#one of these days I will finish the family portrait wip i have
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FFXIV October - Day 24 Childhood
Françoise was a very serious, young girl - both in temperament & countenance. She had inherited her father's eyes, but her mother's stern brow.
Henri, by contrast, was a most anxious little lad who kept to his sister's side as a shadow.
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I've had some sketches for Cessalie x Artoirel kids kicking about for a while, and they finally got names because I was forced to name my Stardew Valley children đ
#ffxivtober#ffxivtober24#ffxiv october#OC children#cessalie sombreterre#artoirel de fortemps#wolartoirel#one of these days I will finish the family portrait wip i have#it's pretty cute
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wildcard!!! I know that you are more focused on writing works centering max, lando and oscar. I wonder if there is any chance you will write about lestappen again in near future. I just love your lestappen works so much and I'm sorry if this question makes you feel uncomfortable đ„șđ„ș
from here
near future no, but hereâs about 5k of my abandoned (little brother of the) prince of monaco charles x driver max wip â€ïž as a gift
The Guardian is first in the round of interviews. A woman named Marie sits across from the sofa, beside cameras, light panels, and mics.
âTo start,â Marie says, donning a sympathetic smile. Max struggles to take her at face value. âI want to acknowledge that Iâm sure this isnât how either of you would have liked your relationship to come out. How are you two doing?â
Max tries his hardest to keep a neutral expression. He scowled his way through the hours of media prep yesterday and got scolded each time.
He shifts on the sofa. For a couch made for royalty, it is not very comfortable.
Of course, it comes much easier to Charles, who returns a warm smile. He keeps his eyes on Marie, but places a hand on Maxâs thigh, to comfort him. God, everyoneâs going to love this, arenât they?
Horribly, the physicality does help. Max takes a deep breath.
âYouâre right,â Charles responds. âIt is not at all ideal, but we are thankful for all of the grace that has been extended to us these past few days.â
Max purses his mouth.
Marie glances at him, waiting for agreement. Instead, Max busies himself with studying the details of the room theyâre in. The Salle Des Gardes: cobalt walls, beautiful flower bouquets, and centuries-old portraits framed with gold. Itâs so beautiful it makes Max uncomfortable.
At his silence, Marie moves on, smiles, and says, âWell, itâs great to have you both here.â
âYes,â Charles says, âit is. Right Max?â he probes, squeezing Maxâs thigh.
Somehow, Max manages not to glare. He clears his throat and manages to hum in concurrence.
âSo,â Marie says, âI guess we can start from the beginning. Iâm sure everyone would like to know how you two met.â
Max is grateful at how quickly Charles jumps to respond, âI have been a big fan of F1 ever since I was a child,â he replies, âbut I did not meet Max personally until the Monaco Grand Prix in 2021.â
âOn the podium?â
It was collateral damage, really, Maxâs champagne spray getting all over Charles during the celebration. Max hadnât even known, until Charles told him many months later.
Charles nods. âYes, on the podium. A little after the race, he was invited to dine with my family, as the winners always are, and we⊠liked each other. We got on very well that night.â
Yes, Max thinks. We talked, we ate, we drank, we got into a huge fight about Ferrari, we got kicked out of the venue hall, then we hooked up in the toilets upstairs.
Sure, they got on well that night.
âWe started seeing each other quite a bit, after,â Charles finishes.
They saved each otherâs numbers, and every now and then, between Maxâs races and between Charlesâ royal obligations, theyâd meet up in Monaco.
âWho asked who out?â
Charles turns his head and looks at Max, expectantly.
Max glares, but Charles only lifts a brow, unwavering. âI did, I guess,â Max concedes, trying not to roll his eyes at the way Charles glows, dimples pressed deep into his cheeks.
In a way itâs true. Max had been the one to shove Charles up against a wall and kiss him, drunkenly and furiously.
For the next two years, it was easy, despite who they were, perhaps because of who they were. They were on the same page about what it was they had: purely an arrangement of convenience. Entirely physical, no-strings attached. Theyâd meet in Maxâs flat, maybe have a drink and talk about the most recent race, and get to it. After, Max would let Charles use his shower, then Charles would leave. Not once would Charles ever sleep over.
Still, they were exclusive, in a way. Max found something good, something safe, something easy, with someone who was on the same page as him. They were physically compatible. They wanted the same things from each other. Max didnât see a need to look elsewhere, and neither did Charles.
Max had no interest in making it any more than it was. Neither did Charles.
For two years, it was simple like that. Max bribed his doorman, and Charles swore his security detail to secrecy. Charles hadnât told anyone about Max. Max hadnât told anyone about Charles. No one needed to know. What was there to tell? The F1 world champion and the Prince of Monacoâs little brother were friends with benefits? They were barely friends.
âYeah?â Marie asks, looking surprised. âWhat was it about Charles that interested you?â
Charlesâ expression is rapt and curious, his focus singularly on Max now.
Well, Max thinks. If they want him to speak from his heart, thatâs what heâll do.
âOf course,â Max says, smiling for the first time since the news broke, âit was not his personality.â
Marie laughs, amused. Charles makes an unbecoming noise, his entire face scrunching up.
âMax!â he squawks, outraged.
âWhat?â Max asks innocently, tipping his head to the side. He is starting to have a little fun. He finds Charlesâ hand on his thigh, lays his over his knuckles, his thumb brushing at his wrist. âI thought we were of course wanting to be honest today. Your personality is not the first thing people notice about you.â
Annoyed, Charles purses his lips. âAnd what is?â
Max hums in faux contemplation. âYour face, of course.â
Charlesâ brows knit together. Max relishes in the fact that Charles is the one on his toes this time. âYou only like me for my face?â
Rolling his eyes, Max says, âIt is the only good part about you.â
Charles squints, licks his lips, and levels Max with a look. Max knows that look: he is thinking, planning.Â
It is pin-drop silent for a short moment. Suddenly, the room feels very small.
Charles leans in closer, marginally, but enough that Maxâs breath hitches, and slides his hand higher up, his fingers firm against the inside of Maxâs thigh. âReally? None of the other parts you like?âÂ
Max lets his eyes wander: from the mole on Charlesâ cheek to the one on his neck, from the dip of his Cupidâs bow to the stubble on his chin. It is distracting and it is unfair, how beautiful Charles is.
âReally,â Max says, gaze returning to Charlesâ eyes. He will hold his ground, even if he doesnât mean it. âNone of it.â
/
Thirty minutes later, Marie and all the cameramen leave. They are given half an hour in private to rest before their next interview. Le Parisien this time. At least then, he thinks, theyâll be more significantly more interested in Charles than they will be for him.
Even though theyâre technically free now, the palace made it clear that they are not to leave this room until theyâve finished the last interview.
Once the doors shut and they are alone, Charles turns and glares at him.
Since the news broke yesterday morning, this is the first time theyâve truly been alone.
âYour team will not be happy with that. You saying you like me only for my face.â
Of course thatâs what Charles will take from the interview. After Marie asked all her questions about the genesis of their relationship, her questions pivoted to Max, about what it means for him to be the first openly gay Formula 1 driver in decades.
Each time he was asked a question, Charles squeezed his knee, running circles with his thumb.Â
Max hadnât met with his PR team beforehandâMonacoâs royalty took priority, monopolized him and all of yesterday. He had no idea what Red Bull wanted him to say, what the optics were, so he spoke from the heart.
His answers were simple: it means nothing to him. It means nothing to what he has achieved. He never wanted to be an inspiration. An icon. An idol. If he is, then he is, but that was never his intention, that was never his goal.
Nothing changes.
âObviously, I was joking,â Max mumbles, standing up and pacing around in front of the sofa. Thereâs a whole table filled with refreshments, and Max is hungryâheâs always hungryâbut the season is in full swing, and he needs to keep his weight down. He wishes they had Red Bull or something, but they only have tea and coffee. He settles for shoving his hands into the dress slacks he was forced into, pressing the tip of his Oxford shoe against the border of the carpet. âAnd I do not think your team will be very happy with you feeling me up on camera.â
Charles huffs. He crosses his arms over his chest, defensively. âI had to make it seem like we like each other, after what you said.â
Max scoffs and sits back down on the couch, toying with the seam of the green plush pillow beside him. âI think everyone is pretty convinced that we like each other,â he mutters, and then, mortifyingly, his stomach growls. Loudly. Itâs the afternoon now, and he hasnât eaten since breakfast.
And Charles stands all of a sudden. Max watches, confused, as Charles makes a beeline to the table of refreshments, shoes clacking against the hardwood until he reaches carpet. There is a way about how Charles moves, magnetic to the eyes. He grabs a small scone, then heads back to Max.
Closer and closer, until heâs settled between Maxâs spread thighs, towering over him.
Bossily, he shoves the scone in front of Maxâs face. âEat. We have a long day.â
Max sighs. Heâs explained this to Charles before, his diet. âCharles,â he says, hoping thatâs enough, not wanting to give the whole spiel again.
