#played around with my water colour pencils

[marithefriendlyghost]

woe!! almer and _ae art on your feed!!

[cant read my writing?]

- Almer! T-That tickles!

-Oh hush!

[cherryblossom-enthusiast]

Bloom (Joel Millerxf!reader)

A/N: Naaaah whoever decided Joel Miller should be played by Pedro Pascal did it for the people who have daddy issuesssss. Here’s something I whipped out because Pedro leaves in my mind rent free. Pleaseee give me some suggestions or prompts for things to write

I tried starting a tag-list but it literally burned in flames when I tried setting it up. Please just turn on notifications if you would like to be updated for @cherryblossom-enthusiast if you want to keep up with my writing :)

Synopsis: Joel Miller was neither friend or foe. You’ve barely talked to the man considering his reclusiveness. But you can’t stop staring and wanting. Turns out, he can’t stop staring and wanting you either. 

Warnings/ Tags: E (18+). Smut bby. Fluff, GrumpyxSunshine (Reader is a florist!), Unprotected PinV, Language, Dirty talk! Joel, Praise Kink, Rough sex, Fingering, SLIGHT spoilers

Word Count: 5.3K Words

Masterlist 

Your breath clouds your vision like a puff of white smoke.

Winter. The very word is a tragedy.

Food is harder to come by, light leaves much faster. The world is as bleak as it is and yet winter still cascades around you, turning everything black and white. A lifeless painting.

The chilly wind picks up and a shiver runs through your body.

“Y’good?”

The voice is lazy. Slow.

Warm.

Considering who it’s coming from, the level of warmth is a fucking marvel.

A hulking figure approaches your side. With a deep sigh, you turn your head and you’re met with the most tired eyes you’ve ever seen on someone. No shine, no luster, just an outpour of exhaustion from every small gesture he decides to do.

Joel fucking Miller.

You remember the first time you talked to him all too clearly.

You’d never been friends. Acquaintances even. Makes it a bit hard when the son of a bitch was as recluse as he was. They were the new residents of Jackson. Him and the girl he holds tight to his chest.

You were intimidated by him at first. Joel was all gruff words, long sighs, and blank stares. But the more you paid attention to him, the more you understood how he worked. Especially, when it came to the people he cared about. The man didn’t take shit from anyone. Nobody bothered him, and he returned the favour.

For the most part, that stayed true. Joel was the kind of person who always vied to stay invisible, be like every other person. Unaffected for the most part. But as you start to water your flowers on a clear-skied summer day, you hear him laughing.  

The richness of that laugh is still embedded into the deep recesses of your mind.

Joel wasn’t hard to understand as long as you really looked at him and boy did you stare.

You look over to his porch and there he is, “take no shit” Joel Miller with Ellie, teaching her how to play the guitar. You can’t quite remember what they were talking about. Something about “dinosaurs” and “T-rex hands”, but his adoration for the girl was so palpable, so intoxicating.

It was your first time seeing him so- loose. Like he actually gave a damn.

That’s when you knew Joel Miller would burn the world to keep that girl happy.

Ellie’s voice calling your name snaps you out of your thoughts. “How are you doing?!”

The tips of your ears burn, thinking about how weird it must have been staring at the pair for so long. “Enjoying this weather, how are you doing today Ellie?” You flash a bright smile.

She runs off the porch, practically hurling the instrument back at Joel. You hear an oof from the man behind her and you almost let out a small chuckle. Ellie stops in front of you, notebook in hand. The girl was always drawing or writing something. “It’s a great thing you came out,” she starts and pulls a pencil out from her back pocket. “I’ve been meaning to ask all about your pretty flowers.”

“Hopefully I have some answers.”

The girl babbles on about anything and everything she could think of. From what she thought were the coolest flowers, to what colours reminded her of planets. The conversation happens a while. You’d hit every single plant in your garden by the end of it.  

Ellie points at your rose bushes with the back of her pencil. She reminds you of a reporter. All serious, wanting to get a big scoop, thirsty for any ounce of information she could get. “How about those? What are those?”

“Ah,” you move away so she can have a better view. “Those are called roses.”

“Uh-huh” She writes enthusiastically in her notebook “and what do those mean?”

“Well, each colour means a different thing, but that colour specifically-“ you point at the flowers behind you using your thumb “red roses, mean passion, affection, and-“ you pause, trying to find the proper words “things akin to love.”

Ellie stops her writing and looks up at you. Her eyebrows are creased and she looks so ridiculously cute it makes you giggle. “Basically, you’d give it to someone you reaallly reaaallly like Ells.”

“Like- Joel?”

That gets a proper laugh out of you. “Not quite.”

She doesn’t seem to be satisfied with your answer but leaves the reply alone. In true Ellie fashion, she moves on by asking another question. “What flower would I be?!”

You pretend to think about it for a moment even though you know exactly what flower you would give her. Not that you’d given that particular question much thought, but you just knew. When you find exactly what you’re looking for, you squat to quickly pluck it from the ground and turn back to Ellie. You outstretch your hand “I think I’ll give you a yellow lilly.”

“What does this one mean?”

You ponder it, letting out a hmmm and place the flower behind her ear. “Well it wouldn’t be special if I had to explain it now would it? I guess you just have to brush up on your flower language.”

Ellie lets out a whine. “But you’re the only who knows anything about plants here!”

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to bother me more.”

A wild smile blooms on her face.

“Ellie!” You turn to discover the owner of the voice behind you. Tommy Miller approaches your direction, carrying a bag of supplies and produce. “You said you’d help Maria with supper tonight!”

Ellie jumps. “Shit!” She runs towards Tommy without a single care in the world. Halfway, she calls back to you and thanks you for your time. Tommy lifts his hand to acknowledge your presence and in return you lift your hand back to wave goodbye. Before you know it, the pair disappears, Ellie eagerly asking Tommy if he knew what her new flower meant.

“She’ll be talking to everyone bout’ flowers for while.”

Shoulders tensing, you swivel your head to your side. Joel stands beside you, hands in his pockets, a small smile gracing his face.

It catches you off guard completely. In the months you had spent as his neighbour, Joel had never spoken even a mere sentence to you. There was acknowledgement, maybe a simple wave, that nod men his age do when they want to greet a passerby. But hearing him direct his words to you hits you like a wave. A tsunami of shock.

He seems to notice your plight and his once loose posture turns rigid. “Sorry,” he mumbles “I should stop botherin ya-“

You shake your head in defense. “No, no, it’s just-“ Letting the tension roll of your shoulders, you sigh out a laugh and extend your hand, introducing yourself.  He clasps it with his own and your arm goes limp. His hand is larger, the callouses hard against your skin. It should feel weird, uncomfortable even, but none of those feelings come to mind.

“Joel Miller, nice to meet you.”

Maybe you were silly for expecting more, but nothing really happens after that.

There were some conversations about small favours and errands here and there, but not to anyone’s surprise, Joel’s got more than one hard layer of rock. He’s as immovable as a mountain. You naturally went back to the role of spectator. Stupid little crush that wouldn’t go away.

How could it when he was the man that he was.

He repeats his question from earlier and it finally snaps you back to your current reality. You were in the middle of rounds during this god-forsaken weather. “Y’good?”

Joel wasn’t even supposed to be your patrol partner. You had gotten wind that your original partner caught hold of the flu and since Joel was otherwise wide open for the afternoon other than indulging other people’s requests, he took up the opportunity. The walk started off as awkward. You didn’t know what to say or how to approach him so it stayed quiet for the majority of the time, but the more you walked, the more comfortable it became. Usually, going out of Jackson’s walls still scared you. Having Joel by your side gave you a bit more re-assurance. You aren’t oblivious. Everyone knows how brutal he can become.

You shrug and look back at the vast expanse of land in front of you, overseeing from the cliff you were on. “’Just enjoying the natural splendour.”

Joel stays silent for a small while but replies. “I’d believe you more if you didn’t look like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’d get into a ring and fight winter one-on-one”

The comment makes you scoff. “I’m tough as nails Miller.” You stare directly into his impenetrable eyes. “I’m sure I can handle a little snow.”

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

Joel opens the door to a safehouse, making sure not to drop his gun until he knows for sure the area is safe. Once he’s satisfied, he leans the shotgun against the wall and motions for you to come in with a nudge of his head.

Both of you had been making record time getting back, but not even a racehorse could outrun the storm starting to brew. Halfway through your trudge back, Joel pats your shoulder, explaining that with the poor winter jackets the both of you were wearing and the wind whipping your faces, it’d be best to stop by a small cabin him and Tommy scouted a few rounds back. Not wanting to freeze to death, you obviously agreed to the idea.

It left you here.

Setting your bag down, rubbing your hands together, patiently waiting for Joel to start a fire in the hearth.

Joel.

Joel.

Alone with Joel.

He stands up from his crouching position and turns back to you. “You’re free to set-up your sleeping bag closer to the fire.”

“Oh, no- no, it’s alright.” You speak quickly. Almost too quickly. “You made the fire, I think you deserve to enjoy the fire.”

“But-“

“I insist.” You state it in a tone that says “that’s final”.

The man sighs. “Alright ma’am, whatever ya say.”

The two of you unroll your packs, splaying your sleeping bags so that your toes are towards the hearth. You take off your boots and sit on your make-shift bed. It was uncomfortable, you haven’t had to sleep on one in a while, but you’d gladly take anything over having to stay outside. Joel follows suit.

“Turns out I couldn’t handle a little snow.” You remark.

A small puff of air comes out of him. Coming from Joel, it may as well have been a full-blown laugh. You turn to take a glimpse at him and another small smile is on his lips. It’s only the second time you’ve ever seen one on him and it knocks all the air out of you just like it did the first time.

