#mostly an experiment with new brushes and colors

[cherrydeprived]

Something something about a ceaseless watcher

[dasnercaret]

siffrin moment

[emiliaoleary]

Hooking rugs that look like dogs

Here's how I do it:

The process I use is called rug hooking (not latch hook or punch needle or tufting, though it is the forerunner of the latter two techniques). Rugs are hooked by pulling loops of fabric strips or yarn through the holes of a base fabric with a coarse open weave, like burlap, or linen, or rug warp. The loops are pulled through the fabric with a squat-handled hook whose business end is shaped like a crochet hook.  There are no knots and the loops aren't sewed down in any way.  The whole thing stays put just by the tension of all those loops packed together in the weave of the foundation fabric.

This isn't a true detailed tutorial but a walk-through of my particular process. The same information is on my web page, emilyoleary.com .

I hook with yarn, rather than with cut strips of wool fabric, which is what many rug hookers use.  I can get a looser, more organic distribution of loops with yarn than I could with wool strips, which are hooked in neat lines. 

Mostly I use wool yarn. In terms of yarn weight, I can use DK, worsted, or Aran.  If I'm using thicker yarn, I leave more holes un-hooked; if I'm using finer yarn, I hook more densely or double up lengths of it.  I particularly like using single ply yarns (like Brown Sheep Lamb's Pride or Malabrigo Worsted).  I don't keep count, but I think I usually use around two dozen types and colors of yarn per dog.  

This is my yarn wall in my apartment. Mostly brown and gray yarn!

I start from a small drawing in my sketchbook, then I head to FedEx office to use a copy machine, blowing up the drawing repeatedly and experimenting with how big the dog rug should be. 

After transferring the image onto my linen, I immediately go over it with Sharpie, because the Saral is really difficult to see and really easy to rub off.

The rug is held taut by a PVC quilting frame that I set on my lap.

I push my hook down through the fabric with my right hand and my left hand stays below the fabric and guides the yarn while I pull it up and through with the hook. Not every hole in the fabric is hooked. Hooking every hole would make the rug too dense. I do hook pretty densely, though-- If you pick up one of my rugs you’ll see they have a slight curl to them, which is because they’re hooked pretty tight. I'm using all different weights and types of yarn, so it's a challenge to keep the overall tension even.

I hook my loops at varying heights to create a very low relief. Sometimes I trim the loops to make them fluffier or wispier or to shape a particular part. I look at a reference photo while I work and pull out and redo sections a lot.

My q-snap frame can accommodate the growing dog rug. I have extenders to make it bigger and I can clamp around my hooking.

The back of a rug looks like lines of little stitches. The lines are little worm trails snaking around because lines of hooking are not supposed to cross over each other. It's important to start a new length of yarn rather than cross over a stitch you already made! I read this when I first started and took it to heart. It makes it much easier to undo and redo hooking if you have to (and I redo sections A Lot). It also keeps the back from getting too bulky and resulting in uneven wear on the back of a functional rug that gets floor use.

When I’m done hooking everything I turn the rug over and brush watered-down Sobo glue on the edges of the dog, making sure to get one or two of the outermost lines of hooking. I do a couple coats of this thinned out glue. I'm careful not to use so much that it seeps to the front of the rug. When the glue is dry I cut the rug out, but I don't cut so close that the loops don't have any linen to keep them in.

​ It generally takes me at least several months to finish one dog rug. My hooking frame and yarn bag are very portable (though bulky) so I can hook out and about at coffee shops or the library or a brewery if there's enough space and light.

Hooking in the wild makes me an ambassador for making things in general and rug hooking in particular. I answer people's questions and always emphasize how relatively easy it is to get started hooking. Sometimes I get anxious that other people will hook rugs that look like mine but better, but I think that working in a traditional medium means you should share your knowledge for the good of the craft.

[pigeonpeach]

Genshin men as cats!

Prompt: the genshin men are temporarily turned into cats for one day and you as their lover must take care of them and make sure they stay safe

A/n: idk what happened but apparently half of the post got deleted? I’ll have to rewrite it later ;(

Ayato

Oh he’s not happy. He’s probably a shorthaired white cat in terms of appearance. But he is quite annoyed with this predicament. No one is allowed to tell anyone that the Yashiro Commissioner is suddenly a cat. But being a cat is nice. He can lounge and nap all day. He’s probably demanding of attention though. He simply must have your eyes on him. He adores being brushes so lovingly too. Maybe he should have you brush his hair when he’s back to normal.

Al Haitham

Virtually no change. He may still try to read though he won’t be able to turn the pages as easily. He doesn’t mind a few pats but he mostly prefers to be left alone in the nice warm sun to nap the day away. He’s definitely a grey tabby.

Kaveh

He is so distraught! He meows a storm in fustration as he finds he is completely incapable of finishing his projects! You simply must take care of him! You need to have him strapped in like a baby carrier on your chest because he’s just so clingy. He needs constant reassurance and attention. He’s so needy but so cute. Probably a cute little cream colored kitty.

Kaeya

He is also probably a bit annoyed. While yes he gets a complete day off, he can’t do much as a cat. So he’ll probably try to find some entertainment if you don’t keep him thoroughly entertained. He will find a way to sneak out and go play with Klee or annoy Diluc if you don’t keep him in your grasp at all times.

Neuvillette

He is very confused but also curious. On one hand this form is verrrry different than he’s ever had before but its also very beneficial to him. People are far less intimidated and strangely he enjoys being coddled and pet more than he would. Of course miss Furina is teasing the crap out of him but he doesn’t really care. Sitting on your lap, small and warm. Its such a unique experience he will probably never have again.

Wriothesley

Once the dust settles he’s quite relaxed. This is temporary so might as well enjoy it. Sigewinnie has become very attached to him as she constantly makes sure he’s okay. But in particular he loves being held by you. He’s used to being the big strong man who lifts you all the time etc etc. its nice actually being the reverse here. He gets fed special fish from the cafeteria and gets to spend his day in your arms! The perfect break for him! He’s almost sad it’s temporary but he knows he can’t stay like this forever.

Childe

Oh he’s mad! Even when it’s confirmed to be temporary, he is annoyed! How can he improve his fighting skills if he’s a kitty! Sure he’s a adorable little kitty of course but he looks like a baby! Oh his ego is in shatters. It’s unfortunate too because it wasn’t even around his family so he could play with his little brother at least. He’s practically quarantined to keep him safe. He can’t go on kitty adventures. Therefore YOU must make it up to him. He spends his time sulking and trying to play with anything he can. Dangling uniform piece? New toy! Someone’s foot? New toy! He bites! He meows! He hardly naps. He does love cuddling with you though. Still he’s a ball of energy and he cannot simply sit still for long! No doubt will his office be trashed. You’re making him clean it up once he’s back.

Thoma

Stressed! So stressed! He has so many chores! He cannot hold a broom with two paws! You have to make arrangements for him to have the day off which was hard because everyone was upset by his sudden cancellation. Even so he tries to help. He tries to drag the broom but it doesn’t do anything unfortunately. Oh he feels so useless. You must pamper him. Lavish him with kisses and gentle praise. Call him the cutest little kitty in the world! Oh he’s such a affectionate boy too. He acts like a cat with separation anxiety almost. He cannot sleep if you’re not there with him. Therefore you end up spending the day with him, trying to dissuade him from trying to clean a mess and just making it worse, distracting him with a warm blanket and pets.

Zhongli

He probably did so on purpose actually. Perhaps he was a bit bored and decided to spend the day exploring Liyue from a different perspective. It was quite fun for him actually. He watched as people came over to pet him. Unfortunately they also tried to feed him seafood which wasn’t too good. But after the long day he returned home to see you panicked as to where he could be. He decided to come on over to you, still in his cat form, and distract you. It worked as he helped you relax.

You werent too amused when you found out that cat that broke in was him.

Pantalone

He is quite annoyed. Angry in a more agitated way. Don’t mess up his fur! Pet him properly! Don’t ignore him now! He is a demanding little feline. He is not content unless you are entirely focused on him. He even wants you to break up the fish ro serve to him. He isn’t going to eat like a animal! Oh but he is such s cute kitty. Entirely black with big expressive yellow eyes. Oh you can’t help but comply and spoil him a little more! And he has such lovely fur! He does like hearing your gentle praises as you pet him. He never knew how lovely it felt to be small, sleeping on a nice warm lap, being gently brushed, and told sweet little compliments. He may actually want to do this again sometime.

Diluc

Biggest drama king! How can he protect you or Mondstadt like this! Therefore you cannot leave his sight or he’s convinced you will immediately die. You must stay with him so he can protect you? He is a very warm kitty though so it feels nice to snuggle with him. His fur is a bit messy so you’ll have to brush it. Despite him trying to stay vigilant he ends up falling asleep quickly.

[mechncheese]

I'm genuinely so fascinated with your art! it's got an interesting texture if that makes sense.

I remember on Instagram you saying digital touch ups/mixed media but I have such a hard time telling what's digital and what's traditional because it all gels together so well!

if you've ever made a post about your general process that I've missed, I'd love to see it!

anyway thanks for the transformers content, it's feeding my family out four rn

Awh omg thank you so much ! Yes, I've been doing a lot of mixed media lately and I'm glad people think my mixed media art looks seamless ! I'll take you on a journey down my mixed media process ! More below the cut !

I start out traditionally ! I sketched this piece with a colored pencil and went over it with a very thin fine point sharpie (I don't have microns </3) When I'm done I take the picture on my iPad, depending on the room lighting or time of day results vary, but it doesn't really matter how bad the lighting is as long as the lines look crisp.

Then I crank the hell out of the exposure and play around with the photo settings, lighting things up until it looks like this

I don't have exact specific settings for this since it varies depending on how bad the lighting I started with was so I just play around until it looks relatively good. I'm going for bright background with no shadows and crisp lines. Then I pop it into procreate !

First order of business after importing, new layer, color pick the background, fill the layer with the background color, then put the blend mode on divide ! This will get rid of the yellow lighting.

I use Procreate's halftone feature to apply it to my lineart before I color, it just gives it a fun effect.

For coloring, I go on a new layer and put that blend mode on multiply, this lets me color within the lineart, I block out my shapes (usually characters) in one solid color and then as I continue to color I just add layers and clip them together.

Here's a speedpaint for this piece, audio warning for music and flashing warning, especially at the end when I play around with blend modes + gradient maps

The brush I use for drawing over my lineart is Procreate's default gel pen, I slightly adjusted it so that it has a rougher look that blends in with the traditional lineart (the only thing I changed is the jitter amount)

Other brushes I used include; Abbie Nurse's Pan-Dem-Ink's Brushset (Skadouche and Blotto) for my onomatopoeias + blood, paper textures are from one of thedawner's procreate brush packs (I believe volume 3 or it might have been the mixed texture pack, the brushes are just called paper tex 4 and paper tex 5), 1 also use true grit supply's procreate texture bundle a ton for the ink splatter look next to some of the lines as well as the blood (drrty detail 4 + grunge shader - detailed)

For paper textures, I kinda layer them on and play with the opacity to give the piece an almost withered or worn out effect

When I'm done with the piece I slap more halftone on it and play around with the opacity until I'm happy

That's essentially it ! My process is mostly lost of experimenting and playing around until you find that sweet balance

[sillyzlaurr]

SOMEONE ASKED ME FOR COLOURING TIPS AND I DELETED MY ANSWER DRAFT BY ACCIDENT IM SORYYYY

But i still wanna try to give some tips that i use (i hope you'll see this post, anon!!!!). Im not really good at explaining things and im not a professional artist but ill try ma best💥

Before I start a new painting, I make a few sketches of exactly what I want to draw. This helps me to find the right composition and color scheme

The environment an object or character is in has a great effect on its color. In the first pic, Spammy looks ok, but if we warm up the colors a bit, it looks like he's really standing in that room. You can also experiment with layer modes to achieve the color u need. Sometimes I crop the main background color over the character and poke layer modes until Im like "this shit looks good, lets go". But ofс you'd better find the colors yourself, it's useful for learning color theory

I also swept the main background color into the reflexes and shadows on the object. Like on this pipis

Buuut you can also use bright contrasting colors. This gives a funky, stylized look to the artwork

And about white color in my arts. I think that there is no pure white color in nature . White color and close to it will always have its unique shade depending on the lighting. So, I prefer to mute the white color in my works.

You can also try filling the area with some color and over paint it with light color, mixing colors together. This is a new technique for me, I usually put colors on the bare sketch, but I like it<)

And also coloring on the sketch layer. I'm not trying to lighten it or anything. It gives a kind of dirty look to the work and a kind of unfinished feeling. I don't like to lick my drawings to a shine. Plus bc of the brush I use, it gives me extra shadows. I prefer to use the standard marker brushes and some brushes I found on clip studio paint assets. These are mostly brushes that mix colors so i use them to add different strokes to my work

I guess that's all, hope it would help someone!!

Remember, you can do whatever you want to your art, the main thing is that it makes you hapi💋

[meanbossart]

Do you have any advice for people looking to learn how to do color like you? I've been drawing for nearly 13 years but I've never been good with color and feel like my pieces always look rather over blended or that I can't pick good color pallettes.

Just to preface: coloring was fairly new to me just up until recently. I've always done color here and there but it was never my favorite (I very much felt like I had the same problem you're describing) and for a long time my style was largely based around grayscale because of it. When I started doing BG3 art it kind of felt like a necessity to learn, though, since its such a colorful game. So, take my advice with a grain of salt!

