#i think i need to like. let my art sit in my drafts for an hour before posting so i can look at it w fresh eyes

[luvzshy]

Color Me Yours

Summary: When you find yourself with Billie Eilish during a quiet afternoon, you decide to paint her nails. As you create a masterpiece on her fingertips, the banter flows, revealing a playful side of your personalities that brings you even closer.

Word Count: 1,200

Warnings: nothing

a/n: this is an old draft but i love this

The late afternoon sun filtered through the windows of your shared space, casting a warm glow on the scattered art supplies that littered the coffee table. You were nestled comfortably on the couch, surrounded by paint tubes and brushes, trying to work on a new piece. Billie sat nearby, her attention drifting between her phone and your artistic endeavors.

“What are you painting this time?” she asked, her voice a soft hum that broke through your concentration. You glanced up, your heart fluttering a bit at the sight of her—messy brown hair, blue eyes sparkling with curiosity, and that relaxed look she wore when she was just being herself.

“Something colorful. But I think it needs a bit more flair,” you replied, twirling a brush in your fingers absentmindedly. “Maybe I should take a break. What do you think?”

“Definitely. You’ve been at it for hours,” she said, tilting her head in that way that always made you want to smile. “How about you paint my nails? You’re the artist here, after all.”

You raised an eyebrow, the idea sparking something playful inside you. “Are you sure you want my artistic touch on your nails? I might give you a Picasso instead of a manicure.”

She laughed, a sound that warmed the room. “Bring it on. I trust your ‘artistic’ judgment.”

With that challenge accepted, you gathered your supplies and motioned for her to come closer. Billie settled on the floor in front of you, her back resting against the couch as you pulled out a vibrant array of nail polishes.

“Alright, pick your colors,” you said, holding up the bottles like they were treasures waiting to be chosen.

She took a moment, her finger tapping her chin as she pondered. “How about… this one?” She pointed to a bright, electric green.

“Bold choice. I like it,” you said, and she smiled back at you, her excitement palpable. You couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly cool she looked, even just sitting there in an oversized hoodie and comfy shorts.

You began to apply the first coat, concentrating on the task at hand. The soft scent of nail polish filled the air, mixing with the faint smell of the paints on your table. As you painted, Billie chatted about her day, her thoughts tumbling out in that rapid-fire way of hers, and you found yourself hanging on every word.

“You know,” you started, trying to keep your tone light, “the secret to good nails is all in the technique. You’ve got to really embrace the art form.”

“Oh, is that how it works?” she teased, her eyes twinkling. “I thought it was just about looking pretty.”

“Please, it’s a delicate balance of precision and creativity,” you replied with mock seriousness, and she rolled her eyes, a grin spreading across her face. “What do you think I should paint on them? Something abstract? Maybe a portrait of you?”

“Definitely not a portrait. I don’t need that kind of pressure on my nails,” she laughed, leaning closer as you finished the first coat and set it to dry. “But I would love some flowers. You’re the artist; do your thing.”

You nodded, feeling a rush of excitement. Painting flowers was one of your favorite things. “Okay, flowers it is. But you have to promise to let me do all the designs. No more input.”

“Deal!” she said, crossing her arms dramatically.

As you worked on the design, your fingers danced with the brush, adding delicate petals and swirls of color. You could feel Billie’s gaze on you, a mix of admiration and amusement that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

“Wow, you’re really good at this,” she said, her voice softening as she watched you. “You make it look effortless.”

“Just a natural talent, I guess,” you replied, trying to sound modest but failing miserably. “Or maybe I’m just really good at pretending to know what I’m doing.”

“Either way, it’s impressive,” she said, and for a moment, the air between you thickened with an unspoken connection.

You paused, looking up from your work. “Thanks, Billie. That means a lot, coming from you.”

With the first nail complete, you leaned back to admire your handiwork—a vibrant bloom atop her fingertip. Billie wiggled her fingers, inspecting the design with delight.

“Now, that’s what I’m talking about!” she exclaimed. “It’s perfect. You should start a nail art business.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I don’t know about that. I think my calling is more about creating canvases, not decorating fingers.”

“Oh, please,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “You’re just being humble. But I get it. You want to keep all your art for yourself. I’m totally fine with being your living canvas.”

You couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. “I’ll take that as a compliment. And who knows? Maybe I’ll start charging you for this.”

She laughed, a sound that echoed in the cozy space. “I’ll pay you in hugs and hot chocolate. Fair deal?”

“Deal,” you said, feeling your heart swell at the thought of more afternoons like this—quiet, intimate, filled with laughter and creativity.

As you finished the last flower and applied a top coat, you admired the way her nails glistened. “All done! Now you can show these off to the world,” you declared.

Billie held up her hands, examining the artwork with a satisfied grin. “You’ve outdone yourself. They look amazing!”

You felt a rush of pride at her words, your fingers itching to grab your brush and paint something more. “Thanks, babe. You make a great muse.”

“Just wait until you see the masterpiece I create for you next time,” she winked, her playful tone sending a wave of warmth through you.

“Now that I can’t wait for,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

The moment stretched between you, the comfortable silence filled with unspoken feelings. You both knew there was something special about these quiet afternoons, the way they wrapped around you like a warm embrace.

“Let’s get hot chocolate now,” Billie suggested, breaking the spell. “I think my nails deserve a celebration.”

You nodded, heart racing. “Lead the way, muse.”

As you stood up and made your way to the kitchen, you couldn’t help but think that this simple moment, painting her nails, was one of the most perfect moments of your life.

[hunnylagoon]

Right Where You Left Me

Pt 4: The Sweetest Thing to Ever Scare You (Finale)

Ellie Williams x reader

I remember when I first saw you. I remember looking into your warm almond eyes and feeling butterflies in my stomach. But soon, when I looked into your eyes, I no longer felt the same warmth that I once knew. It felt as though you had killed all of the butterflies inside my stomach but yet, I still loved you.

Premise: You and Ellie are childhood best friends until you drift apart. Funny thing about soulmates is they tend to find their way back to each other. You and Ellie try to end the tireless war between you.

Warnings: Angst / drinking / violence / not really religious mentions in this one

Part one here!

Part two here!

Part three over here!

Guys I thought I posted this two days ago but I actually just saved it to drafts. Sorry for being an idiot lmao

I think that I have unlearned how to love.

That’s not even a word but there is no other way to tell you that I have turned myself cold.

Without partying to distract me and religion to fill in gaps of emptiness, I isolate myself and begin to write once again. I'm almost certain that my body has been telling me to write, that I need to pour myself into art as opposed to a girl I was friends with a million years ago.

I figure that I need to create rather than destroy but it might take me a while to do so.

The morning after I abandoned my faith on the church floor, I had woken up and expected Ellie to be gone, however, she was wide awake and playing subway surfers on her phone. Her hair is messy and her eyes are half-lidded. 

She turns to look at me when she feels the shuffling of the bedsheets; despite her doing nothing more than smile at me it is like an understanding passed between us, war is over.

Almost.

It's like I've forgotten how to be soft, I can't manage to get the words out that I need to, and the thought of it alone makes me cringe. "Breakfast?" I ask, unsure of what else to say.

Ellie passes on it and I awkwardly excuse myself, saying that I got called in to take a brunch shift at work. Of course, this is not true. What I do is get into my car and drive and drive until I get mad at myself for burning gas. 

The war between Ellie and I had ended but it didn't register in my head, I almost fell in love with it. Without the constant arguing and passive aggressiveness, there was nothing to put a wall between us and I wasn't ready to be vulnerable again. 

So I begin to feed Ellie the ugliest parts of me; I show her everything I'm sure she will hate but she doesn't, she's patient and shows me the kindness I have been looking everywhere for. Still, I am cold to her, I don't know what else to do. 

I try to push her away all over again but this time, she doesn't let me. Ellie comes into my room when I'm studying to sit on my bed so that she can be in proximity to me. Sometimes she'll ask me if I want to go for a walk or a late-night gas station run, all of the things we used to do.

When I'm angry at her, she lets it happen, she won't escalate the fight all she does is apologize and does what she can to fix it. Everything feels like it's in order again, Joel even starts to send me little text messages to check in on me and sends me Facebook memes that make him think of me.

As of now, we are setting up for Dina's twenty-first birthday. The living room, typically a space for casual gatherings and movie nights, had undergone a transformation. Vibrant streamers adorned the walls, and an array of balloons in assorted hues scattered themselves along the floor "Are balloons too childish?" Abby asks as she walks out of her bedroom.

"They better not be after I just spent half an hour doing all of these," Cat answers, giving her a scornful glare.

"They look great, Cat," I smile and give her a thumbs-up from where I am in the kitchen dumping bags of chips into bowls. "Should I make a veggie platter?"

Cat furrows her eyebrows "If you can finish it by yourself, sure."

"Cat, we aren't children, adults eat vegetables," Abby takes a seat on the couch behind Cat, investigating the hard work she's put into making the living room look nice for just one night "Isn't it weird that Dina is organizing her own surprise party?"

I shrug, placing a wooden cutting board down on the kitchen counter "I don't blame her, I don't think we've always been one hundred percent reliable, me specifically."

"But it's not a surprise if she knows about it."

"So?" Cat asks.

"So why are we calling it a surprise party if it isn't a surprise?"

"Why not?"

"Well, why can't we just call it a party?"

"I don't think it matters," I cut in, I begin to peel carrots and slice them up into quarters. Ellie comes out of her bedroom, she took a nap after completing her physics presentation, her hair in a messy bun, and she's in her typical pyjama uniform of sweats and a hoodie. "Hey, Ellie," I smile at her.

She rubs some sleep away from her green eyes "Hey," Ellie walks over to the kitchen island where I slice and chop vegetables and sits right in front of me. Even half asleep she looks like a statue of marble carved by a skilled hand.

Abby raises an eyebrow, asking 'When did you guys become friends?' without saying it and then it hits me like the plane in Lost. Ellie still hasn't told anyone about our history, our sixteen years of friendship is invisible to the eyes of those who think they know us well.

I'm broken from my thoughts when Abby speaks up "When are you picking up the cake?"

My heart drops "I'm not?"

Cat and Abby cast one another side glances while Ellie snatches a cucumber off my cutting board "Dina was handing out duties and you said you would take care of the cake."

I freeze, unsure of what to say "Nuh-uh." I shake my head like a child denying blame for breaking her mother's favourite dish.

"Yuh-huh," Cat shoots back. "How could you forget that?"

My mind fumbles for an excuse and somehow I land on "I forgot because I went temporarily insane from Lyme disease," What am I saying? "I got Lyme disease because I go camping in secret," I don't camp "And I never told you guys that I go camping because I'm deeply ashamed of it."

Now everyone looks perpetually confused, Ellie included "What are you talking about?" Abby asks, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Okay-well," I place my knife flat on the counter by the wooden cutting board, ignoring the odd spiel I just went on "I'm going to drive to-

"You dropped your car off for a suspension repair yesterday," Abby reminds me.

"Ellie is going to drive me to get a cake," I correct myself "I will be back to finish making my veggie plate." I quickly rinse my hands before grabbing Ellie's keys from the little jewelry dish on the island and yank the sleeve of her hoodie to pull her along.

Ellie doesn't say anything, she slips into some Crocs and we walk outside to her car. "Where are we headed?"

"Uh, hang on," In Ellie's passenger seat, I go on Google Maps to look up the closest bakeries that are still open at this hour, there are two, one a couple of streets away and the other one is across town and closing in twenty minutes. "Infectious Confections," I wrinkle my nose "That's a weird fucking name."

While Ellie tries to make conversation in the car I only speak when giving her directions to the bakery. She knows something is up and I can tell by the way she keeps glancing at me. I just can't manage to get it out of my head that she's still keeping me a secret. 

She pulls up to the bakery and I get out before she even turns her car off, she pulls the keys out of the ignition and trails behind me through the doors.

The bakery itself was rustic and clean, there were two display cases and tills one of the displays held danishes, croissants, cookies, scones and whatever those little swirly flakey things are called. The other display had a big chalk menu above it that read 'Cakery' Though what was in the display case was very sparse.  

"Hi," I walk up to the till, putting on the friendly smile and customer service voice that I usually only use at work. "This is pretty short notice but I was wondering if you had any cakes left or if I could get one made for today?"

The guy behind the counter is a scrawny teenager who looks like he has had a long enough day of dealing with annoying customers "We close in half an hour, there's not enough time to bake and decorate a cake." He explains it like he's said this to a million people, he's bored of the same phrases that his manager has scripted out for him.

"Any shot that someone didn't pick up their cake?" I ask, fingers crossed in the hope that he says yes.

"Let me talk to my manager," His voice drags on, and he turns around and disappears through a commercial kitchen door. I wait patiently, hands balled together in front of me as I rock back and forth on my heels. A minute or two later he comes back holding a bright blue cake with pink detailing of bows and mustaches, there's text on it that reads 'It's a...' gender reveal cake. "This is all we have left, they cancelled last minute.

I look back at Ellie to get her opinion, her eyebrows are furrowed slightly "Maybe we good just get some of those cupcakes and smush them together and smear the icing so it looks like a cake."