He’s distracted and that’s when you take the time to really focus on him. He looks softer in the firelight, the whites in his hair more prominent, his usual dark eyes having a glow to them. He looks less- burdened, and with that smile on his face, dare you say, despite your current situation, just the tiniest bit peaceful.

“You should do that more.” The words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“What?”

“Smile.”

Like a toddler caught with the cookie jar, a crook caught in the headlights, Joel tenses and you mentally punch yourself in the face. His face goes back to the stoic front he usually puts on.

“Sorry, I was just-“ you start to apologize.

“It’s fine.”

Silence once again ensues. The air becomes as awkward as it was before.

“So-“

“What-“

You both talk at the same time.  Joel gestures to you, asking you to go first.

“I was just gonna ask what we could do to kill time.”

Joel shrugs and continues to stare at the fire. “We could always just sleep.”

“Nah c’mon-“you push “don’t be such a bore.” You ponder some more and think of an idea. “How about twenty questions?”  Your rounds partner says nothing, and you take the chance to convince him even more. “I’ve lived beside you a whole year and know nothin about you-“

“Probably for the best.”

Oh.

You understand. Of course, you do. But you can’t stop the small twinge of disappointment growing in your chest anyways.

When he makes the statement, you pull back. “Sorry, I just wanted to know more about you.” You fiddle with your nails. “Been staring at you for god knows how long and the most I’ve gathered is you like wood work.”

Joel perks up at your confession.

Dumb.

So dumb of you to admit that.

“You’re right, it’s better if we just go to-“

“No, let’s play.”

His sudden change of attitude to your idea throws you in for a loop. “Really? You sure?”

“That your first question you’re wastin’ darlin’?”

Your already tired brain short circuits at the nickname. “What?” No- I-“

The man has an amused look plastered all over his face. “Okay, well- shoot then.”

You think up of something stupid on the spot. “Favourite movie?”

“None. Got too many.” He answers.

“What? Well that’s not-“

“My turn.” He cuts you off once more. “Favourite flower?”

It doesn’t even take you a second to respond. “Oh easy, the lotus flower.” You ponder your next question. “One thing you don’t like?”

“Smiling.”

That gets a genuine chuckle out of you.

“Your thoughts on coffee?” He continues.

Your nose wrinkles “Bitter garbage.”

He puts his hands up to surrender. “I respect wrong answers.”

“Pet Peeve?”

He looks up at the ceiling and takes a moment to really think about it. “When I have nothing good to trade for coffee.”  He takes another few seconds to think of another good question before he hits the lottery. “Why don’t you like winter so much?”

A loaded and good question indeed.

You shrug. “Cause.”

You get an eyebrow raise. “Cause?”

“Cause I don’t know-“ You go back to picking at your nails. It’s become a habit, doing it every time you’re nervous. “The world already looks dead and winter comes along and makes it even more dead.”

“That why you like flowers so much?”

It was your turn to raise an eyebrow. “You’re not even letting me ask a question before you ask me another one?”

This flusters him. “No, I just-“

Embarrassed Joel Miller. Never thought you’d get to check that off your bingo card.

A wide smile breaks on your lips. “ I’m just kidding, Joel.” He lets out a sort of grumble and it makes you smile even wider. “That’s a part of it sure.” Your eyes haze over as you start to remember life as it once was. “My folks were florists” you start to explain “before all this shit went down.” It was a small shop, with wide glass windows, and plants of every kind. “Hated it. Didn’t want anything to do with em’ especially my father, some dumb teenage kid who thought it was embarrassing.” You scoff. “But taking care of plants was the only thing I was good at, held it to my chest like a life-line.”

Memories play in front of you like an old film. Sometimes you forget that there was something before all of this.

All this carnage.

All this wreck.

“Before my dad died, not to this, thank god, he kept on trying to take care of the shop.” You recall his pale ill-stricken face and frail hands.  “I got mad, made a fuss, yelled why he’d take care of some dumb flowers but not himself, and you know what he said?”

You remember his words, as clear as crystal, even twenty years later.

“Isn’t it a wonderful thing that these flowers still grow? Despite all the noise and all the chaos, something as beautiful and as frail as this is surviving. When I think of the way I’m helping that, I can’t possibly suffer.”

Joel stays silent at your admission.

You notice that you may have gone a little overboard.

Jesus- dump it all on him why don’t you?

Trying to make the mood lighter, you quickly change the subject. “Besides, when it’s summer, Ellie visits me more.” Joel Miller chuckles at the mention of the girl. You decide then it’s definitely one of your favourite sounds. “I like seeing the two of you together.”

“Hm?”

“You both always seem so lost in your own world. Nice to see, considering you got that grumpy scowl on all the time.”

“That right?”

“Uh-huh.”

He slowly nods, gazing back at the fire. “Some of us aren’t monsters and smile 24/7 like you do.”

You’re offended by the comment. “Wha- I do not!” You exclaim. “What’s wrong with smiling anyways?”

Even more chuckling. He’s getting real comfortable with doing that. “Nothing, when it comes to you anyways” he remedies “But you do it all the time, watering people’s yards, baking them an apple pie, hell, I’m pretty sure you laughed when you slipped on ice this morning. You got your emotions all over your face you know that? Infects all of Jackson.” He takes a slight pause. “Reminds me of Ellie.”

“Oh god, you saw that this morning?”

“Oh yeah,” He teases, words elongated in that Southern drawl. “Mitts flying into the air and everything.”

Your face practically feels like an oven. “How do you even know about all of that?”

Joel shrugs. “Cause.”

“Cause?”

“Maybe you haven’t been the only one staring for god knows how long.”

Time stops.

Suddenly, air doesn’t matter, heat doesn’t even come close to existing. A supernova could happen, and you’d sit here just as shell-shocked. Nothing matters other than Joel.

Joel and his stupid accent.

Joel and what he just said with that stupid accent.

You swallow thickly and bless your heart, you don’t know what comes over you, but you take a chance to keep pushing. “You think I’m gonna “infect you” with tons of smiles soon too, cowboy?”

He doesn’t reply all to quickly, and for those couple of seconds where all you can here is the fire crackle and the wind whipping outside, it feels like a brick ton is laid upon your shoulders.

“Maybe you already have.”

Goddamn.

All the stolen glances you’ve taken of him flashes in your mind.

“Joel,” you mutter. The man beside you continues to stare at the fire, refusing to make eye contact with you. “Joel.” You repeat, more firm with your tone.

He finally decides to look in your direction and God- your heart pounds so hard, you think it might just come out of your chest. Those eyes. Those damn coffee-coloured eyes of his that usually looks so cold, so despondent are the warmest colour of molten chocolate you’ve ever seen. You can tell he’s clenching his jaw and the view almost knocks you out cold.

With a shaky breath, you start to messily list all the things you’ve always wanted to say. “Tell me now if I’m taking this the wrong way so I don’t keep embarrassing myself, but I swear to everything I hold sacred, if I don’t kiss you right now, I’m going to have a very frustrating ni-“

A growl from Joel cuts you off and before you know it, he’s crossing oceans to get to you. A strong hand grips you by the neck, and firm lips plant themselves squarely on yours.

It’s pathetic how fast you keen under his touch, how fast you grab the collar of his shirt to draw him closer to you. You open your mouth to moan and he takes that chance to slip his tongue inside of your mouth. It’s dizzying, downright intoxicating the way Joel kisses you. The way you’re kissing each other is every look, every stare, every word that was ever left unsaid between the both of you that’s exploding into something cosmic.

You lift yourself up and straddle his lap. You press down and feel the growing hardness in Joel’s jeans. He groans into your mouth and you continue to press your hips down farther.

Joel stops kissing you. A needy whine escapes your lips. “Are you sure you want this darlin’?”

Your panting is heady. “Joel if you don’t fuck me right now, I’ll have the liberty of fucking myself with my fing-“

You know you sound downright hopeless, but you’ve been wanting for so damn long.

He flips you down onto the sleeping bags so fast, you don’t even have time to finish. He rucks up your shirt and starts to pepper small kisses from the center of your breasts, down to your stomach. It makes you whimper as you continue to finish taking of your top.

Joel gets to quickly unbuttoning the rest of your clothes, peeling the jeans off of your body until all you have on is your bra and panties. He hovers over you and takes off his own shirt. He’s all muscle and hard chest. The mere sight of him shirtless drenches your underwear faster. He takes a few seconds to peer at your half-naked form. “Damn, you’re a sight.”

“So are you.” You admit in a small voice.

He wastes no time, delving back in between your legs. He slides down your underwear and immediately ghosts his fingers over your cunt. Shivers run down your body as your eyes close in bliss.

“You imagine it was my fingers?” His dark voice pulls you back.

“Ever since I first set my eyes on you Miller.” You heatedly reply.

“Great,” he pushes two fingers inside you making you boom a moan towards the ceiling. “Been thinking it was your fingers around my cock too.

He works into you, his fingers large and stocky. Joel starts off slow, languid, making sure to tease every reaction out of you. You don’t think it’s possible to get wetter than you already are, but every thrust of his fingers proves you wrong. He curls both at the same time, and your hips immediately lift from the pressure. Joel pushes you down with his other hand. “Na-ah darlin’,” That southern drawl of his is deeper, lazier than usual “I finally got you where I want you, you’re not going anywhere.”

As he keeps your hips down with his palm, Joel increases the speed of his fingers. “Why didn’t-“ you choke “you do anything earlier then?”

A mocking scoff leaves him. “You’re too good for me, doll. Got too many issues. “

“Then why now?”

“Because I’m still a selfish fucking asshole.” He groans, rotating his thumb around your clit. “And when you sit in front of me, all flushed and pretty, asking me to fuck you, how could I possibly have the strength to say no?”

