#this is my first time coloring and drawing her

[liloinkoink]

the planned monthly update rate for ddvau is fucking insane and i wanna tell you why bc i feel like doody and maruu need more recognition for the shit they’re pulling off to bring ddvau to you guys

so first off. hi. if you do not know me. i am a webcomic fiend. i am not an artist nor have i ever drawn a comic, web or otherwise, but i have been an avid webcomic reader for a very long time. i’ve been reading and following, without exaggeration, hundreds of webcomics consistently for about a decade. at my last count i am currently actively following around 200 ongoing, still-updating, non-hiatus comics in a week across a few sites. i’ve also been following most of my favorite comic’s artists on other social media and reading about the process of webcomic making from them. these are my credentials for Knowing Things About Comics—no personal experience, but a decade of observation

that in mind. ddvau is a page format webcomic (as opposed to a scrolling format webcomic, like the sort of thing you generally see on webtoon). both comic formats have their own norms and rules, so we’re just gonna compare ddvau to other page format comics, bc comparing page and scrolling format is comparing different animals

most if not all page format webcomics update at a rate of one or two pages a week. i’d say loosely i’ve observed that hobbyists or people with busy full time jobs tend to update once weekly, while people making some income off the comic or with more time to dedicate to the comic might update twice, tho this isn’t a rule.

this means you generally see roughly 4-8 pages a month for most page format webcomics

the most recent two monthly chapters of ddvau were 18 and 16 pages. both of them were double the rate that’s standard for the medium and has been standard for the last decade i’ve been reading webcomics

genuinely i don’t know how else to get across how insane that rate is. like. if they were updating at a "one-page-per-update, x many updates a week" rate like most page format comics do, they’d be updating four days a week. they would be releasing a page on at least half of the days of month. do you have any idea how absolutely fucking crazy that is? double the pace of the average artist in their medium. i haven’t been able to get over it since i realized it

and this is double the normal workload/rate of a page format webcomic artist on top of weekly art on doody’s kofi! a bunch of extra sketches or even full color illustrations! i happen to know one of the next weekly kofi arts that is coming out will be a bunch of full color, which is, and i cannot stress this enough, a fucking insane choice and doody is crazy. and doody also draws the merch that they make! i know for a fact those two are planning to do several merch drops this year with unique new designs in every one

(and like, i didn’t even touch on the extra work maruu is also doing, like helping manage the fan discord or coordinating the merch drops and running the shop with their merch and shipping companies, as well as maruu’s work as a writer and her color work on the comic itself, simply bc i don’t understand much of anything maruu is doing there enough to talk about it in depth. what i DO know is that those two rlly are lucky to have each other, bc someone could not to all the shit they’re doing at the rate they’re doing it alone)

which… kind of points me to the whole point of making this post. doody and maruu are doing something absolutely fucking phenomenal and delivering wayyyy more shit to you guys than is standard or like. honestly more than what is reasonable i think you two are crazy. the amount of work that is going into ddvau behind the scenes is fucking unbelievable, like, “the longer i think about it the less i can wrap my head around it” level of unbelievable to me. especially with how consistently high quality ddvau is, especially these last few episodes

i guess my point is. the work these guys are doing is crazy and way above the standard pace, so much higher than anythign ive personally seen from any hobbyist webcomic makers. i'm sure that's lost on a lotta readers who aren't otherwise familiar w the medium, but i dont want it lost how crazy impressive and kind of unprecedented it is for a webcomic, esp one without any professional publishing backing. doody and maruu are something else for even attempting this tbqh.

so like. keep that in mind when you engage w the comics, esp in the next few months while doody and maruu try out this "full chapter every month" update pace, and def make sure to give em the support and grace they've earned w this sorta workload/pace they're setting just to bring you the story you love

[mikkomacko]

Him and I - Tender Heart

Nico Hischier x Reader, Mob Boss Nico

Warnings: None x

Previous Chapter

____________________________________________

The red spot on the white floors is tormenting.

It’s more of a coppery color now, old and rusty looking, and you wonder why no one has cleaned it up yet, even if it seems to be fading on its own. You can still see it clear as day though, blurred and fuzzy around the edges but bright and nauseating as it pooled on the floor.

The sight makes your head spin, stomach turning like it did that day you saw it fresh, seeping from the gunshot wound in Lena’s thigh. And there’s no adrenaline, no anger to keep you cool like last time when you fixed Lena up and kicked her to the curb.

No the house is just you and the boys now, the heavy foot fall of Alex, Jack and Luke echoing down from the upper level. They’re patrolling, guarding the weak spots like you told them too. That was where Timo got in to rescue you, a chink in the armor in the upper window that’s broken.

“You ok?”

It’s Timo, gun strapped across his chest and shoulders back as he stands beside you. You nod, eyes following Luke’s pacing figure.

“I saw you first,” you explain, nodding towards the balcony. “Barely, couldn’t really make out your face but I knew it was you.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, smiling just the slightest bit. “You have a certain walk. And your build. You’re a little bit bigger than Nico.”

“Ouch,” comes from behind you, Nico’s hand announcing his presence when it finds the small of your back. “That’s not good to hear.”

Timo snickers, and your own smile grows with amusement. Nico’s grinning when he leans over your shoulder to press a kiss into the apple of your cheek.

“Out of context,” you comment, “obviously you’re b-“

“Whoa don’t insult me to my face, I beg.” Timo interrupts, nudging you with the butt of his gun. He doesn’t look wounded when you turn to him, a bittersweet purse to his lips like he’s just happy you’re not having a breakdown in this place.

Your best friend slowly trails away, returning to his post of guarding your back as Nico instructed. Nico’s hand sweeps your hair over your shoulder, rough fingertips trailing along the gold chain on your neck. He takes your pendant and ring between his fingers, that knowing look in his eyes.

“Feeling ok?” It’s like he can see into you. Not through you, not just you, but everything you are. It’s not something you’ll ever get tired of, being seen and known so well.

“Mhm,” you assure, “just ready to go home, I guess.”

Nico’s face droops into a frown, his hand dropping your necklace in exchange for wrapping around your neck. He draws you into him, body thick and warm, and his lips find your forehead.

“I know baby,” he murmurs, “we’ll be back before ya know it.”

You press into his hold, the blood stained floor and the emptiness of his grandfathers old house forgotten now that he’s got you. “I miss Moose,” you complain, and Nico laughs softly “my poor baby. He doesn’t even know what time is, it’s probably felt so long.”

“Next time we travel you can bring him,” he cups the back of your head, thumb stroking your hair. “Lesson learned, I promise.”

Triumphantly, you smile up at him. Nico had insisted it’d be too hard to bring Moose on such a short trip, that the dog would survive a week without you and that’s it’s just mean to make him get on a plane again. After all, the last time he was on one was when he was being taken from his litter.

The guilt trip had worked and you’d left him at home. It however won’t work next time, no matter what Nico tries to pull. This time you’ve got the reminder of this trip from hell on your side.

“Break it up lovebirds, we’ve got company.”

Mercer is marching towards you from the front door, riffle hanging from his shoulder and combat boots thumping on the hardwood floor. A bulky black vest hangs from his fingertips. Before you can even ask he’s holding it out to you.

“Dawson, I don’t need tha-“

“Don’t care, put it on.”

The usual polite, Canadian tone of his gone completely. He’s serious, face hardened and closed off as he stares you down. Confused, you look to Nico.

“Merc, the vest is a bit much.”

“She bruised and beat up,” Dawson says, raising an eyebrow at Nico. “I’d rather her not add bullet holes to the list.”

Nico stares back, expressionless for a moment before he’s nudging you with a pat to your hip. “Put it on baby.”

They’re being dramatic, you think. Nico’s family wouldn’t openly try to kill you in front of him. But you supposed you’d rather be safe than sorry so you take the vest from a smirking Mercer, pulling it over your head and grumbling when your hair tangles in front of your face.

Nico is the one to brush it away, fingertips gentle as he smoothes it down and tucks the loose strands behind yours ears.

“Pretty girl,” he murmurs, a half smile on his lips. You roll your eyes at his flattery, adjusting the bulky vest and glaring at Mercer.

“You better hope I get shot at or I’m gonna kill you for shoving me in this thing.”

He doesn’t bat an eye at your threatening tone, scoffing and then jabbing a finger at Nico. “If someone so much as reaches for their hip, you better be protecting her head.”

It’s sweet, despite how serious he sounds. Like he’s genuinely concerned for your safety. He did witness Rino first hand though, and he saw the fallout with Nico after. How much it hurt you to have to tell Nico the truth. It hurt Mercer too, enough that he doesn’t trust them anymore.

“Dawson,” Nico calls, tone gentle. “I promise I’m always looking out for her, yeah? Especially her head, but all of her too.”

Comically, Mercer looks Nico up and down, eyes squinted with judgment and he lets out an unimpressed hum. “Yet to be seen,” he says casually, glancing at you. You have to bite back your laugh, entertained by Mercer scolding him.

Offended, Nico scoffs. Eyebrows pulled together in a frown, your fiancé glares at Mercer. “Just get to your fucking post.” Nico hisses, dismissing Mercer with a wave of his hand. The other boy looks to you, and not wanting to escalate Nico any further, you silently nod.

“What the fuck was that?” He grumbles under his breath, shaking his head in annoyance. You catch the strand of hair that slips in front of his eyes, pushing it back over his forehead.

“You always told him he doesn’t take stuff seriously enough,” you whisper, “maybe this is him trying.”

Before he can respond, the sound of the front door opening creaks throughout the empty house. Nico’s body stiffens, his frame immediately moving to stand in front of you and you fall back, reaching for the hem of his hoodie. Timo and Mercer form around you, a protective triangle.

Upstairs, the other three have gone silent, no doubt having moved into their spots as well. You don’t see when Nico’s family enters the large living room, but you hear their footfall, how it grows louder and clearer before suddenly halting.

“Nico,” Luca calls, confused. “What the hell is going on?”

The sound of his brother’s voice sends a dollop of ease down your spine. You weren’t exactly expecting Rino to still be around let alone show up here, but you wouldn’t put it past him.

You glance over to Timo, see the way his clenched shoulders ease just the slightest bit and you find yourself rising to your toes to peak over Nico’s shoulder.

“You tell me,” Nico answers coolly, shifting as he crosses his arms over his chest. His family is gathered in the entryway still, frozen and caught off guard by the presence of weapons. The unspoken standoff.

Nina’s gaze falls to you and you quickly cower behind Nico, mentally cursing yourself for being such a busy body.

“I don’t know,” Luca huffs, “I got notice in the middle of the night that father was missing, then a huge withdrawal from the business account, and you were silent until this morning. Then I get a cryptic text saying to come here and you’ve got a fucking gun pointed at me!”

Luca’s voice rises as his frustration grows with each spoken word, booming throughout the empty room and echoing off the pristine walls. Both Mercer and Timo squeeze in closer to you, as if expecting Luca to bite at any moment.

“I know father is gone,” Nico confirms, calm and collected. Like always. “And going off of that, I’m not surprised you’re suddenly missing funds. But the boys and the guns and me are here to find out what you really know.”

You can’t see it, but it feels like that last part is pointed more at his mother than the others. The urge to look over his shoulder again burns in your gut, but you stay put, knowing that the last time you forgot protocols you ended up in this exact room.

“You know about dad?”

It’s Nina, her voice small, unlike you’ve ever heard her in the brief time since you’ve met her. You can’t tell if she sounds more scared or sad, unable to read her from here. Nico has a lot in common with his siblings. His openness with you isn’t one of them.

“Nico,” Luca says quietly, hesitantly. “What did you do? Where’s father?”

Your fiancé doesn’t so much as flinch. He doesn’t say anything, unable and unwilling to take credit for your handiwork with Rino. From the outside, it looks like Nico is simply waiting, his silence urging them to start speaking. From your view, you know he’s trying to decide what to say, if he should reveal the truth and risk losing them.

That’s not something you’re going to let happen.

Releasing the hem of his hoodie, you step around Nico to be by his side. Your movement makes him shift, dropping his arms out to the side and it looks like he’s about to sling them around you, shield you again. Before he can, you take a hold of his hand in both of yours, meeting his concerned gaze with a subtle nod of your head.

Understanding seeps into his eyes, his whole body relaxing as he accepts the comfort of holding your hand. The gesture does nothing for the other boys though, and you feel as much as you hear them shift closer.

“He didn’t do anything,” you answer, still looking at Nico for a moment longer. His fingers squeeze just once, in thanks, and then you level his brother with a confident stare. “I did.”

Luca looks just as confused as before, helplessly running a hand through his hair in frustration. You feel a little guilty for the eldest son. It’s not his fault he got stuck with the task of running the business, of keeping his father in check and managing the money and legacy his grandfather left behind. Trying to keep Rino from ruining it.

But then again, he never took a second to think about what it all means. He never decided to change like Nico has. And you don’t feel bad for him about that.

Nina is watching you sadly, her eyes big and droopy like Nico’s get when his feelings are hurt. That kicked puppy look, growing even more down trodden when she notices the cut on your lip, the protective gear on your torso.

“Y/n,” she breathes, taking a step towards you with her arm out. “you don’t have to be afraid of u-“

In perfect sync Nico yanks you back by the hand, half stepping in front of you just as Timo and Mercer close in beside you, guns digging into their shoulders and aimed at Nina. The safety never clicks off, but the effect is the same.

“If anyone is this god damn family touches her again I swear to god,” Nico warns gruffly, as Nina quickly retreats.

“Neeky, what are you talking about?” She begs, holding her hands up to show Mercer and Timo she means no harm. “The rifles, the guards, what is going on?”

Still half behind Nico’s arm, you finally look to Katja. She’s already watching you, an inquisitive but knowing look on her face. She’s waiting for you to make the move, and you know why. She took a risk warning you that day in the car, went against her husband and her powerful family for the first time in her life. And until you’ve admitted that you done what needed to be done, that’s she’s safe now too, she won’t utter another word about it.

“The car ride,” you address her, “it took me a bit, but I got it. I-we know everything.”

A proud smirk tugs at the corners of her lips, brief and tiny but still noticeable. You note the way her shoulders seem to lift, chin tilting up in admiration.