I wave her off "I'll buy it," I say this only because it is 5:41 and with each passing minute I am growing desperate, also I don't want Jesse to be disappointed that I fumbled the cake and ruined his girlfriend's birthday.

Angsty teenager puts the bright blue monstrosity into a cake box and charges me an absurd total for it, I bitterly tap my card on the machine. 

As I walk back out to Ellie's car I take a brief moment to look at the sky, it's the same hue as cotton candy and looks as if it had been projected from a watercolour painting, even after I get back into the car and Ellie begins to blast her old dad rock songs, I can't tear my eyes away from it.

After five minutes of silence from my end, Ellie finally asks the question that's been burning into the forefront of her brain "Why are you being weird?"

"Why haven't you told anyone that we met before we moved in together?"

Her dark eyebrows furrow "You haven't told anyone either-

"Yes, I have."

"Who?"

"Yara, Stacy, Kayla, Mitch, Nigel, Carmen, literally everyone from my work," I admit "I just haven't told people who know you personally so it can't make its way back to you because you clearly don't want people to know."

She falls silent, searching her mind for the right words. She clutches the steering wheel tight and looks dead ahead at the car's bumper-to-bumper ahead of us. "I just know how to slip it into conversation."

"I don't think it's that hard, you can just say that we were friends, you don't need to give an intricate play-by-play of everything that happened."

"Why is it important that people know if we're cool again?"

I turn my head to slowly look at her "You are the one who always said 'If we don't have honesty, we have nothing at all'," I point out.

Silence strings between us again, I almost want to throw up.

'We're cool again' Nope, not anymore, we are so very far from cool. Instead of Ellie casting me little glances as she had on the ride there, she ignores my presence almost completely while I glare daggers at her. Was she embarrassed by me? When we went to lunch together why did she lie to Dina about where she was? When she slept in my bed why did Cat ask me if I knew why Ellie came home at eight AM with nothing, not even a key? Did she crawl through my bedroom window to walk around to the front door and pretend she was just getting home?

AND WHY DIDN'T I CALL HER OUT?

She was keeping me a secret and that realization hurt worse than any injury I had ever suffered. She hasn't even told her dead who practically raised me that we lived together. 

God, we weren't even anything and she was keeping me under wraps like I was some disgraceful secret that she would get shamed for holding. The very second she approached our house, I got out of her car, she hadn't even stopped it completely but cake in hand, I hopped out of her car door and didn't look back.

I think I've had my fair share of partying.

After that month-long bender I had where I went to clubs every night and replaced food with vodka, I never wanted to even look at another solo cup full of liquor. Instead of drinking, smoking, or doing karaoke, I hide from Ellie.

I hide from her in conversations and sometimes sneak into my bedroom just to get a bit of breathing room from all of the strangers in my house. Wherever Ellie was, I was not. If she was outside, I was inside, if she was in the living room, I was in the kitchen enjoying my veggie platter. 

Have you ever been the only sober person around in a group of people? If the answer is no, have you ever babysat a houseful of toddlers? Because it's just about the same thing.

When I'm not hiding from the girl who wriggled her way back into my good graces just to trip herself off the podium, I'm cleaning up, protecting our furniture, holding back hair as girls I've never met sob into the toilet, and stopping the drunk from doing stupid things. 

"Hey, buddy," I take my can of hairspray that this frat-adjacent man is holding behind an ignited lighter "I don't think you would look good as a burn victim," His friends moan in disappointment as I do so, they were very excited to see a makeshift flamethrower; I wasn't in the mood to have my house burn down, or have a guy with peach fuzz waste my thirty dollar hair spray. 

Thirty dollars?

Note to self for later: Make smarter spending choices (And smarter relationship choices!).

I felt a tap on my shoulder only to turn around and see Dina, she wasn't drunk, just tipsy "Smile!" She holds up a camera to her eye and clicks the shudder button before I even have a chance to react the flash goes off. A large Polaroid begins to print out, Dina snatches it and shakes it until you can see my silhouette, my eyes are wide, my hair flying behind me from the quick turn of my head and I'm holding a can of hairspray angled to look like I'm going to spray the camera with it "Cute!" She smiles, tucking it into her pocket for later "Wait, I want a group picture of the roommates."

Dina takes my hand and pulls me to one of the couches where Ellie and Abby sit with some guy, she shoes him to get up and drags Cat over to replace him, she stands me in between Ellie and Abby and lightly pushes me down to sit wedged between the two.

"Jesse, please do not do me dirty with this picture," She hands the pink Polaroid camera to her boyfriend and quickly ushers herself to the far left of the couch where she bends over to kiss Cat on the cheek for the picture. Ellie and I are stiff and awkward when the flash goes off. 

After the picture is taken, Ellue turns to face me just the slightest "Hey, I think we should talk-

"I think it's time for cake!" I push myself off the couch and usher myself to the kitchen. 

I pull the cake out of the fridge, looking at what I had done to salvage it; Below the part that said 'It's a...' I wrote '21 year old!' in chocolate pre-made Betty Crocker icing that I had in the fridge for months, it didn't look the best, but it could've been worse.

Dina, of course, cackles when she sees it. To her, it is the funniest thing she's seen all night. I stick the candles in and light it with the light I confiscated from peach fuzz frat boy and push the cake towards Dina after tucking the light back into my pocket, she is illuminated in the glow of iPhone flash all filming her.

"Make a wish!"

Age Sixteen- Grade 11

I think back to how embarrassing it felt to be thoughtful.

How fragile I felt when I would share my feelings and how frail I seem when I do it now. Ellie was always tougher than I was, in rugby, in fights, just in general. That's why I figured she would be taking it better than me when I cut contact, once again I have been proven wrong.

"Conner, can we please just leave?" I pleaded with my then-boyfriend. The night had started fine but after a couple of drinks Ellie and I were becoming increasingly hostile to one another, it wasn't my intention to speak to her but the universe forced my hand when we were shoved into a circle of our friends and made to converse around the bonfire at the beach.

The salty breeze carried the sounds of laughter and the gentle crashing of waves, the scent of roasted marshmallows wafted through the air.

 "What, you need your boyfriend's permission or something?" Ellie held a can of berry blast Smirnoff, staring into my soul from the other side of the fire, the sparks glitter through the night like fireflies. Her words don't feel too bad but they don't feel too good either.

I cast her a glare before I looked back to my boyfriend "Please?" 

He is getting perpetually annoyed with me he shrugs away from my grasp, "Fuck off, we just got here," He mutters, Conner must think I couldn't hear it. He had already downed three Bud lights and a couple of shots of cheap vodka, now he is nursing another beer in hand. 

"Excuse me?" I say, narrowing my eyes. Everyone around the fire pauses their conversation to tune into mine. "Come on," I stand up and try to pull him along so we can have a conversation away from the prying eyes of our friends.

I can't pull the mass of the 6'2 quarterback along with me but he obliges and follows me where I yank him. As I drag him along the rest of the group giggle and makes jokes along the lines of 'Trouble in paradise' but Ellie is the only one who doesn't jump back into mindless conversation, her unnerving eyes are still on me while I chew my boyfriend out by the shoreline. 

"Why do I have to leave just because you're feeling a little bummed out?" 

I'm almost floored at out someone can lack so much empathy "Because you're my boyfriend?" I can feel myself tensing up.

"Why does that mean you can't get up and leave on your own?" He defends "You begged me to come here and now I just wanna down a couple of beers and hang out with my friends."

"You've already drank like twenty!" I retort.

"It's a fucking party!" Conner says, raising his voice "It's a party and it's summer and you're seriously trying to tell me not to have fun?"

"Fuck!" I shout in frustration "Why don't you ever call me? Why can't you ever let me in?" The argument is quickly escalating "Why didn't you tell me that you kissed Tamar and why haven't you told me that you love me?"

"Because I don't."

My words fail me. I knew he didn't, I knew that he hardly even liked me. My dad had thought so highly of him, she said he was the type of guy to rescue a baby from a burning building but as I look at him now, I figure that he eats babies.

I almost open my mouth to say something different, almost, but I don't. The rest of my life might have turned out differently if I didn't, I might've been able to salvage the rotting corpse of my relationship with Ellie but I didn't. "Fine," I say, voice calm and quiet "Let's stay."

Before that night I had never really gotten drunk but the second I got back to the bonfire, I was digging through the cooler and shotgunning canned Smirnoff. "Woah," Riley laughs "Someone's finally being a bad influence."

I got myself so shit-faced that when everyone else got up to dance to the music blaring through the Bluetooth speaker, I sat by myself at the shoreline, looking bitterly out towards to ocean while the tides crash at my feet and get sucked back into the ocean. For a moment I think about jumping in and letting my lax body get washed away and sink beneath the surface until I wash up as a water-bloated corpse that some nine-year-old will find when they're beach combing.

My mouth tastes like peroxide and blood, my lungs burn with a red-hot pain. The wind is becoming increasingly harsh and I ignore the hair that is tangled into my golden hoop earrings.

"Wow, you look awful," I don't need to turn around to know who it is.

"Can you just fuck off?" I say "I don't give a shit about you, just leave me alone."

She always had to antagonize me, Ellie went out of her way to stray from the group and bother me. It had something to do with the alcohol in her system. Despite her alleged hatred for me, she takes a seat next to me regardless.

"Fuck, you're so sensitive," She scoffs "I don't know why you're dating him, I'm not even sure why you'd want to fuck him unless you're too lazy to jerk off-

My hands think before my head and I deck Ellie right in the side of her face, getting a solid hit to her cheekbone. My hand flies over my mouth "I'm sorry, I-

Ellie doesn't waste any time in lunging back at me, she pushes me down by my shoulders until my back is in the shallow of the water that moments ago just splashed at my feet and takes a swing. The impact of her punch almost knocks me sober.

I take a sharp inhale, grabbing her elbows and pulling her down to where she was the one on her back and I was the one straddling her. I land one last blow to her nose, I hear a crunch and the panic immediately sends me scrambling to my feet. My eyes go wide at the blood dripping down, her face I turn to run but Ellie is faster, she grabs me by my hair and yanks me down further into the water with her. 

"Fucking cunt!" I cry, though my scream is drowned out by the overwhelmingly loud tides crashing on the shore "Get the fuck off me!" 

Ellie is better at fighting than I am, I had never been on this side of her before, usually, I had been the one to drag her away from fights but now I am the one who is going to stumble home numb from the devastating pain.

Frankly, I'm fucking scared.

She continues to drag me by my hair until I'm knee-deep in the water with her, she almost throws her entire weight into me, dunking me beneath the surface where her bony hands snake around my neck. My eyes have gone blurry with the salt water, they sting and burn. I can't see anything, all I can do is uselessly thrash beneath her. My hands push against her face, trying to pry her off my body. 

Eventually, I manage to claw her face with my fingernails, I dig deep enough that it breaks skin and she recoils just enough for me to knee her in the stomach and let me get out from under her. Just as I try to slip away she reaches for my hair again, but instead of tugging on my hair, she rips out my gold hoop earring. I screech out in agony, hand reaching for where the metal sliced through the lobe of my ear, I shudder in pain; my cries are now jagged and harsh.

This is the exact moment Ellie begins to regret what she's done. "Fuck, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to." Her tone softens and she tries to approach me but I back away from her like a frightened dog.

"Get away from me!" Despite the pain surging in my body, I find the strength in me to hit her again, she staggers back tripping into the water. I hit her so hard that I feel a crack in my knuckle and I yelp out in the immediate shock of pain. 

I wasn't sure when the others had noticed this was happening probably because my vision had gone blurry from salt water and adrenaline but before Ellie could hit me again, she was being restrained by Riley and Kennedy while some guy who I had probably had two conversations with dragged my back to shore.

I keel over on my hands and knees and begin to start retching onto the sand. Laila rubs a gentle hand on my back, my hair sticking wet on my forehead. A seagull, disturbed by the commotion, took flight, its wings cutting through the charged air. 

Next to the pile of vomit I just heaved, blood drips down from my ear, pooling and then soaking into the sand. My neck swells from what is still the raw sensation of Ellie closing her hands around it. 

I look up at Ellie, there is blood that has dripped its way into her mouth, clinging to her white teeth. She has what almost looks like a cat scratch running down her cheek, blood begins to prick and spill from the lacerations.

She stares back at me and we don't say a word but we understand each other clearly, I never want to see you again.

"Let's go," Ellie grabs my arm as Dina begins to slice the cake "We're gonna fix this right now."

"Ellie, there are so many people here," I say in a hushed tone so people can't hear me.

"I don't mean here," She looks at me, face expressionless "Just get in my car."

"Excuse me?" I say, tone accusing "Did you just order me to get in your car?"

"Fuck," She sighs, dropping my wrist to rub her hands down her face "Please can you get in my car so we can work this through."

"There's nothing to work through," I retort "You're embarrassed by me or you still secretly hate me and that's fine, I meant what I said on winter break about the lease, the second it's up, I'm getting the fuck out of here."

"What? No, don't- just," She takes a breath, reevaluating what to say "I have a point to make but I can't make it unless you get in my car."

We stare at each other for a moment, I narrow my eyes and she is still unmoving. Every scenario runs through my head of what could be waiting for me in that car.

"Fine."

I sit silently in her passenger seat, my knees are pulled into my chest and I rest my chin on them. Ellie doesn't say anything either as she drives. I watch each traffic light pass me, every street name to try and make sense of where we are going.

