#and if folks are interested in seeing more sketches from this au (when i post more of it i guess?) you can check the tag

[orykorioart]

From October 2022

Raileon Bikers!AU + sketches featuring their duraludon and charizard themed bikes

[wolame-o-ccx]

would genuinely love to see your process for sketching out your comics!! ive wanted to make my own but i have never really figured out the process and end up overwhelmed- and you're one of the folks who makes stuff in a style that I kinda draw close to, and u do ur comics with pencil and paper- so if you wouldn't mind in the future, it'd be really cool to see how you actually get everything planned :)

This ask is so cute :( probably genuinely the biggest compliment I've ever received! Well, no waiting in the future! I'll tell you now what happens behind the scenes! :)

SO FIRSTLY, I'd like to clarify I am in no way a professional or even close to one, I never even looked up how to do comics, I just kinda do them and use what I've read from DC comics and Pinterest tips.

But! Personally, I find that making comics is fun and that's what I strive on. I won't lie when I say my comics are pretty bland, the surroundings are empty and lame but I think the character's expressions and body language make up for it, and especially the script. So altogether in this post, I'll be breaking down how my comics are made!

↓↓↓ if you're interested, open up the full post!

1 - Scripting

In both dialogue and character detail/placing!

I use a notes app for when I get ideas!

* I usually don't do specific dialogue, only stating the idea and then coming up with dialogue in my head, but there are some exceptions where I do write down pre-thought-out dialogues you can see in the examples I put below!

With the idea / dialogue in tow, we can go to character detail / placing. I don't know the actual word for it but basically how the character acts in a specific scene / dialogue!

Character expression is especially important when it comes to any type of art, be it comics or animation as it can tell a story with little to no dialogue!

* panels taken from 1 and 2 for context

From here you can clearly tell their expressions well! Be sure to exaggerate!

2 - Limit planning

With Tumblr's 10 images limit, as well as Instagram if you post there, it's important to note that limit and know when to end the comic with a good panel where it doesn't feel like it's supposed to continue UNLESS you're making two parts!

I can't tell you how many times I've ruined my sketchbook papers trying to get a perfect script but I've been doing it long enough that my brain has adapted to the limit and every comic I've done since adapting had been a perfect ≤10.

But even if you decide to go with two (or maybe even more) parts, you should make sure it ends well still! Like a book! Those spaces between paragraphs and chapters and such!

Take these for examples too!

* panels taken from 1 and 2 for context

So treat it like a book! I guess ?

3 - Panel placement

This isn't a necessity, but my personal way of drawing each panel is having it scattered around randomly around my sketchbook. I don't use strips or anything like that as it restricts me because using strips on paper is a whole lot harder than on digital. Because I have such a wide area to draw, I'm less restricted from drawing any excess things I want to add in case my dialogue doesn't fit the panel or so!

4 - Draw

Now to put it all together and make the comic! I usually already have my vision in mind so I can just go draw it without a light sketch layer, but I do recommend it!

What that is is essentially a sketch but drawn like.. your pencil is hovered above the page? Like you don't press down on it or something like that. Basically a guideline! So do that if you need it, and when you're satisfied with how it looks, you can draw it! And make sure it's clear!

After that, it's just picture and post! (Make sure you crop it right tho!)

4.5 - BONUS / TIPS

When I started posting Belos drawings, I never expected it to get any attention or even end up as a whole AU 😭 I just drew him in a babygirl hoodie and people ate that shit up so now it's an AU 💀 and because of that you need to prepare personalized tags!

Tags like pitmdau or sharing caleb au ! Very very useful for navigation

More important than tags, make sure you have a Masterpost!

I'm aware mine are unfinished and very messy and I'm trying to work on that right now but it's very difficult but people really need it so when making Masterposts, YOU HAVE KEEP UP WITH IT. I slacked of for ONE POST and now it's a mess.

Also another important note you can only put 100 links in one post so you have to make more Masterposts to navigate through the comics 😭

5 - Have fun!

When getting into comic making, I think really the most important thing to keep in mind is your enjoyment in making said comics. Sometimes some things can burn you out very quickly so when you're getting into things like this, especially when you're not getting paid, you gotta make sure you have fun doing it. It doesn't matter if it doesn't get a lot of traction or not, it only matters that you are enjoying making and posting them!

I've experienced MULTIPLE burn outs from making too many comics for my TOH AUs that at some point I just completely died and lacked motivation. But what drives me into making them are other people's enjoyment! Their enjoyment gives me enjoyment which gives me motivation to make more. Someday I'll know the AUs I've created will inevitably be over, at some point, but right now I'm just having fun with the small community I've built!

So make comics, and have fun!

I hope this was helpful in any way. I just want to clarify that, again, this is my way of making comics, and you don't have to follow anything I put into the post. I'm mostly hoping this was easy to understand as well. I'm more of a visual learner so making up the words to make this was kinda hard so I'm sorry if some parts didn't make sense. If anything, feel free to hit me with another ask or a PM! I know me not posting seems like I'm inactive but I promise I check Tumblr frequently 😭

Happy posting!!! :3

[veinsfullofstars]

-opens wallet and shows you a mile-long photo roll of my babies-

(ID: A compilation of sketches between roughly 2018-2023, featuring a whole host of my original characters as well as some one-off designs, pose practice, AU variants, and filling the empty spaces with eyes. END ID.)

Again, it’s kinda weird seeing the style change happen over the years all in one place. Consistency? Don’t know her. All I know is that I love everyone here so very much, and I feel bad about hurting them in all the stories I imagine for them. You’ll all have happy endings, I promise, I just… need to actually write them down first. Haha, oops.

Also, for anyone interested, I’ve put a very small rundown of some of the named recurring characters you see in the sketches below the break here - it’s largely just an excuse to info dump about my brain children.

NOTE: This was originally posted on my deleted account on 08/14/23.

—

Lily (she/her, age unknown): an old ‘sona and one of my oldest OCs, she is an ethereal being with a forgotten past, an obscured face, and the brightest personality you’ve ever seen; her job is to be an imaginary friend to children who need one, the substance coating her arms capable of manifesting shapes and stories that flow and dance through the air like color-shifting ink; she’s also friends with an undead zombie dog named Anthony (not pictured)

Circé Fellbrook (she/they, late 20s): one of my absolute favorite OCs, she is a stoic assassin, carrying your typical tragic backstory rife with fire, loss, kidnapping, and torture, leaving her will cracked (though not broken) and her heart hardened (though not impenetrable); they are forced to work for the Organization (a corrupt, cultish sect running much of her world’s political and ruling power from behind the scenes), operating as a double agent within the resistance as well as a reluctant bodyguard for Everett; she likes to watch the sky on rainy days and dance in forest groves when no one’s looking; she also have a massive sweet tooth and a deep love for animals; in the future, they learn to open up again, getting an eye patch, a cool leather jacket, and a queerplatonic relationship with an anarchist objecthead named Suzume, but she’s still a long way off from that; she also travels with a wolf she calls Love, though only she knows his true nature…

Tegra Burnpike (she/her, late 60s): a woman of many hats - former captain of a not-so-legitimate merchant vessel, retired circuit fighter, one of the faction leaders of the resistance movement; she is loud, jovial, determined, motherly, compassionate, just as likely to start a brawl as she is to bandage a wound; she loves company both platonic and intimate, sharing tales of her long and storied life over many a strong drink, befriending Sal, Geth, Everett, and even the standoffish Circé; she is also restless, loose on commitment, seeking horizon after horizon for adventure, thrills, anything to quell the itch of standing still in one place for too long, of letting the regrets of the past catch up to her… also, in her free time, she collects little glass-blown figurines from all the places she’s been

Sallion “Sal” Pessier (they/she/he, mid 20s): gentle, anxious, bookish, born of divine lineage that shows in their single curved horn, tail, and dark scleras; they endure a troubled childhood in a gated community of devoutly religious folk, resented and mocked by most for their appearance, including their own mother, the fanatical (and hypocritical) high priestess; in their teen years, they manage to escape on a visiting theater caravan (another ally for the resistance) with the help of their beaten-down father, though he is unable to send the rest of their siblings with thanks to the youngest ratting them out to their mother; since then, they’ve found sanctuary within the resistance movement as well as the more open-minded religious sects outside of their closed-off hometown, hoping to one day save the ones they’ve left behind; they also gain their first real friends in Tegra, Everett, Circé, and Geth - with the latter eventually blossoming into something more…

Geth Evensphere (he/him, early 30s): mute from birth and covered in port-wine stain birthmarks, he is the sweetest, gentlest farm boy you’ll ever meet - a hard worker, good with animals, perhaps a bit too accommodating for his own good sometimes, and a lover of nature and art, painting landscapes in his free time; though not directly involved with the resistance movement, he and his family do what they can to help, offering supplies and lodging when necessary; he quickly befriends boisterous Tegra and charismatic Everett, finds a quiet kinship with reluctant Circé, and falls softly in love with gentle Sal; he does not remember his childhood, only that his adoptive parents found him stumbling through the woods one night, alone and disorientated, and took him in; he also has strange recurring bouts of body pain, which seem to have no physical cause and have only gotten worse as he’s aged…

Everett Stargleam (he/him, late 20s): the most shove-able of my OCs, he is a spoiled theater kid from a rich family and even richer town, his head filled with so much hot air and dreams that it’s a wonder he hasn’t drifted away yet; similar to Sal, he has a divine lineage from his absent father’s side, though his features are conveniently more passing (odd hair color, affinity for magic); though tangentially related to the Organization (his mother being a high-rank politician trying - and failing - to use her darker connections to fix the system from within), he mostly longs for stardom, to perform on stage and gain the fame (and love) he longs for, taking minor roles in stageplays between his university studies; thanks to his skills in persuasion and deception (and a bit of nepotism), he is sent with Circé to be moles in the resistance movement, which goes smoothly until Everett, confronted with the cruel reality of those affected by the corrupt nature of the Organization’s actions, starts shifting to the enemy’s side; he also ends up in a long-winded and unbearably snarky will-they-won’t-they with one of the faction leaders, a mystical, strong-willed woman by the name of Edalisa (not pictured), who may be more than she appears…

Amberette (she/her, 8y): a little orphan girl with fiery red hair and a sharper eye than she lets on, she has the ability to teleport short distances thanks to her abnormally high capacity for magic; she and her fellow children live in relative peace in a small, government-owned orphanage in an unassuming town, but when children start going missing or coming back from “check-ups” with nearly all the life sucked out of them, she starts looking for an escape, pushing her powers in secret and listening in on conversations between orderlies, hoping to find help before it’s too late; coincidently, this is when she meets a few members of the resistance come to investigate this very town, subtly guiding them towards the truth until they manage to bring the whole operation down (though not without casualties and a few unexpected surprises); spoiler alert - she makes it out in the end and goes on to stay with Geth’s family during the rest of the resistance movement’s efforts, growing fond of both Geth and Sal especially, who fawn over her like doting parents in turn; though, even here, her journey is not over just yet…

Amity Georgette Tapia (she/her, 10y): an old Undertale AU OC and another favorite of mine, she is a tiny bundle of joy, pastels, and restless energy, asking a million questions a second and eager to jump into any new experience feet-first (something that might’ve contributed to the fact that she wears a prosthetic in place of her right arm); she loves bubbly music, being outside, and fish (oh, lord, please ask her about fish, she will babble on for days about anything fish-related); do not show her spiders, though, she will cry; she learns that her SOUL is green while in the Underground, and her magic usually manifests in the form of protective bubbles, swarms of glowing fish, or bursts of bright, blinding light - notably, all more defensive than offensive

Nerves (they/them, young): a Hollow Knight Vessel OC, they’re named for the fact that they are the most nervous little bug you’ve ever laid eyes on, always trembling or wary, their head darting this way and that, clutching their wings around them like an old blanket; they get better about their fear over time, finding wonder in the places they see and courage in the friends they make; they grow close to folks like Iselda and Cornifer (who take them in after a run-in with something bad in Deepnest), Sheo (who helps them discover a deep love for art), Quirrel (whose tales of life outside Hallownest foster their sense of curiosity and wanderlust), the Lost Kin (who was with them when they escaped the Abyss until circumstances separated them), and even Grimm (who teaches them about fear and how to walk alongside it rather than be controlled by it); they also like to wear costumes, especially hats since they can cover the broken hole in their shell…

The others mentioned (Milagrosa, Riggs, Sandy, Jade, Edmund, Tony, and any unnamed folk) are more one-off designs or from stories I haven’t fully fleshed out yet, though I wouldn’t necessarily mind expanding on them if y'all were interested in the future.

[beeshavethrees]

HEY LOOK it’s an AU I’ve sat on for a couple years and never talked about! This is also probably the *weirdest* AU I’ve ever made. This AU focuses mainly on Alexander and Thomas reincarnating over the years, though other characters sometimes pop up as well. Details below the cut!

Making the photoset small so that it isn’t immediately obvious how rough these little sketches are. I did this in like an hour which is why it’s so sloppy.

Don’t expect anything else from this AU, I just wanted to get it out once.

As stated this is a really weird AU, so I’m going to summarize it in the cleanest way I possibly can.

World setup:

This world relies on three main concepts. The first is that souls have power, and the second is that this power is represented by colors, and the third is that soul magic leads the world.

Souls have power, and this power grows over time. As someone is reincarnated over the years, their soul will continue to grow more and more powerful and refined. Souls can change their power type (explained in the next concept) each time they’re reincarnated, but often trend towards keeping the same or similar power types as those they’ve had in previous lives, or a mix of them.

This power is represented by colors, particularly light or the lack thereof. Magic is defined as two types: white/light (and its components), or black/dark. Someone can not have both types of magic. Dark magic is organic magic, allowing the user to manipulate the natural world. Only a small subset of the population has this magic, and most go into careers related to naturalism or farming. Light magic is inorganic magic (making it essentially limitless), and is held by the vast, vast majority of the population. It is broken down in the color spectrum -- most light magicians aren’t considered as having light magic, but instead have red magic, or blue magic, or so on.

Soul magic leads the world in the form of the High God. As the power of souls grow over time, so does the power of the gods. The High God is little more than a web of scraps of magic, and builds up the basis of the universe and everything within it. Two Lesser Gods are also much later brought into being by this same force of magic, but where the High God is concerned with the cosmos, the Lesser Gods care for the beings within it. The Lesser Gods also pluck individual souls out of the cycle to act as servants and ambassadors who can actively visit humanity to guide it down the path of the Lesser God’s vision. The Lesser Gods can correspond with the High God, but there’s little to be heard by a being in such a grand scale above even the other gods.

Plot basics:

The storyline takes place over thousands of years, and several reincarnations of the cast, but the main focus is on three lives.

One of three: This life takes place while humanity is still only beginning to gain its footing. Magic is in its infancy, and is capable of very little -- and while some regions embrace the natural variation in magic, others detest it. The main cast lives in an area of the latter sort -- a small tribe identifying themselves with their “red” magic is clashing with the “blue” tribe over a small area of land that grows a particular herb that is highly nutritious and thought to have healing properties. The one thing the two tribes agree over is in a legend of people with every magic type, “light” magicians, who are incredibly powerful and are sent by fate to lead tribes to prosperity. Both tribes also identify their affiliations by painting stripes under their eyes with their color.

