#i wanted to show the process for this PIECE OF ART I STILL ADMIRE

[deliicacymercy]

✨️the process✨️

[kiki-smith21]

A Silent Understanding

Wednesday Addams x autistic fem reader

A/N: This is my first fanfic, and any feedback would be appreciated. Let me know if you want a part 2. (I am actually autistic, so this is mostly based off the symptoms I show, but if you have any typical symptoms of autism you wish for me to add to the story later let me know and I'll try my best. Please be respectful to all, and remember to drink water and look after yourself, cuties)

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Summary: In the comfort of the library, you and Wednesday share a moment of vulnerability and trust.

In the dimly lit, Gothic confines of Nevermore Academy, the atmosphere was as thick with mystery as ever. Wednesday Addams, with her signature braids and dark demeanour, was engrossed in her latest endeavor—a particularly challenging crossword puzzle.

You, a quiet student with an affinity for the arts and a mind that danced to a different rhythm, often found solace in the same library where Wednesday spent much of her time. You had always admired her from afar, drawn to her enigmatic presence and unique perspective on the world.

Today, the library was especially silent, save for the occasional creak of the old wooden floors and the soft rustling of pages. You found a seat at a nearby table, trying to focus on your sketchbook. It was in these rare, quiet moments that you felt most at peace, your thoughts flowing freely without the need for words.

As the hours ticked by, you noticed Wednesday glancing over her crossword with a hint of frustration. Summoning your courage, you approached her table, clutching a folded piece of paper in your hand.

"Do you need help with that?" you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Your heart raced as you waited for her response, unsure if you had intruded on her solitary work.

Wednesday looked up, her dark eyes meeting yours with a flicker of curiosity. "And why would you offer assistance?" she asked, her tone a mixture of skepticism and intrigue.

"I noticed you were having trouble with a few clues," you replied, hoping your voice conveyed the sincerity you felt. "I've always been good with puzzles."

A faint, inscrutable smile tugged at the corners of Wednesday’s lips. "Very well. Let's see if your skills are as impressive as you claim."

You settled into the seat beside her, your nerves calming as you began to work through the crossword clues together. The process was slow but rewarding, each shared glance and whispered suggestion deepening the connection between you.

As the final word fit perfectly into the grid, Wednesday's gaze lingered on you. "You did well," she said, her voice softer than usual. "Thank you."

The library was quiet, save for the faint hum of the old heating system. In this serene bubble, you felt an unexpected urge to express something you had been holding back. You reached for the folded piece of paper you had brought, unfolding it to reveal a simple drawing of a crescent moon—an image that had always felt comforting to you.

Wednesday’s eyes softened as she studied the drawing, and for a moment, you both simply sat in silence. It was a moment of unspoken understanding.

Without quite knowing how it happened, your hand found its way to Wednesday’s, fingers brushing lightly against hers. The contact was gentle but electric, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that had formed between you.

Wednesday’s gaze met yours, her expression inscrutable yet filled with something tender. Slowly, she leaned in, her lips brushing against yours in a hesitant, yet warm kiss. It was a soft, fleeting moment that spoke volumes, a shared silence that encapsulated everything words could not.

When you finally pulled away, Wednesday’s eyes were still locked onto yours, a rare and genuine smile playing on her lips. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in your own little corner of understanding.

As you both sat there, the unspoken connection between you felt more profound than any words could ever convey. It was a silent promise of something more, a shared moment of intimacy that marked the beginning of something beautiful.

[dissapointu]

“Dancing into Their Hearts”

Jayce and Viktor with a Dancer Reader

Jayce

Jayce is utterly mesmerized the first time he sees you dance. Whether it’s a graceful solo or a lively performance with others, he can’t take his eyes off you.

“Wow,” he breathes, leaning against the nearest surface, his hammer forgotten in his hand. “How do you even move like that?”

He’s the type to hype you up constantly, clapping the loudest when you finish and throwing in a whistle for good measure. If you’re practicing, he’s right there, watching in awe. “You make it look so easy, but I know it takes so much skill. You’re incredible.”

Jayce tries to dance with you—key word: tries. He’s a little clumsy but earnest, doing his best to keep up with your rhythm. “Okay, don’t laugh, but can you teach me? I promise I’ll stop stepping on your toes… eventually.”

He’s a sucker for the way dancing lights you up. If you’ve had a rough day, he’ll encourage you to put on your favorite music and dance it out, sitting back and admiring the joy that radiates from you. “That’s it. That’s the smile I wanted to see.”

Jayce is also incredibly impressed by the strength and agility your dancing requires. “I didn’t realize how much work it takes. You’re like… an artist and an athlete all rolled into one.” He’ll offer to help with stretches or hold your hand during a difficult routine, always ready to cheer you on.

Viktor

Viktor is initially quiet about his admiration, but you catch the way his golden-brown eyes linger when you dance. He watches every movement, taking in the grace and precision you bring to each step.

“That was… breathtaking,” he says softly after your performance, his voice tinged with awe. “You make it seem as though gravity doesn’t apply to you.”

He’s fascinated by the mechanics behind your movements and loves asking you questions about how you train. “Is it muscle memory, or do you focus on every step as you perform? How do you maintain such balance?” His curiosity is endless, but it’s always laced with admiration.

Viktor isn’t much of a dancer himself, but he loves being a part of your creative process. He’ll suggest music that matches your style or help you brainstorm new routines. “This piece… it has a certain rhythm. Perhaps you could experiment with it?”

Despite his reserved nature, Viktor surprises you by showing up to every performance he can. He claps softly but sincerely, his smile warm. “You’re extraordinary,” he says afterward, holding your hand. “I don’t think I’ll ever tire of watching you.”

If you’re working on a particularly challenging routine, Viktor is quick to offer support. “Take your time,” he says, handing you water or adjusting the music for you. “Even brilliance needs rest.”

He’s also struck by the physicality of your dancing. If you ever express insecurity about your appearance, Viktor is quick to reassure you. “Your body isn’t just beautiful—it’s strong, disciplined, and capable of creating art. That’s something to be proud of.”

Together (bounus) 💜💜

When Jayce and Viktor are both present, their reactions to your dancing create a delightful contrast. Jayce is the loud, enthusiastic cheerleader, while Viktor quietly marvels at your skill.

Jayce will nudge Viktor with a grin. “See that spin? That was insane!” Viktor nods, his gaze still fixed on you. “Yes, quite. It’s as if they’re defying physics entirely.”

If the three of you are spending time together, Jayce might coax Viktor into trying to dance with you. “C’mon, it’s fun! Just follow their lead.” Viktor will reluctantly take your hand, his movements stiff but endearing. “I am not built for this,” he mutters, but the soft smile on his face suggests he’s enjoying himself.

They both admire your passion and dedication, finding inspiration in the way you bring life to every performance. Jayce might say, “You know, your dancing kind of reminds me why I started inventing—to create something that makes people feel alive.” Viktor, meanwhile, would add, “And to remind us that beauty and precision can coexist so harmoniously.”

Whether it’s in the spotlight or during an impromptu practice session, Jayce and Viktor are always there to support and admire you, each in their own unique way.

[shakingparadigm]

it makes me very sad that we never seem to get till's perspective on the story... his rs with mizi is so underexplored when it literally constitutes a core aspect of his character (and this in turn lead to some uncharitable interpretations by those who want ivans love to be requited and well, the fandom in general), we barely even know abt his dynamics with other characters besides Ivan (and even that isnt told through his eyes), his past is just visible through glimpses etc. there's just so. Little about him. And yet he's such an interesting and complex little guy, i really really hope now that king yaoi the third's arc has concluded, we finally get some till crumbs bc im starving. or maybe the authors just downright hate him lmao

I've thought about this for quite a while!

I agree! Unlike the rest of the cast, Till doesn't have his own content where he states his thoughts and emotions (like Mizi's monologue, the Hyuna and Luka comic, Ivan's confession comic, the Mizisua interview + all other interviews). In many pieces of official art, Till is either a supporting character or comic relief, rarely in the focus. Although we saw a bit of him in the contents leading up to (and the few arts after) ROUND 6, ultimately they were centered on Ivan.

We've yet to hear from Till himself, to understand his thoughts from his own words and not from the perspective of other characters. On the rare occasion the focus is on him, it's devoted to his adoration for Mizi.

