, that t-shirt fluttering prettily around your hips. “Something’s falling out of your bag…” 

He thinks to be nervous just before you pull the red and blue mask from the unzipped pocket of his backpack. 

“What’s this?” 

“That…” Peter’s nodding but he doesn’t know why. It’s some sort of automatic response, like he turns into a bobblehead under pressure. His mouth is void of saliva. “That’s a costume.” 

Your eyebrows twitch together as one side of your mouth kicks up, like you’re not sure what to make of him. “You dress up as Spider-Man?” 

The nodding turns to shaking weirdly seamlessly. “No! No, of course not, I’m an adult. It’s—it’s not for me.” You look at him expectantly. “I’m making it…for my nephew.” 

“Oh.” You blink. “I didn’t know you had a nephew.” 

“Really?” Peter hears his voice pitching higher, but he’s powerless to stop it. “I didn’t mention him? We’re pretty close—well, not that close. He lives…away. In Connecticut. But he wants a Spider-Man costume, and obviously he wants me to make it, because…I’m the guy for that stuff.” 

You nod respectfully. “You are really good at sewing,” you say, and the look you’re giving him is so sweet it nearly takes his knees out from under him. “It’s nice of you to do that for him. You’re really thoughtful, Peter.” 

You say it all soft and considerate, like it’s a secret you’re letting him in on, and Peter’s honestly worried for his heart health. He’s not sure it can take the strain of all this. 

“Yeah, well, only for people I care about,” he says just as quietly. 

You drop your gaze, smiling to yourself, and start tucking the mask back inside his backpack. “Your nephew must be a cool kid. I’d love to meet him sometime.” 

“Yeah, maybe if he comes to town sometime.” Which will be, you know, never. But hopefully by the time it gets suspicious you’ll know enough that he can come clean with you about that. 

He hears the zipper close and turns before you can move away. Peter wants desperately to wrap his arms around you, feel the softness of your body pressed up against his, but he settles for taking your hand. At the look on your face when he smiles and gives it a squeeze, you would’ve died at the alternative. 

“Thanks, sweetheart.” 

Your lips part. “No problem,” you breathe. 

He gives your hand one more press for good measure, letting his fingers drag across yours as he steps away. “See you Friday, yeah? For dinner?” 

“Yeah.” You clear your throat. “I’ll see you then.” 

Peter shoots you one last grin over his shoulder, headed down the sidewalk. “Looking forward to it.” 

[littlerequiem]

— enchanted ˚⁎⁺ levi ackerman x gn!reader

CONTENT — A Howl's Moving Castle inspired one-shot featuring Wizard Levi and a Violin Maker Reader. No real warnings, just some fluff about first encounters, Levi's POV (wc: 1.1k)

The rhythmic sound of coins being deposited into the till ceases.

Levi looks up as you finish recording the transaction of his payment in a notebook, a magical quill transcribing your thoughts directly onto the paper. Despite the help, you remain concentrated on your task, creases forming between your brows. 

Levi studies you.

You are as he last remembers, but different.

Your essence is the same, but your strength is yet to be discovered. 

And you are more modest than he remembers. You wear a simple straw hat, which doesn't have any woven details nor ribbons to adorn it. 

All things considered, it is a rather plain hat. But perhaps its most offensive transgression is the fact that it is worn by someone as special as you.

Oh yes, Levi wasn’t sure when he spotted you in the crowds in the bustling town of Market Chipping, but now, he is certain of it.

It’s you.  

And someone of your caliber? 

You deserve the finest silk hats. 

You deserve to be far away from a step-sister who mistreats you and takes advantage of your skills as an artisan. 

You deserve to open your own shop, in a town you choose for yourself.  

You just deserve more. 

“I hope you enjoy your violin, Sir,” you say to him, tearing him out of his observations. Your voice is low and collected, as though you are afraid to draw attention to yourself.

You hand him a package—the violin he just bought—wrapped carefully in a leather-bound box. It is one of the finest instruments Levi has ever seen, but that you're the one who crafted it makes it priceless. 

Levi says nothing as he takes his new purchase in his two hands. He tucks it under one arm and continues to stare at you. 

Behind the counter, trinkets float around the different violins on display, jewels of all colors gleaming and reflecting a myriad of colors on your skin. It is a beautiful and delicate sight, and Levi secretly wonders how you would look surrounded by more colors.  

At Levi’s silence, you follow his gaze and catch what he is staring at. 

“Oh, those?” you let out, a timid smile creeping up on your lips. You reach out into the air, and various gems hover around your fingertips, like metal attracted to a magnet. “These are enchanted gemstones. We sell them to musicians looking for a muse. Our local Witch has charmed them to float around like this. Catchy, isn’t it?”  

As you finish explaining your story, you pluck one stone that’s swirling above you. You turn and offer it to him, opening your palm.

It’s a pink stone, etched with sharp corners and glistening surfaces.  

“It is said that each stone brings a different kind of luck to its owner,” you explain, a gleam of light reflecting onto your cheeks as you twirl the stone around. “This one’s a rose quartz. It’s meant to promise long lasting love.”

Levi's lips twitch at the sight of the stone.

Long lasting love, huh?

Of course, Levi recognizes the pink gem—he recognized it the moment he walked into the shop. It is the same stone that you wore as a necklace in his past when you first saved him.

Despite this, he still finds himself asking you:  “Why hand me this one?” 

Levi still doesn’t retrieve the gem from your hand, allowing you to finish your sales pitch. 

You blink, your eyes flickering to him. Your expression is riddled with uncertainty, as if you didn’t expect Levi would be interested in what you had to say. 

You swallow a heavy breath, your hand faltering.

“D’you know what? I don’t understand it myself. It just… felt right. Isn’t that strange?” You bite your bottom lip nervously. “Here, you keep it—it’s on the house.” 

You bring your hand closer to his own, offering him the stone. 

But Levi waves a hand in the air to refuse.

“No,” Levi answers coolly. “This isn’t a charity.”

He sees you frown, appearing taken aback.

Levi gestures to the stone still in your hand. “But I would like to buy it.” 

A victorious grin creeps on your lips, as though you didn’t believe your speech might lead to this turn of events. You nod, looking oddly satisfied with yourself. 

“Alright then,” you hum. You tell him the price of the stone and he hands you the change. Before handing him his new possession, you give him a curious stare. “What name should I put on both receipts?”

He stills.

“Levi Ackerman,” he answers, studying you carefully to gauge your reaction.

You look up at him. Recognition flashes on your face and you appear startled. Afraid, perhaps.

“Oh.” There’s a tremor to your voice that wasn’t there before. “Are you… the Levi Ackerman? Humanity’s Strongest Wizard?” 

Levi crosses his arms over his chest. The term Humanity Strongest was first coined many years ago, when he was still an apprentice and his mastery of magic was deemed extraordinary.

He hates the title. 

“Fucking pretentious, isn’t it?” Levi comments, the muscles on his face tensing. 

You seem to relax upon hearing Levi's response, the same smile ghosting your face. “Well, it is a bit much. Couldn’t settle for a title with less… flair?”  

“Believe me, I would have loved to,” Levi mutters. 

The corner of your mouth lift upwards. “I suppose Humanity’s Okay-est Wizard doesn’t quite have the same ring to it, huh?”

Levi shrugs. “I think I would settle for just Levi, if I could,” he confesses.

Levi wants to say that he’d settle for you calling him like that, but he refrains himself. That would be way too forward of him and way too creepy of a thing to hear from someone you don’t even know.

But Levi knows you.

(He’s known you for many years.) 

For him, to hear his name on your lips would be as natural as the wind blowing through the valley of this town.

There’s a gleam in your eyes now, the beginning of a fire Levi recognizes. “Alright, just Levi. Tell me, do you believe in the properties of stones?”

Levi clicks his tongue in a way that it hisses through his teeth, amusement and disbelief blending on his face.

“Not really.” Levi gazes at you thoughtfully. “But maybe one day.” 

You give him a curious look and place the gem into his palm. The contact of your fingertips against his skin sizzles. 

Levi pockets the stone, burning the memory of you in his mind. He’ll gift you the necklace one day, and you'll both see that the properties of the stone are true.

But before that, your own story has to start.

See you soon, Violin Maker.

— Masterlist

[exuvianen]

misc. stationery hcs [housewardens]

short stationery + penmanship hcs with the housewardens!

cw: n/a

notes: another old piece... just some silly hc's don't take them too seriously. i tried writing the same amount for everyone but it’s kinda clear who i’m biased towards… feel free to drop an ask or to add on! likes + rbs are appreciated <3

wc: ~1100 words?? wow. that's more than i expected.

riddle rosehearts ; housewarden of heartslabyul

has everything you need for school. pencils, pens, erasers, notebooks, binders, glue, tape, scissors,  you name it, riddle has it.

sorts each subject by color, and color codes all his notes/subjects. do NOT mess up his order! 

has extremely neat handwriting - it’s a bit on the smaller side, but it’s easy to read.

riddle shares his notes with others when they ask him for help, so he makes sure it’s legible and easy on the eyes.

as for stationery in general, he probably doesn’t go too wild. standard neon highlighters, blue and black pens, plain covered notebooks, etc. it’s simple, but it’s good enough for riddle.

overall pretty good taste, a little basic, but everything is of good quality.

leona kingscholar ; housewarden of savanaclaw

literally does not care about stationery. he’s the idgaf king.

he’s that kid who never brings a pencil or pen to class. he barely remembers to bring his notebook too. and he only has one (1) notebook that he uses for everything (he probs doesn’t even take notes in class, he alr knows everything lol).

constantly borrows stuff from ruggie or sends him to buy stuff from sam’s shop. he’s lucky he has ruggie.

