#the framing and linework is so cool

[elliesbabygirl]

CHAPTER ONE: THINKING ABOUT YOU.

SERIES SYNOPSIS: Midterms were crushing you—and so was she. Maybe she was the right person at the wrong time, or the wrong person at the right time. Either way, none of it mattered when she was next to you.

WARNINGS: 18+, alcohol + drug use, cheating, swearing, mentions of tattoos + body mods (piercings & tattoos), arguments, blood, partying, pining, sexual tension, eventual smut. slow burn with fluff and angst.

SUBMARINE; MASTERLIST

The bell above the tattoo shop door jingled with a weak chime, the sound swallowed by the hum of a late-night rock playlist playing somewhere in the back.

You stepped inside, blinking against the sudden contrast of warm amber lights and cool walls lined with framed flash sheets.

Your hoodie smelled like cold air and leftover anxiety from the midterm you definitely just bombed, your brain was fried, to say the least.

And your heart was somewhere between fuck it and why not.

The neon sign out front had read WALK-INS WELCOME, glowing a soft pink against the empty sidewalk.

It was past eleven, you half-expected the shop to be closed.

From behind the front counter, a head slowly lifted.

She looked up from her sketchbook, one airpod still in her ear, the other tucked into her hoodie pocket.

Her brows furrowed, like she wasn’t sure if you were real or just the ghost of another college burnout looking for a distraction.

“Uh… hey,” you said, voice sticking in your throat a little.

“Do you actually take walk-ins this late? Or is the sign just for show?”

She blinked, clearly not expecting anyone to wander in after hours. Her green eyes swept over you, quick but not unkind.

Then she shrugged and said, “Yeah, I got time.”

There was a pause, not tense, just… full.

Like the both of you were trying to figure out if this was going to be weird or not.

The girl stood, cracking her knuckles as she moved towards the back. She wore a dark flannel over a tank, ink crawling up one arm like a second skin that protected her.

You watched her move—steady, even a little graceful in the way people are when they don’t realize they’re being watched.

“C’mon,” she said over her shoulder, motioning you toward the chair. “I got some time.”

You followed, the buzzing silence settling between you both like a third presence.

“So, what’s the story?” She asked, gloving up. “Breakup? Quarter-life crisis? Got an F and decided to self-destruct like me?”

“Option C,” you said. “Massive failure and poor impulse control.”

She grinned—crooked, tired, but real. “Well, at least you’re honest.”

You laughed, and for a moment the weight on your chest eased.

You sat down, letting the leather chair swallow you whole, heart thumping just a little faster now.

(Ellie. You learned that her name was Ellie, so sweet and simple.)

“Alright,” Ellie said, pulling out a stencil. “Let’s do something simple. Like linework? Maybe something small on the wrist?”

You nodded. “That works for me.”

(You had no idea what she was saying.)

She kneeled beside the chair, eyes leveled with yours now.

Her gaze lingered, for just a second too long. “This your first?”

“Yeah. You?”

Ellie let out a laugh. “God, no.”

And just like that, something cracked open between you two—barely there, just a flicker.

A flicker that lingered in Ellie’s eyes while she worked on you.

(The kind of moment you wouldn’t even think twice about until months later, when everything had already fallen apart.)

+

The hum of the machine had long faded, replaced by the soft rustle of gloves being stripped off and the quiet click of a spray bottle.

A simple outline of an orange now sat on your wrist—small, clean, and sweet in a way you couldn’t explain.

You hadn’t told Ellie why. Truth was, you didn’t know. You just said “an orange” when she asked, and she didn’t question it. She just nodded like that was reason enough.

Ellie wiped down her station with practiced motions, quiet and focused, like she’d done it a thousand times.

Then she looked up at you, eyes softer now under the fluorescent lights.

“Go wait by the front,” she said. “I’ll cash you out in a sec.”

You hesitated, glanced down at your wrist again, then stood up and walked back to the counter, the leather of the chair creaking as you left it behind.

You watched her again, for a moment—methodical, careful, lost in the routine. She didn’t rush, didn't look at the clock. Just moved like the night had all the time in the world.