His relationship with Mizi underexplored... I mean, it is, but I feel that was intentional. Despite all his attachment to Mizi, he never actually managed to get close to her (although he spent a majority of his childhood trying). The goodbye letters reveal Till's regret at this fact, and from other pieces of content we can see that he was always too shy and afraid to approach her. His love for Mizi seems shallow and underdeveloped because, well, that's kind of just how it is. He's in love with the image of her he admired from afar. It's puppy love to the highest degree, but you know how humans in ALNST are. They'd completely break themselves down for love.

Funnily, this all seems in character for Till. We don't get to hear his thoughts because he's too rebellious for an interview. His most significant presence in the comics are when they are Ivan-centered, we lack his perspective because the moment always matters more to Ivan than it does to Till. His relationship with Mizi is underdeveloped because he himself has an underdeveloped understanding of her.

Okay, I know I keep going on about "oh we never get to hear Till's side!", but I acknowledge the fact that with Till, they seem to be going with a more "show, not tell" angle. We can't gauge how his thought process works through monologue, but the little things he does can say a lot about him (Crying over his lost recorder, a gift from Mizi. Picking fights when flowers are treated cruelly. Encouraging a wilting flower to keep surviving). He's not one for long monologues anyway, Till follows his heart through passionate action. Still, I really hope to one day have a comic narrated by him, something to put us in his perspective.

And on the last note, don't even worry about the authors hating him! I find it so funny to hear that, actually. QMENG and VIVINOS adore Till. He's actually QMENG's favorite! They love him so much they inserted themselves into a meme fangirling over him.

That's them right there. For their baby boy. Anyways, hopefully we can learn more about Till now that he's the only survivor left in the competition to face Luka. Apparently, they've had ROUND 7 planned for a really long time now. Both excited and nervous to see how it goes!

[an-established-butt-dent]

“Solas?“

“Yes, Vhenan."

“What are you drawing?“

He still has his eyes on the piece of parchment in front of him, but slows down the repetetive movements of his hand tracing the shapes on paper, as if that might offer him more time to find his answer. "Oh, just some practice. It helps me sort my thoughts," he says with the casual air of somebody trying to evade a question.

“Can I see, then?“

He glances up briefly and notices she has stopped reading her book on the early history of Neromanian magic. She has one elbow propped up on the table and rests her chin on her hand. She is looking at him expectantly, her book clearly forgotten.

He pauses the scratchy movements of his pencil and says rather hesitantly.

"It's not finished."

She leans forward a bit more, trying to catch a glimpse at his paper. He subtly angles it away from her. She might have barely noticed, had she not noted his newfound secrecy regarding his recent drawings. She has become increasingly curious over the past few weeks, and his forced casual demeanor after her question only fills her with more anticipation.

It makes her think of the first time he showed her his artwork. …

The first time she had walked into the rotunda in Skyhold and found Solas high up on the scaffolding with a paint brush in his hands and a concentrated look on his face, she was surprised to learn of his motivation.

"History needs to be documented," he had said when she asked him what he was working on.

After climbing down the scaffolding and taking a step back to admire the process of his work, he continued, "Not by the words of diplomats, but through the eyes of those skilled in artistry. Words will be forgotten, but images? Those will hold significance across time."

She had been moved then. By the bold lines in the fresco and the fierce look in his eyes as he regarded her as he spoke. Like she was someone worthy of admiration. Like he truly saw her. It reminded her of his words before their first kiss.

'You change everything.' He had said.

She didn't really believe him then. She didn't want to be put on a pedestal, far removed from the world and the simple and nomadic lifestyle of her clan that she was accustomed to. She missed roaming mountains and hills, not fighting blighted Templars and navigating treacherous games of power with nobles. That life had seemed like such a long time ago, even though it had barely been a year.

But perhaps she didn't need to suffer though all of this alone. She had her friends. Dorian with his jokes. Varric with his stories. Cassandra with her quiet support and camaderie. Iron Bull helping her with her fighting stances and teaching her new drinking games with Cullen. Even Cole, though he was still figuring out what the word friend even meant. She would help him with that, she had decided then. Friends; they made the aching pull of homesickness more bearable.

But Solas.

Who was he to her? She could call him her friend the supposed. She had the feeling they were becoming closer and yet there was an undeniable distance. Always leaving space for interpretation and mystery while never backing away from any of her questions. So much knowledge he shared, and still she had the feeling she barely knew him at all. He had slowly and unknowingly developed a talent for surprising her with new insights and he did so later again that same evening.

The next hour passed quickly while they were still talking about art and the different depictions of elven lore. He had stared at her intently for a moment, considering her.

"I want to show you something." he had said.

She never passed up an opportunity to learn more so she had indulged him, following him to a plain-looking crate to the side of the room. He removed the protective wards with a wave of his hand. He then uncovered some, by the looks of it, handbound books. He observed them one by one carefully, with a nod of acceptance when he seemingly found what he was looking for and handed her one of the books.

As she opened the first few pages she discovered they were sketchbooks filled with rough outlines in preparation for the next installment of the mural.

Excitedly he pointed to notes in the margin and spoke of where he learned the techniques for collecting and grinding his own pigments. There was a red ocre in the Western Approach that he had recently discovered on one of their missions which was apparently incredibly well suited for his purpose. At her encouragement he had shown her more of of his other drawings too. First of symbolism and color studies, but then more personal ones: of the views of the mountains from Skyhold, running Halla, drying herbs and even of some of the members of the inquisition she recognized.

In turn she told him about how she used to carve wood, especially when winters were rough and her clan was stuck in the same place for long waiting out the biting cold and punishing snow. To keep her fingers from freezing and her mind from wandering to dark places, she had started to carve.

"I haven't had the time since, well you know, this whole mess." she waved the fingers of her marked hand which flashed a sliver of green. Solas had looked thoughtful after her comment, almost like there was a tinge of regret behind his eyes.

The conversation steered in a different direction afterwards, like the seriousness of their predicament weighted more heavily on their shoulders than before. The mysterious books disappeared back into the chest and not long after she had excused herself and called it a night. Somehow she couldn't shake the feeling she had overstepped.

A few days later she returned from a short scouting mission. She climbed the steps to her sleeping quarters, exhausted. She hardly noticed there was an odd-shaped package leaning against her bedroom door until she almost stumbled over it. Her tiredness trading itself for curiosity, she moved to pick it up.

There was no note attached but once she unwrapped the bundle she discovered a beautiful and distinctive elven carving knife and a solid piece of oak wood.

She couldn't help the warm feeling that spread though her body, feeling the comforting weight of the wood and the cool metal of the knife in her hands.

….

She shakes her head as she's brought back to the present. That same rotunda they have since spend so much of their time together. Researching, reading and talking. There had been barely an evening where she didn't end up in the rotunda with Solas. At least when she wasn't away from Skyhold, trying to save the world on missions throughout Thedas.

She looks at Solas from her spot at the table with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

It takes a lot of effort to hide her smile.

Whith an amused tilt to the corner of her lips she says, "You know, Dorian told me he found some sketchbooks laying around, depicting a rather familiar elf. Anything you would know about that?"

Is he… Is he blushing?

"Um, Well you see." he cleares his throat trying to school his expression. "Those were private… And hidden for a reason."

She can't contain a smile. Solas flustered, that's a rare sight.

"You've seen them?" he askes quietly. She notices he has started fumbling with the edges of the paper. She didn't believe his ears could turn a brighter shade of pink.

"Maybe," she says while averting her eyes to the ceiling. She glances back to him out of the corner of her eyes.

Solas looks at her like she has grown an extra pair of ears.

She leans back in her chair and stretches out her legs comfortably under the table. Knowing she has him she doesn't want to push more and decides to spare him some of her teasing. She turns to look at him and softens her expression.

"I rather liked them."

Knowing that is probably not enough to explain why she had looked at his private belongings without permission and seeing the dumbfounded expression on his face slowly making space for embarrassment she decides to tell the whole story.

"I know shouldn't have overstepped, but Dorian said he had something urgent to discuss and before I was even halfway up the stairs he assaulted me with flying books, shouting about discovering my secret admirer. Either I would have stumbled to death or caught them. And, well… Once I started looking I couldn't look away… " she trails off with a slight tinge of shame in her voice.

"You liked them?“

She lookes at him, surprised by the hopefulness in his voice.

