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gallickingun · 4 years ago

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who i am today will love {whoever you are tomorrow} || s.k.

SUMMARY: Sugawara Koushi has managed to get you to fall in love with him once. He will not let a simple case of transient global amnesia keep him from sweeping you off of your feet time and time again, until he has you enraptured once more.

PAIRING: Sugawara Koushi x Fem!Reader RATINGS: T+ WARNINGS: angst. literally just all angst. a little fluff here and there. but mostly angst. some language, a little bit of relationship struggle, but nothing too intense! WORD COUNT: 6k+

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I’m not very happy with this, but this is my post for the Haikyuu Headquarters SFW collab centered around the prompt Amnesia! Please check out all of the other rad fics HERE! I haven’t written a full length fic for Sugawara yet, but apparently my first one is going to be Angst City. I hope you all enjoy 💔

Sugawara knew from the moment he saw you that you were going to be the puzzle he was trying to put together for the rest of his days.

He would spend moment after moment trying to piece together the parts of you that created this wonderful masterpiece, the prettiest picture he could never have even imagined would grace his life. He is careful with your sharp edges, the pieces of you that have been forged by years of difficult situations you have had to claw yourself out of.

There were pieces of you that fit into place easily, of course. The softest sides of you which you bared to him from the day you met him. Your smile, the color of your eyes, the way your cheeks lift when you grin. He knows these parts by heart, has run his fingertips over them countless times, until he has memorized the exact curve of them, until he can put them into place without looking.

You are like hieroglyphs from a long-lost language, something incomprehensible if only because you are so cryptically enticing, hiding pieces of yourself for him to discover throughout the years that you develop your friendship and eventual love.

There are days where Sugawara could spend every waking moment between the blinks of his pale lashes purely studying you, irises narrowed as he watches the way your body moves, the way your hands tense at your sides. He notices the quirk of your lips and the curl of your toes when you get anxious, how you gnaw on the inside of your cheek, and how your forehead wrinkles. At times, he breaks himself away from his study long enough to press a warm, gentle kiss to the crinkled skin of your forehead, coaxing you from the prison of your mind, begging you to relax under his ministration. You will reach out, fisting the fabric of his shirt as timidly as you can within your knuckles, and he feels your skin go lax.

When he pulls away to gaze down into the beautiful shade of your irises, Sugawara feels safe, like there is a nestled home tucked away in your pupils that he can retreat to when life becomes too much, too overwhelming. His heart patters within his chest and he knows that if you were to peel his shirt away, you’d find a bruise in the shape of the organ outlined in bright purple and blue on his porcelain skin, like a small galaxy of pain that represents the intensity of his love for you.

Koushi’s hands reach for you in the dead of night, his head resting on your shoulder so he can breathe in your familiarity, and the closeness of you settles in on him as a weighted blanket would. Your presence alone calms him, and the feel of your skin beneath the pads of his fingers only adds to the reverie. His fingerprints dance underneath the thin fabric of his tee shirt that is clad on your body, your body second nature to his touch, and he can map out your ribs and hips with ease. He kisses your shoulder and his eyelashes flutter shut, the awareness of your proximity making him feel safe.

Every day is a new day to find a new piece of your beautiful puzzle, Sugawara thinks as he drifts off into the realm of unconsciousness. And he cannot wait to wake up to discover the next, most unique piece in the morning.

Only, when his eyes peel back as the sun rises the next morning, his perfect puzzle has been ruined, torn apart and left for scraps, and now there is a piece missing.

“Wh-Who are you?” Your voice is a stutter, eyes bright and wild, feral in the worst way. You cower away from him, holding yourself together as though you might shatter if you breath a moment longer, “Why are you in my bed?”

Sugawara laughs at first, if only because he cannot believe that this is something more than a prank at best. He reaches for you, fingertips barely grazing the hem of your shirt sleeve as you skitter away from him. Your body falters as you fall from the bed, and the last thing he sees before you plummet to the floor is the way your irises are engulfed by your pupils until your orbs look inked out with darkness, a void quality to them that makes his heart wrench within his chest.

“Love, c’mon,” Sugawara crawls across the mattress so he can get a look at you, still clinging desperately to the idea that this is a sick joke that you are playing on him – where are the hidden cameras? What will Daichi and Asahi think of this when you send them the video?

Your jawline is trembling, your teeth clenched together so tightly that the muscles are quivering, and you shake your head, “I-I don’t know you, wh-who are you?”

Koushi clambers from the bed to stand near you, arms crossed over his chest as he looks down where you are still a mess of limbs on the floor, a blanket you found discarded beside the bed wrapped around your partially bare body. He shakes his head, his chin wobbling as reality sets in, “Sweetheart, this isn’t funny. Cut the crap. What’s going on?”

When you shout, voice in a frenzy because you do not recognize the man loitering over you like a thundercloud, Sugawara feels lightning strike his heart and shatter it into a thousand pieces. Shards of emotion lodge into his chest as you speak next, “Please d-don’t hurt me!”

He was unaware to the tears building up behind his lids until he feels the wetness of a saltine droplet drip down his cheek, collecting on his jaw before dripping onto the floor. Sugawara’s hands shudder and he reaches down for you, “I think we need to take you to the hospital.”

“I-I’m not going anywhere with you,” you are biting in your tone, a resonance to the fiery personality you have shown him all your natural born life.

You have known him since you were a child, infatuated with him since you were teenagers, encapsulated in love with him once you turned twenty-two, and now you have been married for three wonderful years.

And yet, the frightened look in your eyes, the tears that make your irises glassy, tells him that there may be no coming back from this, that he cannot rely on the years before this very moment to build back what seems to have broken. Sugawara’s hands shake and you can tell, but that does not keep your breath from shuddering in your lungs, busting open your teeth as you release the pent-up oxygen.

“Please, love,” Sugawara’s voice is broken, each syllable grating against his esophagus as he forces them through his throat, but you cannot notice past your own panic, “let’s just get in the car, okay?”

Your body warms at the sound of the pet name, but you cannot place the fondness he has for you with the devoid space in your heart, although there is a quiet voice in the back of your mind telling you that he cares for you, and you for him. Even still, you have been birthed into this place as a confused creature, someone who does not know their purpose or intentions, and the only thing on your one-track mind is to find some answers to the intimidating list of questions percolating in your subconscious.

You know that he will not rest until you listen, and so the fight or flight response in your mind begins to flare until you tame it, stoking the fire down to embers as you rise to your feet. You grit your teeth and shake your head, signaling your defiance, but stumble towards the car nonetheless. You are not sure just how you knew where to go, like a blueprint has been embedded within your mind, but somehow you find your way despite the confusion clouding your thoughts like a raging storm.

Usually, Sugawara would reach across the console and buckle you into the front seat. Only now, as you shy away from his hand that reaches for your elbow, flinching when he gets too close, he realizes that so many of his second-nature tasks will have to be stubbed to a halt until you remember that you are a piece of his heart. He recoils from you, drawing his wrist back against his ribs, as if capturing himself, “It’s okay. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.”

You should hear the sincerity in his voice, but everything is a lie to you, even his kindness. Your body trembles as you pull the belt across your body, securing it into the latch with a gentle sound. Sugawara watches you closely, trying urgently not to seem like he is hovering over you, but the mission to keep you safe is still rooted firmly in his spine and he will not waver from it, even as you sit before him unknowing to all of the times he has done this very simple action for you.

There is this insatiable desire that sits in Sugawara’s gut, bubbling beneath the surface like a grotesque acid, tumultuous enough that he is steadily reminded of it’s presence, of it’s hungering need to keep you safe and happy, to keep you reliant on him. In the smallest of ways, such as holding your hand as you climb into the car, or buckling your belt for you, it makes him feel important, necessary. He has spent too much of his life feeling like he has been sidelined to warrant other’s have their moment to shine, and you allow him to stand center stage every day, even if the platform is only your heart.

It makes you feel special and it makes him feel strong, like a protective alpha animal. Your generous reliance on him allows his pride to swell, to balloon until his chest is held high and his chin is tilted upward. It may seem silly from the outside, but the way his torso sinks into a concave position as you shy away from him creates a void cavity in his chest that Sugawara is sure nothing else will ever fill.

He has never seen you resemble a frightened animal before, like you were too afraid he would throw you into a cage given your pensive stare and shaking limbs. Sugawara could not hunt you even if he wanted to, and the idea that you believe this is his intent makes a fresh wave of tears well up behind his lids, the heat of it all giving his face a dark flush, easy to see against his pale skin.

As you close your door, Sugawara thinks of how Daichi would handle this. He stalks from one side of the car to the other, the gears of his mind turning so loudly that he startles. A thick gulp rakes against his throat, making his neck bob as he imagines the advice Sawamura might give him in a time like this.

Daichi would not falter, would not crumble. No, the captain would not have tears in his eyes and fear in his heart, rather he would bolster his shoulders and steady his feet, holding his chin high as he did whatever needed to be done to ensure that you were taken care of. And so, Sugawara tightens the chains around his heart that have your name engraved upon them, guaranteeing the organ will not float away or sink down until there is a hole in the floor of the car.

Your newfound independence mocks him, even as you take charge in the hospital and tell the front desk nurse exactly how you are feeling. How can you be so articulate when you are so far gone from the woman he knew just the night prior? Have you truly turned into someone else? Will you ever love him the same as before?

Doubt digs into the base of his shoulders and rips his dark crows wings free. The appendages stand slaughtered at the ground, his eyes unable to waver as the doctor takes a pacing step back and forth at your bedside while he reads your charts. The part of Koushi that longs to keep you safe mocks him as his wings lay crumpled beneath his amber irises, pupils dilating to try and focus on the metaphor that has manifested in front of him in his delirious state.

He reaches out and his fingertips scrape linoleum where he expects to find wings, and he realizes that he truly is a clipped little thing, fallen to the ground with nowhere to go, no way to fly.

“It is a rare form of amnesia,” the doctor’s words reverberate in his mind relentlessly once they are spoken aloud for the first time, “she has forgotten everything prior to approximately fourteen hours ago.”

And oh, Sugawara has never wished more to be able to fly.

You are surprised as ever when he looks up at you, broken irises seeking you for answers, “Would you like to go home with me? Or I can always drop you off at your mother’s.”

The room goes quiet, and Sugawara swears he could hear a feather drift to the floor.

Your voice is trembling when you answer, “I want to go home…with you.”

It would seem the glittering diamond on your left hand, in tandem with the records the hospital has found regarding you and Sugawara Koushi, has given you some semblance of relief. At least enough to be willing to ride in the car with him again, to find solace in the home you two have built.

You toy with the ring as Sugawara looks at you with his jaw unhinged slightly, just enough for you to see the pink muscle of his tongue twitching on the bed of his mouth. You giggle, the first time he’s heard you laugh since this whole escapade began, and your eyes crinkle at the sides just how he remembered, “Well, the house is half mine, is it not?”

Sugawara cracks a smile and stands to his feet, shoulders creaking as he feels his barely-there wings begin to molt into something new. Not the same, no he will never be the same, not after this, but possibly still a semblance of the old thing, a reminder that maybe life can return to what it once was.

And so, he walks you to the car, hand hovering at the base of your spine, but not touching; he does not want to push away the small amount of progress that has been made in such a short amount of time. He treats you like a glass box, opening the door and shadowing you as you climb into the front seat. You feel the ghost of his fingertips, a heat along your spine, and you do not flinch, not this time.

“I’ll order dinner,” he says when the door has shut behind the both of you. “Do you want from that dumpling place you li-”

The words reverberate in the small space of your living room, a recollection of what once was casual between the two of you that is now something far-off and forgotten. You swallow thickly, your throat bobbing as you look away from him so you don’t have to face the fallen expression on his face when he realizes that he will have to rework his entire existence around your new condition.

Your heart freezes, clogging up your lungs and making it harder to breathe. Sugawara shrugs off his jacket and slips on his house shoes, forcing himself to move toward you, “There is this dumpling place I think you’ll like. Want to try it for dinner? I doubt either of us feel like cooking.”

Licking your lips, you turn to find him quite close to you, his hands hovering by his side. You wonder if he aches to touch you, if his fingers burn with the desire to reach forward and brush your hair away from your face. You take a short breath, collecting yourself before glancing up into his amber irises, warmth seeping from them directly into your bones through what feels like osmosis.

“Y-Yeah,” your voice catches in your throat once you take him all in. “That sounds, um, that sounds nice.”

Your body screams at you to either run away or hold him closer, and you’re not sure which part to listen to. You grit your teeth to bring yourself some clarity in the form of pain, but it only serves to make your head dizzier.

Sugawara Koushi is handsome, borderline pretty, and you are enraptured by the sight of him. You can feel the warmth radiating from his body, and the irrational side of your brain wants to succumb to the heat, to be engulfed by the flames. Instead, you tuck your arms around your midsection and pray for patience, “I’m going to go take a shower, Sugawara. If that’s okay?”

He winces at the sound of his formal name coming through your teeth, turning his head so he doesn’t show you the dismay that tugs on his features. He chuckles, but the sound is forced, “Of course, the bathroom is, uh, just through the bedroom and on the right. Towels are in the closet on the left.”

“Th-Thank you,” you nod your head, stepping past him to walk toward the bedroom. Out of what must be pure instinct, you reach forward and rest your hands on his hips to guide him away from your path.

Simultaneously, you both breathe in sharply, the oxygen piercing your lungs like a dagger.

Your eyes meet amber and for a half-second, you are overwhelmed at his closeness. You breathe in the scent of his cologne and shampoo and it brings you back to some place that was previously tucked far away in your mind. You wrap your fingers around his shirt, if only to push him away.

Before Sugawara can ask you what is going on, you have blown past him towards the bedroom, the door closed and locked behind you.

You press your back into the door, relishing in the coolness of the surface, praying that it will help to bring your mind back down to this realm from where it is floating somewhere between this universe and the next. You cannot make sense of any one stream of consciousness, begging every thread of yourself to return to the nucleus so you might take a moment to collect all of your thoughts and press them back into your head.

Clambering forward on your knees, you start the bath water, flipping the level to turn on the shower. Your body is so disconnected from your brain that you almost step into the tub fully clothed, but seeing your sock clad foot makes you pause before you soak your clothes. You swallow your inhibitions, trying to keep the tears locked behind your lids, and step out of your undergarments.

You have barely stepped underneath the steaming water before you break down into sobs and tears. You crumble to the bottom of the tub, your arms around your knees, your head tucked beneath your biceps, and you release every pent-up moment from the day in the form of salty tears dripping down your cheeks to mix with the streams of clean water from the showerhead above.

