#i think most of that annoyance is being able to draw like i used to for a little bit then having to stop again but thatll keep happening

[ankerias]

annoyed by my art recently ... im the closest ive ever been to being where id like to be stylistically & do actually like it now but i want to get more visceral and out there especially with composition. i think itd do me good to get a ballpoint pen and do as many studies as i can but my luck is a cointoss and keep buying already dry ones (TWICE NOW ..)

[colourstreakgryffin]

Hello! Could you do a SFW one with Alastor, Vox, Velvett, or others (separately) with a blind fem reader?

Ooh! Okay! I def can! Idk if you want it romantic or not but even so, let’s just see where this actually really cool idea takes us, shall we!

Alastor

Alastor doesn’t really react much to when he discovers you’re blind. Well… that happens to people doesn’t it, though, he isn’t sure how you’re still blind, even coming into Hell. He was short-sighted as a human and now, it’s completely cured. Why are you so different?

Alastor won’t treat you like you’re helpless and unable to fend for yourself. He’ll only jump in when he thinks you genuinely need some support. He is a good boyfriend like that and he is happy to make radio effect noises to draw you back to him when you need the subtle push

Alastor is the type to accompany you everywhere, no questions asked. He’ll bring you place to place and let you feel around so you get familiar with the Hotel’s layout but most of the time, he’ll escort you where you need to go so you don’t get lost. He just wants to protect you… all the time, everytime

Alastor respects you. You have a genuine disability but yet, you never let it bother you nor does it hinder you so much, that you need a constant caretaker. You’re a lady of skill and diligence, you’ve accomplished so much. He’s proud and he likes to brag about his blind girlfriend being better than anybody else’s own normal girlfriend, even over his broadcasts

You bet your supple ass Alastor wants and tries to cure your disability. As much as he believes you’re beautiful the way you are, he’d prefer you be able to see so you don’t have to suffer all the time and he brings this up with you as much as he possibly can

Vox

Vox is kinda meh about the whole fact you’re blind. He doesn’t like it but that also doesn’t mean he’d bully you for it. He’s kinda more disguising I am worried under annoyance. He pretends to be annoyed by the fact you can’t see but in his mind, he’s worried you’ll get lost

Vox always has people escort you around, when he himself cannot, he needs you safe and he even hires security to ensure no random stranger can put their hands on you when you least suspect it. As his beloved but sadly disabled girlfriend, you’re safety is his top priority, alongside comfort when you are safe

Vox is kinda… very babying, to be honest, he babies you a lot because of your blindness. He is caring and he is doting, behind closed doors and he wants to ensure you’ll be taken care of so he babies you in all ways because of your disability. He’ll feed you, he’ll bring you to the bathroom, he’ll sleep with you

Vox always wants to hold your hand. It’s for both of you; for you to get familiar with his feeling and for him to know you’re right there and not going anywhere. Vox also doesn’t mind letting you feel his TV head, whatever helps you always recognise him, he’s happy with it

Vox, like Alastor and Velvette, brags about you but he brags about you on his television show, so live on the worldwide web. He’ll brag about everything you’re gone through and even announce you, proclaim you’re the better than any girl in Hell and that you’re hotter than any other girl in Hell

Velvette

Velvette, for a critical and judgy woman, cannot bring herself to judge you for your disability. Yeah, she is the one who dislikes it the most since it means you’re stupid(Velvette mindset) but she doesn’t want to throw any garbage at the woman she really likes

Velvette likes to dress you. That way, you don’t have to worry about feeling on your clothing and she can make sure you always match her, stay up trends and be stylish. You’ll be the most beautiful lady in the Pride Ring and she’ll enjoy posting pictures of you online

Velvette actually feels really sorry for you so she offers her help regularly. She’ll offer her help for the smallest things, your echolocation isn’t working and you’re more than a bit stuck, she’ll be right there with her phone playing so you can always find her incase you two seperate but she’ll have your hand in hers

Velvette as the, backbone of the Overlord Vs, is more than willingly to get into a fight to protect you. Protect you from the minor disablist down the street to actual exterminators. She’ll never let anything put their hands on you and she’ll even fend off Vox and Valentino to leave you alone. She wants to be the only one touching you

Velvette will make sure you associate social media to herself so when you hear memes or music or a uploaded video, that means Velvette is nearby and she is very proud when she watches you approach her and cuddle onto her

[devilander]

I don't know your rules so I hope this is ok.

Homelander being bored one day and finding boxes full of your old things that your parents kept and he can't pass up on an opportunity to learn more snoop about you. He finds old teddy bears/ drawings/ pictures. Ya know, the typical nick knacks that a proud parent thinks they might be useful someday. It mads him a bit sad that he missed out on so many 'just being a kid' moments but he is enjoying the glimpses that he finds when he sees you in your little league uniform or you soaking wet with a big grin on your face at some waterpark.

You eventually find him all surrounded by memories and see the glassy look in his eyes, you just can't help but crawl in his lap and comfort him. You talk about some of the stuff you guys find, laughing at some. You tell him you promise to make as many happy memories for Ryan and by extension him in the future.

Again, sorry if this is not what you were looking for. Please ignore this or DM me if you want something specific. My brain worms are always a wigglin'.

You finally agreed to move in with Homelander a few months ago. More of a formality, since you already lived in his penthouse most of the time. Yet your parents were so delighted—it was funny, actually, how enchanted they were with him. Their baby girl with America's hero! And he was a charmer too!

Though you lacked for nothing in his house, your parents kept sending housewarming gifts; just trinkets, silly things. Two pairs of white slippers with red stars in them—that one had warranted a full-blown laugh from both of you.

A blue blanket your father had knitted—that one left Homelander at a loss of words. He stared at it for a moment, then silently put it in the bed.

And the boxes! Four boxes filled with knick-knacks; mementos from your childhood and teenage years you were unsure if it'd make Homelander uncomfortable, so… It's not like you hid them (as if you could hide anything from him, anyway), more put them in the very back of your closet and chose not to speak much of it, only mentioned in passing.

“My parents sent even more stuff! Can you believe it?”

The next day, as you left for work, Homelander decided to snoop. It wasn't even snooping, really. You lived with him, you shared it all. And, c’mon, you were an open book. He could read you in a second, knew each flicker of your eyes, every change of breath, the way you scrunched up your nose unconsciously.

He opened every box, sitting on the floor, surrounded by glimpses of your childhood. A picture of you, in your little league uniform, all smiley and proud. A kind of an ugly drawing of what he supposed was meant to be you and your parents. An enormous, threadbare shark plushie you once said was your favorite thing when you were seven.

It was all so mundane—yet his eyes prickled. This was something he'd never be able to share with you.

So lost in his thoughts, he almost didn't notice you'd already come back, and was walking toward the bedroom.

“Hey, you,” you whispered softly. Your chest contracted painfully when you noticed his glassy eyes. It was an effort not to cry too.

“Hey, babe.” He laughed, but it felt hollow. “Juuuust checking some things you tried hiding from me, missy.” He wiggled his finger in your direction in faux annoyance, but you saw it for what it was.

“Baby…” You crawled towards him, sitting in his lap, touching his cheek. “I didn't want to hide it, I just didn't want to upset you.”

“Why would I be upset?” He snorted, now holding a picture of you when you were thirteen.

You groaned.

“Please laser this right now.”

“Why? You look so… cute.” You tried to snatch it from him, but he wouldn't let it. “Awnnn, look at those buck teeth. You look like a rabbit.” He snickered.

“You mean, mean man!” But you giggled too.

As you found more pictures and drawings, and even one Homelander plushie—that he'd never let you live it down—the mood slowly lightened, and you both laughed as you told him all your embarrassing childhood stories. You knew your parents would tell him all anyway.

After a while, you were just laying down in each other's arms, sharing languid kisses in peaceful quietness.

“You know,” you murmured, fingers caressing his hair. “One day, you'll have all of this too. With me, with Ryan, with our future babies. We'll be the happiest family in the entire world.”

He then held your face so tenderly, eyes glassy again—but those were happy tears, a gentle smile on his face.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you more.”

[devilart2199-aibi]

I know I already said this prior to you, but I adore your Stunticon designs so much and feel an absolute rush of joy when I see you post art of any of them. I yearn for more information on your AU versions of them, and what happens to them all when they get to earth.

Where does Dead End go when he helps Breakdown, where do Motormaster, Drag Strip and Wildrider go after the split up in the team and how do they all handle it? They're all connected through the gestalt bond, which makes a gestalt closer than any other cybertronians, and how do they handle Motormaster hurting Breakdown, and then losing two of their own?

Does Motormaster ever regret what he did to Breakdown?

Thank you again! Hearing your interest in my AU really does make me so happy!! 🥺💕 So feel free to ask away! I've been pretty busy recently so I haven't had any time to work on the au sadly. But let's answer some questions now! With some drawings!! >:3

Also long post warning! !

"Where does Dead End go when he helps Breakdown?"

In short, undecided atm! But this is what happened if he was planning to leave with Breakdown:

Dead End and Breakdown agreed on a meeting spot a bit outside the Stunticons base. But when Breakdown doesn't show up for a long while, Dead End figured he got cold feet and began heading back to base only to get a coms transmission from MotorMaster telling him to meet up with Dragstrip and Wild Rider who are currently in pursuit of Breakdown!

Dead End would be wayyyy behind the others and only end up catching a glimpse of Breakdown and Knockout being apprehended by the Autobots, the other Stunticons long gone.

Dead End wasn't really sure what he would do now. It seemed like the others didn't know he wanted out like Breakdown. But what if they did? Does he risk it and go back? What was he going to do if the plan had gone smoothly even?

Well... he hadn't really got that far. He just knew he was tired, and Breakdown suggested an out. But joining another group of hot-headed 'Cons? Really?? He needed something different... maybe just... roaming around earth would be fun? It definitely has to be calmer than anything he's experienced the past few Megacycles.

For Dead End, since I wasn't sure if I would have him leave with Breakdown or not, I hadn't chose a story for him yet, though i did have a few ideas in mind.

"Where do MotorMaster, Dragstrip and Wild Rider go after the split up in the team and how do they handle it?"

They probably wouldn't go far, maybe just relocate their base. The remaining team would stick together for the most part. They're still the Stunticons, just... less.

MotorMaster would become hell-bent on getting the two back one way or another... or maybe even making them pay for such treachery to their team.

"How do they handle MotorMaster hurting Breakdown, and then losing two of their own?"

They were used to MM's intimidation techniques to get them back in line, but nothing like this. Sure he'd give 'em a good toss, smack or yelling at, but this, this was something else.

For Dragstrip he'd think to himself "What did Breakdown think would happen if he told MM him off and ditched the team? What a fool" as a kind of way to make sense of the situation. He'd definitely stand a bit further from MM than before.

As for Wild Rider, he loved a good fight. Heck he didn't mind killing a few bots! But never each other. He got an uneasy feeling from the whole thing.

For Dead End, they always remember him voicing his annoyance and tiredness with everything, but they never actually thought he'd do anything about it.

"Does MotorMaster ever regret what he did to Breakdown?"

Sadly not. He probably only regrets not being able to see Breakdown's desire to leave sooner. Not that he'd know what he'd do then.

And I think that was it? Thanks again for the questions and curiosity towards my au!! :3

[putellas11]

A/N: Finally! So happy I was able to get this up in time to celebrate Alexia's return!!! Similar to Just a Girl, this was a big challenge for me and I was determined to see it through. This is a story of how love can shine a light in the darkest of moments. btw this is a long one so settle in.

The Missing Piece (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

In the blink of an eye, everything changed. 

A life once lived passionately and carefree, now overwhelmed with uncertainty and trepidation. How else are you supposed to feel when faced with the possibility of losing what you hold most dear? If you lose your guiding light, will you make it on your own or will you wander aimlessly through life?

These are the questions that have invaded your mind. It’s all you can think about. They keep you up at night and leave you exhausted the following morning. You feel their weight on your shoulders dragging you down. They leave you gasping for air as you struggle to just keep your head above water. And the one person who can help you and protect you from it all, is the very person you’re at risk of losing. 

The only thing that can distract you, even if it’s for the briefest of moments, is art. It’s the only way you can convey what words simply cannot express. When you feel crippled with pain and see no hope in sight, art is your only escape. With your brush, you create a world filled with light and hope. Because unlike life, art is forgiving. When you make a mess, you can paint over it. You can try again. 

Unlike life, art gives you second chances.

"Dios mio, that storeroom is a mess!" your coworker, Carla exclaims, appearing by your side. She drops a box of coffee beans on the floor and with the back of her hand, wipes a drop of sweat from her brow. “Took me 10 minutes just to find this.”

Behind the counter, your attention is on the sketchbook in your hands. When the crowd dies down and you get a little break from taking orders, the small sketchbook comes out from under the counter. Everything from the small details of the cafe to the faces of those who visit it, are you sources of inspiration.

“You mean the one we spent all night organizing last week?”

Annoyance radiates from Carla. “That can’t be us making all that mess, right?” she says, hands on her waist and her foot tapping repeatedly against the floor. “I’m convinced someone is sneaking in at night and trashing the place.” 

The absurdity of the statement makes you laugh, and she finally gets your full attention. “So, they don’t sneak in to steal anything? All they want to do is make a mess?” 

Carla nods with confidence. “It’s the only logical explanation.” 

How she manages to keep a straight face, you do not know. But her eyes certainly give her away. Like you, Carla has no intention of being a barista forever. Put two people together who don’t take their job too seriously and what do you get? A messy storeroom. 

“You’re ridiculous.” With a smile, you shake your head and return your focus back to the sketchbook. 

Carla leans in to take a peek at what you’re drawing, and it doesn’t take long for her to pick out your subject: a young woman sitting by the window, completely immersed in a book. You picked her out because of her auburn hair and the way it shines so bright bathed by rays of sunlight.

"How's the exhibit coming along, by the way?" Carla asks.

It's a simple question that elicits a deep sigh from your lips. Just the mention of it forces you to close the sketchbook and tuck it away under the counter. "It's going...good."

Carla raises her eyebrow, catching on to your very obvious hesitation. "But…" she says, encouraging you to spill whatever it is that’s bothering you.

"I've gotten great feedback from everyone I've shown the pieces to, but I can’t shake the feeling that something is missing. It's like there's something else I need to say, but for the life of me I can’t figure out what that is."

It’s been nothing but sleepless nights staring at a blank canvas just waiting for inspiration to strike.  All the other pieces came so naturally to you. Granted, all of them are dedicated to your mother. But still, you've never experienced something quite like this and with the exhibit only a few months away, you're getting a little restless.

You hope Carla might have some words of wisdom to break you out of the funk you’re in, but the door of the cafe creaks open, and a woman walks in.

Break time is over. 

Like clockwork, Carla takes her position by your side at the brewing station, ready to prepare whatever order the customer might want.

"Hola! What can I get you?" You give the woman the same greeting and smile you give to them all.

The woman glances at Carla, and for a brief moment, it gives you the impression that there might actually be some meaning behind it. But you dismiss it — it's probably nothing.

"Just a cortado, please."

"And the name for the order?" you ask, busy staring at the screen. 

"...Alexia."

It takes the woman a second too long to say her name, but again, you pay it no mind. You've taken thousands of orders by now, and they're all a little different from the last. Some customers are chatty and some straight to the point. Either way, you take their order and send them on their way. You don’t have the energy for anything else.

Carla, an expert by now, has the order done in a second and leaves it on the counter. She shares a look again with the woman, and this time it does spark your interest. You make a note to ask Carla about it later.

The door opens and closes, and now there's one less customer inside the cafe to worry about.

"You know," Carla says, swinging her arm over your shoulder, "that thing you're missing? It might just be standing right in front of you."

You scoff in response, "if only it were that easy."

Carla's expression hints that she wants to say something else, but instead, she gives you a comfortable squeeze on the shoulder.

You’re about to ask her about those looks she was sharing with the woman, but you’re interrupted by the phone vibrating inside your apron pocket. 

It’s a simple message and it doesn’t deliver any bad news, but no matter how many times you receive it, your heart drops to your stomach.

"Todo bien?" Carla asks.

You nod, typing away your response. "Mama just finished her treatment. Tia is taking her home now." Tucking the phone back in your apron, a soft "merde" escapes from your lips. 

Only a year ago, you were living in France with the world at your fingertips. Everything was absolutely perfect. It’s where you went to art school and poured your heart and soul into every sketch and painting with the ultimate goal of perfecting your talent. And when you graduated, all your hard work paid off when Cécile Guth — a painter you deeply admired — granted you the opportunity to be her apprentice. In France, life was art, and art was your life.

