#not me adding another filter to my art

[vultbae]

negroni ✩

art donaldson x female reader

↳ summary: After winning against Patrick, Art takes the night off to grab a few drinks at the Ritz Carlton lobby bar. There, he meets a profound admirer. 

OR

Things go wrong with the girl who bought him a Negroni.

↳ warnings: fingering (minors dni), age gap (reader is 22), manipulation, infidelity, angst towards end.

↳ extra warnings: english is not my first language pookies + my first fic + yall I'm messyy so I added drama out of nowhere. if u read this I love u thank u for giving me a chance

word count: 4.9k

✩

"Excuse me, no smoking."

The blonde man lifts his chin to encounter a young waitress warning him about the cigarette dangling off his mouth. His middle and index fingers immediately approach the cigarette and gradually pull the filtered end from between his lips. "Sorry." Art frankly apologizes.

The waitress's purposeful avoidance of directly looking at him makes Art borderline giggle. He can't help but discreetly give her a comprehensive look; the girl is attractive, with velvety skin that impersonates caramel and peaceful facial features. He shushes all the pushy thoughts resembling the waitress to his wife staying upstairs. He is not that desperate, plus, everyone knows he is married to the Tashi Duncan.

Art audibly clears his throat and articulates before the young woman strolls away, "Can you get me a Negroni, please?" He requests, showcasing a courteous smile. The woman nods.

He didn't even realize when he positioned the cigarette between his lips. He had been anxiously waiting for an instance when he could be alone -at least since the match against Patrick. Tashi cheerfully agreed to let him descend to the lobby bar to grab a few drinks.

✩

Art had been attentively scanning his frame on the wide mirror and adjusting strands and strands of hair as he paid more attention to his hairstyle; his somber eyes descended from his impeccable hair to the unfastened buttons of his seersucker shirt, revealing a fraction of silk-like, gloomy skin from chest to lower stomach, his well-grooved muscles casting shadows under the bathroom's dim yellow lighting. 

"I'm going out!" Art shouted from the bathroom as he fastened the remaining buttons of his shirt.

From the corner of his eye, he sensed Tashi approaching the bathroom doorframe and standing by it. Art tilted his head up to encounter Tashi, his wife, silently grinning, dressed in a beautiful pearl-white silk robe, "I won't be gone for more than an hour-

"It's fine," Tashi interrupted. "I'll watch a movie with Lily. We can talk about it later."

Art nodded. His eyes stared at her with minor fascination. Tashi couldn't figure out why, but the feral spark on Art's orbs evaporated. She walked away.

Art slightly opened his mouth to say something but suddenly cut himself off, lips slamming together. He didn't say anything. He allowed the slim figure of his wife to vanish from his eyesight. He authorized himself to go out alone for the first time in years and think about his relationship with Tashi and tennis -if, at this point, they were not equal. And his relationship with Patrick, of course. 

After today, he felt things he hadn't felt in a while.

✩

An insistent tap on his shoulder provokes Art to flinch and abruptly land on earth again. 

"Excuse me, Negroni..?" Another waiter says in a quivering voice—a statement rather than a question—hardly maintaining eye contact. He is holding a tiny round silver tray with a bloody-looking Negroni sitting on it. 

Before the amateur waiter can shakily grasp the crystal glass to place it on Art's table, Art raises his arm and moves the Negroni himself. As soon as he places the glass on the marmol table's surface, his long fingers seize the thin wedge of orange embellishing the glass, bringing it to his lips and sucking on it instantly.

He doesn't realize that the one time he and the waiter are maintaining eye contact is while he sucks on a slice of orange -slowly.

"Thank you." Art says, dragging the wedge out of his mouth, detecting the scarcity of color on the waiter's facial canvas. "Why is he so pale?" Art thinks. The meddling stare from the waiter endures for maybe five seconds before Art frowns his eyebrows slightly in confusion; the poor guy nearly jogs away from Art's table.

Does he carry that much power over people? It has been long since Art calculatedly flirted with or attempted to gain someone's attention. To be accurate, since Tashi entered his life. He has officially lost the "open-to-the-public" charming spark and neglected his intrinsically flirty side. 

But today, for some reason, he feels different than usual. Not that he is trying to test it...

The Ritz lobby bar is moderately quiet. Art peeks at a few travelers relaxing with their baggage as they sip cocktails in miniature glasses and couples drinking -"probably pre-gaming before a night out," Art assumes. His gaze disembarks over two guys in their premature 20s, brunette, and blonde, chuckling and vividly chitchatting about topics he can't overhear properly. Art is hooked to the scenario in front of him as he stares enthusiastically: it bitterly reminds him of his friendship with Patrick, whom he hasn't heard of since the match. 

As he finds himself —once again— daydreaming about what once was, Art takes decent-sized sips of his Negroni, with his right hand hugging the crystal glass just right. He is sitting on one of the many hickory brown leather armchairs dispersed across the bar, manspreading as his left hand lays over his lap. 

Suddenly, a personal reflection pops into his mind like a light bulb unexpectedly turning on; what is he doing? Sitting submerged in loneliness in a 5-star hotel lobby bar will not change anything. It simply won't. He would rather go back to the suite and have some pleasing fucking sleep. He is feeling tired, and confused, and depressed, and—

Well, If anything, people who recognize him could come and disturb his night. 

Art locks eyesight with the first waiter wandering across his vision field; he pitches a writing motion with his hand and requests the bill. As the waiter walks in his direction, he chugs down the leftover sips of cocktail in the glass.

"Bill?" Another waiter wearing a burgundy uniform asks Art. The tennis player shakes his head up and down, murmuring a yes please, "Don't worry, on the house."

"I can afford it." Art stresses, with a robust sarcastic undertone tinting his voice tone while attempting to maintain the most benevolent smile on his catalog. 

The waiter chuckles in exaggerated glee. "I know, Mr. Donaldson. Your bill has been cleared by another customer," he clarifies, standing in front of Art with the straightest stance and hands intertwined in the manifestation of hospitality. The waiter clears his throat, "Actually, by the young woman over there," and discreetly points his finger at the stools by the bar gantry.

Art's gaze dashes over to a woman standing by the bar gantry. He can only see her back, not her complete complexion. Although he has internally accepted this demeanor as improper, he allows his eyes to scan over the woman's silhouette freely, lingering a little longer on her legs. In the background, he can faintly attend to the waiter talking about hotel-specific branch issues and how stays such as his and Tashi's benefit the hotel's branding -isn't this the Ritz Carlton?

"Yes, I agree." Art blurts out as soon as he realizes the waiter has concluded his monologue, his gaze glued to the enigmatic female standing five meters away from him.

"Thank you, Mr. Donaldson. Have a great night." Just as Art opened his mouth to greet him in return, the waiter had already shifted on his feet to approach another table.

Art reevaluates what he is about to do. Should he greet her, thank her, or gently communicate how unmannered it can be to buy a married man a drink? 

But also, what if it's an obsessed groupie attempting to instigate drama?

It doesn't matter. Buying Art Donaldson a drink is disrespectful. Literally everyone —quite literally everyone— who knows Donaldson knows he is married to Tashi Duncan!

Come on, a woman, unattended in a bar, buying me a drink? Art thinks.Of course, she has hidden intentions, he reassures himself. Art shifts on the armchair, resting his elbows on his knees, still pondering whether he should approach her. 

Why isn't he simply disregarding this and walking away?  

He hadn't felt so much excitement about something so childish in a while. It felt like being nineteen again. After hugging Patrick today, he sensed a heartwarming relief regarding Tashi cheating on him. But, on the other hand, he's a fucking human.

Fuck it. He just wants to chat with the girl and perhaps communicate that she shouldn't do that again. Right, that's it. 

Art picks up his belongings and strides towards her.

"Hey, sorry..." Art speaks, dragging the stool beside the woman and grinning warily at her. His soothing, recognizable tone of voice instantly captures her attention.

Art expected many things, but not a drop-dead gorgeous woman. A girl. She looks...young— not underage kind of young, but unquestionably not over twenty-five. On the other hand, as a well-known tennis player, he's had plenty of exquisite-looking women begging for attention; Tashi herself is stunning. Somehow, this woman left his lungs tightening for a sizzling second, which is concerning. 

Plus, her aroma. Jesus, the scent, Art thinks. He would continuously go weak on the knees when Tashi wore that damn tangy, dark cherry fragrance she had. He immediately identified the distinct smell.

"Mr. Donaldson, oh my god..." The girl's voice pitches high, and she extends her right hand in his stomach direction as if she had been rehearsing for this moment. "I didn't believe you would accept the drink," she adds enthusiastically. 

Her voice is too harmonious for his ears. 

Art stretches his hand and shakes hers. "Well, I didn't." Art retorts, unconsciously smirking at the girl's harmless bliss, "I was pretty much obligated to accept the free Negroni."

"Well, either way, I am honored," she says with a slight shrug and giggles, "Names Y/n; by the way, very nice to meet you, Mr. Donaldson. Big fan of yours"

"Nice to meet you too, Y/n," Art unpretentiously expresses. His facial expression goes abruptly blank as he realizes he might be snitching on himself. "Uh, Y/n, I don't wanna sound rude, but what you did... with the drink," he struggles to word it nicely, worrying about coming out as unpolite. He laboriously swallows as Y/n raises her eyebrows, expectant. "You shouldn't buy drinks to married men," he concludes.

Y/n lets out a gigantic gasp, "Oh my- this is so embarrassing," her hands fly over to her mouth, covering it in mortification, "I am so sorry, Mr. Donaldson-

"Please, call me Art," Art interrupts, a smirk rising on his face.

"Well, Art," Y/n corrects herself, now speaking with a mischievous undertone, still with an infectious grin plastered on her face. "I go to Stanford. I couldn't stop hearing about you —your skills. Well, I grew up in a household of tennis enthusiasts, and I, myself, am a tennis player. I just wanted to show my appreciation for what you've done for the tennis culture."

Art's cheeks feel hot. Heck, they are burning. 

"Oh.." he mumbles, mainly to himself out of amazement.

"I would never, don't worry, Mr. Donaldson- I mean, Art." Y/n reassures, emphasizing the never. But as she justified herself, a sad half smile crooked on her plump lips, "I mean... No one can deny you are very handsome, but I am a respectful woman-"

He unmistakably heard the last sentence but will bypass it for his mental stability. "It's fine, Y/n." Again, he runs over her words, interrupting, "I should be apologizing; I don't want to come across as an entitled asshole."

For some reason, Art can't stop feeding the conversation. You are a fucking horndog, Art internally insults himself.

"Let me buy you a drink as an apology," Art says bluntly, requesting clearance but simultaneously demanding. Y/n, on the other hand, has her eyes set on the blonde man in front of her, both gazes perforating each other. "I mean, if you are of age.."

She giggles.

"Twenty-two. Took a gap year," the girl admits, "and I wouldn't mind a Negroni," she adds, now faking a nonchalant accent.

Y/n can hardly believe the circumstances she has put herself in. She observes the man standing before her, deftly moving from how he calls the server to how he licks his lips after ordering the Negroni. He's so fucking hot, she thinks. She had only seen him through flat screens and once attended one of the numerous lectures he gave back on campus. 

But no, Y/n wasn't an obsessive stalker. Earlier that day, she had been at the New Rochelle Tennis Club with her father and the new newbie guy he was coaching —she can't even recall his name. Long story short, the guy had asked her on a date, and as a grandiose concurrency, Y/n had suggested the Ritz —they serve finger-licking cosmopolitans at their bar. It wasn't until she reached twenty minutes earlier by mistake that she contemplated bailing on her plans. Why? Because she laid eyes on the mouthwatering blonde man sitting by himself, ingesting a depressing ass-looking Negroni. 

She knew it was a hit or miss. But she would rather miss if it came to the possibility of messing around with the man of her most soaked dreams.

Y/n's nostrils pleasingly burn as she inhales a warmish, spicy fragrance emanating from Art's clothes and skin. She can't dodge the impulse to frequently peek at the opening of his shirt, revealing milky skin. Her breathing becomes erratic just by fantasizing about him without the fucking seersucker shirt. She knows he's fucking ripped.

Y/n chews on the bottom of her lip anxiously, contemplating her words. "By the way, what you did today was insane."

Art arches a brow. "You mean playing tennis?"

"That wasn't even tennis; that was an entirely different game," Y/n responds as if Art had offended her. "It felt as if the court was entirely yours," she overpraises him, feeling rewarded by the minuscule giggles escaping from Art's lips.

Art feels his heart warm up at the familiar sentence choice. "It is not a big deal, just a good tennis match," he elucidates. 

She rolls her eyes. "Sure... or maybe you are just too skilled for other players." Y/n softly laughs.

Art bits back the tiniest groan of frustration. He feels his dick hardening underneath the light-washed denim jeans he's wearing. He tries to comprehend if it is because of the sudden sensual undertone in her delicate voice, her unmistakable submissive look penetrated deep into her big eyes, or the fact that Tashi had not touched him below the hipline in months and turned him into a precocious motherfucker. Or it could be the alcohol making him horny. He hadn't noticed before how tight her clothing was —it took one swift glimpse at her body for Art to see her thighs spilling out of the hem of the strapless mini-dress. It took another one to realize she was now gently caressing his arm.

Art was convinced there was nothing left to wipe the carefully crafted agitated expression from his face. "Could be, yeah," he says, subsequently coughing to avoid strangling on his own spit. "I don't want to be seen as some kind of God."

"Well, you move like one," Y/n affirms, chuckling at her own filthy sentence, her fingers playfully stirring the brand-new Negroni sitting on the bar table with the cocktail straw. She licks her lips, "You know what I mean."

Bullshit. There is no way this girl doesn't want to fuck.

She dodges eye contact, but there is a peculiar shift in the air, and a smirk exponentially extends her lips.

"I know what you mean." Art snaps back, incapable of looking away from the cocktail straw now entrapped in between her glossy lips. 

His muscles and head feel more lightweight, but his ocean eyes remain entirely tied to her outline. 

Their bodies have shuffled negligibly closer—inappropriately closer. Art senses warmness filling his face from the subtle friction of their knees: the coarse texture of his denim and Y/n's smooth, bare skin.

From her peripheral vision, Y/n glimpses a security guard patrolling the hotel lobby. She makes eye contact with the robust man for a split second, whose facial expression reshapes in dull stunner as he peeks at who's sitting next to her. 

Y/n sets her crystal glass on the bar counter. "Thank you so much for the drink." 

"Wait. Are you leaving?" Art questions, with feigned etiquette that reeks of desperation. 

Y/n's eyes dart to the man standing near their stools. Art tracks her gaze and sighs. "You already gifted me minutes of your time and a Negroni. That's enough coming from Art Donaldson." 

Art hesitates. "They are not in my business." He practically whines, progressively revealing his despair to the young woman sitting before him.

"I still need to Uber home," Y/n excuses, pouting at her words. "A woman can't be alone that late-

"I can drive you." 

✩

The drive is around twenty-five minutes. 

Y/n quietly sits in the copilot seat of Art's Bentley Bentayga. By her left side, Art grips the steering wheel confidently, his fingers switching effortlessly over the controls as they drive through the streets of the suburban county of Westchester. She peers through the shadowy window glass on her side —there's a winter storm outside. 

"How many days are you staying in Westchester?" Y/n asks while her gaze stays fixed on the passing scenery framed by the window.

Art clicks his tongue. "Not much. Most likely leaving tomorrow morning."

"Did you do anything fun around the county?" 

"Well, a rich-people county isn't the most amusing place to visit." Art jokes, speaking with a devilish tease.

