#i think the color of her skin may be a little too similar to the wing behind vivi

[aldiwali]

NAMI & VIVI - CH 128: "THE FLAG KNOWN AS PRIDE"

without skintone changes:

original for comparison:

[brucewaynehater101]

I need you to stop me from making another Tim Drake centric fic

I got this random idea that won’t leave me alone

like what if the emotional scars and trauma people have show up physically too most commonly as little cracks on the skin and all of the bats have them

they hide them tho with make up and stuff so people don’t question it except Tim hides them from everyone maybe bc that’s what his parents taught him to do maybe bc he just doesn’t want to burden any of the bats

the bats think that Tim is fine so to them he’s invincible which leads them to treat him as such subconsciously or otherwise especially Bruce

it takes a lot for something to be bad enough that they physically manifest and Tim has A LOT bc everyone thinks he’s invincible

:) it won’t leave me alone help me I beg of you

Hmm.... Let's add on, shall we? This is a very rad idea. You should definitely write a fic about it, but no pressure.

Mind if I explore it? Also, feel free to disregard any part below you don't want/disagree with. This is just brainstorming ^^

Alright. Emotional scars are a physical mark on someone's skin.

Similar to regular scars, they can fade as a person heals.

Some may never disappear, and some only appear for a short time.

What would their color be?

Would they look like actual cracks in a person (so black-ish in color)? Would they be gold or multi-colored (different colors represent different kinds of emotional traumas)?

The level of hurt inflicted is directly proportional to the size (length and width) of the scar.

Perhaps more could be deduced from the general shape (is it jagged? A single line? Branching?)

Not all people have these marks

Most of the population manifests them. There's some prejudice against folk who don't [something something they are heartless, incapable of feelings, not able to be emotionally hurt, cold, detached, etc.], but hiding scars is also common. Therefore, it's harder to discern whether someone is hiding their marks or markless. It's a very fine line, so most people allow a smaller mark to show every once in a while. There's even a few trends to proudly display all marks.

Marks appear at the time of the emotional harm

It may not be apparent at the time due to the location, but the individual being hurt will manifest the mark at the very moment of emotional harm.

Anyways, that's the background stuff. Fun, but let's get into Tim specifically ^^

Tim's parents are part of the few who believe that showing off your scars to anyone, even your loved ones, is both a weakness and a way to guilt-trip people. Therefore, through their archeology studies, they managed to obtain magical objects to prevent the showing of emotional marks. It's similar to glamor.

Tim's object can change forms to suit his needs (so a ring at one moment and an earring the next). This ability prevents the Bats from discovering it.

Janet fakes a very small mark on her hand when she wants to discourage any rumors that's she's incapable of manifesting marks. For Tim, though, his parents wanted him to have rumors of being incapable of forming marks. It served their purpose better for him being the cunning Drake heir.

The deception started from birth, so no one but the Drakes know of Tim's ability to form marks [and the Drake parents never see the marks they leave behind on their child].

The Waynes, long before Tim entered their life, were aware of these rumors. Thus, when Tim demands to become Robin, he doesn't correct their assumptions.

Bruce is a callous fucker to Tim at the start. If Tim can't be hurt emotionally, then Bruce's ill-treatment of him is fine (which is flawed logic. The markless can be emotionally hurt, and they still deserve kindness, dignity, and respect even if they couldn't. Bruce was mentally fucked up, but it doesn't excuse his treatment).

Eventually, Bruce comes to the second realization that Tim should still be treated well even if it doesn't hurt him regardless. The man's behavior is better, but he still has the notion in mind that Tim can't be emotionally hurt. He uses this for missions and to downplay the way his other kids treat Tim (specifically Jason and Damian when they first meet Tim).

Tim gets used to a rotation of insult-names: Robot Robin, heartless, markless (said insultingly), cold-blooded, unfeeling bastard, etc.

He's also subject to a TON of misunderstandings. People are more reluctant to love him due to the belief that he can't love them back. He gets yelled at and told off for "masking/faking his emotions" when he's actually being genuine.

Which adds to his hurt :)

He also has to pretend not to grieve his parents when they die :(

Due to how rare markless are, the Bats don't meet "another" one until after the BruceQuest. When they chat with this person, they realize how many misconceptions they have about them (such as the markless being incapable of feelings. In fact, they accidentally offend that person when they tell the other they don't need to fake their emotions in front of the Bats. Safe to say, the markless individual becomes incensed when they realize how they've been treating their own markless family member).

This would be at least four (probably closer to five) years after Tim first became Robin. The entire family has a meltdown.

Tim, on the other hand, is used to the treatment the Bats have been giving him and becomes incredibly uncomfortable with them trying to care for his feelings and whatnot. It's rocky for a long while as everyone tries to seek forgiveness for something Tim bitterly doesn't hold against them (he is lying to them after all).

Tim rarely, if ever, views his own marks. The last time he checked was when he was having his identity crisis after Robin was taken from him. His entire body, from head to toe, had cracks in it. There was a giant, gaping crack on his back for the metaphorical stab in the back it was.

And we haven't even gotten to when the Bats figure out Tim was never markless :)

[serv0z]

cant remember if i posted these here yet but !! huzzah !! the refs I made for and before the Phony pmv yapping about it under the cut!!

All of this is based on how I view them and the timeline. Personally I think its: Fredbears opens sometime in the mid-to-late 70s, during this time the fnaf 2 location opens up within a year or two of Fredbears debut. Somewhere between 1982-1983 (pre-bite) Circus Babys opens up and then closes that very same day (Elizabeth dies). Following this is FNaF 4 at Fredbears where the place lasts about another year or 2 before closing in 1985. (Charlie dies in this period of time and the missing childrens incident takes place.) Little note is after SB shuts down the rental reopens !! Thats why its open by the time Michael goes there. FNaF 2 location shuts down 2 years after in 1987 due to the bite + the tampering of the animatronics. Shortly after the FNaF 1 location is properly opened up and deemed 'safer' since they aren't allowed free-roam in the day. Of course everything goes to hell here and the place begins to shut down in 1993 (during which the game takes place). Then SL happens at an unknown time between here (maybe 2 years after? in 1995? not sure) followed by FNaF 3 in 2023 (i do NOT believe ffps takes place in 2023 it doesnt fit at ALL). I think FFPS takes place about 2 or 3 years after in 2025 or 2026. I dont have anything for SB or HW bc it wasnt the focus so nfkjfn hopefully this all makes sense, at some point i may do refs of the missing children but because this was michael centric I mainly drew refs for him. I figured Michael looks more like his dad (especially by SL bc. yk.) and Elizabeth looks more like their mom,, Evan is somewhere inbetween. Michael and Elizabeth got their moms freckles, Evan didn't!! All of them got her darker skin though since Williams a fucking ghost. I am all for the hc of Michael tanning in fnaf 4 its so stupid and def smth a 14 year old boy trying to fit in would do I know I posted some of my Michael ideas like 2 years ago? Specifically post-SL. I feel the scooper wasnt completely centered, aiming more to his left side rather than completely centered. The damage was done, shattering his ribs and spine and really that arm was unsalvagable. I think hes replaced parts of himself with metal, like using it to connect to whats left of his spine to be able to stand properly, making a new arm either alone or with help from Henry or smth as well as needing a cane and/or leg braces to keep himself balanced. It's not farfetched since William in the books literally does something similar and it would help him look "normal". I also made the outfit bright and colorful to help sell the act. FFPS has some pretty bright colors for their front and to tie it in I added pink to his design and made it more fun and interesting, especially since he'd be around and children would be running past him and adults keepig an eye and such and the mask would probably be pretty intimidating if he didnt make it a bit more cute. Yes, that is the bow he was wearing during FNaF 1 btw!! Michaels necklace in fnaf 4 was a gift from his mom. Cant decide if i want her to leave or she passed. I think maybe if she left michael went with her? after 87 i mean. some point during those years she died and he was living on his own before returning to figure out the things his father left behind and try to find him, returnning for fnaf 1 and forward. Michael living with his mother is WHY he never noticed anything with William, he was still grieving his siblings and William would be too focused on his work to support him at all. His mom helped him work through some things, got him into therapy which he promptly dropped a bit after she died because he just. didnt have the motivation. He was alone before ending up back in Hurricane and looking for his father and learning all the atrocities committed.

I feel like Elizabeth being the youngest just. makes sense in my mind? Maybe its a personal preference but. Evan gives me middle child vibes more than youngest. Not to play into stereotypes but; older sibling having to be the 'responsible' one (and then rebelling this idea), the middle child being overlooked or ignored (nobody stopped the bullying.) and the youngest being given her very own animatronic (implimented with things she enjoyed.) side note if u call elizabeth a brat or spoiled im legally allowed to shoot u!!!!!1 Elizabeth also just. sounds very young to me with her voice and how she acts. It all gives off 'young child' rather than 'spoiled brat who gets anything she wants' yk? Her dying first ALSO just makes sense, especially witht he idea Evan saw it. She dies, he witnesses it and nobody believes him and shes just declared missing. the place goes down and its declared a 'gas leak' rather than 'my sister got eaten by an animatronic'. (I figure mrs afton is grieving and thats why she doesnt notice the bullying often.) It also works with the fnaf 4 scenario. William being fed up with him whining, not wanting to be given away by his own child so a plushie he can talk through and monitor him through, as well as setting up the illusion disks inside the room. The nightmares weren't just bad dreams, they are implied (at least from what i recall from the trilogy and ucn lines) to be real. it ties into his fear; animatronics with stomach mouths that have come to swallow him whole for what he saw. tormenting him. Its not just a bad dream to him, these are either based on how he percieves them or how he explained what he saw and William used this against him. The test with illusion disks began here. (it could also explain michael knowing abt them later in via security log book!!! the disks didt just vanish!!) This also curb stomps the idea william only began killing due to the 'loss of his children'. Not even possible. Look at the blueprints of the funtimes and compare. Those things were designed to lure, trap and kill from the very beginning. Circus babys was one of the VERY FIRST buildings to open, it just became a rental cental solely after shutting down where they were tortured and experimented on. He made these LONG before 85. anyways thats just my interpretation of the whole thing up to ffps. I dont remember everything from AR, hw, hw2, sb and ruin enough to make my own opinions on its timeline (i do have strong opinions on whats happened during it and right before but nothing leading up the opening or years and such) I mainly grew up heavily fixated on the base games, nothing really past ffps. as for Henry, he was briefly as bad as William with his work I think. If i picked up anything from the books and even the games, he was heavily focused on his work that he didn't notice his daughter die and had an animatronic watching over her instead of himself or family. i dont know if Sammy would exist in gameverse. If he did I imagine he either died/went missing very early on causing mrs. emily to leave, mrs emily left WITH him or he simply didnt exist bc Henry only focuses on Charlie here so either his son odesnt exist in this world or hes gone in some way shape or form. Henrys design is pulled from the books a bit. I wanted to make him bigger? William is slim and maybe a bit offputting but hes charming enough to get out of things. and Henry is more enthusiastic and rounder, having a loud and happy voice. I think he truly enjoyed making Fredbears happen. Cant decide if I wanna say he was in the Fredbear suit when Charlie died (giving cake) or if he was in a backroom working on things. Whatever it is I also think William tried to pin things on him. Errmm!! thats all i hve to say rn :3 its 8am im so tired so if this makes no sense. mb gang

