#wish i had motivation to write and/or learn to draw

[hiragitoma]

*crawling through a dusty desert* please... please I Need.... more..

...

Hiragi Content.......

*passes out*

[pillowspace]

Could you share more about your modern no loops au?

Oh, I'd love to!!!! So I have a 10k word draft currently. Haven't touched it since December because I've been writing other things, but I'd like to return to it when I'm done. I didn't actually know what I was writing until I started. I decided to go for the first line I could think of, which was:

So I had to build an AU off of that from that point onward.

It's a bit of a "post-canon" setting in a sense, except neither Siffrin nor Loop have met the party yet, and the two live together in an apartment. At some point, Loop's attacked, and they begin to bleed out in an alleyway. Odile catches sight of them and rushes to help. They appreciate her efforts, but they die anyway.

They've died plenty of times before though...! So they wake back up. They still have the stranger's coat from when she was trying to help, so they hide within it and head back home, feeling bad for having likely traumatized a random person with the sight of them dying.

A few months go by after this though, and Odile stumbles upon Loop at the library. Loop doesn't recognize her at first, but Odile recognizes THEM, and proceeds to accidentally corner them which freaks Loop out.

Odile, a complete stranger, instantly wants to know everything about Loop. How their life has gone, how they're alive, etc. So Loop decides that they DON'T LIKE ODILE, but that they'll at least find the time to bring her coat back to her to repay the favour of when they had died.

After Loop returns home, Siffrin reveals to Loop that he's... worried about them. Loop's been entirely dependent on him the entire time, and he thinks that they should have friends. Loop denies needing anyone but them, all the while struggling with bottled up trauma they want to talk about but are unwilling to go to Siffrin for.

This sticks to Loop though. Next time they see Odile at the library, they get to talk to her now a bit less freaked out, and return her coat to her. (This isn't art directly of the fic but I did draw this after writing Loop returning the coat). She reveals some of her curiosities about Loop, and although Loop still doesn't want to answer, they're curious what she means by the word "explore."

Loop makes a bit of a mistake though. They accidentally give Siffrin the impression that they're friends with Odile now, and Siffrin's happy for them!

Loop doesn't want to correct them though, so instead accidentally snaps at them for pestering them for the details on this totally real friendship.

There's a lot of hints scattered throughout the fic of Loop having very bad trauma. A large star-shaped scar on their chest. Implications that they're very familiar with Siffrin's blood. Having nightmares and waking up feeling like they have to kill Siffrin. Being so used to panicking whenever they wake up without Siffrin being there that they already know how to try and calm themself down.

I haven't gotten to writing the interview itself yet, but I want for Loop and Odile to actually start to become friends. I want for Loop to finally agree to an interview. And perhaps in an Interview with the Vampire (2022) style of things, start off completely contradictory and rewrite how it all started based on their own outbursts of emotions. Odile would catch onto this though, and get them to stick to the truth or not answer at all.

And thus, through much trial and error, Loop would eventually tell the story of meeting King. A nice man who Loop had once been friends with (it takes a LOT to pry that out of Loop), before they were ever Loop, but rather Siffrin. Loop would talk about how they had grown close over being from the same forgotten country, but that they'd come to learn that King had... other motives in wanting to get close to another Islander.

King had been studying something called Wish Craft.

King wanted to immortalize the Island's memory. Or at least, the memory that something existed from it. Perhaps somehow, some way, King could use Wish Craft to make things right again.

So what better way to try than to immortalize Loop?

Loop was betrayed and made to be a personal test subject. They weren't the first person to be a test subject, but they were the first success to survive it. Loop died very frequently those days, and after a long enough time, they reached a breaking point. They didn't want to suffer alone!! They wanted company!!! They wanted Help!!!!

Which tore Loop's strength out of them to create Siffrin.

Loop cannot regret Siffrin. But they regretted it at the time, as the experiments... lessened... on Loop, while the focus instead shifted onto Siffrin. The two were all each other had, so it pained Loop to have their burden fall onto him. Another regret was that Loop had become significantly weaker after Siffrin came to be, giving them less of a chance to fight back and escape. Loop was very protective of Siffrin, all the while wondering if they should just permanently kill him to get their strength back and escape. Towards the end, they almost went through with it.

They didn't though. The two eventually escaped together, sticking close to each other and occasionally moving from town to town while keeping their past secret.

I imagine that Loop will need... a lot of time and effort to tell Odile about all that though. They're very hesitant to even tell her that Siffrin exists, still wary about trusting her.

So between interviews, Loop and Odile just hang out, and Loop will come home to Siffrin who continues to live his own life. Loop will find themself healing just as Siffrin manages to.

If I do finish this fic, I would like for Loop and Siffrin to wind up friends with the whole party in it.

[sabrecrane]

Battling Writer's Block

Believe it or not there are people out there who believe that writer's block isn't a thing. Nope, I'm not kidding, that is what my lecturer said last year and I just want to assure anyone that may believe it doesn't exist/ or are thinking of giving up on their work, don't. It is a very real thing and is very common to experience especially if you've written so much that you've managed to burn yourself out. Also, nobody in my class liked that lecturer for the rest of the year after making that comment so if you don't believe it's real...I wish you luck is all I'm gonna say lol.

So how do you prevent this?

Well first of all, you can't, but you can decrease how likely it is to happen.

Organisation

First thing is first, get your notes and your characters down somewhere you can look at them. Organisation will help a ton. Personally I have notes scattered all over the place both physical and on a folder on my laptop. Ideas come at random so I jot them down and then always forgot to put the physical notes somewhere. This meant I got stressed because I knew I had a good idea but couldn't remember exactly what it was. I did end up finding the notes and have now bought a folder to store my papers in. But this disorganisation meant I spent a lot of time overthinking my skills as a writer which then affected my confidence and ultimately resulted in writer's block.

Create

The next thing you can do is relax and create. Plots will come in time, focus on creating -- that's the fun bit especially if you're working in the fantasy or sci-fi genre! Don't create your plots first because as soon as you create your characters you might realise those plots won't work with those characters anymore. While this may not directly contribute to writer's block it definitely could affect your confidence so if you already have a good plot idea but find your characters don't fit then store away the idea for later to use with characters that will work for it.

Also I know I only focused on the writing aspect of creation but if you want to create other things then do that, too! Draw, make models, maybe a small mistake you make might give you inspiration!

Take a walk

This is common advice I see and that is taking a walk. If you can't find the inspiration to work on your current project but want to write something, grab your laptop or notebook and just wander around in a park and focus on your senses. What can you hear? What are the conversations people are having? What can you see? Try and show it instead of telling. Is there wind, can you feel it?

Create Your Own Definition For Your Favourite Words

If you don't want to write something too complicated and can feel your motivation disappearing but want to try and regain it, search for words and show your meanings for it instead of what the official definition is. For example the word 'love', the official definition is generalised and always straight to the point but the word means different things for different people. So what is love to you?

Poetry

Adding onto the previous paragraph, maybe try poetry! Last year I was dreading my poetry module but I have actually enjoyed it so far. I never thought I would but at 3am I find myself drafting up a poem to work on the next day. I do have old notes somewhere so when I find them I'll post them here so you have a sort of visual for how some poetry forms work. My favourite type of poetry is freeverse so if you're wanting to create a story without necessarily rhyming but keeping within the poetry theme, that would be a great way to start!

Relax

Finally, read. Sit down somewhere with a cup of hot chocolate or your favourite drink and read. Take some time for yourself, your writing isn't going anywhere and either way it takes time. Writing is a skill to develop not something to rush. Rushing will result in confusion and you may miss out some minor plot points you wanted to add. Reading helps you learn so pick out pieces that you enjoy from the book and see if you can incorporate it into your own work somehow.

To all my fellow writers out there, take a breath. Everything will come to you in time.

[zraiusxo]

Part 4 for "A Game of Composure" please. :) I forgot how beautiful works like these are even without smut, I appreciate your writing so much, it's so novel worthy! Made me realize that fanfictions don't need smut to be well written and interesting. You're so underrated, I'm actually so shocked you're not getting hundreds of likes yet. But I wish you the best of luck, I know you're gonna get there some day! <3

♡ aww thank you so much anon! thank you for the kind words. i appreciate it a lot and it motivates me to keep writing! though i started writing on impulse whenever i got high, now i find it enjoyable thanks to you all. hope you like this one, enjoy! :3 ♡ tags: @isolde-zoe @hangesdeadcomrades @owo-teabag @morphids @primaddona-girl ♡ comment if you'd like a tag on my hange fics! also if you haven't yet, read the parts before this. ^^

A Game of Composure ,, Older Hange Zoë x Younger Fem!reader (4)

The evening unraveled like silk, steady and sumptuous, but Hange’s mind was a flurry of static. They hadn’t taken their eyes off Y/N since the moment she entered the room, dressed like some velvet vision in black, drawing men to her like moth to a flame. And even now, after the subtle claim they made by sending the curious businessman away—Hange remained coiled tight beneath the measured veneer.

But Y/N didn’t make it easy.

She never did.

She remained by Hange’s side, yes, but she didn’t hang onto them like a trophy on her arm. She spoke to others when addressed, she smiled at compliments—though never too widely—and she tilted her head and nodded when someone shared a story, that perfectly bored expression feigned just enough to pass as polite. Her elegance wasn’t an affect; it was a natural consequence of her self-possession. It was why Hange couldn’t look away.

They stood together near a stretch of the hall where the chandeliers dimmed to a gentle amber. Soft music floated through the space, and the press of bodies in formalwear moved like a gentle tide, each cluster of conversation shifting rhythmically.

Erwin passed by at one point, giving Hange and Y/N a subtle nod and a ghost of a smile before disappearing again into his own web of connections.

“I’d ask if you’re enjoying yourself,” Hange murmured under their breath, breaking the silence between them, “but you’ve never struck me as the type to do anything so… mundane.”

Y/N didn’t look up at Hange who stared down at her with an intense gaze, instead watching the banquet hall over the rim of her wine glass. “And you’ve never struck me as the type to get possessive.”

Hange’s gaze narrowed. “I’m not possessive.”

She turned towards them, that same maddening calm on her face. “You sent away a man who asked to speak to me. That’s a strange way to spell ‘possessive.’”

Hange leaned against the marble counter lining the wall, arms crossing loosely. “He didn’t want to speak to you. He wanted to flatter you into pretending he was interesting.”

“And you think you’re the exception?” Y/N asked with a raised brow.

“I know I am.”

That earned them a small laugh from her—low and brief, but genuine.

“You’re bold tonight, Doctor.”

“I had a month to think.”

Y/N set her glass down with a quiet clink. Her voice softened just enough to be heard beneath the music. “So did I.”

They didn’t speak for a moment. Hange watched her profile—sharp, serene, achingly young and yet composed in a way most their age never learned to be.

Y/N’s expression gave nothing away, but her hands—slim fingers brushing over the rim of her glass—were too still, too measured.

"You know," Hange began, their voice lower now, "you play this game better than most seasoned politicians."

Y/N’s lips quirked. "I imagine that’s meant to be a compliment."

“It is. It just makes me wonder what you’re hiding under all that control."

She didn’t answer right away. Her gaze lifted to the massive chandelier above them, crystals refracting specks of light across her face like fragments of stained glass. When she finally spoke, her voice was composed but deliberate.

“I grew up around individuals who thought power was something to be taken. I learned early on that power isn’t seized—it’s given. And people give it to the ones who don’t ask for it. They give it to the quiet ones. The ones who never seem to need anything.” She started.

Her sharp piercing eyes turned to Hange, tilting her head to the side slightly. “But wanting, that’s a different thing.”

That made Hange pause.

The answer was unexpected. Not because it was eloquent—Y/N was always that—but because it rang with something they rarely heard from her: honesty.

A revelation wrapped in velvet. Hange hummed, observing her again, but this time differently. As if the mask had slipped, even for a moment.

“I see,” Hange said, their tone more serious now. “So you let people see what they want to see.”

“I let people think they see something,” she corrected.

“And what do you think I see?” Hange asked.

Y/N turned toward them, her sharp eyes calm but unreadable. “I think you want to see what’s underneath. I think you’re smart enough to know it’ll take time. And arrogant enough to think I’ll let you.”

For once, Hange didn’t have a clever response ready. The air between them felt charged, thick with something heavier than flirtation.

“And if I’m patient?” they asked eventually.

“Then you might just see what they don’t,” she countered. “But you’ll have to stop sending men away like some territorial animal.”

Hange chuckled, shoulders relaxing. "Noted."

Before anything else could be said, an unwelcomed voice cut in.

“Miss L/N.”

They turned to see Marie approaching.

Of course.

She looked pristine as ever—her emerald green gown tight across the bodice, her jewelry understated but expensive. Her smile was far too polite.

“I was surprised to see you again,” Marie said, eyes flitting briefly toward Hange before settling back on Y/N with a challenging look in her eyes.

Y/N’s expression remained cool, meeting Marie's gaze with equal intensity. “Yes, I was invited.”

Marie’s voice lowered slightly, just enough to come off as intimidating but loud enough for Hange to hear. “Well. I’m sure your… presence is always appreciated. Especially by the older crowd.”

A small hum vibrated against Y/N's red-stained lips, but didn’t rise to it. “It seems so. Though I’m sure you don’t have to rely on insinuation to be remembered.”

Marie blinked.

A faint smile tugged at Hange’s lips, but they said nothing. This was Y/N’s fight, and she wielded silence like a blade.

Marie continued, undeterred. “You know, some of us worked very hard to build our place here. Years of study, internships, research. Not everyone has the luxury of just… being interesting because they’re young.”

Hange’s jaw tightened. Y/N didn’t flinch.

“That’s true,” Y/N replied calmly. “But not everyone can make people listen without shouting. I suppose we all use what we have.”

There was a beat of silence. Marie’s smile tightened, but she gave a small nod before turning away, heels clicking with restrained fury.

Hange exhaled slowly. “That was brutal.”

“I was being polite,” Y/N said, picking up her glass again.

“You were being surgical.”

Y/N glanced at them. “You don’t like her.”

“She doesn’t like you.”

“I noticed.”

“And the age thing?” Hange asked.

“I expected that too.” She glanced up at them, her gaze sharp but curious. “Does it bother you?”

“Not in the way she hopes.”

Y/N smirked, bringing the wine glass to her already red-stained lips. “Good.”

They stood like that for a while, letting the sounds of the banquet drift around them.

“So,” Hange said at last, voice gentler now. “When this is over, would you let me take you somewhere quieter? Just the two of us. No flattery. No businessmen. No Marie.”

Y/N looked up at them, the smile on her lips slowly fading. “Ask me again when I’m not surrounded by men in thousand-dollar suits.”

Hange chuckled softly. “Got that.”

But the promise hung in the air. And neither of them planned to let it go.

♡ not my favorite because it was super rushed due to me being too busy with my finals and other personal things to come up with something better, had to get high just to write this. can't function without it at this point. but i promise it'll get better! pinky promise. :3

[chil-aglia]

𝐃𝐨 𝐈 𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐢𝐦? |ROTTMNT| (Male OC)

[The Great Outdoors]

Be sure to read the tags on my Ao3 so you guys know what you’re getting yourselves into.

Art above is done by my beta reader Cimmerian who is one of the most talented artists I know! Please go like their stuff on tumblr!

Warnings: Blood, guns, animal (Krang Hound) deaths, usual angst, implied PTSD, etc

And of course, a quick thank you to my awesome beta readers @cimmerian1275 + @bootyshakerrr9000 who helped me out a lot with this chapter! Very talented and please, go give them a follow, like their work, etc.

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

Caden had been actively avoiding Mikey since their conversation in the dojo; he couldn’t face him after he freaked out and ran away like a scared child. He hadn’t even done anything, merely suggested a mind meld, and yet Caden chose to run. Hide his tail tucked between his legs like a coward. 

He felt terrible throughout the days he’d been ghosting the young box turtle. Leo had been no help either, fueling their arguments more often, butting heads each time Caden fumbled with the swords.

It was starting to become the norm for him. Wake up, get breakfast from the cafeteria from Draxum, train for hours on end throughout the day, take a break for water and lunch, and back to training.

He honestly felt like a robot, with such a boring routine that everyone has forced upon him. But given how Leo’s family didn’t want him walking around the base alone, he didn’t have many options.

He did however find a little respite in his daily routine by messing with the tech brace that Donnie had given him. At first, he experimented with just a simple notes function, writing down what he saw today or what he and Leo argued about this time when he was bored. Then he found a small drawing program, using his fingers to doodle random things, they weren’t good, just simple shapes and bad attempts at trying to copy stuff that caught his eye from the real world.

Leo interrupted him each time he was finally relaxing and getting into the zone though. Nagging him to train. To supposedly become skilled in the way of the blades. Caden often snapped at him, scolding the older slider to give him a damn second to just breathe for a moment.

Leo would, surprisingly, respect his wishes more often than not. Taking a step back for him, not crowding him so much as he silently observed the young teen.

Leo hadn’t told Caden that he found Draxum’s lab, he figured it was none of his business to know. It took a lot of willpower to not think about what he saw, to not accidentally show Caden the limp body of Leo’s mortally wounded physical form floating lifelessly in the floor to ceiling tube.

Leo also kept the baby pictures to himself as well. Mostly out of the fact he could picture Caden becoming annoyingly embarrassed and running after him in the mindscape, probably even threatening him.

Leo held a deep breath before slowly drawing out the exhale, keeping his lidded gaze fixed on Caden who stood at the panels, unmoving but wide awake as he stared at the ceiling of Leo’s room. “You didn’t sleep much, kid.” Leo mumbled quietly, tilting his head towards him as Caden shrugged a shoulder dismissively.

“Not tired.”

Liar.

Leo could tell he was absolutely lying, he knew because he could feel his exhaustion, but he also knew he couldn’t really force Caden to sleep. Well… in a strange way he might be able to, he would just have to control the body, but something told him that Caden would only fight back harder if he did that.

Leo silently breathed out a sigh, what the hell is he going to do with this kid? He was being so unnecessarily difficult for Leo. Arguing with him about pointless things, ignoring his orders. Just a constant headache for him to be stuck with.

He doesn't know how to get him motivated to listen. Motivated to practice more.

Motivated to grow up and learn.

Sure, he’s gotten better at sword wielding, but there is always room for improvement.

Leo closed his eyes, sitting down cross legged in the mindscape, hands over his lap as he inhaled calmly. He recalled when his father, Splinter, showed him some mediation techniques. Help him ground himself.

Leo should’ve been more appreciative of the lessons he tried to teach him back then. 

He regretted a lot of things from his earlier years, he was immature and selfish, just a bad son and brother in general. While his family would never say it to his face, he just… knew.

Caden felt a strange feeling crawl up his spine, making him turn to Leo as the only logical cause. He figured it must’ve been from the older turtle, but what was that feeling? It felt… kind of sad and heavy.

Before he could even ask, he was interrupted when the door of Leo’s room opens, making both him and the older slider perk up and look over to see April peeking her head inside with a tiny smile.