(There are other tribes in the area -- many of the other cast members live in the green tribe, and Lafayette is of the dark tribe to the south, but they don’t have much standing on the plot.)

Thomas is the son of a the blue tribe’s leader and is particularly gifted with magic to the point where some people claim his family must descend from a light magician. He hates the pressure put on him to step up and lead, or to use his powers to defeat the red tribe.

Alexander is from the red tribe, raised by his mother -- his father is unknown to him, though his mother claims she found his father one day while out foraging, brought him back to the village to tend to his wounds, and fell in love until the day he ran away again. Alexander is a typical red magician, but often will go out alone into the woods to attempt to push his powers to the limits, with the excuse that he forages while away. One day, Alexander leaves to forage, but becomes caught in a heavy thunderstorm. Disoriented, he stumbles through the underbrush until he comes to a messy trail and follows it.

Thomas is the one to find him collapsed on the trail, bunches of the herb Alexander collected in his small bag. The rain washed away Alexander’s paint -- not knowing who this stranger could be, Thomas hauls him back and takes the herb from Alexander’s back to give to the healers.

When Alexander wakes up -- indoors, clothes dry -- he’s approached by Thomas, who introduces himself. Alexander is at first terrified, knowing that a member of Thomas’ tribe wouldn’t hesitate to kill a member of the red tribe. But Thomas has been working on a plan: he doesn’t want all this pressure on him to do this and do that as the heir to the only family descending from a light magician; instead, he slyly mentions that he heard legend of light magicians appearing to aid those in need. Alexander jumps on the opportunity, claiming that of course he’s a light magician, and of course he’ll help Thomas’ community. Anything to stop them from stabbing him then and there, he supposes. Thomas thanks him, hands him a bowl of broth made from the healing herbs, and their relationship develops from there.

Alexander never does find out his father was a light magician.

But other folks find out he’s a red magician -- and before he can escape back to his own tribe, he’s killed.

Two of three: Thousands of years later, magic is no longer a faint power only a few can properly utilize. Instead, it’s well-known and spread through the population, which isn’t tribal any longer, but is instead a relatively highly-developed interlocked society spanning the globe.

No longer are people defined by a single color -- many people descend from a mixture of many colors, and instead are simply inclined towards one over the other, though some stronger than others. Light magic has also become far more common, though it’s rare to see someone who can naturally use it; instead, people with great magical affinity will be invited to schools of higher education where they are trained.

Thomas is in his second year studying with one such school. His parents both attended it, and are ecstatic for Thomas to join it as well, though he’s less interested. He’s initially invited to the school to study light magic, but during the first week of orientation he finds out: hey! He hates light magic and isn’t inclined towards it at all! And instead he runs off to study blue magic. It just...feels better.

Alexander comes into the school a year after Thomas on a full scholarship. He comes from a far more unfortunate background, but shows incredible magic potential. So, a light magician it is! Where the other magics at the school dress however they want, work on projects all over the common spaces, wander the halls...to be a light magician is to be perfect, and that’s exactly what he wants. He dresses in the perfect white uniform, he sticks his nose up at other magics, and his class -- only one, all day, every day -- is set with the other 99 students in his class in an auditorium.

Only...light magic isn’t all it’s cracked out to be. Light magic is no longer the raw force of power it was; instead, students are encouraged to refine and control it if they want to use it. Light magic is pulled from the soul and spun into a string, then woven on a loom into the desired shape. First-years are still learning how to weave, so they work on projects as a community -- each student of the 100 is brought up to a stage during class, spins a single string, then sets it on the loom and sits down. The lecturer then weaves them all together. Though first-years are forbidden from meeting with the upper years, rumor says upper years get to weave their own magic, and go on to work at the greatest government-run magi-tech facilities in the world.

But Alexander feels off. He doesn’t like the clothes, and he doesn’t like the culture. Within the first month, the lecture becomes dull: there’s no notes to take, every demonstration is slow, and he’s terrified that every time it’s his turn to come to the stage, he’ll mess up his weave. Not only that, but weaving doesn’t feel...right.

One day he runs into a group of blue students while going to the restroom during lecture. They’re encouraged not to leave during lecture, but he’s falling asleep and has to get out of that uncomfortable chair. And he realizes...the blue students are using their magic freely, and already doing amazing things with their powers, not spending all their days in that awful lecture hall.

And just like that, Thomas convinces him to leave the light magic program. Alexander becomes a red magician, but something never does sit right with him about what was happening in those lectures.

Until it comes out that weaving light magic requires depositing a bit of one’s soul along with it. Light-weaving magicians will all burn out eventually, and while the soul will regenerate come their next reincarnation, their magic is stolen from them in their current incarnation.

Chaos breaks out among the magicians of the school. A microcosm of revolution between those who are learned and powerful and those who are plentiful and ready to throw all they have at it.

Alexander is killed in the chaos.

Three of three: Another several thousand years pass. It’s by this time that the Lesser Gods have fully formed, and light-weaving technology has surpassed all else to the point where humanity is post-scarcity -- cities are rebuilt for beauty, natural spaces carved out, portals and magic commonly integrated. Everyone has everything they could want, they only need to find their place and personal happiness.

Thomas is plucked out of the reincarnation cycle by the Lesser Gods; he’s brought into being as an adult with a strictly light-blue uniform and a purpose. He mainly takes correspondence and delivers messages, seeks out additional souls that would be good to be made into a being such as himself (a ”unit”), as well as various other duties assigned at random, such as setting things up if another unit will be doing things down in the world.

He doesn’t personally recommend Alexander’s soul be pulled, but he doesn’t mind when he’s assigned to wake Alexander up. Alexander is another unit, but this time an enforcer with a pink uniform: or, white-red, to be specific. An enforcer is more than a passive messenger -- they’re powerful, strong, and are meant to cleanly eliminate those who would destroy the perfect society humanity has built.

He and Alexander work next to each other for a time while Alexander is awaiting orders. One day, Alexander is sent off on a mission: some random crazy person has been trying to build an artificial god. Of course, that won’t fly, so he’s off to eliminate them and destroy anything remaining of their project.

But in his absence, Thomas starts to realize that he’s...lonely. He’s excited when he’s given his next assignment to go to Earth for some silly routine work, and realizes that he doesn’t...really want to go back. James is the final nail in the coffin for him: finally, someone else who likes him! They just have to disappear and pop off elsewhere, ideally avoiding enforcers, and they’ll be off scott free!

Shame that Alexander finds him.

(The funny thing about Thomas being a servant is that he does have some powers -- ones that happen to counteract all of Alexander’s offensive abilities as an enforcer. Making it a very awkward sort of manhunt. Units were never made to hunt each other, or even defect at all!)

And with each escape, every thwarted plan, Alexander cracks a little more. And eventually, when Thomas extends a hand -- maybe out of pity, maybe out of love, maybe just because it’s what he’s always done in all their lives -- Alexander takes it.

And they run free.

And that’s it for this AU! I’m never writing for it ever again. Goodnight.

[wasongo]

Followers and friends and good folks who are playing ACNH! I’m planning on hosting an egg hunt event via Dream Address soon. I’ll have item prize packs (Star, Zodiac, Frozen, Mermaid, and Rock items) as well as quick sketch prizes.

I’ll also be offering doodles to anyone who takes a pretty screenshot at Eden’s memorial (once my Dream Address is active again) and shares with me a comment about her. Could be which komubak fic of hers was your favorite, or something you like about any of the DGM AUs we created together, or a nice interaction you had with her! You don’t have to participate in the egg hunt for one of these doodles by the way! I’d just like to compile and reblog screenshots of people who visit her memorial in game, and offer something small as thanks for taking the time to visit her. I will make another post when my island is once again open for dream visitors!

More details of the EGG HUNT event under this readmore.

I’ll be using a Discord server for the event, so anyone interested in participating can join here: https://discord.gg/sCmvwZP

Rules, dates, and times of the event will be detailed in the server! And I will be there during the event to answer questions. You WILL need to join the server to participate in the egg hunt since I will be verifying winners through discord DMs.

Hopefully I can get enough people in the server to host the event by mid September or so! I’d like to keep it small so we can probably start with 15 or 20 people, but if more join that would be great too. In any case, I’d like to discuss with people in the server to see which date would work best for everyone.

EGG HUNT PRIZES

There will be 4 winners in total and 5 item packs to choose from. 1st place will get first choice of pack, 2nd place will get to choose from remaining packs, and so forth. And there will be some quick sketch prizes too!

[serenasoutherlyns]

Full of Surprises ch. 1-3

casey/alex, past alex/olivia. semi-au & fuzzy timeline, set post season 9. cross-posted from ao3 so the first three chapters are coming at ya all at once. TW for series-typical violence, SA, and discussions of mental illness. less graphic than the show. Fluff, romance, angst! First three chapters are totally SFW.

And yet, as she scanned the place, she caught someone she recognized. Sitting at the bar, bent over a notebook, was Casey Novak; her deep red hair tied back in a casual ponytail, an empty highball glass in front of her, chewing on the end of a click pen.

1 .

This wasn’t where Alex would usually find herself. Or at least, it didn’t used to be. Maybe it was now.

Emily had spent her evenings sat at a booth in the back of the local pub, watching and sketching. The books she’d filled, she kept them safely tucked in a box in the back of her closet, initialed “EC.” Alex couldn’t find it in her to draw much anymore.

Anne was alone more than not, spent long evenings reading philosophy, went running early mornings, yoga classes, taught herself guitar, filled hours on hours with ideas and exhaustion. Alex didn’t spend much time poring over The Republic these days, her guitar was long covered in dust.

In law school, her friends had a favorite table in the window of a little cafe, they would go from morning coffee to afternoon study to sharing bottles of red wine, coming and going as they pleased, debating with hopeful glimmers in their bright eyes. Late into the night, arm wrapped around Sylvia’s waist, listening to her classmates carry on, she’d watch the candles burn down. Sylvia had called her Lexi, whispered in her ear on night walks in the cold Cambridge air to their little apartment, gentle hands soothing her most anxious times. Alex hadn’t felt like that in years.

College weekends were spent at punk shows in basements, though she knows now nobody would believe it, young Alex Cabot (the nickname had been coined in those years, sharper edged than the elaborate Alexandra) knew how to have some fun, at least back then. She’d dyed her hair black and worn studs on her collar, had a reputation for being a player, and it seemed like the back of her right hand was constantly stained with marker residue. Sticky floors and lipgloss on her neck, so many firsts all at once.

Her evenings during her years in the DA’s office were usually full of work, except the odd night when she’d meet the detectives for a drink at their haunt or head out with the other ADAs to some upscale cocktail bar. Two different crowds with two different mentalities, the detectives were dedicated to a fault, while the prosecutors were insufferably full of themselves. The detectives would tire her out by 11:30, but she’d find an excuse to leave the ADA excursions before 9. Far more special were the many evenings spent in Olivia’s apartment drinking two beers each and filling the quiet air with soft laughter and conversation.

But a little library themed speakeasy? Not her typical place. Well. No time like the present to change one’s habits. She’d been recommended it by an old law school friend a couple weeks ago, bumped into him on a whim in a coffee shop, was surprised she wasn’t dead, had been there last night, said it was right up her alley. Its illicit vibe wasn’t exactly to ADA Cabot’s tastes, no. But it scratched something in Alex, that hadn’t been satisfied since those basement nights and cozy cafe afternoons. From the place’s shelves she’d pulled a book of Pre-Raphaelite poetry and sat in a comfy chair with a scotch and a San Pelligrino, pleased, at least, to be out of the apartment for the evening.

She didn’t need the money, but she’d been copyediting textbooks freelance, filling up her time with grammar and word choice. She’d been reading a lot of fiction. She adopted two extremely fluffy cats. It was a pleasant, if mundane, life. It turned out, Alex had realized, that there were plenty of eager and capable young attorneys who could do her former job as well as she ever had. She felt, finally, like she deserved a bit of a rest. Needed one, really. Someone would do the prosecuting. The thought of stepping back in the courtroom, looking at the bench, examining witnesses, made her feel sick to her stomach, though she had once loved that life. It wasn’t her anymore— maybe it never really had been. She decided this was her kind of place after all. This iteration of Alexandra Cabot would drink bubbly water in secluded speakeasies while reading poetry.

Alex didn’t expect to see anybody she knew, not somewhere you needed a password to get into, where the music was indie folk and old jazz from a vintage record player, the drinks had names like the “Lady Brett” and the “Daisy Buchanan,” and most of the patrons were dressed in flannel with their noses buried in old books. And yet, as she scanned the place, she caught someone she recognized. Sitting at the bar, bent over a notebook, was Casey Novak; her deep red hair tied back in a casual ponytail, a half-empty highball glass in front of her, chewing on the end of a click pen.

This was surprising. Alex, though she hadn’t ever known Casey well, before her first brief return to life as Alex Cabot, only as one of the white collar ADAs (they ran in a bit of a pack, didn’t shy away from imitating the lifestyles of those they prosecuted). After knowing her as a prosecutor, Alex would expect to see Casey in a sports bar watching a game, or in some chrome-gilded bar with high ceilings drinking designer cocktails and cheering on a verbal showdown between her colleagues. Or in the center of a showdown like that. Not alone, writing in a moleskine, wearing a red flannel over a simple black dress. Casey was striking, Alex realized, before she realized she’d been looking a little longer than was considered normal. She hoped she didn’t seem like a creep watching from afar. She considered getting up, saying hello, but felt that Casey may not even remember her, may not want to be disturbed as she wrote, may not even recognize her anymore. She’d changed her appearance when she’d gone back to being Alex Cabot, cut her hair in a short bob, dyed it dark brown, wore thick rimmed glasses and simple clothing, too painful to be the formal blonde she used to be. Barely the same woman who’s once-murderer Casey had put behind bars those years ago.

Alex didn’t have to consider talking to Casey, however, because almost as soon as she returned to her book, she heard the sound of rubber soled sneakers against the old hardwood floors and a voice beside her.

“Hey stranger,” she said.

“Hi Casey,” Alex said as she slid her bookmark into place and looked up at the familiar face with a smile. “Care to join me?”

2 .

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” Casey said as she sat down. “I’m allowed to, uh, talk to you right? Though I guess if I wasn’t you wouldn’t acknowledge me, which would be fine, by the way.” There was the Casey Alex remembered, her words getting ahead of her.

“It’s fine, I’m me again,” Alex said calmly, “It’s really good to see you, though I wouldn’t have imagined you to be the writing type, or the underground-library-bar type” Alex gestured to the leather notebook in Casey’s left hand.

“I’m full of surprises, Alexandra Cabot.” Casey said in a tone that suggested she was sarcastic, yet convinced Alex she was telling the truth. Alex sipped her water.

“What were you working on?” She asked, not wanting to pry, but very eager to catch up, to know why she was alone in a place like this.

