#inky canvas my beloved

[docheros]

on using gacha again

[darklordofthesimp]

OK IM BACK

I SRSLY CANNOT GET ANYTHING OUT OF MY HEAD

and i came back to basically another chapter worth of anon spin offs

let me give my two cents on our little babagirl birdy 🤭

No one in 141 is at base apart from Birdy and Price.

They’re all set to be back by around 8pm (idk military times srry homie), but it’s only six.

Plenty of time to let off some pent up frustrations on whatever poor piece of gym equipment they find first.

The equipment in question being the same punching bag they’ve been abusing continuously for the past week.

poor thing is tearing at the seams.

Birdys hands are wrapped in gauze. The white cloth steadily bleeding through as her sloppy, quick punches to the bag continue.

“You can’t do this to me Price. I can’t fucking do this.”

Her breathing was ragged, wet as her chest trickled full of sorrow. Pity; she pitied herself.

Prices eyes flashed. An inkling of regret breaking through his stupid, stupid façade as he peered up at her from his desk.

His hands clasp together tight. Fingers interlacing in an intricate pattern of scars and callouses. Maybe if he tries enough, squeezes tight enough, it might squash the paternal instinct in him to just hide them.

Steal his Birdy, his chic, and run. Keep them safe in the little nest he would make for them both. Father them until they could live by themself. Until they were okay without him.

He squeezed his hands tighter, knuckles whitening.

“I can. And I have to. This is what you need to help yourself,” his voice cut short.

“You don’t have to do shit!,” Birdys voiced dripped a cold, inky venom.

It seeped through his skin and into his bones, infecting anything it could touch to make him understand them.

To make him feel their fear.

Thwak.

Oh. Eyes trailing from the small split in the canvas of our beloved, and now passed, punching bag. To the sand creating a small mess on the floor.

In any other situation, Birdy would be impressed with themself.

You would think surviving something as critical as a shattered skull would give someone motivation.

A reason to keep going.

A light, or hope. A miracle if you believed.

If you survived that impossibility, then you could survive anything to come at you.

Birdy heard the whispers, the comparisons. They knew they beat the odds.

But god, why.

Why, if they could survive a weight of a 6’10 monster.

Why does it feel like they won’t survive the crushing weight of their own mind.

okay thx ☺️ my writing needs are now fufilled

although i MIGHT come back with more for u bc i’m like shaking with ideas ;(

\o/ <3

How

How am I meant to follow up from that.

YOU KNOW WHAT. IM NOT. I'm gonna put some fucking hashtags on this shit and let it speak for itself. This is Canon thank you very much for your addition to the Anything lore.

I LITERALLY HAVE NO WORDS

YOU MOTHERFUCKERS ARE ALL TALENTED

WHY ARE YOUSE WRITING THIS IN A FUCKING ASK BOX INSTEAD OF IN A NOVEL. YOU SHOULD BE GETTING FUCKING PAID.

The part of Price needing to fucking save them. To protect them and forcing himself to remember who the fuck he is and what their job is. BIRDY FUCKING THAT BAG UPPPPP

BRO

I cannot.

[witheredsnow]

Reia Lunaire, an OC short story

A child, her daughter. That is I.

Perfection, her perfect creation, I am not.

Was there ever a child raised with no color, no light, no fantasies and dreams? There is, there is. That is I.

A blank slate, a wee baby born on a winter's night with the moon high above the inky black canvas of the sky. Not graced by a mother's care was she, but it was under her that I learned to cry, to walk, to speak then I learned to spill forth none through my eyes or mouth, to give chase to ambitions I did not even stop to think of why, to masquerade as I shape narratives with my tongue. Tears have learned to be still and emotions to be frozen. Learned to be under the veil of illusioned shadows of her making. To her, it was all she wanted. Her proudest work doing everything precisely as she wanted it.

Yet for all my supposed excellence, I could not be the key to her beloved's heart. To her, that was what she truly wanted that mattered.

Ended up with a babe born from her own body, who's later known to be gifted and talented more than she could ever be and who held what little affection the one she admired could ever give.

Spite. Envy. Frustration.

Not long had my existence made my mother feel more than that of the near abysmal of feelings towards I on that winter's night.

Her child, my brother. It is him.

My family, his family. Not with I.

Not that much years older did I hear the sound of cries. Dissimilar to my own when I do cry.

My mother came back after a long absence. Where had her plump area gone? Atleast her irritable days would have passed. So do those days when she was much affable towards myself. I had the foresight that the coolness of winter would not be anymore more bearable then.

Not long did I realise that what she carried with such gentleness was another small babe. A who. Yes, a he kind of who. How vulnerable, miniscule, and weak. How... loud as well.

I simply stood there and gazed at who I later had come to know to be my kin. Mother tutted at her other child when catching me standing there, unmoving and blank. That frown once again aimed at me. Yet, an easy won smile towards him, cradled and cooed.

For all my supposed intelligence, I did not pick up on how much this brother of mine had fared better than I. While I was chained to my studies and further improvement, and the shadowed parts of the house, his place was under the warm sunlight shining through the windows or in the gardens that suddenly seemed to appear one day with the resurrection and spread of green. Few times have we met, and each time must have been heralding spring. His eyes shone, bright with full of life, even when shadows rose with the rise of light.

A smile has yet to not grace his face whenever he sees me. Then that dazzling show of teeth would have had a question follow when he learned to articulate words of his own. "Can I know who you are?" Oh lovely child. He did not know of me. Yes, he did not. Perhaps much better that way. For much of my life then, ignorance is bliss... If not, how could I ever return the effort by smiling back.

One held, veiled.

One rose, illuminated.

Crash. Another glass broken. Another lash as token. Another scar given.

I made my way out the room, caressing one of many sites that bruised. Another sting, another gash somewhere else. How I tire looking at red, black, and blue. Even on a mirror, there's black and blue. Another pitiful source of the color reminiscent of dead charcoal bark on a haze of a snowy day. Perhaps as unsightly as where it pained me on my body too.

For all it was, I could only bother my muscles with a small frown in response to the burning and aching sensations I felt all over. The hand on my chest felt the increased rhythmic symphony of my heart however. Pain still present, yes. Unconsciously gripping at where my chest was, I tried to wield myself to indifference and calm. 'Let it be still, let there be nothing, peace within what that does no longer stir in chaos.'

Like that, I've pretended to be a wise man. Although later how I wished I could freely had been a child.

"——! Over here."

That brief moment of self-placation was interrupted by a distant voice, still ever youthful and bright. Then I soon saw the physical figure of the sound. Just as youthful and bright, dazzling even.

He made his way to me in a brisk jog. Every step had it followed by sunlight from the windows. Not curtained, I may add. A difference from other hallways.

Once he made it a bit distanced away from me, which I asked of him to do, he once again called my name with such liveliness and adoration. How lovely. I had put on a smile at the time despite the aches and pains. He may have had known my name as I reluctantly gave it away, but he still did not who I truly was like how he won't know that I was bleeding little by little underneath my clothes as we continued to converse and be joyful.

Shadows remained to have it veiled even as I stand directly underneath the light shining.

The fortunate and the unfortunate.

Chose him, not I.

It was not difficult at all to realise. In the same unfortunate circusmtsance, we are the same.

My... brother, he was born from my mother. Child of another. A man who is other. As history seemed to repeat itself yet far later in this tale, a man had once again not chosen my mother despite the shared blood that had created their child.

This would be what people would have described as an accident. But no, it was her doing. For all things veiled, they would have to eventually come to light. Even then, I could see it and had known of it much sooner.

What followed after was similar to my own. His cries resounded on the hallways that night of mother's rejection and humiliation. I heard the cries much clearly as I stood there behind the doors to the room. Not only cries, but crashing, breaking, yelling, shrieking, and general hysteria of mother. It had always been unpleasant but that was even more so.

For all my intelligence and supposed wisdom, I had yet to be truly that exceptional. Stupid, that is I. I held up a hand to the door slightly ajar, then lightly pushed. That heralded my choice. And still continued to be chosen multiple times after.

I had more of the amount of pain that I would have had normally received. Much more so when I saw the child now wasting tears for me.

"Crying will let it hurt more, child."

He did not cease his tears. More came out of it as he stared up at me. Beautiful blue eyes with the liveliness amd softness of green, made glossy with tears. They reflected my dull ones and the mostly blank expression it was surrounded with. I wasn't sure what else was there to my own, but it seemed to have hurt him more.

I resolved to steer the conversation this time, told him if it were the usual, he would be complaining at how I still called him a child despite not that much of a gap in age and how I should consider him as big as me. He then responded with a shaky downturn of his lips. A moment later had he threw himself at me, embracing me as tightly as he could. I could feel then and there the snot and tears.

Perhaps I would have needed lessons in consolation, that I admit. Although I tried my best.

"——, it will be fine." Then I thought of the good endings in fairy tales that he showed me before. "It's yet to be the end. Hence, let's wait a little longer. You'll be able to live happily ever after. I will be your prince."

I awkwardly patted his back, with what little affection I had learned and observed. Perhaps that was how family was like. Family... huh.

For all my supposed promises of haven and escape, it had yet to be fulfilled. Atleast for the former, I had done my outmost with what could be done. With it, I've gained more tokens of violence. Yet it was tolerable, even if it wasn't, I had to. As long as I was by his side, I would. He wanted to do the same for me, though it brought both of us to despair and be pained.

Gone were the light streaming through what limited windows were uncurtained. Much limited in times were his smiles could be free from the hiss, wince, or groan of pain. Frighteningly I had come to notice later was he turning similar to me.

With that realisation came the resolve. I could not wait for the end to be the least bit happy once more. We would run away and make way for a new beginning.

Yet, I must spoil the story. There was no new beginning, atleast not for I.

His father, the other. Not mine.

A savior, his savior. Not mine.

His story, it is.

A happy one.

One day, a miracle happened. For he came. His father came to take custody of the child. He cared. For him.

My brother was saved. Yes, he was.

He wished to take me with him. Yet I shook my head. I knew it was not for me. The way how the sun shone as the flowers bloomed once more was not to herald my own new beginning, but for his. It always will follow him.

For all his exuberance, he would use much energy to spill tears. Although this one had me genuinely smiling despite my own sadness at the coming loneliness about to consume me later. His tears once again for me. For he cared for me even if to this day he hadn't realised and called me his sister. At the very least, I had that.