“Is this my life now?” you whimper to no one in particular, your voice muffled by your forearm. You sniffle and rub at your face, although it doesn’t much matter, given the water running down it in rivulets to hide your tears. You look at your palms, stretching your fingers in front of your face, curious if you’ve always looked like this, or if there was something different from when you woke up this morning.

The knowledge that you have no knowledge of who you were before this morning makes a fresh wave of nausea and tears roll through your body, making your spine shudder as you cry into your own cocoon of a body. A sob tears through your shoulders, and you feel like your eyes might fall out of your skull, they’re throbbing so intensely. You press the heels of your hands into your sockets until you see a full galaxy of inky planets and stars behind your lids. The pain was what you were hoping would bring you back to the present, merely multiplies the devastating hole in your chest.

This is not the first time you find yourself curled up in the bottom of the shower, your head leant against the tile wall as the water runs from searing to freezing while you contemplate your entire life existence.

Of course, Sugawara has been nothing but accommodating during this strange period of time. He has moved his items to the spare bedroom, even though most nights he favors the couch, given he finds it tough to fall asleep on his own. You have woken in the middle of the night to terrible dreams only to find the television playing a show that is trying to sell a rare set of jewelry or a stellar non-stick frying pan.

There is one night, a few months after your first visit to the hospital, when you gather enough confidence to carefully step into the living room and turn off the television. Sugawara stirs at the sudden change in light, his eyes barely cracking open, irises hardly peeking from behind his lids, but he is still able to spot you from where you are stood in front of him. He sits up as best he can, forcing his stiff body to straighten when he makes limited eye contact with you.

“H-Hey,” his voice is gruff, as if it were stuck in his throat, and you can’t help the flush of embarrassment that makes your cheeks burn at the sound. “What are you doing awake?”

You run your palm along the back of your neck, rubbing at your vertebrae anxiously, unable to keep your gaze narrowed in on him when he’s making you feel this way. Your toes curl in on one another and your socks find friction against the carpet, “Just another nightmare.”

Sugawara is at full attention now, the warmth in his irises tripling at your small voice and nervous posture. He sits so he is facing you, his palms on his knees, fingertips itching at the hem of his shorts to keep himself from reaching out to take you by the hands. He licks his lips and looks upward to try and make eye contact with you to no avail, your pretty orbs still hidden from him as you look away, “You’ve been having a lot of those lately, haven’t you?”

There is a beat of silence that passes between you before he adds, “I’ve been hearing your screams.”

This is all that it takes to crumble what little resolve is left cementing your heart together. You crumble to your knees, your hands covering your face so you do not bare your pitiful, glassy eyes to him. Sugawara is quick to react, catching you before your knees can find the carpet, pulling you close to cushion your fall. You do not care that you cannot remember what his hold felt like before you lost your memories, all that matters is how safe you feel now.

He is like an anchor to your flighty soul, keeping you bound tightly to this earthly plane instead of allowing you to float away to whatever universe your subconscious has been visiting since the day your whole world was rearranged. You cling to his shirt, your fists bunching up the fabric of his tee when you lean in closer until your temple is pressed to his neck.

“It’s okay, honey,” Sugawara’s voice is warm, like honey, and you wonder if it might seep into the cracks of your broken soul and seal you back together, “I’m right here, it’s okay.”

For a moment, you pretend that this is what you are used to. You allow your mind to believe that this is your normal, that this has how things have always been. And, in some sadistic, twisted way, you might be right. Maybe before you forgot what he smelled like and how he kissed, this was how he held you – firm and secure, sturdy as a rock and kind as a beam of sunshine. Your heart hammers in your ribs and you can’t stop the tears from flowing, from the feel of both of your hearts breaking in the small space between your bodies.

You wonder if his chest feels as tight as yours, as if your ribs are the only thing keeping your hearts from bursting directly out of your skin. The beating is loud, thunderous in your ears as you cry into his shoulder, staining his shirt dark with your tears. You sob and snot and cough, but never once does he judge you or push you away. All you hear is the gentle hush of his voice in your ear, reminding you that he is here, reminding you that everything will eventually be okay.

And for a split second, you believe him.

And without inhibition, you allow your heart to speak, your throat but a conduit for the emotions bubbling within your belly like lava.

“I don’t want to be alone anymore,” you admit, your chest splitting open as the lava sprays through your teeth, burning your mouth to ash, but somehow you still speak, “please, Koushi, I-I think- I think I need you.”

When you look up at him, the absolute adoration reflected back to you in shades of tawny brown, dark and light swirling within his irises until it is overwhelming you like a storm cloud. You suck in a deep breath and dive back in, tucking your head underneath his chin and wrapping your arms around his shoulders until you are conjoined, unsure of where he ends and you begin as you become a mess of limbs on the sofa.

“I’m right here,” he repeats in a whisper against the crown of your head, holding you around the waist and beneath the thighs as he stands with you still in his arms. You latch onto him tighter, curled around him like a frightened animal, and your place against his neck makes it so you cannot see the way his lips stretch into a smile.

This has been what he has craved for the past few months – a genuine closeness that you chose; you choosing him. Sugawara cradles your body as tightly as he can without hurting you, walking towards your bedroom with careful steps. Your toes curl as he settles back against the mattress, slowly guiding your body down with him so you are both laid out horizontally on the bed, your knees dug tightly into his sides and your fingertips still clutching his shoulders relentlessly.

Sugawara runs his fingers through your hair, ruffling your tresses in a soothing manner as his chest begins to rumble with a melody. Your whole body buzzes as his lips maneuver in the tendrils of your hair surrounding your face, mouth pressing warm kisses to your scalp as the humming grows louder, more confident. Tears are flowing silently down your cheeks, staining your skin and his shirt, but neither of you seem to care, rather paying attention to the way you soak one another in like you have been a person starved for water and this is your first sip after days without drink.

It takes you a few minutes, but his humming in tandem with the ministrations of his hands soothes your mind into a dreamlike state. You release your grip on his shirt, smoothing the wrinkles in the fabric, if only to give yourself something else to pay attention to other than his searching eyes. Sugawara allows you a moment of exploration before his index finger is crooked underneath your chin, tilting your jaw upward so he can look you directly in the eyes.

“Stop being so hard on yourself,” he murmurs, voice kind despite the circumstances, “you’re still learning, adjusting. It won’t happen overnight.”

“And if it never happens?” Your tone is curt, words biting. You grit your teeth together and the creaking of your molars makes your bones shudder. A wobbling chin gives way to another bout of tears, but you do not falter this time, rather looking him in the eyes than succumbing to the exhausting heave of another sob, “What if I’m never the same? What if I can’t- what if you don’t love this person?”

Sugawara’s hand drifts from your chin to your cheek, his thumb brushing along the apple of your face, swooping downward to trace your jaw. A gentle smile tugs on the corners of his mouth and you want to scold him for laughing at your pain, but the faraway look in his eyes suggests that he is thinking of another time, possibly one much more simple in nature where you were sitting on his lap just like this, but there was a stream of knowledge, of combined thought, that flowed between the two of you. You knew one another, backwards and forwards and inside out, but now there is a barrier built, one that has kept him from teaching you who you are and from you allowing him to take the chance to do such a thing.

He is kind, something you suspect he has always been, when his mouth unhinges to let his words out of their cage, “Better or worse, angel. And if this is the worst life has to throw at us, then so be it.”

There is a hesitancy in his gaze, but he leans forward to brush a kiss against your cheek despite it, “I would rather go through this with you than be in a picture-perfect situation with anyone else.”

The sight of him in tandem with the brutal, raw honesty of his beautiful words overwhelms you, like a wave crashing along the shore, suffocating the sand. You want to be the beach, to be greeted with his kissing crest each time he chooses to seek you out despite the call to the sea, and it is that thought alone that ignites your need to seek purchase with your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. Sugawara’s eyes go wide, if only because he does not want you to do this out of desperation or obligation, but out of choice and choice alone.

You can tell that he wants to say something, but before you lose your nerve and before he says something that will make the both of you overanalyze, you have crashed your mouth to his in a bruising kiss.

His fingers are hesitant to clutch at your sides, but once he realizes that you are not going to pull away, a familiar desperation sinks into his movements and he has you caught by the waist to anchor you to him. Your thumbs press into the pulse points on either side of his neck, like you were checking to make sure his heart is still beating. Sugawara’s breath stutters and he tilts his head so your chins bump to tear you apart, “Honey, I-”

“Kou,” your voice is quiet, seeking out solace in his silence.

Your tone is exploratory, and the sound of his given name shortened in the way you have said it a dozen times makes his head spin, but you sound awkward when you say it, as if you were taking it for a test drive and it’s not the car you were comfortable driving. You swallow and try again, “K-Kou, I want you to stay here tonight, with me.”

The edges of his thumbs slip beneath the hem of your shirt, and for the first time since he pushed his lids back earlier to take you in, he realizes that you’re clad in one of his old college tees. It was one of your favorites, a staple in your sleeping collection, a comforting item you sought out when you were distressed beyond measure. He wonders if your subconscious held on to this thought, and brought you this tattered, worn piece of clothing to give you some semblance of healing in your despondent time of need.

“As you wish,” Sugawara whispers against the bow of your lips, your mouths brushing with every syllable. He smiles, a gentle pecking kiss nestled on the corner of your cheek before he speaks again, “Now, we both need to rest.”

His words are accented by his body curling around you, turned to the side so he can wrap you up in the quilt that has been strewn across the bed in your haste of sleep. Your body is encased in warmth, a mixture of his natural body heat and the cocoon the blanket creates. The two of you tuck into one another as if you were built to be together, your pieces perfectly slotting into the spaces his body creates.

Silence stretches for what feels like hours, nothing but the sound of your beating hearts and quiet breaths to fill the air. You run your thumb along the stretch of his collarbone, gnawing on your lower lip as you work up the courage to speak.

“Go ahead,” his voice is gravelly with the desire to succumb to sleep, muffled from his position of being tucked into you, lips in your hair. “What’s on your mind?”

“I don’t want to be a burden,” you whisper in fear, unable to recognize even your own voice. You swallow, the heat of tears welling up behind your lids already overwhelming enough without the stumble of your words to accent your anxiety, “And I’m scared I can’t be who you want me to be.”

Sugawara surprises you with a chuckle breathed into your hair, a light, lilting sound making his throat hum, “Oh, angel. You’re my everything, how could you ever be a burden to me?”

“I-I dunno,” you can feel yourself starting to panic, the darkness closing in on you until it’s choking you from the inside out, “Wh-What if I don’t laugh the way I used to? O-Or what if, uh, what if I don’t like the same foods? What if-”

You are hushed by the warmth of his mouth on yours, stealing your frightened, nonsensical words straight from your throat as you gasp against his teeth. A firm palm tilts your head upward, fingertips grazing the curve of your jaw and neck, soothing you with a simple touch. He massages his digits into your shoulder as he pulls away, watching carefully as you chase after him for another display of affection, as if you were searching for even more reassurance.

“Hush now, love,” he settles back into you, circling you in his arms and tucking your head beneath his chin. Your knee presses between his thighs and you find your hands nudging underneath his shirt, seeking out the skin-on-skin contact. Sugawara litters kisses in your hair, almost like he were planting a garden of affection, begging it to grow as he encourages it with kiss after kiss.

You are on the precipice of sleep, your body worn down from your anxious efforts of before, when you hear his next words mumbled into the skin of your neck, barely audible even in the utter silence of your bedroom. The few syllables make your heart press stiffly against your ribcage, begging to be let free, like a caged dove sitting pretty within the confines of your chest.

“And to think,” he whispers, “I get to fall in love with you all over again, every time. How exciting, right?”

You want to laugh, to indulge him in his monologue, but your body is heavy, weighed down from the tears and the pressure of all the time before this that you can remember. Finally, you feel like you are floating, the only thing keeping you tethered to this dimension is the cuff of his arms around your waist, circling you and holding you tight, piecing back together every broken part of your soul.

Sugawara’s breath tickles your ear, and you swear you hear him snore. And you might be making up the last few words that he breathes before he is overwhelmed by unconsciousness-

“I can’t wait to fall in love with whoever you are tomorrow.”

But you pray to whoever is listening that it’s the truth.

a/n: wow i wrote most of this while delirious and drinking yoohoo so please don’t come for me if it doesn’t make sense.

my original plot idea was to have reader have continuous amnesia where she forgets her memories every few years, and sugawara always manages to get her to fall in love with him every single time, but that fic would have been upwards of 20k and i didn’t allot myself enough time to write it, which i’m upset about. maybe i’ll do an extension of this fic sometime, but i just feel like it won’t be as impactful. u g h. alas, here we are. i hope that you enjoyed it! i plan to write more sugawara in the future. and thanks again to the hqhq for putting on this collab! the nsfw one is next -- i have daddy daichi for that one! 💕

#sugawara koushi #sugawara x reader #sugawara koushi x reader #sugawara x you #sugawara x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #hq x you #hq x reader #hq x y/n #morgan writes hq #my writing #haikyuucreations

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sxvxrxssnape · 4 years ago

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Snolidays/Snapemas: Day 2

Chestnuts & Christmas Cards // pre-PS/the years between. Minerva & Severus friendship aka Minerva McGonagall’s personal mission to make Sev love Christmas part 2.

Yesterday’s snowfall had turned to ice overnight. It crunched underneath their boots, leaving behind a trail of sunken footfalls as they crossed the stone bridge and moved towards the tall, wrought iron gates that secured the ancient school.

The wind wasn’t entirely unpleasant, but Severus still took a moment to adjust his hat, pulling it down over his ears to keep his hair from flitting about in his face. Beside him, Minerva had her hands tucked into the pockets of her woolen cloak and together they made their way towards the waiting carriage that would take them into Hogsmeade.

Hogsmeade was a special little town that sat nestled between crashing ocean waves and giant boulders, an endless expanse of pine trees, and the outline of an antiquated castle perched high above the cliff sides. It was home to a quaint collection of little shops and taverns, and judging by its newly renovated state, a smattering of wizards who seemed to love Christmas just as much as the deputy headmistress standing beside him.

“December literally just started.” Severus groaned, as he stepped out of the carriage and looked around the main street that stretched out before them.

Bundles of garland and red ribbon decorated every light post and rows of twinkling lights and colorful baubles hung from all the nearby trees. Even the air smelled festive and Severus’ lips thinned as he made out the scent of warm cinnamon and ginger - out of contempt or poorly hidden delight, he would never confirm.

Minerva chuckled softly beside him as he eyed the snow-covered rooftops with their dripping icicles that couldn’t be intentional - it was the weather’s doing, for Merlin’s sake - but still seemed intentional against the decorated storefronts that it made him think of gingerbread.

