#my finding this inspired me to try and pick up a bit of traditional art

[diagoose]

I found my old sketchbook which I also thought i'd lost in the move. It's a couple years old(i think i got it in 2019, i do not move though sketchbooks fast), so needless to say I got very excited that I had, in fact, not lost it forever

and it's been about two years since I last drew in it and i thought id share some because, i found old sketches of my ocs before I adapted them for dnd. my guys, my children, my babiesssss

some thoughts with these old scribblessssss while i look back in time

I do really miss the scarf/shawl from Leigh's original look, guuys look at her, she's so babyyyy, I absolutely had struck gold with it. I feel like i had floundered from the very start with her dnd design. it really did not fit with the identity of her dnd counterpart, original Leigh just wants to hide and be cozy and dnd Leigh wants to make a fucking scene. OF COURSE griffin is a p(r)etty bitch in every universe, his original design is a bit sleeker than his dnd counterpart(which still sleek but I feel like there's a bit more of a grit and casualness there), I think ironically enough dnd griffin has a lot more autonomy with how he presents himself(rip my guy)

and some very very early concepts for them when we first started the campaign!! the drawing on the left I still really love because of how it conveys my original intent for their energies, look at his big ol' shark smile, bby boyyyy

But ye, old arts

[zzzx009]

How you draw beast style is so cool!! Ive been trying for ages but i can never get it right (i do traditional tho so idk if that helps u give tips). It always ends up looking weird with wrong proportions 😭.

I'm still a beginner Artist myself so there's not much tips I can give 😭 but if you feel like the proportions are off it's better to focus on studying anatomy and proper proportions before trying to stylize them like beast

I've been trying to copy manga beast artstyle forever now because I really liked it but I've also copied alot of different artists that I liked and took inspirations from as well (also I would've never gotten better if it wasn't for my YouTube teachers fr)

And also I've collected all of hoshikawa's art that I can find online (outside of Mangas) because I love the style in general, I've always been trying to break it down and see the process underneath the finished drawing and try to figure out why he drew it like this and why it looks so good to me

(examples)

Studying the process is much more important than the finished drawing imo, simplifying it for myself and also to figure out why is the style so distinct and interesting in the first place, I've picked up a few tips and tricks along the way but I think consistency is what helped me out the most

Although, in the end this artist is way more experienced than the both of us so don't be hard on yourself if your drawings look a bit off 💕🐣

[dailycharacteroption]

Retrograde Revision 3: Archaeologist

(art by BorjaPindado on DeviantArt, featured in Arkham Horror)

And it’s time for another revisit to some of my oldest entries on the blog, and this time, it’s the archaeologist!

I’ve said many times that certain archetypes of certain classes feel almost like entirely different careers and vocations than offshoots of the same class, and today’s entry, from Ultimate Combat, is what actually introduced me to the concept!

While this archetype has more in common with Dr. Indiana Jones or Dr. Evelyn Carnahan than it does with the real thing, it’s easy to see why bard was used as the basis for bringing this concept to life, even if the investigator rivals it in many ways. After all, a bard has access to a deep pool of knowledge and their spellcasting can be either flavored as them studying the arcane and occult secrets of ancient civilization or simply a practical skill to pick up for field work in a world where the relics of the past often have strong opinions about being recovered by modern civilizations.

This archetype also does a good job of expressing “bard that is trying to emulate the traditional skillset of a rogue.”

Regardless of that, in a world of ancient wonders and past civilizations, it only makes sense that archaeology would exist in some form in a fantasy setting, recovering relics for historical study or profit, depending on who’s doing the digging. Both can be equally devoted to the work though.

Whether it’s boldness or some form of supernatural luck, these archaeologists can draw upon seemingly otherworldly fortune when they need to, functioning similarly to a combination of inspire courage and inspire competence, but also applying to their saves and only affecting them. Insert your jokes about humming adventure music while they perform activities here.

They also train to notice small details as well as disabling mechanisms, both important skills in the trap-laden tombs they often visit.

They also gain both uncanny dodge and evasion, similar to a rogue, deftly avoiding danger.

Additionally, these bards also learn many different talents associated with rogues, including a few advanced ones as well.

This archetype is good for those that want to be a problem-solver for the party. Yes, they are especially good at dealing with traps and noticing details, but they also have access to both bardic spells and rogue talents, making them very customizable. I recommend a combination of buffing spells, utility spells, and a mix of utility and combat talents for a character that can do a little bit of everything though specializing ain’t bad either.

Unfortunately, real-world archaeology, particularly western archaeology, while scientific and historic in nature, still has nasty elements of tomb robbing in it’s own history, relics of the past curated in museums far from the very people whose cultures those items are a record of their heritage. Now, the Pathfinder Society in the Lost Omens setting subverts this by having lodges in multiple countries so that the relics deemed safe for public viewing can be put on display for the people whom find them culturally significant. Of course, villainous archaeologist associated with the Aspis Consortium could make good villains as well.

The idol of Xaxitl has vanished from the museum it was displayed in. Some blame the locals retrieving it from those who defiled their ancestors temples, but Professor Herris believes it was stolen by members of a daemonic cult and political party he has run across before, seeking to use the idol’s dark power to their own ends. The biggest challenge may not be retrieving the artifact, but dealing with the professor’s abrasive personality, however.

Isea Ferdt, the most knowledgeable authority on ancient mountain elf culture has gone missing. She was last heard from planning an expedition to a newly discovered dig site in the Amarac foothills. As certain signs depicted in mountain elf culture are beginning to manifest, discovering her whereabouts, and perhaps rescue, has become paramount, as only her expertise can correctly interpret these prophecies.

Doomsday cults are often crackpots establishments ran by deranged, but otherwise relatively harmless madmen. The Cult of the Blinding Eye, however, has recently become tenfold more dangerous than before, as if they were being guided towards their endgame by someone with the knowledge of archaic evil that they otherwise lack.

[ruinaimagines]

Welcome back!! Fellow spoonie here, and I Know how it feels to lose steam due to chronic pain and fatigue (*gestures to the multiple art projects that have been left as works-in-progress for months thanks to unforgiving joint pain*). I'm slowly getting my energy back and I hope you feel better too!

For a warm-up, how about some headcanons for Punishing Bird befriending an employee? It's so friend-shaped when it's not trying to eat your agents and the thought of someone having a tiny murder tit sleeping on their shoulder as they work is too funny and adorable

Hello once more! Eheh a bit delayed but here it is at last. Limbus Company’s release has really injected me with inspiration so I’m hoping to release this alongside multiple others. Thank you for the well wishes and understanding cause man, medical problems are wacky, and hope you’re doing just as well!

Punishing Bird Befriending an Employee Headcanons:

Okay so befriending this bird is a wild experience. Perhaps it has taken a very special liking to you- whether a new or old employee it sees a sense of justice within you leading to it to act the way it does.

Often whenever it breaches and ventures throughout the facility it doesn’t really take breaks outside of being a nuisance and smacking its small beak against someone’s cranium.

No one really does anything or interacts with the bird, everyone’s too freaked out about it snapping open its jaws and eating them. A reasonable fear, but a passed up opportunity you seized.

It’s a bird.. So why not bring some bird seed? Sure it’s not really the most traditional version of the animal but hey.. It’s worth a try. 

I think Punishing Bird would see it as a sort of offering of gratitude for the hard work it does (pecking people). This is something that stirs its affinity towards you. Most people duck and take cover, or just keep speeding up so it can eventually land on something else to harass. But an offering? Well.. 

The thing is so adorable picking at the seeds tossed on the ground in the hallway. As deadly as it is, it's just so cute.

That said the first time it lands on your shoulder? It’s horrifying. Now yes you’ve been having good experiences with the abnormality but no one really knows or has an idea of what is deemed as ‘aggressive behavior’. That’s why no one does anything.

It’s just hanging out there… like you’re a perch? Well given the new scenario you’re likely to be as still as one. But.. there is work to get to and your reports aren’t going to look great if you sit around doing nothing.

So I imagine you’d give a try at moving and.. Would you look at that you’re not immediately dead! Sure it’s going to take some testing on just what this little bird will permit you to do in its presence but progress is being made.

Generally befriending this abnormality would be super beneficial to you. Asides from it just being great emotional support when it nests on your head and cuddles up in its own feathers, it also encourages things not to mess with you whether that’s people or other abnos.

Something trying to hurt you? What a fool. Its beak snaps open and devours whatever it is whole. If your uniform isn’t already a mess from the work day than it is now, that’s the price to pay for protection. 

Sadly you would not be able to bring it into the other containment rooms due to protocol. Management doesn’t want to run the risk of unintentionally finding a deadly combo of abnormalities.. And depending on the behavior of what you’re working with, Punishing Bird might try to pick a fight.

This little bird has a voracious appetite. It will flutter on by, sit on your shoulder and try to snag a bite of whatever you’re eating for lunch. Whether you want to or not you will be sharing your meal.

Being in the same room every day can be sort of boring and believe it or not Punishing Bird in a lot of aspects is just a regular bird. It needs just as much enrichment. Am I saying that you should bring little knick knacks and toys for it to play with? Yes.

It doesn’t really peck at you much anymore, that said it still will bite and try to pull at your hair every once in a while like it's gathering some kind of material. It hurts a little bit but it's the same as a dog or cat play-biting.

Don’t underestimate this bird’s grip. It has talons of steel and will absolutely lock down on whatever it is standing on and will not let go. It’s also pretty hard to stir awake from its sleep, so even if you’re running for your life you can rest assured knowing that it won’t fall face first on the floor.

Brings little trinkets back to you, most of which it’s stolen off of the other employees. Sometimes it makes for interesting interactions when your colleague notices you have their missing charm… 

It doesn’t make much sound aside from the small beating of its wings which causes it to unintentionally be very sneaky when it isn’t midair. You might not even realize it until you feel a small pressure and realize that you are now no longer alone.

With how light it is sometimes you only realize when you start getting stared down by the other employees. Some of them are used to it, while the others are pretty concerned. You get treated with far more respect under the watching eyes of the Punishing Bird.

[vermillioncourt-if]

FAQ

(will be updated as time goes on)

What is this being written on?

ChoiceScript. I would try Twine, but my other game has a nice steady base on ChoiceScript, and I'd rather not move it over.

Can I make fanfic/art/etc? Can I show you my MC/fanfic/art/etc?

Yes! Please do! I welcome it wholeheartedly!

Do you have a patreon or ko-fi?

No, not as of right now. This will change later.

Is the rating 18+?

Yes. I'd say I believe the minimum age would be 17+, due to sexual content that can be fade to black.

Note: All sex scenes will be fade to black on the public demo. A private demo will be available for patreon or ko-fi donators when we get there which will include the explicit scene option (think ao3) and the "lite" version (think published smut).

How is the story formatted?

It will play out similarly to a dating sim/otome game. There will be 1-2 common starting chapters and then it will branch out into 6 routes for the ROs. All routes will have the same 6 key plot events, but will be different in how they're approached.

How many endings are there?

At least 6?

The endings will scale off of how many main events you succeeded in and the selected RO's relationship towards you. That means if you have a high relationship with your RO but have done poorly with the main events, you can still achieve a good ending.

Are there any poly routes?

Not as of right now. The coding for poly relationships is a bit too complicated for me to do right now. This may change as I get more comfortable with it.

Does MC have to romance someone?

Yes, that's the point of the whole game/story.

What are the characters ethnicities? Are they Chinese?

The world of Nian is heavily inspired by China and the Tang Dynasty, so the characters would be Chinese, but I don't assign real ethnicities onto them.

This isn't historically accurate!

I know. That's why I said it's inspired by China, fantasy period C-Dramas, fantasy period pieces, and romance manhwa/manhua.

How does magic work in this world?

As of right now, I don't have a lore post about magic, so here's a quick breakdown.

Everyone can use magic. Some people have Magic Aptitude, which means they have more ability than most people. Magic is classified into Elemental Type and Class.

Will XYZ be in the story?

Maybe. This is a WIP so it's possible.

How are WLW/MLM/Queer relationships viewed/treated in the story?

They're fine. No one is homophobic.

How are women viewed/treated in the story?

Everything is mostly viewed about the same, as in it's pretty much equal for a majority of people. But a few things have lingered on from tradition (i.e boys inherit over girls, etc).

Help! I can't pronounce the names!

I provide helpful pronunciations for the characters' names on the Side Characters page. There will also be pronunciations listed in the stat page of the game.

How are the names written?

All names are written in the LastName FirstName format.

If I write something like "Consort Huo", it's the equivalent of "Mr Smith". For those who understand, the last names are monosyllabic while the first names are disyllabic.

Does MC have a set name?

MC has a set last name (Nan), but not a first name. You can name your MC whatever you'd like.

I encourage using a disyllabic name, for immersion and the fact that it would be the most "accurate". I provide 3 examples of disyllabic names in the game, but you can ultimately name your MC whatever you want!