[nightlyrequiem]

Would you consider writing something about detective reader and Valeria? I think it would be so cool that reader is looking for her and she’s fascinated (maybe in a twisted way/maybe she isn’t a really good person) and Valeria is interested in her bc of how she matches Valerias energy. Idk!!

One unhinged woman? I'm in love. Two unhinged women? I died and went to heaven.

I purposefully left the ending a little open ended because I want to come back to this and write a part two someday

I <3 evil women

Tags/Warnings: WLW, Violence, Stalking, Valeria and Reader Fight, Reader Has Questionable Morals

Alikeness

 Observant. Persistent. Obsessive. All qualities that successful detectives should have. You've been doing this for ten years. Like a bloodhound with a scent, no case remains unfinished when assigned to you. A good detective revolves their life around their work. A good detective is her work. You know your preoccupation with your job isn't healthy. You've lost little pieces of yourself every case. Chipped away at yourself until something new and distorted crawled out from it's shell. the newest thing bouncing around inside your skull is El Sin Nombre. A notorious and influential Mexican drug cartel leader. No one has been able find his true identity. Allowing him to live up to his moniker. Your eyes burn as you stare at your computer screen. At three different headshots belonging to three different former special forces officers. He may not even be a he.

Truman Wenchow, Seth Veros, and Valeria Garza. All had gone awol after La Araña had been dethroned. You can feel it deep beneath your skin. An inkling that has never steered you wrong that one of these individuals is your person. Finding out that Seth has died sometime in twenty-twenty narrow things down. Corruption isn't uncommon. Not in Las Almas. the reigning Cartel has always had its claws sunk deep into the local authority systems. Everyone has a price after all. Local is usually where it ends though. El Sin Nombre is far too ambitious to stay in the confines of 'local'. El Sin Nombre has expanded their reach into the hearts of Puerto Rico, Ecuador, El Salvador, and the States. This bleeds deeper than you thought. The closer you get to the truth the more dangerous this becomes.

Only a few weeks ago, just a shy of a month, you began receiving threats. Warnings to stop. It had the opposite affect intended. Your mind glossed over the words spelled out for you and instead rearranged them into something else entirely. 'You're close. Come find me.'  this could very well kill you, you're aware. late nights spent in the darkest corners of the internet have shown you just exactly what cartels are capable of. You find yourself unafraid. You've done similar things in pursuit of answers, and you will do worse to obtain more.

Out of the three suspects on your list, only one still lives in Mexico. as elusive as she is. All you're able to find are traces. Breadcrumbs left behind. Credit card history, grainy camera footage. Government documents. Getting information on Valeria Garza was like pulling teeth. Only a few former brothers in arms were able to offer up meager footnotes about the woman of the past. headstrong, ambitious, violent, efficient. You were able to track down her home, though. An unassuming property located on the quieter side of town. It's not the home one would expect a wealthy drug lord to keep but you've found that exteriors rarely match their interiors.

The sky is clear and inky. A high half-moon and it's thousand glittering eyes watch over you as wait outside of Valeria's home. It's neat and taken care of. There's a single car parked in the driveway. A dark colored SUV. Not a light on inside the house. Valeria is inside. El Sin Nombre is inside. Asleep in one of the rooms. Such a human action for such a monolithic figure. You pull on your gloves and check to make sure your firearm is working before getting out of your car. Seek and destroy. You walk up to Valeria's home with confidence. Sticking close to the rough, stony wall as you head towards the back. The backdoor is naturally locked, and you know already that she doesn't keep a spare key. 

You always come prepared. You deftly pick the lock. Listening for that small click that has accompanied you for every final act. You slowly push open the door. Overly cautious of creaking and step inside. Her kitchen is tidy. Counters free of dishes and bags. A small bowl of fruit that's beginning to rot sits dead center on the kitchen island. You make it two steps inside when she speaks. Hidden away by shadows, glaring at you from the hallway.

"You don't have a warrant to be in here, detective."

 Of course you don't have a warrant. there are leaks in the police department and trying to obtain one is not only a lengthy hassle but could also alert her that you're closing in. You prefer to keep your cards close to your chest. You turn your head to face her. Barely making out her outline.

"No, I don't." You reply calmly. You don't have a warrant. Legally you can't step foot into her home. Not that it matters to you, you have to be above the law to enforce it and there are workarounds to everything. Your heart pounds with excitement and fear. You're finally face to face with El Sin Nombre.

She steps into the kitchen. A sliver of pale moonlight cuts across her face. You can see her better. In a wife beater and sweatpants. A gold chain glinting from around her throat.

"You must have-"

You don't let her finish speaking. You have only one goal in mind and that is to exterminate. You raise your arm with the intent to kill. Her reflexes are faster, and she lunges at you. Knocking your arm down fast enough that the bullet you fire shoots into the ground by her foot. You've been in physical altercations before. Have had to fight off people. However, you were prepared for a fight those times. Valeria is much stronger than you thought. The wind is knocked out of you as you slam into the ground. The gun slides away from you and bumps into the wall but you don't freeze and panic at the loss of your weapon. You're exhilarated. Mustering up the strength to shove her off of you.

You have but a few short seconds to get your bearings before she's coming at you again. A stray punch catches you in the gut. It's nauseatingly painful and you double over, narrowly missing a blow to the head. you shove down the pain and lash out. Slamming your fist into her neck. Valeria splutters but to your dismay she barely reacts. She grabs ahold of your neck and throws you to the ground. Your back smacks down on the hard black and white tiled floor. Pain blooms purple flowers throughout your shoulders as you struggle beneath her. You hear the click of a gun and stare down its barrel. The both of you breathing heavily and regarding each other with caution. Valeria sets a foot down on your chest to keep you still.

"I have you under surveillance." She says quietly. "I was tipped off about you leaving your house. I knew you were coming here."

 Valeria's strength impresses and aggravates you. "Good for you." You reply. There's not much hope that you'll regain the upper hand here, but you cling onto that small slice of it.

"Very good for me."

You silently understand that you haven't succeeded this time. The thought angers you. You're going to die in here on her floor. Your body thrown to the streets for the stray dogs to pick at.

"I suppose this is it for me then." You murmur. deceptively calm. You've done good, but you've also done bad. Maybe this is just your punishment for all the wrongs you've done.

Valeria lowers her arm, keeping her gaze tethered to yours. There's no anger in those dark pits of nothing.

"I couldn't stand you at first." She begins. "Coming into my town and snooping around. I was going to just kill you."

You furrow your brows. "So why didn't you?" You wheeze. You wish she'd take some pressure off of your chest.

"I did my own research." She hums. "You're just an evil little thing."

Your skin prickles at being referred to as evil. "I am not evil. I find it and rid this world of it. Of people like you."

Valeria cocks her head at you, dark brows raised. "You kill the people you uncover." She laughs. "Putting you on a case is like is like putting someone to death. And last I checked it's not up to you to decide of someone is worthy of death."

"I do what needs to be done. You can relate to that, I'm sure. You've had such an impressive career, from military ranks to commanding a cartel. I bet you're very proud." You hiss. Her success is envying.

"It sounds like you admire me." she remarks, adding more pressure to your chest. Pushing out the breath from your lungs.

"You have admirable traits." You admit begrudgingly. "Too bad you used them the wrong way." the pressure is suddenly lifted as she backs up from you. Giving you room to stand. there's a dull ache in your stomach as you do.

"I was going to kill you," She continues, waving the gun at you. "but you're deranged, really. So dedicated to your cause." She says. "And I respect that, I really do. I think you can really hone those skills of yours and become something great."

"I am great." You growl. Disgusted and elated at having her respect. she smiles and trails the gun down your jaw, the cool metal sending goosebumps over your skin. Valeria just scoffs and steps away from you.

"You're arrogant and delusional." She says. "You have potential, come back when you're ready to use it."

You pause, confused.

"You're not going to kill me?" You question. Leaving you alive is a fool's decision and Valeria didn't strike you as a fool. 

"You won't be able to kill me," She says. "and I know you won't go to the police because you like to take credit for finding and 'punishing' people yourself."

Those words make you uncomfortable. It makes you sound like you're only doing it to soothe some deranged urge inside of you. You are doing it for the greater good. Your hands stay dirty to keep the world clean.

"You and I are alike." Valeria remarks quietly. Not looking away from you.