“Rino wanted you out Luca,” you continue, “and he wanted Nico back and punished for leaving. The only way to do that was to get his influence back, his loyal subjects.

“And Lena was his top recruit.”

Nina is the first to react, her hands shooting up to cover her mouth in disbelief. It’s a positive sign at the least. It means she didn’t know before, she wasn’t in on it with Reno.

“He planned it all from the day we got here. The texts and everything were on Lena’s phone-“

“We checked her phone,” Luca cuts in, not very much in denial but more so lost. Like he can’t fathom that this would happen. It gives you a little more hope.

“You missed her deleted albums,” you say pointedly, shooting Luca a scolding glare. Head of a business and he’s not even smart enough to snoop right. “She was working with Rino to earn her place back in the business by getting rid of me and dragging Nico home.”

Luca looks at you, eyebrow lifted in a fascinated way. It’s the same way he looked at you when you went against Nico and showed up here with the boys. “What did you do?”

“Mercer put a gun to the back of his head and I told him if he ever came near Nico or my family again we’d kill him.”

“And he ran,” Mercer adds gruffly, venom dripping from his tongue. “Like a fucking coward he took off.”

Briefly, you wonder why some people would even both having kids if they didn’t really want to love them. It’s clear from Luca and Nina’s downtrodden gazes that they’re not surprised. Whatever Rino has done in the past, it’s made it clear that his kids expect nothing great from him.

“We don’t know where he went or what he’ll do. I just know it’ll never involve Nico again.” You look to Katja again, a warm feeling swelling in your chest when you find her watching you with wet eyes. “And it won’t involve you either, as long as you don’t want it to.”

Nina and Luca whip around to stare at their mother, jaws dropped. “You knew?” Nina demands, meanly.

“I know everything Rino does.” She admits, devoid of her usual tone of privilege. “I’ve just never had the means to stop him.”

Nico’s other hand finds the back of your neck, fingers strong as he squeezes. You melt into his touch, a heavy breath falling from your lips. Katja nods at you.

“Until now, at least.”

“A little too fucking late!” Comes from upstairs, Jack you think might’ve said it but from here, him and Luke sound awfully similar.

You can’t help it. You laugh, small and quietly but enough to make Timo snicker too from the other side of Nico.

“Alright,” Nico sighs, amused. “We gotta stop you before they start a riot or something up there.”

His hand finds your neck again, heavy and sturdy, and you look up at him. His other fingers find your necklace, drawing the pendant out and laying it across the vest, the gold glinting on the black. For just a brief moment you two share a silent exchange, unsure of what you’re really looking to him for, but then his fingers are holding your chin high and confident, and he tilts his head just slightly, and you know. You did good, you made him proud, you did exactly what you were supposed to do here.

Timid, you give him a small smile and the moment is over though it’s not fleeting. Even after he releases your chin, and any fondness that had been in his eyes before fades as he turns to his family, you can still feel it.

“Nico I promise I didn’t know,” Luca says earnestly, “about Lena or any of it. You know how father is, I was so stuck on the business that I didn’t even notice him stirring things up.”

Stiffly, Nico nods and his gaze falls to Nina. “You really thought I knew Nico?”

“You came all the way from France for something,” he responds, accusingly. “And you didn’t think to tell me about running into Lena.”

Nina makes an affronted face, like her brother’s words have just broken her heart in two. “I did that for you,” she swears, “I came home because I wanted to see you. And everything with Lena, I thought it was harmless. You and y/n were so happy that night. It was a side of you I have never seen before and I thought telling you about Lena would scare you into not asking her to be your prinzessin.”

Lena harmless. You could almost laugh. She may have been helpless but that seemed to make her even more harmful. Though you supposed if Nico had asked you about her that night in the bar you would’ve thought the same thing. Just a jealous ex.

“I would never hurt you, Nico. I’d never hurt y/n either,” pleading eyes fall on you, their expression so like Nico it makes your heart jump. “I love you guys.”

Nico takes a deep breath, his shoulders shift with it and you settle your hand on the curve of his spine, hoping the touch is calming. After a beat he looks over his shoulder to Timo, waving them off. The air in the room seems to shift now that the weapons are hanging neutrally by the boys’ sides.

The collective sighs of relief from the three of them have you biting back a laugh, hiding your smile in Nico’s side. The hand on your neck slides down to grab at the straps of the bulky vest.

“Let’s get this off,” he suggests, lightly tugging on it. Eager and happy to get rid of the stupid thing, you step back and help him maneuver the Kevlar off. “Mercer take this back, yeah?”

Dawson takes it from him, eyeing Nico’s family as he moves around them to head towards the car. Nico takes a hold of your face, and you reach up to help him smooth your hair back down-

“Oh my god,” Nina’s gasp makes you freeze, both you and Nico wide eyed as you turn to her. “The ring, Nico oh my god.”

At her words Luca and Katja notice too, their gazes falling to your left hand and Nico easily catches your palm in his. The mention of it makes you smile, heat crawling up your neck and you practically drag Nico over to his family.

He’s still holding your hand as you stretch it out to Nina, the light catching the diamond on your finger and twinkling elegantly.

“Oh it’s beautiful,” Nina murmurs, blinking up at you. “Can I…” she motions to hug you. Nico only hesitates a moment before letting you go and you engulf Nina in a hug.

Katja manages to get Nico into one, a bit awkward looking when you glance over at him but he’s speaking quietly with her, and you wonder if it’s about the other ring. The last thing you want is her to be offended that he didn’t use it. Wait, where is that ring?

“Congrats,” Luca tells you, a nervous smile on his lips. You hug him too, thinking of how he had helped you the last time you were in this house. You’re glad that wasn’t just a ploy for him.

“Thank you,” you murmur thoughtfully, and he knows it’s for more than you’re actually saying. He squeezes you again briefly before letting you go, you swapping places with Nico.

“It is a beautiful ring,” Katja says, approaching you slowly. “I should’ve known he’d come prepared.”

Shocked, you blink at her. “You knew?”

A coy smile takes over her face. “Like I said, I know my son. He wouldn’t come home for no reason, unfortunately. And while he may like to rewrite rules, the prinzessin rules are tradition.”

“He needs approval.” You realize, a bit confused. Nico’s never followed any of their rules before. Of course the traditions of the Devs are mirrored of the ones here, but you can’t imagine him asking his mother permission.

“In his case no,” she explains, then cautiously reaches out for your hand. You let her take it between both of hers, squeezing slightly just like Nico does. “Nico has never needed or wanted permission from us for anything. But he wanted a chance for us to meet you first.”

“He cares what you guys think,” you tell her, “even if it doesn’t seem like it. And he talks about you all a lot.”

Katja smiles, grateful and emotional. “Thank you,” she whispers thickly, “for everything. For saving him, making him better than I ever could’ve.”

“He did that all himself,” you admit. “I might’ve been inspiration but Nico never needed to be fixed by anyone. He’s too stubborn.”

She laughs. “And thank you for trusting me, saving me.”

You can’t help it. You shake your hand out of hers, throwing your arms around her shoulders and hugging her. Katja squeezes you back, her hands cautious and gentle on your back but she still feels warm, relaxed. Somewhere in your head, you think she feels motherly. Not quite like Timo’s mother, but similar enough.

“If you ever need anything,” you begin but she shushes you.

“I know.”

Finally, you take a deep breath, closing your eyes and basking in the feeling of doing something right. You kept Nico safe from Rino, and he gets to keep the rest of his family.

Parting from Katja, you meet back up with Nico who tucks you under his arm protectively, kissing the top of your head.

“What do you have planned for the rest of the day?” Luca asks, tucking his hands into the front pocket of his jeans. Mercer comes back sans bulletproof vest, still watching Luca through narrowed eyes.

You give him a warning look. “Finish packing, probably nap for a bit. We were up early, uh and then we’ve got our flight home.”

Nina’s face falls at the mention of your departure tonight, frowning with those big moony eyes.

“You’ll still come see us, won’t you?” She asks, hopeful.

You and Nico exchange a look. It’s not that you haven’t enjoyed Switzerland. There was a lot of fun but there was also a lot of bad, and sometime the bad sticks longer than the good. You’re not saying you won’t come back ever, but for now you want to be home with Nico and Moose.

Nico sucks in a breath, shrugging as he turns to his sister. “Yeah, but not for a while.” He says, and Nina has barely had anytime to slump in defeat before you continue.

“But we’ve got lots of room in Jersey, and a wedding to plan soon, so…”

Nico squeezes your bicep. “So you’re always welcome to come visit.” It’s sweet how they all seem light up with happiness at the invite.

They may need a little work still, but that doesn’t mean they’re not family.

~~~~

Nico wonders a lot of things.

He wonders how people come up with plot lines for books, how they can concoct entire universes in their heads and execute effortlessly. Like that lady that wrote The Hunger Games. Where did that idea come from and how did it come out so well (he’s never read the book but you’ve told him about them).

He wonders how Bluetooth connection works. How did someone figure out that if you put a stupid little signal in one device and another signal in another device, they can talk to each other? It kind of works like magic but not really because magic isn’t real. Whose brain decided it would be cool to make this stuff interface with each other?

He wonders how vinyls work and why it makes music sound different. The little groves aren’t just spirals carved into the disc? How does a song get engraved? He wants to put two different ones under a microscope and see what the fuck is the difference on them that makes them play different songs.

What he wonders the most though, is how he managed to make you love him. He doesn’t question it often, tries not to test his luck but sometimes he can’t help it. In those moments where you’re looking at him like he’s the reason for life. When your eyes are big and full of awe, gazing into him as if you’re looking at heaven itself (if heaven is real). When you move in sync with him, fit under his arm like he’s the center of your gravity.

How did that happen? How did he become someone so deserving of being the center of your world?

“You’ve got a million thoughts behind those eyes.”

Nico smiles, a smug little curl of his lips and shrugs. You raise a single eyebrow, curiously looking up at him through your eyelashes before focusing back on the task at hand.

“Am I gonna get to know them any time soon?” You hold up the black Kith hoodie he loves, the one that’s got that cute dog embroidered on it, squinting as you picture what it would look like on him with the dark sweats you put to the side for him earlier.

“Think you already know them,” he teases, and you subtly shake your head before tossing the hoodie to the bed. “Know everything don’t you?”

“This marriage thing is gonna work out great,” you say dreamily, “you already know the most important rule.”

Nico laughs, holding still as best he can as you hold up a quarter zip to his torso. It’s red and fleece, incredibly warm and soft if he recalls correctly. It’s not something he wears often but it’s the perfect shade of devils red and you always touch his biceps and chest when he wears it, feeling how fluffy it is.

He already knows it’s the one you’re going to choose by the way your eyes light up, a pleased smirk on your face. So he’s not at all surprised when you take it off the hanger, folding it to go alongside his sweats with a cute little, “perfect!”

“Are you gonna dress me everyday now?”

Snaking his arms around your waist, he presses his face into the crook of your neck. “Maybe,” you laugh, “especially if I’m gonna be the one holding you on the plane tonight when you’re crying.”

“I don’t cry,” he argues, nibbling on the soft skin and you jump, startled by his blunt teeth nipping at you. “I whine, s’different.” Nico’s arms keep you still, held tight to the front of him as you squirm away from his teasing nips.

“Tomato, tomato,” you rebuttal, “either way I’m the one holding your fidgeting butt still.”

That makes him laugh, tossing his head back and you, pleased with his reaction, giggle alongside him. It wasn’t that funny a joke, but maybe he’s just that happy. He loves you that much.

“I appreciate it.” He compliments, kissing the back of your head. His hands fall to rest on your hips, fingertips lingering as you move away from him to finish collecting the things you need to pack.

Nico sits on the edge of the bed, heart full. His eyes follow you around the room, stars practically twinkling in his pupils. You’re so beautiful, so wonderful, so amazingly perfect for him.

“I can do that, ya know?” He calls, amused but grateful that you’re taking over the tedious task for him.

Approaching the suitcases laid out beside him, you tuck the stack of shirts into the little crevices and corners of the case. Funnily, Nico notices that he no longer has his own suitcase. No, you’ve just mixed all your stuff in with his and his with yours. There’s no apparent rhyme or reason either.

“I know,” you utter, “maybe sometimes I just like doing things for you.”

Nico’s heart swells, erratically vibrating under his skin and he feels the urge to tackle to you to the bed, lay himself on top of you and just squeeze you until you pop. Instead he chuckles.

“Maybe sometimes?” He asks casually, “not all the time?”

“No,” you giggle, a hand on your hip as you smile at him. Then something curious settles over your features, confusion in your gaze. “What happened to the other ring?”

He pauses, gaze flittering to the ensuite bathroom before settling back on you. It was long enough for you to catch though, your eyes shifting up to look at the open door and then you're taking off. Scrambling away from his grabbing hands with a giggle, Nico chases after you with a lighthearted "wait!"

You're already in the bathroom though, tearing through the drawers and shifting around whatever left over junk he abandoned in there years ago. "Nico, where?" You beg, still pawing around.

Sighing, he shifts onto his knees and pulls open the cabinet door beneath his sink. You crowd behind him, shifting impatiently as he shoves boxes of cleaning supplies and extra shampoos to the side. Behind the drain pipe, his finger brush against the velvet box and he grabs it. Then, with a blank look on his face, he holds it up to you.

"Ooh," you squeal, taking it and flipping the top open. Knees cracking, he returns to his full height, nudging the cabinet shut with his foot. Propped up against the counter, Nico watches you with bated breath as you examine the ring from his mother.

He's not stupid. It's obvious you think the ring is beautiful, that it impressed you the first moment you saw it out on the front steps. Maybe he was a little worried you'd be upset he didn't give you that ring, but it's obvious now that he made the right choice. Your eyes shift over to your left hand and something seems to sparkle in them, as if the diamond and pearls themselves live inside your irises. Yeah, his mother's ring is beautiful, but you love the one on your finger.

"Right choice?" He asks anyway, still a bit hesitant.

You bite your lip, nodding happily. "Perfect choice," you assure. Gently, you close the box and hold it out to him.

“S’yours,” Nico shoos it away, not interested in taking it back from you.

“Katja gave it to you,” you tell him, shaking your hand as if that knock enough sense into him to take it back. What are you going to do with two rings?

“For you,” he presses, “it’s yours baby. You get to decide what to do with it.”

It’s a lot of pressure. This family heirloom that he never thought he’d get, a token of acceptance from his mother and he doesn’t even want it. He wants you to have it.

The thing is, you don’t really want it either. You don’t need his mother’s acceptance or the tradition of this business. You and Nico are not a part of it. You have your own family and life and traditions you want to set up, ones that have real meaning behind them. You have a ring that was given out of love, not out of contract or obligation.

It means nothing to you.

But you’d imagine it doesn’t mean nothing to his siblings, the ones still here and trying to redefine the organization their father built. Maybe the ring should be redefined, given a new purpose.

Maybe it’s time the ring goes to a Hischier daughter. Someone who will know what to do with it. And will know what it has meant for the women before her.

“Ok,” you murmur, reminding yourself to leave it on the outside pocket of your carry on. “Thank you, Nico.”

He takes a hold of your hips in his large hands, guiding you to stand between his thighs. You go pliantly, melting into his broad chest with a soft sound of contentment.

“Thank you,” he whispers, tone heavy with what he’s not willing to say right now. You get it all the same, and the feeling of pride from earlier swarms up in your chest again. You did good, you won, you did it all for Nico. And sure you’ll have to still keep an ear to the ground for Rino, but Nico is safe and happy.

You press a kiss to his chest through his shirt. “I’m tired, Schao.”

He runs a hand up your back, nose pressing into your forehead sweetly. “Let’s go nap baby.” He pats at the outside of your thigh, moving to guide you back to the room. “We’ve had a busy day.”

Starting the day with an early morning proposal and then the chat with his family, and now a long trip home. It has been a busy day.

You wiggle out of your jeans, kicking them towards your suitcase to be packed later before climbing into the bed that’s still unmade. Nico kicks off his own jeans, working his shirt over his head and you’re reminded of how he’d celebrated your engagement in these very sheets just this morning.

Blushing, you watch as Nico slips under his side of the blankets. Like two magnet ends, you slide into his side, laying your cheek on his bicep and throwing your leg over his middle. Smiling, his free hand drops under the blankets to hold the meatiest part of your thigh, the pads of his fingers lovingly rubbing little circles into your skin.

“We’ll be home soon,” you whisper, excited. He makes an agreeable humming noise and you peak up to find his eyes already closed, dark eyelashes brushing the tops of his cheeks.

Laying your left hand over his heart, you admire the pretty diamond for a bit longer. Feeling his heart beat, listening to his breath even out, entranced by the pretty pearls until your eyes slip shut on their own accord.