Ellie eventually wandered over to the register, rubbing the back of her neck with pen-stained fingers.

The silence between you stretched—not awkward, just dense with something you couldn’t name.

She keyed in a few things, barely glancing at the screen.

“That’ll be…” she said, then paused, eyes flicking up to yours. “Actually—uh, hold on.”

She fumbled with the tablet for a second, hit a few buttons, then finally slid it towards you. “Discounted it. First tattoo and all.”

You tilted your head. “That’s not a thing, is it?”

“Nope,” Ellie said, popping the P. “Just felt like it.”

You tapped your card and waited for the receipt to print, fully expecting her to mumble a polite thanks for coming before locking up.

Instead, Ellie hovered for a beat, biting at the inside of her cheek like she was wrestling with something.

Then, before she could talk herself out of it. “Hey, uh… you want to get some boba?”

You blinked. “Boba?”

Ellie scratched behind her ear, flustered all at once. “Yeah, I mean—you don’t have to. I just… there’s that place down the block that stays open stupid late, the one with the open mic stuff. It’s dumb. But sometimes they have slam poetry nights and I figured maybe—fuck���nevermind, that sounded lame.”

You were already smiling before she finished stumbling through it.

“No,” you said, laughing softly. “That doesn’t sound lame.”

She nodded quickly, half-embarrassed, but relieved. “Cool. Cool, yeah. You don’t have to, obviously. Just thought… maybe you didn’t wanna...go home yet.”

You grabbed your hoodie from the back of a chair, still smiling. “Let me guess—you’re more of a ‘pretend-you-don’t-like-it-but-secretly-know-every-word’ type when it comes to slam poetry?”

Ellie smirked, flicking off the lights behind the counter. “You’re already talking a lot of shit for someone with a fruit on their wrist.”

She locked up the shop, keys jingling in her hand as you both stepped into the night.

The air was crisp, the street quiet except for the distant sound of someone rehearsing lines on the corner.

The boba place came into view at the end of the block, tucked between a laundromat and a 24-hour vape shop, glowing in mismatched purple and teal neon.

You squinted at the sign. “Thirsty Bitch? Seriously?”

Ellie laughed, pulling her hoodie up over her head. “Yeah. It’s awful, but they’ve got the best matcha in a ten-mile radius.”

“Still,” you said, grinning, “naming your boba shop after a Twitter insult is bold.”

You reached the door and stepped inside, the smell of brown sugar syrup and steamed milk hitting you like a wave.

The place was dim, cozy, lit with hanging paper lanterns and fairy lights that probably violated a dozen fire codes.

A group of people were lounging on mismatched couches, someone was curled up reading in a window nook, and in the far corner—half-hidden behind a fake plant wall—someone was passionately performing a poem about heartbreak and avocado toast..?

You and Ellie stood in line, trying not to stare at the guy on stage who was practically crying into the mic.

“I… genuinely can’t tell if that’s a metaphor,” you whispered.

Ellie snorted, covering it with her sleeve. “I think he’s serious. He looks like he just got dumped and lost a farmers’ market sponsorship.”

You both fell quiet again as the line inched forward, eyes occasionally flicking to each other and then away, like you were playing a game neither of you fully understood.

It wasn’t lost on you—this wasn’t casual, not really.

You could feel Ellie watching you in quick glances, like she was trying to solve a problem in your expression.

Trying to figure out if you knew this was her awkward, nervous version of flirting.

You did.

And she could tell that you did.

“So,” Ellie said, voice a little too casual as she rocked back on her heels, “you hang out with tattoo artists often? Or am I just that lucky tonight?”

You raised a brow, smirking. “Is this your go-to move? Ink someone and then lure them into weird poetry cafés with sugar drinks?”

“Only if they look good under neon lighting.”

You tried to cover your grin with your hand.

She was clearly testing the waters—careful, but bold in a way that said she didn’t know exactly where the line was, just that she wanted to find it.

The line shuffled forward, the guy on stage wrapping up his ode to heartbreak with an exaggerated sigh and a dramatic bow.

A light smattering of snaps followed. You and Ellie exchanged a look, trying not to laugh.