“You don’t have to look so put out,” Minerva teased, leading the way further into what he was now seriously debating was even Hogsmeade at all, “If you want, we can start decorating the castle as soon as we return. I’m sure Albus won’t mind.”

Severus glared at her in return,

“I’ve changed my mind,” he decided, as they passed the stone statue of the town’s founder confirming this to, in fact, be Hogsmeade and not an asinine Christmas village Minerva had secretly tricked him into going to, “I can just owl-order the things I need, from the safety of the castle.”

Regardless, he continued towards the waiting apothecary because he could not - would not - owl order potion ingredients. He couldn’t trust the shopkeeper (or the blasted school owls for that matter) to fully understand why it was so important for his bicorn horns to be the exact shade of pale yellow he needed or the fragility of bursting mushrooms.

And contrary to his current attitude, Severus Snape didn’t hate Christmas. He could appreciate a finely decorated tree and he found himself looking forward, and dare he say, a little excited about the upcoming staff holiday party. He wasn’t the bitter, old man inside that Minerva seemed to think he was, all bah-humbug and scowls when it came to anything remotely festive, he just didn’t understand the point of overdoing it and turning the whole town into a fragrant - wonderful smelling - gingerbread village two days into December.

For Merlin’s sake, he was only twenty-five. That wasn’t enough time for him to turn resentful of the holidays, even if almost every single year had been...less than stellar, by all accounts. It wasn’t like he had never tried to have a good Christmas either, but after so many spectacularly failed attempts, he had decided he was better off not celebrating it at all.

In fact, he had been quite content the last four Christmases working at Hogwarts and only acknowledging the aforementioned holiday party and maybe the changes to the menu, because yeah, he might feel a little indifferent towards the holiday but he also wasn’t a heathen who didn’t gladly indulge in rum-spiked eggnog and fresh baked gingersnaps.

Severus shook his head, trying to dislodge the sudden influx of thoughts. His inner dialogue was beginning to sound a little bitter, even to himself.

“Coffee?” he asked loudly, speaking over the first syllable of whatever Minerva had been about to say, no doubt inferring something too close to accurate about his innermost thoughts from the look on her face, and stopping in front of the smiling wizard standing behind a market stall.

“Afternoon,” the portly man tipped his head at the two, gesturing towards a charmed menu that was currently rewriting itself with the daily special. “What can I get you two?”

They ordered the special at Minerva’s insistence, and handed over a pair of sickles each before continuing on their quest. The coffee was strong and hot, tasting of dark chocolate and peppermint and Severus grimaced at the realization that she had inadvertently (advertently?) found another thing for him to like about Christmas.

Minerva one, Severus zero.

He shook his head again; he wasn’t trying to hate Christmas. He didn’t hate Christmas! He was just stubborn to a fault and after Min’s declaration that she would make this year the best yet, a small part of his mind was determined to rebel against it.

Their time inside the apothecary was quick. The shopkeeper was used to Severus’ particularities and kept to herself as he sifted through bins of precariously piled ingredients and filled his basket with perfectly selected bicorn, jobberknoll feathers, and no less than thirteen jars of things he definitely hadn’t come here for.

After he paid - and thank Merlin he had secured a position that provided room and board - Minerva led them into the paper and quill shop next door. She had a Hogwarts-sized order of parchment and spare quills to put in, so Severus went to browse the new display that had been erected in front of the store window. Red fabric was spread over the round table laden with gaudy, ribbon-trimmed quills and pots of glitter-infused calligraphy ink. He reached for one of the plastic-wrapped bundles stacked in the center, adorned with all sorts of festive symbolism and sighed as he realized what they were.

“You should purchase some,” Minerva suggested, coming up behind him and making him jump. He hated when people snuck up behind him. It had once meant certain death and while the threat of an evil, megalomaniacal wizard behind his shoulder was no longer tangible, the sharp tendrils of fear that spiked into his chest had yet to go away.

He forced himself to relax.

“Christmas is all about spreading cheer, you know.” Minerva continued, thankfully ignoring the way his breath had seized, but clearly not unaware of it given the way she took a step back and appraised him carefully. “By making others happy, you make yourself happy. Perhaps you’ll benefit from it.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Are you implying that all my traumatic childhood Christmases can be attributed to the fact that I’ve never sent out Christmas cards?” he asked dryly.

“Yes.” Minerva deadpanned.

He blinked, taken aback by her frankness before he noticed the glint in her eye that indicated she was mostly joking. He looked down at the packages of cards and selected one with a more wintery scene - painted snowflakes and white-dusted evergreens over the eclectic mix of colorful baubles - with a look of feigned resignation, “I guess I’m sending Christmas cards this year.”

“Excellent.”

They left the stationary store after that and headed for the Three Broomsticks. It was a new part of their routine that Severus had found himself looking forward to - Hogsmeade trips used to be rather anxiety-inducing, lonely and quite dull affairs without anyone to quip with, but now they promised good company and a quiet meal away from the bustle of students. Part of it was due to the genuine friendship they were forming, but another part of it was self-serving - for both of them.

They were both aware of it, they just elected not to mention their unique combination of post-war trauma and newly created grief that kept them confined to the safety of the castle and feeling more than a little discombobulated in the small town just outside of it.

The Three Broomsticks was nestled in the midpoint of Hogsmeade, a cozy-looking tavern made from polished wood and frosted windows, that boasted a warm bed and a strong drink to any desiring witch or wizard. The inside was just as quaint and rustic looking, but now it displayed a cascade of twinkling lights and a modestly decorated tree next to the wiped down bar.

“Afternoon, Rosmerta!” Minerva called out to the barmaid and landlady who was topping off a stein of butterbeer with a healthy splash of firewhiskey for a waiting gentleman. They took their seats at a small table in the corner that Severus had long since dubbed their table and shrugged out of their cloaks.

“Afternoon, you two.” Madam Rosmerta greeted them as she approached them. Her strawberry blonde curls were gathered at the top of her head in a loose bun pinned in place by her wand and Severus internalized a scowl at that. He had seen a few witches - and wizards - use their wand for a quick updo, but he had yet to figure out how it was done and he absolutely refused to ask for help. She was carrying two ceramic mugs filled to the brim with a deep burgundy drink.

“Mulled wine,” she announced, setting them down and Severus noted the orange slice and cinnamon stick steeping in the red wine. “Made it last night.”

“I really do believe the drinks are the best part of the holiday season.” Severus mumbled, picking up the warm cup and taking a long sip.

“Come now, they can’t be the best part.” Rosmerta scolded, summoning a menu from the bar and setting it down on the table. “There’s so much more to Christmas than just good wine!”

“Nothing worthwhile.” Severus said simply, picking up the menu and skimming it. He always ordered the same thing, found comfort in stability, but he also couldn’t resist holiday menus when the time arrived.

Minerva looked apologetic as she ushered the barmaid away after a quick scan of the menu and turned to glare at the now scowling potions professor. “Severus!”

“So, do you have a list you’re working from?” Severus asked mildly, picking up his wine and focusing intently on the red-tinted pulp of the orange floating in his drink. “Or are you simply making things up on the spot?”

“Pardon?”

“Your mission to make this year the best Christmas ever.” he specified. “Are you working from a list? Is there a schedule we’re following and can I be made privy to it, so I can plan my potion brewing around it?” He picked up the package of cards. “Or are you just forcing me to take part in things as they come up?”

Minerva eyed him carefully, picking up her own cup. “A little bit of both.”

“Do I get to hear what you do have planned?”

“Some of the classic activities I suppose - decorating the tree, going to look at the lights, maybe visiting Christmastown, baking cookies, go caroling -”

“Caroling?!”

“- maybe decorate a gingerbread house.”

Madam Rosmerta returned before Severus could say anything else, guiding bowls of butternut squash soup and a plate of cheese toasties onto the table with her wand. “There you go, dears.” she smiled, setting down a smaller plate piled with iced gingersnaps. “These are on the house - first bake of the holiday season. Should help get those spirits up.” She sent Severus a pointed look that he deftly ignored and Minerva glared at him again.

“If you’re going to glower at me every time we go out this month, I might just stop going out with you.” he bristled, picking up a toastie and dipping the corner into his soup.

“Maybe you should stop being so bitter then.” Minerva returned.

“What, because it’s Christmas?” he asked, pausing to take a bite. “Oh, such a joyous time of year! Look how absolutely delighted I am to share a room with wine-drunk wizards,” he gestured a hand towards the bar, where a pair of cherry-faced dwellers were singing the words to A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love, “and a goddamn tree!”

“Severus!” Minerva admonished again and this time, Severus hunched his shoulders at the tone. He had gone too far, he could tell from the way her face had smoothed out entirely, giving her a look of cold indifference.

“I’m sorry.” he muttered, swirling his spoon through his soup.

Minerva didn’t say anything and they ate their food in awkward silence. At one point, a pitcher floated over to their table and refilled their mugs before making its way back to the bar. When they were done, Severus eyed the gingersnaps and wondered if it would be considered poor etiquette to reach over and help himself. The mood at the table didn’t feel particularly deserving of cookies.

Then again, he had once attended dinners at the Malfoy’s with The Dark Lord sitting at the forefront and the ambience of those days didn’t stop anyone from helping themselves to an extra piece of focaccia bread. He winced; it felt wrong to compare past - genuinely traumatic - dinner events to the silence before him. Minerva wasn’t an enemy, he was simply a bastard.

“I don’t hate Christmas,” he finally broke the silence. “I just find myself wondering over the point when every Christmas I’ve tried to celebrate properly has ended in disaster. I’m perfectly content with not bothering over it anymore. The lights are pretty and the food is good, and I look forward to watching Rolanda drink everyone under the table later this month, but I’ve stopped putting merit in the holidays. It’s less disappointing that way.”

Minerva pushed the plate of cookies towards him, like some sort of reward for opening up. Which, he supposed, it sort of was. She picked one up and took a bite and only then did he grab one too.

“I don’t get why you’re so determined to fix that.” he added, shrugging.

He bit into the cookie, savouring the meld of flavors - ginger, molasses, warm vanilla. He couldn’t imagine a more perfect gingersnap and he found himself raising the cookie in a gesture of appreciation as he made eye contact with Rosmerta.

“Elphinstone loved Christmas.” she said simply, taking another bite of her cookie and shrugging as if she hadn’t just dropped a bombshell of emotional manipulation by invoking the name of her dead husband over a plate of cookies on what had started as a pleasant Monday afternoon of running errands after class.

“I-” Severus began, but then stopped.

“We weren’t married for long, I know, but I knew him for 23 years.” she continued, as if he hadn’t spoken. Her eyes seemed a little faraway now. “We would always make the most of his vacation days - see the lights, visit the Christmas market, decorate the tree, roast chestnuts and drink hot cocoa. He loved carolling, had a good voice for it.”

Severus looked down at his cookie, scraping at the white icing with his thumbnail and effectively crumbling away the hand piped snowflake.

“I’m not making you celebrate Christmas with me because I’m lonely.” she clarified, eyeing him sternly. “If you don’t want to do anything else on this list, I won’t make you. I just don’t want you going through life thinking it’s all bad and that good things can’t happen to you.”

“I don’t -”

“Yes, you do.” Minerva scolded. “Don’t think I don’t see you wallowing every time you catch sight of yet another reminder that this is supposed to be the happiest time of the year. You don’t have to be the cheeriest person to ever walk the earth, for Merlin’s sake, Severus, but you’re letting bitterness take a hold of you and I won’t stand for it.”

Severus tried to scowl back, but Minerva could see right through him.

“Do you know why I accompany you to Hogsmeade?” she asked and Severus grimaced. They weren’t supposed to talk about it; this was one of those stones better left unturned things.

“Don’t say it please.” he whispered, feeling dread curling in his stomach. He hated to think himself as weak and his inability to enter Hogsmeade alone - any bustling wizard town, at that - was only utter proof that he was.

“Your paranoia is valid.” Minerva said quietly, saying as little as possible and yet too much at the same time. “Don’t be ashamed of having trauma, but don’t let it turn you into a bitter, shriveled up, old bastard either.”

“Are we still talking about Christmas?” he asked ruefully.

“You know we aren’t.”

Their empty plates and half-filled mugs suddenly got up and floated away only to return as a pair of traveling paper cups topped with more wine and a splash of something stronger. They nodded their thanks at Rosmerta and shrugged back into their cloaks. They kept a tab at the Three Broomsticks, so paying wasn’t a concern as they exited the building and headed towards the castle in silent agreement to skip the carriage ride.

“So, roasted chestnuts?” Severus brought up, as they crunched over the dirty ice that coated the path back home. “Like, in the song? That’s a thing?”

Minerva nodded.

“Can we do that, then?” he asked casually, trying to make amends. “I noticed the apothecary had a basket full of them. Perhaps we could return and pick some up.”

“Already taken care of.” Minerva replied, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small burlap sack bursting with its lumpy contents. “You were too busy holding jars of lacewing flies to the light you never even noticed.”

“Roasted chestnuts then.” Severus nodded, ignoring the jab towards his particularness. “And uh, thank you for accompanying me to Hogsmeade,” he added, trying to sound indifferent to it, like it wasn’t such a difficult thing to admit aloud. “I know it's hard for you too.”

The witch smiled softly, as if being reminded of her - what, only three months now? - deceased husband and her old life living in the small town was a pleasant memory. And perhaps for her, it was. Perhaps he was letting grief turn him bitter. What did the deaths of his only friends and both his parents have to do with Christmas? Years had passed since both and yet the newly-created widow walking besides him was coping far better than he could ever hope to.

“I think we should talk about Christmas present shopping.”

“I was just going to -”

“And don’t say you were going to owl-order them.” Minerva interrupted, narrowing her eyes at him. “There’s nothing personal about circling a few things in a catalogue.”

“What do you propose then?”

“We’ll go gift shopping together. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Minerva confirmed, taking a sip of her drink. “It’s too early in the month for most people, so Diagon Alley won’t be crowded at all, let alone on a Tuesday. Shouldn’t make you too uncomfortable, yes?”

Severus offered a smile at the unexpected accommodation and nodded. He cradled his paper cup of mulled wine close to his chest, feeling a warmth that came from more than just the hot drink.

a/n: oops maybe got carried away with this one? it would mean the world to me if you told me what you think of this bc im v proud of it.

#snapemas2020 #snolidays2020 #snapedom #pro snape #severus snape #professor snape #snapemas #holiday writing challenge

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hobeemin · 3 years ago

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content tag game

tagged by the lovely @joonscypher 🍒🍒

1. what fandoms have you written for (but do not currently)? whew one i wrote for was sailor moon, true blood, xmen, batman, game of thrones. haven’t written anything in ages.