~~~~

Nico is having a dream.

Or something like a dream, he thinks. He’s been here a million times, knows the exact shade of the walls and the thread count of the bed sheets and the smell of the candle on the nightstand. It is his favorite place after all; The bedroom he shares with you at home.

For a moment he thinks it’s a memory. There’s something about the air in the room, it feels so familiar and certain. Like he already knows what’s gonna happen and he’s just patiently waiting for it. He shuffles in the bed, blinking through the dark air as he realizes you’re awake too and quietly speaking.

Nico thinks you’re speaking to him, sits up higher on the pillows and moves to fully look at you. But you’re not looking at him. Instead, you’re turned away from him, sitting up with the bedding bunched around your hips. His shirt is draped over your shoulders and hangs loosely around your neck, the collar stretched out from the countless times he yanked and pulled it to kiss down the column of your throat and collarbones.

His mind tells him to reach out, to brush his fingers over the back of your neck to get your attention. His hands stay still though, muscles not making any effort to comply with his brain. Helpless, Nico watches your shoulders and back move as you speak quietly, the words unintelligible to him.

Moving on its own accord, Nico’s body sits up on the mattress and tucks into the curve of your back, his chin pressing into your shoulder blade. The sight in front of him makes his heart skip, confusion turning to panic, and he’s so grateful that your hand reaches back to rest on his thigh, as if comforting him.

A dream, it has to be a dream. Because it’d be impossible of him to have the memory of a child standing at your bedside in the middle of the night.

It’s a boy, maybe eight or nine years old. It’s funny, Nico thinks, how dark the room is but the features of the boy are crystal clear. Dark brown eyes, red rimmed and full of tears, innocently framed by equally dark eyelashes. It’s startling to see, to be looking at the same eyes he sees in the mirror.

Nico’s breath catches in his chest. He’s looking at himself he think, examining the boys dark and messy hair. Why is he looking at himself?

Except he’s not, he realizes a beat later. The soft shape of the boys face, the fullness of his mouth, the roundness of his nose. They’re features he’d recognize anywhere because they’re yours.

This boy, a perfect blend of you and him, isn’t a younger, dream version of himself. It’s a child he shares with you, it’s your son.

He doesn’t blink an eye at Nico’s sudden presence over your shoulder, his gaze desperately locked on you and if his eyes weren’t enough to prove this kid is Nico’s too, that simple action certainly is.

A teddy bear is clutched in the boys hands, little fingers tangled around the neck of the stuffed animal. Deja vu stirs Nico’s brain, memories of him as a child holding his bear the same way suddenly surfacing. Maybe that kid is supposed to be Nico when he was younger because the more he notices, the more he realizes he’s lived this night before.

The boy is hiccuping, fighting back blubbery cries and squeezing at that teddy bear as he retells the nightmare he woke up from. A once dream of him out in the yard, running and giggling through a game of tag with ‘the family’. It’s fun and he’s so excited to be with everyone.

Until suddenly it’s not fun and he doesn’t want anyone there. They’ve all turned into monsters, twisted faces of the people he loves, their eyes now black and menacing, chasing him with a dangerous desperation. It feels like they want to kill him.

The boy doesn’t say that, but Nico knows. It’s the same nightmare he used to have as a child. Luca and Nina, chasing him with evil eyes and death grips. His parents, following behind with the same look, not pursuing really but not helping either. It was the dream that plagued him for years, forced him from his bed and into his parent’s room until he was old enough to realize he was better off soothing himself back to sleep.

The air in the room has gone cold, Nico’s own breath shuddering against the skin of your shoulder and he wants to move, needs to move. He needs to reach around you, reach for the crying boy because Nico knows what comes next.

It’s the part where his mother blinks back at him, tired and annoyed, mumbling dismissively that it was a dream and he’s too old to be doing this. He has his own bed and room, he knows how to put himself back to bed. Time to grow up and get over it, or if really necessary, wake the nanny next time. His father has work tomorrow and can’t be disturbed. Nico knows that, he’s reminded and then sent back out of the room with his teddy bear squeezed so tightly in his hands he thinks the seams might rip.

He still can’t move however, can’t get his body to cooperate with the signals he’s screaming at it. Someone needs to get to the boy, needs to pick him up and hug him, needs to wipe those tears off his puffy cheeks and tell him that would never happen, that his family loves him and he’s got nothing to be scared of.

To his horror, Nico blinks and realizes it would be you. You’d be his mother in this dream, dismissing the boy with a cold shoulder before making sure he himself hasn’t been bother by the intrusion. The same as his mother used to do for his father. Even worse, Nico realizes he’s his father in this stupid dream, this stupid nightmare.

You pull away from Nico and his heart seizes, his own eyes stinging with tears as he waits for you to dismiss the crying child. He’s a marble statue on the bed, watching you reach for the blankets with bated breath.

He expects you to pull them back over your shoulder and lay down. Except you don’t, your hands pushing them further down your thighs and you’re getting up from the bed.

Like its instinct, the boys stretches his little arms out to you and you lean down to meet him halfway. Wrapping him up in your arms, you lift him onto your hip and the boy curls into you, hugging his bear tightly and laying his head on your chest. You hold him protectively, a hand soothing the hair on the nape of his neck and rocking him steadily until his cries are just sniffles into the fabric of your shirt. It’s then that Nico can finally move again, the invisible hold on his limbs easing to nothing.

“He’s ok,” he hears himself saying, “he’s ok now.”

Like you’re seeing him for the first time, not noticing until now that Nico is in the dream, you turn to him. Your eyes shine, tired but warm and with a loving smile you approach the bed. Nico reaches out, eager now that he can get his body to cooperate and gestures for you to get back in bed. Softly, you lay the boy down in bed, his head on your pillow and wet eyes blinking at Nico.

“Daddy?” He asks and Nico can’t breathe, can’t speak. His mouth opens, unsure of what to even say but nothing comes out anyway. It feels like his vocal cords have been taken, silenced.

But then you lay down too, settling into the mattress besides the young boy and Nico lets out a quiet breath. Nervously, Nico draws the teary eyed boy into his chest, hands tender and uncertain but the boy goes easily, snuggling into Nico’s hold like he’s been there a million times before. Laying back into the pillows, Nico watches you move closer, laying your head on his bicep and your hand comes up to play with the boys hair. You throw your leg over Nico’s, touch your foot to his calf and he melts into the bed.

It feels safe, being here. In his bed, his home with you. The weight of you and the son he shares with you on his chest. Knowing that he’s ok, Nico’s ok and the boy is too.

Nico wakes up with a start, the light of the setting sun harsh on his eyes and he has to blink rapidly to get the white spots to clear up. Heart thumping painfully loud in his chest and ears, he forces himself to take deep breaths.

He’s in his room, well the room you two now share, just not the one from his dream. This house and room have been left at the bare minimum, abandoned after he left to the United States. The cleaning crew comes every other week to keep it fresh and tidy, and the grounds crew every few weeks to care for the lawn. Nico’s never cared about this house. It was given to him by his grandfather, part of his inheritance. They all got a house within ten miles of grandfathers house. For security and safety reasons.

Nico almost sold it when he first got to Jersey. Thought of using the money to speed up the process of getting the Devs going, but he actually enjoyed living in the cramped apartment with Timo and Jonas and Jesper and the girls. It felt like a real home with a real family.

And his siblings would never forgive him if he got rid of the family gift from his grandfather.

Now, he’s glad he didn’t. It’s still not home to him, but he’s shared too many moments in this house with you already. He can’t imagine anyone else but you in the kitchen, drinking tea with him in the morning. Chasing you around the piles of snow outback in the middle of the night. The sheets have already begun to smell like you and him, a perfect mix of his cologne and your perfume, just like the sheets back in Jersey.

And as much as he hated his grandfather, the old kook was right about one thing. Being this close is safe. If anything were to happen to him, to the Devs, you’d have this home. A safe place for you and Moose and probably Alex too at the very least. Near his family, his mother who he can shockingly trust to make sure you’re taken care of.

Nico’s pulse and breath even out, and he drags a hand down his face, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. They still feel heavy and groggy, begging to return to sleep. He blinks, lets the image of the dream float fuzzily into his mind again.

A kid. Nico had a kid. Somewhere in his subconscious, he’s ok with that. The thought brings a lump to front of his throat, but not one big enough to choke on. Improvement, he thinks happily. He’s easing into this family thing, spurred by the image of you. You’ve always been so sweet with Nico, so patient of his faults and the time he needed to grow up and heal.

He can be patient too, he thinks. And kind, and loving, and protective, and providing. And present. Everything a good dad should be.

Tears sting at the back of his throat, blurring his vision and he sniffles quietly.

Nico doesn’t want to wake you, but the arm you’re using as a pillow is stinging with pins and needles, fingertips cold and numb. And even though you’re plastered to his side, he wants more.

Hesitant and a bit embarrassed, he rolls onto his side to face you, wincing as he attempts to wiggle his arm out from under you. The movement makes you stir, a sharp inhale of air cutting through the silent room and then your blinking your eyes open, coming face to face with Nico.

“Sorry,” he whispers, pathetically, his voice cracking. That stupid burning feeling in his throat grows and Nico’s not even sure what he wants, what’s going on. He can feel himself panicking again as you sit up a bit and free his arm. He’s about to start babbling his dream to you in defense for the tears but you don’t even give him a chance.

Sleepily, you move up the pillows and onto your side, still facing him. But your arm is pushing at his shoulder and he molds like putty in your hands. Nudging him to move onto his side, his back now facing you, Nico inhales shakily. He can feel you shuffling behind him, rustling the blankets like you’re searching for something and he opens his mouth to ask what you’re doing.

You shush him by throwing your arm around his chest and your leg over his hip, pulling yourself tight to his back. Soft and worn fabric tickles the skin of his chest and he cranes his neck down, blinking at the sight of his teddy bear. He’d grabbed it from his childhood bedroom for you in the hospital and ever since it’s slept by your head or in the crook of your elbow.

Nico takes the bear from your hand, laying it against his chest and bicep, and you curl your arm tighter around him, fingers pressing over his heart in a welcome weight. It’s a nice feeling, the pressure and warmth of your body wrapped around him like this, and he can kinda see why you like when he holds you like this.

He feels so…safe and shielded. He closes his eyes, ignores the wet feeling of a few tears slipping down his cheeks.

“S’ok,” you whisper quietly into his ear, your face pressed into the back of his neck. “I’ve got you Neeky, s’ok.”