âIt is a royal order,â Charles says seriously. He presses the scone against Maxâs mouth.
Max angles his head away. âI am Dutch, if you didnât know.â
âYou live in Monaco,â Charles insists, âand I am the Prince.â
Max snorts. âYou are the little brother of the Prince.â
In lieu of a verbal response, Charles sighs and places his hand on Maxâs cheek, leveling Max with a look, that same one from before. His palm is soft, smooth, but his thumb is firm where it presses against the seam of Maxâs lips, coaxing his mouth open. The ball drops; the rally ends. At the end of the day, Max is starving. He cuts his losses and bites, gaze fixed on Charles as he chews on the stupid scone. Once heâs swallowed, he expects Charles to let up, but Charles raises a brow, pressing the scone against Maxâs lips again. Max groans, understanding, and takes another bite, and another, and just as heâs about to finish the scone, Charles quickly pulls it back, and eats the last bite himself.
Max rolls his eyes. Of course. Charles giggles, and wipes off a crumb from the corner of Maxâs lip. Even when Maxâs face is clean, Charles keeps his hand on Maxâs cheek, smoothing out his frown.
They linger like this for a few moments, and Max feels the anxiety leftover from the interview start to dissipate, his shoulders laxing.
âI know you did not want this,â Charles says quietly. âI did not want it either.â Max swallows, his chest feeling tight. âBut itâs like this, and we have to do it together. If it is to work, we have to make it look real.â
âI know,â Max says, starting to feel bad. Charles got fucked over with all of this too. Today, Charles is more calm, moreâpresent, than he was yesterday, a quiet wreck in the briefing. His mental resiliance really is something. He places a hand on Charlesâ waist, pulling him in closer. âI was of course there in the briefings.â
Charles pokes harshly at Maxâs cheek, like he is trying to sculpt an artificial dimple. âI do not think you were listening.â
Max closes his thighs around Charlesâ legs. He is very warm, and they have half an hour before the next interview. Hm. They might as well spend it wisely.
âCan you read my mind now? Is that another one of Prince Charlesâ royal powers?â
Before Charles can respond, Max tightens his grip on his waist, before sliding his hand lower, to grab at Charlesâ ass. Charlesâ eyes widen, his mouth parts in surprise, and he sucks in a gasp.
âMax,â he whispers, blushing a soft pink. His hand drops to Maxâs shoulder to steady himself.
âWe of course have time,â Max points out, bringing his other hand to Charlesâ other cheek, tugging him closer through the fabric of his slacks. âAnd we have a long day.â
Itâs been months since the last time they did this. Not since before winter testing.
Max only now realizes how much heâs missed it.
âNot here,â Charles mumbles shyly, looking around, as if thereâs anyone else here. Despite his protests, he doesnât make any effort to fight Maxâs hold.
Maybe, Max thinks, Charles misses it too.
âWhy not?â Max asks. âDo you not like being watched by the portraits? They are your ancestors, right? I donât think theyâd mind.â
Charles sighs, but Max catches a small smile on his face. Regardless, Charles shakes his head, stubborn. âIt is not the portraits I am worried about. What if someone comes in?â
âIt will be their fault for not knocking,â Max snorts. At Charlesâ withering glare, he sighs and says, âNo oneâs going to come in. There are guards outside.â
âStill,â Charles argues, pink all the way up to his ears now. His eyes drop to Maxâs lips, then back up to his eyes. âWe will be⊠messy for our interview.â
âBut it will seem like we really like each other a lot,â Max jokes, grinning.
Charles doesnât take the joke well. He pouts and pinches Maxâs ear with his fingernails. Max laughs and releases Charlesâ ass. âFine, fine,â he concedes. âAt least come here?â
Charles pulls his mouth to the side. âWill you behave?â
Max shows Charles his palms, hands positioned before his chest. âI will behave,â he assures.
Charles shoots him one last look, before sighing and climbing up onto the sofa, knees on either side of Maxâs lap, and sitting. Immediately, he buries his face in the side of Maxâs neck, his hair tickling Maxâs ear, and lets out a contented noise.
Max barely got any sleep last night, all wired up, and from how exhausted Charles looksâfeels, melting into him, breathing softly, maybe the first moment of silence heâs had all dayâhe can tell it must have been the same for him.
For a few minutes, they stay like that. Max closes his eyes, stroking Charlesâ back. There are too many layers between them. Max kind of wishes he took his suit jacket off, or at least his tie, before he asked Charles to sit on his lap. Too late now, Max thinks, nosing at the spot below Charlesâ ear. He notices, in this time, that Charles must be wearing a new cologne. It is nice; he smells nice. Charles always smells nice.
Max presses a harmless kiss on the side of Charlesâ neck. Then another and another, until no space is left unkissed. He moves to the center of Charlesâ throat, and Charles lets it happen, lets Max pepper small kisses along the ridges, his mouth closing, softly, over his carotid, Charlesâ heart pulsing like a rabbit between Maxâs lips. Charles likes that: the little kisses. When Max reaches the cut of his jaw, he starts to be a bit more bold with itâlicking and biting gently, Charlesâ stubble rough against his tongue, tracing the contours of him.
Charles starts to let out little pants, his hips starting to roll ever-so-slightly. Max slides a hand between their chests, what little space is left between them, and finds Charlesâ crotch, gently palming over the bulge. Heâs half-hard already. Max hums, pleased.
Finally, he makes the move and makes it stick: firmly, he kisses Charles, right on the lips. It is a tender kiss, but deep and filled with intent. No more pretense.
Breathily, Charles mumbles against his mouth, âThis is not behaving.â He sounds annoyed, but he keeps kissing Max back, keeps grinding his ass on top of Maxâs crotch.
Max pulls away, laughing when Charles immediately chases his mouth and makes an unhappy, surprised noise, laughing when he opens his eyes and sees Charlesâ eyes: dark, pupils wide and wanting.
âOkay,â he says, voice a little raspy, even to his own ears. âWe can stop.â
Charlesâ jaw drops. Outrage is a cute look on him. âOh,â he says, brows furrowing, exhaling through his nose, âyou areââ
He doesnât finish. He only shakes his head, grabs Maxâs face with both his hands, firmly, and kisses him, furiously.
Charlesâ mouth is soft and plush, but his kiss has a fire to them, an intensity; this part has always been the easiest, with him. The physicality. Everything else, thatâs the difficulty.
Their noses brush, and Max pivots away, only slightly, to kiss at the corner of Charlesâ mouth, light and teasing. âYeah? What am I?â
Charles finds his lips again, positions Maxâs head right back where it was, and plants a kiss square on his mouth. âHorrible,â Charles says, and kisses Max again. âAnnoying,â he says, and kisses Max again. âThe worst,â he says, and kisses Max again.
âDonât let anyone hear you say that, of course,â Max says, helping Charles take his suit jacket off. âWe have to seem like we like each other.â
Charles doesnât deign him with a response, merely rolls his eyes and tosses the jacket to the side. He is gorgeous like this: eyes blown and glossy, his mouth parted, wet, begging to be kissed.
So Max kisses him again, his hands rucking Charlesâ button-up from his slacks, until he can slip his hands under the fabric, finding his waist. He uses this newfound leverage to flip their positions, to maneuver Charles so that heâs on his back and horizontal on the ugly, uncomfortable sofa. Charles yelps; his chest heaves, and his throat bobs. He is so pretty like this: in the painfully bright light of this room, it is even more vivid, and for the first time since the news broke yesterday, Max thinks, maybe this will be worth it.
Max takes the moment to burn the sight of him into his retinas: his mousy hair messy around his head like a halo, his kiss-swollen lips parted and wanting, his clothes, even, rumpled and wrinkled in a way that Max knows he hates, in a way that he never lets anyone see.
Half an hour. Half of that is probably gone by now, Max reckons. Theyâll have to hurry. He can take his time, another time.
He forces himself to focus. He takes off his own jacket before he forgets, shoves Charlesâ thighs apart so that one leg is splayed off the couch, then he drives his knee between them. He swoops down once again, and Charles sighs dreamily into his mouth. Max slides his hands down Charlesâ chest until heâs found the buttons of Charlesâ slacks, undoing them with deft fingers.
âThis isââ Charles starts, lifting his hips, helping Max pull his bottoms to his thighs. Multi-tasking, Max kisses down his throat, skips down to his stomach, and kisses at the happy trail leading from below his belly-button. Distracted, Charles moans and writhes beneath him, throwing his forearm over his eyes. Cute.