But that all changed when your mom got sick.

Leukemia.

That’s when everything came to a halt. The cloud you had been living on suddenly evaporated, and you came crashing down, face first into a harsh reality. You had no choice but to leave France. At first, you didn't miss the life and dreams you left behind. You were so focused on taking care of your mom that everything else was deemed irrelevant. But as the months have gone by, you wonder if you'll ever be able to return. And if you ever do, you fear you might not be the same person. 

"How's Lídia doing?" Carla asks, bringing you back to reality.

"She's a fighter," you say with a sad smile. "She tries to be strong for my sake, but I can see she's suffering. Chemo is supposed to help but honestly, I feel like it's hurting her more than that damn cancer ever could."

Without a second to waste, Carla opens her arms and pulls you into a hug you so desperately need. You've only known each other for a year, but she's been by your side during the most difficult time of your life.

"On a happier note, the flyers for the class are done," you say, wiping away the single tear from your cheek.

Carla, sensing the need to lighten up the mood, claps her hands excitedly. "I'm telling you, you should have had them made a long time ago!"

It was Carla’s idea to have flyers made to promote your small art class, The First Brushstroke. Working at the cafe isn’t exactly making you rich — not that you need to be, but you definitely need an extra source of income with your mom obviously not able to work. 

“I’m picking them up on my way home. If I can get just three more regulars, I’ll be good.” 

Carla waves your doubts away, “trust me, I’m a genius. I bet that you’ll have to find a bigger studio in a few months.”

The door opens once again and it’s time to repeat the routine all over again. You’re not sure how much longer you can take this.

“I hope you’re right.”

__________________________

Once again, you find yourself sitting in front of a blank canvas, just staring at it intently with no hope in sight. All the colors and shapes that once flowed so naturally through your mind seem to have vanished. You’re left staring at nothing, feeling frustrated and helpless. Every time you dip your brush into the paint and make a few strokes on the canvas, it feels forced. Art isn’t supposed to feel forced. It’s meant to feel effortless and natural.

With a sigh you set down your brush and lean back on the chair. Looking around the room, you see a clutter of art supplies and splotches of paint decorating the floor. Very few traces are left of what was once your childhood bedroom. It was actually your mom’s idea to turn it into a little studio when you moved back home. Her way of helping you keep your passion alive, you suppose. 

Admitting defeat, you stand up and walk away from the canvas. The missing piece yet to be found.

You find your mom in her room, tucked under the blankets with a book in her hands. Physically, she has changed so much. A strong woman capable of running mile after mile is now barely able to walk a few feet on her own. Thick, luscious hair is now thin and falls off at the slightest touch.

And yet, in her eyes, you see the same woman who used to run all over the house with you playing hide and seek. The same woman who held you on her hip as she made pancakes with chocolate syrup smiles. Inside, she still has that raw passion and intensity as when she danced flamenco. She’s still your mom but it’s like you lose a little more of her with each passing day.

“Hi, mama,” you greet her, peeking your head inside the room.

The moment she sees you, a big smile appears. “Hola, mi vida. Come in.”

The book is placed to the side, and her arms welcome you as you lay down next to her. She doesn’t want you to ask about today’s treatment or how she’s feeling. She’s tired of only giving you bad news. Even when you’re the one that is supposed to look after her, her priority is still looking after you. 

So instead of asking, you let her gather her strength and run her fingers through your hair. She asks about your day, and you tell her everything to the smallest detail. She gets a nice chuckle out of Carla’s suspicions about who keeps messing up the storeroom.

“And that missing piece of yours?”

You shake your head. “Still missing and I’m just about ready to give it up. Honestly mama, I think it’s just me being a perfectionist.”

She hums but doesn’t say anything in response right away. “I think…” she says, “that if that heart of yours is telling you that something is missing, you should listen.”

Growing up, your mom would never allow frustration to consume you to the point of giving up. She would guide you through whatever you needed until you came out on the other side. She has always been your guiding light when you just can’t seem to find your way.

You look up at her and smile. “You’re so wise.”

A familiar mischievous glint that you rarely see nowadays appears in her eyes. “Well, one of us has to be.”

“Mama!”

But the two of you share a laugh, and it’s a sound you hope to hear forever and never forget.

__________________________

Tuesdays are slow. The early morning rush of customers has come and gone, and now the café is left with only a few scattered customers. On days like this, there’s only a need for one person behind the counter, and today that lucky person is you. 

With Carla not around to keep you company, the only goal is to keep yourself busy. Occasionally, you’ll take out the sketchbook, but nothing seems to maintain your interest for long. You’re in a proper funk, and rather than fight it, you have decided to embrace it. Even though you still can’t shake the feeling that you’re missing a piece for the exhibit, at this point, you’re only driving yourself crazy.

If the missing piece wants to be found, it will make its way to you eventually.

The door of the coffee shop swings open, and it takes you a second, but you recognize her as the woman sharing those looks with Carla.

“¡Hola, bienvenida!”

The woman gives you a soft smile, “Hi,” she says, tapping her fingers on the counter, “A cortado, please.”

With a nod, you input her order on the screen, “name for the order?” 

Once again, the woman takes just a second too long to respond. This time you glance up just in time to catch a glimpse of sadness in her eyes. 

“Alexia,” she says with a breath. 

As you prepare the order, you can see her taking a keen interest in one of the flyers for your art class. You left them up on the counter so that everyone could see, but as you expected, barely anyone has paid much attention.

Alexia, on the other hand, not only takes one from the stack, but she seems to be genuinely curious. If Carla was here, she would urge you to talk to her. But the truth is, you’ve never been good at selling yourself. You’ve always preferred to let your art speak for you, and for itself.

You place her cortado within Alexia’s reach and as casually as you can, ask, "Interested in taking an art class?" 

Alexia shifts her weight nervously and chuckles, "I'm not very good."

Out of fear that you’ll come off too eager and scare her away, you grab a towel and start wiping the counter that clearly doesn’t need much cleaning. “More reason to sign up.”

“I’ll sign up if you ask me to.” 

Your hand stills at her words. “Um…” Something about the way she said them makes you hesitant to look at her. “Yeah... you should sign up.”

But she doesn’t let you off the hook that easily. 

“Look at me and ask.”

And when you do look at her, you’re left speechless by what you see. This is the first time you look at her — really look at her, and it makes you feel vulnerable, exposed. Alexia’s not just looking at you - she’s looking through you. All of your flaws, insecurities, and imperfections seem to be on full display. 

You feel seen. 

You struggle to speak, the words seemingly stuck in your throat. “Please, sign up for my class.” 

“Finally.” Alexia says and she doesn’t say anything else for a few seconds, almost as if she’s relishing the moment. Eventually, the corners of her lips tug upwards in a smile, “I’ll think about it.”

You want to say something to convince her, but you’re left speechless. No one has looked at you like that in a very, very long time. It's a scary feeling, but at the same time, there's a sense of excitement brewing in the pit of your stomach. 

With the flyer and coffee in her hands, Alexia gives you a little nod. “Nos vemos.” 

You watch as she walks out of the cafe, leaving you to grapple with the unexpected feelings she sparked in you. 

The rest of your shift goes unbearably slow. With barely any customers to keep your mind busy, it keeps wandering back to Alexia. The exchange was confusing, unexpected, and strange. And yet, you want to talk to her again. 

It’s only when you get home that you’re distracted enough to not think about her, and it’s not for a great reason.

Your mom has good days and bad days and when you got home, your aunt’s expression told you all you needed to know. Today is a bad day. 

On the bad days, there’s very little you can do besides make sure she is comfortable. These are the days that hurt the most. You feel powerless and the questions that keep you up at night gain power over you. You try so hard to put on a brave face for her. She can handle the cancer, but not the sadness in your eyes.

After dinner, you’re lying in bed with her watching a movie. It’s a bad day ritual. It’s the perfect way to embrace a new world — a new reality in which your mom is not sick and everything is as it should be.

Halfway through the movie, your phone buzzes softly beside you.

A notification lights up the display: Alexia Putellas has registered for The First Brushstroke class.

A warm, tingling sensation spreads through your body as you read her name. You can't help but whisper it out loud, "Alexia."

Your mom's voice, curious and gentle, interrupts your thoughts. "Did you say something, mija?"

Quickly you lock the screen and shake your head. "It's nothing, mama."

There's no point in explaining how one simple look from a stranger has shaken you to your core.  How can you possibly explain something you, yourself don’t understand? 

__________________________

There’s a vibrant energy that flows through the narrow, winding streets of La Vila de Gràcia district. Before moving away, Gràcia was where you would spend most of your time. You felt understood and encouraged by all of the artists displaying their artwork on the streets. So, when you moved back and needed to find an art studio to host your class, you knew exactly where to look.

The art studio itself is small but fulfills your needs and most importantly, it’s within your budget. The walls are decorated with various pieces of artwork, from sketches and charcoal drawings to oil paintings. At the bottom right corner each one are your initials, and the only hint of the paintings being created by your hand. At the front of the room is a large wooden easel, holding a blank canvas that in a few hours will be brought to life with vibrant strokes of color.

The class is for beginners, so you don’t put too much pressure on yourself. There’s no need for everything to be perfect. In fact, you encourage mistakes. Most often than not, mistakes have the potential to become something unexpectedly beautiful. 

With the class set to begin shortly, those who signed up start trickling in. A couple takes a seat in the back of the room and right away you can tell it might be their first date. He hesitates to scoot his stool a little closer to her, and she tries to hide the blush in her cheeks when he finally does. 

A few of your regulars have the confidence to immediately go and collect their paint brushes, tubes of paint, and containers of water without being told to do so. Their confidence spreads through the room, and eventually, everyone has what they need to start the class. 

Only one easel stands alone. 

You glance at the clock on the wall and feel your heart sink a bit. It seems Alexia changed her mind and won’t be coming after all. You try to pretend it doesn’t bother you, but disappointment is an unwanted visitor tonight. Still, you gather the supplies she might need and leave them for her by the easel. Just in case. 

“Hello everyone, thank you all for being here” you offer a smile to the faces looking at you with anticipation, “tonight, we’ll be focusing on blending colors to create a gradient effect. If this is your first time —” 

The door swings open and everyone's heads snap in its direction. Alexia steps inside the studio and you forget whatever it is you were about to say. 

She stops at the entrance, her eyes locked on you. 

Alexia’s presence sparks an excited chatter amongst the class but their voices are muffled in your ears. You’re entirely captivated by her.

“Hi,” you greet her. 

“Hi,” she says with the softest of smiles.

Finally taking notice of the others in the studio, Alexia gives them all a quick nod before taking a seat.

Before, everyone’s eyes were on you. Now, you see them all taking not-so secretive glances at Alexia. You can only assume it’s because she made a late entrance, but deep down, you have a feeling there might be more to it than that. 

You clear your throat and bring everyone's attention back to you. “Um… yeah, I as I was saying,” but it takes you a second to regain your train of thought, “right —  if this is your first time, feel free to follow along to what I paint, it will be something really simple. But, if your mind or your heart calls out for something else, don’t hesitate.” 

As promised, your painting is of a simple sunset with silhouettes of pine trees. You show the students how to mix the colors together with a blending brush, starting with a light shade and gradually adding darker tones for a seamless transition. A painting of this simplicity would normally take you a few minutes, but you take your time to explain the different techniques and all the possible color combinations. 

With the painting done, it’s time for you to walk around the studio and give each student your individual attention. You encourage those who are hesitant to be bold and give praises to those that show improvement since the last time you saw them.

Eventually, you make your way to Alexia. When she notices you, she looks down somewhat embarrassed. 

“It’s so bad,” she says softly, avoiding your gaze.

You take a closer look at her painting. It's a striking red and blue background with the silhouette of a young girl holding a ball against her hip. Despite the simple composition, there's something poignant and personal about it. From your experience, most beginner students choose something generic, easy. But It's clear that Alexia’s painting is anything but.

"It's not bad," you say gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. "It's personal, no? I think that’s what makes it beautiful."

Your words seem to give Alexia a little bit of confidence because she looks up at you, “gracias.” Her eyes drift down at your hand still on her shoulder, a soft sigh through parted lips. 

Fearing you might have crossed an invisible line, you pull away swiftly and give her a little nod. “You’re welcome.” 

The rest of the class goes by in a blur but all throughout you feel overwhelmed by Alexia. You feel her eyes on you the entire time. And while you certainly hope you didn’t make it too obvious, every time she flicked her hair, you noticed. When she scrunched her eyebrows in deep focus, you noticed. 

The students stand up and get ready to leave, but before some walk out of the studio, they do something that surprises you. They walk up to Alexia with a glint in their eyes, and ask her for a picture. She complies with every request.

Clearly, Alexia is someone important and you feel embarrassed for not knowing why. 

Only the couple and Alexia remain in the studio. You start cleaning up all the supplies scattered all while pretending not to listen. With what you do manage to catch of their conversation, your best guess is that it has something to do with a football club which is something you know very little about. Sports are not really your thing and it has nothing to do with being forced to play goalie once when you were six, and then proceeding to get a ball kicked at your face. Repeatedly. 

Alexia and the couple exchange farewells and the conversation comes to an end. With your back turned, you only hear the sound of the door opening and closing and then, a brief silence. 

“Do you usually stay and clean?” 

Alexia’s voice startles you, causing you to jump and let out a shriek. You assumed she had left like everyone else. It’s not like she has a reason to stay. 

“Oh!” she says, taking a step closer with a look of concern, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

Slightly embarrassed at your reaction, you take a deep to calm your beating heart. “No, uh,” you say with a light chuckle, hand on your chest. “I stay and clean up. It’s part of the gig.” 

Alexia looks around, noticing all the dirty brushes and containers that will surely keep you occupied for another hour. Without a word, she follows your lead and starts picking up as well.

“Wait, you really don’t have to.” 

She stops and looks at you with the same intensity she did at the coffee shop. “I want to.” 

Once again, you're left speechless by one simple look and unable to make any further protests. Alexia seems to have this power of you that you find both unsettling and strangely exhilarating. 

With all the brushes and containers in the sink, you notice she has no intention of leaving until the task is complete. 

“I wash, you dry?” you suggest, turning on the faucet to allow the water to remove the excess paint from the brushes. 

“You wash, I dry.” Alexia stands next to you, her arm bushing ever so slightly against yours. 

It’s a small studio, so it’s a small sink. You’re acutely aware of the warmth radiating from her and you feel it spreading through you.

"I know it's a little obvious since you're the teacher and all," Alexia says, meticulously cleaning the brushes with a level of care and precision most people wouldn't exhibit. "But you’re really talented."

Your laughter is warm and appreciative. "That's quite a compliment based on just that small painting I did."

Alexia shakes her head slightly and her gaze drifts up to the paintings and sketches adorning the walls of the studio. "These are all yours, right?"

You don't bother looking up at the paintings. You're well aware of the pieces she's referring to. Instead, you fix your eyes on her, astonishment subtly etched on your face.

"You noticed."

Alexia meets your gaze. "Hard not to."

For a brief moment, both of you remain silent, allowing the compliment to linger in the air. But you feel flustered, so you look away and try to think of something to change the subject.

"Do you mind if I ask what you do?"

Alexia straightens her posture with an unmistakable hint of pride. "I play for Barça."

And you feel like idiot for not knowing that. "No wonder everyone was so starstruck when you walked in."

Alexia's lips curve into a tight, shy smile. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that," she says, as she finishes drying the last of the brushes.

"Don't be," you say, shifting your weight against the sink. "I should apologize for being from here and not recognizing you. I feel like I'm committing some sort of crime."

Her laughter is light, and she leans in ever so slightly. "You know, I think there's a reward for turning in people like you," she teases.

Biting your bottom lip to stifle a grin, you reply, "And if I offer a better reward for keeping my secret?"

Alexia edges slightly closer, curiosity dancing in her eyes. "What do you have in mind?"

Her proximity sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "How about a private class next Friday? You'll have the teacher all to yourself."

Alexia pretends to ponder it for a moment, but eventually extends her hand, and you take it without hesitation.

"We have a deal."

__________________________

Over the next few days, you find yourself more attentive than ever at who enters the cafe. Every time the door swings open, your head instinctively turns in its direction. Not only that, you’re so lost in thought that you struggle to remember even the simplest of orders.

After you botch the third order of the day, Carla's curiosity gets the better of her. "Okay, I have to know," she says, her arms crossed over her chest, "what's got your head in the clouds?"