You see Joel spit on your slit and it’s what does it for you. A rush of electricity passes through your body and it renders you senseless. You mewl and twist in his hold, but Joel makes sure to hold you through your orgasm.

Your mind is hazy, it turns into a mixture of fog and smoke, but your refuse to leave him hanging. After a few seconds, you prop yourself up and kneel right in front of him. Not breaking eye contact for even a moment, you take your hand and start to palm his length over his jeans. He trembles beneath you, jaw clenching as he lets out a groan. You slowly unbuckle his belt, pulling down the rest of his clothing and waste no time finally gripping him directly.

Shit, you knew a man like him would be big, but this is-

The sound that comes from Joel’s throat is devastating. Somewhere between pant and moan, losing total control. He thumps his head on your shoulder, seeking out the crook of your neck. You continue to work his cock, building up speed, tightening your grip. His tip leaks pre-cum and the way he bunches up your hair desperately, like he needs to hold onto something to keep from losing control only prompts you to keep going. The feeling of power is addicting. “Don’t mess with me” Joel Miller keening under your touch.

He suddenly pulls your hair and it’s enough of a shock to make you stop your hand and whine. “I know you’re having fun doll, but you keep doing that and I’ll finish. Waited too damn long for that to happen.” He grabs you by the hips and flips you over making you let out a small yelp. He positions you so that your ass is towards him. “Bend.” He orders.

So you do.

He palms your ass and gives it a spank. “Do you know how long I’ve been wanting to touch this? Flaunting it around-“ He squeezes “shoving it in my direction, wearing those pretty dresses of yours.”

“Ever think it was on purpose?”

There’s another slap to your ass to respond to your comment.

He lines up his cock to your entrance, gliding his tip to coat it in your wetness. You quiver, breath hitching, skin prickling.

“If I fuck you, there’s no going back for me darlin’, if you want me to stop you have to tell me right now.”

You groan in frustration. “Fuck me Joel, please just-“

He buries his full length into you all in one thrust.

You think you’re ascending to heaven, knocking on the pearly white gates itself. He gives you a couple of seconds to get accustomed to his massive size. “You okay?”

“Mmhm?” Is all you can make out, trying to nod your head that’s pressed up against your sleeping bag.

“Good,” he starts to move as you cry out in pleasure. “Tell me to stop and I will, but otherwise-“ He shoves himself even deeper. “I’m not holdin’ back.”

Joel sets up a brutal pace from the beginning. He grips your ass tight, making sure you’re taking everything he has to give and all you can do is let him. There’s nowhere for you to go as he drives his hips into you, fully filling you up with every fast snap of his hips. To say it’s overwhelming would be a complete understatement.

Are you sure this is the same Joel Miller? Cool, calm, composed Joel Miller that has everyone quaking in their boots the minute he holds a knife or a gun. Because right now, he’s so undone. There’s no pattern to the way he moves in you, no finesse, just pure want.

He places his hand that was on your ass to your scalp. He pulls you up using your hair and once you’re flush against his back, he grasps your neck, continuing his unrelenting tempo to your pussy. You tighten around him.

“You like that huh?” He comments in an amused tone. “Who knew the town sweetheart was so fucking naughty like this.” You want to try and come up with a witty response, but all that comes out is a garbled moan. “Actually, don’t tell me. I’d kill anybody who does know.”

His thumb raises to your lips and you take the liberties of sucking it into your mouth. His hold on your neck slackens and the sudden rush of oxygen to your head has you teetering on the edge of consciousness. He takes his arm that’s around your stomach and travels it down further to your swollen cunt. Joel starts to roll your clit between his fingers and you think you’ll really black-out then.

“God, such a good girl, even when taking cock.” He whispers into your ear. You clench around him even harder this time and he knows you’re close. “You gonna come doll? Gonna come on my cock?”

A needy whine escapes your throat. Each roll, each rut, each jerk, grows more intense as each second passes. “C’mon,” he coaxes “do it.” With one last pinch to your sensitive clit, your muscles tighten and heat spreads across your skin. Your walls flutter and as your eyes roll back, vision blurring, you are hurled into your climax. With a choked sob, you slump forwards and the only thing helping you stay up is Joel’s hold. He follows you shortly after, sputtering your name on his lips. Pulling out quickly, he comes on your back.

Joel slowly lowers down the both of you, making sure not to crush you with his weight from behind. It was so gentle, so benign you struggled to relate it to the man furiously fucking you just a few moments earlier. Nothing but your pants fill the air for a while. You’re sticky all over, sweat and come coating your skin. Your body was buzzing from both pain and pleasure, but you couldn’t care less.

You roll your body so you can look at him. Joel’s face was and wasn’t everything you expected it to look like. You expect the flush, the hair sticking to his forehead, the clench of his jaw. What you don’t expect is the softness in his usual impenetrable gaze.

“I’m sorry.” He grumbles.

Your eyebrows knit and you place a palm against his cheek. Joel all but melts into your touch. “What for?”

“For wanting you this much.”

Taking both your arms, you wrap them around his neck and pull him towards you. He lays against you, hie ear right beside your mouth. “Thank you.” You whisper.

“What for?

“Wanting me this much.”

You hear his sharp intake of air and smile. You continue to pet his hair, peppering small kisses on his forehead. “I want you too, Joel.”

“You shouldn’t.”  He mutters a tired reply.

“But I do.” You take a deep breath and let him know all your thoughts. “I want all your grumpy stares, and your grunted words- You pause to give him another kiss “Your silent kindness, and that rare smile of yours.” Joel doesn’t say anything back so you continue to talk. “All of it. Will you let me have all of it?”

He pulls himself back, just enough to gaze back at you, full of admiration. “Just let me have all of you too.”

The beating of your heart doesn’t speed, doesn’t flutter past the finish line, instead opting for a slow steady pace, But the feeling in your chest was so heavy, so full, that you couldn’t mistake it for anything other than devotion. You grin from ear to ear. “Who would be able to say no at getting a chance to annoy you with more conversation.”

He lifts an eyebrow, and it only makes your heart fill up with even more with adoration.

This man that you’ve been pining for, holding you close here. Now.

You don’t know what will happen tomorrow. Hell, you don’t know what will happen a few seconds from now, how this whole unpolished attraction between the two of you will buff out. The wind is still howling outside, whipping away at all the destruction and the carnage happening around you, but for now the world is still. The both of you are inside this cabin in the woods and for now, you don’t think, don’t plan, only exist and it is everything.

Maybe later you can hope that in this winter, something beautiful and strong can grow too.

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

It’s late in the evening when you finally get to relax the next day. Once the both of you had returned to Jackson, there were too many errands that had to be rushed in the time that you missed. Nothing else could be said other then a quick farewell between each other.

As you drag your exhausted body up the stairs of your porch, you almost don’t notice the flower in front of your doorstep, nearly stepping on it.

A wave of warmth comes rushing up from your toes.

You beam as you crouch and pick up a singular red rose attached with a note that says “Come over. We didn’t finish our game of twenty questions.”

- - - - - - - -

Want More?

[deppye]

With a swift movement, the foxy fey pushed you onto the bed and quickly climbed on top, your legs seized up beneath her, fusing and smoothing out into a thick rubbery mermaid tail.

"You know. I'm glad to finally be doing this." She said looking down at you with a bitten lip, you squirm beneath her weight as your waist cinches, seams drawing themselves down to an air nozzle where your bellybutton formerly was two seconds ago.

"When you first summoned me, I thought you were just another lonely nerd who was willing to sign their soul away for a quick fuck. Colour me shocked when you didn't take my offers right away and just kept me around. Do you know what that felt like?"

Your squirming is getting weaker and weaker by the moment, seams creep up your upper body, capping inflating breasts with yet more air nozzles. Your arms lock up at your sides with flesh-coloured rubber, hands stuck upward as they merge into shiny mitts. The vixen leans in close, her face framed with a domineering grin.

"It drove me fucking crazy. Here it was, a cute lady with zero aspirations, rotting in her home all day and fantasising about a dommy woman coming along and turning her into a pencil, or a water bottle... or a cute inflatable~"

Your neck stiffens, you can feel the tingle rubber lapping at your chin.

"And yet it took me ages to get through to and convince you with a little word play. But you know what? That's what makes this victory all the more satisfying. I've forgotten what it was like to have a challenge."

You open your mouth, but the tingling washes over your face. The kitsune waves her hand and a hand-mirror manifests in her hand, grinning she lifts it up to your face, your eyes glance down at your mouth and nose, the former now flat against your head as a painted-on permagrin and the latter now completely gone. Your eyes begin to force themselves back up, and you watch in the mirror as they flatten and round out into cartoonish-painted aproximations of themselves. The changes rounding off as your hair smooths into a simple rubbery bob matt. Now a full inflatable mermaid, the fey woman lays down on you, her weight felt nice before, but now? It feels GOOD.

"Now? Your mine. For a week at least, as dictated by our contract. But I think you'll find that's more than enough time for us to have plenty of fun with each other. I assumed from your facial expressions before I made you all smooth and stupid you were enjoying this plenty. But do try to relax if you haven't already. We have all week, after all~"

[inkednotebook]

Thank you @kaylinalexanderbooks and @willtheweaver for the tags!

Rules: answer the prompts for an OC

Tagging @meerawrites, @illarian-rambling, @mjparkerwriting, @bardic-tales, and @peachesandghosts

From my WIP Icing Waved Off

Full name: Theodore Alexander Wilson

Age: 24

Gender: Cis male

Species: Human

Appearance: Pale skin with pink undertones, no birthmarks or freckles, really. Short, chocolate-brown hair, often swept back; faded shave around the ears and nape of the neck; longest pieces touch the top of his ear. Hazel-coloured, slightly downturned eyes. Angular features (nose, cheeks, and jaw). 6'1" or about 185cm. Broad shoulders, boxy-shaped torso. Strong, muscular legs (especially thighs).