Y/n doesn't reply. Instead, her eyes quickly flicker to his silhouette under the fuzzy skyglow leaking through the car's transparencies. Art's blonde hair captures the faint illumination beautifully, each strand seeming to shimmer under the dim light. His muscles tighten at—

Red light.

When the car stops, Art twists his head to the right, his and her gazes collapsing. He runs his tongue over his upper lip before talking, "You mentioned something earlier..." he begins to say. 

In the stillness of the moment, the only sound is the soft hum of the engine idling.

"I mentioned many things," Y/n corrects. 

A faint crease of discomfort crosses Art's brow, and he shifts slightly on the red leather seat. Y/n examines each of his subtle hip and torso motions as he gets rid of the discomfort. Finally, again sitting still, he resumes. "Let me be specific. You mentioned I am handsome."

A sudden warmth spreads across her cheeks, an unmistakable flush of embarrassment.

"I don't think this is appropriate."

"I don't think neither of us cares about what's appropriate anymore." 

It feels as if the world has stopped for Y/n. It feels as if a spell had caught both of them, leaving them besotted, and fucking horny, and awaiting the other to give the—

Green light.

"I think there's a parking lot next to a store that shut down recently 3 minutes away."

That's all Y/n says. Art presses down the gas pedal and tightens his grip on the wheel to suppress some exotic sensations that rocket down his spine.

Raindrops splatter against the windshield and the car's roof, and the blonde guy continues to drive through a road of infinite rain-soaked side trees swaying in the wind's rhythm and closed shops. 

It takes four minutes and fifty seconds to reach a gigantic parking lot beside what once was a Dollar Tree. Although Y/n can scarcely appreciate the space due to the weather conditions and the tinted glass, she can see some faded, bright yellow parking lines now covered in dirt and droplets of rain. The place is totally empty.

Y/n's heart sprints ten times faster when the engine settles into a contented hum. Goosebumps flourish on her skin as serenity inundates the car interior—complete silence. The SUV has parked on a random corner.

And she doesn't want to look in Art's direction because she knows he's already looking.

She plays it credulously. "I think this is a great place to talk in peace," Y/n murmurs, finally turning her head towards him. 

The fleeting moment her eyes cross with his evokes a sense of vulnerability for the girl. Art's orbs shamelessly spark with a glimmer of mischief, like a predator stalking its prey. The unbridled desire is nowhere near disguised now, and Y/n knows the guy won't keep playing the innocent role anymore. Is buying him a drink disrespectful? Bullshit. But she's grateful the poor, troubled man will have some fun. She knew he'd surrender faster than expected. 

Yeah. Art had lifted the white flag as soon as he reached out a hand to grasp the door handle of his sexy ass Bentayga to open it for Y/n, and his eyes had flown by instinct to the girl's ass when she was hopping on his car.

Now, he can't tear his eyes off her lips. 

"I've had a fucked up day." Art suddenly breathes out. There's a steady rise and fall of his chest, but Y/n can tell he's struggling to maintain it. His eyes ascend to lock in with hers. "I want to forget who the fuck I am."

Y/n is drowning in the noise of her own accelerated heartbeat. "I can help you." Y/n's words shoot out in submission, haltingly batting her eyelashes at him.

It's humorous mainly because she has no idea what is happening in his life. She doesn't know the mess between Tashi and Patrick; the fact that Tashi allegedly fucked Pa—well, whatever. Y/n doesn't know. She understands the man is disturbed, though, because the instant she stepped inside the luxurious lobby of the Ritz Carlton, she could tell the man had no emotion on his face. She recalled watching his matches when she was younger, and one thing about Art Donaldson was the radiant vitality his presence brought to any room he was in.

It's evident that the radiance was gone. For whatever reason.

Their bodies draw closer, the only barrier being the gear stick and seat partition between them. Y/n can feel Art's warm breath clashing against her lips, a slightly intoxicating and crisp scent of gin climbing to her nostrils. She moistens her lips with the tip of her tongue before grabbing Art by the collar of his shirt and pulling him into her mouth. He briefly widens his eyes but reciprocates instantly.

He is the sort of kisser who goes slowly but deepens as much as possible, inserting his tongue everywhere attainable. Y/n tastes good and, heck, excellent —sweet and spicy, as if she chewed cinnamon gum before assaulting his mouth. The flavor and the satiny texture of her lips push him to near insanity; Art pumps his tongue in and out, desperately, sweeping against hers because of the faint, delicate moans leaking from her side every time he does it —it makes him vertiginous.

It isn't until Y/n sucks on his lower lip that he splits off to breathe. "No marks." Art forewarns with his face dropped in soberness, heavily panting.

He discerns something shifting inside of him when Y/n's beautiful features soften for a beat, casting a veil of a peculiar sentiment he's too emotionally dumb to interpret —bitterness? sadness? He can't tell. The fuzzy thoughts fade when her lips attack again, parting his with ease, allowing her tongue to slip inside. "Shut up." Y/n spits lowly between kisses.

A couple of sizzling minutes of pure, obscene french kissing pass before Art realizes the pressure underneath the light-washed denim over his crotch is tormenting him. His left-hand glides over Y/n's thigh and gently squeezes, letting her know he needs to move forward. At this point, he has readjusted the position of his body over the red leather seat, facing Y/n straight; the hand resting over her thigh gradually shoves the hem of the mini-dress upwards, revealing more skin and dangerously approaching her pussy.

The tempo of Y/n's kisses becomes unsteady with the sensation of his physical touch near such an intimate area. It felt weirdly mortifying for her to be this wet this early —her pussy felt slippery and willing to take whatever Art proposed. She breaks off the kiss out of involuntary reflex, with her gaze immediately descending on Art's left hand, too big for her, and skillfully positioning the lace of the light-pink panties aside.

If Art was a magician and opening her legs was a challenging magic trick, goddamn, he'd be a good magician. Y/n had no idea how, in such an undersized space, her legs had managed to spread that wide. The specific moment when Art's middle finger comes in contact with her wetness is a blur, but the filthy, low-pitched groan that his mouth emits as the first finger rubs her pussy lips will never be forgotten. Y/n unconsciously rocks her hips in search of more friction-

"Stay still." Art demands, chest rapidly going up and down. Although he attempts to sound demanding, his voice is weak in want and ridiculously desperate. Y/n's cheeks flame up when he begins toying with her clit, rubbing slow circles, with an equally attractive and irritating cocky grin resting over his face.

But she wants that one finger to go in. Y/n sighs in eagerness, muttering a series of pleasepleasepleases.

"Art..." Y/n mutters between choked moans, bucking her hips forward into his hand. Art gazes at her, intoxicated by her facial expressions and the mild tone of her voice, delivering such nasty noises. His eyes don't leave Y/n's face as he thrusts his middle finger past her slick folds. He feels his dick twitch at her exaggerated facial response.

What was one finger quickly became two, picking up their speed and twirling inside, hitting the sweetest spot. "Not a virgin, right? " Art abruptly asks, terrified but astonished at the tightness her pussy held, clenching down on his digits and squeezing. 

"No... oh my god—" Y/n yelps, hardly managing to articulate words as his fingers keep steadily penetrating her pussy. 

Y/n tilts her head back and instantly feels a trail of sloppy, wet kisses on her jaw; Art is nearly over her body, working his way downstairs and upstairs, too. The accelerated rhythm of his fingering ceases for a hot second as his available hand reaches her chest to unashamedly pull down the neckline of Y/n's mini-dress, freeing her tits and letting them bounce out of the expensive cloth. 

As a sheer coincidence and dissolving in pleasure, Y/n's eyesight dismounts in one of the tall buildings in front of the parking lot. What she sees is practically ironic. An immense billboard with Art's face crammed inside, by his side Tashi Duncan's iconic facial features, and an oversized Aston Martin logo. "Game Changer," the thing reads. Funny, she thinks. He is a game changer, though —not sure if he is the same kind Aston Martin broadcasts. 

But seeing his face and Tashi's painfully reminds her the man is not hers. 

In fact, the man has a whole wife.

"Fuck me." Y/n requests, still a complete mess, moaning, arching her back, breathless. 

And nothing happened where she thought the fire test lay. Art obliged. In fact, he seemed enthusiastic. He wants to make her his. Y/n modestly smiled at the thought.

"Yes... fuck, yeah." With a deft hand, he reaches down and unfastens the button of his pants; he eases the zipper down, and the faint sound of it sliding makes Y/n nauseated of anticipation.

Art reaches into the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a beautiful, black leather wallet. He flips it open, his brows furrowing in concentration as he sifts through its contents. With a muttered curse under his breath, he begins to dig deeper; Y/n doesn't understand what's happening —is he searching for a condom?

After eternal seconds, the blonde guy lets out a frustrated sigh and shakes his head, resigned.

Y/n sits beside him awkwardly, unhurriedly pulling up the neckline of her dress, covering her now shivering body.

"...So?" she questions.

He remains silent.

"I don't have condoms." 

"I'm on the pill." Y/n offers.

The look Art shoots at Y/n isn't gracious. In fact, it triggers a big spark of frustration on his face, eyebrows knitting together in a light scowl as he looks at her incredulously.

Then it turns worse when, by mistake, his gaze falls on the same billboard Y/n had seen earlier.

"I can't. Sorry." 

Y/n slowly closes her legs and adjusts her neckline. "Why?"

Art's eyes fall to his lap. "Well, starting from the fact I have a family-

Y/n interrupts. "Well, you didn't seem to care when you offered to drive a total stranger."

It was most likely the sassiness and the blaming in her voice that unexpectedly threw him off. Really threw him off.

"That's none of your business. I just took the opportunity of a warm hole."

In one swift, rampant movement, her hand connects with his cheek with a resounding crack, the sound echoing through the air like a crash. His head jerks to the side. A slap.

She had fucking slapped him.

With a trembling breath, Y/n doesn't think twice before she pushes open with unmeasured force the door of Art's fucking ugly car —or that's how she thinks of it now. The storm still persists, rain pouring down in sheets. Tears accumulate over her eyes as she steps out into the downpour, grabbing her purse tightly.

"Hey, hold on..."

She completely ignores Art's words, which get easily lost in the roar of the rain. 

But she turns to face him one last time, sitting on the pilot seat, visibly ashamed of himself —and still with unbuttoned pants.

"Fuck you. I hope you lose every single fucking tennis match." And with a forceful push, she slams the car door shut. 

As Y/n steps away from the vehicle, leaving a splash in the puddles on the floor, she wishes the man she met two hours ago had run after her and begged forgiveness. But of course, he didn't. Instead, she watched as the vehicle got started again and drove past her, quickly rejoining the road and disappearing in the darkness. 

✩

[dindjarindiaries]

You reblogged that starter list and before I even saw your message, this one SCREAMED Din to me:

❛ if i could be a different person, i promise you, i would be.

character: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

prompt: "If I could be a different person, I promise you, I would be."

main masterlist • prompt masterlist

You looked up at the expanse of stars overhead and let out a soft breath. The slight sting of the night's chilled air nipped at your nose, but the way it filtered through your lungs felt relieving. This was the open air; it was much more freeing than the ship you had started to feel trapped within.

It was that ship's boarding ramp you were sitting on, and as you took a quick glance over your shoulder, you saw its owner watching you from within the cargo hold with a worried tilt to his silver helmet. Having been caught in the act, his armored chest rose and fell in a breath as he started to walk towards you. Your gaze returned to the sky above as you sensed his approach.

"I thought you were charting another course," you said as Din took his place alongside you. "We can't spend too much time here."

Din shrugged in your periphery. "An extra rotation won't hurt."

Your head snapped towards him as your lips parted in disbelief. "A rotation?"

Din's visor was stuck on the stars, but after a moment of you staring, he returned your disbelieving glance. "What?"

You chuckled and shook your head, returning your attention to the night sky. You closed your eyes as your heart began to beat more rapidly. The question you wanted to ask screamed within your mind, but it came out as a mere whisper. "Why?"

There was a pause before Din responded. "Why what?"

You reopened your eyes and kept them on the stars. Looking at Din would make you lose your resolve. "Why are you bending your rules?"

When Din remained silent for a long moment, you quickly glanced over at him. His visor was fixed on his gloved hands as he picked the orange-colored material on his fingertips. "We can afford the time, for now." When he continued, his modulated voice was even lower than before. "And you're happy here."

You furrowed your brow at him. "I'm happy regardless."

Din gave his helmet a brief tilt. "Sure. But..." he paused, as if musing upon something, "not like you are on planets like this one."

You didn't know what to say to that. The sweet inhale of the crisp air you took was enough to prove his words true. As you continued to stare somewhat dumbfounded at Din, he added more.

"You don't like being on the ship."

You instantly shook your head and willed the words to come, but they wouldn't. Your throat had closed up around your wildly beating heart as the truths you tied to each atrium and ventricle came closer and closer to freeing themselves.

Din took your silence as a much more disappointing reality. Even his modulator couldn't hide his hurt. "You don't like being with me."

"No." You couldn't have gotten the word out faster if you'd tried. "That's not true."

"It's okay. I understand." Din's arm rested upon his propped-up knee as he looked at the stars yet again. You watched his visor reflect them with fond admiration. "My lifestyle isn't meant to keep people around for long." He nodded, as if he was still convincing himself of such a truth. "I've grown used to it."

His words, a genuine and honest reflection of himself, shattered your heart enough to let the shards escape through the barrier your throat had attempted to create. Each beautiful truth began to spill out in a stained glass mosaic of the image you had crafted over the past few months. "Yet I'm still here."

That caught Din's attention. His visor found your gaze as you pieced your art together.

"I've felt trapped, yes, but not by you or your ship." You exhaled and watched your hand as you set it on the metal of the ramp beside you. It was just inches from Din's own. "It's a feeling. One that consumes me, really. And while it's centered on you, it's not because of you that I feel so trapped. That's only because I know the truth. I know your guard has to stay up."

You huffed and shook your head at yourself.

"It sounds ridiculous to say out loud, honestly, but... you deserve to know." The corners of your mouth pulled up in a sad smile. "Even if there's nothing you can do about it."

Din's visor never left you as he sat in the heavy silence that followed. Eventually, his visor lowered, his focus moving to his gloved hand as it closed the distance to your own. Only part of his hand covered yours on the boarding ramp as he spoke in the most beautifully honest tone you had ever heard from him. "If I could be a different person, I promise you, I would be."

You shook your head, your gaze also fixed on your hands as you did so. "If you were any different, you wouldn't be the person I've grown such feelings for."

You were delicate in the way you laced your fingers through his, allowing him to pull away at any point if he so wished. He made no such move, instead letting his armored chest rise and fall in a careful breath as your hands became fully entwined. After a few more quiet moments, he spoke up once again. "I can learn."

You looked back up at his visor and hoped your expression wasn't betraying your strong glimmer of hope. Din offered a determined nod.

"I will learn."

Your smile couldn't be stopped as you looked upon him much more favorably than you ever had the stars. "Yeah?"

Din nodded once more, resting your entwined hands on his armored thigh. "Yeah."

[blissfullyecho]

another list of ways i’m adding luxury to my life because i deserve to be comfortable

sleeping on a featherbed in addition to my mattress (game changer for your night’s rest)

investing in high quality nail polish (chanel, louboutin, etc., which costs half as much as going to the salon and painting my natural nails at home. i have beautiful strong natural nails that can grow very long and i am pretty skilled at nail painting, so this is an option for me. if your nails can’t do the same, i suggest still going to the salon. for me personally, i don’t like being at the salon for hours and having someone touching my hands the entire time.

i said yesterday that i wasn’t planning on drinking alcohol unless it was for a special occasion— but i only plan on drinking high quality wine or champagne only

using personalized stationary

buying fresh flowers whenever needed— even if they are flower delivery and i send myself a couple dozen red roses and chocolates because… why not?

stop buying mass-produced art pieces and find a local artist and commission their work which would be completely original.

buying high quality lingerie and wear matching sets underneath my clothes— making it a daily thing and normalizing dressing nice from beneath

adding a water filter to my shower for a more fresh and clean environment rid of any harsh chemicals, detergents, etc.

getting high-end candles for a lovely smell at home (there is definitely a difference in quality when it comes to candles and you get what you pay for)

when ordering online, select the “gift wrapping” option to treat myself a little more.

