#quick sketches but you see my vision right

[dadrielle]

I probably won't have time to do a Real Art about it before we see the mini Thursday but I have goblin sharky Premogthos thoughts

[lamaery]

This time it is Rlain's turn to gaze. :D There's a reason mateform makes you unfocused. Here is Renarin looking back

ID: The first image features Renarin through Rlain's loving eyes. In all, Renarin glimmers with handsomespren. In none of them is Renarin looking back at us. They paint a beautiful vision of being in love with a man who prefers not to make a lot of eye contact. In the first drawing, Renarin looks out from a slightly ducked posture, his attention focused elsewhere and his expression privately delighted, as if he'd just thought of something wickedly clever that he hasn't yet shared. The light catches his features in an alluring way, and the viewer knows exactly what Rlain loves about his boyfriend's brilliant mind. In the second drawing, Renarin looks out into the middle distance, his expression serious and emotionally neutral, but somehow weighted with responsibility. His wide Blackthorn jaw seems slightly clenched, but unconsciously. His collar is tantalizingly open, allowing Rlain to enjoy the elegant length of his neck and that secret hollow of his throat. In the third sketch, Renarin is seen from above. He's leaning back in a chair, his head resting comfortably and uninhibitedly, supported by the chair's curved back. He's looking in the opposite direction from the viewer, but he smiles with teeth. His collar is wide open, and he looks so comfortable in his own skin. Like, he's so completely relaxed, so uninhibited, like sharing his personal space bubble and his body with Rlain is effortless. In the fourth sketch, Renarin stands across the room, about twenty feet away. His weight is subtly on his back foot to compensate as he holds up at an arm's length an impeccably pressed, regal knee-length Kholin jacket. In his other hand, he holds his shorter Bridge Four jacket, in a way that will keep the collar from being creased. He's wearing an undershirt that my heart knows was custom made for his measurements with a pair of pants with a line of coy, delicate little buttons down the split in his lower pants leg, from knee to lower calf. The split shows a tantalizing sliver of calf, and he doesn't even realize how handsome he is. His pants make his butt a little flat, but we all must cope with devastating trials in this mortal realm. He has elegantly boned feet and there's a slim musculature behind his leanness now, and isn't that all that really matters in this universe? Rlain thinks so. In the fifth drawing, Renarin leans over a few scribbled pages, one hand pointed outward as it presses flat against the table.  He seems deep in conversation with Glys, attention focused inward as he focused on the complexities of a mystery.  He's wearing a buttoned-down version of a fancier outfit: a tailored cross-body vest that emphasizes the slimness and sleekness of his build. and matching trousers.  Beneath that is a button-up shirt with an open collar and rolled-up sleeves, because Marie loves us and she wants us to be happy. The second image, at the top right, is a very cartoonishly minimalistic and humorously stylized illustration of mateform Rlain standing with absolutely zero chill, his arms crossed in a way he wants you to think is relaxed, but clearly isn't relaxed at all.  He's staring forward and sweating, the words "Trying very hard to concentrate." snaking around his head.  He's also wearing a very wide open collar in harmony with his stouter overall physique.  He also has his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, because everyone deserves to see their favorite forearm circumference represented in media. 3 and 4 are a trio of very quick and sketchy but also ADORABLE illustrations, Rlain grabs a surprised Renarin's vest front, which draws a deep blush and a very enthusiastic and eager little grin.  Surprises are not always great, but he's 100% down with this one!  They meet in a kiss, craning over the table between them, Rlain's hand still clutching a fistful of Renarin's vest and Renarin reciprocating with passion, cradling the back of Rlain's neck with one hand, one finger running up the bare skin where neck meets skull.  Passionspren fall thickly around them.

[stsgluver]

“i like this one,” you pointed to a particular design in one of the portfolio books you’d stolen from geto’s desk. it was a dahlia – black and white with wisps spinning around the flower. it was delicate and soft, and very much unlike the usual tattoos your boyfriend usually created.

the boyfriend in question peered over at you laying across his tattoo chair that you’d adjusted so the back was resting horizontally. he looked unfairly attractive – hair tied back in a messy bun and the glasses he only ever wore when no one else was in the room tipped to the edge of his nose. 

“want me to do it for you?” geto nodded his head towards the portfolio in your hands, a small smirk present. to say you weren’t a fan of needles was an understatement and, in the six months you’d been together and the two years you’d been friends, he was yet to convince you to let him do one for you.

“no,” you scrunched up your nose at him, ignoring his light chuckle at your quick response. 

“yeah no one wants your shit ass.” you spun your head around to see fushiguro toji sliding open the door to geto’s work space. out of all the people geto worked with, toji by far ranked in last place for his distasteful personality. his lips curled up into a twisted grin, scar lifting as his eyes drifted over your figure and you wished you were hiding behind your boyfriend and not sprawled out along the chair. “i’ll do it for you darling, even add some extra benef–”

“fuck off fushiguro,” geto said forcefully. you’d been coming to the tattoo shop long before you and geto had started dating and the older man had always been this way, but he’d ramped it up tenfold once you’d officially gotten together. 

toji rested back against geto’s door frame, his cocky attitude fueled by geto’s clear annoyance. “gojo just wanted me to tell you that you haven’t responded to an email yet.” he gave a wink in your direction before he ducked back out of the room. you gagged in response, slipping off of the chair to shut the door he’d left wide open.

“asshole,” geto muttered under his breath, leaning back and pulling his hair out of its loose bun as he so often did when he was stressed. “how much longer are you going to be here?” 

geto loved having you down at his work, loved being around you as he sketched as he considered you his muse. however, toji had his own special way of tainting every situation he was ever in and digging his nails right under your boyfriend’s skin in a way no one else could.

there was a small pout on your lips as you made your way over to geto, to your boyfriend who was usually always so level-headed no matter what was happening. “hey, don’t punish me for him putting you in a bad mood."

holding onto the back of his chair, you spun it slightly so that he was facing you. he didn’t resist your movements and his legs naturally spread enough so that you could shuffle between them, your arms loosely swung over his shoulders. beneath the collar of his top you could see the ends of several tattoos that decorated his tanned skin. 

“i’m not,” he closed his eyes, leaning into you to press a light kiss to your forearm. “i just prefer for my girlfriend not to be sexualised by that thing.” 

you pushed the strands of hair that obscured his face from your vision behind his ears, “i think i know what will make you feel better.”

“letting me tattoo my name on your forehead?” geto grinned up at you and you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning down to kiss him. knocking your nose against his, you feel the cool metal of his nose ring against your skin. a nose ring he could definitely convince you to get, though it would be from shoko and definitely not him. you had seen what had happened to gojo’s ear when the two of them had gotten drunk and thought piercing each other with a sewing needle would be a genius idea.

“buying me something from the vending machine?” you countered, giggling at the drop of his smile. the vending machine had been gojo’s idea of bringing in more money for the business and he’d somehow managed to convince yaga he was right. so far, the only person who ever seemed to use that thing was you (with geto’s money). 

“i hate gojo for buying that thing,” geto sighed, dramatically making a thing of grabbing his wallet from his drawer. he pinched your hip lightly and nodded his head towards the door, “after you, princess.”

[prettypinkpuddles]

Research from afar

hi… yes i’ve been gone a while, it’s just because i’ve been to lazy to write or had no movement or ideas. but ive got one and i think im back

enjoy!

you had been given the chance of a lifetime, to go to Nathan and record its elemental properties to compare with that of Sumeru’s. you’d been here for months, made so many friends, and now it was time to leave.

when you first arrived, there were so much graffiti along the walls, graffiti was was far too high for an average person to reach. you furthered down the path to discover two girls. one was honey brown with pale blue hair, a top covering her chest and a lopsided skirt. she was smiling down at a short girl with blonde hair tied into a wide ponytail with a visor, sporty gear and taupe fluffy ears, much furrier than Tighnari’s. her cerulean eyes met yours and she gasped and waved to you.

“H-hello! are you a traveller?!” she called.

you nodded and walked up to them, holding your notebook tightly to you. “yes, i am! i’m a student from the Akademiya doing research about Natlan! could you help?”

that piqued their interest. they began to completely examine you. your clothes, how your hair was done, the little girl even looked into your notebook, with your permission of course. she pointed to the padisarah you had sketched out.

“that’s so pretty!” she smiled, “what’s it called?”

“a padisarah!” you grinned.

“it’s like a glowing hornshroom.” Mualani commented.

you grinned and looked at her, “could you show one one of those? for my research?”

“depends.”

a voice startled you. it was deeper and softer. you looked up, seeing a boy with lots of green accents and browned skin. his eyes were striking yellow and his muscles arms were crossed as he eyed you. a bit of suspicion washed over him before a new look overtook his face; you blinked and looked down at Kachina as she ran up to introduce him.

“this is Kinich!” she exclaimed, “he’s our friend.”

“hello.” you smiled.

“hi.” he said in a flatter tone.

“and yeah, it will depend,” Mualani continued. “are you afraid of the dark?”

“do you like adventure?!” Kachina jumped.

that started a journey of them taking you all through Natlan, showing you each of their tribes and customs. You wrote down so much that you needed a new notebook; of Mualani’s tribe and their famous hot springs, how amazing they felt after excursions through the tunnels with Kachina. she gave you a special white stone she said was good luck and you fastened it to your pyro vision.

Kinich’s tribe was probably the most dangerous for you, you had no proper shoes to climb mountains but you still tried anyways, much to Ajaw’s amusement.

“those delicate foot holders are no match for the mightiness of the great lands of Natlan!” he chortled as you lifted your foot onto the jutted rock to your left.

you grunted as you hoisted yourself up, “shut up! you stupid… pixelated…. lizard!” that got to him.

“LIZARD?!” he gasped, “you Dare call me?! The Mighty Dragonlord, K'uhul Ajaw, A LIZARD?!” he sprang up to you, got right in your face, red as a henna berry, and you fell.

you had no idea he could leave Kinich’s side with Kinich allowing it, it scared you so bad, you were now free falling from the cliff. you had to think fast, create something to break your fall but you didn’t need to. something grabbed you, swung you to the left in a quick motion and threw you up in the air again. it had to be Ajaw, he was going to throw you away like the trash he said you were. then you stopped moving.

you looked around. you were on the ground and in something’s arms. something much bigger than Ajaw’s tiny form.

“are you alright?”

you looked up, “Kinich?” you nearly fell out of his lap, but he snatched you closer to him, examining you. “i’m… i’m okay.”

he nodded after he felt satisfied, “that’s good.” he looked like he wanted to smile, then it dropped when Ajaw sprang in front of you.

“i knew it! i knew it!” he blabbed, pointing his stubby nubby at your face. “you fell, just like I said you would!”

he was often shit-talking you and everything you did, how you sketched out the saurian claw succulent that kinich gave you, how you walked, how you cooked the traditional food Mualani taught you, even when you were encouraging Kachina to bungee jump with you. you told her it was the best way to get her nerves out before the Pilgrimage, even though she was supposed to compete in a few months.

she ended up doing it, screamed her head off, but it was so much fun, you could see Mualani and Kinich smiling for you two as you soars through the air over and over. you screamed out and a huge, red hibiscus blossom appeared above your heads, bursting like a firework and Kachina squealed, begging to stop.

Natlan was probably more beautfiful than your home. all the color was beautiful, and yes you missed the green, but you got your fill through looking at Kinich. and the liter of yumkasaurs he was showing you.

you nearly squealed, “why did you show me these sooner!?”

“i’m sorry.” he said as you fell to your knees, hands outstretched for one the little green things rushing to you. it chittered and smiled wide, nuzzling into you with its floppy ears smacking your forearms.

you giggled and petted its head as it fell into your lap. “you’re such a cutie!” you cooed, seeing Kinich’s hand ruffle its petal-shaped collar. it smiled and pushed into his hand as you looked up at him, “do you have one of these?”

“no, but Kachina has a tetpetilsaur,” he replied. “i do not need a saurian.”

“because of Ajaw?” you grinned. he nodded with a bit of an eyeroll at the thought of the annoying thing.

Kinich turned to you, “would you like one? i think they would benefit your research.”

“a saurian?” you grinned and vigorously nodded as you looked at the whelp in your lap. “this one,” you whispered, “i wanna name her Pari.”

“like the padisarahs, from your home?”

you blinked at that, surprised he remembered and could say that, looking at him with a bit of shock before nodding with a smile. “yes, and the place that is for me.” you leaned to the side and leaned against his shoulder as you stroked Pari’s pale green fur at she purred.

your months-long journey was wondrous, you wanted to stay forever, but you knew you had to go back home and analyze the data with others from the Spantamad darshan. but you just couldn’t bring yourself to. your eyes filled with tears as you packed your bags, walking out of Mualani’s guest house to see the bright place you temporarily called home. temporarily.

as you walked with her to the stadium, you gave Kachina the biggest hug ever, smiling at her warmth as your eyes unfortunately landed on a blond girl with a white dress and blue accents.

“what?” Mualani asked you.

you shook your head, “it’s… i know her.” you said, “she’s travelled to my home before…. a lot happened.”

“ohhh, she told me that she’s been to most of Teyvat now.” Kachina chimed in.

“yeah….” you looked away from the Traveller, “she’s just… i can’t describe her.” you pulled the thought of her and Nahida from your head and looked down at Kachina, “i’m so sorry i’m going to miss you compete, but write to me when you win.”

she looked down at the floor, “if i win,” she corrected.

you bent down to her level and pulled her chin up, “when you win Kachina. i’ve got a feeling you’re gonna make it.”

