#you spend a lot of time carefully crafting the details

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Gosh, do I love discovery writing. The freedom. The sense of play. The way you have to hold the material lightly and follow where it leads, never being afraid to scrap things that don't work or to rewrite to emphasize things that do. You have the fun of discovering the story you're writing rather than the frustration of being unable to capture the ideas in your head. This way might wind up taking ages, but it makes the writing process such a joy.

[aleskie-hischier]

CHRISTMAS CRAFTING (ft. Max Verstappen)

SUMMARY: You and Max make your own Christmas ornaments. Fun times ensue!

The Xmas Album Masterlist

Warnings: None :)) Just some christmas fluff!!

“Pass me the glue, please,” Max says, his eyes laser-focused on the red bulb in his hands, inspecting it for any imperfections. “And the sequins too.”

You smile and hand him the materials, watching with admiration as he carefully glues on sequins, each one placed with precision.

You’d suggested making a few ornaments for Christmas this year, thinking it would be a cute couple’s activity while Max was in his off-season. He’d agreed, albeit reluctantly. But in true overachiever fashion, he quickly got hooked, and now you’re surrounded by seven—no, maybe eight—Christmas tree ornaments, each one a tiny masterpiece, covered in glitter and bright colors. They were all crafted by you and your boyfriend. But mostly by him.

“I didn’t expect you to get so into this,” you say, resting your chin on your hand, abandoning your own ornament for the moment to watch him work. You can't help but smile at how absorbed he is, so focused and meticulous with every little detail.

“Neither did I,” he says, carefully adding a final touch of gold glitter to the ornament in his hands. His brow furrows in concentration as he watches the glitter settle, making sure every corner is covered. “But it’s fun.”

He inspects his work one last time, turning the ornament this way and that, as if searching for some small flaw. After a moment, he nods to himself, satisfied with the result, and gently places it down next to the others.

“And it makes you happy,” he adds, looking up at you with a small, playful smile. “So we’re both happy.”

You feel your heart warm at his words. There’s something undeniably sweet about how he’s embraced this whole thing, even if it wasn’t exactly his idea. The room feels cozier now, filled with the soft glow of fairy lights and the tiny, imperfect ornaments scattered around you, each one a symbol of this unexpected little tradition you’ve started.

You inch closer from where you're sitting on the floor, moving toward the crafts scattered near the Christmas tree, and take a moment to really appreciate what you've both created. Some of the ornaments are beautifully done—the pink and white one you made, covered in hearts, and the one Max crafted that resembles the Red Bull livery are definite standouts. 

But then there are others that could only be described as, well, creative nightmare fuel. Case in point: the glittery Grinch-themed ornament Max made, complete with the Grinch’s face while wearing a Santa suit. You can’t help but laugh when you see it, but your favorites are undoubtedly the ones you both worked on together—those themed after your three children, Jimmy, Sassy, and your newest baby: Donatello.

“I think you have a real future in handicrafts, Maxie,” you tease, grinning.

He chuckles, wiping a bit of glitter off his hands. “Maybe I do. I’ll quit my job, and we can start our own ornament business. What do you think?”

“Let’s save that for when you retire,” you smirk.

You both laugh, but as his eyes meet yours, there's a soft, genuine look in them that makes your heart skip a beat. The moment feels like it’s been suspended in time—simple, calm, and entirely just for the two of you.

“I’m glad we did this,” he says, taking your hand in his and gently intertwining your fingers. “I like spending time with you.”

“I like spending time with you too,” you say, your heart tugging at his words, the sincerity in his voice making you feel even closer.

“No, but…” He pauses, considering his words carefully. “We don’t get to do stuff like this much over the season. I’m always training, or working, or doing sponsorships. We don’t get enough time.”

“We do a lot of fun things over the season,” you say gently, reassuring him. “We go boating, play on the beach…” You lift your hand, cupping his face, feeling the slight stubble on your palm. “I’m happy with grocery shopping with you and taking the cats to the vet and even just staying at home washing dishes or cleaning up.”

His lips twitch into a smile, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. The quiet feels comfortable, like a space carved out just for the two of you.

You ruffle his hair affectionately as you rise to your feet, stretching slightly before picking up one of the ornaments. You glance at him, a playful spark in your eyes. “Why don’t we start hanging these up?”

Max grins, stretching as well before getting to his feet. “Yeah, let’s make our tree look more…unique.” He picks up a couple of ornaments, holding them up with a certain seriousness, inspecting them like they’re priceless treasures as he ponders where the best place to showcase them is.

As you start placing the first few on the tree, you can’t help but admire how your mismatched collection of creations is starting to come together. The ornaments, with their odd shapes and bright colors, make the tree feel uniquely yours, like it’s an extension of your relationship—full of little quirks and inside jokes.

Max hovers beside you, carefully hanging his Grinch ornament on a low branch. “I think this is the best one,” he says with a smirk, stepping back to admire it.

You laugh, shaking your head. “It’s definitely…something,” you tease, but you can’t help but appreciate the effort he’s put into every piece, no matter how absurd some of them might look.

As the tree begins to fill with your handmade creations, you both step back to admire the results. There’s something so satisfying about it, like you’ve turned your shared time and effort into something tangible, a physical manifestation of your love.

“We should do this again next year,” he says, pulling you gently next to him as you both admire the collection on the tree.

You smile up at him. “And the year after that too?”

He grins, his arms slipping around you. “We’ll do it until all our ornaments are custom-made by us,” he says with a teasing smirk, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

You laugh, your heart warm. “That sounds perfect.”

Max looks at you then, his gaze soft and filled with something deeper. His eyes linger for a moment longer than usual, and the air between you both seems to shift.

“With you, everything is,” he says quietly, his voice low, almost as if he’s speaking to himself, the words wrapped in sincerity and affection.

You lean into him, the world outside fading away, leaving only the soft glow of the Christmas lights twinkling around the ornaments you made, casting a warm light that seems to make them glow with life.

[thesunshinebunny]

hello there! i hope you’re having a good day! ^^ if requests are still open, i would like to make a request! i read where jade, floyd and leona stay with the mc during the holidays; could i perhaps request the same thing but with riddle, ace and malleus? thanks in advance <3

We're getting sensitive for a moment. I hope you like it. As always, drink water, relax from time to time and enjoy.

Riddle

You might be wondering how Riddle managed to convince his mother to spend the winter break at school. Well, it wasn't a complete lie what he told her, rather it had a lot of truth in it.

He wanted to stay to prepare for the next semester with students from his own dorm who were going to stay… ignoring a tiny detail. He also wanted to stay with you.

Even during the winter break, Riddle keeps his routine meticulously organized, even with the school half deserted, and those few students who stayed to welcome the new year.

And speaking of the dorm, his is impeccably organized, Riddle doesn't take vacations to rest apparently.

Despite the low activity at school, our Queen of Hearts continues with his rigorous schedule. Tea time, sleep time, you name it.

The cold, the blizzards and the snow give you both the perfect excuse to stay within the warm walls of the library or, on some special occasions, his room, surrounded by books and essays for the next semester.

Riddle likes to make you multiple cups of tea during the day, keeping you from getting cold. If he see a tiny little shiver, he’s already in the kitchen boiling water.

During the freezing nights, Riddle prefers you to stay with him, either in his room or, if you require your own privacy, he has no problem setting up a room next to his for you.

He likes to spend time in front of the fireplace reading novels, listening to soft classical music, or simply watching the snow fall while holding your hand.

Something about the atmosphere makes him appreciate the warmth that his relatively new relationship with you brings him.

While the other students are reveling in the festivities, Riddle finds himself torn between his desire to uphold the rigid rules and his growing desires to hold you and never let go.

As the clock approaches midnight, Riddle would have meticulously planned a New Year’s Eve celebration within the dorm. The decorations would be elegant, yet restrained—nothing too extravagant or chaotic. He'd ensure that everyone adheres to his carefully crafted schedule for the evening.

However, seeing how much joy and excitement you and others are having, he'd start to loosen up a bit.

As the New Year rings in, he might even indulge in a little break from tradition, and pulled you towards him, hugging you with one arm and giving you a small kiss on the cheek.

“Happy New Year my heart”

Ace

A vacation to be away from his parents and brother? He's counting on it. And being by your side? Where does he have to sign?

He makes winter a vibrant season, despite the quietness of the campus. His inexhaustible energy and natural enthusiasm don't get dampened by the cold.

He likes spending time putting snow in the lockers of the students who stayed behind, even starting snow fights with them to lift their spirits.

He knows it's very cold, but that doesn't mean you've to have a sad face all the time.

He also likes to organize movie nights with you, from the most classic to the most current horror movies, preventing you from sleeping peacefully because of fear… including himself, even if he doesn't say it out loud.

During all the winter break, you can find him either in his room, playing video games or on his cell phone, or in the common room, drinking hot chocolate next to the roaring fireplace. He likes to keep a space next to him warm and comfortable for when you get to spend time with him.

He often insisted that you stay in his dorm, preferably his room, so that you wouldn’t be cold in yours. Unfortunately, some of his roommates stayed and he can’t have the room to himself, or rather, to just the two of you.

If you’re willing to stay sleeping on the couch or sharing the room with someone else, great.

Ace would be the life of the New Year’s celebration, full of energy. He’d be the one rallying everyone for impromptu games, pranks, and a raucous countdown to midnight.

He might organize a surprise “New Year’s Eve scavenger hunt” around the campus, with playful and quirky tasks that reflect the festive spirit. Of course, Ace would enlist your help in planning the event, ensuring they’re right in the middle of the action.

As midnight approaches, Ace would lead a noisy countdown, complete with confetti and noisemakers. Despite his usual bravado, he’d have a sincere moment where he holds your hand and kiss you oh so sweet.

“Happy New Year my darling”

Malleus

Malleus finds the quiet and pseudo solitude of campus as a perfect time to enjoy the beauty that winter and its snow bring to the land.

It didn't take much convincing for Lilia to let him spend time alone in his dorm, even Mama Bear likes the quiet of winter in his own room, without distractions. What it did take a lot of effort to convince Lilia not to stay, even more so Sebek.

Let's just say that the last few days of the school's course weren't the most peaceful for you. Sebek wanted to get under your skin, telling you straight up what his lord Malleus needed, when he needed it, and how it should be done.

A piece of advice… say yes to everything he says and then do whatever you want. Ignore him, for your sanity.

He insisted that you stay in his room, not accepting no for an answer. You stay with him at night, in the same bed, and during the day you do and go wherever you want; But a requirement to spend the holidays with him is to stay in his room at night.

His bedroom during the arrival of the New Year was filled with an atmosphere that reflected soft glows and an almost mystical calm.

The passing of the days consisted of long walks through the snowy grounds of the school, watching as the flakes gathered at every thousandth of an inch. His own presence almost merged with nature itself, ethereal and beautiful.

Malleus likes to create intricate patterns with his magic on the snowy paths, sometimes roses, sometimes small dancing sparkles above you. Patterns that always managed to take your breath away with how beautiful they were.

The nights are usually quiet in his bedroom, either reading or Malleus telling legends and rites of his homeland.

In general, winter days with him are full of serene and fascinating moments, where the cold seems to fade away before the warmth of his company and the enchantment of his presence.

He'd have arranged for a special New Year's Eve gathering in a beautifully decorated, magically enhanced space where you both could enjoy a tranquil and enchanting evening.

During the countdown, Malleus shares stories of past New Year's celebrations in his fae realms, captivating you with such wonders.

As the clock strikes midnight, he might create a stunning display of magical fireworks that light up the night sky. His gesture would be both grand and intimate, marking the start of the New Year with a touch of magic and love.

“It is an honor to start the new year with you, my rose.”

[loveless-in-nowheresville]

-JJBA love letter headcanons-

Summary: What their love letters to you are like

Characters: Joseph Joestar, Caesar Anthonio Zeppeli, Dio, Rohan Kishibe, and Yoshikage Kira

Warnings: Unhealthy relationship with Dio and Unhappy relationship with Kira.

Dating/married, different relationships for characters

-Joseph Joestar

His “stationery” is typically just pages ripped out of a well used journal, but that’s got its own charm to it too.

His letters are clearly not written in one sitting, just little thoughts and ideas written to you throughout the day, sometimes a bit vulgar in his honest affection towards you, sometimes sweet and creative. He isn’t the type to wax poetic…he doesn’t believe in that. He’s open, honest, and doesn’t dance around what he likes about you and what he wants for the two of you…the word that comes to mind is “blunt”. You can picture him so clearly with a little journal balanced on his thigh, tapping the back of a pencil against his chin in thought, plotting to woo you over with bold, showy words.

He’s a bit of a wild animal. You never know how much you can trust him and his little declarations of love but…he’s just so charming. You can’t turn him away when he’s so captivating. You’ll always make room for him in your heart, unfortunately, no matter what might happen, and you’ll treasure every letter and keep them stored away in a little box.

He’ll send a couple of short letters in one envelope every couple of months. He writes in a bold, confident cursive…he really does have an amazing mind, one of a kind…the quickest, cleverest, most confident man you knew.