has a fancy pen from farena that he never uses, but keeps at the bottom of his drawer. 

does the bare minimum, probably “borrows” other people’s pens/pencils when he loses his. has borrowed at least 20 pens, but was too lazy to give it back. they sit on top of his desk. 

he literally doesn't care about aesthetics, he just gets random stationery to get the job done. has the most mismatched items.

azul ashengrotto ; housewarden of octavinelle

definitely invests in some quality paper and pens. also a stationery nerd who has everything in his office.

probably has those notebooks/folders with the corny motivational quotes like “the grind never stops” or “no pain no gain”. kinda cringe but he likes them b/c they motivate him.

he’s the type to take notes in class, then rewrite them later. he sells the rewritten notes to other students for a steep price.

jots down ideas or gossip he hears in the margins of his notebooks. he rarely doodles, but sometimes he might draw things from the coral sea if he’s feeling particularly homesick.

color codes all his notes, but uses more neutral colors as opposed to the standard bright/neons. he also has sea-themed folders or notebooks. 

he's fascinated by what land-dwellers use, as paper/ink typically doesn't last in the sea. he really tries a variety of products and enjoys it a lot! and takes notes for his future businesses

kalim al-asim ; housewarden of scarabia

the guy who has an excessive amount of stationery. probably buys 20 of the same pen because he likes it so much.

he gets those notebooks/folders that have cute animals or wild patterns on them. i feel like he’d also get a lot of stuff with floral designs.

doesn’t care much about the quality/brand of the things he’s buying - rather, he’s more interested in how cool or fun the item looks. 

def owns funky-colored pens, erasers that smell like food, and sticky notes shaped like animals. probs decorates everything with stickers (he loves scratch-n-sniff ones).

the margins of kalim’s notebooks are filled with doodles. some things he draws often are his favorite dishes and animals, and his family members. he probably uses his notebook to plan parties/parades instead of taking notes. jamil has a stroke

his handwriting is very expressive. it's loopy and wide when he's excited, small and sloppy when he's dozing off, and extremely messy when he's scribbling frantically.

vil schoenheit ; housewarden of pomefiore

owns sets of matching stationery. coordinates his pencil case with his notebooks and folders. probably a fan of minimalism and deep, rich colors. 

has high-quality pens and uses fancy highlighters to annotate his notes (i’m thinking those midliner highlighters and muji pens). he spares no expense for his tools.

color codes all his notes/different subjects, and has a specific color scheme for each subject. he is VERY particular about his color sorting. do NOT mess his categories up.

his handwriting is elegant and beautiful. he probably practiced and experimented with his handwriting a lot due to his fame (he signs autographs and he wants his penmanship to look pretty for his fans!)

he has pinterest worthy notes. he posts them on his magicam stories occasionally to show them off, and to encourage his fans to study hard too.

his fashionista side bleeds into his stationery choices, so he only buys items that are 1) of the best quality and 2) suited for his image. he does NOT cut corners.

idia shroud ; housewarden of ignihyde. 

does not use stationery LOL (or avoids it. technology is just more convenient for him).

everything is done on digitally, on his computer, tablet, or phone. he’d decorate his laptop or tablet with stickers though, like of his fave idol group “premo” and such. 

if he does own stationery, they are game or anime themed. also limited edition. he def collects merch, like pins and badges as well. i feel like he’d make itabags and stuff but he’d never go out in public with them. he’s too socially awkward just like me fr

he has those cool multifunctional pens, the ones with like 10 different colors, and can also double as a screwdriver or some kind of tool. 

he’d also have a lot of cute cat-themed items. they're just too cute, and he can't resist buying them! he's rich so it's fine...

he's probably designed super multifunctional pens before. he definitely has the brains and resources to do so.

malleus draconia ; housewarden of diasomnia

archaic stationery. still dips his pen in ink and writes with a feather /hj

he’s fine with the basics though. he just rolls with pen, paper, and ink. it’s good enough for him. 

has beautiful, fancy cursive handwriting, but it’s hard for people to read, especially for his schoolmates b/c the younger generation doesn’t really learn cursive anymore. think like... the penmanship of historical treaties or declarations. it's charming and still legible, but you just need a bit of time to be able to read it. 

probably owns and uses enchanted quills passed down from his family. it reminds him of home and he treasures them greatly. when he’s homesick he’ll twirl them between his fingers. 

he used to break a lot of pencils/pens with his sheer magical fae grip. he’s learned how to control his strength a lot better now, but he still prefers his enchanted writing tools. 

he's not used to modern technology, so he gets a kick out of trying novel stationary items as well. this pencil is also a pen, a highlighter, and a flashlight? wowie!

[arcadekitten]

Hello Arcadekitten!!! I read the Stellamb wedding post(s) and it got me wondering about how Stella’s wedding dress would look like… I absolutely love Sweet No Death, so I knew I had to make some artwork of it!! And, because I absolutely suck at explaining things through text, here is my interpretation of Stella’s wedding outfit in traditional art! ✨💫🌟

Materials Used: Mixed Media Paper, Ink Fineliner Pens, Alcohol Markers Gel Pens, Paint Pens, Highlighter and Mechanical Pencil

Time Took: 1 week

I don’t know if you’re okay with people sending fanarts and stuff to you, but I absolutely love your work and well, I’m quite proud of this piece (even if I probably shouldn’t be lol) as I worked extremely hard on this and wanted to share it with you! I hope that’s okay ❤️

A little artist “#Deep Dive tm” because I put WAY too much effort into the tiniest details and I am NOT gonna let them get overlooked 😤 /jk

-Stella’s dress is made with her signature colors rather than white, because I felt that with her being a Star Witch and all, a species that mostly has extravagantly colorful clothes (in my humble opinion) she felt that just going with plain white on what is possibly the most important day of her life would feel… well, a bit redundant, so she opted for a more ‘colored’ ballgown, with lacy gloves and a pearled veil and all. The local tailor and dressmaker is a bit confused, but Lambchop is definitely not complaining! ;) 💕💓

-(Well, that, and I also felt that the color blended WAY too much with her skin tone and changed it, but that’s my little secret hehe 👀😉)

-In my mind, Stella can make her hair look like it has a small galaxy within it! With actual moving stars and little twinkling lights. ✨💫✨⭐️🌟I think that she usually saves it for special, grandiose occasions, buuut since she’s not the kind of person who would THROW a grand, special occasion, she never unveiled it before her wedding day! (Poor Lambchop’s heart nearly gave out on the spot right then and there! 😭❤️)

-I didn’t add her usual Star hair clip because she already has like… 10 stars in her design already lmao /lh ⭐️

-As you can see, her bouquet’s… cloth? Fabric? I’m not sure what to call it… thing? The stuff that her flowers are wrapped in are Lambchop’s colors! Thought that it would be a neat visual detail… also, I can totally imagine Stella requesting that specific color scheme from the local florist! 💐🌷🌸

-Speaking of flowers… I decided to color in one of the moon daisies a little bit… differently hehe ;) It’s a small reference to the beginning of the game, where we see Stella change the color of the one rebellious moon daisy, from orange to lavender, except this time… she keeps it and uses it in her bouquet! 💖💗

-I like to think that it symbolizes Lambchop versus the rest of the townspeople… and Stella’s way of acknowledging him as a “real person”, at least compared to the others… one who is different, one who is unique… the one that she’s going to marry 💍🩷

-(it’s so absolutely sappy when she tells him so that he just couldn’t resist kissing her right then and there)

-And finally… (this is the last one I promise) I cut out the entire drawing to make it look like a potion bottle, partially because Stella is a witch, and partially because I had this cute lil idea that she stores all of her happiest memories into a magical bottle and takes it out whenever she feels sad, so that she can ‘experience’ it again and feel happier. Of course, with Lambchop by her side, she never really has to use it!💞🩷💗

-And yes, I also made the bottle have Lambchop colors as well 🐏 Just a nice little thing tying em together more visually… ❤️

…And I am SO SORRY for ranting!!! I worked incredibly hard on this piece (traditional art is NOT my strong suit, lol) but I wanted to make something special for one of my favorite games and one of my favorite game devs! So here it is, and I hope that you like it! 🤞❤️😁

(P.S: Any ideas for Lambchop’s wedding design?)

Oh my goodness this is BEAUTIFUL!! The artwork itself is just stunning!! You took so much time on it and it really shows, especially with all your attention to detail in it(and I LOVE hearing your explanations for some of the choices you made!! They're just so darling!) Everything about this is stellar and I'm in love with it, thank you so much!! ♡ ♡ ♡

Also I TOTALLY AGREE Stella would not wear white for her wedding!! Color all the way!! ♡

As for Lambchop's outfit...I think I've got it envisioned in my head but I haven't quite drawn anything for it yet! Top hat, definitely. I think his suit isn't black. Probably brown! Bowtie on the neck. His pants are more like shorts and are cut juuuuust above the knee! Still wearing long socks with garters. He looks incredibly dapper--as he should!! It's his wedding!

Hopefully he at least looks good for the photos before he decides to get any mysterious red stains on his outfit. (It's fine. Stella could clean them with the snap of her fingers, but still!)