I almost feel like I'm going to suffocate beneath the silence of everything going left unsaid.

When I spot the boardwalk up ahead, I know exactly where she's taking me "Ellie, why are we at the beach?" I give her a side glance "Do I need to take out my earrings?"

Heat rises to her cheeks when I say this, "Not yet," She jokes, getting out of her car and grabbing a tote bag from the back seat, and I follow in tow.

We walk past the boardwalk and onto the sandy beach, I'm already not feeling whatever she's doing; there is sand filling up my Converse and a slight wind chill, I'm really wishing I had a hoodie right now. "Can you tell me what we're doing yet?" I'm hugging myself in an attempt to stay warm "If we're still walking on the beach why couldn't we have just walked on the boardwalk instead? It literally has walk in the name." I'm already going off on one of my tangents.

She still walking ahead of me but she briefly turns around to face me "Can you just stop asking questions for a minute?"

"Okay, whatever," I mutter, trailing behind her still. I can hardly see in the night, the only light to guide us is the moon and the warm ceiling lamps from restaurants along the boardwalk. I can vaguely see Ellie's silhouette, she's outlined by the gentle glow radiating off the moon, I try my best not to stumble over things poking out of the sand that have been lost to sight by darkness. 

"Okay," Ellie stops, "Here we are."

"Where are we?" I ask "I can't see shit, I don't know where here is."

Ellie digs around in her pocket for her phone and turns on a flashlight and it reveals a small iron firepit that was cemented into a slab of concrete in the sand. She hands me her phone so I can keep the flash on her and she can see what she's doing. 

She pulls out some pages ripped out from her notebook "Can you hand me your lighter?"

My eyebrows furrowed, and I felt around in my pocket wondering if I even had one. I did, it had slipped my mind that I still had the bic lighter that I confiscated from Peach Fuzz. I hand the lighter to her and watch as she tucks the pages beneath logs that were in the firepit before we arrive, they are somewhat charred but still viable.

She flicks the lighter to ignite it and the paper catches immediately. The initial flicker grew into a tentative blaze, licking at the edges of the kindling. The crackling sound echoed through the night. 

Once she is sure the fire can survive without her feeding it, she steps away. "Alright, let's have it out."

"Like sex?" I scrunch up my nose.

"Oh my god, no, like let's talk this through." She pinches her nose bridge, taking a breath in before exhaling and putting her hand back down "We're gonna recreate the night of the bonfire how it should've been," Ellie reached back into her bag and pulled out two white claws "I snagged these from Dina's party, sorry this was kind of last minute."

I can't help the smile that grows on my face, I take one of the white claws and crack it open "I don't know how authentic this is gonna be if there isn't any canned Smirnoff."

I think back to exactly how that night played out and I take a seat on the sand, facing the crashing dark ocean. I sip my white claw, as expected Ellie takes a seat next to me, just what happened on the actual night.

"Wow," She says "You look really pretty and I'm an idiot for ever saying you looked awful," Ellie looks gorgeous illuminated by the orange light of the fire, and the breeze causes her flyaway hairs to drift in the wind. "I'm an asshole for pretending that I didn't know you, I was scared I would get hurt again and take it to heart like I did last time. I promise the second we get home that I'll come clean."

I don't know if I can deal with this sugary philosophy. She's being so sweet that it's rotting my teeth.

"Ellie," I say gathering my thoughts, it was so hard being honest with my feelings, it felt like I would get hospitalized if I showed any emotion. "I was so in love with you in high school that it killed me, and I was terrified that my parents would throw me out well, they did- but that's why I pushed you away and there isn't a day that goes by where I don't regret it." 

The surprise on her face morphs into a soft smile "What about now?" she asks "Do you still love me?"

I shrug, it's honest "I dunno, but I think there's room to try."

She looks from me to the ocean and the way the moonlight glitters off the surface "What happened next?" Ellie toys with the tab of her drink "Did you hit me?"

"Yeah," I say softly, following her gaze out to the waters "But if we're doing the night how it should've been, I'd rather just kiss you."

Ellie turns her head back to look at me. She shoves her white claw into the sand then takes my face into one of her hands and kisses me like it's her job, so tender and carefully like she's afraid I will break beneath pressure.

How weak have I become? My heart is so full of her that I can hardly call it my own.

A/N: Be grateful for this ending because I was very tempted to give you guys an unhappy one. Sorry that I forgot to post this lol, I’m sad this series is over but excited to show you all my next one which may be the angst-iest yet 👀

Thanks for reading!

Tag list: @elliesaturnsoftdrink @elliesaesp @melanie-watermelon @yalaysbee @laundrybag29 @readbydayana @skylerwhitwyo @lmaoo-spiderman @joliettes @kittnii @taylorgracies @sameenatruther @mikellie @belles-hell @fullmachinegirl @eveshyper @whosmica

[stringsbasement]

Your art of peri and your Villain AU of him? perfection. I read your twt thread and I'm greedy for more, im so serious like If there was a 100k word fanfic of your au I would read it in a heartbeat!! THATS how much im obsessed with the concept

thank you so much! i didn't expect there to be so much interest in my thoughtless doodles and rambles. luckily, i already have a draft for a rant i formulated about this version of peri's possible motivations, and now i have an excuse to share it!!

also, as a bonus, have this silly doodle :)

[his hairstyle is his attempt to separate himself from his parents, but no matter what he does with it, he can never get it to sit without that stray tuft and curl at the very end.

also, his bowtie is in reference to chloe and my initial art of irep before his design was revealed. the latter almost makes it seem like they "swapped roles."]

the thing is, it's hard to imagine peri as someone purposefully wanting to harm others for his own pleasure. for a "bad" au of peri to occur, he'd have to take after timmy, and seek chaos the same way he did

now, timmy is a good person at heart. his fairies love him, and he loved them in turn. that's undeniable. however, timmy was so stressful he affected cosmo and wandas marriage, and they had to retire right after him to rekindle their love and stop being so awful towards each other. timmy was simultaneously one of the best and worst things to ever happen to them

so it's not that much of a stretch to think he'd affected peri during his development, to the point he unknowingly influenced peri's core beliefs, which he'll carry over later in life

timmy used his fairies to escape from his regular life. he was incredibly reckless, and shirked responsibilities till the consequences got him back tenfold. a dangerous, but fulfilling way of living. he might've mellowed out in the later years, but considering he chose to keep vicky around to purposefully make himself miserable and keep his fairies instead of facing reality, maturity wouldn't be a straight or easy path

peri, adopting this way of thinking, believes the best way to live life is taking risks. ignoring your present problems in favor of escapism. he would insist this upon his godchild, and be blind to the complex nuance of dev's situation

dev's parental neglect differs from timmy's, and thus requires different treatment. but peri doesn't realize that, and dev is a child who cannot comprehend how awful he really has it, let alone communicate it in a way that isn't just lashing out and throwing tantrums

for classic peri, this is an annoyance. for this peri though? he'll enable it, because he thinks dev needs to get it out of his system. like timmy. which is in some way correct, but it's a flawed, only temporary solution

and it's in this way a path of deeper exploration opens up about characters similar to cookie, highlighting how flawed the godparent system can be when a child is assigned a godparent who cannot fulfill what they truly need

starting a ghost apocalypse is nothing compared to the wishes that has been granted before. and, honestly, dev taking viozalia's staff to use against her is a clever move. this peri wouldn't be downtrodden like he was in the original scene, but impressed. he would say as such, and dev, being the emotionally starved 10 year old he is, will soak those words up like a dry sponge

(slightly off topic: i like to think a little quirk this peri would have is, instead of looking to da book of rules for guidance, (cosmo, wanda, and his classic self do this multiple times in the show when in unique situations,) he'd be searching for anything that states what can't he do. "what to do when your god kid tries to start a ghost apocalypse... nothing? sweet!")

this would naturally allow him and dev to bond a little more. even if it's just shit talking other people and how they're totally better than everyone else

it doesn't mean they get along splendidly. dev is still pissed that he can't make the wishes he wants, and peri overcompensates by allowing him to throw himself into situations that just narrowly avoids sanction. because, oh yeah, peri would not appreciate being forced to follow the rules which includes wiping the godchild's memories after the godparent's term has passed

(if anything, he'll find a loophole out of it. he learned from the best, after all)

this is also where peri's spoiled nature would shine through. being offered everything just because he was a baby would make anyone entitled

he and dev are too similar for their own good. they have have access to anything they could ask for, but are unable to get love from one person they want it from. it's almost pitiful

to keep those thoughts out of dev's (and his own) mind, peri resorts to pushing dev out of his comfort zone, which would ordinarily be a good thing, only, he goes way too far to the point of regression

you know, it really doesn't help that dev looks a lot like timmy. i mean, look at them...

that's timmy with slicked back hair and a white jacket. c'mon

but even with all of this, peri doesn't really become a villain. he's antagonistic at most, with his strained relationship with his parents and his help in making things harder for hazel. luckily, the latest episode has given me a few ideas

when peri inevitably comes to care for dev, he'll obviously has to do something about his constant unhappiness. dev has a point in complaining about the fact hazel has two godparents and he only has one, even when his life is "worse" (another unhealthy way of thinking,)

hmmmm. so how can dev have two fairy godparents, and how can peri break da rules without putting himself at risk?

who other than a mirror of peri's own self?

a shift inevitably took place, one where peri became more intense and irep more soft. it's so subtle it goes unnoticed until thousands of years have passed

irep has become timid, soft, and well-meaning. if peri either quits his position or gives way for another slot and puts dev under a sort of split-custody, dev will be able to use anti-fairy magic, which can completely bypass any of the rules regular fairy magic is withholden to

irep will get what he wants as well. in this post, i answered an ask in which i speculate that irep genuinely does want a godchild, and the love and appreciation that comes with it. that much would stay the same for this au

and, well, unlike irep, peri has always been willing to share

this would make way for a bunch of whacky hijinks, potential plots, and new threats. consequences piling up until they become too huge to ignore. not to mention the full implications of a fairy and anti-fairy switching roles. of course, this is just a fun idea i came up with on the spot, and i haven't thought it out too much, so pointing out any plot holes that would come from this is appreciated!

i have more to say, mainly about peri and his parents' initial separation, as well as the parallels that can be found with this version of peri and hazel, but i feel it would be best to end it here :)

thank you for making me write all of this!

[6okuto]

I LOVE YOU (NOT IN A CLICHÉ WAY)

akaashi x gn!reader | a love letter from him to you! i forgot i wrote this for myself as a supposed birthday surprise so. i guess that worked out for me

the thing about clichés is that at some point, you stop feeling anything at the sight of them.

yearning, infatuation, love so tender and whole that it wrapped around someone completely and sunk deep, deep, deep into their skin and bones, into their veins where they felt it was the same as the oxygen already flowing through—i need you like i need air to breathe.

the same idea repeated over and over until the point of akaashi’s current existence—where he sits, favourite blue gel pen in hand, with at least seven crumpled pieces of paper in the bin next to his desk and the light of his lamp more of a headache than anything—until it no longer feels like enough for whatever he feels for you.

he curses every film and novel for making oxygen too little, too mundane of a comparison for how fundamental you are to his existence.

five hours. five hours he’s been sitting here, reading poetry and writing drafts and bullet points of what he wanted to say, utterly failing at writing a single coherent paragraph. but he couldn’t afford to fail, not this time. this birthday was more important than any other before—it was the first of your birthdays together as a couple.

definitely not the first together, period. keiji thinks if he didn’t meet you when he was thirteen, he’d have turned out to be someone completely different.

and after so many years, everything about you came naturally to him. it was to the point that other friends and acquaintances had come up to him before with questions about gifts for you. you already had a mug with that design, you weren’t a fan of the shirt’s texture, and you could be picky about art of that character, but he could send some of your favourite artists for reference. the person who knew you best, second to no one but you, was akaashi keiji.

he has been since you were fifteen years old.

so the fact that he’s sat here for hours, failing, is a blemish on his record.

he refuses to call it a phenomenon because that word makes it seem so grand, when in reality his situation makes him so incredibly frustrated it was more of a curse. it was an ugly, annoying, unbelievable stain on his identity and soul because for fuck’s sake, shouldn’t it be easier now as your boyfriend?

not only does he know your different laughs and the way your lips wobble while you try to hide it, now he knows how it feels when you try to stifle the noise in the crook of his neck, a smile pressed against his skin. he knows the feeling of your fingers intertwined between his while walking through the farmer’s market, and raking through his hair after he’s showered while it’s soft and fluffy the way you adore. he knows the taste of your favourite lip balm against his lips, what it sounds like when you hum or giggle as you’re pressed against his body and your arms are wrapped around his neck. he could pick you out in a line up of people blindfolded if asked, just by the way you hugged him.

it should be easier for him than anyone else, because you weren’t just his oxygen—you were part of him.

but even that was another cliché.

keiji lets his head hit the desk, hands coming up to pull at the roots of his hair while a loud groan escapes his lips.