You can’t help the way your heart flutters when he writes something like: “And when you read this sentence, I know you’ll smile and grip this letter a little tighter…”

-Caesar Anthonio Zeppeli

Such a classic, romantic man. You don’t just get sweet letters from your lover on floral stationery…he sends photographs and poetry, flowers and sweets he thinks you’ll like, sometimes you can expect a whole package instead of just a simple envelope from your favorite man.

His love language is definitely words of affirmation, and you can see it so clearly in his letters of adoration he crafts so carefully for you, filled with every ounce of his devotion to you.

However he is ALSO a passionate gift giver and he does not hold back when it comes to you. You feel a little guilty about accepting so many gifts from him, hence why he sends them in the mail…you wouldn’t hurt him by going through the trouble of sending them back, now would you?

His envelopes are perfumed with your favorite scents…expect lots of letters in his envelopes. He writes a lot for you, the words just pour from his heart when it comes to expressing his love for you, and he puts every word down on the paper to send to you.

And his poetry…if he knows you can’t read Italian, he’ll write it in Italian so you’ll ask him to recite it for you. His poems are long, too…so he can spend more time with you when he’s reading them to you.

He sends his letters at consistent intervals, so that you will always get his letters around the same time, every two weeks or so.

-Dio

Uses paper with beautiful, intricate gold detailings along the edges.

His letters are usually about a page and a half, written in large, elegant and complicated cursive.

His words are honeyed and sweet, a man who knows how to get what he wants, and somehow you can feel his overwhelmingly dominate presence just from his letters and you can’t help but submit to it, feeling reminded of his greatness, his grandness, how throughly divine he is…anyone would be weak to even just Dio’s words…and you are no exception.

If he’s a cage, your heart is a bird, watching the door slowly shut and yet making no move to escape, because the cage is made of gold, it’s so warm, it’s so safe, it’s so secure…the cage is better, the cage is where you want to be…you want the door to shut faster.

He writes so many words and manages to say nothing at all. Sweet nothings, empty promises, false flattery…all the while he has the audacity to act like you owe him your submission. And for some reason you eat up every word and lick the plate clean, in an attempt to savor every last flavor he had the graciousness to offer you.

You fall asleep with his letters clutched to your chest, treasuring the subtle scent of him that clung to the paper for as long as it lasted.

He occasionally scents envelopes with something akin to his own cologne, especially when the two of you have been apart for a while…it’s a great way to put you back in his pocket, as even a reminder of his scent is enough to remind you why you stay in his pocket…or in your case…his golden cage.

His letters arrive at his whim, typically when he happens to remember you, and how easy you are. Sometimes just a few weeks in between…sometimes too long for your own sanity, and you find yourself so desperate for him that as soon as his letters finally arrive you find yourself moved to tears merely at the sight of his personal seal upon an envelope.

Rohan Kishibe:

Rohan always strives to make you feel some sort of way with his letters…even if he can’t be there to see your reaction part of the pleasure that comes from penning you letters is imagining how you’ll look when you see what he’s decided to surprise you with.

They tend to come in little packages, since usually he tries to send you various other things with his letters…photographs and souvenirs from his adventures, sometimes in the form of various teas or candles or books.

He’s inconsistent with when he sends his gifts to you, since he wants them to be a surprise, but they’re usually never any more than two and a half months apart.

He will always scent his envelopes, and send you a small vial of whatever fragrance he used. Every letter he sends has a custom border that he draws himself, so each of them are totally unique, and significantly monetarily valuable, given who the illustrator and writer is (you would never try to AUCTION OFF his personal letters to you though, right??!!)

His penmanship is neat and tidy, like you would expect from him.

He’s not really a romantic man, even in his private correspondence to you, often opting instead to write about himself and whatever shenanigans he has recently gotten up to. You wouldn’t have it any other way. You’d rather hear his stories and about how he’s doing than read him trying to wax poetic to you about how much he adores you.

His letters range in length, typically from one to four pages, depending on his current situation. He’ll send you illustrations too, whether doodled in the margins of his letters or on drawing paper, tucked safely away in the package.

He draws you scenery, or pictures of you from memory, sometimes things he knows you like…and you’ll always get a special preview of his current projects. It’s only right that he shares his progress with the most important person in his life…and he’ll always value your feedback over most others.

One thing about Rohan though…he expects you to make good use of everything he sends you. And he’ll expect you to write back. He will literally not send you anything else until after he receives a letter from you, typically with no exceptions unless you are quite literally unable to write back or something of the sort.

Seems like a fair trade off to you…exchanging correspondence with such an interesting man is truly a delight, even though you feel you never have anything quite as interesting to share with him in turn.

To your surprise, he doesn’t ever seem bothered about the unfair trade-off. To him, your letters are perfect just the way they are.

He’s always relieved to hear you’re feeling well and living a peaceful life than stuck in life-threatening danger, no matter how interesting a story it might make.

-Yoshikage Kira:

One letter once a month on plain white paper in a plain white envelope, sealed shut with a single, simple heart sticker, occasionally scented with a neutral lavender perfume. Exactly one page long. He’ll leave it on your doorstep.

His penmanship is neat and clean, precise…he writes nice words…for such a quiet man who keeps to himself he does know how to sound sweet.

Something always feels just Slightly off when you receive his letters though. They’re written so nicely, and yet you can’t help but get the nagging suspicion that he’s holding himself back, or not quite believing his own words…like he’s saying it in an attempt to win you over, or keep your affection.

They are letters that are only worth reading once. You have no real proof, technically nothing is wrong with the letters…but you just can’t shake that slight pinch of doubt.

You would rather not read them. If he was being disingenuous with you, you’d rather it be to your face, since you don’t notice it that way.

He’ll only ask you about the letters a few days after they were delivered, just making sure you remembered to grab them and look over them and didn’t just leave them on your porch.

You keep the letters in a small box, tucking them up on a shelf somewhere out of sight, so you don’t have to worry about them too much.

[catscidr]

i. note — i was feeling a certain typa way because i kept coming across fics where the reader was described as busty so i wrote this in like two hours to make myself feel better lmao sue me…. ii. includes — dottore, afab!reader. no pronouns used, only descriptions of boobs/looking womanly (?) iii. cw — fluff, hurt/comfort, crack-ish bc this is a little silly, dottore is trying his best (maaaybe ooc), a little suggestive but nothing happens, talks of sex and oral, casual touching. MDNI. tldr reader is self conscious about their body and dottore tries to make them feel better lol iv. wc — 1,8k

It’s not often that you get to lay in bed with your lover; he’s always busy running around his lab, either fixing others’ mistakes or scrapping his own work to start over what he has spent so much time on. Dating the infamous Il Dottore was a challenge not many were strong enough for, but you made it work.

You would spend time with him in Haeresys by helping him with some tasks (even if they were small, and didn’t really need to be done in the first place). Handing him different tools when he’d wordlessly ask for them while neck deep in the guts of a Ruin Guard, carefully organizing old reports and documents in his desk that would never see the light of day anytime soon, and bringing him a healthy meal to eat while he worked (though you would do that yourself, because Archon forbid he actually eats on his own accord).

So, given how sparse your time together is, of course you would make it count. Of course you would use that time wisely, go out for an evening to a nice restaurant, maybe even cuddle up on the couch to binge an entire season of a show you had been meaning to watch for ages but couldn't bring yourself to because you wanted to watch it with him.

You wouldn’t dare spend your evening together in bed, wallowing in your own self-pity while he sits up, reading a book you can’t even stomach the contents of.

...Except that’s exactly what you’re doing.

You can't really help it, though. You know how he is; diligent and hardworking, a man of his craft. You know he doesn’t have the time to entertain you and your silly questions and hypotheticals, you know he’s not too fond of sweet touches and words of affection. You know this isn’t your typical relationship, but you don’t mind because you get to be with him— and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Save for when you sulk and feel so incredibly insecure and inadequate for a man such as himself.

Humans have needs. You are human, and you have needs. Dottore is a human (to some extent, though still technically human), so he, naturally, also has needs.

The issue lies in the enormous, metaphorical physical gap between you and your lover. Naturally, Dottore is essentially married to his craft, so getting any sort of action is usually out of the question. You can get a peck or two out of him, one in the morning and one at night (if you’re even awake to feel his scarred lips gently pressing into your cheek), but that’s where the list of physical affection ends.

You’ve talked about your desires and boundaries alike when you first (officially) started going out. The discussion didn’t leave out anything sexual in nature either; though the conversation was mostly led by you, while he simply nodded and pitched in with a word or two every so often.

It’s not to say you’ve never been physical with one another. But recently it’s been happening less and less, and you’ve been finding yourself in this position a lot more often; curled into yourself, lost in your own thoughts as you picked out every little detail about you that you were certain weren’t up to his standards. 

It’s only when you feel him shift next to you that you’re brought back to your shared bedroom, away from the rainy clouds stuffing your mind. 

Dottore shuts the book in his lap, keeping his right hand’s thumb wedged between the pages. He peers down at you with a curious expression, silently analyzing your suspicious silence. 

“You’re quieter than usual,” he comments, tone as flat as it could be. You crane your neck back to look up at him, the duvet covering most of your face as you wrack your brain for something to say. 

After a second of opening and closing your mouth, you finally say something. “’M just tired,” you murmur quietly, nuzzling deeper into the blankets to sell your point. He hums in response, placing his book on the nightstand next to his side of the bed and crosses his arms in front of him, brow quirked up in disapproval. Piercing red eyes stare down at you, making you hold back a shudder. Archons, you’d never get tired of seeing him without that ornate mask of his.

“It’s quite abnormal for you, of all people, to be silent when presented with the opportunity to have a conversation with me, uninterrupted” Dottore states, watching as you tense in your little cocoon. After a beat you emerge from your safety, chin just barely peeking out of the edge of the duvet. 

“...I had a long day.” You avoid looking at him, a pout gracing your lips. He huffs in response and runs a hand through his loose hair. “Long day you say?” Dottore keeps his composure intact, remembering the moments you’ve whined to him throughout the day about how completely and utterly bored you felt. 

“Mm. Long day, right,” he brings one hand down to hold onto the duvet and pulls it down, making you reach for the blanket to cover yourself up; though your efforts are in vain. “What’s on your mind.” 

The way he spoke to you sent shivers down your spine, shuddering at the way he spoke in a way he would when making a statement. 

“Nuhh... nothing. Nothing at all, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You shift in the bed to cover yourself, even if it’s entirely unnecessary. The tee shirt you wore covered you plenty, but without the duvet you just felt so... exposed. Especially with how well Dottore could read your body language; it’s like you didn’t even need to say anything (because you didn’t). 

His gaze on you never relents as he scrutinizes your appearance; your furrowed brows, your hair sprawled across the pillow- still damp from your shower- and the way your lip trembles almost imperceptibly as you hold back the urge to talk about what’s been bothering you. He hates having to metaphorically twist your arm to get you to open up, but if that’s what he needed to do to keep you sane, he’d do it over and over again. 

Dottore scoots his body down to lay in the bed properly and turns to his side to face you, icy hair cascading down his neck as he pulls you in towards him with a hand on your waist. You squeak, tilting your head back so as to not invade his personal space. 

“What’s on your mind?” he asks, softer than before but still with a demanding tone. You shrink, avoiding looking into his eyes. 

“Nothi-” 

“I’m not in the mood for games.” He says your name quietly, thinly veiled with an unspoken warning. 

With a huff you bite the inside of your cheeks, and finally relent. You speak quietly and without even an ounce of confidence, earning a sharp sigh from your lover. 

“I can’t hear you when you mumble like th-” 

“I’m flat!” you practically shout. 

Dottore blinks back the whiplash that hit him in the face, stern expression fading into one of complete and utter perplexion. You don’t elaborate, staying quiet as a deep flush takes over your cheeks. 

“You’re... what?” 

He stares at you owlishly, for once at a loss for words. You nod, sitting up to properly articulate your feelings now that the cat was out of the bag. 

“My boobs are small! I have no ass! I’m... I look like a door!” You gesture at your chest, expression looking entirely distraught as you vent your feelings out to your lover. Your shoulders droop down unceremoniously, lips jutting out in a pout as you stare at the wall to avoid crossing Dottore’s gaze. The sound of the wind howling outside of your bedroom window morphs into what almost sounds like a laugh, as if mother nature herself was cackling at your expense.

“I feel bad when people see you with me. I can’t... I have such a bad gag reflex I can’t even take a third of your dick in my m-” 

He cuts you off by placing a hand on your shoulder, frown etched deep onto his face. If you looked closely you’d see red dusting the tips of his ears, contrasting against his hair. 

“You’re self-conscious because you have... small breasts and a... sensitive uvula?” Dottore says, his tone completely void of the confidence he usually carried. Fingers comb through your hair, light and gentle, as he thinks of what he can even say in response to your confession. 

You sniffle, looking down at yourself. The shirt you wore did little to help your smaller cup size— and as you frown at yourself, you bring a hand up and place it over one breast. “See, even my hand can cover them easily. My body doesn’t have even a little bit of curves.” 

Although at a loss, Dottore recovers from the absurdity of the situation in record time. He shifts your body so you’re now facing him, and very casually slips his hands underneath your shirt to cup your breasts. He speaks before you can, cutting off the slurry of complaints you had ready. 

“Have I ever complained about them?” he asks solemnly, forcing you to look at him. “As far as I’m aware I never have. Why bother being concerned over something so trivial?” 