“Oh, nothing, nothing interesting. Just some little bits and pieces.” Casey replied.

“Not argument notes on a Saturday night, I hope?” Alex asked, though she knew that she would’ve done the same thing back when she was in the DA’s office. Casey looked pale, uncomfortable for a moment. “I’m sorry,” Alex said, trying to soothe any pain she may have caused, though she couldn’t fathom why. “I don’t mean to bring up work when you’re trying to relax.” At this, Casey just looked confused.

“Alex, have you not heard?” Casey said, searching for signs of recognition in the woman’s eyes, but finding only further confusion continuing, her voice low, “I was censured a few months ago. I can’t practice law for at least three years.” Alex’s eyes opened wide and she set her glass down on the table between them. “I’m surprised the rumor hasn’t reached your circles yet, though I admit I’m glad I get to be the one to tell someone for a change.” Alex noticed Casey cross her arms together over her chest, closing herself up, making herself seem smaller.

It was quiet for a while, the sounds of Ella Fitzgerald on the speakers, quiet conversations, and pages turning filling it. “I’m sorry, no, I hadn’t heard. That’s too bad. Do you want to talk about it?” Casey grinned at the suggestion, oddly intimate for the two women who, while they hardly knew each other, had shared some of the most intense moments either of them had experienced in a courtroom.

“I think I’ve gone over it enough in my head, but uh, thank you.” Casey said, her voice wobbling on the thanks, “You know, you’re the first person so far to actually ask me that?”

“I’m sorry.” Was Alex’s reply. Surely Casey had people who were interested in her feelings?

“The circumstances were,” Casey trailed off as she looked for the right wording, “I was at fault, for sure. But I was just trying to do the right thing, and I made a mistake.”

“Nothing shocking, I hope?” Asked Alex, still trying to ascertain the nature of the censure, wondering about what the woman sitting across from her could’ve done.

“I violated due process, technically.” Casey replied, attempting to gauge Alex’s reaction, but seeing that it continued to be contemplative rather than condemning, continued, “I shouldn’t’ve, but I think all of us have done worse in our time. But I was not in Donnelly’s good graces, so…” instead of ending her sentence, Casey sipped the last of her drink and looked up at Alex nervously, hoping the woman wouldn’t judge her too harshly.

“Oh man, Casey. That’s really tough. I’m sorry.” Casey searched for any sign of disapprobation in Alex’s tone, but finding only genuine concern, relaxed.

“So I’ve been doing other stuff for a little while. Using my undergrad,” she said, truly sarcastic this time. “What about you Cabot? What’s keeping you from your old haunt? And what’s with the brunette look?”

Alex wanted to answer, but wasn’t going to let Casey get away completely with deflecting. “You didn’t answer my question, Novak. What’s in the notebook?”

Casey laughed. “You really are relentless.” Alex just raised an eyebrow smugly while sipping her drink, as if to say, go on. “It’s a poetry journal. I’ve kept one since college.”

This admission broke the unflappable Alex Cabot’s reserve and she couldn’t keep herself from a few giggles. “I apologize,” she said, “for laughing at you. Just, the idea of Casey Novak the poet would not have occurred to me.”

“Like I said,” Casey started, “I’m full of surprises. And nobody has laughed at me in a long time,” she continued, beginning to laugh herself. “Believe it or not, I have an English degree.”

“Ok, ok, stop. I’m not sure I can take many more shocks tonight,” teased Alex.

“And you, didn’t answer my question. What’s with the brunette? You look beautiful,” Casey said before realizing what she was saying, shutting herself up before she said anything embarrassing.

“I needed a change,” Alex said, “Something to distance myself from my old selves. I never dyed my hair before, or switched up my look at all really. Just, a change.”

“I get that.” Casey said, and Alex felt like she really did get it, somehow more than anybody else had to this point. She’d seen a few old colleagues and friends, and they all had looked at her with this mixture of fear and pity that made her wish she was invisible. But Casey seemed to say something deeper in just three words.

They talked together late into the night, about books and drinks (Casey had been a bartender in college, her knowledge on pairings was unparalleled) and everything but law. It was close to 2:00 am when Casey started to yawn.

“I’m really glad I ran into you, Alex,” she said as they left the bar, her voice scratchy from talking quietly, a subtle accent that Alex couldn’t quite place showing through under the influence of sleepiness and her light buzz. It was adorable, Alex found herself thinking.

“Me too, Casey,” Alex replied, and before she could turn to start walking towards her apartment, only a block or so away, she was met with a hug. It was brief, but Alex took in the scent of Casey’s coconut shampoo, sweet and pleasing.

“I wouldn’t have expected you to be much of a hugger either,” Alex said as she pulled away, brushing her hands on Casey’s elbows.

“I guess you have a lot to figure out,” she said, playfully, as Alex handed her into a cab.

As Alex walked up the stairs to her apartment (she could afford a bigger place, but this one, this one felt right), Alex replayed the evening and regretted not asking for Casey’s phone number before she left. When she pulled her keys out of her pocket to unlock the door, she found a piece of paper, with a number and a note:

text me, so I can learn some of your surprises.

3 .

Alex was awake.

The same old dreams kept her restless. It had been a bad night, she’d slept less than 3 hours before she woke, startled, as the sun just began to rise, 5 am on a Saturday in September.

Foggily, she attempted to reconstruct the details of her pieced together dreams, her therapist, Julia, had convinced her to keep a journal. She said the nightmares of being shot, of nobody recognizing her, those made perfect sense, classic PTSD symptoms. With what happened to her it would’ve been stranger to not suffer it. But these hadn’t been those dreams.

Clare Cartwright, age 15 stood in line at the coffee shop. Her face was pink with tears but nobody saw anything out of the ordinary except for Alex, watching her from a table. Clare’s cheeks were wet and covered in running mascara but the barista didn’t bat an eye as she ordered an iced chai and sat down alone with her laptop. Tears turned to sobs turned to screams, thrashing, but she just kept typing, sipping her tea, nobody did a damn thing. Alex tried to rise from her seat, go to the girl, hold her and scratch her back while she cried, but the heavy weight of her own body kept her seated, powerless to do anything. She tried to yell across the room, tell her that it was going to be ok, she was going to put whoever hurt her behind bars, protect her from them forever. But when she opened her mouth all breath was sucked out of her lungs, she collapsed. Clare’s cries echoed ceaselessly.

Trevor Hamilton, a 20 something pro, had been turning tricks all night but one guy had taken it a little too far. He was sure his neck, hips would be covered in nasty bruises the next day. Oh well. Nobody believed a pro who cried rape. He stuffed his cash in his briefs and made his way towards the van he slept in with three other guys but before he could get there, he fell, body bloody. Nobody heard a sound but Trevor must have been shot. His blood was cold as it poured out of him onto the sidewalk but he stood up. He wasn’t dead. In the morgue, Melinda Warner ruled the cause of death a fatal gunshot wound to his back, probably a stray bullet, but he’d had sex the night he died, maybe an angry John. Alex told everyone that he wasn’t dead. Trevor whispered in her ear, asked her how could she let them say he was dead, how could she let them get away with saying such a thing like that, how could she let them call what had happened to him sex. Alex repeated herself over and over but all she got in return from the detectives were sympathetic looks of confusion as they sent her home for the day. She must’ve been too tired, Alex heard Olivia tell Elliot, maybe her mind was acting up again, sleep deprivation can kickstart psychosis. Someone would check in on her that night, make sure she wasn’t relapsing. Alex knew she wasn’t hallucinating, because Trevor had spoken to her in the clearest voice she’d heard in months. Alex wept for Trevor the whole way home and then some but nobody seemed to notice.

Annabelle Lamm wore a fuzzy pink nightgown when her grandmother brought her into the precinct one snowy night. Olivia called Alex to come to the precinct, they needed a warrant for the apartment, they found fluids in the girl’s hair of all places, grandma handed them an envelope full of pictures of Annie that nobody in the family admitted to taking. It was a no brainer warrant, Alex didn’t even mind waking up a judge for it if it meant getting whoever had been hurting this little girl as soon as possible. When Alex arrived to the building, Olivia wasn’t there and all the lights were off. Alex clicked on a lamp, wondered if Liv had found another ADA and rushed off without telling her anything. But the room was unfamiliar, empty, concrete. In the center of the room standing perfectly still was a 5 year old girl in a pink fuzzy nightgown. Alex ran to her but couldn’t get any closer. The little girl had a hollow expression and didn’t move an inch. Alex kept running and running but her feet stayed in the same spot, powerless.

Yeah. Powerless. As she awoke she felt like she was still running, head still spinning, still heard screams.

She wrote it all down in her journal. Julia had said that it was unusual for people whose jobs involved consistently levels of high stress and disturbance to have the severity of symptoms she had; that there was usually a tolerance that was built up to being horrified. Alex had either never had that tolerance or it had been washed away during the years she’d spent in WITSEC because her very brief return to the practice of law had nearly broken her.

“Sleep deprivation can kickstart psychosis,” Olivia had told her once when they first worked together, ostensibly referring to a case of statutory rape where the perp didn’t recall a single piece of the event; but Alex knew the comment was pointed at her, not the perp. Olivia could tell that Alex’s patience was growing thin, her mind unfocused; she must’ve deduced that Alex wasn’t sleeping much. But Alex already knew the warning signs.

Alexandra Cabot, age 16, sat shaking in a hospital room. It was almost finals week, she’d pulled a few all nighters, it was nothing serious, she’d told her school counselor a week prior when her friends had noticed her speech patterns growing muddled. She stayed up another 24 hours and the last thing she remembered was her roommates grabbing her wrists and pulling her inside off the balcony. After that, the school had installed locks on all the windows. Alexandra was freezing in her hospital gown, brain numbed out from the IV antipsychotics she was attached to. A few days in the hospital to take care of her injuries (she was informed that she had thrown herself against the wall while school officials took her to the ER), then a summer of residential treatment, hopefully she would be able to return to boarding school in the fall. Her father looked at her with a shattered expression, her mother treated her with cold indifference, her friends didn’t talk to her. Major depression with psychotic features.

Alex knew the consequences of not sleeping enough. She considered taking her cup of mint tea and heading back to bed, cuddling up to her cats, reading a book maybe, just trying to screw her head on right. Her body fought her though, nervous energy ran through her veins, so she elected to have a walk instead. Besides, it had been years since she’d had any serious episode. Anxiety, sure, and the occasional month or so of depression, a few close calls, but regular therapy and medication kept her more or less in the clear since college. Her family, her therapists, had suggested she go into a different kind of law, something stimulating but less distressing like, intellectual property, but she had refused, felt called to prosecuting. But her experience was what made her a great prosecutor, and it was why she had been so adamant about the proper handling of cases involving those suffering from mental illness, especially victims, but perps as well. She knew how it felt, more than she admitted to almost anybody, but she also knew there were paths through it.

The same old nightmares, but Alex was a different person. The old Alex would’ve thrown herself even harder into work than usual, won her cases even more viciously, assuaged her feelings of powerlessness by asserting control. This Alex knew that complete control was unattainable.

The September air was cold this early in the morning, but bracing. The contrast between her thermos full of hot tea pleased her, she pretended she was a dragon as she breathed steam. She smiled to herself at the thought and at the bright orange sun rising through the treetops in the park by her apartment. This had been the right choice, sunrises were her favorite magic. Content covered her like a well fitting dress, shaking off the nerves slowly. The most dedicated joggers and newsstand operators were the only other people out this early, the quietest time in the city. Alex’s phone buzzed.

Casey: Nice coat, Cabot.

Alex looked up from her phone, confused. What? Maybe it was delivered late. She’d seen Casey two days ago for coffee— they’d developed a friendship. Texts, coffee, nothing too deep; but then it had only been a couple weeks since they’d run into each other at the library bar. Alex liked Casey. She was funny and a good listener, and she always had something to say. She didn’t walk on eggshells around Alex either, making Casey unique among her friends. She’d tried to meet up with Liv right when she’d gotten back to the city the second time, but the way she looked at her cut way too deep, like she was a hero, like she was a victim. Both of those she may well be, but she needed to be treated as a friend. Casey did that for her, down to playfully teasing her over her eccentric habits. Another text:

Casey: Turn around, Clueless.

Not many people had ever called Alexandra Cabot clueless. Alex turned around, and Casey waved at her excitedly from the jogging path and without waiting for Alex’s reaction began to run up to where she was sitting. Alex was surprised to see her, happily so. She knew Casey was athletic, but didn’t take her to be the 5:30 running type. She wore tight leggings and a running jacket, and the biggest smile Alex had seen from her. She looked beautiful in the soft early light, Alex thought, then immediately blushed at that thought.

She’d never been one to shy away from her sexuality, especially when she realized the destructive role repression had played in her life before she came out. Alex had been out since college, but she tried very hard not to crush on straight women. She knew she couldn’t control who she was attracted to, but it always made her feel a bit dejected, so. Nip that in the bud.

Alex didn’t have much time to consider the ethics of her thoughts, because Casey was right in front of her, grabbing her hands.

“It’s so good to see you! A second surprise encounter, must be fate, Cabot,” Casey said in a quiet voice, a wink in her words.

“Something like that,” Alex replied, “What are you doing out so early?”

“I could ask the same of you; I’m just finishing up my run. You are wearing a fancy coat and looking deep in thought, in fact, you are being far more suspicious than I am, look at how many people are out here jogging, I mean,”

“Oh my god,” Alex cut her off with an eye roll, “Ok, stop cross-examining me.”

Casey gave Alex a genuine laugh, “Old habits die hard.” She paused for a second. “You look pale, did you sleep?”

“Thanks, Casey.” Alex gave her a playful glare. “If three nightmares in three hours counts, then yes, I slept.”

“Oh you poor thing. I’d hug you but,” She gestured to her sweaty figure. “You wanna get breakfast? I’ll pop back to my apartment, shower, and meet you at yours in say, half an hour?”

Alex started slightly at the familiarity, but responded, “Yeah, sure, sounds fun. Uh, here I’ll text you my address.”

Did Casey blush? Alex couldn’t be sure due to her post-run glow and the chill in the air. “Sorry if that’s too familiar, I know we usually plan these things out, and I guess I just assumed you didn’t have plans, it’s totally fine if you don’t want to, you know, runner’s high and all,” but Alex cut her off again with a raise of her eyebrows.

“Are you retracting the offer, Novak?” Alex couldn’t resist the urge to tease the woman in front of her. “Because if I recall correctly, I said yes.”

Casey grew more flustered, replied with a quick, “Nope, still happening, see you in half an hour,” and took off running, leaving Alex behind as she laughed in disbelief.

[avauntus]

2020 favs: (short) fic recs

I am stealing this idea from @macgyver-sheriff, who has no clue who I am, but whose post I saw go across my dash. Thank you! 👋

Would you like some recs for the holiday season? - I too would like to share love for my favorite things I read that were written this year! <3

I’m going to do this in two parts - the short fics (10k or less, generally one-shot), and another post for the long or series fics I loved this year (it’s 2020, I figure we can use too much of a good thing?)