Mualani nodded and took her hand, “let’s go get set up.” she looked to you and held out her hand. “i wanted to give you this necklace before you left, so you’ll remember to come visit me in the future.”

you gasped at the necklace she was holding. it was made of sprayfeather gills, expertly woven together to form a ring. you slipped it over your head and smiled, “thank you so much, i’ll visit you as soon as my research is over.”

“i’ll walk Y/n out of Natlan.” Kinich announced. the girls nodded and began to walk into the stadium together, leaving you and Kinich to make the journey back to where you started it.

people who recognized you waved and bid you goodbyes, some giving you gifts like seeds from the plants of Natlan, recipes for different dishes, stones of warm colors to bless you and your journey. even your yumkasaur had found you and was dancing alongside you as you approached the bit of water between natlan and the desert of Sumeru.

“i…” you tried to speak but nothing else came out.

kinich took your hand and glanced at you, “you don’t wanna leave, do you?”

your face scrunched and you shook your head, “ i was being strong for Kachina but i really don’t want to leave. this place is like magic, real magic. the people, the cultures so wonderfully blending together to create a unified nation. my saurian, my friends, even you… i simply can’t…”

kinich didn’t speak, his grip just grew stronger as he looked at you.

“i know, i know… i need to.” you wiped your face and sniffled. “i’m sorry, Kinich, i just-”

“don’t leave,” he commanded and pulled your face to him, “don’t leave without saying it.”

“saying… saying what?”

“how you feel, Y/N.” he said and you flinched. “i don’t want you to leave either, but if you must, at least tell em the truth, please.”

you could feel your heart quickening like when you’d get really close to him, you could smell his cologne, this woodsy, dark floral scent enveloping you both.

“say it.” he repeated.

you swallowed, “i love you, Kinich.” you nearly ate him, pulling his lips to yours to kiss him over and over, “i love you so much.” you said in between the kisses.

his arms found you, his fingers snaking into your hair and making your scalp tingle, “i should’ve said it that night, but i didn’t… i’m sorry.”

you two stood there, kissing and hugging before you started giggling. he pulled away a bit, asking you why you were laughing with that sneaky, low voice that would make you sizzle in your clothes, “i have to go, my boat will be here soon.”

he nodded and kissed your once more, then as you pulled yourself away, he kissed your hand. “come back soon, Y/N.”

“as soon as i get to my house, i’ll send a letter.” you replied with a smile, thinking how badly you wanted to see him again once you stepped on that boat. you thought of every moment with him, how you could’ve said it, when you were rock climbing, when you were alone camping, that night. but this was a good time to say it.

[cry4mina]

Granite - Part 2 - (Remastered)

Take Me Back To Eden - Nayeon x fem!reader

Word count: 5.2k

Angst/Attempted fluff met with....angst

Summary: Reader is struggling with the emotions that come with uncovering some uncomfortable truths about their relationship with Nayeon.

Tw: Mentions of drinking, reader has unhealthy coping mechanisms, reader is a little stuck in their head (very stuck in their head), spiraling, nausea, cursing, flash backs, food, cheating, panic attacks, crying, Dahmo is present again, a quick mention of Chaeyoung, doggos (the 10th member of twice and his brother make an appearance) If I missed anything pls let me know!

A/N: This NEEDED to be re-written so bad. Like…soooooo bad. Nothing about the story changed! Just sentence structure tweaks and maybe some more descriptive words!

I hope you enjoy! 🖤

The smell of bacon wakes you. Reaching to your right, your hand lands on a cool slick wooden table instead of your soft sheets.

You are immediately upset that Nayeon isn't next to you.

When you open your eyes you’re met with an immediate headache and the realization that you aren’t in your own bed. Vision blurring through morning light, much like the last 12 hours. Colors and shapes that aren’t distinct but there’s a familiarity in the patterns seen by your hungover eyes.

Usually waking to the sweet sound of Nayeon humming in the kitchen to herself, your chest hollows out remembering the simplicity of the previous morning.

Her showering you with affection from the minute you opened your eyes, her switching coffees with you so you could have the perfect cup, the giggles and glances while bathing together…your heart was dissociating down the spiral of what you had with Nayeon.

Physically shaking those thoughts out of your brain like an etch-a-sketch causes the dull ache behind your eyes to sharpen into a searing burn between your temples.

Blinking rapidly to clear the haze in your sights, you let out a groan at how bright the sun is beaming through the large windows in front of you.

You recognize the living room from the neutral tones of the furniture, the Twice posters framed in black hung perfectly, the fireplace roaring to beat out the chilly air, and the hints of light pink everywhere.

Not even needing to see the dog toys scattered throughout the room to know that you’re in Momo’s living room.

The uncomfortable couch you had fallen asleep on was good for sitting and not for sleeping. Shifting around, trying to sink a little deeper between the blanket someone placed on you and the firm cushion below you but the scream of your lower back was enough to keep you placed right where you were.

The sizzle of the bacon gets louder by the second and the clicking of nails on hardwood floors are now present throughout the house. You hear Boo barking for a piece of bacon followed by a loud hiss.

“Shh!” Followed by a hushed ”Y/n is still sleeping…we’ve got to let her rest- Boo! You better share with Dobby!”

“Don’t worry, I’m awake!” Groaned with a soft smile.

Reaching for your phone on the coffee table next to you and attempt to open it but your screen refuses to flicker on.

“Great” Clamoring to yourself, tossing back on the table in frustration.

“Good Morning, my love” Hearing Momo greeting Dahyun in the kitchen followed by the sound of a quick peck and a sigh; you feel the knot in your chest and the lump in your throat grow.

Hearing the way love is laced within the words Momo speaks when addressing Dahyun makes your skin burn with dread.

A deep ache that could only be filled by who you thought Nayeon was.

Who she might have never been.

The hushed conversation over the sounds of breakfast being made continues as you spiral.

Endless thoughts running through your brain as you try to file them away in their proper place. An attempt to process the feeling of betrayal. You can’t believe you’re even thinking about her doing such a thing.

“Nayeon? Cheating? She couldn’t…could she?” The woman who would threaten the Sun if it burnt you, the same woman who was so gentle with you, always making sure you felt safe and loved.

It feels like acid is eating away at your frontal lobe while the knife twists against the memories that flooded back to you. A melting brain trying to talk you out of accepting what you saw in her wallet.

Dehydrated.

Hungover.

Heart broken.

A triple threat.

While you try to derail the train of thought that was plaguing your mind, the sound of nails and the shifting of floor boards as someone walks over to you gets louder with each second. The dogs run ahead to jump on the couch and greet you, laughing as they try to lick your face giving them equal attention without rising from your position.

“Good Morning, Y/n-nie,'' Averting your eyes from the dogs to see Dahyun smiling down at you on the couch with a bottle of water raised up by her face. She gave a little shimmy and posed with the bottle to try to get you to smile.

“Good Morning, Dahyunnie” The dogs jump down when they hear the sound of Momo placing food in their bowl, scurrying off rapidly to their respective spots for breakfast.

Sitting up while Dahyun holds her hand out with some medication, patiently waiting for you to pop them in your mouth before handing you the glorious bottle of water.

“You are a saint,” while cracking opening the bottle, only to chug half of it before coming up for air, gasping at how great the cool liquid feels going down your throat.

Sitting down next to you, she waits for you to say something…anything at all. She doesn’t want to push you into more discomfort than you are already experiencing.

Eyes scanning the coffee table to see an empty tequila bottle, your dead phone, and 3 empty glasses. A sigh leaves your lips. Not being much of a drinker at all, you’re surprised at yourself for the amount of alcohol you ingested to void yourself of feelings entirely.

The problem with that, is that now you weren’t numb. Arms feeling heavy at the weight of the emotions you are carrying, the couch you are sitting on feels like it’s swallowing you whole as you sink slowly into the void of absolute devastation.

Jaw tensing as your eyes start to water.

The way her voice shook when she told you it wasn’t what you thought it was, echoing in your head, reverberating against your hangover and swollen eyes.

“Has she ever lied to you before? How long has it been going on? Did...did she really let someone else touch her?” Your body felt drenched in filth and in need of a shower.

Staring boldly into the fire as you navigate your deep dejection, you watch memory after memory rush into your mind’s eye.

The earlier attempt to fend them off, failing miserably.

A gray washed melancholy glazed over your facial expressions contouring your usually cheery demeanor into a desolate fog encapsulating the sun and giving more life to the deep shadows that mirror what’s in your soul.

Dahyun watched all your emotions sulk their way onto your face.

“Do you want to talk about it?” quietly inquired, trying to shake you out of the hopeless spiral you found yourself on.

“I don’t even know what to say. I have so many questions but Nayeon…” Flinching at the name as if someone just poked your tender heart with a sharp sewing needle

“…and this “J” person, only have the answers.” Another wave of gray as you realize what you’ve just said.

Hearing it in your own voice allowed the pieces to settle one by one. Pulling heart strings from the knot that was created over a flimsy piece of paper.

A single tear falls from your eye as Momo saunters in with 3 plates of food, handing you and Dahyun one before sitting down on the other couch, opposite you and her girlfriend.

“Thank you.” You can hear the cool slated tone of your voice as you try to hide the emotional turmoil you were drowning in.

“Thank you for letting me stay here and for being there for me. I’m really happy to have friends like you.”

They both smile empathetically with their mouths full as you take a bite of the salty strip of bacon.

—

With breakfast finished, Dahyun and Momo started to pack. Twice would be heading to Japan that afternoon for their schedules and wouldn’t be back until the middle of the following week.

Sitting at the foot of their bed and helping them decide which outfits to bring, you catching and folding the clothes that were thrown at you, tucking them neatly into the suitcases.

You lightly sigh, trying to not bring attention to yourself as you reminisce in silence about the last vacation you took with Nayeon. It was almost the same routine you were experiencing with Momo and Dahyun in the moment.

The chaos that was Nayeon packing was one of the most unorganized things you’ve ever experienced. The first time you watched her try to get everything together for a trip you had to stop her 5 minutes in as she was sitting on a suitcase of shoes trying to close it enough to get the zipper to budge.

She hated packing and would just throw the jumbled mess of clothes into a case and call it good which drove you insane even if it was cute watching her try to close that over stuffed suitcase.

When you started living together, all of that changed.

Sitting down on your bed and watch her showcase outfit after outfit to decide what to wear. You loved being able to help her decide between the colors and fabrics because it meant spending time with her.

She seemed to hate packing less too. Wondering how she’s fending trying to do it by herself as you redirect your attention to Momo while she speaks.

“Y/n, I know you know you’re more than welcome to stay here while we are gone,” Momo pulling a black sweater vest with a turtleneck off the hanger and tossing it to you without looking.

“I know you’ll probably go back to the apartment but I want you to know you don’t have to stay there if you don’t want to. Our guest bedroom is always open to you…or you can sleep on the couch again, if you prefer.” Side eyeing you, she knows how much you hate sleeping on that couch.

You all share a laugh while you neatly fold the garment and place it on top of the already organized stack in the massive suitcase.

“I think I'll pass on the couch, but I might take you up on the offer for the guest bedroom depending on how everything feels at the apartment. I need to get a change of clothes and some stuff either way.”

Momo nods her head, “You know where the spare key is, if you need it.”

—

Damp soggy streets and the sounds of cars passing is what fills your drive home. Fixating on the sound of rain tapping the windshield and the slosh of the tires in the puddles splayed out over the roads.

Anxiously heading back to the apartment, muscles tensing throughout your body as you get closer and closer to your shared home with Nayeon.

Hoping she’s already left for the airport so you don’t have to have the uncomfortable conversation just yet. It would be better to wait until you’ve fully processed what’s happened and gather your thoughts, right?

You do want to hear what she has to say but you need to be calm in order to react in a way that is best for you and your needs, just in case you have to only rely on yourself again.

Stopping at a red light, you patiently wait for the bright green to flash again as if it carries you home. The drive isn’t a long one but not knowing what’s waiting for you is creating what feels like a long time on the commute.

Looking down at your hands and fidget with the dry skin, something Nayeon would lightly swat at your fingers for doing.

If she saw you anxiously tapping your leg, touching your hair, or scratching at the sides of your fingers she would scoot closer to you, placing her hand on your thigh. Tracing small hearts, your initials and her initials, among other patterns, to get you to fixate on something else.

Self soothing now feels like a chore, you want to allow your spiral to run its course, sucking you into the disheveled thoughts occupying your headspace and filling your lungs with sharp cries.

The bright green of the traffic light reminds you you’re driving as you push the clutch in with your left foot, lifting your right off the break and accelerating with the gas. Clutch in again, shift to second, the balancing act of a stick shift car was almost too much today.

Too many thoughts swirling and you wished you didn’t have to pay attention so much. Though it was probably for the better as safety is allegedly important.

You roll your eyes as traffic stops you from proceeding. Just wanting to go to a familiar place and sit still with yourself in safety and these cars are blocking up the roads.

The entrance of the front office to the building being crowded by people with cameras. The car in front of you being halted by a security guard so the people congesting the roads don’t get hit.

Quickly realizing what’s happening, your eyes focus on the grooves of the woven leather on your steering wheel. Fiddling with them to try to distract yourself from all the commotion outside of your vehicle.

The camera’s clicking and can see the flashes in your peripherals tempt you to look up.