A wave of understanding washes over her.

He hid the drawings from her, not because he didn't want her to see them but because he was afraid of her rejection. Even though they had spent the last few months becoming more and more tangled up with each other, stealing fleeting glances and sometimes passionate kisses, they still hadn't really taken a moment to talk about what there was between them.

When she saw the drawings he made of her she had finally understood his interest in her was genuine and went beyond anything resembling a casual dalliance - something she can now confess to have been rather afraid of, because she had developed deeper feelings for him from the moment he started sharing detailed stories dreamt in the fade and his perspective on magic intertwined with life. And then there had been that first kiss… Wel let's just say she's in way too deep to turn back now.

And for all the effort he put into keeping emotional distance between them, he had apparently failed from the moment he had started putting her likeless on paper. For she could see the passion and emotion in the lines, soft shadows and hidden meanings. It made them stand out from all the other drawings she had seen by his hand.

What he couldn't yet put into words, he had found a different way of showing.

"Yes I-" suddenly feeling unsure she pauses for a moment and crosses her arms looking for the right words. "The drawings, they reminded me of who I could be." She takes a deep breath finds her courage and continues. "Someone who people will tell stories about. Not stories about Divine intervention, but of an elven woman's fight for justice. For a kinder world. Somehow I never really managed to see myself that way when I look in the mirror. But those drawings… I guess it's easier to understand who I've become by seeing myself through your eyes. To see the change I'm part of, but most of all to remind myself of where I came from."

She had uncrossed her arms and angled her body towards him over the table. A determined expression rests on her face. He hadn't taken his eyes of her from the moment she started talking.

He looks at her thoughtfully for a moment, considering his reply.

"Very well" he says while some of the tension visibly drains away from his body. She raises her eyebrows in question. "Then it's only time you started showing me your carvings in return. Some good blocks of wood have gone missing. I overheard Blackwall complaining about recently." He shares the accusations with a bemused smile on his lips.

Now it was her turn to blush.

"I was planning on showing you, but first I wanted to practice… " she trailed off her sentence, knowing she doesn't actually have a valid excuse for hiding it from him. And it was not like she hadn't backed him into a corner first.

Feeling relieved he wasn't pulling away at her recent discovery she changes her mind with newfound courage and stands up abruptly while extending her hand in invitation. The purpose of their late night reading session forgotten.

"You're right. And I'm willing to offer you a tour of my recent carving exploits, but only if you can refrain from commenting over the woodchips carpeting the floor." He starts to move as if to get up but she makes him pause as she isn't done yet. "But in turn I will pose for your next drawing." Solas looks at her confused for a moment, as if considering her question.

She pauzes for a moment and adds without hesitation.

"Naked."

"What?"

"That's right."

From a balcony upstairs they could hear some muffled movement followed by a familiar voice echoing down "You know Solas, if you're looking for nude models you only need to ask!"

"Dorian!" they say in unison, horrified.

Solas quickly tucks the sketches under his arm and stands up to grasp her hand, surprising her by pulling her close so fast she has to steady herself with her other hand landing on his chest.

Only a breath away from her ear he says softly so only she can hear.

"It seems like you found yourself a deal, ma Vhenan."

She squeezes his hand in response and when she looks at him there isn't a hint of his previous embarrassment. Instead there is a look of hunger and challenge in his eyes. It's so easy then, to lean over and kiss him, her lips a promise and Dorian's earlier interuption temporarily forgotten. Before she can get lost in the soft press of his lips she pulls back and feels a delighted thrill in the way he slightly chases them as she takes a step back. With a teasing smile on her lips she tugs on his hand bringing him back to reality and encouraging him to follow. As they make their way quietly towards the door she throws a judgemental look over her shoulder towards where she imagines Dorian to be hiding.

She is just able to make out a muffled conversation on the first floor "… These lovesick fools seem to keep forgetting this is a public space, if they don't want an audience they should find a room!"

Not sure if she should be terribly embarrassed or slightly thankful for Dorians intervention she doesn't manage to hide her smile.

"Let's get out of here then." she says as they start to make their way through Skyhold.

He squeezes her hand.

"Gladly."

[simplyalicee]

☆ Your Darling ☆

Nutcracker AU by @sketchquill

Idea: Inspired by Sketch's recent art for their Nutcracker AU! You and Wally are out in the spring fields, simply enjoying your time together with one another. As you spend more time with him, you come to the realization that just perhaps, you are catching feelings for him.

Just a lighthearted, happy indulging fanfic <33 Warning for insane amounts of fluff and love!!

I know nothing about the Nutcracker, but enjoy!!

♡------------♡

Somewhere out there laid a beautiful piece of land that had yet to be touched by civilization. There was perfect weather; it's not too hot, not too cold, just right. There was a gentle breeze that would occasionally flow by, but even then, it felt nice and refreshing. No wonder why the spring fairies here adored this part of the world. You could even say it was perfect. No- it was perfect. But what made it even better, however, was having your friend accompany you.

"It's quite beautiful out, isn't it?" Wally spoke to you, smiling as he saw that you were still admiring the view in front of you.

"Oh, absolutely. It's nothing like I've ever seen."

You took a few steps in front of you, glancing around the trees that had colorful green leaves. You had mixed feelings. It was unfortunate that you never got to see nature at its full bloom, and yet, you were thankful that parts of the world like here were left untouched. You tried not to dwell on it and instead admire what was in front of you. You felt Wally take your hand into his. You turn your attention to him, seeing his signature smile that always left you breathless.

"I just remembered, there was something I wanted to show you."

You grew curious at what Wally wanted to show you. Was it a surprise, perhaps?

"Oh? Was is it?" You asked, tilting your head. Wally shook his head.

"It's a surprise! Close your eyes..."

Oh, of course. He wants you to close your eyes. Not that you minded, of course, but it was only driving your curiosity crazy. You closed your eyes, smiling as you grew excited. Although you couldn't help but notice that his grip on your hand grew a little bit tighter. You heard his faint laughter as he took you somewhere. You kept your eyes closed, but you only wondered what could the surprise be. Perhaps it was baked goods? Oh, how delicious that would be. But you don't smell any sweets nearby. Hm.

Wally stopped in his tracks, making you stop as well. He lets go of your hand and takes a step aside.

"Alright, Y/N, you may now open your eyes."

With permission granted, you opened your eyes.

..This was possibly the best surprise you could've asked for.

What stood in front of you was an open area that was surrounded by varies types of flowers. They ranged from sunflowers to daises, all up to roses and marigold. How he knew about your interest in flowers was beyond you. How could you ever repay him for such a generous gift?

"Wally, they're beautiful... did you plant these yourself?" You asked with great curiosity as you turned your head to him. Wally shook his head and chuckled.

"No, but she did." He reached his hand out in front of him. You grew confused for a moment, but you were quick to meet a spring fairy that swooped down from the tree above. She landed on Wally's hand, smiling brightly as she took a bow.

"Why, of course it was me! Who else could plant such beautiful flowers other than I, Sally Starlet?" Sally spoke with pride. You chuckled softly as you approached Sally, being careful to not startle her with your approach. She looked up at you as she stood in Wally's palm, it seemed as if she was examining you.

"Hmm... you look awfully a lot like someone who Wally's been talking about." She blurted, which both surprised you and Wally. Your eyes widened as Wally quickly turned his head away.

"Huh? Wally has been talking about me?" How can you process something like this? Not that you were taking it the wrong way, but it definitely caught you off guard. But for some reason, your heart fluttered from her words.

"Indeed, he has! I must say, fellow stranger, you are one lucky friend." Sally beamed with happiness. She took a step forward towards you with her fluttering wings.

"I'd love to chat more, but I have other plans to attend to. Until then, I hope to see your shining smile!"

Sally flew out of Wally's hand and towards your direction. To your surprise, she flew a few circles around you, heading up as she did so. You laughed happily as some of her pixie dust stuck to your pajamas. You watched as Sally flew away to the right of you, possibly headed to grow more plants.

Once Sally left, you looked over at Wally, seeing that he was still looking away from you. You tilted your head with a bit of confusion, yet you still smiled.

"Are you alright, Wally?" You asked him in curiosity. He looks back at you. He smiled back, but you couldn't help but notice a little bit of color on his cheeks.

"Fine as I'll ever be, Y/N. I was just in deep thought is all."