Occupation: Pro/NHL hockey player

Family members: Isn't super close with them, in part because he lives relatively far away for his career. As such, I haven't fully developed these characters yet. His dad, Greg Wilson, is a cop. He was pretty hard on Teddy and his brother growing up, but it's because he wanted them to succeed and wanted them to work hard (though he could've done a better job at showing them love). He has some pretty traditional gender views (e.g., "man" of the house, heteronormative but not necessarily homophobic). Teddy's mom, Libby Wilson, is an elementary school librarian. She's much softer than Greg, but never really spoke up if/when Greg was being hard on the boys growing up. Teddy's brother Nicholas is a few years older and is doing his PhD in psychology and has a habit of psychoanalyzing people and situations rather than listening. He's engaged to his fiance Kylee.

Teddy's extended family is spread out across New Brunswick and eastern Ontario (Canada). On his dad's side, he has an aunt and uncle who live in Moncton, NB, and a "dickhead uncle" (as James calls him) who lives in Fredericton, NB with his grandparents. He has cousins in Ottawa, ON - his Moncton aunt and uncle's kids. On his mom's side, he has an aunt and uncle who live in Kingston, ON, and who have a couple kids a few years younger than him. He also has his grammie who lives in Kingston - she lives in a retirement community where she found "her new beau" (also according to James).

Best friends: James Parker

Pets: None. He never had any growing up because his brother's allergic to most animals and his parents didn't want any reptiles or anything. With his job being so hectic, he doesn't have the right lifestyle for a pet at the moment.

Describe their room: Mostly decorated by his fiance Eleanor. Large king-sized bed with pale blue sheets and teal, paisley-printed duvet. White bookcase near the window with novels, trinkets, and pictures. A small armchair next to the bookcase; black suede with a pale blue throw blanket and matching pillow. White dresser across from the end of the bed with jewellery boxes/displays atop. White bedside tables with books and magazines on top. A walk-in closet near the back corner, next to which is the entrance to the master bath.

Way of speaking: His voice is pretty even-toned most of the time. He uses a lot of sports slang in his speech. Hesitates and stumbles over words when anxious. Ontario accent.

Physical characteristics: Nothing I didn't already mention.

Items in their bag/purse: When they're on roadies, his carry-on usually has: a sleeping mask, a book, phone charger, his meds/vitamins, noise-cancelling headphones, a pack of playing cards, an extra sweater, a Sudoku book + pencil, lip balm, pack of gum, snacks (assorted nuts, granola bars, and maybe an apple or banana), and a water bottle.

Hobbies: Other than playing hockey, he enjoys reading (especially mystery novels), playing video games (not really open world/story-based ones, but ones like Mario Kart, Mario Party, NHL The Show, MLB The Show, and fun party/co-op games), watching Star Trek, watching baseball and sometimes football, and doing puzzles (both brain puzzles and physical puzzles).

Favourite sport: Hockey, duh.

Abilities/talents/powers: He's very athletic (again, duh). He's a great hockey player. He's a pretty fast reader. He's an okay cook. He's good at brain puzzles (like Sudoku).

Relationships: At the beginning of the book, he's engaged to his high school sweetheart Eleanor Montgomery. Their relationship is very much based on emotional co-dependency from when they were teens. They "...fell in love young" and "What do seventeen year olds know about love anyway?" (-El). Not a healthy relationship on either end. Teddy pushes down his feelings and hides parts of himself around her and he ignores his gut telling him something's wrong.

With his teammates, he's much more comfortable. He's open and free and goofy. He lets himself relax and even lets himself break down at times. He still pushes down his feelings when around others a lot, and he isn't good at vocalizing his feelings with certain people. He's closest with his teammates James, Marcus, and Mickey.

Fears: Failure. Disappointing loved ones. The unknown.

Faults: Oh boy, he has many. He's a flawed individual, especially at the beginning of the book. Kind of touched upon it, but he's not good with feelings. Or at least he has a habit of shoving down his actual feelings to please others. He can be selfish at times without realizing it. He sometimes turns to alcohol and cigarettes to cope with his thoughts.

Good points: He cares so deeply about people. He's a hard worker. He's a good listener. He's open-minded. He's witty/can make people laugh.

What they want more than anything else: To win the Stanley Cup. But also just be happy with who he is.

[sacredspaceofkee]

my pink princess routine

my intentional morning routine

♡ The sun gently rises, casting a soft glow through the window as I wake up at 6:00 AM, feeling refreshed and ready for the day ahead. I reach for my journal, a beautifully bound pastel book filled with delicate flowers and inspiring quotes, and begin to write down my dreams and aspirations for the day. After, I stretch out on my pastel pink yoga mat, taking in deep breaths of lavender-scented air as I ease into my morning yoga routine, feeling the stress and tension of the day start to melt away.

♡ Next, I brush my hair, feel the soft bristles run through my tresses, and then gently brush my teeth, enjoying the minty freshness that fills my mouth. With a clear mind and a calm spirit, I open a book and read a few pages, lost in the world of literature.

♡ As the clock strikes 7:40 AM, I head to the kitchen, where I have set up a delightful breakfast and a steaming cup of herbal tea. I spend a few moments scrolling through my social media feed, admiring the work of fellow artists, and engaging with them, gaining inspiration for my own creative work.

♡ At 8:00 AM, I pick up my apple pencil and begin to create, feeling the joy of self-expression flowing through me. As I draw, I imagine the delicate lines and pink colours of my artwork gracing my Instagram account, inspiring others to create and follow their passions.

♡ At 9:00 AM, I step into the shower, letting the warm water wash over me, feeling rejuvenated and refreshed. I spend some time taking care of my skin and body, using only the gentlest and most natural of products. With my skin glowing and my body relaxed, I sit down to meditate, calming my mind and setting intentions for the day ahead. I create a to-do list, listing all the things I want to accomplish, and the steps I need to take to achieve them.

♡ By 10:00 AM, I am ready to start my work as a visual designer, bringing my creative vision to life with each project I undertake. The soft pastel colours and gentle lines of my designs reflect my feminine and delicate spirit, and I feel pride and joy with each completed project.

♡ At 1:00 PM, I take a break for lunch, and take a quick walk or stretch, breathing in the fresh air and enjoying the beauty of nature around me.

♡ As the clock strikes 5:30 PM, I finish work and step outside to have some snacks, soaking in the beauty of the pastel-hued world around me, and the soft breeze playing with my hair. I take a few moments to unwind, without any distractions, just admiring the beauty of the world around me.

♡ Back home, at 6:30 PM, I wash my face and do my evening skincare routine, using only the gentlest of products, feeling the care and love I give to myself. With a refreshed and glowing face, I sit down to study, spending 1-2 hours learning frontend development through online courses or tutorials, expanding my skill set and knowledge.

♡ As the clock strikes 9:00 PM, I enjoy a wholesome dinner, filled with colourful and healthy foods. After dinner, I spend some time using my phone or watching something on my iPad.

♡ As the clock ticks closer to 10:00 PM, I turn off my phone and dim the lights, allowing my body and mind to unwind from the busyness of the day. I focus on my breathing, inhaling the soothing scent of lavender that fills my room and let my mind drift into a peaceful state.

♡ Finally, as the clock strikes 10:30 PM, I let myself drift off into a deep and restful sleep, feeling the softness of my pastel-coloured sheets and pillow under me, and dreaming of a world filled with gentle hues and delicate beauty.

[anime-grimmy-art]

Hi! I was wondering if you would be able to share what program/brush settings you use? I found you through your LN Harpy Hare video and was stunned at how amazing it is, I've gone back and watched it at least ten times in the past two days lol I love the style so much!

Hi! Thanks and rly glad you liked the animatic

And yes sure, I don't mind :D I use Pain Tool Sai Ver.2 (it has various rulers AND a text tool, I feel so spoilt)

My general brushes are the following: (Note, dont look at the brush size in these, not relevant for settings)

Default water colour brush, slightly adjusted - I use this one for almost everything. It is my sketch brush and mostly my lineart brush too. Since it's somwhat see through it helps me stay more loose and shapey while sketching, and it also makes the lineart rather soft. If I wanna do proper rendering I just copy paste the lineart art and add it on top to make it more solid. For the colour of the lineart, I also don't go 100% black, it's more a reddish brown!

I sometimes use this for for colouring and shading too, but usually I put down base colours with the default Pencil. Though, for about a year, Ive been using a new brush I made, which is the "Soft Water" brush. It's just a more blurry and soft version of the Water Colour Brush that I use to be a bit more painterly. I usually have it on "Flat Face" to get some hard edges in shading but I also play around a bit.

Now, the star of the LN animatic is my new-ish "Rough" brush! I googled how to make a "pencil texture" and experimented from there. I also like using it for faux-lineart -ie making lineart but being too lazy to actually play with linewidths. I love that this brush makes stuff look proper cos the rough texture makes some mistakes look intentional lol

I usually have it on Blots&Noise, which is cos I usually throw on some noise filter onto my drawings so they look more soft and natural, especially when Im going for warmer colours.

If I dont count the pencil, bucket tool and occasional airbrush, this are all the brushes I use!

If youre interested on any other details or processes, please let me know, I dont mind sharing! :D

[blood-red-ocean]

really glad u loved the idea! i was afraid it's too silly cause I'm not thinking properly right this moment(it's past 3am in my country)

anyway, thank you for agreeing to write for femSal! can't wait to see what you come up with!