"Sorry... I just have something on my mind, that's all," you reply, trying to dismiss it. "It’s stupid."

She seems willing to let it go, but when you reach for the whole milk, she has to intervene. "He asked for oat milk," she points out, swapping the milk cartons for you. "Alright, spill it — and I don't mean the drink."

With the customer only a few feet away, you lower your voice so only Carla can hear. "I met someone…"

Carla's eyebrows rise in intrigue. "I like where this is going."

You quickly complete the order under Carla's watchful gaze and hand it to the customer with an apologetic smile.

Once he walks out of the cafe, Carla swivels back to you. "You were saying."

"She was at my class last week even stayed to help me clean up. You know I haven't exactly flirted with anyone in a while, but I'm pretty sure that's what happened. And now…" you take a deep breath, "I can't stop thinking about her,” you say rather quickly, almost embarrassed.

“It doesn't help that she's a regular here so I'm expecting her to walk through that door any second, and it has me on edge."

"Wait," Carla says, holding her hand up, "she's a regular?"

You nod. "Yeah, it’s Alexia. I think you know her actually."

You still haven't forgotten the glances her and Alexia have shared in the past. But with everything that has happened, you never had the chance to ask Carla what it all meant. 

Upon hearing Alexia's name, the broadest grin spreads across Carla's face.

"What?" you ask, puzzled.

"It's about damn time!" She exclaims, a tad too loudly. The few customers in the cafe glance her way, and she quickly apologizes.

"What do you mean, it's about time?"

After releasing her excitement with a few soft claps, Carla places a hand on your shoulder. "Querida, Alexia has been coming here for like two months just to see you and you barely paid her any attention. La pobre, she would get so sad whenever you asked for her name."

It all starts to make sense. So much has been happening around you but you’ve been oblivious to it all. 

You playfully slap Carla on her side. "Why didn't you say anything?!"

Carla shrugs, her smile beaming. "What can I say — I'm a romantic! I didn't want to force it." Her smile dims slightly. "Besides, I figured you had a lot on your mind with your mom and the exhibit. I didn't think you were all that interested in dating."

Carla's right: dating hasn't exactly been a priority. You haven’t gone on a date in a year and it’s a fact that hasn’t exactly kept you up at night. How can you seek out love when your heart is in danger of being broken in a million little pieces? If your worst fear becomes a reality, there might not be a heart left to give. But even so, you cannot deny that while it still remains in tack, it beats a little faster at the mention of Alexia. 

"You're not wrong," you concede, "but a woman like that is worth moving up the priority list."

Carla snickers and wiggles her eyebrows. "She's gorgeous, isn't she?"

"Very."

__________________________

It's Friday night and you can’t stop staring at the clock in your art studio. Its hands seem to mock you. Each tick echoes through the empty space, driving you mad with anticipation. It's your fault for arriving an hour early, but you just couldn't bear waiting at home any longer. You haven't felt like this in so long, and you just don't know what to do with yourself.

Back in France, you only dated casually. Some relationships were more serious than others sure, but you never really saw a future in any of them. Your heart and mind were too committed to your art, so it was difficult for anyone to compete.

But this time it feels different. Your art, which used to consume you, now seems to be somewhat in the background, and thoughts of Alexia have taken center stage.

The art studio is still. The easels and art supplies waiting in anticipation for Alexia. You set two easels in the corner next to the large windows that reveal the night sky, dotted with stars.

And if you're not staring at the clock, you're staring at the blank canvas, trying to envision the scene you want to create. But of course, your thoughts drift to Alexia, and all you can see is the curve of her smile and the sparkle in her eyes.

The door to the studio opens and Alexia walks in. Immediately, you feel the heat rise in your cheeks.

"Hi," she greets you, choosing to remain standing by the door.

You fight the nerves threatening to consume you and take the necessary steps to reach her. "Hi," you reply, hands intertwined nervously behind you.

Alexia looks at you for a moment, a smirk teasing her lips. There's no doubt she can sense your nerves. "You know, I ran into some officers on the way here."

"Oh yeah?"

She hums and nods her head, "They were actually looking for someone that reminded me a lot of you."

You bite your bottom lip to suppress your laughter. You've missed being teased like this. "Well, either you led them right to me, or you kept your end of the deal."

Alexia takes a moment, a mischievous look in her eye. "She's right here, officers!"

This earns Alexia a playful nudge on her shoulder. "Alright, you got me," you admit, your laughter filling the studio.

“Are you ready to get started, captain?”

Alexia nods and follows you to the easels by the window. She doesn’t try to be slick when she scoots her stool closer you. She makes it very obvious and, you of course, make no protest.

In the beginning, you focus on giving her a few pointers on how to work with charcoal. It's all very professional, which does help calm the butterflies in your stomach.

But then Alexia glances over at your canvas and asks, "How do you do that shading thing you do?"

You give her a smile and lean in closer to her canvas. With the proximity, you can smell her perfume, her breath against your hair, her knee pressed up against yours.

When you finish explaining, you turn to Alexia, only to realize that she hasn't exactly been paying much attention to what you were doing.

"Did you listen to a word I said?" You ask teasingly.

Alexia blushes, a sheepish smile on her face. "Sorry, I got distracted," she admits, her eyes flickering to your lips for a moment. "Show me again."

And you do so, not just because you want her to learn, but because you like the feeling of having her close.

After a little while of working in peaceful silence, Alexia decides to speak up. "So, in the last class, you mentioned that you moved back here from France?"

You give her a nod, "Yeah, almost a year now."

"Why did you come back?"

Your hand stills and hovers above the canvas. It doesn't matter how much time has gone by or how many times you've had to talk about it, your mom's illness is and will always be difficult to put into words.

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to," Alexia says, sensing your hesitation.

But you shake your head and smile, your eyes glistening. "No, it's okay," you say, voice soft but steady.

"My mom was diagnosed with cancer, and of course I had moved back to be with her. I used to say that it would take something really big for me to move back here, and… it turns out I was right."

Alexia listens intently to your every word. "I'm really sorry."

You finally gather the courage to look at Alexia, and you see two things: a sense of understanding and a little smudge of charcoal on her cheek.

"Thank you," you tell her with a small smile, which only grows bigger the longer you look at her.

"What?" she asks, confused.

"You have a little charcoal…" you tell her, pointing to the smudge on her cheek.

"Oh," she says and immediately tries to clean it off herself but fails to actually reach the spot.

"Let me help." You lean in closer to her, and with a soft, careful touch, you reach out and gently wipe the smudge away with your thumb.

Time seems to stand still as you both sit there, faces close in a moment of pure, unspoken emotion.

Slowly, you pull away, your cheeks flushed and your heart pounding. The moment is broken, but the feelings remain palpable. 

“Gracias,” she says, her hand on where she felt your touch.

Unlike the last class, this time there's no excuse for Alexia to stay and help you clean up. So, with the drawings done, you're both just standing a little awkwardly by the door, unsure of what to do next.

"Would you like to go for a drink? I know a bar nearby."

Your eyes widen in surprise, and then a smile lights up you face. "I'd love that."

And that’s how the two of you end up at Las Vermudas, a cozy bar tucked away in the Gràcia district. 

You follow Alexia to a booth in a far corner of the bar. Once you both have settled in, the bartender comes over to take your orders. You can’t keep your eyes off her as she orders her drink and when she catches you looking, she smiles.

It’s like the two of you are in your own little world. The conversation flows effortlessly and eventually, it leads back to your return.

“I felt so settled back in France. Everything just made sense. I was making all the right connections through Cécile, my mentor. It’s actually thanks to her that my work will be featured in an exhibit in a few months. Now, I have no idea where or who I’ll be next year.”

Almost like she can read your mind, Alexia asks, “What are you afraid of?” 

“When I go back — if I do ever go back, I m scared that I just won’t be the same. That nothing will be the same. And that maybe I lost my chance to be truly great. It’s not just talent to succeed in my world, it’s a lot introductions with right people.”

Once again, you see nothing but understanding in Alexia. Her finger trails the edge of her glass, eyebrows slightly furrowed in thought. 

"You know, there was a time when I wasn't sure I'd ever play again," she admits, her voice wavering slightly. 

Your eyes widen in concern, and you lean in, eager to hear more.

"Two years ago I suffered an ACL injury and I was out for almsot a year. No matter how many times I told myself that I would come back stronger, there was still that little bit of doubt that would keep me up at night. I was so scared that I would not be the same player and my career would just be a what if."

“And are you the same player?” 

A smirk tugs on her lips. “No,” she reaches for her glass and takes a small sip. “I’m better.” she says, and her smirk transforms into a proud smile. 

And so you raise your own glass to her in admiration. It’s one thing to overcome an injury, but it’s another thing entirely to overcome the doubt that so desperately wants to hold you back.

After a little more back and forth and occasional teasing, you feel comfortable to bring up something that’s been on your mind.

 "So, I have to admit something," you say, hesitating slightly. "You know my coworker, Carla?” 

Alexia shifts in her seat “Si, we’ve talked a little here and there.”

You have a pretty good idea of what they’ve talked about — particularly how blind and clueless you’ve been for months.

But even though Alexia is no longer a stranger and you know for a fact that she’s interested in you, it doesn’t make it any easier to take that leap forward and be vulnerable with someone.

“Well, I kept getting distracted at the cafe, like I couldn’t get an order right to save my life.” You look down at the glass in your hands, “and I’m not the best barista by any means, but Carla could tell my mind was somewhere else.” 

Alexia remains silent, but you feel her scooting a little closer to you.

“What were you thinking about?” 

Your finger taps the glass repeatedly as you prepare yourself to reply to a question Alexia probably already knows the answer to. 

“I was thinking about you.” 

She scoots again a little closer, but this time actually reaches for your hand. It gives you the confidence you need to look away from the glass, and into her eyes. 

“And when I told her I was thinking about you she got really excited, because as it turns out… you’ve been thinking about me too.”

A light blush spreads across Alexia's cheeks. "I thought you’d never notice me,” she says with a light chuckle. “I wanted you from the moment I saw you.”

Your eyes drift down to your hand and you watch how delicately Alexia trails over your knuckles.

"Every time I saw you at the cafe, I would try to find the reason to talk to you, but you wouldn’t even look me in the eye. So, I just waited and hoped that maybe, just maybe, you'd just look up."

Unlike so many times before in the cafe, this time you do look up. The intensity in her eyes no longer scares you. You welcome it and embrace it as the urge to close the distance and taste her lips becomes irresistible.  

Everything indicates that she feels it too. You don’t think about it too much. You just do it.

When your lips finally meet, it's as if a spark ignites, sending a wave of warmth and desire throughout your entire body. The kiss, tender and sweet, makes the world around you fade away, and all that exists is the sensation of her lips.

When you pull away, breathless and exhilarated, you rest your forehead against hers and whisper, “I don’t think I’ll ever notice anyone else ever again.”

__________________________

With Alexia by your side, life takes a pleasant turn. After months of nothing but stress and just expecting the worst, she has brought a little light to your darkness. Not because she showers with grand gestures of affection. No, it’s the little things she does that mean the most. Like waiting for you outside the cafe after your shift so you’re the first person she sees. And it doesn’t matter how tired you are, seeing her waiting for you is like a breath of fresh air.

Because she makes you feel like this, it’s easy for you to embrace her world and her passions even though they differ so greatly from your own. It took a little bit of convincing and a lot of kisses, but you eventually agreed to let her teach you how to play football. You stumble and fall more often than not but Alexia is patient and encouraging.  However, it’s hard for her to suppress her laughter at how many times you miss the ball and just kick the air. 

But what surprises you the most, is that other than at the First Brushstroke, you’ve had no interest in painting. No longer are you driving yourself crazy with the exhibit and the damned missing piece.

“Oye,” Carla calls out to you, “stop thinking about Alexia and help me stock up the pastry shelf.”

You roll your eyes with a smirk in response but don’t bother to defend yourself. She’s right after all. “Fine, fine.” 

“By the way, the owner just texted me that he might stop by tomorrow,” Carla informs you and her expression shows that she’s not all that pleased.

You throw your head back and groan, “of course he is.” 

Every once in a blue moon the owner of the cafe decides to show up and pretend like he actually cares about the place. Just the mention of his possible visit makes you want to take off your apron and quit.

What makes matters worse is that Alexia won’t be waiting for you outside today. She’s traveling back with the team and you expect her to go straight home and get some rest. 

The two of you are just about done restocking the shelf when the door to the cafe opens.

“Ale?” 

Her eyes immediately find you and she gives you a big, beaming smile. Your heart skips a beat as you return her smile, a tangible connection passing between you even from across the cafe.

“Hola, preciosa.”

Within a second you’re in her arms, face nestled in the crook of your neck. “You’re back,” you mumble against her skin, giving a quick peck on her cheek.

“I am,” she says with a little squeeze. 

Behind you, Carla clears her throat to get your attention. "Hey, can you bring out the rest of the apple puff ones from the back? I'll cover the counter."

You glance at the shelf and see more than enough of the apple puff-pastries and you, of course, catch the hint. “Will do,” you reply with a grateful smile.

You take Alexia’s hand and guide her towards the storeroom. As you pass Carla, you faintly hear Alexia say “thank you,” to her. 

The moment the two of you step into the room and the door closes, your hands reach up to cradle Alexia’s face and pull her in for a slow, passionate kiss.

It’s as if all the days you've spent apart melt away. "I missed you," you murmur repeatedly against each other's lips, the words barely audible. 

Alexia with her arms around your waist, draws you even closer, and you lose yourself in the warmth of her embrace. 

When you finally pull apart and catch your breath, you can't help but playfully reprimand her. "You had such a long flight. Why aren’t you at home and in bed right now?"

Alexia shakes her head as if that was the last thing in her mind. "I wanted to see my girlfriend,” she says as she trails gentle kisses down your neck.

Your eyes widen in surprise at her words. Gently, you grasp her face with your hands, "I'm your girlfriend?" This is the first time the title has been uttered, but it has certainly been swirling around in your mind. 

She nods with an undeniable confidence because to her, it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Yes, and I am yours."

There’s a saying: actions speak louder than words. So, rather than proclaim how much her words mean to you, you capture her lips once more for a kiss. Hands find their way underneath her shirt, tracing the curves and lines you've come to know so well. And as the intensity continues to build, Alexia attempts to back you against a wall, but when you take a step back you end up tripping over a box, stumbling backward.

Alexia tries to catch you, but her foot gets caught up in something and she ends up losing her balance as well. You find yourself in a tangled mess of limbs and unable to control your laughter. 

“You weren’t kidding,” she says, extending her hand to help you up. “This place is a mess.” 

You nod in agreement, hands on your hips, "Someone keeps sneaking in at night and turning the place upside down."

"Really?"

“No,” you drop the facade and smirk, "Carla and I are just incapable of cleaning up after ourselves."

Alexia chuckles and shakes her head, a fond smile playing on her lips as she takes in the chaos that surrounds the two of you.

"I've got to go back” you wrap your arms around Alexia's neck, drawing her closer for a quick peck on her cheek. “Duty calls.”

Alexia nods in understanding. "Can’t leave our girl stranded.”

Walking out of the backroom, you’re relieved to not see Carla overwhelmed by a long line at the counter. 

“We really need to get that place in order,” you tell Carla, pointing back to the stockroom.

Carla grimaces, “I know,” she says, “I hate to say it, but we might need to stay late today and clean up in case that idiot actually decides to show up.”

Alexia, who has been listening to the conversation, raises her hand. "I’m happy to help if you need an extra hand."

Carla looks at Alexia, then back at you with desperation in her eyes, “we definitely do.” 

A part of you wants to say no because you know Alexia needs the rest, but you can already feel the muscles in your back start to tighten from all the heavy lifting that awaits you. With Alexia's help, the task of cleaning the backroom would be much more manageable.

So you give in, “Ok,” you point your finger at Alexia rather sternly, “go home, get some rest and we’ll see you here at closing.”

"So bossy,” Alexia playfully blows a kiss to you and says, "I’ll see you soon.”

Again, it’s the little things that make you fall more in love with her day by day.

__________________________

Tonight, your mom is teaching you how to cook her famous Fideuà which also happens to be one of Alexia’s favorite dishes. So, it’s only fitting that she’s by your side, helping you cook and correcting your many, many mistakes.

“Now, add the stock and wine and bring it to a simmer.”

Your mom, feeling a little too weak to stand, sits nearby at the counter, offering her guidance and expertise on the dish.