Temptation wins…you momentarily look up to get a view of Nayeon from your car window. The tints aren’t dark enough to shield you from her but the camera flashes might blind her enough to not see you.

She’s wearing a loose wrinkly sweater that belonged to you, sweatpants, white sneakers and a pair of dark black sunglasses. Her makeup doesn’t appear to be done and her hair is tucked into a messy bun.

Your heart bursts into flames at the sight of her.

A tear trickles down your cheek. You want nothing more than to embrace her, to feel her on your skin again, to feel the safety of your partner.

Remembering the note, the singular initial repeating in your head, remember what…or who, brought you to this emotional state in the first place.

Not allowing the visual of her to comfort you, not this time.

She’s waving to the cameras and doing hand hearts while walking towards the black SUV that’s there to take her to the airport when she sees your car.

Watching the revelation click in her head, she immediately stops walking and looks through the crowd to see you through your not tinted windows, trying to hold yourself together.

Mouth ajar and sadness creeping into her skin. Making eye contact for what feels like hours before she composes herself, cameras still blindingly flashing as she gets into the SUV.

Hearing the door close, you see the window in the back seat roll down, opposite of the crowd. The bigger car pulls out of the entrance to the complex and right up next to you.

Heart beating at an alarming pace as she sticks her head out of the window and removes her sunglasses. Her eyes are red and swollen with bags under them. She definitely didn’t sleep last night.

Realizing that she’s motioning for you to roll your window down, you comply quickly, hoping that it’ll be brief.

“Hey…Is your phone dead?” Barely louder than a whisper, sniffling through the short sentence.

Nodding your head slightly, you have trouble making eye contact with her, not wanting to face what she’s done…even if you aren’t really sure what that means yet.

A beat of silence drums between the two of you as you awkwardly shift in your seat. The stiffness of your lower back proceeding to yell at you again from a combination of sleeping on the couch and the stress you were under.

Choosing to break the silence with exactly what you expected.

“Can we talk when I get back?”. There is a glint of hope in her voice.

It hurts to hear.

You hadn’t blocked her, you rolled your window down, and you haven’t pulled off yet (not that you could with traffic) so you’re still present in some sense.

Nodding your head again, you agree to the hard conversation.

Smiling softly at you, her cheeks rising up as she goes to speak again when you hear the driver husks “Miss Im, I’m sorry to interrupt but you do have a plane to catch.”

She nods her head at the driver then brings her attention back to you.

“I left you something on the counter and there’s dinner in the fridge for you…I didn’t know if you’d be home and wanted to make sure you remembered to eat... I love you, y/n” as the SUV slowly starts to drive, picking up its pace quickly as it continues down the street.

—

Once the crowd dissipates and the smoke clears, you pull into your designated parking spot with haste. Quickly pulling the E brake and putting the car in neutral so you can take in what just happened. Not many words were shared, but you felt every single one of them echoing in your mind.

Grabbing your keys as you replay the “I left you something on the counter and there’s dinner in the fridge for you. I love you, y/n” in your head over and over again as you make your way up the elevator.

Walking up to the door, you hesitate to open it. The thick dark wood is intimidating as it glares down at you belittling your right to walk through it. Shiny golden numbers reflect the bright lights back at you as you reach for your keys hanging from your hip.

Skin prickling as you register that she won’t be on the other side of that waiting to hug you after a long day. The usual routine that happens when arriving home isn’t the same.

Bracing yourself, slide the key into the lock and turn. Hearing the mechanism click as the cog turning inside, turn the knob in tandem to reveal your kitchen.

Closing the door and locking it behind you, you absorb the atmosphere around you. The lighting is dark due to the overcast sky and lack of lights. The silence is loud as the room breathes around you. Your eyes pan over the room to find a bouquet of roses in a crystal vase on the counter.

Originally purchasing that vase to fill with flowers for her, now she was returning the favor. You take in the way the crystal shimmers with little to no light and the refractions of red coming off the sparkling corners that were etched into the filigree carved into its surface.

Flicking the lights on to reveal the spotless granite countertops, you realize that someone might have been stress cleaning. You remove your jacket and hang it on the rack on the back of the door hesitant to take your shoes off.

Your eyes hit the ground when you realize that the once sanctuary doesn’t feel safe. Pushing through the feeling, you put your shoes in their normal spot next to the door.

Gliding through the kitchen with an ease you were forcing, you search for the comfort you once had, plugging your phone into the charger on the counter.

The soft smell of roses permitting the room. Admiring them, you notice an envelope with your initials and a heart scrawled on it in bright red ink next to the vase.

Picking up the envelope, you stare at it tracing the edges of the thick paper with your fingers.

Would she write the answers to your questions here? Or would she wait until you asked? There’s only one way to find out, and you were sure you were too sober to pull the trigger.

Going into the cabinet, you pull out a wine glass and immediately turn for the fridge. Searching the shelves for the bottle that was already open. You pull the container of food out that Nayeon made for you, immediately getting nauseous at the idea of eating so you place it back on the shelf.

Realizing that the bottle is missing, she had done exactly what you did the night before.

Drank the pain away.

Biting the inside of your cheek knowing you and her both were going through discomfort, a realization you had yet to face.

You grab the unopened bottle of white win out of the door of the fridge and close it firmly behind you.

Pouring yourself a glass and chugging it quickly. You pour another while making a face, swallowing the bittersweet liquid.

Walking over to the trash can to throw the foil out, still feeling guilty about not being able to comfort Nayeon, you toss the small frail metal into the can when something familiar catches your eye.

The tattered paper from her wallet lay on top of the empty bottle you were searching for moments ago. The letter ripped in half, one side of it facing you- the signature present in black ink.

Rage shoots through you like hot liquid metal when you see it. Remembering that she could have actually betrayed you and here you are being upset that you weren’t there to comfort her?

Yeah okay, Y/n.

Eyes flickering back to the envelope she left for you…hesitating for a moment.

“Nope.” Said out loud for no one to hear.

Your phone starts vibrating endlessly, you run over and turn it on silent knowing the amount of notifications you were about to receive.

Grabbing both the bottle and the glass of wine, you head for the couch to get drunk and watch your favorite comfort movie.

—

The first night back, you decided to sleep on the couch.

Ultimately, sleeping there for another 2 full days. Only moving to go to the bathroom and get some water, allowing your body to rest and recover.

The bed seemed tainted and would probably smell like her, you didn’t want your body to relax into the false sense of safety it had been used to.

Not answering your phone or even look at the notifications, pretending it did exist and basking in the solitude. By day three you realized people might start to worry about you if you didn’t reply to them. Usually replying pretty quickly so it would be off if you didn’t say something to them.

Filtering through your notifications, you answer everyone but Nayeon. Momo had checked in with you and called you a few times leaving voicemails that got more threatening since you weren’t replying. Immediately calling her back to let her know you were breathing.

“Thank god you’re okay! I was going to head to your house straight from the airport if I didn't hear from you before we got back!”

“That’s very sweet of you, Momo-ssi. I’m doing alright just trying to take it day by day…or minute by minute, rather.”

“I understand. Have you talked to her yet?”

Hesitating to reply, knowing that you’re avoiding communication with her in fear of what the truth could be. Momo notices this almost immediately and nods her head as if you can see her.

“I take that as a no, then?”

“Yeah…I just- I don’t know, I’m scared of what happens next.”

Momo sighed empathetically.

“Sometimes you just have to take the next step, no matter what it brings.”

She was right so you tried to deflect.

“How is she?” your mouth utters before your brain could catch up.

“She seems off. You can tell she’s doing her best to try to keep it together. Less bubbly. Chaeyoung mentioned your name and she immediately went pale and changed the subject.”

Pressing your lips together, the back and forth of feeling guilty for not being there for Nayeon and feeling sorry for yourself was getting old and you were exhausted from the strain you've been putting on your nervous system.

“Momo, can I let you go? I guess I have to read these text messages.” begrudgingly said through a sigh.

“Yeah, good luck! Call me back if you need to talk about anything okay?” saying your goodbyes and hanging up.

No longer ignoring the task at hand, you open your text messages to read the 3 days worth of messages. At first they’re all panicky. A lot of begging for you to answer the phone, a lot them just simply saying your name.

They soon delve into “I miss you”, “I love you”, “Please come home” and “You mean everything to me” texts. A few of them were unintelligible, definitely sent after all the wine she consumed.

Some from the day she left for Japan, asking how the dinner was and if you read the note. A few more “I love you”s sent throughout the last few days.

Placing your phone on the table, you run your hands over your face, keeping your fingers over your mouth.

Opening your voicemails, put your phone on speaker and start to go through the ones from Nayeon. They’re all really hard to listen to. The first few especially.

“Y/n, please answer the phone! We can work through this! It’s not as bad as it seems, I swear! You are the only person I want to be with. Please call me back.” Sobbed into the microphone.

Heart cracking at the shakiness of her voice and the sadness dripping through your phones speaker.

Through the voicemails you can start to hear her words slur. The memory of how you were accepted by her members floods back into your brain again.

However, this time the joy is absent from the flashes of love. Only sorrow sits. The last voicemail she left you was from the morning of the day you came home. More of the same contents, but with sniffles instead of sobs.

You sit for a second to collect yourself. The envelope on the table, patiently waiting for you to rip open it’s seal and explore the contents.

Taking a deep breath, you pick it up. Slowly run your thumb between where the paper is stuck together, being sure not to damage anything inside. A pink slip of paper is neatly folded inside. You discard the envelope on the table and unfold the bright page and start reading.

“My Love,

I need you to know that you are so important to me. You are my safety. My guiding light. I’ve never felt as loved as I do when I’m with you. Please know that I am sorry for everything and I will explain when I get back. I hope you’re still home when I return.

With all the Love,

Nayeon”

Your heart sinks.

What do you mean you’re sorry for everything? What is everything? More questions and no answers.

Picking up your phone to call Momo again and vent about the apology you just received because all of the context is missing.

The phone rang once, twice, and the third ring was interrupted with a familiar voice.

“Hi Baby,” Freezing immediately, you are unsure of where to go from here.

Deciding to use the emotions you’ve been hiding as courage and ask the questions you’ve been holding onto for the last week.

“How long?” Cold. Stern. Angry.

Silence fills the other side of the phone as you wait patiently for the answer.

“Do you really want to do this right now? Can’t we wait until I get home so we can talk in person?“

“No, we are going to do this on my terms. How long?”

Nayeon sighed as you heard a door close through the phone as she separated herself from the rest of Twice.

“...it only happened once…a few years ago…it was a few weeks after you asked me on our first date.” Flinching when her voice cracks.

Tears silently trickle down your face as you focus heavily on the admission of betrayal.

“It hasn’t happened since. I messed up and I realized that. Please know I wouldn’t ever ever do something like that again.”

Heart is racing as you feel your cyclical emotions take control again. Anger, nausea, fear and betrayal dance around your chest as the words spill out of your girlfriend's mouth.

“Why was the note in your wallet?”

“I just switched wallets, it was in the black one I was using last week and I just didn’t throw it away.”

“Nayeon, Who is J?”

A long pause as you wait for her to say the name of the person who helped defile your relationship. She sighs heavily, you can hear her shaking.

“Can we please just talk in person tomorrow when I get back?” she pleads.

“If you’re not going to tell me, I’ll hang up. I don’t need anything else from you besides that information.” Voice overlaying in thick ice as the shards of what she broke fly out to hit Nayeon’s chest.

This is agonizing for both of you and you aren’t going to wait around for her to decide it’s time. You were the one who got cheated on, not her.

Never even thinking to do that to her so you would not be extending any grace.

“Y/n…”

Silently waiting for your answer that she is refusing to give.

“I’ll see you around, Nayeon.” As you move the phone away from your ear to end the call.

Faintly hearing her protesting but you hang up without fully hearing what she was trying to say.

Slamming your phone down on the coffee table when you feel the adrenaline release, chilling your veins down while your breathing starts to shallow and quicken. Switching your breathing into manual as you try to stop the panic attack before it gets worse.

Long deep breaths only get you so far. Your hands and lips start to tremble as your chest tightens. Feeling the need to stand up and run out of the building but are too light headed from the hyperventilating, you’d just fall over if you even try to stand.

Catching a glimpse of your phone lighting up from a text message. Lifting your phone to read who it’s from.

Momoring: I’m sorry, I didn’t see that she grabbed my phone when you called. Are you okay?

Momoring: Nayeon just walked back into the room crying...

Starting to type a response through trembling fingers when another message banner drops down, catching your attention.

It’s Nayeon.

Reading the text to yourself, mouth gaping when you realize this is the information you had asked her for on the phone. Shooting up out of your seat in a pure rage.

“Oh, You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

[hools]

Sorry if this is a weird question, but how do you come up with your drawings? What does through your mind while making them? I find your compositions so gorgeous and intriguing but I can't really figure out how you approach things since everything's very shifty and abstract. It's really gorgeous work, I'm so glad I discovered your art :,)

hey first of all this isnt a weird question at all & i'm really glad you enjoy my art heheheheheehe. there's an incoming large largely unformatted block of text that i hope you dont mind!