It won't do, however. I gently stroked his face and wiped the tears, gaining exuberance and losing its despair. I told him a lie after.

"I'm the character to take on difficulties for the story to continue and reach its end. I'll come see you in a great white horse some day. We can also ride the horse-y together. Don't you think that sounds fun... Beryl?"

I had sparked hope in the child. I could see how it made his eyes shine. Perhaps my abilities in handling children have improved.

With that and some more assurances, I had put him to sleep.

I was tired. I am tired. Although, I insinsted upon myself to see him off when his father came to pick him up. Although I am not there to be outside like my mother who decided to drink away the day. I pull the curtains back by a bit and saw him carried in the arms of a safer parent. He is still fast asleep. Sound and safe. That is all that mattered. I close the curtains to that end.

[mapi-dagat]

ritual

I stare at the howling abyss beyond the cliff’s edge. Snow and ice swirl around me, cold biting at my flushed cheeks. Before me os simply black. The stilling embers of a campfire some paces away barely illuminated the short walk here, and now there is nothing. Evergreen pines rustle behind me, like waves crashing ashore. Snowflakes are beginning to build on my still frame. The light of eons’ distances blink amongst the whirling shards, almost indistinguishable in the white drift.

Memories slip through the cracks of my perception, painting the inky black before me. I’ve been here at this cliffside many times before. As if memory were a projector, it began throwing scene after scene against this black canvas: white capped mountains where the horizon should be, forests beneath it swaying with the wind’s motion, and the skies! Azure, marigold, vermillion, lilac, all as pure and deep as the night sky is tonight.

After a timeless moment passes, all begins to still. The wind no longer howls. Snow settles and the forest quells. The clouds slowly dapple by the barest moonlight drift above, outlined by the shadow of space and bloated stars. Then, I hear it, a most beloved sound. An exhale. Inhale. Once more. Again. And again. Each letting loose a weight, carried silently up to this cliff’s edge. The most magnificent instrument, until dawn breaks the spell and I must return back away from the edge.

[damn-it-neil-the-name-is-nuwanda]

☆Man of the Moon★☆月の男★

The midnight sky, enveloped in an inky darkness, held mysteries, which are yet to be solved. As the cloak of darkness descends, the celestial canvas becomes a tapestry woven with heavenly delights. Above, a multitudinous of stars emerge, scattering across the heavens like marbles. They shine and twinkle with a great allure as if they were to whisper ancient

tales to those who dare gaze into their illumination and fluorescence. The constellations with the names that are etched into human tales and history, dance in perfect unison yet chaotically unorganised, forming figures and shapes and creatures that tell stories of ancient.

I stare up into the inky darkness, captivated by its pure beauty. The beauty of the dark heavens was a true sight to behold and was often taken for granted.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" A voice spoke, stepping closer to me, "the sky."

I turn to gaze upon the mysterious voice that spoke. The host.

"How come you aren't inside? Is the party not to your liking?" He asked, stepping next to me.

"N-no! That is not my reasoning... I was simply getting a breath of fresh air." I lied, my voice shaky from nervousness as I gaze up to the moon. The moons' luxurious pale light filled the dark shroud. The colours clashed and made a beautiful collab of dark and light. The beauty of the pale light calmed me, as balls weren't really my cup of tea. The place was significantly too stuffy, and it was suffocating.

"It's fine if you do not like such events. I'm not a fan myself." The host reassured, "However, my beloved wife wished to host one, and I would do anything to please her."

"You seem like a good husband." I reply, my voice still shaky.

"I would like to think so." The host stated, chuckling a bit.

An awkward silence filled the terrace as we gazed at the glistening stars. The faint sound of music and people laughing could be heard in the distance.

Light powered snow slowly began to fall. Over time, the fall of white soft snowflakes gradually became heavier and heavier, the fluffy white mess staking up on each other and covering the ground.

The air was chilly, and I embraced the cold, accompanied by a glass of red wine. I took a sip, gazing up into the celestial delights from above, powdered by stars and the snowfall.

The powder white grounds began to rise in height as the snow piled on top of it.

Eventually, the level of snow on the ground of the garden was roughly one meter tall. Ah, the snow, silences, and muffles sounds...

The perfect backdrop for bloodshed and making sure the screams won't be heard.

[kaeyazuha]

𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞

❝ I had a suicide attempt 2 months ago, and I still haven't quite gotten past it. It's really hard to tell anyone, you know? I'd like to ask for gn!reader opening up about these things. Diluc/Zhongli are my comfort characters at the moment ❤️ ❞

; This one was really nice to write since it hits close to home, so thank you for letting me write this for you! I hope it’s alright. The Albedo portion was requested by @plsdontaskmeanythingireallydont, so I hope that part’s good too!

; 3/23/22

; Fluff/Comfort

; CW: pointers to a suicide attempt (but no details), physical touch, poor mental health

     𝗗𝗶𝗹𝘂𝗰 𝗥𝗮𝗴𝗻𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗿

✧ He actually needs to leave the room for a moment, or at least stand up and walk around to take a moment to process. The sheer thought of you leaving, especially by your own hands, sends his head swirling in ways he can’t even fathom. He’d take a moment to think, and then sit by your side and let out a shaky sigh before pulling you into the tightest embrace you’ve ever felt; as if he’s terrified you’ll just disappear if he lets go. If you pay real close attention, you’ll feel the barely-there tremble in his shoulders and hands while he lets out trembling breaths to stave off his own tears. Diluc’s a gentleman, refined and eloquent, but today you’ll see a side to him nobody would’ve expected; weakness.

✧ Not in the strength sense, Diluc’s more than strong- you’re well aware of that. But with the way he shakes when he holds you, how he quietly begs you to not leave or try leaving again, it’s obvious just how weak he is for you. After he has his moment, he’d start whispering quiet reassurances to you- telling you how strong you are, how proud he is of you, how happy he is that you’re still here with him, and he holds you as close to his beating heart as possible. If you start to cry, he does as well- though he does an excellent job of hiding it. At least, he thought he did. Your shoulder would grow wet with his tears too fast to go unnoticed by you, though you’re kind enough not to mention it. 

✧ After the matter, Diluc would try and set up a plan with you. This won’t just go away, and he acknowledges that; but he does everything he can to make things easier for you. For the both of you, actually, since the sight of you in so much pain is enough to send arrows through his guarded heart. Maybe it’s some unspoken signals you can use to tell him you’re struggling, maybe it’s a few specific days to take off and spend with you, or maybe it’s just a silent promise to be more open with each other. He’ll tell you more about how much he cares for you, and you’ll tell him whenever things get too much. Though, regardless of what happens, he still makes more of an effort to remind you just how dear you are to him.

- ✧ -

“Hey, ah…’luc?” Your fingers squeezed at each other, skin paling under the suffocating pressure, sticking together from the uncomfortable sheen of sweat. Archons this was so much harder than you thought. Should you really be bothering him right now? You debated for several minutes, agonizing over the thought of disrupting him for your own guilt conscience. Yet, he hummed, setting down his pen and looking up at you before pausing and taking in your disheveled state. Seeing your distress, he automatically stood up to lead you to the couch with a protective grip on your hand.

“Is something the matter, my beloved? Are you alright?” Gloved hands cupped your cheeks, thumbs stroking your skin tenderly, like a paint brush over a pure white canvas. Though, you felt more like a ruined painting- a work of art crafted by careful hands ruined by a clumsy spill of oily black paint. It dripped down, down the canvas and onto the floor in clear droplets, salty and hot against your skin, and those same hands brushed away the inky liquid without worry of staining himself.

“Actually, no…um…can I tell you something?” You hesitated again at the sight of his pleading eyes, lost and confused like a wandering puppy. The way he nodded gave you the slightest sense of reassurance, but when his right hand reached down to firmly hold yours, you relaxed. “A little while ago, I uh…attempted.”

His nose scrunched in confusion, eyebrows raising slightly before they shot downwards and his expression dropped with them. “Wait wait, attempted? Yo-You…you attempted…what?” Diluc shook his head rapidly, trying to will away the visual images staining his mind when you nodded once more, confirming his thoughts. “You…oh, (Y/n)...” He couldn’t believe it, he couldn’t fathom the sheer thought, even with the limited words spoken he could still feel his stomach inverting and churning with every bated breath. 

“I-I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, I’m so sor-”

“No.” He tensed when you flinched, eyes widening once more, he didn’t mean to say it so harshly. Hastily, Diluc tore off his gloves before cupping your cheeks again with a comforting feel. “No, please, don’t apologize. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you had to experience such a thing, and I’m sorry you had to tell me- that I didn’t notice on my own. But…I’m so very thankful that you’re still here.” You looked up at him slowly, afraid of the furious glare you were bound to meet- only to be pleasantly surprised by the reassuring warmth his loving gaze brought you. “Thank you, for being strong enough to stay with me.” He smiled, scarlet eyes brimming with crystalline tears that he silently prayed wouldn’t fall. But, when you wrapped your arms around his torso and squeezed so tightly- as if afraid he’d let go, he let the tears fall without a second thought.

His hands raked over your back for a moment in peaceful quiet, the low rumble of his hums and thrumming heart leaving a comforting sound where silence once was. You allowed your eyes to flutter shut for a moment, ignoring the small stickiness of your eyelashes against your cheek. He smelled like black dahlia and the warmth of a campfire, aged wine lingering at the tips of his coat and sweetening the air. Though, when your hands wandered upwards onto his shoulders, you could feel the light tremble in his tense muscles. Worried, you looked up; only to be met with his hands resuming their place on your cheeks.

Diluc’s hands were warm against your skin, the callouses and scars brushing over your wetted skin smoothly with every movement he made. “Please, I beg of you; do tell me whenever you start feeling…bad. I want to be here for everything, and make sure you never get to the point where you feel like you have to do that again. You, and I, we’ll be alright, okay?” You paused, taking a moment to think over his words. Would you? Would you be alright? He didn’t give you much more time to think before he leaned down and pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead. “We will be alright. I promise you with everything that I am, I won’t let this happen again. Soon enough, we’ll both forget it happened, okay? Or at least, we’ll be happy enough to pretend it didn’t.” One more kiss to the tip of your nose, and he pulled away to smile down at you.

“Thank you, for letting me love you the way you deserve. I promise I won’t let you get hurt again. So, please, stay with me, and I’ll make it worth your while.”