The atmosphere in the kitchen is light and filled with laughter as your mom and Alexia tease you mercilessly. The two hit it off right away, so much so that sometimes you feel like the third wheel. And while you may pout and complain, you love to see your mom regain that spark in her eyes that you love so much. All she’s ever wanted is for you to be happy. Your happiness is her happiness. So, when she sees you with Alexia, laughing and smiling, she’s satisfied.

“Oh, my beautiful daughter has always been a handful, Ale. I remember the day I found a nude magazine under her bed.”

Alexia chokes on the wine, a little bit spilling from the corners of her lips.

“Mama!”

Your mom brushes you off, a smirk on her lips. “She gave me this ridiculous excuse, saying it was to study the female form for a painting she was working on.”

“It was!”

“Mi amor, you’re a woman — all you had to do was look in a mirror. You didn’t need three magazines for that.”

You cover your face with your hands in embarrassment, “dios, please make it stop.” 

Alexia shares a look with your mom, and they burst into laughter.

Thankfully, the teasing comes to end, and you can focus back on the dish that you so desperately don’t want to mess up again.

"I tried so many times to make this when I was in France, but wow, it tasted terrible," you confess, shaking your head.

Your mom speaks up, her voice gentle but firm. "You see, that’s why it's important that I teach you these things while I can."

Feeling as though someone has punched you in the stomach, you turn your back to her, and you try to suppress the tears that threaten to spill. Her words serve as a painful reminder of the possibility of losing her.

Alexia quickly notices your distress and kisses your shoulder, providing you with that little bit of comfort you need to gather your emotions. To lighten the mood, she shares a few of her own cooking horror stories, making you laugh and successfully distracting you from the sadness that had momentarily gripped you.

After dinner, you take Alexia by the hand and lead her to your childhood bedroom turned art studio. Her eyes go wide with curiosity and admiration. "So, this is where the magic happens," she says. "I love it," Alexia breathes, her gaze darting around the room, taking in every detail.

You walk over to a corner where several canvases lean against the wall, each one partially covered with a cloth. Gently, you pull them away to reveal the paintings you've been working on for the upcoming exhibit.

Alexia gasps in awe, her eyes drinking in the vibrant colors and intricate details of each piece. "Incredible, mi amor.”

You feel your cheeks flush at the compliment. "When I got the news of my mom, I felt like I didn’t have anyone to talk to. I had so much built up and I needed to just let it all out. And this is what came out.”

It only takes Alexia a few seconds to understand the meanings behind every piece. She reaches her hand out to you, and you take it seeking the comfort you can only get from her touch. She wraps her arms around your waist and rests her chin on your shoulder, "I can’t tell you that everything will be ok, but I can promise that I will be here for you, no matter what."

You believe her.

__________________________

Your favorite nights are the ones spent with Alexia. In her arms you feel safe and at peace. Somehow, she keeps your anxieties and worst fears far, far away. As your fingers gently trace the contours of her face, you feel a warmth and happiness you never want to go a day without. It turns out this isn’t just a fleeting infatuation, after all. Your love for her is real. 

"I love you," you murmur, voice warm and sincere.

Alexia eyes flutter open and she smiles, "I love you too.” 

Her words ignite something in you that has laid dormant in you for far too long. Your mind begins to race with ideas, colors, and compositions. It's as if a dam within you has burst, releasing this desire to express your love for her through your art. It's a powerful sensation that you simply cannot ignore and it demands you to act on it immediately.

With a sense of urgency, you jump out of bed and run to grab the sketchbook you carry with you everywhere in your bag.

“What are you doing?” Alexia calls out, her voice full of curiosity and a hint of amusement. 

With no attempt to explain yourself, you reach for her vanity stool and place it a few feet away from the bed. The pencil in your hand starts to glide across the paper capturing the lines and curves of her body. Carefully, you study the gentle curve of her neck and the way her hair cascades over the pillow.

Alexia, now catching on to the reason behind your outburst, remains still. A comforting silence takes over the room, broken only by the sound of the pencil dancing across the page.

But the more you look at her and take in every detail of her body, the more restless she becomes. Her hands grip the bed sheet, teeth tugging on her bottom lip. With one swift motion, the sheets that cover her body fall to the ground as she gets up from the bed and walks over to you.

Hovering above you, she takes the sketchbook from your hands and sets it aside. Looking up at her, she brushes a strand of hair from your face and tucks in behind your ear. “I love how you look at me,” she whispers.

Her touch is so tender, and her words so genuine that makes you feel like the luckiest woman in the world.

You feel compelled to drop down to your knees.

Hands run up and down the back of her thighs, nails digging in ever so slightly into her skin. You press your lips against her navel, and then trail down ever so slowly.

Alexia’s breath hitches with each kiss. She rests her hand on your head, her fingers threading through your hair as she gasps your name. The sound of her voice, breathy and filled with desire, sends a shiver down your spine.

When your tongue reaches her most sensitive spot, Alexia lifts her leg and rests it on the vanity stool, allowing you better access to her.

“Oh…”

With every gentle stroke and teasing touch, you proclaim your love. And in response, Alexia's holds you firmly in place, a clear indication she has no interest in ever letting you go.

And then her eyes lock onto yours, you see that same intensity that left you speechless when you first saw her — really saw her, but now you also see love in her gaze. Ever since that day in the coffee shop you have been at her mercy. But now as she trembles with pleasure by your hand and tongue, she’s the one begging for it.

Throughout the rest of the night, you take your time exploring and memorizing every curve and dip of Alexia's body with your lips. You're determined to commit every detail to memory to ensure that when it’s time, you’ll be able to capture her image her to perfection on the canvas.

__________________________

With a step back, you take a moment to appreciate the progress you've made on the painting. In a trance, the hours you've spent working on it have flown by. The creative block that has plagued you has lost its control over you.

And you have Alexia to thank.

The painting is inspired by the sketch you made that night. The sheet drapes over her body, revealing just enough of her silhouette to create a sense of mystery and allure. The image draws you in and entices you to want more, to see more. Although covered, you can see the toned contours of her body, from the definition in her arms to the powerful muscles in her legs.

Her knee peeks out from the bed sheets and a small yet very significant scar can be seen. The scar tells a story of overcoming obstacles and pushing through no matter. It’s a testament to her strength and her ability to rise above challenges and come out on top, stronger than before.

You continue working late into the night, each brushstroke bringing you closer to immortalizing Alexia. The painting still requires a lot of work to reach the level of perfection you desire, but you’re determined to have it done in time for the exhibit.

It’s the final, missing piece. They very piece that alluded you, and the very one you had given up on. But liked you hoped, it did make its way to you eventually. And it did so in the shape of the woman you fallen in love with.  

__________________________

Waiting for the doctor always feels like an eternity. You hate everything about the room you’re in. The sterile environment, the faint smell of disinfectant, and the uncomfortable silence that only serves as a constant reminder of the pain and suffering your mom has had to endure.

Incapable of sitting down, you remain standing, hands wringing together as your heart beats rapidly in your chest. Each visit to this room has been a roller coaster of emotions, leaving you with a sense of dread every time you step foot inside. Even the ticking sound of the clock feels like a signal of impending heartache.

"Is Ale nervous for the game?"

Every time you've been in this room, all you've heard is bad news after bad news. The crushing weight of your mother's cancer hangs over you like a dark cloud, making it nearly impossible to focus. You long for the day when you can walk into this room without feeling like the world is collapsing around you.

"Mija?"

"Hmm?"

"The game against Real Madrid is later today, right?"

You manage a small smile, appreciating her attempt to ease your tension. "Yeah, it's today."

She smiles, her eyes sparkling with pride. Unlike you, she’s made her peace with it all. "I'm sure she'll do great."

Just as you're about to respond, the door opens, and the doctor walks in, a gentle smile on his face. Your heart races as you brace yourself for the news.

"I have good news for both of you," he begins, his tone warm and reassuring. "Lídia, the treatment has been effective. The latest blood tests show that you are in remission.”

As the doctor's words sink in, disbelief, relief, and an overwhelming sense of gratitude wash over you in waves. After so long of only getting bad news, it's hard to believe that this moment has finally come. You've spent countless nights lying awake, fearing the worst. 

You glance over at your mom, searching her face for any sign that this is just another cruel dream and that you’ll wake up from. But her eyes, filled with tears of joy, tell you that this is real and for the first time in so long, you breathe a sigh of relief.

"Really? Are you sure?" Your mom asks, disbelief and hope mixed in her voice.

"Yes, Lídia, I'm certain," he confirms. "The next step is consolidation treatment help prevent a relapse, but as of now, you're in remission and that is very good news."

Unable to contain your emotions any longer, you rush to her side, enveloping her in a tight embrace. She holds you close, tears of joy and relief streaming down both of your faces.

"You’re going to be ok," you manage to choke out between sobs.

Amidst the whirlwind of emotions, you remember that Alexia had asked you to text her about the results. She wanted to know and be there for you, regardless of the outcome.

With trembling fingers, you pull out your phone and type a message to Alexia:

📲 – she’s in remission!!!!!!!!

📲 – we’re still shock but I’ll tell you everything later

📲 – good luck today!! I love you ♥️ ♥️ ♥️

The two of you make it back to the house in time to watch El Clásico. Even though you’re not there in person, you can tell the atmosphere in the stadium is electric. Every time Alexia appears on the screen, your heart swells up with pride.

The game is tense. Both teams are playing their hearts out, and while you try to pay attention to everything and every player, like Alexia has taught you, you're especially focused on her performance. Suddenly, she intercepts a pass from a Madrid player and makes a break for it.

Your heart races as you watch her weave through the defenders, getting closer and closer to the goal. Your eyes go wide when Alexia strikes the ball and sends it soaring into the net. The crowd goes wild, and you and your mom jump up from the couch, cheering and clapping.

Alexia's teammates swarm around her, congratulating her on the goal. Instead of walking away back to her position with the rest of the team, she points at the camera and then lifts up her jersey.

 To your surprise, she reveals the words "Un pasito más, Lídia!" written on her undershirt. Just one more step.

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you glance at your mom, who is just as shocked as you are. Tears fill her eyes as she covers her mouth, touched by Alexia's dedication to her.

The little things matter, yes. But sometimes, the grand gestures sure do mean a lot too.

__________________________

Some time has passed since your mom went into remission and although there have been significant improvements in her health, there are still days when she doesn't feel her best. Today is one of those days, and unfortunately, it also happens to be the opening of the art exhibit.

As you gather your things to leave, you glance at your mom sitting on the couch, wrapped in a warm blanket, looking a little pale and weary. Disappointment is evident in her eyes.

"I'm so sorry, mi niña" she says, her voice heavy with regret. "I really wanted to be there for you tonight.”

You walk over and sit next to her, taking her hand in yours. "Mama, you’re not missing anything crazy. Besides, you’ll be there for the next exhibit, the one after that, and the one after that."

Your mother smiles weakly and nods. "I'm so proud of you,” she says, “tell Carla and Ale to take lots of pictures!”

“"I will, mama,” you say with a chuckle as lean down give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Tia should be here in a few minutes. Please, get some rest.”

When you step outside and close the door, you allow yourself to feel the disappointment you hid from her. Considering that all but one of the pieces are dedicated to her, of course you wanted her there. But still, you’re determined to make the most of this night to honor her and everything she has been through.

At the exhibit, you're accompanied by Carla. The gallery is buzzing with excitement, and your art has garnered a lot of attention and praise. However, you find it hard to take in the moment because Alexia is running late. Very late. The fact that she hasn't replied to any of your messages certainly doesn’t help.

Carla noticing your concern, rests a hand on your shoulder. "Hey, I'm sure she'll be here any minute.”

You nod, attempting to stay focused on the event, but it's difficult not to let your emotions show. “I’m just worried that’s all.”

“I know, but she’s probably stuck in traffic or can’t find parking. You know-” of the sudden, her gaze drifts past you and towards the entrance and her eyes go wide.

Confused, you turn around to see what caught Carla’s attention. By the entrance, you see Alexia walk in with your mom by her side, holding on to her hand. Your mom looks tired but determined.

You rush towards them, shocked and tears threatening to stream down your face. "Mama! You're here!”

Alexia grins sheepishly. "I was on my here when she called me to pick her up and wouldn’t take no for an answer. I see where you get it from."

Still holding on to Alexia, you mom smiles and reaches out for you. "I couldn't let you down, mija. I just had to be here with you."

You embrace them both, overwhelmed by their presence. “I’m so happy you’re both here.”

With them by your side, the night becomes even that more special. Nothing feels better than being able to introduce your mom to fellow artists and attendees.

Eventually, a reporter from a local arts magazine pulls you aside for a brief interview, asking about the various pieces you have displayed at the exhibit.

He’s particularly interested in one. "The Missing Piece is truly something special," the reporter says, his eyes locked on the painting. "What’s the significance of its title?”

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, your gaze lingering on the painting. "At first, it felt like there was a piece missing for the exhibit, but it turns out that it was something I was missing from my own life."

You glance over at Alexia, who is admiring your artwork with your mom and Carla. "And when, I finally found it, everything changed. My missing piece brought me a sense of completeness and balance that I desperately needed.”

The reporter smiles. "Your feelings are evident in this piece, and it's no wonder it's drawing so much attention tonight."

"My mentor used to say that wherever the eyes go, so does the heart. And wherever the heart goes, so do the hands. The piece will live forever, and a hundred years from now someone will look at it and they’ll feel exactly what feel.”

“And what’s that?”

You glance over at Alexia once again. Almost as if she senses your gaze, she turns to meet your eyes. With a knowing smile, she winks at you, acknowledging the connection between the two you and the inspiration behind The Missing Piece.

“Love.”

[dendro-bunny]

Drawn to you like the sea to the shore ======================

Rafayel X Reader

(A/N): bro- why am I actually like this man having inspiration to write at 12 am. Like am I ok? Idk anyway I wrote this in one sitting and I forgot how to write… it’s been so long :(

Warning: Suggestive, pretty fluffy, light body dysmorphia (why does this work have a ‘y’ in it? Like English please chill for once!) 

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

As you push the door from your bathroom you look at your boyfriend bashfully. You pull on your dress away from your body. You give a small cough to draw his attention.

“Ahem… Ralfy? Uh are you sure this is ok? I’m not sure this is the right outfit for me?” You start shifting on your heels.

Smugly he opens his mouth to say something, then he looks up from his phone and his jaw drops. The words escape him with a gasp. His eyes rake over your figure drinking the sight of you in. In what feels like forever he looks at your face through his lashes.

“Sorry was distracted, what did you say cutie?” Rafayel gives you a cunning smile while tilting his head.

“Maybe I should take it off-” you go to turn around to the bathroom and feel yourself be tugged. You feel your back hit a chest and you look up to see Rafayel staring at you with a serious expression. As your big doe eyes look at him he groans and stuffs his face in your neck.

“Don’t take it off my muse, you look like a true masterpiece. One that I could never recreate.” You feel his hands start to trace your sides, from the bottom of your thighs up to your shoulders. Paying extra attention to every curve and crevice of your body.

“God and the scent you have on drives me wild-“ he cuts himself off by inhaling you deeply before letting out a groan. “I know you think you look bad but babe trust me you look ravishing, the way your hair sculpts your face and your eyes give off the most gorgeous hue, not to mention your lips.” He turns you to face him. His hand caresses your face. A hand firmly pulls you close to him as he plants a feverish kiss against your mouth. Like he’s depraved and hungry for you.

Rafayel was always passionate about everything he does, when inspiration strikes that is. When it came to you he always had inspiration. Always knew what to say to you always knew how to hold you even, if he was a big tease about it. With his kisses he always puts his 100 into it. All the words that elude him he puts into his kisses.

He pulls away only to breathe for a moment before leaving hungry pecks on your lips and jaw. “Maybe I should take that off of you, and show you how much I want you.” You can only whimper not being able to get a word out.

Your common sense tells you to push him away so you actually make it to Ms. Talia’s event on time for once, but the other part of you wants him to. It wants him to so bad. Your skin feels like his evol is crawling underneath it. You feel your back pushed against a cool surface.

“Raf- Rafayel please.” “What are you asking for cutie? Fishies like me don’t understand human gestures.” He taunts with a laugh. He goes back to leaving marks over your neck and shoulders.

“Please… T-Talia is waiting for us…” You barely manage to push out between pants. He grumbles something against your neck and huffs. “Rafayel we promised to be on time this time.” You give him pleading eyes and he caves. He steps back as a groan of annoyance comes from his puffy lips.