You both stared at each other for a moment. You wanted to say something, but there was just something about him. You didn't know what it was, but you couldn't look away. You both just gazed at each other, staring into each other's eyes. You felt your heart flutter, the heat forming on your face was quickly becoming noticeable. Wally placed a hand on his cheek as he gazed at you. He let out a content sigh as his smile grew. Your heart couldn't stay still, what was happening? You never felt this way before. It felt strange yet familiar.

Familiar because this wasn't the first time you felt this way for him, but strange because it is something you never felt for anyone else but him.

The longer you stared, the more flustered you became. After a few moments, you turned your head from Wally and chuckled nervously.

"I, uhm..." You tried to speak, but you were left a stuttering mess. You heard Wally laugh a bit, he took your hand into his and held it. Stop it, heart, stay still. But it disobeyed, leaving you with a fluttering heart and a sense of... comfort.

"The flowers weren't your only surprise," Wally told you.

"Wait, what?" Your eyes widened a bit. You felt the grasp he had on your hand tighten a little bit, making your face heat up a bit more.

Wally took a deep breath as he took a small step closer to you.

"I would like to dance with you, Y/N," he spoke with an excited tone.

You didn't know how to quite process it. You wanted to dance with him, you really did. But you were unsure. You have never danced before.

"Wally, wait. I don't know how to dance," You responded with a small frown.

"That's okay, I will teach you!" Wally smiled brightly at you.

You were still unsure, but that smile... You couldn't bring yourself to reject such an offer. With a sigh, you smiled nervously and nodded. Wally giggled happily, he was quite overjoyed to be dancing with you!

"Alright, we'll take it slow. Just follow my lead, Y/N." He spoke softly.

Wally let go of your hand and gently turned you around. After turning you around, he gently took both your hands and raised your arms up. You glanced over at him, locking eye contact with him again. Wally smiled softly at you.

"You're doing wonderful so far," he said happily to you. Oh, how nervous but excited you were. Wally lifted one arm up. You stood on your toes, slowly lifting one of your legs up.

"I think I get it, now," you whispered to yourself. As if on cue, Wally twirled you around slowly. You twirled for a short moment, giggling with joy. You placed your raised leg down and stopped twirling, now being side to side to him with his hand on your upper waist. You extended your right arm out for him, to which he took your hand softly. He extended his arm out, keeping your hand held. You had your other hand on his shoulder. You weren't as nervous as you were before, but now that nervous feeling was replaced with the feeling of butterflies in your stomach. Wally had a huge smile curled up on his face as he lead the slow dance. The both of you slowly spun each other around.

As you both danced, you couldn't help but look into his eyes. Wally laughed softly, being so happy that he was dancing with you.

"Awh, Y/N, you have no idea how much this means to me!" Wally sounded like he was geniunely happy to be given the opportunity to dance with you. Seeing his smile, hearing his joy, it made you feel more butterflies.

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Stutters again, when will they ever go away? It was okay, however. Wally understood, he wasn't judging. He was just happy to spend time with you. The way he held onto you, being so caring and gentle. The dance lasted for a few more minutes before you both parted. Despite being unsure earlier, you were glad to be able to have this dance with Wally.

"Thank you for the dance, Wally," You spoke.

"Not a problem, Y/N. I am always happy to teach you!"

You couldn't help but smile, the fuzzy feeling only escalating. Your heart fluttered, your face flushed, you couldn't help but feel like this. You and Wally end up gazing into each other's eyes once more, the obvious tension in the air that you were oblivious to. You watched as his face turned brighter in color, was he blushing? You thought it was adorable to witness.

"Did you, uhm... enjoy the dance, Y/N?" Wally looked away, asking in a nervous tone.

"I did, actually. It was very... very nice." You replied, chuckling softly.

It was at that moment that you realized that maybe, just maybe, you liked Wally more than just as a friend. Had you been that oblivious, or were you just too shy to admit it? Probably both. And unfortunately, it became awkward between the two of you. You weren't sure why, but-

"Y/N, there is something I have been meaning to tell you," Wally spoke quickly, you could hear him taking a deep breath.

"I think I have something to tell you, too, actually," You responded, becoming more flushed. Were you wanting to confess just after a moment of realizing your crush on Wally? Yes, absolutely.

Wally looked back at you, a bit stunned by your response. He smiled softly, evident that he was nervous, but wished to hear you first.

"Go on, Y/N. What is it that you want to tell me?" Wally took a small step forward to you, which made you more flustered.

"O-Oh, uhm... Well, it's kind of hard to find the right words..." You stammered, looking away for a moment. You were so nervous to admit your feelings.

"It's okay, Y/N. Please, take your time," He spoke gently, taking your hand into his to comfort you. You looked back at Wally with a flustered look. He saw your expression, thinking he might've made you uncomfortable. He was about to let go of your hand, but you gently gripped his hand from letting go. Wally looked down at your intertwined hands, a smile curled up on his lips. He let out a gentle sigh, content with the situation.

However, you couldn't keep it in any longer.

"Wally, I really like you,"

"Y/N, I really like you,"

You... both confessed to each other. At the same time? How was that possible? You and Wally both looked at each other, eyes widened with surprise.

"Wally, what did you say...?" You asked softly, taking a step closer to him. Wally tripped over his words for a moment, but he found the courage to speak it up again.

"Y/N, I... I really like you," He spoke quietly. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't bring himself to.

You felt tears in your eyes, and your heart swelled with joy. You wanted to cry just from how happy you were. You couldn't help it, you ran up to Wally and threw your arms around him in a tight embrace. Wally was caught off guard but was quick to embrace you, cradling you in his arms.

"Y/N-"

"I love you, Wally," You whispered, hugging him tighter, but not too tight to avoid accidentally hurting him. Wally stood quiet for a moment, his eyes widened as he tried to process what you just said.

He finally said, "I love you, too, Y/N... so, so much."

You both held onto each other for what felt like hours. You didn't want to let go, but you knew at some point that you had to let go. You both enjoyed each other's embrace before slowly pulling away. You looked at Wally in the eyes, admiring him without the need to hide it. Wally's smile only grew larger. He placed his hand on your cheek, caressing it gently. You leaned into his touch. You felt your heart skip a beat when Wally leaned in to kiss you on the forehead.

And in return, you grinned and leaned in to kiss him on the lips. Wally was caught by surprise, but closed his eyes and happily kissed you back. You both held onto each other, enjoying the moment as you kissed each other dizzy. After a few moments, you both pulled away, as flustered as you've ever been.

Then you heard his laugh. Oh, his laughter... It was like music to your ears. You couldn't help but laugh along with him. You took his hand into yours, holding it. You felt him gently squeeze your hand.

This was your special place, now. And the best part was that you had Wally by your side.

Your loving, adoring Wally Darling.

♡------------♡

HEHEHEHEHEHHE <333 I HOPE you all enjoy this writing I did :> Wally loves you!!

also posting this in school lol hi

[lucysarah-c]

Personal reflection on my art journey over the past year since opening commissions.

Today, I came across a post from one of my favorite SNK artists, and something felt different. Their art was stunning as always, but I used to perceive their work as unattainable, something I could never achieve. "I would never be that good," I often thought.

However, today, I realized that while their art remains amazing and lovely—I still admire how they capture faces, etc.—it no longer feels impossible for me. This isn't to say, "Oh, I'm so much better than them," but rather, as someone who is extremely critical of my own skills and often feels like nothing is ever "good enough," it allowed me to pause for a moment, look back, and recognize how far I've come.

It's not about comparing myself to others, but rather about acknowledging my own growth. My grandmother, who taught me how to draw, used to emphasize the importance of backgrounds by saying, "Las Meninas by Velázquez aren't Las Meninas without the background." So, I always felt inadequate as an artist because I struggled with backgrounds.

Just the other day, I did a post here because I felt the piece I was working on didn't meet my standards after hours of work. Delete it for only to start over from scratch the next day. The frustration was immense. I only recently began offering colored commissions because I always felt my colored art wasn't good enough.

Today, I decided to do my first live drawing. "I'm not good enough but fuck it, lets do it," that was my thought. I'll never improve without starting somewhere. You'll never reach "one day" without "day one,". It was a complete failure because I can't do lives on TikTok lol, but it showed me how determined I am to push myself forward. As Taylor Swift said, "I've never been a natural; all I do is try, try, try," and I'm the most stubborn person you'll ever meet. I'll keep trying until I break through, not because it's inherently good or bad, but because it's a quality I'm aware I possess.