“Psst, hey Leo? Are you awake?”

Caden exasperatedly huffs, taking control of his body and sitting up in the bed. “Not Leo.” He corrected in a mumble, as April hums in acknowledgement and opens the door wider while gesturing to him.

“Hey, uh, I’m heading out of the base for a bit with some other scouts for a small scavenging trip. I figured I should ask you if you want to tag along? Finally see the world, maybe it could help you with your memory issues.” She explains her reasoning, but Caden brightens up at the mention of leaving the base.

Excitedly he opens his mouth, but he wasn’t able to get a word out when Leo suddenly grabbed him by the shoulder, not pulling him away but gripping firmly enough where Caden would tell he was serious.

“You’re not going.”

“What?! Why not?”

Leo glared down, biting his lower lip and shaking his head. “You’re not ready. It’s dangerous out there.” His firm tone was edged with a hiss, Caden returned the glare back, scoffing as he wrinkled his snout in indignation.

Not ready? He’s been training for what feels like years. He could tell he’s gotten better at wielding Leo’s swords, and he knows how to throw a good punch and kick thanks to Raph’s lessons.

He would be fine.

….Right?

He looked at April who angled her head at him expectantly. “You okay? If you don’t want to come, that’s fine. I can understand.” She assured lightly, though her smile was a bit strained around her eyes, she clearly wanted him to go along with her.

Caden gazed back at Leo, his face was stern. Caden knew Leo was anxious at the suggestion of him leaving the safety of the base, but how was he supposed to prepare for the world outside if he was going to be cooped up like this and never actually see it?

He roughly shrugs Leo’s hand off his shoulder, turning back to April as he moves his arm to grab the discarded gear that had been neatly folded on the bedside table.

Caden stands up, hopping off the bed and decisively clipping the straps for the katana’s on and over his shell, sparing a moment to reach for his cloak and throwing it over his shoulders.

“What are we waiting for? I need to get some fresh air anyway.”

He confidently pushed past April, heading to the door.

“You idiot… you’re not ready!”

Leo was yelling at him, trying to gain his attention but Caden remained fixated on going outside. He wanted to see the world. And he was not going to pass up on this opportunity.

-----

April led Caden through the base’s mostly barren hallways, it was early in the morning where most people were asleep, giving Caden the freedom to keep his hood off for the time being.

“Who else is coming along?” He inquired, tilting his head as April smiled down at him briefly.

“We got Allan, Sorcha and Maya with us today.” She informs, naming off the three other scouts coming along.

Maya….?

The name sounded familiar, but where did he hear it before?

April came to a sudden halt when they reached the doors to a new room, one that Caden hadn’t been in before. “Hood up.” April simply stated, waiting for him to do as he was told. The mutant listened and pulled the blue fabric over his head as he followed after April, who opened the doors for him to enter.

Inside was a room full of weapons and gear he doubts he even knows how to use. Dented lockers lined a wall, paint scuffed and peeling. Dim flickering lights lined the ceiling in haphazard rows, casting a dull white and blue atmosphere over the space.  It was a large room, enough to fit lots of yokai and people at once. The smell of oil, sweat and the ever-present trace of bioluminescent moss clinging to the cracks in the rocky walls.

Right, Caden has to remember that the base itself was still underground.

At one side of the hangar sat an armored rover—scuffed and dented from the years it's been used but still well maintained. The wheels were thick and rugged, plates bolted over them for extra protection, and a small mounted light rig perched on top to keep a watchful eye.

Crates of supplies were organized in rough rows near the far wall. Filled with gear like ropes, water canisters, first aid kits and a few odd pieces of scavenged tech that no doubt Donnie was going to see if he could use for a project.

Near the vehicle Caden noticed stood the other scouts, a lanky yet fit-looking yokai tiger holding a strange looking gun that had glowing purple lights embedded inside and visible through the cracks of the exterior. Beside him was a human girl, skin covered with scars like some kind of patchwork canvas and brown hair chopped short, wearing a black sleeveless top and cargo pants.

The last scout was another human.

Maya.

Caden recognised her when he finally saw who she was. Making him a little relieved that he somewhat knew at least one other person here.

Caden stayed close to April, his steps beginning to feel unsure despite the confidence he projected earlier. The cloak draped over him rustled with the movement he made, starting to feel like the fabric was heavier than he remembered it should be. Or maybe it was just the earlier words from Leo clinging to him.

‘You’re not ready.’

Leo had been quiet since Caden agreed to come along, in fact Caden felt as though if he turned around to face him, he wouldn’t even be there. But he didn’t want to risk looking like some scared or nervous kid if Leo caught him having second thoughts. He shoved the notion aside, shaking his head dismissively.

April stopped near the rover, exchanging quiet greetings with the scouts. The tiger yokai, Allan, gave a grunt of acknowledgment, adjusting the glowing rifle strapped to his chest. Sorcha, the girl with the scars and chopped hair, gave Caden a scrutinizing once-over, her expression flat with a brief flicker of skepticism twisting her lips before she turned away to do a gear check.

And then Maya turns to Caden, her eyes widen for a moment before she smiles and makes her way towards him. Her hair swayed in its messy ponytail, and she wore a hoodie that looked a few sizes too big for her under her utility vest.

“Caden. Nice to see you again.” She smiles happily at him as Caden clears his throat and nods in acknowledgement.

“Yeah, um, nice to see you as well Maya.” He exchanged a little smile back, though no doubt it must’ve looked awkward from under his hood.

“I feel much better now that someone I know is coming along with us on this little scouting trip. I haven’t been outside in weeks, so I was nervous about joining a new group again.” She chuckled good-naturedly, hand on hip.

Caden blinked at her and bobbed his head in thought as he processed her words, “How come you haven’t been out in a while?”

“Ah… I got injured last time I was out. I’m fine now, but the medics told me to stay in the base until they were satisfied enough with my health to let me get back into action.”

Injured…?

Caden silently observed her appearance, he didn’t see anything wrong with her physically, but perhaps the injury was under her clothes or internal?

“Alright team! We're all ready to go?” April announces, loudly clapping her hands to gain their attention.

“Just before we leave Commander. Do you mind telling us this young gentleman’s name?” Allan, the tiger, spoke up as he stared at Caden who gulped under his analytical gaze.

“Oh right. This is Le—“ She catches herself halfway, clearing her throat and quickly correcting. “Caden. This is Caden. He’s new, but don’t worry he can handle this.” She smiled out of pride as Caden offered an awkward wave in greeting.

“And, uh… a yokai! Yeah, he’s a turtle yokai.”

This had their attention, “Turtle? Huh, the only turtles alive I’ve seen are the four brothers.” Allan hums, running a paw under his chin in speculation. Caden fiddles with the edge of his cloak, nervously twisting it between his fingers and clears his throat, gesturing for April to hurry this along so that they can go.

Luckily, she noticed and nodded, “Now that everyone is ready. Let’s go.”

She walks over to a control panel, placing a hand over it as it beeps and turns green, clearing her access. The wall ahead of them sliding up, Caden feeling anxious but excited as he trotted a bit closer to April’s side.

It was time.

Time to see what was really out there.

-----

As soon as Caden stepped out of the hangar’s shadow, the world outside engulfed him whole.

His legs froze on the spot.

The air was noticeably sharper, dry and tinged with something unnatural and new—burnt metal and ozone. The morning light didn’t feel like morning at all. The horizon bled orange and gold across the sky that looked as though it had been ripped open by a dragon.

Mountains of rubble and blackened stone stretched across the ground, like gravestones of the old world that Caden had only heard brief stories of.

Caden could hear his heart pounding loudly in its confines, eyes blown wide with shock. He winced out of startlement when the wind picked up, his cloak rustling as dust from the earth swirled and hissed around him.

“Let’s go. Make sure to stay low, quiet, and if you see anything don’t engage.” April orders, her voice stern and authoritative as she jogged away in the lead, the others following after as Caden hesitated before chasing the group. The sensation of sand and uneven broken land beneath his wrapped feet was new, the earthy tones already beginning to coat his legs and the bottom of the cloak. The light felt different on his skin out here, warmer and more real.

He gulps, dry mouth making the motion a challenging task, breathing unevenly as he tries to not dwell on the destruction he had only just now begun to see.

He struggled to tear his gaze away from the scenery as April gestured him over to her side, and he noticed that they were using trenches to move. Caden hesitated a moment as he looked behind him, the base slowly getting farther away.

He didn’t realise that they came out of an underground tunnel system, the wall that opened up for them was now closed. Caden bit his lip, body feeling a little shaky as he stared ahead to keep up with the group.

They travelled further from the safety of the base, having to crouch down and remain on constant alert once April informed them that they had now entered enemy territory. Or close to it at least.

“Commander, what are we supposed to be looking for?” Sorcha asks in a hushed tone; April stops and looks back at her team.

“Supplies, anything that looks valuable. Food, first aid kits. The usual list.” She informs, gazing over at Caden who remained quiet, deep in thought.

“You okay?” April asked, the others looking at him when Caden flinched at the sudden switch in attention.

“Yeah. I’m just… I’ll be okay.” He assures, pulling his hood down as much as he could to hide his expression in case it gave away how he felt.

He spots the way Maya frowns at him, patting his arm in comfort. “It’s scary isn’t it? I was like that too.” She mutters, voice soft and reassuring as Caden hums in reply, inhaling a deep breath of dusty dry air and exhaling it slowly in an effort to calm himself down.

“Okay, we’ve reached where some stores are reported to still be standing. Spread around and gather anything you can fit in your pockets.”

Quietly they enter inside a ruined convenience store, Caden blinking curiously at the mess as he watches the others split up, browsing through the aisles.

Gather supplies… okay.

He walked over to a spot they hadn’t checked yet, crouching down and searching through crates, picking up random jars full of strange substances inside. He grimaced at the sour smell of food turned bad, sighing and giving a slow and hesitant look around the place.

Shelves leaning against each other, half collapsed, their contents scattered across the dusty and rubbled floor. Degrading bags of chips long since torn open, drinks that must have exploded from the heat and candy reduced to sticky rot. Caden didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to as the others chatted quietly amongst themselves.

It felt too quiet.

Focus Caden. Look for useful things.

He goes back to scavenging around the place, eyes narrowed in concentration.

And then he heard it. Something that instinctively screamed danger for him in his mind.

A soft, wet click. Somewhere in the back just behind a pile of fallen shelving units. His eyes went wide and unblinking as he slowly turned towards the noise.

“…Guys?” He called out, voice low and barely audible. He received no answer, but he saw how Maya had ducked into a side aisle, April was busy prying open a locked cabinet and the other two were somewhere else out of sight.

Another click. Sounding closer now, which was followed by the noise of tapping, reminiscent of Draxum’s hooves on concrete.

His breathing hitched in his throat, and he crouched near the fallen aisle, planning to peer through a gap. 

“Kid—“

Leo had suddenly spoken up, but Caden ignored him, peering through the gap and narrowing his eyes, willing them to adjust faster. It was nothing but dark shadows, and for a second, he felt relieved that it must've been his imagination.

He let out a breathy chuckle of relief, “Stupid mind tricks.” He mumbled, curiously looking once more through the dark gap.

His heart stopped.

Two vibrant glowing red eyes blinked open low to the ground, so bright they were almost white, looking back at him.

And then—

A loud guttural roar echoed from the gloom as the eyes lunged forward, the pile of fallen shelves burst outward as a giant, four-legged creature thundered through. Caden yelps in both shock and fear as he quickly jumps and stumbles backwards.

He let out a grunt when he dove back again, narrowly dodging the beast as it crashed and pounced towards him. It skidded across the floor where Caden was just standing, letting out a mix between an inhuman shriek and howl, knocking over an empty freezer as it immediately turned, fast, too fast.

April grabbed his arm, forcefully pushing him back behind her with a strong grip, gun trained on the enemy as she fired at its shoulders to force it away.

“Krang Hound! Everyone, weapons ready!”

At this Allan, Sorcha and Maya dashed over and drew out their guns, aiming them at the Krang Hound. Caden stood in the back of the group, breathing heavily out of shock and adrenaline as he cautiously reached behind for the blades on his shell, swinging them out and gripping the hilts tightly.

Would Leo’s swords even do anything against this?! It was practically as tall as himself and way, way bigger than him.

“You have to attack!” Leo commanded, as Caden trembled, frozen as he switched to watching the group fire their guns, pink and purple lasers blasting with skilled and experienced precision at the Krang Hound. But they weren’t fast enough to hit their mark as it dodged, running circles around them and using its powerful front legs to propel its massive frame faster and jump between the shelves, screeching down at them.

“Caden! We could use your blades to cut them down!” Sorcha shouts, in the brief moment they used to split their focus and yell at Caden, it left them vulnerable and she gave a muffled scream. The Hound had lunged at her when it saw the lapse in concentration, pinning her down with a single foreleg and the crushing weight of its entire body. She used her gun to block its jaws from biting her head off, the metal snapping and sparking as the Hound’s jaws thrust forwards and severed the weapon clean in two before tossing it aside.

“Damn it, Kid!” Leo growls, shoving him back and taking control, using Caden’s body to charge ahead, brandishing the katanas towards the Krang who narrowly avoided a blade to its neck. Leo managed to slice a shallow wound in its leg, making it hiss in pain and back away as Caden watched Leo from within the mindscape.

“Leo!”

“Just shut up and let me focus!”

Caden listened for once, shutting his mouth as Leo flexed Caden’s fingers out. Readjusting and getting a comfortable grip on the hilts before running ahead again, blades at the ready as he leaps up at the same time as the Hound, kicking his leg out and hitting it square chest. The Hound yelped and huffed as it crashed down, muscles rippling across its thick hide as it shook off the impact of Leo’s attack.

He rolls to the ground shoulder over shell, and lands in a crouch, swords aimed at the Hound again as it swivels its glowing eyes back in his direction, growling and claws tapping on stone as it inched closer to Leo who clicked his tongue in annoyance. Sorcha no longer had a gun, and April and Maya were periodically firing between reloading their own weapons, the laser fire glancing off the tough skin of the Hound.

“Come on! Attack me.” Leo smirked in his routine cocky fashion, whistling to keep its attention as the Hound snarled and charged at him. Leo dodged, circling around the Krang Hound as his swords collided with its razor sharp jaw and talons. 

They did this a few times, the Krang Hound testing his defences and looking for a new opening to attack as Leo studied it with focused eyes. Then he saw it look over at April, as she momentarily struggled to reload her weapon, and his breathing got caught in his throat.

“April!”

The Hound runs at April who fumbled briefly with the gun, and she cursed under her breath. Leo sprinted forward, instinctively throwing one of his katanas at the Hound, the ear-splitting shriek of the creature ringing in his ears as the blade struck its lower back, falling to the ground and shaking the foundations of the crumbling building as it skids to a stop at April’s boots. It lay twitching and spasmed for a horrifying moment before going limp.

April blinked widely as she watched Caden’s body pant heavily when he gasped for air, unaware that Leo was in control, unaware that Leo was the one who expertly threw his sword with practiced aim at the Hound to save her.

He gathers a deep breath before walking over, grasping the hilt of his sword that had remained impaled in the spine of the now deceased Krang Hound. “Leo… I mean, Caden?” April mumbles to him, but neither of them had a chance to speak when another click and growl echoed throughout the building.

Caden slowly made his way towards Leo, “There’s more…?” He inquired in bewilderment.

“They’re pack creatures. When there’s one, you can bet there’s at least a few more around.” Leo calmly informs him, used to this sort of scenario.

The growls got louder, the scouts and April loading their guns again as they followed the noise. Leo trailing behind them, he noticed that they got closer to where the first Krang Hound jumped out from. Leo used Caden’s engineered inhuman strength to lift up the fallen shelf and move it upright, walking in first.

It revealed a back room with its door ripped off its hinges, the shelves acting as an impromptu doorway before he’d removed them.

Another Krang Hound. However, unlike the first one, this one was already injured, struggling to move as it lay prone on the ground, but still managing to direct a weak and feeble defensive snarl at the group when they approached. Huddling behind the Hound were 3, smaller, puppy-like sizes of the adult creature.

“It’s hurt. Let’s kill it and the pups before they get a chance to recover and grow.” Allan growls, gun trained on the Krang creature as it hisses.

Caden stares and looks at Leo, whose face remains stoic. Expression unreadable as Caden gulped. “Can’t we just… leave it? It’ll die eventually with its injuries…” He mutters, but Leo laughs bitterly for a moment.

“These things? Trust me… it’ll take a lot more than this to kill them off. It’s better that we do it now.”

Leo looks at April who gazes at him, “Shoot.”

The guns power up, and Caden watched with a feeling of uncomfortableness churning in his gut, recoiling and closing his eyes when he heard the sound of gunfire blasting away, followed by screeches of pain and terrified yelps, the sounds of an animal suffering as it died.

Then it was silent.

“Okay, let's head back to base guys. Take what you’ve gathered.” April announces, turning away and walking out of the room, Allan helped Sorcha, an arm under her shoulders as they followed behind her closely. Maya took a second to look back at Caden, chewing her lip in thought as she glanced back at him when he didn’t move from the bodies of the Hounds.

She eventually walked out, leaving Caden alone.

Inside the mindscape Leo walked away from the controls, letting Caden regain control as the young mutant let out a breath he hadn't realized he’d been holding.

When he was back to piloting his own body, he felt his chest tighten at the scene up close. His hands that gripped the sword hilts felt weak and shook as he sheathed them into their holsters on his shell.

He didn’t like this. Killing an already injured creature that was just protecting its babies. Leo was probably judging him. Hard. But he didn’t say anything if that was the case.

Caden turns around, ready to leave the gore and death behind.

“Chirrrp!”

He froze at the soft and barely audible noise, quickly turning back around as his eyes flew wide open at the sight. A miniature, puppy sized Krang Hound tumbled out from behind the lifeless body of the adult that shielded it.

Its red eyes looked around curiously, and as it noticed Caden, let out a small 'chirup' of curiosity as it tried to climb around the large body.

Caden gulped and hesitantly crouched, kneeling down with one leg as he watched the young Krang stumbling head over heels over its dead parent. It shook its head and sneezed, sniffing the air and nudging its snout against the limp leg of the adult Krang, who of course couldn’t respond.

“Shit, we missed one. It’s up to us to kill it.” Leo spoke up, making Caden tense up at his words.

“Kill it…?” Caden repeated in a mumble, watching as the pup whimpered when its parent didn’t move and return its gesture of affection or wake up to its offspring's cries.

“Grab a katana.” Leo orders, but Caden shakes his head stubbornly.

“No, please… don’t make me do it. I… I can’t just..” He takes in sharp and ragged breaths as he feels his heart rate pick up, wrapping his arms around his body as though he was trying to calm himself down.

Then the pup turns around, looking over to Caden. Its previously sad and grieving body language had suddenly perked up and it trotted towards him with its smaller stubbier legs, letting out a curious and eager ‘sheiwrk!’ sound as it approached and stood on its hind legs. Leaning against Caden’s thigh, trying to climb into his lap.