“Why did you have to go and make that promise babe, especially when you look so good.” He gives you a lovesick smile and squeezes your hips. “Then I’ll change so you aren’t so… distracted.” You look at him as his eyes scan over your freshly made bruises.

“Good luck with that cutie, I’m always distracted by you. No matter what you, especially when you aren’t wearing anything and you’re in my bed underneath- Oof.” You cut him off by throwing a nearby plush at him. You scream a few profanities at him and walk into the bathroom trying to hide your flushed expression.

“Yeah you do that a lot underneath me to- ow! Was that a toilet paper roll?!” He picks up his expensive toilet paper laughing.

“Next time it’s the whole toilet!” You slam the door and a howl of laughter comes from the other side of the door. You swear that lemurian was gonna be the death of you.

•————————————•—————————————•

Holy shit did not think I’d write again- but like THIS MAN HAS ME IN A CHOKEHOLD LIKE THE PURE FILTH IN MY MIND OF HIM IS IMMACULATE-

Ahem anyway maybe I’ll write more but this is a gift, very late valentines gift XD

[just-barely-a-somebody]

I’ve got a take on a prohibitedwish/fionna and cake pirate au that I thought of while listening to music and will never write a full fic for, so I just wanted to write out the ideas I had for funsies

It starts at night when Scarab, a feared pirate captain, kidnaps Prismo, son of the navy’s head general, to be used as a bargaining chip to save Jake from being hung.

Prismo has befriended an owl (Cosmic Owl ofc) and it follows them as Prismo’s taken away. On the ship, Fionna and Simon are ready for when he returns and they have Prismo tied to the mast to be clearly visible.

With no better way to help, Cosmic Owl attempts fly in and attack Scarab. It isn’t very effective when Scarab manages to grab Cosmic Owl by the claws. Scarab questions Prismo about the owl and Prismo panics to explain that Cosmic Owl was some of his only company.

Begrudgingly, Scarab sends Fionna to get something from below deck. Fionna returns with a small pouch. Scarab takes a pinch of colored dust from the pouch and blows it into Cosmic Owl’s face. Prismo’s worried about how it might hurt his eyes when Cosmic Owl sputters and is now *magically* able to speak (the first thing he says is probably yelling at Scarab to let them go or something before being like ‘wait oh shit I can talk’). As Prismo and Cosmic Owl are both coming to this realization, Cake comes up from below deck and makes a casual comment abt how great two way communication is (ref to what the squirrel said to cake in fionna and cake).

^that’s like the closest thing to an actual scene I’ve thought of

so more general lore just laid out

Meet the Crew (and learn the lore):

Scarab- captain, helmsman (does the steering). He is the owner of the boat, and is the one to decide who gets to join and who doesn’t. To his own annoyance, their safety is top priority. He claims it to be because they’re already such a small crew, and cannot afford to lose any more (but really he’s grown attached, though it would take a significant amount of inebriation for him to admit it). He carries an unassuming cane everywhere because of its magical ability to transform into a weapon (his crystal from fionna and cake but pirate themed). Previously a bounty hunter, he formed the crew after a target got the jump on him and left a scar slashed across his back. Now they search for magical artifacts and treasure to get by.

Simon- navigator, cook, surgeon. He takes care of everyone’s wellbeing and responsible for most technical stuff. He joined the crew in pursuit of knowledge about the treasures out there to be found. Years ago his long time girlfriend Betty sacrificed herself to save them from the kraken that rose from sea during a large battle at sea. She did it by using one of their treasures to fuse with the kraken before it could sink their ship, and the part of her that remains now allows them to cross its territory unharmed. He still misses her, and drops small offerings/gifts that he thinks she might like into the water when they pass over.

Fin- master at arms. Fin is well trained in combat and responsible for teaching the others how to handle themselves. He and Scarab are well matched when they duel, with most ending in a draw due to an interruption eventually requiring their attention. Growing up he was an orphan living on the streets with his only friend being his dog Jake. They were thieves to get by, and one day stumbled their way into finding the sack of magic dust that allowed Jake to talk. One day they stole a relic from bounty hunter Scarab that granted Jake his stretchy powers. They were caught in the act, but became the first to be recruited by Scarab as he saw their potential. Upon Jake's capture, he has become dead set on saving his best friend.

Jake- Cabin boy. With his stretchy powers he improvises ways to help the crew or hold together the ship. He met Prismo by chance and got to know him well enough to find out he didn't like his life stuck on land. They became friends before Prismo knew he was a pirate, but things went downhill when Prismo's father caught them and had Jake arrested. Stuck in jail, his only knowledge of what is happening is through the complaints of Prismo's father blaming Jake for Prismo's capture. Safe to say, it's the only reason he has yet to be hung.

Fionna- Rigger, Swabbie. She and Cake are the most recent addition to the crew. Like Fin she was an orphan before being recruited, and was the same age as he was when he was recruited many years ago. She reminded Fin of himself, though she was much more eager to be a pirate, so he convinced Scarab to allow her and Cake in. As the youngest in the crew and filled with a need for adventure, she often is the first to rush in without thinking things through. This has gotten them into troubling situations before. To make up for it, she is doing her best to learn how to fight from Fin so that she can properly defend herself.

Cake- Swabbie. When she joined, she was given the same magic dust that Jake had. In Jake's absence, she has had to learn how to use the stretchy power relic that he left behind on the ship. With some big shoes to fill, she makes it her business to keep others positive/entertained (this has yet to work on Scarab)

Not sure if there should be Bubblegum and Marceline or Gary and Marshal, or both, so feel free to imagine their inclusion however you prefer. Coming up with this stuff is hard, okay?

Prismo- hostage. Prismo lived most of his life under control of his strict father, and began sneaking out at night to live his own life. With little friends, he befriended an owl that happened to nest outside his window. One night he met Jake and they got along well, meeting up every night for a week until Prismo's father caught them. Only then did Prismo find out that Jake was part of Scarab's crew which his father had been working tirelessly to catch. Prismo was grounded, and Jake was jailed to be hung. After his capture, Prismo sympathizes with their crew, and wants to support their goal of having Jake released. It takes a lot of convincing from Prismo to be allowed to roam free on the ship after they have set sail (which Scarab permits on the grounds that Prismo simply doesn't have the combat skill be able to seriously injure any of them even if he wanted to). Scarab is highly skeptical of Prismo's sympathy, and keeps a close watch that Prismo cant help but be highly aware of. Fionna reassures him that it's just how Scarab is, but with his nervously pushy attitude Prismo is slowly able to break down Scarab's emotional walls one by one.

If anyone does anything with this I'd love to see it

[artpoint420]

A Long Winded Analytic Defense of Nermal Cat from Garfield -DRAFT

I’ve said before, Nermal isn’t that bad, y’all just mean.

Go ahead. Hate me. Send me to Abu Dabi. But I am a Nermal apologist. I think Nermal makes a good addition to the Garfield cast and he's even a bit of an interesting character, the world's cutest kitty cat yet the most overhated.

I can understand why he's hated, certainly. I'll admit he does deserve some hate.

HOWEVER

As a cat crazy individual, I will never hate a cat. That's my main reason for not hating Nermal. In fact, I want to adopt Nermal so bad but he's just a cartoon character at the end of each Monday (and everyday), unfortunately. There are other reasons I defend him too and here (and next parts) I'll give a detailed overview/ analysis of all Garfield media Nermal has been in, the role he plays, his dynamics with the other characters, and his behavior.

PART 1: THE COMIC STRIPS (early era Nermal)

Let's start with the obvious, his first appearance in the comics.

... to which Garfield immediately hates him. But hey, it's a great way to immediately establish their dynamic, and show the main reason Garfield dislikes Nermal is his jealously (and annoyance at how he interuppts his naps.) The fact Nermal looks so happy to meet him though <3

The next few strips feature Garfield telling Nermal how he hates cute, his general disappointment in Nermal, and all the little ways Nermal annoys him. Here, Nermal is just the naive baby of the group and doesn't seem to mean to annoy Garfield. It's honestly reminisent to how Garfield and Odie were when Odie was introduced early on as well as a reflection on how cats tend to treat new cats, which is usually not very well until they get used to each other. (I have three cats trust me.)

Nonetheless, it doesn't take long until we get strips showcasing the ways they actually enjoy their time together, finding ways to play that shows their friendly side with each other without completely altering their established dynamic.

These are some of my overall favorite Garfield comics. Jim Davis honestly deserves kudos for being able to draw and write his characters in ways that feel like a natural sibling rivalry with both good and bad moments. But when the moments are good, they're so damn good. Here's more examples:

God this is my favorte Nermal and Garf stirip. I can hear them giggling as they confuse Jon.

I don't blame you for thinking that Nermal.

He's just his little baby brother and I will accept no other answer.

However there's this one:

If nothing proves Garfield's hatred is fueld mainly by jealously, this will. So much for Nermal being the "evil" one. (They both have their evil moments I suppose.)

In this one, Garfield fully admits it.

To move forward because I can analyze each and every comic, truly I can, but I also have so much more I want to talk about, I'll just say there's a few basic formulas for a Garfield and Nermal strip in this era I've observed, and that's one of these few:

-Nermal being snobbish towards Garfield to which Garfield is reasonably annoyed.

-Garfield just being a jerk to Nermal unprovoked or scolding him harshly usually ending with Nermal being tossed out the door.

-Garfield yearning for Jon's attention upon Nermal getting attention.

-Garfield trying to copy Nermal and/or have Nermal teach him to be cute (you are cute though Garfield, you're a cat, of course you're cute, Jon or Nermal just won't admit it.)

-Nermal and Garfield asking each other what seems like genuine questions out of a true interest about each other's lives.

-Something a bit more on the wholesome or brotherly side.

Or something kinda random.

Now, before both our attention spans die out, lets quickly look at modern Nermal comics and how Nermal's character has developed over the years. As we can see, early on, he had his snobbish moments but could also be sweet enough to break through Garfield's walls he puts up. Does that sweetness remain or get replaced?

To be honest, their dynamic hasn't actually changed too awfully much. There's so many modern ones with Nermal that feature Garfield's age and birthday more often than the past one's. Nermal is usually insulting Garfield's age but there's one where he does try to comfort him, proving he's still a cute sweet kitty despite his smart-aleck attitude. But I'll have to continue in part 2 because there's already 29 pictures in this post and I can only add one more which isthis one, which I coudn't leave out:

"Garfield! You're blocking my sunlight!"

Tee-hee, yep, one more cute one for the road. Can't get enough of it? Tune in for my next post because we'll have to do a Part 1 part 2!

[aealzx]

Better Genes part 29.3

Part 3 of 3 extra, illustrated writing additions to the Better Genes comic.

Takes place between page 29 and 30.

Contains: Use of sedatives, character injury, blood, TV Medicine, TV Science, panic attack, mutation body horror, injured eye, severely sprained ankle, overall body pain

Comic: Start     pg 26-29    

Writing:  Part 1    Part 2

____________

This part ends off where page 30 of the comic will pick up. =7=

____________

(Story and drawing under the cut)

Picking the dart gun back up, Leo hissed with a grimace when he noticed it was no longer functional. The side was dented, the barrel was bent, and the trigger was jammed. Donnie must have trampled it. Either way, with it being useless now Leo tossed it back to the ground, tugging out another dart to hold curled up in a fist instead. Donnie was drowsy, but it seemed that four darts still wasn’t enough to get him to calm down sufficiently.

It felt like they still had a long fight ahead of them. But when Leo looked up again, he had to blink and furrow his brow. Was he seeing things? Was Donnie actually smaller now? When Raph got up close it definitely looked like he was. Just a head taller than Raph instead of double his size. And sometimes he was standing and running at the others biped again. Taking a quick look at Mikey, Leo saw that he also only had two injection pens with him now. He must have used another one while Leo was… distracted.

That was encouraging, and convinced Leo the antibodies were working. Grinning away the residual feeling from before, Leo dashed forward and leapt up onto Donnie’s back, straddling his shoulders like they did when roughhousing sometimes. Sinking the fifth sedative into Donnie’s trapezius, he looked up to the others around them. “Good news guys, it looks like the antibodies are wo- eOOAHH!” Leo tried to inform, breaking off in a surprised cry when Donnie reached up to latch onto him and abruptly rolled forward into a somersault. Leo wasn’t sure if he was trying to squish him or throw him off, but was able to shift enough to avoid getting directly crushed. He couldn’t completely avoid getting hurt though, and let out a strangled yelp when Donnie’s shoulder smashed into his leg, cracking his ankle with a loud pop. He personally felt it more than heard it, the sharp pain shooting up his leg and into his foot from the offended joint.

“Sensei!” Casey cried, rushing over to Leo.

“Guah! I’m fine. Help Mikey,” Leo shooed, pulling his ankle towards him to validate his own assumption. A few tender pokes, winces, and hisses, and Leo determined at the very least his ankle was just horribly sprained and not dislocated or broken. He wasn’t sure how bad it was sprained until he tried to stand on it. The first moment he tried to put weight on it he ended up collapsing forward again.

The resulting sound of him hitting the ground as well as vocalizing his annoyance caused April to run over to him. Taking one look at him, she crouched down and slung his arm around her shoulder to heft him up. “Broken?” she asked quickly.

“Just sprained really bad. I think,” Leo winced, raising his injured leg off the ground now that April was acting as a temporary crutch. “Feel free to ditch me somewhere if you need to,” he commented lightly.

“HA! Not likely,” April laughed, dragging him out of the way as a stray hand from Donnie swiped in front of them. He was starting to get a lot easier to manage. Which Leo was grateful for since most of them were already breathing heavily from the extended exertion. It was starting to feel like a rhythm of rushing forward, then backing off as someone else came from another angle. It was taking Donnie longer to be able to get to his feet once he was knocked down. The most recent being Splinter sliding his own foot into Donnie’s, causing him to topple to the side.

But then something unexpected happened. The angry snarls and roars from Donnie gradually shifted into what sounded like cries of pain shortly after he pushed himself back to his feet. Hunching over, instead of lashing out at the others again he wrapped his arms around himself as he dropped to his knees again. As his form collapsed to the ground, writhing slightly in agony and digging his claws into the ground, it was obvious he wasn’t just withdrawing from emotional or mental distress. His expression dropping into one of concern, Splinter rushed forward to rest his hands on his son in comfort, not sure what had brought on the sudden change. While he did so, Mikey hesitantly stepped forward and took advantage of the situation to stab another antibody injection into Donnie’s other thigh. He half thought that maybe the medication was reacting negatively with Donnie, but Leo hadn’t said anything about him stopping. For Leo, he felt his heart raise to his throat in anxiety, suddenly afraid he hadn’t double checked the cure well enough. He had looked at Donnie’s first test, hours after it had been started, and found everything back to normal. And he’d also tested the new vial after removing it from the incubator to make sure it had the same reaction. But had they both just missed something?

Luckily for all of them April was able to calm their fears.

“This happened a lot during the shift. Whenever there was a big change,” April explained, helping Leo come a bit closer while worry caused the others to gravitate around Donnie as well. “Look,” she directed, pointing to Donnie’s legs as they could visibly see, and hear, the joints and form adjusting to a more humanoid proportion like they were supposed to be. The same was happening to the rest of Donnie’s body, snout and new tail becoming shorter until they were practically gone, shoulders less hunched, claws less dangerous. The periodic cracks they heard, and the sight of drastic change was slightly sickening. But it was also encouraging to see Donnie’s form becoming more what they were used to.

Unsure of what to do, Raph and Casey tried to help by holding Donnie more still. They hoped that the pressure might help like the weighted blankets back home. But they also realized they needed to help so Mikey could keep from jerking the needle around while it was in Donnie’s thigh as his growls gradually became shrieked, tear filled sobs into Splinter’s lap.

Once the eight seconds were up, Mikey removed the third antibody pen and tossed it to the side. Resting his hands on Donnie’s thigh, not knowing what else to do in a hopeless attempt to help comfort, Mikey watched as Donnie’s form eventually stilled into heaved breaths and twitching limbs. Splinter was continuing to whisper calming words to him, stroking his head and letting him cling to his lap. He didn’t seem like he was going to lurch up and start slashing claws at them again, so Splinter felt it was more appropriate to continue providing comfort instead of additional stress. After a full minute of semi quiet stillness, Raph and Casey relaxed their rigid forms slightly, watching hesitantly but keeping their hands in contact just in case.

“Is that the last one?” Raph asked after a moment, pulling his gaze away from his dad and looking at Mikey. There was one more injection pen held in both his hands, trembling slightly as he tried not to cry.