He drifts back off again, faintly realizing that that’s the first time you’ve called him that.

~~~~

The jet looms off to the side of the runway, the windows glowing with the cabin light and bulbs on the wings blinking. The car rolls to a stop next to a familiar black SUV, Timo putting it in park and killing the engine. Through the tinted window you can make out the other three Hischiers leaning against the front of it, bundled up in their coats. Luca’s got his arm tucked around a small, huddling figure.

“Maja,” you tell Nico, pressing your finger to the glass and looking back at him with a smile. He follows your gesture, laughing softly.

“You like Maja huh?

“She’s sweet,” you answer, moving to release your seatbelt just as the other vehicle pulls up next to you. Mercer, eager to get home, practically leaps out of the drivers seat.

Timo is the first to get out, quickly dashing around the front of the car to open the passenger door for Amelia and you and Nico giggle quietly to yourself. You’ve never seen Timo so romantic before.

Pulling Nico’s beaning further over his ears and checking his zipper, you give him another little grin before opening the door. The air is cold and biting, stings your cheeks as you shuffle out and Nico follows, staying close to your back.

The other boys have all gotten out of the car too, lined up groggily by the back of your SUV and Timo leaves Amelia standing with you, moving towards the trunk.

“Timo,” Nico stops him, nodding to Amelia. “They’ve got it.”

Luke, Alex, and Mercer don’t even so much as grumble when Nico gestures for them to load the bags on the jet. Jack however, rolls his eyes, stomping his feet like a child as he joins them.

The Hischiers have come over to help now, not that Nico would ever let them so they all just stand in front of you, waiting and expectant.

“You have everything you need?” Nina asks you first, faux cheeriness in her voice and you know how upset she is to see her baby brother go.

Nico laughs under his breath, moving around you and pulling his sister into a hug. It’s enough of an answer for her, Nina greedily accepting the affection and snuggling into his hold.

“Come on you,” Maja calls, pulling herself out of her hiding spot under Luca’s arm. Simultaneously, they stretch out their arms to you and you laugh, moving to accept the double hug from them. Their puffer jackets make it a bit of a tight fit but you don’t mind, squeezing them as tight as you can.

“It was so nice to meet you, y/n.” Maja tells you, “you know if you ever need anything at all we’re here. Luca loves long flights.”

He makes a noise of complaint, something between a scoff and a snort, and you almost laugh imagining him just as restless on planes as Nico is.

“You and Nico both, huh?” You tease, pulling back to smile at him. He chuckles, snaking a cold hand up to ruffle your hair.

“You take care of him, ok kid?” He tells you, and even though it’s said softly, you can hear the underlying concern in his tone.

“Always,” you promise, then narrow your eyes at him in a stern frown. “You take care of Maja and Katja, ok kid?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Not Nina?”

“Nah I think she can handle herself and her Frenchies.”

That makes both Luca and Maja laugh, him giving you one final squeeze before letting you go. “I will.” He assures, a fond look in his eyes as he awkwardly pats at the top of your head again. Maja presses a sisterly kiss to your cheek, grinning sadly as she returns to hiding under Luca’s arm.

Nico, now parted from his sister, moves to swap places with you, his hand briefly finding the small of your back. Nina is already crying when you get to her, cheeks red from the cold and glistening.

“Aww don’t do that.” You beg, bundling her up in a hug. She laughs wetly, pressing her face into your shoulder.

“I got the emotions for all three of us it seems,” she jokes, referencing the lack of tears coming from her brothers. You don’t tell her that Nico can actually be the world’s biggest softy. And you don’t think about waking up to him crying earlier, because if it were something he wanted you to be concerned about, he’d tell you.

It was him healing, you tell yourself, and then shake the memory away for now.

“A blessing and a curse,” you say, pulling back to hold her at arms length. She swipes at her cheeks, sniffling.

“Thank you for everything this trip,” she says earnestly. “You make him so happy, it’s like a brand new Nico. He hasn’t been like this since he was a baby.”

Your heart squeezes, a bittersweet feeling seeping into your veins. Sometimes it’s hard to picture Nico being a happy baby. He’s so neutral and solid now, confident but tense. Like he’s always waiting for something. But when you picture him singing in the car or wrestling Moose for toys and hanging out at the bar with the boys, you can see it.

Nico was born happy and bright, warm like the sun. Sometimes he hides it, but eventually he’ll show himself.

“You fixed him.” Nina shrugs, sniffling with fresh tears in her eyes again.

“That was all him,” you tell her, repeating your words to Katja from earlier “I may have been inspiration but he never really needed fixing. He just needed to know that we love him.”

The tears roll down her cheeks, a blubbering cry escaping her and you laugh, pulling her into another hug. After a moment of sniffling, she pulls back.

“I’m ok,” she says more to herself, laughing again. “I’m sorry he grew up like this, that we grew up like this.”

It’s not her fault, though you can’t really imagine having a baby brother and not protecting him. Maybe it’s just who you are though. Still, you wave off the apology. “It made him strong, it made you all strong.”

Releasing her, you dig in your pocket for the box you’d set aside earlier. Nina blinks rapidly, trying to dry her eyes and you hold it out to her.

“I think this belongs to you now.”

She gapes, recognizing the box immediately just as Nico had. “Y/n,” she gasps, “what? No that’s, she gave it to you and Nico-“

“Actually she gave it to Nico, and Nico gave it to me, and well I already have one so I figured it should go to someone who can make it mean something worthwhile.”

Nina shakes her head. “What about Luca? It’s meant for marriage?”

“I was told it stood more contractual obligation, but it should stand for love. It’s a wedding ring, after all. It should have ties to love.”

You press the box into her trembling hand. “Nico and I love you Nina. You’re the big sister I never had and well, this should dazzle on your finger while you woo every pretty French boy that struts by…”

She laughs wetly.

“And then maybe one day you’ll give it to your kids, kids you love, and they’ll give it to someone else they love.”

Her fingers wrap so tightly around the box her knuckles turn white. “I used to steal it from my mother’s jewelry box,” she says with awe. “After father got her an anniversary one and this one wasn’t worn anymore. I’d put it on my hand and imagine my grandmother had given it to me because it went so well with my eyes.”

Startling, you think it does. She’s got little flecks of green in them, more brown than anything else but they’re there. The same shade as the ring.

“It does,” you agree, letting her hug you again.

“I love you both too,” she murmurs, “and I’m gonna be a better sister, ok?”

Squeezing her, you nod. You don’t have a doubt that she won’t at least try, and that’s all you can really ask for. Maybe with Rino gone they’ll all find what they’ve been looking for.

Nina lets you go, tucking her hands into her coat pocket and sniffling through a smile. Nico finds his place next to you again, his hand falling to your lower back protectively and you subconsciously press closer into his side. Over her shoulder, the boys are carrying the last of the bags onto the jet.

Katja is fidgeting as she comes to say goodbye, anxiously picking at the strings of a gift bag in her gloved hand. It’s the most unkempt and normal looking you’ve ever seen her. It’s refreshing.

“My turn?” She says with a weak laugh.

She’s close enough for you to reach out and touch her, so you carefully cup your hands around the fist holding the gift bag.

“Thank you,” you say earnestly, “for warning us, for trusting me. I’m sorry it took me a bit to realize it.”

Katja shakes her head softly. “Don’t thank me. It was the right thing to do,” she looks at Nico, blinks sadly. “I should’ve done a lot of things differently and I should’ve done them a lot sooner,

“I’m sorry that I didn’t fight for my autonomy Nico, and I’m even more sorry that I didn’t fight for yours either.”

His body stiffens behind you, and you quickly let go of Katja’s hands in favor of slipping your arm around his waist and resting the other on his stomach, grounding him.

From here you can only see his side profile, stoic and intense in a way that’s strictly his resting face. But you can feel it in him, see it in his eyes that are always so telling. Something raw and tender.

“You fought for my girl,” he says quietly, “that’s apology enough mother.”

It’s not exactly forgiveness, but it is acceptance, and that’s good for now. You can’t expect Nico to let everything go after one apology. After all, he was just a kid, a young boy with a big heart who tried to please everyone, tried to make them love him, and in return he only got hurt.

That’ll probably stay with him for the rest of his life.

Katja smiles, a little amused as if she were expecting him to say that. Again, you think of Nico waking you earlier, how desperate and upset he looked, lost in whatever dream he had. You wonder if she ever saw him like that, ever held him and let him know he was safe. After all, his favorite thing in the world to tell you is that you’re safe with him. Maybe he picked it up from her.

You have a feeling, though that it might just be strictly a Nico thing.

“This is for you,” Katja clears her throat uncomfortably. “I figured you’d want it for the wedding maybe or to just have.”

She holds the bag out to Nico, his fingers trembling as he pulls the handles apart. You tip toe to look inside with him, chest aching painfully when you see the baby blue book printed with bears and rattles. It’s a baby book, you realize, and tucked against it are thin stacks of photographs and old, crumbled drawings, all placed in a protective plastic sleeve.

It’s his childhood all tucked into one gift bag. The good parts of it at least. Rino did all he could to silence Katja, to make her just a figure in the background but at the end of the day she’s still a mother and Nico is still her baby boy.

You were wrong about her being unfazed by Nico’s indifference to her. This whole time she’s been secretly holding on to any parts of him she could get her hands on, no matter how tiny.

Nico, a bit dazed, hands the bag to you. You accept it, letting it hang from your fingertips carefully while he stares back at his mother.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, “I-I was always trying to get photos from Nina to show her and yeah.”

It’s clear he doesn’t know what to say, overwhelmed with the gift but still appreciative. Katja must know that too, because she nods at him.

Nico coughs, clearing his throat. “We should get going. Don’t want to get in too late.”

Katja doesn’t say anything, just looks at you knowingly before you and Nico turn to gather Timo. He’s still saying goodbye Amelia, large arms wrapped around her and his face hidden in her hair. You and Nico already said your goodbyes to her in the car, knowing her and Timo would want this time together.

Leaving them to their moment, you look up at the jet, find the younger boys already seated inside and watching you both through the windows. You laugh softly, bumping Nico and gesturing for him to look.

“Dramatic,” he mutters with a roll of his eyes.

The Hischiers all look to you, one last parting smile on their lips. “Let us know when you land,” Nina requests and you happily oblige.

Nico takes your hand, starts to lead you towards the jet but you pause, waving to them one more time. “We’ll see you guys soon, yeah?”

Nina and Luca laugh. “We’ll talk after the holidays!” She calls, because you’re still slowly trailing away with Nico.

“Maja?”

You can’t see her smile, but you can hear it. “I’ll be there!”

Hopeful, you look to the slowly shrinking outline of Katja. She smiles, in a pristine but motherly way. “Soon,” she agrees simply, and you accept the answer, letting Nico easily guide you up the steps and into the jet.

~~~~

Nico’s foot fell asleep 20 minutes ago, his toes prickling uncomfortably with needles but he doesn’t dare move. After two hours of him attempting to act normal on the flight, sitting as still as possible and forcing himself to breathe evenly so he’s not huffing out sighs every five minutes, he’d given up.

Timo, a bittersweet look on his face, had collapsed into his seat and shut his eyes before the jet door was even shut. Nico doesn’t know if he’s asleep or just pretending, but no one dares disturb a tender-hearted Timo.

Jack and Luke had pulled out their switches as soon as the jet reached cruising altitude, bickering with each other over Fortnite and some other tractor game in the seats across from Timo.

Alex and Mercer sat across from Nico and you, shifting through the goody bags you’d left at all their seats. A little wooden mind puzzle game had kept Mercer occupied for about an hour, while Alex consumed almost every snack in his bag before curling up under a blanket and going to sleep.

It was at that point that Nico decided he’d had enough of acting like flying isn’t the bane of his fucking existence. It’s uncomfortable, it takes forever, there’s no breaks, and food options suck.

“Baby,” he’d pouted, looking to you all snug under your blanket with his teddy bear. You were half asleep too, eyes heavy and low as you just watched him and he wondered if you were waiting for him to fall asleep first.

At his beckoning, you’d gotten up from your seat and slipped easily between his parted thighs, settling into his lap like you belonged there. Then you’d slid his laptop over from in front of your seat, putting the volume on low and pressing play on Casablanca. Nico thinks you maybe watched five minutes of it before you fell asleep on his shoulder, your hand tucked under the hem of his quarter zip to warm your cold fingers.

Nico hasn’t moved since, except to switch movies and then pull the blanket over your shoulders. Even though he really wants to slip his stupid shoes off and he should probably get feeling back to his foot. Instead he just holds you, enjoying the feeling of your back steadily rising and falling as you breathe.

Just over the screen of the laptop, broody brown eyes watch him, swollen and tired but refusing to shut. Nico was hoping the further away from Switzerland you got, the more relaxed Mercer would be. Instead he looks like he’s got cyanide between his teeth.

Nico gently cups his hand over your ear, not wanting to wake you. “Merc,” he calls quietly, “she’s fine now buddy. I swear.”

“I know,” he says, blinking lazily “but it was scary Nico. Her asking me to do that was scary and seeing him hit her…”

Dawson adjusts himself in his seat, making a face like just the memory of it makes him sick. “I remember her after Philly. And I remember you both disappearing. And I know she’s got you and you’ve got her, but maybe I’ve got both of you too, ya know?”

In all this time since Philly, Nico never thought what happened really changed the boys. Sure they were upset and protective over her, but that comes with the territory. He never imagined that it scared them or still haunted them to this day too. Enough so that even a cut to your lip could make Mercer get like this.

Nico’s proud. Mercer has always kind of skated by, goofed off and put in minimal effort. Most of the time it feels like the boy just gets by on luck. Yet he’s spent this whole trip being your guy, your second hand, your Robin basically. And he’s done it better than Nico could’ve asked him to.

“Yeah,” he agrees, quietly because he does understand. Mercer doesn’t want this to set them back, to become something you hide from.

“I’m sorry,” Mercer suddenly mumbles, frowning with this far away look in his eyes. “About Rino and your family. And I’m sorry we always called you grumpy and stuff. If my family were like that I don’t think I’d even be half as nice as you are.”

Nico chuckles. “Nice isn’t typically used to describe me Merc.”

“Well you are nice,” he insists, gaze returning to Nico now. “I mean, you took a bunch of us in and made us a family. Taught us how to grow up. I was big ol’ baby before I got here. Never had to do anything for myself. And Alex was gonna spend his life in prison. And she didn’t have anyone anymore.

“You gave us a good home, Boss.”

It’s a little too much to take in. Nico feels like his nerves have been stripped raw and exposed to the winter winds all day, relentless and invisible fingers picking at them like strings. First his family, now this. He’s not sure what else he can take.

He clears his throat, nodding stiffly in thanks and the faintest hint of a smie flashes on Mercer's face. "Get some rest Dawson, we're ok now." Finally, he closes his eyes, leaning back into his seat. Nico waits for the sounds of Dawson's breath to even out before he too closes his eyes.

Nico doesn’t want to come back to Switzerland for a long time, especially not without knowing where Rino ran off too. But he thinks of the gift bag from his mother, the engagement ring sitting prettily on your finger, the image of you engulfed in tearful hugs with Luca, Maja, and Nina, and he thinks maybe it wasn’t all so bad.

He’s coming home feeling more loved and accepted than he’s ever felt in his life. And it’s all thanks to you, his fiancée, his girl. His family, he thinks warmly, drifting off to join you in sleep.