“Okay, what’s your order?” Ellie asked as you reached the counter.

“Black milk tea. No sugar, less ice.”

Ellie nodded, then turned to the cashier. “One black milk, no sugar, light ice, and… one matcha milk tea with boba. Full sweetness.”

You were halfway into your bag, already fumbling for your cash when Ellie slid hers into the reader without missing a beat.

You blinked. “Wait—shit, I didn’t bring cash.”

She shrugged, not even looking at you as she typed in her pin. “Good thing it’s not a problem.”

“I was gonna get mine.”

“You can get the next one,” she said, pulling her flannel sleeve over her hand. “Or like… I don’t know. A sticker for my sketchbook or something.”

“Wow,” you teased. “Big spender.”

Ellie shot you a grin as she tipped the cashier. “You’re lucky I like your weird fruit tattoo.”

The two of you made your way to the back, weaving past a guy setting up a keyboard and a group of students debating if slam poetry should rhyme.

A random sunken couch was free—one of those big, overstuffed ones that looked like it had been there since the ’90s—and you both dropped into it like it owed you comfort.

“So,” you said, crossing your legs as you sank too far into the cushion, “you always hang around after tattooing strangers, or am I just special?” You mirrored her tone from earlier while in line.

Ellie leaned back, her knee just brushing yours. “I don’t really… do this. Like, ever.”

You tilted your head. “Do what? Drink overpriced tea or hit on people who are going through a midlife crisis?”

She gave you a slow, crooked smile. “Yes.”

You laughed, surprised at how easy it was to be around her like this—loose, light, like nothing in the world was pressing down for once.

The kind of calm that didn’t come often in your life lately.

“So,” Ellie said, eyes flicking towards the next performer taking the mic, “what are you majoring in?”

“Communications. Which is ironic, because I’m pretty bad at it.”

She huffed a laugh. “Art. Also ironic, since I never show my own shit to anyone.”

You looked over at her. “Not even the people you tattoo?”

“Especially not them,” she said, pulling a knee up onto the couch. “I hide it in sketchbooks like a coward.”

You didn’t press. Just nodded, both of you watching the next act start—some kid doing a poem about their mom’s rice cooker and generational trauma. It was weirdly good, too good.

One of the employees—wearing a beanie too big for his head and a pin-covered apron—gently placed your drinks on the small coffee table in front of the couch.

“Black milk, no sugar. Matcha, full sweet,” he muttered, already halfway turning before either of you could do more than offer a quick “Thanks.”

You both reached for your cups at the same time, fingers brushing lightly, then pulling back in that awkward, polite stutter people do when they’re a little too aware of each other.

Ellie handed you yours, then sat back with hers, the paper sleeve crinkling slightly as she adjusted it in her grip.

You took a sip, the cold bite of black tea grounding you, while she raised her matcha like she was inspecting it. “Okay,” she said, “I know it looks like swamp water, but it’s actually elite.”

“I’m judging you,” you said flatly. “Full sweet matcha is basically melted ice cream.”

“Exactly,” Ellie said, smirking. “You’re welcome for the experience.”

Another performer took the mic—a girl with dyed green hair reading something about toxic friendships.

You both listened half-heartedly, more focused on the strange little bubble you were sitting in, pressed against each other by the couch’s deep sag.

“So,” you said, after a beat, “do you always invite people out for boba after tattooing them, or was I just radiating ‘needs emotional sugar’ energy?” You asked, trying to guage what this meant.

Ellie chuckled softly, eyes on her drink. “No, you were radiating ‘maybe I’d let her see my sketchbook’ energy.”

Your eyebrows raised, amused. “That so?”

She nodded, then added quickly, “Not that I—like—want to show it. Just… hypothetical.”

You smiled into your straw. “Hypothetically noted.”

There was a pause, not uncomfortable—just charged.

Ellie took another sip and glanced sideways at you, quick and nervous.

“I like your voice,” she said suddenly, almost too soft to hear.

You looked over, surprised. “My voice?”

She shrugged, not meeting your eyes. “Yeah. You’ve got one of those… kind voices. Not in a weird way. Just—whatever.”