Caden didn’t know where to put his hands at first, but he slowly and gingerly helped it up to sit in his lap, quiet and stiff as he looked down at the small creature who nuzzled its snout against his plastron.

“What are you doing? It’s a killing machine. It’ll shred people when it’s older.” Leo announced, putting a hand on Caden through the mindscape.

“If you won’t kill it, then I will—“

“NO!”

Caden shoved his hand off his shoulder as his body in the real world curled protectively over the Krang pup, shielding it and holding it tightly as he trembled.

“No one is killing it…”

Leo, flabbergasted, stood still. “What are you…?” He mumbled as Caden tenses, tears forming and burning his eyes as they slid down his cheeks, the droplets landing on the Krang pup who inquisitively looked up at Caden, wagging its little tail as a tongue flicked out to lick its nose dry.

“I can’t kill it… I won’t. And neither will you.” Caden glared at Leo, who’s face twitched in annoyance and incomprehension.

“You can’t be serious…” He growls, but Caden nods.

“What’s the point of killing it? It poses no threat. I can… I can take care of it.”

Caden tightened his hold on the pup, who started licking away his tears, making Caden smile painfully as he sniffled, looking down at it with a fond gaze.

“From what I’ve seen of this world so far… mercy is a skill that more could use, right?” Caden spoke out loud, voice crackling and wet.

Leo stiffens at his words, hands curling into fists by his sides, scoffing at him. “Absolutely insane.” He comments under his breath, but Caden grinned when an idea popped up.

“I’ll make us sign up for those therapy sessions with Mikey, if I don’t get to keep this, uh, Krang pup.” He blackmailed, Leo groaned loudly and walked away to curse under his breath.

I’ll take that as a go ahead and I can keep it.

With an eager smile, Caden stands up, holding the Krang pup in his arms. He frowns at the remaining lifeless bodies, the other pups.

“I’m sorry…” He muttered, turning away and walking out the room. He stops before he could see the waiting group, tucking the Krang pup into one of the larger pockets of his pants to keep it out of sight.

“Make sure to stay quiet.” He whispered as the pup purred quietly, before ducking down deeper inside the pocket.

“Yo, Caden! Are you coming?” April calls out, noticing him standing far from the group. He flinched but nodded and did his best to look normal, or as normal as he could.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

He strolls over, nodding in acknowledgment as they exit the store.

Leo sat in the back, rubbing his hands over his face. “This kid is gonna be the death of me, I swear.” He grumbled to himself.

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

It’s so sad….ANYWAY CADEN HAS A PET NOW- 

APOLOGISE FOR ANY GRAMMAR MISTAKES THAT WERE MADE, I TYPE PRETTY FAST AND OFTEN DON’T SEE THEM UNTIL I ACTUALLY PUBLISH THE CHAPTER. THEN I’D TRY AND FIX ANY MISTAKES WHEN I SEE ONE.

Quotev - Do I Look Like Him?

Ao3 - Do I Look Like Him?

First Chapter here

Previous Chapter here

Taglist:

@turtl3sk3tch3s

@katiemaycreate

[anbaisai]

Finally had time to sit down and write, but honestly there’s not much to be said other than thank you to everyone who wrote a message on my tree! I really enjoyed reading every single message and screenshotting to save them into a folder for when I need a lil boost ww (including one from Mr. Viper himself above that got a laugh out of me, thanks Jamil really appreciate you thinking I’m cool)

Some sappiness under the cut:

I never expected to receive this much support for my silly yume/oc ship content when I began posting, and I really don’t have the words to express how grateful I am. I’ve met many wonderful people through this fandom, and also just had lots of fun in general making art. I mean it when I say I genuinely never had this much motivation and inspiration to create for any fandom (or original content) in the past. There was a long, long period in my life during which trying to find even a crumb of motivation to draw felt impossible. There was always some reason that I couldn’t - be it school/life being too busy, feeling too tired, having other stuff to do first, etc. I thought I’d never rediscover my love and passion for art, until I finally pushed myself to design my Yuu for real (instead of just thinking about it) and then everything just snowballed from there. (For context, I began playing TWST in 2020 and, despite being very much in love with it, only began drawing anything for it this year.)

I have such a massive list of ideas that I still want to draw (plus several asks that I want to answer that I just haven’t had the time to yet), so I’m certainly going to be kept busy for a while. After previously making every excuse possible for not drawing, I’ve learned that yeah, once you really love something you will squeeze time out for it no matter how hard things get, because it kills you not to. All those times when I wondered when I’d ever be able to draw as much as my favourite artists now feel like a distant relic of the past, and I have Twisted Wonderland (especially Jamil) and this community to thank for it. If anyone reading this is going through something similar, I promise it gets better - you will need to put in the effort to make it start, but you will get there.

There’s also my past experiences of being in fandoms that, well, did not welcome yume/self-shipping type content. If I so much as thought of creating any, the fear of being ridiculed would make me back away from the idea immediately. I’m glad to see that sentiment seems to be no longer the norm, but also the TWST fandom has been one of the most supportive of yume content I’ve ever seen. To everyone wanting to participate but has been hesitating, you absolutely should! My only regret is not starting sooner, seriously. In a sense I feel like I'm fulfilling a childhood dream of mine, and all of my past hesitation and anxiety just dissipated once... as cringe as it sounds - once love took over. So go pour your love and passion into that character you adore, they deserve it.

Anyways, wishing everyone a happy holidays and happy new year! Here’s to another year of enjoying TWST and creating for the things we love ❤

[enden-agolor]

hey enden!!

I have a few questions for you in regards of drawing and writing if you wouldn’t mind answering!

Drawing Questions

1. What’s your drawing process like? Do you also freehand big drawings like you do with your doodles/small sketches?

2. What other fandoms do you draw for?

3. Have you ever tried animation? If not, do you plan to try and learn?

4. How often do you draw in a day? do you get artblock frequently?😓

5. What is your FAVORITE art work that you’ve ever made?

Writing Questions

1. How do you stay motivated to write? What keeps you in the zone?

2. Your chapters are always so lengthy, how long do you write for in a day?

3. Before you start writing do you already know what you’re going to write about? or do you make things up as you go/do you go with the flow?

4. Do you already know how you’re going to end your story or does the ending change as you write?

5. When writing for FDAU have you ever ran into some plot holes? If so, how did you fix them?

Sorry if its too many questions, please feel free to answer or not answer whichever ones you feel comfortable with!! I really want to start writing and I’m just having so much difficulty starting it.

Yes, almost all my art is freehanded. I need to actually get better about looking at references and stuff so I can eventually make my art more dynamic and appealing to look at, buuut I’m too lazy to go looking for that stuff.

I used to draw a lot of Kirby fanart a few years ago. I stopped once the fandom began getting way bigger and more toxic… Aside from that, I occasionally draw MLP, Mario, Pokemon, and OC’s from time to time. 

I did animation once before on my Nintendo DSi when Flipnote Hatena was huge back in the day (2010-2013). I stopped after my mom destroyed my DS though. Kind of killed my motivation to animate, let alone draw for many years. I’d like to try again some day. Having adhd makes it incredibly difficult to keep myself dedicated to a single project though. Idk, maybe someday. 

I usually only draw for a few short hours. I just don’t have time to do a ton of art anymore. Art block does come around frequently unfortunately. 

Favorite artwork? I don’t think I actually have one. I don’t really view my art in the most positive way, so it’s kind of hard to choose a favorite. If I had to, maybe that short comic with Admin Jesse? Because I was actually able to find the time and motivation to bring myself out of my comfort zone to color something in full. It was nice. I wish I could do something like that again.

When it comes to writing:

Motivation comes and goes, but knowing I have so much love and support from my readers keeps me going. Some days I’m completely out of it and don’t have the energy to write at all, so I’ll either draw or play a game instead. A big motivation too has always been how lacking the jesskas tag on Ao3 is. Lots of… weird and gross things come out of this fandom, so I really like putting my heart into something that sparks good feelings in people. I like seeing this ship happy and in love, and I now know so many others do too, so I strive to make the content that depicts that. 

Uhh I usually only write for a few hours. Like I just finished about two hours of writing and only got 1300 words in, which isn’t much… I work 8 hours Thursday through Monday and always take a hour and a half nap when I get home to recharge before I pick Andy up from work at 10:30 p.m. That gives me about 3 hours to work on the fic depending on how I’m feeling at the end of the day. I’ll write on my weekends too, but since that’s the most time I get to spend with Andy, I try to spend all my time throughout the day with him rather than alone in silence writing. 

I always keep goals to reach in a chapter. Like scenes I know will be in the chapter, so I just have to figure out how it is that we’re going to reach that point. That gives us a lot of room for Andy and I both to work as much world building, lore, dialogue, etc into the chapter as it plays out. 

As of now, we know how our stories will end. FDAU’s ending will stay the same as it always has. It’s just that lots of scenes building up to that point have been changed to make the story flow better. Not only that, but as the story goes on and the characters grow, there have been lots of instances where we thought characters would act a certain way, but once we reached that point, we re-evaluated the growth and feelings of said character and really questioned if this would be a realistic depiction of their actions. You can’t really force a character to act… out of character for a scene if it doesn’t fit who they’ve become, you know? So yeah, lots of things have changed! 

And surprisingly… We haven’t actually ran into any plot holes in FDAU yet. It has shockingly gone very well. I spend a large portion of my days thinking about the story and constantly thinking about the who, what, where, if’s, when’s, why’s, and all that stuff. I’ve never written anything this complex, and neither has Andy! So it’s super new to us, and we do our best to ensure it comes out well.

[julie-spirit-finn]

Did someone say... Thursday Bangers?

This week's Banger inpired @fiberpunk027 who suggested the songs... noted on @woundedsoul12 's post that I snitched the prompt from 😅

Was I tagged? No... No I was not. Did I decide to do something and relate it to one of my sad one-shot love stories anyway? Yes... Yes I did.

Rules for your Copy and Paste: Free form a blurb or drawing based on the weekly lyrics prompt. It doesn't have to include the prompt just whatever you're inspired to write, write it! Then tag some friends so they can play as well. It doesn't have to be finished on Thursday just post it whenever you can (you have a whole week between Thursdays).

I don't know what I'm supposed to do

Haunted by the ghost of you

Oh, take me back to the night we met

- Lord Huron

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

Orchestral music filled the opera house, providing a thickly layered base over which this year's soprano lead soared. The entire audience was enraptured and Rook's cheeks were wet as the music coursed both around and through her.

Her blood thrumming with the lilting beauty of the performance, she closed her eyes to simply feel it. Her hands came up to hold her swollen belly and she rubbed soothing circles over the excited kicks and flutters from within.

Wishing the baby's father was still here, Rook could hear the echoes of his deep timbre from when the two of them had sung a song from this very opera together in his quarters.

Beginning to cry in earnest, she was grateful for how dark the opera house was. It had only been a little more than half a year, but she still felt his loss as though it just happened. Saving Thedas had not brought back her Butcher, after all.

Her days were haunted by his ghost in everything... whether happy or sad. At first she'd been numb. Then had come despair because she couldn't even walk down the streets of their beloved Treviso - their jewel - without feeling the gaping hole her chest where he'd been. She struggled daily, just trying to figure out what to do... how to live.

The song stretched on, melody shifting to an inquisitive, lighthearted movement. Rook reached into her pocket, fingers tracing the red and blue jewel he'd had cut for her. It brought her comfort to carry it with her... almost as though a piece of his heart remained with her.

She recalled their first night together after he invited her down from her perch atop the rafters. It didn't take long for her to know she was in love with him... she'd been captivated even before those nights together by his gentle manner, reading, and singing.

As the final notes sounded, Rook blinked away the tears. She joined in with the applause, this final piece earning the performers a standing ovation. Rook sighed deeply through her nose and swallowed against the lump in her throat, wishing he could have attended with her. This had been his favorite opera.

Scrubbing her damp cheeks on the back of her sleeve, she took comfort in the thought that perhaps she could raise their child to love this opera, too. Maybe the babe would even come to sing with her.

Everything she had worked toward was to preserve this wondrous city for everyone. Now her motivation was narrowed to just one person. Rook would raise their child amongst the glittering lights, romantic canals, arched, stained glass windows... and the arts.

And maybe seeing Daathrata in everything would cease to cause her pain, some day. Maybe she would learn to only remember their love.

For this little one... she'd try. Daathjoya. They would be named for their father... and their city.

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

Link for the fic this is a follow up to: The Butcher of Treviso Finds Love

Guys... I wrote this on the fly in the app at 7am shortly after getting myself and the fam up for the day. I'm sure it's not great... but I'll probably flesh it out a bit and put it on AO3 at some point haha.

Also... is the baby's intended name corny? Half of Daathrata plus joya (sp for jewel)? 100%

Y'all might not know this about me... but I'm nothing if not corny.

Thank @thebarghestiest for the baby brainworm

@jaspercafe (I made the story even more sad?)

[liillyliilly]

Lost In Yesterday

ushijima wakatoshi x reader words; 1446 synopsis; Ushijima wished that things would always stay like they were when it was yesterday. When Y/n moves out of his yesterday, will he be able to keep up?

[Eventually, terrible memories turn into great ones]

Ushijima Wakatoshi doesn’t know what it means to be subtle. Even as a second year in middle school, when he first saw Y/n he knew he needed to say something about the way she looked or else it would just kill him.

“You are very pretty.”

Y/n just gave a small smile and said something in what he could only recognize as English. When she walked off to her desk in the second row, Ushijima knew he was in for a challenge. Being quiet himself, he realized this wasn’t a good match to try and win. His confidence was at an all-time low, as he looked on at her trying to find ways to fit in at school. She would try and use her hands to talk, or resort to drawing what she was talking about. But when people would just shrug and walk off, he felt like seething because Y/n honestly didn’t deserve that.

The one time he tried to get her to play volleyball with him was when he saw her sitting under a tree flipping through a book. But when she just shook her head and pointed at a group of other kids, Ushijima set the ball down and sat next to her. He felt like he was going to burn himself from how much heat was rushing to his face. When she tried to talk to him using small phrases, he felt endeared to her because even though she could only talk like a small child she had tried her hardest. And he could commend her on that.

He thought he would try and pick up on his English when he got home that day. As he laid on the floor, looking through an English dictionary, his eyes wandered to the volleyball sitting right by the door. But he refocused and lasered his eyes onto the pages of words.

“You can do this. Do it for L/n.”

The next day at school, he swallowed thickly before going up to Y/n and making conversation.

“You and I are friends.” He meant it to be more of a question but the reaction Y/n gave was enough of motivator to keep him learning English.

As he went through Middle school and eventually was in his first and second years of High School, Ushijima kept learning English. And while Y/n improved her Japanese and Kanji writing skills, she was still lacking in a lot of descriptive words and could only make out simple sentences. Which gave Ushijima the opportunity to say whatever he was thinking without getting too flustered, knowing that she wouldn’t understand unless he repeated the words.

“Your eyes remind me of the passion I have for volleyball. Deep and pure.” He mustered out as Y/n was resting her head on her hands reading the same magazine as him. They were sitting across from each other at his kitchen table. And if he lowered his gaze, he could see the colors of the magazine running across her eyes.

“What was that?” She set a hand on the magazine page, lifting her head and straightening her back so that she could be semi-eye level with him.

“Nothing to worry about.”

The days he spent trying to keeping growing as friends with her turned into weeks, that turned into months, that turned into a strong bond going into third year.

[Does it help to get lost in yesterday?]

Ushijima Wakatoshi feels like the only time he ever experienced true jealously was when Y/n started going on dates with the boys on the volleyball team. Even as a blunt person, he just couldn’t ever bring up the fact that he also wanted to take her out on a date. At least once. He could deal with meeting and challenging other volleyball players, but the idea of facing Y/n left a sickly-sweet taste in his mouth.

He didn’t notice just how much she had changed from his second year in middle school, until she started to speak to him in near perfect Japanese. Or how she made friends easier than he did. Or the way she laughed at the jokes his team members uttered. He figured the best way to approach this was to talk to Tendou.

“Satori, how do I make a joke?” Ushijima was laying on his dorm bed, his volleyball resting on his chest.

“Oh, is this mayhaps about the foreign girl?” Tendou kicked the desk he was sitting at and slid across the dorm floor with his office chair, only stopping when his chair hit the edge of Ushijima’s bed.

“There are millions of foreign girls Satori.”

“But there’s only one L/n.” Tendou sang, as he wiggled his fingers in the same way he used to taunt their opponents.

“That is true.”

['Cause it might've been somethin', who's to say?]

Ushijima Wakatoshi was never one to regret things. But he regretted ever letting his heart become Y/n’s, if only for an hour. Recently Y/n had been going on and on about some boy in her math class. And it itched at Ushijima. Every time she said his name in that very specific tone of voice, it scratched at him. She would talk about what it would be like if she ever did confess, saying something about it ‘being something, but really who’s to say’.

“And he lent me a pencil when mine ran out of lead. Can you believe that?” She sighed dreamily, and put her hands to her face and held back a smile.

“I can give you a pencil.” Ushijima handed her a pencil.

“Thanks, Ushi, but it was different when he did it.” She twirled the pencil around her hand. Toying not only with the writing tool, but also toying with Ushijima’s heart. It was some sort of game where she continued to just give him hope then steal it away at the last moment.

“Different how?”

“I don’t know. It just felt,” She muttered in English for minute before getting her light bulb moment. “It felt like some sort of made for TV movie about teenage romance.”

“Real romance is not the same as it is in the movies L/n.” Ushijima clarified. He didn’t want Y/n to mix her reality with the incessant daydreams she wandered through.

Real romance wasn’t just a love at first sight thing. Real romance is knowing and understanding a person on such a deep level where you could probably be more conscious of them than your own self.

“I know.” Y/n huffed, and handed the pencil back to him. But he just closed her fingers over her palm so she kept gripping the pencil.

“So why are you fawning over it?” Ushijima was stuck. He wanted to stay in his yesterday of simply talking to Y/n about her books, or school work, or even just listening to her blabber in an incomprehensible jumble of English and Japanese.

“Ushi, you sound angry.” Y/n set the pencil down on the nearest table in his room.

He didn’t want to be angry. He just had had enough of the waiting around for yesterday to happen again.

“I am.”

“Why?” Y/n tilted her head.

“Because I like you.” He confessed.

“I like you too Ushi, but I don’t know what that has to do with this.”

Ushijima wanted to pull his hair out. Ushijima wanted to grab her shoulders and shake any form of sense into her head. Ushijima wanted to stare at her eyes and watch as the vivid colors swirled around with her emotions. Ushijima wanted something so simple, but why wasn’t he getting any sort of response.

“No, you do not understand. I like you.”

“I like you too! But why are you being mean?” Y/n huffed and turned around so that she wasn’t facing him anymore. It seemed so childish and immature. But it was the only way to protect herself from having to directly look at him.

“Can I show you?” Ushijima walked around Y/n so that they were facing each other again.