You won't be able to do anything now. Valeria has a gun, and you don't. She's right. About you not going to the police. It's not because you want to the credit. It's not. It's because you don't believe they'll do what needs to be done. Only you can. Police can be bribed, you can't. You raise your chin with defiance and take a step back towards her door.

"Be restless, Valeria." You warn. That's all you say before you turn and leave the way you came. Expecting a bullet to the back of your head that never comes. This isn't the last time you and El Sin Nombre meet. The next time it happens, one of you will die and it won't be you.

[woundedsoul12]

Yay finally made a WIP Wednesday

Going to get Neve (the Lighthouse's unofficial therapist) some love with Rook's sister

Using my M!Qunari!SD!Rook romancing Lucanis

“So, are we sure that's his sister?”

Taash asked the question that had definitely been on Neve's mind. It wasn't just that the woman was an entire head shorter than the Qunari she was currently squared off against, but she was also human. And despite the bruises and cuts along her skin after her capture, she was undeniably gorgeous to look at.

“I believe so,” shrugged Davrin as everyone watched with rapt attention. Neve maybe a little bit closer than everyone else.

The pair seemed to have forgotten their audience as they circled each other in the center of the Shadow Dragon hideout. For having just been rescued, she looked like she was ready to tear him apart.

“Nice of you to finally fucking show up,” she snarled.

“Look I came as soon as Ashur sent word. I don't know how fast you think I was supposed to get here but-”

“Whatever. Always the same excuses. Always dragging me into your shit.” She cracked her knuckles before her hands went to the daggers at her hip. Neve noticed Lucanis tense across the room. His eyes had that purple glow to them, and she knew this situation might turn real ugly real quick.

“Oh don't start with me. You knew what you were getting into when you joined the Shadow Dragons.”

“Fuck you, Rook,” she made a face as she said his name like it was a joke. “You can act like a badass because your friends are here. But I know you. I'm the one who always has to clean up behind your messes.”

Neve had never seen anyone talk Rook like this. She was fairly certain none of them had. Their usual carefree leader looked ready to throw hands. His face was twisted, and he was chest to chest with the small woman who looked just as furious.

“Well I'm sorry we couldn't all be mom's favorite-”

His words were finally too much. There was a loud crack as she hit him then. Square in the nose. He fell back clutching his face as blood flowed freely. Neve saw a flash of movement. Thankfully Davrin and Taash were able to restrain Spite before the demon could rush forward.

“Ah the new boyfriend I see,” she chuckled with a dangerous edge as she cast a look at the man being barely contained. “You always did have a thing for a pair of big brown eyes and nice ass. Good to finally meet the reason you let our city fall. Why there were enough Venatori to kidnap me in the first place. Thinking with the wrong head yet again.”

The color drained from Lucanis’ face. He didn't like what she was implying. And Rook was fighting through the pain as he tried to regain control of the situation.

“Leave Lucanis out of this, Fen,” he growled as he straightened while holding pressure to his nose.

The Detective could sympathize. She had been similar when Minrathous first fell.

Fen. Neve rolled the name around in her head. First impressions were that Rook and his sister had some serious family drama to work out. This woman was hurt, and lashing out at anyone she could.

Fen surveyed the chaos she had caused, a satisfied grin on her face as she slipped her hand in her pocket. “You may have these people fooled, Riley Mercar, but you can't fool me. You're still the same scared boy who ran off to the Inquisition when things got tough. Who abandoned me and the other Shadow Dragons. How long until you abandon them too?”

With the damage done she turned, disappearing out the door as everyone just stared after her.

“What the fuck was that?” asked Taash as they let Lucanis go.

The Crow rushed to Rook, checking him over before throwing a murderous look to the door Fen had just left through.

“That,” began Rook with a sigh. “Was Fennec. My sister. Fence for the Shadow Dragons and best spy I have ever met.” Lucanis growled at those words but the Qunari just ignored him. “And obviously we have some- things we need to work out.”

[alliebirb]

ok your revo children ocs are a d o r b s 🥹🥹🥹 do you have any headcanons on them?? tell us moreee

Beloved revo bby anon………. i am so sorry it has taken me so long to return to you……… but i thought of you out on the battlefield……. Stored this ask in a locket that ended up saving me from a bullet….. i hope you will accept several chiyoko and senbi arts as my apology for leaving you at the window for so long.

anyways:

RAGGHHHHHH💝💝💕💖💖💕💕💖💖⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️ THANK YOU FOR ASKING ABOUT MY GRANDCHILDREN ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥᷄⌓˂̣̣̥᷅ )‧º·˚ i would LOVE to give some hcs!!!!!!

A LOT of senbi and chiyoko fun facts and arts below the cut!!!

Chiyoko!!!!

- first meets atem when she’s 4, and oml within like 2 months she has him wrapped around her little finger just like her momma

- She would follow atem around like a shadow, cheerfully parroting atem’s greetings to palace guards the the royal court

-except set, she’ll hide behind atem under his cape if she sees him coming. set isnt trying to scare her or anything, he just has major rbf, is like 6’3, and doesnt know how to approach talking to children. Atem tries his best to get them to converse but set just shuffles awkwardly as his cousin tries to get chiroko to relinquish her death grip on his tunic.

- older than her brother by 5-6 years, and is so so so excited when senbi is born!!!!! little baby brother!!!!!! stays protective of him (and anzu) from when he was an infant into adult years (also atem to an extent)

- chiyo would get along with mana like 2 peas in a pod!! Mahad would love her to b i t s, but his calmer, more paternal/fraternal energy towards atem would multiply with chiyoko and he would treat her like small precious baby while mana is just like “hey kiddo wanna see me turn your dad into a frog real quick” just to see her laugh (and fuck with atem, two birds, one stone)

- she went through ages 5-8 fully believing that atem was her biological father and would constantly be asking when her multicolored hair would come in. Atem never had the heart to tell her and would just say “wont be long now!!” Anzu had to break the news and chiyoko went through the evening with her arms crossed pointedly turning her entire body away from Atem.

- When she turned 16, she ended up dip dying her hair red and anzu complimented how nice it looked while atem sobbed into her shoulder (i will forever hold art of this from @shinayashipper SO close to my heart)

- they may not be biologically related, but i stg, chiyoko inherited atem’s competitive love of games through osmosis

- That combined with anzu’s determination leads to a tyrannical warlord during family uno

- thinks jonouchi is the coolest EVER and jonouchi actively rubs his favorite uncle status diRECTLY into honda’s face

- secretly thinks mai is even cooler but is too spooked to talk to her

- Also gets really close to anzu’s dad, and gets SO excited to spend summer days in the countryside catching beetles and wading through creeks! She runs ahead while Hitoshi holds senbi’s hand and answers his gardening questions

- Definitely comes home every day after school with an absurd amount of dirt and grass stains

- grows up with confidence and assuredness to rival her parents

- fun fact!! Chiyoko is named after the mc from satoshi kon’s Millennium Actress since in convergence (longfic concept where she first came up) she’s yanked around with anzu in the time travel mumbo jumbo from japan to egypt

- as she grows up, chiyoko ends up looking v v similar to anzu’s mom, but just replace kiori’s scowl and gray eyes with a smile and hitoshi’s brown eyes (more oc stuff). Also v fashionable!!!

Senbi:

- born when anzu and atem are in their late twenties, post-marriage, and while he has some of atem’s hair coloration style and skin tone, his eyes and hair color are all anzu - much to anzu’s dismay and atem’s adoration (atem is now tied around two little fingers at once)

- Shy boy!!! When he was small, there was always one hand holding onto to atem or anzu’s pants leg or holding chiyo’s hand

- Doesn’t have a competitive bone in his body, just wants to have fun and tbh, doesnt love games all that much!

- older senbi would love watching chiyoko and atem go ham on each other during games and will be sharing popcorn with anzu as they both roll their eyes

- as a child, likes to sit with anzu quietly and read his picture books, or sit on atem’s lap as he works through a crossword

- Senbi always takes a while to go to sleep and when he was little, anzu would sit in his bed and read aloud whatever performance arts book she’s been reading. Eventually, he would fall asleep, but many times, Atem wakes up alone and walks in to senbi’s room to see anzu conked out.

- Senbi and yugi rlly vibe and have the same wallflower energy so!! He always gets rlly excited when yugi comes to visit, bringing him to his room to show him all the cool picture books he got from the library this week

- To which yugi ofc sits there as happy as can be and engaging with everything “omg i LOVE robots, what’s that one about??? :DD”

- ((Many years later, senbi would start working on his own color tattoo sleeve bc he’s always thought yugi’s looked SO COOL, and if yugi learned this he would be sobbing on the floor))

- and unlike chiyo, out of atem’s pseudo-siblings, bibi would definitely get along best with Mahad, and would love to just sit in his study with him and watch Mahad write on scrolls and test spells

- would have one of those city apartments stuffed full of plants and books

-Chiyoko was always the protective older sister, he could yell for her and she would come barreling in from wherever she was, ready to throw down. This still stands true into adulthood, though chiyoko is more likely to verbally assault someone than punch them

- while chiyoko would love looking for all the bugs and frogs and snakes on the family summer trips to the countryside, senbi would not. One time, chiyoko was excitedly showing everyone the giant beetle she found and it flew right towards senbi’s face. Atem had to spend the rest of the day inside with senbi watching cartoons.

- Jono and Honda like pulling little scare pranks on chiyoko as she loves chasing them around for retribution, but if they accidentally spook senbi as collateral, anzu’s hitting them with a chair

- really into art and while he cant draw amazingly, he loves visiting artist exhibitions and alleys. will spend his entire paycheck.

- would be a tattoo artist!

THANK YOU AGAIN SM FOR THIS ASK IM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG BUT I NEEDED TO GIVE IT THE ATTENTION IT DESERVED!!!!!

may the cat revo bbies bless you and PLEASE come into my askbox again, i SWEAR i will be faster……. Probably…

[kimwexlers-brownhair]

Okay, hold up. I was thinking about how similar I find Meg and Raoul in the ALWverse. Both are brave, sweet, inquisitive, and over all they want Christine safe. They even look a little alike in a lot of productions, with hair often being the same sort of blondish color.