     𝗭𝗵𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗹𝗶 '𝗠𝗼𝗿𝗮𝘅'

✧ Oh, love, he’s heartbroken. When you come to him with tearful eyes, wringing your hands and staring at the ground, he’s already preparing himself for the worst. Are you going to ask him to leave? Have you had enough? But no, when you tell him the real reason, he almost thinks he prefers the latter. The idea of you suffering so much practically pulls his heart apart, especially since he didn’t know about it beforehand. However, he’s quick to recover and pull you into his arms with the most inviting of smiles. If you look closely though, you’ll see the way the corners of his lips tremble and pull downward.

✧ You’ll see a bit of protective Zhongli for a little while, he basically becomes your bodyguard for the moment despite it being just the two of you. One hand resting on the back of your head, the other holding you close by the waist- his chin resting atop your head as he whispers sweet nothings, and his thrumming heartbeat pressed to yours. He spends this time reassuring you, reassuring that you are not weak, but strong for surviving your attempt. That you are not a lost cause, and can be healed a little more each day. That he will not and will never leave you, since he loves you with everything he is. That this does not define you, and this will not change things between you other than he wants you to come to him more often. It hurts him, the thought of not being there when you want or need him, so please let him in. Please let him help to the best of his ability.

✧ From this day on, Zhongli’s a lot more diligent in caring for you. He was always eager to help before, but now, he wants to be even more involved. If he’s not in your line of sight at almost all times, then something’s probably wrong. He does his best to help with dinner despite his…limited knowledge in the kitchen, he buys little trinkets to help with your stress and distract you, he does mental health check-in’s for the both of you, he lets his hugs linger on you every time, and he never parts ways without three kisses; one to your forehead, one to your nose, and then one to your lips. You’ll feel him smile against you when he lovingly whispers his favorite phrase for you to hear-

- ✧ -

“My dear, please, what’s the matter?” He couldn’t lie and say he knew almost exactly what was on your mind, it wasn’t hard to miss the way you pulled yourself away. Amber eyes narrowed when you tensed, a grimace already forming at the thought of the conversation ahead. Not because of you, of course. No…he simply didn’t want to hear about how you’ve been hurting when you deserve a life so much happier than the broken parts you were handed. It felt almost as if the Gods had given you a piece from thousands of different puzzles, and told you to make it work- and that you did, but…there was always one piece that never fit quite right, and it would bother you for days on end. Day, after day, he’d watch you struggle with the pieces and he could only silently wish things were better for you.

“It’s hard to explain…I, ah-” You bit down on your lip, rolling it in between your teeth in a poor attempt to stave off the hot tears stinging your eyes. Not again, you mentally pleaded- the headache from your last meltdown still heavily prominent. Before you could try and reorganize your words, Zhongli’s arms had already made their way tight around your waist. One hand slowly slinked upwards and guided your head to rest on his shoulder, the other protectively pressing against your lower back. With every soft caress of his fingers, he gently quelled the roaring tempests of guilt plaguing your mind.

You could faintly hear him take a breath, forcing himself to relax. “It’s alright, love. I believe I know what happened. So, please, don’t be afraid. Not anymore.” He whispered towards the end, swaying ever-so-slightly as he held you. Zhongli smiled lightly when he felt your tears start to stain his shirt, fingernails digging into the fabric of his shirt when shaky sobs started to overwhelm you. “There, there, that’s it…let it out, it’s okay. I’m so proud of you.” Gloved fingers stroked over your hair, featherlight touches sending warmth throughout your skin. 

“Why? Wh-Why would you be proud after…I failed, Zhongli.” You tried to reason, grasping at the air for any reason to keep the blame with you.

“Your ‘failure’ is possibly the greatest thing that’s ever happened, at least to me.” He scoffed lightly, leaning back and leaning his face near yours so he could kiss away your falling tears. “This ‘failure’ means you’re still alive, and that’s all I could ever ask. I know this must be terrifying, as I did the next best thing…stepping down as archon was the equivalent to ending my life, but I started anew, as Zhongli. As your lover, and as your closest friend.” Hushing your cries, he smiled earnestly; keeping one arm snug around you to hold you close. “Let this not be a failure, but a new beginning. As cliché as that may sound, I want that for us all the same. Tomorrow, we’ll try again. And again, and again, until you truly want to stay.”

You stammered out a dry laugh at how calm he appeared, handling this like another business transaction. But, you found that your laugh died in your throat. Leaning closer to him, you could hear the erratic beating of his heart- practically pounding against his ribcage. Looking up, those beautiful Amber eyes held fear akin to a lost child amidst a battlefield. Looking down, his hands trembled where they held you. You sighed, reaching down and holding one of his hands within your own before resting your head over his heart; finding solace when it started to slow to a proper rhythm. 

“I’ll stay…I’ll try. I’m sorry.” Your mumbling was muffled by his coat, but he heard it all the same, and smiled at your words. Zhongli pressed a kiss to the top of your head, holding you securely in his arms.

“Please, don’t be. I’m sorry you had to go through such a thing. If you’ll have me, please, don’t hide these things from me. Allow me to share your burdens, and make them lighter. Soon, they’ll feel like nothing upon our backs; and instead, we’ll feel the sunlight on top of them. How does that sound?” He mused, chuckling lightly at your eager nodding.

“Then, we’ll do just that. Tomorrow, I’ll take you to one of my favorite areas in Liyue, somewhere you’ll forget all of your pains. But, for now, allow me to hold you just a bit longer…I love you so dearly, my beloved. Thank you for giving yourself a second chance.”

     𝗔𝗹𝗯𝗲𝗱𝗼 '𝗞𝗿𝗲𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗶𝗻𝘇'

✧ ‘What happened?’ ‘How didn’t I notice?’ He knew you weren’t in the best state of mind, but never would he think it would end up going this far. Regardless, he handles the situation as best he can. He’d sit beside you and hesitantly ask if he can hug you; and when you agree, he practically lunges at you and envelops you in the warmest, tightest hug he can without being too overbearing. For a little while, he’d be silent- but if you could hear the tidal waves of thoughts running through his head, you’d probably beg him to shut up. Why didn’t he know? What if you didn’t make it? Why didn’t he do more for you? Why can’t he remember the last time he’s seen you smile? Why has he failed you to this extent? Why, despite his intellect, couldn’t he see the signs?

✧ You’d have to be the one to pull him from the abyss of his mind, cupping his cheeks and reassuring you that you’re still there. He’d appear lost for a moment, almost in disbelief that you hadn’t left him yet- Albedo’s already insecure about how inept he can be with social relations, this was a massive blow. But more than he’s hurt by this, he’s hurt for you. The fact that you hated existing so much that the only better alternative was death by your own hands is mortifying to him, and he’s almost angry with the world itself for letting you down. 

✧ He spends this time comforting the both of you with gentle and lingering touches. Ungloved fingers gliding up and down your back, tracing out small words and shapes with the silent promise of forever written in every touch. His head would rest on your shoulder, ear pressed to your pulse point as he takes comfort in every beat of your heart and hopes you can hear his own. One hand stays secure on the back of your head, guiding you to let out all of your tears onto his shoulder and protecting you from the outside world that’s been so cruel to you. Albedo’s not very good with words, so he says; and lets his actions do all the speaking. And with every caress of his hands, every lingering kiss, every fleeting touch of his fingers, he silently promises you a better future, and thanks you for being strong enough to stay with him.

- ✧  -

You mean…he could’ve lost you? If this…had worked…you wouldn’t be here. Your smile, your laughter, your angry outbursts, your random jokes- it would all be…gone. Why- no, how could this have been a possibility? You sighed nervously, finding his piercing gaze unsettling with how earnestly he stared at you.

“‘Bedo, please say something, anything…if you want me to go, I ca-”

“NO!”

You jumped, the sudden volume of his voice being louder than you’ve ever heard it. Albedo stammered out an apology, frantically setting down his notes before standing up and hesitantly tugging you into the tightest and most secure hug he had to offer. “Please…please don’t do that again.” He rasped, voice strained while he tried to calm the mass waves of confusing emotions crashing over him.

“I won’t, I’m sorry. I just…wanted to tell you…just in case.” It was hard to speak with how tightly he held you, messy hair tickling your cheek from where his head was buried in your shoulder. Albedo let out a deep sigh, standing up fully and changing positions so that it was you hiding in his chest, as he was afraid to let you see the sheer panic on his face. 

“No, I understand. I’m grateful that you told me. I just…don’t know what to do.” Mindlessly, he allowed his fingers to traverse your back, tracing small shapes and random loops into your shirt. “I want to be angry at the world for hurting you this badly, but I’m so glad that you’re still here with me, but I’m also confused since I never thought of this happening…please, do give me a moment. But…know this.” He didn’t pull away, but he leaned closer to your ear, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head before speaking.

“I love you. I love you so dearly, and the mere thought of something happening to you is utterly horrifying, especially by your own hands. I want you to be comfortable, to be happy, at least in my presence. So,” He paused, stiffening at the feel of your soft cries against his shirt, but he continued so that you wouldn’t feel the same guilt he did in that moment. His touches were akin to the softness and light feel of a flower petal, almost ticklish with every brush over your skin, so warm despite the frigid air. “Please, talk to me. I’m rather inept when it comes to social relations, and I’m unable to catch onto all the cues, so please tell me when you’re in peril. Even if it’s a simple thought, I want to hear it; I want you to feel safe and comfortable enough to speak your mind.”

“I do, I just- don’t want to burden you. You’ve gone through a lot too, after all…” You muttered almost bitterly, keeping your gaze low enough to avoid his piercing gaze. He fell silent for a moment, before a heavy sigh allowed his shoulders to sink. 

“Burden?” He sighed. “(Y/n), you never have been and will never be a burden.” Gently, he coaxed you out from the safety of his embrace to face him properly. The softest of smiles- albeit sad- tugged at his lips and brought a twinkle to his azure eyes. “You are my lover, my muse, the highlight of every day I’ve had the privilege of experiencing with you. When you walk outside, the stars turn away in shame of how dull they are compared to you.” He let out a soft laugh at your shocked expression, having never heard such bold words from his lips. “You’re irreplaceable, love. I care so deeply for you that it hurts sometimes, so please…let me know when these things start to hurt you, so that I can help.” Slowly, he brought your hand up to his lips and kissed the back of it, then your palm, and then the pulse point on your wrist.

“It’s okay now, my muse. You have me and every star in Teyvat’s sky watching over you, and I’ll never allow you to hurt so deeply again. I love you, I swear it…thank you, for giving me more time to show you that.”

