#it's the same with the characters but my sketches for them have always been quite neat anyway ^^;

[falkecat]

Day 6 - Past - Baby Feline

Feline's had a rough childhood (and life honestly) 😅 His village was burned down and he was likely the only one to survive it, with the help of his mother who hid him away before running off to find Feline's dad :,)

His life will get even worse from this point before it gets better but he'll have a happy ending eventually lol

[charrfie]

I recently had a clinical trial related dream and wanted to draw some moments from it. Below the read more I've included my dream journal entry of it and another bonus sketch!

The dream takes place after the events of the game itself, where angel and lee had been living together for roughly a year now. They settled into a schedule and were well accustomed to their daily rhythms. Angel, however, had used this time to start considering what they wanted to do with their life. Now that they weren't reliant on a paycheck to paycheck life, they could consider options and career paths that actually brought them joy, weren't detrimental to their health, and weren't too demanding of them. And so, for the first time in a long while, angel considered going back to college. Lee was quick to encourage them! They didn't know what they wanted to do quite yet aside from being in a creative field, so they planned to go in for general courses and eventually settle into a certain path. Unfortunately for lee, the college they would get into was states away (a couple days drive), and so he missed them terribly but still cheered them on in following their passions.

At first, they had some difficulty making friends. They weren't eager to open up and were afraid that if they did make friends there, they would eventually get burnt out from school a second time and leave them behind. Their favorite class in the first weeks turned out to be a film class! Their roommate also ended up in this same class, and so as luck would have it, they became fast friends despite angel's worries. She was a very adri-equivalent character.... though she WAS someone else in this dream. Unfortunately though, angel would also go on to make enemies with a girl in the same class that was incredibly rude to them for no reason, sabotaging them throughout the semester, tripping them, talking smack about them in front of their face, etc. Even going so far as to spread rumors about angel that almost got angel suspended from the school. It was probably transphobia or something idk; there's no other discernable reason for the random hatred campaign she was running. Thankfully, angel was still well-liked by their classmates and teachers. But it did wear on them.

Lee calls to check up on them often, always offering to make the drive up there in case angel needs anything, though angel is quick to assure him things are working out. They do confide in him about their bully, which he can tell is bothering them, even if they brush it off. He's worried sick about them being so far from home and having to deal with that.

As the semester nears it's end, and angel is getting ready to go back home in a couple weeks for break, they begin making a breakthrough with their bully. Again, for no discernable reason! All of a sudden she's nicer to them, even if there's traces of malice in their interactions with one another. Maybe school WILL be alright, they think. If this works out. If it's all settled. Maybe she's starting to see me as a person instead of a freak to harass.

With the closing of the semester comes two things: one, finals are due. In angel's film class, they're meant to bring in a final film they've shot to present to the class. As these presentations are happening, they're set to have a party in class, with everyone bringing different foods to eat while the watchparty happens! Two, after finals are completed, the last two weeks of the semester will be spent on a field trip where everyone will stay at a fancy hotel and get to go on museum trips to learn about art/film. So of course, angel excitedly speeds to class the morning of the watchparty, only to stop in their tracks when they see a very suspicious looking lee that is painfully aware he is not doing a very good job of hiding. As angel walks up to him, he visibly deflates, trying to excuse it with "I just wanted to make sure you were okay, I was worried." Angel gives him a hard time about it, saying "you couldn't have waited two more weeks?" Despite their teasing though, they feel bashful about the fact that he drove all that way with the intention of just checking on them in secret and driving back home immediately after. So they tell him that they have to go to class, but once they're done then they can let him stay in their dorm room, he only needs to busy himself in the meantime.

They make it to class at the last minute, film hard drive and brownies in hand. Considering that they've been talking about lee all semester with their classmates, they're eager to mention that he's visiting the campus today, so everyone's free to meet him if they want. They do note, however, that their bully isn't in class today, and they're admittedly a bit relieved because- even if they've been making progress with her- they still would rather not send out an open invitation for her to hang out after class. As they settle down and the first films are being pulled up by the teacher on the projector, somehow (AND DON'T ASK ME HOW, ITS JUST DREAM LOGIC) the projector screen at the front of the room suddenly lights up with security camera footage of a random hallway at the school (WHY DID THE TEACHER HAVE ACCESS TO THIS AND WHY WAS IT THE COMPUTER DEFAULT????), and on it is lee chasing down angel's bully into a stairwell. The teacher does not make note of this because she's having too much difficulty figuring out technical problems with plugging in the students' hard drives, so angel darts out of the classroom unnoticed, along with other class friends that follow them.

While I don't remember the exact details of the conversation that followed, angel explained to everyone that they needed to find those two before anything bad happened, and the group split up. Cue running around the school montage! Angel kept trying to call lee in hopes that they could distract him and find out where he was, to no avail.

Out of breath and awfully dizzy after 15 minutes of sprinting around the campus, angel shakily walked out onto a random balcony to get some fresh air and sit down, only to find lee sitting out there already. A lee with........ blood on him, they found. It wasn't a lot, just enough to notice it on his face and a few drops on his shirt. But it was enough to get angel mad enough that they forgot about their dizziness. As soon as lee noticed them, he looked at them silently like a sad, wet puppy who knows he's about to get in trouble. And he was. Bc angel was fucking pissed, not frozen and terrified like the last time they found brandon's body. Not only were they furious over the fact that the day they had been so looking forward to got interrupted by this, not only were they furious that lee had done this AGAIN after promising he wouldn't ever, but the fact that they had been making actual PROGRESS in the relationship they had with this girl and had other ways of addressing it was really the cherry on top. So they fully let into him for it, getting angry enough that they were brought to tears.

Again, the details of the conversation are fuzzy, but I do remember at one point lee said "the people that have passed me on this balcony keep asking ME if I'm alright because they think I've just had a nose bleed," kind of cluing angel in on the fact that he very intentionally didn't clean himself up because he knew he wasn't supposed to do this again and wanted to self sabotage by getting caught before angel could see him. Angel doesn't know what to say or how to handle the situation at all, so they tell lee to just go back to their room, exasperated, and they'll figure out what to do about this later.

There's a bit of a time skip after this point. I know angel returned to their room at some point, only going back to class to tell their teacher that they weren't feeling well and needed to leave early. I can't recall what happened to any evidence of the murder, but it was never an issue. And for the next few days angel makes lee follow them around EVERYWHERE, even on their field trip, bc they don't trust him not to go off and do something stupid (either to someone else to himself). They even make arrangements for him to come on the field trip with them because they don't want to let him out of their sight.

The rest of the dream is the fuzziest (and also I'm tired of writing), but it revolved around the two slowly trying to repair their relationship. Even after the field trip was over and break had started, angel said that they didn't want to go back home and wanted to spend more time away from the house, thinking that maybe their distance from lee at college had perhaps allowed him to spiral into his unhealthy thought patterns again, which he never mentioned over the phone since he wanted to make room for angel's grievances, considering how much they are dealing with. Maybe being on vacation might help. And despite how heavy everything in the dream was prior to this, it eventually lead to some especially cute moments between the pair. Also I remember tammy from anthology of the killer being there at one point for some reason. The end that's all I'm writing. Thank you.

[formosusiniquis]

A ficlet i posted to bluesky last night inspired by @morganbritton132 and this post

Steve has been a science fiction fan since before he even knew what it was.

When he was little, and his Mom didn't have to travel with his Dad to make sure he wasn't getting another secretary pregnant, she would lay beside him in bed and tell him stories of Captain Kirk and Commander Spock.

His Mom had the best voice. Soft, rasping, passionate.

She made up a cast of fantastic characters he got to meet each night, listening to their adventures through space and time until he was too tired to ask for just one more.

And at the end of each one Kirk and Spock lived happily ever after.

That was his favorite part. The happy ending. Sure they would have to go on a new adventure the next night, that was the fun, but at the end of the story the danger would be gone and they would be safe in their room (or the medbay) once more.

He was embarrassingly old when he caught a rerun of Star Trek and realized the characters his Mom had told him about were on his TV.

Some of their adventures were even the same.

But the one undeniable difference: Kirk wasn't quite so handsy with his Lieutenant Commander as he was in her stories.

He can't resist asking her about it on his phone call that week.

"How many of my bedtime stories were just you remembering last week's episode?" And "did you change the ending because bedtime stories were supposed to end with a happily ever after."

"Check the hatbox in the back of the guest closet and call me back tomorrow." Is all she says. A tease because 15 had somehow been the magic number that transformed him from son to friend.

He goes to the closet.

And inside he finds papers. Dozens, hundreds, stapled and folded and spiral bound.

They're like magazines but as he flips through one and then another and another and another, Steve realizes the one thing they have in common.

They're stories. Just like his mother used to tell him.

Well, not just. He finds himself opening to one that has an artistic rendering of poses he has his doubts Captain Kirk could actually achieve and doesn't really want to imagine his Mom reading.

But the others, okay and that one too, he spends hours that night pouring over in his bed.

And then he finds one he /knows/ he's heard before. Going back to the title page he finds in neat typewritten print. By Lucille Matthews.

His Mom, her maiden name sure but with the content and the times he can think of dozens of reasons why she'd want that safety net.

When the time comes for their next phone call he doesn't ask Why or How. He asks, "Did you workshop your stories with me or did you tell them from memory?"

Then later, "If I drew something from your story, could I send it to you?"

It goes on like that, and a little like how it did when he was a kid. Only instead of having his Mom curled up beside him, she's on the phone telling him stories from the apartment they keep in the city.

Steve has always been a better artist than writer, with the phone at his ear he sketches.

He mails the pictures to her. Mimeographed copies of the originals. Some are scenes he though sounded badass, some character portraits, but his favorites are the happily ever afters.

Soft close up moments of Kirk and Spock after the adventure. Moments together, pictures of hands or soft looks.

He doesn't tell her why those soft after moments are so important to him now. He's never told her of his own dangerous adventures.

But some days he wonders if she knows. If there's some mother's intuition that makes the ends of her stories longer, gentler than they were when he was a kid.

Later, when she's home so they can go to a convention a friend wrote to her about, she gives him a gift.

Wrapped carefully, he can still tell it's a booklet. Thin, probably stapled together. He's even more careful when he opens it.

Before he has time to appreciate that it's a zine. She's taking it from his hands flipping to a page she already knows, but their shared particular nature wouldn't let her mark.

He sees the title, familiar because it's one he had pitched. He squirrels that away for later to focus on what is beneath.

In blocky, type face he traces his fingers over the Xeroxed words.

By Lucille Matthews with art by her son Steve.

[meanbossart]

Hellow

I was catching up with the latest chapters of ANE before reading The Spice™️ and I was reminded of how well you build and describe the environment surrounding your characters. Which prompts me to ask:

1 Do you have any drawings/sketches of landscapes and places from ANE that you can/would like to share?

2 Any advice for someone (me) that isn’t really good at putting their characters in places? I always end up with either a ‘too crowded’ or a ‘too barren’ of a setting.

Thank you for reading and hopefully answering my questions byee:3

Hello!!

Thank you! I have no idea what I'm doing so I'm glad I'm able to paint a good enough picture 😅

I do have two VERY simple sketches of the house of blood/the compound that I made to compare against my boyfriend's mental picture of it, basically to see how well I had been able to describe it since it's by far the most challenging area to put down into text.

(everything is very boxy and not exactly the ideal proportion, but again, this was a very simple sketch I made to "aid" the descriptions rather than for it to stand on its own at all) Here you see the "apple core" of the hive with the drow settlement and all the precarious platforms that interconnect and spring out of it. The cabins you see are sometimes two stories high so the area us actually quite big! Which is how Do'zynge is able to walk across the support-beams on the underside of said platforms even though he's rather large for a drider. The catwalk pictured can be moved up and down to connect people to different floors a little faster.

Here's a similar sketch based off of an specific scene, this one focuses more on the walkways built into the walls. I'm not sure why I huddled the doors together so much, they should definitely be more spaced out.

Also, while I used the same shorthand for everything, the spawn living spaces are all wood and stone - from the doors to the floor and railings. While the drow settlement (where Dalyria is too) is mostly metal and well structured tents.

For your second question, that's rough because I am also never quite satisfied with my descriptions 😂but I think that's a part of it; you need to make peace with the fact that you will NOT be able to paint a perfect picture, and think of the whole process as less of a job that you must do alone, but rather a collaboration between you and the reader's own creativity! You have to be willing to put some of the onus on them to imagine what it is you're trying to transcribe, instead feeling under the obligation of giving them exact descriptions for every little thing.

I try to use words that evoke a specific style and mood - say that the room is ornamental, warm, say that it's all golden and red and six sentences from now mention that the couch your character sat in is velvety. Reveal things as they come into relevance instead of interrupting the pace for two entire paragraphs to describe the room your characters just walked into - when appropriate, consider what they would even pay attention to at all and maybe limit yourself to it. Set a rough base for your environment at the start of a scene and then sprinkle descriptors in throughout the prose, and always consider if you truly NEED to get into the specifics of something or if the reader can be left to their own imaginative devices.

Also, unless necessary or some sort of plot device, I find that trying to establish where things are in a room (doors, furniture, stairs) in a map-like manner is a waste of time. Just say "behind him", "to her left", "right ahead", I don't think being overly specific benefits anybody - your reader picturing this set of stairs facing the west rather than the east is unlikely to be consequential to your narrative.

That being said, don't shy away from pointing "unnecessary" things out when they help set a mood, or help in characterization. Way early in ANE there's a scene where DU drow walks into the room where him, Astarion, and Shadowheart have been staying and are now about to leave, he takes note of the fact that one of them made the bed - he doesn't say who, besides that it wasn't himself, but I put that there to hopefully establish from early on that one character's priorities had started to change. In the compound, Dalyria is described as collecting useless things she found in the underground and displaying them around the office - this, on top of her new look, outfit, and company should paint a picture. Irennor's living situation should say all there is to know about him, and the way DU drow dismantles his belongings after only what is immediately valuable instead of considering the historical significance of anything says something about him, too. That's my favorite way of setting scenes, by finding out how to say something about the people in it.

[base0h]

HOW DO YOU NOT EVEN KNOW?

he said something awful, something he should’ve never said or thought about saying. but he said it, and now the damage was done. and he didn’t even know what he’d done, leaving you alone to reflect on the damage (feat. inarizaki! thank you for requesting this anon :)) kori, your best friend was always a mediator, but even this time she knew that you were the victim, and he was the bad guy (I get confused whenever I start using too many y/f/n and stuff like that so I just stuck my oc in here instead ✌️)

warnings ⚠️ - g/n reader, s/o reader, angst, this does not have a happy ending with comfort sorry, your dialogue is in white, kori’s dialogue is in purple, kori is an oc not a canon character (click here for more info abt her)

You knew Atsumu was popular, that wasn’t a surprise. He was good looking, a talented volleyball player, and he was charismatic. What was there not to like about him?

But still. Why did it still hurt and make you agitated whenever other students would fawn over him? You knew it was bound to happen, hell— you fawn over him too as your boyfriend.

If you had to hear one more deafening squeal of his name, you’d probably lose your mind.

“Miya-kun!!”

“Miya-senpai!”

The worst part was that he always stopped and made time for them. Even when he was with you. You couldn’t lie to yourself, it hurt everytime you saw him smiling at the fans and giving them his time and attention when he probably should be giving it to you, his actual s/o.

You voiced your worries and concerns to your friend who always listened and lended her ears to you.

“I probably shouldn’t be feeling like this.. I mean he loves me right? Not the fans.” You said softly, but your tone was uncertain, you honestly weren’t sure what you were saying was true or not, and that scared you even more.

“No I think it’s pretty valid to feel like that. It ain’t fair for him to do that in front of you especially if you’re on an actual date. He should be paying attention to you, not some random fangirls or fanboys.” Kori replied, scribbling away on her tablet as she sketched and drew as she was listening and talking. Kori always drew when listening, she had a way with multitasking.

You found it funny that Kori offered such sage wisdom and support despite the girl never having been in a relationship nor having a crush on anyone. “Kori how do you always know about relationship stuff when you’ve never even been in one before?”

Kori looked up from her tablet with a slightly hurt expression. “I really didn’t need that stray comment—?”

You giggled, snickering to yourself as you reassured your friend that you were just teasing and joking around. You knew Kori was one of the sweetest human beings on earth, and you trusted her to have your back when you needed her to.

“But seriously though, you should tell him what you’re feeling. He’s so dense that I don’t think bro would know unless you tell him directly.” Kori suggested, going back to drawing. She was right, Atsumu was quite oblivious, and probably thought nothing of what he was doing since he was so used to the attention.

So you decided to gather your courage to speak to the blonde twin about your concerns. You thought that it’d go ok, maybe he’d be a bit confused, but he would comply and maybe give you a hug or a couple kisses to reassure you.

“Huh? Whaddya talkin’ about babe?”

…

What did he mean, “whaddya talkin’ about”?

You thought you worded yourself quite clearly for him to understand, you knew he wasn’t stupid or anything— at least not THAT stupid.

“So yer worried about all the other people talkin’ to me? Babe don’t worry, it ain’t like I’m kissin’ ‘em or anything.”

You felt your heart twist. Did he just— not get it? Or did he not care? Did he care about you and everyone else the same? No. That can’t be right, you were catastrophizing things.

“No that’s not— I’m just— Atsumu wait. Please listen for a second—“ you tried grabbing his arm, but he immediately pulled it away.

“I gotta go to practice y/n, ok? Can it wait till after?”

he used your name instead of a nickname.

“It’ll take like five seconds for me to explain—“

“Just leave me be y/n! Yer insecurities can’t get in the way of my practicing, nationals are coming up and you’re tellin’ me yer worried about other students talkin’ to me? Yer just as annoying and as distracting as them at this point!”

“you’re just as annoying and as distracting as them”

That sentence echoed over and over again in your mind. He didn’t really mean that right? He was just stressed because of nationals? He’d certainly apologize right?

But all you heard were his quick receding footsteps that disappeared as he walked into the gym, closing the door behind him. You were frozen there for god knows how long. It felt like a few seconds, but to bystanders and other students walking by, you looked like you’d passed out standing up.

“Uh— y/n…? You good?” A familiar voice asked, tapping your shoulder lightly. You snapped out of your daze and looked to your side where your friend Kori was, looking at you with concern and slight worry in her sleepy golden amber eyes.

You hadn’t even realized tears had pricked your eyes, which earned a silent gasp from your friend. “Whoa what happened? Did you get hurt or something??” She asked worriedly, her eyes scanning your body for any injuries. Your breath trembled as you just slumped over into Kori’s shoulder, letting out a choked sob that you didn’t know you were holding in.