âWhat was that?â Max asks, amused. He kisses Charlesâ hip bone lightly, and wraps his fingers around the base of Charlesâ length, adoring the way Charlesâ hips buck at the touch. He traces a vein with his thumb, his precum making the slide easy, then spits into his handânot like they need itâand starts to jerk him off. Brows knitted together, Charles squirms, so Max keeps his body steady with a hand on his stomach, feeling the flutter of muscle there.Â
Charles tries again, propping himself up on his elbows so that he can meet Maxâs eyes. His face is pink, and his breaths come squeaky. He scrunches his nose, prissy and aristocratic, and says, âThis is a very old couch. And my suit is very expensive.â
Max sighs and rolls his eyes.Â
âIâll keep you clean,â he promises, and takes Charles into his mouth, hollows his cheeks, and sinks as far down as he can go.
/
Against all odds, they have some time to spare. They spend it fixing each otherâs clothes and sex hair, making each other look at least somewhat presentable. Unfortunately, while Max had kept his promise and kept Charles clean, Charles hadnât returned the favor; now thereâs a probably irreparable stain on the antique couch. Oops, Max thinks, and he makes Charles sit on it for their next round of interviews.
It isnât so bad.
Thankfully, F1 was the only one theyâd been on video for. Charles, for the rest of the day, is hazy-eyed and loose-limbed. Max capitalizes on his distraction, teases Charles as much as he can and knows how toâCharles lets it all happen.
And he seems, almost, as if to enjoy it.
But maybe Max is projecting.
/
By dinnertime, Max is finally released. Charles is whisked away by his brother before Max even tries to get a word in, so he doesnât try. He gets driven home, orders Brad-approved takeout, and calls his dad. Lets him know how the day went. After, he calls his mum, then his sister, and then Raymond. At 8 PM, Brad comes over for training. They talk about things that donât matter. At 10 PM, Max showers, brushes his teeth, turns off the lights, and crawls into bed. He checks his messages. He frowns when he notices that Charles hasnât texted. Max isnât sure why he was expecting him to.
He checks his other texts. He sees that Gemma has texted him his media schedule for the weekend. He doesnât bother reading it, leaves it for tomorrow. He puts his phone down on the table, closes his eyes, and thinks.
In all this time, the world hadnât stopped spinning. Even now, it doesnât stop spinning. Media day is in three days. Infinitely worse: itâs Monaco. Charles will be there; for all of it, he will be there. Normally, WAGs andânow, Max guessesâBAHs are off-limit topics, but thereâs no guarantee his sexuality will be. They will want to prep him. Make sure he doesnât say anything stupid. Charles will be there, and they will have to act in love. Max will have to dodge cameras and avoid journalists the entire weekend. He will have to make statements. He will have to respond. Charles will be there.
On Sunday, Charles will be on the podium.
On Sunday, Max wants to win.
Too much to think about. Too much to worry about.
One day at a time, Max thinks. One day at a time.
/
Voici got a hold of the story first. Apparently, evidence had been slowly building up for monthsâquotes from Maxâs building neighbors and a now-fired member of Charlesâ security detail.
The most incriminating evidence, however, were the pap photos taken of them kissing in Maxâs car.
Theyâd been so carefulâbut maybe, over the last few months, theyâd grown complacent.
The story broke the day of the cancelled race in Imola, first thing in the morning. Four hours later, Le Parisien got a hold of it, and thatâs when shit started to really hit the fan.
Red Bull was blindsided.
So was the Crown.
/
Max had been blissfully unaware until around noon when he woke up. For many hours, quieted by Do Not Disturb, his phone had been blowing up with calls from Raymond, from Christian, from his father. Everyone important in his life. Before he got a chance to call any of them back, he spotted the ESPN notification at the top of his screen:
Max Verstappen: Formula 1âs reigning world champion and first gay driver in decades?
Below that, an Apple News notification:
Monacoâs Sweetheart breaks hearts worldwide? The inside scoop of Prince Charles of Monaco and Max Verstappenâs 2-year long affair.
In a way, nothing in any of the reports had exactly been false.
/
Max was driven to the palace, silently escorted to a meeting room, and he was seated next to Charles, who was quiet and playing with his hands in his lap and looked like he might throw up. In that moment, Charles lookedâsmall. Charles lookedâafraid. Max had never seen him like that before. Max wanted to say something, wanted to ask him if he was okay, but the meeting was in full swing; they hadnât even paused for Maxâs entrance. He settled with placing a hand on Charlesâ thigh, his heart rabbiting in his chest. Charles laid his hand over Maxâs. It was all Max could do. Max was afraid too.
Once he arrived, however, they switched to English, and explained the plan they came up with while he was sleeping: to confirm the status of their relationship, and run a full press tour. Immediately, without coordinating with Red Bull. That the Princeâs little brother was not only dating a man, but dating the F1 world champion, needed an immediate response, and Charlesâ image takes priority over Maxâs.
They needed to take control of the narrative, spin it in the right way: Theyâre in love.
Max didnât understand. He interrupted halfway, âBut weâreââ He glanced at Charles, silent beside him. âWeâre not actuallyââ
Finally, Charles spoke up. He lifted his head, turned to Max, and said, âIt does not matter.â
âButââ
âMax,â Charles said, with finality. His eyes were shaking. He looked more upset than Max had ever seen him. âIt does not matter.â
And that was that.
/
Tuesday morning, Red Bull post official statements on all their social media platforms, and Maxâs social media manager posts a statement from him that he didnât write. He doesnât see any of it himself. He stays offline.
That afternoon, heâs in a few virtual meetings with marketing, and they confirm with him the schedule Gemma sent, that theyâve canceled the shootings he had with Checo, and that they want him to focus on keeping a low profile.
He has done more than they needed him to, thanks to the insistence of the Crown.
The interview with Marie wonât be released until Thursday, but Red Bull had received an early preview from the Guardian. To his surprise, the team is satisfied with it. They of course arenât exactly pleased with some of his responses, and they request that he answer differently and less abrasively next time, but Max is guessing that their expectations were so low that he managed to exceed them, somehow.
They hadnât even wanted him to speak to any press in the first place. Neither had Max, obviously, but Charlesâit would have been silly if Charles had done the interviews alone. Charles needed him there. So.
Wednesday, he streams on Twitch with RedLine. It wasnât exactly news to them or anyone close to him, the gay thing, but the Charles thing, wellâit was a surprise to everyone. Even Max. The boys ask him if he wants them to steer clear from making any jokes about it, and Max says he doesnât care either way. The last thing Max wants is for his friends to walk on eggshells around him; the last thing Max wants is for things to change any more than they already have. So Crane jokes about it, Bennett jokes about it, and Max also jokes about it. They permaban anyone in chat who jokes about it.
 And thatâs Wednesday.
/
Thursday isnât the hell he was expecting it to be.
Red Bull managed to pull strings and get Max out of the press conference and TV pen appearances, and Checoâs been left to handle the fanzone all on his own, so Max stays inside the Red Bull Energy Station, keeps his head down as much as possible, ignoring the roars of reporters outside, only speaking with his engineers and mechanics.
Tomorrow, though, he wonât be able to get around media.
Donât worry about the press, GP tells him in the paddock, clasping a hand on his shoulder. Itâs all noise. Just focus on driving. Nothing changes, at least from our end.
Max tries his hardest to believe it.
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Ok, first at all, thanks a lot @hypnoticmoth for considering tag me â„ People don't usually tag me in... anything in general XD So it makes me happy when they want to include me X) heh~â„
No wednesday but I have a lot of WIPs, justly myself cause... busy with a lot of things :") I'll try to post from the oldest to newest. Surely I will redraw the most of the WIPs
Previous Tag!
I tag before showing my WIPs cause I don't want to disturb peeps with my pics :")
Dunno who tag honestly, I usually tag friends and mutuals cause a lil trust but I don't think I have a lot of mutuals here... uuuhh let's see...
Don't feel forced to do it anyway! >o<
Tagging: @dimneo1010 you bitch, I mention you cause I want to annoy you :3 â„
@smthaboutusss we are mutuals :"3c but I hope you don't mind â„
@strawberry-aliik you mutual :"D â„
And feel free to join, random peep â„
Beware, there's some suggestive pics below :")
Valentino and OhMamaWho-
That's... the second time I drew Valentino (?) This is from 24th April. Only erotic, no explicit. And nope, that's not Angel nor an Oc :") Guess who
When I finish you'll see heh
The 2 Alastor Haters
An attempt to draw an icon of my 2 top husbands together who don't get along with Alastor :"D It was my first time drawing Vox and Lucifer :")
Vel and Vox
Teaming up both because they kick doors with style. Actually Valentino would be in the background just vibing lol
Vox and Morgana
Ah yeah, that's my Hazbin Oc intimating with Vox :") It meant to be erotic/suggestive but not explicit, they are not naked actually XD
VoxVal Doodle
Cause yeah StaticMoth X) I was even drawing Val with more insect legs here
Human Valentino Concept Design
I was trying to design my own version of a young human Valentino when he was an Art student college. Some of my inspirations were Joel (Valentino VA), Freddie Mercury and Elvis Presley. The girl next to him meant to be the human version of his real lover when he was alive. All that from the AU with Dim,
Kinsona / Veesona
Yeah my Kisona with Valentino XD I didn't finish the design aaaah-
Sad Vox
I hated so much how I used to draw Vox (like really, he looked ugly ;-;) that I didn't even want to draw his face. So I didn't finish this one. Surely I'll redraw it better.