[tosahobi-if]

Hi! Do you have any skin tone or clothing references for the ROs?

before you laugh at me just know that for some reason i didn't think i was going to be asked about clothing so i "designed" my own sect uniforms but i don't actually know how to draw clothing HAHAHAHA i'll put the skin tone references in the character introduction posts (which i need to finish up 🥲)

the clothing explanation got really long and only encompasses yul, jinwol, and the mc because it ended up getting LONG sjffsj

the time period in which tosahobi takes place (which is non-specific) is sometime between 300AD to ~590AD, and pieces from the three kingdoms period in china (220-289AD). so when thinking about the clothing i started out by looking at xianxia and muhyeop designs. cue me crying and opening up google and trying to put together a list of what i could research. (has anyone seen love between fairy and devil i need to yell over how cunty dongfang qingcang's costume design is with them PLEASEEEE)

and then i started my research via primary text (the samguk yusa and the wei shu), published papers, books, archeological discoveries, research conducted by experts, and tomb scans. and then i made my own conjectures from those! the clothing the characters wear is a bastardized version of hanfu and goguryeo clothing – so they're historically inaccurate but have some basis behind them. this is known as guzhuang, which is ancient-style clothing inspired by hanfu and most typically seen in dramas and plays. i've linked ziseviolet's blog for visuals of pieces but i suggest doing external research as well!

MOUNT HUA SECT:

located in shaanxi, the clothing the disciples (what the mc, yul, and jinwol start out wearing!) wear are a combination of what was popular amongst northern wei (386–535AD) nobility at the time (specifically a cinched waistline, flowing sleeves, and flared silhouette) and taoist clothing with some of the vibrant colors seen in goguryeo clothing. any combination of the following pieces work:

zhongyi (中衣) - underwear or undergarments consisting of form-fitting (usually lightweight) fabric in two pieces, the undershirt and underpants. either worn in black or white.

chang (裳) - a pleated skirt worn over the zhongyi

a lightweight inner robe (usually white, though disciples *cough* jinwol *cough* wear other colors at their own discretion. usually also usually made out of the same lightweight fabric as a zhongyi) with a jiaoling youren (交領右衽) an overlapping collar (crossed left over right).

banbi (半臂) - a half sleeve jacket in either black or white and embroidered with a plum-blossom in red, magenta, or even white thread. trimmed with bronze (third-rank disciple), silver (second-rank), or gold (first-rank)

bixi (蔽膝) - a decorative piece of hanging fabric that acts as a knee covering – this is typically plain and of a matching color to the main parts of the outfit, and is trimmed with colors according to the wearer's discretion.

belt/sash - either a wide strip of embroidered or plain (usually plain) fabric cinched around the waist. trimmed with similar precious threads denoting disciple rank. jinwol wears a finely wrought metal belt instead of the standard sash.

hair ribbon - self-explanatory. used to tie the hair, can be whatever color you get your hands on – jinwol and yul's hair ribbons are the colors the mc picks out for them (hehe)

xiaoguan (小冠) - lit; small crown, jinwol cycles between several intricately designed crowns in shades of silver (some have precious jewels embedded into them) and they denote his status as nobility.

robe very similar to a daopao (道袍) - lit; taoist's robe, the daopao is a traditional outer robe with long, flowing sleeves. disciples traditionally wear black or white trimmed with crimson, white, and precious metal colors. most wear the sect's motif on embroidered on the lapel, though the yeo family members have their clan motif embroidered instead. in some cases the elders will wear shades of grey.

[artemis1214]

Blue Jay | Human Alastor One Shot

Prompt: A one-shot where human Alastor & Esme (OC) are going for a family walk in the park and start birdwatching. 

Requested by @iluvhavingnobrain💜

A/N: This one-shot originally started with the prompt, but turned into something I little more on track for their family LOL. This also takes place right after my last one-shot "interruption." 

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

Alastor was focused on the intense stack of paperwork his secretary had bestowed upon him shortly after his broadcast. They were mostly contracts and payroll stubs that needed to be signed off on for the workers on his floor. They wouldn't take long, but it was an annoying task nonetheless. He sat outside his office at the secretary's desk, having sent her out for a smoke break to free himself of her babbling.

The young belle was always eager for his attention and praise, but Alastor could not be bothered - especially when his wife was just in the other room.

She was tending to their toddler in his office, keeping her entertained while he zoned in on his work. Esme roams through his desk drawers, her eyes lighting up when she discovers some paper and crayons. “Look, sweetie!” She chimes, shaking the box of crayons for the small child to take note.

Geneviève's eyes widen as she focuses on her mother. She makes a small squeal of excitement, her tiny hands reaching out to grab the box. She looks up at Esme, a wide, lively smile on her face, clearly eager to start coloring.

Esme sets her up with some plain paper on the floor and pours the crayons on the rug, "There ya go. Make some nice pictures.” She says as she walks over to the sofa, lighting a cigarette and sitting down waiting for Alastor to finish his paperwork.

Geneviève looks at the paper and crayons spread out in front of her, her little mind working overtime. She grabs one of the crayons, her tiny fingers grasping it tightly, and begins making marks on the paper. She seems to be drawing something, but it's hard to tell what exactly it is, as it's just a collection of random, colorful scribbles.

Moments pass as Geneviève continues to harshly scribble on the paper. She's laying down on the rub now, her nose is scrunched up trying to concentrate on what she is creating. Esme hums to herself, tapping her foot as she gently smacks her stick on the ashtray next to her. “Sweetheart, would you like to go to the park after this?” She asks, her voice was posh and sweet with a luscious transatlantic accent to it, but to Geneviève she just sounded like mommy.

She looks up from her drawing and her eyes light up with excitement. She nods her head vigorously, pushing her body to stand up from the rug.

"Alright, just make sure to ask your father, okay?"

Geneviève nods again, her little mind eager to go to the park. She gets up from the floor, her small legs wobbling a bit as she stands up. She toddles out the office and over to Alastor, clutching the box of crayons and her picture in her hands.

Alastor looks up as he feels a small tug on his leg, glancing down to see Geneviève standing at his side, looking up at him with wide, pleading eyes. He sets aside the paperwork and lets out a soft chuckle as he reaches out to pick her up, hoisting her onto his lap. “What is it, dear? You know you mustn't bother me while I'm working.”

His daughter holds up her picture, showing it to him with pride. The picture is a mess of colors and shapes, but there's a distinct resemblance to a small family of stick figures—one tall, one shorter, and a teeny tiny small one standing between them. It's clear that she's tried to draw him, Esme, and herself.

"Is this us?" He asks, pointing to the figures. "You, me, and your momma?”

She nods and lets out a small giggle, hoping he'd like it.

He chuckles sheepishly, “Well….I…” he clears his throat, “I guess I've never looked better~” he smiles.

That's a lie. He indeed looks terrible, but he's not going to shatter her little heart.

Esme pops her head out of the office doorway, "Did you ask Papa what you wanted yet, Genny?”

Geneviève looks up at Esme, her little head tilting as if she's just remembered what she was supposed to do. She looks back at Alastor, her eyes wide and pleading, as she points to the window.

"No my girl, use your words." Esme says sternly, "You're nearly 3, come on, use your beautiful voice.”

Geneviève looks momentarily taken aback by the stern tone, her eyes widening a bit in surprise. But then she looks back at Alastor, "C-Can we go to the park, Daddy?" She asks, her voice soft and timid.

Alastor looks down at her, his expression softening as he gently pats her head, "Of course, darling," he replies softly. "We can go to the park after I finish up here, alright?”

But she doesn't wait, hopping off her father's lap and running to the elevator.

Alastor's eyes widen in surprise as Geneviève hops off of his lap and takes off towards the elevator. He stands up quickly, a hint of worry in his eyes. "Hey, wait a minute-"

He starts to go after her, but he's too slow to catch up before she reaches the elevator. The doors start to close, and just before they do, Alastor catches a glimpse of their daughter inside, a curious and excited expression on her face.

Esme gasps and pounds on the elevator doors, "Oh my god! My baby, oh my god!" She opens the stairwell doors and frantically descends them.

Alastor follows right behind her, a mixture of panic and frustration on his face. "Dammit!" he mutters under his breath, his mind racing, "Where did she learn to run off like that!?”

"She's very quick!" Esme shouts, opening the stairwell doors. She sees their daughter in the arms of Charles, the elevator man. "Oh, Charles!" Esme runs to him, scooping up her baby, "Thank you so much."

Alastor lets out a sigh of relief, "Thanks, pal," he says to Charles, his tone filled with genuine gratitude. "I don't know what I would've done.”

Alastor takes Geneviève from Esme's arms and holds her tightly, his expression twisted in annoyance.

"You scared me, sweetheart," he says, his voice soft but stern. "Don't you ever run off like that again, okay?”

Geneviève wiggles in his grip, "P-Parkkkk" she whines, pointing to the exit.

Alastor looks at Geneviève, his expression torn, "You can't just run off like that, Geneviève," he says firmly. "You need to stay with me or your momma, okay? You're too little to go wandering off on your own.”

Geneviève pouts, her bottom lip trembling slightly. She seems to understand the seriousness of the situation, but her little mind is still stuck on going to play.

"But p-park pwease," she pleads, her eyes wide and hopeful as she looks up at him.

Esme turns to Charles, "Thank you so much." She says once again, "How could I ever repay you?”

Charles smiles warmly, his voice gentle and friendly. "No need for repayment, Miss," he replies. "I was glad to help. It's my job to ensure everyone in this building is safe, including your adorable little girl here.”

"Well, rest assured I will be bringing back a small token of my appreciation." She takes her daughter by the hand, "We wouldn't know what to do without you, Charlie."

The family makes their way out of the building and down to the park.

The air is warm and inviting as the family walks towards the park. Geneviève skips alongside her parents, her tiny feet carrying her with an incredible amount of energy. As they approach the park, the trees and green space come into view and the sounds of children playing fill the air.

"Oooh would you look at that." Esme says, stopping and looking up to see a beautiful white and blue bird in the tree, "What a lovely little thing."

Alastor looks up at the tree where Esme is pointing, and sure enough, there's a small, beautiful bird perched on one of the branches. Its feathers are a striking blue, making it stand out amongst oak.