My biggest struggle with color was that the style I wanted to do never seemed to match my lineart. I eventually realized that was because my style itself wasn't done with color in mind at all - like I mentioned above, I mostly did grayscale and let the linework carry the art entirely. This also skewed the way I distributed my efforts; I would get really exact and over-detail things with the lineart like I was used to doing, and then felt like I also had to overdo the coloring as well, because the slightly "rougher" rendering I was striving for didn't seem to match the style.

The solution I arrived at was changing the way I approach lineart entirely, purposefully making it sketchier and less "exact", not letting myself be boggled down with details. In this way, I feel like I have far more freedom in how I apply colors and approach the rendering. It has also been extremely beneficial to learn how to push simplification (both in regards to lines AND color) as far as I can before the art stops looking good to me, and that has allowed me to backtrack into more detail again while feeling far more in control of their application. The more you breach out and experiment, the more ways you will have to approach your work when you feel as if you've hit a wall.

Obviously, I don't know if any of this applies to you 😅 but it's info that's been super valuable for me to realize.

Something else that might help is hunting down for tools that don't let you be precise - staying away from sharp liners and brushes and picking stuff that looks more graphical.

Also, not letting yourself zoom into your work too much so you're forced to achieve the shapes you're trying to achieve with rougher strokes and lines, and hence avoiding overworking small details that will ultimately get lost in the final picture anyway.

And assuming you have a good grasp on the basics - put a cap on your rendering time. Try drawing as fast as possible so you're forced to look for alternative solutions for making stuff look good without spending days on it. (I do NOT suggest doing this regularly if you're just starting off learning things like anatomy and perspective though; take your time!)

As for color palettes - I feel like I have a horrible eye for color LOL so I can't offer much wisdom there. I will often be adjusting hues and depth well into the finalization of the piece and ultimately just throw my hands up and say GOOD ENOUGH before sending it off. Taking breaks from looking at the screen so you can take it in with slightly fresher eyes tends to help me, though.

[xwayka]

Hi all!

Sorry for posting so rarely, I mostly post here only what I find more interesting.

This art can be considered a small experiment, I tested here a new program, texture brushes and work with color. At first the picture looked very empty, and then I decided to make small strokes with a texture brush, this helped the drawing to look more interesting, leaving it without monotonous and boring colors.

P.S. Sorry for any translation errors if there are any ><

[art]

Creator Spotlight: @66sharkteeth

66 is a comic artist and the creator of City of Blank, a WEBTOON original series. They worked in the game industry at companies such as 2K Games before entering the field of comics. They began their career in comics at Tapas, where they worked as an editor and lead typesetter, before being signed to create their own original series on WEBTOON.

Check out our interview with 66 below!

Have you ever had an art block? If so, how did you overcome it?

The short answer is yeah, I’ve definitely had one. Overall, I feel like doing a lot of style studies during that time and trying to use new brushes helps a lot. In addition, because I’m a comic artist, I feel like writer’s block is in the same field, and with that, I’m really fortunate that I have an editor that I can work with, who helps me a lot there. Whenever I am stuck at a plot point in my comic, I can always go to my editor, who helps me hammer things out.

What medium have you always been intrigued by but would never use yourself?

Animation. Of course, everyone loves animation. I went to school for game art and design and even did some animation courses, and I am just not cut out for it. I don’t enjoy the process, and I am not good at it. Animation is beautiful, and I admire people who can do it. I’d love for my work to be animated some day, I’m just not capable of being the one to do it haha.

Warm tones or cool tones?

It really depends on the scene! Especially in my comic, I really go with both of them, just depending on the moment in the comic. There was a major character death, and that scene was almost black and white. But normally, the comic is very vibrant, and people really like it, so when I switch it to a more cold tone, it makes the scene that much more impactful.

What is a recent creative project that you are proud of?

Honestly, my current comic, City of Blank, takes up 100% of my time. But recently, I did a plushie campaign where I worked with Makeship through Webtoon to design the plushies and do a little bit of marketing for them. So that’s fun and different from what I normally do!

When planning a comic or a story, what do you do first, character design or character outline?

Normally, I have a design, and I fall in love with the character design, and then I find a role for them. That’s how a lot of my characters have started. Also, that’s how I’ve been tackling new projects that I want to work on after City of Blank. I just came up with a character, and I’m trying to make a story around them.

What is a convention experience that has stuck with you?

Meeting readers and realizing how much my work means to some of them. Some of them have started their own comics, having been inspired by mine. Learning that I’m part of the reason they started their own comic journey, the same way I looked to other inspiring comic artists to start mine—it means the world that I’m in that position now.

Top tips on setting up an Artist Alley booth?

Let’s see…bright, sparkly colors! I think just trying to make sure that the booth is eye-catching. I ended up making a big shiny banner for New York Comic Con, and I know many people stopped by because it caught their eye and they’re curious about what it is. I know a lot of people are selling merchandise of popular media. Even just a banner of your brand to get them curious about who you are and maybe interested in seeing what you make and taking a business card so they can look you up later. It’s better than someone just buying a pin and forgetting you exist. Lastly, put out a tip jar. You never know just how generous your fans are feeling.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

I’m mostly involved in the webtoon sphere! I am definitely inspired by my fellow Webtoon creators, @lark-wren, who created the series Woven. I love their work and seeing them interact with their readers on Tumblr. Same with fellow Webtoon creators, @miranda-mundt-art and @astrobleme-enterprises, who created Lovebot.

Thank you so much for stopping by and sharing, 66! Be sure to check out their Tumblr blog over at @66sharkteeth and follow their webcomic, City of Blank, over at WEBTOON.

[climbthemountain2020]

What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?

Ch.1/5 | Ao3

Elucien Holiday Fic for the @acotargiftexchange

Completed Word Count: 33K Chapter Word Count: 7k

For @itsybitsybluesy I hope this hits all your boxes! The story is finished, and will be fully posted this week <3

Two Days Before

Lucien POV

Lucien looked into the mirror, the lamp casting a low light and making the shadows jump around his face and glow like a halo around his copper hair. He brushed it back over one shoulder, fussing with it then scoffing at himself as he realized how nit-picky he was being. 

He checked his pocket watch, jittery as the moments ticked down. 

It was nearly time to leave and walk to the River House for Solstice and Feyre’s birthday. Just as he had done every year for the last five, he’d winnowed into Velaris earlier in the day. The wards had been marked to his signature and blood, clearing easily for him as Emissary to Night. As soon as he’d arrived, he’d grabbed a bite at Mirania’s Cafe, his personal favorite, and gone to his apartment to bathe and dress and have a cup of spiced tea that he’d definitely not poured whiskey into. 

He straightened, tugging down his vest and checking the sleeves of his forest green tailored jacket. He had hand selected this outfit, the colors of Autumn always highlighting his features best, as much as he despised his court of origin. The burnished orange paired with the green always made him feel a bit like a pumpkin, but from experience, he was well aware that they paired well with the rest of his appearance. He brushed his shoulders a final time, checking the mirror once more and nodding as if to support himself. 

This was ridiculous.

Of course, Lucien always took great care in his appearance. He had pride in the way he presented himself: clever, courteous, and well-dressed. He had, after all, been raised in high society, for all it had been worth in the end. Additionally, the company he tended to keep in Velaris was mostly well-dressed, too. He couldn’t afford to look lacking around them. 

Lucien locked his front door behind him, balancing the box of gifts in one arm while simultaneously tucking the keyring into his inner jacket pocket and making his way down the carved stone steps and onto the cobblestone street. The winter sun had just begun to set over the towering, snowy mountains of Velaris, and the streets were lit with twinkling lights that bounced off all the shining boughs of holly to celebrate the upcoming holiday. Despite splitting his time the past few years between here and his primary residence in the Human Lands, Lucien loved Velaris more than he’d ever care to admit. The city always smelled like a mass variety of delicious foods and drinks and spices, and laughter and joy always seemed to filter through the streets to echo warmly around his ears. Autumn had never had anywhere like this, nor had Spring or the Human Lands. Velaris was truly unlike anything he’d ever known. 

Some visits, he’d stay a little extra time, spending days upon days just walking around the city. If Rhysand or Feyre were aware, which he was certain they were, they never mentioned it to him. He’d explored just about every space in the city now, and even some of the mountain trails, lakes, streams, and forests nearby. Lucien loved being here. 

There was only one thing that could make it better. 

Lucien shuffled the box of gifts in his arms, the unwieldy weight making it difficult to hold in just one arm. His gift for Elain this year was a bit more personal than in the past, but he hoped it would also be something practical. He’d noticed she’d been more interested in germinating the wide variety of flowers that surrounded the River House in the past year, each new flower cropping up more lovely and colorful than the last batch as she tended them with great care and precision. He’d found a lovely leather craftsman in The Rainbow, and while he’d waited on the new leathers he’d commissioned, he’d browsed the store. In one corner, perfectly tucked into a shelf, had been a book on display– a leatherbound journal with the shape of a vine pressed into the cover. He’d thought that perhaps, as she crossed and bred more flowers, she might like to keep track. So, as he purchased his leathers, he’d asked him to press the name Elain into the cover of the book too. 

Things had been lighter between them the past year, though he wouldn’t go so far as to call them friends. Once things had very obviously come to an end between her and the Shadowsinger when he’d found his mate, Lucien had given Elain his time and patience, and in time, they’d worked their way into something tentative just this side of friendship.

It had begun when he’d come upon the River House to meet with Rhys a few months before the previous Solstice. She’d been in the garden lining the front walkways as he’d approached. He wasn’t in the habit of stopping to speak to her then, but when he’d seen the gloves on her hands, he’d stopped short, his feet rooted to the ground. Elain was barely bundled up against the chill of the air, her shoulders almost entirely exposed as the wind tossed her hair over her freckled back. She’d been humming, digging through the brambles surrounding flowers of bright purple and yellow. He was in awe of her effortless beauty, as he always was when he saw her, his body and mind unable to communicate whenever she was around. 

As though she sensed his presence, she turned, meeting his eyes with a little gasp. He loved her eyes, a soft brown as downy as a fawn’s coat, beautiful against her porcelain, freckled skin and bright cheeks. 

So, there they stood, two strangers, bonded irrevocably for life, who had barely exchanged four sentences save pleasantries in the years past. She stuck her hand out lamely, gesturing at the flowers, the pretty leather of the glove stained with earth and catching his eye again. 

She cleared her through. “The crocuses love the cold, but, uhm, the brambles tend to start moving in if I don’t stay on top of them.”

It had been such a simple statement, the most bland of information, but Lucien was riveted. A bright blush crept up Elain’s neck and face. 

“The gloves help when it’s cold. I meant to tell you. I never wear gloves to garden. It’s not that I don’t– that I don’t like them. I do, they’re beautifully made. I just like the dirt under my nails. But in the winter, they’re very effective with the brambles.”

Lucien could feel the smile spreading unbidden across his face. It was perhaps the most words he’d ever heard her speak at once, and the fluster in them had him feeling some strange type of giddy.  

He fought and lost the urge to tease her a bit, to see that blush creep higher to the tips of her beautifully pointed ears that she finally left on display regularly. He ached to trace them with his lips, nip them with his teeth, as he did so frequently in his dreams. 

Don’t scare her off Lucien. This is a fragile moment, don’t be a cad.

He lost the war with himself, the urge to see that gorgeous flush again overwhelming all sense left in his centuries-old body.

“Your flowers are beautiful, my lady. I’m sure that they are pleased whenever you find time to be on top of them.” 

Elain let out the most ungraceful sound that Lucien had perhaps ever heard from her, a laugh her body had resisted. The blush rose just as he’d hoped, beautiful and soft and pink as it raced to the tips of her ears. He gave a sweeping bow and a smile, continuing on into the house and sending the smallest rush of warmth back at her to soothe her skin against the frigid air. He refused to look back, his decision made. For the blush alone, it had been worth it. 

That had been over a year ago now.

It would have been foolish for Lucien to assume that things would change between them after that, and they hadn’t, not really.

But…

At first, he thought he was imagining it.

At his next visit, Elain had averted her eyes as usual at his presence, but his breath had caught in his throat to see her at dinner wearing the pearl drop earrings he’d gifted her years before. He’d never once seen her wear them. They caught the light beautifully, and she had tucked her hair back, showing them off for anyone willing to look. 

It felt intentional; it felt like a claiming. 

He had forced himself under control, begged his mind not to read into it, to get his hopes up. 

Then that night, with Mor in town and Nesta and Cassian down from Illyria, the seating arrangements had been shifted for dinner, leaving the only open seat for him at the end corner of the table next to Elain. His eyes crept back again and again to the earrings and the way they swayed gently back and forth as she spoke. All night he fought the urge to inhale too deeply, to speak past pleasantries and risk scaring her away. 

But his body fought him every second.

Smell her, touch her, taste her, it said. 

And it was impossible to avoid, the smell of her, honey and cinnamon and glazed pears nearly making his eyes water and his cock half hard under the cover of the table. He’d glamoured himself immediately, unwilling to risk making anything awkward, especially with a loudmouth like Cassian around and always ready to tease him like a bawdy older sibling. He liked Cassian, but there were no secrets safe with the giant bat.

As dinner that night had come to a close, he breathed a sigh of relief to think he’d made it through. Elain would escape to the kitchen as she always did, and everyone else would drink in one of the many sitting rooms of the River House, and he would be safe. 

Gods , but he wished she’d come, too– plop down in his lap, let him press his nose to the juncture of her neck and shoulder and inhale until he was dizzy with the scent of her.