2. what fandoms are you currently writing for? bts, got7, nct... i’ve put members of red velvet, vixx, txt, sunmi, exo, hyuna, hyolyn and a few others in my fics as well.

3. how long have you been writing? since middle school, but actually wriiten works online, i was 16

4. on which platforms do you post your stories? tumblr & ao3

5. what is your favourite genre to write? supernatural and crime. i always loved mysteries and fantasy and otherworldly creatures.

6. are you a pantser or a planner? both, but i lean towards planner now a days. i have to do at least a basic outline for my fics so i remember my thoughts and the plot.

7. one shot or multi-chapter? def both.

8. what is the perfect chapter length in your opinion? umm honestly it depends on the fic.

9. what is your longest published story? is it complete? hmm if were looking over the course of my writing, it was a sailor fic called angel of mercy, super cringe >.<. but currently one i’m proud of is a bts fic called resurrection a mix of zombies and drama. i’m proud of writing a six part series in less than three months. don’t know if i can do that again lol

10. which story did you enjoy working on the most? ohh good question, probably my delightful temptations series, dangerous pairing, jamais vu, and eros et psyche

11. favourite request you’ve written and why? hands down it was dark charms it combined both my love of bts and harry potter into one story. it was so much fun researching and familiarizing myself with hp world once again.

12. are there recurring themes in your stories? ohh def enemies or strangers to lovers. there is even a bit of slow burn if i’m being kind.

13. current number of wips? you don’t wanna know...i think its like more than 10 by now.

14. three things you have noticed about your own writing? 1. i can never now a striaght pwp cause i like to describe a lot of details. 2. my mc always have an attitude lol 3. i need to use a thesaurus more.

15. a quote you like from a published story. this is from dark charms 😊

Her eyes scanned the shelves looking for the purple sprigs. She lit up once she saw them peeking behind an extra mortar and pestle. Standing on her tiptoes, Y/N tried to reach for them only for a hand to shoot in front of her to grab them. The intricate ink patterns on the fingers could only belong to one person. Jeon Jungkook. She sighed as he pulled the lavender off the shelf giving her the tiniest acknowledgment. He turned to walk away when she grabbed the sleeve of his robe.

“Um, that was mine first, Jungkook.”

He froze, whirling around to give her a cold stare. “Does it have your name on it?”

Y/N flinched slightly under his intense gaze. “N-No, but–”

“B-But,” he mimicked mockingly. With a snort, he turned back on his heel. “You can have it when I’m done with it.”

Her eyes blinked in surprise. She watched his retreating form going over to the table with the rest of his Slytherin buddies. She grabbed the Valerian sprigs and walked back into the classroom. Throat tightening, she tried to keep her composure as she made her way back to her table. He knew she couldn’t start the Sleeping Draught without the lavender. It took awhile to make the paste. Her eyes cast over to him as he took his sweet time pulling the lavender out and making a show of taking out each sprig slowly. Her face felt hot as she watched him chatting and laughing with his friends. Once she knew he wasn’t planning on giving them back, her face darkened with anger. All her reasoning going out the window. She grabbed something out of one of the bowls and stomped angrily over to his table, fist balled. Before she knew it, Y/N smacked him across the face with the flobberworm mucus and snatched the lavender from his hands.

16. a quote from an unpublished story. ohh okay here’s from a fic called a princely affair

“Who’s shameless?”

The couple’s eyes turned toward the entrance of the veranda. Namjoon was standing with a young woman. Her dress is the shade of lavender with a silver mask adorning her face.

“Cousin!” Aria ran to her in excitement. “Namjoon, have you two been getting acquainted?”

“You could say that,” he chuckled cutting his eyes to Jin. He raised his brow not understanding his friend and walked forward to the woman.

“Aria was just telling me she visited you abroad on her holiday. I’m surprised I didn’t know that information already.”

“Shocking really,” she said crossing her arms. “You would think Prince Seokjin would know all.”

“Pardon?”

“Still being a jerk?”

Aria cried out covering her mouth, “Cousin! H-How could you say that?!”

Jin clenched his jaw but gave a forced laugh. “I didn’t know she would be so bold.”

17. a space for you to say something to your readers. to anyone whose read my fics, thank you. i write for myself mostly, but if anyone enjoys my writing that is a bonus. love all yall 💜💜

tagging; @springbean @hobiandsprite @yoongsgguktae @kookdiaries @bangtanhome @ressjeon @oftenderweapons @joheunsaram @sugasbabiie

#tag game

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romanosgirl1978 · 5 years ago

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Title TBD II

Okay. So i know its been a long ass time... but Ive had this for almost a year now and quite a bit of progress. So I wanted to post it. Also, as always, thank you @fan-grell-411 for all your help throughout this thing.

This is my first ( i think) Star Trek fic that I’ve posted.

Bones x Reader

Warnings-Cursing

Word Count -1214

Summary- Reader is Jim’s twin and falls for a certain southern doctor. Will they be able to make it through the self-sacrifices and secrets? {Extreme slow burn. This will not be a quick thing}

“So how’d you do?” You asked him as you walked out of the testing facility. You and your brother had both just finished taking Starfleet’s aptitude test.

“Its an aptitude test (Y/N). It's not something that you can fail,” Jim says. “But I think that I did pretty well. The questions seemed fairly simple. What about you, resident genius? How’d you do?”

“Please, you're just as smart as I am. You just choose to act like an idiot.”

“Says the one who stole a police hoverbike and re-registered it,” he whispers in your ear, nodding to the very same bike that you drove to the test today.

“The improved bike that no one is even suspicious about. And besides, I'm not the one that keeps getting into fights. That's all you Jimmy boy.”

“Tch, that's besides the point. Anyway, how do you think you did?”

“As good as I can, I don't really know. Hopefully good enough to get out of this damn town,” you mutter, swinging a leg over the bike.

“You gonna leave me here all by myself, sis?”

“Damn right. Can't stand being near you,” you joke, winking at him as you pull your hair out of your face.

“Yeah yeah. You gonna be home tonight?” He asks, voice suddenly serious.

You nod. “I should be. I'll send a message if anything changes though.”

He wraps an arm around your shoulders and kisses the top of your head. “Be safe.”

“Never,” you grab the wireless headphones and put them in, starting your favorite riding playlist, before revving the bike and driving out of the parking lot.

A short drive later brings you to the sketchier part of your little town and into the tattoo parlor.

“Back so soon sweetheart?” The owner, Matt, asks when he sees you walk in.

You smile at him. “Sure am. I just finished my aptitude test and wanted to finish off the rose before I get shipped to Starfleet.”

“You got accepted already?” He asks, shocked but proud.

“No. It's not official yet. But I think I did and there's no way in hell I’m letting anyone else finish your masterpiece.”

“How long have I got you for then?”

You grin at him. “Until you finish. We’re completing it today. What do you say, you up for it?” You ask, holding up the oversized tee-shirt you always brought for your sessions.

“You’re on. Think you can handle the pain sweetheart?”

“Have I ever not been able to?”

“Come on,” he heads back to his work station and sets your chair up, patting it once he's done. “Go ahead and change, get comfortable. Call me when you're ready,” he smiles at you before walking out, letting you change and shift around.

“Alright Matty. I’m ready.”

“You're sure about this?” He asks one last time.

“It's a bit late for that dont you think,” you say, lifting the shirt to the top of your hip to show an outline of a rose from your last session here. “I mean we've already got the outline for it done.”

“Alright then, let's finish it.” He pulls his chair up beside you and tests the machine a couple of times before steadying your leg. “Let me know if I need to stop for a minute so you can catch your breath alright? No toughing it out for the whole session this time. It's gonna take a few hours to shade all of this.”

You nod at him. “I promise Matt. Now let's get started.”

“Ma’am yes, ma’am,” he teases and starts shading, the only thing that keeps you from hitting his shoulder.

Through the whole four hours that it takes to shade you only need to take three breaks, mostly to use the bathroom, and it's over.

“All done sweetheart,” Matt says, dabbing a paper towel at the excess ink that surrounds the rose, cleaning it up the best he can. “What do you think?” He asks a bit nervously.

You slide out of the chair, wincing a little when you put too much weight on your leg, and limp over to the full length mirror.

“Oh wow.” You blink a few times and admire the artwork. “Matty. This… this is beautiful.” You turn to him, tears in your eyes. “I seriously can't thank you enough. I love it.”

He beams and nods. “I’m glad. Hope you don't mind the vines and thorns I added. I thought that it fit with the rose, and with you.”

“Of course I don't mind. It's your artwork. And it's just… it really is perfect Matt.”

You walk over to him and give him a hug. “And just so you know. I will never go to anyone else for a tattoo. It will always be you.”

“Thank you, (Y/N). That means a lot to me. But I’m really glad you like it. Would you mind if I got a picture of it for my portfolio?”

“Have I ever said no to that?” You tease, wiping the tears from your eyes as you pull away from him.

“Jump back up on the chair and I’ll go grab the camera.”

You do as he says and take a deep breath.

He snaps a few quick pictures and lets you pull on some sweats.

You leave him a nice sized tip and give him one last hug before you leave, finally headed back home.

You park your bike in the garage and quietly sneak in through the back door, heading straight up to Jim’s room, knocking on the door quietly before slipping in.

“Hey. You still up?” You ask quietly.

“Yeah I’m still up,” he groans. “Been waiting on your sorry ass to get home.”

He sits up in the bed and slides back against the headboard, giving you enough room to sit down. “What the hell took you so long?”

You sit down and grin up at him. “I finally finished it.”

“Finished what?”

“The rose. The tattoo that I got the outline for like a month ago. I got it shaded today.”

His eyes widen and he looks to the door. “You’re joking right? Jack’s gonna flip when he finds out,” he whispers harshly.

“Relax,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. “He’s not gonna find out. It's in a covered place and I’ll hopefully be leaving for the fleet in a few weeks. If he ever does find out it's gonna be too late.”

“I can't believe you actually got a tattoo,” Jim mumbles.

“A few actually,” you correct.

“A few?!”

“Shhh. You're gonna wake someone up.”

“How many do you have?”

“Just three, including the rose. I’ve been getting them for months now. And he's not gonna find out about them. Plus they won't show in the uniform so I won't have to worry about it being unprofessional either.”

He runs his hand through his, already messy, blond hair.

“And they call me the trouble kid,” he fumes.

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. It's cause you get caught and I don't,” you grin at him and kiss his cheek. “Night J. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Night,” he sighs, laying back down as you head down the hall and into your own room, muttering an ‘unbelievable’ before you shut his door completely.

#bones #leonard mcco #leonard mccoy x reader #x reader #bones x reader #star trek #star trek aos #star trek x reader

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assless-chapstick · 5 years ago

Note

Howdy feller, I just got a new tattoo and it's got me thinking if anyone in the couch au has tattoos? If so, which is their favorite? Lemme know cause I love them inked bois

Feller, I love this question SOFUCKING MUCH. I worked so fuckin hard on it, I even MADE ILLUSTRATIONS. IWORKED. SO HARD. This is one of my favourite questions of all time and I hopeyou like my answers!! Anyway…

Charles doesn’t have any tattoos,and with his dark complexion it might be difficult – the ink of tattoos sitsunder the melanin layer of the epidermis, I’m told, so even white ink doesn’t showup particularly well on very dark black and brown folks. I don’t think he’d bemuch interested in them, either, cuz he wants to be a lawyer, right? So heneeds to maintain some professionalism. He already gets dragged for his hair (whichis some institutionalized racism that he refuse to bow to, in court he wears itin a bun), so he doesn’t really want to stand out any more than he already doesin his profession.

Arthur is a professionalautomechanic and freelance contractor/electrician/plumber, so for him itdoesn’t matter as much. He’s got both ears pierced (3 in his right, 2 in hisleft) and after too surgery he got his right nipple pierced – he only has onenipple, cuz the left didn’t survive topsurgery, so it’s tattooed on instead. But that’s not his first or only tattoo!

Back when he thought he was justa Butch Lesbian, he got that like, interlocked Female symbols thing tattooed onhis shoulder, which, once he realized he was trans was a HUGE yike for him… hehad a moment where he was like “aw shit” and started cry-laughing about he uglyirony of it. He’s since had that covered up with a rose and horseshoe designand a nice banner that says like, “Keep on Pushin’” or something

Hes also got a Colt Single ActionArmy Peacemaker revolver on his left shoulder blade, mostly cuz he thinks gunsare cool… But also because Peacemaker, and the beatitude goes “Blessed are thePeacemakers, for they will be called Sons of God.” I think he’s not religious, buthe has a lot of Feelings about religion, and that line always stuck with him –to be a son, rather than a daughter, and to be loved by a god he was told hatedhim.

On the back of his calf, he’s gotthe silhouettes of three galloping horses – one for Dutch, one for Hosea, andone for John. Arthur loves horses almost as much as he loves dogs.

When Charles and Arthur get married,they exchange rings, but because of his lifting and working with his hands, hedoesn’t wear it most days; it hangs on a chain around his neck, or lives on thebedside table. He mostly only wears it on his finger on like, SpecialOccasions. To make up for that, cuz he’s so fuckin dumb proud of his beautifulhandsome husband, he of course gets a band tattooed on his ring finger. When hesees it, Charles rolls his eyes and is like “You didn’t have to do that, you’renot gonna forget we’re married,” and Arthur is all “yeah, but I don’t wantANYONE to forget we’re married.”

Javier has one only tattoo, anoutline of the border of Mexico on his chest above his heart. He was born there,and even though they left when he was in his early teens, he had a lot of goodmemories there and it’s his home and he loves it.

When his mama saw it, she cried –she’s religious, your body is a temple, you damaged the body I gave you, etcetc. She never really lets it go but they get over it and she still loves him.

I save John for last cuz Johnis…. A mess.

I think John got his first stickn poke when he was like, 14, and has made a lot of Bad Choices since then… He’sgot a lot of random shit he thought was cool or edgy at the time and low-keyregrets now.

Notably, he’s got a little bow,like the bow on a pair of panties, on his lower tummy, right in the public area;his happy trail grows over it if he doesn’t shave it, but he does…He’s also gota cherry on his hip, and the word “fag” on his upper thigh (when Javier askedhim about that one, he kinda clammed up, didn’t wanna talk about it… he’sembarrassed of that one, knows it wasn’t a healthy way to cope with hisfeelings but it’s there and a part of him and he refuses to regret it).

He’s got a tramp-stamp, becauseof course he does, though I’m not sure what of… I think maybe like, crossed revolvers,some barbed wire, something like that.

And then just like, a randomassortment of things; a dead opposum on his calf, a skull on his shoulder, ahanging tree on his bicep, a set of fangs… I think he’s got a wolf somewhere, too.The Wolf is important, cuz he’s been afraid of dogs since he was a kid, sincehe got attacked, and getting that one was like, part of him claiming his past andhis trauma and conquering it.