“Sure.” Y/n still wasn’t meeting his eyes

He leaned in and pressed his lips onto of hers. He didn’t try to go further by moving his lips. He was content with just having his lips touch hers. But when she pressed back and her hands moved up to run through his olive colored hair, he was no longer lost in his yesterday. The yesterday of staying still and watching everything from a defensive stance. Because, it isn’t yesterday any longer. It’s today.

[indieyuugure]

indie do you have any tips on comic making? (coming from someone who's trying to make their own tmnt comic)

Sure! I can try my best!

Plan your story beginning to end! It doesn’t have to be a movie script but just something that keeps track of the plot, its twists, characters and their motivations and stuff. ROTP’s plot was almost entirely written on a week to week basis. The only chapters that were planned out were 1, 2, 8, 9, and 10. It seems counterintuitive, but it’s not fun to write a comic shoot-from-the-hip that way. You’re more prone to writer’s block and thus giving up entirely. Do yourself a favor and write the story ahead of time!

Establish a style! You want something that when people scroll through social media go “Hey! I know that style!” I unfortunately can’t give you many tips on this, but I’ve had people tell me that the way I the way I draw faces is very unique. If you don’t feel like you have a style, just try a ton of different stuff until something clicks with you! Adopting techniques from other styles is okay too!

Go at your own pace! Pacing your progress to your own life and speed is very important, especially for avoiding burnout! For me, I have enough time to do 5 pages a week, but maybe you need more time, or maybe you need less, or maybe you wanna do more pages or fewer, it’s all up to you and how you’re life functions! Whatever you choose though, I highly recommend setting it to a schedule if you can. When people discover your comic and really like it, they’re gonna want to know when to come back for more; repeat costumers, if that makes sense. Eventually that predictably will make your comic grow!

Sorry, that was a bit long, but yeah, there’s 3 tips, most of which I learned from experience. Hopefully you found these helpful, and I wish you luck in comic making!

Good question! :]

[nadinescholtes]

Q&A

About sending Asks:

-No NSFW, AI, NFT stuff

-don't send me pictures of your Ocs, it’s very sweet of you to want to show them to me, you are doing great! But my inbox gets easily full of them. Same with if my OCs would meet/befriend your Oc. Don't DM them to me too, they are full!

-I don't do requests! You can always commission me if you want me to draw something for you. Responding with art is something I do on my own.

-If you ask something that was asked already many times I will most likely not respond.

-don’t ask for spoilers, when the next page/ Art is coming out or „please could you do/draw more of this and that?

Can I draw or write something about you Ocs or Oc's universes?

Go for it! Just add credits please, and tag or send links to me so I can see them.

Why don't you answer my asks or DM's?

Sometimes Tumblr is weird and Asks just disappear even though my Inbox says there is still something in there, but doesn't show up. My asks or DM's can be too full and it takes time to respond to all of you. Or you ignored my Ask rules.

Do you write fics?

Not really, I do write stories but not in the way you're used to fics. They're like scripts because I write those before I do comics.

Can I repost your art?

No, even if you credit it! You can reblog here on Tumblr or Bluesky. But I will not allow it because of Art theft!

Can I use your TSBS or Laia comics for Dubs?

Sure, but please ask first and use credits! Even if you make a Dub of an already dubbed video of my comics and that creator gives you permission, ASK ME TOO PLEASE! And send me links I want to see it. But don't use comics like Cool Uncle or from other books!

Can I use your art for AI or NFT?

HELL NO!

What is your gender identity/pronouns?

I'm a woman. My pronunciation is she/her, but I'm also comfortable with they/them. (I actually don't care about what pronouns you use for me)

What do you use to make art?

-IMac that is over 10 years old and can't handle much anymore.

-Cintiq UX21 gen2

-Clip Studio Paint

-Krita

Do you do livestreams?

I wish and I tried but my old computer gets easily overheated.

What is your job?

I'm an independent illustrator (but still part job hunting). I draw commissions to pay the bills and hold my head barely above the water. And no I don't earn money with the TSBS comics, they are drawn with the little free time I have. (or in the middle of the night, because I can't sleep)

Did you study art?

Yes, I made my graduation in arts and a bachelor of arts in communication design. But to be honest I learned how to draw on my own.

What books did you work on?

You can find them in my portfolio. I had many book/comic commissions and a few of my own like Cool Uncle.

When will the next page of Cool Uncle come out?

I know, 12 pages are left for me to draw, but commissions come first. And right now I have a strong obsession with TSBS and work on those in my free time, so I will work on Cool Uncle when I have the motivation again.

Are you neurodivergent?

Yup, I have Autism and a learning disability. And other mental health issues I won't go into depth here.

How old are you?

Old...

You have so many websites, which are you most active on?

Tumblr and Bluesky, the others are just for dumping my art, and will most likely not or late respond to the comments and Dm's there.

Do you have Kofi?

Kofi, here you go! I also have a Patreon but I post there rarely...

About my VR Avatars

Yes, you can use them, they are public!

You can do RPs or whatever.

Not allowed:

-Don't do hate speech with them, or bully people.

-Don't do NSFW stuff with them!

-You can't claim ownership of the models and/or characters.

-You can't sell stuff about them.

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 8 (Part 1 of 2)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary:

Life was good. No, life was great. 

Was. 

Until.

Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.

You welcomed him into your life—your home. 

Yes, he was your best friend’s twin. But, he was also the one who would end up disrupting your whole world with his attitude, his troubles, and the annoyingly natural way he lured you in. 

Jake Kiszka came with so much you really didn’t want.

At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself.

Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); smut (!!); unprotected sex (p in v); vivid recollection of forgotten childhood trauma; feelings of betrayal; jealousy; anxiety; panic attacks; mentions of therapy; mentions of an absent parent; sam is an idiot; abandonment issues; light mention of being under the influence of weed (lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)

Chapter Word Count: 16.6k+

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: much to my disdain, this chapter has to be chopped in half. :((( ugh. the last part of this chapter has been a mf monster to write, and since i already finished up this entire first half today (a little more than half, actually), i figured i might as well post it. so, without further ado, here is the first part of chapter 8. . .

thank u to my girls @joshym & @alwaysonthemend for putting up w my ass. you two are the realest aaaand ilysm 😭

Please enjoy the playlist as you read 🖤

-🌼🌼🌼-

Two Weeks Later

Friday, August 26, 2022

The wound-up ball of tension in your tummy was about to let loose. 

His thrusts were getting desperate, his heavy breaths were mixing with yours. And you couldn’t help but look between you, where your bodies met. . . it made your heart beat even more rapidly in your chest, seeing you connected in such a way. It looked so right. You felt full. You felt whole. In your drug-induced haze, your thoughts couldn’t help but wander as you thought of the final step to feeling close to him. 

Fuck.

As soon as the thought entered your brain, you had to throw your head back in ecstasy. It was almost too much to imagine. 

Your mind was so fucking cloudy– nothing sounded better in that moment than to feel him fully.

You wanted it. Needed it. And you knew this time might very well be the last. And you had to feel him in that way. Just once. You’d get a Plan-fucking-B in the morning. It was worth it to feel him in that way. 

Just this once. This one last time. It would be the perfect ending to this beautiful chapter of your life. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

Present Day

Saturday, August 13, 2022 

“Yeah. Not too bad,” you shook your head, as if it were nothing. But you knew your expression was still sunken and weird.

He studied your face for a bit after you’d spoken, his expression said he wanted you to say more. 

But you weren’t going to, and he knew it.

“What if I make you dinner, then we watch a movie or something?” He requested, his brow raising at the prospect. 

He’d do what now? Your tummy did somersaults at the idea of him taking care of you. . .and especially like that. Cooking for you?

Surely he had an ulterior motive. 

“What do you want in return?” You asked suspiciously, your tears evaporating as you squinted at him. 

“What do you mean?”

“You want sex after you cook me dinner or something? An even trade?”

He blanched at that, drawing his head back a bit to observe you. “Even trade?” He scoffed, scratching his chin. “What the fuck even happens inside that brain of yours, y/n?”

Going into defense mode, you placed your hands on your hips to square up. “I’m still learning you, Jake. I don’t know what to expect from you.”

“The worst, per usual,” he said, rolling his eyes and flicking at the tip of his nose with his index. “Your favorite thing to assume about me is the worst. Always.”

“Not true,” you scoffed, flushing. He wasn’t wrong. . .you were regularly unfair towards him. But. . . “You haven’t exactly been trustworthy the entire time I’ve known you. Think back.”

“I don’t have to. I know I was an asshole and I wish like hell that I could take it back,” he revealed, sending earnest eyes your way, swiping a sweet thumb across your cheek, taking time to appreciate your left cheekbone. Then, he moved to bashfully tuck his hair behind his ears, taking a moment to untie the hair tie from his finger to pull his hair into a bun. “I’m sorry about that, by the way.”

You got momentarily sidetracked by watching the action of him pulling his hair up, suddenly wanting nothing more than to run your fingers through it, just as you liked to do.

Then you noticed him, waiting for a response as you drew your eyes from him. 

Clearing your throat, you refocused your thoughts. “Don’t worry about it,” you brushed off, not wanting to harp on it for too long, for fear of putting your foot in your mouth. “It’s whatever. Really.”

“No, it’s not. I wasn’t kind to you at the beginning, and I’m sorry,” he continued, looking you directly in the eye, showing sincerity in his deep brown irises. “I was going through a lot and took it out on you and that wasn’t fair.”

Nodding, you took the bait. “You’re right. It wasn’t fair. But,” you walked a couple steps forward, closer to him. Then, reaching a hand out, you held the side of his face. Suddenly, it didn’t matter what an ass he’d been before. He’d proven that he wasn’t truly like that. And you understood hurt feelings making a person act irrationally. “I get it. I’ve been through some shit, too, and I reacted in ways I shouldn’t have.” Smirking, you looked past him and thought back to your therapy sessions from years ago, reciting a few of your counselor’s words that’d stuck with you. “‘All that matters is that you see it, own it, and then grow from it.’ That’s what my therapist always told me when I was a kid, anyway.”

Swiveling your eyes back up to see his expression, your heart skipped a beat. His eyes had softened significantly at your vulnerability, seeming to take your words in. His eyebrows dipped and lips tilted in concentration. 

It always took you by surprise just how much his eyes showed his emotions. And how interested he always seemed in the things you would say.

“Very wise words,” was his response before he reached out to grip your bicep, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Then he was moving towards the kitchen, calling back to you. “I’m gonna go make some stir fry. Chicken?”

You watched him leave, wanting to follow him wherever he went. 

But you didn’t. 

After responding in agreement to his suggestion, you made your way to the bathroom to take a quick shower and wind down before dinner.

-🌼🌼🌼-

The next morning, you woke up, curled in a fluffy pallet of blankets on the floor. 

Both of you, still in sweats. You, in a t-shirt, him, wearing no shirt (fuck yeah). 

No sex had happened the night before. Jake’d thought it would be a good idea to do dinner and a movie, but you’d had the bright idea to make a pile of blankets to lay on to watch the movies. And, of course, you’d let yourself fall asleep next to him. 

And. . . As much as you knew you shouldn’t admit it, it was fucking wonderful just falling asleep next to him. The act was so domestic that it should scare you. . . But all it did was make you want more. 

More you couldn’t have. 

But for now, you’d pretend you could.

Your head was resting on the same pillow as Jake’s, abandoning yours in your sleep for the sake of being closer to him. 

Though, rather than pulling yourself away, you did the complete opposite. You rolled onto your belly and wrapped yourself around him, one arm over his abdomen, a hand splayed on his chest and one of your legs tangled between his.

You knew it wasn’t a good idea to let yourself feel so tied to him in the midst of your sadness. It completely abandoned the idea of not being emotionally dependent on him. . .

But you also weren’t so oblivious to not see that you’d broken a few rules already. 

And, after your anxiety attack (because that’s exactly what it had been) last night, you decided it was better to just let yourself have this time with him now and not worry too much about the rules.

Rather than stressing about making sure you were following every fucking rule, you figured it would be worth it to appreciate the time you still did have with him. Because this wasn’t going to last forever, you felt it was a good idea to make the most of it while you could. 

It was going to be gone soon (too soon), and you weren’t going to take for granted the time you had left.

So, when you woke up, instead of immediately initiating sex, you took time to admire him. 

You propped your chin on the hand you’d put on his chest. Trying to memorize every freckle on his handsome face, tilted to the side, perfect for your line of sight. You studied him . . .his features, sharp, yet delicate. His tanned skin was perfectly sunkissed from spending the day in the sun at Sam’s AirBnb. His pretty lips, partially open like always. . . 

You’d learned that he didn’t snore a bunch. But, every now and then, like this morning, he’d let out the occasional, slight snore in his sleep. 

Usually, snoring of any kind annoyed you. Elsie was the worst snorer in the history of all mankind, and it always aggravated you. And any man you’d ever slept with who did it was always immediately woken up and kicked out of your bed.

But when Jake did it, it was nothing but endearing to you. It was something that he did that just made him him. 

You pressed your body closer to his- he was so warm. It felt so overwhelmingly natural to be so close to him.

You watched the way his eyes fluttered behind his eyelids as he slept, wondering what he dreamt about. Did he dream? And were they vivid like yours? 

Then, you absentmindedly ran a thumb lightly against his cheek, mesmerized by how soft his skin felt beneath your fingertips. 

Just as your pointer finger went to trace the cupid’s bow on his upper lip, he started stirring, showing telling signs of waking up. You stopped yourself before he could possibly wake up with your damn finger on his lip. 

Don’t want him to think I’m a fucking weirdo, you thought, resting your hand, again, on his chest. And I definitely don’t want him to know I was watching him sleep either. That would be embarrassing as hell.

This time, you laid your cheek on top of it, deciding to feign sleep for the duration of time it would take for him to wake up.

Not too long after, you felt a big breath lift your hand, then you heard his voice. 

“I know when you’re watching me,” he commented, his voice deep from just having woken up. 

You didn’t say anything, just lifted your head, an apologetic look on your face as you opened one eye at him in defeat. 

He had a soft smile resting on his lips.

“It’s cute,” he said, reassuring you, sitting up a bit underneath you to lean his head against the couch, balancing on an elbow. He reached a hand up to come gently through your hair with his fingers. 

“You don’t think it’s weird?”

He shook his head, his face thoughtful as he continued to look at you. “Not at all,” he replied. Then, a smirk grew on his lips. “The morning after we fell asleep in your bed—.”

“What?”

He raised a brow, as if to say ‘really?’ “When you fell asleep on the couch, I got you to lay down and try to sleep. Then, you yelled at me from your room—effectively freaking me out, by the way—and then asked me to sleep with you?”

You blushed, feeling stupid that you momentarily forgot. “Oh. Yeah.”

He raised his brows with a hum, the same grin appearing on his lips again. “I watched you the morning after. You slept later than me that morning, and I was so glad you did,” he watched his movements as he tucked a lock of bed-head hair behind your ear. 

“Why?” 

“Because you look so fucking ethereal when you sleep,” he said. “Not that you don’t all the time. . .but when you sleep? Dammit, you just look so peaceful. And I love that you feel that peace in those moments. Not all of the stress.”

It was your turn to hum in response, completely caught off guard by his kind words. You didn’t know why it still did surprise you to hear him say such things. It wasn’t out of character to hear sweet things leave his mouth, but it still felt like a gentle surprise anytime he did say something like that.

Then, something in your heart told you to open up. Let him in. 

And so, without considering anything else, you did. 

“You know, I don’t always sleep peacefully,” you commented, your hand now tracing circles on his chest. “That’s a sort of new thing. Good dreams. Peaceful sleep.”

His brow raised, questioning your words. 

“I haven’t always been able to sleep so well,” you started, apprehensively. But when his hand kept combing through your hair, and his eyes opened up to learn more, you decided it was safe. He was safe. You could share this. “There are things that happened in my past that caused a hell of a lot of pain, and for as long as I can remember, I’ve carried those painful things into my sleep with me. They’ve haunted me. Another thing my childhood therapist confirmed. The trauma caused me to have restless, terrible sleep.” You paused, remembering some of the nights you were too scared to be alone, sobbing and screaming in your bed, crying for help. Your eyes naturally watered at the memories, your voice wet with your next words. “Some fucking terrifying nightmares.”

You sniffled, trying to alleviate the oncoming tears. You didn’t want to cry in front of him two days in a row. But, here you were. Jake brushed more hair behind your ear, then put that arm behind his head to lean up. The other strong arm wrapped protectively around your waist. He massaged shapes with his thumb, into the hip he held. 

Your eyes closed on their own, relishing the feeling of him reacting so gently to you. 

They reopened when you heard him clear his throat. His deep chocolate irises were shadowed with concern. “You don’t have to talk about it,” he pointed out, continuing to rub your waist. “I don’t want you to feel obligated to tell me anything that may hurt you.”

You considered his words for a few seconds, but ultimately decided what you wanted to do.

“I want to tell you.”

“Okay. I want to listen.”

You’d only ever opened up about all of this to Elsie (because she was there), and then Josh when you became his friend. But the urge to tell Jake about all of it was far too overwhelming to ignore. It felt as though you had to tell him. 

“Where do I even begin?” You pondered aloud. “What do you want to know?”

He hummed, smooshing his lips together in thought for a few seconds, squinting his eyes in thought as he peered up to the ceiling. You tapped your fingers against his chest, waiting for his input. 

“When did the bad dreams start? Can you pinpoint an age or anything?”

“After my mom left,” you replied, curling further into his body. 

He accepted your motion, encompassing you, keeping you close. 

“How old were you?” 

“I was ten. Left me sitting on the front porch as she left in a string of curse words. . . Blaming Els and me for all of it,” you stared into the space just past his head, thinking back on it. You felt brave revisiting it at this moment, for whatever reason. “I can’t recall everything she said that day or before, but what I do remember both from that day and before that day. . .,” you stopped, your face flinching a bit at the dark thoughts. “. . . It’s not good.”

Your skin crawled, and you weren’t liking the feeling. Needing to center yourself, you decided to look at him again to gauge his reaction. 

His face was rather relaxed, keeping a consistent air of calm to support you through your responses. “You doing okay?” He questioned, checking in. His brows dipped in concern for a moment, waiting for you.

Your lips lifted, back in the moment with him. 

This is the present time. He is what’s happening. The past is the past and I’m bigger than it, you recited. 

Some of the words were those advised by your childhood therapist. Truthfully, the lady had had some wise words. Jake’d been right when he’d come to that conclusion the night before.

A quiet, content smile was on your face when you responded. “Yeah. I promise. I want to tell you this.”

“Okay,” he replied, his voice quiet like your smile. “Who did you live with after?”

“My grandparents,” you said. “And Elsie.”

“Stayed with them until. . .?”

“Until I moved out to go to school at Pratt. When I moved here.”

“And you’re going to school for. . .?”

You grinned, appreciating his variation of questions. “Majoring in writing,” you groaned as the last word fell from your mouth. “And minoring in music.”

“Don’t like writing anymore?”