( @staidwaters - I’m ‘disqualifying’ your works because I’m biased, sorry! Look away! Unless you want recs!) 

"Congratulations, Get Rich" (9,238 words) by Attila (The Untamed - modern AU)

Tomorrow is Chinese New Year, which means Wei Wuxian has to get all of his bad decisions out of the way tonight.

Lan Wangji, Lan Xichen, Jiang Cheng, Mianmian are all so screamingly perfect as modern versions of themselves in this, and it is KNOCK DOWN HILLARIOUS. Wei Wuxian is just a screaming queer disaster (affectionate) - as he should be.

Excerpt:

After a long beat, Lan Xichen sinks gracelessly into the chair Lan Wangji had been sitting in earlier. “I just want to be absolutely clear,” he says delicately, “that you are currently under the impression that my brother has no romantic feelings for you. That is what you’re saying to me right now, yes?”

“Yes?” Wei Wuxian says, feeling desperately confused. “Obviously? Why?”

“Because at least one of you is very stupid, and I’m trying to figure out who,” Lan Xichen tells him, sounding distracted. It’s the rudest thing Wei Wuxian has ever heard him say, and his mouth drops open slightly.

“caved to the careless” (6,708 words) by ilgaksu (The Untamed/MDZS - Song Lan/Xiao Xingchen)

Love is a choice you make - like this, and this, and this.

Have you ever read a writer whose work is so distinctly itself that you can feel yourself slipping in time even as you keep going? That’s not very articulate, but it’s the best way I can describe everything of ilgaksu’s I’ve read. Their fics are the same emotional register as having the breath knocked out of you after a fall. This was the first one I read, and I think it ends well-- with what Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen find along the path-- but it’s still heavy. Discussions of canon-compliant character death and grief/mourning here.

Excerpt:

He pauses. Until this very moment, he was unsure who to ask for. He has heard the rumours of the Yiling Patriarch’s ongoing residence here, about Zewu-jun’s seclusion: he’s dead, but even the dead are not free from gossip. But he remembers a courtyard, nearly two decades ago, and the weight of eyes some might have called angry in their intensity. He remembers those same eyes, and how for the wear of the intervening years, they had kept the same essence: longing, yearning, a kind of small unspoken grief.

Song Lan had a dream once. A dream of a sect, bound not by blood, but by a shared belief in the right path. So many things are only an inheritance: shame is one of them.  

Love is a choice. Love is a choice, and you choose until you can’t.

“I am here,” he decides, carving the words into the dirt, every stroke of every character resolute, “To meet with Hanguang-jun. Please show this one the way to go.”  

“Green River Running” (8,169 words) by @rain-hat (Love in the Moonlight - post-canon AU)

5+1: Kim Byeong-yeon returns to the land of the living.

I skimmed through Love in the Moonlight during my quarantine summer (distinguishable from my “quarantine spring” or “quarantine fall” only by fireworks), and immediately upon finishing, thought: “Psht, they killed off their best character.” And then, something happened that never happens -- I went on ao3 and found the exact thing I was looking for, written far  better than I could have imagined. Kim Byeong-yeon is such a quiet yet powerfully subversive presence and the progression here is so masterfully done. This is true of all of rainhat’s work’s I’ve read, but this is a fine example-- I really treasure the warm humanism of them.

Excerpt:

People needed helping hands even more than they needed sympathetic ears, though. Over the last year, Hong Gyeong-rae and Byeong-yeon had built houses and planted crops side by side; negotiating with moneylenders here, helping small-folk secure their stores against bandits there. There was nothing courtly about Byeong-yeon’s capacity for labour, or his expectation of reward. Wherever he went, he worked from dawn to dusk, ate the food he was given, and slept under a roof if he was offered one.

It suited him, Hong Gyeong-rae thought, even though there was something outlandish about his gentle speech and palace manners in the midst of it all. But to behave in any other way would be untrue to his upbringing; nor was he the sort of man to whom it would occur to try. And after all, most people liked to be treated with courtesy; it did not come across as mockery from this solemn, severely dressed young man, who seemed to find no task too big or too small. Hong Gyeong-rae had seen him argue tax law with local councillors and stand up to highwaymen armed with nothing but a knife and staff. But he watched cooking pots for women who had to run to the fields to tide over the day’s labour, too; he wrote letters for them, and tolerated their fractious children and spoon-fed their bedridden elders, if that was what was called for.

“The Veritable Records of King Taejo: Year 2, Entry 208“ (9,857 words) by @sadviper (My Country: the New Age - Nam Seon-ho & Hwang Sung-rok slice-of-life)

Hwang Sung-rok eats his way to the bottom of a real estate scam, and Seon-ho and Yeon help (a little).

No one is out here doing it like SadViper. This is technically part of a series, but they can all be read separately. I did not realize I needed to see more of Nam Seon-ho in all his “type-A government official glory” until Viper started sketching him out for us, and as a bonus, we get to see Yeon, and Sung-rok as the world’s surliest caretaker (but don’t call him that). I have an authorial fallacy where I always think stories have to have some grand “plot” -- a “Maltese Falcon” to pull the reader along-- the genius of Viper’s work is she shows us exactly how interesting and important the day-by-day tiny choices and connections we make are, with an impeccable background of historical research to ground you in the setting.

Excerpt:

Nam Seon-ho was his master now. He was a strange one. He was a traitor, for helping the escaped Liaodong soldiers, but not, because he managed to wiggle his way back into Yi Seong-gye’s favor and was now a sixth-ranked inspector with the privilege of having personal audiences with the King. He was temperamental and belligerent from being the son of a slave mother and a lifetime subject of Lord Nam’s fantastic parenting philosophy. He was afflicted with perpetual guilt. And he was also one of the hardest working and most desperate people Sung-rok had ever known.

It was a terrible combination. He was not merely a disaster waiting to happen, but a disaster perambulating on two legs at the edge of a chasm. If Sung-rok intended to stay in service for long, he needed to find a way to cool down some of Seon-ho’s intensity, even though admittedly, it was what drew him to Seon-ho in the first place.

Thoughts like these plagued Sung-rok for a while. It was one thing to know a person; it was quite another thing to try to change them.

“Orison” (4,975 words) by @gravelghosts​ (aeli_kindara) (Supernatural 15x18 coda)

Cas says, I love you.

So! This rips my heart out, every time. All the times Dean imagines himself together with Cas...and then he imagines himself, if not happy, then thriving.

Jack: “What is the point...if everyone I care about is going to leave?”

Castiel: “The point is that they were here at all and you got to know them, you... When they're gone, it will hurt, but that hurt will remind you of how much you loved them.”

Excerpt:

The thing Dean tries to do is: listen.

Happiness isn’t in the having. It’s in just — being. It’s in just saying it, Cas tells him, and Dean’s whole heart is screaming, No, but he shuts his mouth. He listens. He listens like his life fucking depends on it, which it does, in more ways than one.

“Sky Full of Song” (6,632 words) by @drivingsideways (Supernatural, finale 15x20 fix-it, Dean/Cas)

Or: The One in which Cas ghosted Dean.

Look. Look. If Cas(tiel) can yank Dean Winchester out of Hell, celestial-scream at him not once but twice, burn out a woman’s eyes like an utter clown before thinking “Huh, an Earthly vessel, guess that’s not just bullshit, then,” and when they finally work it out, Dean greets them with a knife to the chest and THEN they’ll spend twelve years misunderstanding each other and bickering, you had better believe these two are going to be disasters even in Heaven. Drivingsideways gives us all of that dynamic, with the found family of Jack and Mary as facilitators, and the happy resolution, which of course includes a true form “roughly the size of your Chrysler Building.” <3

Excerpt:

The thing is, Castiel doesn’t want Dean to feel obligated.

Dean has a streak of self-sacrifice that's as wide as the Caspian Sea, and Castiel doesn't want to be any more of a chore or obligation than they have been to Dean for all the long years of their—brotherhood.

Castiel had shocked Dean, to the core of him, with their confession, and Castiel had seen the swirling confusion, the fear, the panic, the shit what do I say, what do I do—how do I stop him—

So, no, Castiel would not be paying a visit anytime soon.

Of course, if Dean evinced an interest in meeting them, then Castiel would not stay away.

Castiel isn't that cruel.

(They have, on occasion, been exactly that cruel, but they are trying to outgrow it.)

Dean is still their friend.

Dean knows how to reach them, if he wants to.

(see? disasters. haha)

“The Rough” (3,267 words) by anactoria (Supernatural, finale -15x20- ‘fix-it’)

 Heaven can absolutely fucking wait.

Rec’ed for the concept more than the style (this is dialogue-heavy, as a lot of 15x20 fix-its tend towards), but I *love* this course-correction: After kicking around Heaven, Dean and Cas return to Earth to take their place as urban legends among the hunter community. Just for a while.

Excerpt:

But it isn’t life. That’s the thing. It’s awesome, but it isn’t life; life’s a hard, painful, infuriating mess, and Dean only got halfway through his own, and he feels cheated. For all he held it together for Sammy at the end, for all he tried to take Cas’s big moment-of-happiness speech on board, he feels cheated.

There’s supposed to be peace at the end. When you’re done.

Dean wasn’t done.

[enkelimagnus]

A Castle in the Forest

Percy x Vex’ahlia, Chapter 7, 3038 words,

A Modern AU, in which Vex is a park ranger taking over the Alabaster Sierras post, and finds much more than she bargained for

Read on AO3

Vax makes it to Whitestone....

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

Vax makes it to the cabin on a rainy afternoon. Vex is busy sketching out some areas she thinks need clearer trail markers and deciding where to implant emergency contact boxes, when she hears an engine running and a vehicle getting closer to the cabin.

She peeks from the window, her eyes catching the gleaming metal of her brother’s motorcycle. She immediately bolts from her seat at the table, startling a napping Trinket, and opens the door. She runs down the stairs and into her brother’s arms.

He’s just had time to take off his helmet, long dark hair held in a low ponytail for the road. She hugs him tightly, his leather motorcycle jacket smelling like hide and patchouli. She’s missed everything about him.

For a while, they stand there, hugging each other. There’s no one around and no use in pretending they don’t love each other right now. It’s been much too long. Vex remembers when a single day without him was torture. Now it’s usual. That saddens her somewhat.

“Welcome to Whitestone,” she grins. “How was the road?”

“Dreadful,” Vax rolls his eyes and grabs his bag, letting go of her to start walking back into the cabin, away from the rain and the cold. “This place is… ghostly, really.”

Vex huffs. “It’s not that bad, come on,” she mumbles. He’s right though.

Whitestone, especially in the sort of rain that’s currently falling, is ghostly. White stone walls and overturned ship-like buildings, with people that stare at strangers like they’re time-ticking bombs… Ghostly. In the time she’s spent here, she’s only started seeing the shadows and the phantoms.

“Is that the little munchkin you’ve called your Trinket?” Vax asks as Vex closes the door of the cabin after him.

He puts his back down next to the bed, heavy boots walking carefully towards Trinket. She’s put him in his crate so he would get used to Vax’s presence without threatening him, or himself.

“Yup,” she nods. “He’s young, but… he could be a good companion,” she points out, her voice as innocent as possible.

Vax looks up at her. “You’re taking on a companion?” He asks, with a raised eyebrow. He thought she never wanted to, especially after Saundor. That’s what she’s told him many times, after all. No companion, she’s not bringing something innocent into this, she’s better off being a hunter. Alone and fixated on one enemy. Dragons were her original choice. Fey her second. She doesn’t want the permanence of companionship… At least she didn’t. Before Trinket.

“I’m not sure yet,” Vex shrugs, trying to escape his gaze. “But… I’ve been thinking a lot about it, and he’s perfect. He’s going to grow big and strong, and protective. And he’s… I’ve grown attached to him.”

Vax shrugs off his jacket and sits down at one of the chairs, looking around the cabin. His eyes glide across the small kitchen, the bed, the fireplace, the ladder up to the lookout and the door to the bathroom. He hums.

“This is… cozy,” he points out.

Vex chuckles. “Very different where you spent the last few days, I imagine?” She asks teasingly.

“You’re a ranger, not a sorcerer with an amazing business,” Vax points out. “I am not expecting the same thing.” He shrugs. “Besides, this is nice. Warm and comfortable.”

His eyes fall on her again and she feels the scrutiny in them. She can’t hide a single thing from him. She was never able to.

“You look… tired, but good,” he says after a moment. “I’m guessing you resolved a problem, recently? You have that… satisfied smug look on you. But not the one from right after it. The couple-days-old one.”

Vex rolls her eyes at him but doesn’t deny it. It’s not worth the trouble. “We had a barbed devil. Killed one for sure, the ranger here before me. Probably more. I had sensed it a while ago, but… I had trouble finding help.”

Vax raises an eyebrow and Vex proceeds to give him the rundown on everything that has happened, on the people of Whitestone and their lack of wanting to talk to her, on Pike and Grog.

“Gilmore tried to contact the local rulers to get a teleportation circle added to the city,” Vax explains once she’s done. “He didn’t manage to find anyone. There are no rulers in Whitestone, as far as anyone knows.”

“It seems they all died in a horrific massacre a few years ago. It’s impossible to get anyone to give me details about it,” Vex shrugs. “But why is Gilmore that interested in Whitestone? There’s nothing for him here.”

Vax chuckles, crossing his legs. “You live here. I like to come and see you.” His smirk is telling.

Vex chuckles back. “I see… He loves to dote on you, doesn’t he?”

“What can I say?” Vax shrugs. “I deserve it.”

Vex absolutely agrees with that. She appreciates Gilmore for many things, but the most important is how he treats her brother. He might be the very first person to take care of Vax the way he deserves, to spoil him. And he’s the first person that Vax doesn’t stop from spoiling him.

He’s had powerful lovers before, in Syngorn or in other places. Vax is handsome and charming in his own grumpy way, and Vex knows first-hand how sometimes, the disgust Syngornians showed towards the two of them could easily turn into sexual curiosity. But Gilmore doesn’t want Vax because he’s a dirty half-human. And that changes everything, including Vex’s appreciation of the man.

“You sure do, brother,” Vex hums and turns to pour them both a cup of coffee. “I’m afraid there isn’t much for you to do here. You can potentially make nice with the people in town and snoop for me?” She asks.

“Is that why you asked me to come?” he answers. “To spy for you the information you can’t get?”

“I asked you here because I missed you,” Vex stares at him. “And I don’t like being away from you for too long. But if you can… Ask a few questions while you’re here, I’d appreciate it greatly.”

“Fine,” Vax shrugs. “But first, I need a lay of the land. Any information you haven’t given me yet. And an idea of whether some of the wealth around here could be redistributed to the people. No rulers means there’s probably chests of gold and jewels some of these folks could use.”

“Two temples. The one of Pelor is in the cemetery, outside of town. They don’t seem to have anything you’d want, but they might have some ideas of who the richest families used to be. I saw some pretty impressive mausoleums around there,” Vex starts. “The second one is in town. Temple to Erathis. I’ve heard about some empty noble houses, and there’s the castle, but it’s been years. I think all of the possible left behind wealth was promptly redistributed already.”