His hands squeeze them gently, making you squeak in response. The more seconds pass, the more ashamed and flustered you feel for even bringing this up. As if a man of his caliber would even care for something like this, how stupid do you have to be to think of him as someone that only cared for looks?

“Well, no, but-” another squeeze cuts off your train of thoughts,” -b-but the rest...! Men like women with a fuller figure, I can’t even give you a titjob!” 

The words that flew out of your mouth made his head spin, from both irritation and embarrassment simultaneously. He inhales and exhales slowly, dragging his palms down to your ribs, then your waist, until they settle atop your hips. 

“I’ve never asked for anything of the sort,” he sighs, observing the changes in your face carefully. 

“Yeah, but-” 

“No ‘but’s. Your body is fine. It does not matter how it looks like from the outside; your organs are working properly, and you do not have any abnormalities forming anywhere inside or outside of it. How your figure looks holds little importance to me.” 

His words sink in, and you feel your invisible dog ears droop to rest flat on top of your head as you glance down at your lap, shame ringing in your ears. Dottore’s grasp tightens around your hips, demanding for your attention to be on him once again, refusing to let you sulk as long as he could help it.

“Although, putting functionality aside, do I need to remind you exactly what I think of your body? Shall I remind you how you make me feel whenever I see you parading around my office? How my body reacts to you?”

Your lips threaten to quirk up into a sheepish smile, but your shame still ate you up from the inside, keeping you from reacting. Your lover hums and flashes you a wolfish grin, leaning in towards your neck to nibble at your ear, teasing the flushed skin. 

“We do have the rest of the night to ourselves, don’t we? Want to find out just how much your body affects me, my love?”

[5starluvr]

Fairy lights and flowers

Genre:fluff

Pairing:Jeongin x Reader

Yours and Jeongin’s anniversary arrived in the blink of an eye.You weren't expecting much, preferring something special and private over crowded restaurants and forced events. Yet, as you entered your apartment, the scent of lavender and vanilla flew towards you, followed by the soft glow of fairy lights erupting from the balcony.

There, under a canopy of twinkling lights, stood Jeongin, a sheepish grin on his face and a picnic basket nestled in his arm. "Happy anniversary , love," he said, his voice as warm as the flickering candle on the miniature table, covered with a checkered blanket.

The scene was breathtaking. The balcony, typically mundane, had been transformed into a fairy like haven. Fairy lights cascaded down the railing, casting soft shadows on mismatched cushions and pillows scattered around the rug. Miniature flower arrangements, each unique and carefully crafted, covered the space, their sweet smell mingling with the lavender-infused air.

The picnic basket revealed a big meal for the senses. Delicate sandwiches with colorful fillings ,sweet and so much more sat next to the blankets. Fresh fruits, carefully sliced and arranged, looked like edible jewels, and in the center, a small heart-shaped cake sparkled with edible glitter.

But it wasn't just the food that left you breathless. It was the thoughtfulness behind it. Every detail whispered of how well he knew you, how deeply he cared.

As the last rays of the setting sun painted the sky in hues of pink and orange, you settled down, the soft music Jeongin had chosen drifting from a hidden speaker, creating an intimate yet sweet atmosphere. You talked for hours, the city lights twinkling below transforming into a vibrant backdrop. He laughed at your stories, listened intently to your worries, and shared his own dreams, the twinkle in his eyes outshining any fairy light.

Suddenly, amidst the conversation, he pulled out a small, rectangular box. Curiosity sparked in your eyes as you took it, fingers tracing the smooth cardboard. Inside were tiny Lego bricks in vibrant colors. A grin slowly spread across your face.

"Remember how we talked about building that Lego flower set together?" he asked, a playful glint in his eyes. "I thought tonight would be the perfect time."

Later, snuggled under a warm blanket under the starlit sky, you held his hand, your heart overflowing with warmth. "This isn't just a picnic, Jeongin," you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes. "It's the most beautiful surprise I could have ever imagined. And the Lego flowers make it even more special."

He squeezed your hand, his smile mirroring the warmth in your heart. "I just wanted to show you how much you mean to me, even though I’m busy and can’t spend a lot of time with you. You deserve magic, not just on our anniversary , but every day."

[graysongoal]

One thing I often don't do a lot of is toot my own horn. After the past week and a half, though, I'm happy to do so.

I attended my first ever GenCon, the largest tabletop game convention in North America. Attendance this year was a record-breaking 71k. One-way masking and protections unfortunately meant that my spouse and I came home early with out first-ever COVID-19 infections. We're healed up now and mostly well.

Attending the con was exciting, overwhelming, and pushed me towards growth in a number of ways. In addition to seeing friends, I also got to see, meet, and spend time with several of my favorite comedians, game creators, and writers.

Perhaps one of the most impactful moments for me was attending the writer's symposium, which reminded me how much I loved to write fiction in my youth. Once I hit high school, I began to see it the same way I saw non-fiction writing. I always tried to include too many details. Plus, I quickly got too busy and decided it wasn't for me anymore.

Lately, though, I've been writing more poetry. I've also been entertaining the idea of possibly writing a few TTRPGs or short stories.

So, when I heard that Brandon O'Brien (the Poet Laureate for Seattle WordCon 2025) and Linda D. Addison (five-time winner of the Bram Stoker Award) were co-hosting an open mic event, I nervously jumped at the chance to read probably my favorite poem I've ever written.

Hearing these two amazing individuals alongside a roomful of people respond positively to my words wasn't something I was prepared for. But, being that vulnerable with complete strangers in-person was restorative in ways that I can't even begin to express. That's especially true of hearing folks repeat and sit with the words I carefully crafted, taking in their weight.

I have experienced a great many fascinating and incredible things, and yet I quite honestly don't know that I've known such a wonderful feeling.

So, I'm sharing that same poem here. Feel free to read or listen to it, if you so choose.

As a note, this poem is about child abuse. However, it is spoken about in metaphor and there are no details. (It also has a happy ending.)

[joonlaksme]

October 17th

Park Jimin x Camboy

Contains: Gender Neutral Reader

Word count: 700+

Kinktober Masterlist

-

“Today, I wanted to show you these…things I found.” Jimin starts buttoning down his shirt. “For some reason, you really wanted to see my chest so I worked really hard to make it look pretty for you.”

Covering his nipples are heart shaped pasties that are a nice shade of red. All over the rest of his chest and stomach is covered in red glitter. It’s a light bringer in person than on camera but his viewers are going crazy. Men, women, and everyone in between are in love with everything Jimin but this is the first time in his 2 year long camboy career that he’s shown his chest.

“What should we do today? Any suggestions?” He leans in closer to his monitor and reads the fast messages. “Take them off? I don’t think so. I’m a bit nervous about that.” Jimin is lying but he enjoys slowly revealing himself to his fans rather than just giving them what they want. It keeps them coming back for more, pointing out a new slither of skin when they see it.

Jimin wiggles down his shorts a bit along with his underwear, his cock hitting his glitter dusted stomach. “I’ve been actually hard for a bit. I had this really…interesting dream.”

And immediately his viewers ask what it was about.

Immediately his imagination flashes with thoughts about you. Guilty, he takes his cock into his hand and strokes it, lips subtly mouthing your name before he starts telling the details of his wet dream.

“They were wearing this…really eye catching black dress. A lot of it was blurry and we weren’t even in a fancy place or a club or anything like that. We were in my room. They were dressed for me, I think.” He huffs out. “They never said a thing the whole time. They just looked at me…like they were ready to devour me.”

Jimin sits back in his chair, closing his eyes to relive and soak in his memories. He could remember this particular dream feeling and looking more realistic than his typical nonsensical ones. Edges were blurry but you were there in complete detail. “I felt weighted, too. Like I had to get on my knees.”

He opens his eyes again, this time they’re glossy. He glances at this chat and chuckles. They’re begging for him to get to the best part already, anticipating this story and what exactly had Park Jimin hard all day.

“They never took off any of their clothes but they pushed me on my bed. I remember them…” and he exhales.

He’s already close at the thought of what you did next. You, his coworker at his boring office job. His job where no one knows his secret camboy side work. Why he’s able to afford all these name brands, and the apartment he lives in at his age.

No one knew expect for you. You never held this knowledge over his head but you did look at him in a different way. You flirted with him and bent over to pick up pens a little too often. You knew the way it affected him so you would smirk and blow a kiss his way. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you these past few days.

He hopes you’re watching right now.

Jimin cums in his hands before he can finish his story, quickly apologizing to his viewers. His cheeks are flamed pink with embarrassment. He could usually last long than that but today seems to be the exception. For the duration of the stream, after cleaning up, he spends the last five minutes conversing and making promises to edge in his next one.

He says bye with his lips pursed and then lays back on his chair with a sigh. What a mess, both literally and figuratively. Then he hears his phone go off in a call. It’s not often that people call him so it peaks his interest and he’s standing up and grabbing his phone from his carefully crafted, wooden bookshelf. You’re calling him.

He doesn’t hesitate to answer but maybe he should have. “He-“ His voice cracks and he clears his throat, “Hello?”

There’s silence at first. A thick silence. But then you’re telling him your address very slowly. You tell him to be there as fast as he can. You finish the call by saying that you’d like to hear him finish his story. Jimin lips part but then he’s rushing to shove his wallet, phone, and keys in his pockets.

He’s so glad you knew he was thinking about you.

-

All likes, reblogs, and comment feedback are appreciated for stories like this. Friendly reminder that reblogs spread more than likes!

All rights are reserved © joonlaksme

[20001541]

🙌 isekaied into captain hero afo au!!! Please share some ideas if you want!

yes, I have some! gonna be messy as I'm still thinking through a lot of things but here we go.

for people who don't know the premise of this au is that after afo dies in canon he gets isekaied into the captain hero comic universe and wakes up as captain hero. he's forced to be a good hero and he's unable to do any evil deeds. even if he tries they somehow always turn out to be good in the end.

anyways I like to this au as it's afo at his most miserable. his attitude is mainly like why couldn't whatever power out there that forced him here just have let him just die? why force him through this humiliating tirade? theres praise from civilians which he finds sorta nice, but then he's reminded of how captain hero will suffer a humiliating defeat by the demon king and all the pain and strife he has to go through until he defeats him once and for all. pain and strife that afo will be forced to go through and he's going to have to defeat the guy he's admired and wanted to be like since he was a kid. he thinks he should've been made the demon king in this world, he's so upset about this more than anything he's forced to fight the demon king not to take his spot but only to stop him from doing more evil. the demon king would be so confused as to why the hero is always complimenting his work lol.

but I think it would be an interesting way to explore the man beneath the villain persona. we all know afo has made his whole identity about being villain, to the point where he only goes by afo and nothing else. so you put him in a situation where he no longer has his power, total control and in the body of a character he hates. well it'll be interesting to see afo's true colours shine through as the mask he's so carefully crafted throughout the years begins cracking more and he is at his most vulnerable. 

and as I said yes yoichi also got isekaied as well, he actually got isekaied into the body of an upcoming journalist thats chases after captain hero and tries getting pictures of him and talk with him. yoichi enjoys the quiet life and freedom he has. he only got to enjoy one month away from afo before dying so he's enjoying his freedom. so you can imagine how he feels when he sees afo once again only in captain heroes hero suit. at first he laughs right in his face then tries to get away because that's the last person he wants to see right now. afo is so so so happy, happier than he's ever been and he kind of forces him into a hug. he can suffer anything as long as yoichi is there by his side. he's basically like even if I wanted to kidnap you and force you to stay by my side (I do), I can't because the rules of this universe won't allow me to so you're safe :). yoichi isn't amused, but after some arguing he decides he'll keep in contact with afo and even help him with some hero stuff.

afo and yoichi get to talk with each other without having to fight each other and it's awkward. they choose to avoid the topic of the past when trying to spend time together however it's hard to ignore the elephant in the room. eventually though they begin having some normal conversations and get to know each other better. it feels oddly domestic and strange, but it's nice in a way and it also makes afo slowly realize how much happier yoichi looks and how yoichi was more willing to open up to him when afo isn't forcing his presence and beliefs on him. he won't admit it, but it hurts to see how much better yoichi seems without him.

there is a catch to all this however, yoichi actually took the place of a character that dies during some point in the story. yoichi knows this detail because he read past the first three volumes, but afo doesn't know because he stopped reading after volume 3. yoichi doesn't tell him about this until later on which almost causes afo to have a meltdown at the thought of losing yoichi all over again. most of the conflict lies here, will they even be able to save yoichi or will he just die a terrible death once more? is afo forever going to be forced into the role of the hero or can he get out of it? putting afo into situations he feels completely helpless in and has to cooperate with yoichi, good stuff to me. can't rely on your previous methods of getting out of trouble so what will you do now that almost everything has been taken away from you? that's all I really got lol.

[sabookey]

I have a thought, about character creation. I hesitate to claim this thought is some sort of advice, it's just a thought, though I think it merits further exploration and practice to see how it goes. The thought is this:

I think sometimes, when a writer struggles to actually sit down and write, but has a lot of OCs, it's because you think of your characters too much as people. I think some people struggle to tell stories because they are more interested in coming up with people.

Let me elaborate.