“should i learn how to bake?” he mutters to himself before grimacing. “watch me bake a cake and give the love of my life food poisoning. incredible plan. what the hell is in a cake? what would i even put on it? awful cursive lettering?”

no one talked about the pressure that came with the first birthday in a relationship. why is this not a more pressing specific situation for newly dating people? why did no one tell him he’d feel like a heavy rock rested on his chest at the thought of disappointing you not only as a friend but as a boyfriend. he thinks he could die.

he can’t, won’t, die, but you’ll get home from your friend’s place in only a couple of hours and he’s running out of time (not really. he’s doing this a week early, but he set a schedule for himself and it’s the principle of the thing.)

“fuck it,” he murmurs. “whatever, whatever. let what happens happen, and if it’s bad i’ll just…internally die.”

resolute, keiji puts his pen to the page and starts writing before the ink can bleed.

hi.

i’ve written drafts of this too many times already. maybe i shouldn’t tell you that so it seems like i’m a natural romantic, but it probably doesn’t surprise you that i’ve crumpled up a lot of paper in the last couple of hours because i tried avoiding being too cliché. but if i’m being honest i love you so much it feels like a cliché in and of itself. so i guess i’ll just lean into it and write whatever comes to mind.

i love you. i love you. i love you. i love you.

i love waking up to you every morning. i love cooking breakfast with you. i love wearing the “kiss the chef” apron kuroo gave us so i have an excuse to ask for a kiss on the cheek, even though i know you’d kiss me without it.

i love listening to you talk about your day and seeing the photos you took with friends. i love when you send me pictures while you’re out and ask what i think about your outfit. sorry i’m bad at knowing what to say, i’m really not lying when i say i think you always look nice. i know that isn’t super helpful when you’re being indecisive, but i hope i’ve gotten better over the years? i feel like i have but if you want to disagree i guess i’ll accept since it’s your birthday.

i love when you ask if i want to go out somewhere with you. i love sending you places and things i think you’ll enjoy. i love seeing how excited you get and i love surprising you with them a few weeks later. i love seeing our gifts for each other and souvenirs around the apartment every day i come home.

i love taking care of you, even when you think i shouldn’t, when you think you’re a burden for me. i’ll do the chores when you’re tired. i’ll get in the bath with you and wash and dry you, no matter how long it takes. i’ll dress you if you ask me to, let you steal my bracelets and slippers when you want them. i’ll make sure the bed is cold but the blanket is warm so you can cuddle beside me. i love being the person you come home to, and i hope i make it worthwhile every time.

you’ve always been there to remind me you love me, even when i think you shouldn’t, that it’s impossible that you do. so i hope you know i feel the same way about you, that i’ll love you despite what your head might say, and even if the world would end because of it.

i love being with you. even after a decade together, i only love you more and more.

and i do need you like oxygen. i need you like plants need the sun. you’re my favourite person, you’re my safe place, you’re my home. you’re my better half and your own person that just happens to fit with me. you’re my soulmate and also someone i was just lucky enough to meet. you fit every possible cliché and trope i can think of. every single one is true, which makes me think maybe you’re the kind of person old poets and writers were inspired by. they’re not around though, so i hope i can be enough.

happy birthday :) i’d say i hope we only get to spend more together, but at this point you couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried. (please don’t try though i’ll cry.) so instead, i hope every birthday is as warm and bright as you. i hope you remember i’m here with you, and always will be. every midnight you get a little older, all the way until the end. as cliché as all of this might sound, i love you forever,

keiji writes your name especially careful, making sure it sits perfectly on the line and each pen stroke is clean. then he draws a little heart beside you before signing off with his own name, and letting out a deep breath. his fingers tremble a little when he finally puts the pen down.

there’s blue ink on his hand, and he thinks there might be some on his temple from forgetting to unclick his pen. but it’s a problem for nightly routine keiji to wash off, not him now.

the letter would sit in a gift bag for another week, but then it would be in your hands. it wasn’t proofread—he could have spelt his own name wrong at the end and no one would know until then. but he can’t bring himself to reread it this time. maybe because he’s tired or doesn’t want to feel cheesy, maybe so it feels more romantic, more raw. maybe because at the end of the day, whether you loved the letter so much you framed it on your bedroom wall, or you accidentally spilled water and rendered every word illegible, he’d have you anyway. and you’d have him.

and he’d just write another one, once again filled with clichés and an embarrassing amount of i love you’s, as long as you’d let him.

pleak pretend this letter really is for u. it's half of this post come onnn it's for u now. happy birthday! i love u i love u i love u i love u (4 so it isn't a cliche) mwah

[moonlightazriel]

The family we choose /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: It has always been Azriel and Aiden against the world, but what will happen when the new school years begin and his son talks about this amazing teacher every day?

Warnings: None, just fluff cuz why not?

Word Count: 3,1K

Notes: Fucking finally, this has been sitting on my drafts for a while and i love this idea.

Main Masterlist

“DADDY!” Aiden yelled, raising from his spot beside Feyre and rushing to get to him, he lowered to his level and waited for the little boy, he threw himself into his father’s arms, and Azriel wrapped his arms around him, giving him a tight squeeze. 

“Hey, buddy! How was school?” His son rushed back to the table, Feyre, Nyx, and a lot of art supplies were waiting for him, he grabbed a piece of paper and ran back to him to show him the drawing.

“Miss Y/L asked us to draw our family.” Azriel looked closely at the figures, the 6-year-old had done a great job, he could see himself, Cassian, Nesta with a huge pregnant belly, Rhys, Feyre, Nyx, Mor, Emerie, Gwyn, Elain, and Lucien.  

“That’s a beautiful drawing, you have a lot of talent.” He complimented.

“Aunt Feyre helped me make this drawing so I could give it to Miss Y/L, I really hope she likes it.” The flower bouquet was painted on a piece of parchment paper, Feyre had done the drawing but Aiden had painted it. 

“She’s going to love it Den, but why don’t you and Nyx play in the garden while the adults talk?” Feyre suggested as she started to gather the supplies from the table, Aiden looked at Azriel and he nodded, the two boys happily smiled and started to rush outside. “He really loves this teacher.” She said and Azriel got to her side, helping her clean. 

“Did he start with the never-ending rant about how amazing and beautiful she is?” She nodded. “You don’t think he’s projecting the feeling he had for his mother on her, do you?”

“Well, I can’t say for sure Az, Nyx likes her too, a lot, sometimes feels like he likes her more than me.” She giggled, rolling her eyes. “Maybe she’s just a really good teacher and there’s nothing to do with his mom.” Azriel nodded.

He had met Laurie in an Illyrian camp 10 years ago, and it was love at first sight, they lived like a happy couple until she met her mate, and decided that it was a good idea to leave Azriel with their 1-year-old son. 3 years ago, the news of her death reached him in Velaris, it was a tough blow that he wasn’t expecting but he slowly got over it, he had to, for his son. Ever since he does everything he can to make sure that his son is happy, and focused his life on him, even if his family tried to tell him that he should live his life too.

“She’s all he talks about ever since they started the school year, you have no idea how many times he asked if he could pick “Aunt Elain’s beautiful flowers”  to give them to her.” Feyre looked at him and smiled. 

“Let him be Az, it’s probably just a phase.” He nodded.

“Thanks for everything Fey, you’re amazing.” He said giving her a quick hug and kissing her temple.

“Get your hands off my High Lady.” Rhysand spoke with a smile on his face from the doorway. Azriel stepped back with his hands in the air. 

“I’m already on my way, don’t need to get all overprotective.” Rhys playfully slapped his back while he walked outside to get Aiden. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“Do you want to eat something?” Azriel asked his son as they walked around Velaris.

“My belly is full Daddy, Miss Y/L brought us the best cookies in the world, she made them.” The toddler happily spoke. “She said that she will teach us how to make them, she’s so nice, I really like her.”

“That’s awesome buddy, you just have to be careful around the fire.” He warned his son.

“Yes Daddy, cuz the fire hurts if we get too close.” He repeated the words Azriel had told him ever since Aiden started to crawl, his son was perfect, and he didn’t want him to be marked like he was, he didn’t need any scars on his perfect brown skin.

Aiden was a copy of him, with the same eyes, the same hair color, the same skin tone, and huge wings behind his back, and even if he could understand his father’s shadows just as perfectly as Azriel did, he had none, at least not yet. 

The two kept walking until they reached the townhouse, Rhys knew how Azriel loved that house and decided to give it to him as a gift, it was good enough for him and Aiden and he was happy that his brother made him the owner, he took good care of that house. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Azriel brushed his wet hair, spraying some perfume on his neck and chest as he got ready for the school meeting, the teachers requested to talk about the student's progress and how the parents could help with their learning. Aiden was already ready, playing in the living room as he readied himself, a simple black shirt, pants, boots, and truth-teller strapped on his thigh, his siphons glowed as he looked at himself in the mirror once again. 

His son was really excited for him to meet his teacher finally, and even Azriel was curious, Aiden had practically dragged him across the street towards the school, the little boy was rambling all the way, and when he saw his cousin, he left Azriel behind to go play with Nyx.

“Someone is super happy.” Rhys said as Az approached him, the two kids were running around now.

“You have no idea.” He replied looking around, the kids were running and most parents just waited for the reunion, Azriel tried to spot who he thought was Miss Y/L, in his mind, he was looking for an old, kind fae, with white hair and granny coats, weren’t all teachers like that after all?

Faes started to come to the parents to lead them to the classrooms, they followed a male as he guided the way, the classroom was decorated with flowers, and kids' drawings, books, and toys were all over the place, and in the corner, in the front part of the classroom a female stood, she was beautiful, her hair was in a braid behind her back, she was wearing a long dress, and she had the prettiest smile in the world, she looked at Azriel and he swore he could see the world shining brighter as she looked at him, she couldn’t be…..

“Miss Y/L!” Aiden yelled, running past them and jumping in the female's arms, she lifted him from the ground, laughing with him.

“Hi Den, did you bring your daddy as I asked?” She spoke, her voice was calm and airy, and hearing her talk made Azriel feel like he was walking on clouds.

“Yup!” The toddler proudly nodded and pointed at Azriel who still stood in the doorway. “Daddy, this is Miss Y/L.” He happily said as the female walked closer to him. 

Of course, everyone in Velaris knew who the Spymaster was, but it was something entirely different seeing him in person for the first time, the tall male was absolutely breathtaking, he was wearing the simplest clothes on earth and yet he looked perfect, the cobalt gems adorning his body, to contain his powers, glowed as he looked her up and down. 

Y/N felt her cheeks getting hot as she approached the male, his eyes still glued to hers, she could feel the sparks of electricity as she held his gaze, extending a hand in his direction.

“I’m Y/N.” She managed to say, her voice more steady than she expected, good!

“Azriel. I’ve heard a lot about you.” The male chuckled and Y/N felt her knees go weak at the sound.

“Oh, i could say the same about you, little Aiden here loves his father more than anything else.” The little boy held his father’s hand while he blushed. “What about you take your Daddy to your seat and we’ll talk more later?” She lowered to Den’s level and he nodded, pulling his father to the empty seat in front of her desk. She went to greet other parents that arrived in the classroom. 

“I wasn’t expecting that AT ALL.” Rhysand spoke as Azriel approached him, Nyx and Aiden sat side by side in class, he smiled at that, loving how close the cousins were like they saw each other as brothers the same way their parents did.

“What?” Rhys gave him a knowing look and he rolled his eyes.

“That she would be this pretty, guess I was expecting an old lady.” Azriel scoffed.

“Don’t let Feyre hear you, or you might sleep on the couch tonight.” Rhysand laughed and the two males looked at her while she spoke about the class progress. One by one, the parents approached her to speak about their children, they were the last ones in the classroom when she came to speak with them.

“High Lord!” She bowed a little. “Thank you two for coming in today. The boys are absolutely wonderful, they’re the top ones in class, but I’m afraid that they have some trouble with maths, I’ve been giving them extra exercises but maybe you two could keep an eye on that, and see why they’re struggling with that.” 

“Of course, do you teach privately?” Rhysand asked, saying that she could teach a thing or two to Azriel in his mind, Azriel slightly shoved the High Lord and Rhysand suppressed a laugh.

“I do! If you need me just contact the school and they will let me know.” She smiled at them, and Azriel felt his chest fill with warmth with that.

“Thanks, Y/N.” He said, and the two said their goodbyes leaving her behind.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Azriel rushed through the school corridors, opening the door to the nurse’s office, he almost fell to his knees as he spotted Y/N sitting in the corner, Aiden was in her lap, he was holding his little arm, and his cheeks were red from crying, his head was resting against her chest and she had her cheek pressed against his forehead, whispering a song to calm him down. The way his son grabbed her like she was the only person that could keep him safe, made Azriel’s heart bleed, the two turned their head to him.

“He fell while playing in the garden, the healer said that his arm just hurts cuz he fell on top of it, it’s not broken, and he’ll be okay. He’s just scared.” Azriel kneeled in front of them, and Den’s puffy red eyes locked with his, he grabbed his son, cradling him to his chest, kissing the top of his head. She still looked worried, like she was about to cry, the only people that worried that much about his son, were his family. 

“Thank you so much for always taking care of him.” His voice was shaken, and the shadows around him still moved frantically, assessing Aiden for any injuries she could not be aware of.

“There’s nothing to thank me for, Aiden is a special boy, it’s my pleasure to take care of him.” She said gently, rubbing the toddler's back, Aiden was already sleeping in his father’s arms.