Vax raises an eyebrow, but says nothing, deep in thought.

They stay like this for a moment until Vex huffs and stands up. “Come on,” she smiles. “Let’s go into town and get some supplies. They’re announcing snow later this week and we need enough to be able to survive out here for a while.”

Vax rolls his eyes but stands up, grabbing his coat. Vex gets ready to go as well, thick coat, quiver and bow and the keys to the truck. She pets Trinket goodbye and they get into the truck, starting the drive down.

The heating is on in the cabin of the car and Vax waits about two minutes before turning on the radio. He hums under his breath the pop songs that blast out of the speaker, letting go of his grumpy goth image for once. She’ll never tell anyone that he knows the lyrics to Brit Nayspears’ entire discography.

She points out some trails as they drive past, things that have been causing her issues, the campsite that will hold the local wilderness survival adventure once summer comes around. Winter months are much calmer for rangers than summer ones are, but she’s still looking forward to seeing what the sun looks like reflected off of the Alabaster Sierras peaks.

Vax seems interested. He always does. He listens to her and that’s one of the best things about him. They end up dueting over some song on the radio, at first only humming and mumbling the words. By the time they drive through the city gates, they are scream-singing. Vex can’t stop smiling.

The cold bites as they slam the doors shut and walk away from the previously heated cabin of the truck. They’re not the only ones out for supplies. There are other trucks with crates and bags in the parking lot.

The covered market stands two blocks from the parking lot. Its roof is like an enormous overturned ship and white stones rise from the ground to meet the wood, providing a tall and breathable marketplace underneath. It’s cold still, there’s no use in trying to heat the entire volume of the building. It would only waste spell and components, or wood if they were trying to do it magicless.

They start going through the stalls, grabbing a lot of root vegetables and things that will not perish too fast. If they’re stuck in the snow, Vex is hoping to have a few days of fresh and non-canned food before they have to resort to the cans, but she knows it’s not that easy.

For the meat, she’ll go hunting. There’s no need to bother herself with purchasing beef or anything of that nature. Her freezer can hold at least one deer carcass. She’s measured it. It’s not really a surprise, anyway. The cabin was built as a safe haven for long winters and snow falls. There’s a couple of emergency mattresses rolled up under her bed, enough to allow a couple of people to sleep, albeit uncomfortably, if they’re stuck with her during a storm. It’s a refuge. And a refuge can hold at least one deer carcass.

“Do I really have to carry all of this?” Vax whines as she places a small cart over his arms.

“If you weren’t here, I’d need half of this. So you’re gonna pull your weight,” Vex shrugs.

Vax rolls his eyes. “You invited me, remember?” He calls out as she walks over to get some more potatoes. Neither of them really mean the bickering, but it feels good to do it.

There’s a light chuckle behind him and he turns around, trying not to spill over the contents of the carts he’s carrying. A few feet from him stands a young person with dark brown hair that shifts to white streaks around the temple. They’re watching him with quiet amusement.

“Older sibling?” They ask with a smile and a raised eyebrow. They look tired, and the smile is a little shaky.

“Twin, actually,” Vax replies. “She’s the ranger for the Alabaster Sierras outpost. I’m visiting,” he explains quickly. “Vax’ildan. Would shake your hand but…”

They nod. “Your hands are busy, I get it. I’m Cassandra. Whitestone native. And I know what siblings can be like.” Their eyes are sad.

Vax tries to keep an inviting and smiling face, but it’s not exactly natural to him. He’s not used to this. Out of the two of them, Vex is the charming and open one. She’s the one that gets information, food, good prices and extra help from strangers.

“So you’re the person to ask if I want to know what to do around here in the winter months?” He asks, trying to add a bit of a flirty undertone to his voice.

Cassandra chuckles. “I don’t know. I’m not really a tourist guide, but… The trails can be fun in winter if you’re into cold hikes. Your sister can probably be more helpful than me for this,” they point out. The flirting does not seem to be landing.

“You’re probably right,” Vax shrugs. “I was just… I did some research before coming here, but there’s so little information about this town online…” He explains. “There’s a website, but it hasn’t been updated in what? Five years?”

He’s not lying. The only updated information comes from the TWC website that he knows Vex is somewhat responsible for keeping up to date. The rest is at least five years old. It’s as if the town has stopped evolving and living since then.

Cassandra stiffens slightly. “That’s weird,” they mutter. For some reason, Vax doesn’t believe that it is very weird to them.

“Is there anyone to talk to about that? Like a heritage association or a city council or something?” Vax is trying to fish for information, and hopefully it’s not too obvious.

“No,” Cassandra shakes their head. “There’s no one like that. Whitestone is not… This is not a good city for mass tourism, it’s not a good city for outsiders.” Their jaw is set. “You won’t find anyone to help you, and I’m sorry. But that’s just how it’s been for the last few years.”

“Since the massacre, right? The De Rolo massacre?” Vax pushes a little. “Vex, my sister, told me about it.”

Those words make something ripple underneath Cassandra’s dark eyes, pain and sadness and many other emotions that make Vax feel like he’s just kicked a hornet’s nest. If they were closed off to talking before, they’re now screwed shut, lips tight, ready to flee. And flee they do.

Cassandra takes a step back, shoving their hands into the pockets of their blue coat with uncomfortable determination. It all screams of a deep desire to escape. “Listen, I have to go. It was nice to meet you, Vax’ildan. Good luck with your stay in Whitestone.” They say before sliding away in a hurry.

Vax doesn’t go after them. There’s one thing he knows, and that’s not to run after people who are trying to escape you. He’s been through enough situations where the roles were reversed, and he doesn’t want to be a threat. He’s here to be a charming, smiling person, to get information from people for Vex.

And fuck. He just failed miserably at his first attempt. That entire interaction was a mess and Vax really thought he would be better than this. But Vex wasn’t exaggerating when she talked about the closed offness of the inhabitants of Whitestone. And maybe he'd overestimated his own charming abilities.

Vex comes back eventually, raising an eyebrow at his slightly frustrated face. “Something happened?” She asks curiously.

“I was talking to this person. Cassandra, they said? Dark hair, white streaks around the temples,” he describes.

“I’ve seen them a couple of times before, around some of the temples,” Vex points out. “The one time we talked, they seemed to be in a hurry.”

So that’s a common attitude then, not just something he’s caused. That’s a little bit of a consolation. He recounts the conversation to Vex as they start walking out of the covered market to put their haul into the back of the truck. They have a couple more things to do in town.

Snow starts falling lightly while they’re on the drive back. Vax takes the time to call Gilmore for a few minutes, unsure of whether his cell will have service back at the cabin if there’s snow covering the Alabaster Sierras.

Vex keeps her eyes open the entire trip through town for red hair and antlers. She worries about Keyleth. If she was close to the fiend, as Vex suspected, she is probably not doing good at the moment. She doesn’t know exactly the depths of enthrallment, and how far it changes someone to care for fiends. She hopes it’s not deep enough that the druid is now broken with grief.

But she is nowhere to be seen. Vax hangs up on Gilmore as they turn off of the biggest road and up the mud path that leads to the cabin. There’s a good ten minutes of drive left, maybe even more with the growing wetness of the ground. They’re going to be very thankful for both the fire and the supplies. Vex is glad she decided to go today.

“So what do you think of Whitestone, now that you’ve experienced some of it?” She asks, eyes darting for barely a second to Vax on the passenger seat. He’s looking at the snow like its falling is a personal offence.

“The people are… lovely,” he starts. “But there’s something not quite right in the air. I…” He looks over at her for a moment before looking away. “I admit I thought you were a little paranoid when you were telling me about it.”

Vex’s jaw tightens and she nods slightly, a controlled, small motion.

“You don’t have a great track record at being alone in the woods,” he points out. “You’re doing much better than the last time though. And I can see what you meant, about the heaviness hanging over the city. About the unsaid horrors. That… de Rolo massacre story. That Cassandra person looked quite spooked.”

Vax breathes out as the cabin comes into view at the end of the path. “I’m gonna stay for a little while, if you don’t mind. I don’t like leaving you alone like this, especially with this whole mystery.”

Anger lurches in Vex’s chest for a second, her vision tunnelling, her hands tightening their grip on the wheel. She can handle herself. She doesn’t need Vax to save her again, she’s not going to make the same mistake again. For a moment, it’s all she can think. How dare he come to her rescue again when she doesn’t need him?

But she does need him. Not to save her. But she needs him around. She doesn’t do great without him, they’re a team in all the ways that matter. Having him here right now is the best she’s felt since she arrived. It’s hard for her to reconcile with that anger at his worry but…

She gives him a small smile. “It’ll be nice. Close-quartered but nice.” She nods and parks the truck in front of the cabin.

[kaydeefalls]

1, 10, 18, 22 for the meta!

Sweet, thanks for asking!

1. Tell us about your current project(s)  – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?

Completely pointless modern-no-powers Joe/Nicky meet cute AU! It is DUMB and I am enjoying myself anyway, mostly because it's a genre I rarely tackle. (Even in X-Men fandom, when I wrote all the AUs, I almost never tried the standard nonpowered meet cute. Okay, maybe once.) I'm 12k into it and hopefully have passed the halfway mark, at least, so ramping up towards them finally actually getting together. What I love most is just...writing a gaggle of queer folks who hang out together in gay bars and just plain enjoy each other's company, because that's my own social circle and I miss being able to see them in person, so this reminds me of how we all first came together and became friends. And also, idiot boys pining, because obviously. 10. How would you describe your writing process?

I just kind of sit down and force words to happen, I guess. There are a lot of mindless web games involved. Plottier fics tend to need a lot more brainstorming and rough outlining. This WIP has no outline whatsoever and it's gloriously free-flowing, but I do usually prefer plotty fics.

18. Do any of your stories have alternative versions? (plotlines that you abandoned, AUs of your own work, different characterisations?) Tell us about them.

Honestly, not often -- I tend to write linearly and even if I'm not quite sure where it's going, I follow a very straightforward path to get there. Sometimes I'll start scenes that I then realize don't quite fit, and I'll shove those into a blank doc in case they find their own fics later on, but that rarely goes anywhere. (There's a Nicky-and-Quynh flashback scene I'd started for Travellers from an Antique Land that didn't fit, and then I used some fragments of it in lessons exquisitely crafted instead, for example.) And sometimes there's worldbuilding I sketch out for myself that doesn't make it in -- I had so much CIA backstory (with Mal and Arthur) for Boden's Mate, you don't even know.

22. Do you reread your old works? How do you feel about them?

Yes, regularly! Look, I tend to write the fics I want most to read, so, you know, I read them. My feelings can shift a bit -- sometimes I'll notice things I would have handled differently if I were writing it now -- and there will always be some fics I like better than others, but overall I am content with my older works. Even the ones that clearly read as younger or less polished to me, there's still some spark in there that makes me happy. And it's nice to feel like I've grown as a writer since then. I rarely reread my oldest stuff (and...genuinely not sure if I'd even be able to find some of my teenage work at this point, the sites I used to post to are long since defunct), and there are some fandoms I just have zero interest in revisiting, but I'm not ashamed of having my name associated with any of them.

[nattikay]

Sooooo I’m not sure if anyone would be interested in actually reading something like this, but I was looking through some of my older Miraculous art and seeing how the designs of my future AU characters have subtly evolved over time, so I wanted to make a post about designing these characters and how/why I made the decisions that I did! 

So first off, the birth order! I was originally intending to have the kids born in the order that they’re listed in the Stormy Weather episode:

...unfortunately, instead of actually looking at the episode to be sure, I just went off memory; I remembered Emma being the second but accidentally mixed up Hugo and Louis. By the time I realized this, the characters were already too cemented in my head to switch them back. ^^” Oh well.

In addition to the above, in my ~10 years of experience with next gen fics/art/OCs (I know, I have a problem), I’ve noticed that a pretty large fraction of the time folks opt for their OTP’s firstborn to be a daughter over a son. Nothing wrong with this, of course (heck, I’m a firstborn daughter myself haha), it’s just so disproportionately common that I thought making Hugo the firstborn instead of Emma might make my version stand out a bit more. ^^

Now with the siblings’ order decided, on to the designs! Starting with our oldest, 

Hugo!

Black hair and green eyes seems to be the most popular design for an Adrienette kid, and for good reason! It’s an appealing combo on its own in addition to using traits from both parents for the most notable genetic features in characters: hair and eyes. 

I also wanted to give Hugo some of his own flair though. I think the best next gen characters are recognizable as their parents’ offspring BUT can still stand on their own as unique individuals. One way to help do this is, when available, to draw on extended family rather than only their parents. 

Hugo’s strongest example of this (at least as a kid) is his slicked-back hairstyle, which was somewhat inspired by Gabriel’s. The slicked-back style seemed to fit his nerdy personality, but because he is a child and not nearly as uptight as his grandfather, Hugo’s hair is much messier than Gabriel’s, and he often has pieces falling out in the front. 

Admittedly I’m not super great at conveying the slicked idea from the front view, but you can see it a bit better in profile:

Hugo more than either of his siblings also takes after the Dupain side of the family, which isn’t super noticeable as a kid but becomes much more so as he grows up and develops the broad shoulders and strong upper body of Tom and Rolland. He’s not quite as enormous as Tom but is easily the strongest sibling (Louis, meanwhile, is a lanky little noodle like Adrien and Gabriel).

Going along with that, Hugo’s personality has loosened up a bit over time. While I do still draw him in his tucked-in button-up, I’ve also started drawing him in looser styles a bit more, because after all, he is just a goofy kid! This has included anything from using shorts instead of long pants to sometimes wearing just regular ol’ t-shirts instead of his nice button up (on which I rarely actually draw the plaid pattern I initially designed him with because wow it takes forever).

Funnily enough, this is a bit of the opposite of what happened to Adrien. My first sketches of adult!Adrien from this AU all have his shirt untucked, even whilst teaching, but now I almost always draw it neatly tucked in:

...interesting, interesting.

Anyways, while Hugo is still very much a little nerd who does quite well in school and LOVES learning about space and astronomy, he’s also a little more goofy and active than he was when I first created him. He’s probably the most athletic of his siblings (though really none of them are exactly jocks) and while he’s not particularly interested in organized competitive sports, he loves a good game of catch or tag. :)

While people in real life obvious wear any color they want, with my OCs I tend to pick a general palette and stick to it though all (or at least most) outfits, for consistency and easy recognizability. Hugo’s palette is mostly greens (for Chat Noir of course! ;) ), dark blues, and warm browns.

Now, onwards to 

Emma!

I decided to make my version of Emma blonde for two reasons: one, it appears to be so in the screencap shown at the beginning of the post, and while Marinette’s imaginations do not necessarily have to dictate how you design your versions of the kiddos, I liked having the consistency.

...plus then some years later Frozer rolled around and showed a blonde (imaginary) Emma again, so like 

...validation ;)

(by complete coincidence they’re even accurate to the color schemes I use kashdfgjsddsafjdf)

And the second is just that, again, most (not all, of course, but a lot) of the other Emmas I’ve seen in the fandom have been dark-haired, so again I thought it’d help mine stand out a bit.