I've always been very focused on character creation as the foundation of good writing. When I was younger, and just starting to write, I remember someone proposing the question - which is more vital to creating a good story - a strong plot, or a strong character? At the time, I answered strong characters, hands down. My argument was that a strong character can still carry a weak plot, but a strong plot can still be boring af if the characters are weak. I do still see some merit to that line of thinking.

When it comes to actually writing down my stories, though, I've always really struggled with first drafts. I would fill notebook after notebook with detailed notes on plot points, worldbuilding, and most of all, on characters. Elaborate backstories, personality breakdowns, strengths and weaknesses, hopes and dreams and fears and every other thing that you've seen on a character profile template. I would take my time with things like choosing names, and I would flesh out their families and the people around them because to know their relationships is to know them. I've been protective of my characters, cherishing them, as many of us do, as if they were my children, as if they were dear friends of mine.

But I have yet to complete any long form projects. I have yet to complete any rough drafts for novels. When I was younger, it was because I was determined to do my stories justice. I was determined to do my beloved OCs justice. I didn't feel my writing was strong enough so I just... didn't write for my original works. I would play around with fanfiction, and I read a lot, and eventually I got into writing RP. But I didn't do anything concrete with my OCs beyond making plans for their stories.

Then I entered a short story contest — NYCMidnight's short story contest. They go in four rounds, and give you a prompt, a word limit, and a time limit in which to write your story. You get a week and 2500 words for round 1, three days and 2000 words for Round 2, two days and 1500 words for Round 3, and 24 hours and 1250 words for Round 4. The first year I participated, I went 3 rounds before being knocked out. Last year, I wrote for the first 2.

Which means I've produced five completely original short stories for the prompts given. I was absolutely shocked by how productive I was in such a short span of time. You are given your prompt the moment your clock starts ticking for each round, so you don't have time to prepare ahead. Which means that not only did I have to come up with a plot very quickly, I was also creating characters on the spot.

When you have three days to write a story, you can't spend months carefully crafting a character. So when it came to drafting, I just started slapping very quick characters together that could do what was needed for the plot. My prompt is genre: ghost story, character: a best man, and subject: temporary? Okay, then I need a bride, a groom, a best man, and a ghost. My bride is (picking a random name) Victoria, she's checking out venues with her fiance, and she realizes the place they're checking out is haunted. And off we go.

And you know what? I figured out who Victoria is as I wrote. She's conflicted, she's on the verge of breaking things off. The ghost is reaching out to her, helping her come to terms with the end of her relationship. I didn't need to know her favorite color or her childhood trauma or her blood type to write the story. Some of those things might come out in the writing. Many of them just never become relevant.

Now, I'm not saying that character profiles are trash. I don't hold with blanket advice, and this isn't advice, remember, this is just a thought. But for me, doing these fast exercises even though I always had thought of myself as a planner not a pantser, showed me that I can still write a damn good story even without writing a novel's worth of notes and plans alone.

Getting back to the original thought... I guess what I'm trying to get at here is, sometimes I think authors can get so tangled up in the create-a-character stage, or the world-building stage, that we forget that we aren't meant to be writing a travel guide, or designing a fully-realized person.

At some point, you have to say okay, now lets put that person in some situations and see what they do. You gotta stick them in a scenario where they are not just spouting backstory at another character, but are making a choice. Okay, they have trauma. They have complex personalities. But what are they doing? What choices are they making and what waves are they making? That's where the plot comes from, and how you make it go. That's plot. And the plot is where the story happens. And you're just writing it all down as it goes, and that's your rough draft.

Every time i get stuck on a story, I instinctively reach for the background notes. I just need to know what makes them tick, I think, and that's how I'll fix it. But nine times out of ten, I don't, actually. That way leads to Not Writing (tm). And I still struggle with that more than I'd like for my bigger projects.

Trying (again) to bring it back to the initial thought... I just think it's interesting that the stories that were easiest to complete were ones where the characters were made up as I went along. I just wrote. Added new characters when needed. Oh, protag needs a friend to carry out a conversation? Guess we have a new character. They continue on their merry way, surprise, someone's stalking them, new character! Meanwhile the stories where I've outlined every character and know who each of them are, still sit unwritten.

That's not the sole factor in why a story has or hasn't been written out, mind you. It's more a comment on, if your OCs are too dear and you're taking too much time with designing them, you are losing valuable time that you could figure out who they are as you write their story. By you I really mean me. Or whoever might find this useful, I suppose.

Anyways. That's my thought. If anyone has any thoughts of their own about this, I'd love to hear them!

[robo-writing]

I’m expanding the Baker! AU with our very own god of fire: Liu Kang!

Anyone in the restaurant business knows of him; A mysterious benefactor that acts like a shareholder for a majority of restaurants in the area, a man shrouded in mystery. The Michelin Star holder whose culinary skills earned him the moniker “The God of Fire”, as anyone who has seen him behind a stove swears that he commands the very flames he uses to cook.

Nowadays though, Liu Kang would much rather be called by his name.

Formerly the owner of the very popular Wu-Shi restaurant, the “God of Fire” now spends his time perusing new establishments, enjoying life and even lending a helping hand to those he finds a cut above the rest. This happens to include the multitude of bakeries and restaurants that our favorite characters work at.

Speaking of his restaurant, he has since passed down ownership to his faithful partner Geras, a man whose background is even less known than Liu Kang. However, this is only a temporary assignment; He currently trains two men, Raiden and Kung Lao as his apparentices to take over the store when they become ready.

Raiden has skill but is far too humble for his own good, while Kung Lao is also a great chef, but maybe a bit too cocky. Both still have many years until they master their craft but that spark of greatness is still there, and it is his responsibility to turn that spark into a wildfire.

Bi-Han doesn’t trust him for some reason, and Sindel has her own misgivings about him but he’s done nothing to arouse suspicion. Not a lot is known about him, or his ever faithful partner Geras, and no one knows why he does what he does, but they’re both nice enough.

Dude just likes some good food, and if he can make a living giving up and coming eateries a chance, then that’s a life he can live happily.

You stroll to the Lin-Kuei bakery expecting to be greeted by either of it’s brothers but instead you’re greeted with a sign at the door.

Closed? You check your phone and it’s only 3pm, two hours earlier than the store is supposed to close. You peek into the window and see all three of them talking to someone inside, fully aware that you’re being more than a bit nosey at the moment. When you decide it’s time to leave the mysterious strangers turns around and catches your eyes, frozen on the spot as he smiles and waves at you through the window.

There’s a short conversation before Kuai Liang walks up to the door and greets you. “Hello there, I’m sorry for the inconvenience—“

“No no no! You’re busy, I see that—“ you stammer, one foot backwards. “I can come back later—“

“Nonsense,” the stranger says, walking behind Kuai Liang. “I would not interfere with your business, please, come inside.”

You look at the man carefully, curious as to who he is. His hair runs down to his back, a sort of wisened look to him as he speaks. You can immediately tell that he’s not an employee or a customer by the way Kuai Liang immediately steps aside, and on further inspection you can see Bi-Han’s stern look from behind the counter.

“Oh, thank you but I don’t want to intrude—“

“Do not worry, I was already finishing up,” he smiles, then nods towards Bi-Han. A long sigh escapes the elder brother before he nods.

“Fine, I will consider a collaboration. We can discuss details later.”

“Excellent. If you need me, you know where to find me,” he says before looking at you again. “And I apologize for ruining your eating experience.”

You shake your head. “Trust me, you didn’t. I would’ve gone somewhere else to eat.”

“And that would be a shame, wouldn’t it? I know I would be upset if my favorite customer had to leave early.”

Smoke visibly blushes, while Kuai Liang becomes bashful and while it’s tough to discern, even Bi-Han turns his head out of embarrassment.

“Favorite customer?” You ask, almost confused.

The man laughs softly and shakes his head. “I would assume so, they mentioned you by name in this months newest reports.”

Bi-Han grumbles at that. “Do not speak of our private affairs as if we are not here.”

“Ah, it seems I cross a line, my mistake,” he says, and then extends his hand to you. “My name is Liu Kang, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

Still shocked at his words you grab his hand almost in a daze. You tell him your name and he repeats it back to you, making his way out of the bakery.

“I should hope to see you again, I’m told you have quite the palate.”

[loversj0y]

'tis the damn season

chapter two - you could call me babe for the weekend

alcohol-induced decisions snowball into conversations about the future, family tensions, poetry, and a serious discussion on the bitchiness of orca whales.

'tis the damn season masterlist

pairing: cc!wilbur soot x gn!reader

this part is primarily fluff! im keeping the list of tws in each part just for the sake of clarity

trigger warnings: reader's mother is abusive (not physically) and father is emotionally absent. this will be talked about in extensive detail. alcohol, some suggestive themes, and a lot of anxiety, slut-shaming

author's note: part two baby lets fcking go!!!! this part is insanely sweet but also there are some.... tenser moments due to families being shit tbh (it also becomes abundantly clear here why i consider dialogue my strong suit and not anything else bc i am Not the best at being Descriptive! ao3 version!

word count: 9.6k

You and Wilbur spent the next four days developing a routine. It always started with butting heads with your family and running to Wilbur’s for solace. You two would spend hours talking before falling asleep together on his bed. In the morning, you would walk back to your house, and the cycle would repeat. On the fifth day of this routine, drinks got involved. 

“You brought a whole bottle of vodka?” Wilbur deadpanned. 

“Yep,” you replied, “I’m not sure about you, but I’d like to get at least mostly drunk.” 

He shrugged, “Can’t say I’m doing anything tomorrow that would stop me from wanting to. Plus, we haven’t drank together in years. Got to carry on a tradition.” You mindlessly wondered if he was thinking of the same night you were. “I’ll grab some cups. Want to drink it straight or with a mixer?”

“Both. Start with two shots and then maybe cranberry juice mixer?” 

He nodded, “Alright, to the kitchen we go.” 

You both walked to the kitchen, and he grabbed two shot glasses. You poured one into each, setting the bottle down and grabbing your shot. 

“Ready?”

He picked his shot up and nodded, the both of you throwing your heads back in moments to take the first one. You coughed a bit after swallowing it. You weren’t really used to drinking much anymore, but from the looks of it, neither was Wilbur. He coughed as well, groaning lightly. After you recovered, you started pouring the second shots, and the cycle repeats once more. 

“Fucking hell, man, I forgot how annoying shots are,” you chuckled. 

He laughed, “Yeah, though, to be fair, we completely forgot a chaser.” 

You shrugged, “True, but we have to stay true to our traditions.” 

“Good point,” he grabbed the cranberry juice from the fridge, pouring it into two empty glasses while you washed the shot glasses. He added the ice and the vodka, grabbing both cups when he was done. We headed upstairs, sitting on his bed and putting some random show on the TV. 

“Man, this really does feel like school all over again,” he laughed. 

“You know what they say, ‘when in Rome’,” you chuckled. 

“I suppose,” he hummed, both of you taking sips of your drinks. 

After a moment, you leaned against him wordlessly. He gave you a confused look and you just shrugged. 

“You know,” you started, “for as shit as it is, being with my parents and all, I’m glad I showed up this year.”

“Oh, really? Why’s that?” He snickered. 

You looked up at him, holding your tongue. You were thankful for the vodka giving you an excuse for the redness on your cheeks, but you knew it wasn’t the drinks making you notice just how gorgeous he looked right now. His hair was tousled, probably from the amount of times he would adjust his hair while he spoke. His sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, drawing attention to the carefully crafted veins that followed from his hands up his arms. There was a slight pink tinge to his cheeks, but you couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or your staring that made him blush. You were only tipsy, but he made you feel completely intoxicated.

In a moment of boldness, you leaned up and kissed his cheek.“Because if I didn’t, I’d never have seen a certain handsome guy again. And even worse, I never would’ve gotten to do that.”

Almost immediately, he blushed furiously, “You get a drop of alcohol in you and get all kissy, huh?” 

You shrugged, and the sober part of your brain was yelling at you to shut up before you did something stupid. “Only with you.” 

His breath hitched, obviously unsure of what to say. His mind was in overload. The person he loves is actively flirting it seems, and he had no clue what to do. He thought about kissing you every day since that first kiss. Truthfully, he thought about it every day since you’d met. In the past, it was only the alcohol that gave him courage to ask. Now, his courage lays less in the alcohol and more in the fact that you were flirting with him, and he knew there would not likely be another chance like this. He turned to face you, gently reaching down to hold your hand. 

“Can I… can I kiss you?” 

You nodded. He cautiously pulled you forward, and after a moment of breathlessness, pining, and anticipation, you closed the gap. The entire world came to a stop as your lips pressed together. The only thing you could focus on was his lips on yours, shaky hands pulling each other closer, and the intense beating of your heart. 

One kiss turned to two, which then turned to three, which then turned to cups on nightstands, a forgotten show, and a lost count of how many kisses had been shared. You had no clue how much time had passed, the only indication of time was the “Are you still watching?” screen proudly displayed on the TV, bathing you and Wilbur in muted light. You pulled away first, completely breathless and admiring the goofy smile on his face as he panted lightly. He reached a hand up, gently brushing his thumb over a small hickey he’d left near your collarbone. 