“Did you get enough to eat, Lucien?” Feyre poked fun at his clean plate as she stood with Rhys to move to the sitting room as Nuala and Cerridwen cleared the table. 

He laughed. “The food here is always impeccable. I’ve long gotten over the stigma of being the first to clean a plate.” 

Everyone chuckled, and Lucien began to push his chair back to move with them. Before he could remove himself from the table, Elain spoke as she began to clear the remaining dishware. It was so quiet he hardly heard it, but she bent closer to him under the guise of picking up an errant fork, her breath nearly in his ear. 

“I’ve always seen some merit in finishing first, personally.” 

Everyone had already left the room, and no one but Elain was there to witness Lucien’s sharp inhale. Nor the way his cock immediately stiffened along with his spine.

With a swirl of honeyed pears and demure smiles, Elain had pulled back and was already gone, not sparing him a single second look.

Had he imagined it?

He spent weeks plaguing himself with that very question. But the next time he’d visited it had happened again. This time, the middle man had been a cream-filled pastry from a local bakery on one of Lucien’s morning visits. He’d shown up early that day per Rhys’s request in order to overlap with Nesta and Cassian’s schedules, so they’d opted to do a casual meeting over breakfast. Elain was helping Feyre with Nyx on one of the small couches lining the massive dining room, and Feyre reached back for him just in time for Lucien to sit down. Naturally, Elain would be eating breakfast with them; it was her home. But Lucien hadn’t been prepared for her to lift the small tea plate with the full pasty on it, meeting his eyes from across the room when no one else could see, and taking a bite so large from it that the cream exploded across the plate in a surge so disarmingly sensual Lucien nearly choked to death on his tea. 

So, for the past year, not only had she made a point to wear those blessed earrings every time he’d stopped in, but she’d made a habit of torturing him. 

Between innuendo, teasing visuals, and side comments that no one but him ever seemed to hear, Lucien was convinced he’d lost his entire mind.

That Solstice, he’d brought her a cookbook from the vendor’s quarter in Velaris. It had specialties compiled from every court, running the gamut from appetizers to great feasts to desserts, all nicely bound. For the first time, she’d looked him in the eyes as she’d opened it, thanking him and stroking a finger back and forth over the cover while Lucien tried his hardest not to explode into a million fragments.

He’d come back a week later to update Rhys on a matter on the border of Spring, and waiting for him in the study was a plate of cherry clove tarts, his favorite childhood dessert from Autumn

He’d felt twisted up at the emotion at seeing them for the first time in decades, the smell of them causing the sharp sting of unshed tears to burn his eyes. His mother used to love making these, sneaking them beneath the edge of the counter to him as he skittered off to devour them in an alcove, yet unaware of the sort of life that lay ahead for him. He controlled himself as he waited for Rhys to finish a meeting, and when the door finally burst open, he was surprised to see Elain carrying a tray with tea and cups

She startled. “Oh! I didn’t think you’d be here yet.”

“You made these?”

She blushed again, that lovely spread creeping up her neck at the implication before he even realized what he’d asked. “No, Nuala did. They were in the book you gave me. I thought you might like them.” She poured two cups of tea and handed one to him. A chai. “I figured it might be nice to have something from Autumn when I heard you’d be coming.”

“That is…very kind, Elain.” Lucien was having trouble finding the words, so he sipped the tea instead.

“Well, have you tried one?” She gestured to the tray. The tarts were covered in a dusted layer of powdered sugar, Elain carefully selecting one and placing it on a small tea plate for herself. Lucien leaned forward to help himself– no part of him strong enough to resist cherry clove tarts. He sat back, carefully shaking any loose sugar, then stopped in his tracks as he watched Elain lean in to take a big bite, her pink tongue slipping out of her mouth and over her perfect lips to catch the sugar and missing a bit of cherry at the corner of her mouth. 

He wanted to put his mouth on it, suck it off her skin then keep going.

Lucien nearly fell apart as he watched her swallow, her throat bobbing as she consumed the pastry. Something primal and uncontrolled within him was begging and roaring and tearing to toss her on the couch, lift her skirts, and fuck her stupid. 

Something about the mischief glowing wild in her eyes told him what she was imagining wasn’t far off. 

She raised a finger to the edge of her mouth, pressing the errant piece of filling onto her finger, then sticking the same finger into her mouth, sucking it elegantly. Her eyes, the soft brown of a fawn’s coat, didn’t leave his for a moment.

Lucien was only saved by the grace of the doors opening once again and Rhys entering. 

“So good to see you, Lucien,” Elain said through a smile as she turned to go, leaving him absolutely wrecked in the process.

Now, as Lucien walked through the streets of Velaris for yet another Solstice, he felt ready to snap every time he came within a mile of her. He could hear the beating of her heart quicken when he came into the room, could see the delicious flush over her soft skin as they spoke. Something had shifted between them, despite no one else seeming to notice or care. Everyone still treated her like their little baker, their gardener, sweet Elain. Lucien was sure she was sweet in many ways; in fact, he’d like to try a taste and test that theory himself.

But he held himself back. Elain had distanced herself from him for so long, for so many reasons, and he would let her decide when, if ever, she was ready. And when she did, he would be waiting. Until then, though, he remained a pile of dry brush, waiting for the single scratch of a match that would burn it all to embers.

He passed the garden beds in the dark, the sun now sunken below the mountains surrounding them and the lights lining the path illuminating his way. He could practically see the ghosts of him and Elain speaking there, could almost smell her on the wind, hear her laughter dance around his ears. He shook his head and pressed on, shifting the box to one hip as he knocked on the door. 

“Lucien!” A very pregnant Feyre flung open the door, hugging him and nearly bowling him over with her belly. “Sorry. Stomach first.” She waved him in, undeterred. “We’re still waiting on a few. Come on and have a drink. I can take those!” She grabbed the box of gifts, carting them off to the study as Lucien shucked off his coat to hang it in the foyer. He could hear the merriment rooms away, people laughing and cracking jokes, ice clinking in glasses. Between Feyre’s found family and Vassa and Jurian, Lucien had more community now than he’d maybe ever had in his life. Five years ago, he wouldn’t have believed it. He surely wouldn’t have believed he’d be sharing a Solstice with Rhysand and his brothers, but here they were. 

He couldn’t sense Elain anywhere in the house, the steady thrumming of her heart mysteriously absent as he pressed down the hall and joined the others. Rhys poured him a drink and clapped him heartily on the back as he took a seat and chatted. All the while, his mind was elsewhere, eternally searching for her in every space he entered. 

“...strange, though. Nothing major, but definitely a pattern.” 

“How many does that make now?”

“I think that was maybe the seventh in as many months, maybe even less.”

Lucien’s interest was piqued, of course, now that he’d been caught out not listening. “What’s that?”

“Velaris has seen a series of vandalisms lately–”

“And Rhysand is being over involved, despite us doing quite literally the same things here as younglings.” 

Lucien grinned again– Cassian wasn’t shy about getting some drink in him and sharing innumerable stories about their youth. Even Lucien had to laugh when he wasn’t rolling his eyes. 

“What sort of vandalism are we talking about?” If they weren’t seriously on alert, he imagined it couldn't be anything too grave. 

Cassian piped up as soon as Rhysand opened his mouth to speak, earning another irritated look. “ Nothing. It’s the work of a bored teenager, I’m sure.”

“Tampered wards, things moved around. More recently there have been a few small, contained fires and explosives,” Rhysand offered.

“Explosives?” Lucien lifted his brows.

“They’re firecrackers, Rhys. Get your head out of your a–”

“Alright, here we go!” The voice of Nesta filtered through the room as she raced in, her nephew on her shoulders flapping his wings valiantly. Now that he was nearing four and his wings were strong enough to start supporting him, the group had been allowing him to practice flying. Every time Lucien visited, they were trying another method to strengthen them enough to carry his full weight. Lucien enjoyed watching Nyx; it tickled him to see such seasoned warriors care so tenderly for such a small person. Something he never dared to address within himself ached at the thought of a family all his own. And, as always, he shoved the thoughts away violently. There was no use imagining something that might never exist. Lucien knew from experience the pain that getting your hopes up could render. 

“You’re too overprotective now that you’re a father, Rhysie. What are you going to do when Nyx is tearing up the town? Call in the Darkbringers ?” Laughs came from around the room as Feyre settled next to Rhys, giving him a kiss. Nesta returned with Nyx to Cassian’s side, a protective hand coming around her shoulders. Lucien, not for the first time, reveled in this feeling of family around him. Years ago, he’d felt very much the outsider at these gatherings, always uncomfortable and not quite the right fit. But something had shifted long before Elain had started speaking to him more. Perhaps it had been the sacrifices he’d been willing to make in the battle with Koschei , or maybe just the recurrence of his presence had finally become commonplace enough to be accepted. Regardless, this was another home to him now– these were the people he’d chosen to surround himself with. He was glad to spend his Solstices here, and happier still to have another holiday in the Human Lands for Christmas. 

The front door slammed open, boisterous voices in the hall pouring in. Lucien knew that it was not Elain. No one seemed worried, and he tried not to be either. Elain had been fae for years now. She was smart and knew Velaris well. She was likely just out grabbing last minute supplies for dinner or dessert, knowing her.  

Emerie and Mor rounded the corner, arms around each other and flushed from the cold. Mor had taken the longest to warm up to him, for the obvious reasons, but he found he liked her quick wit and admired the fierceness with which she protected her friends. They’d eventually bonded drunk one night while he agreed to tell her embarrassing stories about Eris growing up. 

“Lu Lu! You’re here!” With acceptance had come nicknames.

Emerie slung Mor down onto the couch. “We started a bit early at Rita’s,” she pretended to whisper, Mor shoving at her butt with her foot. 

Behind them were the Shadowsinger and Gwyn, much quieter in their entrance, but wrapped around each other nonetheless. They weren’t particularly talkative, as far as members of the inner circle went. But there was no denying how in love they were. Lucien’s heart ached a bit, longed when he saw the way their eyes always met, their covert touches nearly missable by anyone not searching for them. Would Elain be quiet in that way? Reserved? Or would she love out loud like Mor and Feyre? More thoughts that he regularly forced from his own head. 

“Is that everyone?” Cassian asked Rhys, changing topics. 

“Everyone who’s coming. Amren somehow lost a bet and is spending Solstice in Summer.” 

Mor snickered. “God, she’s done for. Or maybe Varian is. Who knows with the two of them.”

Around him, everyone continued talking, but Lucien was no longer paying attention, the pounding in his ears suddenly overwhelming. It was the steady thwump , thwump , thwump of a familiar heartbeat, one he knew just as intimately as his own. 

He couldn’t see her, but Lucien knew Elain had arrived. Her heart was pounding in time with his, a steady beat with an echo that always calmed something in him at the same time as it drove him mad. His body immediately went on alert, skin flushed and blood rushing below his waist. This back and forth dance with her was like the longest, most intense edging he’d ever experienced in his life. Every time he visited, he found himself glamouring his scent for the entire duration of his stay. 

It was only moments between when he’d felt her arrive and when she bustled out of the kitchen, face flushed and eyes a bit wild. Lucien had a moment where jealousy roared inside him like an ugly beast. Had she been out with another suitor? But her scent hit him from across the room with the intensity of a brick wall, and there was no one there except her, lovely and light and intoxicating.

“So sorry! Had to finish the icing.”

Liar, he thought, but he let the amusement remain in his eyes alone. Beautiful little liar.

But Lucien kept her secret, despite his own curiosity. And when he sat down next to her at dinner, he scented her again, just to be sure. 

Sometime in that past year, his seat had regularly become the one next to hers. No matter the other company present, he would find her as he looked for his own seat, the open one on her left belonging to him. They had never addressed it, nor had anyone else, but it continued nonetheless. 

Another thing Lucien had learned was that the members of the Inner Circle never missed a chance to celebrate, and every chance they had to celebrate, they cooked enough food to feed a family of twenty for roughly two weeks. He couldn’t complain– every single thing he’d ever eaten there had been nothing short of mouth watering, and he always finished everything with great gusto, often reaching for seconds, and greatly savoring the leftovers they inevitably sent him home with. Tonight’s feast was no different, plate upon plate of roasted meats, vegetables soaked in butter, the creamiest mashed potatoes that Lucien had personally ever seen, as well as side dishes that he’d never even heard of before lined the table. 

He listened as everyone spoke around him, the way they normally did. He enjoyed being a listener, most of the time, interjecting occasionally but mostly just enjoying the friendly back and forth. Elain, as usual, was quiet by his side. He caught her frequently in his periphery, practically dragging his eyes away from her by force each time. 

Until one time, he found her looking back. The conversations continued, loud and brash, around them, but her eyes stayed hooked on his. Then, without saying a word, Elain lifted a forkful of food to her mouth. Lucien tracked the movement like a predator watching its prey, each millisecond it traveled through the air sending thousands more sparks down his spine until, finally, the fork met her lips. Her pink, perfectly bowed lips– which took their precious time closing around the fork, pursing slowly, intentionally, as she closed her eyes, savoring the food. 

Lucien had the sense to check his glamour before his heart gave out right there at the Solstice table. 

When she opened her eyes again, batting her lashes and returning her fork to her plate, a smirk teased her lips. 

Cauldron boil and fry me. 

Lucien’s breathing had sped up, and he fought desperately to get it controlled before someone else noticed he sounded like a panting animal. He forced his eyes back to his own plate with willpower that he must have plucked from the very depths of his soul. 