So now with hair color established, it’s time for eye color. Most of the blond-haired Adrienette kids you see have blue eyes, for the same reason that a lot of dark-haired ones have green. Which, as said with Hugo, makes sense, since it’s the hair color of one parent and the eye color of the other. So why didn’t I make Emma’s eyes blue, then?

Well, it’s a bit of a silly reason tbh, but the blond-hair-blue-eyes combo reminded me a little too much of Chloe. ^^” Not that it would cause any parentage concerns, of course, since obviously Marinette is the one who gave birth to her, but the visual similarities still made me go like...eh ^^”

So green eyes it was! Which, of course, made her look a heck of a whole lot like her father.

But of course, it’s fine to favor one side of the family, but she’s gotta have SOMETHING from Marinette, right? So what other visual could she inherit to show at least some of her mother’s genes?

✧・ﾟ:* F R E C K L E S ! *:・ﾟ✧

And since Marinette’s freckles are so subtle, I decided to make Emma’s a bit more prominent and easily visible.

Actually her freckles have multiplied quite a bit over the years. She’s always had more than Marinette but it used to be confined to just a few on her cheeks and shoulders. Now drawing her is more like DOTS! DOTS EVERYWHERE! with freckles all over her face, down her neck and arms, and even a few on her legs! It is very much her Thing at this point haha

Freckles everywhere!

As for her hairstyle, the default is a simple headband, but she also sometimes wears it just plain down with no accessories at all (usually when in PJs), or up in pigtails like Marinette’s!

Those are just the main ones though...really she can do pretty much whatever ^^

Emma’s outfit palette took a bit more consideration than her brothers’, since I needed it to match the yellow hair (whereas black, as a neutral, can go with just about anything. So I took a minute looking at her established colors--bright green eyes and golden-blonde hair--trying to think of what theme I could used. 

The grassy green and sunshine yellow ended up reminding me of warm weather, like a spring or summer morning. The easiest color for that would’ve been green, but I was already using greens for Hugo and didn’t want their schemes to look too similar. Ultimately I decided on pinks, because the pink outfit with the yellow hair reminded me of some nice fresh lemonade! Some bright whites and warm creams/off-whites then added to the cheery, springy theme. ^^

Her original outfit design included some small dots on her collar and pant cuffs, not unlike the inside of Marinette’s jacket, but I don’t really include that detail much anymore for the same reason I rarely draw Hugo in his original plaid.

Lastly but not leastly, onwards to 

Louis!

Thus far we’ve had Hugo, who’s a pretty good visual mix of his parents, and Emma, who takes more after her dad. As such, I figured that it’d only be fair if the third and final kid took more after his mom!

So in many ways Louis looks a lot like a mini male Marinette, right down to the subtle freckles. If Hugo has the most Dupain genes and Emma has the most Agreste genes, Louis probably has the most Cheng genes and has the easiest time convincing people that yes, he is actually 1/4 Chinese (absolutely no one believes Emma when she says this lol...she has to show pictures of her family haha).

We can’t completely ignore the Agreste side of the family though, and in Louis’s case is manifests mostly in his hairstyle which is very similar to Adrien’s, as well as his lean and lanky body type as an adult, very similar to Adrien’s and Gabriel’s (unlike Hugo who, again, is stockier like a less-extreme Tom).

His outfit color scheme is light blues and grays with splashes of red. The blues and grays work well for his shyer, more reserved demeanor, while the splashes of red like the t-shirt hidden under his sweater are like his big imagination! (Like his mother and grandfather, Louis is very much into art and design, though his interest tends to be geared more towards characters and stories than fashion).

Not as much to say about him tbh...he’s “evolved” the least from his original concept and is mostly just the cute baby brother ^^”

So yeah, there you have it! That was roughly my thought process for creating/designing my little kiddos ^^ 

Hopefully some of you found this interesting; I enjoy talking about my ideas and stuff so if you ever want to know more or about something else that I do/make, feel free to ask! ^^

[ineffably-good]

Faeted (Good Omens AU)

Summary:  Ezra fell is an English professor at a prestigious academy for boys. Crowley is the lord of the Unseelie court in the lands without sunrise or moonfall. Somehow fate will bring them together.

Excerpt:  “That’s the only part that concerns you?” Ezra exclaimed. “My heart’s desire is apparently a large reptile and you’re just concerned about the laws of magic?”

Read it on AO3!

Chapter One

Ezra Fell laid down his chalk and turned to face the twelve teenage boys in his care. Twelve bodies ensconced in navy blazers jittered in barely concealed anticipation; twelve pairs of eyes jumped between him and the clock on the wall, ticking loudly as the last minutes of Friday lecture faded away.

There was no competing with the weekend, even at a school as prestigious as St. Aloysius Academy.

“Yes, yes, all right,” he sighed. “I expect you all to read the next section of the Faerie Queen for Monday, and to complete your permission slips for next week’s field trip.”

The bell clanged and the room was suddenly awash with the screeching sounds of chairs being pushed back and students exploding into motion.

“Class dismissed,” he called futilely, over the chaos.

Ezra sighed and wiped the chalk dust from his hands as he returned to his desk and began to straighten up his papers. There was a knock at the door and he smiled to see Miss Device, his friend and the resident art teacher, standing in the doorway. Her dark brown hair was pulled back in a braid and there were tiny bits of paint speckled on her glasses and her cheek. She still wore the smock she’d placed over her dress to protect it from her students’ creative endeavors.

“Survived another week, did you?” she asked with a grin.

“Indeed I did, my dear,” Ezra replied. “And you? Still employed I assume?”

“So it seems,” she said. “So that’s a score of two for us, zero for the urchins. We just might get through this term yet. Supper at the pub at seven?”

“Of course! Wouldn’t miss it.”

Anathema sketched a little wave and disappeared around the corner towards her own room.

Read it on AO3!

--

Ezra gathered his things into his leather satchel and made his way outside. It was a beautiful fall day, and the air was crisp and bracing. He stretched in the angled sunlight for a moment and then headed off towards his home.

He passed through the school gates and enjoyed the walk for another twelve minutes before he found himself arriving at his own doorstep – a small, tidy, whitewashed cottage, just the right size for one. Many of the instructors at the academy lived on campus with the students, but Ezra valued his privacy and his quiet reading time too much for that; he’d felt lucky to find and purchase his own modest little home so close to the school when he’d been hired on five years ago.

He stopped to collect his post and examine the flowers in his front window box, and then let himself in with a contented sigh and immediately set about putting a kettle on to boil. Time for tea.

The clock over the mantel showed that he had a little over two hours before he needed to meet Anathema. With a happy wriggle, he carried his tea over to his favorite arm chair in front of the fire, sat down, and picked up the copy of The Mabinogion he’d been reading. It took him just a moment to find his place, and then the world disappeared as he was lost in tales of pre-Arthurian Britain.

--

Anathema was waiting for him when he parked his bicycle outside the pub later that evening. She waved to him from their usual table in the front window and he noted she had two pints ready for them.

“So, what were you reading that made you late this time?” Anathema asked.

“Oh, doing some background research on old Celtic and British legends,” Ezra answered. “Faeries and mounds and elfshot and fairy stroke and what have you. Fascinating stuff! I’m taking the boys out to visit a few sites on Monday afternoon and want to give them context.”

Anathema nodded. “Faeries,” she said solemnly, “are not generally the nice little creatures that people like to imagine. They are dangerous and unpredictable and not to be taken lightly.”

Ezra examined her closely. “In literature, you mean,” he said pointedly.

“Whatever makes you happy,” she said with an ambiguous smile.

“I know you believe in magic, of course, but are you telling me you believe in the fair folk too?”

Anathema shrugged and took a long drink from her pint. It left a bit of foam on her lip that she licked off before answering. “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

Ezra tutted at her fussily. “Now, now, using Shakespeare to win an argument with an English professor is completely unfair.”

“Who ever said I play fair?”

“Indeed,” Ezra said with a fond smile. “I keep forgetting that.”

They turned their attention to food, then to sharing the latest gossip from their respective departments as the munched on their fish and chips.

“What is your coven up to tonight, then?” Ezra asked pleasantly.

“Oh, you know. Preparing for the larger gathering next week. Scrying.”

“What are you scrying for?”

She shrugged. “It varies from person to person. Glimpses of the future. The face of your one true love. The essay question that will appear on next week’s exam.”

He laughed. “And you find that this works?”

“Well maybe not for essay questions,” she said with a wink. “Although if the will is strong, anything is possible.”

She stopped and looked at him more closely.

“Oh now, don’t start, my dear,” he protested, knowing what was coming.

“You should come join us,” she said. It was an old refrain and quite possibly the hundredth time she’d brought this up.

“My dear, covens are for women,” Ezra said primly.

“No, they aren’t,” she said. “We are an equal opportunity coven. And you’d fit right in.”

“Perhaps some other time,” he said, signaling for another round of pints.

“Really, Ezra. We’ve got a few men who work with us regularly. And with your powers of concentration and imagination, you’d be a natural.” She peered at him. “What’s the harm in giving it a chance?”

Ezra had to think about that one. Born into a conservative and very rich family, he’d long since abandoned his family’s religious beliefs and instead devoted himself to a life of the mind and the senses. He considered himself an open minded man, and didn’t mind at all that his closest friend considered herself a practicing witch. But to try it himself?

Anathema leaned forward and prepared to break out the big guns. “Really Ezra,” she said. “Where’s your academic curiosity?”

She sat back and tried not to grin while she watched that comment land.

He huffed in mock disgust. “You,” he said, shaking a finger, “are a menace. You are an American menace, come to Great Britain to corrupt the souls of our young.”

She continued to grin smugly at him, one eyebrow coolly raised.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” he said. “I’m not coming to your coven. But perhaps you can show me something about how scrying works, after dinner. I do admit to some curiosity about the process.”

Anathema made a fist pumping gesture, which Ezra primly ignored.

--

“Do you have some ink?” Anathema asked as they entered the cottage.

Ezra gave her a stern look and gestured around him at the overflow of books, papers, notebooks, and pens lying on every possible surface. “What do you think?” he asked. “Of course I have ink!”

“Grab it,” she said, “and a pitcher of fresh water, and a silver spoon if you have one, and meet me in the back garden.”

“No niceties? No sitting down for a biscuit first?” he teased.

“I’ve got a coven to get to in an hour,” she said, pushing her glasses back up on her nose. “If you want a little tutorial, we’ve got to do it now.”

Ezra set about gathering the items she’d asked for, placing them carefully on a wooden tray, and then stopped and added a few biscuits on a plate too, just in case someone got peckish.

When he emerged in the backyard, he found Anathema had upended the brackish water and leaves out of his old, stone birdbath and wiped it as clean as she could with just her hands, and then had pushed and pulled it out of its usual corner beneath the plum tree into a spot where it was open to the sky above.

“It’s actually a beautiful night for scrying,” she said. “Nice bright moon, no wind…”

“Oh lovely,” Ezra said, a tad sarcastically.

She punched him lightly in the arm. “You asked for a lesson in scrying. Don’t be a bastard.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, smoothing his face into a more agreeable expression. “What do we do?”

“First pour the water into the bowl,” she said, indicating the birdbath. “And then add a few drops of ink to make it darken. Then stir it with the silver spoon, three times clockwise.””

He did so.

“Now,” she said firmly, “it’s mostly about your intention at this point.”

“My intention?”

“What do you want to see?” she asked. “You don’t have to tell me, but think of a question in your mind, as clearly as you can, and focus on it while you take deep breaths and calm yourself.”

Ezra sat back and thought. What did he want to know? He thought about asking it to show him his family and what they were doing, but he wasn’t really interested in that, to be honest. His parents were undoubtedly at some fancy fund raiser, as that was how they spent most of their weekends, and his older brother was undoubtedly preparing for tomorrow’s sermon at his swanky parish. None of them were thinking about him and seeing them would just point out how hopelessly different their lives were from his.

Did he want to know about the possibility of love or romance? To be perfectly honest, he wasn’t sure. He’d never had a strong feeling that love and romance were for him. He hadn’t ever really met anyone who evinced a strong interest in him, other than the occasional school crush on an older boy or two. These interests were passing and short, and he’d found himself mostly content with his life alone. He had his books, and his students, and a few good friends. It wasn’t out of the question that cupid could encounter him someday, but it hadn’t happened yet.

“I don’t know what to ask for,” he finally admitted.

Anathema studied him quietly. “Why don’t you ask it to show you what you most need to see?”

He straightened up and smiled. “Why, my dear, that’s a perfect solution. Nice and open, difficult to misinterpret. I do like to be precise.” He closed his eyes and took a series of long, slow breaths. He concentrated on that statement, repeating it over and over. Show me what I most need to see. Show me what I most need to see. Show me what I most need to see.

After a few minutes, he felt calm and centered, and he opened his eyes to look at Anathema, who was watching him closely.

“Lean forward,” she said, “and look into the water. Keep breathing and try to relax, and just wait.”

“That’s it?” he asked doubtfully.

“That’s all it takes,” she said.

He placed a hand on either side of the cold stone basin and leaned forward to stare at the reflection of the moon in the dark, inky water. Nothing happened for several minutes. There was only his face, watery and distorted, and the reflection of the moon, wobbling a little as gentle ripples made their way out from the center of the pool. He realized he was holding the edges of the basin with a death grip and tried to loosen his hands a little, letting the tension flow out of him.

He took a deep steadying breath and leaned in a little further, still repeating the words in his head, and suddenly the image in the water shifted, into a pair of golden, snake-like eyes that blinked at him in surprise and then darkened in alarm. He had a brief impression of hair like flames and a sense of agitation as the eyes leaned closer towards the surface and then — disappeared.

Ezra leapt back as if the bird bath had bitten him.

“What did you see?” Anathema asked, taking in his breathless surprise.

“I — I’m not sure!” he stammered. “Eyes. Reptilian eyes. Possibly a snake? I think it saw me, too.”

“That’s impossible,” the witch said. “Scrying is one direction only; no one can see back across the connection.”

“That’s the only part that concerns you?” Ezra exclaimed. “My heart’s desire is apparently a large reptile and you’re just concerned about the laws of magic?”

Anathema started to make a smart comment and then noted his pallor and how rapidly he was breathing. “Come on,” she said, “let’s get a finger or two of scotch into you.” She took him by the elbow and led him into the house.

The encounter left Ezra off balance and out of sorts for the rest of the evening. He saw Anathema off after more tea and a bit of whiskey, then set about trying to settle down and focus on lesson planning, but found himself distracted by thoughts of those golden, reptilian eyes widening in surprise and alarm. Who on earth was that supposed to be? His soulmate? He might not know a lot about the larger world outside of the academy, but he was fairly certain that nobody human had eyes like that.

[wee-guy]

                                 Why did you climb the mountain?

A rant sketch inspired by @insertdisc5​ post that I just reblogged. I haven’t been feeling great tonight and it’s always sat with me that these children climbed a big ass mountain without adult supervision. Especially Frisk. 