Sorry it took so long, this is my first request so I wanted to make it perfect!

Fem!Sal x Reader

The original request can be found here! This work is inspired by @classyfruit's genderbent Moreau art! Word count: 2.3k. Warnings: None

There may be typos <3 -----------------------------------------------------------------

The crunching of leaves underfoot ignited a kind of childlike joy in you as you wove your way through the trees. The snow was melting, the harsh winter finally coming to an end and at last, you were able to return to your favourite place in the Village.

The sun would no doubt have melted all the ice away by now – or at least you had heard from your neighbour that the lake was liquid once more, he had seen it on his way back from his foraging trip and he wanted to let the Village’s resident ‘water baby’ know. As soon as you had heard the news, you packed your satchel to the brim with your sketchbook, pencils, and snacks enough to last you hours, and off you went.

The sun warmed your shoulders and face as you went, and you took a moment to let your head fall back, relishing in it. Three months cooped up inside your house had taken its toll, and you were ecstatic to be out in the fresh air again. As you approached the lake, a slight breeze kicked up, sending the faintest of ripples across the surface, warping the reflections of the nearby trees. The ground was soft and muddy from the melting snow, but thankfully your usual spot – a large, flat rock, jutting out over the water – was free of dampness. You climbed atop it with a grunt and settled down, letting the sun warm you for a moment, basking in the feeling.

You frowned slightly into the distance a while later, your sketchbook open in your lap. You chewed absentmindedly on the end of your pencil, waiting for inspiration to strike you. The sunlight was casting thin ribbons of parchment-coloured light through the gaps in the trees on the opposite side of the lake to you, and you just couldn’t figure out how to encapsulate it within a drawing. But damn, you wanted to.

A faint splashing sounded from below the edge of your rock seat, and you put your sketchbook aside, leaning slowly over the edge and looking down. The sight of silver, shimmering shapes darting just beneath the water’s surface brought a smile to your face, and you readjusted to lay on your stomach, reaching down. As you gently trailed your fingertips along the surface of the lake, you giggled as the shimmering shapes nibbled your fingers curiously, some of them bumping up against your hand as they swam by.

“Well, hi to you, too,” you whispered. The fish swam beneath the surface of the water as if dancing, and you smiled softly, watching them. You pushed yourself back up to a kneeling position, feeling in your satchel for the container of mealworms you had brought with you, scattering some of them into the water. You sat back again and started to draw, oblivious to the larger rippled which were approaching from elsewhere in the lake.

The next day found you back at the lake again, not wanting to miss a day of being in your sanctuary. The sun was high in the sky, which was just as clear as the day before. You were distracted as you made the same walk as yesterday, and you didn’t notice the object on your rock seat until you were about to sit down. You made a noise of surprise and peered at it. It seemed to be an old boot, something from far before your time. It was covered in algae and aquatic moss, and the sole had been eroded over time. You looked around, thinking that somebody was playing a prank; but when you saw nobody, you simply shrugged and picked the boot up, placing it beside the rock in the soft mud. Again, you drew, this time paying close attention to the mud below the rock, trying to emulate the textures and patterns of it. Again, you fed the fish gathered near your seat some mealworms. And again, you were oblivious to the ripples rolling across the water’s surface.

The third day you went back to the lake, a sight saddened you somewhat. There, on the muddy bank, beside the untouched boot, was a small bone. Upon closer inspection, it looked to be a fish skull. You held it delicately in your hands, turning it this way and that, intrigue mixing with your faint sadness at the poor thing’s state. Holding it as if it were glass, you bent over by the edge of the lake and let it roll out of your hand into the water, fading from view as it sunk to the depths. You settled yourself down on your rock perch again, pulling your sketchbook out of your bag and, with one hand drawing and the other holding an apple you took occasional bites from, you began to sketch the intricacies of a piece of driftwood, floating atop the water. It bobbed up and down, slowly, as ripples coursed across the water’s surface. This time, just before you left to go home, you leaned over and whispered to the group of fish swilling in lazy circles beneath the steadily elongating shadow of the rock, telling them a fairytale from your childhood. Something you did quite often, even if it didn’t quite make sense.

The fourth day arrived and with it, dark clouds, heavy with rain. That didn’t stop you, though, as you simply grabbed your raincoat from the hook by the door and set out towards the lake again, slipping and sliding and laughing in the muddy puddles on the way. The lake had swelled with the overnight showers of rain, the boot now having been swept away. The rain had ceased for now, and you slowly climbed atop your rock again – stopping in your tracks as you saw something on the very edge. You peered closer and your eyes widened at the sight of an eel skeleton, curled up neatly on the edge of the rock. You looked around again, more vigilantly this time. The only footsteps in the muddy earth were that of your own, and the trees looked undisturbed, as well.

The eel skeleton looked beautiful, in a delicate, morbid way. You stepped off of the rock and to the water’s edge, where the mud was the softest, and you started to dig. With shaking hands, you very carefully lifted the skeleton and placed it in the makeshift grave, covering it up again and placing a rock on top. You took a moment to be pensive, and as you stared into the water, you saw ripples distorting the reflection of the trees. Following them with your gaze, you could see that they originated from the center of the lake. Stepping closer, just below the surface of the water you could see a faint, misshapen shadow lurking below. You frown and take another step, the water lapping at the toes of your shoes. Just as quickly as you had seen the shadow, it darted away, and the rain started to fall again, stirring the surface of the lake, rendering anything underneath invisible.

There were no peculiar objects on your seat the next day. The sun was high in the sky again, the lake still swollen from the previous day, and your fish friends had resumed their usual habit of circling for food beneath your rock perch. You laid on your stomach, fingers trailing through the water again as they swam excitedly. Lost in thought, the shadow moving towards you beneath the surface of the water went unnoticed. What was very much noticed, however, was one of the fish flying out of the water, soaring in an arc over you and landing with a wet shlap in the mud to the side. Gasping, you half rolled and half fell off of the rock, hastening to pick up the frantically flopping and flailing fish, gently placing it back in the water to join its friends.

“What the hell…” You breathed. There was another splashing sound and another fish flew out of the water, narrowly missing your face as it soared across your field of vision, landing back in the water. Returning to the rock and looking over the side of it, you saw all of the group still there, unharmed and circling as before. Mind reeling with questions and confusion, you looked around, trying to figure out what happened.

“I’m tryin’ to flirt with you!”

The sudden disembodied voice startled you, hands gripping the rough surface of your perch so as to not fall face first into the lake. Sensing movement out of the corner of your eye, you turned, and your gaze met those of someone almost completely submerged in the water. Their eyes were dark, a slight frown on their face as they stared you down. It looked as if they were wearing a crown of bones, and you gulped.

“Hey, are- are you okay?” Trepidation and intrigue combined in your chest to create a potent blend that kept you fixed to the spot.

The figure didn’t speak at first. And then: “I was tryin’ to flirt with you. Didya not like my gifts?”

The voice carried a tone of insecurity, confusion and determination. It was low and husky, like the vocal version of the crunch of gravel as it is stepped on – and it had a kind of warbled tremor, like the ripples of the lake itself. But it was pleasant, and you wanted to hear more. You sat back down on the rock and crossed your legs, pulling your sketchbook out of your bag and running your fingertips along the spine to soothe yourself.

“Flirt with me?” You asked.

“Yes,” The figure responded. The water rippled around them as they started to move up out of the water, and you saw that the figure was a woman, her skin tinged the same green-blue as the lake. “D’you not like my gifts?” She repeated.

“I… I didn’t realise they were gifts, to be honest.” The woman sloshed closer through the water, coming to fold her arms on the edge of the rock and rest her head upon them. You continued, “I hope I didn’t offend you with my actions.”

The woman stared up at you for a long moment. “Nope,” She said. “I see you here a lot. You’re good to the critters here.” As she spoke, you could detect the faintest lilt in her voice, which somehow made you want to hear her speak even more, if that were possible. Silence fell between the two of you, and without knowing what else to do, you grabbed a pencil from your satchel and started to sketch, not really paying attention to anything but her proximity.

“What’re you doin’?”

“Huh? Oh—” You glanced down at the paper before you, realizing that you had absentmindedly begun to draw her. “I’m just sketching. Would you like to see?”

You held the sketchbook up before you, going back to the first page and flipping through them one by one, telling her the backstory of every sketch. The view of the mountains from your bedroom window, the jewels of dew on a spider’s web, the iridescence of a raven’s wings in flight. Her eyes studied your sketches, focusing hard as she listened. Without a word, she splashed back under the water, leaving you alone. You couldn’t help but feel disappointed as she left and, with a dejected sigh, you turned back to your work, the pencil scratching over the paper.

“Look out! Outta the way!”

“Wh—Woah!” You leaped back as she emerged from the water, her arms full with weeds and grasses from the depths of the lake. She sifted through them, inspecting each piece and discarding some of them with an unimpressed grunt. You turned back to your artwork, but you were distracted now, curiously glancing up at her every so often. Her deft fingers worked at the pieces of grass, twisting and turning them in her hands, and after a moment you realized she was weaving something. You became mesmerized by her movements, a slight frown on her face as she concentrated.

By the time she had finished, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, the surface of the lake reflecting its orange glow. She held it out to you with a wide grin, your fingertips brushing her palm as you took it from her. She had weaved the grasses and weeds tightly into the shape of a fish, mirroring the fish that you often fed. It was intricately weaved, and your head spun trying to make sense of where each piece of grass started and ended. Gazing back at her, a blush crept up your neck at her intense gaze. As the chill of the night air started to settle in your bones, you were tempted to stay here for a while longer, if only to see her grin again.