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚✧˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

Word Count: 3457

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚✧˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

- Ky♡♡

𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧; 𝗳𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝘀𝗸 𝘁𝗼 𝗷𝗼𝗶𝗻!

@storytravelled ; @irethepotato ; @paradise-creator ; @lordbugs ; @straymoon96 ;  @stage-lucida​ ;

[2goth2moth]

Any sort of smut with a naga or feral mothman like creature please and thank you

Anon, you said "naga" and my lil scaly heart got so happy. I have no idea if this is even remotely in the realm of what you were looking for, but I just couldn't shake the idea of a human prince with a harem full of monsters. I hope you enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Prince's Favour (M!Naga x M!Reader, NSFW)

For reference: Enéas is a Brazilian rainbow boa. I was 100% going to have a blowjob scene in this but rainbow boas have backwards hooked teeth (think fishhooks) that are designed to not let things back out, and having that near your dick sounds like a very bad time.

Word count: 3514

Includes: Power dynamics (prince x concubine), non-human genitalia, rough sex, double penetration, a little bit of crying

Being the youngest prince in a kingdom with a still-living king could be overwhelmingly boring. Matters of state were passed to your parents and eldest sister, matters of security to your next oldest sibling, infrastructure and agriculture to the next oldest, twin brothers. Your bloodline was long and vital, which was very good for the kingdom’s longevity. It was not so good for keeping you occupied. Your role, as well as your youngest sister’s, ended up being almost completely performative, with official duties being limited to keeping up a royal education and looking pretty beside your family during public appearances. The whole arrangement left you with a lot of free time to eat and draw and lounge about.

And have sex.

It was normal for royalty to have lovers or harems, if they wanted to and their spouses were okay with it. You yourself had several lovers, all of whom you enjoyed and cared about deeply. One of whom was currently lounging invitingly on your bed as you did your best to capture his likeness in paint.

“Enéas, beloved, can you hold still for me?”

The naga groaned, the muscular coils of his body shifting slightly as he did. “I’ve been sitting for hours now. When you called me, I didn’t think it would be for this.”

“Ten minutes, then we can do something else. I swear.”

The look that he shot you was long-suffering, but he settled back into the purposefully relaxed position you had directed him into earlier after taking a sip from the goblet beside him.The whole thing was mostly an act. You had been summoning him to your chambers to sit for this painting on a regular basis for the past month, and no matter where the sessions ended (often with you wrapped firmly in his powerful body), you never put on any airs about what those first few hours would entail.

Golden sunlight shone through gauzy curtains and spilled onto Enéas’ skin, setting the scales ablaze. The round black marks that lay over red scales the colour of baked clay were already beautiful, but under the sun’s rays he was cast in a rainbow sheen, every scale shimmering like an oil slick. The creamy scales of his underbelly flowed from his face all the way down, flashing like pale moonlight between his darker coils. Naga rarely wore clothing, they had no real need to, but Enéas had certainly developed a taste for finery during his time in the palace. Fine, sheer cotton, dyed snowy white and rich yellow, draped around him like woven light, held in place by gold clasps. Cuffs set with precious stones circled on his wrists and biceps, and a beautiful metal collar engraved with intricate patterns lay flat against his throat.

“You’re staring, little prince.”

The rasping taunt broke you out of your stupor, and you realized that your eyes had been locked on him, paintbrush unmoving on your canvas. You finished the stroke you had started with a careful flick. Stepping back a little, you surveyed what you had done so far. The hours spent on the portrait had been worth it, and even though it wasn’t done, you could stand to be finished for the day.

“I was distracted,” you said. “You were distracting me.”

A cheeky grin split Enéas’s face. It was hard-edged and full of sharp, hooked teeth, stretching far past what it would have on a human face, but managed to be as lovely and charming as it was frightening. “I have no idea what you mean. I was only sitting here, just like you asked me to.”

“Sitting there in a very distracting way.” You wiped your hands on the sturdy apron you wore before untying it and discarding it messily to the side. “We’re done for today, you can relax now.”

“Finally.” He stretched his arms above his head and groaned loudly before flopping back and letting his eyes close. The movement sent his whole body rippling in the sunlight, and the sight made your mouth go dry.

You strode towards the bed, closing the distance quickly to sit beside Enéas on your plush bedspread. He didn’t even open his eyes when the mattress dipped under your weight. With a feather-light touch, you traced the features of his face with a thumb. The transition from red to white around what would be a hairline was first, the gradient of the small scales dipping low on his forehead and contouring under his eye sockets, the way it pulled back on his temples. The flat bridge of his nose, his sharp jaw, the mouth stretching almost the entire way along the hollows of his cheeks. He just barely leaned into every touch, doing a very good job of pretending like he didn’t care about you sitting next to him and touching him like he was something precious. Each one of his breaths fanned upwards, over your face, and it smelled like the sweet lime cordial he drank moments before.

Your thumb continued its path around his face until it caught on the center on his bottom lip. One of his eyes drifted open, pupil an inky slit on yellow-green sclera, and he parted his lips just enough for his long, forked tongue to flicker out. It wound around the digit, brushing against your knuckles and the sensitive skin between your fingers. Cold spit cooled even further on your skin as Enéas licked over your hand. In a single swift movement he dipped his head forward to take your thumb fully in his mouth. You froze. His lips tightened around it and he sucked, tongue still working you over. You could feel your cock start to fill and you pressed in and down, putting the slightest amount of pressure on the floor of Enéas’ mouth. A low, raspy moan rumbled through him, eyes fluttering closed and back arching prettily.

Putting more pressure on his mouth, you hooked your thumb behind the bone of his lower jaw and forced it down, exposing hooked teeth and making his tongue loll. “Get me ready, beloved, and be thorough.” You leaned down to press a sweet kiss to the edge of his scaly jaw. “I want both of them today.”

Enéas’s eyes snapped open. His pupils were blown wide in excitement and arousal, and he flickered his tongue out over your skin again before pulling you down next to him with firm hands. Those same hands didn’t hesitate to begin roaming over your body, making quick work of the fastenings keeping your tunic and trousers closed before pulling his own scant clothing off.

“It would be my pleasure, Your Highness,” he said. The sound was already breathless, and sounded so beautiful that it hurt.

He stripped you of your clothing with an impossible combination of speed and reverence, each touch against your skin burning with affection. Pushing you fully onto your back, he slithered around you, smooth scales dragging against your increasingly bare skin until you lay cradled in his strong coils. A heavy tail coaxed your legs apart as large hands began mapping a path down your body. They skimmed over your throat and chest, pausing to tease each of your nipples to full hardness, and drifted lower, caressing your waist and stomach, scratching soft patterns onto your hips and buttocks, before landing on your thighs. His cool, clever mouth soon followed. A sloppy, open-mouthed kiss landed above your pulse, then the base of your neck, trailing cold saliva over your shoulders and down your breastbone. You moaned quietly, unbidden, and your back arched up off the bed, eyes fluttering closed. Your world narrowed to sensation: the chill on your skin, the plush mattress underneath you, the smooth rasp of scales around you. Enéas’ hands lovingly massaging your thighs.

Your eyes shot open with a gasp when you felt his mouth close around one of your nipples. You could feel his smile against your skin as he suckled on the hardened nub. A little jolt went through you as those wicked teeth grazed over the delicate skin, your cock twitching where it now lay fully erect on your belly. One of his hands wandered up to play with the flushed head, dipping into the pre-cum pooling under it before raising his hand and licking his fingers clean.

Gripping his chin, you dragged his face up to meet yours. “I believe I told you to prepare me, Enéas.” The way you said his name managed to land somewhere between sweetly teasing and bitterly displeased. “We may be lovers, but I am still a prince. This may have been my mistake, though, maybe I wasn’t clear enough for you.” You pulled him up further, tucking your mouth beside his ear so that you could whisper directly to him. “Prepare me, my love, and do it nice and thorough. After you’re done, you will fuck me, with both cocks, until I can’t speak or until you fill me with your cum. Whichever comes later. Am I understood?”

Enéas smiled, pupils completely dilated, and dipped his head down to kiss you. It was salty and bitter from your pre-cum, with the barest hint of the lime cordial underneath. “As you wish, my prince.”

He sat back and lowered himself so that he was lying on his front between your legs. The coil of his body that had been pressing one of your legs open dug in harder, pulling your thigh even further out, and he threw your other leg over his shoulder to get better access between your cheeks. His big hands dug in and pulled them apart, exposing your tight hole to the air of the room. He breathed over it, pressing wet, biting kisses onto the supple flesh of your ass before slipping his tongue out and running it all the way from your hole to your balls. The long, slender fork in the muscle wrapped around you, almost delicately, spreading cold saliva over your balls and the base of your shaft. The chill was a brief shock against your skin that sent sparks zipping through you, making you drop your head back onto the mattress and forcing your breaths out in stuttering pants.

Enéas continued alternating between licking at your rim, just barely breaching the ring of muscle with the tips of his tongue, and suckling gently at your sac, each motion drawing desperate little noises out of you. It felt wonderful, but it was nowhere near enough. Somewhere in your mind you had a brief argument with yourself about whether it would be worth it to abandon all semblance of power and control that you had in order to grind your hips back on his face. On one hand, you were royalty, even splayed naked on your bed, and you liked to hold onto that for as long as you could. On the other, the feeling of his cool scales and wet, fluttering tongue was very rapidly driving that particular thing down your list of concerns.

All of that was wiped from your mind when you felt the blunt tip of one of Enéas’ fingers, slicked with oil from a vial he must have hidden somewhere on him when he started moving. It circled your hole slowly, deliberately, pressing just inside every so often, coaxing the muscle to loosen with practiced care. You wanted to squirm, to tense up under the teasing touches, but you forced yourself to breathe through it and relax as much as possible. This earned you a raspy noise of approval and a kiss to your sensitive inner thigh from your naga lover.

Seconds later, it also earned you one of his gloriously thick fingers carefully worked all the way inside you. Your back curved off the bed, a quiet moan spilling from your lips. He pumped it in and out a few times, just starting to open you up enough for him to continue. As soon as you relaxed, unconscious fists unclenching from the bedspread, a second finger, thick and wet with oil, joined the first. He twisted the two about inside you. Each motion dragged the subtle ridges of his scales along your inner walls, and when he crooked his knuckles deep inside you, you arched up with a breathless moan.

“Ohhhh, fuck.”