VoxVal Doodles
It meant to be a whole canvas about VoxVal and there I even designed my fankid Vanexa :") Need to continue ona day and render some doodles. And finish Vanexa design too eeek...
The Real NSFW (Censured)
We don't talk about my Shark Vox and my first RadioStatic NSFW ^w^ Keep scrolling down
VoxVal Portrait Family
My most recent and last WIP I think. This was for the Hellaverse Kid Week but I didn't have the time to finish it. I only have to render with lighting and a background but I am full unmotivated now for that :") I mean the background ugh...
Ok that's all, actually I have some more WIPs but I think this is enough. I am a big mess for unfinish drawings :") Sorry
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20 questions for fic writers
Tagged by @the-real-azalea-scroggs! Had to wait until I was of my phone because doing these is a nightmare on mobile lmao
1. How many works do you have on A03?
18 as of a few days ago!
2. What's your total A03 word count?
157,937! Which is. Only a fraction of the word count in my Docs folder. Be prepared.
3. What fandoms do you write for?
I mainly write for The Legend of Zelda; specifically Linked Universe! In fact, that's all that's posted on my Ao3 currently, since my fall into that fandom began with me uploading there! Pre-Ao3 I wrote for Black Cat (Anime/Manga), Megaman NT Warrior, various Pokémon things, Assassin's Creed, Yugioh, Final Fantasy XIV and Octopath Traveler! Some of these I still write privately, but I haven't gotten around to re-posting any.
4. What are your top five fics by kudos?
Whistling on Deaf Ears - My longest fic on Ao3, focusing on Wild and Twilight's friendship and how good intentions can lead to disaster.
Iconoclasm - Warriors deals with the room full of portraits in Cia's palace. The Chain also deals with it, but with a bit more fire.
Deserving - Twilight finally tells Rusl that he was the wolf in the village during TP, but that also means dealing with some heavier topics. Colin half overhears them and forms his own conclusions.
Something Greater - The start of the "Hyrule can see magical auras" series! In this one we deal with Legend and his many rings.
Ocean Magic - Mermaid Legend and Zora Time have a race and then fight one of the Big Octos from WW! Fun times.
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
Every single one!! I love comments, they give me an excuse to ramble about my fic more!! I am always down to ramble about every single insignificant detail of any line and/or section. If you ever want more background info about one of my fics, look to the comments!
So please, I adore comments, I treat them like treasures, not responding to them would be a CRIME.
6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
There's no contest; Inevitable, my (so far) only MCD fic.
7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
Hmmm, that's hard to quantify. I usually try to end fics on a hopeful note regardless. I'd say possibly either Deserving, where Twilight reconnects with his family, or Shimmering Blue, Striking White, where Time meets the Fierce Deity settled down on Satori Mountain and they both get closure.
8. Do you get hate on fics?
Thankfully, no! I've been blessed with mostly amazing and patient readers, even when my upload schedule isn't the best.
9. Do you write smut?
No, not really. I've attempted it, but I'm too asexual for it lol
10. Do you write crossovers?
Very, very rarely. Mostly privately, and only very specific ones. Only a single one has had an actual plot, so far (more on that one in question 15!).
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Nope!
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
Also a nope! I tend to write for smaller fandoms, where these things don't tend to happen a lot!
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
I have! But it's been a while. Over a decade, in fact! I tried to find the fic to link it here, but it was on the German fanfic website fanfiktion.de, and my friend who posted it back then must have deactivated her account, because it's nowhere to be seen (I still have the Word file though!). It was a Multi-Crossover that started as an RP in a forum, and we took turns turning the RP into prose one chapter each. "If a Hero Turns to Dark" was its title. We were edgy teenagers.
14. What's your all-time favourite ship?
Hissssss. Bad question. Shoo. They are all equally important!!
But it's probably TenRose from Doctor Who.
15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
One of the very few crossovers I've ever worked on; a crossover fic between Assassin's Creed and Doctor Who, that I have mapped out in both chronological and timeline order, and yes, those are different. I only ever wrote about a quarter of it, since my primary audience of it disappeared when we graduated. I doubt I'll ever pick it back up properly, and if I do it'll probably go through heavy rewrites first since it's so old. Finishing it is a nice thought, but realistically, after 9 years it'll never be high priority enough for it to actually happen.
16. What are your writing strengths?
Dialogue, especially arguments, and emotional impact. I've been told I do really well making characters feel alive and believable! Also I like to believe I'm decent at setting a scene and giving it the vibe I want it to have!
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
I struggle with dialogue tags when nothing much is happening besides the talking. I always feel it's too bland, and fall back on the same phrases. My scene transitions could use some work too.
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?
I've done this with Japanese phrases, because I was a massive weeb. Usually I followed them up with their own translations, though; I'm not the biggest fan of footnote translations, unless they are properly linked to. Simple dialogue tags are my favourite way of indicating a language switch.
19. First fandom you wrote for?
Black Cat the Manga/Anime! It's a series about an assassin turned bounty hunter trying to live a life separate from his murdery past, but getting dragged back into things by still wanting to avenge his best friend's death. The series has a special place in my heart and my bookshelf, it left an imprint on 13-year-old me that will never leave.
20. Favourite fic you've ever written?
Probably Jailbreak, uncharacteristically enough! It's one of the only fics I never got stuck in once. Writing it was a great feeling from start to finish. I love writing all of my fics, but that was a special few days.
Tagging @ahrva @nowhere-to-go-but-down @silvercaptain24 and @aeghina! And anyone who wants to do it, really, go wild
#rav rambles#rav writes#ask game#linked universe#thank you Aza I rambled a lot lmao#rambling is cathartic sometimes#I had a good time!
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Thanks for the tag @kaylinalexanderbooks!
Five Lines Tag
Rules: post a line from your WIP that follows the prompt
My prompts, which are: A line about the weather A line about a secret A line said sarcastically A line about home A line about an animal
Let's see what MG3 has in store
A line about the weather
âAvymere!â they hissed, waving eagerly.
The Duchon jumped, spluttering slightly as they squinted in confusion. Elsind caught the exact moment when they put together who the strange human shouting at them was. The changeling jogged up, a mirthful expression on their face.
âGreetings.â Avymere gave them a nod. âEnjoying the weather?â
Elsind couldnât have honestly told you if it was sunny or cloudy, they just took Avymere by the hand, practically hopping in excitement. Tentatively, a smile made its twitching way onto Avymereâs face as well. It looked terribly strange sitting there. Not the sort of expression crafted for portrait sittings or cabinet meetings. This wasnât a smile Avymere used often, as it was a rare honest one.
A line about a secret
âCool your jets,â Astra made a soothing gesture. âWeâll be fine. These jobsâre gonna get done, no matter how much Antonin thinks he can stall for time. Besides, even if he is a pisswad, helpinâ us is in âis best interest.â
Marius shook his head. âYou donât understand. Maybe you would if youâd actually thoroughly read the contract. Antonin isnât going to give you shit once you finish the third job. It says in the contract that you must accept his decree of completion for the agreement to be fulfilled. I donât know how to make it any more clear, but heâs not going to give you that godsdamned decree.â
âBut why?â Mashal crossed his arms, confused, while Astra gave an indignant scoff in the background. âWeâ Weâre trying to keep this city from being conquered. The entire Montane family will be killed if Vermir gets her way. He has no reason to not work with us.â
âOh, you poor kids.â The banker sighed, shaking his head. âDo you know what a wartime economy would mean for this familyâs finances?â
A line said sarcastically
âOh, AvyâŠ.â Elsind sighed sadly. They got up and, from the sounds of things, began to put together a small tray of food.
âI donât know whatâs wrong with me,â Avyemere choked out. Even talking made their leg hurt. âI should be strong enough. Iâm meant to be. My people deserve better.â
âBetter than some elf half-delious with pain and stress? Yeah, I agree. But also, you deserve better, too. You shouldnât have put that much pressure on yourselfâno one should have to.â The bed dipped as Elsind sat back down. âWhy donât you get some food in you, take your meds, and see if that helps? I guarantee at least some of this is just your body wanting calories so it can heal your leg.â
Glancing over, Avymere saw that Elsind had prepared a small plate of cut fruit from the little coldbox at the end of the room, as well as a mug of steeping tea. Again, they felt even more tears threaten to break past their eyes at the sight.
A line about home
Here, away from the crowd, Astra could admit to herself that she was terrified. Divine magic or not, Vermir had nearly killed her twice before, and that was before sheâd taken the sorcery of half a city. However, her terror was a strangely resigned thing. This was odd, as Astra had never been resigned about anything a day in her life.