[palipunk]

Hey! I love your art a lot, and you've helped me learn a lot about other things aswell. I just wanted to thank you for all that! ❤️

(This part is optional: I was wondering if you have any process videos of the full body character designs, you do? Like with the different outfits? I love the texture of that particular style of yours so much and would love to learn to integrate some aspects into my own art, If you would allow for that?)

Hi and thank you! It's much appreciated and I'm glad you stuck around :)

That's totally fine! Unfortunately, I don't think I have any process videos of the character designs (they take me a while and I go back and forth a lot with outfits so I never have space for them on my computer) but I can give a run-through of what I do!

- this is only applicable for CSP -

Step One:

First Image: So I start with the base, I go about these like those paper dolls. I sketch these out, line them, and color them in as I would any other lineart - however I merge the layers after I'm done. They are always bald because if I'm going for an outfit lineup I can change up the hairstyle depending on the clothes. Second Image: After I merge all the layers and lower the opacity, I can sketch the outfits on a different layer - If there are smaller details I want to include I usually sketch them in a different color so I can see it clearly.

Step Two:

First Image: after sketching out what I want, I turn down the opacity for the sketch layer and line over that. I use a really high stabilization because I have shakey hands and it always looks clean with a high stabilization. For things like jewelry, I don't always do line art (mostly depends on how small it is) but I save it for later. Second Image: I don't always do hair as a solid color but In this case, I painted the hair on a layer above both the lineart, base, and coloring layer. Coloring the lineart is pretty standard, nothing fancy (I use the fill tool to speed up time often). Just make sure the colors are differentiated enough so you can use the color gamut tool in the next step.

Step Three:

Images One & Two: With the lineart fully colored, you can select individual colors and add or draw patterns. Most of the patterns I use are from the Csp gallery (bunabi has good ones up I use often). If you have the selection on a different layer, you can change up the layer filter or even do another select color gamut on the pattern and shade/color it yourself (this is how I do metallic fabrics). Once you're done adding patterns, merge everything except the base layer and lineart.

Step Four:

Images One & Two: For things like jewelry that would be too small to line, I freehand a silhouette of the jewelry with a bright neon color, then select the color gamut on the neon color, and then select the color outline so it has the appearance of me doing itty bitty lineart for it. I go back in on the color layer, shade it, and color it as metal, and then bam. You are all done!

Smaller things: After everything is done sometimes I'll go back in with a dark pen and go over some of the lineart where fabric creases just to give it more depth or I'll put a color filter over the final drawing just to make it all a bit more cohesive.

This is the brush I use for softer lineart:

And this is the brush I use for more thin, detailed, lineart:

Hope this helped a little, happy drawing!

[deathbxnny]

So tumblr decided to screw me over and posted the ask too early, which made me delete it in panic and lose the original ask. However!! I thankfully saved the first part of the ask, so here it is:

May I please request Yanqing learning to play a flute because he heard his s/o singing and wanted to be able to join?

Sorry again to the Anon. I also added/changed up the idea a little, so I hope you guys like it!!<33

Content: Established relationship, reader is a singer, teen reader, Jing Yuan being a smug menace, kind of unserious, sfw

Reader has no mentioned pronouns!

((Not proofread))

The trouble of young love. (Yanqing x GN!Reader)

"You... want to learn how to play the flute?" Jing Yuan muttered in near disbelief, his brow raising high as he gazed down at the determined boy, who gave him a simple nod of approval. "Yes. And preferably, by the end of this week." He stated as though it was the easiest thing in the world to simply just learn an instrument in under a week. The general unfortunately didn't doubt that Yanqing genuinely believed that, however.

Jing Yuan blinked in surprise before glancing around quickly in thought. Was this another prank of his? No, it definitely wasn't that simple.

"... And why?" "Oh well... uh..." Yanqing nervously pulled at the collar of his uniform, suddenly slightly flustered and unwilling to share what had gotten him so awfully motivated in the first place. Not that the older man really needed to hear it, as he already had an inkling on what, or rather who, it could be. "... Does it even matter why? I've just been feeling very... musically inclined lately." Jing Yuan snorted at that despite his better judgment, which made Yanqing scowl in offense.

"I'm having a hard time believing that, Yanqing."

The blonde crossed his arms in defiance. "You're not even taking my request seriously, Master." He said, watching as said man leaned back in his chair and near mockingly crossed his arms as well. "It's not that I'm not taking this seriously... it's just that you've never had an interest in such artistic things before." He clarified, even if Yanqing knew better than to believe that it was just an innocent inquiry. "Besides... learning to play a flute is the same as wielding a sword. You need alot of time and patience to hone your skills. A week won't suffice." "And if it is?"

Jing Yuan now grinned in amusement, having expected to be challenged on this. He supposed that this would make for a good teaching lesson in the long run and whilst it may not be the most responsible thing to do, he decided that this would also serve as a form of small punishment for disturbing his "work" in the grand office.

Ah, young love... truly a troublesome thing.

The older man figured that he was doing all of this for you only. Yanqing mentioned your fear of singing in front of large crowds before, and therefore, it didn't come as a surprise that he wanted to do everything in his power to make his lover happy. In a way, it made the general proud to see the boy slowly grow into a young man... even if it came at the cost of his sanity at times. You had changed the lieutenant of the cloud nights in many ways. Some good and some awfully questionable, to say the least. But he figured Yanqing would learn such things on his own in due time.

"Consider me defeated." "And I get a raise to my allowance?" "Perhaps I'll consider it, depending on how well you play." That's all Yanqing needed to hear, the excitement and fire that burned in him at the prospect of not only beating his own master and then also getting more money to share with his dear dove made him immideatly turn and filter out of the room with no further comment. Unknowing of the perilous path he'd have to take in order to learn the art of this instrument.

He was confident that he could make it in under a week so that he could accompany your singing during your first ever stage performance in the grand theaters of the Luofu, which is the whole reason he wanted to learn how to play the flute in the first place.

It couldn't be that hard after all, right?

---

Well, after a good 5 days of relentless training, he still couldn't play more than notes akin to demonic screeching. The general was fair enough to lend him a fancy flute from his own youth, alongside a guide and a couple of traditional music sheets. And yet, it all ended with him laying sprawled out on top of them, the instrument carelessly tossed onto a nearby pillow, whilst he stared up at the ceiling with a deadpan.

Perhaps he truly had underestimated the sheer power of the flute.

But he couldn't claim defeat. At this point, it had become something personal. A challenge that neared one of life and death. If he lost now, then the general would bring this up for centuries to come, and Yanqing did not want to live through that personal hell. Sighing deeply, he rubbed his tired eyes.

Surely, there had to be something he was doing wrong. And yet he just couldn't figure out what it was. He hadn't slept or rested properly in days either, having been too focused on this life changing mission that he just had no care for anything else. But the self-doubt was beginning to creep in, and he didn't know if he was more upset at himself or at the general. He simply wasn't as talented as you were musically.

And just as his eyes were beginning to flutter shut in defeat, your melodic voice breathed life right back into him. He inhaled deeply, quickly drapping a couple of blankets and pillows over the flute and music sheets before he quickly summoned a sword to act as though he was polishing it. Entering the room with an obvious air of worry and nervousness, you gave him a weak smile.

"Yanqing." You hummed gently, perhaps even nearly shyly as you approached him and took a careful seat next to him. His hand reached out and pressed it's palm against your warm cheek, a tired smile gracing his lips. "Hello there, my dove... it's late out. Why are you here?" He asked, nervous that you'd notice the golden flute that was sticking out from behind a pillow a couple meters away. But thankfully you only had eyes on him, as you fidgeted with your hands.

"The last rehearsal is tomorrow... and I'm starting to have doubts... especially after I heard the rumor regarding the general and the Master Diviner attending the performance as well! I didn't know it was going to be such a big thing..." And it wouldn't have been if Yanqing never mentioned a word of it. He should've guessed that his master would eventually figure out his plans and attempt to get first row seats to view his defeat. Something about it filled him with strong determination, the need to win resurfacing in his heart. If not for himself, then you.

"Don't worry about it. Just focus on your singing, and I'll take care of the rest." He said, a serious look on his face that made you raise a confused brow. Yet you thankfully didn't dwell on his cryptic words any further due to him swiftly changing the topic to more mundane things to keep you distracted.

He eventually walked you home, your hand in his, the sun having set completely hours ago. It was a calming moment that refocused his mind and soul on the task at hand, which he ofcourse immideatly resumed once he returned to the estate. It didn't matter to him if he had to stay up 2 more days for this to work.

He'd play the most beautiful sounds on the flute to accompany your singing and if it's the last thing he did.

At this point, he was perhaps just doing it to wipe that smug look off of his mentors face.

---

"Alright! All done... you look great, (Y/N)!" One of your friends grinned as she fixed up the last details on your rather lavish performance clothes. You tried to weakly smile back, unable to help the deep feeling of fear that ran through you. "Is the theater room full already?" "To the brim! And the General and Master Diviner have also arrived just now... man, it's a real fullhouse tonight." She trailed off, missing the way all color seemed to leave your face.

You had hoped that it was a simple rumour, but after sneaking a peek from behind the curtains into the grand hall, your fears truly did come true. Jing Yuan was casually leaning back in his seat as he conversed with Fu Xuan about a topic that made the woman deadpan at him in annoyance.

This is definitely going to be a disaster, you concluded with an affirmative nod.

"(Y/N)? Please get in formation. The performance is just about to start." The director whispered to you when the lights dimmed and you were pushed towards the stage. Your heart was beating against your chest, your mouth feeling dry. How were you supposed to do this? You couldn't do it. The fear was too great.

And it didn't help that Yanqing was nowhere to be seen in the crowd.

Gulping as the music started, you shakily opened your mouth when suddenly the most melodic symphony of a flute accompanied your at first trembling voice. You blinked in surprise, eyes glancing over to see your lover resting atop a fake tree as his fingers moved along the instrument. Finally understanding everything, you turned to the audience with newfound confidence. Your voice traveled throughout the entire stadium and bewitched it's listeners. No one could look away if they wanted to.

And by the end of the performance, no one could stay seated either, as they cheered and clapped loudly... except for Jing Yuan and Fu Xuan, who still looked hardly impressed next to the general. They watched as Yanqing approached you with a wide smile, your arms immideatly wrapping around him in sincere gratefulness. Giving the man an expectant look, the Master Diviner crossed her arms with a frown.

"Well? What type of teaching moment was this supposed to be?" She asked, not being convinced of his ways of teaching at all anymore. Jing Yuan kept staring ahead, a calm and victorious smile on his lips whilst he watched you and Yanqing happily talk on stage. "That he should learn how to be patient and not overdo things that take time, unless he wants to reap the consequences." Fu Xuan raised a brow, obviously very much unimpressed. "You do realise that this just proved to him that he doesn't need to do that?" "Ah no... he won't do it ever again. Just wait." He simply replied, his grin widening when Yanqing's face dropped. There was a pause... before the boy suddenly just finally collapsed into your arms and chaos broke out.

Fu Xuan gave Jing Yuan a near horrified glance, the older man only continuing to smile in content.

He did try and warn him after all.

Alrighttt... I hope this was fine, Anon!! I once again apologize for accidentally deleting your request and hope this was okay enough to make up for it!!<33

[crystalreydraws]

Hello hi I just found out you're the artist of my favorite pic of Jamil from all time 🥹 I absolutely LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVEEEEEEEEEEEEE SO MUUUUCH his bday art from 2020!! It's my favorite one from every art and he looks so pretty and hot and cool and like he's in a music clip and about to drop a fire verse!! I LOVE your painting style so much, as a baby artist, would you one day show us how you color? I'm sure you put so much blood, sweat and tears into your hard work and it would great to get a little bit of that wisdom. Please keep drawing, keep doing what you love because it makes the world a better place to live!

Sketched my sleepy and tired oc to do a very quick demonstration but it covers how I color when i render things:

Start with rough greyscale first, it's a good start to roughly decide light direction and value of your overall work. Especially if you have no idea on your shading.

Next, apply base color to greyscale. I'll use gradient map if I want to keep the details of my greyscale. But if not, I'll just start with a flat base color, and try whatever I can to apply color.

Rendering phase. Add layers and just paint on top to refine it. Merge all layers if it's too messy. Then add layers again. My rendering really depends on how much time taken because it's just a loop of paint over and refining. Thats why i do more simple fanart cuz I sometimes get bored of rendering Also at this stage when doing lineless style, I merge lineart with layers and cover up the lines.

Final touch. Merge all layers and use [filter gallery > paint daubs (brush size 1, sharpness 2)]. It will sharpen your work and look detailed. Or add some very fine noise texture, it will look detailed too.

Another very rough demonstration on how i apply color mood. This will be after step 2. And same will be more refining and even paint over to ensure the colors look ok.

Other tips:

Add warm and cool colors especially on skin.

Use pinterest. Always find more than one reference for a subject if you want to draw better than yesterday. Pure ref is a nice tool to gather reference on your pc. When i draw a single hand I had a lot of ref. (pose, color temperature, lighting, photos, artwork, all diff ref)

Color theory is so important I still struggle a lot. I highly recommend beginners start from practicing Marco Bucci's ball practice. After that slowly change to adding character into movie scene and photographs, the purpose is to adapt different color moods and learn the lighting from the image. Learn more from famous movie and cinematic. They did their best to nail the colors.

Anyway,

this is a long answer about how I color. My previous job influenced me so much on coloring so there's a lot of thinking and struggle on my colors.

So, I suggest you be more experimental and try new ways, at the end what remains is what fits you.

[reegis]

Yo! Do you have any notes/tips for your coloring process? I've always had trouble with that part of drawings looking good lmao and I really like yours! If not for your specific style, do you have any tips with that in general?

Iv gotten a few asks about how I color but iv always avoided answering because

A) I am absolutely awful at explaining things, and

B) I am a very Very lazy artist you should probably Not do the things that I do

BUT i feel bad gatekeeping(?) my horrible technique if it helps anybody ig ill try and explain so

✨✨✨Welcome to Reegis’ Probably Not Reputable (But Very Long Winded) Art Advice✨✨✨✨

line art of a random character for the example, just pic whatever colors you have in mind for your base colors, you can try using palette generators or basing it off of existing palettes/characters/whatever I have absolutely no idea how color theory works (& this is why you shouldnt listen to me) so im solely going off of vibes. but it is Rough so onto step 2 & 3

(edit to add i usually start off with the skin hair & clothes on separate clipping layers and merge them together towards the end.. i think i forgot to say that at all here oops)

I abuse the hellll out of layer blending modes. overlay, saturation & multiply mainly, but also difference, brightness & screen. (just doodle something & try all of em out to get a feel for them honestly ik theres a Lot and they can be intimidating) for this i just wanted a more cohesive warmer tone to start with so i added a peachy overlay & a slight ombré to the hair to add a bit more interest to the character.

then just the most basic of rendering, some blush & highlights just wherever i think theyd go.