Enéas’ head emerged from between your legs, and he smirked at you as he began scissoring his fingers, stretching your rim, brushing up against the spot of blinding pleasure on every thrust. “Well, Your Royal Highness? Am I pleasing you now?”

“You would be pleasing me more if you got on with it,” you snarked at him. He grinned back at you, the tremor in your voice and the way that your whole body had begun quivering betrayed your pleasure too much for him to ever believe that you were honestly upset.

“As my prince wishes.”

He raised himself so that he was braced overtop of you, and he rubbed the head of his upper dick over your entrance. You hadn’t even noticed him teasing his cocks erect and out of the slit that usually kept them hidden, but it wouldn’t surprise you if that was what he had been doing with his other hand while prepping you. A sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth was the only warning you got before he pushed into you with near-maddening gentleness. His cocks were more slender than the average human’s, but they were longer, and were covered with nubby barbs of flexible cartilage that caught deliciously inside you whenever he pulled back. He started rocking his hips into yours, getting deeper and deeper with each stroke, dick not close to filling you up but the barbs stimulating you plenty all on their own. You moaned slightly each time he drew back, cock leaking even more pre-cum between your bodies. Waiting until he was fully seated inside you, body flush against your ass, he began gently massaging your hole, the muscle already stretched tight around him. He moved his fingers in sync with his shallow thrusts, slowly but surely opening your hole enough for him to slip his second cock inside.

You were moaning even more loudly now, shuddering noises of pleasure leaving your lips every time Enéas fucked into you or pressed in on your entrance. His finger disappeared from your skin briefly after a particularly rough thrust left you panting and teary-eyed. You whined at the loss, wriggling further back on his dick. Another rough drive of his hips sent your back arching painfully, mouth dropping open as his index finger slipped into you alongside his shaft.

“Nngg, ah-- fuck, so-oo good,” you mewled.

Enéas started fucking into you with even more ferocity, making your whole body move every single time his hips slammed into your ass. Your cock slapped up onto your stomach with an obscenely wet sound, and left wet smears of clear fluid on your skin each time it hit you. The sounds coming out of you were starting to sound desperate, morphing from regular moans of pleasure to pitiful little whimpers and gasps. You were so overwhelmed by the way that his cock reached so deep inside you and caught so gloriously coming back out that you didn’t even notice a second fingertip tease your rim. You didn’t notice it until the smoothly scaled digit thrust into you alongside his first one. The feeling of it, the stretch of your rim definitely painful now, ripped a shattered cry from you.

Your whole body was tensed up, chest heaving with panting breaths. “Oh shit. Enéas, I’m going to…”

The hand he had been using to hold himself above you darted downwards and locked in a tight ring around the base of your steadily leaking cock. The crescendo quickly building in the pit of your stomach was stopped in its tracks, and you wailed at the blocking of your orgasm. Enéas smirked wickedly at you before lowering his mouth to graze lightly over one of your nipples.

“Patience, little prince,” he chided, “Just hold on a little longer, and you can cum on both of my cocks.”

Each word he spoke was punctuated by him driving his barbed shaft into you and scissoring his fingers wider and wider. Somewhere in the haze of your almost-climax he had stuck a third finger into your hole, and all of them were now stretching you out as far as you could go. His big arms wrapped around your back and he aggressively hoisted you upwards, forcing you to wrap your legs around his body. He slipped his fingers out of you, and almost immediately his lower cock replaced it. The shaft was thicker, the head a little more bulbous, and it filled you up so wonderfully next to his other one. Once he was fully seated, he went still to let you get used to the intense stretch inside of you. You tried to wriggle about in his arm to get him even deeper inside of you, but he used both arms to grip you tight to his body, keeping you still. That mouth of his kept lovingly licking over your chest, going slack to let saliva leak out over his lips and onto your skin.

With a firm grip on your hips and an almost painful amount of care, Enéas lifted you up until only the heads of his dicks remained inside of you. Realizing what he was about to do, you stopped writhing in his grasp, relaxing as much as the position allowed. He hissed a thanks into the thin skin above your breastbone. A slight shift of his weight so that all of his coils lay firmly beneath him, and he lowered you almost all the way down onto him. He pressed sweet kisses to the base of your sternum, then each of your nipples, then to the side of your throat. Settling his face into the warm crook of your neck, he began to raise and lower your along his shafts, using your body to fuck himself to completion.

This new position made his cocks reach impossibly deeper inside of you, spines rubbing against that sweet spot with each stroke. You dropped your head forward against Enéas’ shoulder, moaning loudly. With his previous fierce grip on your tortured cock gone, you felt your orgasm begin to build again. Clear pre-cum dripped out of your slick head and smeared between your bodies. He kept bouncing you on him, breath coming out ragged against your neck as he chased after his own climax.

“Holy shit-- that’s so good…”

Your mouth hung open as heat bubbled up in your gut. You tried to warn Enéas again, but all that came out was a strangled gasp of his name before you were cumming between your bodies with a cry. His sharp mouth curved into a grin pressed into the skin of your shoulder as you went boneless in his arms. He kept driving your body down onto himself mercilessly, paying no mind to your limp form. Your eyes filled with tears and drool leaked from your slackened jaw as you were driven to complete overstimulation from him using your body.

“Mmmmhh-hngg....AH!” You moaned desperately, squirming in his arms, trying to get away from the feeling of his cocks inside you that was quickly starting to get painful. Your hole was fluttering erratically around him, and the grip that Enéas had on your hips stuttered, betraying how close he was.

“My prince, I’m…” he managed to grunt out before he pulled you all the way onto his cocks and came inside of you, clutching your body close to his.

His twin dicks twitched against your sensitive walls as thick white cum spilled inside of you. You wailed at the sensation, your own spent cock trying fruitlessly to twitch erect again. Enéas held you against him for several minutes, catching his breath, before he carefully lifted you off of him and laid you down on the now-soiled sheets. The spines on his shafts caught on your puffy rim as he pulled out, making you wince. Your belly was still sticky from your own orgasm, and gobs of Enéas’s cum leaked from your hole, making you feel even filthier. You were completely and utterly fucked-out and content as you lay there in a warm stupor. Cold lips kissed away tears that you hadn’t noticed had fallen, and a hand rubbed comforting circles into the back of your neck. He shifted his body to wrap around you in heavy coils that felt safe and warm, despite his cold blood. You stayed there, cradled against his familiar body, being covered in soft kisses and soothing caresses, until the shaky aftershocks of both of your climaxes dissipated. Once they had, you curled onto your side so that you could nuzzle your face into his scaly neck,

“So?” Enéas whispered into your ear, peppering the side of your face with affectionate pecks. “Did I please you, my prince?”

“Mmm,” you hummed, nibbling on his jaw slightly. “You absolutely did, beloved.”

[lilallama]

hello! i reaaaaally really reaaalllllyyyy love your writing! I'd like to know how both clubs would react to their beloved texting them? it could be anything you want! I trust your creative mind:D i hope you're doing well~(´∩｡• ᵕ •｡∩`)

[Thank you so much, cinnamon bun ❤ that makes me really happy ^^. I'm doing very good, I hope you do too. Hobis picture didn't fit on here (TT), so I will post it by itself. 💕🍑]

Hoseok

The young boy layed on his silk sheets, on his four thousand dollar mahogany bed, while drowning in the sounds of his best friend. On his phone he kept repeatedly playing the recordings of their calls. Hearing their voice felt like heaven to him, if he could he'd make them talk forever just so he could dwell in the sound of their voice. Suddenly his euphoria was interrupted by a notification.

Y/n 💕

Have you got the homework for today?

If yes, could you please tell me, thanks.

He sat up and put on his glasses. Yes, it really was Y/n. Although they consider him a best friend, Hoseok still cannot stop his heart from racing in his chest. He quickly typed an answer and jumped up to send them a picture of his finnished work.

Seokjin

With his soft black hair pulled back my a fluffy, pink headband and him wearing an evenly fluffy but white bathrobe, he sat in his private bathroom and applied his expensive skincare products. He hummed and sang a bit [I love you, Y/n~] before being interrupted by his phone notifying him that he got a message.

Prince/ss 👑

Have you got the homework for today?

If yes, could you please tell me, thanks.

He immediately threw his fifty dollar "protection and hydration, for a longer lasting youthful look" cream away and hurried to type back. Why should his love have to do homework, when he'll have one of his butlers do it for them. Silly Y/n.

Yoongi

The newest Rap music blasting in his ears, Yoongi hugged a photo of Y/n, his gorgeous [not yet] lover, to his chest. He dispises most of the new music. It's all money, sex and parties, none of which has anything to do with him. He's an anti social virgin, who has to work two part time jobs to be able to provide for himself and his alcoholic mother. But in that moment he didn't care. The sobs escaping his mouth got interrupted by a notification, no one ever texts him.

Angel 🎶

Have you got the homework for today?

If yes, could you please tell me, thanks.

His red, watery eyes widen. They actually wrote him. They noticed little, boring him. Without thinking he typed a response and made his way to give them what they asked for.

Namjoon

The sound of a pen scraping against paper, leavibg behing dark blue, inky lines that are formed into neat writings. As student council president, Namjoon made sure to set an example to everyone. Diligent, devoted, intelligent, responsible Namjoon. Just as the last sentence was brought to an end, a notification popped up on his phone. He was going to ignore the message, but then spotted the name of the sender.

Darling ❤

Have you got the homework for today?

If yes, could you please tell me, thanks.

His pen rolled out of his hand and hit the polished floor of his room. His love just texted him. They asked for his help! Is he dreaming? He must be. Oh, how he longed for such a moment. He can finally be useful to his darling.

Jimin

The music came to a stop and so did Jimin. He pushed his pink hair out of his sweaty face, while whiping some of the sweat away with his already soaked shirt. The white fabric sticking uncomfortably to his body as he tried to catch his breath. After all there's no time for breaks, he has to impress his baby with his skills! But before he could start the music again, his phone buzzed in his backpack. He walked across the practice room with an annoyed look on his face.

Baby 🥰

Have you got the homework for today?

If yes, could you please tell me, thanks.

Jimins vision went hazy for a second and he lost balance. Now on the floor, he still stared at the message. His face flushed even more than before while thinking about their cute face, distraught at having forgotten the homework. He smiled and took a picture of him winking, making sure to take it so they could see his sweaty shirt, stuck to his back in the mirror. He'll send you it once he gets home, until then how about you talk for a bit?