You tried to hide how much it hit you—how nice it felt to be seen that way. “Thanks, you've got nice hands...for someone who literally stabs people for a living.”

Ellie snorted, a quick, surprised laugh bursting out of her. “That’s one hell of a compliment.”

“Take it or leave it,” you said, sipping your tea again, feeling your smile pull at the edge of your lips.

+

The final poem faded out under light applause and scattered finger snaps.

You and Ellie were slow to move, both dragging out the last sips of your drinks like they were excuses to stay a little longer, but eventually, all that was left was ice.

You stood, tossing your empty cup into the trash by the door. Ellie followed a second later, her lid clattering as it hit the bin.

The two of you stepped out into the cool night air, the neon lights of Thirsty Bitch flickering faintly behind you.

Neither of you spoke at first. The walk back towards the tattoo shop was quiet, not tense, but full of something unspoken.

The space between you felt smaller now, but the silence was heavier—like you were both trying to figure out what this night even was.

“Thanks,” you said finally, turning toward her. “For paying, you didn’t have to.”

Ellie waved a hand, brushing it off like it was nothing, but you caught the way her neck flushed red, color disappearing under the collar of her shirt.

“It’s not a big deal,” she said quickly. “I mean—I wanted to. Not in like a weird way. I just… wanted to, that's all.”

You smiled. “Ellie.”

She blinked. “Yeah?”

“You’re literally stammering.”

Her hands went straight to her pockets as she laughed, half-defeated.

“Okay. Look. I’m just—I don’t know how to end this without sounding like a complete idiot. Like, is this still part of the tattoo appointment? Did we just accidentally hang out for two hours? Is this… a date?”

You tilted your head, grinning. “Do you want it to be a date?”

“I was, like, gonna ask for your number. Like… subtly. Or somethin, but I kinda suck at this.”

You held out your hand. “Give me your phone.”

She blinked again.

“You know,” you said, “so I can save myself in it.”

A slow smile spread across her face as she handed it over. “You’re really good at this whole subtle thing too, huh?”

You typed your name in, shot yourself a text, then passed it back.

Ellie immediately unlocked her screen, texting you a quick “hey” from your new contact.

You pulled out your own phone and smiled when it lit up with her number.

“I guess this means I’m not just another walk-in,” you said, sliding your phone back into your pocket.

Ellie looked down, that shy, half-smirk tugging at her lips again. “Nah. You’re the one who ordered an orange on your wrist. Pretty sure you were gonna stick around whether I wanted you to or not.”

You laughed, and it felt good.

Light.

Like the start of something real.

You both stood there a beat too long, the night stretching thin between you like it was waiting for one of you to make a move neither of you were ready for.

Ellie shifted on her feet, hands still buried in her jean pockets. “Uh… I should probably head home,” she said, eyes flicking to the street.

You nodded too fast. “Yeah. Me too. Home, definitely.”

A beat of silence.

“Okay, well… bye?” Ellie said, stepping back, voice a little higher than usual.

“Bye,” you echoed, giving a small wave that felt weird the second you did it.

You immediately dropped your hand, pretending to fix your sleeve instead.

Ellie turned towards the row of cars parked out front.

Her converse scuffed against the pavement as she walked—shoulders hunched like she didn’t know what to do with herself.

She glanced over once, half-smiling, and you offered a quick smile back before turning to go the opposite way.

You heard her car beep as it unlocked behind you, and you didn’t look back.

Your chest felt tight—not in a bad way.

Just in the way things feel when they might be something.

Awkward, a little clumsy, but still somehow… sweet.

+

The campus café buzzed with the usual chaos—grinding espresso machines, laughter echoing off the concrete walls, and the constant scrape of chairs on tile.

You sat across from Juni in your usual booth by the window, nursing a lukewarm coffee and trying (failing) to wipe the stupid smile off your face.

Juni narrowed her eyes, sipping her oat milk latte with suspicion. “Okay, spill. You’ve been grinning like an idiot for the last fifteen minutes, and you haven’t said a single thing about your drama class meltdown or the train wreck of a group project you’re in.”