What if....drumroll...they're uncle and niece? What if Madame Giry and Phillippe fell passionately in love in their youth? What if Madame Giry...is La Sorelli in the ALW verse?

Shut up and lemme think this through.

When Sorelli finds out she's pregnant, she's disillusioned by Phillipe's reaction. He insists she marry the first decent single man he can find, and settles on his family's accountant, Jules Giry. He's a kind but older man, and dies a few years into the marriage.

Now I need to plan a fic where I can bring the whole crew together.

Maybe Christine and Raoul move to the de Chagny estate after leaving the Phantom's lair. Philippe is infuriated by their elopement, but can't find it in him to turn his back completely on his baby brother.

Christine struggles to fit in under his cold dismissive eye and the haughty society around her. What she can't know is that Philippe isn't quite as heartless as you'd imagine. When he sees this young woman from the opera house, he can’t help but think of his own daughter just a few years younger. A daughter he's never known outside slipping in late to a show and seeing her lead her line in the corps de ballet.

He may also envy his brother his willingness to marry the woman he loved despite what it might mean for the family name.

Madame Giry learns when to use their situation to her advantage. When the Phantom demands an increase in his salary, she persuades Philippe to at least convince his brother to act as the opera's new patron, if he himself is still too cowardly to regularly attend like he used to.

So when the opera house closes in the wake of the Don Juan disaster, Madame Giry turns to him again. His daughter is now out of a job. While he may be too much of a hypocrite to ever acknowledge her as his, surely he doesn't want her to suffer the fate many attractive young unemployed girls in her position do.

To her surprise, he invites them into his home. Being around Christine and hearing her reminisce fondly about her best friend Meg suddenly makes him determined to get to know his daughter as much as he can without telling her the truth -- Madame Giry is right in that he's too afraid to face that.

So mother and daughter show up with whom they describe as a composer who wants to open a new dance school and theater with the Girys. He goes only by the name of Erik. He's a brilliant but aloof man, probably because what looks like a stroke or some such injury. One half of his face the skin seems pulled in too taught, almost paralyzed. It's almost as if the skin isn't real, instead a mask to try making him look like anyone.

(Sorelli was a dancer in a particular traveling carnival when she was a young woman, and was so incensed by the cruelty around her that she left, determined to find a serious career for herself on the stage -- but not before releasing that poor boy from his cage).

This Erik stares too much at the new Viscountess de Chagny. Yet he's also surprisingly insecure when some of the aristocratic men in their society begin taking notice of Meg. The pretty, peppy dancer hasn't the first clue how to behave properly in society, and that there are men ready to take advantage. Philippe also notices and struggles not to be too protective.

So what happens when Raoul notices for the first time how much Meg resembles his sister Roberte when they're standing next to each other? What of Christine's terrified conviction about who this Erik really is? What of Erik yearning to watch over her once more, his beautiful angel, his life -- dammit, must this damn Dauphin So-and-So keep looking at Meg like she's steak tartare?

And what of that despite the years that have passed and the bitterness and guilt between them, there may still lie a deep love between Philippe and La Sorelli?

A Little Night Music meets Phantom, essentially.

Tagging @thewildwestpyro

[mxsqerxde]

wrote a little soriku fic about their first meeting :) under the cut

nulla i. dearly beloved chapter

riku hated having to go run errands with his mother. it wasn’t often, but whenever she brought him out with her, she was constantly scolding him. be quiet, don’t touch anything, sit here and wait for me to finish, he felt more like a nuisance than a helper. he almost preferred when he was at home with his nanny, a bitter old lady who kept him glued to the dining table to study for hours on various subjects to prepare for when he’d finally start school. the only reason he was even here was because his nanny called sick— something or other about her having a real bad cough— so his mother begrudgingly took him with her while she ran around town to make preparations for one of the events that she and his father hosted.

this part of the trip took them to a bakery— one he knew was small, but very favored by the locals, judging by how his mother had raved about it on a phone call with an associate. the inside smelled like fresh bread and sugar, making riku feel hungry all of a sudden; all he had eaten that day was a few pieces of toast and about a quarter of his mom’s coffee, since she’d swallowed most of it down before declaring that the order was wrong, scoffing and declaring that the teenage barista that made her drink had butchered it.

holding riku’s hand, his mother pulled him up to the counter and began talking to the very pretty woman behind it. he stared at her for a few moments, fascinated by her presence. there were very few adults he’d met who didn’t share similarities with his parents: professional, cold, and with achingly high expectations, but this lady seemed so different it was almost strange, with her fond smile and warm voice. she even said hi to him, which made him sputter, which made his mother scold a small "hello" out of him. he tried his best not to look at her, after that.

his endeavor in looking at everything else led him to find someone else to stare at, seated at a table for two, scribbling away at a piece of paper with a red crayon. he was a boy, about riku’s age, but unlike him, he had tanned skin, brown hair, and a weird sort of sparkle in his eyes. it only took a moment for the boy to notice riku’s intense gaze, to which he responded with a big grin, brighter than the sun, before he hopped out of his seat.

he was walking towards him, riku realized. he turned away, but by the time he’d done so, the boy was by his side.

“hi,” riku’s cheeks burned as the boy spoke to him. “i’m sora. do you wanna color with me?”

the lady behind the counter peered at the two of them, and riku noticed that she and the boy— sora— had identical sunshine grins. that must make her his mom, in that case. “aw, look at you two,” she turns to riku’s mother, and his gut starts twisting. “why don’t we let them go play for a little while, mrs. taira? this consultation may run long, so it’d be a shame for him to just stand there the whole time.”

riku’s mother scrutinizes him, then sora. there’s a long pause, and though there’s a disapproving look in her eyes, she gives them an okay.

“behave yourself.”

with that, the two adults begin talking once again, and with newfound vigor, sora grabs riku’s hand, tugging him towards the door. “come on, let’s go outside!”

riku let himself be dragged out the door, almost jumping out of his skin when he hears sora’s mom shout a be home before the streetlights turn on, okay? as they enter onto the sidewalk.

this is the first time he’s ever been out alone before— or at least, out without his mom, or dad, or nanny. he’d never even asked, thinking he was too young. sora seemed like a natural at this, though, never letting go of riku’s hand as he walked a few paces ahead.

“i forgot to ask,” sora says, looking back at riku. “what was your name, again?”

“it’s riku.”

“alright then, riku! we’re going to the park. have you ever played swords?”

as they walked together, riku pondered the question. he’d just started the fencing classes his mother put him in earlier this year, but he didn’t think that qualified as playing swords. so, he shook his head, and sora grinned.

“that’s okay,” sora pulls him across the street. “i’ll go easy on you.”

riku doesn’t really go to the park, so seeing it is foreign. he doesn’t spend too much time focusing on it, though, because sora pulls him past the monkey bars and swings and past a bundle of trees to a small clearing, with nothing but a small pile of wooden swords. sora picks up two of the swords, before tossing one at riku. instinctively, his hand snaps up to catch it, and the gleam in sora’s eyes shine just a little brighter.

getting ready to start, sora gives a very simple rundown of how playing works. pretty much… they’re supposed to attack each other with the swords until someone has to tap out or until someone is caught unable to defend themselves.

“okay, okay… go!”

it’s only a couple of minutes before sora is on his back, his sword clattering a few feet away from him. riku’s about to help him up, but sora springs up, that big smile brighter than the sun still on his face despite his stumble, yelling out an again! riku wins every time, but without fail, sora hops up and demands they go again. there’s one time where, when sora’s just a little ahead, riku’s strike back hits just a bit too hard and sora tumbles onto the ground. unlike the other times, he hops up with scraped knees and a bruised elbow, and riku’s blood runs cold. sora’s going to hate him now, for being too rough. too harsh.

except, sora looks up at the sky, before grinning at riku. “we should probably go back, now. mama said to be back before the lights turned on.”

sora dumps his wooden sword back on the pile, and riku follows suit, keeping in step to the smaller boy, though he keeps glancing at the bleeding spots on sora’s body. finally, he turns to ask about them.

“your scrapes,” riku asks, “they don’t hurt?”

“my scrapes?” sora kicks his feet out a little further, seemingly to look at the abrased skin. “nah. just stings a little.”

“sorry— for hitting you too hard.”

“it’s fine!” there’s that smile again. it never ceases to make riku’s insides twist, but not in a bad way. “i’ve been hurt worse. like this one time, when my dad took me to the park…”

the rest of the walk home is sora talking, and riku listening. he talks about his family— his mom, the owner of the bakery, his dad, a fisherman, and his grandma, and how his last name, griffith, comes from his dad, but he thinks his mom’s last name is cooler. he talks about things he likes, like swimming, and playing swords, and he talks about the adventure picture books he’s learning how to read, and how he wants to go on an adventure someday. he even says that riku can come with him, and riku says maybe, though he knows that his mother would never, ever agree.

they’re at the bakery just as the streetlights turn on, and the slight chill of the night vanishes with the warmth of the shop, and riku’s tummy grumbles again at the smell of food. his mother is on the phone, no doubt talking to some clients or coworkers, while sora’s mom is packing up some baked goods in boxes. when she sees the two, she tilts her head at them, her lips pursing. “sora, dear, did you fall again?”

“sorry,” sora sighs, though he doesn’t sound very apologetic. “i just tripped! no biggie.”

riku doesn’t point out that sora was lying because he’s too busy noticing his mother squinting at sora. her features are tightly neutral, but riku can tell there’s disgust in her eyes. sora goes back behind the counter, where his mom decorates his knees and elbow with bandaids of various sizes and patterns.

riku’s mother hangs up the phone, putting it back in the pockets of her pencil skirt before grabbing the box, decorated light yellow and blue in a way that reminds riku of the seashore. at the same time, sora comes back around the counter, grabbing both of riku’s hands.