“No modesty please, let me pay you a coffee, I insist.” Azriel didn’t know why, but he wanted her to understand how much he appreciated her for all her care for his son. He could see that she was inclined to accept, so he talked again. “Meet me tomorrow morning at the Oak Alcove, by the Rainbow. At 9!” He said, thanking her once more, grabbing his son’s backpack, and leaving without waiting for an answer, he just hoped she would show up. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Y/N walked between the tables trying to spot the Shadowsinger, she was wearing a simple dress, and she rubbed her sweaty hands in the soft fabric for the third time, she gave another look around before she saw a hand raised in the air, Azriel was wearing leather clothes, the breath got caught in her throat as she looked at him, absolutely beautiful.

“You came.” He smiled at her, getting up to pull the chair for her, she sat, thanking him. She didn’t know if it was just a coincidence, but the Oak Alcove was her favorite coffee shop in Velaris, the soft breeze from the Sidra, the smell of flowers, the soft music, it was a magical place. 

“I did.” She laughed. “ It’s not often that I get to go to my favorite coffee shop for free.” She joked. 

“And here was i, thinking we would split the bill.” He rested a hand on his heart, pretending to be hurt and she liked that, everyone just saw him as a serious and stoic male, which was intimidating, but the way he smiled, a sight that she was sure wasn’t often people saw, made her heart melt. 

Azriel was a pleasant male, the way he softly spoke, his wide knowledge of everything, his passion for literature, he was really much more than the eyes could see. The time flew as they got to know each other better, now she understood why Aiden loved him so much, the Shadowsinger was sweet, gentle, wonderful, her heart skipped a beat every 5 seconds, and she tried to stop blushing like a little girl every time he smiled in her direction.

“This was fun.” She said after he stated that he should leave, he had plans with his son. 

“It was.” He got closer to her as they walked away. He walked her to her house, not far away from the coffee shop. “I was hoping we could do it again if it’s okay for you.” Her heart came to a stop in her chest.

“I would love to, Azriel. See you around.” The way she spoke his name, it was a sweet melody.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“She’s wonderful.” He said, stretching his wings, the glass of liquor dancing in between his fingers, Rhysand smiled and Cassian entered the office. 

“What’s happening?” Rhys served him a glass as well.

“Azzie here is in love with Den’s teacher.” Cassian whispered a “NO WAY!” shuffling his onyx hair, making Azriel growl at him.

“I’m not in love with her.” He sipped on his drink. “Yet!” The trio laughed. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Azriel knew he was wrapped around her fingers when he kept going to the school every day, just to see her smile, just like his son, he would bring her flowers, he would take her out, after suffering because of Laurie, he was ready to open his heart again, especially for someone like her, she was perfect for him and he was ready to take their relationship to the next level. 

“Where are you going daddy?” Aiden asked as Azriel fixed his tie in the mirror.

“I’m going out with Mrs.Y/L, you like her, right?” He pulled his son closer.

“Yes, she’s amazing.”

“Would you like it if she was Daddy’s girlfriend?” His little eyebrows furred and he looked confused.

“Will she be my mommy?” The words shattered his heart and he swallowed the lump in his throat, feeling his eyes burn, he knew Aiden probably missed his mother, he noticed how he would look to Feyre when Nyx called her mommy, Azriel knew he wanted, craved that too, and broke his heart not be able to give that to his son.

“Maybe in the future buddy, if she wants to.” His son nodded and Azriel fixed his hair, he dropped Den in the River House before meeting Y/N for dinner, the bouquet Elain prepared for him was almost slipping from his shaking fingers, Y/n was already there waiting for him, she smiled, getting up to greet him with a quick kiss, they shared their first kiss after their fifth date, and he couldn’t keep his hands to himself ever since, her lips were sweet and she fitted so perfectly against him, she was made for him. 

“I want to ask you something.” Azriel had been building up the courage all night, Y/N dropped her spoon, her lips smudged with chocolate and he smiled at her, she was beautiful. “Will you be my girlfriend?” She almost jumped from her seat as she shook her head agreeing, he took her home that night, where they made love until sunrise. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“Mrs. Mommy I need help.” Aiden’s voice sounded from somewhere behind her and she immediately turned around, seeing him shaking the glitter off his tiny fingers. Az had mentioned what happened between him and Den’s mom, and how he knew his son wanted a  mother, she just didn’t expect that.

“Hi Den, what do you need?” He showed her his fingers glued together.

“My fingers are sticky.” She guided him to the sink.

“Let’s wash it then.” She said, then releasing the kids to their break. Azriel showed up like he did almost every day, he was holding a cup of coffee and some cookies for her.

“Hey love, what’s wrong?” He kissed her cheek and closed the door.

“Aiden called me mommy today. Mrs.Mommy to be precise.” She giggled a little.

“Shit.” Azriel didn’t want to pressure her to assume a motherly role to Den, but he also couldn’t exactly control these kinds of things. “I can talk to him if you want, tell him that you’re not his mom. He’ll understand.”

“I just don’t want him to be confused, I don’t know.” He hugged her. “I love him, just as much as I love you. Maybe tell him not to do it at school? Cuz the principal is already fuming that we’re dating.” He smiled.

“Maybe she’s jealous.” He joked and she laughed, she loved them really much. And her heart clenched hearing Den call her mommy. Maybe they could make this whole thing work.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“You can’t catch me.” Aiden smirked, as Cassian chased him and Nyx, they were at a picnic with the inner circle, and Y/N was more than welcomed among them, they really liked her, she was getting really close to Feyre, the two were watching as the general pretended to be slower than the children. Den rushed to her, jumping on her lap and hiding from Cassian, while Azriel watched from afar. She looked at him, and it was like the whole world had come to a stop, she was the only thing holding him on earth, he had always assumed he was just lucky to have found someone so similar to him, and now he understood that it wasn’t luck, she was perfect for him because she was made for him, his mate, his equal, the love of his life. 

She blinked too overwhelmed as she explored the newly found bond between them, she had suspected for a while that he might be her mate, she had hoped and she had prayed to the Mother that she was right, and there it was, glowing like a thousand suns, the mating bond tying them to each other for the eternity, finally everything was complete for them. 

[jiniret-writings]

Spa Nights with Hyunjin

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader

Warnings: None

Other Members' Parts:

Bangchan || Leeknow || Changbin || Hyunjin || Han || Felix || Seungmin || I.N

Hyunjin gives off the vibes that he enjoys a nice wine/bourbon night

I'm talking low lights, candles, a fireplace (or a video of one), some light music.

He's a romantic, and he loves sprinkling romantic elements wherever he can

Spa nights definitely start with a bath together

Nothing risky, but laying in the bath together is just so comforting.

Washing each others hair is a must

It's just so soft

Hyunjin is happy to do whatever you want to do

And in any way you want to do it

Which is why when you come out of the bedroom with a hair brush, curler, and a whole bag of clips and hair ties, he just sighs and sits on the floor

If you're happy, he's happy

No matter how you do his hair, the smile on your face is enough to make him content.

Same goes for his face mask and nails

"Did you learn how to mix the mask from Seungmin?"

"He said you liked it watery!"

"HE SAID WHAT?!?"

Give him a kiss and he's placated

Still, no matter how you apply anything, he'll endure it with a smile

Another member who loves matching his nails with yours

Let him choose the design and he'll be the happiest ferret

He'll pay such good attention to your nails

He'd been studying modern art and tried a little something on your nails

Recreating it isn't too hard for you since it's just a series of boxes in different colors

Even if the lines are messy, they're your messy lines, and that makes them perfect

Wit the romantic vibe, there is only one genre perfect for a spa night

COMEDY!

A good laugh with the person you love can solve almost anything

And his laugh is infectious

Half of your attention is on the actual movie but the other half is the two of you making jokes about the scenes and characters

And movies always bring on the hypothetical questions

But they are to be taken VERY seriously

Because why knows? Hyunjin might need to know what to do if you get kidnapped by some magician that wants to turn you into a wooden puppet!

When you fall asleep, you're still talking about puppet-land in hushed whispers and giggles

Hi! Here's Hyune's part of this little series of headcanons! I'm having a lot of fun writing these because it's giving me ideas for future prompts as well! That being said, I think I'm gonna post the other four members (Bangchan, Leeknow, Seungmin, I.N) after a few days. I have some works in my drafts I want to work on and get out there first, so I will do the other members in a couple days!

I'm excited about the next few works because they deal with heavier themes and one is an au that I've wanted to write for a while. Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated! And as always, have a great morning, afternoon, evening, and night!

-Jini

[anderstrevelyan]

wip wednesday

I haven't done one of these in a minute because I've been focusing on polishing and reworking rather than drafting new words (hopefully by next week I'll have some!), but you know what, let's do one anyway!

Here's the opening of my as-yet-untitled multichapter project, aka my early days of durgetash project (set about a year after they first meet):

*Valas is the son of Gorion's Ward rather than a strictly canon Dark Urge: mentioning to avoid confusion since it's relevant here!

It’s dusk when they first discuss it, a desire so deep Valas has never said it aloud. Were anyone to look up at the quiet manor on a corner in Bloomridge, perhaps on their way home from selling trinkets in the Wide, or while they wander to a tavern bleeding laughter and light onto the street, they’d see them there, the pair of them. A half-drow dressed in deepest black and a human with gold on each finger, the plates laid before them picked clean, the wineglasses in their hands stained with two layers of red, lounging at either end of the settee long past when one of them should have risen to draw the curtains shut. He should do it now, Valas thinks as he turns his glass, watching the candlelight refract. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t, just as he doesn’t know how they arrived at the subject, his confessing the name of the person he most longs to kill.

He lets his voice trail off, and swallows against the dry in his throat. Tries to find his footing. He’s not one for quick words, the thoughtless flow that pours from so many like blood—he often prefers to listen. For a heartbeat, for an opportunity, for the guiding voice of his god. And Enver Gortash doesn’t seem one for silence. Not like this, chin in his hand, long gaps between the sound of his own voice—not unless he’s waiting, too, searching for a flaw. Perhaps he understands this weakness for what it is. Skie. Skie Silvershield. Skie Silvershield the second—not the same young woman said to have died at the hands of the Bhaalspawn who sired him, but Valas yearns for her blood all the same, Torlin’s daughter named for the ancestor plucked too soon. Sometimes, in Valas’s worst moments, his mind whispers that it would be right. To prove himself better than the one who raised him before he found his true Father’s embrace, who always claimed he hadn’t been the one to kill his Skie. That it would be good, further insult and honour to the man once Chosen by his god—Torlin proved unworthy the moment Valas set in motion his death, but he was a Bhaalist all the same, and there’s nothing more Bhaalist than the slaughter of one’s kin. But it’s weakness, coveting one death over all others, no matter how he twists his thoughts. He’s seen such a thing in his acolytes’ eyes, when they come to him soft and raw, his Father’s voice in their heads a mewling thing—they don’t understand, in the throes of those first few tastes of blood, what their work really means. They dwell in emotion, in grudges, in hate, longing to kill an old rival, a scorned lover, someone who did them wrong. The faith shows them: there’s no value in the personal, in passion, if it’s not needed to reach the right holy end. It’s weakness, then, too, how much he’s come to enjoy this new ally’s company. Valas turns his gaze to the window, to the motion on the street below—feet catching on cobble, glances cast over shoulders, plumes of breath climbing in the cool evening air—just as Gortash looks away, too. He must be admiring the curves of his own furniture; the works of art in their golden frames, some so new they sit still propped against the wall; the piles of papers and gadgets, their places not yet found, sketches and plans and small, delicate tools. The home he’s building, here in the Lower City’s most fashionable neighbourhood, so different from where he’d laid his head just months before. But when Valas turns back his way, he’s looking out into the dark. Toward the wall, just steps to the north, that separates them from the Upper City. Valas can almost hear him thinking. “There would be a beautiful kind of symmetry to it,” Gortash says finally, and Valas busies himself with a sip of wine. “One Bhaalspawn filled with remorse, peaceful against his nature, and then all these years later another to do it right. It’s not far from our other discussions of late.”

[crescencestudio]

๋࣭⭑ Devlog #43 | 7.30.24 ๋࣭⭑

tis the season of crescence x fenir

It's peak hot girl summer time. Not sure how many of you saw the sunburnt art trend going around on twitter, but of course I had to take part in it with the other hot girl in the Alaris cast, Druk.

look at those 34DD's

I drew this early this month, but I am still thinking about it. Let us take a moment to appreciate this gift together.

Alright, now that that's out of the way, let's get into the devlog!

I've been jumping around a lot between different routes this month, but it's been fun since I definitely enjoy the polishing/editing part of writing more than the drafting part. This past month, I got my hands into Fenir, Druk, Etza, and Kuna'a's routes LMAO.