Today, I took a moment to silence the continuous self-sabotage and mental pressure, allowing myself to reflect on how far I've come and how far I still aim to go. There's so much left to learn, to attempt, to explore, to fail at, and then try again. But sometimes, it's okay not to compare yourself to others and instead acknowledge everything you've learned.

To illustrate this, here's the version of the Levi art I initially disliked, and here's the final version.

This was my very first art commission ever. I want to extend my gratitude to Sage (@darlingheichou) for trusting in me/ The art commission i'm working on right now:

Enjoy the process; that's the only advice I can offer, haha.

[soulofamy]

teacher/single parent au with angelscales 🤔

SEND ME A SHIP AND A NUMBER AND I'LL WRITE A SHORT FIC

Ashrah at the table in her empty kindergarten classroom. She tapped her pen on the tabletop and stared outside her window at the children running around on the playground. Every so often, she glanced at the clock and sighed. She only had so long before she would have to go outside to get her children from recess.

"Ms. Ashrah?" the principal called as he unlocked the door to her room.

"I'm so sorry that I'm late," another voice called as a tall, built man with short, brown hair stepped in from behind the principal into her classroom. He looked at her with emerald eyes, kind and apologetic. Ashrah smiled and stood up, straightening out her blouse as he walked over. "I got held up at work." He held out a hand for her to shake. "My name is Syzoth, I am Mezali's father."

As the principal left, shutting the door behind him, Ashrah smiled and shook Syzoth's hand. "Not at all. I'm glad you were able to make it. The children call me Ms. Ashrah, but you can just call me Ashrah." She gestured for him to take a seat across the table from her. "Please, make yourself comfortable." As Syzoth took his seat, Ashrah followed suit.

"Thank you so much for making time to meet," Syzoth said.

"Of course." Ashrah glanced outside with a fond smile before looking back at Syzoth. "Mezali is such a pleasure to have in class. What is it you wanted to discuss about her?"

"Just, uhm," Syzoth glanced to the side in thought, somewhat nervous, before looking back at her. "How she is doing in general. How she is adjusting, how she is getting along with the other children."

Ashrah thought for a moment as she shuffled through papers. "She is one of my more quiet students. She tends to prefer hovering around me over playing with the other children so I often have to encourage the other children to invite her to play." She pulls out a few pieces of paper to show, all with drawings or with other crafts attached to them. "She tends to enjoy art class the most."

Syzoth nodded and sighed. "I see. I figured that would be the case," he said as he looked between each of her art pieces. "Her being shy and less willing to play with the other children, I mean."

She thought about this for a moment. "If I may ask, what does Mezali's home life look like?"

"It's just the two of us," he began. Ashrah sat up as he spoke, resting her elbows on the table. "I fostered her for a few months, and I felt it would be best to move here, to get her away from it all. Only recently did I fully adopt her. We are still getting used to each other, and I recently have found her a therapist. I had hoped that being around other children her age would help come out of her shell."

Ashrah listened quietly and her heart softened, both for her student and for the father that clearly cared so deeply about his child. "It sounds to me like you have taken all the right steps," Ashrah said. "With time, I am sure that she will come out of her shell just as you hope she will. She is a very sweet and kind girl, I have no doubt that she will find friends easily once she becomes comfortable with the other children." She smiled. "And of course, I will do everything I can to help that process along."

Syzoth smiled and nodded. "I appreciate that. Truth be told, I am very new to this sort of thing. I didn't get to see her through all of preschool. There is a lot I needed to learn and still need to learn about this process."

"I understand," Ashrah said with a nod. "So far though, with everything you've told me, I admire the lengths that you would go to give her a good life. And just as she needs times, I am sure that with time, it will all be second nature to you."

"Thank you, Ashrah."

---

Syzoth held Mezali's hand as they passed through the sliding door of the grocery store. A metallic crack echoed as he pulled out a shopping cart. "Hold onto the side of the cart so we don't get separated, alright?" he instructed. "Do you remember everything we need?"

Mezali thought for a moment. "Milk, butter, bread," she begun to list as she counted on her fingers. "...cookies..." she said, then looking at him from the corner of her eye with a mischevious smile.

"Cookies?" Syzoth said with a chuckle. "I don't remember that being on the list."

Mezali giggled. "But I want them!"

Syzoth gave a fond sigh and shook his head. "We will see."

Mezali pointed at the base of the shopping cart. "Can I stand there and you push me?"

Syzoth smiled and moved one of his hands from the cart's handle, giving her room to stand on the cart's base and to grip onto the handle. He made sure to stand close behind her and to walk slowly to ensure that she didn't fall off as they shopped. Syzoth enjoyed times like this, when they were out and about. He asked her to be his "helper" while they ran errands like this, and she seemed to accept the responsibility with pride.

Syzoth paused in an aisle and began scanning over the shelves for the bread he wanted. That was until he felt an excited tug at his shirt.

"It's my teacher! It's my teacher!" Mezali exclaimed, her eyes excited as she pointed down the aisle. Syzoth looked to where she was pointing and sure enough, Ashrah was standing there, doing her own shopping. "Ms. Ashrah!" Mezali called out before dashing down to meet her.

"Wait, Mezali!" Syzoth called before walking after her. "You can't run off like that, you might get lost," he said before sighing. He then turned to Ashrah with a sheepish smile as he took Mezali's hand. "Hello, Ms. Ashrah. How have you been? It's been a while."

"I am well. It is very nice to see you again." Ashrah looked down at Mezali with a smile. "And you, of course, Mezali. Are you having a nice weekend?"

"Mhmm!" Mezali nodded. "Ms. Ashrah, how come you're at the store?" she asked with a tilt of her head. "I thought you lived at school."

Syzoth raised his eyebrows. "Mezali..."

Ashrah laughed. "No, darling. I have a home I go to at the end of the day, just like you do."

"Oh..." Mezali thought about this for a moment. "Syzoth?" she asked as she looked back at him. "Can Ms. Ashrah come to our house?"

An amused huff escaped him as he looked down at her, then as he looked up to meet Ashrah's gaze. His cheeks grew warm with the brash, impromptu invitation made by his daughter. Ashrah responded with only an amused, yet understanding and sympathetic gaze. "Perhaps another time, Mezali," Ashrah responded for him. She peeked at the time on her phone, then looked at him apologetically. "I will leave you two to your shopping now. Have a good evening."

Syzoth felt himself untense as she walked away and he hoped she didn't notice him staring after her.

[anima-nostrae]

Ups, I forgot about my WIP

A curse as old as time, isn't it? A fanfic, an essay, a story, a piece of art...

The beautiful thing is that there is no deadline for passion projects. They can lay dormant for a day, a month, or a decade, but they come to life just as fervently as loyal old dogs that greet their owners when they come back from a boring but life-giving job.

That is to say, I am proud to announce Days of Reckoning have been picked up again, if there is anyone here that cares for them. I would hazard a guess that Chapter 3 will be live by the end of the month. In the meanwhile, here's a sneak peak (this is an unedited version, therefore might differ slightly from the "published version"):

If the temperature inside the cottage could be classified as breezy the previous evening, then the morning was assuredly cutting. The second Bloom opened her eyes, with one being covered by a duvet she had to throw over her face sometime in the night, she wanted to curl up even tighter into herself, suddenly missing her grandmother’s favourite hobby, knitting, and particularly discovering the art of weaving herself into a tight woollen ball. The very next thought was that she had to be smelling burnt toast, since that particular charring process is, at least to the nose, unmistakeable. The third thought was that she was in the goddamn cottage, and not alone but with…

With a groan that was just a tiny bit exaggerated she rolled over onto her back and sat up straight, still wearing the protective cocoon all around her trembling body. Her eyes were lacking their usual sharpness, hence why Bloom couldn’t be convinced that she saw Valtor cooking in front of her. 

He didn’t mind her much, focused tightly on his fried eggs and probably very much less than fresh toasts with butter, all of which the stars themselves only knew where he got from.

“Erghm,” she cleared her throat. He turned around like a startled fawn, a reflex probably polished by hundreds of battles and assassination attempts. All he found was a half-naked woman, freezing on the bed they made love in the night before. The same woman he fought for many months, the same woman he’s wanted for more than that.