Taehyung

The artistic boy kept his eyes on the canvas before him. His apron had multiple dried up colour stains, while fresh paint coated his fingertips. Some of the paint got smushed on his face as he brushed his bangs aside, while sone of the paint also got stuck in his locks as he tied them into a small bun. He stepped back, the painted face of his love smiling back at him made him break out into a lovestruck boxy grin. But then his phone buzzed and his smile immediately disappeared.

God/dess 🌹

Have you got the homework for today?

If yes, could you please tell me, thanks.

With his mouth slightly agape, his almond eyes stared at the slightly stained screen. Was he imagining things, was his god/goddess really giving him the chance to serve them. After a few seconds he snapped out of it and hurried to grab his homework.

Jeongguk

In the dark of the night, Jeongguk slouched through the streets. He just got in a fight, boxed the guy so hard that he broke his nose, arm and maybe a rib, just to leave that pathetic, shaking pile of shit whimpering on the ground. As the streetlights softly shone down on him, illuminating his face, he received a message.

Spouse 💍

Have you got the homework for today?

If yes, could you please tell me, thanks.

He stopped in his tracks. A cold wind surrounded him, messing up his hair even more. A bright smile appeared on his face, revealing his bunny like teeth. After jumping around and twirling once or twice he stopped to reply. He couldn't repress the laugh that escaped his dry throat. Now he only has to hurry home!

Jennie

She was feasting with her parents at the gisnt dinner table, but they completely disregarded her existence, only having eyes for each other. She chuckled and cleared her throat, catching her parents attention who bashfully laughed along with her. Jennies parents are exactly how she wishes her future marriage to be. They started talking when her phone notified her of a message.

Y/nie ��

Have you got the homework for today, girl?

If yes, could you please tell me, thanks.

Before her mother could scold her on her lack of etiquette, she squealed in a high pitched note, that her Y/n just texted her. Of course, her parents knew about you as well as her feelings for you, they were the exact same when they were younger. They sighed lovingly and huddled together while their daughter excitedly texted her love.

Jisoo

Just a few minutes ago, she was busy going through all her Y/n pictures that have she took these past months [5732, not counting her digital copies]. She was just brushing her silky black hair when her phone let out that obnoxious tone. Jisoo snapped around to her phone on her bed, her 20th one this month [her phone keeps running out of storage room from all her photos, yet she refuses to delete any. So she just gets a new one once her current runs out if storage]. She looked at the screen.

My Muse

Have you got the homework for today, girl?

If yes, could you please tell me, thanks.

As soon as she read these messages, her expression brightened. He brush was thrown into a corner of her big room, making a clack sound as it hit the tiles. In a matter of seconds she typed her answer and send you the homework, as you requested.

Chaeyoung

Soft, gentle fingers stoked the strings on a wooden guitar, filling the room with a sweet melody. An angelic voice joined the guitar play, creating a fairytale like song. As it slowly came to an end, the girl to whom that angelic voice belongs, leans over to her nightstand, grabbing her phone. With longing eyes she stared at the screen while muttering please under her breath. Just then, she received a text message.

My Lovely Y/n 😊

Have you got the homework for today, girl?

If yes, could you please tell me, thanks.

She jumped up, placing the guitar on her bed while dancing around. Her eyes, filled with love and adoration, focused on the text. She took a screenshot and replied while singing out of happiness.

Lisa

After she had finished her last pirouette for the day, she scated off the ice to remove her scates. The young girl sat on the cold bench, letting her hair out of her bun, to flow over her shoulders in smooth waves. While removing her skates, she received a notification on her phone.

Sweetheart 🌸

Have you got the homework for today, girl?

If yes, could you please tell me, thanks.

Lisa smiled as she exchanged her ice skates for a pair of warm boots and placed them back to where they belong. While texting her love, she walked out with poise and flipped her hair back. Of course her love would rely on her. She is the most trustworthy person after all.

[obediencess]

for @ofstrangevariety​​

         He spoke of her flowing, flaxen hair, and Riccardo pictured the fine reams of silk that he had hand spooled on thick rods for the dye a lifetime ago. The seafarer wanted a noble portrait befitting both her bewitching beauty and her intellect, which was as indomitable as her will. He would pay handsomely for a portrait which united all these things. Riccardo accepted on merit of the lady in question. It was no longer about the payment, though Riccardo knew he required it. The desire to paint had become a necessity, it was his sole comfort in the unending solitude of the past century. The monetary gain was a mere practical consideration. He would need gold to book passage across the sea again, when his hunger for the Old World returned. He must fill his coffers from commissions that were more plentiful here than they had been in Rome, where artists could be found on every street corner peddling their paltry miniatures for a fraction of the cost. Here, there was true admiration for his work, and for the ancient spirit within which he painted. The life-like portraiture combined with a classical-baroque sensibility appealed to the children of this young orphaned nation. He admired them, these strange new colonial’s now their own masters, as much as they admired him for all the aged simplicity of his work. It was this that appealed to Cinead, too, as he ambled through Riccardo’s studio in an old gutted townhouse in New Jersey, his fingers near touching the fine faces of the few portraits he had brought with him from his beloved Rome. Would it concern the lady that she could only sit in the evenings? No, it would not. And how long do I have to complete the painting? That was indeterminate. Riccardo closed his petal mouth around any other question. It hardly mattered, in the end. He would complete the portrait, he would be paid, and no doubt Cinead would leave off with the lady and her likeness in toe. 

They made plans for the preliminary sketching, and then the other vampire was gone. Riccardo was left with the money to acquire fresh materials and no more, the rest promised upon completion. He had a freshly primed canvas waiting on the easel, his palette bare, but the pigments ground to begin the underpainting once he was satisfied, if he was satisfied, with his sketch. He had brought so many of the rich raw materials with him across the sea, and now the brine-scent was imbedded in the paint.  He smelled it in the pigment collected under his fine, glassy fingernails, a scent too faint for a mortal to detect, but strong to Riccardo, who overpowered it with linseed and the natural bergamot amber perfume that clung to his immortal, olive skin. The great parlour was entirely devoted to his work, littered with busts, hunks of stone in the midst of carving, sketches and references hanging on the walls, competing with the peeling, ala Anglaise wallpaper. There was no other sight that the house was inhabited. Riccardo couldn’t sleep in it, and so it was little more than a workshop, strewn with all manner of odd artefacts that served his painting and sculpting. 

There was but one mortal scene, a pastiche of a study, or to Riccardo’s mind, a studiolo. He had constructed a dais upon which to arrange the many backdrops for his portraits, and he had already assembled a writing desk and chair, as well as a number of instruments and rich fabrics for the purposes of draping. The woman, Gemina, would be the crown jewel among these. The youth was standing at a short distance from it all, head quirked, his keen verdure eyes moving slowly over the arrangement, when the door knocker emitted a sharp thud. He blinked, roused from his aesthetic contemplation by it, and by the shadow of a figure behind the thin glass pane in the middle of the mahogany door. He dove a hand into his vest to flip open the worn casing of his pocket watch. They were not early, it was he who had lost track of time. And why not? What was time to an immortal? Nothing. He shrugged his shoulders, loping steps carrying him to the door. He opened it, throwing it wide at once. “Good evening, please, please come, come in, both of you, please,” Riccardo inclined his head, his tight inky curls falling out from behind his ears only for both of his beringed hands to rise and quickly tuck them away again. His accent was thick, undeniably Italian, and it gave the intonation of his words a song-like quality. Already the corners of his lips were upturned in a warm, welcoming smile. “You had trouble finding this place, no? Perhaps only to me these streets are hard to find, my home was all built on such precise lines, Roman’s are never lost,” he offered lightheartedly, already sweeping them both into the studio. Once they had crossed the threshold he darted across it, leaning over the edge of the dais to seize upon his sketch board and charcoal. Riccardo’s gaze flickered immediately toward his proposed subject as she moved into the abundant flood of candle light that clustered around the canvas and the dais. Her hair burned gilt in the rosy glow cast by the candelabrum, and Riccardo admired it for a moment, already searching his mind for the perfect pigment. 

[docheros]

i miss inkycanvas sm. mostly for their fun genders and shawn calling jacques "jacq, my jacq" :((((

[eorzean-capitalist]

Prompt #7: Forgiven

“Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it.” ― Mark Twain

 She did not expect to wake in wide open space.  She did not expect to wake at all.

Devoid of all color, devoid of light or darkness, nothingness stretched out in front of her in all directions.  Was this the afterlife?  Did souls go here when  passed and gone from mortal coils?

Pushing herself up to her feet, she looked over her hands carefully.  Grey skin, knuckles and fingers calloused after years of toil and training.  She drew in breath, feeling it fill her lungs until it burned, ripe to burst.  A long exhale, lips pursed as if she expected her breath to mist.  

“Beloved daughter, be not afraid,” a voice said.  No... echoed in her mind.  Isrun glanced right to left, and then behind her.  She was utterly alone.

Then the world suddenly shifted.  The white expanse swirled, night sky appearing like a painter throwing paint at a canvas, until nothing but an inky darkness remained, replete with stars glittering like diamonds.  

And there was Her.  Isrun wasn’t sure how she knew the crystal amalgamation in front of her had any gender, it was simply a feeling, this knowing and certainty.  She floated there before it, until the space below her feet felt solid enough for her to stand.  

“What... who are you?” she asked.

“I am Hydaelyn.  Be at peace, my child.  I give to you a gift, as I have all my chosen.”

“Gift? What do you mean?  Where.. where am I?”

“You will understand, in time.”

The world around her began to shift again, a dizzying array of color and light.  She could see her fractured reflection in Hydaelyn’s facets.  “Wait! I don’t--”

Grey eyes fluttered open.  Flashbacks of the courtyard returned.  The prince, Zenos, the resistance in such great numbers.  The blade coming down on her. Fasstwulf...

“Fasstwulf!” she cried and sat up so quickly her head swam.

A hand on her shoulder gently pushed her back down.  A mantronly woman whose face she did not recognize smiled down at her.  “There, there.  Rest, child.  You took quite a blow, but conjurers from Gridania were able to mend your wounds well enough.”

Isrun glanced around the room.  It was not the infirmary in the outpost.  “Where am I?”

The older woman poured a mug of old water and handed it to her, helping her sit up with her back against a few sturdy pillows.  

“You’re in Ala Mhigo proper.  One of just a handful of survivors from that battle.  You’d be in the brig, right now, if it wasn’t for that brave act in front of the Twelve and everyone.  Head rushed right at the crown prince himself, I’m told.  Do you remember?”