[bhaalest]

god this is so overdue. im finally making a bg3 side blog

for a first post i wanted to list some of the artists i've been (mostly) refraining from reblogging to main for many months at this point. i meant to only do my favorite few but then i couldn't decide who my favorite few were so... here you go

@meanbossart draws absolutely beautiful art of his absolutely beautiful du drow, and also has an amazingly well-written and well-characterized story about what he, astarion, and shadowheart get up to post-game

@kawareo goes deep how his durge strike suffers from both the urge and orin's attack, and into strike before orin's attack. i love the standalone art and comics, so when i say his writing is my favorite thing he's done that's high praise

@velnna's tav staeve is another very pretty man and i don't know how to describe what i like most about his art other than "very pleasantly textured", it catches the eye in a very pleasing way

@lucklessrat has incredible dramatic and comedic timing in their comics of lethean, and i love what they do with leth being old. you don’t see that often

i have a soft spot for half-orcs and paladins so naturally i think about @everchased's finch constantly. they have several of my favorite bg3 comics ever but the SMITE one is... just gonna say i agree with astarion there

there is so much to say about @jeeaark's tav greygold, from the jokes to the relentless optimism to the visceral (in a very good way) art style, but my new favorite thing is the dark urge (godsdammit) companion series, it's really fun to see DUG and greygold interact and i can't wait for more. also, another half-orc!

@ejoym's durge devlin is wonderfully deranged, i love the dark humor in the comics, the art is really crisp, and the artist makes really great use of colors. i love how pointy everyone is also

@ohpsshaw's durge typhus is going through it at the moment. love his expressive face (and the expressiveness of the whole art style) and puppydog vibe, i can't wait to see how much he... enjoys... the rest of the game as daddy's chosen. also check out the artist's entertaining commentary on her main(?) blog

@taygra5shaon's big scary durge jacq somehow can do adorable and terrifying equally well, sometimes at the same time. this is another artist who has great timing in her comics. i especially like the young jacq ones.

@angiemaniac's tavella and durge companion au presents durge from a different and very interesting perspective. and she does a great job including every companion into the story, while tavella is still a compelling character on her own!

cae is the most beautiful durge you've ever seen and @hellothisisangle's art does such a good job of making him feel dangerous. it's incredibly beautifully rendered, the poses and fashion are always amazing, and on top of it all cae's lore is fascinating too

@wellen-katze's comics are really in a league of their own. their comics vary but my favorites are the ones that hurt to read. my favorite series is this one with ascended astarion and a nameless durge dealing with the tragic aftermath of the story. their comics hurt in an incredible way that i can't get enough of.

ghost, aka niro, by @oathbreakerapologist is wonderfully fucked up. he has a really upsetting presence (/positive) and i can't look away from his relationship with orin. this is probably the least sfw blog i'm linking, which i hope comes off as a complement

with mistercrowbar's @aldiirn it's hard to pinpoint specific things i like because the art and comics are so well-rounded, but if pressed i would point to aldiirn's visual design and the skill with which the artist makes his desire for approval and will to break the rules mesh together. i'm not sure if i want to be his friend or study him like a bug

i love @crocodiller's pining dumbass (affectionate) rowan so much. there's a lot to like about the comics but my favorite is rowan's supportive friendship with karlach. they're also very well-paced and some of the crispest art i've ever seen

i found @ryvenarts and sullen literally yesterday but i'm already very interested and excited to see if there will be more

another recent (to me) discovery, thirkuir by @jayfitzmaurice. i really like his design and the expressiveness of all the characters

@quess-art has an adorable baby durge who still has a compelling backstory i'm excited to see more of. plus the wagging tail is just perfect

@3eefstud's durge Einar is really nice to look at, with amazing colors and gradients. i'm surprised i didn't find them until very recently

i thought @panksage's Ebony Darkness D'urge was just a joke at first but no, the comics are sincere (and also funny) and just beautiful, especially the colors!

i do not know if @arianiziolek's durge has a name. catty little murder lizard (affectionate). has some of the funniest comics but more importantly the best durge facial expressions

@bajablast666 is double dipping with durges kaethan and kelrath. both their art and writing have an intensity that i love (the red outlines they use often are so good) and their writing in particular conveys emotion and visceral feeling so well

karl by @beltart is another on the surprisingly long list of people i initially found from their art, then read their writing and was blown away. i don't think i've seen anyone else depict the weight of the urge as intensely as this and i love it

and finally, a palate cleanser from all the durges, @wirywyrm's tav arthur who's in a sitcom as opposed to a horror story. i really like the texture and detail of their art and also how much of a dork arthur is. least smooth bard(adin) in the realms

incredibly i did leave out a few people, mostly people who draw companions rather than their tav/durge because i sort of locked myself into this format, so i may come back and update this later!

[loveesiren]

ㄒ卂ㄥҜ ㄒㄖ 爪乇

Kwon Jiyong x deceased!reader

a/n: i found this in my drafts, I've been trying my hand at horror and fantasy because horror is what inspires me most. I'm also Pagan and big into witchcraft and magick. I also love the movie Talk To Me. Lol so all around, I'm just trying something new. Idk if I'll do part two or not. But let me know what you think? If it's not your cup of tea, just keep scrolling lol

warnings: angst, drinking, fatherhood, widowed partner, supernatural, rough draft, probably poorly edited because I'm drunk so excuse the mistakes

wc: 2.2k+

“Daddy?”

Jiyong’s head snapped up, his red-rimmed eyes meeting the small, fragile figure in the doorway. Parker stood there, clutching his worn blanket in one hand and a mess of printer paper and a framed photo in the other. The soft glow of the hallway light cast a halo around Parker’s messy hair, making him look even smaller, even more innocent in that moment.

“Hey, buddy,” Jiyong croaked, his voice hoarse from crying. He quickly wiped at his face with his sleeves, but the evidence was still there—the tear tracks glistening on his cheeks, his long hair disheveled and hanging in his face. “What’s up? Did you have a bad dream?”

But Parker didn’t move. He stayed planted in the doorway, thumb in his mouth, his big eyes studying his father’s broken expression. At just four years old, he was sharper than most gave him credit for. He saw the sadness that lingered like a heavy fog around his father, especially today.

“Do you miss Mommy?” Parker asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jiyong’s heart clenched painfully in his chest. His head dipped, but a small, bittersweet smile tugged at his lips at the sound of his son’s voice—so innocent, so full of love.

“Yeah, buddy,” he murmured. “I do. I miss her a lot.”

There was a brief pause before Parker shuffled forward, his little feet making soft sounds against the wooden floor. “Want me to tell you a story ‘bout her?”

Jiyong’s throat tightened. Normally, it was Parker who begged for stories about Mommy before bed, eager to hear his father’s colorful tales of her as a strong princess who could conquer any monster. But today was different. Today was their anniversary—the second one without her—and Jiyong felt like he was drowning in the weight of her absence.

But Parker, sweet Parker, had noticed. And he had taken it upon himself to try and mend his daddy’s heart, one story at a time.

“Yeah,” Jiyong whispered, his voice trembling. “I’d love that. Come here, buddy.”

Parker climbed onto the bed with his tiny legs, settling himself on the side where she used to sleep. He handed Jiyong the photo, his little hands careful with the frame. It was the picture Jiyong had taken when she was pregnant—her long hair cascading over her shoulders, that lavender dress flowing around her as she stood in a field of wildflowers, cradling her swollen belly with a radiant smile. She had looked like a dream.

A single tear slipped down Jiyong’s cheek as he stared at the photo, his thumb tracing the outline of her face.

“I wrote a story about Mommy,” Parker announced proudly, pulling out a handful of crumpled papers covered in colorful scribbles and stick figures.

Jiyong smiled through his tears, setting the photo gently on the nightstand. “Lay down, Daddy,” Parker instructed, patting his chest with tiny hands. “So I can read it to you.”

Obliging, Jiyong leaned back against the pillows, his heart swelling with a mixture of love and sorrow.

“Okay, I’m ready,” he whispered.

“First, this is us!” Parker exclaimed, holding up a drawing with three stick figures. One was tall with long hair labeled “Mommy,” another a bit shorter with bright orange scribbles for hair—“Daddy”—and in between them stood the smallest figure with “Parker” scrawled above it in shaky letters.

Jiyong chuckled softly. “Wow, Mommy’s so tall!”

“She has to be tall so she can fight all the monsters,” Parker explained matter-of-factly, already flipping to the next picture.

He nestled closer to Jiyong’s side, the warmth of his small body a comforting presence against the cold emptiness in Jiyong’s chest.

“This is Mommy saving us from a big, scary T-rex!” Parker declared, showing a picture of a giant, lopsided dinosaur towering over their stick figure family.

Jiyong widened his eyes in mock horror. “A T-rex?! How did she save us?!”

Parker jumped up, stretching his arms as wide as they could go. “She had a big sword! Like this big!”

Jiyong laughed, the sound raw but genuine. “Wow, that’s a huge sword!”

Parker nodded vigorously, plopping back down beside him. “And this one is Mommy fighting a hundred spiders!”

Jiyong shivered dramatically, clutching Parker close. “Oh no! That’s so scary! Did she win?”

“Yeah!” Parker grinned. “Mommy stomped on them all! She’s super brave!”

“She really is,” Jiyong whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Parker’s head.

Parker continued flipping through his drawings, each one more imaginative than the last—Mommy building the tallest tower, Mommy making the biggest sandwich in the world. Jiyong listened to every word, his heart both aching and swelling with pride.

Finally, Parker held up the last drawing. “And this one… this one’s special.”

Jiyong sat up slightly, peering at the paper. In the bottom corner were two stick figures—one with orange hair and one smaller, labeled “Daddy” and “Parker.” Beside them was a stick figure cat, “Princess Zoa,” lounging lazily. But in the top corner of the page, drawn on a fluffy cloud next to a bright yellow sun, was another figure—“Mommy,” looking down at them with a smile.

“That’s Mommy in Heaven,” Parker said quietly. “She watches over us from there.”

Jiyong couldn’t hold it back anymore. A sob escaped his lips, and he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to muffle the sound.

Parker’s little hands tugged gently at his father’s wrists, his brow furrowed with concern. “What’s wrong, Daddy? Didn’t you like my story?”

Jiyong forced himself to breathe, lowering his hands to meet his son’s worried gaze. He cupped Parker’s face gently, his thumbs brushing away the little boy’s confused tears.

“I loved it,” Jiyong whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I loved it so much, buddy.”

Parker studied his father’s face for a moment longer before asking softly, “Do you still miss Mommy?”

Jiyong pulled Parker into his chest, holding him as tightly as he could without hurting him. His lips pressed against the crown of Parker’s head as he whispered, “I’ll always miss her, baby. But having you here makes it a little easier.”

Parker’s small arms wrapped around his father’s neck, and for a moment, the crushing weight of grief eased just enough for Jiyong to breathe again.

“I love you, Daddy,” Parker murmured into his chest.

“I love you too, buddy,” Jiyong whispered back, closing his eyes and holding onto his son like he was his lifeline—because, in so many ways, he was.

Jiyong gently tucked Parker into your side of the bed, pulling the covers up to his tiny shoulders with a tenderness that made his heart ache. He turned on Parker’s favorite cartoon—the one with the silly talking animals that always made him giggle. The soft glow of the screen bathed the room in a warm, flickering light, but Jiyong barely noticed. He sat on the edge of the bed, brushing Parker’s hair back from his forehead, feeling the weight of the world pressing against his chest.

It only took about twenty minutes before Parker’s breathing slowed, his small frame rising and falling in a steady rhythm as soft snores filled the room. Jiyong lingered for a moment longer, his eyes tracing the curve of his son’s cheek, the gentle pout of his lips. There was so much of you in him—your eyes, your smile, even the little wrinkle between his brows when he was deep in thought. It was beautiful and unbearable all at once. Parker was the last piece of you he had left, and he clung to that with everything he had.

Carefully, he slipped out of bed, his movements slow and deliberate to avoid waking Parker. The house felt too quiet as he descended the stairs, each creak of the wood beneath his feet echoing in the emptiness. He made his way to the kitchen, his hands trembling slightly as he reached for the bottle of whiskey. The amber liquid sloshed into the glass, and he took a long, burning sip before setting it down on the table.

For a moment, he just stood there, staring at the glass, at the reflection of his hollow eyes in its surface. Then the weight of it all hit him like a freight train. His knees buckled, and he leaned over the table, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. The grief was a living, breathing thing, wrapping around his chest, squeezing until he could hardly breathe.

With a trembling hand, he reached into his pocket and pulled out your ring—the beautiful diamond he’d spent weeks perfecting with the jewelers, wanting it to be just right for you. He remembered the way it sparkled on your finger, how you’d admire it with that radiant smile of yours, teasing him for being such a perfectionist. Now, it was cold and lifeless in his palm, a cruel reminder of everything he’d lost.

“God, I miss you...” he whispered, his voice breaking as he twirled the ring between his fingers. The silence that followed felt deafening, a void he couldn’t escape.

He downed the rest of his whiskey in one gulp, the burn doing little to numb the pain. He poured himself another, and another, each glass blurring the edges of his sorrow but never quite dulling it. Six years ago today, he’d watched you walk down the aisle in that breathtaking dress, your eyes shining with love and promise. It had been the best day of his life. Now, it felt like a lifetime ago, a memory fading at the edges.

His sobs grew louder, echoing through the empty house as he buried his face in his hands. The realization that you were gone—truly gone—hit him over and over, a relentless tide of grief that never subsided. Two years. Two fucking years since he’d lost you, and the pain still felt as fresh as the day you left.

He was a man of science, grounded in logic and facts. But you? You had always believed in magic, in the unseen, in possibilities that defied explanation. He used to laugh at your silly spells, your whispered incantations in the attic. But now? Now he’d give anything to believe. To have even a sliver of hope that he could see you again.

The memory hit him like a ton of bricks—that one relic you’d been so protective of, the little black box you’d spent hours with in the attic, speaking softly to it as if it could hear you. He’d teased you about it back then, but now, desperation clawed at his heart. Maybe you weren’t talking to yourself after all.

With a newfound urgency, he finished his drink and stumbled up to the attic. The space was cluttered with boxes, dusty and forgotten, each one a time capsule of your life together. His heart pounded in his chest as he sifted through them, tossing aside old memories in his frantic search. Finally, he found it—the little black box, tucked away in a dark corner, hidden as if protecting its secrets.