Below the cut is some headcannons for a kinda mental health AU? Idk, it was therapeutic to write.

It makes me think of a sort of AU were MC/reader purposefully goes to the mountain because of the rumours and obviously isn’t successful but meets a bunch of monsters who know why they came to the mountain and want to help.

Classic Sans: knows what it’s like to feel hopeless, to not want to get out of bed, how some things become so difficult to achieve. Knows what it’s like to have to hide how you feel, be happy and funny to make sure others don’t worry. If you need to do the thing, he will do the thing with you being “helpful” with his puns. He’s always there with soft encouragement and always praises the small things. Will probably make you those star stickers, “you got out of bed!” “you brushed your teeth!” “you managed social interaction!” “you didn’t cry today!”. Is interested in what you want to do in education and/or work. Will help you plan and work towards whatever that is. He knows some folk. 

Classic Papyrus: obviously is your personal cheer squad. Knows just how to motivate you but if it isn’t working and it’s a bad day knows when to calm down and let you take things at your own pace. Tell him your deepest desires, your biggest dreams, no matter how unattainable or silly it seems. You want to be an astronaut? You need to be physically healthy, go to school to get good grades and do training to achieve that? Pffft, that’s only three things, you can totally do that! Teaches you how to hold onto a dream and keep back the bad thoughts that say you can’t do it. You’ll show them! Will cook and bake with you while making some idle chatter. Afterwards will sit with you and watch MTT or something you’re currently interested in cuddled under a blanket.

Fell Sans (Red): the worst kept secret is that he is a softie. Will chill out with you and give you as much physical touch as you’re comfortable with. Little thumb strokes, hair strokes, hip bumps, squeezes and full on “you are now my personal squish, now chill out and watch the tv show”. Is your protector, there behind you to make sure no one walks over you or just there as silent encouragement when you need to do scary adult things. Knows what it’s like to have manic lows were the sadness is energetic and wants out. Knows how hard it is to stay strong when you need to be supported. Is there for you when this happens, even if he just silently holds you.

Fell Papyrus (Edge): you are the only one he is soft and gentle to. You know what that means? You are worthy of the terrible Papyrus! These other humans are merely jealous of your brilliance! Actual fashion icon who encourages you to express yourself however you want. Cut or dye your hair? Edge is there critiquing cuts and colours and of course approving of your choices. Your style is very much worthy of the terrible Papyrus’s approval. Humans are staring? Yes, how could they not? You look amazing! And the commoners are weak to resisting such style! Will absolutely call you by your preferred pronouns or name without question, although all skeles will do so too. Teaches you to be comfortable with yourself and that you are worth your own existence. 

Swap Sans (Blue): Another very energetic cheer squad! Preaches the importance of routine and activities. Won’t push you with exercise if you aren’t into that, gentle jogs or walks or swimming, anything calming and enjoyable. After all, what’s the point if you don’t enjoy it! Will help you figure out what the best times are you to do things, are you an early bird or a night owl? When do you get hungry? Do you have medication? When do you need to take them? He makes a very cool schedule with reminders on your phone so you don’t forget. Is very interested in your hyperfixations and is eager to learn all about it! Info dump your little heart out! Blue won’t judge and is 9/10 more likely to want to become involved too! He secretly knows what it’s like to not be respected for being yourself, whether that be for the things you love or how you look. He’s very well aware of what other monsters see him as. But! He will show you how the magnificent Sans achieves what he wants, does what he wants all the while being true to himself!

Swap Papyrus (Stretch): Another chill boy. He’s always there for you if you need to chill, talk or be distracted. No, literally. He always seems to be close to you wherever you are and whatever you’re doing, without actually moving at all...Is not at all a therapist but will listen to you when you need to talk or vent or explain something you love or have just learned. Will go with you to any doctors appointments or therapy sessions and be there for you, slouched down in his chair. Pull up a beanbag, pal, tell him all about it. Very good at distracting you with music or games or some sweet treats. A rock of a skeleton boy. Knows what it’s like to be so overwhelmed by your feelings being trapped inside you that you loose interest in things and become numb. Will show you coping mechanisms he learned himself and will always never let you forget that he is always there for you.

SwapFell Sans (Blackberry): This is a very smart boy. He clawed his way up to royal guard status without the usual violence, he doesn’t need to. Is an expert and obsessed with cheating the system and getting clever sneaky payback. Any trouble and he has it sorted, he’s both better and worse than a Karen. Will talk to a manager, teacher, professional and come out the victor. That person who bullied you? Strangely bolts whenever you are in their proximity ... Teaches you what you can do to help yourself in certain situations and how to come across confident in yourself even when you’re not. Somehow knows everything about everyone and is always doing things like reminding you that your medication is running low, you need to book another doctors appointment, even tells you that that thing you were eyeing up is much cheaper elsewhere and he’s already ordered it for you so don’t worry about it. His literal moto is “you don’t need to worry about it anymore, I’ll handle it.” But he knows when to slow down and teach you how to do things yourself. He is also a master at pet names. Darling? Sweetheart? Love? Baby? He’ll find out what you prefer and use it to his advantage, and you’ll love it. Knows how things can build and build and how sometimes the littlest thing can be the domino effect that makes everything crash. Shows you how to prioritise and take it one task at a time. 

Swapfell Papyrus (Russ): Just...a sweet boy. A little nasty, but sweet. Why do you sometimes have the urge to protect him and then suddenly feel submissive to his protection? Is a firm believer in therapy through action. You like art? He’s found this little group where you just be calm and do art and maybe talk about your feeling, lets both go. Is music your thing? Here, if you’re sad how about you press all the low keys at once? BOOOOOAAAAAMMMMM. Writing? Writing how you feel is very important to both understand yourself and how you’re feeling, to be able to reflect and point out things that triggered you and also be able to show a professional symptoms and explain how you feel without having to strain to remember. But you can also write for the pure enjoyment of words and the movement of your pen or the rhythmic click of your keyboard. Will help you with prompts and inspirations. Will never judge you for using a fandom or interest to help you get through this. Will definitely show you some of his own stuff. Knows how lonely you can feel even when surrounded by people, even when it doesn’t make sense to feel lonely or sad. Teaches you that it’s ok to feel these emotions but shows you when you need to stop in order not to become consumed by it. 

Horror Sans (Mars...?): Is deeply knowledgeable about trauma. He had a long road recovering from his. His trauma might make you feel stupid for your feelings but he will shut that down immediately. His broken leg doesn’t make your broken arm any less painful. Will be able to understand how you feel about your trauma and how that has affected you. He’s very careful to put down boundaries so neither of you trigger the other. He’s your mental health buddy, someone close who’s going through the same thing that you can talk to and know that you are fully understood. You can ask questions to help understand yourself and your own journey. Will show you how to focus and enjoy small things. Believes that people are either water people or earth people. Does the sound and sight of water make you calm? Just the rhythmic movement and sound drift you away while you both pick up cool looking rocks and smooth sea glass and sometimes even a shell! Or do you like big grassy parks or forests you can walk to your hearts content and just breathe? You both pick up some cool leaves to press between a book, take some pictures of plants and trees and sunsets. Whenever you need a break, whether you realise or not, he will whisk you away to just bask in silence for a while. A big cuddler, he has a blanket nest, hop on in and have a nap. 

Horror Papyrus (Sweetie): Knows deeply how hard it is to adapt sometimes, and how your adapting to situations can hurt you later. Knows what it’s like to be judged by how you look, especially if there are things you need to hide. Helps you with Edge’s quest, especially with clothes. He’s very good at finding unique objects that no one else has. Often comes back from thrift and charity shops with a few things he think’s you’ll like. Will cuddle up with you and listen to how you feel about yourself and the way you look. Helps you come to terms with yourself, accept yourself. Always has a compliment for you, building it up from small things so you can learn to believe and accept them. Knows ways to help you if you sometimes dissociate and especially if it’s triggered by photos or mirrors. If you need to go to the dentist or the doctor for operations or procedures, he’s right there with you holding your hand. He himself has some very cool braces for his teeth, some funky glasses and some support of his posture. Loves to teach you how to solve puzzles and will sit behind you and point out words he finds in the word searches. A very good bonding buddy. Also, he always has snacks, he is a snack mom. Sometimes he even slips food and water into your bag and pockets. 

[forestwater87]

Ok this is super embarrassing but you’re one of my favorite writers in this uh.. whatever this blogosphere is so!! I wanna try and take a crack at writing my own fanfic but.. I got no idea where to even start. Any advice?

Oh man, I feel awful about this! I didn’t know my inbox had any new messages, so some of these asks have been sitting here for . . . some time. 

Anyway, first off thank you very much! Secondly, the most obvious advice is just, you know, “do it.” But that’s infinitely easier said than done. I started writing fanfic when I was around 10 years old, so overthinking it wasn’t an issue, since I thought I was the world’s greatest writer. Assuming you’re not 10 years old and as blind to the concept of literary criticism as I was . . . well, the first step is obviously getting an idea. EDIT: Holy shit, this is long. I’m gonna have to break this bad boy up with headers, like it’s a real blog post or something.

Getting Ideas/Inspiration

I don’t know if you already have something you’d like to write about or if you’re still at the “gee that looks like fun” level of fanfic ruminating, but if you’re having trouble coming up with ideas, turning to the existing fandom is a great place to start! 

1: Filling in fandom gaps: I’ve found a lot of my best fic ideas by looking through what already existed and seeing where there was something missing; when I first started writing for Camp Camp, literally only @raenbowsofficial created anything for Gwenvid -- it didn’t even have a ship name yet, and I’m pretty sure the 3 people into it were still throwing “daven” and “gavid” around as well -- so there being zero other fics for it meant that if I wanted it to exist, I’d have to be the one to write it. (That’s also nice if you’re kind of insecure, because when no one else has tried the idea you’re interested in, you have no pressure to compare it to anything else.) 

Also, you could take a popular/already existing concept and write it the way you’d like to see it, if the existing fanfics do something with the story or characters that you’re not thrilled with. That’s handy because it gives you a general blueprint to work off of in terms of tropes and broad story beats, while letting you explore something new. Obviously, don’t rip off someone else’s fic note-for-note, but being inspired by someone else is a great way to kickstart your creativity! If you do have a specific author or story that you’re using as a jumping-off point for your own writing, I would strongly recommend linking them in your author’s notes at the beginning or end of the fic, and maybe gifting the story to them! You don’t have to, since the creation is entirely your own, but it’s still always nice to acknowledge the people who inspire you the most.

2: Fandom inception. If you want to be a little more direct and literal, there’s always the option of writing fanfic of a fanfic or fanart that you really love, if there’s a universe or story idea that you like, and you want more of it. As long as you give credit and notify the original creator, I think you’d have no issues in terms of fanfic etiquette, and I imagine they’d be honored to have inspired your own writing. Fandom is a very collaborative experience, after all, and we’re all in this together! :)

3. For more general “I have a vague idea of what I want to do (the ship, or maybe a tiny plot bunny) but I’m not sure where to go with it,” my biggest recommendation is music. Especially folk indie-rock music, which is 90% angst and 100% haunting. And again, looking at fanfic/art is a great way to get inspired -- I have a tendency to put up a particularly good or emblematic piece of fanart/fic in another window when I’m working on something tricky to write, just for something to stare at when my ideas start running dry (shoutout to @doritofalls, @ellohcee, and the aforementioned RA for being my go-tos when I need to stare at something pretty to feel inspired; there are absolutely others, because this fandom is filled with absurdly talented people, but those 3 are my heroes of inspiration and if you SOMEHOW don’t already know them, fix that immediately). 

Wow, that’s a lot and it’s literally just all about getting an idea . . . which you might already have. Yikes. For the sake of people who have to scroll past this, let’s put the rest under a cut:

Fleshing Out the Idea: An Ode to Outlines

Some people are able to just sit down and write something incredible from a vague idea, and the story just builds on itself without any sort of planning or organization to guide them along the way. These people are named Cipher/Campernetics, and we hate her for being unfairly talented.

For the rest of us, outlines are essential.

My outlines tend to be insanely specific, because I’m very afraid of letting a single idea slip through the cracks, and I build on them over time as I get increasingly sure of where the story’s going. The early outlines tend to be extremely vague, with lots of “and then something happens” connecting major plot points. An example for a current WIP I’m doing right now:

(Seriously, “Julia and everything”? Future Forest is going to be so pissed at current Forest when she reaches that point and realizes she has no idea what she’s doing)

And as the story starts to take shape and a plot eventually forms -- they tend to take at least 10 chapters to materialize, but they do generally show up! One of the great things about fanfiction is that plot is largely optional, though, so no worries if you’re starting without a full story idea -- I find myself writing more and more details down, if for no other reason than that I want to make sure I remember what I was thinking when I finally get to that scene (because I have absolutely gotten to a point in a story and forgotten what I’d had planned. It sucks). Here’s an example from another fic with pretty significant spoilers if you can figure out which one it is oops:

I’d recommend keeping your outlines pretty simple, at least to start with: words and phrases, rather than whole-ass sentences like the above. The complexity will develop as your ideas do, so no need to wrack your brain trying to write out the entire story in bullet form.

I use the bolded ideas as stepping stones, more or less; I’ll write out the piece of the story that each line represents, which can be as little as a sentence or as much as 4 or more chapters (RIP my most recent long-running fic), then delete that line and move on to the next. 

Bolding them isn’t necessary, but it does make it easier to differentiate at a glance what needs to be written. If you keep everything in the same hundred-page Google Doc like I do, this is very important.

Your outline doesn’t have to be well-written, and you can 100% use fillers like “and then something happens here.” I do that all the time -- again, another completely different story:

Now, the vaguer things are, the more annoyed Future You will be when it comes time to write whatever it’s bulleting -- there’s a reason I haven’t updated this fic, and it’s because I have zero idea what the everliving fuck “Pinky-and-the-Brain-ing all over the place” means -- but it’s really good for when you’re first getting started sketching out the vague outline of your fic. The more you panic trying to figure out all the twists and details at the very start, the less likely you’re ever just going to sit down and write the damn thing.

(This might be why I don’t write plot-heavy stories, to be fair. Mystery writers very well might have to have it all planned out from the get-go, and I’d recommend chatting with someone who’s a bit less “coffeeshop AU” and a bit more Agatha Christie for that kind of advice.)

Knowing When to Post

There are people that exist, who have amazing self-control, who can wait until their entire story is written and then release it in sections, at regular intervals, until the story is completed.

I am not one of these people, though I try to be with literally every single fic I’ve ever written.

Personally, I do this until I reach a point where I get stuck and need validation, and then post what I have in a giant chunk and then don’t update it for several months. This is almost universally known as the worst way to write fanfics, both in terms of getting interaction from fans and keeping readers from wanting to kill you, and if you have the ability to write the entire thing and sit on it until it’s ready to be shared, you are a hero.

Alternatively, if you can actually stick to a set schedule of writing it as you go and still update with a new chapter every X days, you are not human and I’m terrified of you, because if you find a way to weaponize this power you will rule the world.