Another thing they tell you Not to do, my next step is to block out all my shading in a vaguely purpleish multiply layer!!! i cant be assed to do it any other way im sorry…. once i have the basic shading down, i lock the layer & go in with air brush eraser & also airbrush in other colors wherever I think the purple is maybe too harsh/clashing

still wasnt 100% happy with the colors so messed around with some more layer filter/modes/whatever you call them then colored in my line art! i think this is honestly the saving grace for all of my art shshsdhhf color your lines people. doesnt have to be all (i dont, i like the contrast) but it usually helps to make some at least a little less harsh

then with a little more color tweaking im done! one random sleepy dude, fully colored (by my standards)

and then if a piece needs more dramatic lighting you justttt

im so serious play around with layer settings! these are just basic multiply & add(glow), there as so many others you can abuse the shit out of & nobody will know or care in your finished piece.

was this?? in any way helpful???? I hope so.

[baskeigh-ball]

Ignoring the fact that ibis had the ai paint feature a couple years before this whole ai fiasco, after seeing your post, I decided to try it out to see if it really held up. I already knew what you said made no sense, as even stuff like ai painting requires heavy human input that isn't just someone typing a prompt in a thing and looking through thousands of images and somehow still calling it 'art'. Really, it's just some weird advanced bucket.

The ibis ai paint... really sucks. I'm pretty sure it hasn't even been touched since it was added. No matter what I did, I got random colours and whatever colours I had put there looked like it were from a filter, not to mention how my lineart bled everywhere like it was blurred out.

Ibis isn't problematic for adding that feature as not only was it added ages ago, but it was also just a gimmick only added because a few more popular paid programs added them, like Clip Studio Paint. I highly doubt even the company took it seriously considering how poorly built it is. This is actually the one time I'm glad some feature in an app sucks so much.

Another reason why ibis isn't problematic by the mere feature alone is that, when you look at the artists making content during the time of that update, it was received with humour. It was something fun to try, but ultimately dismissed for actual artwork, as nobody would use it to fully paint their works. Nowadays we see something slapped with the words 'ai' and think that it's instantly bad due to the latest issues with it and big corperations/ certain production companies but it isn't. It's just a lot of people abusing what was previously some fun gimmick, which it can still be, and for certain apps, still is. Nobody throws pitchforks at character ai, after all.

You can tell just by the size of this that I'm procrastinating on something. Ima go and let this rot away in your askbox now lol

You really thought this would fade away in my ask box, mwahahaha /j

I wanna start off by saying thank you for holding me accountable, I will admit that I got buzzworded pretty hard in this situation lmao

This information came as a surprise to me-- I was seeing posts pop up within the past week complaining about the ai feature on ibis, so I assumed it was recent. As it turns out, after reading your ask, I discovered that I got a few wires crossed! Because yes, the auto paint feature I referred to in my post has been around for years now, and was never taken seriously anyways

So that was my bad (and yea ur right it's completely unusable, lmao)

But as it turns out, the feature that people have been complaining about DID come out recently. It was called the AI Example feature, I think the idea was that you make a simple drawing and the AI adds 99% of the detail and color, which I've seen a bunch of other programs do.

...and then it was immediately removed due to some pretty major backlash, which, duh

^ This is the only evidence I can find of the 11.2.0 update that included the AI feature on the actual site; their update history stops at 11.1.0. But there's also the news page about the removal of the update, so it's not like they're trying to pretend it never happened.

So tl;dr, I jumped on the hate train a little too quickly and never did enough research to figure out what the actual update was, and that it's been removed by now anyway (which I couldn't have known until today, ofc, but i did kinda post that thing about ibis today so it's still a pretty major oopsie)

I think I can say with confidence now that I agree, ibis paint isn't problematic to use-- they made a mistake with this update, but they actually listened to their users and removed it LITERALLY the next day. So, thanks for letting me know! I'll also edit my last post to prevent any misinformation, just in case people make the same mistake I did :]

[sweetmariihs2]

Do you remember this post?

Some days ago I finished the drawing, but I forgot to share lmao

I'm starting to post on tiktok to help my art reach more people, and I posted a video of me doing the lineart! I'm gonna record my painting process next time I make another drawing of Cedric

Here is the finished drawing:

(The filter I use to enhance the colors lighted up his skin a little too much, but if you pay attention to the details you can see the lighting I did on his face, behind the bangs, inside the ear, under and over the eyes, and of course the green light coming from the projected amulet. It's not the real amulet btw. About that thing with the filter, at least the lighting on his robe is much more clearer than it is in real life, you can see the shadows a lot easier. I made this using normal school sharpies and colored pencils, The lineart is made with an ink pen and the light purple lines are from a white ink pen - that stains with the color underneath, which would normally be an inconvenience, but in this case it is very useful to me)

I didn't added the glitter yet lmao. I'm too lazy to do it, I think I won't

And here's the video:

That's it I just love this drawing so much <3

[firexima]

YOUR ART IS INCREDIBLE DO YOU HAVE ANY TIPS /nf

Thanks so much!! I’m so grateful to hear you like my work :)

And boy oh boy I could go oooon and on and on about tips, like genuinely pages upon pages or talking hours upon hours but I’ll share a few things!

1: Put your drawing in black and white to check the values

TLDR: It helps check that your drawings are clear and helps figure out what needs to be brighter/darker.

-> First if all, I want to explain what value is. Value is how bright or dark a color is. Every color has value even when fully saturated and those values change depending on the color. Red for example is naturally darker in value than yellow but naturally brighter in value than blue. You want to be aware and therefore deliberate with how you use value in your art.

Push your darks and push your lights— unless there’s a deliberate reason as to why you don’t want to, you want a fairly large range in values: that means that if you were to put your drawing in black and white only, you would be able to see a large range of greys going from very dark to very bright, black to mid/light grey, mid/dark grey to white depending on the mood of your drawing.

This helps to give your art more depth and volume and generally helps to read better and is nice to look at. When you’re creating art it can be difficult to keep track of everything, so by putting your art in black and white you are only focusing on value and it helps you see what’s getting lost and what you can push and pull more to make brighter or darker.

You can do this by either taking a picture of your drawing and editing it in your camera roll to remove the saturation or set it in one of the black and white filters or if you’re working digitally you can create a new layer above all the ones you already have, fill it with black/white/grey and set the layer to “color”. With your layer, you can turn it on and off whenever you want

2: Do multiple small thumbnails!

TLDR: It helps pushing yourself to brainstorm other options and it helps finding out if your composition works before you spend time on it.

-> Obviously not a complete necessity whatsoever and I don’t even do this with all my drawings especially if they’re just to have fun and de-stress but if you have an idea for a drawing and you really want it to get to its full potential, sitting down and forcing yourself to do more than one sketch can be really great! It doesn’t have to be good at all, just enough for you to know what it is supposed to be.

Often when I come up with an idea I’m excited about I already have a vision for how I want to do it but making myself brainstorm other ways I could draw the same idea and forcing myself to make them noticeably different has helped me come up with some of my proudest works! You are deliberately considering all options for how you can execute the same thing and realizing ways you could do it that you hadn’t initially thought of. In my experience by doing this I realize that the first idea I thought of isn’t always the best possible one or I merge it with another one and therefore end up making it better. (This can also be applied to other creative processes)

Another good thing about it though, is it helps focus on just the composition. Again, there’s a lot of things that go into making an art piece so isolating just the composition helps you figure out a plan and checking to see that it looks good before you spend hours and hours on it. It’s as if you were to build a house and spend days of work and loads of money on making it beautiful but it isn’t structurally sound and falls apart. You don’t want to spend so much of your time on all the details only to realize it just doesn’t feel right all because the composition itself is off.

3: Remember to have fun and don’t be discouraged!

-> I know it’s something nearly everyone says and at first I kind of always ignored it because it felt like it was something people just added to be nice but it is just as important as anything else. Art takes so much time, even just doing a single piece— let alone time to keep building up your skills over time. We don’t have unlimited time, and what you choose to spend your time on matters. Honing your craft and even wanting tips to help you improve means you care. The reason why is one of the most important things of all, don’t lose sight of that. Whether it’s to have fun, to decompress, to express yourself, to depict something you care about— whatever it may be: remember that and don’t beat yourself up or stress yourself out if you aren’t where you want to be or stressing yourself out to meet certain expectations. It really does impact both your art and your learning process whether you’re having a good time or not.

A few last quick tips:

- Don’t be afraid to start over or completely redo something that isn’t working!

- When drawing from reference, trust what you see and not what you know! Drawing what your eyes are telling you is there instead of what your brain thinks should be there will usually always give you better results.

- Step back from/Zoom out of a piece regularly! It also helps to squint your eyes.

- It’s great to make a folder of pieces/artists/pictures that inspire you!

- When studying other people’s art, be aware that they can also make mistakes so that you don’t repeat those.

- You don’t have to take every tip/rule by heart, as long as you understand why they’re there, you can also deliberately choose to go against it if it enhances what you want to do with your piece. Most rules artists teach can be broken, just make sure it’s a deliberate choice to not do those things and why you’re choosing to do that instead of just not knowing about it!

Hopefully these are helpful! I have way more but this is already long enough as is. I wish you the best! <3

[sorenphelps]

All the artwork I made for the fanfic Crazy Ex-Boyfriend by @amethystheart2421 for this year's @rsbigbang!

It was a wild run, we got paired up quite late due to our original pairs dropping out of the Bang, and even though it was already December and time was running thin, I decided to make this whole deal a way bigger challenge than it supposed to be... So I ended up drawing all 7 fantasy sequences, trying to mimic a different style for all of them, and finishing both versions of the banners I had in mind. I know, I know, but I swear even I wasn't aware that I am such an overachiever either!

Also, I usually like to hide little details as easter eggs on all of my artwork, so naturally this was the case with these too. I'm gonna list them one by one, also share a little story about each piece, sort of like a "directors cut werk", just so we stick to the screenplay motif. The numbers in brackets lists the order in which I drew the pictures.

The banners (1.,9.): I haven't watched Crazy Ex-Girlfriend the show, so I really had no idea about this whole thing, hence my initial idea of re-drawing one of the official promo posters of the show as the banner. But then Nicole shared the first scene with me when we got paired up, and also told me that her original artist wanted to draw the stargazing scene, which I also really liked. I sketched out both versions to see which one would look better, and also to warm up a bit for this version of the characters. (Nicole also shared some faceclaims, so except Sirius' and Lily's design, I tried to stick to her vision as much as I could.) The Netflix poster was considered the final one for quite a while. The stargazing banner was the last piece of artwork I finished, which I also edited to be used as Chapter dividers. I liked the idea so much I actually referenced the starry sky on the other pictures too. On the Netflix banner, Remus' socks and Sirius' suit handkerchief (how do you call those things in English, gahh) both have the starry pattern.

The western (3.): By this time it was decided that I'd do all fantasy sequences in a different art style, but I couldn't really come up with any specific style which could have fit the western vibes, so the characters are drawn in my own usual style, only the colouring is different. I tried to go for a sepia effect, without using a filter, I think I could pull it off well enough. I was considering to draw Sirius as a Native American for this, because I just don't see him as Caucasian in general, and also, Black Dog sounds like a badly translated indigenous name... But I discarded this idea for the sake of "historical accuracy" (and to save time, haha), as I think they wouldn't visit a saloon this way. I added the starry sky pattern to Sirius' handkerchief and... scarf? (I really should learn how certain textil items are called in English...) There is a wanted poster in the background with Voldy. And I swear I didn't mean to draw Remus looking this horny, it just kinda happened by accident! He is sure VERY fascinated by Sirius'... pistol.😜

The Star Trek (6.): My original idea was to draw like usual and just add so many lensflares to the picture that it's not visible if I copied another style or not. But in the meantime I started to watch Star Trek: Strange New Worlds with my bf and also found out that there is a new cartoon too, so it was then settled. This style is very different from my own, but it was so much fun! It was weird not to draw every single strand of hair in excruciating detail, actually that was the hardest part, haha! I struggled a bit with the placement of the lensflares too, the first version had too many and too bright, it had a disco vibe rather than a spaceship. I wanted to add easter eggs to the background screen, but I was running out of time, so there's only one light blue star similar on the screen! Also now I know that the uniform colors are not really consistent in Star Trek, and Remus’ might have had to be gold as Captain…🤷🏻‍♀️

The Disney (2.): This one sparked the first idea in my head after I read all fantasy scenes Nicole kindly shared with me. When I first sketched this, I still had no idea that I will end up drawing for every chapter and the style copying was not settled either. It started with this piece, I had the vision of the wolf chasing scene from Beauty and the Beast, and we were discussing whether it's plausible to collect berries during the winter or not... I've tried to make the final piece look as classic Disney as I can, and since I could pull it off, it was not a question anymore whether I'd try to do this with other styles for the other scenes. Retrospectively, this one was the easiest to make, apparently my usual style is not that far from Disney (I grew up watching those movies, so it's not a surprise), but I had to really focus on drawing the animals, it's been ages since I last drew any! (The trick is to give them eyebrows, and bam, it's Disney style!) Sirius' armour, clothes and sword has the star, and I also designed his own "crest" with the black dog and a star on his shoulder plate. The whole concept of the picture is Sirius' side being very bright coloured, while Remus' with the scary wolves in the background being very dark. This might have worked better if it was not set in the winter, but I wanted to stick to the Beauty and the Beast vision I had.

The Comicbook (4.): I was very excited for this one, I really like the looks of the old Batman the animated series, and the way some of his comics are drawn. It's such a unique style, I really like the simple shapes and bold contrasts. Well, it turned out I am very bad at this! I struggled quite a bit trying to capture what I had in mind, but I couldn't even come close to it... So I kinda cheated a bit because I just traced the lineart directly from the reference pictures of Batman comic books I found online. I tried to make Remus less buff, but it looked very weird, so I let him keep his muscular Batman body instead. I drew the wolf mask and the whole Sirius panel, and the coloring went smoothly after I finalized the lineart, even though I only realized that I switched the colour schemes of Remus' superhero outfit when I looked up the quotes for the comic panels, oops. Overall I like how it looks, but I am not that proud of it as I had to "cheat".

The Hobbit (5.): I've probably spent the most time with this one! I actually really like Martin Freeman as an older Remus FC, so I was quite excited to do this piece. My original idea was to mimic John Howe's style, as he is the Tolkien illustrator god, but his level of skill and mine are very very far from each other... and as I struggled a lot with the Batman piece, I felt like going for a smaller challenge. That's why I decided to have a go at Alphonse Mucha's art nouveau style. Turned out it was the worst possible idea! 🤣 The whole point of art nouveau is depicting attractive ladies in an ethereal way... But if you switch the ladies with a fat hobbit, the vibe def won't be the same! The first version just looks so extremely absurd, it's both awful and hilarious. By the time I could fix the pose so it wouldn't look as ridiculous, the final style looked nothing like art nouveau... I still have no idea what style it is now, not my own or any of the ones I tried to capture, that's for sure. I considered adding the star pattern to that tablecloth, but I decided that the lupin flowers in the foreground and the whomping willow-like tree are enough reference for this pic! I like how it turned out in the end tho, I think I could do justice for the watercolor-looking coloring technique, and the end result looks a bit like a fancier version of old children's book illustrations... Which is essentially what The Hobbit is, so it all sorted itself out by the end.

The Anime (7.): I like anime (I'm a little picky about them tho), so it was not a question that I would give this style a try! I am a huge fan of cyberpunk (the genre), so initially wanted to do that, I'm such a slut for Ghost in the Shell and I really like the aesthetics of the Akira posters, but after reading the actual scene, it was not really fitting. So I saved the cyberpunk AU for later, and went for the post-apocalyptic vibe instead. Obviously anime had a great influence on my art style, so similar to the Disney one, it was not that much of a challenge to mimic it. However I'm not that good at drawing backgrounds, and oh boy, I really made myself get over this obstacle with this series of pictures! Also as I was more comfortable with this piece, I actually added the starry sky pattern from the beginning to the scarf/blanket Remus has on this picture!