He also definitely, definitelyhas knuckle tatts that say like, WOLF KING. And I think, underneath it all,being so tatted is a defense mechanism for him, like, if he’s tatted andpierced, people will be looking at that, instead of his scars or the small,scared kid that he still has inside him…. Idk

Cuz yeah, he’s also pierced. He’sgot his bellybutton and tongue done for thotty reasons, and then probably alabret, a nostril ring, and then a helix or something. He’s also got plugs,though they’re not super huge; at max he’s maybe a 0? I think he’s kind ofafraid they’ll catch on something as he runs…

He’s also super horny for like,genital piercings. He jerks off thinking about getting railed by a big hardcock with a ladder of barbells through the shaft, a dick so full of metal itstretches him in weird ways and chips his teeth when they fuck his face –that’s one of those times where, as he’s wiping his hand on the bedspread, he’sstaring up at the ceiling like “why am I like this why am I like this why am Ilike this”

Doesn’t have a dick piercing ofhis own, though!! He’s just a little too chicken, and he’s pretty sure Arthurwould never forgive him … though the prospect of having a ring he could clip aleash to, get pulled around by, that has him thinking about it real hard…

I think that’s all there is,feller!! Here are some pics for reference!! Keep in mind John probably has ajillion more shitty stick n pokes not pictured cuz im lazy and not verycreative lol here is a link to a better post of the pictures!

#the couch au #spent so long... so long on this...#trapgrandpa

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mysticsparklewings · 5 years ago

Photo

Ziggy Crossing

Still not quite sure I'm 100% back into the swing of things (posting regularly and being more present) yet, but time will tell. For now I'm testing the waters. Anyway. In the time I've been away, I ended up talking to some friends about (to the surprise of absolutely no one) Animal Crossing, and in that conversation, the idea of drawing my cat, Ziggy, as an Animal Crossing villager came up. I'd toyed with it before after seeing some other people draw their pets as villagers, and that conversation more or less sealed the deal for me to at least try it, even if my attempt didn't pan out and see the light of day. Obviously, things went pretty well because here I am posting this. The first step, as it is 90% of the time for me, was to come up with a sketch and go from there. I primarily used Olivia and Lolly [pre-existing Animal Crossing cat villagers] as my references--Olivia for the pose and eyes, Lolly for the stripes and some details regarding the ears and face--but I also checked certain things across the various cat villager models so that details could be consistent where they needed to be. I think if I missed the mark anywhere, it's probably in the proportions. Namely the size of the head and length of the body. But I think it's close enough that unless you compare it directly to Olivia's model that I referenced for the pose, the proportions aren't so off that it's distracting or off-putting. I did originally have trouble figuring out what pattern to put on her shirt though because the real Ziggy doesn't really have anything I could pull a pattern from. These days she does wear a white and silver collar, but that's not a whole lot to work with. So I left that alone while I pondered how I wanted to go about coloring the whole thing. My plan at the beginning was to use this sketch as a test piece for some acrylic paint markers I recently acquired (which you will be seeing me talk about in the future), but once the sketch was finished and I went back to check the colors I had (you know me; gotta have a swatch chart for everything), it was pretty obvious that if I want this to be my dear Ziggy and not just a random tabby cat, I needed to figure out a different coloring method. I could have just done regular acrylic paint, but that sounded like a chore and thus I was not interested. Same with gouache. Colored pencils were on the table, but the main problem I have with those is that they can be pretty slow and personally I think their texture really lends them better to replicating the 3DS/Animal Crossing: New Leaf style, as opposed to the look of New Horizons, and that's not what I was going for here. That left me with two main options: Watercolor, which was a hard pass for this kind of art (at least for Ziggy herself), and alcohol markers, which I did use quite a bit on the last Animal Crossing artwork I made, and they had worked out fairly well. Alcohol markers it was! Of course, even after that decision was made, there was the issue of how to handle the lines of the drawing. When I was planning on using the paint pens/acrylic markers/whatever, that seemed a lot simpler because, in theory, I could just use the same pen I wanted to color with to do the outlines and then fill them in. And because that would be using mostly opaque paint, if I needed to I could just cover up any overlap with relative ease. Alcohol markers don't play by the same rules though, so I had to re-think all that. In the end, I pulled out a pale warm gray Polychromos pencil close to the main color of alcohol marker that I had picked out that I figured would also be light enough to blend in everywhere else. That way I could have the defining lines that I needed without having to worry too much about them being visible in the final product. [For clarification: I picked a Polychromos because once sharpened they tend to hold a point longer and better than the other colored pencils at my disposal and I really needed to keep a sharp point as long as possible to do the lines here.] In retrospect, I do think it might have been to my benefit to pick out a pink for doing the inner ear lines, but the end result there isn't so awful that it single-handedly (paw-ed-ly?) ruins the drawing for me. It's just something to take note of for next time if there is a "next time." Once I had my lines (including doing the eyelashes and mouth with one of my usual black fineliners), the next challenge was the actual coloring. Mostly because I had to be very careful around the edges so that the marker ink didn't feather out too far (as alcohol markers do on any paper that isn't marketed as "bleed proof" because that's what bleed proof in paper actually means--not that it won't bleed through to the other side, though that is less common with that kind of paper, but that it won't "bleed" across the page), and I also had to be a little careful and choosy about how I did any blending or shading. Again, my blending and shading plan was going to be different had I used the acrylic markers. The main thing I ended up doing here was trying to find areas that needed to be layered so that the one-color shading could act as a line/barrier between sections. Best example: Where the ears meet the head, I shaded the bottom portion of the ears. You can also see this a little bit where Ziggy's tail meets her body and where the legs intersect at a few different points. By no means did this turn out perfectly, considering that I really wanted to stick to use as few colors as possible (which means pretty much all the shading is just layers of one color to darken it) which means there isn't as much distinction or variation as there could be. And I feel it necessary to note here that I was worried when I first finished the lines that the eyes looked wonky, but after coloring pretty much everything else in that concern dissolved because 1. It's harder to tell and 2. Even if they aren't exactly the same, it makes visual sense because it looks like her head is slightly turned, meaning the eyes wouldn't be identical anyway. Never underestimate the power of coloring your work in! Speaking of which, you might be wondering about her shirt by now. Well, after toying around with some ideas I got it in my head that a good way to tackle that problem might be with washi tape, as I've used it in this manner before and worked out pretty nicely. Even though it wasn't a lot to work with, I did like the idea of the base color for her top being white like the real Ziggy's collar, and that narrowed down my tape options considerably. Of the options I had that I thought would be suitable, I ended up having a choice between one with small rainbow-colored polka dots and the decidedly less vibrant small triangles that you see here. The polka dots seemed a little too peppy for Ziggy, so I went with the triangles. And this, I must say, is one of those artistic decisions that I feel even better about the longer that I see the end product. The main issue I have with using washi tape, and thus why I don't use it in this way that often, is because cutting the washi tape to fit a specific shape is a process that doesn't get much easier even with practice. And even if it did, that wouldn't eliminate the very real possibility of cutting or indenting the paper underneath while you're cutting the tape. Of which, I have not yet figured out how to totally avoid short of forming the washi tape on a separate piece of paper, cutting it there, and then moving it to the final piece. But that method comes with its own problems too, so... Still, I made the decision to go through with it here and just accept the rough edges/lack of precision and all that. Before I put the tape down though, I did do a little shading with some light gray markers that I was counting on showing through the tape to give it a little more dimension. Seeing it now, I do think I could've stood to go a little darker, but again this isn't something that totally ruins the end result for me. Just something worth noting. After all of the above, I was left with one lingering problem: The background. Which I've noticed seems to normally be a "problem" area for me in that I don't always have a solid idea for what to do with it. I did consider what exactly I wanted to do earlier on in the process, before I started on Ziggy on the final paper, even. Briefly, I thought I might cut her out and put her on a separate background as is sort of a go-to background method for me. Something just didn't feel right about doing that here though and it feels like I've done that a lot lately (you know, when I've not been drowning in mandalas for NaPoWriMo...). So it was at this early stage that I locked in the idea of adding in the background in later, probably doing something kind of loose to give a general idea that hopefully wouldn't take too much time or effort. We've already established that I wasn't super keen on the idea of using acrylic paints or gouache for this drawing, and that remained true for the background too. Although, I don't really like using alcohol markers for backgrounds either because it can be tricky to keep things smooth and consistent. That left me with colored pencils and watercolor. Colored pencils are usually hard pass for backgrounds for me for a number of reasons. So! Watercolor, hmm... I drew Ziggy here on my darling Strathmore 400 series mixed media paper because I love how it handles markers and it has enough weight and texture to it that it handles a lot of my other go-to options with little fuss. Watercolor is really the only thing I have trouble using on it, the main problem being that sometimes (not always) the paint doesn't like to blend out super smoothly and certain watercolor techniques don't work the same on it. This doesn't mean it's useless for watercolor (at least not for me), that just means I have to be more careful about how I choose to work with watercolor on it. In this case, the blending issues lined up with the idea I had of letting the background have more texture since Ziggy came out a lot smoother by the very nature of alcohol markers. Somewhere in all this, the idea struck me to use my Gelatos to leave behind some crayon-like texture. That idea seemed fitting to me since Animal Crossing is a fairly light-hearted and child-friendly game, themes that crayons go along with. The gelatos are water-soluble but not every color dissolves completely when activated with water. This should be pretty evident here because I didn't try to hide it. I wanted quick and easy, and without a doubt just letting the texture do whatever it wants is the quick n' easiest method to use with the gelatos. Once I'd done a bit of back and forth with two greens and two blues to give me the solid suggestions of a sky and ground, it still felt like it was missing something. Ultimately, it seemed like a good idea to me to try and mimic the triangle pattern/texture that New Horizons features. (In past games you could get squares or circles for a grass pattern at random.) And while I as per usual I had to think on how to go about this, in the end, the best solution I could come up with turned out to be drawing the triangles in with alcohol markers. Truly, I'm surprised to be reporting this because I fully expected the creamy nature of the gelatos to make using alcohol markers on top feel disguising and unproductive. But not so! At least not with the limited gelato use here. The creamier areas do soften the color of the marker, but I think that worked to my advantage. Although, I did end up using a little bit of my yellow Moonlight gel pen because I felt like I needed some yellow triangles for balance and I knew transparent yellow markers wouldn't do what I wanted. But that brings us to the final product. I'm happy with it. And I do really like how the grass ties in with Ziggy's green eyes. It's just a nice little touch of visual cohesion in my book. As I always say, I'm sure it's not perfect and there are some missteps here and there or things that could be improved. Nevertheless, it was a fun experiment and serves as good encouragement for me to continue playing with the lineless look, among other things. I do have to note though that it feels super weird to just leave the eyes like this with no indication of shine on them! I made the choice not to since it's not a common trait with the official character models (at least not for eyes in this same style) but part of me still feels like it's incomplete. As I've said before recently and I'll probably say again, I can't promise I'll be getting back to a regular upload schedule now, but it's on my mind. I want to get to that point soon. I do have the acrylic markers I mentioned to talk about and another supply in the mail, and some other art in my backlog. So if you can be patient with me a while longer, there will be more from me to look forward to. In the meantime, please be kind to yourself and others. ____ Artwork © me, MysticSparkleWings ____ Where to find me & my artwork: My Website | Commission Info + Prices | Ko-Fi | dA Print Shop | RedBubble | Twitter | Tumblr | Instagram

#animalcrossing

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sylveradrake · 5 years ago

Text

Pixel art commissions are open!

Active Slots:

[ ayealiskomori: four 200px dolls (sketched) ]

[ charlieltweets: one 150px doll (sketched) ]

[ cupiddissolvi: two 250 pixel dolls ]

[ Open ]

Reserved Slots:

[ Open ]

Frequently Asked Questions (Please Read!):