Kori’s eyes were wide with concern as she hesitantly pat your back, returning the hug. She didn’t say anything or press you to explain the situation yet, she just let you cry for as long as you needed, offering tissues and water to help you calm down a bit.

After you had managed to explain what happened, Kori sighed knowingly, as if she wasn’t surprised he’d say that. “He was never the nicest dude around y/n. I’m sorry he said that to you that’s wrong.” Her tone was empathetic and gentle, and she tried her best to avoid saying anything bad about the blonde. You knew him and her weren’t on the best of terms for some reason, reasons unknown even to Kori, Atsumu just didn’t like her for some reason.

Kori did her best to try and at least distract you. You went over to her house after school and she did whatever you felt like doing. Watching TV, studying, playing games, listening to music, honestly anything she’d do to help you at least a little. You couldn’t lie it did help to distract yourself, it felt good to not think about Atsumu. It felt— freeing.

You hadn’t felt this free and light in a while. You didn’t even realize how much your worries and concerns about Atsumu’s loyalty had weighed down on you.

Ding, ding

Your phone chimed, a new text message incoming. You hoped, hoped that it would be from Atsumu. Why did you hope for that? You felt so free when you weren’t thinking about him, why did you want him to text you? Why did you still want him to be with you and spend time with you despite what he did, and how he dressed you out?

You peeked at your notifications, and sure enough, it was from him. You saw his profile picture at the beginning of the textbox, a funny weird picture which was most likely taken by Suna as he was fighting with his other half.

“Is it him?” Kori’s voice made you jump, you could never get used to how deep it was, it was kind of scary whenever she’d talk out of nowhere. You nodded, opening up your messages to see what he had said.

Tsumu: Hey where are u? Didn’t you have club today? It’s Wednesday I always meet you after school to walk you home.

Should you answer? Honestly you didn’t want to. You didn’t want to act like everything was fine. It wasn’t fine. You closed your phone, just leaving him on read as you went back to watching the TV in front of you. It was playing your favorite anime, and Kori was drawing as per usual right next to you.

“What did tweedledum say?” Kori asked curiously, her Apple Pencil scribbling and scraping against her iPad screen in a precise, sharp manner. You couldn’t help but crack a smile at Kori’s nickname for Atsumu. Kori called the twins “tweedledee and tweedledum”. You weren’t sure if she even knew their actual names still. Of course she gave Atsumu the tweedledum name because he was indeed dum(b) about 90% of the time.

“He just asked where I was. I usually stay late for club which ends at the same time as his practice so we usually walked home together. But I skipped today.” You explained as Kori hummed softly in response. Kori didn’t pry or try to bring up the subject again for the rest of the time you were at her house. She thought it would be better to just— let you not think about it too much.

She offered for you to stay over for the night, but you said no to that. But Kori was worried for you, she wanted to make sure you were ok—so she said she could walk you home at least, but you shook your head, you couldn’t make her walk you home too after all she’d done for you already. So you waved goodbye to her, saying goodbye to her mom that had just pulled in from work as well with a soft smile that was half genuine, and half fake.

One half was genuinely happy after Kori helped you out, but the other half was still stuck on that dumb blonde. You’d gotten several messages from him on both Snapchat and text.

Tsumu: hello?? Don’t just leave me on read babe wth??

Tsumu: where even are you? Are you at someone’s house??

You then jumped, shit. Your Snapchat location. You almost forgot to turn it off. You quickly opened the app and turned off your location sharing before shoving your phone back into your pocket, putting on your headphones to try and focus on something different. You blasted music on your walk home, listening to anything your shuffled playlist would give you.

It was like your playlist knew. It kept playing these sad angsty songs that you liked listening to during late nights where sleep just couldn’t find you. For the second time that day, you cried, letting out choked and uneven sobs that you once again did not know you were holding onto. You didn’t even know why you were so hurt by what he said, it’s not like he broke up with you or anything. But still— why did it hurt like he just shot you four times straight through your heart and soul?

It was as if the bullets remained, not exiting your body, but lodging themselves deeper into your torn up heart, digging deeper and farther inside of you, not having any plans of leaving you.

The only thing comforting you now were the snug fit of the soft foam ears of your headphones, and your long sleeves that couldn’t reach past your wrists, staying at an uncomfortably short length that only made you feel worse. Any little thing made everything worse. Everything was just too much. Some part of you thought maybe it would’ve been better to stay at Kori’s like she’d offered before. But you were already too far away to turn back now, you’d just have to hope that the comfort of your own home would suffice.

Osamu wasn’t as popular as his twin brother Atsumu. But that didn’t mean he was unpopular. He was just overshadowed by his twin, or as he called it, his “better half”.

It was annoying how they’d all gather around his brother, he too found it kind of disturbing and weird. However of course he felt a bit envious, insecure about his own likability and looks. Did people find his brother more attractive despite them being identical twins? But why? Was it just him?

You’d been friends with the twins for a long while now, ever since middle school, even before they had their distinguishing dyed hair. You liked Osamu better the minute you met them both. Atsumu was so brazen and confident, and he wasn’t afraid to express his high standards of his fellow players, even upperclassmen.

You found it off putting how offensive the blonde could be to people. It was irritating to be around him. Osamu was different. He was pleasant to be around. He had a sense of humor, was laid back, reserved, and friendly for the most part.

He loved food, you knew that from the first time you sat with him in middle school for lunch recess. His droopy tired eyes would widen and sparkle whenever he saw food in front of him, specifically onigiri. It was cute to you, how he’d light up and become a completely different looking person at the sight of some simple, but satiating food. It was one of the many reasons why you chose him and not anyone else.

You felt so confused and baffled that Osamu didn’t see himself the same way you did. You saw someone special, he saw someone that was second best.

You tried. You really did.

Tried to make him see that he was perfect in his own way, perfect in your eyes, perfect for you.

But there was only so much you could do. Only so much you could say. He had to choose to believe your words, and do the rest on his own. It was called self confidence for a reason after all.

Your anniversary was coming up, it’d been 2 years since you two started dating officially. You took this as an opportunity to plan something special for you and your boyfriend this year. You knew he’d been stressed lately because of the upcoming tournaments, and because his twin was putting more pressure on him than ever. You couldn’t count the amount of times you’d seen Atsumu chewing him out for accidentally missing a serve, a block, a receive, or a spike.

Every mistake he made, every single hesitation, his brother caught it and made sure Osamu knew exactly what he did wrong despite the poor gray haired twin already being well aware about what he’d done wrong. Having someone rub everything in his face was degrading and mentally exhausting.

Osamu was usually patient, you commended him for being as patient as he was with his brother. But it was taking a toll on his self esteem that was already fragile. Atsumu was basically hitting him in the same spot over and over again, not allowing the previous bruises heal before making a new one in the same area, eventually leaving a mark that won’t ever heal nor fully fade away.

But next week will be different. You’d make sure of it. You even enlisted the help from your friend to help you figure out some nice plans or ideas of what you could do with Osamu. However you knew at some point you’d have to overcome your beef with Atsumu for a moment, and ask him his thoughts. He was Osamu’s twin brother after all, he knew him better than anyone, maybe even better than you.

“You sure you gotta ask him?” Kori asked. Ugh, you didn’t want to of course. But yes, you’d have to put your dislike for his horrid personality aside for your boyfriend’s sake. You wanted your anniversary to be perfect after all.

“Can you come with me to ask him please?” You asked Kori, looking at her with pleading eyes, clasping your hands together. Kori looked at you, putting her pencil down as she sighed.

“Yeah no sorry you’re on your own.” Kori said with an apologetic expression. You let out a small groan, you knew Atsumu had some sort of beef with Kori, and Kori didn’t want to deal with a beef she didn’t even know was from.

“Oh come on please??”

“…Y/n you already know what will happen if I go with you.”

“Please Yoyo you’re my best friend—“ You tried using the nickname that usually got Kori’s attention, holding your friend’s hands with pleading eyes. If Kori went with you, you could make her ask instead of you, and if he got too exasperating to stand any longer, you’d have an excuse to leave.

Kori looked at you with a narrow and skeptical squint when you used that nickname on her.

“Don’t use that—“

“What, you don’t like it Yoyo-chan?”

“Bro.”

“I’ll stop if you come with me.”

“Nice try.”

You pouted and slapped her shoulder playfully with feigned anger as you crossed your arms over your chest with a sigh. But it couldn’t be helped, it wouldn’t be too horrible right?

“Huh? Yer asking me for help? That’s a new one.”

Ugh. It was horrible.

You covered your perturbed expression, but you couldn’t hide the sharp glare of your eyes as you tried to “fake it till you make it” as they say, and act cordial. But god, you wanted to tear off that smug looking grin off his face so badly. The tone he used was so condescending and belittling, it made you want to crush him with your bare hands, but you honestly couldn’t tell if that was just his normal tone of voice or if he was trying to sound like an egotistical asshole all the time.

Because if he was trying? He was doing an absolutely stupendous job.

“I just wanted to know— what are some of Osamu’s favorite things to do? I mean— I know what he likes but you’re his brother.. So I thought you’d know better than me.” You said, reluctantly swallowing a snarky insult you were about to accidentally say without thinking.

Atsumu scoffed and grinned at you, and you were expecting him to tease you which might’ve been your last straw, but surprisingly, he didn’t.

“Aw that’s sweet actually. I see why he loves ya so much.” You looked at him, expecting to maybe see some kind of smirk or malicious glint in his eyes, but no, he was genuinely saying that. You were pleasantly surprised, maybe this wouldn’t be too bad after all.

You felt yourself smile at the fact that Osamu had made it clear to his brother of his love for you. If even someone as dense and emotionally oblivious as Atsumu could tell, then Osamu must’ve talked about you a lot. The thought of him talking about you so much made your heart flutter, sending a rush of joy and warmth through your veins, fueling your excitement and determination to plan the upcoming special day.

As you two talked, your excitement grew with each suggestion Atsumu made. Your smile was spread wide across your face, filled with genuine adoration and anticipation from how excited you were to surprise your beloved.

However, you failed to realize that Osamu might’ve gotten spoiled early. Spoiled about the wrong thing.

He saw you, chatting with his twin with your beautiful sweet smile that melted his heart to a puddle whenever you showed him. It absolutely destroyed him to see you blessing his brother with the sight instead of him.

Osamu knew you weren’t super close with him, but it’d always been in the back of his mind.

Is he better than me? He’s probably more fun.

Am I too boring?

Am I less good looking?

Am I always gonna be known as “Atsumu’s twin brother”?

He cursed and muttered painfully to himself as he walked off, he couldn’t watch you continue smiling and talking with his better half so cheerfully. Oh if only he had heard what you were talking about, then he would understand everything.

But he left, his fragile heart and self esteem shattered to unmendable pieces of a jigsaw that would never fit back together because of its missing piece.

He felt like a waste. He truly did.

Oh but no it was the opposite of what he thought.. You were only talking to his brother so enthusiastically because you were planning something special for him.

However, things get lost in translation. Misconceptions cause one person to become blind to the truth, quick to catastrophize, making haste to blame and lock away their feelings to try and preserve what they have left to spare. For Osamu? This was probably the worst misunderstanding, worse than any other situation you’d hear about. This was worse.

Oh this was bad. You just kept smiling and talking eagerly with his brother from a distance, that's all Osamu could see. His mind made up the subject of the conversation he thought you were having with Atsumu, his mind immediately jumping to conclusions that were incorrect. Yet there you were, blissfully unaware of the accidental turmoil you’d caused your boyfriend to suffocate in. Alone. Basking with his old friend, second place.

It was the day, finally it had arrived— your anniversary! You had so many things rushing through your buzzing mind, your heart racing with the good kind of anxiety and anticipation of the day ahead. You absolutely couldn’t wait to see Osamu, you could barely contain yourself from excitement.

You found this restaurant with Kori by researching online. It was a place that specialized in making onigiri, which was an establishment run by an old married couple that had been working there for generations. Kori had said that usually these types of places had the best food, and she was certainly not wrong about that.

You knew it was his favorite, so you thought it would for sure make him happy if you took him there, right?

You were expecting to wake up with a message from Osamu, but weirdly, he didn’t, your notifications were as empty as you left them last night. You thought nothing of it, maybe he’d just been too busy this morning to text you, he’d probably just tell you in person.

With a slight skip in your step, you walked up the stairs of Inarizaki, the familiar chatter and buzzing of fellow students’ varying footsteps echoing throughout the long hallways filled with people. Your gaze searched each head, each person’s hair color registering in your mind as you scanned the area. You were searching for one with a certain shade of gray…

There he was, the one with gray hair by the lockers!

You had to push your way through some students who didn’t seem to understand that perhaps having a conversation in the middle of the hallway was inconvenient for everyone around them. But that didn’t matter right now, all that mattered was getting to your boyfriend.

“Samu! I found this super cute place that’s run by this family and they specialize in onigiri— I wanna take you there after school today ok?” Your vice was so chipper and enthusiastic, filled with adoration and love as he shut his locker door slightly harsher than normal. His gaze looked over to you, and you were immediately silenced by how cold it was. It was sharp, razor sharp, and frigid like a blizzard was raging in his dark irises.

You were confused— maybe he was just tired.. Yeah, that was probably it.

“…You ok Samu? We don’t have to go if you don’t want to I just thought that maybe you’d—“

“Why don’t ya go with Atsumu? You seemed awfully chummy with him earlier, so just go with him.” He snapped coldly. But his eyes, they looked so pained, hurt, and somber, not cold and apathetic like his tone.

And with that, he left you to drown in his quicksand-like words, his footsteps receding as he disappeared in the crowd of countless students.

If his words weren’t already enough, you were hit with the sudden realization that he had forgotten about your anniversary, the entire reason behind why you’d asked him to go with you.

What did he mean “you seemed awfully chummy with him earlier”?? What was he— oh.

Oh no.

No no no— he completely misunderstood!

You were talking with Atsumu about today and what you were planning on doing with HIM! It had nothing to do with Atsumu in the slightest!

But you knew Osamu. Too well at that. You knew that he’d be avoiding you now, avoiding you like the plague. He acted petty like that, just like his brother whom he refuses to admit is very similar to him in certain ways.

You knew he wouldn’t let you explain. But what really tore at your soul was that he didn’t even remember today was your anniversary. You had thought that maybe his lack of a “happy anniversary” message in the morning was a fluke, that he was just trying to hurry out the door to make it to school on time.

Now you knew he’d actually completely forgotten. Your throat felt so tight, your stomach hurt from guilt, but also betrayal.

Some part of you, some part of you knew this was going to happen. Or some form of this exact situation at least. You knew he felt inferior to his brother, and that it killed him inside. You’d tried your very hardest to make it so he knew you loved him and you always would choose him and no one else. But what could you do if he just wouldn’t believe your words, let alone believe in himself?

You, his s/o who he’s supposed to confide in, to trust in, to take your word over anyone else’s, didn’t trust your own words that you’d repeated so many times that you felt like a broken record.

He said he did understand and believe it, but he really didn’t. All those nods and silent “mhms” were all fake, he was never really listening. What occurred just moments ago that left you suffocating in pained silence was proof enough of that.

How many times did you have to fucking say it to him? Why were you the one that had to fix his insecurities? They were his insecurities, not yours. It’s self esteem, not your esteem. He was acting petty and jealous, and it was honestly starting to wear your patience thin.

Now that you were reflecting truthfully, you couldn’t remember the last time he’d talked to you about anything other than his stresses at practice, or his brother. It was always something negative.. you hadn’t realized how bad it wore you down.

You were constantly dumped with negative emotions, and honestly, it could be called trauma dumping at this point. It was mentally exhausting. Having to reassure him every single day of something you tried so hard to get him to believe in.

But if he still wouldn’t trust your word, why were you wasting your energy and devotion on his irreversible immaturity? Why did you have to do all the work only to receive bad news all the time and be expected to make him feel better about himself? It was making you feel bad about yourself. It was taking a toll on you.

You were basically being the positive energy for two people when it was already exhausting enough to be your own supporter.

You let out a sigh of relief, exhaling tension you didn’t know you truly had. Your mind had decided it was time for you to move on, time for you to make him figure it out on his own. He was a 2nd year student for god's sake, he was damn well old enough to fix his own issues.

However with the exhale, you felt your eyes prick with tears of hurt and betrayal from his carelessness, from his complete lack of regard for your own feelings. He had forgotten your 2 year anniversary, it wasn’t like it was on leap year or something! It was an easy date to remember!

But you assumed that he was so self consumed that perhaps his mind thought it was meaningless to remember. That you and your words were not memorable enough, nor important enough to form a lasting memory.

He was everything to you, and you were everything to him too. So why was he like this? Why was he so insecure and petty? Why didn’t he believe in what you were telling him so adamantly?

He only believed his own thoughts, his word came first. You loved him so much, but it was getting more and increasingly difficult to keep loving him unconditionally. It was an uphill battle.

And you were miserably losing.

You had no chance against his own self being the enemy. You would come in second place no matter how hard you fought because there was no first place for you to take.

You knew he wasn’t the sweetest guy around. He just wasn’t a warm and fuzzy type of person. But that didn’t mean he didn’t care about you, of course he did. You were the only one he didn’t actively search for dirt to use as blackmail material later.

He wasn’t the most warm and fuzzy person that’s for sure, but you loved him anyway. His fox-like eyes, his quiet and stoic demeanor, his tall stature, and his funny hobby of filming the twins fighting or bickering with each other to save for future references and laughs.

The team often wondered how he ended up making you, a kind, friendly, and sincere person, fall in love with him, the opposite of you. He thought about this as well, and sometimes felt guilty about the way he acted, how he was so detached and cold sometimes. Your love language being physical affection and touch combined with being Suna’s s/o was not a good synergy because he wasn’t the biggest fan of too much affection. Of course hugs, cuddles, kisses are all things he loves to give and receive. But in moderation. He got tired of it after too much.

However you did not. You could be pressed against him all day, in fact, holding his hand or being in contact every second you were with him sounded like the perfect scenario to you.

He never admitted it out loud, and didn’t plan to, but your hugs from behind his chair as he’s working on homework or studying were his favorite. The feeling of your arms wrapped around him from behind which allowed him to continue working on what was in front of him, but still allowing you to be near him, for your comforting presence be as close as possible.

Lately he’d gotten a lot of those, courtesy of the upcoming midterms. Now whenever you came over, he was always studying or working on schoolwork with his headphones on, his head leaning over and close to his desk as he worked countless hours and days, including nights. You were straying to get worried by the amount of empty energy drink cans that had accumulated on his desk, even on the top of his dresser. It was so bad that you could notice it while FaceTiming him. Not to mention the trash can underneath his desk was most likely full of them as well, just hidden from the view of the camera.