“Thank you…” I trailed off questioningly.

“Name’s Sally. Sally Moreau,” She grinned, making your heart jump in your chest. “But you can call me Sal.”

You smiled. “Thank you, Sal. It’s beautiful.”

“So’s you, if you don’t mind me sayin’ so.”

Her boldness made your blush grow even more, and you shivered regretfully against the chill of the growing darkness. “I…” The words were hard to force out, as you slowly packed your things back into your satchel. “I should go home.”

Sally’s shoulders seemed to drop a little, but she kept the grin on her face. “Comin’ back tomorrow?” She asked, hopeful tones lacing her voice.

“Yeah,” You smiled. “I’ll come back tomorrow.” That night, you fell asleep with a smile on your face and Sally’s grin burned into your mind, the woven fish standing proudly on the top of your bookshelf. Somehow, you knew that today had been the start of something wonderful.

[ven10]

hello, it's the anon from before again! i love the headcanons that you gave (they're all so fitting! the halloween one is my favorite), and i would love to hear your headcanons on injuries the quags got from the eagles!

Hiya! It’s great hearing from you again! (+I like how you told me you are the same anon from before!) :) Glad you liked the hcs!! :)

Headcanons for injuries the Quagmire triplets got from the eagle attack:

Isadora loses an eye to the eagles. As it’s a gothic trope to present eyes as “a window to the soul” she likes using the fact she lost an eye in her poetry a lot; either to suggest the past ripped part of her with it or that she isn’t as transparent as most people. (Or, in her most private poems, she links it to the VFD eye and how the organisation has obscured her view of the world permanently. As though their insignia is there in replacement of the missing eye.)

At the start she was sort of self-conscious about it [taking this from how it was Duncan who had the confidence to stand up against Carmelita -when she was chanting-in front of the entire cafeteria rather than Isadora. Also, in Netflix TAA when “Coach Genghis” asks for all the orphans to stand, Isadora glances around her self-consciously whereas Duncan just stares straight ahead.] and she tried covering that side of her face with her fringe/bangs.

However, after some time, she entered a mindset that was more so “if people are going to stare anyway then I may as well give them something to stare at” and decided to have a bit of fun with it by using more abstract prosthetic eyes; like one that is entirely black without any iris or pupil. That one is useful for when she wants to seem intimidating to strangers. Her brothers think it’s emo. Quigley encourages her to play pranks with it a lot and the results are often hilarious.

When strangers ask her how she lost it [scars around the prosthetic eye make it noticeable] she gives a different answer every time ranging from “using a pencil sharpened at both ends” to “What do you mean my eye is missing??!”

She’d occasionally wear an eyepatch since it fits with her aesthetic however she’d usually stick to prosthetic eyes since they’re more comfortable (bc the socket stays in shape). Other than the beloved demonic looking all-black eye she’d have a few natural coloured ones, one is the same colour as her other eye but she has others which are different natural colours to make it look like she has heterochromia (When your eyes are different colours: can be central, sectoral or-in this case-complete.)

When she’s somewhere with only her triplets/friends she prefers them to stay on the side with her real eye so she can see them however when she’s out somewhere where there’s lots of people she likes at least one person she knows to be on the side with the prosthetic eye so that nobody will (accidentally) sneak up on her.

In book-canon Quigley flew a helicopter to his siblings to try and save them from the eagles so I imagine this would mean he went higher than the balloon to try fight off the birds once he realised his siblings weren’t going to be able to make it onto the helicopter (bc they were too busy fighting off eagles) Meaning when he fell it was from a greater distance than his siblings and he hit the water with a greater impact. He ends up injuring both of his legs; the right worse than the left.

His injuries have the biggest initial negative hit on him compared to his siblings bc he’s an explorer and at the start he only sees the drawbacks of how it’ll impact his ability to explore. After time he slowly sees the more positive aspects of it, especially once he and Violet brainstorm ideas for custom forearm crutches. [sort of an abstract take on the “look at the map” vs “look at the waterfall” Vi showing Quigley opportunities+alternative ways of achieving things]

The crutches would have handles that double as a torch on one side and as a grappling hook on the other once secret buttons are pressed. The grappling hook would work in a similar way to Violet’s pasta machine invention in that it’d pull Quigley up to wherever he needs to be in a more efficient+quiet way than physically climbing would have anyway. The bottom of the crutches are loaded with (sleeping) darts that can be fired if Quigley swings them like a gun and pulls a hidden trigger on the handle. He can load them with whatever he wants though, sometimes he’ll fill them with pens so that when one of his siblings inevitably asks for one he can fire it at them unexpectedly. 🖊️

Sometimes when he’s in public in a place like the supermarket he’ll use one of these features like the grappling hook to pull himself to the other end of the room in a matter of seconds where it would take someone walking minutes just for fun+efficiency. It’s always extra fun when he hears a kid trying to explain what they saw to their parent who assumes they’re lying.

He has a couple of rice bags to heat up that help with pain; they all have maps sewn on them or drawn on with fabric paint. 🗺️

Duncan has the least serious injuries of the three; which he sometimes feels guilty about even though it’s not his fault and Quigs+Isa are glad he got away mostly okay.

He has 3 jagged scars across one side of his face from an eagle’s talons alongside a few similar scars on his arms from where he tried fighting them off. On the plus side, the scars cause him to be taken more seriously when he becomes an investigative journalist as many assume he earned the injuries on an important job.

Thanks for the ask! :)) Feel free to send more! :) [I swear I am capable of answering in small amounts-]

[mystery-of-arkham-asylum]

Thought I would answer some random questions.

Describe your favourite pair of socks. Grey and fluffy.

Do you like smoothies? I do. I enjoy most fruity drinks.

How do you like your eggs? I like then when they are still a bit runny.

What do you use to keep your place when you’re reading a book? A bookmark. Or something that won't damage the book.

What colour dominates your closet? Mostly blue and black.

Do you collect anything? Keyrings, badges and pins, postcards and some different fandom things.

Do you wear glasses or contacts? Glasses. Have since I was about 3.

What’s something about your best friend that you love? I love how safe I feel around him. The world could be falling apart, and as long as he is nearby, nothing bad can happen. (I also love his hair. He has poliosis, which I think looks stunning.)

Do you prefer to write in pen or pencil? Pen. I don't like the feel of pencil on paper. But if I do a sudoku I have to do it in pencil.

Do you have any houseplants? Do any of them have names? I call myself the crazy plant lady. I have a group of cacti called Tom, Dick and Harry. Tom currently has a cactus growing on top of him and I'm hoping it lives after planting it when it gets big enough. Have another cactus that I call Fluffy. Also have two more cacti that I have yet to name. Have a succulent named Alvin. Every so often his leave turn red at the edges. Have another called Alvin Junior, Jr for short, he was my first successful propagation from Alvin. Also have two more cuttings from Alvin that I have not named but are coming up nicely.

Describe your favorite hoodie. How long have you had it? What makes it unique? My Arkham Asylum inmate hoodie. Had it since early 2020. It is so comfortable and just the right amount of baggy. (There was a mix up when it was shipped and I ended up receiving two. They told me to keep the extra as it would cost them more to get it shipped back to them then it would to let me keep it. So when it wears out I'll have another.)

Iced or hot drinks? Depends on the time of year and the weather.

Do you have any piercings or tattoos? Are there any that you want? I have my ears peirced and I also have an industrial piercing. I kinda want my helix on the opposite ear done.

Can you cook or bake? If so, what are some of your specialities? I can do both. I like making biscuits. Every year I make a batch of Irish cream biscuits to take to my groups Christmas get together.

Do you have any keychains on your home or car keys? Describe them! I have sooo many keyrings! They are one of the things that I collect. On my keys I have: a loop with my blood type on it, my initial, an anchor, a little penguin in a bottle that floats in water, and a wooden turtle that my niece coloured in and gave me.

Can you swim very well? Do you like swimming? I always say I swim like a fish because I prefer swimming under the water. I am a good swimmer but know when not to test fate. I find swimming to be very peaceful and relaxing.

Did you play with Legos as a kid? What was your favourite set? When I was a kid my older sister and I had a big bow of mixed Lego to share. The only sets we ever got were just the ones of mixed pieces. The ones that didn't have any guides with them.

Is your closet organized? If so, how? It is. from left to right: items that I only were once a year, dresses, tops, empty coat hangers, nighties/night shirts, cardigans and jumpers and finally jumpers I only wear at night.

If you could dye your hair any colour, regardless of how you think it would look, what colour would you choose? Blue. But don't think I would want to do all of my hair. Maybe half at most.

Headphones or earbuds? I prefer earbuds if I am using them for a long time. Headphones start to hurt my ears.

Can you read analog clocks? Yes. I actually prefer them.

Describe your favourite stuffed animal, either now or from when you were a kid. A clown. Light blue and white suit and hat. He has a net ruffle around the base of his hat and around his neck. He also has light blue bunny slippers. I got him for my first Christmas, he was the first plush I got after I was born. I call him Mr. Clown.

Do you mind if others are in the kitchen when you’re cooking or baking? As long as they are not in my way, they're fine.

What scent is your deodorant? Unscented. I have contact dermatitis and a lot of scents trigger it so I just stay clear if it has to directly touch my skin.

Do you have any games on your phone? If so, which one(s) is/are your favourite? I have a few puzzle games for when I get too bored or if I am waiting while I am out. I quite enjoy the riddle ones.

Do you shower with the lights on or off? Depends how light it is in the bathroom.

What do you do with spare change? I keep it and use when I need to. Or I just put it all in a self checkout machine as I don't feel bad giving it to them.