[ ? ] Are these all the options you have for commissions? [ A ] These are primarily just examples of things I've done consistently in the past! If you have a more 'custom' idea, we can certainly discuss it! I've been doing pixel art for over four years, so I have some decent experience, but like every artist I have limits to my current abilities. You can see both my Tumblr and DeviantArt galleries for more examples, including the options for the line styles, animations, and shading! [ ? ] What ARE all those options under the examples? [ A ] Hard lines means the piece will have "hard", solid black lines between each "section" of the piece: the outline, and between all the different colors, etc. Lineless means that rather than having that solid black line, I use a slightly darker shade of each color to outline them, like the full body dragon! This gives it a softer, 'lineless' look. Cell shading means that there's just one color used to shade, rather than a blend. The Kakashi doll on the far left has cell shading: just one color in a hard shape. Smooth shading means what it sounds like: a few colors are blended from dark to light to make the shadows smoother! I do a few very basic animations for certain dolls or icons when requested. Typically this refers to a one-pixel "bob", and a blink cycle. I can also have a doll open its mouth and bring up a small speech bubble if you'd like them to say something! Please bear in mind that animation takes additional time and effort, and though not required, additional support is appreciated for animated pieces! [ ? ] Why are there things you refuse to draw? [ A ] For the most part, it's simply a matter of preference. For others, it's a matter of ability. Some things are just a bit too complex for me to feel I can pull it off in a fashion consistent with the rest of my work, and therefore being worth your money! Hence a limit on complex poses and the number of characters per shot, or complex designs, like mecha. Other things like the ship limitations are just personal preferences that make me uncomfortable. The NSFW ban is mostly due to most hosting sites not liking to host mature artwork...and also a matter of both my ability, and personal preference. [ ? ] What constitutes NSFW? [ A ] For me, this includes any nudity that shows genitals - nipples and / or breasts are fine. This also includes anything sexual, including any and all fetishes, even if genitals are not shown. I also do not do heavy gore. I may expand this umbrella term if anything not already covered comes up! [ ? ] I can't afford a commission, but I'd like to help! What can I do? [ A ] You can share this comm sheet and / or my art with your friends! Getting the word out might mean finding someone able and willing to order a comm, which of course is a big help! [ ? ] Do you do requests? [ A ] Unfortunately, not at the moment. If you'd like me to draw something for you and the comms are open, you're more than welcome to order something! While I do do personal art for myself and for friends, I can't make free art for everyone. In the future I may do something akin to raffles, but for now, we're starting with the commissions! [ ? ] Can I donate without ordering a commission? [ A ] You most certainly can, and it's very much appreciated, and would be a huge help! Of course it is NOT an expectation: no one has to donate if they can't or don't want to. But if you just want to throw some general support in to help me keep creating, you're more than welcome, and I'd appreciate it tremendously [ ? ] Do you accept DeviantArt points? [ A ] I do not. To put it bluntly, DA points can't pay my bills. I have nothing I need that DA points can buy, so I only work with money. Sorry! [ ? ] Do you do anything like art trades? [ A ] For the moment, no - but I might in the future! I'm open to the possibility, but for now (and for this post's purpose), I'm working on commissions! If I ever open up art trades, I'll be sure to make another about it! [ ? ] How is best to contact you? [ A ] Any of the above listed social media! Here on DA, please send a note with a subject line about commissions. On Tumblr, you can send an ask (off anon) which I will reply to privately. You can also send an IM! Email also works: just include commissions in the subject line. I do my best to check all of these sites a few times a day, but there may be times where I'm limited. I'll try to post ahead of time so you know why I'm not responding promptly! Otherwise, it could take me about a day to get back to you. Please be patient! I have other responsibilities. I may also take hiatuses if I feel the need. If I go more than a few days without responding and haven't given any warning, there's probably something keeping me from my messages, and I'll do my best to get back to you as soon as I'm able! [ ? ] What's your policy on refunds? [ A ] So long as I haven't finished flat coloring your piece, you can get a full refund, of course! But once the piece is lined AND colored, I've put in a good bit of work, so I'm afraid I won't be able to refund you. As stated on the sheet, you can ask for an update on the piece any time! And I will send you the cleaned sketch once it's finished to see if there's anything you'd like changed. Though please bear in mind some things can differ between sketching and lining, especially when shrinking down to pixel. A sketch is a general outline, not the full product! [ ? ] Are there any other circumstances where you might refuse a commission? [ A ] Honestly it depends. I hope not to encounter any other reasons beyond my general rules, but I DO retain the right to say no to any commission for any reason, which I don't have to disclose. If I do say no, please respect that decision. It's never anything personal. [ ? ] Where does the art go once it's finished? [ A ] Any commissioned art, by default, will be posted to my DeviantArt, my Tumblr, and on Ko-fi! I'll also send you a copy / link through whatever means you contacted me with. If you'd like your art to be private, you need only ask. I will then only send YOU the art, and it will NOT be posted anywhere else. I can also post the art anonymously if you’d like it posted, but your name not attached to it. [ ? ] How can I use my commission(s)? [ A ] Any way you like UNLESS it's commercial - in other words, if you make any money using the artwork. Please also do not trade or sell the artwork. Otherwise, feel free to use it for any personal use you'd like! You can also repost the art so long as you provide a link to my original post. If your comm wasn't publicly posted, a link back to any of my social media will suffice! Just always be sure to use proper credit so people know where the art came from! That way they can find my pages, and maybe get a commission of their own! [ ? ] Do you do fanart? [ A ] I do! My commissions are all one-off, unique jobs, and I'm hardly about to impact any IP markets. So long as it's a large fandom (no Disney, though - that's one I won't touch), and my art wouldn't greatly impact the profits and livelihood of other creators, I can do fanart. But I DO prefer to do original art! It's great to work with new designs, and help give original characters more art for them! Gimme OCs to draw! [ ? ] Can you design a character for me, like a custom adoptable? [ A ] I can! Just bear in mind that I'll need as many details as possible to make something that fits your vision! I'll also need to work with you more than typical to be sure we get it as accurate as possible, so be prepared for a lot of communication until we get it looking as you want! [ ? ] Can you do gifts - in other words, can I order art for another person? [ A ] I do, and you certainly can! Just be sure to let me know who the gift is for, so I can tag them! If they don't have any of the social media I use, you can just give me a name or screen name to post with it. A gift will just cost you the same as any art you'd order for yourself! Also please do be sure you have permission to commission art of characters owned by another person! [ ? ] What do you mean by 'item'? [ A ] Each individual pixel piece! One lone pixel doll of 150 pixels would be four dollars! But if you want two dolls interacting, it's four dollars EACH. So eight dollars. That's because I still have to sketch, ink, color, shade, and possibly animate EACH doll! Twice the effort means twice the price.

#commissions #pixel art #pixel doll #pixel icon #pixel cursor

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maxilsmaster · 5 years ago

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writer ask meme

https://ciiardha-blog.tumblr.com/post/158543702841/writer-ask-meme

1. Tell us about your WIP! right now, i’m working on a fic with classicfresh, scifell, errink, dustberry, horrorlust, afterdeath and killercreammare. basically, dream invited everyone on a picnic but it went horribly wrong and everyone started arguing.

2. Where is your favorite place to write? i mostly write stuff out on google docs then post to ao3, but sometimes i just skip to ao3

3. What is your favorite/least favorite part about writing? favorite: i don’t necessarily have to share my work. least favorite: describing things.

4. Do you have any writing habits/rituals? lots of dialogue, start with a line of dialogue.

5. Top five formative books? haha what

6. Favorite character you’ve written? probably error or ink. maybe my own sans, illusion.

7. Favorite/most inspirational book? i like the sight (warriors arc 3 book 1) and curiosity killed the error (by the lovely @shandycandy278).

8. Do you have any writing buddies or critique partners? i recently gained a position beta-reading for @jasmynation‘s undermaze fic. also my friend CosmoCat07 on ao3

9. Favorite/least favorite tropes? i have no idea.

10. Pick an author (or writing friend) to co-write a book with CosmoCat07

11. What are you planning to work on next? dying inside slowly

12. Which story of yours do you like best? why? New Beginnings, the thing I’m writing with CosmoCat07.

13. Describe your writing process oh hey this would be funny *types ideas on notepad on chromebook* *writes it out on google docs*

14. What does it take for you to be ready to write a book? (i.e. do you research? outline? make a playlist or pinterest board? wing it?) type a vague idea, and wing it from there

15. How do you deal with self-doubt when writing? bottle it up internally :D

16. Cover love/dream covers? i don’t like covers.

17. What things (scenes/topics/character types) are you most comfortable writing? not sex.

18. Tell us about that one book you’ll never let anyone read my first warriors fanfic. 30 chapters of me not fully understanding warriors. (un)fortunately, it got deleted when my old laptop broke.

19. How do you cope with writer’s block? write more

20. Any advice for young writers/advice you wish someone would have given you early on? don’t doubt yourself.

21. What aspect of your writing are you most proud of? the grammar, definitely. i’m not giving a shit about it here, but i’m good at grammar. no grammarly stop giving me your ads, i can write just fine on my own.

22. Tell us about the books on your “to write” list 50 one-shots then 70+ more.

23. Most anticipated upcoming books? the next warriors books

24. Do you remember the moment you decided to become a writer/author? no

25. What’s your worldbuilding process like? what worldbuilding process?

26. What’s the most research you’ve ever put into a book? very. very. VERY. little.

27. Every writer’s least favorite question - where does your inspiration come from? Do you do certain things to make yourself more inspired? Is it easy for you to come up with story ideas? inspiration? fanfiction. it’s pretty easy.

28. How do you stay focused on your own work and how do you deal with comparison? i don’t compare and i don’t get comparison. i’m not that popular.

29. Is writing more of a hobby or do you write with the intention of getting published? hobby

30. Do you like to read books similar to your project while you’re drafting or do you stick to non-fiction/un-similar works? all i read is fanfiction all i read is undertale fanfiction all i write is basically undertale fanfiction

31. Top five favorite books in your genre? genre: fanfiction. ckte, um ckte, undermaze, our tangled web, and uh ckte. i like ckte.

32. On average how much do you write in a day? do you have trouble staying focused/getting the word count in? i have trouble writing over 1000 words at once, but i try. i also write a lot. it’s been occupying most of my time lately.

33. What’s your revision/rewriting process like? oh, i messed up this word. edit. oh, this sentence would fit here... add sentence. oh my god this whole story sucks burn it in hell.

34. Unpopular writing thoughts/opinions? idk.

35. Post the last sentence you wrote from prompt 49. dear god. at least i’m done prompt 5...

“S’ why m’ not gettin’ ya somethin’ greasy,” Red answered, pulling open the door to Grillby’s.

36. Post a snippet SPOILERS FOR PROMPT 33 OF MY THING

Cross stepped between the two. “Alright, who wants to play hide and seek?”

“OOH! ME!” Blue cheered, wiggling around in the strings.

Horror raised the hand his axe was in, and Killer raised a hand as he stood up to retrieve his knife from the wall it had been stuck in from when he threw it. Meanwhile, Dust and Error let out a groan.

“Alright, majority rules, we’re doing hide and seek!”

“Yay!” Horror, Blue and Killer said, all in different tones.

“And Error, no cheating this time,” Cross ordered. “You know what, you can seek.”

“Fuck you,” Error spat as he dropped Blue from the strings. Killer caught Blue dramatically. “That was gay.”

“Then it’s a good thing we’re already dating,” Killer refuted, dipping Blue and kissing him.

“EIGHT! NINE! TEN!” Error yelled, turning around and subsequently causing everyone to jump.

They then proceeded to run out of the room.

37. Do you ever write long handed or do you prefer to type everything? type. i can’t write with a pencil for shit.

38. How do you nail voice in your books? i don’t XD

39. Do you spend a lot of time analyzing and studying the work of authors you admire? idk, really

40. Do you look up to any of your writer buddies? shandy

41. Are there any books you feel have shaped you as a writer? what?

42. How many drafts do you usually write before you feel satisfied? one, then edit.

43. How do you deal with rejection? haven’t had to yet.

44. Why (and when) did you decide to become a writer? late grade 7, i guess. that was when i first started getting into warriors.

45. First or third person? third

46. Past or present tense? past, definitely

47. Single or dual/multi POV? i’m cool with either

48. Do you prefer to write skimpy drafts and flesh them out later, or write too much and cut it back? write everything in one go (spread out over multiple days, normally), then add/remove a few details

49. Favorite fictional world? right now utmv but i also like warriors

50. Do you share your rough drafts or do you wait until everything is all polished? i edit before i post, but i post individual chapters

51. Are you a secretive writer or do you talk with your friends about your books? mostly talk about it amongst the fandom

52. Who do you write for? myself, mostly.

53. What is the first line of your WIP? my current one, where i’m writing seven different ships in a one-shot?

This picnic was a terrible idea. Everyone was arguing over something so pointless and mundane that it may as well not even have started.

54. Favorite first line/opening you’ve written? not the one above

55. How do you manage your time/make time for writing? (do you set aside time to write every day or do you only write when you have a lot of free time?) i just write constantly

#spoilers for my one-shots #55 questions

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bloodvvit · 5 years ago

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[Wanted to write a little ‘slice of life’ look into how Kai was raised once the Boss took him on, as he was mostly looked after by a higher ranking kyodai named Izo. Kai idolizes the boss, but also takes a shine to Izo, seeing him as kind of a older brother/mentor figure.]

Kai’s long eyelashes fluttered against the high angle of his cheekbone as he roused, having not realized he’d dozed off while lounging at the foot of Izo’s mattress. Curled up with his knees to his chest and his skinny arms tangled around a pillow, the fifteen year old squinted against the light unhappily. With a slow stretch in place, he pushed himself to a sitting position and got smacked in the face with a discarded shirt.

“You’re still getting dressed?” the youth accused in an irritated tone. Huffing softly, the young yakuza heir jerked the colorful fabric from around his skull. Rather than throw it back at the preening, indecisive gangster pacing before his closet mirror, Kai expertly flapped the article of clothing out by the shoulder seams and carefully laid it down atop the length of the bed to join the rest of the kyodai’s wardrobe.

“We’re never going leave if you’re taking this long… Why does it matter, anyway? Is it a big meeting between the Bosses?” he asked, sounding miles more interested, if that was the case- rather than watch the man mull over more suits.

Izo held one shirt, then another over his chest as he inspected his reflection in his newly bought and installed full length mirror. Both looked equally good on his skinny frame. That was the one good thing about being built like a tall lamp post — it was easy finding clothing. Nearly anything he bought looked good when it was hanging off his bony shoulders.

“Nah, go back to sleep. I’ve got a hot date tonight,” Izo said as he turned sideways and tried yet another shirt. “Well, not really. I got a meet and greet with some of the guys at a hostess club. I might as well try not to look too shabby.”

The juvenile yakuza frowned even more at this revelation. And here, he’d been hoping for a fun and exciting evening out, not being abandoned at headquarters, when he could have been spending more time leaning how their business worked.

“And you’re wasting time on an outfit? You usually bring me along…” Kai frowned and narrowed his eyes, following the vivid lines of elaborate inkwork decorating Izo’s back, shoulders, and arms in a curious fashion. He’d seen them before, it wasn’t like his partner didn’t leap at the chance to show them off.

“Hey, aniki… Your tattoos. The last time I asked, you said they have certain meanings. Can you tell me more about them now?” he asked in a hopeful, but careful tone of voice. “We’ve been partners for the past three years, almost.”

Heh. Precocious boy slinging emotional words like ‘partners’ around. His devotion to hustling was adorable. Izo knew better, but the sweet way the brat went about saying it was like drinking down warm honey. It was a pleasant kind of warmth.

“The outfit’s like a storefront window, it’s for convincing,” Izo said as he looked over his shoulder at Chisaki’s ward. He wasn’t looking so sleepy now, and his intense stare made Izo lift an arm to check out the black lines snaking about his rib cage. The ink work wasn’t done yet, just a series of outlines scattered about his shoulders and back. The goal was to eventually get a whole shirt done, but until that happened, Izo was content to only brave the parlors sporadically It depended when his mood and tolerance for pain was highest.

“They mean a buncha stuff,” Izo hedged, “Sorta slogans like ‘I’m good at this sorta shit’, ‘I believe in that’. Some of it is because ‘a guy I respect has something like it’. Water’s obvious, you already know that one.” After a pause, Izo draped his shirt over the back of his chair. “They’re pretty nice, right?”

“I didn’t think there’d be so many… flowers,” Kai pointed out, unable to mask the wrinkling of his upturned nose at the thought. Eyelids lowering to half-mast, he quite visibly began mulling something over in his mind.

“I was wondering if the Boss was thinking I might have earned the right to get one yet. You think maybe that might happen sooner or later?”

Izo twisted to look incredulously at the boy on his bed. “What’s wrong with flowers? The’re perfectly manly. Ain’t like they’re roses or nothing. They’re not on my back because they’re romantic.”

They were there proclaiming his sense of duty, his loyalty and clear mind. They spoke of death and single-minded purpose. His skin was there for important stories and words. He’d sooner cut himself than get something like his girl’s name.

“They’re there for the things I don’t wanna say out loud. Anyone that knows about what ink means will know what they’re sayin’. As for you gettin’ yours…”

Izo eyed Kai critically. Was he actually serious? He was already that enthusiastic about being a made man? Izo chuckled, “You’re a bit big for your britches already. Nah, it’ll be later. Boss don’t have much truck on taking kiddies on. You’ve got a few more years to go.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it, I just- The last meeting you took me to was the first time I’d even seen the Boss’ ink before and those were… you know, dragons,” Kai explained matter-of-factly. The last thing he wanted was Izo thinking he didn’t understand or respect the meaning behind the imagery.