"That's quite a sight," he agrees, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "Beautiful little bird.”

"I wonder what kind of bird that is." She tilts her head to the side, "Why I've never seen one before."

Alastor looks at the bird for a few more moments, his gaze studying it with curiosity. "I'm not sure either," he says thoughtfully. "Looks like some sort of bluebird, but the white coloration is unusual. I'd have to get a closer look to tell you for sure.”

"With your eyes?" Esme teases. She leans up, "I guess it could be a blue bird, I see them a lot in this state."

Meanwhile, behind them, Geneviève is roaming away without their knowledge, heading to the slide that is rather far away from where her parents are standing.

Alastor chuckles at his wife's teasing, rolling his eyes playfully. He is about to respond when he suddenly notices that Geneviève is no longer by their side. He turns around, his heart skipping a beat as he realizes she has run off again.

"ooooh look at that one~" Esme continues, oblivious to what's going on.

"Esme," he says urgently, cutting her off mid sentence. "Where's Geneviève?”

She spins around, "W-What?! I - I thought you were holding her hand!"

Alastor's eyes widen in panic as he realizes their daughter is nowhere to be seen. "No! I thought YOU had her!" he says, his voice rising.

Esme takes off in quick strides, looking all around, "Genny! Where are you baby girl?!" She calls out, her hands trembling near her mouth.

Alastor follows soon after, his heart racing. He scans the park, his eyes darting from tree to tree, "Geneviève!" he calls out, his voice filled with desperation, “Come out now!”

Esme hears a familiar giggle and grabs Alastor's arm, "There! Hear that?" She enters the play area and her eyes quickly land on their daughter on the slide with some children.

Alastor follows Esme's direction and spots Geneviève on the slide, an overwhelming wave of relief washing over him, but his expression is soon taken over by rage.

"What the hell is she doing all the way over there?" he mutters, his voice a mix of anger and worry. He starts making his way over to the slide, Esme right beside him.

"Alastor, easy on her…”

“She can't just run off like that without warning. She's only three, for crying out loud!" He shakes his head, continuing to approach Geneviève.

As Geneviève comes down the slide and her eyes look up to her parents, she freezes with guilt in her eyes.

Alastor looks directly at Geneviève as she comes down the slide, their gazes lock, "Young lady," he says, his voice firm. "What do you think you're doing all the way over here? Without asking or telling us?”

Geneviève looks up at her father, her guilty expression clear on her face. She fidgets a bit, her small hands playing with the end of her dress. She knows she's in trouble and her little mind scrambled for an excuse.

"Answer your father miss, now." Esme narrows her eyes, her hands on her hips and her foot tapping into the grass.

Geneviève's eyes widened at Esme's stern tone. She can feel the disappointment in her parents' eyes and her lower lip starts to tremble.

"I... I wanted to play on the slide…”

Alastor crosses his arms, "And you thought running away was the right thing to do?" he asks, his words sharp and leaking anger.

Geneviève shakes her head, her eyes starting to fill with tears. She looks up at Alastor with puppy dog eyes, "No... I'm sorry, Daddy." She whispers, her little voice wavering with regret.

"Sorry isn't going to cut it." He roughly takes her wrist and begins to pull her away from the slide, "We're going home." He says sternly.

Geneviève whimpers as her father grabs her wrist and starts pulling her away. Her tears flow freely now, her little heart filled with distress, "N-No Daddy, p-please!" she pleads, her small feet stumbling as she tries to keep up with him.

“Hush!” He shouts at her, leaning over her with an intimidating glare.

"…Alastor." Esme says softly.

"No. This kind of behavior is unacceptable, Esme. We need to be firm."

"I know, I know dear, but she trusts you so much." She whispers for them to only hear, "You really want her to fear you?"

He's suddenly reminded of his own childhood and how he would never dare approach his father, always fearing the man's next move.

He lowers his gaze, looking at Geneviève's tear-streaked face. "No." He says, his voice a bit softer now. "But she needs to know that actions have consequences.”

Esme bends down to Geneviève's level, "Young lady, stop your crying...now." She says.

Geneviève hiccups, her tears slowing down as she attempts to control herself. Her little face is scrunched up and her cheeks are turning red.

"Do you want to lose mommy and daddy?" Esme asks, "Do you want some stranger to take you?”

Their daughter's eyes widened with fear and panic. The thought of losing her parents or being taken by a stranger is clearly a terrifying idea to her. She shakes her head furiously, "N-no! No, d-don't want that!" She stammers, her little chest heaving with panicked breaths.

Esme places a hand on her chest, steading her, "Well then, you must stop wondering off." She says, "Deep breaths, like I showed you now." She takes a deep breath through her nose and exhales from her mouth.

Geneviève nods shakily, her small chest heaving as she tries to control her rapid breaths. She closes her eyes and breathes along with her mother. With each breath, her body visibly calms down, her heart rate returning to a more steady pace.

"Daddy is scared of losing you." Esme whispers, "You want to stay with us right? In your warm house with all your toys?”

Geneviève nods again, her gaze shifting to Alastor. His stern expression softens as he watches his daughter slowly understand the gravity of her actions. She looks at each of her parents with big, teary eyes and speaks quietly.

"Y-yes, I w-want to s-stay.”

"Then, what are you going to do?" Esme asks with a soft nurturing smile.

Geneviève takes another shaky breath and looks up at her parents, her tears nearly dried. Her voice trembles a bit as she speaks, "I s-stay with mommy and daddy.”

Esme smiles and looks up at Alastor, seeing him refusing to look at her with a slight wetness to his eyes, "Oh now..." She chuckles softly, “I think Daddy is still a bit upset, come up.” She reaches for Geneviève who quickly jumps into her arms. Esme places their daughter in Alastor's chest, watching with a smile as she clings to his neck.

“There you go little one…” She says, rubbing her back, “You're okay.”

Alastor holds Geneviève closely, his arms wrapped around her small frame. His tension relaxes as he holds her, the fear of losing her still present in his mind. He buries his face in her hair, inhaling the familiar scent of his daughter, feeling a mix of relief and love that threatens to overwhelm him.

Esme's face turns to a concerned expression as she takes in his quietness, “Hunny…” She says softly, “Do you want to sit down for a moment?”

He nods and moves to a nearby park bench, still cradling the child in his arms. He sits there quietly, enslaved by his own tormenting thoughts. The thought of losing his daughter sends him back to a memory in his childhood. A time where he thought he lost his own mother while playing around in the bayou. The fear that took over him and the tense feeling in his chest.

His grip on her tightens and Geneviève lets out a small squeak.

Esme notices his change and places a hand on his back, "Alastor?" She calls out, noting his dazed expression, "You're okay..." She whispers, rubbing his back. She takes her other hand and lessens his hold on the child just enough so that he isn't squeezing her to death.

Alastor's thoughts snap back to reality, Esme's touch grounding him. He shakes his head slightly, as if trying to dispel the unpleasant memories. He turns to Esme, his eyes a bit more clear now.

"I'm alright," he says, putting a weary smile on display.

“Mhmmm, sure you are.” Esme smirks sadly, rubbing his back. "She's safe, we're all okay." Geneviève begins to wiggle in his arms, moving her face closer to his and looking at him with her large green eyes,

Alastor looks down at her, her big eyes looking up at him with innocent curiosity. It's as if she can sense his turmoil, and she tries to soothe him with her presence. He takes a deep breath, his heart warm and full and aching at the same time. He gently strokes her hair, his gaze softening as he presses a soft kiss on her forehead.

Esme's eyes lighten up, "Hey look, it's that bird again." She says, pointing to a bird sitting next to them on the bench. Geneviève's eyes turn to it and she smiles softly.

Alastor follows Esme's gaze to the bird perched on the bench. He tilts his head, studying the bird for a moment.

"It's a blue jay," he murmurs, his voice filled with a hint of fascination. "Such a pretty little thing.”

"Ahh maybe your eyes aren't that bad after all~" Esme teases. She reaches into her bag and takes out some bread, "Do you want to give the birdy some food?" she asks Geneviève.

Geneviève's eyes light up at the sight of the bread. She loves birds and the idea of feeding the blue jay only adds to her excitement. She nods, "Yes, mommy!” She exclaims, her little hands already reaching for the food.

Esme hands her some pieces of bread, "Toss it at it now, don't let it nibble at your hand."

Geneviève smiles widely, holding the bread gently in her small hand. She takes a deep breath, and with all the precision a three-year-old can muster, she tosses the pieces of bread at the bird. She squeals excitedly as it pecks at the food, and then turns to her parents with a proud smile.

"I did it!”

🖤Words: 3000🖤

~ Artemis 🦌💗

[queenoforeos]

Sky Blossom: Ex-Magical Girl (2)

(also forgot to mention this in my drawing but saki is younger here)

She sat in the room that was coated with gentle colors and littered with stuffed toys.

Clearly meant for children much younger than she was.

She was a teenager now. She didn’t need toys.

Rather than playing with them like a baby, she remained seated in the cushioned chair— the most comfortable chair she’s ever had, although she didn’t want to admit it.

She frowned. Why was she being forced to wait here? What were the adults talking about outside?

It was strange. She didn’t understand. She didn’t understand anything about these people, she didn’t understand anything that happened today.

First, they took her from her room, put her in a car, and drove her here.

Then, they got her to change into these disgustingly plain, surprisingly pleasantly comfortable clothes.

And after that, they asked all sorts of questions. Like her name and age, what she wanted to be called, or whether she was okay with living with an older boy.

And now, she was put here in this stupidly childish room, sitting idle while waiting for the adults to finish talking.