Do you have good handwriting? No. My handwriting has always been bad. In my first year of secondary school they had me doing handwriting lessons to try and improve it. The only thing to come out of them was me only using black ink as the teachers could read it better than blue.

Do you like to go on walks? I do. I love listening to my iPod while walking round nature.

Do you have a favourite plate or bowl? Both. Also have a favourite cup, knife, fork and spoon.

What’s your favourite thing to do when it’s raining? I enjoy playing video games, reading with a hot chocolate or watching creepy/paranormal videos.

Describe your perfect sleeping conditions. Cold outside, cool room and a nice thick quilt. I can sleep the whole night through.

[loopyarts]

Meow, meow, have a cute cat Mario illustration to celebrate marioday. I been in the mood to draw Mario lately probably because i’m excited for the Mario that comes out in April and definitely reminds me my childhood when I play Mario galaxy 2 on the wii and Mario games I played on ds and 3ds growing such the Mario and Luigi RPG series.

Your probably why cat Mario? One it my favourite Mario power up and I love cats and currently favourite mario game is Super Mario 3D world plus bowser fury the controls are fun and gameplay is top notch, I just running around as cat Mario climbing and jumping all over the place. 

Also I to do some experimenting on this piece by using some water pen first as a base and my regular Holbein watercolours set and added some mixed media elements as well with acrylic markers and coloured pencils to add a bit more shading and texture to this illustration. 

[inwintersolitude]

- February 1st 2024 -

Do people hang up flyers around your neighbourhood? Not often. I'll occasionally see a flyer for a lost dog/cat, but that's all.

What's an interesting museum or special exhibition you've been to? I'd say my two all-time favorites are the Udvar-Hazy Center at the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum, and the Museum of London.

Have you ever been on a glass bottom boat? Nope but I've always thought that would be really neat, especially in tropical places where the water is super clear.

Do you ever sneak your own food and drinks into the cinema? Nope.

Would you know how to change a flat tyre? I learned how to do it years ago shortly after I got my license, but thankfully I've never had to change one.

Does it get really hot (over 40C/104F) where you live? No, the hottest I can remember it getting here is 101F, I remember that was in 2012 and I was working outdoors at the airport that day and thinking how insane it was that it got that hot! But usual summer temperatures here are not that bad, around 75-80F. Anything above 85F is really hot for here.

What do you usually eat for breakfast? Toast with butter/jam, eggs, cereal, muesli.

Do you have any mugs with cute or funny designs on them? Ahaha yes. Back when I got an Apple Pencil I was playing around with it on the iPad and I made super goofy drawings of my two birds. Then for Christmas later that year, my husband gave me a mug that he had custom made with the drawings on it.

Have you ever taken a Greyhound bus? Nope.

Do you stick to the rules or are you more of a rule-breaker? I'm mostly a rule-follower. With some exceptions, in certain circumstances.

Are you an aunt/uncle? Would you like to be? Yep. I have two nephews, ages 2 and 5.

Is there any alcohol you cannot stand? Is there a reason why you hate it so much? I am not a fan of rum. It tastes like some sort of nasty deadly chemical that you really should NOT be drinking, like how I'd imagine paint thinner or lighter fluid would taste lol.

Do you have raccoons where you live? Yep.

When did you first get a smartphone? I remember it was around the time I started my 3rd year of college. So that would have been late 2010?

Would you say you're easy to get along with? Yeah I'd say so. I take a little while to warm up to new people, though. Like I'm not the type of person who can instantly make friends.

Who was the last person who slept over at your place? We haven't had any overnight guests in this house now that we live near family again, but at our previous house in Virginia, the last people to stay over were my in-laws.

Do you ever keep fresh flowers in the house? Only occasionally.

Have you ever made graffiti? Nope.

Do you like off-colour, offensive humour? Sometimes. It depends.

Are you expecting much to happen in the next hour or so? Not much. I'll probably get a call from my husband once he lands in like 20 minutes, but maybe not because both his flights today are delayed for maintenance so he might not have time to call til the end of his workday.

[tonispencerart]

Sketchbook Experiments

I haven't been too well recently. It started with an allergic reaction (e-cigarette vapour, passively) which gradually turned into a chest infection... Manageable but annoying. But that left my immune system open to a battering from a head cold. I don't know if I perhaps accidentally and unknowingly had gluten from something I ate, but it's possible... And I felt a bit... Bleh... for a few weeks. Which meant that I didn't really do, or feel like doing much art. But recently, since I started to feel better, I found myself playing around with my sketchbooks again. My ADHD medication has been stopped for now (long, frustrating story!) and I've been finding it very difficult to concentrate on anything for more than about 90 seconds. So, in a rare moment of being able to do anything at all, I did this page in one of my sketchbooks.

The roses were done by tracing and transferring the image with tracing paper and a nice, soft graphite pencil. I then used some water-soluble coloured pencils to add colour and then blended the marks with water and a paintbrush. Once that was dry, I traced and transferred images of the two portraits in the same way. The one in the top left is of Jamie Bower as Christopher Marlowe (from the TV series 'Will'), and the smaller one in the bottom right corner is from the supposed portrait of Christopher Marlowe. With a selection of fine-nibbed pens (waterproof ink), I first made a simple line drawing to outline the portraits and then used cross-hatching to add detail and texture. The effect is similar to the one you'd get with Drypoint etching. I didn't want to lose the roses behind them so I made my marks as light as possible but still getting the values from the photographs. There are not many of them in the portrait that's supposedly of Christopher Marlowe (artist unknown) so I had to add some where there technically aren't any. As for the jacket, I switched the colours so I wouldn't obliterate the rose behind it. The rose was chosen because the rose features in Marlowe's poem - The Passionate Shepherd To His Love - which is one of my favourites. The point of the piece? Well... The first portrait is of an actor playing a role (in a series that isn't particularly accurate) with the second portrait of someone who isn't Marlowe at all either. We don't know who it is - but we can say for sure that it isn't Christopher Marlowe! Neither portrayal or image is accurate - which is an idea that is kind of fascinating to me. The images were originally taken at the very start of one of my last big art projects. I was working with ideas around the theme of concepts of truth, reality and theatre. I have so many copies of these images! I have a habit of ruining them before I'm finished with them and then need more of them, so I quickly learned to print more than I could possibly need - just in case! The final page ended up a bit scratchy, but I actually like the effect, personally. I'm torn between buying a little printing press so I can actually make some small drypoint etchings. But a good fineliner pen is a reasonable substitute... for now!

[the-sadistic-mind-behind-a-stoic]

I wish I could stab myself with a pencil and write my anger with my own blood.

Maybe it would then make it easier for me to live with this love I have for you.

But nothing will ever make it easier than this, to suffer every day over complaints I simply don't understand, to be forgiven over something that shouldn't be an issue to begin with. I'm torn.

My love aches so much for you that I begin to cry as if we were apart. And yet we are not, we are very much together and you love me loads and I love you loads. Then why do I feel this anger? Why do you make me so angry?

Can't I just simply love you? So simple, no issues involved. I won't force you to do something you don't have to and in the meantime you accept me as I am. But you don't. You throw insults at me, and it seems almost as if you want to push me away. You've done this before. You'll do this again. There's no future here, is there? You'll blame me for leaving, but it is you who keeps running away from me.

And I handle it. Why? Because I burn for you.

And as I write this, I await you. I should be reading, I should focus on my assignments and responsibilities, but I do not. I live for you. I've reached that level of devotion. And yet you think I don't, that I am doing this for the laughs and I take none of it seriously.

I am not angry anymore. It's not your fault.

You don't know what you are doing. Or maybe you are, but you truly believe I can handle it. Or that I will eventually break away and leave you, thus proving you right.

But I can't leave. I don't want to leave and I can truly handle this. Part of me believes I deserve all I can get, and my life seems to be going great up until you come and touch something out of proportion.

I hope I can handle this. Otherwise, I don't see much of a way out. I've never loved anyone, and I've never felt this way as I feel with you. And if I can help it, I never will again.

I hope you kill me. Or at least drive me though, enough, to die spontaneously. But no being dies that way, and whenever I feel alone, I feel myself alone, a hollow hole between my breasts telling me that I feel nothing and I'll never be anything worthwhile. I deserve death. I always said my longest relationship had been with Death herself.

I'm egocentric to look for it, to hurt those around me by carelessly choosing it over anything else around me. But I can't. I love you too much to hurt you that much.

"I love you more".

I can hear you say it. What do you gain by saying such a thing? Why are you competing against me? Why do we have to evaluate love. You love me more because you came back. But I never left. Who loves whom more?

I say this as if I don't gain joy from believing I love you more. The irony. Makes me want to wash away the pain and my inner turmoil.

I guess I did lie about how I want to go. If I do die, I'll choose that one place I was the most happy. That bathtub where we bathed together. I liked how the water changed colour. And how my fingers felt in it. I'd add the salt. Just to make the blood pressure slower, but I'd still cut deeper, deep enough for it to pour out slowly. I'd choose warm water, I don't want to freeze cold. But no bubbles, they make too much noise. But I am not too sure which music I'd play as my eyes drop and I slowly pass out.

[waterlilyunit6]

Georgiana (Keira Knightly) Face Illustrations & 2D Patterned Mannequins

(NOTE: THIS POST WAS ORIGINALLY POSTED BEFORE 'MEDIA EXPERIMENTATION' BUT GOT DELETED AFTER AN ERROR)

After I had played around with the Georgiana heads that I cut out and stuck with some of my designs, I decided I wanted to try illustrated some as well to expand my mediums.