Honestly there are a billion things going through my mind at a time while I'm drawing and they all sort of bump into each other and cancel each other out like opposing particles. If you've seen any of my streams i'm usually very fast and iterative in a lot of my process and i rarely ever slow down even past the early parts like thumbnailing and sketching. i kind of let my hands do the talking more, yknow? but even then theyre never talking about a single thing at a time. everything interacts with everything, which is probably why i always end up getting lost and meandering. composition is not independent from color & value and neither are they from texture and perspective. its hard thinking of all of the ways they mesh and react to one another so i spend less of my energy thinking and more of it doing, and then assessing once something interesting comes about it. i guess then i prioritize my Hand Movement Actioning and Eye Vision Seeing over my Brain Neuron Assessing. but even though iterations can come and go quick this kind of informed throwing-against-the-wall isn't really the Fastest. but its fun. and you get to stuff all the unused ideas in your pocket for later.

even though i did say how connected everything is i always seem to start with composition. it kind of affects and informs everything the most at least on an individual piece level. with thumbnails & composition in general i think youre supposed to think huge right. so i Always think huge. push everything as much as you can. start with a crazy angle (not necessarily angle meaning "perspective" but like an angle between two lines) and border your scene within it. take an already steep foreshortening and steepen it further with the transform tool & see what shapes form from the empty & filled space. shrink your subject to only fit 3/4ths of the canvas and build around it to make it work. blow things up (enlargen) and blow things up (remove & obliterate). with composition you have so much room for fuckery if you give yourself the grace to accept the fuckiness.

and i guess this freedom to fuck around and iterate and build and build and build upon comes from how most of the time my initial ideas are very. vague? abstract like you've said. sometimes its Just a song or a song lyric and nothing else (no characters to attach to just the feel and my gut). sometimes its a less than 5 word phrase i felt strongly about throughout the day. in my me-only discord server i have messages in #to-draw channel that just say shit like "something about guitar straps" "thanks for knowing me!" "angel don't look at me" "DITHER QUEEN" (<-been meaning to make something with that). for things that have specific guidelines i spend more time thinking conceptually (the "rare animal" coelacanth drawing being an example) but otherwise it mostly comes out after. again. the first strokes. after you put the meat and bones on the canvas. an artist at a workshop i was at last year when i was in my own head about Needing to have a fleshed tangible Profound concept before being able to start something told me not to underestimate the stories that can be told just by your hands. and i think thats what stuck with me the most.

& one last thing i wanna mention is how despite how much i revel in the chaos of the process ive found how important limits are. i don't like cutting back on everything but i like cutting back on some things. sometimes i cut out backgrounds for solid fills and i love them that much more. sometimes i have little subconscious rules in a piece that i try not to break to keep a little level of consistency. if somethings a big wonderful mess already then i love a limited pallet and i love keeping parts empty and i love being able to breathe a little. yknow. but still go over the top in the other parts you have so much permission to. less is more but have a little more in your art than less. YKNOW?

but yeah thanks again for your kind words and wanting to listen to me talk. i havent been drawing much at all so these arent too fresh on the mind but i think i got a lot of what i wanted to say out. i hope u and others can get things out of this! if i made any sense <3

[rhodesrider]

Superman

Roman R. x Little!Reader (Feat. Platonic! Jey and Jimmy Uso )

Minors DNI // 18+ // Age Regression warning

~

“Wait wait, you think Roman is who?” Y/N shushed Jey and Jimmy quick picking at her fingers nervous of her caregiver coming out of his office to see what was all the commotion. Jey blinked looking at her confused until he put two and two together. Not only was the poor girl in her little space but she noticed small things about Roman to make her think that he was Superman.

“Babygirl. Roman is not Superman.” Jimmy snickered some, but Y/N was serious. “Oh? Then why does daddy leave at weird times at nights and in the morning?” She smirked. But jey had a answer for that. “Y/N he goes on night runs and morning Jogs.” He sighed. “Sure he does, next your gonna say he not allergic to green glowing things.” She sighed. “He’s not?” Jimmy countered. “Then why did he throw away all my glow sticks?!” She said. “They were in the floor baby.” Jey laughed. She soon felt her face hot, she groaned and walk away knowing that her daddy was Superman. “If they don’t believe me, I’ll just make my own investigation.”

She ran to Romans’ office knocking on the door smiling as he opened it. “Hey princess, daddy’s quite not done yet but what’s up?” He squatted down to her kissing her cheeks. “Daddy could I get some printer paper? I ran out of sketch paper..” she pouted. He nodded and he went in his office right quick leaving the door cracked. She peeked in the door looking in seeing if she could find something abnormal. She scanned the room using careful eyesight and soon saw a pair of glasses on his desk. She stepped from the door as she hears footsteps and received the printing paper. “Thank you!” She smiled and ran off back to the living room where her uncles were playing the game. “Guys! I knew he was Superman!” She said in a hushed yelling tone. Jey paused the co-op game and looked at her while Jimmy just laughed a bit. “What other evidence you have?” Jey said not really wanting to entertain this but it seems like he doesn’t have much of a choice. “I saw “reading glasses” on his desk.” She said. “Daddy has great vision why does he need glasses?” She smirked happy with her evidence. “Well I mean that’s not enough evidence hun, every 30 year old man got glasses for reading.” After hearing the slight rebuttal she pouted. Jey was talking to her but out of the corner of jimmys eye he saw Roman peeking, he pulled his phone out and texted jimmy. Jimmy looked at his phone and rolled his eyes.

“Just play along.”

“Wait Jey.” Jey was stopped mid reasoning and looked at his brother. “Maybe she has a point,But idk the glasses ain’t enough still. If anything hard evidence comes from facts as well.” Jey blinked and soon his phone vibrated, he peeked at the text and groaned. But still kept his character. “Man, there’s no way that man in there is Superman.” He got up putting the controller down and walked away. “Uncle Jey doesn’t believe me…” Y/N pouted sitting down in his seat. “But I do.” Jimmy smiles. “Roman goes to bed at 10 o clock tonight. We can look around in his study some more.” Jimmy smirked. Y/N nodded excited and hugged her uncle going to get ready for bed. Soon out of sight Roman and Jey popped up again. “Why are you like this?” Jey asked Roman. “Look I think it’s kinda cute! Besides it could be fun.” He smirked. “So what u got set up?” Jimmy asked and Roman started to plan as so.

~

“Ok sweetie this is the plan.” Jimmy legit was going all out for this. He made a map and everything. Of course with Romans way of setting it up leaving a valuable little treasure in the safe. Y/N ran down most of the plan and gave some important notes in scented markers. As everyone heads to bed, Y/N sneaked out her room and so did Jimmy heading to the study. He opened the door slow and looked in giving the ok to start the investigation. The flashlights moved around the room and Y/N was so excited to find something a piece of evidence to show that her amazing caregiver could be the man of steal. “Hey over here.” Jimmy called as she was looking in his cabinets losing focus. Jimmy pointed to the safe. “Wait, uncle we don’t have a code.” She point feeing like the job was pointless. “Hm. What do you think the code would be?” She thought long and hard, soon remembering. She punched the code in and it opened after two beeps. “My birthday.” She smirked and peeked in seeing something was glowing. “Wait…a rock?” Jimmy was a bit confused, but he looked over at Y/N seeing her eyes sparkle. “No uncle. It’s kryptonite.”

~

The next day rolls over and Roman stepped out his study looking down at his phone. Soon stepped out Y/N, getting mentally prepared for what she’s about to try. “Hey daddy..” Roman turned around and soon saw the green stone in her hand. “I’m sorry!” She closed her eyes getting it closer to Roman and he had to act fast. He soon groaned a bit and moved back acting as if he was getting away from the stone as much as he could. “Pumpkin where did you get that?!” He asked peeking at her, she through the stone away far from them and she went to him in tear thinking she hurt the poor “superhero”. “Daddy I’m so sorry I knew your secret are you Okies?!” She sniffled and checked him really worried. It touches his heart seeing her so caring about him sometimes. “Well sweetie…you finally know. But you have to keep it secret for me. No matter what. Daddy has enemies that want him to disappear.” She nodded fast and hugged him smiling brightly. “I knew it.” She giggled.

But how long will this game continue? Check out next time ;) I’m pretty sure the friends he called would love to play along.

[twosides--samecoin]

hey! i appreciate you offering me some advice!

i’m workin on my first ever fic (and creative writing for that matter lmao) and i keep running into the same issue

i’m really struggling to come up with plot/story. if i have like key moments or anything i have no issue writing it. i have a few pivotal moments that i want to happen but filling in the moments between them is super hard for me. is there any way to get over this?

Most people have a few key scenes they want to see when they think of writing a story, and it's normal not to know how to link them together. My longfic was my first try at creative fiction. Here's some of the thought process behind how I took my fic from an idea to a story arc!

Planning a story arc is about developing the journey. How did your main character get from Point A to B?

There's so much that goes into this answer, so here's a table of contents for this post:

Writer mental health: Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Process

Planning Documents

Question Everything

Study [Part 1] Themes & Motivation

Study [Part 2] The Source Material & Your Inspirations

Study [Part 3] Storycraft

Sidequest: Questions, themes, motivation & storycraft for a story about nothing

🧠Writer mental health: Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Process: I've written a post or two about perfectionism and writer mental health. Stories are sort of like plants; writers are like gardeners. No plant or story is fully formed from the jump. If your idea is a plant, then it grows from a seed. If a writer is a gardener, then they're tending a plant that grows over time. Allow yourself to make changes. Be willing to draft the story, edit, then sleep on it for a day or two and edit again before you post it online. You can always press the edit button after publication. I'm starting with this because the sooner you develop a growth mindset, the more likely you will avoid common writer mental health pratfalls. Treat writing like an oil painting in a museum: it began from a sketch and wasn't done all in one go. This point might not feel relevant until you have a bad day as a writer.

📝Planning documents: Take notes on anything and everything. Most writing software will have an outline/table of contents feature to help you organize. One document could be character notes, another might be a timeline of events. One could be scene ideas. Don't feel pressured to explain yourself too much. Treat these documents as scrap paper where you can write down quick ideas and move on; use a bullet point format. As my fic grew, my documents and the contents changed. Mine are now quite messy, and I don't feel the need to use them every chapter. I've outgrown them to a degree, but I still have them for my own reference.

I encourage you to avoid deleting large sections, even if you retcon an idea. Instead, move them to a cutting room floor document. You never know what you're going to need, and though it's in your head right now, you never know what you might forget.

❓Question Everything: While you know who your characters and what some big pivotal scenes are, you need to ask Who, What, When, Where, Why & How about these people and events. If you're from an analytical background such as law or journalism, you were trained to think this way when you learned issue spotting.

Asking these questions about the pivotal scenes and characters will spawn further questions you need to answer, which will then help you figure out what to write in-between the big scenes. If your pivotal scene is a fight between the Hero and a Big Bad, or the Love Interest proposing to the main character, you should ask questions about how the characters got there. What is the conflict between the Hero and the Big Bad? How did the MC and Love Interest meet? What challenges did they have along the way?

The genesis of my fic began with these questions. I thought:

"[What] would I do to fix the canon Fallout 4 [Who] RJ MacCready story?" I was then granted a vision of RJ hiking in the snowy mountains of [Where] Banff National Park. The [Why] was "Med-Tek didn't work out". That partly answered the [When] (North America in the post-apocalypse, over two hundred years since the bombs dropped; at the end of RJ's canon story). [How] did they figure out he needs to go to Banff?

After this idea took hold of my brain, I kept asking questions. As I answered them, I kept notes.

[What] happened at Med-Tek? [How] does RJ get from Boston to Banff? If this fic begins at the end of his canon story, [Who] is the Sole Survivor who helped him through it? [Where] are the key locations in Banff RJ should go and [Why]?

Some questions are more pertinent to explain than others. For example, travel was a big question I had to solve given my story is set in a post-apocalyptic version of our world. Distance travel- unless you're a caravan or the Brotherhood of Steel- is a luxury for your average Wastelander. So I looked up the closest real world equivalent to a vertibird (a tiltrotor aircraft such as the Bell-Boeing V-22 Osprey), spent time researching forums and roughly figured out how much fuel and how many stops a vertibird would need between Boston and Banff.

Another writer in the Fallout fandom might not find that pertinent or put in the same research. I value being able to point at something and say, "Oh, I figured that out" to help me better inform my writing.

📗Study [Part 1] Themes & Motivation: Ok, so you're thinking about how the Hero got involved with the Big Bad and the conflict between them; you started with the proposal and marriage between your MC and Love Interest and are now thinking of how they met and how their families react to their partnership.

What are your character's goals and objectives?

What is their background? What makes them think or feel a certain way? Keep in mind that people are complex. A traumatized person isn't always "acting" traumatized to the other characters or the audience.

What are some activities you've observed in real life relationships?

What do your characters like to do when they aren't working?

Who are your characters outside of the events of the story? Who are they before the story? Who are they after? If the story events didn't happen, who would they be instead?

What does one character observe in a room that another will not notice? If one character turns their nose up at a concept or idea, why or why not?

How does your character react under pressure?

What classic literary tropes apply to your character/story? Can you mix and match, or subvert a classic trope?

A love story is rarely ever just a love story. A superhero movie is rarely ever just about superpowers and fighting. What themes, concepts or ideas do you want to explore? Do you have any intellectual curiosities or side hobbies you want to bring to your writing? I really love studying philosophy and enjoy hiking. I am a big fan of works that examine the relationships humans have with nature and each other, as well as the nature of power. These are two things that make my fanfiction different: my characters react to their environments. They observe differences between Banff/Boston and remark upon what happened to Earth when the bombs fell. One of the best compliments I ever had on my fic was from a reader from Alaska who saw their childhood home reflected in Banff's boreal forest; who almost felt as though they could smell the environment by reading the story. My wife @edaworks is a multihyphenate and autodidact- statistician, sociologist, attorney, hobby archaeologist and cosplayer among many other things. In her fic, she brings completely different ideas to Fallout than I do.