Tomorrowâs gonna happen, she thought. I might die, I might win, I might end up lookinâ over a world conquered by that eikodoro monster knowinâ I was too weak to stop âer. All I do know is that Iâm tired aâ beinâ scared. Letâs just get this nonsense over with and call it a day. I miss my cat. I miss my folks. I wanna go home and get scared about little, petty things for a while.
A line about an animal
Tramping through the mud were dozens of hardbitten teamsters, all calling and crowing like birds greeting the sun. Horses snorted and stamped, so much bigger than Elsind had ever imagined, and much smellier, too. Wagons stood in rows like tarp-covered neighborhoods. The wind flowing down from the looming Siegewall Mountains whipped at hair, clothes, and anything not nailed down, kicking up massive clouds of dust that caused Avymere to cough uncontrollably.
âHow do we know how to talk to?â Elsind asked, tapping his fingers nervously. Given the noise of the crowd, he nearly had to shout to be heard.
âWe need toâŠ.â Avymere trailed off as they peered through the crowd. Their expression remained a serene mask, yet Elsind was a connoisseur of faces, so he picked up on the subtle furrow of their brow. The Duchon was as lost here as he was.
I'll tag @leahnardo-da-veggie @wyked-ao3 @jev-urisk @daisywords @theink-stainedfolk and anyone else who wants to play :)
Your prompts: A line about the weather, A line about a secret, A line said sincerely, A line about a house, A line about water
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A little poll to help me decide
Just so you know, I will still write both, but you guys get to decide which one gets to be finished and published first!
Little WIP excerpts for both stories under the cut (subject to change, these are still rough outlines, so be aware that the final product might look different):
Fantasy Story (currently only titled "nyeh!"):
You had once heard that being cursed was the worst thing in the world. To be twisted into something else, to no longer be capable, to lose your youthful beauty, your voice or whatever else you valued. To be forced to hide in the dark and stare longingly at people going on about their day.
How happiness was leeched away, food tasting lackluster and smells itching in your nose and nothing felt right anymore. Like looking through cracked glasses.
But curses weren't anything you had to content yourself with. They were about as important to your life as distant kingdoms and great battles with heroes slaying equally great foes, of dragons nesting on top of mountains and fae princes stealing away mortal women to make their queens.
That hadn't always been the case for your family, however. Your ancestors had been great mages and adventurers, people with big names and bigger legacies. People who had awed and charmed and impressed the populous to the point where they were still spoken about, their portraits found in history books.
There was even a portrait of one of your great-great-grandma's in the local library, painted by someone with magical powers, for it looked like she was going to leap straight out of the painting on her horse.
She was a gorgeous woman with a kind face and a brave set to her shoulders and she had protected the entire barony you lived in against an ancient evil. She had been the first to make a name for herself and all her children followed in her footsteps.
Well, until your grandparents and their children. Every time you walked past her portrait on your way to class, you wondered if she was disappointed. If she had known that the greatness in her bloodline would run dry like a river.
Your parents certainly thought so, the bitterness and fear over being mundane well instilled into them by their already magic-less grandparents. Family gatherings were a tense and somber occasion and you hated them. Every time you were asked if your magic had shown already. If you were, finally, at long last, the one to break the streak of misfortune.
As though they could claw their way up to greatness through you. Even at a young age, you realized you didn't want that. Their expectations felt like boulders being strapped to your person and then being told to go climb a mountain.
Looking at the painting, at the regal woman portrayed who had saved so many and had been humble all her life, using her skills to better those around her, you decided that she would not have been disappointed in you.
Sometimes you imagined her voice when you sat curled up at your desk, eyes heavy from studying and your parents voices echoing in your head, telling you to look at more magic tomes. As though they could will magic into your veins by tossing as much spell theory at you as possible.
You imagined that your great-great-grandma would gently pat your head and tell you that it was alright. You had done well and should go to sleep, she'd take care of things. You imagined her saying all the things history books had written down and that bards sang about even to this day.
How she would cradle the week, encourage the cowardly and shelter the injured.Â
Your other ancestors were just as impressive, but...she was always seemed more present than they did. It was probably because of the painting, though. You knew your family's history well enough, you had studied everything trice over.
Sometimes it frustrated and hurt you, that your parents and grandparents couldn't just be happy. They had more money than they could ever need, the people still spoke highly of your family and they were welcomed warmly. Your uncle was even advising the king despite having as much magic as a dresser drawer.
"I'll leave when I'm old enough," you told the portrait in a whisper. "I'll go somewhere no one knows me and I'll be happy."
If a painting could look encouraging, this one did. Or, so you imagined.
*.*.*
Hero/Villain Story (currently titled "Heart Song"):
The world was full of music and to you, that was beautiful. Everyone you met was surrounded by a melody, some louder and some quieter, some sad and some joyful, some struggling and changing tunes as they tried to find themselves and others marching forward, no matter the mismatched tones and half-broken sounding lyrics.
It had been a struggle, growing up, to not get lost in the music constantly. Your parents hadn't understood what was going on, dragging you to doctors and trying out different medication, until you had been old enough to find the words, the proper explanation, to tell them how you saw the world.Â
A gifted child, your lot were called. People born with abilities that showed as early as when they were infants or sometime late in their adulthood. But the powers always revealed themselves and very, very rarely were not put to use.
You had found yourself responding to melodies that had wanted to be heard and seen and recognized even before you understood what they were, singing back at them clumsily until they had lost a hurt edge, until they had found meaning, until the song surrounding a person's heart rang like clear bells with the sounds of hope-relief-healing.
Becoming a hero had, in a way, been the only sensible conclusion. You wanted to help and you could help, so why wouldn't you? Why wouldn't you help sand down rough edges, help people over a bump in their road, help someone hurting to find the strength to reach out?
Your parents had thankfully been the sensible ones and had cautioned you against accepting just any hero gig, any contract that was extended to you. You had been so excited you had nearly accepted the first offer without question.
But...hero contracts, as you had quickly learned, were rather intense. There was so much red tape surrounding everything and your parents really hadn't liked some of the wording of some of the passages and with great reluctance and perhaps a couple of tears, you had tossed the offers for a job into the trash.
Right up until Redemption & Recovery had reached out to you. They had been a comparatively tiny organization back then, doing their best to help others with the funding they got. Almost all members were volunteers and they offer they extended had, admittedly, looked pitiful compared to the promised salary of the big hero offices.
But their offer had been just what you had looked for. Next to no red tape and your values and their aligned. The moment your parents gave their tentative green light you had called them straight away, telling them you wanted to work with them.
In the years that had followed, you had made quite the name for yourself and the organization, which had grown in members and funding until it was one of the biggest. You were so proud of everyone and their hard work.Â
While you had become the face of R&R, fighting and going to interviews and fan meetings and doing your best to be present online, everyone else had been hard at work behind the scenes. Networking and outlining and signing contracts and keeping the unyielding desire to make the world better alive, no matter how big the organization got.
Redemption & Recovery focused heavily on not only offering recovering villains all the tools to keep healing and improving, but they also offered services to the public to help people stay away from the villain business in the first place.
You still didn't have much of a salary compared to other famous heroes, but that worked just fine for you. You rather donated as much as you could feasibly give to R&R, to help finance the services they offered, the therapists and doctors they had on the payroll, as well as housing aid and financial advisors to help people get back on their feet.
You still received offers from the big offices, who hoped to poach you from R&R and the latest offer had you choking on your breakfast when you had seen the salary and other perks they had offered. It had still gone into the trash, because the red-tape situation had been as bad as ever.
Besides, you were perhaps a bit...unique, among the heroes. The big offices would probably find working with you rather headache inducing.
You raced around a corner, heart in your throat at the sound of hurt-terror-helplessness that filled the air ahead of you as thickly as the dust and smoke that had yet to settle. You leapt over rubble and debris, your breath catching when you heard another bit of building crumble somewhere to the left.
And among the injured civilians, the panicked people, one melody rang louder than the others. Loud enough to drench everything in agony-hatred-despair like a wailing siren.
You had heard bits and pieces of this particular melody in the past and you knew exactly who it belonged to. Eclipse, a high-level villain known for laying waste to entire city blocks whenever he appeared.Â
He was one of the villains who broke heroes left and right if they weren't strong enough to stand up to him and who had endangered many a civilian carelessly. No death count yet, but he was getting closer and closer to it every time he appeared.
Official sources weren't sure if he even had full control of his powers, considering the often haphazard destruction and his at times visible frustration. Whatever was going on, however, everyone agreed that he needed to be stopped before he ended up killing, no matter if it was intentional or not.
Eclipse's focused face turned into a mask of fear the moment he noticed you from the corner of his eye, head snapping around to stare at you.
#my writing#pol#wip#heroes and villains#villains and heroes#fantasy#stories#you're welcome to vote or not#just thought it might be fun to give you guys the option
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I decided on doing monthly updates for BA, so I'll be doing a brief overview of November's progress! I'll also add an 'around the blog' section because some notable things happened/were posted! I doubt this part will be monthly, but if I have a busy month here, I'll add it since I know it's easy to miss some things!