“Morning,” he said, in the most curated monotone.

“I didn’t know you…” she started, but hesitated, “cook.” Nevermind the first thing that came to her mind was eat.

He returned her a slight smile. “I don’t like to, usually. I simply refuse to be dependent on someone because of my lack of skill.”

Bloom took a moment to appraise him - having her enemy before her the morning after they had each other in turn was not something that would happen any other day. His hair wasn’t a complete mess like she would expect, but it wasn’t the shiny wave it was normally. He was shirtless - with his jacket on, but shirtless nonetheless. Bent over the stove like a—

He was shirtless because she was still wearing his shirt.

Something in her brain that hadn't acknowledged Bloom was already awake decided it was a fair thing to return him his property - it was his shirt, his silk against her skin - so her palms made their way to the collar as she was making rounds with her neck to warm up the stiff muscles. The silk was already past her elbows when the cold hit her directly and Bloom understood she was very much awake. Just like him.

As she was working her way up she realised how pitiful she must’ve looked. Cold, so probably red - nevermind blushed - with morning hair, actively performing a striptease before Valtor, who very mindfully and pointedly was admiring the view outside, but his sly smirk betrayed how much of the show he’s actually witnessed. 

“I thought you’d sneak a peek,” Bloom tried to seem unaffected, but more importantly - not embarrassed - which granted her a rare, and before the previous night unknown, pearly laugh. The kind that makes you show all your teeth and shudder your shoulders.

“Oh, I wouldn’t. Bloom, I am a powerful wizard, and a man, but before that - a gentleman. And,” Somehow, his eyes gained an intensity otherwise improper between a pair of lovers during their first shared morning, “There is nothing you can show me now that I haven’t committed to memory already.”

Bloom broke the stare first, trying to concentrate on the fire instead of this man. He was right, he already got everything.

“That is to say,” he continued, clearly sensing her unease, “Don’t think that I would ever dare to forget even a centimetre of you. A second of you. Now, please dress yourself and come to the fire. The eggs are getting cold, and so I think are you.”

Now that was a convincing argument, Bloom thought, as his previous train of thought remained uncontinued by both of them, seemingly in agreement. But those goose feather bedding seemed much cosier than the proximity of the fire.

“Can’t I have breakfast in bed?”“If you want to sleep in stains for how long we’re staying here, yes. Otherwise - come here.”

Some sweet little fluff huh? Do we like it? There's not much of it coming up, so savour it while it lasts.

[striderl]

I have a general art-related question, if that's okay. I admire how _quickly_ you seem to be able to produce art -- whenever someone sends you a character-based ask, you seem to always answer it with a nice little picture (not just a scribble or something) with lineart and often colouring too! Do you have any advice for acquiring art stamina like that? I used to enjoy drawing, but got burnt out on it because every piece felt like so much WORK and it drained the enjoyment for me. I absolutely could not match the output you do!

Thanks for the compliment, lensman! Your drawings are equally cool too! I'm engrossed in the textures especially. And yes, sometimes I’m even amazed by the many asks I’m able to answer in a single week. Usually, I answer them within 3 days, in rare occasions, it may take me 2 weeks or so to answer them.

As for insights, there you go.

#1: Practice is the key. To not get art block, you need to be constantly practicing, like doing scribbles on your sketchbook when you have time. It can be anything, from basic shapes to “whatever you can spy with your little eye”. Also, improve your speed while doing it, and limit your time to finish an acceptable rough draft, so you won’t lose the motivation to finish the entire drawing.

#2: Mastery. READ THE MANUAL AND INSTRUCTION of whatever platform you are using to make art, and master the tools, so you won’t drag on too long on a single project. Personally, I use a mixture of Procreate and ibisPaint X to make art and comics. And the skills don’t come for free, you need to constantly learn new features in order to keep up the pace and limit the time you spend on each project. Honestly, I think I spend more time on Youtube, Pinterest, and Instagram scavenging art tips and resources than doing other things with them. The result is rather rewarding, the knowledge I gained about the color wheel, anatomy, and platform features like multiply and overlay are really helpful.

#3: Reference. I always have available anatomy or art references on my side, usually from Pinterest, so I don’t need to waste time speculating what the result would look like. I also collect references I’m interested in whenever I have time, so I’m well prepared whenever I want to start a new project.

If you want to check it out, this is the cover I made for Foley’s playlist, which I finished within 3 hours.

#4: Motivation. You need to truly enjoy the process of producing art in order to not get an art block. I think I never get a single art block period so far. Why? It’s the only way I get to relieve my anxiety. College can be really harsh sometimes, I have a really small social circle, and on top of that I need to deal with stress which most of my peers don’t even need to worry about, like managing an apartment, doing accounting on my own, taking care of electric bills, and more. What’s worse is that people can be massive suckers sometimes, and I just turned 18 a few months ago. I know I can’t just throw a tantrum or jump off a building whenever I feel stressed, so I just move on and focus my attention on doing better in art. If people want to insult me, I just insult them back with my talent.

Also, I mentioned this in my reblog to your Skibidi Toilet anniversary post. My parents don’t approve of me doing art like this, because it’s “unrealistic” and basically “useless”, I just want some space where I can express my creativity. Ironically, defiance can be a motivation sometimes.

Plus, I just purely enjoy the feeling of sitting in my room, listening to my favorite playlist, and sipping on a cup of hazelnut matcha, while doing art. And I always, ALWAYS appreciate people putting comments in their reblogs, it’s like an accomplishment, and it shows that people really check out my content and READ IT, instead of “wow, cool art”.

If I don't feel like doing art, I'll just go for a 5 miles run instead. Physical health is still important : }

[prettyboysdontcry]

Late June

I’m still standing in the doorway. Corvid hasn't technically invited me in, and I'm terrified of them doing so, as I've become painfully aware that the only furniture in the room I could plausibly sit on is the bed. Not that that's stopped them, sitting cross-legged on the floor, rummaging through a clear plastic bin of what appear to be fabric scraps. Crunchy electric guitar and whiny vocals are still leaking from the busted speakers of their iPhone 6, shoved into the back pocket of their jeans. It's not awkward yet, so I take this opportunity to take in my surroundings.

At first glance around Corvid’s bedroom, the namesake is obvious. The room is warm and dark, a perfect opposite of Claire’s, and it’s exactly how I would imagine the slightly more human version of a crow’s nest.

It's messy and cluttered, but in a comfortable way. Every shelf and corner is crammed with shiny, colorful treasures. There's fabric hung in every upper corner, draping down from the ceiling to meet the outstretched limbs of the dozens of potted plants. The bed, which takes up the majority of floor space, is just a thick mattress on the floor, a nest of soft-looking blankets and well-loved stuffed animals. I find myself admiring Corvid’s lack of shame about these sweet childhood comforts, as well as, with heat rising in my face, wondering how comfortable the bed really is.

My eyes continue their ascent, from the bed to a large curtained window, and still higher to several haunted-looking clown figurines, pots of trailing pothos and ivy, and a wealth of camera paraphernalia that sit on shelves which appear to be made from scavenged wooden planks. Based on our earlier conversation, an image of Corvid and Claire digging through a dumpster for the shelves and their occupants takes shape in my mind.

The ceiling and walls of the room are each painted a different color, but those colors are nearly invisible under overlapping art prints, photographs, band posters, and cardboard signs. A few words jump out at me from this collection of media: “Black Trans Lives Matter,” “I got it at ReRun,” “Car Seat Headrest: Teens of Denial,” “We The People Protect Each Other,” and, somewhat notably among the others, “Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers.” As I skim the walls, I realize it would take me hours to process every word on every piece of paper. I shake my head, making a mental note to talk to Corvid about each of these wildly varying interests later, and continue my scan of the room.

The closet from which Corvid retrieved the fabric scrap bin is wooden, claw-footed, and painted a sunset orange, chipped from what looks like years of abuse. On top of it are stacks and stacks of plastic bins and baskets just like the one they have in front of them now, each full of a million colors of fur and fabric, beads and string, paint markers and bottle caps and rolls of film. Shoes are piled by the door, on which are hanging a dozen or so jackets and hats, a bike helmet, a gas mask, and a pair of ski goggles. A garland of small disco balls, a string of multicolored paper cranes, and pink and orange twinkle lights are draped around the room. The rug is circular and colorful and threadbare. A lamp on a low bedside table casts a dim yellowish light over the room, making everything look soft and lived-in, warm and welcoming. Everything about the room feels exactly that. Exactly like Corvid themself. It’s immediately comfortable, somewhere that I know I never want to leave.