You bit your lip, shrugging casually. “Maybe there’s nothing to tell.”

She gave you a look. “Girl.”

You laughed, finally giving in. “Okay, okay. So… remember the tattoo artist? Ellie?”

Juni’s eyes lit up. “The tattoo artist? Late-night walk-in Ellie? The one who took you to a place literally called thirsty bitch?”

“That’s the one.”

“Oh my god, finally,” she said, smacking her palm on the table. “What happened? I thought that was a one-time hangout slash casual date with crazy undertones of sexual tension!”

You took a sip of your coffee, trying to downplay it but failing miserably. “We’ve been texting. Like, nonstop, all week.”

Juni leaned in, eyes wide. “Nonstop, huh? What kind of nonstop? Good morning texts or ‘here’s a meme that reminded me of your wrist tattoo’ kind of thing?”

“Both,” you said, cheeks heating up. “She sends stupid gifs, and voice notes sometimes. She’s… actually really funny.”

Juni smirked, stirring her drink with a tiny wooden stick. “I’m happy for you. Just—be careful, okay?”

You raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Juni leaned back, eyes playful but serious underneath.

“You’re soft. You catch feelings like it’s your job, and tattooed girls with tired eyes and flannels? That’s exactly the type to make you fall hard and then disappear into a cloud of cryptic playlist links.”

You laughed, pushing her shoulder. “Shut up.”

“I’m just saying,” she teased, sipping her drink like she wasn’t delivering warnings through a straw. “Don’t let her ruin your playlist.”

You shook your head, grinning. “No, she’s not like that. I mean—she’s kind of… nerdy? In this hot, low-key way. Like, she was talking about shading techniques and somehow I was still blushing.”

Juni blinked. “You blushed over shading?”

“She made it sound important!” you defended, laughing now. “And her voice goes all quiet when she’s focused, and she has this stupid pencil tucked behind her ear all the time. I swear, she doesn’t even know she’s hot.”

“Oh no,” Juni groaned. “You’re doomed.”

You covered your face with your hands. “I know.”

Juni grinned, the teasing softening. “Okay, but seriously. I love this for you. Just… don’t fall in love until I get to meet her and approve.”

You peeked through your fingers. “Too late.”

Juni took a long sip of her latte, waiting, eyes sharp like she already knew you weren’t done.

You swirled the last of your coffee, biting the inside of your cheek before finally speaking again.

“I’m seeing her saturday,” you said quietly, not looking up right away. “She’s off from the shop.”

Juni perked up, grinning again. “Ooh, plans?”

You nodded, finally meeting her gaze. “Just… hanging out, at her place.”

Juni raised an eyebrow. “Just hanging out?”

“That’s the plan,” you said, trying—and failing—not to sound flustered.

“She said she wants to show me this ridiculous old horror movie she loves. Like, some weird black-and-white zombie thing.”

“Let me guess—she’s gonna act like it’s ironic, but she secretly knows all the dialogue.”

“Exactly.”

Juni smirked. “Okay, so you’re gonna be alone. At her place, watching a movie. Sounds very platonic.”

You groaned, sinking lower into your seat. “I know. That’s the thing. I don’t want it to be platonic, but I also don’t want to ruin it if I read this all wrong.”

“Babe.” Juni leaned forward, more serious now. “You said you’ve been texting every day, she took you out after hours, paid for your drink, and flirts with you over shading techniques—you really think she’s not into you?”

“I don’t know, okay?” you said, voice low but urgent. “What if she’s just nice? What if I go over and it’s just two friends watching a movie on a couch and I sit there the whole time dying because I want to touch her but I don’t want to freak her out?”

Juni softened. “You’re into her.”

“I’m so into her,” you admitted, leaning your forehead against your hand. “Like… stupidly into her. It’s bad. I think about her and my brain just short circuits, and then she sends me a blurry pic of her cat and suddenly I’m spiraling into soft girl hell.”

Juni let out a laugh and reached across the table, touching your wrist. “Okay, listen. Just go. Hang out. Be you. If it’s mutual—and I promise you, it probably is—you’ll feel it. You don’t have to make a move. You just have to be open.”