Progress Report:
Updated the demo back in the start of November with general fixes.
Finished the (very rough) first draft of Chapter 1! Current word count is just over 23k, but I'm going back to edit and add scenes/flavor text.
Added scenes/notes to the general outline.
Finished Chapter 2's detailed outline.
Decided to officially add in the poly routes! (remind me to update the main post with them at some point lmfaO). These routes include: Beck/Rook for Dawn and Day paths, Rook/??? for Night path, and Rhea and Zoe for Dawn and Dusk paths! Beck/Rook and Rook/??? are triads ie all 3 of you have romantic feelings for each other. Rhea and Zoe is a V ie they both have romantic feelings for you but not each other (although they'll have a close friendship).
Around the blog:
Painted and posted all the RO portraits!
1k follower bonus stories: Rook's and ???'s
Favorite ask/answer: Some facts about MC's family and Orpheus/Eurydice
General:
With all that out of the way, progress may slow a bit and I might be a little more scarce because I finally got a job! I can't say when Chapter 1 is going to be out, but it should be no later then January (I also made a chaotic decision to do two game jams in December because why not?). This is mostly because I want to finish setting up all the stat pages and have them ready for the next update as well! I'm guessing after edits Chapter 1 will total anywhere between 25k to 30k words. With all that being said, have a very wip preview of chapter 1:
[Text version]
'...You...are..."
You grimace, eyes blinking once. Then twice. You've never slept walked before in your life, but now you find yourself with one hand bracing against the sink counter in the bathroom. Your other hand hovers, palm out, gaze latched onto it by an unknown force.
"What�" You stumble back, eyebrows furrowing as you take a look around you. Something is wrong. Something is wrong.
#BA: updates#BA: snippet#blog roundup#also should I add the prompts I wrote as part of the blog roundup section?#like the ??? nsft one and the ??? possession one#I refrained because this is already So Long asfakjs
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Regencylark please!
From the WIP File Game. Well, this is what contains the draft for Portrait of Mrs. Hawthorne, but also it includes the start of another Regency Everlark fic that I started and didn't finish, which is inspired by Sense and Sensibility. I got sidetracked into PoMH, though, idk why I kept them both in the same document other than I got the idea for them on the same day.
Should I work on the Sense and Sensibility-inspired one once I wrap up PoMH?
Upon his graduation, Mr. Mellarkâs presence then brought with it an assortment of young ladies visiting. Mrs. Mellark had determined to find a suitable match for her son, and his fortune depended on making an advantageous marriage. When Mr. Mellark returned to Victor Park from town, Mrs. Abernathy invited young, rich, single women to stay with them. Always a different rotation of young ladies with perfect accomplishments and a need to perform them for the young man. It quite put out Mr. Abernathy, who should have preferred to smoke his pipe and read his newspapers in peace without the excitement of romance. Mr. Abernathy was then both aggravated and hopeful when Miss Madge Undersee came to visit along with Mr. Mellarkâs usual stay at Victor Park. The young woman was quiet, sensible, and rich. Shortly after her coming, the Everdeens put up an old family friend from when they lived in Seamshire, a Captain Hawthorne, newly rich from the war and from Mrs. Everdeenâs report, he should soon take Miss Everdeen to be his wife. Temporarily, it made his house more active with visitors, but once the young people married, he could have his estate back as it had been when a bachelor.
Thank you for the ask!
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What is Exhibit.txt about?!
Yay! Thanks for asking đ
It's kind of like, a list of significant objects? With notes about circumstances through which they could be discovered, like if they could all be put together in an impossible museum exhibit of the relationship. I started it during one of the many times this fandom has made think about the unfathomable existence of time as a concept.
The "exhibit" is starting to feel more like a memory palace for me as a fic writer though, so idk that it will ever turn into anything I'd post as its own thing? Anyway, objects include:
Discolored red fabric an early naturalist found while dissecting a sea turtle that thought it was about to catch a tasty jellyfish. It was actually two discoveries because he "discovered" the sea turtle species and it was named after him.
A half-finished (for extra devastation) portrait of two figures from the legs down by an unknown artist
A silver spoon so corroded from seawater that it took modern imaging to read the monogram "bSEt"
A brick from a house where a couple of "old sea salts" retired with "a few servants" including "a cook" who made special biscuits to give out to local kids on one "random" day each year (the day was Eid-al-Fitr because I'm a "Roach would have been born to a Muslim family" truther. So would Oluwande in that era tbh!!!!)
...I'm beginning to see where the urge to frame my current longfic WIP with fake academic articles comes from.
There are also scattered notes in the file that make me think I was ruminating over like, historical queer ephemera and how even if we never know details about specific queer forebears we might be able to still "sense" that they came before us or whatever and that makes us feel better about our own existence? Honestly seems like I might have been Going Through Some Stuff. I started it way before season 2.
Let's keep playing! Ask me about any of the cryptically titled docs in my WIP folders!
#ask game#tag game#WIP game#asked and answered#ofmd WIPs#ofmd#our flag means death#fic writing#writing process
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Heyo! Itâs been a hot second since Iâve posted about any writing activity in my lifeâthe end of my university semester + some familial troubles has really kept me away from my draftsâBUT Iâm getting back into the swing of things! I have a new WIP that Iâm hoping to finish the second draft of before my autumn semester starts on August 22nd.
The WIP doesnât have a title for now, but is best described as âDungeons & Dragons meets Indiana Jones meets monster romanceâ and is a cis male centaur x AMAB nonbinary human/elf hybrid romance novella. Iâm hoping to publish it on Kindle and/or Smashwords once Iâve finished the draft and made all necessary edits.
The story takes place in a high fantasy setting inspired by the pre-Islamic Middle East and northern Africa. If I may gush⊠the setting itself is what made me fall in love with the story. Iâve been listening to the Fall of Civilizations YouTube channel and really vibing with the episode about the Nabatean civilization + looking at some stunning photography of the real-world Namib Desert along the west coast of southern Africa.
The first draft of this nameless WIP was set in a generic kitchen sink fantasy universe in the standard western European flavor, and I really didnât click with it; even adding my favorite biome (temperate rainforest) as the backdrop for an important location didnât make me have fun with what I was writing. However, once I changed the setting to something more geographically & culturally distinct, I started to enjoy it a lot more.
But characters are important too!
Taji Seventhborn is a linquist-mage who specializes in translating a variety of ancient languages into a variety of contemporary ones. Theyâre newly graduated from a thaumaturgic university in the (ofc fictional) city of Al-Darabous, and struggle with a mild anxiety disorder. Taji is the POV character for the entire novella.
I used the Baydews 2.0 picrew to make a portrait of them, which Iâm not 100% happy with because it makes Taji look 14 rather than their actual age of 24. However, itâs still nice to have a visual representation of the character.
Cimitrius Firefoot is the centaur character and love interest. Heâs a little older than Taji at 27 and is a warrior rather than a mage. He leads a band of adventurers, and was contracted by Lord Sindiso (along with Taji; that's how they meet) to guard an expedition searching for an ancient temple somewhere among the ghost-wracked dunes of Tindaalo Desert.
Excerpt below the cut!
Taji took a deep breath and looked around the Square. Even though dawn had not yet broken, there were plenty of people about. Veiled women filled pitchers with water from the fountain, their bangles tinkling as they moved, and the first wagons were being admitted through the massive, studded ironwood doors of the Victory Gate on their way to the marketplace. Shutters were being opened in the windows of the tenement buildings that flanked the Square, and street vendors pulled their hand-carts into position in preparation for hawking food, drinks, trinkets, and everything else under the sun. Another busy day was getting ready to dawn in Al-Darabous, andâfor the first timeâTaji would be leaving it all behind.
Their nerves jangled like the delicate silver chains that the Emperorâs court dancers tied into their braids. They scanned the two major thoroughfares that fed into the Square over and over, shifting their weight from food to foot as time wore on. The gray dawnlight blushed into the full brilliance of morning, and a cacophony of bells tolled in the high white towers to mark the occasion. Taji pulled the papyrus letter out of their pocket and read the last lines for what might have been the thirtieth time:
Prepare and outfit yourself for a long journey through the desert, and meet us in the Square of the Leaping Gazelle before sunrise on the seventh day of Firefall.
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WIP
I had a hard time deciding with what part of that tomione fic to draw so I pretty much procrastinated for most of the day ngl (only started working later at night). Happens when I get overwhelmed and feel indecisive bc there are lot of good scenes but it doesn't feel right making only one or two sketches about it. Not to mention, I'm not actually used to drawing anything that's not a portrait or stationary? Like characters posing for a photoshoot (for lack of a better word), or just them standing like a model. That kind of thing.