This was surely not good for him. At all.

Your mind was filled with concerned thoughts of him, worry swirling in your mind, distracting you from your own midterms that you had to study for as well. You suddenly had an idea during the peak of boredom during your math class.

You could go over to Suna’s after school, and buy you both some sort of bento box to eat. You knew Suna probably hadn’t eaten a real meal other than ice pops in days. He kept failing to realize that frozen fruity ice water in the shape of a flattened cylinder wasn’t exactly full of nutrients. Then you two could study together afterwards. Two minds working in tandem were better than two on their own. Or that’s what you thought at least.

Pulling out your phone discreetly, you texted Suna to let him know you were coming over, knowing that he probably would be on his phone right about now.

You: Hey I’m gonna come over today after school with some snacks and food, maybe we can study together?

….

Suna: yeah sure. I can’t text rn I gotta pay attention

You: oh my bad, I’ll see you after school

read at 3:32pm

You were a bit surprised that he was actively paying attention during class, especially since right about now he was most likely in AP world history. His tone even through text sounded stressed and a bit more harsh and cold than usual, but you knew he was anxious and worked up about the midterms which was absolutely valid and normal. But still, it lacked the usual hint of warmth that his texts usually had, regardless of his word choice.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of the clock, your gaze intently focused on each centimeter the second hand moved, slowly making its way around the entire circular clock on the wall, rotation after rotation. You swore the second hand moved backwards a couple times, as if time were quite literally reversing as you stared at the clock.

Your teacher’s lecture was essentially gibberish, your brain couldn’t focus on anything but the thought of going home to study and take care of your boyfriend who obviously needed the help. You were probably going to need help too from the looks of it, seeing as how you didn’t remember a single thing nor comprehend anything your teacher was saying.

RING RING

You practically fell out of your seat at the piercing ringing of the school dismissal bell. You sprung to your feet, as did everyone else, and as you were packing up your things, your teacher suddenly shouted something, his voice shouting over the commotion that had started from the bell’s relieving cry.

“Excuse me? The bell doesn’t dismiss you, I do!”

Oh for god's sakes— you wanted to take the damn bell and smack his head with it for saying that. Everyone audibly groaned, sitting back down with a synced chorus of irritated and grumpy sighs.

“Ok the homework is just studying and reviewing the accumulated material for the midterm on Thursday. You’re dismissed.”

…Are you serious?

That was it?

That was what he made you all stay for?

Oh nah god give you strength to not clock this bald, old, bitter ass, Walmart bill nye in the face with your textbook. You thought about it, seriously debating whether or not it’d be worth it. But you walked past him, deciding it wasn’t worth your time. You took a deep breath in and out, exhaling the pain of that math class as you walked with a determined look in your eyes. You had a plan.

You’d hit the convenience store on the way to Suna’s house, buy some food for the two of you, and then go over to his house to help him actually eat a normal meal, maybe clean up a bit, and then study of course.

With a fast and brisk pace, you walked into the store with a singular goal in mind, quickly picking out a couple of bentos for the both of you. Exiting the store right after you walked in, your quick pace never wavered as you made your way towards your boyfriend’s house, the plastic bag full of the food and snacks in your left hand, your bag in your right, determination in your eyes, and compassion in your heart.

As you knocked on the door, you saw the familiar face of his mom who immediately smiled upon seeing and recognizing you.

“Ah y/n, I’m so glad you’re here actually. Rintaro just got home— he’s been so quiet lately. He’s been locked up in his room everyday after school and on the weekends.. I think he’s studying but I’m a bit worried that it’s too much. The boy won’t listen to me either about drinking all those energy drinks.. maybe you’ll have better luck?”

His mom looked at you with hopeful eyes, and you smiled, nodding and reassuring her you’d try your best to help. His mom thanked you with a grateful smile, nodding as you walked up the stairs, down the familiar hallway to your boyfriend’s room.

You thought about knocking first. Should you? He was your boyfriend.. Did you really need to knock? Well it was courteous to knock before entering anyone’s do—

And suddenly the door opened for you, revealing the tall figure of Suna in front of you. His narrow, fox-like eyes droopy, tired, and strained from staring at a laptop for too long, or reading in the dark. He had faint dark circles underneath his hazel green eyes, and his hands were a bit shaky, just barely noticeable, probably from the obscene amount of caffeine he’d consumed these past few days to stay up and study. You showed him the bag full of various snacks and food with a little smile before he stepped aside, opening the for further for you to come into his room.

Your eyes widened slightly, but you stayed silent as you took in the whirlwind of disarray that was your boyfriend’s room. It looked like hurricane Katrina had ravaged his room. Empty cans everywhere, wrappers from countless ice pops, pencil and eraser shavings, crumpled up pieces of paper, and dirty clothes. It didn’t smell wonderful, that's for sure.

You saw just how exhausted he looked, how stressed and anxious he was. He never usually studied this hard for school, in fact— you’d never really seen him studying much at all. Midterms plus the stress of the upcoming volleyball qualifying tournaments were probably weighing down on him more than he could handle. You looked at him with a worried and sorry look on your face as you watched him eat his bento in silence.

He did not utter a single word, not a hello, not a how are you, just nothing but the silence and the sounds of chewing. It was awkward for you to say the least. So you decided to break this uncomfortable silence, trying to bring up a more light hearted topic to hopefully bring some light to his dark room.

“So.. Anything new and funny happen with the twins?”

You knew he liked to leave the twins to fight and bicker without stopping them because it was fun to film their brawls. He could care less about them hurting each other by accident, it was entertaining to watch them fight. He didn’t respond, he simply kept chewing, his eyes lost in thought as they stared at the ground with nothing but a vacant empty iris with no color or hue. It was like all the color was sucked out of his eyes, and it was starting to take his skin too. He was getting paler as you sat and stared at him!

Maybe he didn’t hear you, so you repeated yourself a second time, not noticing how the moment you started speaking, his fists clenched and trembled as he gripped his pant legs.

“Rin?? Can you hear m—“

“God y/n can you shut the hell up please?!” He snapped, his fist slamming against the hardwood floor, making the house shake just slightly, making you jump in surprise and shock. Your eyes were wide, searching his gaze for a hint of guilt or remorse, maybe he was just stressed and overstimulated?

But his eyes were ice cold, filled with irritation and frustration, not a hint of remorse in them. Did.. did he really mean that?

Surely he didn’t.

No he didn’t, right?

…Right?

“S-sorry..” You couldn’t help but stutter a bit, taken aback by his sudden outburst. He continued eating in silence, you could practically feel his frustration and stress seething off of him like smoke. You purse your lips together, struggling to not release your tears.

You knew it wasn’t all that bad, but still, it hurt to hear him say that to you. You knew it wasn’t supposed to make you feel this horrible, but it did. No amount of convincing yourself it wasn’t that bad of a sentence would take away or lessen the pain it gave you.

About 39 minutes of dead silence followed, and you got up, taking all the empty cans and containers scattered across his room and sticking it all into a trash bag, tying it up and leaving it by his door for him to take out later. You decided that maybe it would be best to leave him alone, and grabbed your things, opening the door to leave, glancing back at your boyfriend who was studying, wearing his headphones. You wanted to say goodbye, you wanted to say you loved him and to not push itself too far. Most of all, you wanted to hear him say that he loved you. But judging from earlier, he probably wouldn’t even want to hear your voice at all.

“See you later Suna.” You muttered under your breath, closing the door behind you as you left. Did he even realize you were leaving? He didn’t even look up from his desk. He didn’t thank you for the food. He didn’t thank you for cleaning up. He didn’t thank you for trying to help him. Nothing you did was acknowledged. You went out of your way to help him, and it appeared that maybe that wasn’t the right thing to do.

You quietly walked down the steps, opening the front door and closing it behind you.

With your back against the wall, hidden from Suna’s family, that’s when you began to feel tears welling up in your eyes, falling down your cheeks as you hid your face in your sleeves. Why were you crying? Was the stress of the midterms catching up to you too? Or was it purely because of his outburst?

You didn’t know. Hell— you didn’t know anything did you? Obviously not it seemed.

a/n - idk why but I’m in a very angsty mood 😂 I’m sorry for hurting you guys I really am 😭😭😭

[spinchip]

Just Don't Call Me Late For Dinner

transgirl Zane and picking out a new name.

“So,” Cole asks with an air of curated nonchalance, like asking the question he’s about to ask might be uncouth, “Do I still… call you Zane, or have you um, picked out a new name?”

She glances over at him, pausing the mental calculation she and Pixal had been working on to pin him with a soft smile. The question was meant in good faith, an effort to be supportive, but they were currently held prisoner in the dungeon of a madman, “Zane is fine. I have not had much time to think about my name, and considering our current situation I do not think it’s wise to split my attention.”

Cole chuckles a little at that which is good, she was trying to add a bit of levity to her words with the inflection of her voice, “That’s fair. Just let me know if anything changes, yeah?”

“Of course.” She goes back to work, the conversation sitting in the back of her mind for her to examine later.

I would be happy to take a break and consider the matter of your name, Pixal informs her in that familiar matter-of-fact way, It could prove a good mental reset, though i imagine that term does not accurately ascribe itself to AI.

Thank you, but really, I am okay. I would prefer not to pick out a new name while in captivity. She thinks back at her, a dungeon is not quite conducive to the process. I would prefer something so important not be sullied by this experience.

Understood. Pixal says simply, and they move on from the topic.

Later, after everything is over and done and mostly-processed, Cole glances up at her as she enters the living room with a curious smile, “how was the mall?” He asks her.

“Looks like you got a lot of stuff.” Lloyd comments from his spot on the carpet in front of the TV. He’s laying flat on his back and reading a comic book above his head casually.

“It was a total success!” Kai answers for her.

She supposes that is alright, considering he did most of the heavy lifting when it came to her new fashion choices. He had an eye for clothing- it was the main reason she’d brought him along. Before she’d rebuilt herself, everything she owned was bulky and big and picked out for how it hid her silhouette. With her new body, she found her old wardrobe… lacking character. Boring. But having been so ignorant to the fashion world, she’d enlisted the resident stylist for his help. Thank the first master for all those magazines he got every month. She’d done her homework before they went out and knew somewhat what was in style and what she liked (they didn’t always overlap) and Kai had helped her build outfits and pick out several cornerstone pieces in her new wardrobe.

“I am happy with our trip.” She says with a smile, setting down several bags. Kai took the liberty of showing off a few of her new things. Dresses, skirts, jeans and tops, sweaters and shoes. It had been a long day, but she felt exhilarated by the experience instead of exhausted and sad like she always had when shopping in the mens section.

“Speaking of new things, given any thought to your name?” Cole asks again, the question much more casual than the first time he’d asked.

She wasn’t completely unobservant to social cues, and she’d certainly noticed and appreciated that they were all somewhat avoiding the name Zane for her since she’d informed them of her new identity. Her life as of recently was full of a myriad of nicknames.

“I am… still thinking about it.” She admits a bit bashfully, “I’m not sure where to begin.”

“It’s a big decision. Do you need any help?” Jay says without looking away from the video game he was currently horribly losing at.

She takes a moment to ponder that before she sits down on the couch next to Cole, “I would be open to suggestions.” She says agreeably, “Are there any names you think would fit me?”

Cole humms and flips his sketch pad to a new page, scribbling Possible Names? On the top, “Well, that depends. What are you wanting? Something that starts with the same initial?” he thinks for a moment before he starts writing things down as he says them aloud, “Zinnia? Zoey? Zuri?”

“Zinnia sounds too similar to Nya,” She says with a shake of her head before shooting the girl a smile, “I mean no offense.”

“None taken,” Nya says with a shrug, “I get it. What about something more technology based? Perl? Ada? Siri? Maybe Julia or Ruby?”

Jay curses as his character dies on screen before throwing his two cents in, “Tera or Zetta, like the bytes?” He starts the level over again, “We could get weird with it. Circuit? Mimo? Variable?”

“Variable!?” Kai repeats, looking at Jay like he’s grown a second head.

“Var is a beautiful name for a girl!” Jay insists instantly, defensively huddling over the controller in his hands.

“I’m not sure about that one Frosty.” Kai says frankly before his eyes light up, “Hey, what about names having to do with ice? I’ll look some up.” He says excitedly, pulling out his phone.

While he’s doing that, she leans over to see what Cole has written down so far and to also stage whisper to him, “You do not have to write down Variable.”

“It’s not that outrageous!” Jay pouts.

“Okay, what about Winter? Neve? Noelle?” Kai's clicks over to another article, “This one says Frostine but that feels a little heavy handed to me. Ooh, I like Ivy and Holly if you want something more nature-y. Aurora is nice too.” He narrates as he scrolls through different lists.

“Neve feels like something my Father would have picked in another life,” She says wistfully, “But I am not certain it feels quite right for me in this one.”

“How about Lena?” Lloyd offers up, peeking over his comic.

“Isn’t that Fritz Donnegans love interest in starfarer?” Nya asks suspiciously.

“Actually she’s his twin sister.” Jay corrects, “Well they made her his sister in the third movie, before that it wasn’t canon.”

“I thought the third movie was about Fritz Donnegans dad turning evil.”

“No, those are the prequels. That’s the sixth movie they made.” Lloyd says as he flips his comic book back open.

Nya rolls her eyes, “If it’s a prequel then chronologically that is the third movie.”

“We’re getting off topic.” Cole interrupts before the conversation can devolve any further. He holds out his sketchpad for her to examine, “Do any of these speak to you?”

Zinnia Zoey Zuri Perl Ada Siri Julia Ruby Terra Zetta Circuit Mimo V Winter Neve Noelle Frostine? Ivy Holly Aurora Lena

“I like Perl?” She offers.

“That didn’t sound very confident.” Kai points out with a raised brow.

“Okay, so that’s the closest. What do you like about it?”

She rolls the name around her head for a long moment, trying to figure out why it stood out to her, “It is one syllable, like Zane. It does not end in an ‘a’ sound.”

“Short and to the point. I can work with that.” Nya tilts her head to think, “Sage. Elle? Skye?”

“Skylor.” She reminds Nya with a shake of her head.

“Jade?” Jay suggests, “Oh, too similar to Jay.”

“And Harumi. Jade princess?” Lloyd points out with a cringe.

“Oh, right.”

“Wynn? Oh, hey, Wren? You like birds.” Cole scribbles down the new names while she mulls over his options.

“Wren is closer.” She says slowly, “A high contender for sure.”

“Birds!” Kai says excitedly, “What are more one syllable birds?”

Lloyd closes his comic book again so he can think better, “Lark?”

Nya taps her fingers against her chin, “How about Dove?”

“Raven?”

“That’s two syllables Jay.” Kai groans.

Jay throws his hands up in defeat, “I’m not good at this!”

“Dove.” She repeats suddenly into the room, the name tasting sweet and comfortable on her tongue, “I think my name is Dove.”

“Nya you got it!” Kai whoops before he deflates, “Aw, I'm jealous she picked your suggestion.”

Nya sits back with a smile, preening at her choice.

Cole’s smiling ear to ear as he straightens up on the couch, “Alright, let’s try it out! A little role-play.” He turns his body to face her and pretends to hold a cup in one hand and a marker in the other, “Alright, Ma’am, i’ve got a Venti Oat milk latte with toffee nut and pumpkin.” He spins off the top of his head.

“I would not order that.” She interrupts, “I do not like toffee.”

“Can I get a name for your order?” Cole railroads on, giving her a meaningful look.

She doesn’t roll her eyes at his shenanigans because this whole thing has been incredibly sweet, “My name is Dove.” She tells him, the words fitting perfectly in her mouth. There’s a joy bubbling up her chest making her giggle as he pretends to scribble her name down on an invisible cup.

“It’s spelled D-O-V-E.” Jay explains slowly as Cole writes.

“Just in case you weren’t sure.” Lloyds plays into the bit.

“Shut up.” Cole rolls his eyes, but there’s no real heat to it before he offers her a genuine smile, “That’s a great name.”

“It suits you.” Kai adds and Nya nods along.

“Thank you.” Dove says, unable to hide her bright smile.

[stein0806]

Art evolution!

Thank you for the tag @tiarpopdind <3

And I'm tagging @noxxytocin, @raraaf6 and anybody who wants to do this.

My journey was quite.... unique... LOL. Same as Tiar, I'm raised in a strict Asian household, and I left my home country as soon as I turn 18, so I don't have most of my older drawings.

College Years (4 years)

I was always a traditional artist, but I went into character design course for college and I got to study digital arts intensively.

My range was quite big, from still objects, character designs, illustrations, and manga arts. And I drew lots... AND LOTS of hands and feet (these are only some of them cuz i filled a whole sketch book with them lmao)

Employed (Including COVID period)

I... was not in my best time in this period. I didn't get the Job I wanted, but I desperately didn't want to end up having to go back to my Home country, so I just went with any job that I could get, and I ended up going into IT.

It was.... stressful.. to say the least. I desperately try to draw to improve my portfolio, but couldn't cuz of the work burnout.

Also... My PC blew up and all my older drawings are gone, POOF. Maybe it was the heaven's plans to make me give up a career in creative fields lol!!

Most of my works were pencil sketches and ink arts. And I have to say... I got rusty... REEEAAAALLLY rusty.. especially on digital art to the point when I looked at my older arts, I was like "how tf did i draw that????"

The only thing I was really proud of was the hands lmao.

Hiatus (3 years)

Yep, life made me stop drawing at all for 3 years.

Back to drawing (2024 Nov till present time)

I started HL on September 2024, and I. was. obsessed. I platinumed the game in a month, and got REAAAALLY obsessed with Ominis. I noticed that there weren't too many works regarding HL on the internet, so I was like "F**k it, imma make them myself!!" and that's when I got back to drawing, and haven't stopped even a single day unless life forbid me to.

So yeah, I really thank HL (especially Ominis) for getting me back into drawing, and dare I say, I even got better than I was before.

And on top of that, people love my art enough to ask for commissions to the point I can no longer keep up with the requests. And all this was within 6 months.

That's it!! I was late in this fandom, but so far people have been very nice to me and I even got some real friends from the fandom.

Going into HL fandom was my best decision in this past 5 years. And because of that, I can confidently say that 2025 is my year.