📙Study [Part 2] The Source Material & Your Inspirations:

If you struggle to think of ideas relating to the central conflict, you can always return to the source material.

Are there details you notice that you have questions about?

Is there a character interaction that intrigues you?

Is there something you feel the original creator didn't explain? (For me, I wanted to figure out how resource-intensive travel like flight is possible in Fallout.)

Outside of the original text, think about works by other people that inspire you to make your own work. What intrigues you about what they do? How does your fave author or director handle the moments in between the pivotal scenes?

What literature outside of fanfiction do you enjoy? (Some of my fave books are House of Leaves, Infinite Jest, Walden, Le Petit Prince, The Catcher in the Rye, The Road, Ulysses, Blood Meridian and The Lord of the Rings.)

Do you enjoy comedy? Do you have a particular sense of humour because your parents raised you on Laugh-In and Richard Pryor? How can you infuse your story with jokes?

What movies or TV shows had an impact on you as a kid? Quentin Tarantino's Kill Bill is a love letter to the stories he was inspired by. In turn, Kill Bill inspired my own story. I'm also influenced by stories about courageous kids navigating a corrupt adult world as well as industrialization vs nature, such as in Laputa: Castle in the Sky, Akira, Princess Mononoke. A lot of what I like is hyperdetailed in some way, be it via dense themes, immaculate cinematography or intricate set design.

What music do you listen do? Are there musicians who explore themes that resonate with the story you're writing?

📚 Study [Part 3] Storycraft: Learn about story structures and basic plot types to help you figure out how to build the overall story arc. Get to know your genre.

Note that you're not required to choose a story structure/plot type/genre. Approach to story delivery depends on cultural tradition, genre and the means with which the story is told. An awareness of them will help you understand how you can build your story.

A radio play, college graduation speech and a bedtime story are all part of the oral tradition. Despite being different stories intended for different audiences, all three could be told with a variety of story structures, or the same one. This chart from r/screenplay compares different approaches to story structure. There's even an entry for the Scientific Method.

If your story falls somewhere in the action/adventure genre, a story structure that might help is Joseph Campbell's monomyth; a three-act structure that watches a hero move from a known to unknown world and back again. Published in 1949, The Hero with a Thousand Faces posited that many heroic works can be boiled down to a similar story structure. You might know it as The Hero's Journey. A good movie for examining The Hero's Journey is Hercules (1997).

(The above image is from Bookfox. <- The linked page has similar graphics & explanations for other structures.)

After acquainting ourselves with the Ordinary World of Ancient Greece and Hades' meddling, Weirdo Freak Whom Do Be Too Strong Hercules visits the Temple of Zeus, who tells Herc he can earn his godhood- the Call Of Adventure. Hercules now wants to go the distance and find where he belongs. Zeus sends him to Meet The Mentor, Phil. After a training montage, Hercules and Phil go to Thebes and cross The First Threshold into the Unknown World. Herc wants something, encounters trials & a massive ordeal, then returns to the Known World a changed man.

Let's say one of your pivotal scenes is a huge fight between the Hero and the Big Bad. You could place that almost anywhere on the right side of the wheel. The Call to Adventure could be the first fight. The fights and conflict could get worse until a major fight happens at The Ordeal. Whatever you do, the audience needs to see the pivotal scene contextualized in some way. Whether you begin the story with a fight or are leading up to one, we want to see why it happened. You want to lay the groundwork and context for the pivotal events.

The pivotal events don't mean anything without context to support them, and the audience will not root for your characters if we don't see them struggle and/or aren't given reasons to care or get to know them.

Keep in mind it's not all about drama. Ideally, The Hero's Journey helps an author deliver layers of information that ranges from telling us about the characters' journey/everyday lives to showing the audience details that leads toward the central conflict. Maybe your characters are having a casual lunch and they see people running and screaming down the street. It's out of context in the moment, but it tells the audience, "Something's going on in this story that isn't right". Setup, payoff: the audience learns the reason why things aren't right when you contextualize them through supporting evidence.

These videos [1] [2] by Extra Credits explain the monomyth through an analysis of the video game Journey.

"But Tumblr User twosides--samecoin," you ask, "I'm not writing a heroic journey. What if I want to write a story about people just hanging out?"

👕Sidequest: Questions, themes, motivation & storycraft for a story about nothing

While your Hero doesn't need to slay monsters, some degree of conflict is necessary in most stories. Even the slicest of stories in the slice of life genre like Lucky Star have at least an episode or arc that has some problem to solve.

Seinfeld is known as being "a show about nothing", except that's not quite true. It's a slice of life comedy series that explores the misadventures of a friend group. Many episodes are predicated on telling a certain joke, gag, or are about seeing how the characters act in absurd situations. It's never about nothing. When the show was pitched to NBC, Seinfeld said: "We want to show how a comedian gets his material". The show is about mundane/everyday situations and turning people's worst tendencies into comedy gold.

Example: Seinfeld, season 5 episode 2: The Puffy Shirt

Who: is Jerry Seinfeld? Jerry is the titular character and a comedian. Also-ran are Elaine and George, as well as Kraemer and his new girlfriend, Leslie.

What: the fuck is that garment? The puffy shirt in question is considered a MacGuffin.

When/Where: Early/mid 90's NYC. Jerry's apartment, a photo studio, a restaurant, The Today Show.

Why: It's funny to see a grown-ass man act a fool about a bad fashion choice because of a miscommunication. He has to go on The Today Show and the host mocks the shirt, leading Jerry to snap about it, which then offends Leslie.

How: Jerry mishears Leslie, who has a very quiet speaking voice. In an effort to be polite, he accidentally agrees to wear the puffy shirt on The Today Show while pretending to understand her.

Themes: Miscommunication, humiliation, consequences arising from false politeness, awkward situations

Motivation: Jerry was motivated to be nice in an effort to accommodate Leslie's low talking volume in order to move the conversation along. He didn't realize he was agreeing to something he didn't want to do. This episode is not just about the humiliation Jerry suffers in the A plot- there are also B and C plots containing their own jokes that add to the tension of the episode, which all fall apart when Jerry snaps. Several plots and character arcs create pacing that feels like a boiling pot by the end of the episode: It's layers of mini jokes that support the main joke, which doesn't get a full punchline until the end. It's still one of the funniest 30 minutes of television ever produced, over three decades later.

Hope something in this ramble helps! Thanks for the ask, @publikoccurrences :)

All of my consultation, beta editing and screenshot commissions are free, but if you find what I share helpful: Consider reblogging, buying me a Ko-Fi, or check out my writing on AO3! You can send me an ask about any writing topic and I'll be glad to answer.

[pinkydevil16]

Benedict Bridgerton x reader: part 3

Part 1 Part 2

Benedict was in pieces as he gripped the paint brush, replaying the events of each encounter with Y/n. Each detail working it's way into his painting as he sketched her at lunch, the dark blue dress against the floral garden, her hands lightly holding a plate with a little cake on. His hands coated in charcoal and red raw from drawing and erasing over and over, the light not perfect or the colour not bright enough. His annoyance spiking as he pushed his hand through his hair, letting out a puff of air before dropping into his seat and staring at the painting. Surely this was a form of torture, to constantly be harassed by his mind and body to draw her, to sketch her into existence when the day before she'd been so close he could smell the scent of her perfume. Never feeling like it was enough, every detail was too blurry, not clear enough that he could reach into the canvas and pull her out. He wanted to watch it come to life as his muse became more life like yet never correct, he was a tortured artist like so many before him yet he was sure he was the only one to feel this way. 

"Benedict! We must make haste!" He jumped as Eloise seemed so close but he could hear her voice echo off the walls as she screamed at the base of the stairs, his body feeling exhausted as he covered his art and left the room. Leaning against the stairs as he looked down at his family, Anthony and Daphne arguing over her choice of suitor whilst their mother told off Eloise for screaming and being unladylike.

"I apologise however i cannot attend tonight Mother, send my apologies." Benedict could feel the dark circles under his eyes, his fingers cramping from the lack of took between them, the exhaustion hitting him as he barely held himself up. It had not been 48 hours since he had seen her and it felt like he hadn't slept for 12 years, the life had been sucked out of him as she left with a small goodbye. 

"No! You get your butt down here right now!" Eloise stomped her foot as she spoke, she despised balls and with Penelope unable to attend she needed Benedict to be her buffer from other Mama's or god forbid a potential suitor to speak to her. Benedict gave her a lazy smile as he shook his head, Anthony now paying attention as he scowled at his brother. 

"Yes, get dressed we are almost late." Benedict went to argue but Colin was quick to shake his head as he drank from his glass, Benedict sighing as he entered his room.

"No, no, no! This is not nearly the correct colour for tonight Y/n. You have a suitor now, and he must be unable to look away. No dark colours, how about this?" Y/n looked away from the window to where her Mama held a pale pink dress, her nose scrunching up as she looked at the embellishments.

"I prefer blues and purples Mama, pink is beautiful however you once told me it washes me out under the lights." A gasp came from the older lady as she recalled the mild insult, nodding as she tutted at the hand maid pushing the pink dresses into her arms as she began sorting through the purple dresses. Y/n looking back towards the window as her Mama fussed, setting out a new dress along with a necklace and matching earrings, humming to herself as she smiled at her vision.

"Come, try this on and let me see. Oh i do hope he asks you to dance again, a Bridgerton! It is such an achievement, although most Mama's would not be happy about the second son but he is a handsome man." Y/n stood, allowing Maria to tighten her stays before placing the baby blue dress over her head and begin to button the back, her Mama speaking as she was pulled tight.

"Mama, he is a friend." Y/n's Mama waved her off as she continued speaking of how handsome and gentlemanly Benedict Bridgerton was, how sweet his mother was and each comment made Y/n's mind swirl. She liked Benedict, enjoyed his company and loved his art but she didn't want to marry, she wanted to do as much as she could before she would be sold off to some Lord or old man who wanted her to birth his babes. Her Mama, much like Violet, believed in love matches however she wasn't such a patient woman, she wanted to a love match to happen instantly and for her daughter to be wed by the end of the season. Any Mama's dream, a practical dream which suited the societal pressure of women. 

"Has this gown gotten lower?" Y/n mumbled as she looked in this mirror, Maria pinning her hair back as Y/n frowned before her Mama waved Maria off and began placing jewels in her hair.

"I had some modified, it is nothing to be blushing about, i have heard of the Bridgerton men and how their eyes wander. I am simply ensuring that his eyes stay on you, do not give me that look. When i was younger women wore full corsets and their busts were barely contained." Y/n rolled her eyes as she adjusted her dress, her Mama lightly hitting her hand before Maria informed them of the time.

"Ahh! We cannot be late, come come." Y/n sighed as she followed her chaotic Mama, her Father standing by the door with a whiskey as he waited. Smiling at his wife and daughter before being hurried to the carriage by the older woman. 

Benedict stood next to Eloise, a drink in his hand as always during a ball however now his eyes darted between the dancing couples and entry way, every minute ticking by making his hands grow clammy.

"You look tortured brother. Do try to not act so love sick around her." Eloise commented as she scowled at another man, making his eyebrows raise before turning away and hurrying back where he came from. Benedict almost choking on his drink before covering it with a cough, Eloise grinning as she watched her brother turn red.

"I am not love sick, the only one love sick around here is Daphne unless you count Anthony being sick of love." Eloise rolled her eyes as she leaned agains the wall, looking at her eldest Brother as he once again interrupted Daphne and the Duke.

"I do not see the interest in being married or being a show pony for the ton." Eloise sneered as Benedict rolled his eyes taking a drink.

"I agree, it truly is awful being poked and prodded." Benedict once against tried not to choke on his drink as Y/n appeared next to Eloise, a grin on her face as she watched Benedict, his neck and ears still bright red from Eloise's comment. 

"Finally someone who has a brain!" Eloise almost shouted, watching Y/n as she grabbed a drink with a small eyebrow wiggle to Benedict to mock him.

"If i am the first person you've met with a brain then you should get better company Eloise." Benedict playfully shook his head as Y/n stood between the siblings, the heat of her body seeping into his as he contained the urger to shift and touch his covered arm to her naked one. Although it was warm he could see the small goosebumps along her arms from exiting the carriage, the slight blush to her skin from the change in temperature and windswept hair which looked beautiful against her skin. His eyes suddenly drawn to her chest as he watched her breathe, the dress tightening against her breasts with each inhale, his mind racing as he was sure it was lower than before. He was staring again, but he couldn't stop himself, his eyes slowly covering each part of her body until she spoke and broke his trance.

"Is Cressida glaring at me or you Eloise?" Benedict turned his head to see Cressida glaring in their direction, although he could see her glare was more on Y/n, most likely for being able to find a suitor compared to the blonde girl whose Mama seemed to scare any man away. 

"I believe she glaring at you, it makes a change from the constant glare i receive." Y/n let out a snort making Eloise giggle as Benedict tried to contain his blush, everything she did was like the best drug to him. 

"Hmm well it will be interesting to see how much she will glare when Benedict asks me to dance." Y/n turned to Benedict as he placed down his drink, a big grin on his face as he held out his hand.