“Sorry,” he hummed, “got a bit enthusiastic.”

"You're not sorry. I can see how proud you look," You snorted, "But I don’t mind, I just may need to steal one of your jumpers to make up for it.” 

He tapped his chin in contemplation, “I like the terms of that deal.” He stood, grabbing a light blue jumper from his closet and handing it to you. 

You pulled it on over your shirt before looking down at it, “Will, is this your merch?” 

“It may be,” he hummed, “it looks good on you, though, babe.”

You tensed, and it seemed to be more visible than you’d intended as he asked, “Oh, I’m sorry, is that not alright? I can call you something else, or just forego the pet names thing entirely, if that- if that makes you more comfortable.”

You shook your head a bit, “No, it’s… it’s alright. Just not used to it.” 

He nodded with a sweet smile, “Alright,” he sat down again, holding his hand out for yours. 

You smiled, placing your hand in his. He pulled you forward until you were pressed against his chest again.

“Hi,” he chuckled. 

“Hey,” you snorted in response, grinning up at him. 

“You’re very pretty,” he hummed. 

“So are you.” 

“I have a proposition, okay, hear me out, ready?”

You nodded as he continued. “You’re pretty, and you say I’m pretty. And I think, if we’re both pretty, it’d be absolutely beautiful if we kissed some more.” 

You burst out into laughter, nodding. “Yeah, okay. I’d love to make something beautiful with you.” 

He grinned widely, pulling you in for another kiss. At this point, the alcohol had mostly faded from both your system and his. You two were just drunk off each other, becoming a mess of lips, arms tangled around each other, hands in hair, and matching grins. You never felt more thankful for throwing caution out the wind. When you two eventually tired of kissing, you laid your head on his chest, and he wrapped his arms tightly around you, keeping you as close as possible. 

“We should probably talk about this,” he said, staring up at his ceiling. 

You sighed, burying your face against his chest, “Probably should. Or, we could wait ‘til morning and just be all cozy and relaxed right now.” 

He chuckled, pressing a kiss into your forehead, “Alright. I am a bit tired, anyway.” 

You nodded in agreement and let your eyes slip shut. Upon noticing, Wilbur started humming softly until you’d fully fallen into the arms of sleep. 

The morning did not end up as peaceful as you’d hoped it would be. You did not wake up in Wilbur’s arms, but rather to the sounds of him frantically moving across his room, clearly panicking about something. 

“Will?” 

His head whipped over to you, “Hi, darling, good morning, or- afternoon, rather, I guess.” 

“Is everything alright?”

He nodded rapidly, “Yep, yes. Yes. I just- I forgot I have an event for stream today and it starts in like five minutes.” 

At that, you grabbed your phone to check the time, startled by how late it was. You were even more startled by the missed call and subsequent text from your mother, informing you of the family holiday dinner that your presence was mandatory for. You groaned, burying your face into the mattress for a moment. The idea of spending another night surrounded by your extended family felt less like a chore and more like court sentencing. Not to mention, you could sense your mother’s kindness was a fallacy she created to convince you to visit. Every moment you were around her you got the sense of her old habits refusing to die. 

“I have to go, too,” You sighed, pulling yourself to the edge of the mattress. 

He frowned, “Family stuff?” 

You nodded. 

“Well, maybe after, if you’re not too tired, we can see each other again. If not, there’s always tomorrow, so,” he walked over, gently kissing your forehead, “we got time.” 

You were acutely aware of the fact that, realistically, you two did not have time. But that point was irrelevant in this context, so instead, you just nodded. 

Wilbur helped you to your feet, gently wrapping his arms around you. You did the same, hugging him tightly for a moment. After a moment, you pulled away and you two stood at arm's length. 

He leaned down, giving you a gentle kiss, “I’ll text you after the stream, alright? Hopefully, then I can give you some escape from your family.” 

You kissed him back, chuckling, “Please, do. I’ll take all the help I could get against them.” 

The walk back home was filled with uneventful dread. You had a few hours to decompress and get ready, but you just didn’t want to go to this dinner. You just wanted to be with Wilbur or to be alone. You opened your front door to see your mother standing in the foyer, and she whipped her head around once you walked in. 

“My God, Y/N, I had half a mind to assume you’d died! You don’t even bother to text me when you’ve gone out, or when you’ve woken up, let alone answer my calls, I-“ She stopped herself mid-sentence, taking in your appearance with disdain: the oversized sweater, the messy hair, and the slight red on your cheeks that hadn’t quite gone away since you kissed Wilbur goodbye. 

“Where were you?” She demanded, “So help me God, you’d better tell me the truth because, I will not have my child being a whore under my roof.” 

You groaned knuckles going white as your hands turned to fists, “For fuck’s sake, Mum, I’m an adult, alright? I’m allowed to have my own life and do my own things, and I am in no way obligated to tell you where I’ve been.” 

“Are you on drugs? Have you been going off and getting high?”

“I wish I was, Mum, because maybe then your accusations would actually fucking make sense.” 

Your mother scoffed, and you watched with horrid familiarity as her facade returned. Her voice took on a new edge when she spoke, one that brought you back to being a scared child, helpless in defending yourself, “Darling, everything I do is for your sake-“

“Don’t give me that bullshit, mum. You did things for me because it was your job when I was growing up, but you haven’t done shit for me except treat me like an obligation since I left to live in London.”

She let out a sigh, clearly trying to invoke your sympathy, “Well, maybe I just miss knowing what my child is doing.”  

You wouldn’t give her an ounce of your pity. “Yeah? Well, maybe if you were a better mother, you’d know.” 

You left her standing there in shock as you stormed back to your room. Maybe that was mean, but you couldn’t care less. She made your life a living hell, and still apparently attempts to, and at least now you didn’t have to cower around her anymore. You could stand up for yourself. You got ready for the hellish evening that awaited you, popping on Wilbur’s stream in the meantime. Thankfully, you were able to find an outfit that covered the physical evidence of Wilbur on you, given his apparent love for hickeys. You finished getting ready and just hid out in your room for as long as you reasonably could. Wilbur texted you once his stream ended, and the two of you continued to text throughout the night, which provided a nice distraction from the politics of a family holiday dinner. Your mother refused to make eye contact with you, clearly still upset about our argument. You paid no mind to her pointed remarks and snarky comments throughout the night. The highlight of the evening, however, was your younger cousin. He was a small lad, just recently turned eight, and was frankly a major iPad kid. The joy came from passing behind him to see Wilbur on his screen. He was watching a Minecraft video by someone named Tommy, and lo and behold, there was Wilbur. You brought up Tommy to Wilbur, and he seemed fond of him, happily considering Tommy his “favorite nuisance”. 

Once enough people had left – and anyone who was still there was too drunk to notice one less person –  you took the opportunity to leave. Once you were out in the light snow, you trekked over to Wilbur’s, shooting him a quick text to let him know you’d be there soon. You were freezing by the time you’d arrived, having left your jacket back in your room. 

He opened the door, pulling you into his arms, “Darling, you’re shaking, come here.” 

You hugged him back tightly, leaning your head into his shoulder, “You don’t know how happy I am to be here with you.”

“It was that bad?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, closing your eyes, “God, I feel stupid”

“What do you mean?” 

“I just- they changed! Or at least, they seemed like they did. Every phone call, they seemed pleasant. I only agreed to even come back because it- it genuinely seemed like they’d changed. But fuck man, they’re exactly the fucking same, if not worse now. I can’t even fathom how I let them get my hopes up again.”

Wilbur didn’t seem to know what to say, instead just rubbing your back soothingly. He spoke up after a moment, “‘m sorry. That sounds like shit.”

“It is,” you pulled away, “I’d rather not think about it anymore, honestly. Not much I can do about it right now, anyway.”  

He nodded, “Well, c’mon. You remember how you asked about Tommy?” 

You nodded. 

“I may have told him about you a bit, and he’s insistent on talking to you. Granted, I told him that wouldn’t be happening, but given the bad night that you’ve had? Trust me, he can make anyone laugh, and you’ll love him, I promise.” 

“Okay, sure,” you chuckled, “If you say so.” 

He took your hand, pulling you upstairs. You chuckled as you followed him. You sat down in the office chair next to him, and he pulled your chair closer to his own, both popping a headphone in. 

“Don’t say anything yet, alright?”

You nodded as he rang Tommy. 

“Wilbur!” Tommy spoke loudly, which immediately made you cringe from the noise. Wilbur turned down the volume.

“Hey, Tommy! Listen, remember that childhood friend I told you I was reconnecting with?” 

“You mean snogging? Yes.” 

Wilbur blushed and you stifled a laugh. “Sure, right. You remember how I said you wouldn’t be meeting them?”

“Why, yes, Wilbur, you said it quite rudely.”

“Right, well,” he gestured for you to say hello. 

“Hi, Tommy. It’s nice to meet you.”

A beat passed. Then two. 

“WILL, YOU BASTARD, I-” Tommy yelled. You were thankful Wilbur had turned the volumn down. He then took a deep breath clearing his throat, “Hello, Wilbur’s friend. Wilbur, I knew you would introduce me, you prick.” 

From there, you and Wilbur spoke to Tommy for a while. He and Wilbur seemed to have this odd dynamic that consisted mostly of just poking fun at each other, but you’d be dammed if you didn’t admit how funny the kid was. Even if a good amount of his comedy was just yelling at Wilbur, it did bring a smile onto your face and even made you laugh quite a bit. Wilbur was right, he did strongly improve your mood after your day. 

You and Wilbur ended up laying on his bed afterward, your head on his chest. His hands carded through your hair, taking care to make sure he didn’t tug at any knots. He spoke up softly, “I know you’ve had a shit day, but we should still probably talk.” 

You groaned softly, sighing, “I hate when you’re right, you know that?” 

“I know,” He chuckled, “I don’t love it either, you’re usually the one in the right.” He took a deep breath before moving on to the actual heart of the topic at hand, “You know, I do really, genuinely like you in a romantic sense.” 

“I really like you too.” You didn’t like him, you fucking love him. But if you knew where this was going, you didn’t want to make this harder for the both of you.

He smiled at this, squeezing your hand gently, “Suppose we should discuss if we’re official then.”

You sighed, a frown adorning your features, “In the sake of honesty, I don’t know if we can be.” His face dropped, frown matching your own as you continued.

“In a few days, I’m going back to London, and I barely have time to focus on anything other than studying. I’m worried that I’d be neglectful as a partner, and you don’t deserve that. Even more so, thinking about the future scares the shit out of me. I’m scared of everything, Wilbur. Don’t get me wrong, I want nothing more than to be here with you and forget about the world. I want nothing more than the ability to have a happy relationship with you. But- but, Will, I’m scared of deciding to go through with this, and ending up losing you because of it.” 

You buried your head against his chest, letting out a shaky sigh. He was silent for a while before he spoke again. 

“I understand. So, how about this?” You looked up at him and he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, “We have this week. These last few days of holding onto each other and calling each other babe. Then, once you leave, and you get settled in, we see what we can do. We’ll see if you can have the time, or if I can do something, or whatever we can do. And if we figure it out, we figure it out. If we don’t, we wait until you finish this final year, and we pick up from there.”

“You’d be willing to do that?”

“Love, I waited fifteen years to kiss you, and another four just to have you in my life again. A year is nothing in comparison.” 

You didn’t quite know when you’d started crying. You sniffled a bit, wiping your eyes as you nodded rapidly. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. We can do that.”

He smiled at you, wiping your eyes gently, “Okay.” 

You leaned up, placing a hand on his cheek as you kissed him. Your heart felt so warm, but your stomach still felt sick at the idea that so much remained uncertain. Part of you hated the idea that he’d be waiting for you, but a band aid solution felt better than simmering in bubbling anxiety, so you would accept it for now at least. 

He held you close, smiling softly. He pressed a kiss to your forehead gently, “Don’t worry, love. This time, regardless of what happens, I’m not losing you again. You’re stuck with me, honestly, so you’d better hope you don’t get sick of me. Because I am going to be a thorn in your side.”

You laughed, burying your face against his shoulder, “I’ll gladly accept that. I think I could get quite used to the feeling of being prodded by a thorn all the time.” 

He immediately burst out laughing, and you chuckled yourself, lightly hitting him. “I did not mean it like that.” 

He laughed, “Mean it like what, darling? Like this?” He turned, sitting on your hips as he started to tickle you. You squealed, squirming under him and laughing. 

“Will! I- I swear to God, mate, I will- I will piss myself, stop it!” 

He laughed at what could only be described as your suffering, stopping after a moment and just placing his hands on your sides. He leaned down and kissed you, and you wrapped your arms around him, gently playing with the ends of his hair. He hummed softly, one hand coming to cradle your head, his thumb rubbing your cheek. You were both breathless when he pulled away. A lopsided grin stretched across his face, still panting as he spoke, “Do you think orcas make fun of other whales for not having cool designs?” 

You burst out laughing, groaning as you threw your head back, “Wilbur Soot, what the hell?”

“I’m serious!” He laughed, “Do you think they’re mean about it?” 

You laughed, adoring just how bizarre this beautiful man could be, “I think some are. I like to think most are kind, though. Why is this important?” You laughed through your words. 