You sat on that for a second, then answered. “It’s not that I don’t like it. . . It’s that it’s not my passion,” you paused your motion on his chest and reached down to grab his hand that held your body. You lifted it up from under the fluffy blanket that covered you both. Holding his hand, you traced his calloused fingertips. “I admire how you went after your passion when you had the chance. I wish I’d gone after my own.”

He watched you, seeming to measure your words. “And yours is music, too.”

“Mhm. . . But not playing it,” you added. “Just listening to it– studying it. Learning more about it. I love writing, but I breathe those melodies.”

He smiled in response to that. “Me too. And I like that you feel that way, too,” he commented, letting your fingers play with his. “But who’s to say you couldn’t combine the two? Become a music journalist? A lyricist?”

For some reason, you’d never considered the latter. But it felt as though a fresh breath of air had been breathed into you. “I’ve never thought of being a lyricist, but that sounds. . .”

���Incredible?” He smiled. 

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I wonder how you get a job like that, though.”

You let go of his hand to fold both of yours on his chest, your chin on top of them. He moved his hand to encircle your waist again. “I’ll help you find something,” he assured. Your belly buzzed. The idea of him helping you with something so personal to you . . . it made you feel everything all at once. “Somewhere. You live in New York City. . .I’m sure the possibilities are endless.”

“I’m sure you’re correct,” you agreed, admiring the way his breaths would lift your chin, the way his bicep flexed as he moved the bent arm behind his head. 

A comfortable silence crept over the two of you, him so obviously watching you– admiring you. It couldn’t be mistaken for anything else. 

His next words confirmed it. 

“Even in the grayness of this morning, you shine so bright,” he said, almost absentmindedly. “You fucking glow, y/n. You’re just brilliant.”

Not sure what to even begin to say to that, all you could utter was, “Thank you.” The sound of tears in your throat, behind your response, was a surprise, though. 

“Has no one ever told you?”

“Well, Josh says sweet things like that. And Elsie is great at encouraging me, too. . . But hearing you say something like that. . . those words. It just feels good. I don’t know,” you shook your head, a tear falling to meet his tanned chest. “And no one has ever said those exact words to me, no.”

“You are all of that and more, my lo—,” he cleared his throat. “You are so many things wrapped in one, y/n. So many fantastic things.”

“Stop,” you sniffed, for the second time that morning. More tears fell onto his chest. “You don’t have to say things like that. I promise I’ll still want to have sex with you if you don’t,” you laughed, wiping your leftover tears. The words sounded funny (true, but still funny) as they left your mouth. 

“I want to tell you those things,” he said, firm in his response. “You deserve to hear those good things. Sex or not.”

“Thank you,” again, was all you could say. 

“But the sex is pretty good,” he smirked as he said the words, his eyes glinting mischievously as he skirted a hand up the back of your shirt, skating fingers along your bare back. His eyes found yours when he got closer to your shoulders. “No bra?”

“You know I don’t wear one when I sleep.”

“So I’m assuming you knew we were gonna fall asleep out here?” 

“Mhm.”

“And you still let it happen?”

I did. . . And even though I shouldn’t, I keep breaking all of my own stupid rules, you thought in defeat.

“Wanted it to,” you remarked.

He hummed, watching you with a curious look in his beautiful eyes. You knew he was most probably thinking the same thing as you. 

But, all he said next was, “Can I ask you more questions?”

“Yeah,” you whispered in the quietness of the morning. The rumbling of thunder outside, followed by the pitter-patter of rain droplets against the living room window made goosebumps grow on your skin. “Nothing better than a quiet, rainy morning.”

“You are correct,” he replied in an approving tone. “So. . .your mother. . . Is it okay if I ask about her?”

“Yes,” your lips quirked. “I’ve already told you as much, silly.”

“I know, I know. . . It’s just a lot, I’m sure.”

You nodded to confirm. “It is. But I want to share this with you.”

“Thank you.”

“For trauma dumping?” You giggled. 

“For trusting me,” he said, serious in his reply. His eyes flicked to every inch of your face, taking you in. His hand, now massaging the tension from your neck. 

Miraculous that he just seemed to know the place where your tension settled. 

Not that it wasn’t a common place for tension to reside. But you wondered if he’d noticed you favoring the bottom of your neck during tense situations, over time.

Your heart hammered at the intimacy of the moment. You were so close to just leaning up and kissing him, but you didn’t want to cut conversation short. It was too enjoyable for you. 

It felt so freeing.

Trying to bring you both back to the topic at hand, you inquired. “What was your question about my mom?”

“Oh, yes,” he refocused, his hand now moving up to massage the roots at the base of your head. More goosebumps grew at the sensation. “Do you still talk to her?”

“Uh, no. Haven’t even seen the woman since she left. She hurt me so bad back then. . .I’ve kind of closed off the fact that she even exists,” you said. “She wouldn’t want to hear from me anyway.”

“That’s terrible.”

“It’s true. I’m just glad for the family I do still have,” you paused, deciding if you wanted to tack on the other words you were thinking. There was no reason not to, you’d already bared so much to him in a span of minutes. “Glad I have those people who want me.”

“I want you,” he wrapped a hand at the back of your neck, cupping the back of your head as one thumb rubbed over your pulse point. His eyes bore into yours, begging you to understand the words.

The next few moments were quiet and filled with everything left unsaid. What it was that remained unsaid, you didn’t know. Or maybe you did know.

He eventually let go, clearing his throat to show he was moving on. “Does Elsie feel the same? Closed off and all that?”

You blinked a couple times before responding. 

“Y-yeah. Pretty much. She and I are on the same wavelength about 98 percent of the time.”

“Imagine 100 percent of the time,” he blew out a breath, his eyes getting big as he stared off. 

“Twin life?”

He looked back at you, a grin on his pretty lips. “Twin life,” he confirmed. Pensiveness painted his features, then he spoke again. “Speaking of . . . Did you meet Josh at the record store?”

“Yes,” you responded. “Almost 4 years ago.”

“I’m jealous.”

“That I had that time with Josh while you missed him so bad?”

“Psh,” he said, rolling his eyes. “No. I’ve spent enough time with that fucker through the years,” he snickered, winking at you. “I’m jealous that he got all that time with you. Getting to know you while I was in Illinois, wasting away.”

Your tummy lit up with butterflies again. But you treaded carefully with this topic. You didn’t need him making any assumptions about Josh again.

There was no reason for him to be jealous. And honestly, you wanted to show him as much.  

“Well, you shouldn’t get too jealous,” you said, moving from laying down. You positioned your legs on either side of his hips, then sat your ass on the tops of his thighs, opening yourself up to him. 

He took in a sharp breath, and smoothed his hands over the tops of your thighs, then slipped his hands past the waistband of your sweats, giving your ass a generous squeeze.

“Why’s that?” He asked, his brow lifting in question. He brought himself up a little more, leaning against the couch. As he moved to sit up, he used his hands on your ass to push your crotch against his hardening cock. 

The wet arousal in your panties pressed against you. You gasped at the feeling. 

His lip curled to show his top row of perfectly straight, white teeth. 

So fucking handsome.

“Well,” you ground your hips against him, his head lolling back momentarily. He got back by bucking up into you, just the slightest bit. It caused a breathy moan to leave your lips. “He will never have me like this, for one,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing his face closer to your chest. “I only want you like this, Jake.”

Fuck. That felt so genuine slipping from your lips. And you wouldn’t tell him this (you could barely admit it to yourself), but you really did only want him. Like, in general. Out of all other men, he was the only one you craved. 

When did that even happen?! Your incredulous thoughts could have taken over had he not effectively distracted you.

He moved his hands up under your shirt, abandoning your ass. His eyes were glued to your hardening nipples as his thumbs pressed into your tummy, massaging your hot skin. 

It was getting harder and harder to believe there’d been a time that you would have stopped this—out of fear and a bunch of shit. Leaving him on his own, and you sulking, feeling conflicted as hell.

Though, these days, you couldn’t leave him. 

There was nothing that could pull you away from him in moments like these.

(And that was a scary thought you could consider later.)

Your body was drawn to him, putty under his touch. Bending down the slightest bit, you curled your hands comfortably in his ever-growing locks. Your nose nestled into the part of his hair right behind his ear. One of your favorite parts of his body was that little crook behind his ear. You didn’t know why. . . 

But dammit— he always smelled so delicious. His cologne held hints of sandalwood and amber. . . And something so delectably Jake.

And God, you loved his hair. The citrusy smell of his shampoo. The softness of the locks. The length.

Fuck, the length.

Silly as it may’ve been, you were so glad he was growing it out. The longer it got, the more his heat scale increased. And at this point, he was getting dangerously hot.

His cock nudged against you, leaving nothing to the imagination underneath the layers of clothing. Anytime you’d move your hips to entice him, his cock throbbed beneath you, making your panties more and more uncomfortable with how wet they were. 

You felt his hands flatten, traveling up your tummy slowly. But just as he was about to touch your breasts, he switched directions, running his calloused fingertips down your back instead. 

“Asshole,” you whispered in his ear. You didn’t even have to look at him to know he was smirking. 

The little raspy laugh beneath you gave him away.

Your skin grew goosebumps at the sensation of his rough fingertips making soft shapes on your back. 

But you wanted his hands headed back in the direction they were before. 

Your nipples were blatantly expanding the fabric of your t-shirt, begging for him. 

And, when you pulled away to observe his face, he was already waiting for you, his eyes burning into yours, all the way down to your heart. 

Though. . .he didn’t stay there for long. He let his gaze travel back down to your breasts, his pupils dilated, filling his iris almost completely black. 

He looked hungry and your hips were moving of their own accord at that point. Every bit of him you got was making you need more, more, more. 

“I love your fucking tits,” he growled, wrapping one strong arm behind your back and effectively placing you beneath him. 

Your breath momentarily left your lungs, making you release a huge sigh as he arranged you so your back laid nicely against the soft blankets and pillows. 

“What do you like about them?”

He groaned, smoothing his hand up your stomach again. His hand cupped the underside of one breast. You sighed at finally feeling his hands where you wanted them.

“I love that they’re yours,” he started, reaching his thumb to rub and pinch at your left nipple. “I love that the color of your nipples is the same color as your pretty lips,” he lifted your shirt the slightest bit, sucking one bud into his mouth, kissing it like he would your mouth. Then, he replaced his mouth with his hand, squeezing your breast as you arched into his touch. 

Finally, he connected his mouth with yours, his bottom lip slipping between your lips to deepen it just a bit. You moaned into his mouth as he did yours. Then, he pulled away, leaning on his forearm. Switching between tits with one hand, he cupped the bottom of each, moving his hand under them enough to watch them jiggle. “And I love watching them bounce as I’m fucking you.”

“Shit, Jake,” you moaned, pushing yourself further into his hand. You were aching for him to be inside of you. “Fuck me so you can see what you like, baby.”

He sat up, slipped his sweats (there having been no underwear underneath, apparently) down his thighs, thick cock springing free. The sight made your belly swirl and your center wet with need. 

Once he was completely naked, he repositioned above you. 

But your skin was itching with the feeling of still being clothed. You needed to feel his warm skin against your own.

“Move,” you motioned for him to back up. You sat up as he took the hint, sitting back on his knees beside you.

His eyebrows wrinkled and his eyes grew worried. “Where are you go—?”

But he went silent as the t-shirt left your body and your bare chest flashed at him. And as you stripped yourself of the shirt, your boobs bounced a little, just as he liked. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, reaching for himself. You watched, your throat tightening, as he looked down at his shaft, his mouth falling open, just slightly, as he gave himself a couple of short, quick pumps. 

Dear God.

But he seemed dissatisfied.

And when you’d normally stop him and tell him to let you do it instead, you didn’t this time. 

But it seemed he still wanted your help.

You just sat in awe as he stretched his hand out to you. You were still as a statue as he gripped your chin, pulling it down the slightest bit. You followed his lead and opened your mouth more with his gesture. Then, you watched as he moved the hand, palm open, in front of your mouth. 

“Spit for me, baby,” he nodded at the hand in front of you. 

You didn’t argue, doing as you were told, heart racing as you spit in his hand. 

After you’d done what he wanted, he wrapped the hand around the base of his thick cock, giving himself a few long strokes from his skilled hand.

Though, as soon as he threw his head back with one particularly generous, tight-fisted move, you decided that it was officially past time to get naked.

You made quick work of your sweats, his eyes flicking up to watch you pull them off in a flurry. Then you hooked your fingers into your soaked underwear, getting them off as fast as possible.

You wanted to be the one to please, rather than his hand. 

You were growing jealous of the fist, as it held his pretty dick the way your pussy was aching to. 

When you were finally just as bare as he was, you laid on your back again. You spread one leg wide to open up for him, keeping the other flat, against your heap of blankets. In this position, he’d be able to see the bottom curve of your ass, your full breasts, and your slick pussy.

He didn’t see you, though, as he’d gone to focus on pleasuring himself, eyebrows drawn and whimpering a bit as he continued to watch his hand work at a steady pace. 

“Jake,” you called quietly, urging him to look at you and come to you. 

As soon as his name left your mouth, he looked up from where he was watching himself work his cock. After one hungry once-over from his dark eyes, he bit his lip.

“You ready?” You asked, slowly spreading both legs a little more for him, reaching two fingers to slide through your wet folds, shivering at the feeling of finally being touched. 

“Want me to eat your sweet pussy, baby?” He questioned, his voice a velvety rasp. 

Ready to please, his hand left his thick cock in order to move the short distance it took to be closer to you. 

“I want that pretty dick inside of me,” you responded, your voice exuding all of the need you felt running through your veins. “Now.”

And in a flash, he was on top of you again. His tip, damp from your saliva, nudged its way to the place it knew so well. 

Before any more words could be spoken, he pushed inside of you in one swift take. The two of you sighed in unison, relief flashing over his face, as you were sure it did yours, too.

He leaned both forearms on either side of your head, keeping his handsome face close to yours as he fucked you, thick cock stretching you well with each deliberate, hard thrust. 

His eyes were trained on your heaving tits, doing just what he wanted them to.

“I was starting to get jealous—,” you paused, whining with one particular snap of his hips, his dick hitting your secret spot. “Of-of that hand,” you said, your voice shaking on the words. 

His forehead was beaded with sweat already, ever-energetic in his pursuits—whether it be playing music or in the bedroom. 

“Don’t be,” he responded, pinning you with a stern look from his eyes, tone firm. “Your pussy feels better than anything else.”

The telling sounds of your bodies connecting only added to the ecstasy of the moment.

“Took-took y-you too long to get the hint,” you panted. 

“It was a few seconds,” he said, rocking his hips extra hard with the last word. 

Your toes curled with a moan. 

“Still too long.”

“Impatient.”

“No, I just know what I want,” you grabbed the back of his neck, bringing his mouth to yours in a sloppy kiss, tongues fighting to lick further into the other’s open mouth. 

With one final swipe of his tongue against your teeth, he pulled away. “You’re high maintenance.”

You were suddenly self-conscious, overcome with a feeling that you weren’t good enough for him. That you annoyed him.

You covered it up with a defensive, haughty tone. “So?”

“I fucking love it.”

Oh.

Your body opened up at that, seemingly on its own. You bent your knees, spreading your thighs even more, letting him sink deeper. 

You grabbed at his biceps, gripping them to give yourself some sort of grounding as he started giving all he had, each thrust of his harder than the one before it. 

It was painful and delicious all at once. 

Fuck he felt so good.

The way he filled you was unlike any man before him. He fit so fucking well, and your center never failed to grip him just right.

“I also love the way your pussy feels,” he said, breathing heavily. “You like how I feel?”

You grinned, feeling drunk on him. Your belly clenched, simultaneous to your center with each rock of his hips. Sighing, you let your hands move to hold onto his strong shoulders. 

“You feel so fucking perfect,” you sighed, looking down to where your bodies met. It was almost too much. When you went to look up, something caught your attention from the corner of your eye. You squeezed his shoulder. “Jake.”

A concerned look painting his features, he stopped, checking you. “What? What’s wrong?”

You smiled softly, cupping his cheek, rolling your hips once, needing the pressure of him moving inside of you. “Nothing at all,” you went to tuck his hair behind one of his ears, reassuring. “Just got an idea.”

He picked up his movements: languid strokes, this time, making you forget about everything besides him momentarily. “And what is that?”

You kept on when you could find the words. “I—uhhh,” you moaned, your eyes rolling back in your head as he moved to lay his belly against yours, knowing the friction would be perfect for your swollen, throbbing clit. “I want to pl—oh!,” you sucked in a breath, seeing stars for a moment. Once you were able, you continued. “Wanna play a record.”

“Right now?” He grunted, making one hard rock of his hips into yours. 

Your toes curled, still feeling the softness of his tummy on your tender bundle of nerves as his tip repeatedly hit your secret spot. “Yeah.”

He came to a slow stop, eyes trained on yours. He stayed there, watching you with an unspoken question in his eyes, eyebrows furrowing like they did when he thought deeply. 

“Is that okay?” You asked, trying to break him from his reverie, nervous you’d freaked him out with the odd request. 

“Y-yeah,” he shook his head, hair effectively falling from where you’d tucked it. “That sounds incredible, actually.”

Butterflies let loose in the pit of your stomach. Of course he’d like the idea. He loved music just the same as you did. 

He pulled out, and you instantly missed him. But you watched him lazily, dreamily as he stood up smoothly, and walked to the shelf of records (now a mixture of his and yours, of course). “Which one?” He wondered aloud.

You sat up on your elbows and watched him as he thumbed through the records, appreciating the view. “You pick and I’ll let you know if I like.”

As he searched through the albums, you let your mind wander with your eyes.

His body was a work of art. 

His thighs, muscular, from the way they flexed when he’d move his body with his guitar on stage. 

The perfectly round ass that was undoubtedly gifted to him by the body gods. 

And those broad shoulders that were strong to match his equally strong personality.

When he turned a bit towards you, his eyes quickly scanning the back of a vinyl, your eyes instantly found his straining dick. His tip, still swollen from being pulled mid-sex. Your clit thrummed and twitched, seeing how it now glistened from your dripping pussy. Dammit you needed him to hurry. 

But most of all, damn this idea for taking him away from you.

Once he turned to you fully, an Aretha Franklin vinyl in hand, you found his eyes. They were questioning, but you looked away from them to admire your most favorite parts of his body. 

His toned pecs and his solid stomach— fuck.

There were truly no words for the way he was built— pecs naturally firm and rounded with lean muscle. 

And his stomach— just a little soft and the perfect finish to it all, complimenting him just right— finishing out his sturdy, powerful stature. 

His aura was compelling. He was utterly beautiful, with his sparkling brown eyes, flowing chestnut locks, and sharp features. And the way he was built matched so well with how he carried himself. Without even trying, he could control any room he was in. 

He was honestly what all of your dreams were made of. . . And in moments like these, you wished more than anything that he was yours. 

But he wasn’t. 

And that bitter thought helped to snap you out of your trance, finally looking at him to answer. 