His hands shook as he picked it up, the weight of it heavier than he remembered. He didn’t have the courage to open it yet. Instead, he clutched it to his chest and raced back downstairs, pausing briefly to check on Parker. His son was still sound asleep, blissfully unaware of his father’s unraveling.

Back in the kitchen, Jiyong poured himself another whiskey, trying to steady his nerves. He placed the box on the table, staring at it like it held the key to everything he’d lost.

“God, Y/N,” he whispered into the stillness. “You better not have been fucking with me.” His voice was hoarse, thick with desperation. He’d try anything at this point.

Taking a deep breath, he carefully removed the lid. Inside sat an intricate hand, carved with strange markings that seemed to pulse under the dim light. He’d never asked how you’d come by it—back then, it had just been another one of your oddities. But now, he prayed with everything in him that it was more than that.

With trembling fingers, he lifted the object out of the box, setting it on the table before him. He read over the simple rules you’d left behind, his heart pounding louder with each word. Pushing the box aside, he grabbed his lighter and lit the candle, the flame flickering like a heartbeat in the dark.

He downed his drink in one swift motion, the fear bubbling in his stomach almost unbearable. He’d never believed in this kind of thing, but grief had a way of making even the most rational man desperate.

With a shaking hand, he reached out and wrapped his fingers around the cold, carved hand. He closed his eyes, his voice barely a whisper. “Talk to me.”

When he opened his eyes, he saw it—a faint shadow sitting across from him. His heart lurched in his chest, fear and hope warring within him. But he couldn’t stop now.

Drawing in a shaky breath, he spoke the words you’d written in your neat, familiar handwriting. “Let me in.”

In an instant, the air shifted, the room growing colder. And then… you were there. Your body, your presence, materialized from the shadows, your soft hand slipping into his. His jaw dropped, his breath hitching in his throat as he took in your familiar features, your eyes shimmering with the same love he’d missed so desperately.

A tear slid down his cheek as he took in the sight of you.

And then, in that sweet honey soaked voice he loved so much, you spoke.

“Hi, Ji.”

© loveesiren 2025 - do not copy, translate, transfer, or repost my work without my permission. if you find my work on sites other than through links i've provided, please notify me.

Tags: @kaylieiskrazy04 @fr3akyyg1rll @heuningpie @sapph1r3x @moondooll @tranquilty @noharaaa @mariaxman @dear-satan @infinetlyforgotten @staryscorner @blu-brrys @come-as-you-are-111 @nicklet94 @vamplivivi @3mma-lovely @hanadulsetaad @sayugarper @forevervibezzzz1 @shieraseastarrs @mooonologyy @skzdreamz @stillpervert @seunghyunwifey @juliskopf @mirahyun @mattsturniolosbabymama @kai-277 @rotten-toenails @i-might-be-vanny @zzhengyu @petersasteria

[snailpilled-and-based]

I literally could not sleep and just had to draw Bive 🙏

[quartztwst]

Honestly idk how you do it, but Quartz looks absolutely stunning in everything she wears like my god

im gonna keep it real and say that i lowkey steal from pinterest

THE RED DRESS AND RIBBON ARE THE MOST CRIMINAL OF THEM ALL I SWEAR HEKLP It was super cute ok

Quartz’s Bride dress was mostly shit i pulled out of my ass while i was trying to reference ariel’s dresses lol the front of her skirt is ref from pinterest bc what do you do with that part of the dress 😭😭 all i know is a bow on the back

these two are actually fully pulled from my ass i think

i remember that i had a whole ass idea for my Prefect design first and I thought of quartzsona second

here’s the ugliest quartz outfits though

i really hated the first lux couture outfit for quartz bc I didn’t have an idea at ALL so she doesn’t even look stylish. she looks like a light academia girl who goes “erm.. the teacher didn’t give us that” im so glad I changed it

IM PRETTY SURE FOR THE MIDDLE OUTFIT, I STOLE THAT SKIRT DESIGN ?? maybe?? i don’t remember i really wanted to do a strawberry shortcake quartz

the LAST ONE miss azul is there too but she looks like a chipmunk. this was made at the same time as the strawberry shortcake quartz which is… like a year ago…….. I think i was tryna go for Quartz’s og outfit with a bit more frills and stuff but it looks ass

im not gonna say that im an expert here bc heh.. i steal from pinterest but like who doesnt

tbh in my experience, i feel like the key to making a good outfit are colors like do the colors fit the oc? or does the palette of the clothes match or clash?

for quartz when she’s not in twst clothes, i try my best to make her wear colors similar to her palette like reds, blues, blacks, purples, and greys. because her design and how the colors go in her appearance can be a challenge (that’s why i tweak it like in the lux couture and This Day Aria AU I change her underlayer hair colors)

but you dont have to do exactly what i do i just like talking about my process on drawing lol

[jellyvibes710]

A year progress (or two, I’ve lost track)

I know I’m two months late since the new year but thank you all so much for reading my comics!

I have a few plans for the future and one of them is I’m going to rewrite “little baby blue” I never fully planned it out before I had jumped into it, the story had a lot of plot holes and it was hard to follow with how frequently it’d jump between parts. It’s not dead! After I finish the “parasite” storyline little baby blue will be set in motion again

The next part in the parasite story is planned to be animated with voice actors and sound effects, it’s a big project I am very excited for! Hopefully, if all goes well, there will be 2 fully voiced and animated parts for the whole series

Last project is still a secret, I’ve been working on it for about 2 years now(I took a short break because of turtles XD), it’s not a tmnt story but it’s an eddsworld story, I won’t bore you guys with those details though

The two newest drawings of Donnie and Leo are from a rough draft story I’ve been considering working on again, the twins are stuck in a loop that was caused after a battle with some bad guys goes bad, after Donnie was able to secure one of the bad guys he doesn’t realize that their battle had caused the building to start collapsing, Leo was able to portal himself and kick Dee out into safety but wasn’t able to get himself or the pinned criminal out in time and ultimately loses his life when the building caved in on him. The villains buddy uses an artifact (that they were stealing) in an attempt to save his buddies life but ultimately trapped themselves and the twins into a time loop, they eventually have to work with the criminals to fix this problem they’ve gotten into. This story has no happy ending and is VERY dark. There is only one way to stop the time loop and Donnie isn’t sure he can go through with it. Cheesy I know but I’m a sucker for a good time loop story, plus it was planned to be a very short comic

Just in case I do decide to pick that one back up I won’t put a lot of details or spoilers

Additional doodles under cut

Some screenshot redraws of Leo , I wanted to try out a few different color palettes and I really like how they look

My first time drawing big mama, I think I did good for only having one reference photo of her, though I learned that I can’t draw crop tops for the life of me 😆

[blueskittlesart]

Can I have your directors insight on your Mipha comic? :0 I'd love to know why you chose certain imagery like the hand holding and head kisses and wounds.........I'm going insane over it 😭 🫶 Ive been a fan of your art for a while now and mipha's my favourite so Im so obsessed with this comic haha

YESSSS 😁 so as previously mentioned ive been attempting to write a mipha comic for a little over a year now, and most of the time what stopped me was the fact that there's SO MUCH about her that I found interesting and wanted to cover. the process for this comic was a little bit different than my usual one in that I actually started with the last few lines "i thought maybe if i loved hard enough, i could stop time / I could freeze you in place as i knew you once / the little boy whose skinned knees were so easy to heal / what a childish thought" and built the script out from there, which thankfully gave me a clear direction to focus on, i.e. wounds/healing and aging. the script also went through a few revisions (the first version was much more heavily based around the word 'pain' which eventually became 'wound' in almost every instance because I thought the imagery of a wound was easier to tie to the other concepts i was working with than a less concrete concept like pain.)

One of the major differences in structure between this comic and my sort of. standard i guess? is the aspect ratio--when i started drafting in my usual portrait orientation, I realized that a lot of the panel compositions and imagery I had in my head were very vertical, which meant I wasn't getting the level of gutter space I felt I needed for my text to have the right impact, which is why the final comic ended up in a landscape orientation! truthfully i'd also been getting kind of bored with my standard ratio--i'm doing a (VERY LONG) graphic novel in that same ratio for my senior thesis right now, and at a certain point the standard panel layouts that look good and flow well with a page shape like that kind of start to bore you. When I changed the orientation of the page all of a sudden everything clicked and the project started being exciting again!

As for the imagery itself, I usually have SOME idea of the imagery i want to use as i'm writing, and with this one the things I knew for certain had to be present were the use of red for both mipha's body and link's blood. you mentioned the wounds--honestly, the heavy focus on wounds and blood was in large part due to color. Mipha's character design happens to be this really striking red, and she also happens to be a character whose story deals very heavily with wounds and blood by virtue of being a healer, so the idea of using the same singular spot color for both her body and the wounds she was healing, inextricably tying up her presence in link's life with the presence of pain, was SUUUUPER compelling to me. (I do also just. really like drawing wounds. which sounds insane but it's true)

the hand-holding and head kisses truthfully weren't something I thought really hard about beyond like, something that was standard to me as a display of affection between children. One of the most important layers to link and mipha's relationship imo is their relative ages and the way in which that changes overtime. When they meet for the first time, they are both fairly young children. Their relationship at that point is what most childhood relationships are: uncomplicated. easy. they fit together without a second thought. Mipha is slightly older than him, but they're in similar enough phases of their lives that it doesn't really matter; they are able to relate to each other intrinsically in that way. I kind of thought about the gestures of affection common in children who are just starting to understand the concept of romantic attraction--hand-holding, maybe the occasional kiss on the hand or forehead, but never anything more intimate. That way, when they grow up, there's an extra layer of longing on top of it all. Now they're both older, but link has matured much more significantly than mipha in their time apart. Mipha still remembers him as the little boy she knew, and that's reflected in the way she treats him. She'll hold his hands and kiss his forehead, but she's completely unable to go any further. their relationship is so fundamentally juvenile that the only way she can picture his body, let alone touch him, is when it's a job for her to do, when there's a wound there that needs healing. She's younger than him, now, so young that her schoolgirl crush seems monumentally silly and immature in comparison to his adult problems, and the only time she ever comes anywhere close to adult intimacy with him is when there are striking, unavoidable reminders of the weight he has to carry literally carved into his body.

[jumalanpelko]

JUMALANPELKO FANART INFO

Long story short, almost everything is ok + pls be patient with me i am TIRED and might take a while to answer but I will

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

So since I keep getting questions about this stuff I put together little info post <3

"Can we make fanart?"

Yesssssss I will ADORE IT

"What kinda of fanart is ok?"

Drawings, moodboards, fan characters... i am not even going to make a list cause I am fine with anything!

"What is not ok?"

The only thing I would ask you to skip is nsfw stuff and like. Shipping Guard and Suncat since they are very much parent and a child. Also if you know that there is a big age gap between cats (like Suncat and Sugarpaws. I would also say the same about Senior guard and Sugarpaws since (and this isnt really shown in the comic so totally fine to have skipped it) they have bit of an age gap and Sugar was one of the cats training her (this is kinda shown in the first previous suncat comic but not clearly stated. Senior guard looks old but is actually just about a year older than Guard). You can always ask!

"Is it ok to change up the designs/do you have a reference for x?"

Most of my characters dont have references. I dont colorpick when drawing since I love to use strong color palettes. Changing the designs is totally ok!

"Can I draw them as humans?"

Yessss you can. They do not have canon human designs so you can go wild. And even if i at any point draw them as humans those designs wont be "canon".

"Are hypokits ok?"

Yes and since I see those as more of "fusing together designs" you dont have to think about "is it ok to ship these two". Tho dont sell these designs! Trading them for art ect is fine by me.

"When making fan characters do I have to stick with the canon?"

No.

"How should I tag the art/make sure you see it?"

#jumalanpelkofanart (or #jumalanpelko fanart. People have used both) and tag me on it! These tend to get lost however so is you want to make sure I see it send an ask. Note that it might take a while for me to react to it. Hoe is living ten spoon life with six spoons on a good day aka i am TIRED all the time and expressing how much i like something takes some energy. I will do it at some point tho! Usually i show of more art at once.

However you can always send the art to me again! I am not skipping anything on purpose

[scribbbbbles]

How Brooklyn Was Brought To Her Knees - Chapter Two: The Rescue

author's note: HIIIIIIIII this one picks up right where we left off. It's longer!! almost 1k longer!!! let's hope my professors keep being nice to me so we can stay consistent :)

word count: 2.7k

PLEASE CHECK THE MASTERLIST FOR ALL WARNINGS!!!

comments, reblogs, and likes are cherished!! thank you for reading ♥

I was never one to back down from a fight, but I took Steve Rogers hand. He was an enemy of my father, but he was Steve. Good, honorable, golden Steve. There’s no way he hated my family so much he’d leave me here to rot… right? I hesitated for a second before grasping his fingers, and his eyes softened. He gripped my bicep and yanked me to my feet, where I promptly stumbled. I missed how my assailant’s hand began to shake as he released me. 

“Jesus,” he muttered under his breath, steadying me with two hands. “She’s worse off than you were Buck.” 

Wait. 

No. 

I slowly turned as the gears whirred in my head, actually hearing the words that came out of Steve’s mouth this time. The blue eyed man behind me pulled his mask down and shook his head to clear his hair. When he looked back up at me he was James Barnes, heir to the Brooklyn Mob, who last I heard was still missing . 

He wouldn’t look into my eyes. He knew. 

My throat went dry as I put the pieces together in my head. HYDRA had kidnapped Barnes- definitely while he was stationed overseas, it was easier to do on their home turf. If they’d lost their leverage with Bucky, maybe they thought they could play with a different boss. He must’ve been out for months , HYDRA can’t possibly work that fast.

“You got out?” I whispered to him, my voice fleeting in the silent expanse of the room. His eyes remained sharp, though a flicker of guilt blew over them like a top layer of snow shifting. It was just as quickly gone again. He only nodded as he turned to leave the room. 

“You got out so they took me didn’t they? You’re why I’m here aren’t you?!”

“I’m why you’re alive!” He roared as he whipped back to face me, his finger up and pointed in my face. I felt Steve’s grip on me tighten, as if no longer to hold me up but to keep me in place. I planted my feet firmly in response, willing myself not to sway. I held my chin high. Steve’s foot stepped out in front of me, a silent threat to Bucky of stand down . Bucky exhaled sharply. 