My usual style didn't vibe with what I wanted to do for the fic so I decided to do a comic-scene thing similar to that shikanaru one I made. Only shorter bc it'll take me ages to finish if I did all (current) 13 chapters even if there's no color. I'm way too impatient for that, plus I don't have that much free time this week since my relatives are here to visit and I usually join them when they're out sight seeing. Family bonding and all that.
I'm quite excited for this though, and I'll just see it as another learning experience if nothing else.
#wip#wipart#fanart#tomione#still lw#planning out scenes is a btch#even if i already have written reference#comics are fr not my forte#it does get more fun once its looking more fleshed out#hpfanart#hp#tom riddle#hermione granger
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WiP
I'm sure you've all noticed it's been awhile since I posted much of anything. Ever since my family and I were sick over Christmas and the week before and two after, I've just had no get up and go. I start things and leave them sitting half done. The sets I posted this month were mostly half finished projects from last year.
My irl projects are getting the same treatment. I just get distracted at almost everything. And I'm sick of feeling like this. Might be the winter blues, but this lack of productivity started when I was ill.
My Wallpaper of the Week sets are parked in "Walls" in Homecrafter waiting their turn at getting finished. I have some done but never made swatches or previews.
So, coming soon are:
More wallpaper and floors.
4to2 Soloriya sets. Quite a few are part done over here.
4to2 13Pumpkin's latest sets - cute desk set and her new dining set. One is almost done. Haven't decided whether or not to make the desk as the mesh is with the two shelves above it as one mesh or separate into a desk and one shelf. I just see visions of me breaking the mesh repeatedly trying to put slots on the shelf. Maybe a omsp a the two heights. Any feedback on that is helpful.
More deco sims. Around a dozen sets by REIGNINGSIMS. a family in the park set that someone requested, (found a rug mesh that would work great for the blanket on the ground, too), neutral props deco sims set 2.
Some military funeral stuff that I started making for last July's theme at GoS about the 70's. Made a military coffin, folded flag, flag to put over the coffin and portraits for an easel,
Surprises for you all for an upcoming HellHasSpoken event.
Valentine's goodies. Just little things mostly.
There may or may not be templates ready for bodyshop. Can't remember.
I'm just slow as molasses these days, hopefully this slump in life will end soon and I can finish my irl and sims projects more readily.
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Super Late Last Lines Tag
Rules: Write the latest line from each of your wips (or post where you last left off in your art) and tag as many people as there are wips you are working on. psyche, no way I'm doing that.
Oh boy, I was tagged by @makkuromurasaki weeks ago lmao. I had started a draft of this so I could get my other WIPs off of my macbook, but technical difficulties happened. Saw this in my drafts the other day and just went fuck it, I already started so I might as well finish.
â I have a WIP tag with others that are already posted. â I also have uh.. more spicier ones under the read more, so please for the love of hell no minors after that point.
These were my brief attempts to art again back in 2017, but dropped it from pressuring myself too much. 1: Anemone from Eureka 7 | 2: My last known subeta avatar (lol) | 3: Hakuokiâs top bloody husbando, Okita. đ
The last one is BotWâs Sidon and Mipha and is also the one project that I reallyyyy want to finish the most out of this batch. Iâm honestly so mad that I donât remember what brushes I used or how I colored this, especially the crescent luminous stones. đ King Dorephan still needs to be added on top so itâd form the crest of Zora with the royal family in each crescent.
Needed to get out some khazras (thanks Diablo 3 for doing one thing right and naming the goatmen from 1 and 2) that I would like to expand on and finish. Bottom two are from when I was in a furry mood last year. I can never decide between a sheep/goat or my fave canine, the jackal. Younger me ended up smashing them together and made a dragon with my fave features from both, so I may have been onto something.
1: Wow one of the few scribbles of Penny, Anyaâs aunt and other survivor. | 2: Mutated Oriental Shorthair bc only seeing untouched normal cats makes me want to see ones affected by radiation. I also love these doofy ass cats and was inspired by a cat that was born with two sets of ears like that. | 3: Bloody Anya thatâs always on my brain. | 4: I will die for Aries and Eugenie. | 5: I want to make a series of animated portraits like the one of Nick. The sketch of Kent made a perfect one to do next. However, I'm not thrilled with how the brush for lining on procreate differs from the PS one. | 6: Hancock and Cait fist bumping. Over what? Who knows... đ€
Dumb comic I started 2 years ago with Danse and Penny besides the two culprits. Gonna have to reline it and change some things around. đ
Tasha and their most worn outfits as well as my anti-power armor rifle toting ghoul, Yul.
Still reworking the Rebecca and Rose piece and a solo Rebecca.
Anya and Cait just having a little tussle. With choking and hair pulling. Maybe might lead to spicy stuff? đ
â Speaking of spicy, once again, no minors under the cut. This is the final warning. â
These are so stupidly censored lmao. Here we have my most recent sketches that I have been trying to destress with and avoid thinking about bs. Iâm totallyyy just practicing how the body moves and not just for the lewdness⊠But seriously, sketching this and people wrestling (for a more SFW alternative) to understand anatomy and how bodies work with each other has been pretty good advice I got from someone long ago.
Anyways, Iâm just gonna yeet myself into a cave from sheer embarrassment and never show myself ever again. đ„Č
#WIP#digital#scribbles#Anya#Tasha#Yul#Last Lines tag#Fallout OC#Fallout#OC#Fallout 4#Fallout 76#John Hancock#Sole Survivor#Kent Connolly#Paladin Danse#Cait#Aries#Eugenie#Cyberpunk Edgerunners#Cyberpunk#Rebecca#furry#Seventy Sixer
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Fandom ask game: 4, 6, 16?
Oh! Hi! 4) Mmm. Attack On Titan, off and on. I think any large fandom kinda just sucks to be in through. I'm not really in the fandom. More like hanging off the edge asking "May I please see Ymir and Erwin?".
Fruits Basket fandom in 2007?-2013 as an Akito roleplayer because Akito is a terrible person. I can't deny that. So everyone expects you to roleplay them in their worst moments. But I was more interested in the religious/familial hierarchy roles they fulfill and the gender fuckery from the manga. And most other people in the fandom circles I was in were there from the anime. So...not only was I roleplaying from a different gender, I was roleplaying with entirely different motivations than the others and it made everything rather annoying. I hated their favorite characters and they hated mine (which is fair, Akito and Shigure are terrible people that are meant for each other.). Honestly, anime fandoms in general have been pretty awful. And that brief trip into Homestuck. Oh yeah. The Borderlands fandom. I love more terrible people in those games.
6) The Locked Tomb because it has very visually appealing fanart and everyone keeps selling me on it. But I don't have the mental energy to finish a book.
I'm playing both Disco Elysium and Hades but they are very hard for me to get into gameplay wise. I really like the fandoms though. So I need to actually play the games.
Barbarians but I don't have the energy for subtitles either. I'm just full of mental blocks lately, but things are getting better.
16) Ok, here are some things I'd like to do:
I want to make a smutty Alexidas comic? series of pictures? to this song. I've had it planned out for months. I have the...references. I have time.
On the same note I want to do a comic of Deimos! Alexios and his...child self? to this song. I think it'd be healing?
I want to write the Eruri modern au/record shop au fic that I made a playlist for in 2018.
I want to make a series of Kassandra pictures in AUs.
I want to make a lithograph of Brasidas.
I want to singlehandedly make a sequel to Dream Daddy but it's just a Mary Christiansen and maybe Val but I've already dated a Val and that went badly dating sim. You can date her and she leaves Joseph for you. You live the rest of your days in a happy group with Amanda and Mary's terrifying children and Robert visits often and gets in recovery for alcoholism.
Uh. I want to write a lot more weird little fics for AC Odyssey and apparently they will all have to do with hair.
I want to finish my WIPs.
I want to start the planned depressing yet wholesome Steddie Christmas/holiday fics I had dreamed up.
I want to make some filthy Borderlands stuff. Idk what kinda stuff. I haven't thought that far. Just. Some stuff. Should exist.
I want to make a massive oil painting portrait of Eliot Waugh from the Magicians. Also one of Brasidas. Also one of Kassandra. Also one of Erwin Smith. Also one of Anna Karenina. Also one of...ok my teenage dreams were oil portraitist so that's just...a thing I want to do.
I want to learn how to sew really well and recreate every outfit Villanelle ever wears in Killing Eve.
I want to learn the shanties in AC Odyssey and record myself doing every voice so I can just do harmony with myself.
I want to write a fic to go along with the Alexidas pieta to explain how I feel about Alexios grieving.
I have a lot of dreams.
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20 Questions for Fic Writers
No one tagged me for this, but I saw it posted by @walker-lister and wanted to jump on board.
1. How many works do you have on AO3?
20
2. What's your total AO3 word count?
94,345
3. What fandoms do you write for?
Doctor Who (so far only the Twelfth Doctor [but caveat under question 14]) and Back to the Future.