He was smirking, knowingly. “I love your body, too, Beautiful.”

You flushed, rolling your eyes to play off the way his words made your heart flutter. Glancing briefly at the record, squinting to truly recognize it, you nodded at the choice. “Aretha is always a yes.”

“Agreed.”

He turned to put it on the Crosley, and as soon as the needle hummed against the record, making its wonderful crackling sound, you knew you’d made the right choice. 

The sound added to the bliss you were already feeling on this quiet, rainy morning.

The combination of watching him walk back to you, with some of the most incredible music backing him. . . Shit.

“I hope you don’t mind. I skipped past the first few,” he said as he came back to you, falling to his knees beside you. 

You smiled up at him. “Perfectly fine. This is the best song on the entire record anyway.” 

“I think so, too,” he said, eyes lifting with a grin.

When he went to lean over you to pick up where you left off, you scooted over, motioning for him to lay down instead. 

Without question, he did as you wanted, and as Aretha sang of a man making her feel like a natural woman, you sank onto him, letting him stretch you so well. 

The look on his face when you fucked him was one of your favorite sights. He always watched you so closely. . .whether it be your face, your breasts, your ass, or your pussy that wrapped around him, so tight. He’d scrunch his brows and let his mouth open a bit with certain movements of your hips, and bite his lip at other times. . . 

But, in moments like this one, when one hand would be holding your face while the other gripped your hip, a small, close-mouthed smile on his soft, plush lips. . . His emotion-filled eyes, boring into yours . . .

Your world tipped slightly on its axis when he’d do shit like that. Moments like this made a whole lot of gray in what should have been a strictly black and white situation. 

And, as you listened to the soulful voice flowing quietly from the record player, your thoughts drifted further. . .

When my soul was in the lost and found,

You came along to claim it.

I didn't know just what was wrong with me,

Till your kiss helped me name it.

This song perfectly summed up how you felt about this man. The same man who had been the bane of your existence so recently was now a light on your darkest days.

And, as you watched him, his hips beginning to move on their own, making you feel complete and right. . . You truly couldn’t imagine your life without him. 

And not just because of the sex. It was him. Having him around made you feel . . . whole.

Without evening knowing or trying, he’d been helping you find missing pieces to your puzzle. 

Hidden pieces of your soul that you hadn’t seen in a long time. Some good. Some bad. But all you. 

Pieces you’d forgotten even existed. 

And by just being near you, he made you feel authentic in a way you’d never felt with another man. 

As you rode him, leaning down on your forearms to get close to his face, you gave him a long kiss. A kiss that you hoped said thank you. . . Because, truly, you were so grateful for him. 

But as you separated your lips from his and pressed your perspired forehead to his own, you looked into the deep pools of his eyes that held so much. And you knew you had to say the words out loud.

“Thank you,” you whispered, hoping he’d understand as you felt new tears cloud your vision. Your hips were moving on their own, matching the slow rocking of his hips. You were holding onto him, keeping rhythm with the song as you had this moment.

He held your gaze, a secret smile forming in his eyes as he spoke. “Thank you.”

You studied him seriously, the feeling in his eyes seeming to match your own. Both of you stayed there for a minute, taking the other in. 

You kissed him once more. And, rather than continuing the conversation, you focused on finding a release for you both. 

Just as another favorite of yours came on. 

The opening chorus resonated with you just like every time you’d heard it before, but this time it was different—better—as he laid underneath you, holding you. . . Staring at you with eyes that held the motherfucking world.

Like the sweet morning dew, 

I took one look at you,

And it was plain to see you were my destiny.

With my arms open wide, I threw away my pride.

Feeling everything all at once, you spread your legs wide, thighs stretching out on top of his to get as close as you could to him. Then you bent your legs at the knees, and leaned toward him, laying on top of him and nuzzling into that sweet spot behind his ear. You made yourself comfortable as you knew this would be your undoing. 

It always was from this position. 

And this song was just feeding into the emotions coursing through your heart, intensifying all of it at once.

Your favorite way to finish was in this exact position, and you knew at that moment, that it would take you no time. 

Fucking him at that moment felt extremely dissimilar to all of your times before. The damned music was untying every string you’d used to close up your fragile heart. 

While lost in your sudden wave of thought, he took over, knowing all the moves. He’d grown familiar with this position, just as you had. He knew your body. What you liked. 

He grabbed a hip and a handful of your ass, and moved your body down forcefully to meet him while also thrusting his hips up. 

The contrast of motion and the tugging at your heart helped every piece of you to get the much needed stimulation. And fuck if it didn’t make your thighs shake.

You whined, your toes curling as, simultaneously, his tip hit your g-spot and your clit nudged against the lower part of his tummy. 

“Jakey,” you moaned. 

“I know,” he breathed hotly, not letting up on his motions in the slightest. “I can fucking feel you pulse around me, baby.”

“You like it?” You sighed, still next to his ear, needing to hear the affirmation from him.

“Best fucking feeling in the whole world.”

Your tummy lurched at that, butterflies fluttered their wings. 

That’s how you feel for me, too, you thought.

And with one more strategic move of his hips, you saw stars. You felt every nerve ending light up. Your skin felt like static.

“Oooohhh,” you moaned, your body shaking. 

He groaned, whining a bit. “Y/n—I’m—.”

You felt far away as he tapped your hip, sinking into all things Jake, Jake, Jake.

You jostled back to reality right as he lifted you off of him, depositing you as carefully and quickly as he could on the covers next to you both in no time.

Just as you laid down, he was instantly on his knees, warm seed spilling onto your tummy, right where he’d placed you. 

You blinked and shook your head, registering what’d almost happened. Your thoughts were flying— going crazy. 

“Fuck,” he said, flopping down next to you as he slid a hand down his face. “That was a close one.”

“Yeah,” was all you could mutter, your heart beating hard against your chest.

Before much more could be said, he sealed the interaction with a slow, sure kiss and got up to fix you both breakfast.

Now that you’d had his cooking the night prior, you were really looking forward to the breakfast. You’d learned the man was extremely gifted in culinary— just as he was in music. 

But, even as the bacon crackled and the vanilla-laced smell of fresh waffles wafted in through the open layout of the apartment, you weren’t really thinking about his cooking. 

No; inside your mind, you were swirling back and forth with how close you’d felt to him. How sex was starting to feel so effortless and all-encompassing with him. . . And that coupled with how much you’d been feeling in the moment?

It was obvious he’d carved a place in your heart.

A big one.

But you’d worry about that later. 

Because. . .what was clawing at you more was one particular thought. 

You now had a nagging curiosity of what it might feel like to have him actually finish inside of you. 

How in the hell had you let it come to this?

-🌼🌼🌼-

Every year, it was tradition to have a family dinner at your grandparents’ house to celebrate a new year of school. 

But this year, on a whim, you decided to make it a little different. . . You acted on impulse and invited Jake to it. 

To your surprise (and excitement), he’d agreed with no hesitation.

And before the annoying voice in your head could say anything, you reassured it that him coming with you wasn’t a couple-y thing. 

Not at all.

You’d had time to think back on the way you’d started cracking during sex the other morning. 

And you had already started the process of tying your heart back up, protecting yourself from a whirlwind of unnecessary, surely unreciprocated emotion.

He liked having sex with you, that was it. And it could be that way for you, too. It had to be.

The flash of feelings you’d felt during sex a few mornings back honestly meant nothing— you chalked it up to just being caught up in the moment. You had simply gotten far too ahead of yourself.

As you got ready that night, you thought back on the few times your grandma and grandpa had asked about your roommate. You were sure you’d only thought to invite him, because you’d been subconsciously thinking it would appease your wondering grandparents. 

You also just really enjoyed spending time with him. That much you could come to terms with. And, admittedly, you really wanted him to meet your grandparents.

Of course, you were a little nervous at the prospect of him meeting your them (more your judgmental grandfather than your grandma). But, nonetheless, you were really looking forward to having him there with you. 

And, the cherry on top: Elsie would be there to alleviate any weird tension your grandparents may add. . . So, truly, it was the ideal time to have him come meet them. 

At 5:00, thirty minutes before it was time to leave, he still wasn’t home. You knew he had a few lessons today, but he’d assured you that he would be home on time. 

Though, you couldn’t help feeling nervous that maybe he’d regretted saying yes, and he was going to run late on purpose just to get out of going to dinner. 

Before your thoughts could get too crazy, you got a text from him. 

Jake, 5:10 p.m.: so I’m still working with this fuckin client :( 

But at the sight of the text, your stomach sank. 

I knew it, you thought, downhearted. He’s gonna try to get out of it.

Then, another text came through.

Jake, 5:11 p.m.: and I think it’s the time of day

Jake, 5:11 p.m.: but I’ve had like 3 Ubers in a row cancel on me for my scheduled time

He’s really pulling out all the stops, you thought, feeling your chest tighten, anger coming into play. Just say you don’t want to go.

While you were sulking, you noticed one more text pop up in its gray bubble. 

Jake, 5:12 p.m.: I hate to ask you to do this 

Here it comes.

Jake, 5:12 p.m.: but can you pick me up on your way to your grandparents house? I really don’t wanna miss it

You could’ve sighed with relief. In fact, you did. Watching the screen for a few more seconds, you contemplated waiting a bit to respond. Play the classic ‘hard-to-get’ and ‘make-sure-he-knows-I-don’t-take-this-too-seriously-game’ and keep him on the line. . .

But you couldn’t wait. And probably too quickly, you texted back. 

You, 5:13 p.m.: I’d be happy to. I’ll be there soon. Just send me the address.

And within five minutes, the address was sent as you were scooping Stevie some fresh food in her dish. And as soon as you saw it, you were making your way out the door, hurriedly making your way to the car. 

Why am I so anxious to see him when I literally just saw him this morning? You thought, as you started the car, hearing your soul music playlist take over the car’s stereo. Calm the fuck down, y/n.

But you couldn’t help it as you pulled quickly out of the parking lot, buzzing with excitement at the thought of seeing him again.

-🌼🌼🌼- 

When you pulled up to his client’s house, you suddenly saw the appeal of the private lessons. You were sure he got paid good fucking bucks to give lessons to whoever it was that lived in this mansion of a place. 

You were busy admiring the giant home, when you felt your stomach flutter at the sight of him, carrying his acoustic guitar case. 

Though, your gaze didn’t stay on him for long as you caught sight of the beautiful woman with flowing, jet-black locks, walking out of the door behind him, her pristine black dress. Her full ass, big tits, and small waist accentuated perfectly in the outfit. You saw her blatantly checking him out and saying something as she followed behind him. 

Whatever it was she was saying, it made him laugh. Truly laugh. His dimples were showing and his mouth was open wide, then he said something back. 

But he was seemingly oblivious to her glances at his ass as he continued walking ahead of her. The perfectly straight, gleaming white smile on her glowing caramel skin was wide with whatever he said and whatever it was that she was saying in return. 

Your blood was boiling. And it just got worse as you watched her come up behind him and lightly grab his bicep, turning him gently to face her. 

For a few brief seconds, you watched in terror, afraid that you were about to witness a kiss between him and this woman. 

Thankfully, you didn’t. 

But what you did see still made tears climb up your throat. 

You watched him sit his case down, and then saw an extremely genuine, heartfelt hug take place between the two. It wasn’t a quick, friendly side hug, it was a full-on hug. She was grasping him tightly, holding the back of his head as she clung to him. Her eyes closed as she continued speaking over his shoulder.

At one moment, her mouth closed and you saw just how beautifully shaped and plush her soft lips were. She was strikingly gorgeous. Everything about her. 

Was this her house? Was he giving her lessons? Or did she have a kid that he was giving lessons to? 

Whatever the case may have been, you had to swallow back every tear that was threatening to escape as he started walking toward you, case in hand again. 

She stayed on the sidewalk, watching him walk down the steps to the curb where you’d pulled up. 

Right as he got to your car, he turned around to wave at her once more. 

And then, what you heard him say through the closed door made your heart fall to the very pit of your stomach.

“It’s my favorite part of the day!” He laughed heartily, before finally opening the door to the backseat. 

His favorite part of the day? Was it being with her? Fuck.

You turned to face the front of the car, gathering yourself as you stared out the windshield. You were so embarrassed. For a variety of reasons. 

Your hands shook as you held tightly to the steering wheel. 

The back door shut, and you prepared yourself for him being close to you by clearing your throat and reminding yourself of a few important things.

We are not together. I don’t love him. God no I don’t, you shook your head at the idea of that. And he can be with whomever he pleases. It’s none of my business. 

But when he opened the door to the car, all thoughts from before vanished. The musings from your self-mantra and your worries of the girl had dissipated as soon as he spoke in his ever-raspy, sweet tone. 

“Hi, beautiful.”

You glanced over at him, a tight smile on your lips working to mask any worry that there may have been. Working to convince him and yourself that things were okay. 

You couldn’t help but ask. “Is she a client or does she have a child taking lessons?”

He ran a hand through his hair, scratching his nose. “Oh, she’s the client,” he said, his smile matching his tone as he spoke of her. “She’s doing really well. I’m proud of her progress.”

The next question slipped from your lips out of pure curiosity, nothing more. “Does she live in that giant house all by herself?”

“Yep. Single. No kids,” he affirmed. “Crazy, huh? Oh! I almost forgot,” he reached over the armrest and into the backseat to click open his case and get something from it. 

His proximity to you was overwhelming, the intoxicating smell of sandalwood and amber infiltrating your senses.

Please want me more than you might want her, you pleaded silently. 

When he was sitting in his seat again, he lifted to reach into his back pocket, getting his wallet out.

“What did you almost forget?” You inquired, trying to mask your ridiculous thoughts with a plain tone.

“This,” he held up a guitar pick, before opening his wallet to put it inside. “My lucky pick. I always use it at my lessons. Forgot to put it back in my wallet today. Got carried away talking to her.”

Fuck. 

Then, without meaning to, you caught his gaze. The a/c blowing against your hair and face, cooling you off from your distressing thoughts.

But your bearings were almost lost again with the sincerity you found in his eyes, and with the hand that fell to squeeze your thigh as he leaned over the console to kiss your cheek. 

Closing your eyes momentarily, you turned your attention back to the road right before you put the car in drive.

We are not together. Everything is fine. Whatever we are— it’s fine. Stop worrying, you chanted all of this internally as you increased the volume on Victoria Monet, gearing up for your playlist to serenade you for the duration of the drive. Drown out your ridiculous train of thought.

“I actually like this,” Jake commented, his hand still on your thigh. His thumb sweeped wide circles on your inner thigh, burning through your jeans. “What’s it called?”

Coming to the stop sign at the end of the street, you waited for the car on your right to go as you responded. 

“We Might Even Be Falling In Love,” was your simple response, right before you took your turn at the four way stop.

-🌼🌼🌼-

The car ride to your grandparents’ was slightly tense at first, but eventually you got over it as Jake started making his regular small talk. He was the same as always. Anytime you talked with him, he reminded you of his brother with how intent and caring he was about every word that left your mouth. 

But, for you, it meant more coming from him than it did Josh.

Jake was just. . .special to you. And you wanted to be special to him.

It was a relief. And by the time you pulled up to the quaint, familiar house, everything felt the same as it always did. You were feeling better. . he was him and things felt normal. Felt okay. 

As you walked up to the front door, him following you closely behind, you felt comfortable. And when you entered the house, it felt so good to have Jake in tow, the never-changing atmosphere of the home combining perfectly with having him near. 

You were giddy with the fact that he was there.

And it just continued to get better as the night wore on. 

Both of your grandparents greeted Jake with open arms, real welcoming smiles adorned their wrinkling faces. Your chest, warm with contentment as you watched the three of them interact. Jake, continuing the theme of coming out of his shell, as he made smooth conversation with your people. 

As you’d been standing in the entryway chatting, Elsie’d rounded the corner from the kitchen. And to your delighted surprise, Josh had been in tow behind her. 

You knew they’d decided to take it to the next level after the night at the bowling alley. They were becoming the power couple. So it made sense that he’d be here tonight, too.

Everything was absolutely perfect. Elsie and Josh being there made the ideal mix of people for Jake’s first time meeting your family. 

Then dinner came.

“Joshua, I will never get over how sweet it was for you to make the drive to us with Elsie a few weeks ago,” your grandmother commented as she poked some salad with her fork. “Didn’t leave her alone on that late night drive.”

“She is in good hands with you,” your grandfather agreed, making sure to catch Josh’s eyes to emphasize his words. 

“I’m lucky to have her,” Josh smiled in response, kissing Elsie’s cheek. 

Everything was going great, conversation flowing until your grandmother spoke next.

“Y/n, honey, how long have you been seeing Jake?” 

Your eyes stayed trained on your plate, suddenly feeling all eyes on you. You heard Jake clear his throat from where he sat next to you. Fuck. Of course she’d ask this. Assume that you two were dating.

To your relief, Elsie started speaking for you. 

“Grandma, they aren’t together,” she said, covering smoothly with a giggle to top it off, trying to alleviate any tension.

You took that as your cue to look up, monitoring the situation. 

“Oh,” your Grandma responded, a little smile on her face as she put an aged, perfectly manicured hand to her forehead. “Silly old me. I guess I just assumed because you were here together tonight, sis,” she looked at you, her eyes apologetic. 

“You sure act like it,” your Grandpa chimed in, motioning with his fork at you two sitting next to each other. 

“Harold, quit,” your Grandmother defended. 

At your Grandpa’s comment, you finally found your voice. 

“Elsie’s right. We are not together,” you stated, leaving no room for argument. “He’s just my roommate.”

“Harsh, kid,” your Grandfather interjected. “Not even a friend?”

“I guess,” you shrugged, looking over at Jake who seemed to be trying his best to stay focused on his plate, dodging any involvement in the conversation. “But mostly just my roommate.”

For some reason, the awkward air persisted, hanging in the air around you. 

Your words felt wrong. You knew you were friends (and more than that), but you didn’t want to get too mushy, for fear of being questioned further. You were trying your best to diffuse the tension, fixing it so he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable.

You were so fearful of somehow exposing your current predicament—especially to those in the room. You hadn’t even told Elsie of your whole ‘fuck buddy’ situation. Shockingly. 

She’d known about you two having sex that first time. . . But you had never told her anything further than that.

Honestly, you’d been too focused on Jake the past few weeks to even think to inform her. It was something that only you and Jake shared and you mostly liked it that way. 

You also didn’t want to tell her because you were positive she’d question the situation. Make you admit things you didn’t want to. Things you couldn’t admit. Push you to say too much. You didn’t need her to make it anything more than what it was. 

It was your little secret. And you intended on keeping it that way. 

Josh swooped in seamlessly, taking over the conversation with talks of all things music and film. 

Eventually, Jake tuned in to the music talk. He’d stayed quiet for longer than you’d anticipated . . . surely feeling the awkwardness of the initial question with you. But he’d played it off well. 

And as you watched him interact with your grandparents, the version of him that you witnessed made your heart flutter. Your senses were filled with all kinds of happiness. 