Can you help me pick a name?

I certainly can! Just send me a private message (not an ask) with the name of your MC, and I'll find a name similar in meaning or pronunciation. Please be sure to tell me which you want, similar meaning or similar pronunciation.

Does MC have a set personality?

A bit, although it's more traits, as of right now. They will never want the throne, they are a good sibling to their siblings, they enjoy social events, and they are well-educated and a little bit naive from their position.

Does MC have a set appearance?

No. MC's appearance is up to you.

Can MC be trans?

I'm planning on it. There won't be any references made to a transition, though, and it won't affect anything besides the sex scenes. You'll have an option at the first sex scene to set what your MC has.

Will MC become the ruler? Can MC overthrow their father/brother? Can MC hurt *insert person here*?

No. Male MC is 4th in the line of succession and Female MC is 14th in the line of succession. MC loves their family and would do nothing to hurt them. MC will not perpetrate any kind of excessive violence against anyone.

Does MC have magic? Can MC do magic?

As mentioned before, everyone has magic. MC does not have Magic Aptitude, however, so their magic is on a normal level.

[kickingitwithkirk]

Greetings from Austin

Summary: Jensen and Jared are at odds over a monumental decision that changes their lives in a way they couldn’t have envisioned.

Pairing: Alpha!Jensen Ackles x Alpha!Jared Padalecki x Omega!OFC

Word Count: 2161

Warnings: a/b/o, J2 are married/mated, homophobia, bisexuality, biphobia, outdated beliefs, angst, cursing, jealousy, depression/anxiety, medical stuff, sexual dysfunction, infertility, IVF, surrogacy, subgender inequality

*additional warnings to be added in future parts.

Square filled: Non-traditional Alpha Traits @spnabobingo Maid Au @spnaubingo

A/N: Here we go again with one my weird as hell dreams, series Inspired by this art.

A/N II: There is no intentional hate or malevolence intended towards any of the Ackles or Padalecki families. This is a purely fictional piece containing real and created persons/names/events set in the fictional A/B/O verse. Some dates/events altered to fit story.

A/N III: thank you to everyone for hanging in there since it’s taken me ages to drop a new character, I’ve been doing rewrites/updating on all my series, more to come in future.

*no beta-all mistakes are mine

*divider by @writeyourmindaway​​​​​​

*images found online

Part IV

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?”

“DON'T YA’ BE YELLING AT ME, MR. MAN, EVEN IF THIS IS YOUR FUCKING HOUSE…”

“I gotta go,” tossing his phone on the bedside table, Jared, wearing his blessed socks, runs across the main room and slides on the hardwood floor into the kitchen and saw his husband standing three feet from Quinn as she’s vigorously gesturing with a paring knife while telling him off in her colorful language.

“Put the knife down!” The older Alpha’s voice resonates through the room, making Jared flinch, feeling the command’s power, watching Quinn set it on the counter and Jensen reach over, sliding it towards him.

She stood a bit longer before blinking in confusion, and then her demeanor shifted to madder than a wet hen, her natural lower voice dropped another octave, and the lilt became very pronounced. “Don’t ya’ ever use that fucking voice on me again!” 

“You were threatening me with a knife!” Jensen picks up the item, making her laugh, “Holy fucking shit, are ya’ serious? Ya’ could barely use it for a toothpick, let alone...” 

Jared stood there, mouth hanging open, have’n seen others take on his mate, wrongfully assuming he’d be the easier of the two to intimidate, but when let off its leash, Jensen's wolf made Dean Winchester look like a pussy cat.

“JARED!”

The younger Alpha's mouth snapped shut, “sorry, what?”

“I asked you what the surrogate is doing here?”

“The surrogate has a name.” 

 “What is Quinn doing here?”

 “So..uh..okay,” Jared slowly starts around the island doing his sometimes awkward, hesitant thing.  “A few days ago, I got a call from this number I didn’t recognize. It was about the ultrasound appointment scheduled while you were in LA.” 

He paused to see if Jensen remembered, and yep, his mate was wearing his get to the fucking point expression.

“They informed me she’d canceled it because she was leaving town.” 

Jensen's attention returned to the O, ”Don’t fucking start on me again, Ackles!”

“You know who I am?” 

“Duh, Sherlock!” 

Jensen would later try to justify it was jet lag and surprise finding their surrogate in their home, not her smart-ass mouth, for snarling at her.

“Och, save it for the cameras, drama queen. Ya’ put pants on just like the rest of us; the only difference is yours have designer labels.”

Jared interrupted the speeding downhill faster than an Olympic bobsledder situation, “I remembered her saying something about managing Mulroney’s Bookstore, so I called Clif to see if he’d get her to contact me and calls back saying some Alpha...” 

“...who’s a flaming jackass!”

“Yeah, that’s what Clif called him. Anyways, he claimed to be the manager and had no idea where she was when another employee said they knew where she was living...”

“... that’s when ya’ boy shows up..”

“…I explained about the mixup...”

“…Padalecki followed me to my room to get the new date, then he caused a scene...”

“...I couldn’t help my wolf freaking out at where my..our pups were living...”

“…told ya’ it was there or the I-35 underpass!”

Jared bristled at the reminder, “The door had three locks, a barely functional heater, and a broken fridge. Cockroaches wouldn’t even live there!”

Quinn raises onto the balls of her feet and loudly reminds him about putting her in the shitter with the manager and getting fired when Jared shouts back in his booming voice, “there was a guy by the ice machine offering to sell me heroin!!”

“ENOUGH!” Jensen's Alpha voice echoes throughout the kitchen, quieting them both.

“She’s right,” Jared opened his mouth to retort, but Jensen countered with, “And so are you. Quinn, couldn’t your family help,” the Alphas wrinkled their noses at her souring scent, so he attempted another approach. 

“I want to clear something up. I recall one of the stipulations for surrogates is that they reside in an appropriate domicile. Why were you living in a motel? Could you tell us what happened?”

“The flaming jackass tipped off the landlord I’m an O, and that fucker evicted me even though I never caused any problem or was late with rent.”

“There is a moratorium on evictions..”

“..that moratorium is a fucking joke!”  

“What a minute,” Jensen said, and at the same time, Jared remarked, “It protects people...”

“Newsflash, Mr. Wizard, was created by and for the protection of Alphas and Betas! Take a hot minute to read the fine print, and you’ll find loopholes granting landlords, to quote, discretionary privileges pertaining to the eviction of those designated with the sub-gender Omega. In other words, they can boot O’s for any damn reason!” She gave the Alphas a hard stare, “So, enlighten me as to why y’all didn’t know a fucking thing about that bit?”

The kitchen got quiet as the Alphas glanced at each other, trying to find a non-assholey-sounding response. “Yeah, that’s what I thought; since it’s well known you two prefer Betas.” Quinn addressed the older Alpha.

“Padalecki and I have an arrangement. I keep the house and do meals in exchange for temporary boarding. No need to fret that pretty head of yours, Ackles; I’ll do me damnedest to stay outta the way."

🐿️🫎🐿️🫎🐿️🫎🐿️🫎🐿️🫎🐿️🫎🐿️🫎🐿️🫎🐿️🫎

December 23rd                                                                                                   Late Afternoon

Quinn heard Jensen’s surprised greeting covering the stewpot of goulash, slid it into the oven to stay warm, and peeked around the wall and saw him in the foyer hugging a small, older O, then a tall, bald Alpha carrying several bags crossed over to them.

“Let me help you with those, sir,” she offered, taking them couldn’t help but overhear his not-subtle sniff, “Jensen, who’s this?”

“Umm,” Jensen scratched the back of his neck, fumbling for a response, “this is the housekeeper, Quinn.”  His mother-in-law peered inquisitively at the tall Omega before asking, “What happened to your boys' service?”

“I worked for it.”

Gerald Padalecki dubiously eyed the O up and down as she continued. “They pared down the staff, and Jared offered to retain me in exchange for lodging...”

“You live with them?” Gerald barked, “Jensen, that’s unwise considering...”

“Considering what Gerry,” his mate sharply asks, “the boys wouldn’t let someone stay they couldn’t trust.”

 “I normally wouldn’t question their judgment, but she's an unmated O.”

“Whoa,’ Jensen jumped in, “are you suggesting that Jared or I...” 

“Mama..daddy..what’re y’all doing here?” Jared couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice, wrapping his long arms around his mother, “thought you were coming tomorrow.” 

“We decided to surprise you but got it instead.” Gerald’s gruff reply made Jared throw his husband a confused look, catching a whiff of his dad and Jensen, “What’s going on?”

“I bet y’all would like to freshen up after your trip.” Quinn blurted out, “Jensen, would you help me with their luggage, please.”

Taking the car keys, he follows her out the door, remarking, “you think fast, coming up with that story.”

“Ya’ were about to lose ya' shit on your father-in-law, and I didn’t precisely fib, just moved a few facts around,” Quinn shoots back, grabbing a bag while Jensen, fuming, retrieves the other, following her to the guest house.

How could the Alpha he considered his father even think, after everything they’d been through, found his dark thoughts distracted by two simultaneous acts; a deflating blow-up bed and his bewildered husband storming in shouting, “What the fuck was that?”

Jensen ticked his head towards the O and made the finger-in-hole gesture.

 “I’ve gotten that shit since I presented,” the pair look towards Quinn with confused expressions. “Loads of Alphas still carry antiquated beliefs about unmated O’s, and I’m…pick an adjective to fill in the blank.”

“So much for a peaceful holiday,” Jensen grumbled.

“Yeah, too bad ya’ boy stuck his nose where it didn’t belong, right?” Quinn's tone was caustic. “I don���t want to be a bone of contention with ya' family. I’ll figure somewhere else to stay.”

Jared’s wolf simmers under his skin, “How? You have $636.96 in your account. That won’t cover a security deposit, let alone fir..” 

“How the fuck ya’ know what’s in my account?!”

“Your laptop was open...”

“...and ya’ snooped...”

“...I happened to see it...”

“...still not your fucking problem...”

“...you’re carrying my..our pups, that makes it my fucking..”

“...ya’ are the most unfucking...”

“I’m tired of y’alls motherfucking bitching, so shut the fuck up!!” 

Jensen wrinkles his nose, “Dude, dial it down; you’re stinking up the joint! And Quinn, Jared screwed up...”

“I never asked...”

“...doesn’t matter! He's trying to make amends, for fuck sake!” Jensen felt the vein in his left temple throbbing again.

“There will be many people dropping in or staying with us this fucking week, and this is how we’re all going to handle our situation.”

🫎🐿🫎🐿🫎🐿🫎🐿🫎🐿🫎🐿🫎🐿🫎🐿🫎🐿

January 15th

“Humph,” Jensen jerked awake, slapping a hand around, and found his phone before cracking an eye open.

7:18 A.M.

Groaning, he dropped face-first into his pillow and wrestled his mates over his head to muffle the noise, but the pearls of his pup's laughter signaled he wouldn’t sleep much longer.

His fuzzy brain's insistence that coffee was more imperative than a shower has Jensen sleepily shuffling around the oversized couches, once again grateful they’d decided to move their bedroom to the main floor, spots the group in the kitchen muttered too damn early.

“That’s a bad word, Daddy,” JJ says, her frown a replica of his, “you owe the swear jar.”

“Your right, Birdie, sorry,” dropping a kiss on top of her and the twins' heads, stepping around them, pouring himself a mug, “remind me to pay it later.” 

Hopping up on the counter, Jensen sips his coffee, savoring the black elixir rolling over his taste buds; he feels the caffeine penetrate his system, working its magic to turn his morning grumpyass into a civilized human watching his brood.

JJ and Arrow are busily festooning Quinn’s long, wonky braided hair with ribbons. Zeppelin and Icarus are sitting on the O’s lap, watching something on his iPad that's precariously balanced against her feet; felt his wolf purr in contentment, starting him when his mate materializes and gives him an odd look.

“Alright, y’all,” hopping off the counter, Jensen scoops up his son and flies him around, making airplane sounds, “Uncle Jeff and Aunt H/W/N will be here soon. What do all of you need to do before going?”

“Brush teeth and hair,” Arrow says, then looks at JJ, “grab our snacks from the fridge,” she reminds her, “and put them into our backpacks.” 

“And do bath break!” Zep giggles as Jensen hands the pup to his mate and quietly says, “I wanna discuss something with Quinn.”

Jared reaches through their bond and finds a placidity in Jensen he hasn’t had for so long, but before he can deduce the causation, he gets distracted by the twins' squeals and escorts the pups upstairs. 

Quinn eyes the older Alpha while securing a hair tie around her long braids, “what the fuck I do this time, Ackles?”

“Jared mentioned something about your leaving..”

“...I know ya' expected me gone before now...”