The girl scowled. She shouldn’t be here. She should be training, or studying, or fighting. There were probably dozens of monsters out there waiting to be slaughtered. She didn’t have time to be sitting around like this.

She didn’t like this. Even though their words were strangely comforting and they haven’t hurt her yet and they had the softest smile she’s ever seen from an adult, she didn’t like these people one bit.

…

Well, maybe a little bit.

They were… really nice.

But she was sure it was all a trick. They were just here to hurt her, she was sure of it.

As soon as that door opened, they would—

Her eyes widened.

Speak of the devil.

The door opened silently without a creak, and a woman walked in, clipboard in hand.

Her heart rate quickened, but she refused to let herself show her fear.

She would’ve prepared to fight, but she wasn’t supposed to hurt adults.

No.

No, this was not good.

No, she was going to—

“Hi there! Sorry for the wait,” the woman said with a smile.

…

…

She was… apologizing?

Why?

She was an adult, adults don’t need to apologize.

…

“It’s okay if you’re not ready yet,” the adult told her, kneeling down to below(?!) her level, “but would you like to pick out a new name for yourself?”

She handed the girl her clipboard.

…

She was… just handing it to her?

And letting her take it?

…

And why would she want a new name?

Sky Blossom was her name. It’s been her name for as long as she could remember. Why would she want a new…

…

…

She stared at the clipboard in confusion.

These names… these are really weird names.

They… they were just words. They didn’t even mean anything.

Names like Akari, Rika, Kimiko…

Those were weird names, really weird names.

Why would she ever want…

…

…

…

…

…huh?

She stared at the next name on the list.

That name… it looked like it would sound nice.

All of these names were stupid, of course, but this one was… less stupid.

…

She looked up from the paper, down at the adult watching her expectantly.

“You don’t have to pick right now,” the woman assured her. “If you’re not ready, we can do this later.”

…

She’d have to pick one eventually.

Whatever. If she had to take one of these, she might as well go with the one that she liked the most.

Hesitantly, the girl pointed to a name.

“…I like this one,” she muttered, still a little unsure about speaking to these people.

“…Saki,” the woman read. Then, she smiled. “It suits you!”

It does?

The girl— Saki— wasn’t so sure about that.

Then again, what did she know about what suits her or not?

It would probably grow on her.

Just like everything else.

…

“Well then, Saki… can you follow me for a second?”

…

“…okay,” Saki said.

…

…

…

Why was everyone here so… nice?

She didn’t get it.

This wasn’t something that a 13-year-old magical girl could understand.

[pinballhazard]

how do you come up with color and composition and backgrounds? Im struggling with only being able to sketch on a plain background and i get no further than that

oh man, i am not the guy to ask for this stuff, hahaha. i only post my best stuff, but when i am just sketching, i draw boring crap on plain backgrounds. it isn’t a bad thing.

one thing that helps me make things look less boring is to play with bright colors, though. i use paint splatters, or stupid images i find funny, and i set them to a layer setting that makes it look cool, and you kind of forget what it is because you are focusing on the drawing instead. i know a lot of people say this too, but use references, man. i honestly need to diversify mine, since i mostly use comics i like as my references. hussie has some REALLY sweet older comics, if you haven’t checked out the stuff that isn’t on MSPA. you should, just saying.

my finished stuff happens without a plan, too. i hardly plan my compositions, even if i should, but i don’t really take art that seriously. it’s really just something i do when i am bored or need to get an idea on paper.

i hope that wasn’t too long to read, buddy. thanks for asking me!

[neocoffeecafe]

sugar n spice n everything nice! (f) | home | writing masterlist | fic rec library

includes/warnings just fluff , cursing, fem!reader

wc .7k

a/n pt1/fluff ver. of my xmas special! the second part will be published on xmas day

“white.. green.. red.. any other colors?” you hum, as you finish up mixing the red food coloring into the white icing.

“how about pink?” yangyang suggested, retrieving another can of the icing from the fridge.

“why pink?” you ask, the mixing of the food coloring making the icing a scarlet shade of red.

“i dunno, i think a pink santa hat would be cute.” he shrugs, stealing the red dye from you and dropping little amounts so the color isn’t too red.

“oh! we need yellow.” you say, squeezing behind yangyang to the fridge to get another can of icing. previously, you and him had spent nearly $200 just to get the things you needed, including several, several cans of icing. you reach your arm over his pink abomination to get the yellow dye.

“are we gonna give some to the neighbors?” he asks, tilting his head to the boxes of plain christmas themed cookies. “because we’ve got a shit ton of cookies.”

you giggle. “yeah we will. we can give them to your friends, too.” you suggest, squeezing the edible dye to make a bright shade of yellow to your icing.

“what did you want to do for christmas?” he asks, finishing the pink icing and beginning to open one of the boxes of cookies.

“maybe we could just cuddle in the couch, share blankets and drink hot cocoa!” you press a soft kiss to the side of his cheek, which he takes his free arm and wraps it around you and pulls you in for a side hug.

“absolutely. we can watch movies or play video games all day. whatever you want, princess.” he pulls away from you to retrieve some spatulas and the piping bags. you both begin emptying the contents of bowls into the bags, each bag having its own dedicated color.

he hands you a cookie when each bag was filled, coincidentally (or probably planned) a santa hat. “time to use that pink icing.” he winks at you.

“you turd.” you bite back, chuckling and set the cookie on your paper plate. he grabs a christmas tree for himself and gets the yellow. you watch as his tongue pokes out in concentration, watching as he’s delicate and careful in drawing a little star on the top of the tree. “you look so cute.” you comment, pressing another peck to his side.

“do you like my star?”

“i love it.” you begin with the white fluff on the bottom and top of the hat, and then fill in the rest with the pink.

“do you want sprinkles?” he’s still working on his tree, his decorations precise and focused.

“what kind of question is that?” you ask, rolling your eyes playfully. he hands you the little container of christmas sprinkles, sprinkles that you dump on the side and carefully pick out where the red candy cane went and where the little white stars went. you finish your creation and show it off to him, displaying it with a wide smile.

“cute.” he says, handing you a new blank cookie of a candy cane. you set it on your plate and fetch your decorated cookie, setting it in the plastic container where you decided your creations would go.

“well, one down. about seven hundred to go.” you eye the handful of boxes of cookies, the both of you your own boxes of giggles.

“that’s why it’s us doing this. out tag team is quite unmatched, if i say so myself.” he carefully sprinkles yellow and green dusty sprinkles on his creation. “thats two down.” he does the same as you but his next cookie is a heart. “oh i know what im doing with this one.” out of curiosity, you watch as he covers the cookie with red icing, covering every inch. once its covered, he grabs the white and begins writing out three words: i love you. he sprinkles some red sparkly sprinkles on and adds some white stars. “my heart for my lady.” he playfully bows down to you, holding his hand out to display his cookie.

“you’re so cringe.” you take it from him. “i love it.” he smiles and strengthens himself up, pulling you in for a kiss. the cookies and icings were forgotten for a few moments when you’re tied in his embrace of kisses and warmth.

once you pull away to breathe, you glance down at the rest of the cookies and sweet treats. “well. we’ve got tons more cookies to go. perhaps, they could wait a minute.”

@neocoffeecafe

[shaunabah]

Theater kids.

A bunch of students sat in an empty classroom as a teacher started talking.

"Aight kids, I guess you're all here for the theater club?" The teacher, Mr. B, asks.

There are around seven students in the class, all of them nodding at the same time. Some knew each other, some didn't, but they all had something in common: they saw the 'THEATER CLASS' flyer in the school and decided to join.

The teacher, Peter B Parker, was a biology teacher who also had a special interest in scenery art, and after some years he was able to open his own club. Even if there were only seven students, it was more than enough for him.

"Let's start with taking attendance to see if everyone who signed up is here." Mr. B says while looking at the paper that was on the table, "Hobie Brown?"

The mentioned raises his hand, his clothing style drawing everyone's attention. He was dressed in a black leather jacket that had spikes on it, a blue shirt below it. He wore a collar similar to the jacket and tall boots, even if he already looked tall. His hair was incredibly well treated, it was amazing.

"Great! Miles Morales?"

The boy raises his hand. His appearance is more normal, a plain shirt with soft blue jeans and sneakers. His afro hair and brown eyes made him look cute, in somes opinion.

"Peni Parker?"

A girl raises her hand, and her big eyes draw everyone's attention to her. Her short black hair and uniform-like clothing helped her brown eyes highlight more. She seems to be sketching something in a notebook, clearly concentrated.

"Peter Benjamin Parker?— Oh look we share name and last name."

A boy raises his hand, his clothing also drawing people's attention. It wasn't wild like Hobie's, but it was colourless, all black, grey and white, which shocked people. "Please call me Noir to avoid any confusion." He says calmly, avoiding eye contact.

"Nice, okay— Peter... Porker?"

A boy with curly pink hair and black eyes raises his hand, his clothes being also basic. Just a red shirt and blue pants, nothing our of the ordinary. "Call me Ham!" He says while laughing a bit.

"Sure thing, uh next is..." Mr. B takes a breath, "Sorry if I pronounce this wrong... Pav—Pavitr... Prabjakar?"

"Call me Pav, it's easier!" A boy says while smiling brightly. His hair is really shiny and looks like he takes a good care of it. His clothes consist of a plain white shirts with soft gray jeans and gold-like bracelets.

"Yeah, sounds good. Finally, Gwen Stacy?"

A girl slowly raises her hand. Her unusual haircut is what draws the attention towards her, as well as the rainbow bracelet that she's wearing. The rest of her clothes are a white shirt with a black jacket and soft blue jeans. She's sitting a bit farther away from the rest, which weirded out the teacher.