Eventually, you, the twins, and your Grandpa had migrated to the living room as Elsie and your Grandma went to prepare dessert.

You sat there, across the room from him. You, on the couch, him on the ottoman next to your Grandpa’s chair. Why he’d sat so far away from you, you didn’t know – but you didn’t care. You just enjoyed watching him talk. 

The way he got along with your Grandpa made you light up with joy considerably. 

Your Grandfather was a hard nut to crack. Not to compare the two, but you wouldn’t ever put it past Josh to get through to your Grandpa (because Josh was, quite possibly, the easiest person in the world to talk to). So seeing his easy talk with your Grandpa was expected. 

But Jake? Jake was just a quieter person by nature. Not in a bad way, by any means. . . He just was. You liked him that way. He was thoughtful and kept parts of himself hidden. . . revealed more of himself the more he trusted someone. You really liked him for all of his ways. 

But the way he was bonding with your Grandpa? It was just astonishing. 

By just being himself, Jake was making your Grandpa open up more than ever.

You’d never seen your Grandpa this way.

As you watched the three of them, Jake’s efforts to connect with your Grandfather honestly seemed to flow more smoothly than the other twin’s. 

Josh had even ended up leaving the conversation, going to join your Grandma and Elsie in the kitchen, as the other two seemed to be venturing into their own conversation. Neither Jake nor your Grandpa needed a buffer. But you’d stayed anyhow, too intrigued by them to want to leave. 

And, you just really liked being where Jake was. He made you feel so calm and happy.

You also just couldn’t miss out on the moment in front of you. . .you’d never seen your Grandpa talk so animatedly.

The way he talked about music with Jake was shocking to you, as you didn’t know he loved music to the depths that you did. 

But apparently, Jake knew how to bring out that side of him. The smiles exchanged with the topic of conversation were exhilarating— so joy-filled.

Then, to your complete shock, your Grandpa brought up how he’d played guitar for years before your mother had been born. 

“You played guitar, Grandpa?!” You couldn’t help but ask, as you quite literally sat on the edge of the crisp, floral sofa. “How come you never told us?!”

“Well, I never really felt the need to revisit that part of my life,” he said, sighing. “You two girls didn’t need to be privy to that. It’s all in the past.”

You shook your head. “I love that about you, Grandpa. . . I wish you would’ve told me.”

He just looked at you with his eyes, so much behind them, left unsaid and filled to the brim with an unnamed emotion. A sad smile came to sit on his face.

“Did you have a favorite to play?” Jake asked, looking at him. 

“I did. I feel like all of us do.”

“Yeah. That’s the truth,” Jake grinned, nodding. “Do you still have your favorite one?”

“I sure do,” he looked at your roommate, a big grin spanning his usually-sunken cheeks. “I’ll show ya.”

Jake offered to go get it for him as he watched the old man try to stand. But when he was finally on his feet, he waved him off. 

“Nah, son. It’ll be good for me to get up and around to get her.”  

As he left to grab it, you waited for Jake to turn to you. But, he didn’t. 

Instead, he just looked at all of the photos on the walls rather than anywhere in your direction. The living room was so quiet, you literally heard every breath he took as he looked at the pictures of you and Elsie as children. 

You cleared your throat, trying to get a reaction from him.

He kept looking around the living room, not paying you any mind.

It was awkward.

Why was he avoiding looking at you? You weren’t used to him acting in such a way anymore. 

Unable to take it any longer, you cleared your throat again, harsher this time. 

But he still ignored it.

“Jake,” you sharply stated his name, irritation seeping through your tone at his behavior.

When he finally looked at you and you met his eyes, he looked distant. But after watching you for a long minute, his eyes started lightening a bit, seeming to come back to himself just a little. 

You tentatively grinned at him and shook your head. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked quietly, your eyes searching his face. 

“Nothing,” he stated, his voice sounding far away, jaw clenching.

“Jake.”

He just ran a quick, stiff hand through his hair, looking ahead of him for a few seconds and then back at you. 

You didn’t tear your focus from him, trailing your eyes past his face and watching his Adam's apple bob in his throat. 

When you looked back into his eyes, your heart beat rapidly as his eyes seemed to sink into your own. He was observing you so intently, your nerves sparking to life under his attention. You shivered a little under his stare. His gaze was dark, something hiding behind his amber-brown irises. 

You felt vulnerable and stark naked.

Instead of shying away, you kept your eyes on him. And the more you studied him—challenged him—an urge started creeping from below the surface. You watched him swivel further to face you.

You let your eyes drift again. Down his body, where his legs were spread. 

And just as you were about to take him somewhere private to talk, maybe even offer him a tour of your childhood bedroom. . .

Your Grandpa reappeared. Jake’s eyes quickly averted from yours, growing huge at the gorgeous white guitar your Grandfather had in tow. 

“A White Falcon?!” Jake asked in astonishment, his eyes growing bigger the closer it came. “Holy sh— wow.”

Your grandpa gave a belly laugh, handing this hidden, prized possession over to the long haired man. “You can say it, son. Holy shit is right. She’s a beauty.”

“A 1960. . .?”

“She’s a ‘67,” your Grandpa replied, admiring the nearly spotless guitar. The gold accents practically sparkled under the yellow glow of your Grandmother’s lamps. “A rare one.”

“You’ve got that right,” Jake said, inspecting the relic. “These are worth thousands these days. Especially in a condition like this,” he commented. “But I’m glad you kept it. I would have, too.”

Your Grandpa made his go-to clicking sound with his cheek. He seemed to be agreeing and disagreeing. (Normal behavior for the aging man.) “I debated getting rid of her a few times here and there. . .but ultimately, I decided she was far too precious to me for me to ever give her up.”

You couldn’t help but feel every single emotion you’d been (uselessly) working to bury, rise to the surface. He had you completely enraptured. . . he was driving you crazy.

Back to observing him and your Grandfather, you lost yourself in thought at the man in front of you. He’d done the impossible. Not only had he started cracking your hard shell, he’d brought out something you’d never seen in your Grandpa. He had helped you to discover this bright side of your Grandpa that you’d doubted for years even existed.

An easygoing, free-minded person that had apparently been lurking below the surface your entire life. 

But it made sense that Jake had been able to do it.

He really had done it for you, too. You’d trusted him with countless things. Your emotions. Your body. Your home. Your TV shows. Your cat.

Jake held the guitar so delicately. But his hands were simultaneously strong and purposeful, making sure to protect the guitar. It was so similar to how he handled you. 

The thought made your blood feel hot in your veins and your legs weak. You crossed your legs, watching his hands hold the keepsake just right. 

The rest of the words exchanged were technical terms about the original price, what it’s currently worth, how it played. . . 

But you weren’t really focused on all of the technicalities as you observed Jake’s fingers on the body of the guitar. How intensely he stared at the instrument as he kept steady conversation, his voice, deep and raspy. . .

You didn’t want to expose yourself with how entranced you were by him at that moment. 

So, you decided you needed to escape as soon as possible. 

“I’m going to search my room for something,” you said, glancing at Jake— who, yet again, wasn’t acknowledging you speaking. What the fuck? “I’ll be back shortly.”

Your Grandpa acknowledged you, giving a little wink before going back to his discussion with Jake.  

-🌼🌼🌼-

Once you’d walked the couple of short hallways to get to your childhood bedroom, you sort of regretted using your bedroom as the excuse to get away.

You hesitated to open the door for a few long moments. 

You hadn’t been back to this room since that day in the car where Elsie had brought up the parts of your childhood that you’d forgotten. 

If you were being honest with yourself, it was intimidating to stand before the door as memories flooded back. 

There was the unnecessary screaming at your sister, coming back to you first. And as you thought back on that, you outwardly cringed at the words you now remembered saying to her. Terrible, hateful, completely untrue things. 

Then, you saw yourself throwing objects. Only ever at Elsie. With her being the person you felt safest with, naturally she was also the person punished most. In particular, a dent in the wall, adjacent to the door, reminded you of this. It was something that your grandparents and Elsie had always dismissed, saying it had ‘always been there.’ 

How in the hell had you blocked these things so intensely? Looking back on it now, it seemed as if those things had happened almost as soon as you’d moved in with your grandparents. 

To be fair, you had been very young and very recently grieved by the things which had occurred at your mother’s house.

Had it been a bad case of disassociation which had made you lose these fragments of time? 

Trauma-induced memory loss? 

Your childhood counselor had used the terms. You remembered that. 

Based on what you could vaguely rehash from those sessions, you probably had disassociated to protect yourself from the dark things. 

Disregarding what happened after moving to your grandparents’, there were several other things you literally couldn’t remember from your time with your mom. Distant flickers of barely-there echoes from a much darker, secret life. 

You were apparently an extreme pro at blocking out anything that may hurt you, and times with your mom and the things you’d done as a child were just that. 

Your eyes tracked the old wooden door, contemplating opening it when you saw the hole at the bottom of it. 

Another thing that had ‘always been there.’ But, right then and there, you could recollect the moment it happened. Clear as day. 

You’d been home alone with Elsie. Something had happened that had you screaming at her. Throwing things at her. Chasing her. If you were seeing the memory correctly, you had even managed to hit her with something. She’d gotten scared and the place she’d thought to run and hide had been your room. She’d been so stricken by the incident, sobbing for you to ‘stop, please!’ But you hadn’t listened. When she’d escaped behind the door, she shut it and locked you out. It had angered you more, making you release every last bit of bottled emotion with several hard kicks to the bottom of the door, resulting in the obscurity that now faced you, taunting you.

Then your grandparents had returned home, observed the incident, and decided that you both needed to immediately start counseling.

Without even realizing it, you were beginning to choke on dry sobs. Your breaths were becoming short and hard to catch. You couldn’t breathe. 

Your vision was fuzzy as you held to the door frame to balance yourself. But seeing it as pointless, your body going limp, your arms shaking, you slid down the wall to the floor. Putting a hand to your chest, you focused on taking deeper breaths, working to count each one you released. 

You pinched your eyes shut and tried to think of something to calm you down. 

Long hair that smelled like citrus. Smooth, tanned skin, glowing in the sun. A kiss underwater. A hand smoothing over your cheek, catching your tears. Soul-filled eyes, like dark whiskey, watching you closely and carefully. A body around yours, protecting you in the most quiet and intimate moments. The smell of sandalwood and amber.

But, right now, that smell was more present than it just being a figment of your imaginings. 

You slowly opened your eyes, still focusing on breathing, to find him right there, next to you. 

He was crouched down, a hand on the wall next to you, using his body as a shield around you. 

Your eyes welled with tears at the sight of him. It was like he knew you needed him.

“You were gone for a bit longer than what seemed normal,” he said, worry evident in his words. “What’s going on?”

Tears were escaping down your cheeks steadily. He took his flannel off, clad in a black t-shirt underneath, collar torn (on purpose?). Then, started dabbing at your cheeks for a few moments with his flannel. Once finished, he handed it to you, for you to wipe at your face with it. 

“Nothing's going on,” you gasped on a breath, almost bringing the flannel to your face when you stopped. “I don’t want to get it dirty with my makeup, Jake,” you gasped, still trying to calm yourself. But the relentless crying was making it near impossible. 

“I don’t care,” he went from crouching, to sitting against the wall, right beside you. His shoulder was a couple inches from touching your own. You caught yourself naturally leaning into it. “I want to help you. Let me.”

You didn’t say anything in response to that, letting the heartfelt words hang in the air around you two, laying your head on his shoulder. Bringing his flannel up to your face, you closed your eyes at the wonderful smell of him that lingered on the shirt and wiped your face with the plaid material.

Keeping your eyes closed, you used his steady breathing as an aid, trying to breathe in time with him. Anytime his shoulder would lift your cheek with a breath, you took one, too. It worked well, your chest feeling less tight, the tears subsiding. 

After a bit, you heard him speak again. His voice, causing a comforting rumble against your cheek. “What happened, honey?”

Honey. Your heart lurched in your chest at the name.

You slowly pried your eyes open again, focusing on the light beige of the walls and the way the textured paint on the wall made a sort of pattern.

“Nothing,” you mumbled. You feared bringing up the details of the way you used to behave. The idea of saying anything was embarrassing. It was daunting to think of exposing yourself like that. “Stuff from the past that’s embarrassing and awful.”

“Nothing you do is embarrassing.”

“Wrong.”

He snickered, placing a hand on your thigh. His trusty black hair-tie, wrapped around his middle finger. You traced the long digit, his knuckle, and then picked at the hair tie, pulling at it to see the skin beneath the band. 

Before you could do any more to his hand, he removed it from your leg. You watched, your head still leaning on his shoulder as he took the black rubber band off. Suddenly, you were moving from his shoulder as his body shifted. Peering up curiously, he motioned for you to turn your head. You did so, and within seconds, your hair was pulled up and away from your hot face. 

You looked over your shoulder at him, growing goosebumps as his fingers lingered on the skin of your neck. “Thank you.”

Situating yourself in your position from before, you decided on a whim to wrap your hand underneath his arm. You continued until you were lacing your fingers through his, his calloused fingertips wrapping around to rest on the top of your hand. 

“You don’t have to tell me,” he started, voice low, as if keeping a secret. “But I’m here. I need you to know that. Whatever the case may be, I am here for you.”

“Thanks,” you hummed, squeezing his hand. “Jake?”

“Hm?”

“How did things change between us?”

He chuckled. “Well, it started when you walked into my bedroom the night of—.”

You shushed him, not able to hide your light giggle as you used your other palm to hit his hard chest. How was he able to turn things around so quickly for you? Your body felt so light and airy now, calm and at peace. The foggy memories weren’t so scary when he was with you.

“I mean. . .how are we like this now? Cordial?”

“We started trusting each other, I guess,” he said, all joking gone from his tone. 

“Yeah. . .,” you agreed. “And as silly as it is, I think you were onto something with mentioning the first night we. . .”

“I don’t think it’s silly, honestly. . . If we are being honest with ourselves, sex changes everything,” he stated, his thumb tapping a light beat against your hand. He was right. It truly did change things. For good or for bad, you didn’t know. 

“And those Aretha Franklin songs the other morning. . .,” he pushed a breath from his lips to follow his words.

You gasped. “You felt it too?” Finally looking up from his shoulder, you ignored the voice that was telling you to not give into the moment as you turned to him. Because when you looked up at him, his dark brown eyes were familiar, honest, and real. You couldn’t help but let them be your safe place. That was what they’d become. 

It can’t be this way forever. Stop while you’re ahead, the voice warned. Stop giving in.

But you kindly told it to fuck off as you swam in his irises.

“It was impossible not to. The music and the moment. . . ,” he grinned, a dimple presenting itself in his cheek. Then he raised a brow, turning his head a bit, keeping his eye on you. “But, don't forget. We’re just roommates.”

You flushed. “I had to say that.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” you sighed, hearing them from his mouth, you realized that your Grandpa had been right about your words being harsh. “Didn’t want anyone catching onto anything? I don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” he said, his smile not reaching his eyes, but still there. His eyes traveled the walls around you. You could tell his mind was still looming on how he’d found you in the hallway, only minutes ago. 

The column of his neck hypnotized you, the muscles that flexed beneath the flesh so strong and sure. You were aching to put your lips on the skin, then his eyes found yours, caught you watching him, yet again. He lifted a brow, eyes flickering to your lips, staring at your mouth as you licked to wet them. 

When he bit his lip, it was over.

You couldn’t help it. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart was racing. . .

Without even worrying about getting caught, you angled yourself towards him until your lips met his in a kiss. You had to be near him. Needed to be closer, closer, closer. 

He gave it back, matching the force behind your kisses.

It continued like that for a few short moments, but right before you could slip your tongue between his lips, he placed a hand to your cheek, gentle as he held your face steady, pulling back to study your features.

He waited for you to speak. You both knew why he’d put a stop to it. 

And as if to drive the point home, Josh’s laugh echoed through the entire house— a blatant reminder of why you couldn’t do this here.

You looked down to see where he was situating himself in his black skinny jeans, your skin heating all the more. 

As much as you wanted to leave at that instant, you didn’t want to seem abrupt or strange by doing that. You knew it would be best to eat dessert and then leave. 

You tucked a couple of loose strands, having fallen from your makeshift ponytail, behind your ears. Then, you asked. “Wanna eat some pie and then get out of here?” 

“Sounds perfect.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

Laying in his bed later that night, sweaty limbs pressed together and chests heaving, your head resting on his chest as he twirled fingers in your hair, now loose around your shoulders. . . You decided to tell him.

“Earlier tonight, when you found me,” you took a deep breath, preparing yourself for your next words. “I was trying to recover from a panic attack.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you said, pausing. As much as you wanted to look at him when you told him the next part, you decided it would be easier to keep your eyes on his SG, sitting on its stand across his bedroom. “I get them sometimes.”

“Why?” He asked, voice light and calm. 

“Different things. . . tonight, it was because I started having these extremely vivid flashbacks from my childhood.”

“About your mom?”

“Not necessarily— not this time,” you cleared your throat as tears pricked at your eyes. It hurt to think about the nasty, younger version of yourself. “This time, it was more about what I used to do when I was younger.” Tears were falling on his chest, your chest was tight as they kept coming, his skin prickling in their wake. “I–I’m sor–sorry.”

“Why, baby?” His voice settled your nerves. Warm. Soft. Him. 

“I hate that you have to see me cry,” you sniffled, wiping at the tears on his chest. But instead of letting you continue, he held your hand there, so you could feel the stable beating of his heart. 

“If crying is what it takes to heal, I’m here to listen to you as you wade through it.”

This time, you were crying from his words and the way his skin felt against your own. He was your safety. He was here. He was real.

He was here to help. Let him.

“Okay,” you breathed, trying to settle your breaths, focusing on the way his heart beat rhythmically under your hand. 

So, you opened up. You told him about everything that Elsie had reminded you of that day in the car; told him what seeing the door had done to you – and everything that had reared its ugly head all at once tonight.

“Wow,” he let out a deep breath in response. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah. I was such a fucking demon,” you muttered sadly, your heart breaking as the images and sounds were once again coming back. “And I can’t escape it.”

“Why can’t you?”

You wrinkled your brows, resituating to lean on your arm beside him. His eyes followed you, open and honest and Jake. “I caused severe trauma for others– just like my mom did. I made mistakes that I can never take back.”

“You said you were ten?” He asked. You nodded. “You were a child.”

“It’s not an excuse.”

“It’s not,” he agreed. “But you need to give yourself some grace.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re human.”

“But so were the people I hurt.”

“Who would you say you hurt most?”

“Els.”

“And has she forgiven you?”

“I think so,” you muttered, remembering Elsie that day in the car.

“I’ve moved on. Anytime you did any of that stuff, I moved on as soon as you’d done it.”

“You were in pain and somehow, I just knew it. . . I knew then it wouldn’t be fair for me to hold something against you that you probably didn’t mean. I knew the only reason you were acting that way was because someone else had hurt you. It wasn’t all your fault. It was mostly mom’s. You just didn’t know how to react to it.” 