For Fenir's route, I actually have bittersweet, but exciting news! OG Alaris followers may remember I had Vi (of @nextinline-if fame) helping me with line editing. She did an amazing job with Kayn's route, but unfortunately she isn't able to continue working on Alaris due to personal/professional obligations. I, of course, support her and wish her all the best in all her future conquests and am super grateful to have gotten the chance to work with someone as talented and kind as her <3

Stepping in to help is close friend, Allie Vera! Allie helped me with intertwine, and hails from besties' Lost in Limbo and Blooming Panic fame (amongst many other cracked VNs). I'm very excited to get to work with Allie again, and they are already knocking it out of the park with Fenir edits! Everyone please welcome Allie to the Alaris team ^^

On my end, I've been doing my own line editing for Fenir and Druk's routes now that I'm able to revisit the scripts with fresh eyes. As usual, Etza developmental edits continue forward, and we're getting into the last stretch. We've added in a lot of cute moments and really fleshed out the romance more so Etza's romantic side can shine <3

With Kuna'a's route, I'm doing the same-old, same-old. Fleshing out scenes, ironing out plot details, etc. Because I was bouncing between so many routes this month, I didn't have as much time to sit down and really Write Kuna'a's route. But I will say I'm already pretty happy with the script. I've added a couple more emotional beats and, in general, have been connecting plot points that already make the route feel stronger, so I'm excited for you all to eventually see it!

My little notion word tracker showing word goals (left), actual word count (center), and words left to write (right)

In the last bit of exciting news for writing, we are approaching an exciting milestone!!! I told you all when we started Kuna'a's route, we had approximately 100k left so were finally getting into the "double digits". Well, now we are approaching the last 50k!!!! All of the routes are ~50k, so 50k is my benchmark for one whole route. It's exciting to see that we are getting to the last bit AUUGGHHH

As you can see, the writing front was pretty busy this month. Because of that, I wasn't able to make much headway on art. I do have this sneak peek of a Druk CG, as I try to make progress on his beta!

licks him

Final count for CGs right now is 20, though! Out of an estimated 54. So we're slowly approaching the halfway point, which is super exciting \o/ And this doesn't include the handful of CGs I already have sketched up and just need to be rendered (sketching is the most time-consuming part for me, so once a sketch is finished, the CG is basically done in my eyes LMFALSIDJ).

Finally, this past month we've been working on Fenir's beta testing!! It was his birthday month this past month, so happy birthday to our little grumpy guy <3

Birthday piece gifted by Extremely Talented @endys that I still cry over. If you haven't played Snow White Ashes....... WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR??

Beta testing has been going well. Here's a couple of gems from feedback so far:

giggles like a madwoman

he's like a little kitten in a wet cardboard box all alone

Kayn, looking at Fenir: I want that twink Obliterated... so cute.

If you'd like to try out his beta, sign up for Hydra on my Patreon!

The beta will be running a while longer as I make progress on Druk's beta. The time span between Kayn and Fenir's beta was about a month, but honestly trying to get the beta out in that amount of time while balancing the rest of dev kinda killed me. So Fenir's beta will be running for a bit longer than a month. I'll let you all know when Druk's beta will go up so that you can hop in on Fenir's before it ends if you want. But just remember, each beta route only runs for that period of time, so get access to it while you can!

For market research this month, I played a couple of games but unfortunately haven't really had time in the way of fanart <\3 I'd like to get back into doing that since I feel like it helps me with art progress in general, so we'll see ;(

I do want to highlight a game that just dropped its demo this month and is currently running its Kickstarter! I'm sure many of you have heard/seen Save the Villainess on your timeline, and I hope you all check out the demo!! The art is stunning, as many people have said, and the premise is super interesting, inspired by many villainess manhuas.

If you're into darker stories, meta-commentary, and murder mysteries, please consider checking out and supporting the devs (@bestlaidplansproductions) as they've worked incredibly hard on this game!

As you can see, a lot of this month was spent on writing. With where the routes are at right now, I'm thinking I'll be able to focus more solely on Kuna'a's route this upcoming month and finally get that knocked out of the park. I also hope to make progress on the CG front! Wish me luck there... LOL.

That's all for this month! Hope you're all doing well (and surviving the many heat waves hitting the world), and I'll see you all next month <3

[north-noire]

what's your process for writing? :3

my writing process: I stare at my document file for hours and weep, repeat until writing gets miraculously done.

In all seriousness I tend to already have outlines ready for future chapters and stuff like that ready (and an idea of what I'd like to happen in the arcs/timeline of events). I've already had like a vague outline of my entire fic as a whole, but that's just kind of my own version of what happens in FNAF LMAO. I also just sometimes brainstorm, imagine new scenes that seems fitting for future chapters and list it down for me to write!

Though sometimes, even my writing execution just sometimes makes me have to divert/change plans up for chapters since sometimes writing's a bit unpredictable and sometimes some ideas I have just come out of nowhere/don't work anymore!

I talk back and forth about ideas with some friends/my alpha reader and bounce back ideas between them! It's really fun brainstorming with people and being able to put my ideas into words before writing it down. I also sometimes draw it out as concept art since it's fun visualizing some of my ideas!

Of course I still base most of the ideas from the actual source material (the games, some parts of the book trilogy) but since this is an AU I'm allowed to explore some "what-if" ideas and be able to have some creative freedom with it without worry since it is an AU after all! I get to do/explore things the way I want without worrying about judgment since this isn't really canon-compliant.

I take very long in actual writing stage (for obvious reasons), and after completing my rough/first draft I let it sit for a few days or a week before reading it again with a fresh pair of eyes and edit/revise/add new scenes accordingly. Sometimes I just make scenes out, no matter how bad it may be at first, and then just let revising/editing do my work for me. Sometimes I also have readied drafts for some scenes of future chapters that I can come back to, put it in the document and just rewrite it/rework it to be better suited for the narrative.

I tend to take my time longer during the editing/revising stage for a lot of things; I'm a perfectionist, I tend to sort of heavily criticize my work, and I worry a lot about its quality at the end of the day, and sometimes I realize that I need to fully revise the scene or fully rewrite a scene since it's lacking something/I'm missing a scene that should essentially be there. It's a hard battle, and an admittedly frustrating process.

That, and irl responsibilities makes it hard to just read through it sometimes.

During those breaks I sometimes read books/literature so that I can come back to editing/revising with fresh new knowledge on how I can improve or be able to know how I'll handle writing again.

After editing/revising is done, I just hand off the beta-reading to my beta readers, which also takes a while; we're all having irl responsibilities after all, and I mostly go to them back and forth about their feedback since it is nice having fresh eyes on your work WHILE also getting feedback from "first-time readers" of my work and what the readers might think of it when I publish it. They also help me with minor editing stuff since I'm not an English speaker (English isn't my first language) and their feedback really helps!

And then I usually draw out the cover chapter, and when my chapter's published, I do a nice little celebration for myself, since I take very long on chapter updates/making the actual chapters! It's important to celebrate the little victories we have, after all :]

Sorry for the SUPER long post, but since it is the writing process, I might as well share the ups and downs of my own writing process anyway XD Hope this helps?

[thesymphonytrue]

Trick or Treat 🎃

Okay here is a draft of first part of my White Coller X Sherlock fic! Lol I really like this scene and wanted to share! I hope to work more on this fic over the holidays as I’ve been working on it over a year now 😂😅

White Collar FBI Office, New York City, U.S

Peter scanned the email again, then glanced down at his CI, Neal Caffrey, in the bullpen. Neal was (or at least appeared to be) diligently working on case files, brows furrowed and leg bouncing up and down with unreleased energy.

Neal did need some excitement. The past few weeks of mortgage fraud cases that required sitting still at a desk was beginning to wear on both Neal and Peter, the former just needing to run around like a puppy and the latter needing some new scenery to keep him from dropping his head on the desk and taking a well-deserved snooze.

But was this newest request too much new scenery?

He read the email yet again:

Agent Burke,

It has come to my attention that you possess one of the best art forgers in the world and I am in need of that kind of expert (I admit my brain does not make room for artistic work other than my daily violin practice, which I feel is sufficient for my line of work).

Would you kindly meet me and my partner at 221B Baker St, London next Tuesday at 1 pm? I have a rather exciting case that I feel your team would be interested in. I have attached the case file for your viewing pleasure. Please respond promptly.

Cheers,

Sherlock Holmes

PS. This is John typing this out and while I begged Sherlock to not use the word “possessed” in regard to your Criminal Informant, he insisted that particular word be used and therefore, I apologize. We (well, I) realize that Neal Caffrey is a human being and not a tool being used by the FBI for its advantage.

PPS. Yes, I realize how passive aggressive this sounds.

PPPS. We really do need your help with this case, as much as Sherlock would hate to admit it. -John

London. Peter thought.

The last time he was in London, he was chasing Neal. To return to that city on the same side as him would be exhilarating.

But can I trust Neal in a foreign country?

Peter wanted to trust Neal, he wanted to take the road trip across the pond but—

“Hey Peter!”

Peter jerked up from the computer, closed the email, and turned to see Neal casually leaning against his office door, eyes sparkling like he knew something Peter didn’t.

“How long have you been standing there?” Peter asked, already exasperated.

“Off to London, are we?,” Neal said in an impeccable British accent.

Peter groaned, “Neal, knock before you come into my office–”

“Peter,” Neal smiled brightly and stuffed his hands into his pockets, “We’ve been working together long enough that you should know better.”

Peter humphed. Neal had a point. He begrudgingly opened the email and let Neal read it.

“So have you worked with Holmes before?” Neal asked, still bent over Peter’s desk, invading Peter’s personal space.

“No,” Peter said flatly, “And I don’t care to. He seems cartoonish to me. Not real.”

Neal raised an eyebrow, “You do realize you told me I looked like a cartoon on our first day working together?”

“And that hasn’t changed!” Peter said, a humorous smile tickling his lips, “If I hadn’t met you outside that bank, I would have thought you weren’t real either with all the crime you’ve accomplished in such a short amount of time.”

Peter meant this as an insult, but Neal, of course, smiled proudly and batted his eyelashes.

“Peter, you flatter me!”

Peter waved him off and returned to the email.

“What do you think of the postscript?”

“Oh John Watson? The writer scrambling to make Sherlock Holmes appear more human? He’s his blogger. And er…partner?”

“Blogger?” Peter’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Partner? As in partner?”

“God, Peter, I don’t know their personal relationship!” Neal’s eyes lit up, “You know a lot of people would think that we are partners…”

“Shut it, Neal!” Peter flushed, cheeks warming, “But on a serious note, what is a blogger and why does a detective like Sherlock Holmes need one?”

Neal sighed, it was a sigh of a younger generation trying to explain something to an older one.

“Watson writes about Sherlock’s cases. It’s quite interesting. I’m not into murder mysteries, so I don’t read them often, but sometimes they deal with high priced art and antiquities and they are quite the dynamic duo,” Neal looked Peter up and down as if examining him, “Perhaps as well matched as you and me.”

Peter met Neal’s eyes, “No one is better matched than you and me.”

For a moment, the mask that Neal wore dropped and Peter could see all the way into his thumping heart. Peter’s heart softened at Neal’s vulnerability, the way he lapped up Peter’s compliment, drank it into his soul, and now it shone through his blue eyes staring at Peter in disbelief.

Peter chuckled softly and gave Neal a pat on the shoulder.

“Well,” he said quietly, “It’s true.”

[dodorimo]

WIP Wednesday Saturday

Stripper!Tav x Raphael

Just a piece of something that's been in my drafts since forever

· · ──────  ❊  ────── · ·

People who don’t know any better think her strength lies in the art of seduction, but she believes it’s in the way she can read people at first glance. Whether it was the twitching of a finger or a sharp intake of breath, no sign was small enough to escape her trained eyes.

The man sitting at the front-row table would rather be anywhere else. Glancing at his watch discreetly, eyes glazed over with boredom. Tav has seen plenty of men like this come and go. Men who were pressured into coming to their club by their peers, out of a sense of obligation or just to keep up appearances, there’s no way of knowing for certain.

He’s handsome, in a timeless, elegant way. The kind you see in black-and-white movies. Chestnut-brown hair slicked back, sharp cheekbones and a mouth that promised to curl into the most sinful of smiles. In his late forties or fifties.

Two other men sit at his table, both younger and more enthusiastic, if the way their eyes almost pop out of their sockets as they look at her is anything to go by. She doesn’t spare them a second glance.

Of course, Tav knows she’s being partial. In her experience, older men are more likely to keep their hands to themselves and leave generous tips.

A part of her resents the fact that he isn't looking at her, craves his undivided attention. But then again, her show has just started.

“That girl looks like a good lay,” says one of the men in the front row, loud enough for her to hear even over the blaring music.

“The one with the awful dye job?”

Excuse her…? Her hair color is as natural as it can get, thank you very much.

“Nah, that one is a real blond.”

“I’ll only believe if I see it for myself,” the man says as his eyes run down her body in a way that leaves little doubt as to his meaning.

Fuck her this, fuck her that. Enough of these two jerks. She heard worse and with much more color. If her handsome stranger kept such rude company around him, maybe she isn’t so keen on getting to know him after all.

She often pictures someone while she dances—a prince from a faraway land, a movie star, a stern-looking madam. It gave her performance an extra edge, made it just a little more captivating. This time, however, she doesn’t need to superimpose her imagination on a poor bystander, she locks eyes with her mysterious stranger and gives everything she has.

It doesn't take long for her to lose herself in the carnal energy of the place, in the heavy beat of the music, in the pungent smell of smoke and sweat, until everything around her is a blur. It reminds her why she does this, why she dances.