You nodded slowly, heart thudding in your chest. Saturday felt both a breath away and miles off.

“Okay,” you said, almost to yourself. “Okay.”

Juni leaned back again, smile returning. “Worst case? She’s emotionally repressed and you two spend three months in gay limbo. Best case? She kisses you mid-movie and you finally get to make out with the hot, nerdy tattooed girl.”

You laughed, half-nervous, half-relieved.

“I’ll take either at this point,” you said.

But deep down, you were already hoping for the second.

+

Ellie opened the door a crack before pulling it wide, already rubbing the back of her neck with the same nervous energy she always wore a little too visibly around you.

“Hey,” she said, stepping aside to let you in. “Uh—so just a heads up… Shimmer might hiss at you, but that’s her way of saying hi. She’s a bitch, but she’s old, so she gets a pass.”

You laughed softly, stepping inside. “Shimmer, huh?”

“She was named during a regrettable horse phase…don’t ask.”

The apartment was small but lived-in, cozy in that kind of organized chaos that made sense to her and no one else—sketchbooks piled in one corner, a half-finished painting leaning against the wall, a blanket bunched up unevenly on the couch.

A couple tattoo machines sat on a shelf above her desk, next to a bowl of cat treats and a few empty cans of energy drink.

You kicked off your shoes by the door and scanned the space with quiet curiosity. “It’s cute,” you said honestly. “Very… you.”

Ellie flushed, ducking her head a little. “Yeah, well. Don’t look too hard, or I’ll have to pretend I totally meant for that chair to have four unmatched hoodies on it.”

Something furry darted past your feet, letting out a judgmental chirp as it hopped up onto the arm of the couch.

“Shimmer,” Ellie called out. “Be cool.”

The cat blinked at you slowly, as if deciding whether you were worth acknowledging, then curled into a dramatic loaf and ignored you completely.

“I think we’re off to a good start,” you said.

Ellie laughed, a little breathless. “She likes you more than she liked my ex, so… that’s probably a good omen.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Wow, high praise.”

Ellie cleared her throat, suddenly fidgety. “Okay, uh—movie’s queued up already. It’s dumb. You’ll probably hate it. I’m gonna grab snacks from the kitchen. You can… sit wherever, get comfortable.”

She spun on her heel and all but fled toward the kitchen, pretending to be very busy rummaging through cabinets and muttering about not having enough popcorn.

From where you stood, you could just barely see her shoulders tense as she pulled open a drawer with way too much force, trying to look casual while clearly, clearly short-circuiting.

You smiled to yourself as you sat on the couch, Shimmer watching you like a sentry. Ellie’s voice floated in from the kitchen, muffled and quick;

“Do you like Red Vines or Twizzlers or—shit, wait, do you even like candy? I forgot to ask. I’m a terrible host. I have chips too and maybe ice cream? I don’t know if it’s expired. I should check. Do people check that?”

You leaned back into the cushions, heart full, voice soft but teasing; “Ellie, breathe.”

“Okay,” Ellie mumbled from the kitchen, the word coming out more like an exhale than actual speech.

You heard the rustling of plastic bags and cabinet doors creaking open and closed as she scrambled to collect supplies—Red Vines and Twizzlers, both, because she hadn’t known which ones you liked better, and a half-eaten bag of sour cream & onion chips. Two cans of generic soda from a bodega run earlier in the day.

She was trying to act casual, but every move she made was just a little too loud, like her nerves were shaking through her limbs.

When she finally emerged from the kitchen, her arms were overflowing, and she had to pause to awkwardly nudge the light switch off with her elbow.

“Okay, so, uh… snack options,” she said, holding the bags up like a nervous magician revealing her final trick. “They’re kinda random, but… I panicked. I just grabbed what looked vaguely edible.”

You grinned, scooting over to give her room.

Ellie dumped the snacks onto the coffee table and sat down next to you, movements stiff, careful. She leaned forward, cracking open a can with too much force, then immediately winding at the hiss like she had startled herself.