Honestly, a good rule of thumb? Post it when you’re ready for people to read it, whether it’s done or not. Not all works will get done, and it seems mean to deny people the delicious little stub you’ve written even if you’re not going to finish it. When you’re happy with what you have -- or are so tired of looking at it that you need to post it or you’ll throw your computer out the window -- just do it and let out a sigh of relief, then either take a few days before going back to writing or just jump in immediately like a goddamn masochist.

(I have tried to get far enough ahead that I can start posting the already-written stuff on a schedule, figuring by the time I’m caught up I’ll have completed the entire story and won’t have any awkward gaps. Ahahahahahahahahaha that has never once worked.)

If you’re not certain about your writing, get a beta! The fandom is full of talented people who’d be happy to read over your work, and if the person you ask doesn’t have the time or spoons, they probably have a few ideas of other people you could reach out to. You don’t need a beta, but it always makes me feel better to have another set of eyes look over my writing before posting, and my beta always catches things I completely missed. Plus, you get a nice taste of that sweet, sweet validation we all crave.

This . . . is a bad guide. Just in general. The advice is . . . not good, and I think it’s largely useless. But I keep trying to think of useful things to add to it and coming up empty, so I hope something in here helped, and if you’d like to bounce your ideas off of someone, feel free to shoot me a message! Talking ideas over with friends is a great way to flesh them out as well, and I am happy to be anyone’s fandom friend.

[ffxv-holiday-gift-exchange]

2019 FFXV Holiday Gift Exchange is open for sign ups!

Hey folks!!  Welcome back to year three of this exchange -- the 2019 edition of the FFXV holiday gift exchange is now open!  

Sign-ups are open from now until October 31st!

Exchange Profile and FAQ

The FFXV holiday gift exchange is an exchange of fanfiction and/or fanart, and is open to all characters and ships or gen.  See below or the link above for FAQ!

Sign-up Form

Use the above link to sign up.  When you sign up, please read the instructions carefully and contact us if you have any questions.  You can continue to edit your signup until signups close on October 31st.

What’s changed since last year?

In our continuing effort to simplify the signup and moderation process, this year you’ll see some changes in the signup form.  First, instead of specifying characters, you can use the character field to specify whether you want to give/receive art, fanfic, or both.  The reason for this is because we had problems last year with people specifying prompts that were not suitable for receiving art.  This way we can have better matching for artists.  Second, the relationship field is required.  Gen content is still allowed!  But you’ll need to specify it using & for a relationship tag, for example, Noctis Lucis Caelum & Regis Lucis Caelum.  Unfortunately there is no way to allow specifying content about a single character without causing matching problems.  Third, we fixed up the way you can sign up for ratings, categories, and warnings to help reduce signup errors.

FAQ

Who do I contact if I have a question?

You can contact us via tumblr ask on our tumblr, @ffxv-holiday-gift-exchange, via twitter @FFXVGiftXchange, or via email at ffxvholidaygiftexchange at gmail.

Is this just for fic, or can I do art?

Art is welcome! You will be able to designate whether you are offering and receiving art or fic or both.

Do I need an AO3 account?

Yes, you need an AO3 account to participate in this exchange.  All created content will need to be posted to AO3.

What's a dear creator letter? Do I need to write one?

Dear creator letters are completely optional. If you want to let your assigned creator know more about your interests or your prompts, you may provide the URL to a letter (this can be on LJ, tumblr, or anywhere else). If you post a dear creator letter on a blog, please make sure the security settings are set to public and the content is present by the time signups close.

What do I need to include in my request description?

This is where you describe the gift you would like to receive. You're only guaranteed to match on a subset of the ships you are requesting, so don't put four ships into one request and expect your author to write a fic or artist to draw a picture that contains all four ships. Please include either in your request description or in your dear creator letter a list of squicks/do-not-wants. If you have multiple ideas for the same characters/ships, you may list them in the same request.

How long does fic have to be?

Fanfic needs to be a minimum of 1000 words and must be complete, not a WIP.

What are the requirements for art?

Art has to be one step beyond a sketch/doodle. Consider how much effort it would take an author to write a 1000 word fic, and assume the same effort should be put into your art.

Can I request smut?

Yes, but if you specifically want smut, in your request make sure to ONLY check the box for the Explicit rating.

What parts of FFXV are allowed as requests? Is it the main game only, or can I request Brotherhood, Kingsglaive, Omen, Versus?

All FFXV-adjacent content is allowed. If you're interested in content related to Omen or Versus XIII, please specify that in your request, and also include at least one request for the main-game canon, since it's not possible to differentiate between them by character tags alone.

What about crossovers and AUs?

Crossovers are not allowed, but AUs are fine.

We’re looking forward to seeing what we come up with this year!  Tell your friends to sign up too!

[tiergan-vashir]

yoshi-p confirmed in an interview it was due to asset strain as to why neither of the two have their full genders. I wish they would've done this at the announcement of Hrothgar, but it tl;dr confirms that they're coming eventually. He also confirmed that (apparently) to access the shard, it requires the echo. Once again, makes me a smidge nervous since.. a lot of characters don't have the echo, unless it turns out to be a thing that's just.. there. They said we'll find out during patch!

I was coincidentally about to go post this link.

[Tokyo Fan Fest] Day 1 Media Interview with Yoshi-P

The two questions of interest are:

Q: Why were you so insistent on adding a beast-like race, the Hrothgar

A: The great thing about MMORPGs is that people from around the world with different values and tastes can all come together and play. FF games have good-looking men and women, but FFX is an example of a stronger look. Guin Saga may be a better example, but at any rate, since we’re creating a fantasy, I want to shine a spotlight on that aspect as well. Even if we added another handsome race, it felt like the only real difference would be the ear shape. Back when we showed off a basic sketch of a wolfman, a lot of players around the world voiced their desire for a wolf race in 4.0. At our current patch rate, with that much equipment data being released, and adding a new race multiplying the amount of work required, we could probably only add one more race with our current workflow. We agonized over which race to add, and ended up with what you see now, and the lion T-shirt I’m wearing now *laughs*

Q: When did you decide to implement the female-only Viera and male-only Hrothgar?

A: It was during Return to Ivalice, around 3 months after 4.0. Viera was confirmed then, and Hrothgar came about at the same time when we were discussing plans with Matsuno-san. We were deciding whether to make a Hrothgar female or a Viera female, and after selecting Viera, work began right away, because otherwise we wouldn’t make it in time. As mentioned before, the face parts are special and Hrothgar has big differences between its faces, like a lion face, wolf face, leopard face. It became a fixed model relatively recently. Viera was done right before Paris Fan Fest, and Hrothgar was done recently.

This sounds like they were torn between two highly requested races and didn’t have enough time to do both so they gave us the classic Viera everyone already knows and a Hrothgar dude.  While that sucks for a lot of folks who were excited for Viera males, this does leave open the possibility that if folks request hard enough, they will create Viera males and Hrothgar females once they are no longer balls-deep in Expansion Crunch Time.Hopefully this helps folks feel a little better. There’s been a lot of tension and high emotions over this.  Just continue to POLITELY and RESPECTFULLY request what you want on the appropriate channels without being a harassing dingus to the devs.

As for Echo being a requirement to get to the First Shard - just find other who also would like to RP the same thing you do and go for it.  

Recall that just a few months ago, the RP Community almost shat itself over a fucking tomestone phone. People are always going to find reasons to hate on each other. You can’t appease all of them, so the best thing to do is find your crew that wants the same thing and RP it anyway.  

Whether that means making a First Shard AU Character or bullshitting up some dimension-hole-puncher that lets you RP over in the First Shard anyway.  RP is for fun, so you should go pursue that fun as you wish.  Besides, those new zones look fucking hot. 😎

[bracefacefreak]

Beware long post below. Just some thoughts I had whilst I was re-reading twilight...... 

1) Sarcastic Bella is love. Sarcastic Bella is life. 2)  No one can take away my headcanon black!Emmett with gorgeous tightly curled hair. Plus this means that he can totally teach Jasper about racism and why fighting for the Confederates was WRONG and they can support anti-racism charities together.  3) Jess’s little comment about Esme not being able to have children makes me so sad. 4) Ok, so Carlisle is a freaking surgeon. Like he spends his days elbows deep in people’s abdominal cavities. I have even more respect for him now if that’s possible.  5) Charlie’s lil crush on the Cullens is tots cute.  6) Wasted vampire trope #1 - the base instinctual fear that all human characters have around vampires, even though they can’t understand it.  7) Apparently Alice doesn’t give a shit about appearing human 8) Cute sibling moments-why didn’t we get these in the films? 9) What was the whole ‘electric current’ sensation that passed between Edward and Bella in science class? Is that ever explained? Do vampires conduct electricity now?  10) God damn it Charlie Swan, stop being precious. Also the fact Bella gets so choked up about her dad putting snow chains on her truck makes me so sad. Poor girl. 

11) “No blood, no foul.” Not even trying to subtle are you Edward.  12) “...the doctor was in on it.” Literally almost fell over laughing. Poor darling Carlisle.  13) God, I forget all the angry scowling and even angrier silences.  14) I fucking love Bella’s petty inner monologue about rear-ending Ed’s volvo. Girl after my own heart.  15) Sam Uley-totally forgot he was only 19!  20) So Carlisle has been coming to forks for centuries. Even before the first settlers reached there. Interesting little fact nugget.  21) Angela is GAY! FFS Smeyer.  22) Bella’s equally petty inner monologue about non-fatally wounding Tyler so he can’t take her to the dance. This girl is a mood.  23) You know Emmett absolutely rinsed Edward about all his mooning and pining during their hunting trip. I’m talking about made up ridiculous cringe-worthy joke poetry about Bella’s eyebrows and some rather grotesque smooching faces.  24) “We all like to drive fast.” I totally headcanon that Esme is a fucking terrifying driver, after all she has shit to do-crazy vamp kids to keep in check, houses to restore, a very pretty husband to bone.  25) So much unsubtle foreshadowing. 26) “Grizzly is Emmett’s favourite.” This is 100% Emmett’s revenge on bear-kind for his almost-demise.  27) Wasted vampire trope #2 - vampires are able to communicate in tones too low and too high for humans to hear. Other animals however are a different matter. It’s not unusual for private conversation to be interrupted by baying dogs and the irritated meows of cats.  28) Why can Bella see blue veins in Edward’s arms? He doesn’t have blood? Did you even proofread this Smeyer? 29) Edward’s fears about facing Esme - I can just imagine Carlisle coming home to find Esme holding Edward there in a headlock, before looking up and saying your father’s here now, lets talk. Also poor Carlisle having to face Esme that evening and tell her Ed’s gone.  30) Wasted vampire trope #3 - the what Edward talks about his human feelings being hidden deep beneath his stronger vampire ones. I don’t feel we get to see much of this except for a few episodes of over-protectiveness and growling. This could have been much more interesting.  31) I would pay good money to hear more about Carlisle and Esme’s increasingly ridiculous and disastrous plots to try and get Edward and Rosalie together.  I mean we think of them as the wise, mature adults but we all know that the Cullen children get some of their crazy from their parents.  32) I want an AU where Alice didn’t get her visions of Jasper and the Cullens and went absolutely feral, when the Cullens do run into her it’s as an enemy who they eventually persuade to their way of life.....or not.  33) Jasper’s gift is absolutely terrifying....I mean being able to manipulate people’s emotions, get them to feel what you want and by extension behave as you want. Ed even says he can use it on a crowd. That’s like supervillain level.  34) “You are mythical after all.” Ok so now I want an extended world of fantasy/horror/mythical beings. I’m talking mermaids/sirens, fay folk, ghosts etc. Make Forks like Gravity Falls or something. Please.  35) Edward whiny bitch Cullen repeatedly asking Bella if she’s going to tell her Dad that he’s her boyfriend. And if you think he stops doing this once their married, you’re wrong.  36) Edward’s forehead kisses are tots something he learned from watching Esme and Carlisle. I will die for this headcanon.  37) Edward tasting Bella’s tears. WTF!? WHY? WHAT AM I READING SMEYER!? 38) Carlisle found a real vampire nest at 23 years of age. He is canonically too clever for his own good. FFS sweety.  39) I forgot how much I enjoyed the part with Carlisle’s backstory. Also my poor bby boy suffered through his transformation without making a single noise. Even human!Carlisle had the self control of a saint.  40) Wasted vampire trope #4 - I know this has been mentioned before but the whole, vampires don’t need to breathe and get no relief from it but do it as habit. What other human habits and sensations do they have which have been altered by their transformation. 41) Aro and Carlisle playing tricks to try and get each other to drink from the other’s food source. It didn’t work cause of vamp smell obviously. I know I write this as if it’s playful, but we all knows Aro was a total bitch about it.  42) Edwin. Charlie Swan you are precious. Never change.  43) WHY DIDN’T WE GET TO SEE ALICE AND EMMETT HOLD HANDS IN THE FILMS! 44) “Occassionally Esme would call them to order.” I would pay good money to see this. Also does ‘ that include them’ include Carlisle? 45) Edward muttering a string of swear words both old and new, in multiple languages under his breath is a mood I recognise.  46) “Esme and Carlisle, they’ll have to leave, to hide forever!”.....”We’ve been there before.” I want this and every story of all the stupid reasons why the Cullens have had to flee the state/country in the past. Carlisle sometimes wonders whether all the trouble is worth it. This never happened when he was on his own. 47) I am unsurprisingly very much in favour of growling, snarling Alice Cullen.  48) Why does Bella have a secret cash hoard?  Is that normal? Is it in case Renee’s dealers turn up demanding money? (Can you tell I’m not a Renee fan.) 49) Of course Esme installed fucking bombproof shutters on their house. My girl is so freaking extra.  50) How many speeding tickets have the Cullens collected over the years?  51) “He seems to stay just far enough away that I can’t hear what he’s thinking..” Was this just coincidence or did James somehow know about Ed’s power? 52) Alice sketches her visions sometimes - it’s something Esme taught her because sometimes her visions are so weird or disturbing or exhausting that Alice can’t voice them herself. So Esme came up with this way to try and help her get it out.  53) Wasted vampire trope #5 - vampires can speak so fast that humans can’t understand them. Just imagine Bella wandering in on a family discussion at the Cullen house and all she can hear is a high pitched squeaking because everyone is talking super fast.  54) Alice’s backstory makes me so sad 55) “Alice had a bit too much fun fabricating the evidence.” Ok, so two things: one, I absolutely wish we could have seen Alice destroying shit and two, I still don’t understand how they managed to convince anyone Bella fell down a flight of stairs, like did they have to push her down the stairs to ensure it looked realistic, did Ed spend ages artistically placing her in a suitable position. How did this work? 56) Also love that everyone just accepted that Bella would fall down stairs and through a window, she’s just that much of a clutz.  57) Also they stole a car and burned down a dance studio. The Cullens should have started a crime family, they wouldn’t have been good at it but it would have been hilarious.  58) Bella should have grown up with Charlie. End of. Renee sucks.  59) Charlie is absolutely crushing on Carlisle and I love it.