 “...ya’ know what I expect?” Jensen snaps, mimicking her subtle accent, “I expect you to stop interrupting and let me get something out for fucking once! Now, could we please discuss this without fighting?”

Sitting at the dining room table, she says nothing, watching Jensen refill his coffee, grab another mug, and drops in a spoon of honey before pouring the brewed tea from the kettle, “Ya’ know how I take me tea?”

“I’m not a completely unobservant asshole,” Jensen self-deprecates, “you make a damn good cup of coffee,” he said, carrying both mugs over. “And I’m astonished how you balance everything, working at Emmer and Rye while keeping up with our hectic schedules. And what did you do to Jared?” Quinn looked confused, “you got him to put his wet clothes in the laundry instead of leaving them all over the bath. You’re either a witch or a goddamn miracle worker!”

“I gave him two options. Leave’um in the laundry or find itching powder in his clothing.”

“He’d just borrow my stuff...”

“...he did, once.” 

“So, you?

“Clif said ya’ boy spent the day denying it was jock itch.” 

Jensen was still laughing when the quartet came back downstairs, so Quinn placed both forearms on the table, leaning forward, and spoke softly, “okay, Ackles, the fucks going on with this little tête-à-tête? Cause ya’ been freaked the fuck out the entire time, so,” nodding to her mug, “What’s with the buttering up?”

“It’s about not leaving...”

“Quinns not gonna leave?” Jensen whipped around to find Arrow bouncing excitedly beside him, then she suddenly raced towards the front door, yelling, “Papa Jared, Daddy’s got Quinn to stay with us!”  

Jared stood there scrutinizing the seated duo with an indecipherable expression.

“Looks like ya’ the one dropping me in the shitter this time, Ackles.”

tbc

Part V

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx  @lyarr24  @flamencodiva  @b3autyfuldisast3r  @lassie-bird @nancymcl  @spnbaby-67  @leigh70

Sam/Jared:  @idreamofplaid Dean/Jensen:  @thoughts-and-funnies  @stoneyggirl2  @akshi8278  @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl @siospins2

GFA: @babypink224221 @waywardjoy @let-me-luve-you @all-4-wincest @ladysparkles78

[bunnymajo]

Since it's on my mind, I wanted to talk a little bit about Thistle's main outfit inspiration, a gakuran, the Japanese male school uniform jacket.

(Sorry for using a cosplay as an example, it seemed to get the point across the easiest)

Since Surge & Kit's original design motifs were also directly inspired by Japanese school uniforms, Surge's being an 80s/early 90s delinquent's and Kit's being a grade-schooler with a backpack. (I really wish Sega had gone with the randoseru design, I thought it was pretty slick, but oh well) - so it was really important to me that Thistle & Pop have uniforms as a part of their look too.

Gakuran have been a standard uniform piece in Japan since the Meiji era with few changes. To me, I've gotten the impression over the years from Japanese pop culture that they're seen as incredibly traditional and conformative. Which is why it's seen as "edgy" and "alternative" to make modifications to it.

Thistle's too eccentric to just have a plain black top, so that's why I added that splash of pink to it and rolled up the sleeves. He's trying to pull off looking like just a normal innocent young man -but having a little fun with it in his own way.

The other reason I picked a gakuran is because of it's the outfit of choice for Oendan/Japanese cheerleading squads.

Typically Oendan are pretty much just for school or sporting events, but there's also an art to it and just a thing to do to show your support of something. I couldn't find any real life examples of it so I'm sure this is just a thing for comedic affect because it's a cartoon- but I know I've seen idol otaku performing oendan to cheer on their idol in anime. So that's also a connotation I thought fit Thistle haha.

[chipped-chimera]

Thought I'd do a little bit of a personal update! I'm doing the reorganising thing which is still slow but really motivating - enough that I'm having good energy days where I'm getting more done! I should be able to start work on the new fish tank soon!

More commentary/thoughts/where I'm going creatively below the cut. (It might be a bit heavy, you've been warned - check tags for more info)

EDIT: Fixed Tumblr borking this, now looks like how this WAS SUPPOSED TO oof

So I'm in the process of redoing my entire office just to fit this fish thank (which has now been leak tested so we're good to go), as well as reorganising based on tips I picked up from this book for people with ADHD that I've found massively helpful. Honestly it's been great for helping me just THROW SHIT OUT because while I can have my moments of ruthless detachment and clear inventory my family is very much a 'use/reuse/reappropriate' kind of deal, which while great often gives me hesitation throwing stuff out primarily because of that pressure - especially when I'm stuck living with them. Now I know it's necessary to get everything to a state where it will STAY organised.

It's also let me take inventory of the stupid amount of traditional media art supplies which have been sitting there since high school in near pristine unused condition (we are talking a LOT of very useable acrylic paints here) and get them all organised. After chatting with my psychologist yesterday I've bought more/replacements for things I had to throw out (literally dry as a bone markers) as she literally said she 'very much encouraged' my idea of starting a visual art diary to help process emotions and stuff.

I know over the years my inspiration to do stuff has withered, usually because it's been hammered by bad moods (caused primarily by external forces I could not control on top of my already battered neurology). I know now because of shit in my past that has been largely unresolved, art has never been an outlet for emotions for me because I'm so afraid of taking up space. Despite emotions being a powerful source for art, I rarely draw on them both because I have spent so much time trying not to feel them or hiding them because unfortunately my history is one of a lot of rejection, right down to a very young age where my caregivers should have been way more on the ball. It's helped me acknowledge my way of expressing love and affection is kind of fucked - when I feel close to someone or like them a lot it has the opposite effect where I instinctively want to pull away from them because I'm scared I'm going to 'ruin it', like my life is tainted and by associating with them I'll drag them down somehow. I know it's silly but it's very hard to get past because it's automatic - that was the only way I was guarenteed to get affection, if I was the most borin, biddable, palatable child in existence who caused no problems, even if it meant enduring physical and emotional pain alone. I inherently find it hard to trust people being genuine about liking me as a person because I'm just waiting for the shoe to drop when they realise I'm too much hassle - which unfortunately was the circumstance my relationship ended around so yeah, that did not fucking help. Basically I go from being really comfortable around someone to masking intensely and yeah that is NOT GOOD. I also legit feel the reason I have alexytheimia is because I had to develop a buffer so early in my life just to survive as far as I have.

I'm hoping art journalling will help me process some of those thoughts and feelings and I still want to try and show them, just to show myself they DO have value, they are a valid part of the human experience and they should be allowed to take up space - I do not need to hide them away or cut pieces of myself out to become more 'palateable' to people. So yeah um, I guess there will be some vent art, I don't know if I'll post only to my art blog or here because it's more sketchy shit and I reserve the art blog for finished pieces now ... either way knowing me it's going to be highly metaphorical and symbolic so I don't know how 'triggering' it could be but either way I'll probably tag the absolute shit out of it just to make sure I don't adversely effect someone (yes I am aware of the irony in me saying that as it's basically me trying to 'not ruin' things again but even putting it out there at all is a big enough step - also tags are just basic decency).

So uh ... That's what I've been up to? Also why I've been kind of shit about WIP Wednesday tagging and responding to other tag games (which I am now once again remembering a bunch of that I STILL have sitting in my motifs cause I still wanna do them ; m ;) I think I tend to get something like reverse SAD this time of year, arguably for the same reasons SAD develops - it gets so damn hot that I have the curtains closed in my office (which has the biggest window in the house) all day to keep the heat out. So arguably I have just made 'tiny dark winter' for about two months because I ain't going outside when it's over 30C (aka the temp tomorrow. And the day after THAT. Fuck I hate summer). Just instead of dark and cold it's dark and sweaty - feeling clammy also being a sensory problem for me so all around BAD TIME until the season changes :/

Outside of all that I'm speculating writing a wlw romance in a western setting because I have had on off cowboy rot since forever and I should probably do something with that already. Currently speculative Native American love interest/secondary protagonist with a background that probably touches on maybe the boarding schools and then reconnection with culture. We've had similar stories with our indigenous population in Australia unfortunately (colonialism is a plague) so I can sort of have some understanding but I probably need to hit the books on that one. For any Americans/Canadians reading this if you know some good books, PLEASE send me your references, I really want to make sure I do this right. I reblogged a post a few days ago about how Native Americans are often dehumanised in westerns and they just become part of the landscape, and I really want to push against that. Also do some contrasting against how oppressive western colonial era culture was by comparison to native culture honestly because I feel that would be a really interesting dynamic. Idk when/if stuff with this project will start happening but we'll see.

If you read this far, thanks! It's pretty validating to know people care this much, since it's hard for me to believe people do care a lot of the time because of all the above bullshit. So just so you know, I love you guys 💖 and you get a bonus cat:

Tiny p.s. living with my parents now is very different from when I was a child, I know the people who caused me hurt are long, long gone. They are not the same people anymore - so I am okay! It's still frustrating but more for the reasons of wishing I had my own (bigger) space to live in and put all my stuff and just 'I am a 30 year old extremely supressed lesbian speed running puberty and this environment is not conducive to exploring that' if anything. While I'm out with my Mum I can't like ... talk about that shit lol. So yeah, frustrating but for entirely different reasons. Just clearing that up.

[haleigh-sloth]

Art tips for ur artist followers? 👀

Uhhhhhhhhhh

If you're already an artist then I don't have to start with the basics yeah?

Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Depends on if you're traditional or digital? Or both?

Look up tutorials for coloring techniques!

I've also learned the beauty of redrawing other artwork when I can't think of something original to draw, but have the urge to draw.

Now, let me clarify--I mean like, famous artwork. Not a fellow internet artist's work--that's more on par with stealing? I mean for fandom purposes--there's nothing wrong with redrawing a show's official art, because odds are when people see your redraw, they are more than likely aware that you redrew it. Also noting that it's a redraw is good anyway.

When I'm really starved for inspiration and just can't get creative and think of something, I have started finding panels that I really like, and either redrawing them with the characters that they already contain, OR what I have had fun doing lately is redrawing specific manga panels but with different characters!

Also just because my art roots are traditional, I'd say not to lose that skill if you find yourself doing more digital. Don't forget to pick up a real pencil every so often, don't lose your traditional skills.

If you've never done traditional then, well, that's fine. I just hate the idea of losing a skill I once had, so there's that advice.

When coloring--have fun with colors. I, personally, hate coloring skin. I hate using skin colors because I'm afraid of making people too light, too dark, too much pink or yellow toned or whatever. So if you're like that...just use non-natural colors lol. I do it a lot. Sometimes Tomura gets blue skin, sometimes he gets red skin, sometimes he gets green skin, sometimes purple lol. Don't let yourself feel bound by colors.

The author of D.Gray-Man, Katsura Hoshino, is a heavy influence on my coloring style because she just does whatEVER she wants with colors. I've decided that I prefer to do the same thing, and it's worked out quite well for me--made me enjoy art more.

If there is anything specific? You want tips for???? I guess ask???

I think I got a bit tangential here and didn't really give any useful tips...lol. But I'm always willing to try if you specify.

[mafufuu]

hihi arte! 3, 17, 19, & 24 for the artist ask game?

hihihi ruya webe been on a call which is silly but i hope youre doing well rn !!

3. your favorite piece(s)?

as of now, my most favorite piece, off the top my head, is the greyscale thing i drew of lucia from tmk. i was messing around with brushes i had saved but never really used and the textures came out nice. i like the work i did on that canvas in general, i felt i got a good hold on her character. i tend to be happy with full body colored stuff i do of characters as of recent. most things i crank up the warmness on for a character and then slap a square bg on i tend to be more than satisfied with. same goes with playing around with brushes. fuuta trash and trash was a fun dabble in trying to recreate another style, and la maine de gloire i like for similar reasons. i hold a fondness for my deep cover william wisp redraw and we outta lightbulbs though that may just stem from a lot of attention on a pice that took a lot of effort

17. what is something youre confident about in your art?

uhhhhhhhhhhhhh i suppose my color choices and stylization. i like toning up the warmness + saturation and lowering the brightness of my art for a cozier feel and i like how it turns out. whenever i do contrast checks (literally just turning a piece to black and white to see if my values are good) the results are pretty good. i think most of the reason why im confident in my stylization is i just kinda like how it looks. some amount of the time i just do doodles that are just linework so i feel like ive gotten comfortable in how i translate things and i also tend to work from references. also ive been told my art style is quite unique and i feel that is the root of it

19. where do you find inspiration?

inspiration! this one is fun! at least for some amount of how i do(/did) eyes and how i color i draw from lavendertowne! her art is very cozy and nice looking, its cartoony but you can see anime influences in it. i think that's probably my main one. i also look up to drawing wiff waffles, she was the first artist i ever really became a fan of! whenever i do pick up alcohol markers (not much nowadays) i make sure to use a colored pencil for sketching. she's prolly also the reason i make sure to carry a kneaded eraser for traditional art. i like watching scott christian sava's videos. being an older artist with more life experience makes him sorta feel like the most mentor-y to me. also he's very nice and some amount active here. yunayuispink is who i mainly use for tutorials. their art style is simple but that is not to say its bad! the colors are nice and the linework is nice. i also like marikyuun's art. her use of linewidth and colored lines makes her work very merchandise-esque as she says. i own a couple studio ghibli art books that i should probably be busting out more for references. their films are very pretty. i also like to take bits and bobs from my moots' art styles that i think are cool. for instance, i think the main reason i tend to gravitate toward thin messy lineart is @/not scorb on here. though i think mine tends to lean messier (or maybe moreso them doing it gave me the confidence to post art like that.) i also take influences from other anime/manga, vaguely, often to the point where i just kinda forget the names. there's probably more but this list is very long already so ill stop

24. whats a compliment about your art that has always stuck with you?

hm. im not really sure. it might be from my bad memory in all honesty but i feel like most of the compliments ive gotten recently just tend to be a "great work!" which i dont mind or take for granted but its not really that descriptive, yknow? actually i remembered one. one time i drew different characters from a thing in chairs i thought suited them (lore rise) sitting based upon their character and i remember someone told me i was talented from the way i portrayed my personalities from how they sit. it really stuck for some reason, i dont know why actually. also being told my art is unique when i was asking my sib to describe my art style bcuz i didnt really know how. it just felt nice to know it was really something that felt like mine !

thank you for the ask !! have a nice rest of your whatever

[weregreatatcrime]

AYO CAN I GET UHHHH number 9, 22, 24, 29, 30 and can i get some fries with that?