The music stops and she slides down the pole, body aching and sweaty, a satisfied smile on her face. The men stare at her, lust written in their gazes, but she only cares about one set of eyes. At the front-row table, her handsome stranger is looking straight at her.

Not just looking at her. Devouring her is a better way of putting it, as if she were a fresh-from-the-oven—and entirely too irresistible—canapé being served at his table. She was right earlier: he does look good when he smiles. Although she had underestimated the wolfish nature of it, the way his eyes sparkled with newfound interest.

The moment is short-lived. A small crowd has gathered at the edge of the stage, pulling her from her musings. Her audience expects her to put on a show and she doesn’t intend to disappoint.

Her lacy garters are overflowing with cash by the time she’s done, some falling to the floor where she stands.

A flash of brown hair. Her heart beats faster.

“You were magnificent, my dear. Truly a sight to behold.” Lorroakan, one of her regulars, blocks her view of the crowd. Tav looks past him, but the seats at the front-row table are empty. “You must let me show you my full appreciation later.”

There is little to be said about the man, other than the fact that being around him was an exercise in endurance. Forcing a smile, Tav crawls to him on all fours on the stage. Lorroakan may be an insufferable bastard, but he had money to burn.

The fabric of her jeans shorts grazes the cold floor as she arches her back to be at eye level with him. Her outfit today is that of a naughty country girl, with a sleeveless white shirt wrapped around her midriff and stockings that went up to her knees. A little too plain for her tastes, but she knows better than to say no to Shadowheart (the flush that took over the woman’s face when she put on the outfit more than made up for her troubles, though).

“I’ll take your appreciation in the form of your tips.” Holding the ginger’s gaze, she splays her palms over her breasts and squeezes them together.

It is almost comical, the way he automatically reaches into his pockets and places the money in her cleavage, like a toy that was put to work, his eyes wide open and mouth ajar.

What happens next is a little more unclear. Lorroakan goes back to his seat—or is pushed, he doesn’t seem to have noticed either way—and someone else takes his spot.

[femboyhorror]

trans dipper vent fic - preview/unfinished rough draft

this isn't really my usual sort of posting. mainly b/c it's not art it's writing. a ventfic at that. but i figured maybe some gravity falls fans might follow me and enjoy seeing this unfinished piece. written as a way to vent out some stress i've been feeling, contains some trans!dipper angst.

cw for some menstruation descriptions, cramp descriptions and some implied abuse from the twin's parents.

.｡ ☽ ⋆⍋⍋｡⍋⍋⋆ ☾ ｡.

the bus ride to the forests of oregon was just as long and boring as he remembered it to be. after hours of sitting in the same seat next to his twin he felt a strong need to move his legs and his back was hurting something fierce.

and yet as he watched the scenery in the window slowly change from long wide plains to towering pine trees a sense of comfort made itself known in the boy's heart. a sense of safety that he had sorely missed in the months that dragged by.

once his eyes caught sight of the familiar 'welcome to gravity falls' sign, he felt a smile spread across his face. one that his sister mirrored.

home. they were finally home.

as soon as the bus came to a stop the mystery twin duo practically jumped up out of their seats. ignoring the brief shouts from the bus rider about staying put until the bus was at a complete stop, the twins darted out of the vehicle to meet with the equally as excited faces of their grunkles stan and ford.

"grunke stan! grunkle ford!" the two had greeted in near unison. mabel, ever the far more energetic of the twins, didn't hesitate to jump stan in a hug.

"whoa whoa there kid, you tryin to kill your old man?" the codger had grumbled out in protest, though the way his own face breaks out into a bright smile as he wraps his arms around her show that he missed her just as much.

"welcome back, my boy." ford had cooed as he and dipper embraced in a much calmer hug. emotion swelled in dipper's heart, and he responded through a knot in his throat,

"i'm glad to be back."

'my boy' he thinks. because that's who he was. here in gravity falls, he was no longer some little girl. he was a beloved great nephew, he was a brother, he was dipper pines. the relief behind these thoughts make tears spring to his eyes, and to his relief if ford notices his emotional moment he chooses not to comment on it.

"alright, i don't know about you two but i'm just about ready to have breakfast. and i'm guessing you two dinguses hadn't eaten yet, either?" stan spoke up to which mabel chimed in,

"i mean, duh! we wanted to have a reunion breakfast!" stan let out a faux yawn.

"well, i guess i could make us all some stancakes, but i better not catch you trying to add in some weird candy dinosaur things to the batter, kid!"

~ ~ ~

breakfast between the four of them was nothing less than a lively affair. despite stan's warnings, mabel had naturally managed to turn her own pancakes into what dipper could only described as a rainbow colored death wish of syrup and sprinkles.

and despite his lack of breakfast, dipper himself could barely do more than poke around his own smaller serving of stancakes. between a dull ache in his body and remaining pain of the events from back in california made the concept of eating a wholly unappealing one.

while stan and mabel were too distracted with their own conversation to pay this any mind, dipper sees ford shoot him a brief look of concern which he quietly waves off.

once breakfast had been finished, their grunkles assured the younger twins that they had the dishes taken care of and shooed them upstairs to unpack their things.

"hey, dipper?" mabel's words break through the brief moment of silent unpacking that had taken the two in the attic, her unusually soft tone feeling like a harsh reminder of everything that had happened before their arrival back at the small oregon town. "don't you think we should tell them what ha-"

"no." he cut in harshly before quickly adding, "i just… i don't think i'm ready to relive that whole mess just yet…" he sighs and adds in, under his breath. "i just want to be able to be dipper for a while…"

"you know you'll always be dipper to all of us. stan and ford wouldn't treat you badly for being different." the words 'unlike mom and dad' hang in the air, unsaid but understood by both parties.

dipper looks down at his half unpacked suitcase, the shouts of his parents echoing in his mind as he swallowed down the knot in his throat.

"i will tell them, just…" he takes a deep breath, trying to calm his shaking voice. "…just not yet."

a part of him almost expected mabel to push him to tell them, to say that honesty is the best policy and that he would feel better once he explained everything. however, mabel simply put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

~ ~ ~

the dawn of the first official day of summer began with excrutiating pain in dipper's lower gut signaling an unwelcome crimson visitor.

several days of dull pain made the blood shed that morning not all that surprising, and yet he wants to sob as he cleans himself up in the bathroom. of course. as if his present situation hadn't made his dysphoria bad enough already, mother nature would taunt him further with her wholly unwanted and unwelcome visit.

forcing the added stress and pain to the back of his mind with everything else, he pops some pain pills and tries not to let his agony show as he slowly wanders down the stairs. immediately he's aware of the smell of smoke and he follows it to the kitchen to find the source to be a pan of half burnt eggs. stan seems to be attempting to teach mabel to cook with… mixed results. dipper simply shakes his head and takes a seat at the table where he sees his great uncle ford nursing a cup of coffee, seemingly unbothered by the duo's antics at the stove.

"good morning, my boy." he had greeted dipper before furrowing his brow. "are you feeling alright, you look pale." he added, the boy's pain evidently not being hidden well enough.

"i'm fine, grunkle ford, just… tired is all…" he assured, even taking an apple off the table to eat despite the fact that eating was currently the last thing he wanted to do. robotically he forces himself to take a bite out of the fruit as his great uncle continues speaking.

"well, dipper, i was going to ask if you wanted to accompany me on a walk around the forest, but if you're not feeling well enough than we-"

"nononono! we can go for a walk if you want to." he quickly cut in. despite his current state making him want nothing more than to lay in bed with a good book, dipper really doesn't think he wants to spend the day alone in his room. even if the cramps kill him, he really wants to spend time with his family. ford seems surprised by his answer but quickly recovers.

"oh! alright then, we can go after breakfast if that's alright with you."

"sounds good to me, i'll go grab my shoes!"

the apple would be left forgotten on the table.

~ ~ ~

the gravity falls forest is a beauty to behold. the morning sunlight streams through the canopy of the trees above and the life of the forest around the two of them makes itself known through the chattering of the birds to the gentle trots of the deer to even the little bugs and other odd beings that live in the strange forest.

ahead of dipper, ford is happily going on about the different sorts of flora and fauna in the woods, about the new creatures that seemed to have appeared since the last summer and pointing out anything of interest to his great nephew who tries his best to listen as he trudges alone but it's difficult to focus on much of anything through the haze of pain radiating from his lower gut.

he sees ford stop in place, looking to dipper with barely hidden worry.

"dipper, are you sure you're feeling alright? you know you can tell me if you're hurt, right?" ford had asked, and between the genuine care his great uncle was showing him on top of the pain he was still in it was taking all of dipper's self control to not burst into tears right then and there. he can just barely nod in response. his great uncle doesn't seem to buy it one bit but aside from a tense sigh he doesn't push the issue and continues on their trek.

as he forces himself foward to keep up with ford, the hunger and pain seem to mix into one big blob of bad that seems to seem into dipper's very bones. he doesn't know how long he goes on for until he finds himself leaning against a tree, holding his midsection as the pain felt like knives stabbing into him mercilessly.

"dipper, enough is enough, you need to tell me what's…" his greak uncle's shout of panic trailed of and pure shame filled dipper when he realized why; trails of blood were running down his legs.

dipper, suddenly filled with pure shame, could only look away in embarrassment. inwardly he wished that a hole would open up underneath him. for the earth to swallow him whole so he wouldn't have to face ford after he saw him like this. although dipper had mostly grown out of his hero worship of his mysterious lost grunkle after weirdmageddon, ford was still someone he had a high opinion of. and now that he saw dipper like this… was he disgusted of him? ashamed? would he regret letting dipper come back to visit? the thought finally brings tears to his eyes.

before he can spiral further, however, he feels ford's hand on his shoulder.

"dipper, dipper, can you look at me? …i'm not mad, dipper, i just need to know if you're alright." he briefly looks up and through his tears he sees that ford's expression betrayed no digust or shame or even so much as frustration. his expression was simply that of a caring family member that was deeply worried about him.

"do you want to go back to the shack?" he simply asks. dipper nods, a feeling of guilt settling into his ribs at the thought that he might've ruined their outing.

"dipper, it's alright, we can go on a walk another day." ford, seemingly reading dipper's mind, gently assured him. no other words were exchanged on the way back to the shack, and it wouldn't be until the two were settled back home with dipper able to clean himself up did time come for some explaining. stan and mabel, who quickly seemed to catch onto the quiet mood around the other two, had also chose to be present for it. and despite dipper's humiliation over the whole situation, he was thankful for his twin's added presence of support as he readied himself to come out, desperately hoping for it to go better than it had the last time.

"…my name wasn't always dipper…" he starts after a moment of thought. looking up for a moment, both of his grunkles are attentive and patient, and so he summons the courage to continue. "growing up, i always felt like i wasn't supposed to be a girl. even when my parents told me that all girls feel that way. and i started to realize that maybe i wasn't a girl at all…" he remembers one sleepless night when he discovered the word that would change everything for him. 'transgender'. suddenly he wasn't some broken mess of a person, suddenly he understood himself in a way he never had before.

"when my parents send me and mabel here to gravity falls, i realized it could've been a chance for me to see how it felt to be seen as a boy for the first time. and when i started using my new name, when everyone was calling me a boy i felt so happy. i felt- i felt like i was finally who i really am for the first time in my life." the memories of the first summer in the town he would come to see as his home brought a smile to his face. and despite all the trials he'd gone through in that summer, he truly felt like he had grown into a strong and proud young man by the end of it all. "i'm sorry for not telling you all sooner." from his spot at the table, stan seemed to take this in.

"kid, i kind of figured you were trans…" dipper looked up at this, face flushed with embarrassment once again.

"you knew?!" he squeaked out and stanley put his hands up in mock surrender.

"i was there when you goobers were born, after all. when you two got off the bus that summer and you were introducing yourself as dipper i just kinda put two and two together. s'not like i've never been around trans people before, kid."

"what my brother is trying to say is that we both love and accept you no matter what." dipper feels a weight lifted off his chest at both of his grunkle's kind words.

"see, dipper, i knew our grunkles wouldn't be like mom and dad."

"mabel, what do you mean by that? did your parents not take it well?" the way the younger twin's moods fell at ford's question was an answer in of itself, and not a good one. mabel's expression changed to that of a barely restrained anger and dipper shrinks in on himself.

"i… i hadn't told them much about it before going to gravity falls. i was just trying to figure it all out then, but i guess our parents caught onto me being out during that summer. not long after we came back they had a lot of questions and kind of backed me into a corner."

[allastoredeer]

If it's not too much work, could you share what your outlining process is like? I always feel a little lost when I try outlining my fics and I know the process is different for everyone but I feel like it would help to know what others do. Every time I try to google help I get processes for original novel writing, and it doesn't feel as applicable to writing a short fanfic.

I would love to :3

There are actually a few different ways I outline, and sometimes it depends on the length of the fic and how complex the plot is.

I'll use one of my saved radiostatic prompts as an example (it also gives me an excuse to sit down and actually outline it hehe)

So, sometimes just the prompt itself is a good enough outline for me (this is dependent on how long I think the fic is going to be. If it's short, sometimes the prompt itself works and I don't need to go in-depth. I say "prompt" but that also can mean a specific scene in your head that you want to write, or a concept, or even a piece of fan-art that inspired you).