"Amazing, we're all here! So, just in case you don't know me, I'm Mr. B, but here you can just call me Peter—if the other Peter's don't mind—and I'll be your mentorteacherwhatever thing." The teacher introduces himself while standing up, going to the back of the class. "Now... Let's make a little play, okay? No script, just that by pairs you have to find out which is the right wire to cut. Easy, right?"

Peni stares as everyone already has a partner, feeling left out once more. She wants to make friends, that's why she joined the club, but she feels invisible most of the time. Maybe if she was better, more noti—

"Hey, wanna pair with us?" The curly haired boy—Ham, if she remembers well—asks Peni, apparently he noticed how she was alone. He was paired with the monochromatic boy, which seemed ironic looking at how many colors Ham wore.

"Sure!!" She says, going with them.

"Are the pairs done?" Everyone nods, "Okay then, you three can start." The teacher says as he puts down the box with wires.

The three of them crouch down to the floor to see four wires: yellow, green, red and blue.

"Oh wait, we don't get any hints?" Peni asks while turning around to see the teacher, who shakes his head, "Oh great."

"Which one do you think it is, Noir?" She asks the older, who is sitting and looks confused.

"Uhhhhh... the gray one?" He replies while looking at the box, eyebrows frowned and everything.

"There's not a gray one! Oh great, we paired up with the colorblind dude!" Ham exclaims, cutting a random wire.

"That was... the right one, impressive." Mr. B says, taking the box in his hands, "Also, are you seriously colorblind?" He asks Noir, who sinply nods. "That explains so much." Everyone laughs at that.

"Okay, next, Gwen Stacy and whoever teamed up with her." The teacher says and both Gwen and Miles step forward, looking at the box that now has an orange wire instead of a red one.

"Which is it?" Miles asks Gwen as she takes the box in her hands.

"Judging by how they are connected, and the fact that this is so badly done I can see which one isn't attached to the end, it's the green one." She says after two seconds of analyzing the box, and cuts the wire. Turns out she was right, and they both won.

"Incredible, such a way of quick analyzing!" Mr. B says, changing the green wire with a white one, "Yes this is terribly built." He sets the box on the floor. "Finally, Hobie and Pav."

Everyone looks at them weirdly when Hobie takes the box in his hands, not even looking at it. He proceeds to smash it in the floor, breaking the box and the wires.

"That is not how you had to do it." Mr. B says while picking up the pieces left on the floor.

"You said it wasn't scripted!" Hobie exclaims, looking at him directly.

"Maybe you shouldn't take it as a 'I can destroy it because you didn't say otherwise'!"

And they started fighting. In the meantime, Peni is able to sneak up on the both of them and steal the box, completely disassembling it to keep the nails for herself. Pavitr starts talking with Miles and Gwen and they end up being friends. Both Ham and Noir sit on the floor while they talk, only to end up being joined by everyone else.

[emerxshiu]

Void Termina gijinka redesign

woke up and felt like drawing on paper, i drew a zan, fucked up and then decided it was finally time to redesign my void.

i dont tend to use his gijinka very much, in fact i only drew him 3 times, the original, a slight redesign, and this one.

well i suposse i should show it already

honestly i really like it! :3

tho i used to like the other one too, now i think its abhorrent, so maybe i end up hating this one too overtime. i didnt want to clutter it with too many things so i tried to not go overboard, tho i did struggle as i did not want it to look to plain or simple, im thinking i might change some stuff, like the sleeves, wich i think are okay but they feel way too empty to me rn, but sometimes i just need to let the design grow on me. and i dunno, do something with his legs i guess, also if you are wondering why are they shaped like that, sometimes i prefer doing them like this, and other times i prefer for them to look more normal.

the mask thing had stuck with me for various months so i didnt want to discard it. the 3 lines under the eyes is something i do in all my drawings (unless i forget :p) but here i tried to make them longer, and in fact, im thinking of making them red, 3 in each eye, 6 in total, referencing zero, btw, i only did this sketch, but void's body has more markings like those and such.

the lines in the sleeves around the shoulders dont represent anything, i just added them so the sleeves werent so lacking, but the bar codes like lines at the end of them, are indeed, a reference to Zero two's boss fight's background, and the small oval shape thingyes are too, but instead a reference to the blood vessels in 02 wings. 6 on each sleeve, i thought of adding a 7th one that was more blu-ish (i know this is a sketch without colors) and diamond like, in reference to the titular crystal shards but it didnt look good so i scraped that.

the heart is something that was in the original design, but in a slightly different place, at the end i that downwards line (i dunno how to describe it) , basically, make it look like the heart spear, i saw lots of void gijinkas have heart spears somewhere and i wanted to include one too, and eventually did it like that. i tend to draw inspiration from other gijinkas a lot of the time, since i sometimes struggle with making designs, tho im trying to better at it, and remake some gijinkas so they dont resemble others' so much.

the thing next to the heart is from void termina's phase one, in his titan body, next to their shoulders, in fact, it looks very similar to the one's the three mage sisters wear in their attire's.

the pointy thing in their shoulders wasnt originally planned, but while drawing i accidantally made it pointy there and ended up liking the idea, and having it like a section so to say

i was going to have the hair have the patterns, but remembered this was more especifically void, the grey one (tho here things from all forms are mixed kinda) so his hair has the rainbow cracks, and i ended up using the weird swirly patterns in the clothes, they are really hard to draw but it feels rewarding when getting it right and ends up looking nice.

around the knees, where the clothes end, there are these feathers, purple more especifically, as i wanted to include the mane he has in phase one but i didnt know how due to how i was making the neck area, then, i thought around the shoulders but it didnt look good, before eventually setting on to add them at the end of their clothes.

before i ramble more and more about my void in general, im going to talk about the original gijinka

yikes.

three years do sure make a difference.

im not gonna complain that much about style, since i wasnt consistent and have gotten beter at drawing and honestly the eyes being so close togheter and taking up like 95% of the face is something i still accidentally do on ocassion but...

just talk about the design, in the remake, i tried making the references a bit more subtle, i think thats mainly my problem with the old gijinka, the references are way too straightforward.

its way too simple to me, yet has too much going on the sleeves, especially the left one god i dont like it, but at least i can support it, for now...the right arm is probably where the reference problem is easier to spot, having a literal drawing of a dark matter, and an eye, and oh yeah i guess dark nebula is there too but who cares about that dude.

honestly i dont know how to explain why i dislike the gijinka now (i used to kinda like it back then) that isnt basically repeating points. also it looks weird, i dunno why (aside from the eyes) but it does, tho mad props to 2022 me for drawing the patterns all over void's hair, it was so unnecessary but i appreciate her efforts.

Now, now, lets stop talking about, that, and talk about my void

i dont think it can be like, my characters interpretation, its more like an AU, but not quite, im not sure so just like, yeah im going to use au since my interpretation of how characters are in canon vs what i do with them, as in fics, drawings, things i think of them, etc differs, especially with void,

ok so, they are capable of shapeshifting, i mean, that kinda canon, but we'll just ignore whats canon or not. i mainly just choose that, aside from making him have and eye on his face from time to time, because i still do like long-haired void, so he sometimes just switches from a hairstyle that resembles kirby, to a longer one (because extremely long haired gods are soooooo)

when their angry, their hair becomes spikier, they can make their fingers longer, pointier, same with every limb they have. it can become more straight when sad, stuff like that, i also like thinking that it kinda looks like it is made of clouds, or like, perpetually under the sea, like, the hair is perpetually floating or moving around, never staying still for long, with small chunks separating and dissapearing like if they were smoke. his face can contort at will and more typical void stuff.

the original gijinka was focused more on the void termina from the story mode, the pink one, while the redesign was more on thinking about all forms he has (including the titan ones) and also after he got purged of negative emotions by kirby, so he sometimes tries to resemble him, hence the hair thing (in fact, the slight redesing i mentioned that was second, was just me making him more like kirby, shorter hair and stuff, basically the note that i had written in the og design) and sometimes i might just call him niru or nil, when refering more especifically to the post-ksa void, because i headcanon he reincarnates and basically gets adopted

sorry for rambling way too much about void, i love talking about this guy so much alongside fecto elfilis (i have way too much to say about the dude, i literally know almost all their attack names from memory)

and also for the lack of posting, tho winter break i gonna end soon and ill have to go back studying and shit, i dont want to.

but uh yeah! Jambuhbye :D

[esperanzagalaxy]

Hello!!!

First off, I absolutely ADORE your art! It is some of the finest work ive ever seen and is just a joy to see! Secondly, i am equally upset about the abrupt rqg feed ending and would like to ask, if you are still taking requests, for any Grizzop and/or Vesseek doodles? Or just anything involving our favourite goblins! Hope you have an amazing day💜💜

  RQG request #21! oh, friend, thanks so much for your words, you’re always so ready to support everyone 😭💙 and yes, same, it’s been months but i’m still salty. doing this one was funny because i did the sketch before you commissioned me, and the rendering after, so it was cool to draw them twice with different vibes!

  i did very much cheat and made this one self-indulgent because, at the time when i was going to sketch this one, i was working on the chapter of my fic where they’re introduced, so... here they are! the mean girl supreme of the art world and his endlessly patient star assistant!

  the rendering didn’t come out quite as i’d hoped, but the lineart is on point. like, that was Exactly how grizzop was supposed to look. well done, me. this is a cool one. thanks so much for your request!!! <33

 mechanical pencil on yellow paper and digital color.

 ID under the cut!