“we should play again, sometime!” he squeezes his hands, and riku’s face starts burning again.

sora’s mom gasps and claps her hands together, turning to riku’s mother. “oh, they should! what do you think?”

riku’s mother eyes sora, before shaking her head. “i don’t know if it’s a good idea. after all, riku has to prepare for the upcoming school year.”

“oh, come on,” sora’s mom says, “kids his age need to socialize! it’s very important for proper development, you know.”

riku half expects his mother to scoff out another rejection, grab riku’s hand and leave, but at under the dual attack of puppy eyes coming from both sora and his mother, she sighs. “fine, i suppose.”

“perfect!” sora’s mother smiles. “let’s keep in touch, then.”

finally, riku’s hand is taken by his mother, and he’s pulled towards the door, but he’s shuffling his feet so that he can look behind him, and even as he passed the door, he continued to stare at sora through the window, until he disappeared from riku’s line of vision. riku hated having to go run errands with his mother. he hated it, but perhaps this time wasn’t so bad.

[echo-goes-mmm]

Moonflower #5

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: sexism, dehumanization, fantasy illness

Mistress had braided her hair and put it in a bun, which was quite nice on her. She also added some red paint on her lips and gold dust on her eyelids. Kit wasn’t too sure about that.

He looked away before she caught him staring, but:

“What do you think?” she turned her head a bit, showing off her weaving.

“Pretty,” he said. She hummed a bit, looking into the mirror on her vanity. 

“I suppose you couldn’t say it if it weren’t true. What time is it?”

“Nine fifty-two am.” She looked at her watch.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of that.” She picked out a pair of black shoes from her closet. Flat ones, not one of the pairs of tall shoes, and Kit realized he was a bit taller than her. Huh. He didn’t feel like he was, and he certainly wasn’t yesterday.

Maybe she was wearing tall shoes then.

They stepped out of Iris’s rooms. 

“Everything alright, your majesty?” asked Sir Brennan, as polite as could be.

“Of course. Ms. Mira will be here in a few minutes; we’ll be in Kit’s rooms.”

“Understood, your grace.”

It seemed a bit silly to move across the hall for very little reason, but Kit supposed Mistress valued her privacy.

Ms. Mira was right on time, at one minute past ten. She was tall, and blond, with brown stern eyes and a strong jaw. 

“Good morning, your grace.” Her voice was low in pitch and volume.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about her.

“Hello, Mira. How are you? And how’s your sister?”

“I’m wonderful, darling, and Mina is obnoxious as usual. Something about a muse, she won’t shut up about it.” Mira rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth were turned upwards.

“And who are you?” Mira turned on him. “Are you my model for today?”

“He is,” said Mistress.

Mira stepped closer. She cupped his face, a thumb on his chin and two fingers under his jaw. He willed himself not to flinch, but the grip was firm, not painful.

She tilted his face back and forth, her eyes studying him. He averted his eyes, trying to be good, but she tsked.

“Look at me,” she said.

He met her gaze, the hair on the back of his neck standing up.

“Hmm. Fascinating.” She let go of him, and pulled out a notebook and pencil from her pocket.

“Do you always look so pale?”

“No ma’am.”

“He’s ill,” explained Iris, “recovering from poisoning.”

“I see.” Kit opened his mouth to explain, but Mira held up a finger. “No, no,” she said. “Don’t tell me. I’ll have to make a new wardrobe for you again anyway.”

She scribbled into her book. “Might as well work with what we have. Have you ever had your measurements taken before?”

Kit shook his head.

“I didn’t think so. Right then. First things first, name?”

He tensed. The audacious rudeness of asking for it so blatantly made his nerves buzz. “You may call me Kit.”

“Mhm. Height?” Kit shrugged. She raised a brow, and shut her book with a snap. “I guess I’ll have to start from the beginning.”

Mira pulled out a length of.. not quite rope but something similar.

“Stand up straight, shoulders back. No, don’t puff out your chest- here.” She maneuvered him like a doll, and he stood as still as possible.

Mira bent by his foot and slowly straightened, holding the measuring tool to him. She squinted at the number. “Adequate,” she muttered, and Kit didn’t think she was actually talking to anyone but herself.

Mira stepped back a bit, looking him up and down. “Despite the color, your skin is a shockingly good texture and even tone,” she jotted it down. “I’m sure once you’re well, we could do some lovely things with color. Are you wearing makeup?” 

“I don’t know what that is.”

“Like this, Kit,” Mistress gestured to her face. “You saw me put it on.”

“Oh. No, then.”

“Are you sure?” asked Mira. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Hmph. And what do you do day-to-day?”

“He’ll be with me,” interrupted Iris, “as… a companion.”

“So nothing athletic? Good. I assume we’re not talking servant-wear because otherwise I wouldn’t be here,” she chuckled a bit, mostly to herself.

Mira started measuring around his head, then his neck, from shoulder-to-shoulder; it went on. She constantly adjusted his posture- “no slouching, my dear”- but she was gentle in her firmness.

“I’m thinking subtlety, less look-at-me and more tasteful I-belong-here. Thoughts?”

Iris smiled, “Perfect.” 

Kit agreed with her. The less flashy the better. 

“Modest, or do we want to show off a little skin?” Mira turned to him, expecting an answer.

“Modest, please. But, um, I don’t mind skirts above my knees.”

Mira gave him a blank stare. “Skirts?” 

Kit had the sinking feeling that he’d done something wrong. 

“Kit,” frowned Iris, “We can’t have you wearing skirts or dresses. Men don’t do that here.”

“I- I didn’t know.”

“Fascinating, but no matter,” said Mira, dismissive. “We can get experimental another time. Do you know your shoe size?”

Kit shifted. “Do I need shoes?” They looked uncomfortable and rigid. Like they would bite into him every time he kneeled.

Mira opened her mouth, her brow furrowed, but Iris intercepted her objection.

“I suppose not,” she said, “but at least wear socks.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Mira wrote something in her notebook, underlining it twice.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” said Mira, suddenly more polite, “What do fae normally wear?”

“Um, there’s not... rules. Some don’t wear clothes at all.”

“Incredible. And you like skirts?”

“They’re easy to sew when I wanted something new. I did have some pants and shirts. It’s the gentry that wear complicated things like lace or silver thread.”

“Amazing. Well, I’ll make some mock-ups for formal wear and send you some altered clothes I already have on hand.”

Mistress Iris and Mira said their goodbyes, and she was gone.

“I think she likes you,” said Iris. 

___________________

Just as Mistress predicted, Chef Christine did want to talk to him. The walk to the kitchen was somewhat familiar, and he took comfort in the fact that he might be able to actually find his way around at some point.

The kitchen wasn’t particularly busy, a few people cleaning and prepping for lunch.

“Ah, there you are!” A woman with a white coat that said ‘Executive Chef Christine’ on the breast came towards them.

“You must be Kit,” she smiled. “How was breakfast?” 

“Good,” he said, mildly bewildered. Too many people were asking for his opinion today.

“Wonderful. Let’s talk.” Chirstine led them further into the large kitchen, and Kit suddenly felt a bit cold despite the ovens and lit fires. He shrugged it off. There might be a draft somewhere.

Christine brought them to a small table crammed into the corner, pulling out a chair for Mistress.

Kit sat heavily, his legs a bit tired. It must have been the long walk.

The table had a huge binder on it, full of papers. Christine flipped through the pages until she landed on ‘KIT’.

“So I have ‘no iron or steel’ and ‘no salt’, but I don’t have your preferences.” Christine picked up her pencil. “Anything you don’t eat?”

“Songbirds.” Christine’s eyes widened. Kit flushed a bit. “I, uh, feel bad eating them. They just sing so nice.”

“Oh, um, okay. Anything else?”

“Uh, deer? I have, I mean, had, a friend who's a deer-man so it feels wrong to hunt them. And snakes, for a similar reason.” Christine stared at him, and he fidgeted. “Sorry.”

“No, no, I’m just surprised! We don’t cook any of those animals anyway.” She smiled, and Kit felt a little better about being so obviously soft-hearted.

“Although I’m a bit curious,” said Iris, “what did you hunt before? No deer seems a bit restrictive.”

Kit looked down at his hands. They were shaking, and his head felt a bit light. 

“Um, pheasant. Turkey. Fish. Boar, if I could get it.”

“How did you manage hunting boar?” asked Christine.

“It’s easier if you have a partner, but a spear works fine if you can drop from above. Just aim for the neck.”

Christine glanced at Iris. “Okay, well, is there anything else you want to tell me? Likes, dislikes?”

A headache was forming between his eyes, the light of the kitchen becoming harsh.

“I could do with less honey… it’s like… drinking wine…” 

“Kit, are you alright?”

“I’m fi-” his throat closed up, and he wheezed, choking on the lie. It hurt, and he grabbed his throat.

Through his blurry vision, he could see the pots and pans on the counters, hanging from the ceiling. All gray steel.

Steel cake pans, cast iron pots, knives, muffin tins. All steel or iron. He needed to get out.

He tried to get up, but his legs fell out from under him.

“Kit!” Iris grabbed him by the arm, and he slumped towards the floor.

“What is it? What’s wrong?!” said Christine, and her voice was jarringly loud.

“I- I don’t know!” Iris shook him, and he tried to tell her that it hurt, but he couldn’t.

“Kit, what’s happening?!” 

The room wouldn’t stop spinning, and there were so many people talking now, all the other cooks staring staring staring.

“Dizzy,” he slurred, which was not what he meant to say.

“Get him some water,” Iris barked at Christine. “Stay with me,” she said, and where else would he be going?

“Here,” Christine handed Iris the glass, and she held it to his lips. He shook his head the best he could. He’d choke on it; his tongue was heavy and clumsy in his mouth.