The Sitcom (8.): The original idea was to copy Hanna Barbera's old family cartoons' style, but as my deadline was very close and after reading the scene I realized that it will have a shitton of characters, I quickly abandoned my original plan. So this one is drawn in my own style, sort of, the designs of the characters are more aligned with Nicole's vision (sans Sirius, Lily, and partly Peter). The hardest part was definitely to figure out how I could fit 10 characters into one picture, let alone sitting in a living room! Also, I had to actually draw the living room too, considering perspective and scaling... Something I am not that good at. In the end the coffee table is maybe a little too big, but I needed that to hide the legs of the characters sitting on the sofa, haha! Also, the sofa is the Millennial Dark Green Velvet Sofa, because I also want to have one and it really emphasizes the general existential dread! (Just kidding.) Also also, I just realized that I have no idea how to eat tacos without making a mess (they are not that popular where I live). I added the starry sky pattern to Sirius' shirt, and gave a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles T-shirt to Peter, as he is talking about that in the scene. I wanted to squeeze in further references to the newspaper Remus is holding, but it was too tiny. The star from Knight Sirius' armour is in the background on the bookshelf. Also that globe just makes no sense but I had no better idea how to fill the empty space 😅. Molly is holding a mug with "BEST MOM" written on it, and I intentionally made Marlene's eye colour the same as Remus', who btw should have worn a bathrobe according to the original scene, but it was too late to fix that by the time I realized it. All in all, I am quite satisfied with how it turned out, it has the necessary sitcom vibes. And it is kinda a record for me in terms of number of characters drawn (the most was 12, but that one has no background, so I'd call it a tie!)!! I am very proud of myself for pulling this piece off, it really is the achievement of the year!

TLDR; (I mean really, my rambling is just too long!) I am happy that I was paired up with Nicole, working with her was such a creative process! My absolute favourite thing to do is work on AUs, and she has provided me with the opportunity to do so, I am grateful! It was truly a pleasure to participate in this (even if it's not that clear from all the complaining I just had above, haha)! If you ask me nicely I might show you the cursed first version of the hobbit picture!

[likeadevils]

welcome to swiftie tumblr here’s a style guide

are you afraid of people making judgements about the way your profile looks but you don't know enough about tumblr to tell what people might judge you about? then this post is for you!

this is mostly gonna apply to specifically swiftie tumblr, and even then like. you’re totally free to present yourself however you want, but these are just the dominant cultural norms

URLS

album and song titles are the most sought after

lyrics are also very popular (the shorter the better)

dashes are considered a bit cringe but slight misspellings or adding an s to words are fine

adding your name to your url will make people go 🫵 twitter user 🫵

PROFILE PICTURES

you should have a pfp chosen before you start following people, otherwise people will go “oh fuck a bot” and automatically block you

pictures of yourself will also make people go 🫵 twitter user 🫵

gradient/one color backgrounds behind a picture of taylor are still very common, but plain pictures of taylor are also a vibe

if they have that one particular pale pink-ish with a bit of grain filter people will go 🫵 twitter user 🫵

displaying your pfp in a circle format on your mobile theme is more common but if you have it square people won’t judge you

BACKGROUND IMAGES

there’s lots of acceptable ways to do this but something unique to tumblr is playing with the border between the background and the rest of your blog

a few years ago it was super popular to add a ripped paper effect to the bottom, and that’s still hanging on

a curved border (either a wave or a bowl shape) is also fairly common

making the picture smaller than the borders has started to gain traction (i started noticing it becoming popular like, mid pandemic)

hiding the pfp from your mobile theme to make your background flow more is super common but the color schemes should still compliment each other

MOBILE THEME

you can use this handy dandy tool to make your background/text color match a color in your background/pfp

i’d say white or black backgrounds are still the most common but i’ve found the colored background with white text to be making a strong comeback

there’s not a ton of judgement about this, as long as it all matches

BLOG TITLE

blog titles can really be whatever but in general keep it short (less that one row)

a short lyric, a word, or an emoji are the most common options

DESCRIPTION

i’ve found getting on a computer and going to yoururl.tumblr.com and clicking on the little painting thing on the top right corner to be the best way to edit text but the mobile app works fine too (unless you’re adding links then you have to go on a computer)

in general 2-3 rows are the most common, and ideally it’s not just one big wall of text

general format is name (this is where you link your caard/about page) / age/age range / pronouns in the top row and a (short) lyric you like in the bottom

another popular format is everything being a lyric and adding links to stuff on important words

if you like to make edits/art/some other type of original content feel free to add a link in your description

you can add links (again only on desktop) like this

MISC BLOG SETUP STUFF

if your likes/following are visible (especially if both are visible) people will go 🫵 twitter user 🫵

some people show their most popular posts, some people don’t, to my knowledge there’s no judgement either way

your pinned post can be whatever you want it to be but it’s super common to have it be a short about/navigation page

most people have a tag they use for personal posts (“name speaks/rambles/etc” is probably the most common) but you don’t have to if you don’t want to

INTERACTIONS WITH OTHER PEOPLE

follow for follows are not super common. it happens (if you follow someone people it’s common for that person to check out your blog but not in any way a guarantee) but for the most part being tumblr mutuals is a higher bar to clear than “oh this person follows me.” if you want to get peoples attention i would recommend this method, but even then the person can chose not to follow you without it being an insult to your character

blocking is more common than it is on twitter and not an insult to your character. repeatedly starting shit with other people will cause your followers to block you. if you want to start a fight with someone just block them instead

feel free to reblog old posts and spam like

while the mechanics and terminology are very similar, in terms of the way they are perceived a tumblr like is not equal to a twitter like, a tumblr reply is not equal to a twitter reply, and a reblog is not equivalent to retweet

likes are generally utilized as a little hello or bookmarks

reblogs are closer to twitter likes than anything else

replies have a fairly unique function in tumblr interactions but i think the closest way to describe it is like a semi-public dm to the op— chances are no one else is going to see it but the op (except if you replied through a reblog, then the reblogger will see it, but the reblogger will still likely read your reply as intended for the op)

if you have a comment put it in the tags. you know those old screenshots of tumblr posts that have a million “oh my god this is so funny”s breaking up the content of the post? that’s widely considered not only cringe but a bit rude now, please don't do that

if you like someone’s tags, reblog from them and say “prev tags”. every few weeks you’ll see someone from a different corner of tumblr say “prev tags is dead!” but on swiftie tumblr prev tags has never died and doesn’t show signs of dying in the near future

@-ing taylor in a post (edit: unless it’s a joke, @-ing taylor as a joke is very funny feel free to do that) will make people go 🫵 twitter user 🫵

again you can present yourself however you want, tumblr is the home of cringe, these are just the dominant cultural norms that i’ve noticed on swiftie tumblr specifically

[petarabbit2]

Realistic Ace Trappola + Headcanons

Ace headcanons + realistic artwork done with Art Breeder and edited in Clip Art Studio:

Okay so getting straight into it, this is my first post about my headcanons and realistic versions of twisted wonderland characters and the first one being introduced is *drumroll* Ace Trappola! Ace fans, you eating good tonight my chickies (that sounds so weird if u dont think of chickens right away LMFAO).

Sidenote: When headcanoning Ace and all my other characters, I take both factual and some of my personal thoughts/beliefs of the character to construct my headcanons.

So for Ace, its evident that I gave him acne due to reasoning such as his diet (fav food being cherry pie and mentioning his liking towards burgers) plus he is literally a teen boy that also has no women in his life and stereotypically the mother is the one to bring up looks as an issue, so without this Ace probably would have never gotten the right treatment for his acne. 

He’s already a red head so I added on that by giving him freckles. Also, it's known that redheads are more prone to acne, so another note as to why I gave him acne.

For his features for a realistic rendition, I went with a heart shaped face (because Ace’s card suit is hearts) but his widow's peak is hidden beneath his bangs. He has a snub nose shape which is quite round and slightly upturned. He has thicker eyebrows cause we all know bro don’t give a shit about his appearance.

For his hair I went wild, it's extremely fluffy, a bit curly and like shoulder length when wet. Bro has had like two haircuts his whole life and probably smells foul. I also tried to keep to the original style pretty closely without it looking really weird like bro came straight out of an anime. 

I didn't draw the bodies for any of them but Ace is more lanky with long legs and a rectangular body shape, but he has pretty big feet and hands.

Yeah and he's got a light British accent gang I’m sorry 😭 – he uses slang often as well.

Without & With Face Makeup:

Personality and backstory headcanons + a bit of character analysis:

Okay so Ace is one of the very first characters we meet in the game and a good one at that, a lot of people just put him in the category of “dumb friend with one brain cell”, and yes that's kinda true but every person had a reason to be the way they are due to personal experiences. We know in canon that Ace has always lived with his father and older brother but due to the literally no backstory on his mum, I’m saying his parents are divorced which he has much more time with his dad, also by his mannerism being so straight to the point and not sugar coated, this could be due to him being raised in an only male household. Which could also hint to why he “didn't feel committed” to his former relationship in middle school, he was so new to this type of love and got scared. After all he is just a teen, cut my boy some slack. (#1 Ace defender) 

Due to this relationship with his mother and seeing how his parents fell out of love, fought or similar, he’s very bad with women which is why he has only male friends. The only way he would have a girlfriend (or woman friend) is if they were not sensitive to his zero-filter way of speaking and even tell him off for it. (not me doing this since my yuusona is a girl 💀)

It's still mentioned that the whole family gets together around holidays (although this could possibly just mean his grandma and such and not the mothers side) so maybe the divorce wasn't messy and they just didn't love each other anymore, which happens all the time with quick relationships.

Ace is also pretty immature and not into deep and emotional conversations which is common with teen boys (especially around his age group). So not trying to hate, but all those scenarios made up with him comforting the reader and helping them feel better, in reality, he probably wouldn’t have gotten why you're so sad and not really know how to comfort you. Which is completely fine! He's not fully grown in body or mind and people need to accept this.

He definitely makes your mum jokes and sex jokes, bro cannot stop himself laughing when a teacher says anything sex related. He's highly competitive and will sulk if he loses a basketball game or bet with a friend.

Also despite being not very empathetic (not on purpose though), he appreciates the little things. For example, he’d appreciate you remembering his birthday or always having a spare pencil for him in class as you know he always loses his. He really appreciates those friends and even though he lacks in some areas, he will always protect them and stay by their side no matter what.

In conclusion, he's just some teen boy who's still learning about life and people. I had a lot of fun making the realistic design and giving him more depth as a character and I'll be doing this for the rest of the cast and after that maybe side characters?? Only if you guys want it though, I’ll also one day release my yuusona 😞. (she’s my queen get ready yall (hi i’m the 10/10 editor and assistant 😋)) (together, we are big brain)

My editor/assistant cause I can’t grammar or spell to save my life: @cyb3rpnnk 

SIDENOTE: DO NOT REPOST MY REALISTIC RENDITION OF ACE OR ANY OTHER CHARCTER I DO AS YOUR OWN. EVEN THOUGH THE BASE WAS MADE WITH AI IT IS STILL MY CREATION!

However you are permitied to use my headcanoing as your own for art or stories or whatever, just not my realistic rendition.

Hope you enjoyed my take on realistic Ace and my headcanoning!

[kmomof4]

A Scoundrel... Or a Gentleman? Ch. 3

Y'all... I STILL can't get over y'all's enthusiasm for this fic!!! THANK YOU FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART!!!

And now, it's time for the new chapter! I hope y'all enjoy and let me know what you think!

But first, can you all join me in screaming at @snowbellewells for the gorgeous banner she made for the fic?! Thank you soooo much, babe!!!

Thank you again to @jrob64 for her beta services and listening to me whine, @hollyethecurious and @winterbaby89 who did as well, and @motherkatereloyshipper for the chapter art she made that I mistakenly posted with the Prologue instead of Ch2 where it belonged. Thank you all so much, ladies!!!

Chapter summary: Hurt/Comfort incoming!!! Enjoy!!!

Words: closing in on 6600 of approx 59,5k

Rating: M (smut in later chs)

Tags: Regency Romance, Inspired by Francesca Bridgerton's Story, Smut in Later Chapters.

On ao3 From Beginning / Current Chapter

On Tumblr Prologue Ch2

Tagging the usuals. Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.

@jrob64 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @the-darkdragonfly @jennjenn615 @donteattheappleshook @undercaffinatednightmare @pirateherokillian @cocohook38 @qualitycoffeethings @booksteaandtoomuchtv @superchocovian @motherkatereloyshipper @snowbellewells @pirateprincessofpizza @djlbg @lfh1226-linda @xarandomdreamx @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic @anmylica @laianely @resident-of-storybrooke @exhaustedpirate @gingerchangeling @caught-in-the-filter @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @captainswan-kellie @soniccat @beckettj @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @thisonesatellite @jonesfandomfanatic @elfiola @zaharadessert @ilovemesomekillianjones @mie779 @kymbersmith-90 @suwya

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

Ch. 3

“Didn’t Killian say he would join us for dinner this evening?” Ruth asked.

Emma looked at the clock on the mantelpiece.  It wasn’t like him to be late. “He did.”

“And didn’t we tell him the time?”

Ruth’s face betrayed that she was worried about their unaccounted for dinner guest, and Emma sighed. She’d been dreading his arrival all day long - on account of her epiphany in the park and then the conversation with her mother. She just wasn’t sure she could face him without her face betraying her. But small blessings, he likely wasn’t even aware of what happened to her in the park.

She nodded. “I confirmed the time with him when we arrived back here after our stroll through the park.” She remembered the exchange with perfect clarity. She’d felt quite sick to her stomach at the time - not wanting to see him again so soon - but she had no choice in the matter. Her mother had extended the invitation, not her.

“Perhaps I should go check on him,” Emma said, rising to her feet. The more she thought about it, the more concerned she grew about him. He may be known as a rake and scoundrel, but he was polite and courteous to a fault and would never be late - over thirty minutes late - to any gathering he was invited to. Not without sending some kind of word.

“Oh, would you, dear? I’d be so grateful,” Ruth assured her.

Emma nodded and hurried out of the room. It only took a few minutes before she was safely ensconced in a carriage and on her way to Kilmartin House. The streets weren’t terribly busy. The ton wouldn’t be out on their way to balls and parties for another couple of hours yet.

She arrived at the house and climbed the steps, the door opening before she even had a chance to use the knocker. 

“Is Kilmartin here?” A small smile touched her lips as she realized it was the first time she’d referred to Killian as such. It was strange, but good too, how easily she called him by his title. It was probably time anyway. He was the earl now. She wouldn’t refer to him as Mr. Jones or Killian with the staff ever again.

“I believe so,” the footman replied. “He arrived home this afternoon and I haven’t been made aware of his departure.”

Emma nodded in acknowledgement, then hurried up the stairs. If he’d been in his downstairs office, the footman would have known. She reached the second floor landing and hurried down the hall to his bedchamber.

“Killian?” she asked, once she reached his door. “Killian?” 

There was no answer, and Emma slowly pushed the door open. “Killian,” she called again, a little softer this time, not wanting to wake him if he slept. Perhaps he was still tired after his long journey. 

Perhaps… 

She couldn’t finish the thought. She burst through the door in a panic and ran to the bed to find Killian huddled in the middle of the bed, looking as sick as anyone she’d ever seen in her life.

“Killian!” she cried, unable to keep the alarm out of her voice, although she was very relieved that he was indeed alive.

He startled and turned toward her. “Emma?” His voice was a low rasp that she’d never heard from his lips. His dark hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, his eyes - from what she could tell in the semi-darkened room - were glazed, his skin was mottled and flushed, and the level of heat emanating from the bed quite took her breath away. Not to mention that he smelled sick. That kind of awful, putrid kind of smell that if it had a color, would surely be vomitous green. Emma touched his forehead and immediately drew her hand back from the heat of it.