[ID: an illustration of grizzop and vesseek. it's drawn traditionally with a mechanical pencil, and rendered digitally with dark sepia tones. it's a low shot that shows them both looking down at the camera, with high windows to their back, leaving them mostly in shadow. grizzop is to the left, leaning against the side of a wooden table. vesseek is in front of him, to the right, sitting on a wooden crate. grizzop has his arms crossed and is looking down with a dismissive eyebrow raised. he's wearing a plain button up with rolled up sleeves, trousers, and an apron. there's a rag hanging from his belt. he's lean and wiry, with long, pointed ears from which three arrow piercings hand. he's bald and freckly, with narrowed eyes and a rounded nose. vesseek is dressed the same way as him, and they smile relaxedly at the viewer. their left leg is dangling from the crate, and their right knee is up, with the corresponding hand resting atop of it. the left hand is on the front edge of the crate, towards the camera. they're smaller and fatter than grizzop, but a little closer to the camera. they have shorter ears and short, messy hair. they're slightly fuzzy. the windows are bright behind them both. end ID]

[nelapanela94]

I know you love your angst and you do it so well! For your 1k event how about 30 and 38? Oh...I hope I don't cry too much! <3.

Aww thank you Eliza. Angst and heartbreaks are my thing. I just love writing it so bad it hurts.

30. “I know you still love me.”

38. “Mom asked about you again.”

Set in Modern AU.

WC. ~2.5k

Nela's 1k event

Like a million marbles, the deluge hammers furiously the shingles, encroaching the twines of conversations and murmurs, the senders sticking their mouths to the receivers’ ears. The raindrops snake down like vying tadpoles on the window, outside the afternoon sky is the color of an old silver coin, tarnished at the edges.

The steam doesn’t seem to wane.

And you’re trapped in this little café until the ashy gray clouds decide the condemnation is fair.

Your chin is roosted on your hand, elbow tucked on the wood, feet anchored to the footrest rail between the stool legs. Whatever force is pulling at the strings of fate you despise it right now, for it has unleashed a downpour just as you were passing by in front of that place, now museum of melancholies.

And the most beautiful moments, tarnished like a spill of ink warping through the water.

These two years have been a waste of time thrums at the end tail of your memories. That’s what he said before slamming a big bank note on the table and storming out without looking back. He never looked back, he never called, he never texted again. He was cruel.

He found the way to shear the red thread; or perhaps, there was never a red thread tethered around your fingers. Perhaps, it was never meant to last.

Damn zodiac signs.

Damn Romeo and Juliet.

Damn Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth.

And damn all those books, and poems and songs that made you believe in love. All the verses that invoke his name.

Levi.

It tasted like hot honey. Sweet and piquant at the same time.

Now, it feels like a bristle worm in your tongue.

What happened to us?

For months you clung to the theory that time had changed you, but no. The spell of a newborn love had blinded you, that phase when you only see the good, and the flaws are swept under the carpet. At first glance, everything sparks, and you scrabble his name in any surface, and watch his favorite series, read his favorite book; the person who draws a giddy smile on your lips. And those enchanted nights when your heart drummed for his name to jump on the screen, and you dove behind to reply as soon as you could. Your feet peeled off the ground, and you found yourself gravitating to him. It’s the time when you experience one of the best feelings, those fluttering butterflies in your belly when you stared at each other. You’d smile, and “what?” he’d ask, followed by a mild tug at one corner of his lips, and you’d just laugh, breathing out a “nothing.”

But then you begin to scrutinize, the first specks of dust pinpricking on the surface, scantly, trifling, that you let them pass.

You learned to make his favorite tea.

You roamed galleries hand in hand.

You cuddled in the farthest seat in the bus.

You made him dance in the living room.

Tipsy on wine and dreams.

You strain forward. Your warmth breath spans a canvas of mist on the glass, and your fingertip as a brush, draws two dots and an upward curve.

More and more people scurry in, seeking shelter, lining up to buy the cheapest item on the menu that will allow them to spend a few hours there with no impudence. The entrance carpet is soaked and stamped with dozens of muddy footprints. Drenched coats, spilling umbrellas, and dripping hairs making of the floor a hazard.

You bring the paper cup to your mouth, your rosy lips closing around the rim, the smell wafting up to meet some memories. You take a sip and let nostalgia roll down your throat.

Plain black tea.

The taste of his mouth. His breath distantly mingling with yours.

Why does it have to be the cheapest option in the menu? Though you didn’t pick that one for the price.

It hurts, like a thousand needles pricking in your chest, that you just can’t forget him. He wreathed a nest in you. His scars are forever carved in your hands. Like the one under his chin, the lighter bumpy tissue snaking across his shoulder.

Thirty-three are the freckles on his back with which you drew constellations.

Everything seemed all right.

The pans of the beam swayed at the same level.

Until you fling the carpet.

It took three words to tip the world. To uneven the balance and tilt it to your side.

It was one night, both tangled in the covers of his bed, snuggled from the nippy air, him stroking your hair while your hand was entwined in his sleek crispy hairs bushing around his half limp shaft, forefinger toying with a curl. Ruddy cheeks and dewy lips, his locks lustrous in sweat stuck at his temples and forehead. You raise your head on your hand, your mane cascading into the pillow. Tracing flimsy circles on his shoulder, you looked him in the eye, his pupils still blown up, and you slur I love you.

And right then something within him switched on or off, you don’t know, threads of smoke swirling in his irises, it was the moment when you broke the spell, when your bubble popped.

He said nothing. Instead, he laid on his back and folded an arm over his head, the other winds around you, cradling you against him as you nestle your head on his shoulder.

Everything went downhill from there.

You gave each other the gift of silence, and your empty hands gave the illusion of lightness. That everything was all right. The pockets were filled with sand and stones to trick yourselves into feeling that there was still something to offer. There was plenty of oxygen and yet it was hard to breathe. His name in your mouth began to sour. You were never long of words, and yet you ran out of them. You looked away. Not a laugh, not a hug from behind, not a kiss goodnight.

You felt lonely having him next to you.

Him and his absent presence.

“Why?” you asked.

“Why what?”

“We’re not working anymore, and I still can’t figure out why.”

“I don’t get it.”

“And I don’t get you. I’d like to know what you’re thinking, Levi. I feel… I have the feeling you’re not…” You gazed down, scratching a sudden itch on your arm.

Your cup was full to the rim.

He frowned. “That I’m not what?” His voice was a scour to your heart. He clasped your chin and forced you to look at him. You felt the weight of the stares, the rumors spooling around. His jaw was clenched tight, his hand trembling as if he were holding something up.

And it struck you right then.

“I have the feeling that you’re holding up. All the time. Like you’re afraid to give it all. You’re here but at the same time you’re not.”

A vortex of anger and pain swirled in his stomach, and suddenly, his favorite drink became acid. His hand fell from your chin, and then it was him to avert his gaze, frighten that you’d seen further through. He gulped, tugging at the collar of his gray t-shirt, cold sweat running down his spine.  

Busted.  

His eyes crashed with your glassy gaze, tears beading on your lashes. You were fiddling with your bracelet, sucking on your rosy lipstick that tasted like cherries. He opened his mouth to rebut, but nothing came out.

Trembling and delirious with the pang spreading on your chest, you bawled, “I want you all, Levi. The petals and thorns. If you’re not willing to give your all, we should put an end to this.”

He was nipping on his lips, pondering on what you’d said, and he let fear infect his decision. There was a before him, and to this point, you cling to the last thread of hope so that there wouldn’t be an after him.

But after receiving so many blows, a shell rises around the tenderest heart. A mean of protection. “I want what you want. These two years have been a waste of time!” He spat. The chair screeched against the floor, then came the slam on the table. Spills of tea. A cloud of whispers, and pity glances.

And he was gone.

You didn't even have time to give it a proper funeral. To bury the plans and hopes under the home you’d never build.  To wear black and cry the words that would never be spoken waiting for the perfect moment.

What should have been eternal didn't last more than an instant.

Your rub your palms on your legs and lean forward, raising your shoulders, too strained you feel they might poke through your skin, edginess creeping on your back like a troop of ants.

*

He shakes his head and water droplets spray every which way. The soles of his boots chafe the worn-out carpet, his hand sheltered in the pockets of his military green rain jacket. He lines up behind an old lady and waits patiently as his eyes divert around the packed-up place. He rocks on his heels, mindlessly, he doesn’t even have to look at the hanging board menu, the clerk knows him so well. Here and there, steel gray orbs jumping from head to head, and right when he turns his head, he stumbles with that camel knitted sweater, (h/c) hair waving down on your shoulders, you cowered in that position of mental suffering and distress. The floor quakes under his feet, and a dry heartbeat springs under his chest, the tips of his ears begin to tingle as his red blood cells take away with them the healthy blush of his cheeks.

“Next.” He jerks and takes a step to the counter, swallows hard, and mentally shakes off the mesh of thoughts, feelings, and memories.

“Hey, Levi.”  Mark lifts his stubbled chin in salutation as he pokes the order on the screen. Clad in a lumberjack shirt, his sleeves are rolled to his elbows.

The terminal beeps at the contact with Levi’s credit card and spills out his receipt. He should’ve ordered to go.

The universe is mocking him, he swears, because there’s only one empty seat and it happens to be the one by your side.

In his head, it didn't go like this.

He grabs his tray, the cup rattling against the saucer as he makes his way to the window seats.

Strawberries and mint. He can recognize your perfume from miles away.

He sets the tray on the mahogany wood slab and slips his ass on the stool, fighting the urge to reach out and let you cry on his shoulder. Though, that would be a hypocrite move from him. Instead, he slides his hands between his thighs and his muscles tighten.

“Long time no see.” Your mumbling startles him. Your head is still hanging, your hands clutch at the hem of your sweater.

“Yeah.” He breaths. His eyes fall into the steamy swirl.

“The Acqua Di Gio gave you away.”