Isrun looked into the tin cup of water in her hands.  A freckled face stared back, she wasn’t even sure it was her, everything felt surreal, like she watched all of it from outside her own body. 

“Bits and pieces.  Fasstwulf... he’s a Hrothgar, white fur, markings li--”

The matron shook her head.  “I’m sorry, girl.  Besides you, just a few lived to tell any tales.  I saw no hrothgar among them.”

This time, she could not deny the tears that pooled in the corners of her eyes.  First Maximus, and now Fasstwulf.  All the soldiers under her command.  The little lalafell in the kitchens.  Did none of them survive? Had she failed all of them?  

“Ala Mhigo’s free now, you know.”  The older woman’s hand reached out to brush a tear from her cheek.  “You’re free.  I don’t know from where you hail, but I know a conscript when I see one.  They took my son, too.  I haven’t found him yet.  Someone said he’s stationed in Dalmasca.”

Her mouth tasted bitter suddenly and she drank the water, though it did little to help.  “If Ala Mhigo is free then... the crown prince?”

“Nothing you need worry about, girl.  They say he took his own life when the Warrior of Light confronted him.”

Isrun nodded absently and took another sip of water.  Zenos was dead. Ala Mhigo freed.  Her entire outpost dead.  The Wood had stopped speaking to her years ago, and her own sister, either dead as well or still a willing pawn of the Empire.  

“I left everything I knew and loved,” she said hollowly.  The tears came again and she let them fall, leaving salty tracks on her freckled cheeks.  “And I have nothing to show for it.”

“That’s not entirely true.”  The older woman reached out and took her free hand, opening it to reveal her palm.  In it she placed something smooth and cool to the touch.  “You dropped this when you woke up.  I’m not sure how you came to have it.  But you were muttered something fierce for a bit there, couldn’t right tell you what you were saying, but then this came tumbling out of your hand and hit the floor.” 

Isrun looked at it more closely.  A crystal the size of her palm, it glowed softly in the light.  A golden color, like the earth, like the Wood.  

“She’s forgiven you, child.  Now you have to forgive yourself and go on living.”

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Sweet Refrain

A/N: Continuing to count the smooches down with 17. Again, stand alone with no connection to Passing Through. Took a liiiiiiittle creative liberty and changed the campfire to a bonfire...hope you can forgive me. Gosh darn it I love writing this angelic man. Also- “totally random reader” Okay, V. lol  <3 

Word Count: 2,332

Prompt: from @agent-bossypants

Every time the train came through town, you could hear his music when the whistle blew. Even when you knew he wasn’t on it because he’d just written you from Oregon or called from Oklahoma, you could feel his presence whenever those rails rattled. The tracks cut through a field that you could see from your backyard, a narrow creek separating them from your property, with the soft purple silhouette of the mountains for a backdrop. They were freight tracks, and you were close enough to the unloading station that oncoming trains would start slowing down in view of your property. Even when you knew for a fact that Ryan wasn’t crouching in a car, readying himself to jump, you watched intently, reading the graffiti on the rusted steel walls, as though it could tell you where he was; as if it could tell you that he was okay. 

Occasionally you caught a glimpse of another train hopper as their boots touched down or left the rocky ground, running as they took off or landed to try to even out their momentum with that of the train. Once you’d seen a young man tumble over the side of a car, and you’d raced to the edge of your property, heart in your throat fearing it had been him, fearing that the person was hurt. It wasn’t Ryan, you could tell by the shock of red curls, and he hadn’t been seriously hurt, just sustaining a few bumps and a small but deep cut on the forehead. You’d offered as much help as the stranger who called himself Dakota would take, which unsurprisingly wasn’t much. He’d let you guide him across the creek to your back porch, but he balked when you’d invited him inside. Instead he’d waited on the step as you went in for a wet towel and some bandages to clean and cover the cuts with, making him a peanut butter sandwich and grabbing a few bottled waters from your fridge. 

When you came back out, you were again unsurprised to see your dog’s furry head resting on Dakota’s knee, her big brown eyes on the man as though she were full of concern. He reminds Roo of Ryan, too. He was a few years younger than the man who you’d grown up being neighbors with, but his quiet, unassuming nature and gracious smile were of the same ilk. You smiled as Roo lifted her head to look at you, as though giving you the all clear that the patient would be okay. “Good girl,” you’d patted her head as she stood and moved to curl up next to Dakota while you helped him with the bandages. He’d thanked you for your help, ruffled Roo’s ears, resulting in the dog giving a big lick to his hand, before he turned down your offer to give him a ride, and left through your front gate. 

Three weeks later you’d gotten his postcard in the mail from Maine, again thanking you for your kindness. On that same day, you’d gotten a call from Ryan in Minnesota, sharing the story with him and hearing the way his voice warmed when he told you you’d “done a real nice thing.” You’d chewed your bottom lip, voice all but breaking as you told him how it felt for that split second that you thought it might have been him, that he might have fallen under the train or hurt himself badly. There was a pause on his end before he’d cleared his throat and assured you that he was always careful, always safe. You’d seen him jump plenty of times, coming and going, and you knew this was true. He moved smoothly, taking sure footed steps and making well practiced grips. You’d seen him hoist himself up from the ground, taking a little piece of you with him as the sole of his second shoe left the gravel, and you’d watched him gracefully dismount, that stolen piece flying back to your chest as his smile walked towards you, one arm waving and the other clutching his beloved guitar. Stolen’s not the right word, you’d thought, knowing that you willingly gave that bit of yourself to him every time he left again. Regardless, it always felt like relief when he came back, even though you knew you had no real right to feel that way about him. After all, you were just friends.    

Watching the train from across your yard, you pulled your sweater around your shoulders and reminded yourself that he’d be back again in a few days’ time. You sat on your back step smiling as your dog galloped around expelling some energy after being cooped up all day, and the first few leaves of the season fluttered down from the branches. It was the end of September, and you could smell the change in the season as much as you could see it in the colors of the trees and the sky. But even if you couldn’t feel the slight chill in the air as the sun sank behind the mountains, even if you couldn’t see the way the clouds hung at a different angle, pewter colored and thick, you’d know what time of year it was from the rumble of the rails and that feeling in your chest that grew stronger everyday- Ryan’s coming home.  

The train crept away until it had pulled entirely into the unloading station and you could no longer see it, the whistle only a distant wisp on the wind. It took the last few rays of sunlight with it, the sky slowly turning inky black. It wouldn’t be long before countless stars blinked into being, so you called for Roo, waiting for her to run back up the steps before you headed back inside. Making yourself a cup of tea, you headed up to your room to read and wind down before bed, feeling like a kid counting down until Christmas. Only two more nights until he’s back. 

You’d known Ryan since high school, when your family had moved in next to his. His aunt still owned the house, and you’d never left yours, even when your parents had retired down to Florida. So when he came home- once a year, sometimes twice if you were lucky- you’d always made it a point to go to the homecoming bonfire, reminiscing about your teenage years and catching up on the things that didn’t fit in phone calls or letters. There were more than a few times when the warmth you felt from his eyes eclipsed the heat coming off of the giant central flame and the dozens of smaller fires that surrounded it, more than a few times that you wondered what else was behind that smile or what he wasn’t saying in the line of a song, his guitar propped on one knee as frosty air puffed from his lips. Don’t, you’d always cautioned yourself. Don’t change the way things are, don’t push things past what he’s willing to give you. You knew you already got more from Ryan than anyone else; knew that he made room for a few souls in his inner circle, and that somehow despite your lack of musical ability, you’d managed to gain a spot there along with Cowboy, Georgie and Virgina. It’s enough. As long as he’s in my life it’s enough. And it truly was. But that didn’t mean you’d say no to more. 

..  .. ..  .. .. ..  .. ..  

The next two days had passed like molasses in December, but finally you heard the sound that you’d been waiting for- that almost mournful howl of the train that announced it’s arrival, followed by the sweet refrain that always touched your heart as your mind filled with his voice and the voice of the nylon strings that he plucked with hardened fingertips. Throwing your sweater around you and shoving your feet into your boots, you swung the back door open, Roo racing out ahead of you. You can feel him, too, can’t you girl? Your smile grew wide and a laugh fell from your lips as the engine came into view followed by a string of green, orange and deep red cars. As the brakes started to hiss and the train began to slow, you stopped running, holding your breath as you saw him climb atop the edge of the car, swinging his long legs out and expertly choosing his landing spot. One boot, then two crunched into the rocks, his pack on his back and his case handle wrapped tightly in his fingers. You picked up speed again, noting the moment that he saw you, and the way that his posture changed. Normally he’d raise one canvas sleeved arm, swinging it over his head in greeting, but this time was different. You watched as he paused for a moment, completely still, as though he were seeing the view of your yard for the first time when in fact it had been far from it. But as quickly as he’d frozen, he’d regained motion, long strides closing the distance until all he had to do was leap the few feet over the creek. He’s here. He’s home. 

“Hey, stranger,” you said, Roo already waiting to greet him as he landed on your side of the small ravine. She whined excitedly until he reached down to pet her big fluffy head, scratching between her ears as her curved tail wagged to signal her happiness. 

“Hey yourself,” he said, setting the case down and spreading his arms wide for his welcome home hug. There it is, there’s that piece, you thought, as you felt them close around you, yours slipping around his waist, hands flat on his back. He held you for just a fraction longer than normal, breathing you in through his nose. “Missed you,” he said quietly, setting your heart drumming. “I miss you” was something he said on the phone or in letters. He’d never said it aloud to you before. Something’s different. 

But you didn’t have time to figure out what it was, simply returning the sentiment because, as always, it was true. You picked up his case for him and handed it back to him as was your routine, and you walked him to the gate that connected his aunt’s yard to yours. He’d go inside, visit with her for a while, shower, eat, stretch out his limbs and make a thermos of coffee before he’s be knocking on your door to walk with you down to the bonfire. It was routine, like the repetitious chorus of a favorite song. 