“What is wrong with you?”

“Oh, it’s nothing but a head cold,” he croaked.

There was no way for her to keep the incredulous shock off of her face. “That is not a head cold,” she asserted.

He tried to smile, but it came across as more of a ghastly grimace instead. “A really bad head cold?” he tried again. 

“Killian George Alaster Jones!” If he wasn’t so sick, she might have smacked him on the arm. But since he was, she restrained herself.

“Good God, you sound like my mother.” He pulled the covers back up over himself, his whole body shaking with the exertion.

“Killian,” she growled, “I insist that you tell me what is wrong with you. You forget, I know you and how you operate. You always act like nothing ever matters, like water off a duck’s back. You will not brush me off and attempt to minimize this. Do you understand me?”

“I’ll be better tomorrow,” he mumbled.

“Oh, right,” Emma replied, with every bit of sarcasm she could muster, which was quite a lot, actually.

“I will, truly,” he insisted, turning over onto his back with a groan. “I’ll be fine tomorrow.”

Something about the tone of his voice struck her as odd. “And what about the day after that?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

“Oh, well then I’ll be sick as a dog again,” he said with a harsh chuckle.

“Killian,” she said, the dread in her heart forcing her pitch lower. “What is wrong with you?”

“Haven’t you guessed, Emma?” he asked, poking his head back out of the covers. He looked so ill, she wanted to weep. “I have malaria.”

“Oh, my God,” she gasped, backing up a step. “Oh, my God!”

“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you blaspheme,” he remarked. “Should probably be flattered that it’s over me.” She had no idea how he could be so flippant at a time like this. She reached out for him, but drew back again, unsure what exactly to do. “Don’t worry,” he assured her. “You can’t catch it from me.”

“I can’t?” She blinked in surprise. “I mean, of course, I can’t.” And even if she could, it shouldn’t have stopped her from trying to help him. This was Killian. He was… well, it was difficult to define exactly what he was to her, but they had an unbreakable bond between them - they always had - that time and distance had not erased.

“It’s the air,” he said, tiredly. “You have to breathe the putrid air to catch it. It’s why they call it malaria. If you could get it from another person, we would have infected all of England by now.” 

She nodded at his explanation. “Are you… are you…?” she tried again. She couldn’t say it out loud.

He shook his head. “No,” he assured her. “At least, they don’t think so.”

Emma sagged with relief, then sat down. She couldn’t imagine a world without him. Even when he was gone the last four years, even with as furious as she was at him for leaving her in the first place, she took comfort in the fact that he still shared the same planet with her. That if she truly needed him, he’d be at her side as quickly as he could be.

He was here. He was alive. And with Liam gone… She shook her head. She didn’t know how the universe could expect her to lose them both.

He shivered again, violently.

“Do you need medicine?” she asked, snapped out of her musings. “Do you have medicine?”

“Took it already,” he said, teeth chattering.

She had to do something. She never blamed herself for Liam’s death, but it haunted her that it had happened while she was out. That he had died alone. And even if Killian was only sick and not dying, she wasn’t going to allow him to suffer through it alone.

“Let me get you another blanket.” She hurried through the door to her adjoining suite and took the pink coverlet off the bed. She couldn’t help the small smile as she thought of his grumbling and complaining about the color once he reached a state of sensibility again. “Is there anything else I can do?” she asked as she tucked the blanket around him.

He shook his head. “Thank you, but no.”

“Are you sure? There’s nothing I can do?” She pulled a chair over to the side of the bed and sat down.

“Nothing.” The single word held such a note of finality about it, she had to believe him. He had obviously dealt with this before.

“I cannot believe…”

“We are meant to simply wait it out,” he interrupted her.

“That cannot possibly be true.”

He groggily opened a single eyelid and shot her a look. “Do you mean to contradict the entire medical establishment? Hmmm?”

She ground her teeth in frustration and caught a shadow of his old smirk on his face. She hated how well he knew her. “Are you sure you don’t need more medicine?”

He shook his head just the tiniest bit, and groaned at the exertion. “Not for a few hours yet.”

“Where is it?” she asked. If the only thing she could do was wait by his side until it was time to give him more of the medicine, then, by God, that was exactly what she’d do.

He moved his head slightly to the left and she saw a medicinal bottle on top of a folded newspaper. She picked it up and read the label as she came back to her chair.

“Quinine,” she murmured. “I’ve heard of that.”

“Miracle medicine,” he said. “Or so they say.” The look she sent him was dubious in the extreme. “Just look at me. Proof positive.” He gave her a lopsided - but still altogether charming - grin.

“I am unconvinced.”

A groan escaped him as he shrugged a single shoulder. “I’m not dead.”

“That’s not funny,” she admonished him.

“No, it’s the only funny thing,” he corrected her. “In the middle of this, we have to take our laughs when and where we can.”

She reached out and took his hand. “We’ll get through this.”

He nodded and closed his eyes. Just when she thought he’d fallen asleep, she heard him whisper.

“It’s better with you here.”

~*~*~

Killian awoke the next morning feeling - at least somewhat - refreshed, if not a damn sight better than he had the night before. He looked around to see Emma, much to his horror, sound asleep in the armchair she’d pulled over to the side of the bed. She looked about as uncomfortable as a body could possibly be and still be asleep, from the way her head and neck were at a terribly awkward angle, to the way her torso was twisted so that she could draw her legs up into the chair.

He knew it was too much to hope for to keep his illness hidden from her. She was far too perceptive. And nosy to boot. But as much as he didn’t want to be a burden to her and have her fussing over him, it was a profound comfort to him to have had her here with him the night before.

She snored softly, and for some reason that quite delighted him. He’d never seen her asleep and a soft smile spread across his face. Of course, he had imagined watching her sleep more times than he could count. She stirred slightly, and he realized she was on the verge of awakening. In all his daydreams, he’d never pictured this - the low rumble from deep in her chest as she changed position, the soft sigh as she yawned, the delicate flutter of her eyelids as they opened.

She was utterly breathtaking.

He knew that, of course. He’d always known that. But for some reason, this morning, it was something he felt in his very soul. The center of his being.

It wasn’t her golden hair, that even in the darkness of his still shrouded bedchamber glowed with its own inner light. It wasn’t the depth of her green eyes - which to Liam’s constant amusement had inspired poetry when she was still a debutante. It wasn’t even the bone structure of her face, the delicate loveliness that characterized all the Nolan ladies.

It was something in the way she moved.

The way she breathed.

The way she simply existed.

“Killian?” she murmured, opening her eyes at last.

“Good morning,” he greeted her. He hoped she was either not awake enough to notice the huskiness of his voice or, if she did, that she’d chalk it up to utter exhaustion after a very rough night.

“You look better.”

He nodded. “ I feel better.”

She swallowed hard before speaking. “You - you’re used to this.”

He nodded again. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I’m used to it, exactly, but I do know what to do.”

“How long will this continue?”

“It varies,” he began. “I’ll have fevers every other day until they just… stop. Generally a week or two, at most.”

Her face was a mixture of dismay and unbelief. “And then what?”

“And then, I go on about my life and hope it never happens again.”

“It can do that?” she asked incredulously. “Just never come back again?”

“It is a strange, fickle disease.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t say it’s just like a woman.”

“It never crossed my mind until you mentioned it.” But he couldn’t resist smirking meaningfully at her.

She huffed and rolled her eyes. “How often do they come?” She looked puzzled for a moment, then spoke again. “What do you call them?”

“I call them attacks,” he informed her. “They certainly feel like one, anyway. It’s been six months since the last one.”

She brightened considerably. “That’s good!” And then fell again, just as quickly. “Isn’t it?”

“Considering the one before that was only three months between, I’d say yes.”

“How often has this happened?”

“I’ve been dealing with this for almost two years,” he replied. “And this is my sixth attack. But I have seen much worse.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Am I supposed to take solace in that?”

“I do,” he said bluntly.

She pressed her lips into a thin line then reached for his forehead. “You’re much cooler.”

“Yes, I would be. It’s a remarkably consistent disease, at least when in the midst of it. It would be very nice to know when I might expect an onset, though,” he mused.

“And you’ll really have another fever in a day’s time?” she asked. “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” he confirmed.

Her eyes grew soft as she watched him for a moment. “You won’t be able to hide this from your mother, you know.”

It hadn’t even occurred to him. In his shock, he tried to sit up. “For God’s sake, Emma, do not tell my mother…”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Killian!” she interrupted. “Do you really expect to keep something of this import away from her? Do credit her with a bit of intelligence!”

He slumped back against the pillows. “Very well,” he humphed. “But no one else. I do not wish to be known as the freak of London.”

“You’re not the first person to be stricken with malaria.”

“I do not want anyone’s pity,” he grit out. “Most especially, yours.”

She drew back as if he’d struck her, and of course he felt like an ass.

“I’m sorry. Truly,” he apologized. “Please forgive me. That came out wrong.” As an explanation, it was woefully inadequate, but it was all he had at the moment. “I don’t want your pity,” he tried again, repentance in every word. “But your care and good wishes are most welcomed.”

Her eyes wouldn’t meet his and he knew she was trying to decide if she believed him.

“I mean it,” he assured her. “I have been through this before, and having you here last night… made it better. Easier.” The exhaustion was overtaking him again and he could only just nod at her. “Yes, easier to bear… with you here. Thank you.”

“Of course,” she murmured. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.” That made him turn his head sharply toward her. She looked down at her clasped hands folded demurely in her lap. She truly wouldn’t have been anywhere else than by his side when he was this ill. It brought him such a sense of peace, he had to blink back tears. He turned away from her, reluctant to allow her to see how her words affected him, and could just see the light through the gap in between the curtains.

“Won’t your mother be worried about you?”

“Oh, no!” she cried, leaping up and slamming her hand on the table. Her hiss of pain made him try to sit up again, but he couldn’t manage it, slumping back against the pillows. “I’d quite forgotten about my mother. She was expecting me back last night.”

“Didn’t you send her a note?”

“Yes, of course,” she replied with a hint of impatience. “I told her you were ill, but she wrote back and said she would come by this morning to offer her assistance. What time is it?” she asked, looking around before her gaze landed on the mantle clock. Of course she’d know where the clock was. This had been Liam’s room, after all. “It’s only eight. She’s never awake before nine, unless there’s some sort of emergency. Which, I hope, she wouldn’t consider this to be. I told her you were ill with a head cold, so she doesn’t know about the malaria, but I hope she doesn’t rush over here because I panicked her with my note.”

Knowing Emma, it was probably the utter opposite of panicked and she was worrying for nothing. 

“There’s no need to panic.”

She shot him an incredulous look. “I know that’s what you said, but that wouldn’t stop her from panicking because of my note and rushing over here, and you said you didn’t want anyone to know about it.”

His lips parted in a soft O of surprise. He’d never dreamed she would hold his wishes so close to her heart. “You would keep this from your mother?” he asked softly.

Her eyes softened. “Of course. It’s your decision to tell her. Not mine.”

It was quite touching. Tender, even.

“Even if I think you’re insane,” she added.

Well, maybe tender wasn’t the right word.

“But I will honor your wishes.” She planted her hands on her hips, quite honestly as vexed as he’d ever seen her. “How could you think I would do otherwise?”

“I have no idea,” he murmured.

“Really, Killian,” she grumbled. “I do not know what is wrong with you.”

“Swampy air?” he tried to joke, aiming for his signature devil may care grin.

She shot him A Look. Capitalized.

“I am going back to my mother’s,” she said, pulling on her boots. “If I don’t, you can be sure that she’d be here within an hour with the entire faculty of the Royal College of Physicians in tow.”

“Is that what she did when you took ill?”

She let out a little sound that was half snort, half grunt, and all irritation. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t go anywhere.”

He made a half-hearted motion toward the sickbed and tried to grin, though it was most likely more of a grimace. 

“Well, I wouldn’t put it past you,” she sassed.

“Your faith in my superhuman strength is most touching.”

She paused at the door and pursed her lips. “I swear, Killian. You are the most annoying deathly ill patient I’ve ever seen.”

This time, he did manage a smile. “I live to entertain you.” She huffed and spun out of the door and down the hall. He was quite sure if she’d had something to throw at him, she would have. And with great vigor.

He might be an annoying patient, but she was a crotchety nurse. Which was just fine with him.

~*~*~

It had been a week since Emma discovered Killian had malaria. She’d kept his secret from her family, no matter that they were most anxious to see him. It had been quite a job in and of itself, and Emma was sure Ruth wasn’t going to be put off for much longer. 

Keeping Killian out of sight of the ton proved to be much easier. He simply turned down all invitations, pleading his long journey and need to settle in before he entered society. His mother had yet to arrive from Scotland and so Emma spent her days at Kilmartin House nursing Killian, and her nights back at Number 5. 

Surely today Alice would arrive, and she could move back into Kilmartin House permanently, no longer worried about their lack of a chaperone.

“I believe I’ll come with you to Kilmartin House today, Emma,” Ruth informed her at breakfast. Emma almost choked on her muffin.

“W-why?” she stammered.

“I want to see Killian, of course,” she replied.

“I-I am not sure of his plans today, Mother,” Emma answered quickly. Killian had had another attack the night before- his fourth to be precise- and they were both hopeful it was the last in the cycle. But while he’d be much recovered this morning, he still looked, quite simply, dreadful. If Ruth caught a glimpse of him, she’d be horrified. And furious. Ruth Nolan hated to be kept in the dark. Especially about a matter that could be termed as “life or death” without being accused of hyperbole.

“If he’s not available, then I shall return home,” Ruth said serenely. 

Emma rose from the table with as much grace as she could muster. “I’ll just go on over and see if he’s available, and if he isn’t, I’ll send word.”

“I’ll see you out.” Ruth rose with her and Emma sighed, trying desperately to keep her agitation contained.

Once they were at the door and waiting for the footman to bring Emma’s coat, Ruth spoke.

“Do you have something to tell me?”

“I-I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t you?” Ruth’s countenance was serious and Emma breathed a quick prayer that she’d quickly get to the point. And that she’d have an answer for her.

“I assure you, Mother,” she put on her most innocent face, “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“You have been spending quite a bit of time at Kilmartin House,” she informed her unnecessarily. “And without a chaperone.”

“And the problem with that is?” Emma asked. “He’s my brother. In-law,” she added quickly. “And I’m not a never-married virgin!”

“What exactly is your relationship with the earl?” Trust her mother to cut right to the chase without beating about the bush. Emma couldn’t contain her shock if she tried.

“Mother!”

“You needn’t look so shocked. It is not a silly question.” Her mother was serious. Her mother believed her to be having an affair with Killian. Emma couldn’t begin to formulate a response.

“H-he’s my b-brother!” she exclaimed again. She could think of nothing else.

“He was your husband’s brother,” Ruth corrected.

“And mine,” Emma insisted, sharply. “I can’t believe you’d believe… Good heavens! I can’t even imagine!”

Except that she could. Caring for Killian the last week had kept the thoughts at bay, but now, with her mother guessing… she couldn’t pretend that the moment at Hyde Park hadn’t happened. The moment she saw Killian as a man. Not as her brother. In-law. She was absolutely mortified. She didn’t have any attraction to Killian. She couldn’t. It was wrong. It was just… wrong. There was no better word for it.

She took a deep breath trying desperately to bring her chaotic thoughts under control. “I told you, Mother. Killian has been ill.”

“Seven days is quite a long time for a head cold,” she observed.

Emma nodded quickly. “It is, but I’m confident he’s feeling better and will soon be up for visitors and to take his place in society. I’ve felt it my duty to help him settle in and become acclimated to his new duties. He has been gone a very long time.”