One Georgiana look I really wanted to try was when her hair is styled curly, frizzy, and big, with ringlets hanging down from her neck. I thought the hair was going to be the main challenge, but still decided I wanted to try. Since Georgiana is sorrowful and depressed in the scene where we see this look, I wanted too illustrate it with just pencil to create a grey-scale image to compliment the scene. I started by sketching an outline of the face and hair, and then adding the outline of the features. The outline of the ringlets were drawn before adding the detail, sketching my shading to look like hair and adding lighter streaks to give movement. I then continued to add the face features, using a cotton bud to bled out the pencil, which I've found to be my best and favourite method for shading smaller areas. Making sure the illustration continued to look like Georgiana (Keira Knightly) was my main aim, so getting my shading correct was key.

I then sketched the outline of the hair, before beginning to ad the curls and waves around the face. I decided to to illustrate this look with the feather, as in this scene/photo, the feather goes out of the picture, and I didn't want my illustration to look unfinished. With an unsharpened pencil, I began adding random curvy and squiggly lines, blending areas out with a cotton bud, and layering the squiggles for the darker patches, giving it a more realistic look. I kept adding layers until the hair looked right, and referred to the original image to make sure it looks the same. On some patches, I added the sketchy technique that I used for the ringlets, as o the original photo, Georgiana does have some smoother patches here and there.

I'm really pleased with the outcome of this illustration, and and happy with how the shading turned out.

For the next Illustration, I wanted to illustrate one of the looks where Georgiana is wearing a hat, as hats were one of her (and many others in that period) main statement pieces. I chose the scene where she is at Chatsworth, as she wears her hair curled and frizzy (like in most scenes), and there is the link to Chatsworth. This time, I decide to use water colour, as I wanted to try a simple look, and dabbing on the colour to create the fluffy hair. The outline of the face, hat and feature were lightly drawn on first. I then applied watercolour onto the face and features first, before applying a cream colour on to the hat. This was so I could dab on the watercolour over the top of the (dried) hat and face to make it look more fluffy and like the picture. Three shades of brown were used for the hair, starting with the lightest shade first, and then adding the darker shades on once dried.

The simple shading was then applied onto the face and hat. To create the streaks on the hat, I applied thin lines of light brown water colour, let it slightly dry, before brushing over the lines with a damp brush. Since I wanted the illustration simple, I used faint grey lines to create the fluffy feather, making sure I created the movement as well.

Originally, I wasn't going to create this final illustration, but decided I wanted to create another look that featured a hat, specifically one where the hat was the main focus This was so I could slightly enlarge the hat when illustrating to highlight the statement piece and the fact that hats were warn all the time in that period.

Again, I started off by drawing the outline of the look, starting with Georgiana's face, so I could then scale- up the hat afterwards. I again used watercolour as I quite liked the simple look I tried before on the previous illustration. I also made sure to still add shading to the correct areas, but not too much. This time, the feather didn't turn out how I wanted and expected it to, as well as the face illustration not quite looking like Georgiana/Keira Knightly which I found disappointing.

Mannequins

Inspired by the exhibition, I had the idea of creating 2D mannequins to display/stick my designs to, to create the look of how the gowns would be displayed at an exhibition.

I traced over the sheet I used to help me with my specification drawings, and traced the outline onto a sheet of drawing paper a few times. I thought about using my print on the mannequins, so they would compliment my collection, so using coloured pencils and pro-marker, I began re-creating the prints onto the mannequins. I also printed out some photo copies of my prints. As well as theses, I found some pages in a magazine that had the same colour palette and patterns styles as my collection and prints.

I cut out all the mannequin shapes I had created, and presented them on a peach coloured card that complimented my colour palette, and presented it with my media experimentation pages. I prefer the concept of using 2D mannequins for my final designs as it creates the feel of an exhibition display.

[advancedimagesblog-mel]

Blog Post #4

-What are you passionate about?

I’m quite passionate about illustration, photography, design (obviously), playing video games (specifically the Sims 3), listening to good music, eating good food, and learning stupid things from the internet. All these interests mostly stem from just learning about things I like. Once I’m invested in something I have to know everything about it.

-What culture/geography/region/country do you identify with?

Canada, not really, but I’ve lived here my whole life. I’ve actually never been anywhere outside of Ontario and Quebec. I’d love to travel around but I’m not rich :*). I’m also Portuguese, but I've unfortunately never been to Portugal. I’d love to go but I don’t know any of my family over there and they probably don’t know of my existence. However, my boyfriend and I would really like to go to Japan! I don’t personally connect with it, but we made plans to go eventually, sometime after graduation and I’m set on making the trip happen.

-Is there a design, object or product that you love or hate and why?

D2L/Brightspace!!! I hate it (lmao). It’s not awful but there are way too many ways to do the same thing, which makes everyone so confused. Blackboard was surprisingly much easier, and I kind of miss it (like Stockholm syndrome). I just wish I could see my grades properly in 2DL, blackboard had a nice grades panel and you could compare your grades with your classmates anonymously.

-Are there any recent events/news, Canadian or otherwise, that you FEEL for?

Yesterday (Sept. 26th) there was a guy swinging an axe outside of TMU (toronto metropolitan university). My sister goes there, so it was kinda scary. She thankfully is taking a course that operates outside of the campus grounds, but it’s so wild that people would go to a college campus and swing axes.

-Is there an experience that impresses you while travelling [people, place, service]?

I rarely travel, but I went to Italy once in 2021! The people were nice-ish even though I didn’t speak Italian, and the food was quite good. I was shocked however, that they rarely serve vegetables (I was dying for cucumbers or broccoli after the trip). The trains were also quite fast, but it was still a long trip when taking them. My family and I went from the top of Italy (Del Garda) all the way to Rome in one day. We actually went twice, but it was exhausting.

-Do you consider yourself a T-shaped individual? If so, what area/discipline do you know well? What other areas/disciplines do you know to some extent?

I would consider myself a jack of all trades when it comes to art (aside from sculpture, I suck at that). I’m quite good at photography, design, illustration, and pretty much use any kind of physical medium (oil, acrylic, pastel, water colour, ink, pencil crayon…) due to the years I spent doing art over having life experiences (T-T). I would say I have a deeper knowledge in design, as that's what i’m studying, and I like learning more about it to hopefully aid me in future job prospects. However, in terms of weird knowledge (my favourite kind), I know a lot about video games, but with specific video games, I know A LOT about them. More specifically, Undertale…I KNOW cringe. What am I 13? I got invested in the game when it came out and I still get really invested in topics I like. I will go out of my way to learn everything I can about them, almost to the point where I learn things that aren’t even true, just theories (a game theory :0 -matt patt).

[bathtimejournals]

I had devoured Giovanni’s Room on our first day in Venice. The next day I was left bookless. Though there are many days I don’t read, there is never a day I don’t have a book that I’m lugging around, or that lies tauntingly on my night table. Call it accountability, call it guilt, call it hipster signaling, call it the capitalist compulsion to order something on Amazon, call it whatever you want really. It’s my pet, my comfort object. I’ve given up vaping and my hands require a smooth square familiar object that represents social reprieve and externally identifies me as a sexy mysterious intellectual etc. 

One of Venice’s best qualities is its arrogance to such American conveniences as wheeled transportation and doorstep delivery. It seeds out the awful gauche tourists who rely on Uber and electronic maps to navigate European streets made specifically for strolling, judging and smoking. So while my family had grown utterly exhausted from this lifestyle of leisure and sulked home to snore holes through our linoleum AirBnb walls, I split off with a singular mission in mind. I took like a fish to water and dove into the nearest canal, with perfect form from my days of competing in diving contests adjudicated by my oldest cousin on hot summer afternoons. It turns out the pencil dive is much more suited to a body of water deeper than 4 feet, and so after a sprained ankle and a few shocked (admiring?) looks, I flounced out on the slimed steps and lounged on the Ponte to dry off, in a perfect leaned back mermaid posture. 

Once my pesky mermaid tail had shed and I had regained most of the feeling back in my feet, I set my sights on a book store that was supposed to have an English selection according to a quick Google search. I was still in high spirits, grateful for the ease with which I shirked off my family and had the afternoon to myself to feign melancholy, thoughtfulness, and exasperation, miming the Italian attitude. 

The first two bookshops I had pinned were simply non-existent, unless perhaps in a secret passage way that required me to tap three times on the third brick and wait for a pidgeon to poop on my hand. It was charming, in a way, that updating Google on the the coming and going of stores was not a priority. The pre-modern, village simulation was an uncanny. Yet I had an itching suspicion some devilish medieval sprite was playing a trick on me, because there was really absolutely no remnants of a store where indicated. The second time it happened I was left very untrusting of my phone’s directions, so I popped into a quill and stationary store to ask the clerk if she had ever known a bookstore to be right in front of her establishment. She nervously laughed at my predicament, and kindly directed me towards a bookstore that was supposed to have a few English books. 

Still hopeful, I continued on my mission and walked about 10 minutes until I arrived at the Libreria Alta Acqua. I might as well have stumbled upon the gates of heaven. There was a 6 foot stack of vintage tomes that looked like the kind Shakespeare might have written. Upon entry, my eyes ricocheted off of every surface so as to create a quasi stroke like effect. It was delightfully colourful, and with each new step, a gemlike book niche sparkled -- vintage Italian postcards, 1950s collage cards, bins of your uncle’s basement film photos, first edition comic books, records, movie poster matchboxes-- leaving me in a state snake charmers probably spent decades training to induce. I Though there were an abundance of lowlit dusty corners that any cat would sacrifice their 7th life for, the main salle orbited around a black Venetian canal boat that stored whatever couldn’t fit on the walls.

Not only had I found a shop that tickled everyone of my depraved senses, I tripped on an Italian version of The Little Prince, a childhood book that my best friend and I have always had a soft spot for. 

at the register... ozzy, bookmark