My musing is cut short as Corvid suddenly shifts their focus from the fabric bin back to me. They slip the long hair behind their ear with a pinky, reintroducing me to the mischievous shine in their dark eyes. They lift up a few scraps from the bin to show me.

“Here’s what I got. C’mere, get a look at your options.” Their voice jolts me back to reality, and, knowing that they’ll have to drag me back out kicking and screaming from this wondrous room, I accept the invitation into the crow's nest, settling beside them on the scratchy rug.

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for fumbling a murder investigation?

(CW for descriptions of violence)

Five years ago, my partner M (26X) was murdered, and I have been searching for closure ever since.

As a leader in our society, as well as a performer, I am consistently in the public eye. M was from a humble background, but they rose to fame in the performing arts through sheer hard work. I admired that about them. I loved them deeply, I still do, and I was never ashamed of that – but I have spent enough time around high society to know that they would not be so kind to an outsider, and M wanted to find success on their own merit without being judged for their relationship with me. So we mutually agreed to keep our relationship private. I thought we were safe, until the night M’s troupe made their debut at the city amphitheater.

I had to miss the performance due to work obligations, but when I arrived on the scene, they were already gone, their body unrecognizable. The backstage area was burning, the evidence vanished. Their spirit, which would normally linger around after a person has died, was nowhere to be found. They were just…gone. The person who made me happiest was gone. It was the most painful moment of my life, matched only by my mother’s death when I was young. I swore then and there I would bring the killer to justice, no matter the time, no matter the cost.

The police didn’t find much after the incident, only a few inconclusive pieces of evidence and witness interviews that led nowhere. Then again, they aren’t very good at their jobs, so I have to do everything myself around here. In this case, I was more than willing to do it. All I found out was that two of M’s coworkers, T (then 28M) and R (then 27M) had been present at the time of the murder, but even that story had some holes in it. After I gathered all the information I could, there was still a missing piece: R, who fled the scene as soon as he could. I thought that was as good as an admission of guilt. He became our prime suspect, but we couldn’t find him anywhere. T, on the other hand, cooperated, supported me in my grief, and gave me key information while I investigated the crime. We had met before, but it was during this time that he became my friend.

Fast forward a few years and my other mom, who rules over a different region, mentions something about having a baby with a man she met. We aren’t very close with her, but my sibling S thought this was some juicy gossip, so they asked who the father was…and who does she say but R. S told her who R was and how I’ve been looking for him for five years. Understandably, she was floored, agreed to cooperate with the investigation and took the baby somewhere far away from him to keep them safe. Meanwhile, I felt vindicated. Like I finally had a lead in this case that had gone nowhere. Finally, I was going to find my partner’s killer, and I would do everything in my power to make him pay.

Here is the start of where I think I might be TA. I had tried contacting R and his husband, but I couldn’t pinpoint their exact location. That is, until I remembered the baby. I didn’t know where R was, but I could transmit messages to him via magic (sort of. I don’t expect you to understand) so I made up hints for him and his husband about the baby’s whereabouts. I admit, I lied to him, but he murdered the person I loved, so I thought it was justified. He takes the bait and buys a ticket to the place where I led him, giving me his address in the process. I send police to his house, arrest him, and finally bring him in for questioning.

It was supposed to be an easy case, open and shut, except he wouldn’t answer any of my questions about what happened to M. Kept saying he didn’t know even when I used every method to convince him. Then his husband shows up looking for him, does an entire independent investigation, and interviews everyone again. To me, it seemed a waste of time, since R was clearly the culprit. I was sure of it.

R was, in fact, not the culprit.

While I was keeping R in jail, trying in vain to pry information out of him, T was lying to R’s husband about every detail of the incident. He lied about everything. For five years. The lie that got him caught? He had been keeping DNA from M’s body – the body that he burned – at his house like some kind of sick trophy, and it was R’s husband who found it during the investigation. Other new evidence suggests that he found out about my relationship, thought M wasn’t good enough for me, and was trying to replace them. Worse, and this may have just been loneliness, but I was starting to think I might have feelings for him too. He’s always cared about social status, which I found a little annoying, but I understood. I just never thought he would stoop so low.

I feel sick. I feel betrayed and used. All the information he gave me was to throw me off the scent. The T that I knew never existed. It was all a façade.

I am disgusted with him, but also with myself. I feel like this is all my fault. M is still gone, and knowing the killer’s identity will never change that. R has been through hell because of me, he still doesn’t have his baby, and my mom still thinks he’s a killer. It’s a horrible situation all around, but I’m supposed to be better than this, and yet I feel that I made it worse. I guess I just wrote this to feel that I’m not alone.

AITA?

[fashion-runways]

Do you ever post things that you think are tacky, or do you try to only publish pieces and work that you admire? Like are you publishing just fashion that you like or trying to stay up to date on the fashion world, regardless of your feelings and taste? Thanks for running this even while you're going through a hard time right now 💜

kind of but not in a bad way? like there are a lot of collections that are tacky but fun or interesting, so ugly that it becomes interesting and weird and pretty. so, you know, yes but also not really. i post stuff that i like and stuff that i think my followers will like, i try to post variety so it's not all the same pretty princess dresses stuff and everyone can see something new or interesting or use stuff for their different characters not just the hyperfem red carpet gala looking ones, since i know a lot of people use this blog for art or writing references, but i'll never post something that i genuinely don't like or don't find cool. like if there's an ugly collection or a boring ass collection i'm not going to post it, even if i think some people might like it. i mean idk maybe im too full of myself because i genuinely think that if i think something is ugly or boring then everyone following me will too lmaoo but you know! there's a lot of stuff i post that i think looks cool and people really do not give a fuck, so there's that too.

i stay up to date, yes! i actually have a doc with all the links of every collection i want to post and i keep adding on as fashion week keeps happening, i check on a few sites and on instagram every day, i watch the shows on livestream if the designers do livestreams even, i just really love fashion lmao this blog is an outlet for that and a way for me to share what i love with people, hopefully show them fashion is more than just one thing and one style and one body shape and one popular designer and so on. idk, i have a billion things i want to post from the recent fashion weeks but my mouse kinda works like shit and i can't afford buying a new one right now, i have other things i have to pay, and i can use the pad in my laptop but it makes my hand hurt so i'm putting off making all the edits i want to make lmao i probably should soon, but i have enough things drafted still that i'm procrastinating that process. i'll give myself carpal tunnel eventually, i guess lmaooo

thanks for this question!! and for loving the blog!

[malkaleh]

For this to make sense read this gorgeous fic by @nocompromise-noregrets and also have knowledge of my OT3 verse. This is an in universe fandom post (on a tumblr that it is like, Good Website But Also Still Hell Site)

So I went to the panel discussion at Welles Hall (with a friend which was life changing levels of great) and I wanted to write a book report for the tumblr.

Natalie is actually Aphrodite. Like, I was speechless. I do not know how us mere mortals can gaze at such beauty and anyway, I was the most useless of lesbians.

I’m not personally into men romantically or sexually but like, aesthetically James and Jon and Rupert are very appealing. Like a sunset or a piece of art. Also very charming, A+

Ahmed is a sweetheart and very funny.

The questions/answers were all great but uh, some highlights:

Ahmed really talked about how much he admired the work Rupert did in particular - that he really sat down with the primary sources and asked great insightful questions (quote “I think in some ways actors have a similar drive to historians - to understand people, even repellant ones”)

“People ask me if I have any sympathy for him [Norwich] and the answer is no! I loathe him - the historical study is fascinating and important but I have never liked him”

Rupert said it was hard to be in [Norwich’s] head - that he ended up developing a ritual for getting in and out of character to separate himself - he really gave credit to the shows intimacy coordinator for the workshopping before anyone was on set.