“Yes, he has,” her mother conceded, but without taking her eyes off her daughter. “I will see you in an hour.” And with those words, Ruth turned and walked away, leaving Emma very panicked indeed.

~*~*~

Killian was enjoying a few moments of peace and quiet when Emma burst into his bedchamber quite agitated and out of breath.

“You have two choices,” she informed him on a rough exhale.

“Emma,” he said, concerned. “Did you run all the way over here?”

“Of course not!” she exclaimed. “Just up the stairs.” Her breathing was harsh and rapid and Killian worried about her dropping with a case of the vapors.

“Emma?” he asked gingerly, very aware that he should proceed with caution when she was in such a state. “Are you quite all…”

“My mother is coming,” she interrupted.

“Here?” Killian asked, his brows nearly hitting his hairline.

She nodded. Killian pressed his lips together. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but he wouldn’t have thought it worth the level of panic he saw in her.

“Why?” It seemed the next logical question.

Emma’s hand fluttered from her hip, to her forehead, mouth and finally over her breasts before speaking.

“She thinks…” she trailed away and took another harsh breath. “She thinks… oh, heavens, you won’t believe it.”

He waited for her to speak again, and when she didn’t, he simply raised a single eyebrow at her in inquiry. 

“She believes,” Emma shuddered, “that we are conducting an affair!”

“After only a week back in London,” he murmured thoughtfully. “I’m faster than even I believed.”

Emma blanched. “How can you joke at a time like this?”

“How can you not?” But of course she wouldn’t joke about it. To her, it was unthinkable. To him, however…

Well, to him it was something else entirely.

“I am horrified.”

Killian shrugged indifferently, even if he was feeling rather pricked. He knew Emma didn’t see him that way, but an expression of horror didn’t exactly leave him feeling proud about his manly prowess.

“What are my two choices?” he asked abruptly. 

She stared at him.

“You said I had two choices.”

She blinked in surprise, and would have looked rather adorably befuddled if he hadn’t been overly irritated at her at the moment.

“I… don’t recall,” she finally said. “Oh, my heavens! What am I to do?”

“Settling down might be a good beginning,” he said mildly. She was in such a state, her head jerked sharply when she turned to him. “Stop and think, Emma. We are talking about us. Your mother will take one good look at us and realize how ridiculous…” he nearly winced at the word, but he believed he caught himself before she would have caught it, “the idea is.” 

She took a deep cleansing breath, but the color was still high on her cheeks and her movements sharp. She wasn’t calmed by his words in the slightest.

“That’s what I told her. Oh, my heavens,” she lamented. “Could you imagine?”

Yes, he could actually. Even if she obviously couldn’t.

“It’s simply…” her arms flailed about her as she began to pace, unable to find the words to express herself. “Inconceivable! Unfathomable! As if I… As if you…!” She continued her tirade under her breath as she paced. 

“You know, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you quite so put out,” he observed. She stopped and looked at him as if he was some loathsome creature that crawled out of the most foul smelling refuse pile in all of London. “You really ought to endeavor to calm down.” He meant the words sincerely, even if he knew Emma wouldn’t heed them. Women everywhere hated to be told to calm down and Emma was no exception.

“Calm down? Calm down?” she repeated. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this from you, Killian! Are you still feverish?”

“No.”

“Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

“Quite.”

“It’s insane. Completely insane,” she said with a little shake of her head. “I mean, look at you!”

He raised his eyebrow at her for that. “Yes, I’m aware of what I look like, generally. And what does that have to do with anything?” he asked, struggling mightily to keep his temper in check. “You know, there are a lot of women in London who would be quite pleased to be, how did you put it, ‘conducting an affair’ with me.” She stopped in her tracks and stood staring at him, her mouth hanging open.

He leaned back against the pillows and waggled his brows at her. “Some would call it a privilege.”

Her mouth snapped shut and she glared at him.

“Some women…” he continued, though he knew with absolute certainty that he shouldn’t bait her like this, “might engage in physical battle just for the chance…”

“Stop now, Killian,” she snapped, interrupting him. “Really, this overinflated view of your own prowess…”

“I’m told it’s deserved,” he interrupted her right back, a smug smile on his face. Her cheeks flamed. He might love her, but he couldn’t deny a small bit of satisfaction at seeing her so tortured. It was only a portion of what he lived with on a daily basis, after all.

“I have no wish to hear of your amorous exploits,” Emma said primly. 

Killian’s brows nearly hit his hairline in surprise. “Oh, really? You used to. All the time, in fact. What was it you used to say?” he mused. “Ah yes! Tell me something wicked,” he continued, trying for all the world to sound as if he really had just remembered what she used to say to him, when he never actually forgot anything she ever said to him. “Tell me something wicked,” he repeated. “That was it. You were always curious about my exploits.”

“That was before…”

“Before what?” he asked mildly, quite interested in what she might say in answer to his question.

She stared blankly at him again, as if she didn’t quite understand the question. “Before this… now… everything…”

“And I’m supposed to understand that?”

She glared in response.

“Very well, then. I suppose I should prepare myself for your mother’s visit.” She still stood staring at him, and he lifted a brow in inquiry. “Are you just going to wait here for me to ready myself, and thus expose yourself to certain parts of my anatomy you’d rather not see? Or will you await my dashing presence downstairs?”

Emma’s jaw dropped slightly before she turned and fled the room. Which was odd. Emma never fled anything. Nor did she ever allow him to have the last word. And most of all, he couldn’t believe she’d let him get away with calling himself dashing.

Most puzzling indeed.

~*~*~

Emma never had to suffer through her mother’s anticipated visit. Not twenty minutes after she left Killian’s bedchamber, a note arrived from Number 5 announcing that Emma’s brother August had just arrived home - after gallivanting around the Mediterranean for months on end - thus requiring Ruth to postpone her visit.

And then, that evening, Killian’s mother finally arrived from Scotland, allowing Emma to return to Kilmartin House full-time since a chaperone was now in place. Alice Jones was, of course, delighted to see her son return home, as demonstrated by the tight and enthusiastic embrace she greeted him with, but she was quite taken aback when his sickly countenance registered and she was informed of his malady. 

Much to Emma’s surprise, she agreed with Killian about keeping the malaria a secret. Now that he was home and apparently ready to take on the duties of the earl, Alice was determined to see him married by the end of the season, and this disease could only be a detriment to that end.

And to be honest, Emma was quite relieved to hear Killian’s mother talk to him about getting married. It took Alice’s attention off of Emma and her own plans for the season. She had enough to worry about from her own mother’s interference, without Alice adding to it. 

So Emma and Alice occasionally ventured out in the evenings with Killian continuing to refuse all invitations. And while Emma had expected some questions about her brother-in-law, she’d been utterly unprepared for the volume and frequency of those questions. Everyone wanted to know about him. And not just the single ladies and their mamas. Even older married women, widows, and a few men expressed interest in his whereabouts. No doubt looking for some tidbit of gossip to share among their respective circles. It was all Emma could do to keep a straight, and pleasant, face without rolling her eyes at their collective intrusive nosiness. Their transparency was ridiculous. It was going to be utter madness when he actually recovered.

And then, suddenly, he did.

Well, perhaps it wasn’t as suddenly as she supposed. The fevers had been spacing themselves out and had been less severe, but it truly did seem sudden with him looking pale and sickly one day and the next hale and hearty as he ever was.

“Quinine,” he remarked with a shrug. “I’d take it six times a day if it didn’t taste so damn foul.”

“Language please, Killian,” Alice reminded him as he sat down at the breakfast table.

“Have you tasted the quinine, Mother?” he asked.

“Of course not.”

“You wouldn’t scold me for my language if you had,” he assured her.

She huffed, but it was plain for all to see that it was only for show. She was far too pleased to see him out of bed and looking like himself again.

“Now that you are recovered,” she began, “You must attend to the duties of the earl.”

Killian groaned and rolled his eyes.

“Oh, don’t be so petulant,” she chided him. “No one is going to hang you by your thumbs. I was simply going to say that you need to schedule a visit to the tailor for a set of evening clothes.”

“I think I’d rather donate my thumbs,” Killian muttered.

“They’re lovely thumbs,” Alice replied, not missing a beat, “but they’d be much more use attached to your hands.”

Killian met her eyes before speaking. “I must have neglected to inform you of my appointments today,” he said. “First, I am meeting with the prime minister concerning the assumption of my seat at the House of Lords. Then I have an appointment with the family solicitor so that I might review the state of our financial holdings, and then finally an interview with our primary estate manager, who I’m told has come down to London for the express purpose of discussing the state of all seven of our family properties. At which point should I squeeze in a visit to the tailor?”

Alice and Emma were both speechless.

“Perhaps I should inform the prime minister that I had to move him to Thursday?” he asked mildly.

“When did you make all of these appointments?” Emma asked, still stunned at his apparent diligence.

“Did you think I spent the last fortnight staring at the ceiling?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“Well, no…” She hadn’t really given much thought to how he’d spent his days. She would have spent them reading.

“As I hope we have quite clearly established,” he said, pushing back from his seat, “I have a very busy day ahead of me. If you ladies will excuse me.” He hadn’t even risen to his full height when Alice caught his attention with a light cough.

“An appointment tomorrow with the tailor is perfectly acceptable,” she informed him with a smile. Emma could see his jaw muscle clench in irritation. “You wouldn’t want to miss Lady Nolan’s birthday celebration would you?”

Emma quickly took a bite of her eggs to hide her grin. Alice was positively devious when it suited her purposes. Her mother’s birthday party was the one event that Killian would absolutely feel obligated to attend. Anything else, he could shrug off. 

But Ruth?

Emma didn’t think so.

“When is it?” he sighed.

“April 11th,” she informed him, sweetly. “Everyone will be there.”

“Everyone?” he echoed.

“All the Nolans.” He brightened visibly. “And everyone else,” she continued with an indifferent shrug.

“Am I to get no reprieve?” he asked the room at large.

“Of course you do,” Alice replied. “In fact, you had one last week. We called it malaria.”

“And here I was looking forward to health,” he muttered, rolling his eyes.

“I am sure you’ll have a lovely time,” Alice continued. “And perhaps meet a lovely lady.”

Killian sighed and rolled his eyes again. “Ah yes, lest we forget my true purpose in life.”

“It’s not such a bad purpose, you know,” Emma said, unable to resist teasing him just a bit.

“Oh, really?” His piercing gaze landed on her, and Emma wondered if perhaps she shouldn’t have provoked him. “And just what are your purposes?” 

Alice looked to her with clear interest and Emma had to lick her suddenly dry lips.

“Oh, this and that,” she answered blithely, waving her hand carelessly. “At the moment, to finish my breakfast,” she continued before taking another bite of her eggs. “It is most delicious, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Hmmmm,” he hummed, amusement coloring his features. “Coddled eggs with a side of meddling mothers?”

“And sister-in-law as well,” Emma reminded him, a sly smile on her face. She shouldn’t, she knew she shouldn’t, but she just couldn’t help herself. There was little she enjoyed more in this world than teasing Killian Jones, and moments like this were simply too delicious to resist.

“And how will you be spending your season, Emma?” he asked, tilting his head just slightly to tell her he knew exactly what he was doing and was waiting patiently to see how she would answer him. 

Well, she had provoked him first after all.

“I expect I’ll begin by attending my mother’s birthday party.”

“And doing what?” He wasn’t going to let up.

“Offering my felicitations, of course.” She raised her chin slightly in challenge.

“And is that all?”

“Well, I won’t be inquiring after her age, if that’s what you mean.”

“No, don’t do that,” Alice offered.

“I’m leaving now,” Killian informed them, turning towards the door. Emma said nothing. She was too surprised to say a single word. Alice’s interjection effectively brought the back and forth between them to an end and Killian had taken the interruption as a justification to withdraw from their usual repartee.

Killian had changed.

It wasn’t that he’d been irresponsible before, but he hadn’t had any real responsibilities. And while she knew he’d do what was expected of him once he returned home and assumed his duties, it hadn’t really occurred to her just how well he’d rise to the occasion.

“Killian,” she said softly, gaining his immediate attention. “Good luck with the prime minister.”

His eyes caught hers and something flashed between them. A moment of gratitude and understanding. A moment of communication that only those in the closest relationships engaged in. The kind of moment she’d often shared with Liam.

Did that really just happen? With Killian? Her friend and brother-in-law? It wasn’t possible, was it? Was it?

What was she going to do now?

~*~*~

Thank you for reading and sharing! Next chapter will be up on Saturday!

[arminsumi]

˗ˏˋ꒰ 📖 ꒱ BOOKSTORE BOY

Armin x fem!reader

Chapter index / Chapter Ⅵ

Overview; Armin asks you on a date to the art gallery. Well, actually, he needed the help of an old best friend to make that happen.

Content; fluff, slight angst between Eren x Armin

DM in my askbox to be added to taglists! 💕

For Armin to ask you out from himself he needed an immense surge of courage. Usually he derived that from a pep talk with Connie, but he was on vacation in a foreign country.

So...

"Okay, Eren, you're Y/n and I'm... well, me. Okay? I'll ask you out and you try respond how she would." Armin instructed his friend carefully.

Eren was leaning nonchalantly against the bookshelves. "I don't know a damn thing about this girl, and you want me to imagine how she would respond?"

"Come on, just help me out here." Armin whined. "Please?"

Eren gave an exasperated grunt and reluctantly played along with him. Armin thought it was depressingly funny, how once their souls were intertwined with one another, but disconnected at one of life's unexpected crossroads.

They used to be best friends.

"Y/n, um, so th-there's this art gallery – you've probably been there before, but they've renovated it recently and – and I was thinking – if you're free – " Armin rambled.

Eren interrupted, "Get to the point." he snapped.

"Hey, Y/n wouldn't snap at me like that! She's a patient listener."

"Well I'm not." Eren said bitingly.

Armin tilted his head at the brunette sadly. Eren thinned out his lips regretfully.

"Sorry." he said earnestly.

Armin heaved a sigh to alleviate his chest. He tugged off his white knitted scarf and threw it down, taking a seat on the stack of books. His hand glided through his golden hair, then he rubbed his face, like he was trying to rub the tension out. But the tension was in the atmosphere, not inside him.

"We haven't seen each other in ages, you know." Armin said quietly.

Eren lowered his head in shame and refused to look at him.

A dim midday light filtered in through the bookstore's half-closed shutters.

Armin sat. Eren stood. Armin talked. Eren listened. All the while life and the sound of lunchtime traffic rattled the windows from outside.

It just wasn't like how it used to be between them. Why? Armin had spent countless nights trying to figure out why they drifted apart.

"You were the one that stopped calling me." Eren pointed out.

"Because I don't like using phones." Armin said, folding his arms defensively.

"That's not a good enough excuse." Eren looked at him. If anyone's eyes could rival Armin's in terms of intensity, it was Eren's.

Armin nibbled his lip and nearly cried. "Well, you also moved far away." he stated bitterly.

Such a simple statement upset the whole atmosphere in the vacant bookstore. Armin looked away tearfully, blurred vision catching the CLOSED sign dangling and swaying clumsily in the window outside the front door.

"I wanted to start my life, can you blame me for that?" Eren reasoned defensively. Though he was usually harsh, he tiptoed around Armin's emotions when he saw tears pricking his pretty eyes.

Armin considered his response.

After a short silence, he croaked with a quiet, subtly shaky voice; "No, I can't blame you for that. But I can still be upset by it. I missed you... God, Eren, I had nothing to do here after you left. I was so god damn sad. And then she — like some miracle — walked into my life and changed that. So the least you could do is help me out here... because she means a lot to me."

Eren was looking at the ground while he listened. A stiff silence engulfed the two boys.