“Oh my god,” said Iris as fuzzy black spots drifted across his vision. “It’s the metal! Help me get him out!”

Kit stumbled as they pushed and pulled him out of the kitchen and into the dining room.

“I’m so sorry,” said Iris, letting him lie down and pant on the cool wood. “I should have known.”

“Don’ wor’ ‘bout it,” he mumbled. Kit closed his eyes. He could feel and hear Iris sit down on the floor next to him.

“Is it always this bad?” she asked. “Every time?”

“Nooo. ‘M just really sick. Won’t… be so… hard ‘n stuff,” he waved a hand, “soon.”

“Very reassuring, thanks,” said Mistress, dry as a bone. 

Kit smiled a bit into the wood. It made his face hurt, so he dropped it.

It was a half hour later when he could finally push himself off the floor. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” said Iris, helping him up. “It’s my fault. I knew you were ill. Sunlight and fresh air helps, right?”

“Uh huh.”

“Then I’ll show you the gardens.”

“Gardens?”

“Mhm. Come on.”

taglist: @paintedpigeon1

[silenfah]

Another Race Sheet!

At long last, I have returned with the OTHER race reference sheet - this time, the races that live in Silen Fah! Left-to-right, siltur, jeltur, and i (pronounced "ee").

"Silturen" translates to "tree people", and they have this name for good reason. Legend has it they were created from the trees, and most of them still live among their arboreal brethren, in little nomadic camps. They are tall and willowy, with pale green skin (that darkens like a leaf when exposed to enough sunshine), blonde hair, and brown eyes. They are ruminants, with two stomachs; they are born with snaky, symmetrical black markings (pattern is unique to each siltur); and they have a pair of black horns on their foreheads - fairly small "nubs" on females, but much longer on males (and given enough time they can grow to be quite impressive!). Like the trees, they have lifespans of several centuries, and they tend to live their long lives in peace, avoiding the busy jeltur settlements and staying uninvolved in the ongoing war with the Merfaturen as much as possible. Except when their forests are threatened. You do NOT mess around with the trees, for fear of awakening their wrath.

"Jelturen" translates to "color people", because this race boasts the genetic potential to have naturally-occurring hair (and eyes) of any hue imaginable. (Tannufia, with her rainbow hair, is the most extreme example of this.) Otherwise, they're pretty much this world's version of humans - similar heights, builds, lifespans, and anatomical attributes. At some point I'd written them as vegetarians (like LOTR elves), but that was eventually rewritten too. They also have human-like social habits, some living in cabins in the woods and on little farms, but most of them congregating in cities. They are the vast majority of Silen Fah's population, and basically the rulers. (Well, they have a king, and the entire country is considered within their territory, but also once the terrain hits a certain level of "wild", it's really more the jurisdiction of the silturen... but they're very close allies.) Since they're native to Silen Fah, they do not get the "Superman effect" that the humans here do, and therefore have no special powers.

"Ien" translates to "littles". They're basically fairies. They keep to themselves even more than the silturen, but if you happen to stumble across a group of them (and they're not tricksters), you may be in for a blessing! They have strange and unknown levels of magical power and are not very predictable with how they use it - especially since four of the five different i tribes are generally helpful and friendly, but the fifth one is known for playing tricks and picking pockets. And, since most people never see them at all, most encounters begin with people not knowing which tribe they're dealing with. Each tribe has a different style of wings - moth, butterfly, "bug" (think dragonfly), bird, and even leaf-style wings which will start to change color with age. Many people think the ien have something to do with the humans' appearance in Silen Fah in the first place - and/or something to do with their powers. The ien have neither confirmed nor denied these allegations, most likely because they haven't heard them. Like the silturen, they tend to stay neutral in the war, but woe betide the man who provokes them!

[davekat-sucks]

Anon who sent that ask about Eridan interacting with the alpha kids not long ago. I wanted to talk about it a little more particularly with Jake, both are gun welding hunters who love adventure. That'd probably be enough to kick it off for them, Eridan and Jake would love to share stories about their accomplishments while maintaining a cool persona. They can talk about knowing Jade briefly, their hope aspect, the isolation they felt growing up, their drama with relationships, like how everyone is wants Jake and no one wants Eridan, how blue bitches cant be trusted! There's so much they could discuss! Roxy and Eridan is pretty obvious with the many interests and personal struggles they share. Such a missed opportunity they never interacted.

I don't think Eridan per se loves adventure as much as Jake has. But his hunting and FLARP sessions, make him active in going out to dangerous places and killing someone when threatened. But it would be kind of cool for Eridan to share his stories about his FLARP games. It would definitely boost Eridan's ego and confidence that someone is willing to listen to him. Both can sympathize about Jade living on island. Though Jake knows that Eridan bothered Jade mostly to hit on her, he like to believe he notices that Jade was alone and tries to at least keep her company because of her isolation. Eridan sending Jade his rifle was also necessary too. Eridan would probably be confused on concept of grandparents, but Jake would help him that it's not too bad to have an extended family or someone of the opposite sex to raise you. The relationship drama of everyone wanting Jake and nobody wanting (that close in matesprite/kismesis) would also be an interesting one. Though Jake is definitely a better person in terms of personality, most of his friends only want him for dick and sex, not him as an actual person who has his own interests and problems that can't be solved by love. On the other side, Eridan is not the greatest person due to how he was raised to believe that status and power is what determines your worth. He knows he bitches and wwhines to others about his problem, but he wants to genuinely want to help others. Just that either the other party doesn't want to explain about their own issues or Eridan's approach to things is not seen as great. Both can help each other. Eridan helping Jake stand up to tell his real feelings to his friends while also giving a chance to be in better terms with them and Jake helping Eridan to be a less shitty person that he may start to see that his old beliefs were not as great as he thought.

Blue bitches can never be trusted. I like to imagine either Eridan seeing how Jake interacted with Jane or Aranea, he would be asking Jake if he is aware that even with his love for blue-themed, the girls' personalities range from clingy to 8oring(at least in Aranea's case). Yeah, Eridan would think Aranea is a nice Vriska, but he would be bored with her always talking that he can't even get a say or word to really rile her up and start hate flirting. He prefers a challenge from his partner and Aranea probably won't give him that. Eridan would advise Jake to stick with humans that just have similar white Caucasian matching color as him. And if Jake addresses there is more than one skin color tone, than Eridan shrugs and say fine because most of the monkey humans look all the same to him. Maybe have a meta joke about how even if the acknowledgement of other races or people interpreting the kids as other ethnicities, they are still kept in the same art style. That it would be easier that if someone thought they were black, they would make it more obvious in the overworld sprite. Jake may say something that standardize sprite look is just a base for others to view however they want, but Eridan argues that it is stupid and whatever is shown to him(and the viewer) is what it is. If they have the time to make a stand in, then they would have the time to give detail to make it known said person is a different race. Either everyone can be seen as this or nobody seen as it. Can also be funny to imagine that Jake notices Eridan's crush on Roxy that Eridan would try and ask for help on how to be less of a dick and be a true gentleman. Jake does so on trying to be a decent man. Some parts may make Eridan feel embarrassed or question if it even works, but Jake does genuinely want to help and believes that things like that are one of the steps forward to be a better person. Eridan would probably hear about Caliborn being his genuine friend compared to others. The troll would agree in some parts with the Cherub, but question about his approach on trying to get Jake to acknowledge his own problems and get him to fully stand up. Or question if Caliborn is any better because his fondness for Jake mostly stems from the destiny thing that would lead to Lord English's existence. That he would be no better than Calliope on using people to lead to his existence and his goals. Eridan thinks Caliborn is like Karkat, but Caliborn holds nothing back on calling out Eridan's bullshit and denies that he is has any familiarity with the mutantblood nobody, which Eridan tries to at least defend Karkat's honor as a friend, despite knowing that Karkat may still hate Eridan for what he did. Eridan and Caliborn would be at odds on how to approach things with Jake and the rest of the Alpha Kids. But soon enough, Eridan and other trolls(Equius, Nepeta, and Feferi) time with the Alpha Kids starts to improve without Calliope and Caliborn's involvement. That the Alpha Kids doesn't need to depend or listen too much of what the Cherubs had to say, picking up on their true intentions and goals. Eridan would happily mock Caliborn, the 'kar wwannabe', that he can't do shit towards Jake or anyone else. Maybe it is at that point, Caliborn would acknowledge Eridan as another Hero of Hope to face him, calling back to Eridan's old prophesized destiny and knowing he can't underestimate another person like Dave, who was given this same goal too as the Hero of Time. Though Jake English may have been the one of the people that would give the name Lord English, he can't deny other timelines where other heroes had been given a chance to bring LE down. Sure they are doomed timelines, but they were still given that choice if the slight chance something breaks the usual cycle. There's so much Homestuck could have done, but failed by the end. At least we have fanfics. So feel free to make those What-If scenarios and Fix-Its. To show others that a series like this could have been better if given enough thought and time.

[askaalaska-vdeppressed]

Kids and Coffee Dates: Finale

(just wanted to say I'm so so grateful to everyone that 's stuck with story, I've been struggling these past months and I'm so thankful for everyone that's stayed strong and put up with me and my updating schedule. You're all one of a kind and I may stray from witcher stuff for a little bit but I can't overstate how grateful I am for all of you ~Alaska)

Masterlist

The combination of leather and sweat tugged roughly at Eskel’s skin. It was getting too cold to ride the bike without gear, but it was also too warm for Eskel to be comfortable, perspiration beading from his skin if he moved too much under the leather.  He was grateful turning onto the next road that Y/n’s house was just up ahead. 

The bike eased onto the bush hidden drive, the lilacs long gone, either withered from the heat of the summer, or plucked unceremoniously from their cradle by their soaper owner. Eskel was so practiced with the driveway at this point that he knew just when to cut the engine, the bike slowing perfectly to a stop by the side entrance of the house. The wood steps creaked under Eskel’s familiar weight as he made his way inside.  