"Would you have this dance with me Miss L/n?" Y/n gave him a playful grin as she took his hand, the pair gliding onto the dance floor for the third time since they'd met, and now it was easy, his hands didn't hover or waiver as he confidently placed them against her waist. Her hand fitting against his as he pulled her closer, reminding himself of the proper etiquette although he wanted to feel her pressed against him.

"I can feel the angry eyes of Mama's and daughters putting holes in my head." Y/n whispered, making Benedict laugh as he looked around seeing Cressida and her group of ladies all watching and whispering, although he could see the jealousy. It wasn't because she was dancing with him, it was because she was dancing with someone for the third time unlike many of the other ladies of the ton who had debuted this season. 

"You should try feeling the glares from the men who you turned down last season, i sometimes think i'll be set ablaze by the looks." Y/n let out another snort as she playfully rolled her eyes, making Benedict grin as he watched her, amongst the glares and burning jealousy was Violet and Mrs L/n who were gushing over their children. Two happy Mama's who were conspiring to encourage the pair to admit feelings only one was sure they had, whilst the other was adamant not to feel it. As the dance came to an end the pair bowed, Benedict offering his arm which Y/n took with a small smile, collecting a drink each as they walked around talking quietly. Benedict taking in every little comments, each smile and laugh as well as each quirk of the brow or twitch of an eye. Almost cataloguing her movements to keep in his mind when he wasn't near her, drinking in everything he could. 

"I need some air, i shall meet you in a few moments." Benedict nodded as Y/n walked through the double doors, her glass half empty as she placed it on a tray and disappeared from his sight. Forcing himself to stand by Eloise as he stopped himself from following Y/n and drinking in how she looked under the moonlight. It was heavenly in his mind, but he knew it would be ethereal in real life, potentially maddening. 

Y/n let out a sigh as she leaned against the garden wall, the cold air helping her hot body, when she had been dancing it was like she was on fire. His hand on her waist was burning through her fabric and making her skin, but she didn't want to pull away, she wanted to be closer. Shaking her head Y/n played with her necklace, pulling it side to side as she calmed her nerves. She had danced with many different people and yet none had made her heart pound or body heat the way Benedict did, infact no one had ever made her feel so out of control. 

"Miss L/n, are you alright?" Flinching slightly Y/n turned to see a previous suitor who she could not recall, placing a smile on her face as she nodded and moved slightly away from where he stood too close.

"I am fine thank you, a bit flustered from all the excitement of dancing. Excuse me." Y/n went to pass as he side stepped her, forcing her to stop as he blocked her way, a grin on his face as he looked down at her. 

"You look beautiful tonight, the gown is exquisite, a lovely cut for your body if i might say." She could feel her lip twitch at his comment as she tried to keep her polite smile although she could see his eyes were only staring down at her chest and she cursed her Mama inwardly for modifying it to entice such men like the one before her.

"Thank you for the comment, i should get back before my Mama becomes concerned." The man didn't move instead he stepped closer, Y/n stepping back as she felt the cool garden wall against the back of her legs, her hands coming to steady herself as she gripped the wall to stop herself being rash.

"I am sure if a Mama allows their daughter to wear such dresses she would not mind you being here." The man stepping even closer so his chest almost touched hers as she dropped her polite smile and glared up at him, her hands fisting against the wall as she stood proud.

"A gentleman would never be so inappropriate, i suggest you step back sir." The man let out a laugh as he quickly looked over his shoulder before leaning down to place his hand on her waist, her hand coming to grab onto his, her nails in his skin as he let out a small hiss but didn't remove his hand. Matching her glare as he stared down at her with a sneer.

"You don't even remember my name, i tried to court you for weeks, i sent you flowers and each time i was turned away. Now you're entertaining a second son, an artist whilst i am cast aside. I am owed Miss L/n, and i intend to collect." Y/n closed her eyes as he got closer, her nails breaking the skin of his hand as he pressed into her waist, the alcohol on his breath making her want to gag.

"Marcus! Get the hell away from her." The man was pulled away, leaving scratches along his hand from where her nails had dug in, Benedict pushing his back as the pair glared at each other.

"Ahh if it isn't the lucky Bridgerton." Benedict stood in front of Y/n as she collected herself, watching the door as she feared this becoming a scandal, which would not only ruin her but her whole family.

"You reek of alcohol Marcus, leave before i knock you to the ground." The man let out a laugh as he shook his hand, small droplets of blood coming off as he did making Benedict smirk slightly before stepping forward as the drunken man stepped back.

"She's not worth all this. Don't worry Benedict you'll get knocked down once she throws you on the streets like the rest of us." Y/n could feel tears in her eyes as Marcus walked off, his hand hidden in his pocket before Benedict stood in her line of vision. Squaring her shoulder Y/n nodded and moved to walk around him, Benedict turning and grasping her arm gently as she did, her body turning towards him as he looked down at her.

"You're shaking, please just take a moment Y/n. Are you alright? I'm so sorry i should have come with you." Y/n shook her head, she could feel her hands shaking as she avoided Benedicts eyes, his hand barely holding her arm as he moved to touch her cheek softly. Flinching away from his hand Y/n finally looked up, she could see his heart break as she pulled her arm free and stepped back slightly.

"I am fine Mr Bridgerton, thank you for helping me but i really must return to somewhere far less private. This has already been a close call for a scandal and i do not wish for it to be found out." Benedict wanted to pull her into him and hold her until she didn't feel so afraid, her whole body shook gently as she took a shaky breath, his hand stayed close to her skin before he took a small step forward.

"Take a deep breathe in." Y/n nodded as she followed his instruction, his hand making contact with her skin as she closed her eyes, feeling him closer to her as he moved a step forward. His other hand taking hold of her cheek as he held her face, her eyes closed as he stroked her cheeks helping her to calm down.

"And breathe out." Again she followed his instruction, her body warm from his touch as she moved her hands to hold his wrists, opening her eyes to stare up at him.

"Good, just breathe okay? You're safe with me. I would never...you're safe." Y/n nodded, his thumbs brushing over the apple of her cheeks as he pushed a tear away, her hands barely holding his wrists as she inhaled deeply, holding it before letting it go. Benedict let his eyes drift from her closed ones, dropping to her lips as he continued to caress her face, his thumb moving to touch her lip as her eyes opened. His thump grazing across her bottom lip as he made eye contact, watching the emotion flash across her eyes, concern, fear, want. The latter made his heart skip as he leaned forward slightly, barely an inch but it was close enough that he could hear her inhale sharply, see individual lashes and how they sat along her eyeline. His thumb now moving across her bottom lip to the corner as he cupped her face and moved another inch closer, transfixed by her doe eyes and how her mouth opened a fraction to allow a gasp to escape. Her hands suddenly tightening on his wrists as she pulled away, stepping back and holding his hands away from her face, her lip between her teeth as she took a deep breathe. Cheeks red and hot although in the moonlight he could barely tell the difference, her eyes wide and filled with an emotion he couldn't understand.

"Thank you Benedict." Without another word she was gone, back inside where the music suddenly seemed to deafen him as he leaned against the garden wall, letting out a shaky breathe as he thought about how close he had come to kissing her. He'd been truly possessed, unable to pull away and he was sure if she had not moved he would have kissed her until her lips were red. 

part 4

[wonuumelody]

“ The train ”

Xu Minghao / The8

pairing: Xu Minghao x gn!reader genre: soft, stranger crush. warning(s): none word count: 0.6k

synopsis : When you took the train to your grandfather's house, you met a really fascinating and mysterious man with a long and black coat.

It's been a long time since you took the train. Not since you were a kid, anyway. The last time you took it, you must have been eight years old, with your grandfather in China. Today, you were an adult and decided to visit your beloved grandfather in his little Chinese village.

When you got on the train you immediately took a seat next to the window, glad it was free. The sun beat softly inside the car, the pretty orange light brought charm and softness to the room. You had taken with you something to do, the book you were currently reading, your notebook and headphones as well as your iPad to listen to music and work (mostly draw) without disturbing the other passengers.

The ride began and from the beginning of this one you did not raise your eyes from your screen, busy drawing. Having finished a drawing you had started a week earlier, you raised your head to look out the window. In your field of vision you could see on the right side a long black coat, looking more closely you could see the face of the person wearing the coat. He was a brown haired man, with pretty eyes and slightly pointed ears on their extremities. The young man had his head turned to his window, sitting opposite you he couldn't see you.

When you came back to earth, you took back your iPad, he inspired you. You then began a quick sketch of the young man in black, starting with his silhouette and then drawing the background. Without you realizing it, the man had turned his attention, not to the book he had in his hand, but to you. He would see you watching him from time to time before refocusing on what seemed to him to be a drawing. A smile appeared on his face and his gaze was a mix of curiosity and amusement.

As you raised your face to look at him, you fell directly on his eyes, which were already on you. He gave you an absolutely charming smile before nodding to you, pointing to the empty seat in front of you. You nodded slightly and the young man moved from his seat to the one facing yours.

" - Good morning," he said.

"- Hello. . " you had replied, slightly embarrassed to be surprised.

Did I see you draw me? You know, that's very flattering.

"- That's right! I couldn't help it, I probably should have asked you before. Sorry. . .

- There's no harm, don't worry! May I see where you stand? "

When asked about the stranger, you nodded before showing him the beginning of your work. After I complimented you the discussion quickly came between the two of you. He was an absolutely charming man of unbelievable kindness and politeness.

After spending at least two hours talking and laughing together, the train docked at your stop, apologizing for having to leave, the young man grabbed your hand and slipped a piece of paper.

"By the way, my name is Xu Minghao. "

- Y/N. . . I am Y/N"

He looked at you with a smile before he saw you running away, your purse in your hand.

Once you got off the train, you took the time to look at the piece of paper he gave you. There was a phone number. You gently squeeze the paper in your hand before you put it in your purse, who knows maybe you'll call him one day.

_______________________________________________

Hi! I hope this story has pleased you.. I think hao didn't meditate before, that's why he went directly to you. Anyway, thank you so so much for reading, it really means a lot to me. Kisses <3

[polysucks]

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When your commission is complete, I’ll send you a high-res PNG file of the finished piece. If you want a transparent background or no background at all, just ask—no extra charge. If you’re printing the piece, let me know if you need it in CMYK format instead of RGB.

Refunds:

Once we begin mockups, there are no refunds. Emergencies happen, and I’m open to discussion, but if I’ve already spent an hour or more on your commission (which is about how long it takes to make a mockup), I expect to be paid for my work.

All assets (mockups, sketches, etc.) will have a watermark/signature to protect my work from redistribution or profit without my permission. However, if we part ways and you need to find another artist, you’re welcome to keep and share any assets we exchanged as long as you don’t remove my watermark or credit. I’m cool with it, as long as you’re respectful!

Turnaround Time:

My turnaround time can vary depending on the complexity of the commission and my schedule. Simple sketches might take anywhere from 24 hours to 14 days, while full-color, detailed pieces can range from 6-30 days. In general, expect about 2 weeks for a commission to be finished so that when I finish it sooner than you expected you’ll be pleasantly surprised, but I’ll keep you updated throughout the process.

I keep my workload light because I value my passion for art—I don’t want this to feel like a job. It’s important to me that I’m doing this for fun!

And, don’t worry if you see me posting new art that is unrelated to the work im doing on your commission. I’m usually juggling 5-6 pieces at a time not including my comm slots, and I draw during work, school, and my downtime, like the cozy, recliner-dwelling, old woman I am.

Additional Fees or Add-ons:

Some details, like detailed backgrounds, specific accessories, or other specific requests, may come with an additional charge starting at $10. We’ll discuss pricing for these before proceeding, and I promise I’m not a monster—I’m super affordable! But, I do value my time and skill, so I expect fair compensation for my work.

I’m ALWAYS down to talk art trades! Wanna trade a commission for a fic or another type of creative work? lets talk!

[rosethreeart]

Rendering tips that hopefully don't sound nonsensical or vague <3

Gonna skip my "study the fundamentals" soapbox but Color Theory, contrast, and understanding how light works (especially bounce light) are your best friends!

Try not to over blend, especially with a soft brush/blur tool. This usually removes all the detail and little color variations present in the piece and essentially can set you back several stages in the rendering process. Figuring out how "blended" or "smooth" certain surfaces are compared to others is essential.

Frequently zooming in and out like a millennial trying to stay relevant on tiktok by making ads helps prevent you getting tunnel-visioned and helps with the tip mentioned above.

I'm a little freak and do almost all of my rendering on one layer immediately after sketching and laying down really quick flats. I didn't start that way tho! Doing your lighting in various different layers and layer styles first, and then merging them all to a new layer (do this with a "copy canvas" type of tool or even import the png of it to preserve the previous layers!!) and going in and blending on that, can help give a good sense on how the rendering process works.

traditional painting rules can and should apply! I had an after school art class in hs with some very wonderful teachers and one of the things that they taught me was to "only blend the outer edges of the colors". This helps with keeping color variation and detail., as well as preventing your colors from getting too "muddy".

if you're painting a person, knowing where the color variation in undertones is a huge help! Places like the rims of eyes, the nose, ears, neck, and joints tend to have a more reddish hue due to blood flow and whatnot! There are also "blues", yellows, and oranges, especially in the face!