He was confronting this tonight. Somehow, some way, he was getting Elain alone. He adjusted in his seat, his cock hard and angry in his pants, and saw Elain smile fully down into her food. 

Oh yes, there would be discussions. 

+++

Waiting through presents and dessert was a special kind of torture for Lucien, his body aching to move the night along so he could get her alone, even just for a moment. A highlight, however, had been Lucien seeing Elain open the present he’d gotten for her. She seemed a bit flustered as she opened it, eyes somewhat glassy with emotion as she’d looked at him after. 

“Thank you, Lucien.” His name on her tongue nearly drove him mad with as tightly as he was wound. But he simply nodded in response as she turned to set it tenderly aside, as though it was something precious.

Now, it was long past midnight, the night quiet and the revelry settled into something more casual and comfortable. Mor was crashed out on the couch, her head in Emerie’s lap as she stroked her hair. Gwyn and Azriel had left not long after dinner, having just arrived back from spy work on the continent before coming to the River House. Nesta and Cassian were retiring to a guest bedroom, too drunk to fly or winnow home. Elain had long since gone to the kitchens to help clean up and pack food and treats to send off, always careful to let Nuala or Cerridwen prep, package, and deliver the one for Lucien. 

But he hadn’t seen her in hours, the steady beating of her heart close, but not close enough. He could feel his chances slipping away. 

“Lucien, would you like to stay?” Feyre asked sweetly, coming up to him with a hand on her stomach, Rhys not far behind. 

He was not so drunk he couldn’t get home–he was actually quite sober– but being in the same house as Elain while he slept was a special kind of torture. On the other hand, it would give him more time tomorrow to speak with her. He’d made up his mind. 

“Sure, thanks for the offer.”

“You know where your room is.” She gave him a brief kiss on the cheek. “Happy Solstice, Lucien.”

“Happy birthday, Feyre.” Lucien had stayed often enough that he could find his way down the airy halls of the River House, the ceilings reaching high on each floor and windows lining each inch of open space to show the sun and stars. The room he typically stayed in was at the end of the hall, where most of the other bedrooms aside from Rhys, Feyre, and Nyx slept. It was reserved for him and him alone, though he didn’t stay often. They simply had more rooms than they needed. 

He liked the comfort of it. It had floor to ceiling windows overlooking the Sidra, and a bathroom of his own so he didn’t need to wander far. He shucked off his vest as he entered, draping it over the chair by the door. But Lucien stopped when his eyes caught on an item sitting in a beam of moonlight on his bed. 

There on the duvet was a small package. He stepped closer to find it was wrapped in brown paper, delicately tied with a twine bow. He could scent her on it, the wrapping carrying hints that he could mistake for no one else. He picked it up in his hands, the box nearly weightless and yet carrying the weight of the universe within it. 

Elain had gotten him a Solstice present.

He was nearly afraid to open it, afraid to ruin the magic. She’d never given him anything before. Had hardly thanked him for his presents before last year. And yet, here it was. A gift that felt so undeniably her resting in his palm. 

Lucien carefully pulled the twine, setting it on the bed. He would save it and the paper and everything else forever, he knew without a doubt. As he opened the small box inside, his heart leapt into his throat. There in the moonlight, he could see a pair of cufflinks nestled into the cotton buffeting. They were oval, remarkably shaped, the center filled with something that appeared to be resin cradling the most lovely assortment of crushed fall leaves imaginable. It looked just like the woods around the Forest House, a rare piece of home that he actually missed. 

It was, without a doubt, the most thoughtful gift that Lucien had ever received. 

Lucien’s chest twisted momentarily, the emotion overcoming him. But when it happened again, he knew it wasn’t emotion tugging in his chest. 

It was the bond. Elain was pulling on the bond. 

Like a specter in search of the afterlife, he followed the pull blindly, setting the box down on the table by the bed and moving towards the door without another thought. He felt it again, stronger this time, and he obeyed, no doubts in his mind about where she wanted him to go. 

He usually avoided any feelings through the bond, shoving that need to touch it, stroke it, caress it deep down in his chest. But the pull was unmistakable this time, and it was coming from Elain.

Occasionally– in her dreams, he’d assumed– she’d touch the bond, just enough that Lucien would feel it. At first, it had been enough to drive him insane, especially knowing she’d done it unintentionally. After a while, he’d learned to mostly ignore it, to see it for what it was: purely innocent, a naive mistake, a mistaken brush against something she didn’t fully understand. But this was not that. 

All sense was lost when he felt a third pull, a beckoning, a summons in his chest. His hand hit the knob and turned, his sights set on her room down the hall. He would get his conversation after all, it seemed. 

The second Lucien emerged into the hall, though, he was met with the burgeoning sounds of chaos– loud voices and slamming doors, lights turning on throughout the River House. It took a moment for his mind to catch up, and he saw Elain shoot into the hall too, as though she’d been waiting right on the other side of her door. Her frantic eyes met his in the darkness as she pulled her robe tightly around her body. 

She’d been waiting for him . 

He didn’t have time to process as the hall filled with everyone else, the voicing cresting together as she shook her head minutely. 

“What’s happening?” Lucien hadn’t had the time to change out of his clothes, trousers and cream colored undershirt rumpled but at least still on. Cassian was half naked as he bustled into the hall behind a grumbling Nesta. 

“There was an explosion.” Rhys was all business, entirely on alert as he held a sleeping Nyx in his arms. 

“Where?” Nesta’s sharp voice cut through the hallway, the drowse of sleep no longer roughing her voice. 

“The bank of the Sidra near The Rainbow. Someone hid a cache of fireworks charmed to go off.”

“Any injuries?”

“None, and no damage reported. It was far enough from the buildings.”

“Just enough to wake everyone up,” Cassian grumbled through a yawn, an oof leaving his chest as Nesta elbowed him. 

“So why are we all up?” Mor was not a morning person at her best, and her day of drinking certainly hadn’t left her at her best as she slumped against Emerie. 

“I want to check it out. It might be a trap, a distraction to draw our attention away.” 

“ Or , and hear me out, Rhys, it could literally just be fireworks on Solstice– Nesta , stop!” 

“We can check it out, Rhys. It’s fine,” Emerie reassured. Rhys handed a sleeping Nyx off to Feyre to take to Nuala and Cerridwen, then began assigning roles as Lucien waited to be told where to go. Feyre returned, her clothes changed and her eyes alert as she approached him. 

“Lucien, take Elain to the Human Lands for now?”

“Oh, Feyre, I hardly think that's–” Feyre put up a hand to silence her sister, and something flared inside Lucien before he could stop it. He hated the way they treated her, as though she were a child just like Nyx, someone to be moved and maneuvered and dealt with rather than as a functioning adult amongst them. 

“It’s safer there, Elain. Please, go with Lucien.” Feyre’s eyes were pleading as she turned to her sister, and though her brows were furrowed in clear annoyance, Lucien saw the moment it smoothed out. Her pretty brown eyes met his over Feyre’s shoulder. 

“Fine.” Lucien could see Feyre’s shoulders visibly relax, but the tension in Elain’s held fast. She turned on her heel and went back into her room, closing the door behind her just slightly harder than necessary. She had changed much in the past five years– her mannerisms, her fashion, and clearly the way she spoke to Lucien. But the one thing that hadn’t changed was her reactions to her sisters. She always seemed to defer to their wishes, their judgment, their expectations. 

Lucien hated it. 

“Thank you. I just want to know she’s safe while we look into this.” Lucien looked down at her. 

“Feyre, you know your sister is older than you and also a fae, correct?” He injected some teasing into the words, but he hoped they struck a chord. 

“Of course I do. But you know how Elain is.” 

The words filled him with ire. Smart? Talented? Capable beyond measure? How would anyone ever know when they made practice of shoving her into carefully curated corners. It wasn’t an argument he’d win tonight. 

“Of course I will take care of her, Feyre.” She nodded, looking relieved, and moved to walk back over to the group. “But she deserves more credit than I think you give her.” Feyre stopped for a moment, back still turned to Lucien, before she continued on down the hall. He sighed and turned back to the door, finding it opening slowly as he did, Elain coming through now dressed with a small bag over her shoulder. Lucien took the bag immediately, and then found himself extending his hand towards her without thinking. She barely hesitated before taking it in her own, her skin so soft against his calloused fingers that it nearly took his breath away. He winnowed them straight out before he could do anything he’d regret, their feet hitting snowy ground. 

The house towered in front of them, far more room than any one of them would ever need. Despite the late hour, smoke rose in the moonlight from a number of chimneys, a soft glow emanating from within. It was much colder here than in Velaris, and though he flexed through the way his magic always felt bound when he first crossed over, he still sent a little burst of warmth Elain’s way as he gently pulled her towards the house. 

Jurian and Vassa were likely long asleep, but Lucien pulled out his own key to open the front door, locking it again behind them as he offered to take her coat. She shrugged it off as she looked around the bright foyer, starry eyed, and Lucien tried not to focus every bit of his existence onto the outline of her chest. 

“You live here?” Gods, her voice was so sweet. He almost forgot she’d asked him a question, fumbling to find his voice to respond.

“When I’m not in Velaris, yes.” 

“It’s lovely.” The manor was atypical, one they’d built after the fall of Koschei to house Vassa away from the castle that held such poor memories for her. She’d wanted to live with Jurian, maintain a life separate from her past while continuing to rule. Lucien had helped them construct it, sturdy walls of wood and stone, sort of a mimicking of the Forest House but with brighter colors per Vassa’s request. The tapestries were all wildly well lit, the colors from within and the lamps in the hall making sure every inch of the home felt cozy and bright. They’d included unique furniture from the continent, Prythian, and the Human Lands, making a hodgepodge of colors that, rather than making it tacky, made the house seem lived in. Nearly every space had its own fireplace, and though they didn’t often entertain, they kept rooms ready and available in case. Lucien loved it here, and judging by Elain’s eyes, she had never seen anything like it. He hoped, for whatever it was worth, that it was someplace she’d like, too. 

“It’s home.” He smiled as he said the words, his chest lighting up as she turned to him and smiled back. Despite how the evening had turned, she was here, with him, away from her meddling family and the pressures of Velaris. Perhaps this turn of events hadn’t been so negative after all. 

“Come, let me show you your room.” Without thinking, he pressed a hand to her lower back, leading her up the mahogany staircase into the upper halls. When they reached the second story, she spun again to take it all in, the warm air rising here to make the loft even cozier as they made their way into the hall of bedrooms. Blessedly, he noted, Jurian and Vassa were silent tonight. Despite being on entirely the opposite side of the house, Lucien had taken to wearing weighted ear plugs some nights to drown out the sounds so he could sleep. It wasn’t the welcome he’d wanted for her, certainly. 

Somewhat selfishly, he showed Elain to the guest room right next to his own room. He reasoned that it was for the window view of the distant mountains and not the proximity to his own quarters. He opened the door, motioned her in, and set her bag down near the dresser, sending a flame into the lantern on the nightstand, and then another into the fireplace. He tried not to preen at Elain’s impressed little gasp as she spun near the bed. 

“Our home is your home. Feel free to help yourself to anything here. There’s a bathroom right across the hall from you, and I’m right next door.” He pointed lamely to the left, as though she might see through the wall to his room, to his bed, through him straight into his soul, even. 

She took a step back towards him, then another, and he felt his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth. He longed to finish the evening they’d started, but he tamped the urges down as he always did. She’d had a rough night, was somewhere unfamiliar, and any promises or intent made before didn’t necessarily still apply. 

Still, she stepped closer. 

“I, uhm, I apologize for the night. I’m sure this isn’t how you wanted to spend your Solstice.” 

“It’s not how I was imagining, certainly.” Her voice was soft, and she took a final, tentative step forward. They were close enough to touch if they reached out their arms, close enough that Lucien could feel the tension crackling the air between them. He wanted to kiss her. It would be so easy to just take a single step and close that gap. So easy to wind his fingers through her hair and pull her mouth to his.

Kiss, touch, taste, claim–

Lucien was a gentleman, and as he had for the past five years, he renewed his oath to let Elain come to him when she was ready. All the way to him. 

“Goodnight, Elain.” Lucien tried not to feel gutted or hopeful at the disappointment that crossed her face as he stepped back into the low light of the hallway. 

“Goodnight, Lucien.” His name on her tongue was nearly enough to send him sprinting back through the doorway. Instead, he stepped to the side, taking the two steps to his own door where he would lay awake in his bed, knowing she was mere feet away from him, and thinking about the way it had felt when she’d tugged down the bond between them.

[storydays]

Brozone Random Headcannons

So I've seen the Trolls Band Together 3 times and counting and it was so good! So to get back in the groove, and after having some kind words come my way from multiple people, I really appreciate you guys! I'm gonna try a new writing style. Now remember, these are simply my opinions :)

SPOILERS AHEAD!

John Dory:

*Okay, so it is canon that Branch is 24 in the Trolls 3, which makes John Dory about 44.

*Nickname(s): JD, John

Fav color: Aquamarine and Green

Pronouns: He/Him (He supports, but is comfortable as himself)

He also gives me aromantic vibes, because like throughout the movie, he was really nonchalant when the romance bits came up, however subtle they are, he didn't give a damn lol.

JD is giving big Aries vibe with how confident he can be, pretty cheerful, and gets frustrated by tiny details, and unnecessary interruptions.

Bruce:

Bruce is the second oldest at 40

BIG Scorpio vibes!! He's strong (Y'all, have y'all seen how easily he lifted Branch when they first met) and hella independent. He was the first to question John Dory before their show, he was even hesitant to leave Vaycay Island before he sang with his brothers.