“Though frankly I couldn’t care less,” he said, tossing his hand before turning back towards the door. “You’re simply too good of a bargaining chip to leave here. Maybe your father will let me get a night’s rest if I drop your ass back on his doorstep.” 

“Bucky.” Steve tone carried a warning, for what I had no clue. 

Bucky turned back and glared at me, the cold in my bones reaching for him like it longed to go home, and that home was the man in front of me. He was harder than I remember- colder, meaner. His eyes were sharper, along with his jaw, and his nose looked like it had been broken a few more times. His adam’s apple bobbed slightly up and down as his large chest heaved to draw in more air from the stuffy room. His longer hair dusted across the top of his shoulders, with strands of the brown hair falling messily around his face. Some pieces got caught in his unkempt stubble and stuck to his sweaty forehead. Shadows seemed to pool at his feet like he could command them with a flick of his wrist. The pulsing light from the alarms jumped mutely around the small concrete room, illuminating him in a red glow of death. It carved dangerously down his easily 6’ frame and drew harsh lines through his blacked out tactical gear. 

I saw it first in the flashes of  light. His left arm was gone – a robotic-looking silver prosthetic gleamed in its place. On his outer bicep a red star was colored into the mechanism. It whirred ever so slightly as he moved. I barely heard it over the frantic slamming of my heart in my ears and my ragged breathing in the dead silent room, and if I wasn’t so focused on him or so intune with tech, I bet I wouldn’t even notice. I’d bet you couldn’t notice it if he had on a sleeve. This was not the boy who made me beg to be homeschooled to avoid his ponytail pulling, this was someone so much worse. This was less than a man, this was a well manufactured killing machine. He was living death. 

He looked me up and down like I was his prey; and for the first time in my life, I felt like it. 

I’ve never gulped down air faster than when Steve had finally hauled me out of that wretched basement, Bucky refusing to lay a single finger on me. The sunlight was blinding but oh so warm on my face. A grin involuntarily broke out across my chapped lips. There were police everywhere, and yet somehow we walked straight through them to an armored, blacked out SUV. One of the police nodded quickly to Bucky as we passed. 

‘Right, Barnes owns the cops.’ In my defense, I didn’t expect his reach to come out to the Bronx, but everyone can be bought. It’s the only reason any of us have a job. 

Steve kept a firm hold on me, helping me into the back of the van and making sure I wasn’t going to fall over before getting in the driver’s seat. Rogers was always nice to me, and I was thankful for that now. I shuddered internally at the thought of being here alone with Barnes. Steve’s spent a large portion of his life cleaning up Bucky’s messes; and I guess I’m one of them now. We could probably be friends, if it weren’t for our … affiliations. 

The pair of men bickered in the front seat, Bucky opting to just dump me at Stark Tower in downtown; which was also my preferred option. Steve, who ended up making the choice for both of us, said 'there was no way in hell you could just dump her on the street and have it not look like you had kidnapped and held her hostage for five years.’ I also learned from Steve in their heated conversation that Bucky was still the heir, and thus had to answer to his father. I kept my mouth shut at that, though a laugh threatened to bubble past my lips. The prospect of having to see George Barnes in my current state or at all was not one I was a fan of, but the prospect of Bucky still being Daddy’s Little Servant? That cracked a smile. 

Bucky had apparently had someone else call his father for him, lazy asshole, because when we arrived at the Barnes’ Mansion in Brooklyn there were double the amount of usual men and vehicles lining the property. I crossed every finger and toe that they were Stark cars. All I wanted was my dad, no matter how childish of a want it was. I never voiced it, but everyone silently knew. Bucky’s cold eyes had a brief sheen to them as I scanned the cars looking for any identifiable markers, understanding. I was hidden between the two gigantic men as we exited the car and moved inside the house, the main doors heavily thudding behind us as we entered the foyer. 

I heard them before I saw them. I heard my father’s frantic yelling over everything, and I couldn’t stop myself from shoving through both men with whatever strength I possessed. Steve was the only one who tried to stop me, Bucky gladly let go of my arm like it was a cancer to him. Dick. 

“You have the nerve to call my personal cell number after all these years and fucking use my daughter as bait to get me inside your godforsaken shitstain of a house–” I heard a very familiar accented voice boom through the doors in front of me, Steve and Bucky’s steps a few paces behind. They were murmuring about something, but I no longer had it in me to care. A grin crept wide up my cheeks as I shoved open the two double doors into what I could assume was the back meeting hall. 

Every head in the room turned to me as the doors opened. You could hear my father out of breath from across the room. I barely had time to register who I was standing in front of or what I looked like - covered in blood, thin as a rail, paler than any human being should be, and grinning like I just escaped an asylum - before my father croaked out some kind of a pitiful sound and tears poured from my eyes. 

I’ve never seen Anthony Stark run that fast in my life. I let out an ‘oof’ when he collided into me and scooped me up into his arms like I was five years old and not twenty; like he wasn’t one of the most feared bosses on the east coast. Our bodies shook with the combined release of sobs, adrenaline, and five years of worry gone from our shoulders as we collapsed on the floor. He pressed my face so hard into his chest it kind of hurt, but I didn’t care. He smelled like that Gucci cologne he refuses to admit smells like shit and that way too expensive aftershave he’s been using all my life. He eventually pulled back to help me stand, and we both started cackling like witches at the ludicracy of it all, slowly and shakily standing as he held me at arm’s length. He wiped my eyes as I death-grip clung to his forearms. 

He was older, with grays streaking through his slicked back hairstyle and peppered in his overgrown goatee. The bags under his eyes felt more pressing and permanent, hollow dark semi-circles. He was thinner, not by much but still noticeable as I pressed my fingers hard into his suit jacket. It was one of his least favorites, a blue Armani one he always claimed to pull at his shoulders. His lips weren’t as chapped as they used to always be, they were smooth as they pressed several kisses to my hairline. His eyes flitted around my face, and a watery smile stretched across his face. 

“Hi sweet pea,” he said, so soft that no one else could hear, as he gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His eyes raked up and down my body and I saw the concern knot in his brow. I shook my head at him, looking pointedly before smiling. 

“Hi Dad.” He beamed, his face relaxing and he kissed my forehead before hugging me again. I looked over his shoulder and caught Pepper Potts, who had her face schooled into a neutral expression, holding a toddler about three or four years old in her arms pressing her face away from me and into her shoulder. Next to her stood a young, crying, sixteen year old boy. 

He was ganglier than I remembered, though I guess he had grown more than I thought. His sandy brown hair fell haphazardly across his forehead and his cheeks were flushed from crying. He stood taller, closer to my dad’s height judging by where he landed next to Pepper. He wore his school uniform, a collared button down under a navy sweater and some khakis, but I caught a dainty silver chain around his neck tucked under his shirt. He wore a silver ring on his pinkie finger, a plain band but no doubt engraved with our family insignia. A show of loyalty from an active member. My heart squeezed at that. 

“Hi Peter.” My dad stepped back with a chuckle as Peter Parker flung himself at me. I laughed again and held him close as he picked me up and spun me around in circles. He was taller than me now, and stronger, but he was still my little brother. I caught Steve smiling out of the corner of my eye next to Bucky’s mom and sister, while I heard Bucky and his father leave the room arguing. I didn’t really care, because Peter was suffocating me. I swatted him on the back before he loosened his grip with a rushed, ‘sorry.’ I smiled up at him and he returned the gesture. A silent communication of a thank you. Pepper walked over with the toddler as I stepped out of the hug brushed Peter’s hair off his forehead.

“I missed you,” he said with a watery laugh, his hands remaining on my shoulders. 

“Good because I missed you too.” I got the chance to finally turn to Pepper and see the small child in her arms who looked… just like my dad. I watched Pepper shoot him a glare, and cover the child’s face from seeing me again. I looked at him with an eyebrow obviously cocked and tilted my head. Pepper’s always been a great step-mom, this was not like her to do. He looked to the floor and sighed, stepping away from her and back to me, shooting her a look of ‘not now, not here. Know your place.’ 

“We need to get the med team to look you over sweet pea. I’m hoping not all of this is yours,” his mouth set in a firm grimace as he took in my frail form, brushing my matted hair off my forehead again. Suddenly embarrassed by my appearance, I held my chin higher. 

“Never is, Dad.” He nodded, his mouth pressed in a thin line. As he turned to one of his men, Bucky and his father returned. Bucky looked shell shocked in a way I’d never seen him before. His eyes wouldn’t meet anyones and his gaze remained firmly on the floor. He slowly stalked by his mother and sister before falling in line next to Steve, hands clasped in front of him and head bowed. Steve whispered over to him, covering his mouth so I couldn’t read what he was saying. Bucky muttered something in return. His father remained in the doorway of his study, looking like nothing had gone down in the past few minutes. 

 ‘ Damn, he really got his ass handed to him.’ 

Dad nodded at George Barnes, who nodded in return. A deal was made. I quickly flitted my eyes to everyone’s face in the room. Winifred and Rebecca were doing the same as me - it seems no one informed the women - Peter was blissfully unaware, Pepper was already leaving with my apparent infant half-sister, and Steve's expression matched Bucky’s but with a hint of amusement in it. Bucky smacked his arm and they quickly left the room. Rebecca turned her gaze back towards me, raising a brow. I raised both of mine in response. She smiled softly and shook her head, pointing towards her father with her eyes. She’d find out later. 

“Welcome home, Miss Stark.” George spoke across the room. “I wish you a speedy recovery.” His baritone voice carried across the room with an air of sincerity. It was a dismissal. A ‘kindly get fucked,’ dismissal. 

“Thank you sir. And thank your sons for me as well. I owe them a debt ,” I replied, very careful to highlight whom I owe my thanks. It wasn’t customary to��owe someone a favor in the mob. To be owed is a life debt, and unfortunately I now inadvertently was trapped in one such predicament to the heir. George Barnes is the world’s best con-man next to my Dad, and he will twist whatever he can get his hands on to make it fit what he needs it to. He waved his hand, another dismissal, but nodded none the same. He dismissed the debt? My eyebrows flew quickly to my hairline before I schooled my expression. I shot another glare to Rebecca, who quickly nodded in response. 

“Safe travels.” 

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taglist: @julesandgems - @ruexj283 - @baw1066 - @broadwaybabe18

if you want to be added, please comment on the masterlist post!! I appreciate each and every one of you :)

[real-shadow-fan-1]

I finally finished my sonic oc!!!!! This is my first time drawing myself into a fandom and I absolutely LOVE the way it turned out

Name: kenadie

Age: 18

Gender: female (she/her)

Species: hedgehog

Obviously I’d still be a huge fangirl in the Sonic universe, my favorite team would be team Sonic and my second would be team dark. I have like no fashion sense so I’d wear the same pants and shirt every day just in different colors. Sonic 100% has his own shoe band and I would have them in every single color.

I’d have some lame ass job like working retail or the food industry but it’s fine because most of my free time would be spent watching clips from eggman battles along with running a team Sonic social media news account.

[awwfur]

Something, something, six art styles challenge!

this was super fun, especially because unlike what I’d done with different style challenges in the past I tried to mimic the line art to the best of my abilities.

rant about how hard each style was and design choices under the cut!

Okay! I’ll start ranting about the sonic one first because it was HARD to translate Aviator into that style.

It was mostly her face that was hard, I really wanted to keep her markings and keep her a dragon. In the end her face is slightly different from normal as I took inspiration from how Sally Acorn’s face looks. And as for her frills, they were merged together with the ears as it was kinda cluttered otherwise.

MLP G4 next! Besides the line art, this one was fairly easy. As a kid I took heavy inspiration from G4, so it wasn’t hard to mimic the style. I was also delighted to find that some of the dragons that bullied spike had both horns and ears! So once more I combined her frill with her ears.

the Pokémon one was super hard. Another thing that absolutely influenced my art style but with how different each Pokémon looks it was kinda hard to figure out how to translate Aviator. At first I tried Frankenstein-ing Pokémon together, Charizard’s head Reshiram’s wings. In the end it looked super weird. So I scrapped that and went about it like I was making a single stage fakemon. I still used Charizard for reference but that was with the flames. I also used other fire types for this reason. Anyway I’m the end I’m way happier with how she looks, even if I sacrifice her ears in favor of her frills this time.

Next is Wings of Fire! More specifically Joy Ang’s dragon designs for the books. This was easy and hard all at one once. Easy because Aviator originally was from a fan tribe of mine that took heavy inspiration from the Rainwings and Skywings. And not to mention my first Nightwing OC I heavily referenced the Nightwing pose, so I had a Indra to what I was doing. But it was hard as I would consider this style more realistic than what I draw, AND none of the WoF dragons have feathers. Although I know the beta rainwing design did so I tried to use that as reference. In the end I think it looks good I just wish I knew where my WoF coloring book was so I could have tried to pose her differently. And not have to heavily reference as much as I did.

Next is the Smiling Critters from Poppy playtime. This one was easy, there’s a nightmare critter who’s a dragon I used as main reference and I’ve got some smiling critter OCs I’ve recently started making so I’m kinda use to the style.

Now lastly Cult of the Lamb’s style. This one was odd, only drawing did I realize how meany squares and rectangles make up this style, and those are not shapes I use often. In the end it wasn’t too hard, but I did decide to invert the eyes, due to Aviator not having eye whites haha ^^”

[sweatinghoneybee]

Yay finish this one! After finishing Connie I just gotta draw Lloyd cause the way that he is described really sounds found to me especially his oni dragon form! And also cause I seriously need to practice drawing guys like seriously the last time I drew a guy was in October and I think that doesn't quite seem fair since the guy was just an au version of MC that I've made and since he's a robot I took some liberties on not fully drawing the human anatomy so yeah, tho still cute mechanic boy tho.