His eyes crinkled at the edges as he grinned widely, “Everything has some importance to it. In this case, your opinion on if orca whales are assholes or not. I just like hearing your worldview.” 

You flushed softly, “Really? And of all the things you’d ask about, why the bitchiness of orcas?” 

He hummed, “Well, one, whales are fucking amazing. They’re gigantic and insane looking, I fucking love them. Two, it’s serious to me, but it's not serious. I know your politics, and you know mine. But silly stuff still reflects you, so I’m curious. Now that I can, I want to know all of you in every tiny detail, I want to absorb everything that I’ve missed in the past few years or all the things I just may have forgotten to time. I want to know the parts of you that you have never shown before, and I want to know the parts of you that don’t exist yet. Hence, asking a question you’ve probably never thought of before. I want to learn you as you learn yourself and show you the beauty that lies in each detail.” 

You blushed darkly, left speechless. The word, love, was not strong enough, didn’t feel quite right, to fully define just how much you felt for this man. Telling him “I love you” would never fit how much you truly felt for him. You refrained from saying it for now, eventually just grabbing onto him and pulling him into a tight hug. 

“You have no idea just how much you mean to me,” you whispered against his ear. 

He kissed the side of your head, whispering back, “Darling, I know more than anyone just exactly what you mean.” 

You held him, tighter, as if he’d leave you the same way you left him if you’d let go. After a moment, tears began welling up in your eyes. Not bad or good ones, but ones that signified just how loved you felt and how much you felt for him. 

“Darling, you’re shaking, is everything alright?” He pulled away, frowning, “You’re crying, love, what’s going on?” 

You shook your head, smiling through the tears, “No, it’s not bad, I’m just- sorry,” you spoke in a light sob, and he shook his head. 

“Don’t apologize! I’m just worried, did something happen?” 

You smiled widely up at him, “No, I’m just overwhelmed,” you said, and when his expression fell, you quickly tacked on, “Not because of you! You just, um, you make me feel… seen, I guess.” 

He smiled, wiping tears away, “I’m glad, then. You deserve to be seen. You’re beautiful, and amazing, and… everything. Even if I am the only one who sees you, at least then, someone knows how grand your existence is.” 

You groaned, blushing again, “You can’t just say things like that, you twat,” you sniffled a bit. “It’s too nice.”

“It’s true,” he shrugged, “simply deal with it.” 

You laughed, pulling him in for another hug, “I’ll learn to, I guess.” 

He buried his face against your neck, nodding, “Good.” He pressed a few gentle kisses along your neck. The kisses started delicately, as if he was worried that kissing you too hard would hurt. As you relaxed further and further into each kiss, you could feel him grin softly against your neck. His kisses slowly became more heated. They became languid and rougher, but never painful. He eventually escalated to covering your neck with hickeys, your hands carding through his hair. You fully relaxed in his arms. You kissed the top of his head, and he looked up at you, grinning softly. 

“Sorry,” he hummed, “May have gotten a bit carried away.”

“It’s alright, I quite like them.”

“Oh, really?” He went to add more to the mosaic on you, but you held him back. 

“Yes, but I’d much rather kiss you myself.” 

He pulled himself up, grinning down at you, “Gladly.” 

Things were still and quiet in the morning. You rested your head against Wilbur’s chest, his arms securely wrapped around you. Overnight, it appeared that the snow had gotten stronger, so there was a slight chill in the room that had you moving further into Wilbur’s arms. 

Wilbur pressed a gentle kiss to your head, “Morning.”

You hummed, looking up at him, “Morning.” 

The room settled into a comfortable silence, both of your brains still stirring awake. His head shifted towards the window, calling your attention to the snowflakes gathering on the sill.

“You know I’m not letting you walk home like this?”

“What, in the cold?”

“Yep. And not to mention you look… a little wild.” 

“Coming from you that’s a compliment. I’d argue you probably look worse.” 

“I could make you look worse.”

You snorted and laughed, laying your head on his chest again, “You’re in a mood this morning.” 

“I’m just happy that you’re here.”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve woken up here recently though.”

“No. But it’s the first time we’re able to kiss and relax when we wake up together.” 

You smiled, “True. A nice contrast to yesterday.” 

He hummed, “Today will be a better day.” 

You chuckled in agreement, holding tightly to him. 

He gently rubbed your back, kissing the top of your head. 

After a moment, you looked up at him. “We have to get up at some point, you know.”

He hummed, turning you both over to splay his body weight on top of you. “‘m sorry, what was that?” 

You laughed, “Okay, okay, don’t crush me, we can just sleep in. At least until like midday.” 

He cheered, getting up on his elbows and covering your face in kisses, “Yes! Good! Rest time!” 

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You’re good at convincing. Helps when there’s something in it for me.” 

“Like what?” 

“A kiss, hopefully.”

“Gladly,” He chuckled. He leaned down, lips meeting yours in a quick motion. You kissed him back, your hands playing with his hair gently. When you pulled away, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you on top of him and squeezing you tightly. 

“Will! Are you trying to kill me?” You laughed as you asked him breathlessly. 

He lightened up a bit, chuckling, “Nope. Just trying to keep you here forever.” 

You hummed, sitting up on his lap once he gave you the space. “It’d be an honor to be here forever.”

“In our secret oasis.” His hands came to your sides, lightly rubbing up and down. 

“It’s your childhood bedroom, but yes, if you want to give it the dramatic name. Our secret oasis.” 

“It’s secret because no one knows we’re here.” 

“What about Tommy? Or the thousands of people on your stream?” 

“Tommy doesn’t know my exact location. And I’d fucking hope my chat doesn’t either.” He laughed.

You laughed, “Okay, okay, I get it. It’s our secret place. Though I’d argue the back field where we had our first kiss is probably more of our secret place.”

“Oh, god, don’t remind me of that kiss. I was so nervous to kiss you. I practically chugged half the vodka to try and calm down.” 

“I was nervous too! My cute, dorky, best friend who I’d secretly been crushing on, wanted to kiss me? Yeah, I freaked out a little bit.”

“It didn’t seem like it! You seemed so composed!” 

“Only because I was so nervous.” You leaned down, pecking his lips. “We should try and go back there one of these days. Maybe recreate that kiss with fewer nerves?”

“Would you put your prom outfit back on?”

You lightly slapped his chest, gasping at the implications, “You gremlin.”

“I’m serious! You looked really good.”

“Would you wear yours?”

“Mine still vaguely smells like vomit, so, no.”

“Then I won’t be wearing mine.” You stuck your tongue out at him. 

He pouted, “Fine. To be fair, you could be wearing anything and I’d find you gorgeous.” 

You flushed, “Even in a dinosaur costume?”

“Oh, especially in a dinosaur costume.” 

You laughed, “Okay, Soot. I’ll wear that if we ever go on a date.”

“You mean when. We will be going on a date without a doubt.” 

“Oh? And what would we do?” 

He hummed, “Well, we couldn’t be out in public. For your safety and privacy. Plus, I know you don’t like fancy places much anyway. So, probably a picnic. But, with some takeout from a good restaurant since my cooking isn’t fantastic. And then, just coming back to my place, or yours, and watching a movie.” 

“That… sounds lovely, actually.”

“Actually? Rude.” 

You chuckled, “Sorry, I’ve just become used to the idea of a date being ‘come by my place so we can drink surrounded by shitty roommates and trash.’”

Wilbur looked horrified, “Darling, I am going to change that. No more gross college boys. You deserve to be treated so much better.”

You blushed, “Thank you, Will. I’ll be holding you to that, though.”

“You don’t even have to worry. I can’t believe you had to even deal with people like that, Christ. I’m going to raise your standards.”

You hummed, “You already have.” 

Pink rose on Wilbur’s face, and he reached a hand up to your cheek, “I’m glad then.” 

You smiled, leaning forward and playing with his hair. 

“We should go,” you spoke up, “Back to the field, I mean. Might be a nice way to just get out of the house a bit.” 

You nodded with a hum. “When?” 

He wrapped his arms tightly around you, “Later after we’ve taken a nap.”

“Wilbur, we’ve just woken up.”

“Yeah, but you make me comfortable. Plus we had a lot of fun last night.” 

You lightly hit him, “Get your mind out of the gutter, Soot. A nap does sound nice though.”

He grinned, “Doesn’t it?”

You leaned down, placing your head on his shoulder and landing a soft kiss on his cheek. He turned his head to grin lovingly at you, parting the curtain of your hair with one hand while the other held you close to him. 

By the time you woke up again, it was well past three. Wilbur was already awake, his hand gently carding through your hair. It was a bit warmer now than when you’d woken up initially. You yawned, stretching as you woke up. 

“Morning, darling,” he smiled as he looked down at you. 

“Morning, again,” you chuckled softly, sitting up properly and rubbing your eyes. 

He chuckled, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “You hungry?” 

You nodded. 

“Want to go to the cafe? It’s probably pretty empty right now.” 

You chuckled, nodding again, “Yeah, that sounds nice. Mind if I borrow a jumper?” 

He hummed, “Go ahead. Take your pick.”

You stood slowly, grabbing a big yellow jumper from his closet. You changed quickly, trying to conserve enough warmth while Wilbur changed as well. 

You finished getting dressed, turning to him, “Are we walking there?” 

He hummed, peering out the window, “We could, but it might be safer if we don’t. It’s not snowing anymore, but it could start up again.”

“I could drive us then. We’d just have to walk to my place.”

He nodded, “Alright.”

Taking his hand in yours, you walked downstairs and outside into the cold icy streets. 

The walk to your house was peaceful, breaths visible in the air, as you and Wilbur walked hand in hand. When you reached your front door, the serene air surrounding your walk shattered upon realizing you had to face your family. You just had to go in and grab your keys. You repeated it like a mantra in your mind. You considered telling Wilbur to wait outside, but before you could, he squeezed your hand. 

“It’s alright, I’ll be with you the whole time, okay?” 

You nodded, looking up at him as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. You let out a breath, letting go of his hand to open your front door. You tried to make a B-line for your room, but the sound of the door opening seemed to have alerted the home, as your aunt swooped into the foyer.

“Oh, my goodness! Little Wilby! My, how you’ve grown!” She squealed out, the rest of your family coming up quickly. Everyone was quick to dote on Wilbur, having known him for just about as long as you had. 

“Sweetheart, is that where you’ve been sneaking off to? You should’ve told me you were hanging out with Wilbur, we could’ve invited him for dinner!” Your mother seemed innately pleased in the notion that you were with Wilbur. It only made you want to get out of there faster. Wilbur didn’t seem too overwhelmed speaking to your family, but you knew that it was starting to get to him slightly so you took charge. 

“Right, well, we’re planning to head to the café, so we’d best get going. I just need to grab my keys,” you grabbed Wilbur’s arm, pulling him quickly to your room, and ignoring the calls of protest from behind you. 

You let out a breath once you got in, looking up at him, “Sorry if they were kind of all over you.” 

He smiled softly, “It’s alright,” he pulled you forward, kissing the top of your head. He was quiet for a moment before a frown replaced his smile. “They haven’t changed,” he hummed, “I thought you told me before you left that they were getting better” 

You sighed, “I thought they were,” you leaned your head against his chest, “They only got better because I was there to mediate. Now, they’re just as toxic again.”

“Well, you should grab a bag and put some clothes and stuff in it. That way you can spend the majority of your time not here.” Wilbur suggested, gently rubbing your back.

You looked up at him, a soft grin adorning his face. You smiled back, “That sounds like a great idea.”

You pulled away to start grabbing stuff, Wilbur sitting down on your bed. You wondered what he was thinking about. Vaguely you wondered if he was getting that same feeling you did the night you went back to his room to listen to him play music. You wondered if his eyes roaming around meant that he was also reliving the memories you two had here, the number of times you had snuck out of your window, him showing you random videos to drown out the fighting of your family, complaining over schoolwork or professors, and just existing hip to hip. 

Once you’d packed up, you walked over to him, grabbing his hands. “You’re thinking about something.”

He chuckled, “Yeah, I am.”

“What’s in that head of yours, Soot?”

“Thinking about the future.”

Oh. 

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I mean, neither of us live here anymore. And you’ll be leaving London eventually. So, I’m thinking about where we go from there.” 

“Well, depends on where I get a job, I suppose.” 

“Lots of jobs in Brighton.”

“Will,” you laughed, “That doesn’t mean I’ll be able to find one there. I’m studying fucking English. Not much I can do anywhere I want.”

“You could work for me.”

“Will-“

“No, I’m serious. You used to help me with DnD campaigns. You could edit scripts or lyrics. You used to write poetry, don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

You sighed, “Will, I’m not sure that would work. I’m not sure dating my employer is truly the best solution here.” 

“For Tommy, then, he probably needs more help with his scripts than I do anyway.” 

“That could cause problems with you and Tommy if something happens, and I don’t want that.” 

“I’m just saying, there are options. You could do remote work and just live in Brighton.”

“Brighton is expensive.” 

“It’s cheaper than London.”

“Not by much. Rent is still insane in Brighton, trust me, I’ve looked.” 

“Not if you split a place with me.”

Your breath hitched. 

“Wilbur…”

“Just hear me out, okay, we’ve known each other long enough to know how we’d work together. I’m not losing you again. We could find a nice three-bedroom, so we could both have our own rooms and office space, and we could make it work. Then, once we’ve saved enough, we could move to fuckin’ America or something, wherever we want to go, we could do.”