“Then you need to forgive yourself,” he said, moving some tresses of hair behind your shoulders to be able to put an open palm to your chest, right where your heart laid beneath the flesh. “Your heart is beautiful. That’s what matters. Always has been, always will be,” he gave you one kiss, deep enough to emphasize the words. It left you dizzy as he went back to his spot, never letting his hand leave your chest. “I just want you to understand that people make mistakes,” he smiled, reassuring. “I’ve made a shit ton.”

You chuckled. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, both of you sharing a knowing laugh. 

“But," you started, feeling the need to encourage him as well. "That wasn’t you. You were hurting.”

“So were you, back then,” he reasoned, his voice soft. 

“I guess,” you relented slightly. “Elsie told me a lot of this, too, but I just couldn’t believe her. It’s hard to see the good in myself from back then, though, knowing all of the horrific things I did,” you stated simply. You held his hand to your chest as you laid on your back, not wanting him to move it. “I just can’t shake how I let myself forget it so easily. I’ve gone all these years not truly knowing who I was– who I am.”

“Have you ever considered going to therapy again?”

“No,” your heart beat faster at the prospect.

He could feel it, and reacted as such. He came closer to you, his chest and stomach pressing into you, more skin-to-skin to help calm you. “Would you consider it?”

“I don’t know,” you looked down at your hand and his, still over your heart. “Depends, I guess.”

He hummed. “Okay,” he answered, relenting from the hard questions. “How about you work on forgiving yourself and I’ll look into different types of therapy? Let you know what I come across?”

Your heart slowed down, the tiniest smile lifting your lips. Your hand gripped his. Your anchor. Your safety. “Alright.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

A couple days later, you sat on your couch, mesmerized by Jake, who was sitting next to you. 

Well, kind of. He was on the cushion at the opposite end of the sofa as you. 

All you wanted was to be closer to him, but you knew you couldn’t do that. Honestly, you weren’t sure you could trust yourself.

These days, if he was close enough for you to touch him, you were going to be touching him. Whether it be rubbing his shoulders, playing with his continuously growing hair, or laying on top of him (sometimes naked, sometimes not).

But you were appreciating your vantage point tonight. Watching closely as he played through some new songs with Josh. Josh would sing, and Jake would play the same thing. Jake would play, then Josh would sing it verbatim. 

It was interesting to watch them, bouncing off of each other creatively like that. 

Twin telepathy at its finest.

You were stuck in a trance, trying your damnedest to give equal attention to Josh, so as not to raise any suspicion. But it was getting harder and harder to resist watching Jake– being near him, day by day. 

Trying to find other things to focus on, your eyes floated across the room, observing all of the men around you. They’d all been growing their hair out as well. And, normally, a guy growing his hair out was not a huge deal. 

But with these guys? It seemed to you, it was a visual for their changing life. The longer their hair got, the more it was obvious that they were moving onto a new stage of life.

They were becoming rockstars. Truly.

Not only were they making music day in and day out, playing it live every week, preparing for a humongous music festival that would feature many huge bands. . . they were looking more and more like it, too. 

But they were still your boys. 

Never changing.

Sam’s ever-nasally voice interrupted your rambling thoughts, as if on cue. You smiled in his direction, pointing your attention to him. 

“Jake,” he started, excited as he looked intently at his phone screen.

“What, Sam?” He responded with a slight growl to say his younger brother’s name. “Can’t you tell I’m creatively processing?”

Danny let out one loud laugh, his eyes sparkling with a laugh. Josh joined in momentarily, then went back to humming

“Oh, fuck off, Jake,” he rolled his eyes, a smile still adorning his baby face. He trotted his lanky legs over to the couch, sitting between you and your roommate. “Look at this picture of Maya,” he angled the phone so it was right in front of Jake, but turned just right so you couldn’t see it. 

You giggled at Jake having to pull away from the bright screen to get a better look. “God, Sam,” he said, annoyed, grabbing the phone out of Sam’s hand. “Turn your fucking brightness down.”

“Don’t tell me how to live my life, Jacob,” he responded, flipping his hair and rolling his eyes. He turned in your direction for support, throwing a thumb behind him at Jake. “He’s annoying.”

You were still laughing as you asked your question. “Who’s Maya?”

“Jake hasn’t told you about Maya?!” He wondered aloud, his voice raising a decibel or two. 

“No, I haven’t, Sam,” Jake said, his tone clipped, holding the phone tighter in his firm grip, long fingers flexing around the device. “Shut the fuck up.”

Your brows drew in at his behavior. Now you were dying to know who Maya was and why he was suddenly acting so weird about her.

“I ask again, who is Maya?”

“She’s asking Jake,” Sam stated, as if he’d won. “I’m telling her.”

“Sam–.”

“Maya is Jake’s super hot client that he used to fuck. When he first moved here,” Sam clarified. “Still does, I think. I mean, who wouldn’t?!” Then he laughed, hitting Jake’s stiff arm with the back of his hand.

He was doing what, now? 

Chancing a look at the man in question, you noticed he was angry.

Seething was a better term. 

You could tell as he gripped the neck of his guitar, his chest rising with constricted breaths, nose flaring, staring at Josh, who was simply shaking his head in return. 

Sam took his phone from Jake’s hand, gaining it with some effort. But getting it in his grasp anyway. Right as he’d done so, the hand Jake’d been holding it in clenched to a fist, his jaw tightening. The hand on the neck became dangerously tight.

“Sammy. . .,” Josh tried intervening. His eyes jumped back and forth between each brother, desperate for there to be peace. 

Social cues apparently off, Sam was still smiling wide. 

“This is Maya,” he said, flashing the phone in front of your face, holding it there for you to get a good, long look. 

No. Couldn’t be.

The air left your chest, your vision zeroing in on the bright screen of the phone, everything else blurry around you as your head suddenly felt extremely light, body heavy. 

Surely not. . .

You squinted, taking a closer look at the phone before you jumped to any sort of conclusion. 

But the house behind her, as well as her long, dark black hair. . . 

You knew you were correct in your assumption of who it was. 

The joy that the youngest brother exuded was the exact opposite of how you were feeling. The giant stone that had fallen to sit at the bottom of your stomach was suddenly weighing you to the couch. 

You nodded at the screen, pushing the device away from you, hands shaking slightly. “You really do need to turn your brightness down, Sam,” you said, clearing your throat as it got painfully tight.

Play it cool, play it cool.

You were working so hard to hide your emotions. A small smile twitched at your lips. The tears in your throat made them wobble a tiny bit. 

Stop it, y/n.

Jake’s voice cut through, directly to your ears.  “It meant nothing—.” 

You didn’t look at him, only focusing back on Sam as he spoke. You tried hard to keep your eyes wide and clear of anything concerning.

“He still sees her for lessons,” he said, wiggling his brows. “What happens at guitar lessons, stays at guitar lessons,” he elbowed Jake’s arm, tense as the muscle in his bicep flexed, fist still bunched. “Am I right, brother?!”

Sam was the only one smiling in the room. 

The room was tense, Sam tucking his phone back into the pocket of his silky, vibrant button down. He pushed his sunglasses further into his hair.

You were frozen, not even daring to look up at Jake’s face. You studied your hands, then grabbed your phone off of the coffee table to pretend you were checking it. The frenzied emotions in your gut were not trustworthy. If you looked at him, you were sure you’d fall apart.

It doesn’t mean anything. It’s not like they’re still fucking, you tried to reassure yourself. Right?!

But then, you thought about him taking a while at her house. All of his excuses were adding up. 

Had three Ubers really canceled? Or had he just been too busy fucking her and lost track of time?

It made sense, considering the way she’d watched him leave. The hug. 

And what he’d said to her right before he got in the car. Talking about his ‘favorite part of his day’ . . . Fuck. Your chest hurt, the words making so much more sense now. . .

His favorite part of the day. . . 

Your vision got cloudy. What were you? Sad? Angry? Both? You couldn’t fucking tell.

You just needed to get out of the room. 

As you stood up from your spot, your legs wobbled a bit, your mind scrambling for the first excuse that could come to it. “I’ve gotta pee.”

Still not looking at Jake, you walked as fast as you could to the bathroom. 

The last thing you heard before shutting the door to the bathroom was Danny’s voice, trying to break the air-right atmosphere.

“How about dinner?”

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: uh oh. . .

alsoooo, you'll notice that we haven't even gotten to the scene from the sneak peek yet. . . all of that will come to you in part 2. . . see you again soon, loves ;)

send in your thoughts!! i love hearing from you <3

thank you for being the best readers in the world!!! love you all so much!

& as usual, it wouldn’t let me tag some of y’all. :( so please check to see that you’re down there because if you’ve asked to be on the taglist, i tried to tag you. buuuut tumblr wouldn’t let me do it for everyone 🙃 ugh. and if i somehow forgot to tag someone, please also let me know that! (i'm a NOOB and i have terrible memory)

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[loojii]

How do you decide between creating the art you love vs creating art that is “guaranteed” to bring in views/followers/clients, or do you simply make what you like and be satisfied and grateful with having a small following and let it decide to grow on its own?

I am a struggling artist finishing up training to work in the “real world”, and I’m torn and worried because 1) the things that are currently giving me inspiration and motivation to draw are fandom related stuff, 2) Even when I have time or courage to draw and write content for original characters and stories/public domain charas and stories, followers are more interested in my fanart content, 3) trying to create marketable things for holidays/etc so that I can actually earn money has so far failed, 4) I just feel so far behind trying to catch up with new art techniques/art business-savvy rules while trying to retain the lessons I learn and figure out when to practice/actually draw/relax and take a break in healthy, productive amounts 5) I want to be able to work on my day job AND still have time and energy for art, but even with a part time job/training I still fell short despite my efforts to push forward.

Sorry for this; you probably answered something similar before 😅

I don't have the correct answers, for I am just a random person on the internet. But I do want to thank you for sharing and asking me for advice! That alone is a compliment to me :) Here are my two cents, but take it with a grain of salt:

Honestly the times where I was the most disatisfied with my art mindset was when I was doing art full time as a job. I made the hobby I loved so much a job and it changed it. I only made art for others and I didn't had any energy left to make art for myself. Nowadays I have an office job for three days in the week, and the other two I either work on commissions or my own stuff. I enjoy that way more :) But that's simply what works for me! Art is more enjoyable to me when I don't have to do it all week long all the time. Art is a reward for me again, instead of an obgligation :)

But I don't do it to gain followers: I honestly don't look at that. I started posting on the internet like 13 years ago and I always just posted the stuff I liked, and am very thankful that people have liked my stuff over the years and now there are people who enjoy my art and even want to commission me, I'm very thankful :) I started with posting fanart but that's because I simply was into those shows/games, never for the purpose to gain followers :0 I don't think it's a bad thing to do, I just can't tell you anything about it since I sincerely don't look at it. Sorry!

I do wish you all the best!! Sorry that I can't give you good advice, I hope you'll find your own way with how to deal with your art mindset! Finding your flow always takes time :)

[icycoldninja]

Can you write a reader who’s like Mileena from Mortal Kombat

Mileena is a mutant hybrid clone of Kitana, created in Shang Tsung's flesh pits at the behest of Shao Kahn, who had become increasingly paranoid that Kitana would one day learn the truth and betray him. As a fusion of Tarkatan blood and Edenian physiology, Mileena combines and fully utilizes attributes of both races in combat, boasting incredible speed, brute strength, nimble acrobatic prowess, and frightening, carnivorous savagery matched only by Baraka.

In stark contrast to Kitana, Mileena is an evil, sadistic, cruel, twisted, hot-tempered, selfish, and psychologically unhinged opportunist whose fondest wish is to kill her "sister" and claim her existence for her own. She fights using a pair of sais and a hideous, razor-sharp Tarkatan maw which she uses to bite off chunks of human flesh and crush bones

When the boys confront the reader asking why she’s hellbent on stealing her sister identity, she finally confessed that she wished to have an identity of her own, and that she’s tired of being referred to as “Kitana’s clone” and wants to be reminded as “herself”

She felt robbed of her own autonomy and sense of self every time she looks into the mirror just to realize she’s nothing more that her sister’s clone, not a person of herself. She felt that if she kills her sister, only then she feels that she can no longer be someone’s clone, just a solitary individual

As for her mouth, she’s proud of it and yet sometimes feel shameful for having them because while they’re excellent for combat, it’s a hassle taking care of them and hide them away when needed. Because she’s half Tarkartan, she always felt as if she’s starving and it gets on her nerves a lot, so she had to restrain herself from consuming humans ( not that she had a problem for the taste, it’s just that covering up the crime scene can be a hassle and will draw more attention than needed ) so she started shifting her attention to devils

“ Anything that’s not poisonous and alive…it will go in my stomach either ways”

She’s pretty much a voracious eater as well, f eating etiquette, we’re eating plates and stuffing food down our throat now

Also, Mileena is a really brutal fighter so I can imagine the boys having the “should i be scared or turn on” face when she perform the Fatility on whatever unlucky devils happen to be nearby:

https://youtu.be/fpvzIGHueqo?si=eYoeVa63mUOVzhOr

Sure, sure. Enjoy.

Sparda boys + V x Mileena-like!Reader headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-Dante thought you were pretty fricking hot from the moment he met you.

-Your fighting style, your insane brutality, everything was just so cool.

-He knows he should be scared when he sees you rip someone's throat muscles out with your bare hands, but at the same time, he's kinda turned on. He wonders that if you had enough strength to manhandle him during intimacy. Now that'd be something.

-He wants you to know that he loves you, and only you, for who you are and not because you happen to be a clone of someone he doesn't even know.

-He thinks your mutant mouth is pretty damn sexy, though he does wonder how he's supposed to kiss you without getting pinched by your teeth.

-Your appetite is amazing, since it's just like his. You guys could chomp away on pretty much anything, enjoying yourselves (and the food) the entire time.

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil admires your strength and exceptional battle prowess, for it is a testament to your immense POWER.

-He finds your Sais and how you use them elegant in its own bloody way.

-He has nothing to fear when you go full rabid-wolf-monster on your opponents because he knows you would never hurt him, and if you tried, he could easily defeat you.

-Finds your bizarre mouth oddly enchanting, and though he'll never admit it, he'd love to feel that long, frog-like tongue down his throat.

-He MOTIVATES you to have pride in yourself and celebrate your individuality. You are awesome, who cares about your sister? He doesn't even know who that is anyway.

-Your eating habits are disgusting, and Vergil will not hesitate to tell you this.

□ Nero □

-Nero felt bad for you, not feeling happy with yourself all because of something you couldn't control.

-It wasn't your fault you were a mutant clone, and besides, Nero is sure you're way better than the original anyway.

-He respects your strength and would love to fight alongside you in battle, but you're so brutal and violent. It's kinda scary.

-Even though Nero has seen millions of nasty demons and equally nasty ways to get rid of them, your methods are beyond anything he's ever seen before.

-He loves you lots, but doesn't want to be anywhere near you once you start ripping people's organs out, or when you decide to scarf down some of the demons' remains mid battle.

-One of the many things Nero finds attractive is that gorgeously long tongue of yours, and he often fantasizes about what you could do with it.

● V ●

-V finds your violent side rather charming, strangely enough.

-He loves watching you fight, even when you do the most obscene things like chugging a can of something, then spitting it out at your enemy, and killing them with it.

-Your abilities are truly astounding, and V never hesitates to tell you that.

-He loves you for more than your combat prowess, however, he also loves how driven and wild you are, in contrast to his reserved and introverted nature.

-He could never be scared of you, for although others view you as a hungry, cruel monster, he sees you as a broken woman who never got to live her life, always being seen as a clone of someone else.

-He wants to help you create a new identity that might aid in your mental and emotional recovery. He's patient; with time, you might be able to live a happy, stable life.

[sun-marie]

9, 10, and 12 for the oc asks!! Any OC you want (or Lydia :))

-rookamell

thank you for the ask @rookamell!!! For this one I think I'll go with my Tav, Zephyr Skybreeze, from BG3! and then I'll do Lydia after for funsies ;)

Zephyr Skybreeze:

9. Are they based off of you, in some way?

Hm, kinda but not really? I think Zephyr is a lot of things I wish I was (level-headed, disciplined, smart and learned, determined, buff, etc.), but we do share similar values like the importance of non-violent solutions and strong familial connection! Also a footnote in her larger backstory is that she was bullied as a child for being Different™, and that part is somewhat based off of my experience 🥲

10. If they have an LI, how much of their character is tailored to be compatible to that person? 

Honestly, a great deal of her character. I made her with the Intention of romancing Gale from the beginning, and wanted to create someone who was very similar to him, but just to the left (Both extremely knowledgeable and educated, but he got his education from a formal wizard's school while she got she got hers through ancient monastic training, both can command elements like fire and lightning but he uses the weave like an art medium while she uses ki like a dance partner in need of guidance), for that Chemistry. This has, however, motivated me to develop Zephyr, apart from who her LI is, more than some of my other OCs, since I don't want her to just be "Gale's Wife", so stuff like her family history, her pride in being a citizen of Baldur's Gate, and her secret anxieties that she keeps a tight lid on with a myriad of mental and physical exercises were created with the direct intention of fleshing out her own character more <3

12. What have you found to be most difficult about creating art for your OC (any form of art: writing, drawing, edits, etc.)?

I'm gonna say probably the blue streaks in her hair, which I had to develop my own new brush in CSP, consisting of a small group of parallel stripes, to properly convey. To communicate her biracial wood elf and air genasi heritage, she has auburn hair at the roots that fades out to sky blue, something easily done in game but tricky to communicate in art:

Challenging, but also fun :3

Lydia Laidir:

9. Are they based off of you, in some way?

Nope! The fun in playing Lydia, for me, is playing a character who is completely different from me, from her background to her reactions to her values. I relate to her a lot, but her character is not consciously based off of me.

10. If they have an LI, how much of their character is tailored to be compatible to that person? 

answered here <3

12. What have you found to be most difficult about creating art for your OC (any form of art: writing, drawing, edits, etc.)? 

 HER TATTOOS, oh my god they're so pretty in the game and they look so cool on her but oh my GOD do I hate drawing them. Most of the time I just do like, an approximation to get the idea across, but if it's for a really nice piece I'm doing for myself, I'm not above ripping the tattoo texture directly from the game with the Frosty Editor and laying it on her. Those kind of intricate little designs are not my strong suit 😅

Questions About Creating Your OCs

[toxetta]

i wish i had any fucking sort of skill, talent or intelligence, or motivation to learn those things

i can't draw, i can't write, i can't sing, i don't do any sport, i can't access anything fashion or makeup, i'm failing school, i can't talk to anyone, i'm not good at any game i play, i never understand the media i consume and have to listen to other people's explanations, i can't cook, i can barely manage the bare fucking minimum of self care, i'm bad at maths, and acting, and being funny, and understanding people, i don't even go outside ffs, and my memory is so shit i forget everything i try to teach myself

i provide nothing, i contribute nothing, and i'm not capable of contributing anything. they should just put me down already