Ask meme here!

9: How much time do you spend drawing on an average day?

Very hard to say just because when I'm hyperfocused on art I might spend two hours a day or so and fill up like ten pages a day, but then go like two weeks without touching my sketchbook lol. Currently not in a drawing mood so iiiiii haven't actually touched it in a sec. Last thing I drew were maps for dnd

22: Are you confident that you’re improving steadily?

Absolutely. To a degree. I'm positive that I've always been improving in my art, except for my health crisis in 2021(? Ish) when I spent two years without picking up the pencil. Both for mental health reasons and because I literally couldn't hold one lmfao.

Getting back into art after that was hard. Having to train myself to hold a pencil was rough and my skill definitely suffered. I don't think I've gotten back up to where I was in skill before that time. Sometimes it's really, really frustrating. But also I've found that I've gone a bit of a different style since then as well, which I think is really cool and interesting. Some things I'm picking back up faster than others. Fuck, sometimes I SHADE my art now. I never used to do that lmao

24: Do you feel jealous when you see other people’s art, or inspired? (Be honest!)

Nope! My personal journey with art has taught me a lot about the technical skills that go into art. My personal problems being unable to draw for so long taught me how to sit back and stop thinking about what I can't do, but to admire what others Can. I don't get jealous of other people's art- I'm just in awe of it. It's amazing what different people can create with different skill and ability sets and I think there's something real fucking magical about that. Sometimes I use other people's art as inspiration, seeing little techniques I wanna try out, but overall... idk. Leaving art for the reasons I did gave me a much bigger appreciation for everything about it and I just can't find it in myself to compare art because everything is unique and amazing

29: For traditional artists: How do you usually start on a big piece? (Light sketch, colored lead, sketchpaper, etc)

I use a really cool red toned oil pencil from Faber Castel for my under sketches! Then I follow it up with just normal pencil lines. If I'm feeling spicy, I'll lightly shade or add deeper values with the red. I'm a simple lad. My art is almost entirely sketches and anatomy work because that's what I love to do

30: What inspires you to not just make art, but to be a better artist?

*points up to 24* All of that. My personal experiences have given me a pretty solid love of all artwork and it all inspires me.

Most of all? Collaborative work of any sort. Fandoms are considered collaborative work. Drawing things for my own writing. Drawing things for a friend's writing. Drawing OCs interacting. Shipping friends' OCs, with each other or Canon ships! Making stupid funny shitposts that haunt the collective mindscape for years to come. (I don't think the Trollhunters Fandom will ever forgive me for Thiccmar) Writing something that inspires someone to draw. Drawing something that inspires someone to write. Art trades. Are collabs. Countless role-playing. My friends who commission me to draw or write them the craziest shit that I have an absolute ball with. Just stuff that makes other people see it and go "I can play with these toys too!"

Collaborative work fuels my fucking soul and I love love love getting to do things with other people, when I have the capability of doing so

[devildomimagines]

“I’m not ____ enough” Side Characters

When I had written the first part of this with the Demon Brothers, someone had requested the Side Characters. I finally got around to it. I hope you enjoy it!

Luke

“I’m not hard-working enough.”

You could tell the statement threw him for a loop the way his eyes grew large and he stopped flipping through his book. “What do you mean MC?”

“Sorry, nothing really. Just seeing you working so hard on your studies, while still making time to practice baking for Michael and still making time for me, you’re putting in so much more work than I am.”

“I don’t think of it like that, hanging out with you isn’t work?” He closed his book completely.

“Well, you’re inspiring Luke! You trying your best, makes me want to try my best. You’re so lucky that you have more time in your life to get better at the things you want so I’ll just have to double down and really put in some work to catch up.”

“MC,” He took your hands in his and with a stern face he scolded, “Simeon always says, life is not a race. We aren’t competing for who will be the most competent. Life is about… it’s about…” his face contorted, not sure of the word to use. You were two different beings, him an angel, you a human, he struggled to find a meaning for life that equalized both.

“It’s ok, I get it.”

“No,” Luke contemplated it for another second, “I’ve got it! Life is about meaning!”

You nodded, “That’s true.”

“So you don’t have to work hard, because just being alive has meaning!” He grinned, “The time we spend together is meaningful to me, that’s why it isn’t work.”

“Oh Luke,” You gathered him up in a hug. He really is such a sweet angel.

Solomon

“I’m not exciting enough.”

“Exciting, huh?” Solomon repeated with a smirk, looking up from his spell notes.

“Yeah, like you! You’re always doing something new or innovative with magic,” You flopped down onto the sofa with a grunt. “You make magic look so easy.”

“I don’t know, MC, you’ve done plenty of interesting things.”

“I guess, but mostly by proxy.”

“Well, what’s something ‘exciting’ that you want to do?” Solomon started packing up his materials.

You hadn’t looked at him yet, “ I don’t know, like the Polar Bear Plunge for example.”

“Let’s go!”

“What?! Right now?!”

“Why not?” Solomon laughed as you collected your things to catch up to him in the doorway.

“Are you serious?”

“Of course, if there’s something you want to do, you should do it. That is what is exciting to me. You can always go with the flow but you can make your own flow too. You should remember that, it will come in handy with your magic apprenticeship."

Simeon

“I’m not creative enough.”

"Oh!?" You had surprised him. He had been focused on writing and your statement brought him out of his thoughts. "Can I ask why you think so?"

"Just watching you work on your next manuscript made me think that I'm nothing like you. You're brilliant!"

Simeon's face heated a bit at your praise and a little with embarrassment, he scratched his neck and clarified "Actually I wasn't working on a manuscript just now."

"Oh," now you were surprised, "Then what was it that you were so focused on?"

"Well Luke's birthday is coming up soon, I figured I should write down some ideas to celebrate with everyone."

"That's right! We should do something with animals, Luke really enjoyed seeing them at the carnival last time."

"I forgot about that! Thanks, MC!" He wrote down a quick note, "You know there's more than one way to be creative."

You tilted your head not quite following.

"Creativity doesn't have to be something in the traditional arts. You can be creative at problem-solving or business or social connections."

"I guess so," you conceded not 100% convinced.

"I'm sure that Mammon picks your brain for his schemes, Levi comes to you for advice on tough levels in his games, and Lucifer depends on you to wrangle his brothers to name a few creative ventures you've done just this past week. They went to you for a new idea because they knew their typical line of thinking wouldn't work."

"I can't deny that," you snickered, "Thanks Simeon, it's reassuring to hear that from you. Maybe you're creative with compliments too."

Barbatos

“I’m not independent enough.”

"Hm," Barbatos hummed as he poured you both tea. He knew you well enough to know you would explain your thoughts if he gave you the space.

"I know logically why I need someone with me while out in the Devildom. The residents have made great strides in the direction that Lord Diavolo wants but there are still some stragglers that might..." You didn't want to finish the thought of what the demons would do to you.

"Of course, it is only for your protection," Barbatos confirmed as he took the seat across from you.

"And I totally get that," You poked at your sweet treat, "but it sometimes feels like I'm the one that can't be trusted... I've gotten better at magic, I can protect myself and now I can summon any of my pact mates..." you pouted as you sipped your tea.

The demon across from you watched as your pout shifted to a frown then resignation. He knew that the tea tasted too good to keep pouting and it had melted your worries.

"Sorry for the vent, thanks for listening. Your tea is as wonderful as ever." You smiled at him.

"Thank you, MC." Barbatos nodded. After a beat, he added, "Would you want to try going out this weekend on your own?"

Your eyes twinkled as you nodded tentatively, "I would but I don't think anyone would let me."

"I believe I can make it happen," he scratched his chin in thought.

"Really? I would owe you a huge favor, so please if you can," you practically begged.

"Consider it done," Barbatos smiled into his tea. There was no need to tell you that he would be trailing behind you on his day off and telling the others that you would be with him if they questioned your whereabouts. He knew what it was like to feel like a caged bird, he'd let you out of the cage if even for a day.

Diavolo

“I’m not dignified enough.”

Diavolo looked at you and asked, "Dignified? I think you have plenty of dignity."

"I guess... but you have a totally different air of dignity. Maybe it comes with how you were raised in a royal house."

He tried not to show it but some dark thoughts came to mind of what the royal house was like in his childhood. Sure he was well-fed and given every material object he wanted but the house was cold, and the members were distant.

"Dia?"

His name on your tongue brought him back to the present, "Sorry for losing myself, I was trying to remember if there was a time I myself had wanted to be more dignified." No, there wasn't. More than anything he had wanted the warmth of someone, family, friend or lover, beside him.

"It probably comes to you naturally," you smiled, "Could you teach me? I want to be worthy to stand next to you."

Diavolo's heart swelled with so much love for you, "You're already more than worthy to be by my side," He pulled you into a warm embrace. He would trade all the dignity in the castle to stay next to you.

"But there are some that don't think I'm good enough for the demon royalty. I want to prove them wrong and support you."

"Ok," how could he say no to your earnest thoughts, "then we can do little things like review manners, etiquette, and formalities specific for demons. That should make you blend in more. Though, fundamentally you don't need to change MC. You're perfect just as you are."

[northern-passage]

Hi there! Idk if you've ever answered this but I just wanna know how you got into drawing, and how you found your art style! Your art is really beautiful and I tried to get into drawing, but whenever I sit down with pen and paper I just... stare and don't even know how and where to begin. Do you have a way to motivate yourself or do you just start without thinking about it?:0

hi :-) i've been drawing for a really long time, since i was a kid, though i did stop for quite a few years and only picked it back up again in 2019/2020.

i'm actually pretty insecure about my style hahaha i feel like it's really inconsistent and it never really looks how i want it... so thank you for saying that 💗 i also don't really draw that often, i typically draw in sprints where i'll suddenly draw a bunch in one week and then not touch my tablet again for 6 months lmfao so that doesn't help with my inconsistency.

something that helped me a lot was a period in 2019 where i didn't have my tablet and ended up drawing a lot of traditional stuff (literally just pencil and paper) that was just for me in a little journal. drawing from life - just random stuff, furniture, landscapes, bottles, people, etc - improved my art quite a bit, at least in my opinion. and since it was just for me i didn't feel pressured to make it perfect so it made me try more challenging pieces and if it didn't work out it wasn't a big deal.

usually i just get an idea out of the blue... lately i've been working on specific scenes with both Noel and Merry so that's what made me want to draw them. when i figure out what i want to draw i start hunting for references - i Always draw with a reference. adorkastock is my go-to especially with all the weapon references they have, since i tend to be drawing my fantasy characters. i actually used two different adorkastock images to come up with the sitting pose for Merry.

as for my style specifically i try to find a little spot between realistic and stylized - for a while i tried to emulate a more "animated" art style which is simplistic and distinct, but now i've started to move back into a more realistic/illustrative look. i also just... stopped trying to make myself do stuff i don't like - i hate doing lineart, so i don't really do it anymore! i like how my sketches look more so now my style is a bit rough and sketchy.

and there are a lot of artists i definitely take inspiration from, i follow quite a few here and i always like seeing how other people draw this or that - there are a lot of really good artists in the IF community. one of my favorite artists on tumblr is clickbaitcowboy, who also has a few tips and tutorials on his blog (i aspire to this one day figuring out how to draw body hair...) i also really like gacpars who makes really beautiful watercolor illustrations, and my friend dani crimsiswrites has a really nice style i admire, too.

if you struggle coming up with general ideas i definitely suggest checking out other artists (for me seeing other people's art is a direct inspiration), or even just scrolling through various references like on pinterest could give you some ideas!