“America?”

“Anywhere you’d like to go, I’d follow you. America’s just my pipe dream.” 

You sighed. It could be a good option, honestly. 

“I’m just not quite sure yet.”

“And you don’t have to be! You’ve still got a year til graduation. I could find a place in that time, so by the time you’re ready, we can do it.” 

You squeezed his hands, hanging your head, “Maybe I’ll think about it.” 

He seemed to let out a breath of relief, “That’s all I ask.” 

You nodded, placing your forehead against his gently. You and he shared a silent moment, just breathing together. His hands slowly moved to wrap around your waist, pulling you in to tight hug. You hugged him back just as tightly. And though he would never say it, you knew exactly what fear ran through his mind. You knew exactly what he was afraid of. That you refused to be as dedicated to this commitment between the two of you as he was. Because there remained a lingering fear in you that this would not last. This pocket of bliss would rip a seam at the bottom and fall into another void of unforgiving remnants of time where your promises went to die. 

You both managed to sneak out without too much disruption from your family. A snarky comment about keeping it clean from your uncle as you shut the door to your house would not deter you, as most things they could say now couldn’t. You two sat in the car for a moment, waiting for it to heat up. He connected his phone, putting on some music to hopefully put the both of you in a better mood. 

The drive was short, with little words being shared beside Wilbur singing along to the music. Neither of you wanted to leave the car, despite the slightly tense atmosphere. After parking, you reached over and grabbed his hand, holding it tightly. 

You scrambled to think of something to say to break the tension. 

Thankfully, Wilbur had you beat, “You used to like filming things.” 

“I- yeah. I still do, I guess. Just don’t have time for it anymore.”

“Would you ever want to do it?”

You thought for a moment. “I mean, yeah, maybe. I’d still love to make a music video or something one day.” 

He nodded, “You could do it. Youtube and stuff, I mean.” 

You sighed, “Will, I just don’t have the time to start. And by the time I can make money from it, it’ll be way too late.”

“I know you want to think about this more, but, all of my Youtube friends need help with people that film that they can trust. If you want to go that route, there are options. Even if it’s not for me or Tommy, I know people. And then it’ll give you time to start your own account, and I can help you with that! I can promote you, even,”

“Not that. If I do it, I don’t want to blow up completely out of nowhere. I’d want to be used to it first.”

“But you’re thinking about it.” 

You laughed, “I’m thinking about it.” 

He raised his other hand in cheers, “That is a win for me. I’ll take it.” 

You laughed, tugging his hand, “C’mon. Let’s go eat.”

You turned the car off, and he quickly bolted out of the car and went to your side to open the door, “Hurry, hurry, it’s freezing out here.”

You laughed, taking his outstretched hand and standing, “You chose to be chivalrous, take your punishment.” 

He let out a whine, tugging you into his arms, “Come here, I need warmth.”

You locked the car, letting out a loud laugh, “Okay, okay,” you wrapped your arms around him, rubbing his back, “Let’s go inside, it’ll be warm in there.”

He nodded, letting go of the hug to pull the both of you inside. You both went to order, and he turned to you while you waited, “What do you think you’ll get?” 

You shrugged, “Probably just a coffee and a muffin. Just something small.”

“Do you still get them the same way?”

You nodded. 

“Alright. Could you do me something then?”

“Uh, depends.” 

The person in front of us moved, making us up at the register. 

“Could you go grab me a napkin? I think I touched some ice or something.” He held his hand up, thumb swiping over his fingers and palm. You knew how he was when it came to weird sensations, so you quickly replied. 

“Oh, sure,” you turned, walking to the sidebar to grab him a napkin. You walked back over to him as he was paying, handing him the napkin.

“Thanks! Also, I ordered and paid for you.” 

You stared at him, shocked for a moment. After a moment, you spoke, “Did you even need a napkin?”

He shook his head quickly, “Just needed you to walk away so I could pay for you.” 

You blinked at him, lightly hitting his arm, “You ass. Don’t do that.”

“What? Pay for you?”

“Yeah.”

“You simply cannot stop me, love.”

You groaned, “I swear to god. I’ll start paying for your shit too.” 

“I’m taller than you, therefore faster. Good luck trying.”

“I hate you so much.”

“Yeah? I don’t think you do,” Wilbur snickered, before lifting a hand to the collar of his sweater. You flushed when he daintily pulled the fabric back to reveal the hickeys you had left on him the night before. You switched your gaze to meet his and he winked, only flustering you further. You pressed your head against his shoulder while he just laughed at you.  

You sighed after you’d calmed a bit, “I’ll find a way to pay you back.”

“You do pay me back. Just by being with me.” 

You hid the way you blushed, “Sappy.”

“Only for you.” 

“Hush. I’ll make you flustered right back.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Well, I c-“

“Order for Wilbur!”

The barista called out, saving Wilbur just in time for the not-exactly publicly appropriate thing preparing to leave your mouth. Wilbur walked forward, grabbing the order for you both and walking to a booth in the far corner by a window. You both sat down, and he passed you your coffee. 

“Light roast latte with caramel?” 

“How do you even remember that?” 

He chuckled, “I just do. I said earlier, I want to memorize you, and that includes all the tiny details. Like your coffee order. And the fact that you prefer regular chocolate chip muffins to the double chocolate chip muffins because you think it’s too much chocolate.” He handed you your muffin after, and you flushed once again. 

“It is too much chocolate.” You spoke simply, not quite sure how to respond. Part of you felt guilty that you didn’t remember these small details about him, so you continued with, “I’ll have to relearn anything I’ve forgotten about you.”

That caused him to flush slightly, “Really?”

“Yeah. Can’t be sharing the pieces of me to a stranger, after all.”

“I’d argue we’re much closer than strangers.”

“True. But I need to have you memorized as you have me.”

He smiled, a gentle smile that told you he was grateful, “That’s true.”

You bit into your muffin. There was a soft smile on your face that you tried to hide by lowering your head. He saw it, though. You knew he did. 

After you finished eating, you took your drinks and returned to the car. You duetting him for the songs you remembered, the old Los Campesinos! he taught you back when Aleksandra was still in the band. You were going to turn to his home but stopped when you saw the street your school resided on. You turned down the street, parking in the old lot between the school and the old church. They were both covered in holiday decorations, a grave reminder of the short time you and Will had together. But you tried not to think of it. 

Instead, you looked at the school, thinking of the day you chose to leave. 

When Wilbur caught sight of you, he spoke up, “Memories?”

You nodded, letting out a sigh, “Thinking of our last day there.”

He nodded, “That was… a day to say the least.”

“It was a good day, for the most part. We were so excited. I just…”

“What is it?” 

“I knew for two weeks that I’d be leaving… I don’t know why I waited until that day to tell you. I spent all day knowing that it was the last day I’d probably see you. I keep thinking that maybe I should’ve told you earlier. Maybe I should’ve done something so that you’d beg me to stay. And things may have gone differently.”

“To be fair, I didn’t exactly take the news well.”

“Well, yeah, but-“

“Do you really think I would’ve let you go? I would’ve been so angry that we wouldn’t have had a good last few weeks or days. I was a petty person, so at least by waiting, we had a good day before the fight.” 

You sighed softly, “I guess so.”

He took your hand, going quiet for a moment before speaking again, “I should have asked you to stay. Instead, I just forced you away because of how angry I was. I should’ve tried harder.” 

“You know I wouldn’t have stayed. I wouldn’t ask you to wait for me after all. I just… wish you could’ve been happy for me. I know we were both yelling a lot, but it did hurt. It was my only way out of the house. I wish you could’ve at least been happy about that.” 

He sighed, “I am, now. Despite the hell hole that London is, it’s better comparatively. I’m just happy for you a bit too late.” He gently reached a hand up, brushing some hair out of your face. 

You took a deep breath, leaning into his hand. “We could talk about should’ve-beens and would’ve-dones until we’re blue. Maybe we should just talk about now.” 

“You think so?”

You nodded, pulling the lever at your seat to recline back. Wilbur did the same, and you turned to face him, getting comfortable. 

“Do you think bees dance to communicate because they find it fun?” He asked after a moment. 

“Sadly, no,” you hummed, “I think because they do it for work, they don’t find dancing fun. They probably find things like conference calls fun. Or paperwork.”

“Do you think they operate on a capitalist or communist type system?”

“They don’t have currency, so neither technically, but closer to communism. If they were capitalists, the bees would’ve gone extinct long ago.”

“Do you think they’re going extinct now because they tried to switch to capitalism?”

You laughed, “That I know is not true. I saw the Bee Movie, they’re dying because humans aren’t getting into weird relationships with them anymore.”

That led Wilbur to burst out laughing, hitting the seat of the car as he laughed. You laughed as well, mostly due to how happy his genuine laugh made you. 

You glance at him between your own laughter, a fond look taking over your features. Once he’d calmed a bit, he made eye contact and smiled, giving you an odd look, “What is it?”

“Hm?”

“Something’s going on in your brain, you’ve never looked at me like that before.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“I’m not sure yet. Could be a dangerous thing.”

“Oh, really? Dangerous how?”

“Well, it could make me do this,” he placed a hand on your jaw, gently pulling you in for a kiss. It was a bit awkward, given the lack of support brought on by the gap between your car seats. However, it was warmer than the cold that seeped into the car and that still resided in your chest just by being home. 

He grinned when he pulled back, thumb gently stroking your cheek, “You know, since you’re staying at mine for at least two days, you could be on a stream.”

You chuckled, “At least?”

He nodded, “At least. It’s the bare minimum. My actual estimate is for the next five days,” you only had seven left, “you’re ignoring the point though.”

You thought about it for a moment, “Would I have to be seen?”

“Not if you don’t want to.”

“And what would they know about us?”

“Just that you’re my friend.”

You hummed, “Maybe. Will Tommy be there?”

“Do you want Tommy to be there?”

You snorted, “Not necessarily. Plus, you mentioned that he has a bit of an issue with spilling information.”

“Oh, yes, he does.”

“Well then, we’d better make sure that if I do, he’s not there. Don’t need him making another joke about us snogging.” 

He laughed, “That’s a good point.” 

You smiled softly, “Is your chat nice?”

“To me? No. To guests? Always.”

“Good, I’ll like them then.”

He gasped, “Fuckin’ rude. You’d better side with me. They will try to side with you, so you’d better only side with me.”

“I will do as I so please, Mr. Soot.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“It is.”

“Well, it just so happens that I, too, will do as I please. Which includes this,” he leaned forward, kissing you again. 

You kissed him back lovingly, pulling away with your hand on his cheek this time, “Well, it just so happens then that our interests aligned at that moment.”

“Oh? So you’re saying kissing me pleases you?”

He was trying to make you flustered, but it wouldn’t work this time, “Yes. It does.”

He flushed instead, leaning forward, “Well, if it does, then I’m sure you wouldn’t mind doing it again.”

“Not at all,” You kissed him once again. 

After a routine of kissing and Wilbur breaking to ask his weird questions for about two hours, you two eventually decided to leave the parking lot. However, you took the long route home, the two of you just driving around to see your old hometown. 

“You remembered my love of poetry earlier,” you commented after a moment.

He nodded, “It’s always been big for you, even if it’s something you don’t like to talk about.”

You nodded pensively before continuing, “Have I told you one of my favorite poems?”

“You have a lot so you’d have to be more specific.”

You chuckled softly, “It’s The Road Not Taken by Frost. Have I told it to you before?”

He shook his head, “No, you haven’t.”

You hummed, “It’s much more of a recent favorite. Anyways, I really recommend it. I’d recite it, but-”

“No, do.”

“But I don’t have it perfectly memorized anymore. I used to. I have the last stanza memorized still, but you need the context of the rest of the poem to understand.”

“Let me find it, hold on,” he pulled out his phone and found the poem, beginning to recite it out loud to the both of you. When he reached the final stanza, you joined in:

“I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-

I took the one less traveled by, 

And that has made all the difference.”

He was quiet for a moment as he processed the poem. “So what does it mean?”

“Well,” you started, “it's become a recent favorite because of us. There’s irony throughout the poem. The subject is the road he did not take, the choice he did not make, to the point where he says that instead of telling us he took the common path, he should be telling a story years later about how he took the road less traveled by and it changed his life. I keep thinking about how the road less traveled for us would’ve been me staying, and how different everything may have been. Things could’ve been completely different for us.”

“That’s interesting. I like the poem. But, I really like the path you took.”

“Really?”

He nodded, “think about it. We never talked about the prom kiss until recently. If you’d stayed, we probably never would have. We might’ve just been stuck pining for each other til the end of time.”

“So you wouldn’t change anything? Even the fight?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“I wouldn’t, at least not without some sort of guarantee that we’d still end up together. I think we’d always be in each other's lives in some way. But with the way things worked out, we got together, rather than just staying friends,” He sighed appreciatively, “Not to say I wouldn’t be alright with if we’d stayed friends, but at least this way, we have a shot at this. And maybe we would’ve eventually found each other again and got together, and all the hurt wouldn’t have been necessary, but I know I wouldn’t take the chance of changing anything without knowing we’d reach this point again.” 