The teen folded his lean arms beneath his chin, both sharp elbows jutting over the edge at the foot of the mattress. “I was just thinking if I’m gonna stay on, then I should start thinking about it now. Or learning what that stuff all means, like you. I’m not stupid, you know… Wasn’t like I wanted to get something just to flash it at the nearest person on the street.”

Kai rested his chin on his crossed arms and sighed loudly. “Even if the Boss thought I was ready, I guess I just want know what he’d pick. It wouldn’t mean the same thing if it were up to me, right…? That’d be no different than if any civvie waltzed into a parlor and got something done for bragging rights- they don’t earn that like we do,” Kai reflected, often failing to censor his own thoughts due to his familiarity with the gangster he worked with, or simply due to his age.

Izo turned around, folding his arms over his chest as he looked Kai over. Eyes still too big for his head, despite the roundness of his cheeks. Skinny, gawky limbs that were only going to get even gawkier once he started growing — which hadn’t happened yet (and likely wouldn’t any time soon, if he didn’t start eating more.) Izo hadn’t been much older when he’d started getting seriously in over his head, doing significantly more involved things than running messages. That’d been his own damn fault, though. He’d had too big a mouth, had been too smart for his own good and run in ahead right into things he should have steered clear of, if he’d only known better.

Kai had a good little schtick going. He liked to talk big, even going so far as to act like he was already willing to go whole hog into the sorta life Izo was leading. It was a pretty good life, Izo thought, it had its perks, he got pocket money. But talking big and going so far as to get an ill-advised tattoo while sober, well… those were two entirely different things.

Izo crossed his arms over his chest as he hunched over the bed, brows drawing together. “The boss doesn’t pick it. You do. Like I said, they tell a story and it’s the kinda stuff you wanna say but don’t have real good words for it, because saying it would be lame. Get it?”

Izo turned to the side and twisted, pulling his arms up to show a spot on his rib cage where the outline of a crane was placed. It had yet to be colored in.

“See this? Got this because of a guy I knew — real swell guy. He’s old now, so he’s sick and dying. Helped me out of some tight spots and I owe him. He always had a thing for those weird-ass birds, so I’m getting this put on there as a thank you. Hopefully it’ll get done and I can show it to him before he kicks the bucket.”

“It’s up to you what you wanna say. Most guys just stick with stuff like, ‘I’m strong and I can tear people’s heads off with my damn teeth like a pregnant bear.’ The boss’s dragon means he’s like the emperor. Getting the ink means you’re a made man, but you don’t wanna get a mark someone picks for you either because it makes you theirs. You pick it because it’s what you wanna say. Got it?” Izo hesitated, then added, “There’s some that do that — let someone put their mark on them. I hear some families are into that too, like branding farm animals. If anyone says they wanna do that with you, you tell ‘em no, kick ‘em real good and come and tell me.”

Kai was far too young for those sorts of relationships and if anyone offered, that meant they were real creeps. Izo would cut bits off them in private somewhere.

The kid pushed his hands against the bed to get a better look, glancing from the silhouette of the bird coming to life on Izo’s darker skin, then back to the elder man’s face as he spoke. Kai had assumed the messages intended to be expressed through the tattoos were qualities others had to see and ‘confirm’ before making them yakuza language fact. To everyone else, he was just like any other middle school student in Tokyo. Now that he was officially partnered with a made man like his 'brother’, he felt… important. Not the way the Boss was important, but needed- Useful, like a part of the machine that was efficiently performing it’s role. In a strange way, Kai felt getting inked might confirm that- solidify his place within their ranks and as the heir to the Boss’ legacy.

“Yeah. I understand now,” he answered confidently, nodding once in affirmation. His gaze followed the swooping 'brushstroke’ of the bird’s neck as it melded to it’s back and folded wings curiously, frowning in silence as one of the notches of Izo’s ribs expanded with his breathing. “Does it hurt a lot? Especially places like these?” he asked, pointing at the thin layer of skin and muscle barely masking the bony landmark.

Izo shrugged, always a bit surprised how into medical stuff the kid was. He didn’t recall ever being like that at the same age. “Well, it always hurts when there’s not a lotta meat. I don’t have much all over, though. It’s not too bad.”

Actually, it hurt like a bitch and Izo had let everyone up and down the street know he was getting his ink done just by all his screaming. But Kai’s wide-eyed look was laying it on a bit thick, wasn’t he? Izo had to give him props for consistency, though. The teen never let up with his schtick and he had to admit in his crusty, old-young heart that there were times he was quite warmed by it. Izo reached out to press down hard on Kai’s head, sending him tumbling. When he was down, Izo dug his knuckles into the teenager’s scalp for good measure. Straightening, he grunted, “What’s this about you wanting ink anyway? Why all a sudden?”

“Hey! Come on- Stop,” the kid half-laughed, half-ordered, trying to dodge the elder man’s hands until he’d lost his balance and tumbled from the bed. He rolled from the foot of the mattress and landed in a soft pile of discarded suits Izo had thrown, unceremoniously, to the floor- vibrantly dyed and patterned silks and sharkskin cushioning Kai’s coltish knees as he fended off more brotherly harassment. The question made him pause and look back up the rail-thin length of Izo’s slouching frame, blinking once as he stared back at that narrow-eyed, searching gaze reading his own expression and body language.

“Like I said. It’s been three years. I just thought, maybe… then we’d be blood brothers. You know, officially. That’s all,” he said, brushing Izo off and leaning back against the foot of the bed. He straightened his hair back out with a few brisk tugs of his thin fingers, tilting his chin up as though challenging the man to say otherwise.

Izo tsks, tongue pressed against the back of his teeth as his movements still and he stares down at Kai staring up at him with that far too serious glare.

The brat. How was he going to say no to a request like that?

“Ah, you really know what to say, eh? Thought a lot about it, did you?” Scripted or not, he was good. Izo was melting a little despite himself. He grabbed Kai’s head, looping an arm around his neck and squeezing as he roughly ground his knuckles in with a renewed vengeance. “Think you’re such a big man, EH?”

When he eventually released the boy, letting him drop to the hard floor like he was dropping a sack of rice. He turned back toward the mirror and dragged his fingers through his hair to work out some of the new tangles. Izo made a face and gave up on wearing it down. Finding a tie, he gripped it between his teeth and pulled his hair back away from his face to reveal sharp features that looked too narrow, too fox-like for even his own tastes.

“Alright, since you say it so nicely, kid,” he muttered around the tie, “You can get what you want. But if it’s stupid looking, it’s on you. Remember that.”

#♛ WRITING #♛ META

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annerbhp · 6 years ago

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What’s your writing process like?

A hot mess.

No, seriously. It’s a complete mess, but it’s my mess, tailored to me perfectly, and I think that’s the big battle with writing–coming up with a system that works for you, and being able to deal with it and modify when it stops working for you.

Here are my current eleven painful steps to writing a fic:

1. Conception - I daydream a lot. Like, while I’m falling asleep at night, while I’m doing the dishes, taking a shower, commuting to work, running an errand, sitting through boring meetings, I’m constantly running scenes and imagining snippets in my head. This is usually when a new story idea hits me. So I daydream about it for a long time. I start collecting emotions and visualizing moments. A lot of ideas die at this point, getting lost in the chaos of life or just not capturing my attention long term. The ones that do though, eventually crystallize enough that I feel compelled to start actually writing it down.

2. The Mad Scramble - At this point, I open a document and word vomit. It’s a scramble, to try to purge all those various imaginings and scenes and snippets of dialog and feelings and just get them down as fast as possible before they fade or I forget them. Totally out of order, totally unconnected, just vomit, vomit, vomit. Interspersed with brainstorming, since most of my stories are AU, I’ll just write long narratives of where are we, what has changed, why, and often the ideas change and evolve as I am writing them down. That doesn’t make sense, what about this instead? What would happen if that happened? In this phase I try very hard not to edit myself. I always know I can come back later and massage and edit. Again, a lot of stories die in this phase. Or fizzle out and get chucked back in the writing file as another idea starts taking over my daydreaming.

3. Rough Skeleton - After a lot of word vomiting, I usually pull back a bit to try to wrest some sort of logical order. Usually this just means shifting things around so there is a Point A: where the story starts, a Point B: what is the big dramatic beat where conflict erupts?, and a Point C: where are we when it ends? Often these specific three scenes are the first to get written, even if never in their final form. This starts to crystallize the overall journey of the fic. What is the plot change? What is the emotional change? What is the character change? And since I write mostly ship fic: how has the relationship evolved by the end? This is usually the point I can start imagining titles, which lets me know that I kind of know what the point of the fic is.

4. Useless Puttering - Now I descend back into my favorite past time: daydreaming. I imagine scenes, once again totally out of order, but that fill in between Point A and Point B, and Point B and Point C. Other important beats get established. I just dream up dialog and scenes and imagine emotions, and things just happen. Some of them get down on paper again. Not necessarily in their final place, but I get the most important dramatic beats in between the main points. The story is now full of unhelpful notes like: Have Hermione show up here and say something that makes Harry think about blah blah. Or, don’t forget that Ron is still mad at Ginny here. Was blah blah ever explained? And my least favorite placeholder: kissage. Stuff I will go back later and deal with but don’t want to now. I pretty much let myself write whatever the hell I want at this phase (the ‘good’ bits), knowing I can come back to things later. Momentum is too important here.

5. Rereading - Now comes the phase I get stuck in endlessly. At this point, I start obsessively rereading what I’ve already written. On a good day, that means I will start editing and filling out and toning some things down (my first word vomit versions are usually over-the-top DRAMATIC), pulling threads through the fic as I go along, making sure the emotional beats are going in a believable and satisfying way. Chapters start to form if there are going to be chapters. But more often than not I just re-read and re-read with very little changes. This is another big stall out point for me.

6. Walk Away - With almost every story at this point I feel the need to walk away from the story. I get bored with it after re-reading it so many times. I get frustrated. I run out of ideas and I generally stop caring about it. I have to admit, quite a few stories die at this point. And sometimes for good reason. (This is also where I start whining to people who are kind enough to listen, as I am sure @bethanyactually and @weatheredskies and @runawaymarbles can attest.) This is a really good point to put it away and just ignore it. My daydreams go somewhere else (and inevitably this is where my next story is born). When I was writing The Changeling and hit this point, this is where the majority of the Armistice Series was born. When I was stalled out on pick it up, this is where my coffeehouse AU was born. It’s good palette cleanser. Sometimes this lasts a few days, a week, a month. For The Changeling that one time, it lasted A YEAR. (Though there were other Real Life considerations influencing that as well.) I fill out a lot of memes at this point. Get caught up with asks and comments. I read other people’s fic.

7. Hello, Old Friend - If I’ve been away long enough, coming back to the story for a fresh re-read is like coming home to an old friend. Hey, this isn’t as bad as I thought! I really like this bit here. And this new wave of energy comes up. I start daydreaming again, I re-read and modify as I go, and the story starts to fill in more and more. I start getting antsy to share it with people. I might give small snippets to my long-suffering friends who listened to all my complaining.

8. Pen and Ink - At some point the second honeymoon ends, and I start getting frustrated with the document, feel overwhelmed trying to wrap my brain around things. Depending on the size of the story, this might be post-it notes and outlining time, where I use color coded paper and/or pens to make sure there is balance between narrative POVs and plots and themes and whatever threads are being dragged through the fic. I will also hit a point when I can’t edit on the computer anymore and I print out a chapter. I will take that chapter with me to a coffee shop, pull out obnoxiously garish pens, and write all over it. This is how I know I am very nearly there. I will scribble that print out to death. I take a break again here, and then come back and input the edits on my computer. Sometimes the process has to be repeated, but more often than not, the chapter is now in rough draft format.

9. Betas Are a Writer’s Best Friend - At this point I upload the chapter/story to a google doc to share with a beta. For Armistice, I am spoiled enough to have four (!!) people looking at chapters for me right now. One is a literal Squee Beta. She reads it and squees at me and helps me believe that it is not complete garbage. Another is a beta who is very willing to completely disagree with all my life choices, which I find hugely helpful because I have to justify my choices and admit when I’m being lazy–this often leads to disgruntled rewrites that make the story better. My two original betas are great at not just grammar (which boy do I need) and catching mistakes here and there, but discussing character beats and plot points, and asking me questions, and being endlessly willing to just talk about the story with me. (How are there people this awesome that exist?)

10. Final Edits - Sometimes the final edits are painless, but often there is some melodramatic whinging on my part at this point and some rewrites, as I battle the need to just be done with it and getting it done right. Though I am also known for sitting on a final draft far too long. Like, maybe not making a single change for a week, but still not just POSTING it. Again replying to asks and getting caught up on comment replies is my best stall tactic. (hmmmm…)

11. Posting - I usually do this when I am completely sick of the chapter/story. That lets me know I am done. I am no longer daydreaming about that part of the story. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. It becomes this immutable canon-like thing in my head that can’t be changed anymore. So, I post it. And then spend the next day a total and complete wreck as I wait for validation of some sort. If I’m lucky, I get some, ride a high for a few days, and then back to Step 5 for the next chapter, because, boy, if they liked that, I can’t wait to share this next bit with them.

The End

#writing process #i'm a mess #and not stalling out in my process right now #what about this ridiculously long answer would make you think that?#i don't hate chapter five at all #nope #aaaaaaaaaaaaggggghghhhh

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lets-just-daydream · 7 years ago

Text

This is something I kinda did ages ago and figured I would post here. It's set in an AU where everybody has a tattoo but when they meet their soulmate, it grows. I hope you guys like it!

The lights of the city shone under the ink blue sky. You were excited for a night out on the town; and who knew? Maybe you'd find Mr. Right.

Your tattoo, just like everyone else's tattoo, has been on your body ever since you were born. A fluffy cloud coloured blue with a white outline graced your skin between your left breast and collarbone. You still hadn't met the person who had the exact same tattoo as yours in the exact same spot as yours was, but when you did, your tattoos would manifest themselves into their full forms as art in your skin. You hoped you'd find them one day.

But that wasn't the aim tonight. You just wanted to let your hair down and have a good night after a long, stressful week of work. Your heels clacked along the pavement as you spotted your favourite club in the distance as you approached.

You adjusted your dress by smoothing the front. A cute one-shoulder cream coloured midi dress with a wrap-around waist.

You went to step inside but a strong hand stopped you.

“ID, miss?” The burly bouncer asked.