Nickname(s): Brucie, I feel like Brandy calls him that to mess with him or when she wants something. His brothers' (mostly John Dory and Clay), call him that to make fun of him as well.

Fav Color: White

DO NOT TOUCH THIS MAN'S HAIR!!!!! He will sic his kids on you and show no mercy.

Pronouns: He/Him (He's a huge ally, but he's also proud of himself.)

He loves experimenting and competing in the kitchen with Brandi, forces his brothers to try their food, and chooses whose food is going on the specials board.

Clay:

Clay is giving major middle-sibling vibes: at 35 years old.

Pronouns: He/They

Clay is non-binary and wears androgynous clothing but prefers their sweater romper and wristbands.

Nickname(s): Claybo (Viva calls him this to playfully annoy him), Clayton (Bruce and JD called him that as a kid, usually copying their mothers and grandma when they would scold him; but now call him that when he's overworked himself and they have to physically drag him to bed to rest.

Fav color: Green it was pretty obvious in the movie bc originally it was yellow when we first met him as a teen, but then we meet him later and it's green, and their whole outfit is green.

Def a Gemini! They're such a playful Troll, despite how serious he may act. But as he stated before, put some respect on his name bc they're a licensed CPA, fool!

Clay's favorite snack combo is:

Fries and a vanilla milkshake! He loves dipping the salty fries in the sweet vanilla.

They talk in their sleep, mostly about tax evasion and hot chocolate?

Hates doing their hair, Viva has to wait until he's sleeping for her to brush his tangles out.

Floyd:

Floyd is the second youngest at 32

He's such a Pisces! He's so empathetic, compassionate, and oh, so sensitive.

Pronouns: He/Him

He and Clay definitely go all out for Pride (Bc Trolls are literally all spectrums of the rainbow! We learned that in Trolls 2! It'd be impossible NOT to have a big party for Pride), and drag their brothers and are literally so hype at the whole event and crashes MEGA hard the next morning and sleeps for a good 12 hours.

Floyd remained friends with Veneer because, c'mon they were vibing. He could see Veneer wanted someone to see him, so he convinced the Mount Rageous police to let the twins out for Pride.

Had a long talk with Velvet and helped her to see the error of her ways, and she began to be nicer to Veneer and listen to him.

Fav color is Black. He knows he slays the Rock Troll look.

I'm gonna settle this once and for all: Floyd is gay. The one earring in his right ear is a shout-out to his voice actor who is an openly gay singer.

Nickname(s): Flo (I feel like Branch couldn't pronounce Floyd's name yet when he was just learning to talk, so he called him Flo and it stuck.) Floydie (when his brothers tease him about his crush that he refuses to name.)

The hair in his face is like a comfort thing for him. He knows his hair is soft, and when he's bored, he plays with it, and twirls it around his fingers.

Floyd definitely has a collection of journals, from his songwriting to venting his feelings, and even (poorly drawn) doodles of his family.

Branch:

He is the youngest at 24 as stated earlier.

Pronouns: He/Him

Fav color: Midnight blue like his hair

This dude is hella smart; like has a super high IQ, but is super chill about it.

He and Poppy are that meme: Tired X Energetic on a level 10!

Nickname: Branchifer (Poppy calls him that when she's calling him out on his attitude or when she's about to start teasing him.)

Def an Aquarius: highly intellectual, creative, and likes to join in on social interactions when it's on his time. Poppy learned the hard way why she shouldn't force him to join in.

Similar to Floyd, he was a bunch of notebooks filled with songs he'd written.

Branch is shy when it comes to family PDA, like if his brothers were to group hug him, or if they tried to mother him, and gets especially prickly when they baby-talk him in front of others.

This dude is the prince of sarcasm, clearly picking that trait up from all his brothers. Like bro, why are you so sarcastic?!

Is undeniably the most sarcastic of the brothers. (His nieces and nephews start to pick up on that, much to Bruce's horror. Brandi thinks it's hilarious.)

Doesn't really like kids, but absolutely adores his nephew Bruce Jr ( I mean he loves them all, but has a soft spot for that boy.) Bruce Jr is autistic and nonverbal and struggles to communicate. I believe he uses TSL (Troll Sign Language), and when Branch learns this, he starts signing fluently with his nephew, surprising everyone, especially Bruce Jr, because not many people can sign so fluently, but then Branch explains, that he learned when he was younger because you could go deaf at any moment and it's such a useful skill.

Bruce Jr shows Branch his blueprints that he's made and honestly, if they wanted to, they could take over the world.

That's all for now! Let me know what you guys think!

A big shout out to @vacayisland appreciate you! This one’s for you 🥰

[koifsssh]

So I made a whole brand haha

Okay so to preface, this was part of an assignment that was for my finals for a class, and i kind of really liked how it turned out over all, mostly because the concept itself i had made i treated it rather lightly- which ended up being a lot of fun!!!

So, this is my informal presentation of that! Mostly because i put a lot of work into it and i want to share!

SO... lemme introduce you to...

Periwig!

(long text post ahead btw)

OK, so how do i start off?

As previously mentioned this was made for class, so anything here is actually not real and a lot of images are taken from pinterest or just google in general and put together, so whatever you see in regards to photography is not mine! Everything else IS. (like buttons and designs and the like)

So, what's Periwig? As the name suggests, it's a wig making brand!

Ah yes, very silly. Or that's what i had initially thought when in the concept stage. I didn't take a very serious approach in regards to this mostly because i wanted to focus on having fun with it.

The brand itself also takes this approach, since i imagined it being led by a small team, so the brands voice and tone more so speaks like a friend! Here's an example, since i know in screenshots the scroll boxes are going to cut off text:

"Periwig started as a college assignment.

No, really — what you’re looking at right now literally began as a basic web-making project for a design class, built with more caffeine than sleep and a very chaotic amount of glitter.

It wasn’t meant to be a real brand at first. But the idea — something playful, cute, and deeply personal — wouldn’t leave [koi] alone. She kept sketching wigs, silly characters, colorful layouts. It felt like something bigger was quietly growing behind the scenes… something she couldn’t ignore.

With the help of a few amazing online friends (you know who you are 🫶), Periwig slowly started to bloom. They brainstormed late at night, shared doodles and silly color palettes, and imagined a little world where creativity, self-expression, and cutesy weirdness were celebrated. That’s when Peri was born — our little puppet girl mascot, stitched together with love and used as the main model and spirit of the brand. She’s bubbly, curious, and maybe a little unhinged (in a good way).

Periwig isn’t just about wigs (though, yes — we love wigs).

It’s about art, character, and style — the freedom to become who you want to be, whether that’s through a new hairstyle, a colorful character design, or a puppet dancing in a product video.

Our brand blends animation, design, storytelling, and fashion to bring a bit of whimsy into your everyday routine. Every wig, brush, accessory, and campaign is created with a strong love for playful expression and handmade charm — and a lot of laughter behind the scenes.

This is a place for people who like to experiment. To perform. To dress up, go bold, be subtle, be strange, be dreamy, be loud, be soft — be whoever you want.

Whether you’re here to find your next favorite wig, fall in love with Peri, or just vibe with the art — we’re so happy you’re here. 💫

Thanks for being part of our story,

with love,

The Periwig Team (and Peri, too!)"

but wait, who's Peri? I'm glad you asked!!

Originally i had no intentions for a mascot or any sort of representative figure for the brand, but after looking at the color palette and the logo i had designed, i had thought of making a character off of it! and thus, Peri was born!

Peri... periwig... peri's wigs... yes yes i laughed about it and yes i know it is very dumb. I had actually made Peri after i had already started making the website prototype, only till i got to halfway into the homepage did i realize having one might help me "take up space" and help with the overall design, while also being a "voice" for the brand.

here's the description about her, since it also is caught off in the scroll box:

"Our wig fairy guide & fashion-loving friend!

Say hello to Peri, the official face (and heart!) of Periwig!

She’s a bubbly little puppet girl with a big imagination, an even bigger closet, and an even bigger love for wigs, makeup, and playing dress-up.

Peri lives for fashion in all its forms — she’s not tied to any one style, and she loves mixing things up. One day she’s soft and pastel, the next she’s bold and dramatic. To her, fashion is about exploring who you are and having fun with it, not following rules.

She’s always collecting accessories, trying new looks, and experimenting with makeup. You’ll never catch her in the same outfit twice if she can help it!

Every time we drop a new collection or announce a collaboration, Peri gets a whole new makeover inspired by the theme — it’s her favorite part of the job.

Peri’s mission is simple:

To encourage everyone to embrace their creativity, be playful with their style, and express themselves however they want — especially through wigs! 💖

She hopes you’ll join her in making fashion feel like fun again. ✨"

she's essentially this brands version of Barbie, except well... puppet version. and the funniest thing, i hadn't thought that her hair and skin colors matched Wally until after the fact, t'was unintentional! but the color combination works, so it stayed.

As for the actual website itself... well... i did a lot to try to make it nice. Especially since Adobe XD was such... a piece... of... interesting software.... (in terms of using it for the first time, haha!)

here are some screenshots of what it looks like at the current moment when looking through the save file!

of course this is just looking at it design wise... it is a *prototype* so all the buttons and links actually do work!

that's where you get funky wires like this, since all the buttons link back to pages and such... honestly, i had believed actually linking everything to together and making it functional would be the time consuming part, but you would be SURPRISED. The actual DESIGNING of the website is the part that takes the most time, which i had... definitely underestimated it.

These pages and closeups are honestly the parts i like the most, and the ones the most finished So i thought some closeups might be appreciated!

But yes, i hope you liked my informal presentation of the brand! There's more i have, but i thought to only just show the designed parts, since the rest is just technical information like target audience, and audience habits and the like.

but yea this was the main reason as to why i was just... dead... among other things as well, but hopefully with the small break im on i'll be able to post more!

[stories-and-chaos]

Shrike pt 2

[Hazbin Hotel reader insert as Alastor’s “darling life and death partner” I did my best for an ace x ace relationship, based on personal experience. Both parties are moderately sex favorable since writing from my own experience is easiest, so I’m not sure if this counts as QPR. Written mostly in spite over all the Alastor smut. And overly innocent reader inserts. I don’t mind some smut but c’mon people.]

[Part 2/2 Word count 6520/12026]

[cw: blood, gore, violence, attempted sexual assault, fluff]

———————

You woke up. Had it been just a nightmare? You reached for Alastor next to you but your hand hit stone. Not even the sheets on your bed; stone. You bolted upright, eyes snapping open. You saw a vibrant red sky and a myriad of unfamiliar buildings. All the architecture had spikes or teeth or eyes incorporated. A sign nearby proclaimed Welcome to Hell! It’s terrible here!

Not a nightmare. You were dead, shot moments after Alastor. At least you took out the bastard that killed him. You hadn’t been a religious person but tracked you would end up here. If there was any mercy in the afterlife, you would find your husband nearby.

Of course he wouldn’t be. You were in Hell and it’s terrible here. You did see a number of…creatures around. Mostly humanoid but with additional features. Fur, feathers, tails, extra eyes, tentacles, scales, gears, wires, horns, flames. All that and more. Were these devils?

As you stood up you caught a glimpse of your own arm. Your taloned hands were red, before abruptly changing to a pale white on your upper arms. From what you could see of your shoulders they were covered in black feathers. Your legs were similar, red at the heeled feet that changed to white above the knee. You couldn’t tell what your torso looked like; you were wearing a silver dress with vermilion threads woven along the length. It looked like your favorite show outfit, just in a different color.

You steadied yourself, already missing Alastor’s presence. You felt a rustling sensation on your back; did you have something stuck there? Reaching back you found feathers. As you tried to brush them away, the odd sensation of something touching your hair made you jump.

Were those… your feathers? You walked along the street and got a look at yourself in a shop window. Sprouting from your back were wings, mostly black feathers with a white patch. Your face now had an avian look but was still recognizable as yours. It was mostly bright white with with a black mask over your eyes. Your hair was now a gleaming grey, with a red hat pinned on. To complete the look, you had a feathered tail sprouting above your buttocks.

You recognized the bird you resembled. The loggerhead shrike, the butcher-bird.

“Well lookie here, we got us a brand new little birdie.” A shark-like man slinked up to you. “A cute one too. Why don’t you come with us like a good birdie, we’ll treat you real nice.” He grinned, showing serrated teeth. Other creatures joined him with equally sadistic expressions.

Of course you had scum like this to deal with. You were in Hell and it’s terrible here. “Out of my way, lowlife. I don’t have time to deal with you.” You pushed him away with the back of your hand to walk past.

“It wasn’t a question bitch. You’re coming with us.” A clammy hand grabbed your wrist. Before you could even really think about it, you were swinging your other arm at him. You were suddenly holding a stiletto blade which you jabbed into his forearm. Black blood spurted out when you removed your blade.

You spun away as the shark shrieked. Now you had a stiletto in each hand. Your feathers were bristling, your wings spreading behind you. “Back OFF!” Your high pitched voice, louder than it ever was when you were alive, made all of them flinch. On instinct you hopped a bit and a flap of your wings slammed the hapless creatures into buildings from the downdraft.

It propelled you to the rooftops. Not ready to take full flight yet, you landed. The demons below were writhing in agony. You took another look at your hands, this time with almost delicate looking blades in your palms. “Ah, mais oui, a gal can get used to this.”