I put "blue" because, once again, color theory kinda lowkey fucked up and does what it wants LMAO. Essentially if you have something "blue toned" on the body (save for veins) its typically a de-saturated, darker, and more "yellow"-ish tone then the original skin tone used, however even a dark, and muted magenta or even purple can give a similar effect! It really depends on the skin tone, and the colors that are surrounding it. Also different skin tones reflect light differently so that's important to be aware of as well!

Typically what I do is I use 3-5 "main" colors for a section that I'm doing. So lets look at this hand for a second

Since hands are very warm toned, I stuck in the red range and did very little variation in hue, to preserve that. So I have his natural skin tone as the "base", did a deeper and more saturated color as the "outline" to help me stay aware of my form. I have two shadows, a cool tone (where the twig would reflect light) and a warm tone (where the red of the hands would reflect). But I also used almost a neon red! You can see it a little bit on that thumb right there near the shadow. Sometimes having a (slightly-extremely) more saturated color can help act as a "transition" color. These also help with maintaining your contrast, preventing the colors from getting too muddy, be a function of bounce light, and help show the more "internal" hues of the body.

References can be a HUGE help (I used one for the tree <3) but keep in mind that they're there to give you an IDEA of what you're trying to make, not just be a 1:1 recreation (art studies are a different thing that I wont get into here)!

This shit aint easy and there WILL be an ugly phase or multiple but you gotta push through it! This also takes a long time to do so there's no shame in doing it in multiple sessions, in fact I recommend it, as fresh-eyes can be a savior to a drawing.

thats all I can think of at the moment <3

[nighttimescribbles2]

pictures of you

Textures of You part 2. Sunny romances don't last forever. zeke x reader; angst; modern au; artist!reader; exes; cheating wc: 1680 a/n: heard ldr's Damn You for the first time, something clicked. been in the mood for angst and hurt feelings. not proofed. sorry for typos and accidental tense switches (if any). it's hard to get the hang of thinking and writing in present tense.

He isn’t your Zeke anymore, this polished, well-dressed man you collided into in the middle of the wet sidewalk. The innards of your portfolio are all over his shiny shoes - papers and canvases and what all else - slowly waterlogging themselves into ruin. Once upon a time, they were full of him, of eyes and the bridge of his nose, cheekbones and the graceful musculature of his neck and shoulders. Once upon a time, you painted his fingers folded one over another, hands cupped around your belly, dimpling your thighs, closing over your own.

Once upon a time, he was yours and you saturated your world with him. Now you can’t look at his face anymore and your mind draws a helpless, muddled blank when he crouches to help you gather your things.

Rain runs from his umbrella and slithers into your collar and down your back. You ignore the shiver and work faster to tidy up your spill. It embarrasses you more that he should see all these pieces that make up the present parts of you, and at a time when they are scattered and trodden like regular trash.

“I’m sorry about all of this. If there’s anything I can do…”

The rest of his words, you no longer hear. The cotton around your head recognizes only that the one you ran into this dreadfully rainy day speaks like your Zeke, and is quick to offer to fix things like your Zeke.

A pang spasms in the hollows of you, one that makes your eyes well.

“It’s all right,” you hear yourself saying. You are blinking fast. “I was on my way home, anyway, and these aren’t very important.”

You shove the wet sketches into your portfolio, where they immediately proceed to taint everything else with their damp. Crumpled corners stick out of the leather. He winces at the sight and hands you a stack of carefully collected canvas sheets with the rainwater shaken from them.

Your Zeke had always been kinder towards your works than you ever were.

“You don’t have an umbrella. Let me walk you home.”

You press your lips together.  His earnest face swims into your field of vision. 

It’s appalling how quickly you agree.

—

Once upon a time, you frayed apart. Your Zeke had always been too smart, too good, to remain a drifting summertime dreamer, while you had always been much too caught up in your paints and fancies. 

It was an amicable breakup.

Now the rain drums as on a tin can in the landing of your apartment building and your breath steams while you fumble for your keys.

“Come on in.”

You still live in a studio, albeit different from the one you used to share. This one is a cheap attic room with beautiful awning windows and a skylight in the sloping ceiling. It’s small - more cramped than cosy - and peppered with your personal streak of chaos.

It still makes the present Zeke smile.

He has to duck a little to get through the old, old door, but the wonder that blows through him when he sees the inside is still the same. He aches at the familiar jumble of colours on half-finished pieces, and the black, white, and grey of the old dusty charcoal studies taped onto the walls and tucked into falling-over reference books, and the multiple cups of unfinished coffee left to go stale, wring nostalgia from deep within him.

All those years apart and he still hasn’t met anyone quite like you.

Divested of the trappings of the day, you lean by your desk and size him up from across the room. Surrounded by all the big and small things that have always made up your life, you appear to him to form a perfect part of the painted memories he has kept all this time.

The window above your desk beams the light of silver rain upon your head. His eyes blur with the old affection. He didn’t remember it to be quite this strong.

“It’s cold,” he coughs out at last. His nails have dug trenches into his palms. It feels like forever before he can get his next words out. “May I stay for a cup of coffee?”

—

He works in policy development  now, yet the way his face brightens when he’s handed one of your ancient mugs is the same as ever, and he is your Zeke when he teases, “No leftover paints in this, I hope?”

You laugh. In your throat, something chokes you.

He doesn’t sit. Instead, he paces the perimeter of your apartment, steps slow as he drinks in each and every piece of art you’d let explode all over your place. A prickle runs through you at this intense observation. You don’t dare look at him as you huddle on your beat-up couch compulsively scratching at a loose thread in the upholstery.

Since going your separate ways, you’d bloomed and then promptly fizzled out into a moderately successful artist who lived off some freelance work, a handful of sales, and an occasional show. You peaked too early, hit a ceiling, and try though you might, could not seem to go any further. But as he finishes his tour, he breathes, “Beautiful,” with all reverence, and for a moment you believed that finally the time had come for you to begin to move from mediocre to great.

“The circles I move in now make no room for art.” He seats himself beside you on your only sofa, the little loveseat that was the only thing you could afford after you left your shared apartment all those years ago. His fresh clothes bear a stark contrast to its worn state, and your soft light catch their expensive sheen when he leans on his knees, your battered mug cupped in big hands.

He sends a crooked smile your way. “You can’t imagine how much I’ve missed your works.”

“They’re still the same.” You meant, they’re still around, but your words are jumbled and come out sad. His smile evaporates and he shifts restlessly until he spots the pack of cigarettes on your end table.

“You started smoking?” Surprise.

“Occasionally.” 

Truly, when he tips the box, he finds if practically full.

“Mind if I…?”

You shake your head. And so the pungent smoke joins your company. He begins to relax again, begins to lean back and stretch one arm across the back of the sofa. Tentative conversation begins to flow. 

He doesn’t do baseball anymore. No time. He reads, though.

“Still the great classics?”

“No. More…instructive stuff.” His mouth twists ruefully up. 

Your Zeke had majored in literature and used to spend days and days ranting when he was caught up in the spirit of a new read.

“Oh.”

Life loped along the conventional paths for him. He has a partner now, a great girl, go-getter just like him. Dream girl. But his eyes dim and he stares numbly into the ceiling when he speaks of her. 

“What about you?” It sounds spiteful.

A shrug. When he brings up his arm for another smoke, you wilt forward, wrap your lips around his cigarette, and suck in a good lungful. “I’ve no one,” you murmur through the smoke blowing from your mouth. It is impossible to let go of his piercing gaze. “Not since you.”

You come together. He chainsmokes your stash while you sit between his legs and draw - draw the likeness of the leg dangling from the edge of the sofa and the perspective of tucked knees supporting your drawing pad. You bring to life the lines of the hands gently fondling your wrist and render the graphite light upon the backs of fingers splayed across your stomach.

Like this, it is easy to sink again into that worshipful peace that washed over you when you memorialised your Zeke on paper. It is even easier, you find, to twist around at the behest of lips on the back of your neck so that you could turn your artistic attention to the new lines on his still handsome face and drown in the old intensity of his eternal blue-greys.

He is the same. He is still your Zeke, from the top of his tousled head to his bare throat and chest. The salt bedewing his neck tastes the same, the groan he buries between the tops of your naked breasts exactly as you’d always remembered. He still makes you gasp when he seats you atop himself, and makes love to you as thoroughly as he used to.

You cling to him and secretly weep for the return of your Zeke.

—

It feels right only for one beautiful, fleeting moment. As soon as you leave each other’s arms, dread returns. The perpetual tightness pounds again in his temples and the chronic pit in your chest reawakens with an acid sting.

He dresses without a word. When he is done, he stands a long while in his coat, laden down with briefcase and umbrella and staring at your numb, naked form on the sofa. In your mind’s eye, that tortured, tired look he wore on the wet sidewalk finds its home on his face again.

His limbs twitch to reach for you. His mouth opens to speak. He clenches his hands and grinds his jaw. He nods. He looks away. He leaves.

The door shuts. Your chin quivers. Cold, trembling hands push a cigarette between your lips and leave it like that, unlit between twin tracks of tears.

Outside, his steps clang on the metal stairs. Thoughts of summer assault him, and he can’t stop himself craving that old painting that sits at the bottom of his office cabinet even as he hisses to himself that he’s forgotten all about it.

Rain patters cheerfully on your roof like it’s an empty soup can. For the second time, you lost your Zeke.

He splashes through puddles. Their mud cling to his shoes, fling themselves onto his immaculately kept clothes. He feels sick. For the umpteenth time, he has to stop himself from returning to you.

[theauthor2103]

Can I request a saw story? If so can it be about John and Amanda young??

Here's what I'm thinking a father daughter dynamic Amanda hasn't been sleeping or eating for the past few weeks, and John hasn't really noticed since he's always up late, so he just assumes she sleeps or eats during the day like he does sometimes

But it gets bad to the point of where she faints from exhaustion

(that's happened to me sm lmao)

So when he finally notices, he takes it into his own hands and helps her fall asleep!!

Lots of fluff please and cuddles maybe 👀

My daddy issues need this so bad lmao, if u do this thank you my dear <3

Sorry this took me so long to write, I hope you enjoy!!!

xxx

Amanda wiped sweat off her forehead and panted as she continued tightening a bolt on her latest trap. She gripped the socket wrench in her hands and raised her arms again, standing on her tiptoes to reach the bolt and began to fasten it towards the right. “Come on, fucker,” she whispered to herself.

Amanda had been working hard on her trap for the past week refusing meals and neglecting sleep. She wanted to get it finished as soon as possible so that she could start testing it with mannequins. It would dig into a subject’s ribs and tear them out if their game could not be completed. This was the first device she designed and built on her own without John. He had helped her figure out the mathematics and figures, she sketched it, got the parts, and built it by herself. Amanda was very proud of the work she had done and hoped that John would be too.

Her stomach rumbled and she felt her arms shaking above her head, but ignored it and pressed on finally tightening the bolt. Amanda caught her breath for a second before walking over to a box with parts and grabbing the last piece of metal attaching it to the trap. She stood on her tiptoes once more and began to turn it to the right to tighten it, feeling a bit unsteady on her feet.

Amanda suddenly felt very dizzy, she could feel blood rushing through her body and started hyperventilating, unable to catch her breath. Her vision went yellow for a split second, she felt dizzy on her toes, the whole world was spinning and she dropped the socket wrench. Her ears were ringing so bad she couldn’t even hear the clang of the metal as the wrench fell to the ground.

The metal part was loose on the trap and fell down to the floor with Amanda who was still holding onto it. It smacked her in the head as she fell backwards and onto the dirty ground.

Luckily, John was just in the other room making coffee as he had just woken up from his slumber and heard the clanging. He immediately put his mug down on the counter and went to inspect the noise.

“Amanda?” he called out, getting worried when he heard no response. “Amanda,” he tried again, “everything alright?”

Walking into the room, he saw his apprentice laying on the floor next to her latest trap. “Amanda!” he ran over to her just as she regained consciousness and sat up. “What happened?” John asked, helping her sit up and placing a hand on her back.

“What? Oh, I’m fine I think I just- just got a little lightheaded,” Amanda muttered, stumbling back onto her feet.

“Take a seat.”

“I’m good, I’m good, I’m good,” Amanda said, but John knew she was far from being good. Her face was a sickening grey-white, and her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she began to fall backwards. John had anticipated this, seeing her unsteady on her feet and was quick enough to help break her fall.

“Amanda, you’re not good,” John told her as the young woman’s breathing increased again. He lifted her torso up and held her close to him, beginning to inspect her. She looked thinner than usual, still toned and muscular but less brawny. “Amanda, can you hear me?”

“Wass ‘appening?” Amanda tried to say as she started coming back.

“You’re passing out.”

“Oh, sorry,” she said, hoping that John wasn’t too worried. He felt his heart break for her and helped her to her feet and over to a chair. John was on one knee kneeling in front of her continuing his inspection. He gently took her face in his hands and looked closely.

“When’s the last time you ate something?”

“I don’t know,” Amanda muttered, feeling herself coming out of a haze. Her head felt heavy and she rested it in her hands, relaxing into the chair.

“Did you get any rest like I told you to?” He knew the answer though, no. He knew how important this trap was to her and admired how dedicated she was; however, it seemed Amanda had been neglecting her health while working on her project. This wasn’t the first time Amanda had gotten fixated on one of her traps and stopped taking care of herself, it had happened before.

“Uh huh,” she said, unsure of what John was saying and deciding to agree with him. John could see how unfocused she was and decided to save the rest of his questions for a later time. Right now his apprentice needed his help. He walked into the small kitchen and grabbed some orange juice out of the fridge and brought it over to her. “Drink this, it’ll help your blood sugar.”