Meeting Raph’s gaze, Mikey gave a small nod, visibly unsettled but trying to keep it together. Raph could see one eye was halfway swollen under his mask because of damage instead of tears, and felt a pang of sympathy for that. His own eye was bleeding a trail down his neck already, and there was a persistent throb on his cheekbone.

“I’I need his other shoulder though. The one he’s laying on,” Mikey directed, gesturing slightly and distracting Raph from his previous thoughts.

“Oh, gotcha,” Raph acknowledged, shifting along with Casey to help move Donnie to allow Mikey access. They should probably just roll him onto his back. That would put the shoulder Mikey needed on his side, and make it easier for him to access. But it seemed Donnie was waiting for them to let their guard down, and as soon as Raph and Casey’s hands left his form he sucked in a hiss of breath before heaving himself upright with a snarl and sudden surge of strength.

“Raph watch out!” Leo shouted, attempting to rush forward but having to be caught by April when his ankle rejected even the suggestion of being used.

The distraction of his eye, and how to move his brother made it so Raph could only give a startled shout when Donnie’s sudden attack allowed him to grab him. Now about the same size as each other it took a bit more effort than before for Donnie to heave Raph upright before swinging Raph into a toss away from him. The next victim was Casey. With a rather weak snarl a swiping clawed hand caught Casey’s upper arm before a foot came back around and kicked him, earning a yelp as he was launched into a rolling crash towards Raph.

Having had a chance to shift his mindset back to fighting, Mikey ducked under the next wild swipe to avoid getting thrown to the side as well. Springing back up when the immediate danger had passed, he wrapped one arm in a vice grip around Donnie’s upper arm before bringing the last injection pen down on his shoulder. Donnie hissed and snarled as he twisted his torso roughly to each side to try and shake Mikey off, pushing on Mikey’s head with his free hand as he simply squeezed his eyes closed and hung on. Donnie’s efforts to get Mikey off ended up hindered as Splinter leapt up to grab his free hand, pulling him into a stoop as he helped restrain him. before having to swing Splinter away when his Dad grabbed on to restrain him for a moment. Feeling another wave of pain coming from his cells rearranging themselves back to where they should be, Donnie huffed a final surge of strength to fling Splinter away. As Splinter flipped into a backwards slide on his feet, Mikey pulled the last injection pen away from Donnie’s arm. But before Mikey could safely let go and back away on his own, Donnie reached over to grab the rim of his shell and also fling him in the opposite direction. With no one else around him and the final injection giving him enough antibodies to fully overwhelm the mutagen, he brought his hands up to engulf his throbbing head as a throat ripping scream escaped his lungs as the last visible large shift brought him back to his original form.

[sillyromance]

Some Knockout headcanons?

Greetings, dear anonymous!

Sure, here you go!

Hope you'll enjoy!

💥Knockout

I think his attitude to a prey depends on if there is anything between the 'con and the little one. For instance, you're a prisoner who is not happy to be on board of "Nemesis" at all (and, consequently, not a polite one); then he won't miss a chance to be as intimidating as he can. Although, considering his steely claws, unorthodox medical tools and piercing gaze, being scary is not a big deal for the 'con. Psychological torture and cruelty are included in communication. However, if he is your friend or a lover, or you showed kindness and understanding to him while staying under his guard, his spark will melt like ice cream. The mech will be always gracious and caring with his little human; if he swallows them, he won't forget to ask if they're comfortable inside him, keeping a servo on his middle to be even closer to his sweetheart. Of course, there are going to be some teasing (endless amount, actually) and praising of your shape and taste, cute nicknames given to make you flustered, role-playing (if the prey doesn't mind)... As for the latter, sometimes he can get into character too much (he REALLY enjoys being dominant) which is able to make even fearless ones tremble; in order to that, it's better to discuss maximum limits with the 'con long before everything started.

Knockout is a medic, so he works A LOT during a week; obviously, his duties often don't allow him to refuel properly which causes lose of concentration, exhaustion, moodiness and... Quite strong tankaches. Many of us are used to see him complaining most of the time (particularly, if someone tries to ruin his paint), however, this mech is definitely not a weak cry baby - and he hates being considered as one. This way, at first he will try to hide his pain behind a typical charming grin and feigned chilliness (which still hardly conceal unnatural clumsiness in his body language). Nevertheless, in spite of his sincere wish to solve the problem alone, at such moments he undoubtedly requires some help; and sooner or later, he will give up and accept his worried prey's support after listening to their points, or go forward himself asking a permission to gulp them down - both lead Knockout to getting a nice living snack rounding his waist and feeling a sweet human flavour on his glossa. I suppose, usually his fueltank is "talkative" enough - as well as it's owner: it eagerly announces about its complete emptiness - and fullness too. Sometimes it starts growling capriciously when the prey appears around the mech, shamelessly insisting on being satisfied with them tucked away inside! Generally, such incidents end up with small but witty arguments between the friends and a silent "Gulk!" coming from the med bay, accompanied by delighted hums purring in a chest of a giant carmine robot.

Knockout is a good comforting pred; regardless, he doesn't like the ones who get upset about literally any reason - this sort of individuals makes him just roll his optics in annoyance. But if there is something truly serious, he turns into a gentle Teddy bear whose "inner world" is always open for his hurt friend. As I have said, the mech is more than glad to chat; so the prey won't feel lonely while being curled in warm, dim space of his tank, slowly getting lulled to sleep by his soft, mellifluous voice and light rubbing of a large hand drawing circles on the platings above... Meanwhile, the mech doesn't mind some fondling from the inside too. He blushes slightly, feeling lovely tickling sensation spreading around his "stomach", and always thanks his dearest for such a beautiful gift.

The 'con is reticent when it comes to revealing the information where his human partner is after they snuggled up in his abdomen. The only living soul who is allowed to know about it is Breakdown - at least, because the blue mech is an exceptional one who can show more or less adequate reaction on this. Other decepticons are kinda cringy about humans in common, so they would be rather disgusted discovering that one of their army lets a "fleshy thing" enter his internal organs. The red medic is bound to keep his special relationships with the prey in secret for their own good... And, naturally, alongside here comes protectiveness: Knockout will never let anything bad happen to someone he loves, no matter what; that's why I consider him as a pred who often uses vore as a way to defend his little partner.

[meloyellow236]

Meeting 1 For the Manhwa AU!

This is one of the ideas I had as to how my Yuusona (Yuri) and the Yuu made by @twstfanblog in their Manhwa AU! I have a second idea that I need to finish and edit, but once they’re both out I’ll probably make a poll and whichever one wins will be the one I go with moving forward if I choose to make anything else within this AU. Enjoy!! :) (This was formatted in Google Docs, so it may look a bit odd on Tumblr)

______________________________________________________________

Yuri walked into the large estate, where the housemaid that collected them led her through the halls to a drawing room, where the older man waited. She rocked the child in her arms, Alyx stirring as she moved to curtsy to the Grand Duke. 

“Good morning, Your Grace. Thank you for inviting me into your home.” Crewel nodded at that, giving her a light bow in return. 

“Good morning to you as well. It is a pleasure to have you; I’ve heard many things from the other nobility about you and your son.” He said, gesturing to the baby in her hands, tufts of dark hair on his hair as he opened his brown eyes, a far cry from her or her late husband's appearance. Even so, she smiled. 

“All good, I hope?” 

“Of course, Lady Yuri.” He responded, smiling at her. “You are free to stay in the room with me as I do your son’s fitting, or you pay leave and allow your lady’s maid* to accompany him. I myself am a father, and the chance to relax with an infant is always a blessing.” He said the pleasant demeanor that was used with customers coming out. She nodded, smiling and handing over Alyx to the servant. After all, there was no reason to hang around if she was unneeded and her ‘son’ would be taken care of by someone better at caring for children, anyway. 

“I’ll be on my way, then. I trust that you still have the designs that I sent to you to be edited the other day? I give you the final say on whatever you think is best for him. After all, ”

“Of course I do. Just return to get him before six.” He responded, as Yuri gave a final kiss on the cheek of her son, and a bow to Crewel before she left the room. That would give her two hours' worth of free time, maybe enough for a long nap in her carriage if she was able to get her coachman on board with it. Turning through the large corridors, attempting to find her way out of the beautiful trap that was the Crowley estate. Within the first few minutes, she was lost, not knowing the layout of the mansion that was most likely enchanted in some way. Or, at the very least, it was a bit too large for the front exit to be easily found from one of the many guest parlors**. Either way, she walked through winding hallways, gradually zoning around from the similar appearances of the various doors and columns, the only differences being the paintings she had long since found were only of dogs and crows.

At that moment, she bumped into a dark-haired woman, causing her to get pushed back. Between the expensive fabrics and dark hair, it was clear that this was Yuu, the only child of the Grand Duke. She curtsied low, as she was far above Yuri’s station as an Earless, an apology falling from her lips to smooth over any annoyance that could have been caused.

“I apologize, I wasn’t looking where I was going, Lady Yuu. I will be more careful next time.” The slightly older woman nodded and gave a slight bow in return. 

“Very well, you may rise.” Yuri did as she asked, rising and meeting her eyes. She raised an eyebrow at the woman and narrowed her eyes, asking, “Who are you? You’re far from either of my father’s parlors.” 

“I am Yuri from the Northern Earldom***. I came here today for my son’s fitting, but His Grace instructed me that I needn’t stay for the entire visit.” She answered, her voice calm and steady. Yuu seemed to accept this answer and nodded. 

“Very well. Shall I show you to the door?” 

“That would be much appreciated,” Yuri answered, allowing herself to be led by the other woman, staying a few steps behind her. They paused at a set of large doors, in which Yuri could only assume that the fabled library owned by Grand Duke Crowley resided. 

“You can wait here for a moment. I need to get something.” She said, walking inside. Yuri stepped to the side, waiting for her to exit the doors. Alone for a moment, she yawned. Taking care of a newborn was tiring work even if she loved Alyx, and the lack of sleep was surely catching up to her. They would only close their eyes for a moment, just to rest them until Lady Yuu came back. She leaned against the wall, eyes closing softly. Just for a few moments…

______________________________________________________________

She sat up with a start, not recognizing the area that she was in. For a moment, she wondered what had happened, until she looked around and saw the lady in red reading across from her. She quickly stood up, smoothing over her dress and bowing as deeply as she could. Before she could speak, the seemingly bored woman said, 

“It’s fine, I could carry you no problem. You’ve still got another half an hour before the appointment has to end, so you can keep resting.” She responded, looking up at her and closing her book. “You don’t talk or move or anything in your sleep, so it’s not a big deal to have you here while I read. You could do this at your son’s next fitting as well.” Yuri raised an eyebrow at that, and stood up straight, sensing something was off. 

“Why would you suggest that? We have had no contact before today, and you have no incentive to befriend me just to let me sleep next to you for a random amount of time.” Yuu sighed, her book moving onto the table in front of her. There were on opposite settees with a table in the center, where a book and a tea set sat untouched. Yuu brought a teacup to her lips and took a sip before responding. 

“If I tell you, will you agree to come here again?” 

“That depends entirely on what you have to say.” 

“I have multiple men attempting to woo me at the moment. Trying… Very often, in fact. By having a female friend I often have over, it might stop my suitors from trying during certain hours of the day.” Yuri sat back down, still a bit suspicious, but willing to hear her out the rest of the way. “You are clearly in need of some rest from taking care of an infant and your Earldom, and I’d like to have some peace and quiet for a couple of hours. It’s a situation in which everyone wins.” Yuri nodded, mulling it over. 

“I have no problem with that. However, I can’t just use the Grand Duke as a free nanny, and I haven’t found one competent enough to be hired yet.” Yuu nodded at that, weighing options for the deal. 

“I have a friend with a nephew that recently outgrew his nursemaid****. I’m sure that they can do good work, after all, they worked for the Sunset Savanna royal family.” She said, “If they can work for you, then you could reasonably stay with me for an hour or two every week to rest, without needing to worry about Alyx.” 

“Yes, but if I have a nursemaid, I’ll have less work to do. By that logic, I’ll have no reason for such common visits.” Yuri countered, to which Yuu answered. 

“I would have no reason to recommend you the nursemaid, then. Without their contact information and my urging, you would be unable to find them as they are still in the Sunset Savanna.” Yuri smiled at that and answered. 

“Very well, that’s a good point. Do Saturday afternoons at tea time work for you? I can host this upcoming visit.” Yuu smiled back. 

“Why yes, they do. I’ll give you the nursemaid’s information then. Need any help getting back to Papa’s parlor?”

“That would be greatly appreciated,” Yuri responded, standing at the same time Yuu did. Yuu walked out first, but they quickly followed, barely a step behind her. It seemed as though Yuri would have to prepare for a guest in the next few days, and maybe for a new friend in her life over the next few weeks. 

-Fin- 

*A ‘lady’s maid’ is the female equivalent of a valet or a noble’s personal servant. One could go with a noble lady to shop or go to a fitting as was done in this case.

**A parlor is where someone would host guests in the Victorian era. In the houses of the wealthy, there would often be more than one, with one for hosting guests and another for being with family. In this case, the fitting is taking place there, and both Crowley and Crewel have their own parlor to have their guests in. 

***An Earldom is the land that an Earl owns and controls, like a dukedom or a kingdom. 

****I’m referring to Cheka as he is 5-6 years old in canon, which is the age at which a child in the Victorian era would outgrow their nursemaid.

[flurrys-creativity]

bponding

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung (Ateez) x OC!Miyun; Genre: mermaid au, fluff; Rating: sfw, PG-13; Wordcount: 784; Warnings: none

Synopsis: Koi fish Wooyoung and his caretaker are bonding.

A/N: This is for the lovely @daemour !

Miyun glided over the wooden path along the Eternal ponds. The wind carefully brushed around her figure, letting her gown flutter as well as the leaves around her. The sun peeked through the colourful leaves, letting small rays dance over the ground. 

Despite the beauty of the Everlasting garden surrounding Miyun, her eyes were fixed on the lowered wooden platform ahead of her. It was the feeding spot for the koi fishes. While feeding the koi fishes, was one of her many duties within the gardens, it wasn't the reason she walked up to the spot right now. 

With Miyun's dedication and love for the creatures residing in the gardens and ponds, she actually witnessed a miracle happening in front of her eyes.

One of the koi fishes evolved to become half human - able to communicate and show emotional as well as intellectual traits of a higher being.

"You're late", he whined the minute he noticed Miyun coming to him, his upper body resting on the wooden surface. Wooyoung had his arms crossed and his face placed on them, using them like a pillow. 

She rolled her eyes without a hint of actual annoyance and lowered herself on the platform, sitting down gracefully next to Wooyoung. Miyun’s gaze wandered over his naked back and down to his colourful fish tail. The tail still possessed all the colours it had when he was nothing but a regular koi fish. The vibrant orange contrasted the sparkling black and white parts, making Wooyoung the most ethereal being within this realm.

When her gaze wandered back to his face, she noticed him biting down on his lower lip. He tried to play it cool but Miyun knew how much he loved the attention. She also knew he relished in all the extra attention he received for being the miracle he was.

“I haven’t been gone for longer than half an hour”, she told him softly, placing her hands in her lap. While Miyun had to leave for her other duties every now and then she definitely enjoyed being next to the whining koi fish the most. 

“It felt like forever”, Wooyoung insisted as he rolled on his back and closer to Miyun. He locked his hands behind his head, proudly presenting his smooth chest to her. With the sun glistening over his skin, Wooyoung knew the translucent pattern from his tail would be visible on his skin as well - effectively grabbing her attention.

As subtle as Wooyoung tried to be, Miyun caught up to his play. The hint of a smirk became visible on her face when she leaned forward and placed her hands on the wooden surface right next to Wooyoung’s head. She looked down at him, seeing the excited twinkle swirling inside his eyes. “Forever is an awful long time.”

Wooyoung nodded hecticly to agree with your statement. He grinned proudly, still thinking his play was moving along perfectly.

“You must have felt so, so lonely”, Miyun said with a slight pity in her voice. She barely contained her laughter when she saw Wooyoung nod again, trying to make an absolutely miserable expression. He definitely had to work on his puppy face.

“Is there any way to make it all better again?” Miyun raised one eyebrow, silently daring Wooyoung to say what he wanted from her. She heard his tail splash some water around, indicating the excitement he felt.