(Aside we learned that Rupert was cast really early on - apparently they didn’t want anyone else because he’s quote ‘handsome and charming and a brilliant performer and that’s what we needed’)

Maya said there were times she had to stop herself from quote ‘making excited squeaking noises’ on set (world renowned historians - they are in fact just like us) and that her favourite set was the Arthurian Masque plus “one I can’t talk about yet” *eyes emoji*

Maya “I went into the process of revising it (The Tudor Triad: New Edition) with delight and sadness” she talked about how she loved being back with these three but also the heaviness of it - how she wrestled with how much to include.

Ahmed interjected and said that it was one thing he really struggled with as well - that only having Norwich’s voice, Noriwch’s details on the abuse was something particularly sickening and that’s in large part why it was so incredible to see James’ performance.

(“I think, I hope that somewhere in the afterlife Thomas Cromwell is glad to see that he is given his story back to him”)

Both James and Rupert really talked about how the townhouse visit was the most confronting part - that Norwich’s journals are awful and chilling but somehow being in the space where it happened, that made it all the more real, especially because by this point they’d both been in their characters heads for a while.

“It was horrible - i actually don’t like to talk about it in detail honestly”

They both talked about how great Ellie at Welles Hall was - that she and Ahmed and Maya really talked them through the diary/papers and the decoding. (“All props to Rupert and James - not only is the content not an easy read, reading/interpreting Tudor handwriting is a process and reading Tudor handwriting in a mix of languages is even worse”)

Natalie “my guiding sense was that Anne would rip him [Norwich] apart with her bare hands and dance on the remains - I just found that through playing her, reading her own words even if it’s never referred to directly”

Jon was very sure he wanted to have what Henry says to Norwich remain a mystery (though Rupert knows!) and he didn’t want the audience to see Henry’s face when it was sad - Rupert said that it was ‘incredibly bloody satisfying’ to play the moment when Norwich realises that he has ‘fucked around and found out’

Rupert said he thought that Norwich absolutely believed in his own mythology - that essentially, might makes right, that he was a great Roman General etc. (Which apparently Ahmed is currently working on an academic article about Norwich and Ancient Rome)

I’ll be back for part II: the Lionel Discussion Panel later.

-semperlyqueerly

[angelfleurry]

Nagito & Angie with an alt!GN!reader:

Written in the assumption that a relationship has already been established! <3

Also, GN reader!! Makeup is mentioned, but in my opinion makeup is for everyone, so I still count it as GN!!

I’ve used the umbrella term of alt so you have more freedom with whatever style you’d prefer. I haven’t written about any music tastes, I just ended up going with a more physical sense but I can do music tastes if anyone wants!!

~

♡ Nagito Komaeda: ♡

♡ There’s something so strangely beautiful about the way you present yourself.

♡ He’s absolutely enamoured by it.

♡ He just gazes at you for a while, observing.

♡ Whether it’s the maniacal burst of colours, or the hushing allure of the muted and neutral colours, it catches his eye everytime.

♡ He finds it so amazing that one can express themselves in such a way.

♡ He adores it, he adores it all!

♡ He loves to just sit down next to you and watch you do your makeup, or put in your piercings.

♡ He’s like a curious cat. He just sits there cross-legged and observes.

♡ He can help you if you want, in fact he’d be honoured. He just doesn’t ask because he believes he’d mess up the flow.

♡ “Is my eyeliner even, Nagito?” “Honey, can you pass me my rings?”

♡ Say the word, he’ll do it.

♡ You find it sweet how he gets so worked up over the way you dress, but to him it’s so beautiful!!

♡ It’s so admirable, so wonderful, he loves it!

♡ Nagito’s very dramatic in that respect, but you know it’s because he adores you, and you adore him.

♡ You love chatting to him as you get ready, and he loves listening.

♡ You’ve definitely done his makeup for him at some point, and it makes his heart race all over again.

♡ The fact you put so much love into embracing yourself, plus the fact you want to give that same energy to him? Him, of all people?!

♡ Oh, gosh he loves you…

♡ Gets all giggly when you show him the finished result of his makeup.

♡ You love taking pictures with him, like…adore it!

♡ Even if you’re self-conscious about taking selfies, for some reason it melts when you’re with him. ESPECIALLY if you’ve done his makeup.

♡ To even just be acknowledged is enough for Nagito, but for you to want to have physical copies of memories with him…?

♡ How very lucky is he…?~

♡ Angie Yonaga: ♡

♡ She finds it wonderful!

♡ Angie’s an artist, so she’s all for expression. That’s why, when she sees the way you present yourself to the world, she’s OBSESSED.

♡ If you wear makeup, she always takes a moment to observe it.

♡ She analyses all of it and always seems enamoured by it.

♡ “Y/N, you are like a living paint palette! I see such dedication in your art, it is divine!”

♡ If you wear more colourful, eccentric pieces; Angie LOVES suggesting what outfits you could wear. She bases it all on colour coordination and how it reflects you as a person.

♡ If you’re more for darker garments, Angie tends to refer to you as her “living sketch”. She adores how you present yourself.

♡You swear stars form in her eyes when she sees your style shine.

♡ “Please, let Angie paint you!”

♡ If you dye your hair, Angie would LOVE to do it for you.

♡ She’s so gentle and considerate with the way she coats the product into your hair.

♡ She watches for any strand she’s missed, even if it’s the slightest little bit.

♡ It’s like painting to her, just better because she’s helping in the process of bringing forth the art of her S/O!

♡ She hums as she goes, breaking it to talk about her day.

♡ Oh, she does enjoy rambling!

♡ Absolutely adores your aesthetic; it makes her super giggly.

[nahalism]

i was wondering, how did you get to develop your art? im currently in a process where i am trying to experiment and go beyond the need to create art that is realistic (as in "objectively like reality as it is", like I was being told by both school and family). i feel like I struggle a lot to follow my inspiration because of this, and I am also trying to learn how to draw scenes from my own ordinary life, but unfortunately I am quite impatient and frustrated with my inability to create what I wish to create + perfectionism in general makes me scared of using colour as well 😭 I really admire your art so much, both your sketches and finished pieces, and I have always wondered your own learning process throughout the years. please feel free to not reply if you feel uncomfortable cause I know it is a very personal process as well, and above all I hope you are doing well and I am sending you endless love <333

🥺🥺 this is so lovely to receive because if im completely honest there are multiple moments where i feel exactly as you've just described and despite pushing through it, a message like this is very validating that ive progressed in some way

i dont mind sharing at all. i started drawing/painting when i was 21/22 which is relatively late and i was so fearful because despite having a vision for what i wanted to create i lacked any skill that could help me bring what was in my minds eye to fruition. i was also insanely depressed and in the middle of getting my degree at uni (so felt like i had no time to pursue art, at least not to the extent i wanted to). — my plan to get better consisted of multiple things. id draw everyday. i had/have two styles i'd practice, one realism, and the other 'freestyle'? basically draw only from my head and from the rhythms that came naturally to my hand, no references. by doing that, or drawing the human figure/portraits/cars/buildings from my imagination, not only was i reinforcing what id actually learned from my study of the fundamentals, but i was learning to incorporate my own creativity into the rigid structure that sometimes comes from only drawing from reference. by doing that and drawing studies every day i began to build a library in my head of images/poses/character archetypes i could pull from which made drawing from my imagination easier, but also had the structural knowledge of forms/perspective/anatomy to make them look credible. id do this whenever i had free time, and once i left uni began practicing anywhere from 6-9 hours daily. a bit extreme but i felt like i had time to make up for since i started drawing relatively late in life. only tip there is to balance practice with making finished pieces. finished pieces will show you which fundamentals you still need to work on & how much progress you've made. they also show the completion of a thought whereas practice only gives you the tools to bring that thought to reality

just so u know, ur practice of the fundaments is not in vain. you just need to revive your own capacity to draw from your imagination/subconscious. the main thing is knowing your going to find your work horrible for a long time before it gets better. the joy has to come from the process of creating rather than the end product. by the time it gets better, your eye will also have improved, so you still wont be satisfied. thats where growth comes in. being your biggest critic is what will make you great, as long as you remember where you came from (date and keep your work so you can look back on it) and the role criticism plays. separate your skill from your self worth.

something helpful i was once told is along the lines of 'perfectionism is a lie we tell ourselves to justify our procrastination. no one is ever perfect, so the only way to gain skill is to practice. you cant grow if you dont begin. so if your really a perfectionist, your only solution is to start'

i would love to see your work someday and hope i will. wishing you luck and sending you all the courage to begin and be great. you got this <3