Thank you for all the support, thank you for loving my art from the bottom of my heart. I will keep creating HL till the flames go out (which is very unlikely)

-stein-

[breadbrobin]

the bet

part two

cedric diggory x reader — harry potter

[fem!best friend reader]

summary: the summer is going well. you’re not in love with cedric, and you’re so gonna win this bet. totally. right?

warnings: quite a lot of swearing, betting/gambling, underage drinking, cringey flirting (PLS i wrote this years ago), GOD they’re so in love it’s stupid, minor character death (sort of???), i think i’m a comedian (i’m not), switched from an x oc story so might have a few mistakes oops, mediocre writing (again i wrote this years ago and this is the worst part i think)

word count: 2.7k

(ok first of all tyyyy for the love on the first part i can’t wait for y’all to read part three! there is just one more part after this and it’s the best one imo)

part one

part three

——————————————

The Flowers

Cedric was splayed out on your bed. One of his feet hung off near your head and you was infinitely glad for his quality hygiene.

You were reading the Wizard of Oz again, and he was dutifully drawing something that he refused to show you.

“Okay,” he finally said. “I’m done.”

You finished your page and slipped the bookmark in, turning to him. “Can I see?”

“No, I drew this for you but you’re never allowed to look at it.” he teased, straight faced.

“Never?”

“Never.” He broke into a smile and shoved the sketch pad in your face.

It was a… Well, you weren’t exactly sure what it was. There was some interesting shading, a tuft of what could either be grass or hair and a strange egg shaped blob in the middle.

You hoped your face didn’t show your emotions as you quickly schooled your features into a smile. “It’s great, Ced.”

He had a wide grin plastered on his face as he nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I know. Now turn the page.”

You did as he said and blinked in shock, your jaw dropping. “There is no way you drew this.”

“I’ve been practising.”

“Have you been taking classes from freaking Van Gogh in between Quidditch practise?” you gaped, looking from the sketch of sunflowers and daisies and his beaming face.

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “An artist never reveals his secrets.”

“I think that’s meant to be magician.”

“Same thing.” he waved her off. “Anyway, I know sunflowers are your favourite, and daisies are my favourite. So I combined them.”

“This is honestly incredible.” you gushed.

“Oh, stop it.”

“No, seriously.” You stood up. “Can I put it on my wall?”

“Go for it,” he beamed, somehow even brighter than before.

You gently pulled the page from the pad and ripped a tab of blu-tack off, sticking it to the wall above your desk. Once it was hung, you stepped back to admire it. “Oh!” you gasped. “You need to sign it!”

Cedric stood up and brushed past you, scribbling his signature on the bottom right corner with a small heart. “Happy?”

“Mhm.”

That should have been your second sign.

They stood side by side and admired it for a moment.

Then you broke the silence.

“I can’t draw for shit,” you laughed. “And look at you. Mister Artist himself.”

“Oh, piss off,” he groaned, hugging your shoulders from behind and resting his chin on your head. “You can sing though. I can’t.”

“Liar.” you scoffed, patting his arm. “I’ve heard you sing. Besides, you’re practically perfect at everything you do.”

Just as he was about to respond, Cordelia burst through the lightly shut door, eyes still red and puffy. The two separated. “Lunch is ready.”

“Thanks, Dells,” he nodded. “We’ll be right there.”

As she left, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and led you out. “God, I’m starving.”

“You’re always starving.”

“Very funny.”

The Second Week

As with most summers, you and Cedric spent almost every waking moment in each other’s company.

Unlike most summers, however, you couldn’t chase the thoughts of a certain bet from your mind.

You knew, you knew, that there was nothing to it. That it was just your friends being annoying and messing with you and everything you’d started reading into was just in your head… But, God, was it hard to remember sometimes.

You were mostly worried that he’d find out. Maybe one of your friends would send you a letter mentioning it? (Not that he’d ever read your letters.) What if Liz came for a random visit? Or worse: what if she told her friends, the Weasley twins, and they came for a visit?

You chased your swirling thoughts from your mind as Cedric walked through the front door, performing the mental equivalent of shoving all of the mess in your room into the wardrobe and hoping it closed right.

“Hey,” you smiled, standing up with your bowl of milk that used to hold cereal. “You’re early.”

“It’s eleven o’clock.”

“Yeah, early,” you shrugged, setting the now empty bowl in the sink. “What’s up?”

“Wanna go into town?” he asked, leaning on the counter and gesturing to the fruit bowl.

You tossed him an apple. “Sure. When?”

“Now?”

You sighed heavily, half-joking. “A bit more warning would be nice. Lemme go get changed.”

“Yes!” he cheered through a mouthful of apple. “You’re the best, N/N!”

N/N? You wondered as she jogged up the stairs. Since when am I N/N?

If you’d been listening carefully, you would have heard Cedric bang his head against the kitchen bench.

The town was quiet as always.

A farmer’s market was dying down, most vendors packing their remaining wares and smiling sheepishly at you and Cedric as you wove your way through the stunted stalls. You purchased a fresh bread roll and split it between you as you walked, both surprised that it was still warm.

“You know,” Cedric said after a few minutes of silence as you left the market and strolled along the main street. “We should do this more often.”

You squinted as you looked up at him, the sun assaulting your eyes. “Really?” you asked dryly. “What, burn ourselves to a crisp and get blinded while we’re at it?”

“No, dummy. Do stuff.”

“What? You don’t like doing nothing with me?” you teased.

“No, no, I love doing nothing with you,” he stole a chunk of bread that you’d been eyeing up. “But I also like spending money.”

“I bought the bread. I was the one who spent the money.”

He gasped, as if he didn’t already know. “What? Really?”

“Shut up, Ced,” you smiled, pushing him and stealing the last chunk of bread from the packet.

You were awake uncharacteristically early, so when you knocked on the Diggory’s front door, Cedric looked supremely confused.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked. “Did someone die?”

“No, why would you— You’re an arsehole, you know that?” you pouted.

“Yeah, I know. Come on.”

He led you down the short hallway and into the living area. You sighed contentedly. The Diggory’s house always smelled amazing; a combination of vanilla, coffee and cleaning supplies that somehow worked. Cedric often smelled similar, you realised. The vanilla that clouded the house seemed to hang around him as well. You shook yourself out of it as he began speaking.

“My dad’s gotten obsessed with the TV,” he admitted, nodding towards the man who was watching with a rapt expression. “He doesn’t really understand it, but he’s addicted. He really likes cricket. Probably because he can’t figure out how to change the channel.”

“Oh, I used to play cricket! I love it so much!” you gushed, joining Amos on the couch. “Who’s playing?”

“England and India,” he said distractedly.

“ODI, T20 or test?”

“Test. We’re on Day Two.”

“So England’s batted?”

“Three-thirty-seven.”

“Not bad,” you squinted at the numbers on the screen, showing one-twenty-eight for six.

“I have no idea what you guys are saying,” Cedric cut in, looking blankly between you two.

“We’re talking sport,” Amos said, almost giddily.

You didn’t spare either of them a glance as the English captain went upstairs for a review. “Yeah, get back in the kitchen. Go make us a sandwich.” you teased.

“I thought you were coming to hang out with me,” he almost pouted.

You finally dragged your eyes from the screen. “But… Cricket…”

He shook his head with a smile. “Right, of course. Two sandwiches coming right up.”

The Moment You Knew

The days seemed doomed to repeat. Groundhog day, your mum had called it. So, when you found a way to rid yourself of the monotony of daily life, you took it without a second thought.

“Mum, please!”

“I don’t know…”

“I’ll even get petrol! I’ll… I’ll… I’ll pay for it myself too!”

“Y/N…”

“Mum,” you pleaded. “It’s just me and Ced. It’s a twenty minute drive and I’ll get petrol on the way back. We’ll be back by four and I’ll wear suitable shoes while driving.”

Whitney pursed her lips in thought. Then she sighed. “Fine. Don’t bother getting petrol, I’ll fill up on the way home from work on Monday.”

You squeaked in excitement, hugging your mum tightly. “Thank you! You’re the best! I love you!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Love you too, hun,” she smiled.

True to her word, you did wear suitable shoes. The drive ended up taking around twenty-five minutes, but you supposed your mother couldn’t fault you for driving just under the speed limit all the way there.

There was a secluded lake you’d found out about from an old magazine in your mum’s collection, when you’d been looking for something, anything, to make your days less boring.

“This is awesome,” Cedric breathed as you broke through the treeline and onto the rocky shore of the small lake.

“Yeah,” you sighed contentedly, breathing in the fresh air.

You set up their towels and supplies in the shade of a tree and pulled off your sturdy shoes.

Cedric pulled his shirt over his head. You would be lying if you said your eyes didn’t catch on his muscles.

“Race you in,” he said as you had your own shirt halfway over your head.

“What?” you asked, hearing him run away. “Oh, you prick!”

You tossed your shirt on the ground, followed by your shorts, leaving you in your swim suit, pouting as Cedric splashed around in the cool, blue water.

You stomped over to the water’s edge, frowning down at him. The rock you were standing on was about a metre above the surface, casting a navy shadow over the rippling water. He waded a few metres out from you.

“You coming?” he asked.

“No,” you pouted, folding your arms. “I don’t swim with cheaters.”

He barked a laugh, swimming over to the edge and pulling himself out. Droplets of water hit your skin.

You backed away. “Cedric…”

He took a step closer.

“Don’t you dare, Diggory…”

He tilted his head, grinning widely as he continued to step closer to you. “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

“Sure, you don’t,” you pointed at him. “Stay back!”

He laughed and pushed off his heels, springing towards you. Before he could reach you, however, you turned tail and ran, feet skimming over the rocks as you raced for the safety of the towels.

You only managed to get a few steps in before he caught you, his cold arms wrapping around your waist and lifting you off the ground. He spun around, carrying you back to the edge of the water and tossing you into the lake.

You yelped as the cold water hit you, but remembered to hold your breath, your hair swirling around your face in the water. You heard the telltale sound of him jumping in too and forced yourself up to the surface.

“I hate you!” you gasped, pushing your hair off your forehead. “I hate you so fucking much!”

“Liar!” he retorted, shaking his head and sending water droplets flying everywhere. “You love me.”

You didn’t respond for a moment, treading water and staring at him. “You wish,” you finally uttered.

He just smiled.

The days ticked by much faster than expected. Soon, Cedric was waving his parents off on their week-long trip and then hauling his bags over to your house, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“What did you do?” you immediately asked when you were alone.

He closed the door gently before skipping over to the bed in the guest bedroom he was staying in. He sat on it cross-legged, still smiling, and patted the mattress ahead of him.

When you finally sat down, he leaned forward.

“Guess what I bought,” he said.

You waited.

“You’re meant to ask,” he sighed.

“Oh, my bad,” you cleared your throat. “What did you bring, Cedric?”

He didn’t answer, simply reaching down to his backpack and pulling out a bottle of firewhiskey.

“That’s it? Oh, you sweet, sweet child,” you teased. “I have three of those in my room.”

“Sorry, N/N, not all of us are casual rulebreakers,” he sniffed.

You pushed his shoulder. “I’m kidding, Ced. I mean, technically, I’m not, but I do appreciate the sentiment.”

He poked his tongue out at you.

The Night Things Happened

The day started like any other.

You and Cedric usually woke up at vastly different times, so when he woke up, he went for a run, had a shower and ate a light breakfast before going to wake you.

A lot of groaning and a few thrown pillows later, you were standing in the kitchen making pancakes.

As you flipped another one, leading to Cedric cheering as if you’d never done it before, Whitney entered the kitchen.

“Morning, you two,” she greeted, kissing your temple and patting Cedric’s shoulder. “Cords and I are going to that Girl Scouts sleepover tonight, remember? So you’ll have to make dinner yourselves.”

“Yup, we know, Mum,” you said, taking the pancake out of the pan and slapping it onto a plate. “We’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you burning the house down. Remember last time?”

“Mum.” You turned to her grimly. “We don’t talk about last time.”

Whitney raised her hands in surrender. “Right, right. But, on a more serious note. I shouldn’t have to tell you not to invite anyone else over and to be in bed by one, should I? And I won’t come home to drunk teenagers all over my house?”

“Nope, we’ll be all good, Ms Ridge,” Cedric shot her a winning smile.

She pursed her lips jokingly. “Mhm… Alright, I trust you two. I’m going to the shops, need anything?”

“We need more eggs.”

“Eggs, got it.”

The night was when things changed.

After Whitney and Cordelia were gone, at least long enough that it was unlikely they’d turn around and come back, you took your first swig of firewhiskey.

It burned its way down your throat, like it always did. Cedric coughed and sputtered, nearly spitting it mouthful out.

You held back a laugh. “You alright, Golden Boy?”

“Shut up,” he seethed, voice hoarse.

You raised your hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. I was just asking.”

You sat and ate the pizza you’d ordered already, taking sips of firewhiskey whenever you felt like it.

You closed your pizza box one slice after Cedric did, placing it on top of his on the coffee table. “You good?”

“Great,” he smiled dopily. It seemed the whiskey was hitting him harder than he was letting on.

You smiled back. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You took a larger swig of whiskey, shaking your head at the strength. “I just wanna point out that if you get sick, I’m not cleaning you up. Got it?”

“Yeah, got it.” He nodded, looking a little bit more put together. “I’d clean you up though. If you got sick.”

You smiled again. “Thanks, Ced.”

The night was going surprisingly well. You’d turned on the TV, both staring, fixated at Friends reruns, leaning heavily on each other. The bottle was half gone and, as the advertisements came on, you each took another swig.

Cedric was looking at you weird.

You straightened up, frowning in confusion. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he slurred slightly. “You’re just… Fuck, you’re pretty.”

Your heart fluttered. “Oh. So are you.”

He blushed, looking down. “Yeah, I know.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing. “Yeah, I bet you do, Goldie.”

“Goldie?”

“Golden Boy. It’s cute.”

“You’re cute.”

“You’re cute.”

“No, you’re cute.”

“You’re cuter.”

“No, you are.”

“You are.”

“You…” he was very close to you now, his grey eyes darting between you eyes and your lips. “You’re very pretty. You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” you breathed.

“No, I don’t think you know how pretty you are. Like… When you laugh your eyes light up, and… And when you do that thing when you’re thinking… Where your eyebrow twitches… Oh, and that thing you do… The thing when your favourite songs come on and you tap your legs really fast…”

You swallowed tightly as his hand brushed your cheek. His breath smelled of firewhiskey, but you were sure yours did too.

He wasn’t looking at your eyes anymore. “You’re incredible, Y/N. And you deserve to know that.”

“Cedric…” you started.

“Sh…” he cut you off. He was hardly an inch away now. “Don’t talk. Just…”

Friends came back on the TV.

“Just watch Friends with me.” He leaned back, looping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you flush against his side.

You tried with all your might to ignore your pounding heart.

You weren’t sure if you were going to win this bet after all.

[ken-tfc]

Hi sorry if this is a weird question I was wondering do you have any tips or tutorials on drawing the male and female bodies ? Love how you drawn natsu 🥰 also hi hope your doing ok and drinking plenty of water!

Hooooo-boy okay let’s see here

Anatomy is a very wide subject and theres a lot that goes into it so I’m just gonna go over a few things I see people needing help with often. First the shapes, I usually go with something like this before making lines around it (the lines are the sketch two usually where I make the anatomy looser and more fluid)

Here’s a quick map out of the difference between two different characters of the same gender, in the picture you can see some notes I’ve left as body types can differ a lot, these are quite similar but despite being similar still having differences based on habits or routines like cana’s drinking or natsu’s workout routine. Now these are heavily based on my opinions and also my version of dragon slayer anatomy so bear with me.

Humans are not the same and while people always talk about same face syndrom, same body syndrom is very much a thing aswell. For this id recommend looking up certain things the character your drawing does and looking if it would have any specific effect like; drinking being able to cause weight gain.

Now for using the shapes in different poses you actually have to move the pieces and dependent on how it’s moved it changes things quite a bit. Especially in the neck and chest area. I’d recommend looking at pictures of how the neck and collarbone area shifts and changes because it’s quite fascinating to see how muscles can differ in looks and how they can squish and raise causing different looks.

Human anatomy varies a lot and it’s a shame one can’t find much good references around, if you have any specific questions regarding anatomy I could try going into more detail though I’m afraid I might have to pull up my physical art as my digital anatomy is quite stylised haha

Remember while learning the fundamentals is amazing, it’s okay to break the rules for an art style (will look better usually if your consistant and don’t go back and fourth with it)

This might have been explained horribly, sorry about that haha

Now for a random tidbit section

For more bodies with body fat (mostly seen when wearing a bra or anything similar) you can often find a fold of sorts under the female chest area, likewise the may also be found a more sharp bump on skinny bodies aswell, for the skinner one instead of fat, the bump is part of their bone structure that is shown. That can happen in multiple places and is more visible in places that store less fat.

Speaking of bonessss, hip dips! AND I’m gonna say it off the bat, MEN CAN HAVE HIP DIPS TOO!! Stop letting women be the only ones 🙏 we need more of them for everyone.

Anyways hip dips are caused by the shape of the pelvis and the way fat and muscle are distributed around it, some people have more pronounced hip dips, while others have less noticeable ones. So let’s get some viarity guys!!

I haven’t slept in too long so this might not make any sense at all, sorry to the polycule creator gang bc I LIED I did I fact not go to sleep.

Last thing I’m gonna mention is that the neck can gain muscle and or fat, okay byeeeee

[1driedpersimmon]

Do you have any advice for people who might want to get into making comics like yours? I'm always pleasantly surprised by how fast you pump them out and even have other little projects/doodles on the side. How do you keep the quality consistent?

(sorry if this sounds a lil cold (?) i rlly love your peppercakes they r so skrunkly)

First off - Thank you !! I'm honored you like my lil guys and comics hehe! (and no worries on the tone !! I didn't think it sounded cold at all!)

Alright secondly lets see...

Short answer: You really just gotta start and keep going!! Once you start you get the momentum and it gets much easier (like riding a bike, which people like to use as comparison often).

Long answer:

Alright I thought about how to answer for this for a bit and I think I'll break it down to the main aspects.

So timing ! Basically I'm drawing 24/7 (and I'm currently not working as it's an off time for me, but I shall in a week and you will see that my posting frequency will decrease substantially). Ok maybe not 24/7 but I essentially am drawing from the moment I wake up to when I sleep (minus eating, restroom, working out, some errands) and while I do not say this is the key to being better, I'm just realistically displaying how much time I'm spending on drawing. (... one of my new years resolution is to not in fact do that and go out more because I feel like I'm being cooped up in my room a lot haha). But minus the amount of time I spend itself a lot of it has to do with the importance I take in speed drawing. And when I say that I mean quite literally how fast I can draw. AND I think a large part of where that speed comes from is how I like to generalize designs and just my overall process of drawing. (Which, I will not go over now but if you'd like I could make a separate post on how I go about doing my usual sketch, lines, colors, etc) Like, I love ff and all of it's crazy designs but it's so complicated I simplify everything till it's juussstt recognizable, and that's something I feel like really adds to the speed of things.