By the time you were seated around the dancing orange flames, the light flickering and casting shadows on the undersides of crunchy brown leaves, your heart was fluttering and your mind was buzzing. There was an extra layer of light in his eyes, an added note of tenderness in his voice as he played a few songs, one of them a new one he’d written since the last time you’d seen him. Roo was lying curled up by your feet with her head resting on Ryan’s boot, and you were struck by how right that seemed. Before you could think about it though, he’d said your name, and you’d turned, mouth falling open at the emotion in those cocoa colored irises. He rested his guitar flat on his knees so he could take your hand- something he never did- in his, bringing it atop the hollow instrument. Oh…

“I really did miss you. I…” he dropped his head, a nervous grin played with the corners of his mouth. “I been thinkin’ and I think I’ve been... fightin’ this for too long now. I don’t wanna just… I…” He raised his eyes back to yours and you couldn’t breathe, cheeks hot as his thumb rubbed back and forth over your knuckles. “I like you…” another half laugh. “God that sounds...feel like we’re back in high school, but… I have feelings for you and-” 

“Ryan…” you exhaled his name, leaning closer. “Ryan, I...feel the same way…” You couldn’t believe what was happening, the world falling away until it was just the two of you, his guitar, your dog and the small flame you sat in front of. “I missed you, too, Ryan Brenner. I always miss you.” 

He dropped your hand then, reaching with both for your face, fingers slipping into your hair as he brought you into the last first kiss you’d ever have. It was sweet and slow, his lips brushing tentatively against yours as one of your hands came up to the side of his neck, fingertips finally learning what his jaw felt like beneath the coarse swath of facial hair. Neither of you wanted it to end now that it had began, so you let it continue, deepening cautiously but intentionally until you felt his tongue trace the inside of your bottom lip. Though your eyes were closed you felt your lashes shaking as something happened in your chest- that piece that he’d always taken with him, cemented itself more firmly than it ever had before. He’s back. He’s home...He’s...I’m his. 

When he reluctantly pulled away you were both breathing raggedly, but his smile was enough to overpower the fires all around you, enough to conceal the moon and hide all the stars. It was everything, and everything was different now. Before you could speak, not that you knew what you’d say, you were pushed aside by Roo’s 90 lb body as she excitedly jumped to lick Ryan’s face, as though she’d been waiting for this moment for you both, too. You laughed, your heart never feeling so warm, and Ryan did, too, wiping his face on the elbow of his sleeve before leaning back over to place another small kiss on your cheek. “Best homecomin’ yet,” he whispered against your skin as you leaned into his shoulder and his arm came around you. 

You had to agree.

@something-tofightfor @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @suchatinyinfinity @agent-bossypants @lexxierave @thesumofmychoices @songtoyou @ymariejp @breanime @gollyderek @traeumerinwitzhelden

[tabetha-illustrates]

Project 2

Story and language lives within the collective unconscious. 

In our minds eye we can weave a story unseen to the world until we pour upon open page, or to speak those machinations   a loud for those in earshot to hear.

Upon this theme I think of macro and micro story and language.

Macro, mythology, common tales, a song, a religion, beloved classic books. langauges as they adapted in culture, the evolution of language, a speech given to a crowd ( I am a student advocate so I have spoke to crowds many times. I am reminded of the mixed emotions I felt as I poured my mind and heart to group of hundreds. ) popular songs. 

Micro: Conversations , a personal story, a song you sing to only those closest to you, dreams. 

There are many ways in which one can communicate, but to translate that into art I must first examine my own body of work. 

I make comics for fun. As a child interested in art I made many that spanned thousands of pages. I believed my future would be as a visual story teller. Which is not exactly how I proceeded with life. 

Onward I proceeded to tell stories in a different way. 

I begun art projects called Animatics. ( which are essentially story boards that tell a story to the setting of a song. Like a comic that’s  words are the lyrics of a song. Usually very fast and messy work that is raw and emotional in nature. Combining both the song with visual aides allows them to transcend the sum of their parts.  It is messy, It is raw, and it is in my case, very personal. )

Now as an adult I find it so much harder to provide work to the public that is a story of my own, an  emotional response that is my own. Not that the art isnt made, it simply never leaves my room. That may or may not change, it may hinge on this class who knows. 

I work primarily in Macro, Big ideas, Big emotions. Sweeping across a vast multitude  of people so that for a moment we all can share that same feeling. To ache with it, to sway to its inevitable and simple season. Gods and monsters, love, apathy, hate. But a very common denominator has been death. 

As follows are my ideas

1. “ seduction is a well witted banker” or alternatively “ The story of season”

Form & content: This piece will depict a story that is well known. The story of Persephone and Hades, particularly Persephone's decent into the underworld to become the bride  of its king. This myth is well loved, a story many of us know. I will have the innocent and young goddess of spring walking further from the sunlit garden she’d spent her childhood in, descending into the underworld. Her lover awaiting her impatiently at the bottom of that decent a contrast of bright and dull. He himself older, put together, well dressed, and she casual and carefree, young. I am uncertain if I want to modernize them yet or not. At this juncture the piece lives as a rotating composition. the upper lefthand belonging to Persephone, the lower right hand side belonging to Hades. 

Process: 

The piece will be between 11 x 14 inches or much larger.   I will bring in sample sizes when we go to talk about these things in class. 

Watercolor is my main painting choice, but I may opt to do this painting dark to light in acrylics. I will bring in samples to class. I want to feign a sense of transparency in the souls of the dead reaching towards the light. stylistically I was thinking something not quite literal but not quite abstract either. 

Materials:

Watercolor

acrylic

 canvas. 

mount

frame

2. “ Savage gardens in babylon” or alternatively  “ the queen city escape” 

Form & content: This projects concept is to take poetry and marry it to illustration. A chronicle of personal and playful expenditure. the point is to tell a story that others can connect to, to invite the viewer to see themselves in the simple illustration and relate with my words. To create a garden that exists for 5 minutes or more and have a open dialogue with themselves. to hear my story and to relate it to their own coming of age. 

Process:

This project would ultimately be a video I assemble. The frames of the video would be hand drawn illustrations put in and processed over a voice narrating a poem I wrote. It would quite literally tell a story that ultimately I hope most people could connect with. I want to build a loose body of work to go with my very tight one as well. So I believe I would allow the art to move and flow with this project as well. 

Materials: 

video monitor

charcoal

Drawing paper

Microphone

video editing software. 

“ A pain that turns the innards cold, that is where we are in this place where you are living, but already  knowing you will never grow old. “

3.” to be young and daring “

Form and content: 

I was approached by a client to recreate a scene for him from a film he was working on. He was interviewing people and came across a scene he wanted to include in the film he was making but there was no visuals to go with this project so he contacted me about animating the scene. I have accepted.  The content will be recounting a night from before I was ever born. I will recreate a bands performance and the lead singers daring during said performance. It is a funny story, and will be recounted verbally in the interview that the scene was originally told to them. 

Process: 

A interviews audio will play as my semi realism in rough  “ take on me” music video styling illustrations gives the story to you visually. The lines will be stark and inky against the background, the content bold.  

Materials: 

the interview audio

pen

ink

graphite

drawing paper

That concludes my project ideas for story and language. I had so many ideas when it came to this project, but these were the ones that gave me the most traction. I feel I could take any of these and run with it. I will have to post my sketches later as my notebook that they were in is not in my possession currently. 

[shackledangels-blog]

‘ your arms are home to me. ’ ( aurel @ sorin )

          they sit on a hill overlooking a small town in greece . overhead , the sky is a CANVAS OF INKY DARKNESS speckled with GLITTERING DIAMOND DUST and a sliver of a moon . it’s cloudless and perfect . the thick aroma of flowers and nature permeates the air . he once promised to take aurel here ; now that he has , he finds himself wondering if this is where the gorgon will decide to stay . his own desire to travel seems to be only his own . would aurel be happier to settle in a place like this ?

          the creature in question lounges between the smaller one’s legs , with the upper half of his torso resting on sorin’s . his own slender arms wrap around the broader body pressed against him . he KISSES THE CROWN of his beloved’s head as he speaks . his pleasure can be felt in the delicate , upward quirk of his lips against the dark hair . sorin forgets entirely about his worries that aurel might wish to quit traveling ; even if he does , does it really matter ? all that he NEEDS is resting against him right now .

          “ it’s the same for me . you’re my home , too . ”

                                                              --- ---   { @shackledbeasts ;; some meme }

[docheros]

Day 6: fashion

i don't think this one is that good but i love my boys (gender neutral)

================

— Jacq, my Jacq, could you pose with your legs slightly apart, please? — Jacques got up and did so, Shawn analyzed him and doodled in his notebook — perfect, thank you.

— What do you draw so much there? Can I see? — He moved closer, but his husband pressed its notebook to its chest.

— It's no big deal.

— Ah, Shawn, let me see! Please!

— You're an artist, you'll find my drawings ugly — He closed the notebook and looked at Jacques again, who had huge, glittering eyes.

— Why are you so mean to yourself? You know I would never do that! — they hugged its head to their chest, faking a dramatic cry — I judge you by your food choices, but not by your drawings! I'm your biggest fan!

Shawn rolled his eyes, chuckling in embarrassment.

— Stop…

— Okay, jokes aside, if you don't want to show it, fine — she snuggled up next to it on the couch, laying her head on its shoulder — but you know I'll be curious until the end of time.

— Yeah, I know.

The toymaker smiled wider, stroking the back of the other's hand with his thumb. They stayed in that position for a few minutes, until he opened his notebook aga

— It was just clothes — it shrugged, the painter's brows arched.

— Do you like fashion?

— I like it, especially fall fashion — he ran his calloused fingers over the paper — I used to cut out the models from the fashion magazines I bought… I always wanted to make clothes for my dolls, but I only learned the basics of sewing, like patching holes in my clothes. The furthest I've ever gone is making plush dolls, but then again, that's what guaranteed my job in that shit factory...

— Why didn't you ever tell me? I… Oh, sorry.

— No, no, finish it. Now I'm curious.

— I can make clothes for your dolls! Want me to teach you how to sew?

— Really? — it jumped on the sofa, almost dropping the notebook — so, can you sew this doll's clothes for me? She's a Jack'O lantern, she even has a prototype, look! She wears a red tie, dark brown pencil skirt and black socks! You know I'm thinking about getting her a black cat? I think his name will be Salome, and…

[docheros]

hi!! decided to join the flood the tag thing, but since i don't do much fanart, i used the moodboards i did this year ^-^ there isn't january, february and november but shh kfkdkfkf

march (chase) (quite obvious)

april (dochero)

may (dapperanti)

june (marvin)

july (inkycanvas) (shawn/jacques if you will)

august (dochero again)

september (dapperanti again)

october (dapperanti once more)

december (inkycanvas again)