You stopped at a light, turning to look at him, “It was worth it then? All the loneliness and upset and anger?”

He nodded, smiling softly, “Absolutely, if it meant getting us where we are.��� 

You blushed, looking back at the road. You didn’t think he could still make you shy at this point, yet in nearly every conversation he seemed to one-up himself. “I’m glad,” you spoke quietly. He gently squeezed your hand.

You pulled into his driveway, parking quickly and grabbing your bag from the backseat. 

“Let’s go in. I want to get cozy.” You hummed.

He nodded, “Of course. Did you pack your laptop?”

You nodded.

“Want to play Minecraft?” 

The two of you rushed inside from the cold and quickly made a matter of getting as comfortable as possible. You snagged one of his hoodies this time, pulling on a pair of nice sweatpants as well. While he went to get dressed, you snuck downstairs to the kitchen to make hot chocolate for you both. He seemed to be a bit distracted with getting his computer turned on and making space for your laptop, but after a few minutes, you heard his footsteps coming down the stairs. 

“Darling?” 

“In here,” you called out, stirring the milk you’d heated to combine with the chocolate.

He stepped in, wrapping his arms around you gently, “Hot chocolate?

You nodded, leaning your head back against him, “Figured it’d be nice to have a treat while we game. Just like the olden days,” You chuckled.

He grinned, leaning down to place a kiss on your cheek, “Thank you.”

You turned in his arms, smiling up at him, “Of course, Wil. You feelin’ all cozy?”

He nodded, smiling back at you, “Very much so. I got you whitelisted on my server, so we can play together. And if any of my friends join, you could meet them, as well.”

“Oh, yeah? Like who?”

“You could meet my bandmates. Sometimes they’re on around this time. Tommy probably won’t be on, but my friend Quackity might, you’d like him I think. There are some others as well, but some of them I can wait to introduce you to when you visit me in Brighton for the first time, a lot of them live around there. Plus, then you won’t have to see my friend James’s embarrassing Minecraft username.”

“What’s his username?” You laughed.

“JamesDoesMining.”

You burst out laughing, and he did as well. “Don’t even bring it up to him, he will try to defend himself.” 

You leaned up and pecked his lips, “I won’t. Can you grab the mugs?” 

He nodded, leaving the hug to grab two mugs while you turned off the stove, taking the ladle and pouring you and Wilbur’s cups of hot chocolate. 

You both headed upstairs, getting cozy and preparing for a calm night of gaming and being together. 

taglist: @shubblelive / @superioritycomplexes / @your-shifting-gurl (send an ask/dm me if you want to be added)

[rstarsims3]

Hi! What tutorials helped you learn how to mesh clothes in Blender? Or what tutorials or tips would you recommend? Thank you

Hi,

I've watched a lot of character modelling videos on YouTube to get better acquainted with Blender. What I can recommend for you to watch is this 10-part tutorial by Darrin Lile. The creator even provides the images he's working with which makes his workflow easier to follow. The notions you'll learn here will help you create basically anything in Blender, from a bed to a crop top to a bridge.

Another good series you can watch -and specifically made for creating clothing in TS3 - is this one by Lyralei.

Once you're more comfortable with Blender, you can search all kinds of tutorials (like how to mesh flowers, coats, skirts, pillows, etc)., if you're interested and need further clarification.

What I strongly recommend is for you to export the EA game meshes and break them apart in Blender to see how the dev team has approached the category you're interested in. At the beginning, I wouldn't look too much at anyone's meshes except EAs because every creator has their own style and views over what a reasonable polycount is (you can have the same skirt at 2k or 4k- for instance, depending on how much detail you want to add to the mesh). But it is useful to look at other creator's meshes when you deal with transparency, for example.

You can also try to convert CAS stuff from TS4 if you have the possibility. This helped me a lot in getting used to meshing in general because, while being similar to TS3s, their meshes are a bit more detailed (a belt is often painted on the mesh in TS3, but in TS4 the belt will be meshed).

Another important process in Blender is UV mapping. Because it's TS3 and you can't get away with wonky and stretched textures -as long as you make your stuff recolorable, that is - you need to pay special attention to this part.

In general, for Blender I'd say:

keep your polycount in check; too detailed/high poly meshes will "explode" in the game;

close the openings on a mesh (where the sleeves, pants or skirts/dresses end); I also UV unwrap these and find them a spot on the UV layout to make the textures more cohesive.

avoid using the "subdivision surface" modifier as it increases the polycount too much;

try to delete as much of the body under the clothing mesh as possible (I'm also doing this part in Blender for a while now and it's a lot better, easier and more precise to crop it; it helps a lot with avoiding clipping too);

for baggy clothing you can use a plane or cylinder to start with; for skin-tight clothes you can use the EA body meshes ((like in the second link);

If you're really set on creating custom clothing -and sharing your stuff- I'd get used to some good practices from the beginning (because we humans tend to get used to do things one way and keep at that from there on):

create all the LODs required for your item (if it's clothing you'll need all these three: HLOD, MLOD and LLOD) and load them into TSRW. This way your carefully crafted blouse won't change into a t-shirt when zooming out in the game.

in TSRW leave only the maps/images you created for your item. Delete everything else.

for every LOD in TSRW, go to Mesh -> HLOD (MLOD, LLOD)-> Material and load your maps by using Browse. Don't import over the same map again.

textures are really important and the more time you spend working on them, the better your item will look. It's very useful to know how to create normal maps as they add depth to your mesh.

never export packages directly from TSRW as it doesn't compress your file the way it does for sims3pack files. Export as sims3pack, use S3RC to compress it further, then use the Sims 3 Pack Extractor to convert into packages.

Note: When I say TS3 and TS4 meshes, what I'm referring to is meshes from the games, not CC. Also what you're going to learn here is how to make Maxis-Match content for TS3, which I do 90% of the time. The only differences is that my textures are usually more "alpha" looking. I've got a similar ask a while ago if you want to check it out.

The most important thing is to keep at it and don't get discouraged. All this info might seem like a lot now but with practice you'll get used to it. Start with something easy like a tube top and see how it goes. If you have any more questions you can contact me again, either through ask or through DM if you feel comfortable.

Hope this helps!

[runawaymun]

Hey is there an elf headcanon you wanna rant about that's been tearing your heart out and using it as an embroidery tool? I feel like it's good for authors to get to air this out every so often.

this is has been sitting awhile just because I have been trying to figure out how to put the New Thought into words!

I've been thinking a lot lately about differences between Men and Elves and taking the consequences of what we know about how each interacts with Music to their logical end. So... this has somehow manifested in me thinking about how Elves build homes and decorate them vs how Men do. (and as per usual, this relates to Elrond and how he is different from everyone around him!)

Elves are super orderly and are bound to Arda and bound to their Themes...and they have all the time in the world to really think about their spaces and curate them. So I wouldn't say they're necessarily minimalist, but all of the decor is really built into the structure of the building -- especially for Noldorin Elves who like to Make Shit. So Elves don't really decorate with objects -- like, all of their objects are already inherently gorgeous in how they make them. Down to the silverware. So that's "decor" in a sense. But rather than clutter objects, you get beautifully wrought wall sconces and incredibly detailed murals -- stuff that got built into the building. And when it comes to soft items for making a space comforting, since they don't really spend hours on end sleeping and beds are more for relaxing & sex, and they don't feel temperature, I think they might just have like one or two pillows and one gorgeous coverlet and that's it.

Like they don't really get setting up objects around the room. But humans do it because we don't have the time to think so deeply and most of us don't necessarily build our own homes like that. We nest somewhere. So we bring in objects we love to surround ourselves with and sometimes it can get rather messy, and that's Really Weird to an elf. Especially if you're bringing in rocks/twigs/feathers etc. etc. because that has a home outside??? What are you bringing it inside for??? Leave it where it is???

And then this also brings me to Elves and clutter objects in general -- and collectables/gifts. And I can't remember if this is canon in Laws & Customs or something but I've just decided that you can't just give "raw materials" as a gift, short of flowers (but even then those ought to be arranged carefully into a nice bouquet). Like most Elves won't be mean if you hand them a cool rock you found but they'll just be confused.

Anyway this leads me to Elrond. I've already headcannoned that he has a level of nesting & bowerbird behavior from the Ainur genetics (What are Doriath and Mordor and Taniquetil but Big Nests? Rivendell = nest). And then, via Ainur have Bird Tendencies, that leads to bowerbird behavior of "I have a MATE and so thus I need to DECORATE" -- so naturally this leads to him absolutely going ham feral on Rivendell when he and Cel get married (hello pillows, hello blankets, hello clutter objects and ribbons and feathers etc etc. etc. oh Celebrian likes weaving?? Hi babe I bought you seven looms for your loom room!! Cel: "Wh--")

ANYWAY this brings me to the Mannish side of him, and I wonder how much of the decorating instincts are mannish. As well as the gifting instincts. And when he was younger he kind of learned that rocks & stuff aren't appropriate gifts. You gotta do stuff with that. And he just got super repressed about all of the collectibles and tried to keep that tamped down. Then Cel comes along and he starts leaving her rocks and she's like ????? and Gil's like that means he likes you. And once Cel gets the hang of this I think they make a great team. He collects cool shit and she does all of the crafting/carving/etc.

But yeah I've been thinking a lot about how Elves want things to be orderly, and how this might extend to even a room, and how each piece in that room is carefully designed and curated to be harmonious with everything else...and men, we just throw shit in there because We Like It.

[moiraimyths]

For someone so enamoured with the finer things in life, I’m surprised Keagan doesn’t wear more jewellery

There are a couple reasons for that:

1) For his position, it would be unwise. He spends a lot of time in shady areas and with shady people so any flashy jewelry would not only attract a lot of attention but also make him a target for being robbed.

2) His appearance has been carefully crafted for maximum utility-aesthetic balance and he found more jewelry doesn't vibe with it.

3) He enjoys spending his money elsewhere. Like spoiling you.

***

The Good People (Na Daoine Maithe)’s Kickstarter is now live! Check our pinned post for links to the Kickstarter and demo, and for more details!

KICKSTARTER STATUS: WE’RE FUNDED!

SIDE STORIES STRETCH GOAL: 85% (need to reach 30K USD / 40K CAD!)

[musicinstrumentsins]

The Art of Flute Making and the Science Behind It

You know, the flute, right? The instrument with the nostalgic sound? It has been around for ages, bewitching people with its melody. But have you ever wondered about the work that goes into making it? It is not merely about blowing into a hollow pipe. A whole art and science is working behind it. It starts with picking the right materials, shaping it perfectly, and tuning it right. It is nothing but a real craft. It is incredible how much skill and creativity go into making something that can produce such beautiful sounds.

And the journey begins!

So, where does this woodwind's journey start? It starts with selecting the appropriate materials. Traditionally, the artisans used woods like maple, rosewood, or ebony. These woods sound great and last a long time. But modern flute makers are getting creative! They are using metals like silver, gold, and even platinum. And let's not forget exotic woods like Grenadilla and Cocobolo. Each material gives the gear its special sound, feel, and look.

Let's go on!

Once the perfect material is picked, the real work begins. The woodwind maker carefully shapes the raw material into the woodwind's basic structure. It is a lot of work, but it is a crucial step. They use tools like rasps and files to get the shape just right. Then, they drill the hollow bore where the air flows. The size and shape of this bore are super important because they affect the sound and how well the gear projects.

The finger holes are amazing!

Do you know the secret to a flute's beautiful sound? Well! It lies in its fingertips. These tiny holes are carefully drilled and placed to control the pitch and tone. It is all about getting the size, shape, and position right. Makers spend countless hours tweaking these details to achieve the perfect sound. It is like a master craftsman perfecting their work. Therefore, industry experts always advocate getting a comprehensive flute insurance plan.

The last and final touch!

Once the fingerholes are drilled, the musical instrument is almost ready. It is carefully sanded and polished to give it a smooth, beautiful finish. This also makes it easier to play. For some flutes, keys, and mechanisms are added to expand the range of notes and make it more versatile.

Tuning is super important!

Tuning is a critical part of flute making. Every note has to be spot-on and in harmony with the others. The makers use different tricks to tune their instruments, like adjusting the length of the bore, moving the finger holes, or tightening the tone holes. It takes effort but it ensures the musical thing plays beautifully and consistently.

Then comes the technology!

Technology is changing the way flutes are made. Computer design tools, such as Computer-aided design (CAD) software, let makers experiment with different designs and improve the sound. And 3D printing is opening up a whole new world of possibilities. It is amazing what you can create with this technology, things that were once impossible with traditional methods.

Even with all the new technology, human skill and artistry are still crucial. Skilled craftsmen are involved in every step, from choosing the right materials to perfecting the sound. Their passion and dedication shine through in the beautiful and high-quality flutes they make. Therefore, if you are an aspiring flutist or someone with strong professional standing, do not take buying a dedicated flute insurance plan for granted.

To conclude!

The art of flute making is a true testament to human creativity and skill. By learning about the intricate process of making these instruments, we can truly appreciate the artistry and skill that goes into creating such beautiful sounds. As technology advances, the future of making this unique woodwind looks exciting. However, the heart and soul of traditional craftsmanship will always be essential in creating these timeless instruments.