[iliveiloveiwrite]

an artist’s eye // Benedict Bridgerton

Summary: Benedict Bridgerton was an artist, even if his inspiration had no idea of what he feels.

A/N: I promise to slow down with the fics! I go back to work in a couple of days anyway so I’ll definitely slow down. I hope you all like! It’s shorter than my last few fics so I’m sorry for that!! My taglist is open so if you’d like to be on it, let me know and I am considering opening my requests for Bridgerton fics... considering.

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of food and drink, pining, mutual pining, sketching, art, drawing (I am not an artist, I cannot draw a stick man so I apologise in advance), kissing.

Word count: 1.8k

The graphite point sits heavy in his hand as Benedict struggles to remember the lines he needs. With only his memory to aid him, Benedict struggled more with the portraits he preferred to draw than the landscapes that were growing increasingly popular among the highest of London society.

Sighing, Benedict presses his fingers to his eyes as if it will help jumpstart his memory to bring forward the correct image he needs. He regrets the action as quick as he had done it when he thinks of the mixture of graphite and charcoal coating his fingers.  

Rubbing his face with the sleeve of his shirt, he feels a moment of pity for the servants who would no doubt grumble and complain at the state of it. However, as he glances down at the sketch – the arch of his subject’s smile, the depths of their eyes – he cannot bring himself to care too much.

It wouldn’t see the light of day. Once complete, the sketchbook would be tucked away in the drawer in his desk. If it was to fall into the wrong hands, then as much as he is confident of his artistic talent, he would not recover from the fallout. Benedict worries for the day that the look in your eyes changes; once you realise the extent of his feelings for you.

He hadn’t meant to fall in love with you, but he had. There were a lot of things in Benedict’s life that he hadn’t meant to do and has regretted completing such an action once done. However, he cannot find it in himself to feel bad about falling in love with you even when he had not meant to.

As much as he puts on airs and graces, he would not approach you with his feelings. He wasn’t ready though you made his heart sing like no other.

One day, he tells himself as he finally remembers the swoop of your neckline. One day he will tell you as he picks up his graphite point and charcoal once more.

Not yet, however.

------------

The drawing room remains quiet as Benedict silently adds to his sketch collection. His mother sits across the room, content with a stitching pattern for the arrival of Daphne’s new baby. Eloise lounges on the couch, a book in her hand and a box of chocolates on her stomach, eyes pouring over the pages hungrily.

The only sound in the room is the roughness of his pencil on the paper. It didn’t matter what angle he approached this drawing at, he could not get it to look right. It was going to vex him until he had bested it.

“Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N) has arrived,” The Butler announces to which Benedict suddenly sits up straighter, closing his sketchbook, leaving it on the table.

“Wonderful,” Violet Bridgerton smiles, “Show them up, please.”

“I didn’t know (Y/N) was calling today,” Benedict comments lightly as the Butler disappears from the room, trying to sound as if his heart isn’t currently pounding in his chest.

“(Y/N) always calls on a Thursday,” Eloise states, voice puzzled. She shares a look of confusion with her mother when Benedict suddenly stands, announcing to them both, “I shall clean myself up a bit, make myself look presentable for our guest.”

The look of confusion soon turns into one of understanding as both women watch their son and brother dash from the room. As if at the same time, a smile crosses both their faces when they realise that their beloved son and brother has fallen in love and with a dear friend of the family too.

They do not get to discuss the topic, however, for you are shown to the drawing room, greeting both women with a large smile and buoyant conversation.

“Help yourself to tea and biscuits, dear,” Violet invites, gesturing to the tea service now being laid on the table. Your stomach rumbles at the sight of the biscuits, unable to turn down the buttery goodness.

“Thank you,” You reply, taking a seat at the table, reaching for a biscuit and the teapot.

It’s then that you see it. A leatherbound book left on the other side of the table, barely hidden by the cake stand of treats.

Curiosity being your besetting sin, you reach for the leatherbound book on the table and begin to flick through the pages. A sketch of a pair of hands at the beginning; they hold a single flower – a rose, though what colour is impossible to tell since the sketch remains firmly in shades of greys and blacks. Enraptured, you turn the page to find a detailed image of a parasol, still sketched in the same greys and blacks as the previous picture. The artist has captured the lace trimming perfectly. The longer you stare at it, you come to realise that the parasol is being held by someone, but it isn’t clear who.

It isn’t until you reach a sketch of your side portrait that you come to realise that the previous sketches – the hands, the parasol with just a hint of a shadow under it – they’re of you.

They’re all of you. Each stunning sketch is of you.

Your breath quickens in your chest when you see who the sketchbook belongs to; when you spy the initials written on the inside sleeve of the front cover. ‘B.B.’ written in his elegant script – an artist in every aspect of his life. Whilst you had observed that Benedict sometimes appeared with smudges to his fingers and paint stains on the cuffs of his tailored white shirt, you had never seen a sketch or a painting until now. He truly had a gift; a talent worthy of being displayed in Somerset House.

You hadn’t been aware of his feelings for you though, but you would not be the first to admit that you found yourself attracted to the Bridgerton. Taught at a young age, you knew it was not wise to share such feelings with others. Instead, you dampened them down, hiding them away where they grew unattended – they rooted in your heart, making it very difficult to find another love worthy.

Bringing a hand to your mouth, you hide your smile, not wanting to give too much away to ever observant Bridgerton matriarch. You turn page after page, letting yourself fall deeper into your feelings for Benedict now that you find there is hope of them being requited.

------------

Benedict’s breath leaves his body in one fell swoop when he returns to the drawing room and he realises exactly what you hold in your hand. He hadn’t moved it upon your announcement; he thought he had, but instead, like a fool, he left it sitting there on the table.

A fool. He was a fool. How quick, Benedict thinks to himself, how quick a life can change – mere minutes he had been gone and now he was to have his love for you outed.

You haven’t noticed his presence yet, and for that Benedict is thankful. It gives him time to come up with something – anything – to explain the numerous sketches of you. His mind is running too fast; he cannot come up with a thought good enough to excuse the sketches in his book. His heart continues to pound in his chest; it had not slowed down since your announcement though at this point it reminds him that is, indeed, alive and not suffering from a night terror.

As if finally sensing the extra person in the room, you glance up. Your eyes meeting the deep blue of Benedict’s, and you freeze in your spot. Violet and Eloise glance between the two of you. Violet, not one to usually ignore tradition, hurries her daughter from the room – knowing the conversation that was about to take place.

“I’m sorry,” You whisper at the click of the door shutting. You close the sketchbook, placing it on the table as far away from you as possible to keep your temptation at bay.

“I think I should be the one apologising,” Benedict confesses, taking one more step into the room. He tucks his hands behind his back, ever the picture of grace and elegance as he thinks of how long he has left without before your opinion of him changes forever – artistic talent or not.

“I knew you were an artist; I had seen the smudges on your hands, but I didn’t think…”

“What?”

“I didn’t think you were drawing me.”

“Surely you know?” He asks, voice loud in the quiet room. When you remain silent, he continues, “Surely you know of my feelings for you?”

You shake your head, eyes glancing between the taller Bridgerton and the leatherbound sketchbook lying on the table. “I didn’t know,” You whisper, voice breaking as you take in the distraught look on his face.

“Well,” Benedict murmurs, clearing his throat, “You know of them now.”

“I do,” You murmur,

“I hope I haven’t offended you,” Benedict remarks, “Those sketches were not meant to be seen by anyone else.”

“Only if I haven’t offended you by looking through them.”

Benedict shakes his head, “You could never offend me.”

“Then I am not offended either. I’m quite flattered, you’re very talented.”

“Thank you,” Benedict says graciously, nodding his head slightly.

“You need to know that your feelings are returned, Benedict,” You declare suddenly and plainly, displaying your feelings for all to see.

“They are?” Benedict asks, voice awed as if he didn’t take into account this reaction.

“They are,” You state firmly, meeting his gaze proudly as if you could ever be ashamed of your feelings for the brunette.

Benedict stalks across the room; tradition and etiquette be damned as he reaches for your hand to pull you from your chair. His hands settle on your waist as you tilt your head back to look at him. A silent question reflects in his eyes to which you answer with a nod of your head.

His hands move from your waist to cradle your face as he dips down, pressing his lips to yours. It isn’t hurried; it’s perfect as Benedict takes control of the kiss, groaning softly at the feel of your mouth and your body pressed against him. You smile into the kiss as your arms wrap around Benedict’s neck, pulling him ever closer to you.

Benedict’s mouth brushes against yours as he asks, “Would you like to accompany me to Lady Danbury’s ball next week?”

“As in you would court me?”

Benedict chuckles softly, “Yes. I would like to court you, is that okay?”

“More than okay,” You smile before pressing a kiss to the corner of Benedict’s mouth and stepping away.

Turning back to the sketchbook, you open it to image that had kickstarted your heart into an irregular rhythm. Benedict stands by your side as your eyes pour over his sketch; each line and angle, each section of shading. “You truly have an artist’s eye,” You say quietly, tangling your hands together.

“Thank you,” Benedict whispers, bringing your entwined hands up to his mouth whereupon he lays a gentle kiss to the back of your gloved hand.

“Will you show me more?” You ask, turning to face the man that had turned you into a work of art.

“Darling, I’ll show you them all.”

***********

Bridgerton Taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @dreaming-about-fanfictions @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @janelongxox @aspiringsloth20 @wallwriterstuff​ @magicalxdaydream​

[writings-of-a-british-fangirl]

A Lesson In Touch [Din Djarin x Reader]

Title: A Lesson In Touch Summary: You want nothing more to say your feelings for Din out loud, but words don't come to you or Din easy... Maybe you can express your love in another way. Warnings: A little bit of angst and description of injury, but that's about it Request: N/A

A/N: This is the third and final instalment of "a lesson in" series! ((unless i get inspired to write another part)) Let me know if you have any requests for Din in general!!

A/N 2: Here is a list of people that said they wanted to be tagged for this fic! Hope you like it

@elphabaforpresidentofgallifrey @the-fae-child @zoleea-exultant @captainwanderlust78​ @ihavemyownissuess​

PART 1: A Lesson In Mando’a PART 2: A Lesson In Tradition PART 3: A Lesson In Touch

Din Djarin~A Lesson In Touch

Din hadn't quite mastered the art of subtlety when it came to you. He was very thankful for his beskar, specifically his helmet, otherwise he was sure you would've noticed his outright staring. In no way was he trying to make you feel uncomfortable or offend you, but he just felt mesmerised by you in a way that no other being in the galaxy had. Well, apart from his little green son. But, this... This was something different.

        You were something different.

        Ever since you had bought that necklace, the way he felt about you had only intensified. It was scaring him in ways he didn't even want to confront. Thoughts of a relationship, of a family with you began to stir within him. It wasn't realistic- definitely just a day dream. Kriff, he hadn't even been in a romantic relationship before: how was he ever going to treat you right? Sure, he'd dabbled in a few flings here and there... Some he was less than proud of. Although he'd never broken his Creed, he had certainly bent the rules a handful of times; in his defence, he was young, and stupid... And, touch starved. In truth: he probably still was.

        It had been a long while since anyone had touched him with any other intent than to kill him. He was used to the roughness of touch that came with combat: the way his fists hit another, and he was in turn hit, but your soft lingering touches were enough to distract him for the whole day.

        He began to crave them: any excuse to be close to you.

        If only the Mandalorian knew that he wasn't being as subtle as he thought. Even with the helmet disguising his eyes, you could feel his vision on you. At first, you felt self conscious under his gaze. You interpreted it as him glaring at you: maybe you had done something wrong with the kid? Or maybe you had offended him, and he just wasn't saying anything? But, slowly, you got better at reading his body language. It was tough at first, as Din revealed very little personal information about himself. Coupled this with the fact he was usually clad head to toe in beskar armour, you made slow progress. However, over time, you began to pick up on little cues. Soft, small hints that he wasn't glaring... He was looking at you: you'd caught him staring.  

        You were going to confront him about it, initially; maybe even make a light joke of it. You had quickly gone off of that idea. Soon, you decided you liked the Mandalorians eyes on you; you even let yourself believe that he might only have eyes for you.