————

It took you five years to find Alastor. As it happened Hell, even just the Pride Ring where Sinners like yourself could be, was a very big place. But if you were here, able to survive, your husband had to be as well. You made a living (ha!) the same as before, singing for your supper. You had no interest in being an Overlord, but you did get a reputation for swift retribution to those that crossed you. Demons who tried to violate your boundaries quickly found out your stilettos were unending, razor sharp, and accurate. Whether they were alive to tell the tale depending on if they were smart enough to back away.

You got the nickname of “Singing Shrike” in Pentagram City. It suited you fine. Especially since you hoped Alastor would recognize it.

You survived the annual exterminations and steadily worked your way through the city. There were so many different districts and the population was ever changing. At least one area you didn’t have to explore was the Red Light District. You doubted death would change Alastor’s indifference to those activities.

When the radios started broadcasting tormented screams, you were surprised as any other demon. Not disturbed though, it was Hell and you’d heard similar ones in life. But the fact they went out over the radio made you wonder…

The broadcasts continued on as Overlords disappeared throughout the city. Then one day: “Salutations Sinners and welcome to the broadcast! I’m Alastor the Radio Demon, I’m so glad you’re all tuning in. I’d like to thank you all for listening to the previews of this broadcast’s main segment, ‘Overlords Overthrown.’ Without further ado, I’d like to present our newest participant!”

You almost couldn’t believe your ears. But there was no mistaking that voice or that demeanor. Of course your Alastor would be the “Radio Demon.” Now that you knew he was active in Hell, you just had to find him.

He would be at a broadcast tower right now. With a few strong flaps you launched into the red sky. There were multiple possibilities but if you had to guess, it would be the tallest one. It was near Cannibal Town, an area you hadn’t been to before. It was on the other side of the city and even with wings you took awhile to get there.

As you got close, you saw a tall lean demon exiting the station. He was a vibrant red from the tips of his ears to the hems of his well tailored suit. From above, you couldn’t see his face but his gait was all too familiar. It had to be him.

And to clinch it, another demon emerged from a nearby café. As blonde and as curvy as she had been in real life, Mimzy. You didn’t realize she was in Hell too. “Alastor, a fabulous show as usual, you never disappoint, doll face.”

He gave his theatrical laugh. “Ha ha! As you know, anything worth doing is worth doing well!” His voice sounded like it was still coming over a radio.

You landed a few yards in front of them, finally getting a good look at the male demon’s face. The features were sharper and his grin was filled with pointed teeth but that was your husband. His hairstyle was vastly different from life and he had tiny antlers peeking out from the red mop.

“Y/N? Cher?” The radio crackle on his voice disappeared for a moment.

“Alastor,” you breathed, but unable to get out more than that. In an instant he was sweeping you into his arms in a bridal carry, spinning joyfully.

“Ma cher, I never thought I’d see you again. The worst part of Hell has been knowing I left you alone.”

You couldn’t help but tear up. “Alastor, I’m so sorry about that night. If I hadn’t distracted you… maybe we’d still be alive.”

“Maybe, maybe not. I never blamed you Y/N. But this isn’t the proper place for a reunion between husband and wife.” To your surprise, green edged black energy enveloped you both. You could still feel Alastor’s arms around you but the rest of your senses disappeared. “Just a moment my dear, we’ll be home soon,” his voice echoed around you.

The darkness fell away, revealing a room inspired by your home in life. One jarring difference was a missing wall that instead led into a bayou. He kept you in his arms as he settled onto a couch. The familiar surroundings and relief at finding him proved to be too much. Face buried in his red jacket, you collapsed into tears.

Alastor held you as he had many times before. He knew the best thing was for you to let it all out and to be ready with a handkerchief when you needed it. Which he was, holding his out when you finally raised your head. You dabbed at your eyes carefully. He chuckled, “Well my dear, at least you don’t have to worry about ruining your makeup with your new look.”

You laughed despite yourself. “That is a relief. One less thing to worry about.” You leaned back into his embrace, unconsciously wrapping your wings around you both. His head whipped back and forth, taking in this new development.

“Sorry ma cher, should I put them down?”

“Hmm, I believe they’re fine. It was simply unexpected. It’s…actually pleasant for you to be wrapped around me for once.”

“It can’t be any more unexpected than being whisked away in shadows. Any other gal would have jumped out of her skin cher. Or feathers for that matter.”

That was enough to get the two of you talking about the last five years. You learned about how he started taking out Overlords for the pure challenge and entertainment of it. The result was he was becoming an Overlord, specifically of the area next to Cannibal Town. He demonstrated some of what his shadows could do for you.

For your part you told him the rest of what happened that final night. When he learned you killed the man who shot him within moments, his gleeful smile nearly split his face in two. “That’s my darling wife,” he praised you. Your exploration of the city and the reputation you had garnered seemed to pale in comparison to what Alastor had been up to. Nonetheless he listened in fascination. Evidently the perspective of the city you brought him was something he could use in his upcoming plans. You showed him what you had learned of the wind you controlled and the stilettos you produced from nothingness.

Soon the two of you were preparing dinner together. Jambalaya, it really was a favorite of his. He assured you the meat hadn’t come from Cannibal Town; while he indulged he wasn’t about to make you eat it as well.

You didn’t have any nightclothes with you, but this was your husband. He’d seen you in all states of dress and cleanliness. So you undressed, keeping just the dress slip on. Alastor stripped off his suit down to his drawers. The bed was a replica of what you had shared in life and you settled into it with him as naturally as before. The main differences were his claws brushing your feathers and your wing covering you both.

Sighing deeply, Alastor pressed his lips against against your hair. “Thank you for finding me, cher.” You couldn’t help but smile at how his words matched your wedding night. Relaxing into sleep, you murmured “I’ll always find you cher.”

Mimzy was the only demon you encountered that had known you both in life. Those familiar with Alastor or yourself in Hell were flabbergasted seeing you stroll together. Since you once again moved into his home most of the gawkers had experience with your husband.

Seeing a strange demon on his arm turned heads; first that the untouchable Radio Demon had a girl, second that she was happy holding her own with the Radio Demon. When you ventured to your old haunts the reaction were similar. The Singing Shrike was allowing anyone to touch her without ending up impaled and that the Shrike had a beau.

One of few that wasn’t terribly surprised was Rosie, the cheerful Overlord of Cannibal Town. Alastor brought you around to her Emporium, introducing you as his “darling life and death partner, Y/N.” Her blank black eyes widened in realization as her toothy smile grew.

You got along fabulously with Rosie, much better than your acquaintances when you were alive. Maybe because you felt freer in Hell, maybe because she never once questioned your relationship with Alastor. According to the residents in her district she was very perceptive about matters of the heart. Whatever the reason, you enjoyed relaxing and performing in Cannibal Town. It turned out you were fond of pinkie fingers; many times you’d be listening to Alastor’s broadcast while enjoying a cup of tea and your gruesome snack.

Power plays in the city came and went. You avoided the annual exterminations together. Not that they mattered much, there was always more Sinners dying. Some tried and succeeded in gaining a foothold and eventually a base of power in the city. Others…well they tried.

You still weren’t interested in being an Overlord yourself. Alastor wasn’t really either truth be told. It just sort of happened, with the deal making and killing various powerful demons. You both built alliances and rivalries over time, with the two states changing within moments on occasion.

One demon in particular became a pain in both your sides. Vox arrived in Hell a few decades after you and Alastor. The television headed demon was originally cordial with Alastor and charming to you. Alastor, despite not caring for technology developed after his death, recognized Vox’s ability and had a measure of respect for him. You found him amusing, so long as he understood your relationship with Alastor was non negotiable. As time passed, Alastor and Vox’s opinions of each other shifted. What started as friendly banter turned into hostile bickering and then outright violence. The first time they tussled, they both backed down when they realized how even the match was.

You of course helped your husband retreat. A newly dead creature, Valentino, assisted Vox. You hated him on sight; both of you were defending your counterparts when he started flirting with you, so blatantly that even you realized it. The scum blew a cloud of red smoke in your direction. A flicker of couple feathers summoned a harsh gust, destroying the smoke and tearing the hat and tinted glasses off his bug head. You followed up with a stiletto flying through the air, aimed to graze his coat directly over his groin. It tore a chunk of the fur lining off as it whizzed past, impaling the ground next to Vox’s head.

After that, hostilities between the four of you only increased. Valentino never approached you alone; maybe he found out what shrikes did to the bugs they killed. Vox, on the other hand, started making passes at you whenever he could. He knew very well how long lasting your relationship with Alastor was. He also knew how disinterested you were in anything approaching sex. It seemed he was trying to seduce you purely to make Alastor retaliate.

Your husband, although he seethed in private, never did. He didn’t have to after all. The day you had enough, you grabbed Vox’s tie with a smile. Thrilled that he finally wore you down, Vox didn’t notice you setting your feet. He towered over you and like so many others didn’t realize how strong you were. So when you spun and flipped him into the ground, he was surprised enough that his screen went blank. By the time his face returned, a dozen of your blades materialized to pin his clothes to the ground. You used the hilt of another to crack his screen.

“If you ever try that again, I’ll fill you with so many holes that every demon in the city will be able to use you as a power outlet.” You pressed a toe against his neck. “Do I make myself clear?” He couldn’t actually move his head but Vox made his face bob up and down on the screen. “Lovely.”

There was an uneasy stalemate for years. It wasn’t until after the turn of the century that Alastor and Vox clashed again. Maybe it was the influence of that aggressive new girl Velvette that prompted it, but Vox started going after your husband again. A fight as big as their first major match erupted one day. Predictably, the two were equally wounded. Unpredictably, you couldn’t locate Alastor after he retreated into his shadows.

You knew he wasn’t double dead. The two of you had created charms for each other that would let you know if the other died. With how uncertain the afterlife could be, it was one source of comfort. So the music note finial on your hat pin imbued with a bit of his shadows gave you that good news at least.

But you couldn’t find him. What could possibly have happened? Days stretched into months and years with no clue. The Vees (the trio called themselves now) were happy to flaunt Alastor’s absence, both to Hell and you in particular. You found yourself checking on that bit of shadow often, just as reassurance.

Seven years later, you had stepped up as Overlord in Alastor’s loose territory. The broadcast station became a recording studio under you, Songbird Studios. That was when you caught a glimpse of one of Vox’s shows. You were heading back after finishing a deal with a promising new voice when you heard “So the Radio Demon is back in town, why’s he hanging around, what does that mean for your family?” You glared at the screen. He was at Charlie Morningstar’s new venture, the Hazbin Hotel.

Furiously, leapt to the sky. Demons were knocked to the ground in your wake but you had more important things on your mind. The hotel itself was just outside the city proper. As you approached it, all the lights in Pentagram City blinked out. The hotel was unaffected and you could see a small broadcast tower with an ON AIR sign attached to the building. You could have burst into his studio. But the downside of being an Overlord is you had people to look after now. At least I know where you are cher, you thought, changing course for home.

It took a few weeks to get everything set up. You didn’t want everything to fall apart in what could be an extended absence. So you ensured both the studio and your territory would be fine with minimal input for at least a couple months.

Then you couldn’t wait any longer. But even as a demon you were a lady. Decorum then. So you entered through the front door. The slightly dilapidated building was contrasted by the sunny voice saying “Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!”

From the opposite direction you heard a familiar world weary voice. “Y/N! The fuck are you doing here?” Husk yelled upon seeing you. “Oh, do you know each other?” The chipper young woman introduced herself as Charlie Morningstar, the hotel owner.

“Wonderful to meet you Charlie. My name is Y/N and yes, Husk and I have known each other for a long time.”

“Oh, it’s so nice to meet one of your friends, Husk!”

“Ah, actually Charlie-“ he started to say but you hopped up on a barstool and gave the former Overlord a broad smile. “Husk dear, I feel parched. I don’t suppose you have some good whiskey here?” The poor man took the hint and shut his mouth. He poured you a drink while Charlie bounced away, saying she’d let you two catch up.

“Soooo, listened to any good radio shows lately?” Husk’s ears twitched in agitation at your question.

“Just the one,” he replied while wiping down glasses. “Look, Y/N, you’re not gonna…” he trailed off, not even sure how to continue. Despite having made a deal with Alastor and interacting with you both regularly, he’d never seen you two fight.

“Alors pas! I’m not here to make any trouble bon ami. But after seven years I deserve a little fun, yes?” Any response he would have made was cut off by Alastor himself coming downstairs. He froze at the bottom as he saw who was at the bar.

One of the demons in the parlor popped up. “Something wrong smiles? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or some tits,” the white spidery demon said suggestively. You finished your drink before hopping down.

“Alastor, ma cher! I’ve been so worried!” Another demon, a black snake also perked up and the two men looked back and forth between you two.

“Actually, she’s Alastor’s wife,” Husk informed everyone present as you trotted up to him. Predictably, the unfamiliar demons in earshot all yelled, “His WIFE?”

The last few feet you used your breezes to give you a foothold off the ground. Alastor had been taller than you in life and his elongated demonic form towered over you. With practice you’d figured this technique out. It was useful not only in a fight but to put yourself at eye level with others.

His smile never faded but you could tell he was nervous. “Y/N, cher…I…” he fell silent as you hooked a talon under his chin. “Seven years you’ve been gone darling. And nothing when you got back? Ma cher, you are in trouble.”

His ears flicked nervously as you propelled yourself slightly higher than him. You kept your talon in place. “Shall we discuss this elsewhere Alastor?” His hand shook slightly as he took yours. “Of course my dear, let's go somewhere with less of an audience.”

You hand in his arm, he led you to his suite. In the foyer you could hear “awww, they’re so cute! how the fuck is tall dark and spooky married? well…likely one proposssed and the other sssaid yesss-, not what I meant buddy, hey don’t look at me I ain’t their chaperone.”