“Oh, I don’t know”, Wooyoung stalled as his gaze seemingly wandered around. “It’s really been hard. I’m not sure you’d even know of a remedy for that.” He moved one of hands from under his head, tapping his lower lip in thought with his index finger. Wooyoung’s eyes then landed on Miyun’s face again, grinning almost triumphantly. “You’re my caretaker. You should know what to do in such a case.”

Miyun scoffed playfully as she pursed her lips in thought, drawing the koi’s attention to them. He unconsciously licked his own lips before his gaze moved back to her eyes.

“I think I know exactly what I have to do”, she murmured, her voice only audible to Wooyoung thanks to the close proximity. Miyun lowered her upper body ever so slowly, relishing in the fact his breath hitched and he closed his eyes. “I couldn’t let my favourite miracle suffer.”

Instead of the kiss Wooyoung expected, Miyun rubbed her nose against his. Confused, Wooyoung opened his eyes again. He was about to protest, when he heard her small giggles as she returned into her seated position from before. 

Wooyoung might haven’t gotten the kiss he wanted so bad, but hearing Miyun being so carefree around him was already more than enough for him. At least for now.

© all rights reserved

Taglist: @xavi-in-kpopland​ @songsoomin​ 

Check out the other drabbles!

[lix88888]

Date

Birds were singing, flowers were blooming. On days like these, people like the Stars were sprawled under a tree, in the middle of clearing surrounded by other trees, enjoying a picnic together.

Blue, the best (only one) of the throuple who could cook, had been the one to prepare the basket full of goodies they were eating, while Ink, due to his knowledge of the Multiverse, had been tasked to find the place with the most calming and gorgeous view. Dream hadn't been able to do anything this time, but his partners insisted that he relax and take a break from everything.

And so, here they were.

Ink, lounging on his non-existent stomach and legs kicking in the air, as he drew the scene before him: Blue sitting cross-legged as he petted Dream's skull, which was laid in his lap, as he fed him some finger sandwiches (Ink had asked for a more classical pose, with grapes and togas, but he had been vetoed).

Everything was perfect.

Except for how Dream furrowed his brow and then sighed, hard, as he perceived a familiar aura.

"Guys? Please don't look. Nightmare is spying on us." "What?!" "Where?!"

Predictably, Ink stopped drawing and started moving his skull left and right, to try and catch a glimpse of Dream's brother.

Ignoring their more scatterbrained partner, Blue and Dream started quietly arguing. "Again?!" Blue hissed "This is the fourth time he has come to "supervise" our dates! I'm tired of always being in the Omega Timeline or at home! He cannot treat you like a child, Dream!" "Look who's talking!" Dream shot back, irritated and embarrassed "Was it or wasn't your brother the one who forbid you from bringing us over to your house, and who forced us to move in together?!" "That's different! At least Papy never spied on our private time!"

"Hey Blue, Stretch is here too!"

Blue and Dream's skulls snapped in unison to the direction Ink was pointing to as they quickly got up, finding a rather tall skeleton hiding in shame behind some trees.

"PAPYRUS, REALLY?!" "STRETCH HI!" Ink yelled, nonplussed "DID YOU AND NIGHTMARE COME HERE TOGETHER OR DID YOU FOLLOW US INDEPENDENTLY?!" Another tree, a few meters away from Stretch's hiding place, rustled in surprise, and a black blur fell from its crown. "[Funk], that hurt!"

At the censorship, Ink narrowed his eyes and, after a couple of seconds, swiflty unsheated Broomie to shoot some purple paint at a third spot. Letting out a small yelp, a chained up Fresh fell down. "Yo brah, unrad!"

The Stars Sanses looked at each other, nodded and each went to deal with their annoyance.

"Papyrus Serif Font!" Blue yelled as he came closer and grabbed Stretch's hoodie, pulling him down to his height "Now we're going home, and you're going to explain to me in EXCRUCIATING detail why and how you thought that spying on your OLDER brother while he's spending time with his PARTNERS was in any way APPROPRIATE OR RESPECTFUL!" "Come on bro-" "DON'T YOU "BRO" ME! Set the coordinates of your watch back home, NOW!" Properly chastized, Stretch looked down and imput the correct data into the portable teleporter on his wrist, sending both him and his brother away.

Dream came closer and closer to Nightmare, who had just managed to get back on his feet. Dream waited patiently for his twin to compose himself again, hands neatly folded in front of himself, and a deceptively calm expression on his face. Nightmare, however, could feel his simmering rage. "I'm very disappointed in you, brother." Nightmare deflated. "I thought you trusted me and respected my decisions and maturity." Nightmare's shoulders drooped. "Clearly, I was wrong." Nightmare's appendages were dragging onto the ground. "Will you open a portal to your castle please? I think we rather need another talk." Wordlessly, Nightmare opened a portal and the twins crossed it.

Ink stared Fresh down. The parasite looked up at the angry Protector, his glasses spelling UH-OH. His smile remained, though there was an edge of nervousness. "Fresh. Why are you here?" "Will ya believe me if I tell ya I waz just passin' by?" Ink raised a brow. "Fresh." The glasses now read FI-NE "I waz... concerned." he said, his tone imitating shame quite convincingly. The fact that he was doing it at all was kinda sweet "Ya be spendin' all dat time wid yo new boyfriendz, ya might all up and forget bout me. I don' want ya to stop be mah friend and stop protectin' me..." It was selfish of Fresh, but that was who he was, so Ink didn't put it against him. "I won't forget you. Just don't do it anymore, okay? Then I'd get mad for real." Ink snapped his finger and the purple chains disappeared. Fresh's grin became a bit less strained and his glasses spelled PH-EW. He got up and put his hands in his pockets. "I promise, brah. Ya know I don' lie to ya. Cya!" He disappeared in a fresh poof, and Ink sighed.

Oh well, time to plan the next date!

@starsanspolyweek

[if-loki-was-a-fox]

I just randomly found ur blog and am now OBSESSED with the whole avian!mumbo concept

…….tell me everything there needs to be known abt it please I want to draw little bird boy (even tho my main way of doodlin mumbo is vampire but I WANT BIRD)

(apologies for the ramble I live laugh love moustache man)

(here's the previous avian!mumbo post for anyone curious)

It has taken me far too long to get the chance to respond to this ask and I have been so impatient because adjsaklfhaskghjd someone actually saw and enjoyed my unedited babbling about avian!mumbo :')

anyways I think I already said most of what I have coherent ideas on, and the rest is just nebulous vibes and happiness and fluff and hurt/comfort potential, but! I can share doodles and also reiterate/expand upon stuff I have already said

(putting it below a cut so I can make it soso long)

WING FLAPPIES!! I feel like this would definitely be something he'd appreciate about having wings, because I feel like it would be a more satisfying expression of emotion than like. stomping or bouncing or whatever. He would also totally struggle to control his avian body language, you can read his wings/ears/tail like a book, he's so unused to paying attention to and stifling his bird gestures. (Grian finds this beyond hilarious especially, because he can read Mumbo even better than everyone else being another avian)

His wings are red and black, though I haven't entirely decided if I'm gonna switch which goes where to make it match Grian's wings better. Since Grian is a Scarlet Macaw, Mumbo really ought to be too, but that would look just. so goofy. with his color scheme

AND SPEAKING OF LOOKING GOOFY- his wings look so silly for the first couple weeks. Until the feathers grow in properly, they're just kind of gradually more fluffy. raw chicken. wings. stuck to his back. because that's what baby parrots look like apparently! And then also pin feathers, before finally being pretty feathery bird wings

He also just accidentally passively collects the other members of Boatem's clothes. Grian does this too, but intentionally. Mumbo just does it without realizing and then gets confused about it because he doesn't understand the whole nesting thing, so someone else has to explain it to him

Oh and Mumbo tries to just go about his life without any changes or accommodations for his wings at first, because he doesn't want to ruin his clothes or generally have to change his routines. Grian and the others do not put up with this and persuade him to take proper care of the wings instead (<- this is a constant uphill battle for months)

On a more overarching note, Mumbo initially Does Not Like the wings, because they're just tiny and kind of ugly things that get in the way of his elytra and make him have to get all his shirts edited and they don't really do anything but cause him problems. Then once the wings start getting feathers and stuff and they have to start making preparations for learning to fly, it kind of becomes a bit of a bonding thing that brings Boatem together, with Mumbo starting to get used to them and accept them, and everyone else being able to help out with their care some (preening, stretches and exercises...).

Ultimately (probably sometime around HC 9), Mumbo ends up quite loving his wings in the long run. Once they're fully grown they're actually pretty impressive (since he's so tall they end up being a fair bit larger than Grian's, much to his annoyance) and Mumbo ends up putting a fair bit of effort into their upkeep and keeping them all nice looking (at least, when he's not too busy with other projects). He does still find a bunch of the other avian traits a little embarrassing (nesting, chirping, dietary restrictions, wings giving away his thoughts...) but he gets used to them.

[jiliansky-blog]

Wake me up. Chapter 8. Looking for an adventure

Pairing: Morpheus x FemaleReader

Rating: PG

Words: 1600

When you go to another world, you choose it to be Middle Earth again. But the adventure of Bilbo this time.

“I saw this world you like the most," Morpheus said.

"Indeed," you smiled. “That story about friendship and finding you. How power and money can corrupt the soul”.

“Not all the power can corrupt the soul," he said.

“Do you mean your power?” you asked.

“Yes, but I’m not human," he replied. “We don’t know how it can influence you. That is why it can be unsafe for you to use the power of the Dreaming”.

“What?” you asked. “Why?”

“I met the man who tried to use my power for evil, and it corrupted him," he said. “People got hurt”.

“I didn’t use anything for evil," you replied.

He just sighed with annoyance. He wasn’t convinced at all.

“I think you tried to find pieces of your memory in these dreams”, he finally said. “But you can’t find it if you are lost”.

“Yes, let’s begin," you said. “I’m not ready to give up”.

“Very well,” he frowned. “What did you remember?”

“Stop being so grumpy," you said. “Can’t you just relax a little bit?”

“I don’t relax," he said. “I have a lot of work ahead of me. And you make this amount even bigger”.

“But do you want to rest?” you asked.

His stoic expression faltered. And you could see his weakness and tiresomeness underneath his constant calm.

“Just a little bit”, you whispered. “Let yourself relax”.

“I will try”, Morpheus promised suddenly.

“Then we join a company and have a little fun”, you smiled.

“And of course you will try to save someone”, he said. “Who do you want to save this time?”

“Kili”, you smiled. “The dwarf”.

“But we’re at the beginning of the story”, he said. “Not in the end”.

“I know, but I decided to join them in the Rivendell”, you smiled. “We have time”.

“For what?” Morpheus.

“For creating a cover story”, you smiled. “And I want to be useful, not only in words. I want to fully dwell in the adventure”.

“You’re insufferable”, he murmured, and you giggled. “Come on, my dear elf lord. Let’s just rest a little bit”.

Morpheus

She didn’t finish any of the dreams she started. She just started it. But I felt that Lucienne would advise him too to rest a little bit too. That is why I continued her path.

She changed her look again. Now she looked like an elf again. But she was still in a green dress. She looked at me and smiled. I looked like an elf, too.

“Can you change the color of your clothes?” she asked.

“No, it’s my color”, I replied. “Why green?”

“It’s my favorite," Y\N said. “You just can draw attention to yourself. I don’t want others to think that you’re a dark elf”.

“There were two dark elves”, I admitted. “They long had gone”.

“Then they can think that you are the Necromancer”, she said. “Please, take another color for your clothes”.

I rolled my eyes. I hate to admit it, but she was right. We didn’t want to draw any attention.

“Very well”, I said, and I changed my clothes to a dark blue tint.

“That color suits you too”, you smiled.

A turn of the wrist, and she made my hair long. She can change me. She can change everything. What is she?

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “You looked at me like I was a ghost”.

“You shouldn’t change me”, I said.

“I’m sorry”, she said, looking worried. “I did that without thinking. I just wanted to help”.

“That’s alright." I nodded slowly. “But don’t do that anymore”.

“I won’t”, she promised. “I want to practice archery”.

She made the bow and arrows. And then she took aim and started to shoot.

“I don’t want to be a damsel in distress that you need to save”, she said. “I want to be able to save myself”.

“I remember you promising me to stay out of trouble," I said.

“And I will”, she smiled. “But what if you won’t be close? I want to be able to protect myself. I can’t rely on you all the time”.

«Do you really want to die?” I said. “Is it so hard to avoid dangerous situations?”

“So I can die in reality if I die hear”, she said, looking at me seriously.

"Indeed," I said. “Why are you trying to die so hard? You can watch adventures from a safe place and stay out of danger”.

“It’s not the same," she replied.

“You don’t realize the danger”, I sighed.

“Look, I’m not trying to die”, Y\N said. “I promise. I just watched an adventure. But I promise not to put myself in the most dangerous situations”.

“Good”, I said.

"If you don't want to train with me, then let’s talk”, she said.

“We are already talking”, I frowned.

“You know a lot about me”, she continued. “But I barely know your name. It’s time for you to share some information with me”.

“I don’t see how it is relevant," I admitted.

“Simply curiosity and the want to know more about you”, she replied. “You don’t need to tell me all the biography. Just a few facts”.

“I don’t know what to say." I shrugged. “All my life is my work. To rule the Dreaming. Until recently…”

Why do I say this? I shouldn’t tell her about the Fawny Rig.

“What happened recently?” she asked. “Me?”

“Nothing”, I said. “It doesn’t matter”.

“Then tell me, what do you like to do?” she didn’t insist.

“I don’t know”, I sighed. “Read. Feed the birds. Walking in the Dreaming”.

“I also like to read”, she smiled. “What books do you prefer?”

“I’m not human; I don’t have preferences," I replied.

“No, you do”, she declined. “You just tell me that you like reading. So you might have preferences in books”.

“I like reading different books to learn about human culture”, I said. “And also, I love black-and-white movies”.

"Oh," she smiled. “See, you have preferences”.

“I still think that it doesn’t matter," I said.

“Maybe it doesn’t matter from a global view”, she admitted. “But it matters to you. No one can work all the time without a rest. It will lead to the breakdown”.

She couldn’t know about my thoughts. Her words resonated with something in me. Still, she is a human and doesn’t understand the Endless.

“I’m not human," I refused. “I can’t break down”.

“If you say so”, she said. But she wasn’t convinced. “Can you tell me how you create dreams?”

“With the sand, I had a stone”, I replied. “But it was broken. So the power isn’t restrained anymore. I can’t imagine how you can create without these tools”.

“I don’t know”, she said, shrugging.

“I noticed something”, I said.

“What?” she asked, looking at you.

“You only begin these adventures, but are you going to finish them?” I asked. “What are you afraid to see in the end?”

She was about to say something, but we heard the sound of a horn. And it interrupts our conversation.

“The dwarfs are here”, she smiled. “Time to go”.

Something that Morpheus said made you worry. So you escaped to your new adventure. But watching the dwarves and Kili from afar, you were wondering if you really could save him. In movies, Tauriel tried to do this like you with Henry. But she only succeeds once and can't save him in the end. What made you think that you could do it? And Morpheus awoke something in you that made you worry.

“You are so quiet”, Morpheus said joining you.

"Perhaps you are right”, you said. “And I indeed tried to escape without finishing any story”.

“You speak sense now”, he replied. "Perhaps it’s time to go home”.

“No, I want to finish at least one adventure”, you said. “I want a conclusion. And I feel like I lost something. I need to find it first”.

Now it was Morpheus, who was unbelievably quiet, and you looked at him. He looked even more serious than before.

“What?” you asked.

“Your memories”, he said. “You lost your memories about your home and your life before the Dreaming and your adventures”.

“See, I need to get it back before I return”, you smiled. “And why did you try to send me back if you know that I lost my memories?”

“Dreamers don’t always remember who they are”, he said. “Some of them try to live another life here and to be someone else. But they all wake up eventually”.

“But I didn’t”, you said. “I didn’t wake up. So I am not like other dreamers, right? I need to finish my own quest”.

“I think you read too many fantasy books, so your search for memories became a quest”, he admitted.

“Why not?” you shrugged. “It can be interesting. But I think that I can join them later. I don’t want to start from here”.

“What are you planning?” he asked.

«We can go to Mirkwood”, you smiled. “We already visited Rivendell and Lorien, but we haven’t been there”.

“You want to see elves," he admitted. “Why?”

“I always wanted to be an elf”, you smiled. “But not fairy”.

“Why not?” he asked. “They are alike”.

“No, fairy can be cruel and dangerous for humans”, you said. “But in Tolkien’s world, not all of them are cruel”.