        And soon, just as he craved you, you wanted more than just his eyes on you.

~~~

The universe had a fucking funny way of answering your inner desires. When you said, you had wanted to feel him, feel his skin on your own, when you had said you wanted to feel his touch, this wasn't what you meant. Kriff. This was getting bad. Din was bleeding badly.

        What had initially meant to be a pretty simple bounty had turned into a rather difficult one. The location Din was sent initially was inaccurate, and then when he arrived at the actual, correct location, it was a trap. His target had friends, and it soon became an ambush. The Mandalorian was still capable of taking them down, but they put up a pretty good fight, and before knocking out all of them, one had managed to stab Din in his side.

        Which lead you to now.

        Din was in your arms. He had stumbled into the Razor Crest, clutching his side with one arm and dragging the quarry with the other. You'd almost lost control in that moment, but you knew you had to stay calm for him. You rushed up to him, and quickly aided him in throwing the bounty into carbonite. Then, you made quick work of laying him down on your make shift medical bench, and asking him where the pain was coming from. Your eyes were wide with panic: he could probably tell. You were terrible at hiding emotions when it came to him, and you'd never exactly done this before. Sure, you'd patched yourself up more times than you can count: but someone else? Someone you cared about? Now that was something else entirely.

        "Din," you cooed gently, trying not to make his pain worse, "I'm going to need to remove some of your armour. Is that okay? Is... Is that breaking your Creed?"

        "I- No," Din huffed out, trying to be kind to you despite his situation.

        "Okay, good... Good... I need you to lay as still as you can okay. I'm just going to..."

        You don't know why you start narrating what you're doing. Maybe you thought it would put him at ease if he knew what was going on. Maybe it was making things worse.

        Gently, you peeled away his armour from his torso, and observed the large cut down his side. You pressed your hand against him, and Din winced in pain. Your hand retracted quickly, and you ran to the first aid kit kept in the Crest. You opened the bag, and began searching around for the bacta patch and disinfectant that you needed. Your heart was beating really quickly, and you could feel Din's pulse getting weaker. His breathing shallowed. You steadied your shaking hands as you brought the disinfectant up to his wound.

        "Din," you murmur, "Are you still with me? Din... I'm sorry this is going to hurt."

        You saw his head nod slowly, and you began cleaning the wound as carefully as you can. He winced in pain and his hand shot up; he grabbed out to you, and his hand was wrapped around your upper arm before you knew what was happening. Despite the situation, his touch (even through his glove) surprised you. Your heart rate began to increase, and your face felt hot.

        "I'm nearly done now," you promise him, "I'm just putting on the bacta patch and then you can rest."

        "T-Thank you, cyar'ika," Din replied, his grip on your arm faltering before letting go.

        You took his hand and squeezed it gently. Din was weak now but at least his wound has been tended to and he wasn't losing anymore blood. It was only now that the worst of it was over, that you took note of the blood across the ship. This would be one hell of a clean up. First, you washed your hands, and then you gently removed the remainders of Din's armour, save his helmet (of course). You unbuttoned his tunic and swapped it out for one that wasn't covered in blood- and one that didn't have a large hole in it. You like to think that he'd appreciate it.

        With the ship finally cleaned, and Din safe, you crawled into your cot beside the child. Your eyes felt heavy as you held the child close to you: you took one last look at your Mandalorian, before finally falling asleep.

~~~

Din Djarin woke up startled. His hand went to his side, at first, and then across his chest, before ending up resting on his helmet. His eyes scanned the room before settling upon you. His eyes softened; in your arms lay his little womp rat. He was safe, and so were you. Din sighed, relieved that you were both still okay.

        His eyes cast down to the pile of armour beside him: you must've removed it after he'd passed out. He recognised that he was now wearing a new black shirt, and that his old, bloodied one was nowhere to be found. His mind didn't have time to wonder where you'd put it, as the sound of him moving off of the make shift medical bench had caused you to begin to awaken. Your eye sight was blurry for a second, before focusing in on Din. He was up.

        He was up!

        "Din! You're awake!" you exclaim, shaking off any sleepy feeling that still remained.

        "Are you alright?" Din asks, stepping towards you.

        "Am I alright?" you repeat back to him, now also finding your feet, "You get stabbed, come home bloody to me -barely standing I might add- and you ask me if I'm okay?"

        Din shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.

        "Never mind me: how are you feeling?"

        "I'm... I'm okay. Better now, thanks to you," Din reassured, reaching over to take the child from you now that he had woken up from his nap.

        "Well, I have been told I have an excellent bed side manor," you tease.

        "Oh yeah?" Din plays along.

        "Really! If it wasn't for this whole bounty hunting gig, I definitely would've been a nurse," you assure confidently; although truthfully at this point in time, you have no interest in taking care of anyone else besides your small found family.

        "You would've made an excellent nurse," Din chuckles.

        It warms your heart: hearing him laugh.

        "I thought you were going to pass out quicker than me at certain points, though," Din continues, "But I'm not dead so you must've done something right."

        "Hey now, Mandalorian: in my defence, I was not expecting you to come back covered in blood and barely conscious. Forgive me if I was a little rusty."

        You hadn't realised how close the two of you had become until now. His body was so close that you could almost feel the heat coming from his body. Or maybe it was yours. You weren't honestly sure at this point, but it was making your face heat up. You shyly looked away from his gaze. Seeing him like this almost felt unnatural. You were so use to him fully covered in armour, that seeing him without all the beskar felt like you were seeing him naked. Despite this, you enjoyed seeing him like this: he felt more human to you now. If he was feeling vulnerable at all, he didn't show it. If you didn't know any better, you'd almost say he enjoyed this new layer of vulnerability because it meant he could feel closer... Closer to you.

        "You're forgiven," he murmurs, his voice low, "Am I forgiven, cyar'ika?"

        "Hm..." you hesitate, teasing him for a second, "I will have to think about that-"

        "-Mesh'la, please," he pretends to beg you, smiling under his helmet; Din's eyes remain on you, almost transfixed as you pretend to ponder the status of his forgiveness.

       "Only if you tell me what m- me- mesh'la means," you whisper in a hushed tone, "Or agree to teach me Mando'a. I have to know what you are saying about me."

       "Only good things," Din replies in the same quiet tone, "Beautiful."

       "Beautiful," you repeat back to him, your heart swelling, "Din you are... Me- mesh'la too."

       You expect him to reply: correct your pronunciation, or joke back with you but the Mandalorian has gone silent. Not an uncomfortable wooden silence. No, it was a warm silence. It felt right, and after a second, you adjusted to the new quietness. You imagine neither of you have had a moment like this in a long time. The silences you were use to only echoed with your hollowness, reflecting your loneliness. But this: this felt right.

       Gently, Din leaned his head on your own. Due to the presence of his helmet, he was careful not to be too forceful, but you soon accepted the gesture, and kept your forehead on his.

       A keldabe kiss.

       That's what you would come to know that as. Although it originally started as slang for a headbutt, it soon became a sign of affection among Mandalorians. Affectionate moments with the Creed felt few and far between, so this was a way around that. And, it was one you quiet enjoyed. Even if you couldn't always touch your Mandalorian in the ways you wanted to, in these moments it didn't seem to matter. Despite the Creed, despite everything, there was no true barrier that could separate you and Din Djarin.

       Your foreheads stay together for a moment longer, before separating. You look up at him, and you know -even without words, even without touch- he is yours, and your are his.

[deltas-writing-corner]

Courtship (4): The Gargoyle Graveyard

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland (Malleus x GN!reader)

Author note: Again, thank you all for being patient with me and I apologize for having a very inconsistent writing schedule. I'm going to make it my goal to update on a bi weekly basis instead of leaving you all in silent limbo. Also a reminder I suck at figuring out which warnings to put so if there's something that needs to be forewarned that I failed to disclose please lmk!

Warnings: Mentions of heavy bodily injuries | childhood trauma/neglect | discussions/mentions of discrimination | mentions of virginity/sexual history

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AO3 version

Clay. Stone. Porcelain. Plaster. Metal. There are even gargoyles carved entirely of wood! Some statues are stand-alone works of art while others are part of a clear collection or series of similar inspiration. They even come in all sorts of shapes and sizes; as small as an apple or a towering height to rival Malleus himself. No matter what, each grotesque has been crafted with the utmost consideration, by well seasoned and knowing hands. Even the ones that have clear defects and cannot serve their intended purpose are free of overabundant ivy, weeds, or dust. There’s a clear degree of love and care the family who makes these statues has for their craft that makes him feel less alone in his interest in an uncherished form of art.

“It should be around here somewhere,” you muse aloud. Ever since he expressed interest in seeing more sculptures made with non-traditional materials, you’ve been keeping your eye out for a particular one that would fulfill his yearning. You eventually find it and eagerly point to it. “There it is!”

Malleus watches as you approach a massive-sized statue covered with a thick and half-wet tarp. He helps you remove the cover, revealing a winged and slightly humanoid canine. There are many more grotesques with a similar design, but what makes this one stand out the most is the material it’s made out of.

“Amazing!” Malleus awes. “I’ve never seen a grotesque of this size made entirely of glass! They’ve even managed to maintain their attention to detail despite such an abnormal material choice.”

“You can even see the inner channel where the water would flow in and redirect out of its mouth,” you notice.

“They even went out of their way to make it functional despite it being unfit for actual installation?” Malleus inquires with disbelief. “Such a shame.”

“If you’re looking to buy anything here, I’m afraid it's a lost cause. One of the first warnings the grandfather gave me is that none of these are for sale.”

“What was his second warning?”

“If we damage anything, even as small as a scratch, he’ll kill us.”

“How charming,” he chuckles. “I cannot blame him. These statues must take weeks to complete. Time is a human’s greatest enemy.”

“For some, sure. But when I went to visit the family and talked to the old man, he was lunging around all this heavy equipment like he was still in his prime,” you recall. “He lives for his craft. If there’s anything humans are at risk of their entire lives, it’s a lack of motivation and reason to live.”

“I suppose that’s true, but the lifespan of humans and the inevitable effects of aging is difficult to live with, especially once it begins to hinder one’s ability to do what one could previously do without issue. ”

“You’re not wrong,” you acknowledge. “But I think I’d rather live a short life with fulfillment than a dull, long-as-shit life.”

To show that he’s entirely on your side, Gunter lets out a guttural bark while his tail rapidly wags and thumps the damp ground, coating the ends of his bushy tail in specs of dirt and dirtied, remnant snow of the north that has managed to stay frozen on the isles warmer south end.

“You’re only agreeing with them because you’ve been promised food,” Malleus chastises. “Don’t think I didn’t pick up on your grumbling stomach.”

“And don't think I didn't pick up on your stomach rumbling either your highness," you quip back at him. "The family has a small cottage nearby we can use. We'll settle down for a bit and eat before sightseeing some more."

Before you turn and walk in the direction towards the aforementioned lodgings, you reach your hand out for Malleus to take and he latches onto you with restrained enthusiasm. He's taller than you, but he takes care not to take his normal strides as to not leave you struggling to keep up with him. Gunter doesn't know the way, so he trots beside you every step of the way up until the destination is in plain view. The cottage is small but well-attended. There’s a rustic flair to its construction that makes it feel familiar and safe despite never stepping foot in it before.

"Those gargoyles were something, huh?" you remark to him while you tap and shake off the gunk wedged into the soles of your heavy boots against the frame of the door.

"Indeed," he nods, taking your cloak off for you and hanging it on the wooden rack nearby. "I don't think I've ever seen that many gargoyles in one day. Just when my eyes land upon an intriguing one, there's several more that catch my attention."

The way he gets all wide-eyed is outright adorable. It makes you grin just as enthusiastically too. "I bet your club is going to have a field day once you tell them about this!"

His child-like smile turns into one of disappointment. "I'm certain they would, if I wasn't the sole member that is."

Your hands halt from pulling out and setting down all the premade food out of your pack. "Seriously? You're the only one?"

When he nods his head, you feel a twinge of hurt in your heart. Poor guy. You can only imagine how disappointing it must be to go through all those lengths to start a club (you would know since you're technically a staff member of the school and have been given a rundown on some of the school's functions and regulations) only for no one to show interest. Of course, you completely understand that gargoyles aren't exactly all the rage within the minds of teenage boys. Still! He goes through so much effort to build relationships with his peers but they always cower away, either due to his status or even because of the way he looks. You won’t deny that he does come off as rather intimidating at first glance, but he's a sweet guy once you give him the chance to speak.

But to expect teenagers going through social pressures and demanding academics to be as understanding and willing to understand someone like Malleus is an impossible demand. Given that everyone in the school can be a bunch of self-centered and easily agitated bunch of pricks, it's understandable that most of the student body isn't keen on trying to take into consideration the proper etiquette one needs to consider in the presence of a young and noble fae. Deuce has met and talked briefly with Malleus on one occasion, but even he visibly shakes whenever his name is mentioned, even in casual passing.

Wait until they found out who you've gone and gotten buddy-buddy with behind their back. They probably think they're slick or that their intentions are well swept under the rug, but it's clear they feel some semblance of responsibility for your well-being, as both a magicless individual as well as a close, albeit older, friend. You dread the day people begin to make the connections between Malleus and you, but you still can’t help but wonder what their reactions might be. You also dread the high probability those two idiots are going to find out and embarrass the living hell out of you, which you know you do not have the patience or tolerance for.