Also that's sweet of you to say for the quality haha (I always am thinking stuff like ah man this aint it... not my finest work, and then just post anyways cuz who cares I already made it heh)! That being said my quality wasn't alwaysss consistent! Here's an example of my very first "comic" I made for my characters:

And here's the same 4 panels I redrew just about 2 years later:

So I've been basically drawing comics for this for just about 2 years now (will be 2 years officially in a few months) and I most certainly did not get here in one night. I think, as I've mentioned, it's really important to keep up with the comic making (or drawing in general) so that, yes, you can get better, but the way you get better is that it becomes familiar to you. So you can approach concepts and ideas with a more experience. And I think a large part of what holds alot of people back is the idea that "ah I can't do this idea I'm not good enough." So what !! Still do it, I most certainly did it a couple years ago when I barely scribbled my ideas. And then you can totally go back and redraw it ! no "Rule" saying you can't go back and revisit your ideas, like hell even professional artists go back and republish their works with their improved art styles ! (ex. Tokyo Ghoul... even though I don't care for the story, it's still pretty cool! I think he even added more scenes? Anyways..). I think there was that one post going around where it was something like do it scared and that's really REALLY what you gotta do.

And that leads to my final point. You gotta love doing it. I like to make comics because I LOVE my characters, their story, and actually the act of putting it all together into a story, drawn comic, visuals, etc. And, I found my method of loving them. For me, what held me back was the "structure" of comics. I mean you can p much see that the way I like to do things is def not the "traditional" manga/western comic book style right? I won't go as far to say that I "made up this way" of comic making where it's one panel at a time but it certainly worked for me. (I have no idea how many comic wips I have collecting dust in my folders from my earilier days of making this comic where I just gave up 20% of the way in because I really could not vibe with the formatting, but then I figured out I really like to "thumbnail" comics (a result of when I was studying storyboards alot imo) and I went on from there).

This is where I feel like alot of people get stuck too. Where they really do like their ideas, their character, their stories and such, but as soon as they try and go through the process of creating in a certain way... the wind is just instantly taken out of their sails. And while I do believe sometimes you just gotta push through and do it anyways, sometimes that's not the right method to go about it. So instead of brute forcing a method of creation and eventually forming a bad relationship with the process, find a method that works for you. And maybe it doesn't look all that great or good compared to others, but that comes in time and as long as you like doing it, that's what really matters at the end of the day.

Tl;dr: be a lil freak, and lil weird about what you do (this applies to everything, not only art :3)

Alright so I think that's all the points? idk if you still want to ask me stuff, feel free to anytime :) Always happy to share my thoughts!

[thosewickedlovelies]

Anything That Shined: part 5

The Thief x Heroic!F!Reader x Marcus Moreno

Rating: T for Teen

Summary: The thief decides its the perfect time to throw a party, so you and Marcus suit up

Tags: friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, eventual threesomething; ~sexual tension~, the inner monologues are getting spicy (but are they self-aware? not yet); spot the PPCU characters

Word count: 10,719 (lmao???)

Note: Apparently it’s been THREE YEARS since I updated this fic??? ("I’ve abandoned my boy!") I’m deeply sorry, but in my defense, I did start several new stories (which I have also not finished). Hey ho. As atonement, I’ve finally made a masterlist and a moodboard for this story, for your convenience and pleasure 😌🥰

Fun fact, this chapter contains one of the scenes, yknow, one of the original scenes that i wrote for this story that i then had to build the rest of the series around 👀 a big ole smooch for anyone who guesses which one it was

As per, the wonderful art is by @patternedlantern

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

“Is that…Kermit the frog on your shirt?” Doc addresses Binary almost warily, as if afraid the answer will be a joke he won’t enjoy hearing.

Binary stretches herself into a graceful recline on a full-length pool chair, dropping her recently removed hoodie on the chair adjacent. “You know it, Doc. The icon himself.” The cropped hem of her graphic tee, depicting a glamor shot of one famous green puppet, rides up slightly above her leggings.

“I’m surprised you know who Kermit is, Doc. When was the last time you watched Saturday morning cartoons?” Deven drops himself at the neighboring table and pulls his hair free of its bun, setting loose a cascade of curls frizzy with sweat. In the midday sun flooding through the glass ceiling, they glint like Binary’s copper wire.

Doc casts Deven a withering look over the table between them. “The Muppets are quite literally older than both of us, Deven.”

“And the Muppets are hardly kiddy cartoons,” you point out. “Kermit is a pop culture icon for a reason. They’re universal.”

Doc gives you a nod of thanks. Your eyes crinkle in response as you shuffle into the row of pool chairs. The chair past the one holding Binary’s hoodie has a plush towel draped over the back, as they all do, in the same jewel-bright shade of aquamarine as the pool water. The glassy surface of it stretches away in a reflection of the greenhouse-like ceiling above. The air is damp and fragranced by trees and greenery bordering the room.

“Exactly.” Bellows chips in in agreement. “Plus, some of their humor is very adult-oriented. That sketch where Beaker and the doctor guy appear wearing each other’s clothes? With no explanation? Very naughty.” He leaves a gap between your chair and his so that Marcus, following him, can sit next to you. 

Marcus sits on your chair instead, and props his foot up on the spare one to untie his boots, mirroring you with your foot on Binary’s spare chair. You lean your back against his, feeling his thin t-shirt damp with sweat and the muscles beneath still warm with exertion.

Both of you are now more in the habit of the casual touching required to sustain your fake relationship. Your current contact is more weariness then affection, however, following a long stint in the mansion’s new training arena. The thief was absent for some reason, but everyone else joined, and someone had suggested relaxing afterward in the indoor pool- still another feature of the mansion you and Marcus had yet to discover.

“Aw, I always liked Beaker and his little meeps. Doesn’t his doctor boyfriend have a funny name?” Seams plops down on the chair between Marcus and Bellows.

Marcus says nothing, only withdraws his foot, but you feel him tense. Despite the nature of your game, he doesn’t like being forced into such positions. Briefly you place a reassuring palm on his shoulder, then shift away slightly to the end of the chair. 

Ever a gentleman, Marcus still responds to Seams’s query. “Dr. Bunsen,” he supplies.

You raise an eyebrow. Marcus spreads his hands in a shrug. “What? They’re universal,” he teases. “Plus, Missy went through a phase for awhile.” His voice drops slightly- he doesn’t like mentioning Missy in front of the others, as if scared to remind them of her existence. 

“That’s it! Bunsen and Beaker.” The nostalgia in Seams’s smile lends an unexpected sweetness to her face. 

An impression which is shattered by her subsequent hair toss and the appraising look she angles at Binary’s shirt. “But obviously Miss Piggy will always be number one.”

Ezra speaks up for the first time, appearing thoroughly- and uncharacteristically- bewildered. “What on earth are you all talkin’ about?” 

A long pale body suddenly leaps over the pool, limbs splayed and hair a trail of flame. 

Nobody ducks in time. 

Water spatters your face and clothes, and Marcus catches you when you reflexively flinch backward. His hands are twin suns on your hip and shoulder. Your own sunlight rises to meet his touch, quickly suffusing your whole body with warmth. Instinctively you duck your head from him. No, wait, you’re supposed to be reacting. Flustered now, you reach for a flirtatious expression, quirking your lips up and glancing meaningfully between Marcus’s hand and his face. 

Marcus’s own smile looks forced, but he gives your shoulder a quick squeeze. The two of you may have worked out the physical contact, but managing your faces has proven more of a challenge.

Laughter and complaints echo through the open space. Clicking her tongue, Binary shakes out her formerly dry hoodie and hangs it over the back of the chair in place of the towel.

“What? You were all going to get in anyway.” Deven’s hair is plastered to his head now, the red gleam doused to brown. Water drips from the small gold hoop in his left ear. He’d jumped right in in his gym shorts, although, according to Seams, there were lockers full of swimsuits for guests, and to spare anyone here the effort of having to go their rooms to change first.

Bellows’s chest swells. A breath later, a burst of water slaps Deven in the face. The Irishman splutters.

Sniggering, Bellows strips off his shirt, and you can’t help but raise an eyebrow. A thick dusting of dark hair doesn’t disguise the shape of the muscles beneath, filling out his narrow frame. All that breath control must be a constant ab workout. 

Marcus and Doc remain on dry land, but everyone else follows Deven in varying degrees of clothedness. You leave your leggings on- the wet spandex will be annoying to peel off later, but you’re not quite sure you’re ready to hang out with these people in your underwear. Nerea gives you a welcoming smile as you follow them in.

Water warm as a bath envelopes you, yet it’s still refreshing, buoying your stiff muscles and sore feet. The acrid tang of chlorine is pleasantly absent. Everyone drifts peacefully for a moment, soaking it in, floating instinctively toward a wide patch of sunlight. 

You turn to Ezra, determined to revisit his earlier question. “Did you say you don’t know who the Muppets are, Ezra?”

Water trickles down the pilot’s face, making islands of his freckles. “I keep hearing that word without the foggiest understandin’ of it, so that is indeed the sentiment I mean to express.” His eyes crinkle with amusement. “Would you care to enlighten me, starshine?”

Of course, you don’t manage to be Ezra’s sole teacher, as a clamor of disbelief immediately erupts. 

“Oh, I think I know these! The little blue one was my favorite- Grober?” Nerea’s accent throws you for a second, as does the name.

Bellows understands first. “Oh, Grover! Like from Sesame Street.” You all ohhh as if on cue. “He’s from a different show, technically,” Bell explains through the resulting giggles. “But they’re basically cousins.”

“We should have a movie night tonight,” Seams declares. “To properly acquaint Nerea and Ezra with the cultural phenomenon that is the Muppets.” She nudges the man beside her. “You’re not busy tonight, are you, Ez?” Seams tilts her head at him, a glint in her eye. She doesn’t say it like a question. 

Ezra, studying the way the water laps at the crevice between her breasts in a sports bra, takes his time lifting his gaze. It peruses the wet cling of blond hair to her neck, the roundness of her cheeks, with a lazy, leisurely privilege.

Finally his dark eyes catch her paler ones. “Not half as busy as I suspect I will be, spell-weaver.” Ezra’s voice is a low croon.

Something about their exchange makes you glance at Marcus. He’s looking at Ezra, as if captured by the other man’s tone. In the next second his gaze flicks to you; and then away, shuttering. 

“Well, that was something none of us wanted to hear.” Bellows interjects loudly, clapping his hands together to redirect everyone’s attention. “So, movie night! The normal place and time?”

Amid nods of agreement, Bell catches the uncertain glance between you and Marcus. “I’ll swing by your guys’ room and walk you,” he promises. 

--

Which in the end you’re very grateful for, because of course the ‘normal place’ happens to be a separate home theater, and of course you’re forced to admit you never would have found it on your own.

The problem is that all of these incredible things are hidden behind totally normal doors, you muse. There was not the slightest hint outside that this door contained what it did: 

A collection of mismatched couches and a projector facing a bare wall. Red velvet curtains lining the rest of the room. An impromptu kitchen consisting of a tabletop popcorn machine, cabinets filled with snacks, and a refrigerator stacked with drinks.

You’re instantly enamored by the cozy arrangement. “It’s a lot more…low-budget than I expected,” you confess.

Bellows laughs. “Oh, this isn’t the real home theater. Teo has a real setup down the hall, but we mostly only use that for new films. Or ones that deserve the respect of a giant screen and proper sound system.”

“Like Lord of the Rings?” Seams, passing you, snorts. She carries a bottle of white wine and a crinkly black bag depicting something that looks like seaweed chips.

Bell goes on the defensive at once. “When it’s the extended editions, absolutely!”

“Whatever,” Seams sing-songs, making her way to a couch. “All I’m saying is, if I have to sit through something four hours long, I at least want to be able to stretch out.”

Marcus has been silent thus far, the frown between his brows steadily deepening the more he hears of the thief’s excesses. At Seams’s statement, he snorts. 

You and Bell send him curious looks.

Marcus coughs slightly. “Well, they were really long,” he says sheepishly.

Bellows sniffs.

You and Marcus end up on a couch next to one holding Seams…and Ezra. Despite the latter’s unfamiliarity with the Muppets, and the former’s insistence that he become acquainted, she doesn’t seem to be demanding he paying very close attention.

Ezra’s husky tones drift over, and you shift uneasily. Obviously you and Marcus should be taking advantage of the environment to further rumors of your relationship- ie, snuggle or something. The only light besides the movie screen is a lamp in the kitchen space at the back of the room, and dimness wraps around you with an intimate familiarity, urging you to sit closer to him. Any other couple would happily curl up together, giggling furtively, turning the couch into their own little world. 

Marcus leans over, his lips almost touching your ear, and you freeze. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to break your ‘sitting on my lap’ rule?” he murmurs.

You almost burst out laughing. Your shoulders shake with it, one hand covering your mouth to keep it in. Still snickering, you elbow him.

Marcus’s eyes glimmer with amusement, his face still close to yours. Pleased, he continues in a whisper. “Seriously, though. Can I..?” He lifts his arm to indicate putting it around you. 

Affection for him warms your chest. You lick your lips nervously, but nod. A bit in disbelief, you scooch to your right, settling Marcus’s arm over your shoulders. Just for a second, your skin brightens gold, sunlight like a bioluminescent wave rushing up the shore.

You take a deep breath, willing the light to subside, keeping your face turned firmly toward the screen.

Marcus’s reaction, then, is outside your field of vision. The downward tilt of his eyes, the way his face softens at this manifestation of your powers.

Like fireflies, he thinks.

Those tiny blooms which appear at dusk. Insubstantial at first, little more than yellow flickers in the corner of your eye…until their glowing fills the darkness.

It reminds him of Missy’s childhood. Sitting on the porch on hot summer nights, watching the silhouette of her curls bobbing as she chased fireflies through the twilit backyard. Tiny hands clapping wildly until she learned that smooth, patient motions were more effective. 

Marina sitting beside him.

The thought of her doesn’t perturb him the way he thought he would. Somehow, Marcus thinks, I have a feeling she would find this whole situation very funny.

The thought warms him: that Marina would giggle to see the stiff, careful posture with which you sit under his arm. How cautious Marcus himself always is when touching you.

You know how to woo a girl better than that, Moreno.

Of course, he’s not wooing you for real, but…

Marcus tugs you toward him slightly.

You look at him in uncertainty, and then surprise. A fond smile turns up his mouth and the corners of his eyes- the most genuine smile he’s worn since arriving at the mansion. Marcus tugs on your shoulder again, and pats his leg with his other hand. A clear invitation. 

So you scoot closer, hesitantly nestling into his side. Gently Marcus takes your right arm and rests it on his thigh, guiding you into a more natural position. He leans back against the couch, clearly relaxed. 

Your sun hums in your chest. Marcus’s obvious comfort puts you at ease, transforming your proximity from intimidating into something familiar- you and Marcus, side by side on a mission together. Normal.

You dare to lean your head on his arm periodically. He smells nice- clean from showering after the pool earlier. Occasionally his body will vibrate with laughter at the movie, and your heart- and sunlight- will skip at the rumble of it against you. 

--

“Soo, what’s everyone wearing to the party tomorrow night?”

Binary, setting down her post-lunch coffee next to her empty pre-lunch travel mug, shakes her head at Seams’s question.

“What do you want to tell us to wear?” Bellows raises an eyebrow.

Seams appears affronted. “What you’ll look best in, obviously. I thought we agreed on the whole ‘united front’ thing?”

Doc interjects before her pointed look can pierce any deeper. “Do you think the thief’s gray suit would do me any favors? He offered to let me borrow it for the party, but I’m not sure about the color.”

Everyone looks at Doc then, picturing him in the steely gray suit jacket you assume he’s referring to. Pairing it with his sandy hair and hazel-blue eyes.

“The one he wore the other day? Hmm.” Seams taps her chin with a finger. “No, you’re right, the color will wash you out. Ask him for one of his more colorful plaids.”

“Much obliged.” Doc tips his mug to her in thanks.

(His mug contains tea, milky, courtesy of Deven: “You’ve been after something new to drink in the mornings, right? This will put hair on your chest, Doc. None for Belly, though.” Deven wagged a warning finger in Bellows’s direction.

You nearly choked on your tropical juice. Binary, her lips trembling from fighting her own laughter, gave the faux-sulking Bellows a pat on the shoulder.

Bel scoffed. “Please, I wouldn’t drink that stuff anyway. The only thing your people got right about tea is the size.” 

He tapped his mug with a fingernail, the clink ringing. It was a standard eight ounces but made of clear glass, decorated with patterns of concentric blue circles. The tea within was black and unadulterated but for a lush, leafy stem of mint. A sheen of undissolved sugar remained at the bottom, visible when he slurped a pointed sip, and remembering the amount he’d stirred in made you shudder all over again.)

No one escapes Seams’s interrogation (except for Ezra and the thief, who are absent). Nerea is the only person who agrees to be styled for the party, although Deven concedes to look through her jewelry collection.

“...But only because I want to see what kind of goodies that cute designer you stole from me at the last party is sending you.” Deven narrows his eyes at Seams accusingly.

She smiles with perfect innocence, and eats the last bite of her salad with a little too much relish.

Then Seams’s pale brown eyes turn to your end of the table. “And what about you two?”

“...Us?” You have to hide your astonishment. Marcus goes rigid.

You’d tried to remain unnoticed throughout the conversation. You and Marcus had been invited to the party, of course, but hadn’t decided if you’d go. What kind of message would it send if you did? You had no idea what circles the thief ran in. What kind of people would be there or who they’d talk to. Marcus would rather pluck out his own eyebrows hair by hair than go to any event hosted by the thief regardless, but you…you couldn’t help but be curious.

“Uh…we figured we’d find something in our closets that would work? Was it you who put together our wardrobes?” you ask in a sudden moment of insight. You feel foolish for not realizing it before. 

No wonder Marcus’s shirts fit him so deliciously.

The sudden thought is a rude intrusion, and you frown. You’d been having more and more thoughts like that of late; it’s unprecedented, and it makes you uneasy. We don’t think about our friends that way, you chide yourself.

…But if Seams had personally designed their wardrobes, then why was that? Why had she made Marcus’s clothes fit the way they did? He’s wearing the dove gray button-down again today, and it’s impossible not to notice the unique stitching making his shoulders look so wide-

“Obviously,” Seams replies with a flip of her hair.