“Seriously? How old do you think I am?” You retorted.

“No ID, no entry,” he grumbled back.

They never asked for ID, why today? Whatever. You opened your clutch and pulled your driver's licence out and flashed it at the bouncer.

“Happy?”

“Have a good night, miss.” He said as he waved you in.

You stepped inside and relished in the loud music. The smell of alcohol, sweat and perfume tickled at your nose. You took a look around and realised there were way more people in here than usual. A good thing, right? Maybe you could find someone to take you home for the night.

Maybe.

The purple lights flashed across the full dancefloor and you squinted as the lights shone into your eyes. You didn't bother looking for cloud tattoos on people's chests, you wouldn't be able to see them anyway. Some people were blessed with easily visible tattoos on the hands, necks, legs. You figured they could their soulmates pretty quick. You thanked your lucky stars that your tattoo wasn't hidden on your inner thigh or somewhere else that could cause trouble with the wrong people.

‘Back to the club’ you thought. You decided you need a drink before braving the dancefloor and you made a beeline to the bar.

“What can I get ya?” The bartender asked.

“Strawberry daiquiri, please,” you yelled over the thumping music. You paused and recognised the song as one by a DJ called Lùcio that had been playing non-stop on the radio for the past month. You sighed inwardly as you heard the song blasted over the speakers for what seemed like the umpteenth time this week.

The bartender returned with your drink and you handed him the cash. You took your drink and scanned the club and you found a seat nearby. You closed your eyes as you took a long sip of the cool drink, it felt like heaven in your parched mouth as you felt the ice slide down your throat.

“Good drink, huh?” You heard a smug voice in your ear.

You turned to the voice and saw a guy sipping a drink of his own. His bright green hair clashing with his orange shirt struck you and you felt yourself tense at his mischievous grin. His eyes, a deep brown absolutely captivated you.

“Yeah…” you started. “Something like that. Can I help you?” You offered.

“No, I just saw a pretty girl sitting by herself and thought she might like to dance with me.” He winked and you blushed. He was cute, funny, confident. Your eyes began to wander and you thought about how you'd like to wrap your hands around his solid arms. The stranger raised his eyebrows at you and chuckled.

You snapped back and cleared your throat and set your now empty glass down. “I could do with a dance”, you grinned.

He took your hand and led you to the dance floor.

“So are you going to tell me your name, stranger?” You asked as you danced.

“Oh, of course! Where are my manners? I'm Genji, Genji Shimada.”

“Genji…” you repeated.

He laughed. “And may I know your name, stranger?” He mocked.

“Ah, I'm Y/N.”

“It's nice to meet you, Y/N. Are you here with anyone or are you alone?” He asked, a glint in his eye.

You bit your lip. How much should you say? “I'm alone. Just relaxing after a long week of work, I really need to wind down.”

He hummed thoughtfully and you danced for the next three songs. You decided you needed another drink.

“I need another drink. Can I get you anything?” You asked.

“Ah, allow me.” He replied, following you to the bar. You ordered your drinks and sat in the outside seating area. You drank in the cool night air and exhaled, you felt the week finally melting away. You sat in silence mostly, demolishing your drinks. You kept glancing over at Genji. He was really cute. He noticed you staring and grinned.

“Something on my face, cutie?” He teased.

Cutie. Your stomach flipped.

“N-no, just wondering if you like your drink. I've never had a Japanese Slipper before.” Crap. Really? So not smooth.

“Oh, really? Want a taste?” He smirked at you again. Damn it, why did he keep smiling at you like that?

“Sure, thanks.” You blushed and leaned in for a sip. Mmm, fruity. Genji watched as you swallowed the drink, not noticing that he himself instinctively swallowed.

You sat and talked for a while, chatting about trivial things like where you work and your plans plans for the weekend. When there was silence, you felt the atmosphere shift and you looked into Genji’s eyes. You saw longing and you noticed that his gaze flickered to your lips and quickly back to your eyes.

You gulped. You glanced at his lips and you shut your eyes and leaned in, heart pounding, hoping you hadn't misread his expression. You thanked whichever god you thought was watching you right now because you briefly felt his warm breath against your lips before he closed the gap.

After a brief kiss he pulled back and asked, “can I see your tattoo?”. You gulped. You couldn't just pull the sleeve of your dress down in front of all these people. You felt brazen, all of a sudden.

“If you wanna see my tattoo, you're going to have to come back to my place.” You said with a wink.

He chuckled, his eyes not leaving yours. “Well then, let's get out of here.” You smiled and you both made your way to the door.

“My place isn't far from here, we can walk”, you stated, albeit a bit excitedly.

“Lead the way, Y/N!”

You walked the short distance to your apartment and scanned your key card at the swipe pad. You walked through the foyer and took the elevator up to your floor. You opened the door and invited Genji in. You felt self-conscious all of a sudden as his gaze swept over the place.

“It's not much”, you started. “But it's home and it's comfortable. I'm just gonna go to the bathroom real quick, make yourself at home.” You tucked your hair behind your ear as you turned and went to the bathroom.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and gave yourself a quick once over. 'You’ll do’, you thought to yourself. 'Just wanna have a bit of fun’. You made a face at yourself in the mirror, straightened your dress and stepped back out. You found Genji on the balcony, looking over the city lights.

“You have a beautiful view here, Y/N”, he said as you came up next to him.

“Thanks. When I was looking for somewhere to live, a view of the city was high on my criteria. I've always loved coming home to a breathtaking view.” You explained. You were happy he liked your place, but your stomach was trying knots at the idea of what was in store for you tonight.

Genji looked you in the eye and leaned in for another kiss. You happily obliged. You stepped back inside and Genji followed.

He pulled you in, your back flush against his chest. He moved your hair to one side and kissed from your ear, down your neck and to your bare shoulder. You sighed at the sensation of lips against your skin. You turned around and kissed him again, your hands messing up his green hair,kissing his jaw and down his neck. Your fingers found their way to his shirt and you began to unbutton his shirt. You were anxious to see if he had the same blue cloud on his chest.

You pulled his shirt off and your heart dropped a little at the sight of his chest. There was a tattoo there, alright, but it was a green ...tail? Mermaid tail? Dragon tail. It was beautiful, but it wasn't a blue cloud.

He saw the look of disappointment on your face.

“Are you okay, Y/N? Would you like to stop?” He asked, concerned at your sudden change.

“No, I'm fine. Just noticed that your tattoo is different to mine. It's almost in the same spot though,” you confessed.

“Damn. But I suppose we go through a few flings before we meet our soulmate, correct?” He said, trying to ease the blow.

You perked up. “Yeah, you're right.” You smiled and he turned you around to unzip your dress. He kissed down the back of your neck as he did so, causing soft moans to escape from your lips. He slid you sleeve off your shoulder and turned you around. You turned around to plant another kiss until you noticed he froze.

You looked up at him and saw his eyes were wide, boring into the tattoo on your chest.

“Genji? Hello?” You asked, snapping your fingers in front of his face.

“Y-your tattoo…” he stated, trailing off.

“Yeah, what about it?” You asked, puzzled. Nervous.

“I've seen the exact same one, on someone else!” He scrambled for his shirt and put it back on hastily. “I have someone I need to introduce you to. Put your clothes on, I'll call a car.” And just like that he was at the other side of the room, grabbing his phone and making a phone call.

The information hadn't quite sunk in yet. Did Genji know your soulmate? You bent down to pick your dress up off the floor and put it on again. You excused yourself to the bathroom to tidy your makeup up. You wanted to look your best if you really were about to meet your soulmate.

A few minutes later, Genji was at your bathroom door, knocking. “Y/N, the car is here. Are you ready to go?” He blurted.

“Yep, yep I'm coming now.” You responded, your voice a little shaky. You made your way out of the building and you were greeted by a long, sleek, black limousine. “Genji, is this our ride?”, you asked, aghast. You couldn't believe it.

“Yes, it is. Now please, get in.”

You slid in, taking in the blue lights and the mini bar.

“I've never been in a limousine before!” You exclaimed as Genji slid in beside you. He flashed you a quick smile and apologised.

“I just have to make a quick phone call. Um, help yourself to any drink you like.” He then turned to face the window and he dialled a number and put his phone to his ear. He conversed in quick, hushed tones. While you had been living in Japan for a short time, your Japanese was still not up to average just yet. So while you tried to listen in, you couldn't understand anything, anyway.

You thought about making a drink but then quickly decided against it. You need to be as sober as possible for whatever was coming. You let your mind wander to where you were going and who you were going to meet. You had left the inner city and were headed through the more quiet areas of the area.

Genji finished up his call and sat in silence. You were bursting with questions but you didn't know where to start. Where was he taking you? Should you have even left with him in the first place? Was he going to introduce you to your soulmate? You opened your mouth to start asking but before you could, he broke the silence.

“We're here.”

You gulped. You weren't sure if you were ready for this. Sure, you're probably about to meet your soulmate but what if this is the wrong way to do it? It almost seems forced, what if you don't like each other? There were choices to be made. But you didn't let your nerves get the better of you. You took a deep breath and stepped out of the car. You were greeted by Genji offering you his arm and walking you to the most beautiful, ornate gates you had ever seen.

Tall, wooden double gates with two dragons in a circle at each other’s tail. The doors were flanked by three massive wooden pillars. Your stare pointed and your heart jumped into your throat at the sight of the wooden dragons.

You weren't feeling so brave all of a sudden. You weren't sure where you were or what was in store for you but it certainly wasn't this. Genji felt you tense at his side and he reassured you that it was alright. The guards at the gates bowed as the two of you approached and opened the gates for you. The sight you were greeted with was absolutely mesmerising.

To your left and right were small white buildings with trimmings all along the sides and black tiled roofs. Straight ahead was a dojo with a huge ornate bell with the same dragon emblem on it. This place is absolutely beautiful. Genji led you through the grounds walking you past beautiful cherry blossom trees and more small buildings than you could keep count of.

You were finally brought to the front doors of what looked to be a massive castle. You couldn't believe it. You honestly thought this was some kind of joke and you turned to Genji.

“Okay, this has been fun but the joke’s up. Who put you up to this?” You asked Genji, your voice wavering slightly.

He looked at you, confused. “Welcome to Shimada Castle, Y/N. This is my home.” You just stared at him, unable to move. Unable to think. He chuckled and led you through the front doors.

You were greeted with a huge entrance, two tall lanterns lighting the small bridge the two of you crossed. You took in the room and your gaze shifted upwards to a mural covering half of the huge wall. Two dragons, a blue dragon and a green dragon wrapped around each other surrounded by mountains.

“... beautiful,” you whispered. Genji lead you through a hallway past the mural and stopped at a wooden door.

“Okay, this is the part you've been waiting for, Y/N, the part where you meet your soulmate. Are you ready for this?” He asked, a grin spread across his features. You could feel the excitement radiating off him. You took a deep breath and simply nodded. You were so ready for this, you were so excited, all the nervousness had disappeared.

He opened the door and extended his hand to let you step in first. Such a gentleman. You walk in and see a young man sitting at a table, head lowered.

He had black hair that fell just below his shoulders that framed his face just perfectly. He looked up as you entered and you squirmed under the gaze of his deep brown eyes. Wait, was he frowning at you? 'Oh god, he hates me’, you thought to yourself. The air was still and no one said a word. After a little while of shifting uncomfortably under his gaze you cleared your throat and spoke.

“Hi… I'm Y/N.” You said, hoping to break what seemed like a never ending awkward silence. The man in the chair didn't say anything at first, just watching you; watching the way you held your elbow in one hand, trying to look anywhere but at him. Finally he stood up and walked around the table to greet you.

“I am Hanzo Shimada. It's nice to meet you, my brother Genji tells me that you have the same tattoo as I have. However, I am intrigued to hear how he came to know of it, given its location.” He said, his eyes never leaving yours.

You blushed with embarrassment and you heard Genji clear his throat and declare that he was exhausted and was going to retire for the night. You turned quickly with wide eyes that screamed 'don’t leave me here alone with him!’. He gave you an apologetic look and wished you both a goodnight.

Fuck.

You turned back to Hanzo, unsure of what to do next.

You wanted to speak, desperate to fill the awkward silence. Surely it's not this awkward for everyone who meets their soulmate, is it?

It was Hanzo who broke the silence first, he spoke gently so as not to scare you. “May I see your tattoo?”

Ah, you figured that question would come sooner or later. You were hoping later, though.

“Yeah, sure. Um, is there somewhere a little more private we can go? I'd hate for someone to walk in here while I'm like, half naked, you know?” You laughed.

He did not laugh, of course he knew where it was. But you were beyond relieved when he stepped past you and led you through another hallway. He opened a door and ushered you through, following in after you and shutting the door behind the both of you.

“This is a guest bedroom, no one will disturb us in here”, he assured you. You still felt uncomfortable taking your dress off in front of this fully clothed stranger. You figured he could see the discomfort plainly painted on your face because before you knew it he had taken his shirt off and puffed his chest, his tattoo gleaming in the light. You gasped. It looked just like yours!

You felt a new wave of confidence.

“Hey, Hanzo, would you mind unzipping my dress for me?” You asked with a slight smirk, “so I can show you my tattoo.” His face flushed and he stepped forward. You pulled your hair to the side of your neck as he slid the zip all the way down your back. You lowered your dress slightly, but not all the way so you could shield your breasts and your stomach.

You turned around and saw his eyes drop to the tattoo on your chest. You dared not breathe as he stepped forward and raised his hand to touch it, his eyes flicking up at yours as if asking for permission. You gave him a small smile and a light nod. He touched his fingers to the ink and you heard him gasp. You looked down to see both of your tattoos growing.

More blue clouds swirled across your chests to your shoulders and down your arms, stopping at your wrists. You dared a glance at Hanzo and he stared at the growing tattoos in wonderment. You marveled at the tattoos when you noticed they were still changing. Gold lighting bolts weaved through and around the clouds, again around and down yours and Hanzo’s arms, stopping at your wrists.

You wondered if that was it until you saw a dragon head form around the first could on your chest. As it moved off it formed a tail on your chest and you watched in anticipation as it snaked its way around your shoulder, forming a claw and twisting around your arm, forming another set of claws. You stared at it as it finally stopped on the back of your wrist.

For a moment, none of you spoke, you just stared at the new pieces of art on your bodies.

“Wow,” you finally breathed, “that sure was something!”

Hanzo looked up at you and chuckled softly, “Indeed.”

After that, everything happened in such a rush, you could barely keep up. The heir to the Shimada Clan had found his soulmate and of course you were to be wed immediately. You weren't really sure what your new life would entail, but you were excited.

#overwatch imagines #overwatch x reader #hanzo x reader #hanzo shimada x reader #red writes

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