“Babe?” He called out, turning his head and walking to the resounding “here” that came from the living room.  

Y/n was sitting on the hardwood, legs spread out with varying colors of tissue paper surrounding her. The coffee table had been pushed to the wall, sitting beside the stone front of a fireplace that his lover had sworn she would clean out at some point. Several decorative boxes were sat atop it. The couch it seemed had suffered a similar fate, being pushed back to allow Y/n to sit on the floor with her back resting against it. The couch was also being subjected to the weight of 8 million bars of soap. Each colorful bar stacked in precariously tall rows.  

“You doing some kind of special or something?” Eskel asked.  

“Hmm?” Y/n looked up from meticulously folding a soap bar in tissue paper. “No, I mean I am going to do a big Halloween drop in a week or so but this isn’t so much for that as it is for those.” She gestured at the decorative boxes on the sidelined coffee table. “I made some little goodie boxes for your family at the party tonight.”  

“Y/n you didn’t have to do that.” Eskel’s brows furrowed as he came to stand by the couches side, overlooking Y/n.  

‘I know I didn’t have to, but I thought it would be nice, plus how are they going to know I’m good girlfriend material? I need to make a statement; I can’t have them thinking I make shitty soap!” Y/n’s hands began gesticulating wildly as she spoke, standing to see Eskel properly in the process.  

“I don’t think any of them thought you made shitty soap, besides” Eskel’s hands softly caressed Y/n’s face as he spoke, before comically squishing her cheeks together. “So long as I’m happy I’m sure they’ll be happy too.”  

Y/n playfully swiped at Eskel’s hands, a cute girlish smile involuntarily creeping onto her cheeks. 

“Alright alright, you big sap, C’mon I want to show you something before we have to go”, Y/n tugged Eskel along, her steps easily navigating the sea of decorations and wrapping that covered the floor, leaving poor Eskel to try his best to not step on anything.  

She led them outside, the path to the goat barn well known to Eskel at this point, which made it all the more shocking when Y/n deviated from the normal path. A small trail had been made, not so much by cutting foliage away but by stepping and dragging equipment along the same route, stamping down grasses and saplings.  

The trees opened up to reveal a sizeable clearing, foliage cut back leaving only stumps in there wake. In the center was a fenced in arena, a smaller version of y/n’s goat play place sat inside it. Off to the left toward the back was a set of stalls.  

“What’s all this?” confusion was blatant on Eskel’s face as y/n turned toward him.  

“Well... I mean I didn’t want to overstep or anything... but you know you and I have been talking about moving in together, and I knew I was going to need a separate place for Bleater, sooo I called in a few favors and watched a few tutorials.” Y/n gestured to the new goat facilities behind her. “Ta daaah” 

Y/n’s face seemed to be mildly embarrassed as she couldn’t look Eskel in the eyes.  

“Y/n..” Eskel stepped toward her, the look of confusion slowly morphing into one of awe. “When did you start doing all this?”  

The heat in y/n’s face only got worse. “...heh... after our first date...” Y/n dared a side glance at her boyfriend. A blush had enveloped Eskel’s features, tears on the brink of falling made good on there promise as Eskel took a shaky breath.  The breath he took sat stagnant in his throat, as if by holding his breath he could absorb the emotion of this moment and keep it, live here in this second of time, forever. 

His legs moved before his brain could think, striding over to Y/n arms outstretched to catch her in a embrace as their lips crashed together.  

~ 

Several sets of eyes made their way to the unfamiliar car pulling into the stable. The place was a sight worthy of a blog entry on a crafty mother's website. Stakes held small lanterns in varying fall colors, tables were set up decorated in burlap and colored mesh, and cozy looking chairs sat interspersed between hay bales around a fire.  The sounds of whinnies and tail swishing a white noise in the background as the family mingled, the smells of cider and popcorn wafting about.  

As Eskel and Y/n parked the latter could feel her anxiety spiking. The car ride over it had been simmering, but the blissful hum of the engine and the vibrations in the steering wheel had kept her grounded. Eskel had spoken in such length about his family. They meant the world to him, begrudgingly he would add. The fear of making a fool of herself weighed on her chest, the demon of stress sitting on her with no mind to leave anytime soon.  

Eskel noticed the distant look in her eyes, and the white knuckle grip his love was giving the steering wheel. "They’ll love you” 

“But what if they don’t?” the tremble in her always confident voice pricking on the back of Eskel’s neck.  

“I’ll still love you” he affirmed.  

“Promise?” The anxiety mixed with admiration in Y/n’s eyes.  

“Promise.”  

A sudden rapid knock on the window of the vehicle startled both of its inhabitants. A smug Lambert outside, his arm resting on the roof of the car.  

“You know you have to get out of the car to join the party, right?” the ever-present shit eating grin he wore widening.  

Eskel popped open the door, pushing Lambert to step out of the way.  

“Oh good, you can help us carry things over.” Eskel said, a sly smile on his face as he turned from his brother to open the back hatch. As Lambert followed to tease him further, Eskel shoved his arms full with delicately decorated boxes of soaps.  

“The fuck is this?” Lambert’s voice echoed from behind the barrier of tissue paper. 

“Language dear!” Suhuyini shouted from the party several yards away.  

“Nothing gets past her does it” Y/n commented, stepping out to help unload. 

“Nope” Suhuyini shouted.  

As the trio unloaded food and gifts from the back the family congregated closer to the action. Eskel introduced you, and much to your relief after a few minutes the party seemed to return to its mellow normalcy. You offered help to Vesemir and Suhuyini who were handling food, however all that you received was a mug of cider being pushed into your hands by Suhuyini and an offering to sit and relax from Vesemir. The warm of the drink in your hand and the lingering spice on your tongue grounded you as you took a seat on hay bale to observe the game of bag your lover was currently engrossed in. Eskel had partnered with Ciri and Geralt had taken birthday girl Purnima as colorful bags were flung back and forth.   

“Get’em honey” Yennifer had called out from the tables, eyeing the boxes of soaps you had brought for everyone. 

“Which one? Your daughter or your husband?” Eskel called out.  

“Yes” was Yennifer’s response as she examined the boxes closer. Her breath hitched audibly before she hastily stood next to your hay bale.  

“Hey where did you get these gift boxes from again?” she asked.  

“Oh I made them.” Y/n answered, glancing up at her briefly before returning her eyes to the game.  

“I know you put the boxes together” she said, waiting for you to look at her once more before continuing. “but like where did you get the soaps from”  

“I made them” you responded again. “It’s my business”  

“Let me see your hands” Yennifer sat down in a flash pressed next to you on the hair bale. Before you could respond she was setting your drink down and grabbing your hands. Inspecting them closely.  

“You’re Cool Kids soaps, aren't you?” Her stare was direct and she awaited your answer like a crazed woman.  

“Yeeeaaahhh I am.... why?” She hadn’t let go of your hands, your gaze lingering over to the side, both to escape her stare and try to summon your lover for help.  

“I knew it! I could recognize your lilac soap anywhere, it’s my favorite, it’s all I wear. I’ve been buying it from you since I found your page!” A sigh of relief left you as she let go of your hands. Glad that she was just an excited customer.  

“Eskel you can never break up with her now, you know that right? I won’t have you hurting my favorite soap influencer.” Your eyebrow furrowed at being called a soap influencer, but you didn’t think to hard on it as the sound of your lover echoed out closer to you than expected.  

“Well I hadn’t planned on it” Eskel let out a laugh as he walked over, the game having concluded with Geralt and Purnima winning if the victory dances in the corner of your eye were anything to go off of. 

“But I’ll keep it in mind” he joked, picking up your drink and offering a hand to help you stand.  

~ 

The dusk turned to night as food and gifting commenced. Children and adults now gathered around the fire, blankets and warm drinks abounding as the darkness brought with it a chill in the air. The peace disturbed as Yennifer elbowed Geralt, pointing to a chair as she got his attention. Eskel and Y/n were sat on it together, the solid wood having no problem holding both adults. A blanket laid across the pair as there heads leaned against one another, both sleeping peacefully. The flickering light of the fire casting a warm glow on the couple.  

Noticing his brothers glancing, Lambert directed his attention in the same direction, taking in the sickenly sweet display.  

“I think I’m gonna hurl”  

~ 

Eskel woke up to the banal sounds of the alarm on his phone. The muscles in his back constantly sore from his job but helped by the recently replaced mattress. As he made his way to the kitchen, he made sure to mind the moving boxes that littered the floor. Labels for each written in large black marker as they sat in a state of mid packing. As he crossed into the kitchen, the smell of cinnamon oatmeal and coffee hit his nose. A cup and bowl were already prepared for him. As he looked out the back sliding glass door, the unmistakable figure of Y/n was sat by the pasture. Grabbing his breakfast, he made his way out, taking the seat next to her. Nothing was said as the two sat in content silence. They just sat, holding onto the others hand, sipping coffee as twin baby kids pestered their mother in the pasture before them.  

[problematic-camren]

I am quite uncertain how we have ended here, but Enid and I are currently in my bed -- she initially wants me to go to hers, but I do not want to have another allergic reaction at the mere contact of her horrifically colorful linens, so I put my foot down and insist we stay here where it's dark and comfortable (similar to a paralyzing nightmare) -- and her mouth is doing things to my neck. Inexplicably wonderful things.

Normally, I would have already stabbed a random bitch if they so much as put their grimy lips on my skin, but this is Enid... I would never stab her. I may threaten her with assault, or bully her until she cries, or traumatize her with gruesome pictures she hates, but I will never hurt my roommate.