But that confirms it-

Your face falls into a pleasantly neutral expression, while your breathing instinctively deepens in attempt to calm the sudden emotions clanging inside you- like a belltower, each thought tolling irresistibly preceding another. Jealousy, that Seams clearly also had ideas about Marcus’s most attractive features and how to emphasize them. Confusion, as to why you should be jealous that someone else finds Marcus attractive. Bewilderment- when had you started acknowledging that you found Marcus so attractive?

Only Marcus notices the shift in your breathing. Shit. The temperature hasn’t changed, but something has obviously provoked you, and it was his responsibility to be there for you.

“I guess we should thank you for that,” Marcus says. He smiles calmly at Seams and places a hand on your shoulder, offering your gratitude as a unit. It quells your chaotic emotions, for the moment.

“It’s what I do.” Seams gives a flourish of the hand and inclines her head as if bowing, but her satisfaction is obvious.

“His wardrobe has suits that will be fine for the party,“ she continues, waving at Marcus. “But yours…” she eyes you critically.

“My dress from the deep sea party,” Binary says. Casually she grabs a cookie from the small platter in front of her and leans back in her chair.

Seams’s eyes widen. “The navy, sheer one.”

“Mmmhm.”

Seams turns to her. “This is why I forgive you for not letting me dress you.” Her pointed finger manages to make even her supposed forgiveness slightly threatening. 

Binary rolls her eyes. “I’ll bring it by later.”

--

For all of Marcus’s searching, neither he nor Sunbeam have found the room they dined in that very first night. The one with his swords- Marina’s swords- hanging on the walls. 

Walls which, in Marcus’s memory, seemed to drip in shades of rage and blood.

Obviously that was their first thought- try the easiest solution first. Marcus was sure the thief was too cocky to have taken down the swords. No, it would be just like him to leave them on display in the same room, taunt them with the possibility of swiping them from the wall and running.

But Marcus is not at all sure the thief wouldn’t simply shift the whole dining room instead. “Steal” it right out from under their noses and put another room in place of every door they open. Who’s to say he couldn’t? All those stories the thief tells, the things he claims to have stolen, and Marcus has no way of knowing which ones are bullshit and which ones are plausible. 

Marcus’s priorities had shifted as soon as he realized who was holding them captive. 

The thief. The man, the villain, who had haunted him so many years ago. 

He still hopes to find the swords, of course. But, Marcus rationalizes, if he can bring the thief to justice, then he’ll have uninhibited access to his collections afterward. 

So he stalks the house in his every spare moment. All but taking notes, assuming everything he sees has been acquired in some questionable way and slotting everything even remotely ancient or valuable or familiar-looking onto a mental list.

Animal figurines carved in wood with breathtaking detail. A collection of jewelry in patinated gold, each piece lined with microscopic, painstakingly placed beads. Marble statutes that wouldn’t look out of place in St. Peter’s Square.

Marcus Moreno, despite his profession, is not a violent man by nature. The combat he engages in is defensive. On behalf of others. He tries to disable, not hurt or maim. Yet every time they enter a new room, decorated with the thief’s glittering prizes, a red, pulsing rage fills him.

How many people have been hurt because of his exploits?

It was his government that stole people, not the thief, but if he hadn’t been stealing things in the first place…

No. Marcus shakes his head. That’s not how blame works and he knows this, has long accepted it with the help of his blessedly patient therapist.

But that doesn’t mean he can forgive the man. Marcus can get along with most people. For as long as is needed, anyway. But the thief is…strange. And then there’s your theory, that he’s- what, reformed now?

Marcus thinks of Doc’s halting progress in their self-defense lessons. The thief’s genuine gratitude and relief at Marcus’s willingness to train him.

And the camaraderie the thief has with the others who live here. They’re so…accepting. Welcoming Marcus and Sunbeam into their fold with hardly a whisper of mutiny. It’s uncomfortable to consider next to the memory of the pranks Miracle Guy and Crushing Low often played on new recruits. And even on the old hands- although they eased off somewhat after that time Lavagirl left their offices a molten waste. Marcus could never get it into their heads that being around the longest didn’t make them superior to everyone…

Nerea’s kind smile shines in his head, sparkling white as the snow they liked to conjure. How did someone like them agree to work with the thief? How did any of them end up here? The idea of befriending the people who are complicit in the thief’s work makes Marcus grind his teeth, but that’s what you and he agreed to. And then there’s their other little plan…

Marcus groans, rubbing the heels of his palms against his eyes, and resolves not to examine the situation so closely anymore. He gets up to see if you’re still lounging in their shared sitting room.

You are. You appear to be asleep- limbs a comfortable sprawl, head dropped back against the arm of the couch- but despite your closed eyes, your skin glimmers faintly, rhythmically. A long inhale, and it brightens enough to cast a dance on the polished wood of the coffee table. An exhale, and it fades again, to a shimmer fine enough that it could be a trick of cosmetics, like the glittery lotion that Missy had found once to go as you for Halloween. 

(Of course Marcus helped her apply it, and the sparkle had clung to his hands for days afterward. It was worth it only because his daughter- and you- grinned every time she saw it.)

Marcus follows the line of your arm up to your shoulder, where the neckline of your top has slumped to the side. His gaze traces your bra strap, your light the same shade of gold even as it leads to the slope of your breast.

He finds himself wondering if your whole body glows just the same. Do your nipples glow? Marcus’s cheeks flush at the thought. But if they’re a different shade than the rest of your skin, it makes sense that the light would look different. What about, say, the inside of you? 

His eyes glaze over as this thought plays out- as he considers the only place where the answer to that question might be visible.

Your skin brightens pointedly, and it jars Marcus from his depraved headspace. He unclenches his hands, clearing his throat as he offers you a sheepish smile.

Your expression is groggy yet forgiving, the air flickering warm with your amusement, as you rearrange yourself, making space for him on the couch. Marcus sits, being very careful not to touch you, still feeling as hot as if your sun had somehow gotten inside of him.

Now there’s a thought.

Marcus forcefully wrenches his mind from its perverted spiral, wondering, with a tinge of panic, what the fuck was wrong with him.

He says, “You want to go to the party.”

You look up and then away again, shades of guilt painting your face.

“I know we shouldn’t- I know why we shouldn’t, but…”

Marcus weighs his words. “You don’t think we should use the opportunity to dig around while the thief is distracted? See what we can find while everyone is out of the house?” To do so would be Marcus’s inclination, but you and he are great partners for a reason- you often have some insight that he doesn’t consider, and he values your thoughts on this. 

You consider, still blinking away the meditative haze of your catnap. “I think…it won’t make a difference if we go or not. 

“If we don’t go- even if we say it’s because of appearances or because we straight-up don’t like him- I don’t think the thief will believe we plan on just sulking in our rooms. He’ll have extra security measures in place around the swords, wherever they are.”

Marcus’s gaze is distant. “Do you think he still believes the swords are our primary objective?”

You look at him in surprise. “Aren’t they?”

Marcus worries a small throw pillow in his lap, thumb repeatedly tracing the textured pattern. “I don’t know. I think we should let him think so, but now that we’re here…” He leans toward you, lowering his voice. “I’ve been looking for other things. Really notable steals, records or an office of some kind. I haven’t found anything yet, but…bringing him in would make it all worth it.” His gaze is distant, but contemplative. 

“And we’d still get the swords that way,” you say slowly, completing his thought process. 

“...But there’s still no way he wouldn’t have extra security everywhere during a party. We have no idea what kind of people will show up! If this is some kind of special party of thieves, or if other people with superpowers will be there…maybe we wouldn’t even be who he’s worried about.” You give Marcus a wry twist of your lips. 

“Maybe we could sneak off at the height of the party. Try to assess the security measures before then, if it would be worth it…”

“I could stay and distract him for a while?” You snigger even as you say the words, knowing how Marcus will react. “He won’t notice you sneaking off if I’m sparkling all over his arm.”

Marcus scoffs, trying to ignore the way his chest tightens at your suggestion. “You already know what I’m going to say to that. It’s too risky.” He flicks you a long glance. “What if he notices I’m gone and takes it out on you? Plus…”

He hesitates, unsure if what he’s about to say is a good idea. “I think a fancy party will be a good chance to really double down on our ‘relationship’. Get dressed up, stay close together the whole time, maybe dance, if there’s the opportunity.” He looks away.

“Oooh, I like that.” You sit up straighter. “You’d have to contain your jealousy if anyone else asked me to dance. Especially if that someone was Theo.” Your eyes sparkle mischievously. 

Theo. Marcus hates the thief’s little nickname, but he hates even more the way it falls so easily from your lips. Seams’s creation, a natural extension from the sound of ‘thief’, is obviously not his real name, and Marcus worries at how you’ve grown used to using it. Worries that you might forget who the man truly is.

“You guys kind of look alike, you know.” Your smile is sly. “Tall, dark, and handsome.”

“Wha-” Marcus sputters. He thinks back to your conversation on the balcony. If you think he looks like the thief, does that mean that you think Marcus is…hot?

You watch Marcus’s face steadily redden, like a balloon about to pop, and burst into laughter. “Oh, Marcus, you’re way too easy to fluster for a superhero.” It takes several seconds to contain your giggling. You school your features into something sympathetic. “I’m joking, okay? I mean I’m sort of not, because you are tall, dark, and handsome, but just…don’t worry, okay? I can handle the thief.”

You’re up and heading to your room before Marcus can regain his dignity, squeezing his shoulder as you round the couch. To his surprise, he feels a thread of anger winding through his embarrassment. You think he’s so easy to fluster? A blushing schoolboy compared to your worldly remove?

Marcus storms into motion, face still burning, aiming for his wardrobe. He pulls out his phone. 

--

You look like Van Gogh’s Starry Night.

Deep blue fabric flows over your body, draping and cinching and flattering in all the right places. Beadwork unfurls across it like a flung bolt of stars. Your skin is what really brings the effect to life- your golden light whorls beneath the dress’s sheer panels, making you shimmer like no painting ever could.

Only Marcus will know that your sunlight only moves like this when you’re nervous.

You head down to the party between Binary and Seams, your arms linked. The latter is still high on her transformation of you (“Maybe I should specialize in superhero styling.”) Her chin lifts regally, her every stride as sure as the strike of a blade. On your other side, Binary’s walk is more of a flow, liquid and calm as her expression, only an understated gleam in her eye betraying her anticipation.

Okay. You breathe. Focus on not burning your companions. All you have to do is find Marcus, and you’ll be fine. You can make it until then.

The length of marble hall ahead gets shorter and shorter, and the music grows louder. The cries and chatter of a crowd reach your ears. Your anxiety reaches a crescendo all at once.

The scene that opens before you is like nothing you’ve ever experienced. 

The lawn normally visible from the breakfast room staircase has been transformed. This morning there hadn’t been so much as a blade of grass out of place. Now you can hardly see the grass beneath a constant drift of flower petals and glittery confetti, and the bejeweled heels of a few hundred cavorting strangers.

Decorative towers rise from the ground and form a border for the party space. Also constructed are trellised walls woven with flowers, joined to create the illusion of enclosed rooms, slightly more private spaces. Through the gaps are glimpses of plush chaise lounges and fur carpets- the same decor, it appears, as that of the low, open daises also scattering the lawn. Several are already occupied, lounging guests and their finery glinting at every turn; through the heave of the crowd you think you spot someone in a crown.

Globes of light and glittery garland seem to hang from the sky. Also suspended, seemingly from midair, are dancers- or maybe acrobats- graceful and daring and entertaining with a variety of poses and powers.

Oh, right. This is a super party.

Heroics didn’t like to entertain with super-powered methods. They were too above such things- they used their powers for a higher purpose, and expressed that others should do the same. You’d never catch Granada at any theater using magic for their special effects.

Here there were no such qualms. Across the lawn, two figures on pedestals seemed to be dueling with fire and ice, to the delighted gasps of the watchers below. A woman on a nearby edge of the crowd seemed to have skin lined with points of cold light. She notices you- perhaps she has similar powers?- and nudges the man besides her. As he turns, a tiny plumed bird takes flight from his shoulder. It wings several meters away, straight to the sequined epaulet of another figure, who seems to cock their head to it, as if getting a message. They too, turn in your direction, and you get the feeling that your entrance will not go unremarked. 

You’re immensely grateful when Ezra appears in front of your trio. “At last, the final three birds to complete our flock.”

Oh good, that must mean Marcus is already here.

“Are we late?” you ask.

“Fashionably, of course,” Seams replies. She pecks Ezra on the cheek as she passes, her (terrifyingly) tall platform heels raising her to his same height. She seamlessly lifts a glass off the tray of a passing waiter and bounces into the crowd.

The waiter, noticing your drinklessness, pauses to offer his tray to the rest of you. It holds what can only be cocktails, ranging in color and sparkliness to a degree that would put a pride parade to shame. You select something blue and opalescent that tastes like a spring rain.

“Come on, let’s find the others.” Following Ezra’s directions, Binary leads you among clumps of finely-dressed people until you spot a familiar plaid suit- the thief’s, but fitted to Doc’s narrow frame. 

“There’s Marcus. You go on, there’s someone I need to talk to.” 

“Wait-” you whip your head around in alarm, but Binary is already gone, only a glint of copper at head-height providing a guess at her path.

Where was Marcus? There’s Bellows and a figure in green over with Doc, but you skim past them, scanning desperately for someone scowling or suspicious, anyone in a plain black suit and glasses.

A glint of red catches your eye. Deven, gesticulating at Doc in a way that sets the sequins on his top glinting like a signal fire. You breathe. Deven likes a gossip, he might have seen Marcus. You start toward the two familiar faces. 

Honestly, has Theo hired a super whose power is to manifest flowers? You can’t think of how else he could achieve the constant ‘petals in the breeze’ effect. Maybe you missed a memo on the theme. There are flowers everywhere, nowhere untouched by their sweet, heady scent, a demonstration of the last bounty of summer. Only the rapidly cooling air betrays the receding season.  

An end of summer theme would fit Seams’s outfit, you suppose. A short, frothy fuschia dress, with beaded vines and flowers peeking out amongst the ruffled layers. Her makeup as minimal yet as striking a complement as ever- a swipe of spring green eyeliner over her top lids, with a dot beneath each lower lashline. 

Speaking of green…the figure beside Doc and Deven turns, and you stumble to a halt.

It’s Marcus.

Marcus, wearing a suit of deep, forest green, and smiling at something Doc says, his eyes crinkling in full visibility without his glasses. Why isn’t he wearing his glasses?

His hair is swept up and back in a way that it normally only achieves after being windblown in a superfight, or styled by someone else for a PR event. Since when can he do his own hair like that? He stands with his shoulders back, appearing relaxed, all but dripping charm and control.

Your hands are warm. Marcus is stunning, and you can’t stop gaping, and if you don’t get ahold of yourself your powers will scorch your own carefully constructed outfit to ash.

Deven turns, and your eyes meet. His eyebrows lift nearly to his hairline. A second later, some realization sparks, and his lips move.

The heat under your skin is mounting, but you can’t seem to remember how to breathe. Marcus’s smile, the breadth of his shoulders- he’s all you can see. What is happening to you?

“Sunbeam.” Nerea appears in front of you, smile soothing and reassuring as they reach for your hands. You gasp.

Their touch is cold, a wintery slap to the face. Your breathing jolts back to a controlled pace. Your sun immediately simmers down, although your face remains uncomfortably hot in a way you suspect is purely biological. 

“Nerea,” you mumble. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Their lips quirk knowingly. “Here.” They rest the backs of their hands against your cheeks for a moment. The cold is crisp and reinvigorating as pressing your face to an icy windowpane. You sigh in relief.

--

Marcus sees you enter the party, of course. Heads turn like ripples in a pond toward you, Seams, and Binary- but mostly you, sparkling like a fucking star, your skin shimmering coyly beneath the semi-sheer portions of your dress. It takes a second glance to fully appreciate; or, if you’re Marcus, one endless, captivated stare, during which his lungs struggle to function and his brainpower ceases entirely.

How is it he feels like he’s never seen you before?

You and Marcus have been to countless Heroics events before, dressed in all degrees of formality. But tonight, here, through a crowd of potentially dangerous strangers and half-obscured by flower petals- it feels like his vision is clear for the first time.

Beside him, Doc’s head tilts. It’s his only visible reaction as he listens to Marcus’s blood sing and surge, much of it in a very particular direction-

Deven lets out a long, low whistle at the sight of the three women entering. “We are a pretty bunch, aren’t we?” He slings an arm each over the shoulders of Doc and Marcus.

Doc hums an amused sound. Marcus clears his throat, Deven’s gesture having yanked the leash on his senses, allowing his thoughts to return to his plan. Your impression that Marcus is some stammering schoolboy, unable to handle the slightest hint of flirtation, is unbearable- so he intends to put that idea to rest tonight.

“Cheers to that,” Marcus says. Flagging a passing waiter, he hands two flutes of standard sparkling champagne to his companions.

Their glasses clink. Across the crowd, Binary is leading you toward them. Resolved, Marcus half turns away as if he hasn’t seen you, letting himself smile at the arriving Bellows.

--

Your almost-meltdown seems to have gone miraculously unnoticed, despite that you’re barely ten steps from Marcus.

“Oh look, there are the others!” Nerea chirps. Their hands still refreshingly cool, they tug you forward.

There’s no way they didn’t know that, you think. But you’re so grateful for Nerea’s subtlety you don’t even care. Especially not as Marcus seems to get taller the closer you get him, his profile stunning against the tall white headdress of someone behind him.

“Sunshine!” Deven appears at your side like a flame bursting to life. His shoulder-length locks are half pulled back, and the earring in his left ear is long and bejeweled, dangling low enough to brush his bedazzled lapels.

“Hey, Deven.” You laugh in surprise at his hug and blush at his praise, modestly waving off his compliments on your appearance.

Someone comes up to you from behind. You sense them before you see them, their hand lowering toward your shoulder- but even the split second before it lands, an inconceivably, unfathomably brief instant- you recognize him.

Marcus.

Your sun retreats from where it would have scalded anyone else. “Sunbeam.” Marcus lightly touches your shoulder, and you turn and face him.

Marcus beams at you, radiating relief. And something else? He leans down and presses his lips to your cheek. “You look amazing,” he murmurs.

Your knees wobble. Marcus releases your shoulder, and your sun rushes back in like the sea into a tide pool, as if desperate to touch where he’d been.