4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
Portraits of a Romance (Doctor Who)
Loose Ends and Loose Memories (Back to the Future)
The Post-Game Wrap Up (Back to the Future)
r/ThePinheads: Guys, Marty McFLy really *is* a time traveller!!! (Back to the Future)
Their Song Is Almost Over (Doctor Who)
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
I always try! I love getting them, so it seems polite if nothing else. But on occasion I donât have the time and then the notification gets buried in other emails and I forget to.
6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
âTheir Song Is Almost Overâ ends with both Clara and the Doctor dying after 20,000+ years together, which is probably the closest Iâve come. I suffer from major depression and so nothing I write has a negative/angsty ending.
7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
Honestly I feel like I could say âTheir Song Is Almost Overâ! Clara and the Doctor have 20,000+ years together and an afterlife together, to boot. In the same continuity is also âThat She May Find Her True Love First,â in which Clara reunites with the (original, non-canon, female) Fifteenth Doctor a few centuries after breaking up with her predecessor.
8. Do you get hate on fics?
Once, on a fic I posted on FF.net and not AO3, someone just wrote âFAIL.â
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
Iâve only written smut onceâ"I Need You, Now More Than Ever". To quote the summary, âEscaping a planet after a âdateâ where everything went horribly wrong, the Doctor and Clara find comfort in each other.â So hurt/comfort with sex. There was a four-year gap between me writing it and posting it.
I might do something smutty for Marty/Jennifer one day, but I wouldnât bet on it.
10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?
Not anymore. The stuff I did as a kid was sorta a massive crossover between just about everything I was interested in, but I wrote little that could be called âfics.â Most of it was me and my friends doing what you call LARPing when youâre an adult. The universes involved a shitton of original characters on top of at least Pokemon, Sonic the Hedgehog, Star Trek, Animorphs, Men in Black, and Honey I Shrunk the Kids: The Series (when I could sneak it in).
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Not that I know of.
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
Not that I know of.
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
Not really, though Iâve taken part in a Discord server game that involves writing a fic one line at a time. (Results here.)
14. What's your all-time favourite ship?
The only ship Iâve ever actively shipped shipped is Whouffaldi, AKA Twelfth Doctor/Clara Oswald. All my DW fics involve them, though bits involve either Thirteen with Clara or later, original Doctors with Clara.
I have a soft spot for Marty/Jennifer in BTTF as well. Thatâs mainly the reason Iâve never been able to get through the âMarty gets permanently stranded in timeâ fics out there.
15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?
Oh dear god. First, none of them are postedâI strongly believe in posting only finished works. But in all probability Iâd say Iâm never gonna finish the Mire AU, a Whouffaldi AU that I wrote about 22,500 words for. It was supposed to be a preemptive fix-it for âFace the Raven,â but I later decided that I wanted my Whouffaldi fics to have Clara become a Time Lady instead of using the Mire kit.
Two BTTF onesâMeet the Family and Psychology 135âhave been on the drafting board about ten years but are much, much more likely to be finished.
16. What are your writing strengths?
Shit, this is hard! Iâve been told though that Iâm good at characterization, and also that I weave in just enough background detail to make it all seem real. So Iâm going with that.
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
I spend far too much time on pointless background detail that I canât fit into the story, I have difficulty finishing anything (especially of great length), and I think my descriptions can be too bland.
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?
In one of my BTTF fics just a few days ago, I decided that something Doc said was actually from his German grandfather, so I went to our Discord server and asked two German users for a translation. If there werenât German speakers on our server, I might have used Google Translate and then double-checked with Wiktionary, but in all probability Iâd have not done it at all.
BTW, itâs âEin gesundes MaĂ an Neugierde ist immer etwas Gutes.â
19. First fandom you wrote for?
This is a complicated question, as you could say I wrote âfanficsâ before I was aware of fanfiction or fandom as concepts (see question 10). In high school, c. 2005, I finished a Transformers: Beast Wars fic but never posted it, but I still think thatâs the first.
20. Favourite fic you've ever written?
I might also have to say âTheir Song Is Almost Overâ! To quote another one of these asks I did, â wrote it in a single sitting, itâs epic in scope, [and] it gives a ship that got an at-best bittersweet ending in canon a gloriously happy ending.â
For BTTF, Iâm not sure really. Perhaps âMoving Dayâ? Because I accomplished so much in such a brief space (compared to my previous BTTF fics), and I loved focusing on Jennifer.
Tagging @bg-sparrow, @daryfromthefuture, @synthsays, @mythical-bookworm, and anyone else who wants to do it!
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Can you tell us something about the maxiel artist au? Like some facts about it or something. đ
it is my brain child. my magnum opus. my most beloved and my most hated. my wip I fear the most but also enjoy researching and writing the most. you can read the chapter breakdowns below tho and basic premise if you would like x
it is basically a 5 chapter fic that follows 5 different art eras, where either max or daniel is the artist or the subject. and then an epilogue which makes me giddy when I think about it.
so like ch. 1 is greek sculptures with daniel being a sculptor, who keeps on having incredibly vivid dreams about god max and decides to sculpt his body, all muscular lines, toned chest, thick thighs - an exploration of the body (max's body really). Daniel never sells the piece because he's compelled not to, he physically can't. keeps on having dreams about max. ch. 1 is the only one that's finished but still needs heavy editing and reading through etc. is at the moment 8,000 words so the fic is going to be longggg I think :/ also have a thought for the end of this chapter that I am mulling about but unsure about
ch. 2. is a toss up between two different eras which I am still fumbling around with and researching so not really wanting to share yet x (placement of whether it is chapter 2 or 3 is dependent on its time period)
ch.3 is romanticism era. Max is a travelling artist, old horse carrying his supplies who travels around Europe, painting scenery with romantic elements (not like romantic love but like themes and motifs of that era) and then selling them on so he can get to the next place. Arrives in X (haven't even put down a sentence yet for this chapter, think it will be my hardest chapter but I am still looking forward to writing it) and stumbles into a market where Daniel, a farmer, is selling his produce. Max is starving, been travelling for days, but is more entranced by daniel than his food. Stands and stares for a while until the market dies down and everyone packs up. Daniel comes over and talks to him, offers him shelter and food when max explains who he is. they fall in love max paints the barn where they first fuck, the gaping fields, the sprawling mountain sides. sets up a stall next to daniel's at the market selling his art for very cheap. privately paints parts of daniel, his face his hands (!!!!!!), his arms, thinks he's better at painting landscapes than people, but paints daniel portrait one day and places it at the market and daniel is astouned by it and wont let max sell it. offers to pay for it himself. someone offers max an insane amount of money for it though... more to this chapter than just that, again still working out the niggles, not my most planned and cohesive chapter but we'll get there x
ch. 4 poet daniel, sketcher max, they are both the artist!! (or maybe not I have a second idea for who max will be but I'll dive into that more when I commit more to writing this chapter). both come from rich, old money families, spend their time exploring, devouring art, making their own, old friends turned to lovers, secretly sleeping with each other behind their wives backs. 1920s American vibe trying not to be your cliche great gatsby but that is the inspo almost....
ch.5 mY MOST BELOVED MY MOST CLOSE TO HOME. was a rough idea in my head and then these photos came to light X and the plan came to me in an instance in my head. film photographer max in berlin (I SO want it to be based in berlin but this could change), exploring the city for the first time, away from home, a camera and a rucksack, so many different people and styles and daniel has been living there for 3-5 years knows the good places open max's eyes to so much max wastes so much film on daniel, candid photos of him, photos of him naked in bed, photos of him in clubs, photos of his tattoos, of his hands (again) (this fic is just a study of hands) of him far away, close up. max develops all the photos himself, lets daniel watch but not touch, the photos are a collection of their love and them falling in love hard and fast. daniel steals max's camera often, takes photos of max because he thinks max is BEAUTIFUL HANDSOME SHOULD BE THE SUBJECT SOMETIMES but max just doesn't see it gets embarrassed (THE PHOTOS LINKED WHERE HE LOOKS SHY AND TRYING TO TAKE THE CAMERA AWAY) . I predict this will be the longest chapter because I'll just get lost in it and it already has a lot committed to it already in terms of words I have put down...
epilogue. TO ME!!! the plan i have for the epilogue is chefs kiss perfect to me how I want it to end maybe one of the first things I planned and chucked a few paragraphs down on even though u need to go through all of the other 5 chapters to understand the epilogue (don't mean for this to be so vague but I don't think I will ever give much of the epilogue away because I just want it to be a nice surprising ending idk)
sorry this became so rambly but i am enjoying writing this and researching this so much I actually don't know if it will ever get published and if it does it wont be any time soon at all but I get some reading or writing done for it everyday and I just am really enjoying it idk....and thank you for asking xx <3
#maxiel artist au#my fic#maxiel#dr#mv#will take more questions will talk about this fic all day I think about it and daydream about it so much!!!! sorry if some of this is vague#though i have a big note pad fill of ideas and a word document that's full of an in-depth plan!
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