“And you still wear the same shampoo.” He snorts.  

You rub your misty eyes. “In the place where everything ends.”

“And where everything started.”

“Your hands were shaking when you asked me if you could sit at my table.” All the tables were taken, and yours have a chair to spare.

“You smiled at me, and I thought I’d drop tray right there.”

“We didn’t exchange a word, yet you scrawl your number on a napkin and left it there. That was bold from you.”

“I felt like an idiot right as I walked past the door. I wanted to rush inside and snatch it back, but you’d already unfurled it.” He shakes his head and closes his eyes, a deep blush creeping across his cheeks. His eyes open again, and he snaps his face in your direction. “A minute later my phone buzzed.”

You raise your chin and sigh before meeting his gaze for the first time in eight months.

“You looking good.” You fold an arm on the bar, and the seat spins by a fraction.

“You cut your hair.”

“It’s the new way to end a chapter, you know, moving on.”

He bites his bottom lip, then says, “It suits you.”

“How’s your family?” You swerve.

Levi takes a sip, and when he sets the cup back on the saucer, his fingers never leave the handle. “Mom asked about you again.”

You don’t know how long you could hold back your tears. You remain silent for a while, looking through the glass at the ceaseless pelting outside.

“Fear made me cruel, Y/N.” Your name belches from his mouth, and it doesn’t sting. In fact, it sounds good. Velvety, sandpapery, and it has the same effect, revolting every cell in your system. “You didn’t deserve that. You… I… you were the best thing that ever happened to me,” he bites a sob and rubs his nose. “I was an asshole, and I uh... I’m sorry.”

Your empty cup crumbled in your grip. Thank God it’s cardboard, otherwise, your hand would’ve been stabbed with dozens of shards.

“It’s kind of late.”

“I know. And I’m sorry about that too.”

“Levi, you plucked me out of your life like weeds.”

“I’m sorry… I don’t even know what else to say. You know I’m not the most eloquent being.” He coaxed a smile. “And you were right, I wasn’t ready. I thought I was until you say… you know. Commitment frightened me, and…” he trails off.

“Because of them…”

He weakly nods. Levi never mentioned a word about it, but it hit the headlines for a week about five years ago. A drunk driver took the lives of his two best friends.

“You could’ve told me how you felt. I would’ve understood.”

Your eyes flick to your hands; the more his moves closer, yours drift back.  And not because you find him repulsive, but because you’re afraid the subtlest touch ignites sparks. Because…

“I know you still love me.” He dares spew. Your quivering eyes, wide open as if they might fall out, snap towards him, and you hate him now, you hate he can read you like the lines on his palms; you hate he can delve with such ease into you. You hate you let him in when all he offered were measly crumbs.

But what you hate the most is that he’s right.

And you’re stupid for feeling what you’re not supposed to feel. You’re pulling off the scab again.

Keep doing it, and the wound will never heal.

Air becomes thin, and the noise shrinks into a deafening distan shrill. You need to get out of there. You don’t give a shit about the rain anymore; you don’t care if you get pneumonia or whatever; it is better than letting him stab your ears with the truth.

“Please don’t.” Your voice cracks, your chin wrinkles, and your bottom lip wobbles, and even though your legs feel like jelly now, you force yourself on your feet and sling the strap of your bag on your shoulder.

The floor tips as if you’d gobbled down three bottles of wine. A drink is what you need now.

But now he insists. He grabs your hand and spins you around.

“I love you." His jaw sets so tight you think his teeth might splinter.

Three words is all he needs to put your world upside down. Ire, pain, sadness, the worst of the feelings coiling in a fire ball in the verge of explosion. You extricate your hand from his clasp. “Please, I beg you. Don’t do this, don’t play with me. If you love me as you say you do, please let me go. I’m not… not now.” You draw a sigh, and your shoulders slouch.

He’s broken too, and you can see it. He finally lets you see through him. But you can’t do this now. Not until you find peace within yourself.

It's hard to admit at this moment, but your love for him is not like foliage in the woods, it doesn't change with seasons; it resembles the rocks. Unwavering.

Hope flickers in his eyes.

He’s broken too, and you can see it. He finally lets you see through him. But you can’t do this now. Not until you find peace within yourself. You close your eyes and take in three appeasing breaths, long and deep, and when you open them again, you feel like a different person. You're still trembling, but your mind clears. And today you choose yourself.

"The tea will get cold." You quip. Mold and cold tea are the things Levi hates the most.

He gives you that half-smirk that dimples his left cheek. Maybe an after him can turn into another before him.

"You know where to find me."

Nela's 1000 event

[ennaku-sirri-da]

I’m as busy as a spider spinning daydreams,

I’m as giddy as a baby on a swing.

I haven’t seen a crocus or a rosebud

Or a robin on the wing,

But I feel so gay—in a melancholy way—

That it might as well be spring…

It might as well be spring.

[ ID: Traditional art that has been colored and edited digitally, featuring Kamal Bora and Dr.Habit from Smile For Me the game.

In the artists interpretation Kamal as a kid is much shorter than Habit. He has short straight hair. He wears a oversized dark purple sweater. Then he has a frilly red skirt which sparkles. Ending with light blue socks and pink crocs. Blue-magneta headphones are worn.

Here Habit is a really tall kid. He has a muppet-like appearance with yellow-greenish fur, very long rose-pink curly hair, pink blushing cheek patches with three freckles, ears stuffed with cotton fluff , deep red nails. His eyes are orange, circled below by red ruffles and have some pale purple eyeshadow. He wears a teal buttoned shirt with wavy darker pants that have yet darker stripes on them. Basically it's Kamal’s outfit from the game. His feet are bare.

We are viewing them from above. Kamal is braiding lillies of various colors and shapes- multicolored, freckled, painted- into Habit's huge hair, now he's at the end of it. He sits with folded legs. Besides Habit's ear lies a Tooth Lily. Habit lays his head back, supported by hands on the ground, and looks at the viewer with a devilish smile-a glint in his eye, one blue snaggletooth showing. His feet are thrown about casually. Between them lies a half-open book titled 'Science Of Constipation' in loud colors and fonts. It shows a page titled 'Importance of taking a dump by Bob Smith' that has been absolutely vandalized by Habit. Bob Smith's photo now sports a hat, devil horns and a mustache. ' Preface' has been struck out and replaced with 'Peeface'. Skull, flowers, star, eyes, and a silly emote with its tongue out have been doodled with a red sketch which lies nearby.

Nature surrounds them. Most of it is springtime flowers that can be found in Boston, USA. Daffodils, crocuses, peonies, roses, azaleas, pansies, tulips, black-eyed susans, trailing arbutus. Among this lush greenery- snails, ladybugs can be seen underneath while dragonflies, butterflies, bees fly above. Some young black sheep graze. One looks ahead, with a white heart-marking on its head. Beside Habit's left leg is a large light orange-brown rabbit, curled up and sleeping. Somewhere among the flowers are two small white red-eyed rabbits nuzzling.

To the far right swaying bushes of cattail grow. Beside them is a clear stream running, host to a male and female mallard duck leading their ducklings, bladderworts, white waterlilies with their pads. Among these waterlilies, a brown frog and tadpoles in various stages of life can be spotted. One duckling catches a tadpole in its beak. To the very front are Habit and Kamal's paper boats engaged in a race-- Kamal appears to be winning. One is pink and crumply, heavily decorated, a submerged tag attached to it reads ' B.H'. The other is neat and streamlined with a little teal flagpole announcing it as 'KB'.

The first version of the drawing is overlaid with a very warm orange filter, the second is unedited. End ID]

Talk below the cut!

PLEASE LOOK AT THIS I WORKED ON IT FOR MONTHS NO JOKE THIS IS MY CHILD WHOM I WAS PREGNANT WITH AND NOW I HAVE PAINSTAKINGLY BIRTHED AND CLEANED HIM FOR ALL OF TUMBLR TO SEE

[ Plain text: Please look at this I worked on it for months no joke this is my child whom I was pregnant with and now I have painstakingly birthed and cleaned him for all of tumblr to see]

🥸[ Glasses-and-moustache silly disguise emoji ]

aNYWAY this is part of a series of drawings where Habit and Kamal are just playing as kids really LOL

I listened to Vashti Bunyan's 'Just Another Diamond Day' album a LOT while coloring and drawing this HAHA also some vintage springtime songs! They were so lovely!!!

This also taught me a lesson to plan out my drawings more I guess but also WITNESS THIS BEAUTIFUL CHAOS AND MAY YOUR HEART BE OPENED TO ALL THE JOYOUS POSSIBILITIES MY FRIEND

[ Plain text: Witness this beautiful chaos and may your heart be opened to all the joyous possibilities my friend]

----

A stranger would not have noticed the change, but Molly could see that the withered earth was brightening with a greenness as shy as smoke. Squat, snaggly trees that had never yet bloomed were putting forth flowers in the wary way an army sends out scouts; long-dry streams were beginning to rustle in their beds, and small creatures were calling to one another. Smells slipped by in ribbons: pale grass and black mud, honey and walnuts, mint and hay and rotting applewood; and even the afternoon sunlight had a tender, sneezy scent that Molly would have known anywhere. She rode beside Schmendrick, watching the gentle advent of the spring and thinking of how it had come to her, late but lasting.

"Unicorns have passed here," she whispered to the magician. "Is that the cause, or is it Haggard's fall and the Red Bull's going? What is it, what is happening?"

"Everything," he answered her, "everything, all at once. It is not one springtime, but fifty; and not one or two great terrors flown away, but a thousand small shadows lifted from the land.

Wait and see."

-- From The Last Unicorn by Peter Beagle

:-) [ smile emote ]