“So are you going to save this dwarf from what?”

"Maybe I want to let him out of elven prison”, you said. “And then save him in the main battle on Lonely Mountain”.

“You know that it hardly helps”, Morpheus said.

“I know”, you said. “But I need to try to save at least someone”.

@shadowqueen1318 @mypsychoticlove @justathirstyhoe​ @ladymoztaza @sapphireonline @deniixlovezelda

[restinslices]

Crows As Vampires

Idk why I chose that gif-. Anyway I have had no inspiration or motivation to do anything. The mental illness is hitting. I am on my knees begging y’all to let me have this😭. No one’s born a vampire cause I don’t think vampires should be able to reproduce and in this universe how you’re changed determines what kind of vampire you are. I’ll explain later.

Kaz Brekker 

Kaz has screwed over plenty of people in his life. That's how life is as a criminal and he was damn good at it. Almost an expert. 

Almost being the keyword 

Kaz screwed over the wrong person. Unbeknownst to him, this person was actually a witch. The witch cursed him to have these symptoms we would call “vampirism”

Immortality so he would watch everyone he loves die. A lust for blood since he was a leech that led others like a lamb to a slaughter. Burning in the sun so he could stay a rat in the shadows. Ect. Ect. 

This would've been terrible for anyone else, but this is Kaz Brekker we're talking about. 

Also this isn't how nature works. Things can't be only good or only bad so nature gave him a few perks. 

All it took was some practicing and getting used to then boom, he was living his best life. 

He doesn't need the cane anymore, but he keeps it to trick others. 

Genuinely thinks the witch that cursed him is the dumbest person ever because all the weaknesses he can get around. The sun? He doesn't go outside much and can have others do shit for him. Holy water? Does this man look like he goes to church? A wooden stake? What are the chances? Garlic? He prefers onion powder-

He's a traditional vampire so blood tastes good no matter what. I don't know if he'd go hunting himself though. He'd probably have another Crow bring him something, like bringing the homie Wendy's if you just got some. 

Best part of vampirism is probably the animal control. It's the perfect distraction and this man is nuts so he'd probably have a rat jump on somebody with a phobia. 

I'd say hypnosis but I feel like Kaz enjoys the thrill he gets from outsmarting everyone. Hypnosis would be so boring to him. It'd only be used if he absolutely needed to. 

I think the part of vampirism he'd struggle with the most would be the feeding though. Not out of guilt but too many dead bodies make people raise a brow and that would affect business. 

Kaz would prefer feeding on people who don't really have anyone. I know you're thinking “duh! That's so obvious! Who wouldn't?”. Jesper. More on him later though. 

Kaz wants to go after opponents but knows that'll stir too much shit up. 

I wanna say he refuses to feed on kids ‘cause it'd remind him of him and Jordie but this is the same man who threatened a little girl and said he'd kill all her dogs just to make sure she wouldn't snitch. And when Wylan was like “that's not ok” he was like “I could've killed her and made it look like an accident”, so idk. Man is deranged. 

Kaz has red eyes because… uhhh… I want him to. 

I think vampires should have another face when they feed and his gotta be the scariest. This is The Bastard of The Barrel we're talking about here. You gotta feel fear in your veins. 

Overall, he's enjoying vampirism. Big mistake giving this man powers. 

Inej Ghafa

Inej would get turned when she's at the Menagerie 

One of the regulars came in but he was off. He was way more jumpy and sensitive to things. Inej knocked something over and instead of annoyance, he seemed to be in pain. Like his ears hurt. 

She didn't say anything though. Tante Heleen would kill her. 

Suddenly the man attacked her and bit her. She screamed but he covered her mouth with his hand. Inej did the only thing she could think of and bit his hand hard, drawing blood. The man was in pain and after a short fight, he snapped her neck and killed her. 

Weirdly though, Inej woke up after some time. It made no sense to anyone. Not to the other girls, Tante Heleen, the doctor, anyone. Inej should've been dead. Instead all she did was crack her neck and describe the guy who did it. 

The next day Kaz Brekker came and she introduced herself. The day after that, she no longer worked for Tante Heleen. 

Turns out the vampire who attacked her was a newborn. He had some of the vampire strengths, like advanced speed and strength but he also still had human qualities. Like human skin, instead of the impenetrable skin older vampires have. Kaz was hunting him down because his uncontrolled killings were causing a ruckus, that's when he met Inej and noticed something was off about her. She smelt like death.  

Inej turned instead of dying because when she bit him, it drew blood and she ended up swallowing it. Drinking a vampire's blood then dying was another way to be turned. 

Because she was terrified when it all happened, as a vampire blood tastes better if it's from someone scared. The more scared they are, the better. If she drinks normal blood, it tastes fine but it doesn't make her as strong or taste as good as blood from someone frightened. 

Inej doesn't really like going out of her way to scare the shit outta someone. Don't get me wrong, Inej ain't no punk but she sees it as “I'm scaring people for my own benefit? No thanks”. 

During her newborn stage, Inej was not fucking with it at all. There were benefits but she hated the idea of murder. The only reason she started drinking is because she was starving and Kaz threw a random person in the room. When she snapped out of it, she was horrified and she was angry because Kaz knew what he was doing. 

So she attempted to run away but the problem was the hunger obviously didn't stop. One day she saw a man she knew frequented the Menagerie. A man who was extremely abusive and had cut and injured the girls plenty of times. Again, she got angry. So angry she stalked and killed him. 

A lightbulb went off. She didn't wanna scare innocent people but abusers? They weren't innocent. So that's who she targeted. Oh and obviously she returned to the Crow Club. 

Only problem with abusers is unfortunately they have money and people looking at them so she can't go after a lot of them which leaves her back to drinking regular human blood. Sometimes she drinks from animals or steals blood bags. 

Best part of vampirism is how nimble she is. Sure she was a great acrobat before but her speed and agility change is the best to her. She could do so much more without worrying about forever losing her legs in a stupid accident. 

She's called a spider for a reason. 

I don't even think she'd care for the other powers. Yeah they're there and she'll use them but she's not too concerned. 

Worst part I think is the feeding but not for the same reasons as Kaz. Inej has a guilty conscience and she's also religious. I think the fact that she has to take innocent lives (when she can't get to bad people) would make her feel cursed. Like the Saints were against her or didn't hear her prayers anymore. How could she claim her heart belonged to them when her heart didn't even beat anymore? She was sinning often. It's not like killing on a job, that's when your back's against the wall. She's literally killing for her own selfish needs. 

It'd take her a while to come to terms that she's killing for survival and she never asked to become a vampire in the first place. 

Once she comes to terms with that I honestly don't see her using her powers for straight nonsense. She uses them to get jobs done and feeds when she has to. She's probably the one bringing Kaz take out when he's too lazy. 

Idk why but I feel like she'd have purple eyes. I don't have a reason. Just roll with me. 

Overall, she'd have conflicting feelings. The first couple years would be rough but she'd learn to embrace it. 

Jesper Fahey

Jesper is my favorite Crow and my favorite in the entire show but my poor babe is not all the way there sometimes. He's not dumb by any means but ya know, sometimes he's in a silly goofy mood. 

Jesper was turned when he was in college. Keep in mind, my boy was only there for what? A WEEK?

He lost at a game of cards and instead of beating him they were like “there's this book that a dead witch supposedly wrote. There's a ritual and everything, you gotta do it or pay me”. 

Jesper was like “bet, I ain't no hoe” (probably not with those words) and did the stupid ritual which consisted of blood, rain water and some chanting and nothing happened, much to the disappointment of his college pals and him. The ritual was supposed to give him powers or something. Too bad. 

Something weird started happening. Jesper was a funny guy and liked socializing but he swore he started feeling more energy course through him when he made everyone laugh. And when he walked outside, the sun burned. It left a mark and everything. 

He started skipping classes to avoid the sun and the kids he knew were too busy to constantly visit him. Since he was alone for a couple days, he felt incredibly hungry. 

One late night he was walking to get food when a lady fell hard. Jesper, being nice, ran over to help. That's when he noticed the smell of blood and it smelt amazing. Long story short, he ended up attacking her. When he realized what happened, he took a closer look at that book. He realized they didn't inform him about the negative side effects. And sure, he somewhat got it. What were the chances of it working? But since they made him do that instead of paying up, they knew there could've been a possibility of everything going left. 

He had no idea what was happening and ended up leaving college. Not only was he out of money (that's why he was so glad he wouldn't have to pay) but he worried about who else he would attack. He ended up working for gangs and as we know, Kaz found him. 

They ended up finding out that Jesper was special. Jesper was always the main focus in a crowd so when he became a vampire, that ability turned him into an emotional vampire. He didn't have to hunt people down and feed the old fashioned way. He could feed on people by absorbing their emotions when they felt a strong emotion, such as happiness. It made him feel amazing but it made them feel drained and depending on how much he took, they could faint. 

Now he could always just bite people but absorbing emotions is bigger. 

Best part of vampirism is hypnosis. If he's well fed and feeling strong, he can just hypnotize his gambling opponent into letting him win. 

Worst part is probably the sunlight. Jesper likes nighttime, don't get me wrong, but the fact that he's limited to only moving around at night is nuts to him. Since he shouldn't be doing it, he wants to do it more.

Jesper has to be reeled in by Kaz when it comes to feeding cause Jesper honestly will go after anyone. The more challenging, the more fun. He has to constantly be reminded that the more challenging, the more chance of being caught.  

He also reminds him that he doesn't have to bite people to feed but Jesper sometimes just likes the rush. 

Probably makes a bunch of vampire puns and Kaz is tired of his shit. 

He'd be even more on edge when it comes to his dad. It'd be even more of a reason to never see him again. He would only think about it when he 100% had his hunger under control. 

Idk what eye color he'd have tbh

Overall likes being a vampire but the side effects are there. 

Nina Zenik

After Nina took Parem, things didn't look good. It was obvious to everyone that Nina was dying. 

Nina was in the know when it came to vampires. She honestly didn't care and didn't have any interest at first. But as she sat there slowly dying, she wondered what life would've been like if she asked to be bit. 

The Saints seem to be listening because Inej walked in and said she wanted to help her. Nina knew how she'd help. 

Inej was getting closer and Nina couldn't help but feel nervous. Suddenly though, she saw Matthias. Inej simply made her think she was Matthias, but Nina was so delirious that she actually thought it was him. She thought of their life together so far and what they could have in the future. Her thoughts started to slip towards something more lustful and that's when “Matthias” shoved “his” bloodied arm at her. She drank it then her neck was quickly broken. 

She awoke soon after, beginning her new life. 

Nina is a sexual vampire, meaning blood tastes the best when it's someone experiencing feelings of lust or orgasming. 

Matthias experiences lust for Nina and has said she can drink from him but she doesn't trust herself. She's worried she got him out of Hellgate only to kill him later on. 

Instead she flirts with unsuspecting men and women. No sex obviously and they don't taste as good as they could but just that little bit of lust adds something to their blood. 

Best part of vampirism would be immortality. She's living forever with her family and doesn't have to worry about getting sick or dying again. 

Immortality is also the worst part. Matthias has always said he has no interest in being a vampire and the thought of him dying makes her think she should've let herself die on the boat (until she changes him against his will but moving on-)

Probably targets men and women with low level jobs. Like the people who guard doors of some building, rich people go to. Or fishermen. People whose disappearance can just be chalked up to them being irresponsible. 

Being a vampire is kinda in the middle for her. Not great but not terrible. Sometimes she wants to go outside during the day and can't. Sometimes she wants to eat something like garlic bread and can't. Sometimes she wants to wear silver jewelry and can't. It can be a real pain. 

When Matthias is human she treats him like he's delicate, because compared to her, he is. They arm wrestle and he's down for the count. 

The stereotype is that vampires sleep in a coffin but with how big Matthias is? Yeah, no. They'll just sleep in a dark room. 

Nina doesn't exactly want kids, but with Matthias she wouldn't mind them. Now they can't have them at all though and that choice being taken away isn't fun. Honestly any choice now taken away rubs her the wrong way. 

I feel like her eyes would also be red like Kaz. 

Overall is half and half about vampirism. 

Matthias Helvar 

As we all know, Matthias ends up dying in Crooked Kingdom. He didn't want it to happen, but he accepted it. He knew this would be the end. 

Imagine his surprise when he woke up months later. 

Turns out Nina wanted to turn Matthias into a vampire but acted too late. She ended up finding a witch who was willing to do a ritual to return his spirit to his body. Side effects would be symptoms of vampirism. 

As you can imagine, Matthias was very unhappy. Nina didn't have the excuse of “oh I panicked”. No. She found a witch and instead of asking for her future to be told, she whipped out his corpse. 

As a vampire Matthias is a soul vampire. When he feeds it decreases the lifespan of his victim, sometimes even killing them. As he gets older he learns he doesn't even have to bite his victims, but he does have to be close to them. 

It'd probably take years before he forgave Nina. Matthias, like Inej, is religious and thinks Djel can't hear him anymore because of what's happened. 

For awhile he can't see a positive to this situation. When he comes around to it and starts accepting it though, I think he'd enjoy that he's strong enough to continuously help people. 

Negative is everything for a while. Especially the fact he can't be near any holy items. Also immortality. Human lives are supposed to end, now his can't end without it being extremely painful. 

Feeding wouldn't be easy for him either. Not biting them allows him to disconnect but he still knows what he's doing and that's hard for him.

He eventually would forgive Nina but would never forget what happened. 

His eyes would remain blue but it'd be a lighter and more glowy (?) blue

Doesn't wanna participate in any vampire stereotypes. No coffin, no dark colors, none of that. 

His feeding is the most discrete. Jesper's could be too but we know him. Matthias just kind of hangs around and feeds until he's full enough. 

Matthias also drinks the souls of animals. It doesn't feed him as quickly or make him as strong but he was already a big and strong guy. 

Overall is not having a good time. I think it would take years for him to accept his new life. After that, he's not exactly happy. He's just accepted it is what it is. 

Wylan Van Eck

Wylan had a terrible relationship with his father, we know that. What everyone didn't know was that the family was holding a huge secret; Jan Van Eck was a vampire. He was turned after Alys became pregnant and thought things were great. Now he could be an asshole forever 

Van Eck noticed how much better he felt so he thought if he bit Wylan, he'd be cursed of his dyslexia and could read. 

He was wrong. Dyslexia isn't a physical injury so nothing happened. This made him angry and ended up leading him to hire people to kill Wylan on the boat to Ketterdam. As we know, Wylan escaped. Van Eck was sure he'd die because of lack of food or be exposed and killed. Either was good to him. 

Wylan didn't die though. Wylan had only been a vampire for a month so his control over his thirst was terrible. He didn't wanna hurt people so he tried to stay away and hunt animals. 

Not hurting people was easier said than done though. Ketterdam is full of people and jobs require you being around people. As you can imagine, there were a few slip ups. 

Kaz recruited him not only to make bombs but also because Inej caught him feeding on someone. He just didn't notice she was there. 

Once Wylan has his thirst under control, he prefers blood bags instead of actually hunting and hurting people. 

He isn't sure what his favorite part of vampirism is since the things he loves doing (chemistry and music) don't require any vampire things. He likes telepathy once he knows how to block his own thoughts from people. It's efficient being able to “whisper” to other people and Wylan is a bit nosey. When you're gonna live forever, you're gonna wanna hear drama. 

I think his least favorite part wouldn't be a specific part of vampirism. He'd just hate how he used to be. Whenever he thinks about how little control he had, it'd scare him. It shows how much of a monster he can be and he doesn't want that. 

I wanna give everyone red eyes but I'll say his are orange or yellow. Why? Idk. 

The type of vampire that legit forgets he's a vampire. Inej is like “want me to bring you back something to eat?” and he's like “oh sure. I heard this new spot just opened-”. 

Probably was gonna walk outside for a casual walk and another Crow had to grab him by the collar and pull him inside. 

“What's wrong?” “Wylan. The sun.” “What about it?.... oh”

This isn't me saying he's dumb, he just genuinely forgets. His mind is on other stuff all the time. 

Vampires become his hyper fixation and he starts saying random ass myths about vampires at all hours 

“Did you know people used to believe that you could trick a vampire by throwing things like rice at it? Supposedly it'd be compelled to count them all” “It’s 2am Wylan. Enough is enough”

Overall I don't think he has a strong opinion on being a vampire. Having his little family makes enjoying this new life easier. 

idk why this in particular finally gave me inspiration, but FINALLY my mind isn’t completely blank.