"Okay. I've got a plan. I'll make this art gallery date happen for you."

"Thank you." Armin smiled at him. "Really, thank you."

"...since you're too much of a wimp to do it yourself." Eren muttered teasingly under his breath.

"Hey!" Armin giggled a little.

They had a brief moment of banter and teasing. It felt like old times, if only for a fleeting two minutes.

Everything ceased when there was a person tapping at the window of the store's front door.

Peering in from the other side was none other than you, the one who happened to be the sole subject of conversation for the whole morning and early noon.

"Is that her?" Eren quickly asked under his breath as Armin bounced quickly past the cashier desk to the entrance.

It was a stupid question. Of course it was you, because Armin's eyes lit up like a light show.

"Yeah, that's her." Armin smiled at you through the glass pane, and came to open the door.

He wrung it open, the bell chimed, and his face brightened at your presence. That pleasant feeling of seeing the one you love engulfed him from all angles.

You hugged him with a gentle squeeze, and so did he. "How are you! Why is the store open so late? It feels odd." you asked.

Armin's throat stuttered and staggered a small bit before replying, "My grandfather is sick at home, so I'm running the ship for a while."

"And that means the store will open when you've had the appropriate amount of coffees?" Eren mused.

His deep, smooth voice caught your ears. It was just a really good voice, no one can be blamed for being infatuated with it.

"Right." Armin nodded.

His eyes flitted between you and his old best friend. "Uh, Eren, this is Y/n, and Y/n... Eren." he introduced the two of you.

"Oh, that name sounds familiar." you commented.

Eren looked at you in surprise, "Does it?"

"Yeah, I think Armin mentioned you a few times in conversation, but I have bad memory..." you said embarrassedly.

"We grew up together." Eren said simply.

"Oh! That's right, now I remember."

Armin felt a strong jealousy bubbling inside his chest.

It grew and grew, like sharp vines under his chest. It grew stronger the longer you and Eren talked, because honestly? You two hit it off. And in the most peculiar way. Neither you nor Eren felt attraction towards each other, but Armin was convinced that there was a special feeling between you and him.

"I've got to head out." Eren said after the conversation tapered off, preparing to leave the store.

"Oh, where are you headed?" you asked him curiously.

He placed his hand on the doorframe and then, as he spoke his next words, made everything up on the spot.

"Actually... to the art gallery," he looked at Armin, "with my girlfriend – you two wanna make it a double date?" he invited.

You thought that was so friendly of him.

"Absolutely! I'd love to see the art gallery..." you responded enthusiastically. "Of course, but only if Armin is willing. Armin?" you turned to face him.

Armin's jealousy dissipated, a feeling of fondness and thankfulness replaced it.

"I'm willing." he mumbled shyly.

"Why the art gallery?" Eren's girlfriend questioned confusedly, romantically clinging to his arm. "I thought we were going to the countryside? A picnic would have been good... this is a rare sunny day."

They observed an oil painting on the white wall.

"Because Armin wanted to take that girl on a date, but he was too shy to ask her himself." Eren explained in a hushed voice under his breath.

"I didn't know you were cupid." Mikasa teased. Eren shook his head.

You marveled around you.

Something in the atmosphere felt magical. For a long time, you and Armin wandered the corridors alone together, in utter silence. No words were necessary. Especially not when they'd disturb the beauty of the silent paintings staring down at you.

He had no idea how it happened, but he ended up holding your hand. His skin felt soft, a little cool to the touch — your warmth made him fluttery.

You stood in front of a painting with him, admiring it as if through a dream lens.

"I've never been to an art gallery before." you told him.

"Really?"

"I planned to visit this one when I first arrived here, but never seemed to make time for it. You know how it is." you said. "But this is nice." you showed him a pretty smile.

Like so many times before, it seemed like Armin was going to say something. Something big; important, emotional – something that required a lot of courage to say.

"Do you want gelato?" he blurted out. "I'll go get some."

"I – uh, yes, sure." you agreed a bit confusedly. "Gelato sounds lovely."

So Armin disappeared down the corridor and Mikasa too, but she went to the restroom to refresh herself.

You went over to where Eren stood so you wouldn't seem like you were rudely ignoring him, when he so kindly invited you to a double date.

He was observing an oil painting depicting cupid. Something about it really had his attention and you didn't know why. He seemed amused. But you couldn't be sure, because his expressions were enigmatic. Reading them was like reading a foreign language that you only know two words of.

You held small talk with him, until he said something that steered the two of you into a meaningful conversation.

"Actually, Armin wanted to ask you out to the art gallery himself. I didn't even plan to come here today." he admitted.

You gasped on purpose, "You're exposing your best friend like this!"

"We're not best friends anymore." he said.

You dropped your playful attitude a bit, "What happened?" you asked curiously.

"Nothing, just life." Eren shrugged.

And though that was the truth when cut short, you could tell there was a long story behind it. He didn't elaborate, because it would make him get emotional. And you'd anyways have to sit through the first ten chapters of his and Armin's upbringings to understand it in its fullness.

"Oh, I see..." you said.

The conversation trailed off for a moment.

"It took Armin a long time to ask me out." you said. "I visited the bookstore an uncountable amount of times before he finally said hello to me." you laughed reminiscently, "was he always a nervous boy?" you asked Eren curiously.

"Sort of." Eren replied bluntly.

"Sort of? Could you elaborate?" you laughed.

"He's always been doubtful of himself. That's why he's never had a romance before, he never let himself fall in love, because he deemed himself unworthy of having a lover. And, I guess, inadequate to be a lover himself."

You looked at the brunette, he stood tall and straight, still looking at the painting. Past him you caught sight of your favorite blond as he approached the two of you.

Such a cute and soft boy. So gentle and sincere. Anyone can understand those traits about him from a mile away. It's the way he styles his hair. It's the cream-colored cutoff sweater over his white shirt. It's his way of walking. The slight blush that never leaves his face.

"It makes me sad when I learn these things about good-hearted people." you said, "If anyone in this world deserves love, it's Armin."

Eren looked at you contemplatively for a moment. He was thinking about the inflection you used when you said Armin's name. "Sounds like you're in love." he remarked observantly.

"Huh?" you blinked at him. His comment made your cheeks heat up very quickly.

Armin reunited with you and Eren, two hands holding cups of gelato. He had such an awkward yet elegant charm, it was hard to describe. But not even a poet could have described him.

He handed you and Eren gelatos, and talked about how he nearly tripped and dropped them on the stones outside on his way back. In the back of your mind, you were thinking about what Eren had told you.

Viewing Armin there in the art gallery felt dreamy, he had such warmth radiating all around him.

Mikasa returned from the bathroom and held onto Eren tiredly, refusing the gelato at first but nibbling from his cup eventually, and she gradually finished it herself while Eren held it like a cute boyfriend.

Armin was observing how they behaved as a couple. He thought about how badly he wanted to be that close to you, but you and him still had a ways to go.

"We'll get going in a little bit." Eren said.

"Aw, okay." Armin replied. "This was nice. Thanks for inviting us to join..."

"Of course." Eren bobbed his head noddingly, a stray strand of hair slipping out of his sloppy manbun. "We should... do something together sometime again. Just you and me. No offence, ladies."

"None taken." you chuckled.

Armin felt as light as air. Everything that once made him feel heavy in the past was becoming the reason for his weightlessness.

You and Armin still planned to stay at the art gallery a little longer. As Armin said, "The paintings have a demanding beauty, we have to look at them one more time."

While Eren and Mikasa were leaving, you accidentally called Armin Loverboy in front of them.

Eren looked teasingly at Armin. "Loverboy?" he questioned with raised brows, a smirk

Armin went pink in the face, oh, really pink. It was especially noticeable because of the palette of his appearance; the white and soft brown of his clothes, the honey blond of his hair, the ocean blue of his eyes.

"You embarrassed meee!"

"Sorry... Loverboy."

He giggled. You perched yourself on the bench in the middle of the wide corridor, stretching your arms out to balance as you walked along it.

White walls displayed a stretch of impossibly beautiful artworks, contrasting to the antique heartpine flooring.

A statue of Aphrodite stood at the end of the T-junction corridor, posed with ethereal beauty; she almost felt alive. You half-expected her to start running the comb through her hair.

But the only living souls in the art gallery were you and Armin; intertwined completely, undisturbed in an envelope of your love.

When you and him stopped to admire the statue, it felt as if the goddess of love was smiling down at the two of you, uttering wordless blessings upon your romance.

"Hey, dance with me, Loverboy." you said, encouragingly tugging the fabric of his sleeve.

He looked at you like he's never looked at anyone in his life, with eyes blazing like the stars in Van Gogh's masterpiece.

"C'mon."

You offered your hands to him. He timidly took them.

And so there you and him were, haphazardly dancing down the corridors of an empty art gallery during closing hours.

Giggling, stumbling, twirling, talking, exchanging an intimacy —a connection — that can't be described, only felt or imagined by the most imaginative mind.

At the closing of the day, while you and him were waiting on the bench at the bus stop, Armin leaned over and scribbled a poem on a napkin.

Though you kept naggingly asking him what the poem was about, he blushed and refused to say.

"Have patience, love." he said, and kept writing.

You loved watching him writing. He was so simply beautiful when he was in his element. Scratching lines out, rewriting them, contemplatively pausing; you observed him like an artwork.

"But the bus is here." you said when you heard it rounding the corner.

Armin's blue eyes blinked up at the approaching bus. The brakes sighed as it came to a rolling stop, the navy blue color inspiring the final words of Armin's poem.

"Alright." Armin hopped to his feet very suddenly.

He looked so happy. No, he radiated happiness.

"So eager to leave me!" you teased him.

He smiled at you and gave you the napkin with his poem.

"Read it when you get home; I don't want to be embarrassed in front of you right now." he half-joked.

"Okay." you replied in a soft voice. "When... when will we see each other again? I mean, besides at the store."

Armin's heart beat faster.

"We... could..." he began.

He was trying, he really was. The courage was building up inside him, though it faltered and he closed his mouth again.

"We could...?" you encouraged.

"Gimme the napkin back for a moment, please." he said, and took it to write something more on the back of it.

You looked at him curiously.

There was a long moment of silence that was filled with... well, love. Just love. A very pure and sincere love, the type that isn't fully acknowledged yet, and so isn't affected by the expectations of either lover.

"There – ah, the driver is looking impatient." Armin said hurriedly and handed the napkin back to you.

You shared a shy, departing hug with him.

As he boarded the bus, he placed his hand on the bus door frame, and looked back at you.

"Bye." he said.

"Bye, see you." you smiled.

"Mmm, yes." he said and looked at you. "Bye." he said again.

"Goodbye." you giggled.

He just couldn't go.

It was one of those never-ending goodbyes, because neither you nor him really wanted to be apart.

You watched from outside as he weaved through the crowded bus and took a seat.

He waved at you through the window.

The bus rolled back into motion and headed down the street before finally rounding the corner and disappearing.

You walked back to your apartment by foot.

Every movement you made, from sticking the key into your apartment door to pouring a fresh coffee, was done with a dreamy languidness.

When you finally settled down into bed with your beverage, you looked over at your pillow, and thought of when Armin was sat there reading at your side you not long ago. The memory made you smile.

Now alone, you read his letter.

After your eyes reread each line three times over, you wished you could text him. But that boy really didn't like phones, he always lost his own, and never read any messages from anyone. Who knew where his phone was right now, probably besides the pot plant in his grandfather's back garden.

In the art gallery, you experienced his wordless love. At home, you read the words that attempted to summarize his feelings.

The way I feel with you,

Is comparable to,

The navy blue of,

The sparkling sea I saw long ago.

On the back, there was his additional note. It was scribbled very hastily.

Spring is close, why don't we have a picnic by the lake? I know the trail to take =)

🏷️; @sad-darksoul / @ringsofsaturnnnn / @underthetree845 / @oliviaissocool1 / @crisalidaseason / @koriinsan

[n7punk]

What’s your beef with Spotify?

It's less beef and more just a product I don't like - because that's what Spotify is, a product. They really don't want you to think of it that way, but at the end of the day it's particularly invasive product packaging around the thing you actually want to listen to, and there are dozens of different ways to listen to music. As far as gripes, though, number 1 is that it doesn't really pay its artists for shit and its objectively kind of shitty audio-quality wise (I'm not a snob on this, but depending on your hardware it can be especially crunchy while other things like Youtube sound just fine). Number 2 is how much it spies on you and tracks your data. Number 3 is the ads. Number 4, and the actual reason I will never use it, is that it's the enshittification of media consumption.

I do, actually, have a Spotify account. I used it for all of a day before never logging in again or verifying my email. Spotify forces you to experience music the way it wants you to, with absolutely no benefit aside from cloud syncing cross-platform for your playlists that I don't actually need, and I'm used to the freedom from the dawn of the accessible mp3 era.

Better Kind Of Best Friend is a single. I bought it as part of the entire The Sex Was Good Until It Wasn't album, so it came with the album artwork. I wanted it to have its single artwork - so I changed it. And now, in MusicBee and on my phone, I see the single artwork because it's in the file metadata. Spotify doesn't give you that option. It's a little thing, maybe, except when it isn't, like when a song's cover art is graphic or otherwise upsetting to look at, or just plain doesn't fit it.

Sometimes I don't agree with a song's "official" genre (usually because the entire album classifies the songs one way while they actually span genres). The range of things that are classified as indie rock is insane. Anyway, other times I use the genre more specifically, such as "Dark Pop", which isn't actually a thing but if I played you Dark Pop songs you would understand what I mean. In MusicBee, I can change genres to be whatever I want, which is important for various auto-playlists in filtering.

I also have a custom tag for any sapphic songs that automatically populates my lesbian love auto-playlist as they're defined, and another playlist that automatically adds all music from my custom-defined list of queer artists to the "Gay Life" playlist. When I buy a new Reinaeiry song, it automatically gets added without me having to do anything.

I can't listen to demos or any music that Spotify has lost licensing to on it, which means that if I want a complete playlist with a demo song on it, I have to have all those songs exported anyway, and at that point why am I bothering to split my listening across platforms? Idk if you heard, but Spotify lost licensing to a giant catalogue of Kpop music at one point because one company pulled out, and all those listeners were fucked. I don't have to wait for an artist to upload their shit to Spotify (although right now I am waiting for Reinaeiry to put Too Sweet up for download - pls queen - this is luckily more rare of an occurrence than me seeing "please add this to Spotify" comments is).

I like music I can keep forever, listen to whenever, and do so without ads or paying three figures a year to hear uninterrupted. I'd rather buy one album a month with the Spotify premium money than pay for it. I like creating folder after subfolder worth of an unlimited number of playlists (admittedly idr if Spotify allows this feature. It varies by online listening platforms and I don't bother to track the ones I don't use). I like being able to drag and drop my playlists from MusicBee into iTunes to instantly listen to them on my phone (and thus cross-play isn't a concern for me as long as I remember to synch my phone). I like the feature of being able to instantly and permanently adjust the volume, as well as the beginning and end point, of any single song I chose (super helpful for when certain albums are inexplicably quieter/louder than others or have a stupid incongruous music or dialogue part in them).

If I want to listen to something without actually getting it, then I do it on Youtube, which has a wider music selection with more control. Don't like album art? Find a lyric video upload with a generic nebula background. Weird movie sample at the beginning? Someone might have cut that out in their upload (shoutout to the person who turned DICTATOR into a part 1 and 2 to match the two different mood halves), but otherwise Sponsorblock will skip the non-music segments. The only downside of Youtube versus Spotify is I can't share the playlists without exposing my name, but again I actually create those playlists in MusicBee 99% of the time so I wouldn't be sharing a link anyway.