Once in his room (which had the same house/bayou motif as your home) you hugged him tightly around the waist. His arms were frozen in surprise above you; it wasn’t in your nature to be this forward and spontaneous with physical touch. “Cher, I-“

“Shut up Alastor.” You dug your talons in just enough to give a bite to your words. “I’m angry with you and I missed you and I’ve been so worried and the only reason I knew you were here was because of that pissing contest you got into the other day. So shut up until I’m ready cher.” One of his hands lowered to your shoulder and patted a silent yes.

It was a few moments before you spoke again. “Take me to the couch and start explaining darling.” You could feel the amusement and relief from his posture as he scooped you up.

“Where should I start cher?”

“That fight seven years ago. You and Vox got into a fight, you went into your shadow, then nothing. I knew you were alive but I couldn’t find you. I said I’d always find you.”

“You did find me my dear. As to what occurred…” he explained how a third party had interfered with the fight, injuring both him and Vox. How that third party had followed his weakened shadow, cornering him. How he’d been forced into a deal with that third party. Who that party was and what little of the deal he could tell you.

“Well shit. And your being here has something to do with the deal?” He nodded. “Why didn’t you come home though?! Even after the deal was struck, at least I could have been there for you!”

“Y/N, I’d just been trapped like I’d done to so many others. They played me and I danced right along. How could I bear to face you then?”

“Mais la, cher! I wouldn’t have cared.” You sighed and leaned back to look at him. “C’est la mort. We’re together again now and I’m not letting you go it alone again.” He blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting that. “I haven’t just been pining all this time you know. Someone had to take over your territory and I wasn’t about to let one of those bratty Vees have it.”

He brought your hand to his cheek and nuzzled it affectionately. “My dear shrike, you never disappoint.”

“I’m sure the young Miss Morningstar would welcome some more protection for the hotel. And it seems the place is lacking in entertainment.”

“Right you are on both counts my dear!” He sounded back to his old chipper self. “Shall we introduce you to this delightful collection of misfits and reassure them you haven’t flayed me alive?”

“One more thing.” He cocked an eyebrow in question. “May I kiss you first?” His smile softened as he nodded. You kissed him deeper than usual, stroking his hair as you did so. Alastor’s long arms wrapped around your back as he accepted the kiss. “Much better,” you said as you pulled back.

“I’d rather not go seven years between kisses my dear, but that was a nice reintroduction.” With that he escorted you back downstairs. You hadn’t been gone long and even if you had, Alastor’s unknown wife showing up to berate him was too good to miss.

Once again he introduced you as “darling life and death partner, Y/N.” Charlie, ever the bubbly hostess immediately shook your hand before introducing the residents. To no surprise Alastor had brought Niffty here to do the housekeeping. “Y/N!” She shrieked in a pure moment of Niffty mania and dashing around you. “I’ve missed you too ma petite!”

“So uhhhhh, how long you two been together?” The lanky spider called Angel Dust asked as Alastor helped you to a seat.

“Hmmm… how long has it been cher?” Alastor mused aloud.

“We did stop counting after the first fifty years or so but I believe it’s been nearly a century since the wedding.” Jaws dropped at your statement. Alastor kissed your knuckles gently. “And my dear husband is just as charming and gallant as ever.”

“Wow, that’s incredible! It’s so sweet you’ve been a couple for this long! How did the two of you meet anyway?” Charlie, in all her sweetness, asked innocently.

“It’s a tad embarrassing, but we killed a man together.” You could almost hear something pop in Charlie’s brain. Her girlfriend, Vaggie, looked thrilled.

“Yes indeedy! Some ne’er-do-well attacked her on her walk home. When I arrived to assist, the lout was distracted enough that Y/N was able to stab him in the eye. Why, I’d never seen anything quite so beautiful as such a lovely little thing jamming her hat pin into her assailant! I quickly finished dispatching the man before escorting her the rest of the way home.”

You looked at him with affection. “That led to him walking with me in the evening and one thing led to another until here we are!” Vaggie’s eye was shining, Charlie was frozen, the rest of the group could only blink in shock. “Husk, why are you so surprised, I thought we’d told you before!”

“About the attack, yeah, not that you killed him.”

“I would have thought that was implied, my good man,” your husband said dryly.

“Okay okay, murder as a date night activity aside,” Angel said, gesturing with his top set of arms. “Back to the important things. Ain’t Al…do ya…have ya ever…” not quite able to find the words he formed a circle with one hand. He inserted the pointer finger of another into it, making a back and forth motion. Both you and Alastor tilted your heads in confusion, not recognizing the gesture. “Aw geez there’s two a’ him and they’re married. D’you two fuck?”

“Ooooh! Is that what that means?” You experimented making the same gesture. “Now I get it! This finger is the penis and this is the vagina!”

“Hmm,” Alastor inspected your hands. “Shouldn’t this hand make more of an oval shape then?” He squished your hand slightly to elongate the shape. “I think it’s easier to just make a circle darling. And I suppose it could be other orifices.”

“But do you two have sssex?” Sir Pentious interjected, bringing things back to the original question.

“Of course we do!” Alastor chirped. Angel looked equally horrified and amused, Charlie was still frozen, the rest just looked stunned. “How?!” Angel finally asked, fighting back laughter.

“Infrequently and with great vigor,” you replied in a cheerful, succinct manner. Husk pulled his ears down groaning, “I don’t need to hear this, this is like hearing my parents behind the door.”

“Okay, I think that’s enough about Alastor and Y/N’s sex life!” Vaggie halted anything else you and your husband might have said. “Are you going to move in too Y/N?”

“That was the idea if you’ll have me. It seems like this place could use some entertainment and more security.”

“And my dear Y/N is a dab hand at both! She isn’t called the Singing Shrike for nothing.”

“Of course we’ll have you!” Charlie finally snapped out of her daze at the thought of a new resident. “Everyone’s welcome at the Hazbin Hotel!”

Moving into Alastor’s hotel suite was fairly simple. You grabbed a few items from home and made sure your subordinates knew how to reach you in an emergency. It would have felt like a bit of a vacation with the lack of Overlord responsibilities. But the updated extermination schedule did cast a pall over things.

After Charlie’s disastrous audience with Heaven, you and Alastor decided on your plans. He would work with Charlie to get support in exchange for a deal with him. Meanwhile you would head to your territory.

Fortunately everything looked in order when you arrived. Proper delegation had its perks. You requested everyone’s presence at one of the theaters. Most of the Sinners that followed you were some sort of forest creature; birds, rabbits, foxes, lizards, and the occasional deer. The majority were musicians or actors, performers of a multitude of genres. They were fiercely defensive, hurt one and the rest would destroy the offender.

Explaining the situation, you asked for volunteers. This wasn’t a turf war over home ground and you weren’t about to order anyone. Surprisingly, almost all you followers were ready to go. Maybe it wasn’t so surprising, almost everyone in Hell had beef with angels.

You appointed two of the strongest to stay back, along with half of the volunteers. If something happened to you or Alastor, you wouldn’t put it past those brats from the Vees to attempt a takeover. All of the demons you brought had flight abilities, which meant your songbirds could handle the aerial combat. Your contingent arrived just after the cannibals and Carmine’s weapon delivery.

“Ah there’s my darling and her flock!” You landed next to Alastor and Rosie, giving your friend a hug as you did. “Y/N! I was surprised you weren’t with your hubby but I see you’ve been busy too!”

“We have a lot to do and less time to do it, we can be attached at the hip after the fight,” you said as Alastor took your hand.

“Well I’m glad to see my favorite pair of aces back together. Let’s get all these fine demons settled, hm?” With your territories being neighbors, there was familiarity and even a few friends between the cannibals and your songbirds.

—————

Extermination Day. It didn’t matter how ready the defenders of Hell were, it was time. Almost everyone was in battle gear. You had traded in your sparkly flapper dress for a more practical A-line that reached your knees. You’d attempted a suit but the trousers just felt wrong. So a silvery grey dress with vibrant red pinstripes. The hem had long black points all along it, evocative of your blades. Since your summoned weaponry wouldn’t hurt an angel you had a rapier and half a dozen stilettos that would.

Alastor had requested a custom piece from Carmilla, a hat pin made of angelic steel. The finial had a spray of red feathers and he’d imbued it with a fragment of shadow. In return, you’d given him cufflinks shaped like vibrant red eyes. Of course they had a touch of your winds, not only to let him know you were okay but for you to track him if need be.

All too soon, the sky opened up and the exorcists spewed into Hell. At Vaggie’s war cry you and your followers took to the air. You looked for Alastor and saw him atop the hotel. No changes to his outfit, he looked impeccable as ever. His maniacal laugh echoed in the air as his shield formed an orb around the battle.

You and your flock were tasked with knocking angels out of the sky. Some did this by stooping like hawks, others used the angels own weapons to injure their wings. Your wind magick sent them tumbling into each other. Any that got too close to you were impaled or found you making the most of your momentum to fling them to the ground, mimicking how shrikes gave their prey whiplash.

A loud crack, golden light spreading through the black orb, and Alastor’s shield fell. He’d suspected that might happen and was ready to take Adam on. You didn’t concern yourself about their fight, even when your husband’s form grew. What did concern you was the slice of angelic power that dispersed it. Another swipe from Adam had Alastor flying across the rooftop.

“ALASTOR!” If all of Hell didn’t hear you then clearly they weren’t listening. No no no no not again I won’t lose him again. You stabbed the angel you were fighting in the throat and propelled yourself to his side. You landed protectively over his curled body. For the first time in decades you let your true form show.

Your wings turned metallic, silver and gold, and grew twice their size. They gained an art deco appearance but were as functional as ever. Your face became more avian. You had a hooked beak and your red limbs glowed as your talons sharpened. Dozens of your blades danced in the air around you and your husband.

“Back OFF!” You screeched at the angel’s leader. Wind kicked up by your voice tore at his clothes and wings.

“The fuck are you supposed to be crazy bitch?!” He launched a bolt of light at you; you parried it with stilettos but it was a near thing and it took out a third of what you had summoned.

“Y/N. His wife, you limp dicked bastard.” You launched the rest of your blades at him; they formed a rope like column that battered at him. You knew they wouldn’t be able to hurt him but you were looking for an opening with your rapier.

He fired wildly, yelling “fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fucking bitch!” You moved to strike when three stray bolts peppered you. Two hit a wing, one your shoulder. With a screech you missed the opportunity and fell next to Alastor.

Suddenly your husband grabbed your arm. “Have to disagree with you there!” He said in a singsong. He made sure his grip on you was secure. “Radio’s not dead, but it is ending this broadcast.” His shadows wrapped around you both. As you were swept away you heard Adam say “Bye bitches!”

A tiny part of you felt bad, leaving everyone like that. The majority was grateful you and Alastor were alive. You were used to traveling in his shadow by now, so the sensory deprivation didn’t bother you like it once had.

But the loss of direction was unusual. “Alastor…?”

A moment passed. “I’m here cher.” He sounded in pain.

“Where are we going?” you managed to ask. You weren’t in great shape either honestly.

Another long moment. “I don’t know.” A shudder from the darkness around you. “I just had to get us away.” As much as you wanted to know what was happening beyond the shadow, you didn’t try to get out. You weren’t sure you’d be able to right now. Even if you did, you might just damage Alastor more.

Then a gold light showed even through the magick shadow. Immediately you were falling, still wrapped in darkness. You could feel Alastor’s desperation as the shadows stretched, trying to find…something! Some purchase or anchor to stop the fall. He managed to latch on a couple of times but couldn’t get a good enough grip. The last desperate grasp broke you both out of the darkness.

You found yourself falling down a chasm, pieces of the hotel falling with you. Alastor’s arms wrapped around you, his eyes shut tight as he braced for impact. Fuck! You struggled to flap your wings. The injured one didn’t work right. The other strained to support you both, unable to manage more than slowing the fall.

Wind! Come on come on! You focused, creating a cushion of swirling air around you. Just in time, it dampened the impact, turning a fatal fall into a bruising one.

The two of you landed in a parody of your sleeping positions. “Ow,” you said once you had enough air in your lungs.

Alastor couldn’t respond for a moment. “Ow indeed cher.” He winced as he sat up. “You saved us though my dear.” He helped you sit up slowly.

“Third time’s the charm.” At his quizzical look you clarified, “I couldn’t save you when you were shot or in that fight with Vox. But I managed it finally.”

“Saving it for when it counts cher.” The two of you could hear echoes from the battle above. A voice roaring “GO HOME” was followed by the specks of retreating angels and the portal to heaven closing.

“That sounded like Lucifer,” you mused.

“Ugh, the pipsqueak couldn’t be on time to defend his own realm?” He struggled up to his feet and held a hand out to help you. You used his support to steady yourself but mostly got up on your own power.

It took some effort but he located his broadcast tower crumpled in the bottom of the chasm. One emotional crisis later, while you examined the wreckage, he was a bit more composed. You found the last aid box and the pair of you patched each other up.

“We’ll get you out of the deal ma cher. And the one who holds your strings will find out what happens to those who come between us.”

Alastor’s smile turned vicious. “I’m not dying for anyone but you darling.” He grasped your chin to keep your gazes locked. “And don’t you dare think of doing otherwise.”

Your own lips stretched into a crazed grin. “That’s the spirit cher.” Laughing, he kissed your knuckles before pulling you both into his shadows to inform the rest of your survival.