Gunter jumps up and sits himself down in one of the wooden dining chairs, pushing the small ceramic plate towards you with his nose, as if telling you "Alright, I’ve done what I said I'd do, now feed me what I'm owed." You tell him that you'll give him what he's well earned after you get a small fire started in the brick fireplace. Just because it's warmer near the southern half of the island and not as heavily blanketed with snow, doesn't mean the cold has completely vanished, Winter is still winter after all.

"Where did these scars come from?"

Malleus' unexpected question and closeness nearly make you drop the iron rod you've been using to stoke the growing fire. You've since taken off your boots and rolled up the bottoms of your pants just above your knee as the room starts to warm up enough for a thin layer of perspiration to accumulate and roll down your skin. The scars he's referring to are the ones on your right leg, both side by side at an awkward angle and discolored. You have a lot more scars than these, some much more gruesome in appearance than these two. Malleus has never asked about your scars, but sometimes you catch him looking in the general area of some that peak through your clothes. He likely keeps quiet about their existence out of courtesy.

Yet out of all the markings on your body, why did these two stand out enough that he'd finally ask about them?

"It's a long story," you say in an effort to stall the topic. "Sit. I'll feed you two once the fire is stable."

He doesn’t push you for an answer, instead simply doing as you say and lets you poke at the burning logs until they're properly aflame on their own. You made mostly some of your morning favorites; Creamy and thick potato stew with diced carrots and peas and some eggs, ham, and crispy hash browns sandwich between homemade halved croissants. You teased him about having picky taste buds earlier, but Malleus is content to eat anything you serve him so long as it is not comparable to the likes of Lilia's atrocious cooking.

(Seriously, how does a man as old as Lilia not know the basic fundamentals of cooking? And why does everything he makes end up burnt and tasting like something rotten? You will never understand.)

"Don't eat too quickly," you warn Gunter as you pour a bit of light-colored soup onto his designated plate. Your words are ignored, as the equally marred wolf sloppily slurps and munches on the few bits of potatoes and vegetables you generously scraped out of the thermos. His food is gone as quickly as it’s put in front of him and he looks at you expecting more.

"No. The rest is mine," you scold. "And don't beg Malleus for some either! I know you do it behind my back, you little shit!"

He turns to look at Malleus with an accusatory glare, thinking that he ratted him out to you. Malleus’s response towards the silent imputation is to turn and look out the window as if something caught his interest all of a sudden, cup raised to his lips as he politely sips away at his meal without an air of calmness. You have to slap a hand over your mouth to hide the amusement that overtakes your senses.

"Malleus, stop that!"

"Stop what?" he innocently asks.

"Stop making me want to laugh!"

He sets his cup down onto its matching serving dish. "It's not my fault you have an easily satiable sense of humor."

"Wow!" you say incredulously and put your arms up in offense. "And here I was thinking we were friends!"

His distant demeanor breaks and you both devolve into a fit of laughter together. Gunter unfortunately takes advantage of your joint distraction and slips away with a warm sandwich between his jaw, your sandwich in particular.

"That damn wolf!" you curse. "I knew I should have trusted my gut and pack extras.”

Malleus pities your distress before moving over to sit closer. "Worry not. I'll split mine in half with you,” he reassures.

"No, it's fine," you immediately dismiss his offer. "Have it for yourself."

"I'm not taking no for an answer," he firmly states. “Don’t be stubborn. It’s far too early for that.”

"I thought you liked it when I was stubborn?” you pout.

He shakes his head with a smile. “I would be lying if I said I didn’t”

"At least someone likes my attitude,” you say after chewing and swallowing a mouthful of soup. “Sebek certainly doesn’t."

"The boy is stubborn as well. When two equally stubborn individuals cross paths, you will witness nothing but discord between the two."

"Add the fact I'm human into the mix, and we'll be exchanging fists instead of words sooner or later," you scoff. "I get that some faes don't like humans, but what's his deal with acting like he’s got a vendetta against me?"

"Sebek doesn't hate humans for the reasons you might think," Malleus admits. "It’s more like he finds them difficult to think that highly of. Did you know that he is half-human?"

You nearly choke on your own breath over the sudden revelation. "Really?"

"Indeed," Malleus finds amusement at your disbelief. "Have you ever wondered why his ears aren't pointed like Silver, but his eyes are like mine and Lilia’s?"

"Damn,” you scratch the back of your head with embarrassment. “Now I feel stupid.”

"You aren't. Given the way he speaks, not many would assume he had human blood in his veins. His mother was highly regarded within her social circle, but her marriage to a human man tarnished her reputation a great deal. She's happy and does not seem to care what others think of her these days. However, when Sebek set out to be a knight, his mother's marriage and his lineage were often brought up as a way to scrutinize his character and capabilities rather than any of his actual shortcomings as an individual."

"Poor kid," you sigh. "Lilia told me those sorts of things still happen in The Valley, but it sounds so outlandish that I couldn’t take it that seriously."

"Many faes hold old traditions above all else, to a degree that the purity of one's blood stands above all other merits." His eyebrows pressed together in annoyance. "Even my grandmother thinks it's archaic, but as the reigning queen she has to embody a persona of neutrality between the social divide."

"It sounds like you have your work cut out for you in the future," you say, almost apologetically. "What do you plan to do about it once you're the king?"

There's a brief flash of surprise over your question, but Malleus easily answers it as usual. "I think my first course of action as king would be to properly knight Sebek and Silver."

"Bet my rifle that Sebek is going to cry the entire ceremony!" you remark with certainty. "That's all he ever goes on about, being a knight and all."

"He's devoted countless hours and efforts since he was a child. If there's anyone who deserves to join the knighthood, it's him."

"Definitely," you nod to further cement your agreement with him. "He could stand to lower his voice a bit. He'll give you tinnitus before long.”

"At least we won't have to worry about losing him in a crowd," Malleus jests.

"That's to say we'll lose sight of him to begin with," you remark. "He'll gladly lose me in a crowd. You? You'd be lucky to get out of arm's length."

"You underestimate me, dearest," Malleus smirks. "Ever since I've met you, I've perfected the art of avoiding Sebek's insistent searches."

"Have you now?" you razz back. "Don't let him catch onto the fact. He'll have my head."

He reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Each second his skin touches yours makes you tingle. Time slows down ever so briefly if only to savor the small instance of physical connection for as long as possible. "What of your aunts?" he inquires. "Are they as overprotective of you as Sebek is of myself?"

"They’re a trio of mama bears," you proudly admit. "I'm old enough to drink and well equipped to fend for myself, but in their minds, I'll always be the little tyke that couldn't even eat their meals without looking at them for approval. Especially my aunt Gia."

You have three aunts. There's your aunt Marisol, the mother of most of your cousins and the main caretaker of the household. Your second aunt Lucia was well into her studies at university when you came to live with them, but her stress and long hours of mulling over her course materials paid off in the long run. Your gardening skills wouldn't be what they are now without her expertise in agricultural botany.

Then there's your aunt Gia. Oldest of the three. An absolute tank of a woman. No spouse. No kids of her own. She lived off the land like an absolute titan. The woman raised you as if she was the one that carried you for nine months and not your actual birth mother.

How would you describe your parents? If your parents were told to list out their priorities in life, their careers would be at the top of the list and you would be put at the very bottom. Why they carried you to term is beyond your understanding. You later learned that Gia had even offered to take you under her care well before your birth, knowing that your parents might not be well-suited to take care of you in the way she thinks would be beneficial for you. It was a convenient offer that would have saved everyone the trouble years down the line when you had your accident. They worked in a cutthroat industry and were constantly moving up the executive echelons. They had no time for you, yet their pride as a pair of young, successful business magnates made them incapable of seeing past the reality of the situation. That left you mostly in the care of last-minute caretakers and your aunts, but only if they had time from their own busy and preoccupied lives to come out into the city and visit.

You were eight years old when things started to get better, but it was upstarted in the worst possible way. Your parents had to go away for the upcoming weekend for work and left you in the care of a babysitter as per the norm. The babysitter never showed up however and your parents apparently couldn’t be bothered to check up on you even once the entire trip. Their silence wasn’t surprising. You just went on about your business for the next three days on your own like nothing was wrong. Your aunt Gia had even called at one point to check up on you, but you didn’t bother to tell her that your parents had left you to fend for yourself. She would have exploded if you did, but not as much as she did when you woke up in the hospital after falling down the stairs and lying helplessly on the ground for several hours with a dislocated shoulder and a compound-fractured leg. You were lulling in and out of consciousness due to all the medication pumped into you, but what little you do remember seeing and hearing when you regained consciousness will forever stick with you for the rest of your life.

If people think your level of swearing is bad, they should have heard your aunt that day. She swore so viciously that it could set an innocent bystander's eardrums on fire. What will forever stand out the most to you was the fact that your parents didn’t even look the least bit apologetic or regretful. They didn’t even approach you once your aunt was done giving them a piece of her mind to check up on you. They simply talked with the awaiting social worker and doctors and then left. It was for the better, but the small part of you that continued to hold onto the desperate belief that your parents would come around one day sent you into a thrashing frenzy and you had to be sedated before you could hurt yourself anymore.

The next year was spent recovering from your injuries, meeting regularly with your caseworker, and going through therapists like a pack of cigarettes. By the time you were back on your feet and the legal proceedings of your custody case were concluded, all you wanted was to move on with it all. Nearly a decade of neglect left you this unattentive, uncertain husk of a person who couldn’t take a single step forward without looking for some sort of guidance or assurance. Your family was exhausted by the entire ordeal and over speaking with third parties. Your aunts took it upon themselves to help you regain your sense of self in the comfort of your new home, no matter how difficult or demanding it was going to be.

“It took some time, but eventually it clicked in my mind that I was in a better place and I started to get better. As for my parents, I have no clue what they’re up to these days.” You lean back into your chair and let out a shaking yawn. “I like to think they’re getting on well like I am.”

“I don’t understand.” Malleus looks at you with unbelievable confusion. “Your parents treated you poorly, yet you don’t sound the least bit resentful. Why is that?”

You shrug your shoulders. “What’s the point? I'm in a better place now, so I've let bygones be bygones. 'Doesn't mean I don't harbor any anger against them anymore. I do, but getting upset won't change what's happened to me."

Gunter, having sensed your discomfort over the matter, trots over and rests his head on your lap. You gratefully rub the top of his head, carding your hands through his thick, coarse hair. "I'm just glad they let me go without a fuss. Family court was hell for my family.” Your eyebrows knit together. “Expensive too.”

Crackling wood fills the momentary silence that befalls the small cottage. What you've recollected to Malleus is a lot to take in, and if you're being quite honest you'd prefer if he just dropped the subject and talked about literally anything else right now. You hope he doesn't say he's sorry or any other type of apologetic comment. That's all you were ever told that entire year it all happened, during court proceedings, your rehabilitation, by both strangers and distant family members alike.

"I'm so sorry. What happened to you was unfortunate. You didn't deserve it."

No shit you didn't deserve any of that. You were a kid. You don’t need one pity party after another to realize that what took place then had fucked you forever. But as you said earlier, you're in a better place now, with a loving and supportive family that's moved on alongside you. A family you need to get back to as soon as possible.

"I love you."

Well, if he was hoping to take your mind off the past. that certainly did it. How can it not? It came out of nowhere and as good as you are at holding your composure when need be, you're sure you look no less like a gaping fish when warm and plush softness presses right against the corner of your lips. A kiss. His kiss.

"What's wrong?" Your voice sounds shaky. You’re nervous.

"Nothing," he smiles reassuringly. "I simply said what I felt needed to be said."

"Fair enough" you concede easily. He was going to say it sooner or later. He already has actually, now that you think about it. Yet here you are trying to process his words like it’s rocket science.

"Am I going about this too fast perhaps?" he genuinely asks. His hands that have been busy massaging your calves that have settled across his lap somewhere during your long retelling gradually slow down, but his hands never go completely still. "This is my first time experiencing something like this."

"What?" You sit up a bit straighter. "A relationship?"

"Yes."

Your head tilts to the side. "Really?"

He nods hesitantly "Yes?"

For a moment, you go completely quiet. "I don't believe you,” you doubtfully say, head shaking to further showcase your refusal to believe him.

He must not have liked your remark, frowning with clear offense in his eyes. When he dislikes something, the vertical slits in his eyes contract into a thin line. "I cannot lie, yet you still doubt me?"

"I know you can't lie, but I find it hard to believe you haven't been with anyone else before," you explain. Before you can consider the appropriateness that was your newfound curiosity about Malleus's apparently non-existent love life, you blurt out, "Are you still a virgin?"