“Marcus.” Giddy at his sudden closeness, but mostly with relief rushing through you like a drug, you grin. “Thanks. Seams’s work, obviously.” You make a little flourish as if to hand off some of the credit. Marcus shakes his head a little, his eyes darting all over you, from here to there and back again. Everywhere your sunlight is visible…

“You look nice too! I’ve never seen you in this color.” You’re genuinely proud of yourself for how normal you’ve sounded so far. You give Marcus a onceover now that you’re closer, immensely glad to have seen him before now, because otherwise you would have made a fool of yourself in point-blank HD. Speaking of which…

“Where are your glasses?” It’s always strange seeing him without them outside of superhero mode- he looks the same, but not. As if their lack lets you see things you can’t normally.

“Doc ordered me some contacts, too. ‘In case I prefer them.’” Marcus rolls his eyes in fond exasperation.

You laugh. “Of course.”

Strangely, everyone you know seems to have drifted away from you. Even Doc, who normally wouldn’t do anything so impolite as snub a greeting. You shuffle backwards slightly, suddenly aware of how close to Marcus you’re still standing. 

“Well, should we…make our way around?” you suggest.

Marcus looks around, his face turning serious as if remembering where they are. “I guess so. We should keep an eye out for the thief, too.”

“Of course.” You smirk. “Gotta show ourselves off.”

“Show you off, you mean. Come on.” Eyes twinkling, Marcus takes your arm and tugs you along. Your whole body tingles.

--

You don’t know what you expected, but apparently it wasn’t that everyone would be so chatty. Plenty of people choose to stare instead of approach- every time you turn a pair of eyes flits away, or a group shuffles guiltily. But just as many people seem perfectly at ease striking up a conversation with you and Marcus.

A man with canines that protruded out of his purple lipsticked-mouth asked if it was true that Granada didn’t age. A hugely buff, cheerful woman at a food table commented on the delicate perfection of the macarons. An individual wearing a shimmery dress but of otherwise indiscernible gender queried, with a twinkle in their eye, if the Heroics ever helped rebuild any of the property they destroyed during superhero battles.

Marcus rubs the bridge of his nose. “They must have been talking to Missy,” he grumbles. 

You send him an amused glance. The next generation of Heroics was notoriously outspoken on how different things would be when they were in charge. Every new proposal they sent to Marcus meant another pile of paperwork, but neither of you would dream of discouraging the young people’s ambition.

You pick up a glass filled with something in the same shade of violet as the earlier guy’s lipstick and examine it, thinking.

“I don’t know why,” Marcus begins, echoing your thoughts, “but I thought more people here would be…”

“Villainous? Aloof? Suspicious-looking?” you suggest. 

Marcus frowns around the rim of his glass. “...Yes.”

You agree. “But they’re all so..nice. Like totally normal people.”

“Almost all of them,” Marcus mutters, leveling a dark glance over his shoulder.

He’s glaring at the thief, who’s currently lounging on one of the cushioned platforms in the center of the lawn. Most of his ire is directed at the crown Theo wears- or was wearing when he arrived. Now it doesn’t look as much like he’s holding court. Another man on the dais currently wears the crown, and is chatting amongst a small group sprawled on the plush rugs, not paying the thief any mind. Theo himself appears engaged in conversation with just the two people sharing his couch. 

When Marcus looks back at you, there’s a creamy pink flower petal caught in your hair. He reaches for it. “Wait, you’ve got a flower.”

Your breath catches when Marcus leans over you. His other hand hovers near your jaw, as if to hold your head in place. It doesn’t touch, but the mere promise of it is more than enough to keep you still.

Finally Marcus leans back, proffering the offending petal between two fingers. 

“Thanks.” You take a sip of your drink, feigning unaffectedness as you look around.

Hiding a smile, Marcus lets the petal fall. You’re not quite as subtle as you think. Every time he touches you, the faintest shimmer blooms beneath your skin. It’s addicting, being able to watch the reactions he would normally have to helplessly hope for.

He sets down his empty glass and scans the crowd, wondering if any of the waiters are serving water. Movement on the thief’s dais catches his eye. He appears to be leaving, kissing cheeks as he goes. His long suit jacket, tonight black and embroidered with gold and blue flowers, swishes around his thighs as he places one foot on the stairs.

The man still wearing the crown stands. The thief turns, one hand going dramatically to his head. Their faces are inches apart as the other man lowers the crown into the thief’s tousled locks. 

The thief lightly grips the man’s chin, and Marcus hates that he can picture the exact challenging, flirtatious expression on the thief’s face. The other man smirks; the thief tugs him down until their lips meet.

Marcus isn’t sure that he expected to feel anything at the sight, but something is undeniably fomenting. You’d reported the tidbit about the thief and Ezra previously being involved, but knowing something and seeing it are two different things.

Marcus looks away, grateful to find your attention elsewhere.

“Whoa, look at that gorgeous woman Doc is talking to. Does she look familiar…?”

Marcus’s mouth falls open. Not because of the woman’s looks, although she is beautiful- long tanned limbs and elegant stature and dark, intelligent eyes- but because he knows who she is.

Oh god, they’re coming toward you. Marcus has met some important people as a Heroic, but none in this context. What is she doing here? Talking with Doc like they’re old friends?

Marcus is nudging you in their direction, apparently determined to intercept them. You go unresistingly, still wracking your brain for where you’ve seen her before.

Doc catches sight of you and slows to an uncertain stop. The woman follows his gaze, but no sooner have her eyes lit with curiosity than the thief appears, kissing her on both cheeks and asking after someone called Oberyn.

“He’s terribly busy, I’m afraid, but he bid me come and have fun for the both of us.” You’re close enough to overhear their conversation now- close enough that it could almost be considered rude for Theo not to introduce you.

Her dress sways with layers of fringe the color of saffron threads. Dark curls spill down her back in a loose bind. There’s an easy, sensual confidence about her- the look of someone deeply settled in their own body. With her dark coloring and flower petals in her hair, she looks like summer incarnate.

Her gaze flickers from the thief to you and back again. “Darling Teo, you must tell me about the company you’re keeping these days.” She threads her arm through his. “Heroics?” Her tone is benign, but her glance is very, very pointed.

The thief clears his throat, and although he gives you and Marcus a regal nod of acknowledgment it’s clear he has no intention for you to join them. “My darling queen, trust me when I say I’m just as surprised as you are…” He directs her back the way she came. If you didn’t know better, you’d say Theo looked almost nervous.

The woman flicks her hair as they walk, and the dip of her dress reveals a tattoo of a spear rippling along her spine. You stare after them, curiosity of a different flavor piqued. 

“Do you know who that was?” Marcus’s face resembles a thundercloud. 

You frown. “Is she a celebrity? She definitely looked familiar, but I couldn’t figure out why.”

“He called her queen. Because she’s an actual, politically recognized Queen.” 

At your obvious lack of recollection, Marcus turns his disbelieving gaze to the heavens. “That was Queen Ellaria of Dorne. She’s married to King Oberyn. And apparently, both of them are best friends with Teo.” Marcus sneers his name.

He appears deeply unsettled by this turn of events. You wait while Marcus processes, mumbling to himself, making several movements halfway before aborting them. When a familiar, frenetic glitter appears in his eye, you speak.

“Oh! I finally remember where I’ve seen her before.” Marcus looks up. “I read some listicle recently- ‘Ranking the 10 Hottest Monarchs in the World’, or something. But I remember laughing because King Oberyn was like, six, and his wife was all the way up at number two.” You chuckle at the memory.

Marcus stares at you. If before he’d been spiraling, worries spinning around him like debris in a tornado, now the storm had frozen in its path. Then Marcus guffaws, and his worries drop while his laughter continues, shaking him until his paranoid concerns are scattered at his feet.

You allow yourself a satisfied smile. Your skin brightens, your sunlight smug. “There’s nothing we can do but keep our eyes open. And let’s get another drink while we’re at it. I haven’t tried the orange one yet.”

So you continue your way around the party, sampling the food and flowers and drinks in every color of the rainbow. Despite the marvels all around, Ellaria’s appearance had had a sobering effect. The illusion had been shattered. Now you kept your eyes peeled, open to the real possibility of seeing someone you might recognize. You don’t, but Marcus spots someone who’s on the board of an international children’s charity, and his fists clench so tight that a crack appears in your highball glass. 

You find Ezra again, and he introduces you to a girl he calls his ‘ward’, Cee. Although she and her companion are easily the youngest people here, the elfin blonde looks plenty old enough to be independent.

“How are your lessons with Francisco coming?” Ezra asks her. 

“Fine,” she answers. Her gaze flits to you and Marcus with what’s by now a familiar uncertainty. How much to say around you who would normally be their enemies?

Ezra puts his arm around her. His right arm, the colored lights glinting dully off his sporadically-worn prosthetic. “Cee here is training to be a pilot. I’ve been a great source of inspiration to her, you see…” 

The woman plants her palm on his cheek and shoves gently at his face. Ezra cackles as he retreats, his blond streak sticking straight up amongst now-mussed hair. “A great source of pain, you mean,” Cee grumbles.

It’s somewhat jarring to see the mansion’s residents- a limited circle you thought you were getting to know- in such an expanded context. Ezra, with a daughter. Deven, blushing at a peck on the cheek from a tall, wide man and his companion. Bellows, appearing happily smothered in affection by a woman whose chatter was almost as bright as her intricately embroidered thaub.

You’re surprised to find yourself feeling slightly bereft at their distraction. It’s not that they’re ignoring you, but…Of course they want to spend time with their actual friends. It’s silly to think that they would prioritize you and Marcus, with your situation being what it was.  

Anyway, it’s not like you’re lonely. Marcus doesn’t leave your side the whole night. Literally- you’re not sure when he first got ahold of you, but you can’t think of a single moment when he hasn’t been touching you. At some point he found one of the gaps in the back of your dress, and his fingertips had seemed glued to your skin ever since. He leans down to hear you whenever you speak, and his lips nearly touch your ear when he replies. It’s entirely unnecessary. It’s making you warm. 

It only gets worse once a dance floor appears at the far side of the lawn. Marcus leads you toward it. 

“Dance?” His eyes gleam.

His palm splays on the small of your back. His other hand engulfs yours, holding it aloft as he sways you to the lilting music. Heat that has nothing to do with your power grows steadily inside you. Since when is Marcus this good of an actor?

Your sun can’t be contained either. Heat builds under your skin until you’re sure you look less like Starry Night and more like a certain sci-fi character about to regenerate. 

Marcus’s lips brush your ear. “Stay with me, Sunbeam. It’s just us, remember?” He leans back slightly, giving you some much-needed breathing room. His brown eyes catch yours and hold them.

Slowly, your temperature goes down. You become aware of watchful eyes all around, bright with anticipation. You look down.

A trickle of figures on the edge of the crowd catch your eye. Pairs and small groups head for the hedge maze, some more eagerly than others. Dark and quiet and alone? Yes please.

You catch Marcus’s eye again. “Wanna take a walk?” 

--

The hedge maze is everything the party isn’t. Cool and quiet, tranquil and relaxing. You and Marcus meander the dark paths aimlessly, your sunlight glimmering off glossy green leaves. He says nothing, and you neither.

Periodically, you hear evidence of others in the maze. Voices, giggling, rustling…moaning? You smirk to yourself and refrain from commenting. But the third time you pass what must be a very passionate hangout, without having seen a soul for at least twenty minutes, you begin to wonder. It’s not quite a maze, this. There are navigational signs, for a start. Almost all the lead-offs you peek into end in small, unadorned clearings.

From a shrouded, sordid corner of your mind rises the word. 

Pleasure garden.

Was that even a real thing? Or just something you’d absorbed from some historic fantasy novel? Either way, it rings true. The furtive yet eager behavior of the couples entering the maze- the fact that it was primarily small groups of two or three entering together. The paths are lush, but not overgrown. The atmosphere clandestine, but not spooky. More…romantic. Erotic.

“I think…” You slow to a stop, and Marcus with you. “I think this maze is meant for couples. Like, people who want to sneak away. That’s why we keep hearing…stuff.”

“I wouldn’t have expected you to be blushing over something like that, Sunbeam.” Marcus slides you a sideways smirk, one corner of his mouth lifting. “I figured that out too, somehow.” 

You roll your eyes like that will disguise your fidgeting. Normally you wouldn’t be so flustered in a situation like this, but you’re just so…hot already. As you have been all night.

There’s a gap in the hedges behind Marcus that you swear wasn’t there a second ago. 

“Well, if we really wanted to cement the rumors of our fake relationship…” You nod to the gap, and Marcus turns, the shadowy archway appearing in full. 

You and Marcus exchange a long glance.

“I’m ready if you are.” Marcus offers you his arm. The formal gesture strikes you as silly given the circumstances- you’ve already entered a pleasure garden together. Yet it puts you strangely at ease, too. This is Marcus, your friend, your companion-in-arms- giving you agency in keeping yourself safe, like he always has.

You loop your arm through his.

--

“I guess that means we’ll be here awhile,” you say, settling yourself on the softest grass you’ve ever felt. “Should have grabbed one of those champagne bottles.”

A number of the decorative towers glittering throughout the party had in fact been made of green glass bottles- drink option, decoration, and party favor all in one. You’d seen others brandishing them all evening, and now regretted not grabbing one before entering the maze.

Marcus is examining the barely-visible gap in the hedge that provided you entrance to your little clearing. The green of his suit nearly blends in with the leaves, adding to the enchanting surreality of his appearance.

At your words, he straightens. “I could go get one,” Marcus offers. “Or maybe…” 

His face alights with mischief. He turns his head in the direction of the party, eyes narrowing. Startled cries sound in the distance before transforming into awed, knowing oooohs. Marcus holds out his hand.

A second later, a green glass bottle sails down into his palm. He turns to you, grinning, lifting the bottle like a trophy.

You laugh in delight, applauding. Marcus indulges your praise with a little bow, looking pleased with himself in a way you don’t see very often anymore.

The two of you settle into the grass and pass the champagne back and forth. There’s no direct light source in your little enclave; a soft glow seems to emanate from the leaves themselves, doubtless some magic induced by the thief’s gardeners. However it works, it manages to cast everything in a warm, gentle light. It flatters Marcus’s already attractive features: his relaxed smile, the length of his throat, every flicker of muscle in his shoulders and arms beneath his fine white shirt. His suit jacket lay discarded, nearly invisible against the base of the hedge. You had nearly choked on fizz when he’d removed it.

The heat that had been building inside you all evening quiets, but doesn’t subside completely. It’s unignorable. It flares every time Marcus’s fingers brush yours on the bottle. Every time he laughs, his head tipping back. When you kick off your shoes and wiggle your toes in the grass, and he can’t quite tear his gaze from your legs. Your sunlight preens. You clear your throat and adjust your dress over your thighs, suppressing the ache between them. 

Silence settles comfortably between you. Marcus upends the champagne bottle, then holds it upside down over the grass, displaying its emptiness with a pout. You giggle, swaying where you sit. A pleasant, tipsy buzz has taken hold of both of you, making all of your troubles seem very far away. Why worry when you could simply relax for once, hidden away as you are?

For the first time, you hear other people outside the hedge. A trio, it sounds like, cooing at each other and laughing as they pass by. 

Only suddenly, they aren’t passing- the branches where you entered quiver, and the thump of stumbling footsteps sound.

You look at Marcus in alarm. 

His face hardens with sudden resolve. Quick as a flash, Marcus springs forward, and you find yourself sprawled on your back, his longer body covering yours like a blanket. The grass is cool against your spine. You gasp when Marcus’s mouth brushes your neck, his movements hurried and inelegant.

“Play along,” he mutters in your ear.

Right. You wrap your arms around his back, trying to grasp handfuls of his too-tight, tucked-in shirt. As your body relaxes into a more natural posture, Marcus’s tenses, the muscles in his back flickering. He grabs the back of your knee and hitches it over his hip, and you choke on a sound of shock.

You can’t see the intruders from your position, but Marcus whips his head toward them as they appear.

“Oops, sorry!” They back out immediately. Stifled squeals and giggles trail after them for a seemingly endless moment, until finally, finally, quiet falls again. 

The distant sounds of the party and the rustling of the hedges are the only sounds. 

No, that’s not true- you can hear Marcus breathing, harsh and fast. The humidity of it skims the shell of your ear. You’re barely breathing at all. Your chests brush every time you inhale, but you don’t dare make any other move.

“Are they gone?” Marcus whispers. 

The stubble on his jaw rasps against your cheek when he speaks. Despite that he holds the bulk of his weight off of you, you can still feel the mass of him, resting lightly against your body. It’s the only sensation that could possibly distract from the way he still grips your leg- barely above the knee, perfectly proprietary, but the real issue is that his fingers are on your skin. Keeping you in place in a way you know, instinctively, is going to haunt your dreams.

“It sounds like it,” you breathe in response. 

Marcus lifts his head enough to meet your eye. Neither of you move, frozen, close enough to taste the sweet champagne you shared on the other’s breath. Marcus’s eyes flicker to your mouth.

He flinches. Carefully Marcus scrambles off you, releasing your leg and sitting back by your feet. His eyes are huge and round and dark. He seems as stunned as you still are, staring up at him from the ground. Only a few moments had passed, yet the entire incident seemed both instantaneous and endless, echoing in the space between you. Somehow your sun hadn’t even reacted, only waited attentively in your chest for a coherent command.

“Sorry,” Marcus rasps. “It was the first thing I thought of.”

“It’s okay.” Clearing your throat, you slowly sit yourself up. “Do you think they recognized us?”

I hope so, is what Marcus doesn’t say. 

“Maybe. But we did want word to get back to the thief.” His mouth twitches infinitesimally, something that could be satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.

“Well.” You flounder to recover the atmosphere. “If I knew you’d react like that, I’d have hired Seams to dress me ages ago.”

Marcus blinks. And then the tension dissolves, and his laughter bounces off the hedges.

--

Eventually, you and Marcus make your way out of the garden. He brushes grass off of your back with light, careful hands- although those hands still steal into the gap in your dress to rest against your spine as you walk. You’ve (not unhappily) resigned yourself to the endless, tingling warmth caused by his touch. Your skin maintains a low shimmer as you exit the maze, the champagne in your bloodstream loosening your grip on your power.

You sway a little as you walk, giggling, recounting to Marcus a story that Binary had told earlier. He chuckles in your ear, his head bent to yours. The crowd is noticeably thinner now, and you make it farther across the lawn than you realize without noticing- or putting your guards up.