A/N: This is all the main story for this fic I have until Season 2. I have a few one shots in mind, since there’s a century of potential content along with inserts into some episodes. I really hope this was validating for my fellow acespec Alastor fans. It definitely was for me. I know people are welcome to ship and be thirsty for characters as they like. But we seldomly get an asexual character, much less one that isn’t an emotionless robot.

In any case, thanks for reading! I’ve got a Helluva Boss AU that’s 27k words and counting if anyone needs more of my rambling stories. Smut content is clearly labeled and will be in contained portions as much as possible to limit the squick.

@edgyboi10000 @clearly-awkward @badatpunz @deafsignifcantother @whitewolfsoldat @ch3sire-blu3

Part 1

[vampirzina]

Could you do MK11 Fujin and MK1 Syzoth with a reader who has piercings on her tongue and eyebrow?

tw: she/her (but mostly you) pronouns, mdni, sfw (intended), established relationship, hcs, piercings and the like

notes: i didn’t put a header for this just in case. i also had been racking my brain for fujin content after seeing an edit of him w the caption asking for fic content. i’ll think of more ideas later i swear but for now happy happy happy

masterlist : divider credit

Fujin isn’t a stranger to piercings, at all. He’s seen plenty of them in his time, in all kinds of places—so not the one to judge if she has one either. Fujin finds the piercing on your eyebrow rather cool, having noticed that first about you but doesn’t ask anything about it. But when you stick your tongue playfully out at him once, he can’t help but ask about both of your piercings.

When kisses with Fujin get deep, he tries not to make it obvious that he’s fiddling with your tongue piercing. Not only is it fun, but he loves your reaction when you finally realize. His face is already flushed from the act, but the cheeky smirk he gives you in return makes you playfully huff at him.

Naturally, thoughts wander through Fujin. Though they are mostly innocent, none of them really see the light (carried into the wind rather), out of respect for her, to spare her from the littlest bits of selfishness, and the tiny tiny part of him that fears her response to him—even if it’s not a bad one at all. He rather not play russian roulette with words.

،، ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

Fujin, tangled in the sheets of your shared bed and awaiting you there, watches you at the vanity as you undid your look. You rub the tip of your index over the slightly sore spot of your undone eyebrow piercing, hissing lowly.

Your eyes hurt from today’s work, and all you wanted to do now was just… Rest. You couldn’t not address the white eyes boring into your face, however.

“Before you ask, I’m fine,” you retort, clasping the piercing together. You set it with the rest of your collection. “Just tired.”

“I’d believe you even if you told me that your skin was as colorful as a rainbow, when it is clearly not,” he jested lightly, and you missed the way his eyes flit to your lips. “I was not going to speak. I just wanted to… Look.”

“The right word is stare, I think, but if that’s what you’re doing to me I’ll take it,” you stood, strutting over to the bedside. Before you got in, “You look like you have a question.”

He hummed a bit. Then, “None.”

“You sure?” you lift the very same brow he’d been staring at, getting comfortable beside him, but suddenly your gaze hardens. “Wait, don’t tell me. If we’re getting married, don’t you dare propose right now.”

Fujin gives the heartiest laugh you’ve heard from him yet, leaning down to barrage you with kisses as he gets comfortable with you.

───

Fujin needs to kiss you at least once a day.

Syzoth doesn’t think anything of it until he really sees it. He notices it when he’s close to her, cuddling into warmth to duck from the cold night. Maybe it’s his wandering mind as he gets tired, but to say he’s intrigued in it in its entirety is a bit of an understatement from him. If anything, he finds that he likes it on her. Of course he asks about it when you wake, and he feels a bit stupid for not asking earlier. Syzoth asks why and how bad it hurt, and that’s about it. If you’re human, he learns something new when you tell him about the commonality of it between humans.

Kissing Syzoth is an experience you couldn’t get over. Unlike Fujin, he doesn’t toy with your tongue piercing on purpose, but he’s going to brush over it a couple times if the kiss gets all that heated. He’s conscious of himself and many things after that, but surprisingly enough, your piercing there makes him feel a little less conscious of his tongue when he kisses you.

Syzoth offers you jewelry for your piercings. He’s sure somewhere in Outworld and beyond there’s those who sell such things, sometimes he even confuses earrings for them. But once he finds the right stuff, it’s nearly impossible for him to not buy up the entire store. He loves to collect the shiniest and prettiest ones he thinks you’ll like, and occasionally the ones he thinks you would look good with. Syzoth comes home with at least a pair of either or once every few weeks.

،، ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

He finds you where he left her—under a tree in the shade from the sun. She sipped the cool drink as she admired the scenery of the place around her.

You’d been wandering with Syzoth through the markets of Outworld for your morning and the better half of your afternoon. Your feet ached, you complained, and being the gentleman Syzoth is carried you here. He said that you’d both go home soon… However, he wasn’t going until he snuffed out the urge by just giving into it.

“About time. I was starting to think you were halfway across the realm. Where’d you run off to?” you squinted in the soft breeze, lips pursing a bit as you watch him fumble with the bag he was trying to give you.

…You look inside.

“I didn’t buy the whole store this time,” Syzoth pouted from her months-old tease. “With the way they were presented to me, they practically begged me to buy them. Not only that, but they were so you-esque. How could you want me to resist?”

“Because I’d like to think you’d want to buy food to eat, Sy,” you joked, holding them in a hand to inspect them. You can see the way he pouts further, if you somehow couldn’t hear him mutter.

“‘M kidding. Do you think that I’m so ungrateful when I was lucky enough to find you?” you immediately follow up to put him at ease. “They’re absolutely gorgeous, Syzoth. Thank you. I’ll try them on when we get home, okay?”

Syzoth, a bit hot in the face now from her flirt, nodded fervently at her. Whether or not she wanted to be carried wasn’t up for debate.

───

Syzoth scours beaches and caves for beautiful material someone can craft into jewelry for you.

@𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐀೨

info board

[ffruitsalad]

Fable SMP Commission Experience 7/7 + Bonus Images!

In this section, I'll be sharing sketches from what I call "Scene 6: Finale," which includes the moment Centross looks up at Fable up to the conclusion. Also included are some thank yous and some bonus images!

"Centross smiles at Fable. Centross pulls Fable close into a hug, stabbing through Centross' heart. Centross looks up across the cave."

In the colored version, I believe John was the one who added some purple in the eyes of Centross looking up! Very nice touch! It makes Centross look more like the one in control of how the fight will go.

When Centross gets impaled by the sword, I wanted to make sure to get a good shot of it going though his chest with some blood on the blade, especially the dribbling bits.

"The reaver is flung spinning across the cave towards both of them. It impales through Fable. A golden light glows around Fable and is sucked into the reaver. Blood begins to ooze from Fable’s wound for the first time ever. He is stripped of his immortality."

This is the big one! I was trying to figure out how best to portray the light absorbed by the Reaver. I settled for a crackling energy, kind of like Zeus and his lightning bolts!

In the final, I emphasized the impact of the Reaver through Fable with blood spurting from his mouth. His body is hazy near his waist because I wanted to show that the borders of his physical body were beginning to dissolve.

I'm not sure if this was an intentional part on the writers' ends, but I'm a big fan of how this scene is a direct contrast to Centross and the souls! The contrast between purple energy being given vs yellow energy being taken...cinema.

In the final, I snuck in a hazy image of a skull on the Reaver's gem as a little bit of a treat!

"Centross headbutts Fable, who falls backwards, stunned. Centross shakily stands to his feet..."

An unused close-up of a teary, bloody, sweaty Fable. He has been undone! He's never had to keep track of so many fluids before!

It completely slipped my mind to draw in the headbutt scene, so I mostly worked it in digital.

"A loud heart thumps as part of Centross becomes stardust... More of him becomes stardust..."

The doodles are a bit lackluster, but I knew that I wanted this sequences to be very colorful and luminescent with a hazy brush. The scene transitions back to the smooth brush in order to show that the action has mostly calmed down.

"He looks towards Icarus... He turns to Fable."

For the frame Icarus is in, I wanted to make sure to emphasize his distress, confusion, and sadness. Lots of tears and furrowed brows.

For the frame Fable is in, I wanted to emphasize the loss of his immortality and pride. He's on the floor, nursing a new wound and drained of power and life.

"His body is almost fully stardust...Blackness...Centross’ eyes flutter open, glowing violet irises and pitch black scleras."

His face was not at all legible in the sketch. I wanted his eyes to look like they were beginning to close, but it wasn't reading well in digital. I'm much happier with the final product.

Although Centross is inhabiting a void, I still wanted there to be a sense of space and emptiness, so I layered some thick black brushstrokes in an overlapping pattern in the final.

Last Words:

I understand that these past few posts have been very lengthy! I don't expect anyone to read ALL of my notes (but if you did, holy smokes, many thanks). These are just mostly here for me to practice explaining my creative choices.

This project had a pretty tight deadline (a little under a month), but I feel like our team was very efficient and responsible about getting the work done in time! A little pressure goes a long way.

I'm thinking of opening up commissions or a small print shop in the future! I'll be sure to make an announcement for when that happens.

I'm very open to any future Fable SMP projects or collaborations! You guys are all very lovely and creative, and I always like hearing about new projects.

And now, some thanks!

Thank you to Centross for the opportunity to create this cutscene! It was really fun showing you my sketches and getting your feedback on them. This project really helped me flex my art muscles, and I'm grateful to have met you and become friends!

Thank you to @strawberripine for keeping me company in the wee hours of the night as I was trying to finalize in digital! Your presence helped me to keep focus and not sweat about the small stuff!

Thank you to @sherbertquake56 for editing the scenes into a finalized product! It was really cool to see how the visuals and audio flowed together!

Thank you to @johnyyyyyboy, who put in a ton of work on backgrounds and lighting! It really helped to elevate all the action that was occurring!

Thank you to the Fable cast members for the kind words of support throughout the process! You all are a lovely creative bunch, and I'm sorry that when I met some of you in person, I was having a bit of trouble engaging in conversation!

Last but not least, thank you to the Fable SMP audience for enjoying the cutscene! A lot of work was put into it, and it was very gratifying to see everyone's reactions in real time! You all have a nice community, and it's so cool to see everyone's cosplays, fanart, fanfiction, etc.

Until the next time I crawl out from my cave,

Fruit 💙

[mymreaderlibrary]

Could always go for some old man yaoi between Price and an older veteran reader so here are some ramblings.

[Old friends, pre relationship, yearning, beard buddies, ramblings/ no coherency].

[Length: 739 words]

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The 141's mission calls for a specialization that they don't meet (at least not well enough to risk failure), but what would you know Price has an old buddy who can help. The thing is he's a veteran who's not all that interested in exiting his retirement especially considering he lost a limb. However he's not one to abandon those in need and with a little convincing he decides to assist, offering his expertise mostly off of the field.

In their downtime y/n and Price get to catch up and spend some time together over drinks. It's been a while since they've seen each other considering how differently they now lead their lives. Y/n is embarrassed to admit he's already getting grey hairs as Price questions his brutally short buzzcut. He never used to cut his hair like that even in his younger years. Price jokes that he's disappointed that y/n is trying to hide his new silver fox look. Y/n says he'll get to see it when it starts growing into his beard. Maybe it's the alcohol but the teasing lingers in both of their minds, feeling more sincere than joking.

Even if they've spent a lot of time apart there's still things they know about each other by heart. Particularly how apprehensive y/n is to being assisted with anything. There's no fragility allowed as he'd rather grin and bare it than accept help, especially with his new(ish) disability. Price doesn't speak on the matter, but he does get frustrated at the other man's stubbornness, a subtle crinkle to his eye as he watches his friend struggle.

Speaking of stubbornness, the 141 get to "enjoy" having two hardheaded older men on the same team. Double the scolding and double the exasperated sighing, somehow it's like being together has combined them into the ultimate grumpy old man. Laswell wouldn't admit it but once their voices start to layer over each other she tunes them out. They're gonna be going in circles for a while and it's near impossible to stop them. It would be almost comedic if it didn't happen all the damn time. ( Worst of all is that most of their arguments are them agreeing on something, but thinking the other misunderstood due to how they phrased their response).

Night times are often nostalgic, neither of them are heavy sleepers so if one wakes up so does the other. They try to get as much sleep in when they can, but if they feel like reminiscing over times long gone then who's to stop them. Stories about Price's younger years in training and y/n's experience with that one damn drill instructor who seemed to hate his guts. Stories about how shitty their first long range shots were and how they could barely even hit the target. Stories about all the times they found themselves in some form of trouble be it on the field or in base. Y/n remembers the time they had to share one shitty cot that they almost punched each other over. Price remembers when they were stuck in a tundra for over a month and were so excited to have a hot shower again they just went at the same time. Neither of them mention how much they actually enjoyed that closeness and how both of them were too cowardly to initiate anything. But they do mention the day they got split up, sent to entirely different countries. Y/n admits to being disappointed he hadn't gotten the chance to say goodbye... Price says he's glad they didn't, sometimes goodbye's like those are bad luck.

They take a moment to look at each other, see scars old and new, wrinkles forming in places that used to be so smooth. Price can't help but look at y/n's eyes, seeing that familiar color that never seemed to fade despite all its seen. He thinks back to that warm shower over a decade ago and how they looked then too. The steam that rose from y/n's chest, the subtle brush of skin they shared as they tried to dance around each other. He remembers that expectation of something more that never came.

They squeeze each other's hands, but the moment passes in silence and neither of them move. Eventually they break eye contact and drift back to sleep.

It seems even now they’re still too cowardly.