You slap your hand over your mouth the moment those words come out of it. He's equally caught off guard and nearly drops his warm cup of coffee. Even Gunter is surprised by your question, olive-colored eyes looking at you as if you've lost your mind. It's an invasive question, inappropriate even. You and Malleus have been dating for a little over two days. A question like that is way too early to bring up just yet.

"You don't have to answer that," you tell him behind your palm. "I shouldn't have even asked it. Forget I ever brought it up-”

"I'm not," he interrupts you, leaving you even more shocked than you already are. You’re practically gaping like a fish by now. "I'm not a virgin,” he further insinuates.

A deafening silence, but it’s eventually broken by yourself. “I still don’t believe you.”

Malleus gets further annoyed at your refusal to accept his truth. "I'm not lying!" he insists.

"Bullshit!"

"Do you want me to recount my history to you?" he asks, exasperated as you are at the shift the conversation is taking. "Will that satisfy your doubts?"

"You know what? It will!" you loudly declare. "Who'd you sleep with?"

"He was a young page at the time,” he reminisced. “It happened before I was a century old.”

Your eyebrows raise with intrigue. "Was he cute?"

"Yes," he hushedly agrees. The disconcerting admittance paints his face a pinkish-red glow. "But that's not why I bedded him."

"But surely his looks are what made you interested in the first place?” you make blatant regard of the fact.

“You’re not wrong,” he acknowledges, expertly avoiding agreeing with you outright. “But his looks aren't the sole reason I was drawn to him. He was bright-eyed and ambitious, to the point you’d think him insane given his position in the court. It was also the first time I ever truly met with a group of humans, and my young mind was eager to get a more accurate perspective of humans that wasn’t through the lens of my tutors.”

“An ‘accurate perspective’?” You make playful air quotes, eyebrows wiggling because you know the fact that he knows what you’re implying. The playful comment is met with a sharp pinch on your leg that makes you jump and shriek out in pain. Did he have to dig his nails into you? Apparently so, and now you have small crescent indents on your skin. “I bet Lilia had a good laugh when he found out.”

“He doesn’t know, actually,” he admits to you with what is obviously a proud smile.

“Now I know you’re lying to me,” you scoff. “Nothing escapes the old man’s radar.”

His hands begin to rub out the marks he’s left on you as a form of apology. “Lilia is sharp, but he had lost most of his vigor by the time I was born.”

You go wide-eyed again. “You mean his hearing and eyesight was better than it is now?”

He nods affirmatively. “From what I’ve been told, terrifyingly so.”

Lilia is already frightening as is. His short stature and boyish looks make him perfectly unassuming to those who don’t know any better. You once watched him beat up a couple of bulky, twice-his-height students from Savanaclaw without breaking a sweat, yet moments before he was jokingly scolding himself for dozing off so easily. You never once thought he was ever out of his elements. A cold chill runs down your spine thinking how much more perceptive the older fae may have been back during his prime years.

“Wonder what Lilia’s gonna think,” you ponder out loud in a quick effort to banish out the skin-prickling mental imagery your mind was invoking. “About us, I mean.”

Malleus seems surprised that you would change the topic to that of all things, but his initial shock goes away as quickly as it came. “As you may have guessed, he’s an open-minded individual, but he’s also very realistic and unafraid to say what’s on his mind.”

“So what does that mean for you and me?” you question with a bit of hesitation.

“Well,” he trails off and ponders for a moment. “He’ll surely like the scandal our relationship would invoke. However, as my caretaker and mentor, he won’t hesitate to put an end to it if he feels it necessary.”

Had it been anyone else sitting beside you, you’d have found that comment way too extreme and outright ridiculous. However, you are not speaking to anyone ordinary. You are not sitting before someone normal. It doesn't matter how well you get along with him. It sure as hell doesn't matter how deeply in love you are with him, and him of you. The moment you have been deemed a shortcoming, the outings, the closeness, it all stops. All of it will come crashing down and both you and him will be left wondering what could have been done differently.

Malleus is truly your best friend, because already he can tell that your mind is beginning to spiral even when you go quiet. He calls for your attention by gripping his hand around your bare ankle and carefully tugging the end of your limb. “Don’t fret over it too much,” he soothes, yet also sounding like he’s scolding you for letting your mind wander off so negatively. “Lilia is an exceptional judge of character. From what I’ve gathered, you’ve well exceeded all his marks. He trusts you, and to gain such a thing from someone as old and wise as him is an extraordinary feat.”

You brew over the attempted compliment he tried to pay to you. Unfortunately, it doesn’t snub out all these festering thoughts in your head. It doesn’t even give you temporary relief. Perhaps it would have brought you a sense of peace a few months ago, but with everything that has happened thus far, you doubt even Malleus can alleviate the storm that rattles inside you, even if what he speaks is without a doubt nothing but the truth.

Surely he can see that you are still having some hangups. When you lift his hand and plant a chaste kiss on the back of his hand, you hope he can decipher the gesture as a pitiful request for his forgiveness for dampening the once energetic mood. He is not at fault for your loss and inability to think optimistically at the moment and you need to make sure he knows it.

Today is about him, not you. Even if it’s just for today, you’ll put on a pleasant facade and worry about the rest at a later date. It’s just you and him, and for now, that’s enough.

You do a mental countdown starting from three, before finally giving him a late response to the three words he uttered in confidence to you earlier. “I love you too, by the way.”

You love him. You love him. You love him. That’s all his mind can think of for the rest of the day. He replays your reciprocation over and over like it’s sacred and all-powerful.

He had planned to return to his dorm before the sun began to set, but he found the mere idea of detaching from you deeply unwanted and made the last-minute decision to spend the evening at the Ramshackle dorm. He already has a few articles of clothing and personal essentials set up in one of the many empty rooms, so neither Lilia nor you had any objections at his sudden request.

“Don’t worry!” You shout across the room so that Lilia can hear you over his phone. “I’ll make sure he gets to bed on time!”

“You have my gratitude!” Lilia’s muffled voice responds gratefully. “Don’t cause too much trouble now, you two.”

“No promises~” you sing in jest before Malleus hangs up. Once the call ends Johnny, Benji, Franky, and you turn their attention back to their ongoing game of poker. Malleus watches and occasionally laughs to himself over the friendly banter shared between the quartet. At the end of every round, the winner is assaulted with colorful profanities whilst they take their newly won gambling chips with ebullience. Yet with each new dealing of cards, the animosity goes away and they’re all back to being friendly. He finds your interactions with your incorporeal roommates more entertaining than the book he’s been reading to pass the time.

“Hey, fairy boy,” Franky informally calls out toward him. “Don’t be a stranger now. Play a few rounds with us.”

“I’m afraid I’m not well versed in card games,” he admits, yet he still finds himself setting his literature aside and moving over to join them.

“Don’t worry,” you give him a reassuring smile. “They’ll go easy on you.”

“For how long?” he knowingly asks.

You give him an impressed smirk at his quick uptake. “I give it three rounds before they start to pull back their sleeves.”

Malleus is well-adjusted to the need to quickly learn a new topic and the expectation for him to fully comprehend it in full. None of them are harsh on him for his minor mistakes like some of the tutors he’s had in the past. Answers that he believes may be obvious or not as complicated as he thinks they are being answered with enthusiastic patience. The smallest achievements he makes are met with a proud response. When he makes a surprise turnabout and wins his first game, he’s rewarded with an encouraging round of applause by everyone.

“Not bad,” Benji praises as he shuffles the deck of cards. “You’re a fast learner.”

“So I’ve been told,” he humbly replies. “Is this the part where you all stop going easy on me now?”

“Don’t provoke them,” you half-heartedly warn. “Otherwise we’ll be up all night duking it out otherwise.”

Franky sets his glass of iced liquor down on the edge of the table. “Don’t you little lovebirds worry. We won’t take up too much of your well-needed time together.”

Annoyed at the clear jab at his relationship with you, you throw one of your chips towards his head. It passes through his body and clatters on the floor behind him. Your fawn Blossom jumps down from their spot on the couch and goes to sniff it, thinking it to be food, but walks away with a disappointed strut when he realizes it isn’t anything edible.

“I didn’t tell them a damn thing,” you defensively clarify. “It was so obvious what was going on between us that they figured it all out before we made it official.”

He lets out a deep breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “That’s...I can’t say I’m too pleased to hear about that.”

“We won’t say anything,” Franky reassures. “Just make sure to put a sock on the door whenever you guys want some alone time.”

“Franky!” you hiss at him. “What the hell?!”

“What?” he looks at you, unbothered by your clear embarrassment. “Do you honestly expect us to think you guys went out just to look at a bunch of statues?”

“Oh, I’m sure they were looking at something,” Johnny smirks. “It wasn’t made of stone though.”

“I hate you guys,” you growl out, arms crossing and leaning back into your seat with an angry huff. You don’t mean it. He can see the tremble of your lips as you try to contain the urge to grin. “Even if we did end up rolling around in the sheets, I wouldn’t be yapping about it for all to hear, much less you guys!”

“What happens in the gargoyle graveyard stays in the gargoyle graveyard, eh?” Franky winks at both Malleus and you, nudging you with his elbow.

“Exactly!” you affirm, batting the large ghost away from you for some much-needed distance. “Now stop being so damn nosy.”

They cackle one last time and everyone seamlessly goes back to their ongoing game. Conversations like the one that just concluded are commonplace in your dormitory. Even if he contributed next to nothing to the discussion, he enjoys watching them interact. You come from a world where ghosts are hardly as overt as the ones in this world. Ghosts are said to entertain themselves by picking on the living, to the point that it can be fatal. Your ability to come up with witticisms at a moment's notice is something he enjoys seeing in action. He feels great satisfaction not only knowing that he has secured your love but to also see you in a state of tranquility and within your elements.

As Benji and you have a hushed conversation on the sidelines, he reaches over and places his hand on your knee beneath the table. You quietly reach over and put your hand over his, stroking the back of his hand with your thumb like it’s instinctual. Unfortunately, the heart-fluttering moment is ruined by the sudden buzzing of his phone. He has half a mind to ignore it, but when he gives the screen a glance he realizes ignoring the caller is not an option.

“I’ll be out for a moment,” he excuses himself once he sets his hand down and stands himself upright. “This shouldn’t take that long, hopefully.”

They all stop to look up at him inquisitively for half a second. In unison, they ask, “Sebek?”

“Sebek,” he affirms.

There are simultaneous displays of annoyance, pity, and silent wishes of good luck directed at him. He’s tempted to ask where all this contempt for the boy comes from, but then he remembers the many times Sebek barges his way into their dorm at the worst possible moments. It is either when everyone is beginning to settle down after a long day or in the middle of an important house project, the former more so than the latter now that the dorm is much more stable and in need of less restoration. Malleus learned the hard way how ill you and the ghosts will react when your peace is unwantedly interrupted and your space invaded by an unwanted guest.

Sebek is also quick to scrutinize whatever he sees out loud without a filter. You never seem to mind half of the time, merely rolling your eyes and moving past Sebek’s ill-meaning remarks as if you never heard them. As you are someone Malleus highly regards and holds close to his bosom, he hopes Sebek can one day set aside his strife with humankind and give you the due diligence you deserve.

...Though, he completely understands that reaching that point will take time. While you can endure Sebek to a certain degree, there are times where he, unfortunately, pushes you past that threshold and, without flinching, you will tell him to “Shut the fuck up”. Your words, not his.

“Young master!” Sebek's transmitted voice peaks and he has to half pull it away to give his pained eardrums some relief. “I was informed by Lord Lilia that you will be spending the night over at the Human’s dorm. Have you all your accommodations at their estate? If not, I will swiftly-”

“That won’t be necessary,” he half laughs at his enthusiasm over such a small task. “I have enough to keep me comfortable and well for a few days. Your offer is still very much appreciated.”

“Y-Yes, of course,” he stutters. “If there’s anything you should ever find a need for, please inform me at once! I will fulfill your every wishes no matter the hour!”

He’s enthusiastic and ready to act at a moment’s notice, even during the middle of a cold and dark hour. Malleus doesn’t necessarily dislike this part of Sebek, but he’s starting to understand why someone like you would find such subservience difficult to deal with. At any moment, Malleus could ask Sebek to grab some insignificant item of his and tread through the thick snow to deliver it to him, and the boy would do so with jubilation and utmost timeliness. You on the other hand wouldn’t be caught dead ordering someone to do something on your behalf when you believe you are well and capable of doing it yourself.

You don’t put expectations onto the backs of others, choosing to trust yourself first before anyone else. He knows now that it’s a result of the one instance where you expected something from someone, only to be thoroughly let down and left wondering if it was you who did something wrong.

Malleus cannot make up for the pain you’ve been subjected to, but he hopes that he can become the outlier in your life that surpasses any preconceived notions you may hold onto others. He hopes...No, he absolutely will be the one who brings you your well-earned and deserved joy and repose, just as you have done for him and continue to do so.

You love him, and he will ensure he is worthy of every last drop of your fidelity.