She did as was told and drank thirstily. Amanda could feel herself starting to come to and opened her eyes. John was knelt in front of her holding the cap in his hands and watching closely.

“What happened?” She looked around the film for clues not remembering how she got in the chair.

“I went to get some coffee and heard a bang in the room. When I went to inspect it, I saw you passed out,” John explained.

“Oh,” she said. The orange juice was helping and she felt strong enough to stand, but John put his hands on her shoulders. “What? I’m okay,” the brunette insisted.

“No, you’re not. You look like you haven’t slept all week and I can tell you haven’t been eating,” John said.

“I have been! I just ate something like three hours ago.”

“And what was it?”

“Umm…” she thought, her mind was still hazy and she wiped sweat off her forehead, “a cracker.”

He blinked. “A cracker?”

“Yeah, just a cracker,” Amanda replied.

“When’s the last time you had an actual meal?” Amanda opened her mouth to respond but couldn’t remember. Definitely not in the last three days, maybe five? Not this week… last week? She didn’t recall eating a meal, some snacks here and there, but not an actual meal. How long had it been?

“That’s what I thought,” John said, folding his arms across his chest.

“I didn’t do it on purpose. I’ve been working on the trap a lot, I’m busy.”

“You need to be able to balance your work and your health, Amanda,” John said, beckoning her to drink more of the orange juice and she obliged.

“I’m sorry John,” Amanda said. “I just wanted to prove to you that I could do this on my own.” John sighed and placed a hand over her own squeezing it lightly.

“Amanda, I am proud of you and all the work you’ve done. But, you’re no good to me if you’re not taking care of yourself.”

The brunette felt her heart skip a beat and blushed, casting a look at the ground. She loved it when John showed her affection, it was something she had rarely gotten from anyone throughout her life. To have someone worried about her and actually care about her well-being was probably the best feeling ever.

“Come with me, let’s get you something to eat,” John said, helping Amanda up and leading her to the kitchen. He sat her down at the table and grabbed some leftovers out of the fridge, heating it up. John sat with his young apprentice while she ate making sure she left not one piece of food left on her plate.

Now that she was listening to her empty stomach, Amanda realized just how hungry she was. She listened intently to John’s philosophy on life as she ate and nodded her head at him. He commended her for her dedication to their work but that she needed to take care of herself. “We’re committed to changing lives, giving people a second chance and making sure they understand just how precious life is. In order to do that we also have to make sure we’re taking care of ourselves.”

Amanda nodded and wiped her mouth with a napkin as she finished the last bit of food on her plate. She was feeling much better now that her stomach was full.

“Feeling better?” John asked.

“Mhm, much better.”

“Only four plates later,” John chuckled, arms folded across his chest in a typical dad pose.

“Yeah, I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

“Again, I appreciate your dedication but next time remember to eat and sleep. I don’t want you to pass out again,” John said, noticing the bags under his eyes and the bloodshot eyes. “You look exhausted.”

“Mhm, I haven’t really slept a whole lot.”

“I thought you were sleeping during the day.”

“No, I’ve been cleaning up around here, running errands, and following the subjects around.”

“So just to be clear, you work on your traps at night and during the day you take care of everything else?”

“That’s what I’ve been doing.” John said nothing but gave her a pointed look. “What? Someone had to take care of everything else around here!” John sighed and closed his eyes.

“Amanda, why didn’t you ask for any help?”

“I don’t….” She stopped feeling a headache coming on. She didn’t want to tell John her reasons, he had enough to deal with and didn’t need to worry about her too.

“Know how to ask for help?” She nodded, it was partly true. She was used to doing everything by herself and for herself. But she was also not about to pour her heart out to a dying man in front of her.

Amanda grabbed her plate and quickly stood from the table, but John grabbed her arm stopping her. “Let me,” he said.

“But-”

“I said I’ve got it.” She watched as John took her plate and sat back down sighing. He was her plate for her and put it back before beckoning her to follow him.

“I want you to get some rest for the rest of the day.”

“Well, I….” A very stern pointed look kept her from arguing with John and she got up from the table, following him into her room. Amanda wasn’t used to having someone care for her. There had been visits to emergency rooms, friends who had come and gone from her life, a few teachers that stood out, but no one to help her. She could not remember a time where someone had actually taken care of her, until John. Even still, the man had cancer and was dying. He shouldn’t be burdened with having to take care of her.

“John,” Amanda said, walking next to him.

“Hm?”

“You really shouldn’t worry so much about me, you’re the one with cancer. You need rest more than I do, just let me-”

“Enough,” John spoke, opening the door to her room. “You have to stop being a martyr. It’s time for you to let go of your ego and allow someone to take care of you.” Amanda felt her face heating up and blushed as John held the door open for her. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

This was one of those moments she would hold close to her heart, a moment she knew would make her sob once he would be gone. John and Amanda walked inside of the dark room, lit only by a lamp on a bedside table. He was unsurprised to see the bed hadn’t been made, grabbing the comforter and smoothing it out best he could.

Once Amanda crawled into her bed, John sat down next to her and allowed the young woman to rest her head against him.

“Get some rest, Amanda.” She smiled into his chest, breathing in his scent feeling calmer than she ever had.

“I didn’t realize how tired I was,” Amanda said.

“I’m aware,” John replied, resting a hand on her head and smoothing her hair out.

“Goodnight, John.”

“Goodnight, Amanda.”

He watched over her as she slept, rubbing her back and holding her close to him. Years ago, he would have given anything to be able to hold his child, but never got the chance. He feared he would never have another chance to be a father again, but Amanda had changed that for him.

Pride be damned, as long as his heart continued beating, John would watch over her and be there to catch her when she fell. He had a chance to father someone, even under the circumstances. Amanda was a grown adult and John wouldn't get the chance to raise a child from birth into adulthood. Even so, he supposed if this was the best he would get, then it was a gift.

And he would remain a father to the woman as long as he was alive.

xxx

Please let me know what you think of this in the comments^^

[avocado-frog]

ROYGBIV tag

Tagged by @elsie-writes and it took a. frightening amount of time to spell roygbiv.

---

Red- Ryan backstory chapter

The door opened, and Sam clamped a hand over his mouth, holding onto Ryan's wrist. 

Footsteps, the rustling of paper.

"Those aren't the regular shoes," Sam whispered, and pointed. Ryan turned to look. They were red tennis shoes, not black boots. His eyebrows scrunched.

He wanted to see what was going on. Despite Sam's whispered protests and his own spike of dread, he crawled out from under the bed and stood up. If he was quiet, the intruder might not see him.

---

Orange- Rosemary chapter 21

"You should make a fire," Jaxon suggested. Leo frowned a little.

"It's probably too cold," she whispered. "No heat to generate flames out of. Plus, I've got my casts."

Still, she rubbed two fingers on each hand against each other in small, quick movements, eyebrows knitted as she stared down. Gradually, her hands got redder with heat, that turned orange, that turned into a tiny flicker of a flame on her finger. Her eyebrows knitted together in concentration, struggling to keep it.

Jaxon moved a bit closer, and Leo moved her hand a little, setting the small flame in between them. If her hands weren't in casts, she would be able to make it bigger. That was enough, for now.

"Careful not to move too fast," Leo reminded him. "The flame will go out."

"Right." Jaxon tapped his finger against his knee and contemplated asking his next question. Leo, reasonably, wouldn't get angry, and he thought that they were both too tired to fight with each other. "How's it going with your ghost mom?"

---

Yellow- Rosemary chapter 22

Sam wandered over to stand behind them, leaning over their shoulder to watch them draw. Sam wasn't any good at it, but he liked to watch. 

The page Dylan was drawing had a bunch of sketches of planets drawn in colored pens. An orange and yellow sun, lots of silver and yellow stars, purple Saturns with magenta rings. Green grass sat at the bottom of the page, with purple flowers- lilacs were easy to recognize, but Sam couldn't name the rest- growing through the lines.

This time, the bunny with the flopped ears was laying down against the bird with the green shadow. Next to the bird went a small drawing of a planet- Saturn, Sam thought- and a few purple stars. Next to the rabbit was black circles drawn in pen, with a green pen that became the petals to flowers. Dylan picked up a brush, dipped it in the red paint, and made a few, small hearts in between them.

---

Green- Dahlia chapter 14

On the left was a large, dark green rose bush. Tall, sculpted into an arch. It was surrounded by dark bushes and thick leaves, bundles of little flowers. Lily said that the garden was safe.

And on the right, Ryan froze again. He hadn't seen it before. Cylindrical, tall, white bricks, fenced off, white wildflowers grew around it. He grew up there. Dylan stared at it, too.

"Nightmare in the middle, or horror on the left?" Dylan tried to joke. It went unspoken that neither of them wanted to go to the lab.

"Nightmare in the middle," Ryan shrugged. "How bad can a circus be?"

He knew what circuses were. They weren't scary, they were a bit loud and the people swinging and jumping off of wires made him a little nervous, but they weren't that bad.

Dylan frowned. "Don't ever ask that."

---

Blue- Rosemary chapter 12

With her heart stuttering in her chest, Leo forced an eye open as far as it would go. Which was not very far, but it was better than nothing at all. 

Her vision was blurred, swirled colors of dark grey and black and navy blue. Shapes started to form. Leo blinked, and her eye threatened to stay shut.

When they managed to pry both eyes open, blinking hard to get them to focus- halfway through that before they realized that they still needed contacts that they probably didn't have.

Okay. All Leo needed to do was figure out what was going on. This would be easy. Contrary to popular belief, Leo didn't need to be able to see.

---

Indigo- none

---

Violet- Dahlia chapter 8

The lights flickered, and Leo glanced at the kids, holding hands in a circle around her comatose brother like some ritual.

Leo couldn't say she was a fan of this. The lights flickered again. Some inky, thick, black substance dripped from between Dylan and Elliot's hands, and then Dylan and Ryan's, creating a small puddle on the floor. The lights flickered. Dylan's eyes snapped open, a bright, glowing, vibrant violet. The same ink poured from their eyes. And nose. And mouth. Their head jerked backwards. A scream.

"Fuck that." Leo stood up, turned around, and shut the door. "Fuck that."

-----

Tags: @@the-down-upside-finch @briannaswords + open tag because i can't think of anyone else + no pressure of course

[razzek]

how does your blindness impact your art? I would have thought that it would be impossible for a blind person to work in a purely visual medium like you do, but clearly that's not the case. do you use adaptive tech or specific styles/techniques?

(I apologize if this question is ableist. I would like to know more about your experiences, but I don't have a great grasp of what's appropriate to ask and what isn't. I am not trying to be rude.)

Oooh thank you for asking! :) For the record, I’m pretty chill, I know there aren’t exactly a ton of us blindies out there, so feel free to ask questions with the language you have. :)

Haha oh man, my blindness has impacted my art from the very first thing I drew at age 4. I have a small amount of vision in my left eye; no depth perception, no peripheral vision, no distance, pretty good colors though. Life to me is basically a smear of nonsense colors that I put meaning to through context and location. The closest thing to seeing anything clearly I’ve ever gotten was watching cartoons, which I did obsessively as a kid. So first and foremost, I don’t and can’t draw from life, it makes no sense to me. The bold, simple actions of animation and the heavy stylization has taught me a ton.

Over the years my style has become very much about being high contrast, high visibility. But it also tangles with my love of doing pretty intricate detail work (it’s soothing, what can I say XD). In the past I was strictly a traditional media artist and I drew with what I had on hand. Growing up in poverty, what I had was the pens I used to write with in school and the paper I scrounged out of recycling bins. I basically mashed my face on the paper and worked in light angled over my shoulder that wasn’t too bright. I clipped paper to clip boards so I’d always have something lightweight enough to hold in one hand while I drew with the other. I’d sketch in pencil and ink using my very beefy prescription reading glasses, and everything I do had to be self taught. Life drawing class just doesn’t do anything for the dude who can’t see the model. :D

In 2019 a botched cataract surgery cost me most of my functional vision. I can no longer read print for any length of time, I don’t watch tv, and increasingly I just forget to look at most things with my eyes. But! I have an iPad. :D It took a few years and finding a pair of beefy store bought readers so I can focus enough to draw, but using Procrate and zooming down to the pixel as well as sketching on a black background makes the art still possile. I still draw mostly the same way I did with traditional media. I know brushes could probably be used to make some things easier, but I don’t have the spoons or visual stamina to figure out how to use them except for making quick backgrounds (pro tip: never have your character or object floating in a white void, even a single line to ground them will make your work better).

Color of late has been an interesting thing because I literally do not understand how light and shadow really works. I’ve read up on it but there’s only so much anyone can do when they just can’t see the thing. I like to ink the best and color is just an experiment I’m trying every time I do it heh. I make up little rules of style for myself and do a lot of guesswork based on the full shape I think a thing or character has, if that makes sense. I don’t know how a lot of things work visually so I will make stuff up, guess, or you’ll see some funky style things that happen because I read a medical paper once and just like drawing the holes in an iris (that’s what the lines in characters’ eyes are heh).

I’ll have to make a video sometime. Some of this stuff probably makes more sense in action.

Tl,dr: I mash my face onto an iPad and use 35-ish years of drawing experience to guess at what leoks right. :D I don’t think I would have become an artist if I wasn’t blind, I would have had more to look at to distract me. XD