Yes, sometimes, when she annoys me with her loud pop music, and vomit-inducing positivity so early in the morning, I would fantasize tying her up in bed (to torture her), or maybe stripping off her nauseatingly colorful clothing (to figure out the best places I could do the most damage without leaving physical marks), or maybe biting her (not too hard that it'll leave marks -- unless she wants to), or probably -- a personal favorite -- choking her (only mildly, just so she will stop speaking for a few seconds and give me my much-needed peace of mind), but I never have thought about disfiguring her.

I think her skin is beautiful, and her body is too amazing to stab at. I am just complimenting her as a roommate, by the way. What is it these vapid kids nowadays say? No homo.

Anyway, so here I am, half-reclined on my bed, and Enid is still doing things to my neck. Oh, she licked me. Is there a draft in the room? Why did I shiver? What is this feeling in my belly? Is it hunger? But I just had dinner.

Her teeth grazes my skin -- a little too pointy, in my fair assessment -- and before I could even make sense of what is going on, I feel her teeth sinking into that sensitive part of my neck. A little too hard, because I feel a small prick of pain, which, truth be told, I am not averse to. But I am right in my assessment that her teeth are a little too pointy. I surmise it's the werewolf genes in her. Why am I getting excited at the idea of Enid turning into a werewolf?

"Oh my god, Wednesday, did I hurt you? I'm so sorry!" she gasps.

She lifts her head up to look at me, clearly panicking.

I don't understand why.

"Hurt me? I like it, I have an unbelievably high pain tolerance," I shrug, offering my neck for more bites.

"But you're bleeding," she whimpers apologetically.

"So?" I look at her, not understanding her point.

"So? You're hurt!"

"Hurt me more, please. It makes me less homesick."

I close my eyes once again and wait for her to nibble on my neck once more.

(Follow me on wattpad... I'll be posting more shit in there.)

[genericmain]

Anyways guys gals and nonbinary pals.. The Topsy brain rot be real, and while this all stemmed from a pocket love thing, this particular character feels more fleshed out and "real" than H did so I don't know what that means or how it'll affect things going forward but...

Topsy!

Infodump under the cut. I couldn't help myself.

Also, as always, -> not proship friendly, sorry.

Also she is non-sharing jic idk how common it is for people to be like ah yes this oc f/o is mine too.

She picked her name herself, and refuses to tell anyone her dead name - after all she had it legally changed. Anyone who's attempted to find the info, gets buried in a mountain of paperwork so large it's almost comical. She's non-verbal majority of the time as she is selectively mute, Ie she only really talks to me, and while the general look of her mime make up doesn't change (nor does it come off) she can have varying styles of makeup! This is the one she had on while I was doing this project, but she has a more stereotypical mime makeup, and more avant garde ones as well, which I may get around to creating designs of, but most likely I'll leave it up to your imagination as it's kind of a lot. Personality wise, she's shy, anxious (to the point it's probably a disorder, She has a tendency to pick at the skin around her nails), compassionate, kind, and passionate about what she loves. She can be sassy, a bit hot headed, and short tempered, but that's due to the same passion she applies to creative projects. She doesn't know how "good" it is, but she does paint, and draw - the only thing she's never done is a self potrait. She doesn't like mirrors, to the point that I think she'd remove or crack the mirror in the bathroom in headspace if she didn't have her own. We've made a deal to cover it with a towel if she ever needs to use the main bathroom instead. (For anyone asking why headspace has mirrors and the like, because it's sometimes easier to look in a mirror than to outwardly identify who's here sadly. As for bathrooms... Call it normalcy. Our headspace is a house, mainly.) She usually dresses casually, rather than fancy, and she does incorporate color, the clothing options available just don't suit her style. Her favorite ice cream is cookie dough, and she's a big fan of finger foods but doesn't love pizza. She likes cats, but hasn't had the chance to really own a cat or interact with them much, and has a lot of intrusive/anxious thoughts about accidentally picking cats up wrong, or hurting them, so she mostly just admires them on social media rn. She likes all kinds of colors, but I think her favorite might be dusty blue? She has a lot of stuff in that color, so if it's not, I'd like to replace it eventually. She does own the traditional stripey outfit of a mime, but she prefers to wear a light pink and white striped turtle neck, with either a cute light pink skirt, or some black ripped faux jeans. While she has other options, those seem to be the things she wears most often, depending on how appropriate it is to do so. She also has an off the shoulder cowl neck hybrid in a similar style, which she pairs with a black tank top underneath. She's fairly fashion forward, just focusing on mixing mime fashion + a little bit of clowncore with pastel goth/punk goth aesthetic. She seems to enjoy reading, but will put down a book anytime someone sees her (including me) and tends to blush at "being caught reading" I don't know much about her home life, but I know that in addition to the scarring from picking her nail skin, she has these deep scars (healed) on her hands, and various other deep scars on her body. With strangers, she's self conscious about them, but with me, she's admitted she's proud of surviving, and views them as proof of that, rather than something to be ashamed of. (Not SH scars - jic it needs saying.) She's a confident, sassy, powerful woman when we're together, but she can quickly become shaky and unsure of herself depending on the circumstances, so watching her flourish has been a joy. Despite *literally* being created recently, She definitely feels like a wife and not a girlfriend, in the sense of, I feel like we've been married for years, and together even longer. So I'll be calling her my Mime wife from here on out! Not to be confused with IRL wife!

I don't think she's human despite her appearence suggesting that, given the permanent, shifting, mime makeup but tbh? Slay. We love a non-human character here.

I'll probably add more as time goes on but yeah, Meet my mime wife! I love her! If you'd told me a year ago I've have a clown adjacent character as a F/O I would've asked if this was a bad joke (I'm afraid of clowns) but here we are, and she's not the least bit scary, which is good.

[digitalsnail]

hey!! just wanted to say I really really enjoy seeing your art on my dash especially how shade and the color schemes you use are amazing! if i can ask how do you usually go about picking such good combos and also how do you always manage to always get your art to look so soft and comfortable?

thank you so much for your words!!! ;; sorry this is so late... truthfully, i'm really bad at explaining things, especially with something i have trouble with!

coloring is the thing i spend the longest on while drawing. i usually revise the colors a good 3 or 4 times, and sometimes even post it not totally satisfied, especially they're just doodles. but i think when you have a solid mood you want to achieve with your drawings, it'll come a bit easier.

with more solemn or easygoing pieces i draw on light backgrounds and pile on the dark colors, with unsaturated and colors leaning towards the left side of the pallet. with more energetic or offputting pieces, try with a darker background with more saturated and top left colors.

another thing that i've really wished i paid more attention to earlier is that coloring is hard because it really does play with your mind. looking at the miku pic - you'll find the mud in the red pigment, the teal snakes are actually more green leaning, and her skin and dress actually pretty similar in tone. i made sure to surround her skin with the snakes and her dress with the rock to really make them distinct, and in the places they do meet, making sure the dress is shaded so the flesh stands out. again with the finn picture, the greens are actually more orange and the purples moreso red -- it's just the *surrounding* colors that trick your eye. when you color and paint, you should try experimenting with the other colors surrounding it! opposing colors, such as shading blue on yellow tones, really help your colors pop too.

with doodles i feel like overlays and multiply layers help as a lil cheat to make colors look pretty. it's a double edged sword as they don't exist in real life, but hey, it's a tool given to you digitally so you may as well use it. i've really liked playing around with mspaint recently, as i don't have layers for a crutch, so i have to rely on the coloring tips i've learned.

...i feel like i've talked a lot but said nothing LOL i'm sorry. ;; i hope i've helped, just a little bit! at the end of the day, coloring with experience is the true key. and don't forget to study artists, both the classicals and even your peers. we rely on each other!

[cowgurrrl]

Imagine reader getting a tattoo of everyone’s birth flower!! Jane, Ellie, Sarah, Charlie and Joel!! She just comes home with a bouquet on her arm. It jus sounds so cute and sweet

Omg i love this!! It also took me a ungodly amount of time to realize what universe we were talking about because I’ve been up since 5:30am 🫠

According to canon, Sarah was born on July 20th, 1989 (happy belated birthday Sarah Bear) and in my personal canon Jane’s birthday is April 7th, 1998 and Charlie’s birthday is August 11th, ~2025, and Ellie’s birthday is ~May 15th, 2009 (unconfirmed but it’s speculated that Ellie was born somewhere between January-May 2009)

Therefore, if we’re going by this chart ^^^ the bouquet would include an aster, a water lily, a sweet pea, a poppy, and a Hawthorne.

I think Cat would’ve done it for you. Even though she and Ellie didn’t work out, she’s still an insanely talented tattoo artist and when you tell her what you want done and why, she can’t say no. And even though you try to keep it a secret, Joel can tell something is up. You eventually spill the secret and he ends up booking a similar tattoo, including your birth flower in his bouquet. You always said you’d never get a matching tattoo with anyone you were in a relationship with but how could you say no when he’s getting a tattoo for your daughter?

The day of the appointment, Joel jokes that he’ll hold your hand through the whole thing if the pain gets to be too much but you’ve given birth. Twice. A little needle is nothing. It would probably be black work (this might be June projecting though because I actually have a bouquet of my siblings birth flowers on my right arm and it’s color and I kinda wish it was black and white but I still like it!!) and when Joel asks how it feels, you shake your head. “Not bad.”

However, after Cat has finished wrapping your sensitive skin and stenciled the design onto Joel’s skin, he freaks out. He doesn’t back out, he wouldn’t, but he’s nervous. Then, it’s your turn to hold his hand and assure him that he’ll be fine. He sits like a trooper and squeezes your hand when Cat goes back over the black work with white shading.

Showing the girls is emotional. Seeing them all together is even worse. It’s fun to imagine having months of celebrating birthday after birthday, all your girls being born back to back. When they died, you knew you would carry their memories with you for the rest of your lives. Seeing them surrounded by the people you’ve found since their deaths soothes a burn in your chest. It’s not gone, but it doesn’t hurt quite as bad.

Who knew two little tattoos would be able to give you that much peace?