The thief is back on the low dais in the center of the lawn, entertaining another (or possibly the same) group of people. Or maybe they’re the ones doing the entertaining, seeing as Theo is seated on the ground, seemingly unbothered by his position amongst the fluffy rugs. The crown he’d been passing around earlier now sits crookedly on his head, at the same angle as the smile on his face. A half-empty glass is in his hand.

When Marcus looks up, Theo is watching them. His gaze rests on their linked hands. A hollow sort of longing is carved on his face; Marcus, unexpectedly, feels sympathy pang in his chest. The reaction puts a deep furrow in his brow.

Theo tries to school his expression when he catches Marcus’s eye, but it’s delayed, clumsy, his finely tuned control unwieldy after too many drinks. He lifts his glass to Marcus, eventually mastering his usual refined smirk. 

Marcus looks away. He would have ignored the thief entirely if his company hadn’t spotted them, and erupted into exclamations with a lack of subtlety that indicated their state of inebriation.

You’d spotted Theo, too, as well as his excited friends. You flutter your fingers in a wave, and then blow a kiss toward the dais, sending a burst of sunlight in their direction. The guests ooh and ahh in the sudden warmth. Theo’s eyes close and his head tips back, basking in the light. The crown slips from his head. His face smooths into a serene, unguarded smile, and something squeezes in Marcus’s gut.

If you're still here, reading this story, I love you and I'm putting a freshly-baked cookie in your hand as we speak <3333

Taglist: @pinkninja200, @superwolflock29, @startrekkingaroundasgard, @punkerthanpascal

More on my Masterlist 💖

[wings-of-flying]

thinking about chip and death now. because he's nineteen. a baby. and all his life, or at least since the hole in the sea, he's been basing his entire personality off the people around him. arlin and price, however inadvertently, turned him into chip the bastard. jay and gillion influenced him to be more caring, so did ollie. seeing lizzie makes him want to become a great captain, a great leader, making those long speeches and looking out for his crew. he's fragments of the people he's surrounded himself with

if he died now, would there have been a chip? a true chip? has there ever been a chip? gillion and jay have things that separate them from the people they're around, things not directly influenced by their past and more just elements of who they are. what does chip have? even now, what does he have that is truly his own? jay has her tinkering. gill sketches sea creatures. chip's pranks are from arlin. you could argue for his fire magic, but even that - or at least the awakening of that - was influenced by gillion. his name is a remnant of his childhood on the midnight rose

i just. i'm so utterly insane about him because even his clothes. it's like a combination of lizzie's original outfit and price's, which i could make a whole other post about. he's so young, he's still basing himself around other people even if it's having a positive effect now. he's a frankenstein already, not quite alive as himself. he had a heart but it beat with the life of others

he's haunted with the spirits and souls of people he's admired. how much of him is actually him and how much is someone else? if he died now, would he die as someone else? has he ever lived as himself?

the heart is often symbolic of feelings and the essence of your life. when it's removed in fantasy settings and the character somehow stays alive, they usually act differently. a part of their self has been taken so something appears wrong

chip's heart was taken and he didn't change. in fact he stayed very much the same. i actually forgot mid-combat that his heart had been taken in the first place. you'd think in the switch from being alive to being undead, something would change. but in a way, maybe chip's always been undead, sewn together by string he's taken from others

this is all very dramatic sounding and honestly a little bit of a stretch, but i can't help it my brain is exploding and all i can see is that one picture of haunted chibo with the fish eye effect. help

[ashysmultifandomcatdump]

Rambles about my Lord Wander AU yippee :)

finally Properly drew my lord wander design...he's basically the same but with more sharp edges (inspired by craig mccracken's concept sketches!) and a goofy outfit for when he's Eviling Out with s shooting star motif on it to contrast lord dom's bleeding heart!!! he does have a suit which the shooting star would be more Clear on but i have yet to get around to drawing it...i have been thinking about this AU for over a year now and i think i've finally figured out enough to talk about it so i will under the cut :)

i think for Structural Purposes i will talk about dominator and sylvia first. wander and dom are the only main swaps in this AU (with a smaller swap i think between the hat and dombots because it's Fun) so everyone else stays the same, though due to sylvia's proximity to dom, she has a significant enough change to discuss!!! (i am gonna sneakily reuse art from my last post for this bit hehe)

dee and sylvia travel around together on their own ship! i think the overall tone would be opposite the actual show—while WOY having wander as the main character has it be a goofy, silly show about love and friendship that's interrupted by dominator who's more serious and designed to be more like an anime villain—the tone of the AU with dee at the head would have it be more generally serious and wander's presence brings in something a bit goofier (this is kinda what he does in the show anyway. like everyone takes things seriously and then wander doesn't and people learn from him)! so dee and sylvia are both more keen to use a bit of Violence to get through everything. though that's not to say there's No goofiness, of course there is i mean. when your main opponent is lord hater of course there is!!! dom's also a menace to him like wander is, just in a bit of a different way. they just normally show up and beat them and hater doesn't react well to that of course—his degradation as a villain still ends up happening

dee also builds her little bot friends, for both practical purposes and companionship purposes :) she still names them in numbers though, not out of lack of care she is just absolutely dogshit at naming, forgive her

anyway a reason i brought up the tone thing is that wander isn't necessarily revealed just in the 'season 2' of the AU. there's kind of a looming threat in the background contributing to that. it's gone by lots of different names in lots of different galaxies, but generally is referred to as The End of the Galaxy (or just The End for short!). as suggested by the name, loads of different galaxies have been destroyed in the past. kind of like a force of nature. survivors don't really seem to be sure what exactly it is, only that it's been called by a different name each time, and nobody could stop it before it was too late. and guess who that is!!!!!!!!!!

our silly little friend whom we love the best!!!!!!!

i REALLY REALLY love roleswaps that keep the characters' personalities as intact as possible and that's what i tried to do here!! this guy may be evil as hell, but he's still Wander. he loves friends and having fun and still has that cheery attitude! he almost seems completely harmless at first! and that is part of the Plot in my head is, actually. my first ever thoughts of that spurned the creation this AU were him being a seemingly completely innocuous recurring character throughout the first 'season' of the AU, just showing up at random times, being Wander, you know. all that stuff. with the main gang not really paying him any mind, calling him a 'wandering weirdo' (since he always disappears before they can actually ask what his name is...). and none of them recognize him as The End until he actually reveals himself.

but see, he's actually grown quite attached to them! through all his time following them around, he thinks oh...aren't these folks just lovely!! he truly actually sees him as his friends. and so to honor their wonderful nickname for him, and to pay homage to his dear buddy hater, he decided his name this time around would be Lord Wander! and he'd be a Professional Villain, so they could hang out even more!! isn't he just so nice!!!

and he just doesn't seem to play by the rules at all...while they're trying to fight him, he's giggling and dodging out of the way, hitting them with...pies? just generally bugs bunny-ing out on them? he spends his time messing with them, annoying them, all the same insisting he won't fight because it's Too Violent—you know, the guy who's Killing People. it frustrates them all and he has such fun Playing with them...except dee.

one of my favorite things in the show is how wander just straight up does not like dominator. so i felt it'd be funny to keep that. dee ignores him when he's being all zany like that and he HATES her for it. he won't say it Directly, but it's kinda clear in his attitude how much she annoys him. and with all his Evilness, this would not lead to good things.

another thing about the way He Is is his exemplified traits of the other characters. like how dom was more excitable than wander, tougher than sylvia, more evil than hater and smarter than peepers; lord wander i think would be more chaotic than dom, faster than sylvia, more obsessive than hater, and more strategic than peepers (spinel if you're reading this Thank You for those last two).

anddddd i also must mention his luck because that's Very interesting in this scenario...i do think he has some form of Natural Luck Magic, and he does still have his hat (there's lots i have in mind about the hat. but i won't get into it right now), but a non-insignificant portion of his luck in the show does come from the good karma he receives from helping others. meanwhile lord wander does lots of Bad Things. does he rack up bad karma? does he do good deeds when not Eviling Out in order to cancel it out? i had these same questions a year ago and honestly i am not sure which i want to go with. both are fascinating to me

i do think that unlike dominator he would be in some way redeemable. i don't have his entire methods and motivations mapped out yet, but it's hard to find a way where he just Wouldn't be redeemable. because he's wander. you know? unlike dominator being lonely being why she didn't just kill everyone, wander does genuinely see them as his friends. he's just got a really, REALLY fucked up way of showing it. i've even considered the idea that he doesn't Actually go out of his way to kill people and only destroys the planets, making sure there are survivors but Hmmmmm i don't know about that one. it's a tough balance trying to make sure he's an actual threat. but it is something i consider. him being like a natural disaster in a sense.

this ended up being very disjointed but iiiii needed to get my thoughts Properly out there. here's the twitter thread i made last year of my initial thoughts. i Do have More in my head but i'm not really sure how to get them down in a way that makes sense...i would love to talk more about it though (especially since i have not talked much about the others other than wander. sorry he is my favorite. but i do think about the others A Lot i just didn't know what things to talk about hegshgshhg) so if anyone wants to hear more insane ramblings👍👍👍tell me👍👍👍👍👍👍i'm not normal about it👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍

[themissinglynx]

do you have some of the Wisp and Coal drawings you’ve posted to the Worldless community on hand? and if so, can I see them. I cannot find them and wanna reference how you do them ._.

Yeah, everything got shoved to the bottom as it's been a hot minute since I posted there. I'll show you sketches and finished doodles of the both of them so you can see how I'm going about my process. Also know I've been drawing for like, twelve years? so a lot of the process has been condensed into subconscious flow state artmaking and I erase some parts so I can better see what my original intent was.

also I'm not sharing some of the old stuff because it looks bad okay? okay.

Hough, you can see here my initial sketches are WAY MESSIER than my refined sketches. I typically (but not always) start with the head, drawing the circle to construct it and making the loose jawline to show the angle of the head. The neck is next, usually pretty simple. And if the body is positioned at an awkward angle, I draw a construction line to rough out where the spine is so I can form the torso around that.

You can see with Coal here in the second one I even made a construction line for his shoulders giving the angle at which they're set askew. That part's helpful for constructing the ribcage/lower chest, you can see Wisp has a little bit of lines just under her bust where I shaped her upper chest.

Important anatomy note for balanced proportions is thus: the elbow aligns with the bottom of the ribcage and the wrists with the crotch, and both the forearm and upper arm will be about the same length. You can absolutely find people who don't fit these proportions and make character designs playing with proportions (Kakihana from Oddtaxi comes to mind immediately), but this is the way I've been taught anatomy.

Whenever you're drawing characters wearing clothes, define the form of the body and then draw the clothes. I was able to get away with not drawing their closer arms by implying they're tucked under the shirt for the most part, but you can see I inserted a hand on Wisp's thigh where it'd make sense to include it.

I've noticed the deltoid muscle (shoulder muscle) tends to trip a lot of artists up when they don't fully grasp it. Not sure how two describe how to draw it well other than "observe it on people and see how it's stylized by other artists to take what you like about it"

With legs idk how to properly proportion legs so I just eyeball it. If they look too long I shorten them, if they look too thin I stout them up, etc. I don't often do this but if I'm having trouble with leg positioning, I'll draw little stickman legs for the construction lines/positioning and then fill in with properly defining the shape of the flesh. I'm still learning how everything works myself, so take all this with a grain of salt.

Here's the sketch and lineart for one of my semi-recent doodles, and I quite like the sketch, even if it may be incomprehensible..

[skitskatdacat63]

Prince Jenson of Somerset

+ process & lore

Yayyyyy omg finally have drawn portraits of the four main characters!!!! I'll show the process of Jenson's first and then them all four together. Though it's a shame the Seb/Fernando ones are older, I think it's hopefully obvious how much I've improved since November?

Look at him in all his handsome, princely glory 🥹 It's funny, I'm always happy with the second sketch and initial lineart, and then I start coloring it and I absolutely hate it, and it takes a significant amount of time into the painting for me to like it again. And then I reach a certain point and I'm in love with it again. Ugh though I gotta say, I love drawing the curls, it's just so 18th century, but at the same point, man I always will love my original lineart for the hair the best ah. Also yes I absolutely had to give him a big ass hat with feathers, he really is that kinda guy to me. I originally drew a bicorne and then realized that those don't really exist until basically almost a century later oops, so tricorne it is!!

Okay now omg look at them all together 🥹

Haha wow I have improved a lot! Just like the Seb/Fernando ones, Mark and Jense's were meant to be put together. I think there's a lot of inherent characterization in their poses that highlight the difference between them. Mark is looking up, very wistful, looking up to greater people, greater things. Jenson's head is tilted down, almost looking at the viewer, he is very satisfied with his role and revels in it, he's here to slay!

Okay, yes, lore, characterization, sorry that it is so far down on the post!!

Jense would probably be the fan favorite if this AU was an actual book or show or something. He's the guy you randomly find while browsing Wikipedia and you're like, woah this guy is so cool??? Unlike Sebmarknando, he doesn't really have the same level of angst, he's kinda just chilling. He's a bit harder to write a lore post about, because he's basically that character who is always magically around the corner, ready to witness some crazy thing and just breeze past it.

He is less linked to Seb than people like Mark and Fernando, because he's basically just his personal minister of transportation(read: horse fucker), so he avoids a lot of the relationship complications and drama, but that isn't to say he's completely uninvolved. He really likes Seb, and loves to hang around with him and serve him, but he's not as beholden to him. He's who everyone goes to air their grievances or to get away from the others, and he's very happy with this role. He's generally willing to play any side in an argument, but does tend to have a pretty big soft spot for Seb overall(Seb also gives him cuteness aggression, and he wants to bite him. Especially when Seb puffs himself up and acts super bratty when he gets offended at not being seen as a proper ruler.)

He's royalty from other kingdom, but pledged his loyalty to Seb's kingdom when he was quite young and has served him(his father first) ever since. He started off somewhat low in the military, rose to a pretty high rank, was a renowed war hero, and then ended up retiring pretty early to tend to Seb's horses. That's an oversimplification, but yeah. He liked the military life, was very good at it, but decided he had done enough, and wanted to be involved in more direct service, albeit more laid back. As I mentioned in Mark's post, Mark *really* doesn't understand his choice to do this, because if Mark had been in Jense's position, he can't ever imagine being able to let all that go and living the quiet life.

He is the palace whore, everyone has been with him honestly. It'll be like, some man walks into his bedroom, only to see Jenson in bed with his wife, but instead of being angry, he's like "wow you couldn't even wait for me??" He's just very carefree, and happy to just slut around and tend to Seb's horses.

I think he definitely still advises Seb, and would go to battle if truly need be, but generally seems to be living in a different world than the weird psychosexual homoerotic political drama that the others seem to be living in. But as I said, it's not like he doesn't contribute to it! He loves to goad Fernando, and constantly plays devil's advocate in "debates" between Fernando and Seb. He's also obviously the one that keep "accidentally" locking them in rooms and forgetting where the key is.

Sorry if this isn't very explanatory, I hope it gives a general idea to the type of character he is???? As always, let me know if you have any questions! I kinda struggled on what to write here because I'm finishing this at almost 8 am 😭 so I'm not sure if it's great or not. But basically you need to know: horse fucker who is generally breezy and carefree but also can be a bit of a menace to society every once in a while.

[tvlandofficiall]

seam ships ranking tierlist?

this is a little less of a tierlist and more of an unsorted assortment of the pairs i'm invested in, but;

SEAVIL

gamewise; i admit i will forever be most partial to the shopboss pairs because – in my humble opinion – they really have it ALL. seam watching jevil descend into madness and – rather than being horrified by it – being were so intrigued that even now what jevil had said in those moments of madness lingers deep within them. seam wishing they hadn't locked him up for that madness at all because he gave them more of a "purpose" than anything their fate or their status as "object" could offer them. the ambiguity as to whether they were even friends at all, or if it was solely their positions in the court and the thrill of the "numbers game" that kept them coming back to one another.

headcanonwise; the phrase "mutually unrequited love" made absolutely zero sense to me until i thought too hard about these two. they're both one another's "one that got away" – they both think they should've professed their love before jevil had to be locked up and think of one another almost like fleeting mirages (only worsened by having both seen the state of their being in the light world.)

SEAMSWATCH

what can i say? these two have absurd chemistry every time i do a writing "sketch" where they're the subjects. they're admittedly the relationship that's the most my own invention out of any of these, but i think there's a lot of really fascinating stuff you could do with them. they're both in the same position of having a shadow crystal holder that was close with them – seam is really the only person swatch can talk to about spamton now that they're in castle town. and too; what does seam know about the lightner that created neo through their hands? why are they so mysterious? just what was the crystal in neo? there's an interesting detective & them fatale (get it?) dynamic to be found there and their personalities are both so charged for it that i just can't get enough of them.

SEAMQUEEN

i'm honestly surprised these two didn't take off more after ch2 given mysterious past relationships seem to be the name of the game for deltarune fans. aside from said mysterious shared past though these two are classic character foils – queen believes wholeheartedly in her own mistaken assumptions about the machinations of this world and seam is by contrast so aware of said machinations and said world that they've given up on it near-entirely. just that alone provides a lot of fascinating ways the two can bounce off of one another; especially in snowgrave where the violence of queen's entire world being pulled out from under her becomes apparent to her. seam meanwhile knows that sort of thing is inevitable – one way or another queen's world would be destroyed and one way or another her people would be discarded. in fact, it's happened to them already! why worry? why not come stay with them a while? (and even in a normal route, consider they seem to know about other game files – would they know of a snowgrave file then? could they look with nothing but their own detatched fascination at an old friend who they far surpass in knowledge now? she seems to have been gone from the kingdom some time before jevil was locked away – or i think so, at least – and so she's no idea of just how much her old friend has changed.)

and on queen's end; i think she and the pandora palace crew are quite close, but i don't doubt she misses the old court crew, especially while she's first finding her footing as the sole ruler of cyber world. there's no way seam wasn't sneaking around with queen back when they were younger; they're the sort i think queen would have a blast just drinking and going back and forth with. she's the kind of person who prioritizes a good time (doesn't everyone?) and so seam – who's always had a layabout streak – is happy to take her side when trying to get the kings to throw grand balls or when she just wants to ditch 'em entirely. all in all very underexplored very classic yuri that deserves to have more than three posts in the tag in my humble (read: extremely biased) opinion.

SEAMKING

this is the one i would not say i "ship" but that i will say i think happened in the time between jevil being locked away and the knight arriving / all the kings being locked away / the remaining court members being fired. spades king spent many a night privately telling seam about his ire towards the kingdom's state of abandonment. seam was seam about it. they probably laughed mysteriously at him about it. he probably hated it. he probably liked it a little more than he'd like to like it. you know how it is.