Here's the paragraph prompt I wrote for this radiostatic one-shot/short fic (spoilers, I guess):

So sometimes, just this is enough for me to start writing the fic (my prompts do tend to get a little big because I like to add a lot of detail - about the scene or concept that grabbed my attention - so that I capture all the vibes and emotions that I want to incorporate.

But sometimes, it helps to go more in-depth so I'm not overwhelmed trying to get to the part of the fic that I want to write (NOTE: It is totally fine if you write out the scene/parts that you want to write the most, even if it's in the middle or the end. You can always fill in the blanks after. Or you can just post the scene you wanted to write without adding more. It's up to you).

I like to figure out what scenes happen that lead up to the parts I want to write, so sometimes, I'll make a bullet-point list of chronological scenes, plot-points, and details. For example:

And etc... you continue on until you've hashed out the sequence of events that take place in the story. This doesn't have to be super detailed (it can be really brief and to the point) and doesn't it have to be super clinical either. Just have fun and write down whatever silly thoughts you have in your head.

You bullet-point list can be as simple as:

Alastor goes downstairs to do exercise.

Vox shows up to do the exercise as well (invited by Charlie)

They get into an argument about modern technology.

Vox leaves.

It's really just about putting down the sequence of events starting from the very beginning to the very end. You can keep it simple like the above example

OR

You can make it even more detailed by doing an in-depth summary of the fic, scene by scene, plot point by plot point, until you get to the end (this is what I usually do because it gets everything planned out and on the page, down to the smallest details). For example:

And then it goes on like this until I've outlined the entire fic. You can be silly with this. Just have fun. Let yourself ramble and get all you're ideas out. Don't try to stick to a rigid plan, let the story flow naturally.

Then, once I've finished my outline, I use it as a guide as I write the rough draft. The thing about outlines is that you don't have to follow exactly what you planned. It's okay to diverge or adds things or cut things out. It really is just a loose guide to help you through the events of the story and get your thoughts on paper.

Additionally: You don't even have to fully finish the outline if you don't want to. Sometimes you get half of it done before you want to start writing, and that's fine. The rest of the story will reveal itself as you go.

If I'm doing a multi-chaptered fic, sometimes I'll break the overall idea of the story into pre-determined chapters and summarize it section by section. Or, I'll just be a maniac and summarize the entire fic in one big, super long, super detailed block of text. Another staticradio fic I'm currently outlining is 16,152 words long and I'm not even close to being done. I expected this fic to get super long and complex, so writing it out in a very chronological and detailed manner helps it feel less daunting. AND now I have every plot point, twist, emotional scene, and bit foreshadowing planned out and already placed where I want it to show up in the fic. It's great. It makes me life easier when I actually buckle down and write the rough draft.

Just as a final note, I want to say that everyone's process is different. This is how I outline, but I know it won't work for everyone. It's all about finding what method works for you.

I'll say that one of the most important to do while outlining is simply having fun with it. Make it your hype list. Make every scene you jot down a scene you're excited to write. Make yourself want to write it so it doesn't feel like a chore to slog through.

Best advice I've ever recieved: If you're bored writing a scene, the audience will be bored reading it.

Have fun and write the story you wanna write 👉👉

Hope this helped!

[wordsinhaled]

i started writing this post ages ago and it’s been languishing in my drafts, sorry @teejaystumbles ! i mentioned bard!hob like EONS ago so i’m throwing this post out in the wild finally

what about, like... (no, i promise this isn't a witcher au) bard!hob canon divergent dreamling??? like. everything is the same except when dream and death enter the white horse in 1389 hob is performing a song about evading death, for a small crowd. dream is intrigued not because hob is particularly good but because as we all know, dream's a sucker for art and music. he buys hob a drink after his performance and invites him to sit together and by the end of their conversation, he's betting with his sister that hob will run out of things to sing about in 100 years

dream isn’t hob’s inspiration in the same way that he inspires shaxberd. hob isn’t a great talent vocally or musically. but there’s a light and warmth in his eyes and a deftness to his fingers on lutestrings, an earnest relatability in his tone, and a contagious enthusiasm when he talks to dream about his hopes, his dreams. and dream is intrigued

thinking about how their centennial meetings would be almost the same, but slightly different. hob reserves rooms for them when dream comes to the white horse so he can perform for dream privately. he still thinks dream is a lord, and deserving of special attention (and even if he weren’t a lord, he’s ethereal and gorgeous and the subject of more than a few of hob’s bawdier verses, which hob writes only for himself)

and the Tension??? the tension would be unreal???

thinking about 1689 hob, bedraggled and penniless, and maybe dream finding him busking on the street outside the white horse for coin, because the inns won’t let him in. he brings hob inside with him where it’s warm and dry and buys him a meal, and hob lays his instrument on the table between them and says, “it’s all i have left. i’m sorry, old stranger, i’ve no rooms for us this evening—” dream gets their room, and for the first time he says when they’re upstairs, “there is no need to sing for me tonight, hob gadling,” and he helps hob bathe and makes sure he is dressed in fine clothes again. hob looks lost and grateful and not a little in love and maybe he tries to kiss dream - after all he’s been pining for 300 years. but dream lays a hand on his cheek and says, “if you still feel the same in one hundred years, let us revisit this, hm?”

so of course 1789 is… 1789. the tension is there a thousandfold. by this time hob’s writing poetry and plays and he’s part owner of a bookshop. he’s been writing letters to dream as well. he hands them to dream, tied up in a red ribbon. “i still feel the same,” he says. “do you?” dream thinks he does. but then for the first time they have a conversation, outside of a performance; a real conversation. when it comes out what hob’s been doing, the kind of material hob’s bookshop sells and where he invests his money, dream turns on his heel and leaves

thinking about 1889, hob earnest and rueful, wondering if dream will attend their meeting this year. he’s taken a chance and hasn’t written anything. he wants to talk, to fix things. “old stranger,” he says when they’re seated by the fire in the rooms hob has rented for them. “i have changed. i hope that as you learn more of what i have done this past century i might raise myself in your estimation. but my feelings for you have only grown.” and maybe this is the year of their first real kiss, the year they go to bed together, and hob wakes up the next morning alone, fine sand under his fingernails and the taste of dream still on his tongue

and perhaps soon after dream goes missing hob hears whispers of it from some of the more eccentric patrons of his bookshop, and he goes and rescues dream. he dusts off his musicianship and gets himself in as an entertainer at one of burgess’ lavish parties as a cover

and then dream is free and they live happily ever after, the end, right?

cue modern day hob, teaching a course on the history of story and ballad, looking at old lyrics from the 15th century, asking dream, “remember when i sang this for you? god, i was bloody awful, don’t know what you saw in me…”

[mauesartetc]

Are you familiar with Shantae franchise? Well, I was wondering how do you know if your art style is consistent. Shantae herself is drawn in many different styles. I would like to know how to draw characters growing and they still look mature and art style is consistent.

(This is an older post I've had sitting in my drafts for months. Genuinely thought I already posted it.)

Oh, I see! Looks like this character's gone through some design changes over the years, but she's still recognizable. Reminds me of how Link from Legend of Zelda has also undergone his share of art style changes, but we can still look at him and say, "That's Link".

And while the Breath of the Wild iteration is a massive departure from how Link's been portrayed in prior games, he still has his classic hair strands over the ears, wears brown boots and gauntlets, wears a long-sleeved shirt under a tunic, and wields the iconic Master Sword and Hylian Shield.

I typically emphasize the importance of making characters distinct without the need for unique hair, clothing, and props, as all those elements are superficial and can change at any time in the story. But let's be real, Link's core design, stripped of those elements, is kinda generic, and Breath of the Wild's plot necessitates that some of them need to change (seeing as it takes place in a time period far removed from previous games). So it only seems appropriate that there's a balance between old, recognizable influences and fresh new ideas.

Getting back to the point, though, I'd say as long as a character's basic shapes, proportions, and/or colors remain similar (not necessarily exact, but similar) to the original, you can draw them in a multitude of styles and they'll still be easy for folks to recognize.

But I think what you're actually asking is how to maintain the same style through multiple iterations, in which case the character's proportions and interior details may change, but the colors will be similar and the line art will typically remain the same.

Hope that helps!

[epersonae]

I wrote this originally as a reblog of something else, but after letting it sit in drafts for a while realized it needed to be its own thing. (but do go read that post, it was what got me thinking in this specific direction) I have not edited it much, other than to remove some intro about the kind of shitty day(s) I was having in my non-online life that were part of why I wrote something and then sat on it.

I have been thinking about

Don't like, don't read

(I saw this with rainbow text, and I asked how the fuck to do that, and frankly I don't have that level of patience, so just imagine it rainbow I guess)

And..........

Sure? We're all just here to have a good time or whatever, and Just Like Stuff, and it's exhausting being a hater (but also [stares at people I know who I've seen say all that and who are also ABSOLUTELY haters in private])

But I want something more nuanced than that. I mean that as both:

a writer of things I know other people have taken issue with (including, I remembered today, something that I heard secondhand about, in addition to the vagueblogging I've mentioned in an earlier post about my older fic)

and a reader/art appreciator who has some issues with things I've tried to read and art I've seen.

I don't what it is or how it works or how to get from here to there. I don't even really know how to do this with people I'm close to! (with the exception of having been a thoroughly obnoxious beta constantly saying "make me believe this could even happen", or pointing out conflicts with canon or whatever) I tend to silently nope out and then change my opinion of the person without ever telling them, because yeah, I'm horrifically conflict averse.

Which is why this might sit in my drafts for a long time.

And then, outside of friendships, and Difficult Conversations or whatever

I don't like pile-ons. I don't like a couple of people trying to articulate what bugs them about a piece of writing, and maybe being awkward or clumsy about it, and immediately getting drowned out by "you're being mean to my friends". (and I say that as someone who has had friends' writing receive this sort of critique! Multiple friends!) Maybe the immediate answer is, yes, the back button, but it has to be possible to dissect what's bothering you about a piece of writing (or a trope, or a ship) without it being negativity or an attack.

Here, I'll go first, because these are two things in OFMD fic that bug me endlessly, that writers I like have written, and I think they exhibit a subversion of the source material that is counter to the actual themes of the show.

Note: since I wrote all of this, I have written a little bit about my sort of complicated feelings about a fic that imho is an original novel in a trenchcoat, a sort of fic lacroix despite being very good. these examples are in the same vein as that.

Inevitable fucking disclaimer: I don't think people are wrong or bad for doing these things, I'm not going to try to make anybody stop, I practice don't like don't read (and I have some exceptions that I've enjoyed despite it being something I don't like generally)

Enemies to lovers: the whole point of Ed and Stede is that they click perfectly and immediately. They like each other! From the very first minute it's friendship and mutual admiration and delight and attraction. Enemies to lovers is a cliche that belongs to a different story entirely. I wish people would think more before jumping to that trope. (I've had an AU in my head for months that I absolutely cannot write until I solve this problem from the AU's source material) It's an interesting question to me, actually, why it seems to be so easy to write characters who don't like each other and then somehow fall in love, when the source material shows them liking each other SO MUCH right away.

Younger than middle aged: again, the whole point is that they are changing their lives, that their midlife crises brings them to the point where they can find love. I think it's a djenks Themes and Motifs thing, to have a story about getting to this point in your life and really looking at it and going "am I where I need to be?" Also it's incredibly unique and special to me after the last few years of my own rolling midlife crisis. (petty thought that I have sometimes: it is a failure of imagination about or knowledge of actual middle-aged people) Tbh, this goes double for age difference, I will nope out of that even faster than both of them being young.

And I think there's something about being able to not like something and still not be a dick about it, to know enough about what you do like to look at something and say "this doesn't work for me and here's why", to engage thoughtfully and critically (and yeah occasionally in public) while still having respect for the other person.

I am thinking also of @emi--rose and @frommybookbook and music, and their efforts to find kpop and Taylor Swift, respectively, that I might enjoy, because I don't like most of either, and I think this thing we've been doing is helping all three of us understand more about what we all do and don't like.

[pausing to think]

It occurs to me, also, that I spent a lot of time griping while editing for the benefit of all the broken hearts, about having to go back and do a lot of set up/rewriting to make some of what happens in that read plausibly. And I was soooooo bitchy about it and also that critique was all correct and it made the story stronger even aside from making it more "canonical", whatever the fuck that means in that particular setting.

And that was in the particular creative intimacy setting of working with a beta, which is different, admittedly, from random critique on the open internet.

But then I spent a while, back in the day, immersed in the TAZ questions of "is Lucretia a lesbian?" and "can Magnus ever love again?" and I wrote my rarepair (and associated polycule shipping) very much from my id, and a certain amount of "you can't tell me that didn't happen" that was based on overidentification and personal experience, but there were definitely people who were pretty publicly "ew" about it, and I had to think through my position, and both decide what felt true about and also decide to write from my weird heart, but not blindly.

Idk, I've written all of this and I'm just landing on

I think introspection is nice.

I think it's good to do, I think it's worth thinking about what you like and don't like, and maybe where that comes from, and not in a puriteen way but with sincerity and curiosity. I would like to support and encourage that spirit of artistic introspection.