Honestly I didn't go too crazy with the design and just drew Lloyd the way the fanfic described him which what I've listed is pale, tall, athletic body, pointed ears, fangs, freckles, scars, bright green eyes, and mussed styled blonde hair. Honestly if I'm being honest I was just trying to give him a elven vampire look cause like come on just read the description Lloyd was given in the fic? Pointed eared fanged blond haired boy with green eyes that can also turn red AND purple? No wonder the reader of this fic is simping for him, he's basically a combo of fantasy elf prince and horror vampire lover and with her book loving heart she couldn't handle the amount of hotness he is! 乁⁠[⁠ᓀ⁠˵⁠▾⁠˵⁠ᓂ⁠]⁠ㄏ

And then for his ninja gi at first I wanted to draw Lloyd with his gi in the cover of the fanfic from Wattpad but I decided to add in elements from his gi in the sons of garmadon and took some liberties cause I couldn't draw the mask right cause I ended up making him look like a wrapped sausage with the first mask I drew him in, tho with this experience I now understand why most fanarts of the ninjas in Ninjago are them not wearing masks cause like those things are HARD to draw. Or maybe that's just me, seriously can someone confirm to me if I'm right for this cause like when I search up Ninjago fanarts most of them are the ninjas not wearing their masks ┐⁠(⁠ ⁠∵⁠ ⁠)⁠┌

The real fun was when I drew the oni dragon form! Tho I was working backwards with drawing Uchu first cause since he's described as the evolved version of Lloyd in his oni dragon form It was an easier process with making Uchu first cause if I made his final form then I can work out what it may look like in it's premature state! Tho I will say this even tho it's a fun experience drawing this it was NOT easy cause the description of this form is something. Uchu and Lloyd's horns are described like crowns on their head but with how it's described with Lloyd grabbing his front horn and also the two fronts of it being kissed but the horns also described as tiered with each set being longer then the others, I was seriously racking my head trying to figure out what it looks like and don't even get me started with Uchu's horns then being described as antler like this part seriously put dents in my brain (⁠~⁠_⁠~⁠;⁠) Tho luckily at the end i end up getting a design I like and with the horns design finish I just sorta made Uchu's form literally just more exaggerated and longer but trying my best to make it look regal the best I can. Tho I just made Uchu have super long braid cause I just thought it would be so cool that in his oni dragon form his hair grew longer which give him like a dragon looking tail braid and I thought it would be so cute Saisho braiding and brushing her hubby's hair. And I just gave Lloyd's oni dragon form not that exaggerated, long and darker and I was done! Tho I gotta admit I'm sad that I couldn't color his scales have that golden shine to them but sadly my yellow pen ink got covered too mush with the black colored pencil so there's nothing I could do about it, but besides that I'm happy with the results cause I honestly did not think I could do anatomy besides girls this well since I haven't practiced it a lot! ⊂⁠(⁠(⁠・⁠▽⁠・⁠)⁠)⁠⊃

If anyone is wondering what the heck I'm talking about this is a fanart from Ninjago fanfic made by @samseaaa called butterfly effect, here's a link any of you would like to check it out!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42409836/chapters/107794638?view_adult=tru

Hope you guys check it out cause this story has already had 66 chapters and it's not even finish yet and turns out this was still book 1?!?! Seriously go check it out the story is super cute fluffy romance with a gun shot of angsts hope you guys enjoy reading along! ⁽⁠⁽⁠ଘ⁠(⁠ ⁠ˊ⁠ᵕ⁠ˋ⁠ ⁠)⁠ଓ⁠⁾⁠⁾

[sammisafetypin]

itz a bit early to be doing a season-by-season lineup considering im not at s5 yet… but i wanted to draw my jons anyways :] some notes under cut

He’s an Oriental Shorthair which is why his face is shaped weirdly . I decided to make him a black cat for deir association with bad luck , and also I wanted all of teh OG archive crew to be “”spooky”” animals . Oriental Shorthairs in specific are just weird spindly little freaks which is exactly how I perceive Jon .

His eyes get increasingly brighter teh more that he Becomes .

His hair is slicked back in S1 and S2 , minus his little antenna . You’d think he would stop taking care of it in S2 , but in my mind it’s just about one of th only thingz he has any meaningful “control” over .

In S3 , he stops caring about styling his hair and lets it fall loose . It grows out while he’s comatose, and by teh time he’z up and about he doesn’t have teh time or energy to get it cut .

Worm scars are primarily on teh right side of his body . Teh ones on his hand got burnt over by Jude Perry (teh burn being hoof-shaped bc I made her a unicorn) .

He broke his tail in teh Prentiss attack . It keeps starting to heal and den subsequently getting rebroken in increasingly absurd and aggravating ways . He will never know peace .

S3 clothes are , obviously , mooched off of Georgie . That hoodie is one of teh colors that sells least on her shop . Teh markings on teh pants are supposed to be vaguely eye-shaped .

Basira bought him his S4 outfit . She knew well enough that he liked sweaters , though teh blazer got ditched .

He broke his legs in teh House of Wax explosion . Unfortunately teh super-healing kinda screwed him dis time , as by teh time anyone got to worrying about his legs dey had already healed — incorrectly . He heals too quickly to perform effective surgery on to realign them , and because of that , walking is extremely painful . He starts using a wheelchair instead .

Teh wheelchair is very , very plain — he’s not one for bells and whistles , and doesn’t really want attention drawn to it in teh first place . Teh only decoration he’z given it is a few stickers from a pack that Georgie gave him back in S3 . Makes him feel a little less alone . ( In a better world , everyone would’ve had a great time arguing over how he should decorate his chair . Unfortunately it’s S4 and he has no friends 💔)

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

Part 25: ready or not

"Without the darkness there'd be no light in me. My angels and my demons, they don't know their place- ready or not they're gonna come out and play." -Half God Half Devil by In This Moment

Regent Masterlist A03 Part 24

The whole of Gotham had been holding its breath as All Hallow’s Eve arrived without much fanfare, the chilly October air causing ice to form in its wake. The Ridge was cloaked in a fine drapery of pumpkin lights and lit candles defying the wind’s attempt to blow them out, pale green flames casting out the darkness of Gotham’s inherent shadows. Many residents, bolstered by the claim of their own vigilantes, had taken to wearing various shades of green in support of the Phantom and Regent- there was the perpetual gothness of Gotham natives present still, but the swath of color in the one particular neighborhood gave a sense of protection to the wearers. 

(Those who had found the tiny stitched flaming ‘P’ sigil of the Phantom said nothing.) 

Halloween had been deemed too dangerous to celebrate, but the Ridge had unanimously chosen to celebrate Samhain, the time when the veil between life and death was at its thinnest. A time for them to offer thanks to their ghostly protector, to celebrate another year of survival. 

(Truthfully, the Ridge had quite a few things to celebrate.) (Lowest crime rate, construction of new homes, better wages, better living in general.) Though they had no evidence, the Ridge believed the betterment of their neighborhood, once the drug-addled cousin of Crime Alley held together by spit and glue, was the product of belief in their deservement of survival. A reward. 

While the Regent was just as responsible for the Ridge and it’s betterments, many understood the necessity of secrecy in their gratitude. The Regent, a stalwart Protector and fierce fighter, was still human- enhanced with what was clearly Bat-level armor and meta powers, but still mortal. 

(The question was still asked, what is the vigilante regent of?) 

(A question they would soon, unknowingly, have an answer for.) 

Hidden from the public and littered around the Ridge were altars dedicated to Phantom, asking for protection for the infamous day of the year- the same one they all greeted with disdain and fear. Though, for the first time in recent memory that fear was met with quiet strength. 

The Ridge was made of a people who loved fiercely and defended their own with ornery pride. They had a ghost and a vigilante to call their own, who needed more than that?

The end of the world started with a convenience store robbery at three in the morning. 

The quiet street corner burst alive with gunshots and alarms, breaking the quiet lull that had settled for the night. 

As it was, the Regent ducked into the store with a blazing aura of fury, armor gleaming with its silver and green tones in the flickering fluorescent lights. She hadn’t yet to draw her sword as bullets bounced off her armor in a cascade of pinging metal. She moved forward with each breath, each ping off her armor, a menacing growl to her voice as she got in real close to the ski-masked troublemaker, 

“You woke me up.” 

She’d been peacefully dozing off on a fire escape, tired from chasing down a street racer that had decided to try and drive down a sidewalk full of drunken patrons. 

(Jazz was pleased to report that she was indeed able to run just as fast as that souped up racer.) 

(Liminality had its perks.) 

Glass shattered at her back, a quiet ping as an echo rang inside her helmet. Vertigo. Nausea. 

“What the-” 

Regent shoved the robber away from her, effectively cutting off whatever he’d been about to say, just in time as another ping filled the air. 

A bullet clattered on the linoleum.

A bullet. 

Someone was shooting at her. 

“Ah crap.”

Knowing she’d falter due to vertigo, the Regent ran directly down the middle of the empty street as bullets just barely missed her. 

What had begun with precise shots, aimed clearly for her helmeted head, now had become an area of attack, aiming for her general location- the smell of kerosene warned her that her attacker had clearly planned this thoroughly. 

Jazz had never feared fire. Why would she? It wasn’t as if her skin could be burnt, it would require ecto-fueled flame and without the Fentons or the GIW who would know the formula for Fenton Fuel?

Kerosene had a particular scent marker, but it grew weaker as explosions colored the sky- orange and blood red filled her vision as she threw herself through obstacles lit with flame. 

Screams rang in her ears- screams of a people she needed to help, but what help could the Regent be with someone clearly intent on taking her life trying to destroy everything in her wake. 

She had run from the convenience store to draw the gun fire away from innocent people. She continued to run now that she could bring them into Batman’s territory- once out of Crime Alley, Regent would have a straight shot for Gotham Ports. She could jump into the harbor and portal back into the Ridge to get behind her attacker, leaving a trail for the Bats to follow. 

The Regent approached the ‘official’ marker for the border of the Ridge and Crime Alley, a large X that Danny had repainted in Ecto-Paint to make it glow in the dark for a laugh. 

Ecto-paint that was flammable. 

Cursing, Regent skid to a stop from her dead sprint, tripping and rolling forward right past the marker- its luminescent paint wasn’t as bright as it should be. 

The scent of kerosene came seconds before the first flash of a flame. 

A ecto-green flame. 

Jazz screamed as her left leg was caught in the first burst of fire, the otherworldly armor she relied so heavily on covered only so much- the knee high greaves were resistant to fire, but not Ecto-fire. 

Army crawling away, whimpering as her chest plate dug into her sensitive breasts and burning greave scraping against pavement, another bullet barely missing her head again as Regent took cover behind a parked car. 

Back against the cool metal, Jazz was quick to unlatch her greave and examine the burnt one for damage. The metal, iridescent in the green lit flames she cowered from, had been partially melted to her boots and protective underlayer, but largely retained its integrity. The back plate of the greaves, designed so she couldn’t be crippled by the ankle and shin, took the brunt of the burning. She’d have a first degree burn to take care of soon enough, but for the moment Jazz replaced her greave, forcing the brunt metal to snap back into place around her shin with some effort. 

As she moved to connect to Danny’s comm, the Phantom Phone now connected to her under-armor for ease of access, something skidded across the pavement towards her. The vigilante only had a moment of clarity, enough for the thought of ‘oh shit’, before a sickly green haze shrouded her vision.

A/N: Not me over here cackling :)

[purplepixel]

This put such a smile on my face. HEHEHEHE. SWSA changed my brain chemistry so I got to return the favor. Im so happy you love it!! Believe it or not, the closer I was to finishing, the more random bouts of doubt I was getting. But AAAAAA THIS WAS SO FUN TO WORK ON. I FINALLY GOT TO ANIMATE MY FAVORITE FIC OF ALL TIME.

You do not know how long its been since this entered my brain. And I HAD TO WAIT. This kept being pushed out of its priority spot. AND I COULDNT TELL YOU ABOUT IT BC I KNEW ITD BE AWHILE. Ngl half of it was "inked" over the past two weeks, which was the only reason why I hinted this project to you. To motivate me and bc I knew I was ready to commit to finishing. But i had my thumbnails sitting on my ipad ever since august.

Hehe so about i promise to catch you....the animatic came first. This animatic was supposed to be swsa 1 year anniversary. Then it was supposed to be your birthday present. THEN it was supposed to be your christmas gift (I guess it is still technically your christmas gift?). So yes, i did just color a frame from this. In hindsight, im very glad i took my time. I would much rather take a little longer to make something Im proud of then rushing just to get out more art. And im very very proud of this. Its been quite a journey from start to finish.

I strive to animate as well as you write. Which means pushing myself to the max with the symbolism and imagery. How can i represent the text without just drawing the actions? My challenge was to make something that wouldnt spoil the fic but still showed the key moments in ways only a reader would understand. I took "make swsa an animated opening" very seriously and some scenes were actually changed from my original thumbs bc id realize they were too spoilery for someone still reading or who hasnt read it. Besides, I could always give those moments proper attention in other animatics. ;]

I did two bc I didnt want text covering any of my anination. Plus it goes by fast and i wanted the focus on the visuals first and foremost. But it really does hit different when you know the translation to the song. "Tick tock tick tock watch me stop the clock" "you cannot escape my eye" "youre like a doll made just for me". I love dreamcatcher, but the meaning would be lost to anyone who doesnt know korean. So yay two versions!

ALSO HOW DID YOU FIND SOMETHING I DIDNT EVEN INTEND??? THEIR HANDS AS CLOCK HANDS???? I think it was in the back of my mind but i def didnt fully realize this. I almost put the clock in the background of that shot, but then decided to have donnie fall into the clock instead. Visually it works better, but unfortunately it sacrifices the readability of an already incredibly obscure fun easter egg that runs through this entire animatic.

AAAA THANK YOU I TRIED SO HARD WITH MORDICA. I had to really step out of my comfort zone with her bc im not used to drawing dragons like that. I tried my best to be as faithful to your description as possible.

Oh man. I could write essays over this animatic. ESSAYS OVER THE CREATION OF THIS. PLEASE. FEEL FREE TO DISCUSS. Man is this how you feel every time you post a chapter update? Role reversal moment.

But ya, I love your fic so much curly. And i love that my first proper rottmnt animatic is based on something that you wrote. You inspire me so much and I wanna create things that make you feel the same way i do everytime I read your writing. You deserve all the fanart and fan animatics and Im glad i finally was able to deliver!

Spider's Web With Strings Attached Opening [English Version]

Cw: Blood

Based on the amazing fic Spider's Web with Strings Attached by @psychologicalwarclaire

Original Version HERE