“So,” she said, still not quite looking at you, “the movie’s called Night of the Undead Teenagers—it’s terrible, but, like… intentionally terrible. It’s got this ridiculous synth soundtrack and every line sounds like it was written by a sleep-deprived college student. Which… might be why I love it.”

You chuckled softly, already feeling the warmth of the couch pressing both of you closer together than you expected.

Ellie noticed it too—the way her thigh barely touched yours, the way the couch didn’t offer much personal space unless one of you leaned all the way into the armrest, which neither of you did, obviously.

She picked up the remote and hesitated before hitting play, sneaking a glance at you like she was trying to memorize your expression before the lights dimmed from the TV’s glow.

“You sure this is cool?” she asked, almost whispering. “Just… hanging out like… this?”

You looked at her, close enough now to notice the way her freckles shifted when she flushed red, the way she was trying so hard not to let her knee bump against yours again.

“Ellie,” you said softly. “Yes, I’m sure.”

She let out a breath, nodded, then finally pressed play.

As the terrible synth music filled the room and the movie’s clunky opening credits rolled, Ellie settled back into the couch beside you, eyes on the screen—but her mind clearly somewhere else.

Halfway through Night of the Undead Teenagers, the screen was bathed in fake blood and neon greens, some guy in a leather vest dramatically shouting about “the power of eternal angst” before getting eaten offscreen by what was clearly two people under a bedsheet.

You and Ellie both snorted.

“This is so bad,” you whispered, your cheek practically against her shoulder now.

“I know,” she whispered back, trying not to smile too wide. “It’s perfect.”

At some point—neither of you knew when—Ellie’s arm had slipped behind your head. It had started as a cheesy imitation of what a character in the movie did twenty minutes in, one of those exaggerated “yawn-and-stretch” moments that Ellie had ironically copied with a smug, joking grin.

But the thing was… she never moved it back.

And you hadn’t minded it, not one bit.

Now her fingers gently rested near your neck, thumb occasionally brushing against the edge of your hoodie. It wasn’t bold, but it wasn’t nothing either.

You leaned into her more with each scene, and she hadn’t shifted away. If anything, she shifted closer.

The bowl of snacks sat mostly untouched now, save for the near-empty pack of Twizzlers clutched in Ellie’s lap like some kind of sugar-laced emotional support item.

She tugged one out lazily, chewed off half, then held the other end up in your direction with a casual glance.

You arched a brow, amused.

“Sharing is caring,” she murmured, eyes still on the screen like she wasn’t holding her breath.

You leaned in and bit the other half without a word, letting your eyes linger on hers just a little longer than necessary before settling back against her shoulder.

Neither of you said anything after that, you didn’t have to.

The movie carried on, the plot unraveling into some bizarre high school ritual involving eyeliner, ancient texts, and zombie prom queens—but it all faded into background noise.

What mattered was the way you fit into her side.

The way Ellie’s breathing had slowed, steady and soft near your ear.

The way your fingers lightly brushed her thigh without either of you flinching away.

+

The credits rolled in dramatic red letters, backed by a final synth scream and a slow pan over what was clearly a mannequin head meant to be the villain. A single, off-key guitar chord echoed—and then silence.

You and Ellie burst out laughing.

“Oh my god,” you wheezed, half-curled into her lap now, hand pressed over your face. “That was so bad.”

“I told you!” Ellie said, breathless, shoulders shaking under you. “They reused the same explosion shot three times.”

“They didn’t even try to hide it,” you gasped. “The main guy was still in frame.”

Ellie tipped her head back against the couch, full-on grinning. “That was cinema.”

You were basically tangled in her now, limbs overlapping somewhere between cuddling and a pile-up.

The couch barely had room for it, but neither of you made a move to shift away.

You could feel her heartbeat under your hand where it rested against her chest, her hoodie smelled like something clean and faintly like bleach—probably the shop.

Most of the snacks had been demolished. Ellie had absolutely hoarded the Twizzlers, breaking them in half to hand you pieces without even asking, like it was a ritual you both understood.

The chips were nearly gone too, save for a few crumbs, and two empty soda cans sat on the coffee table beside a half-squashed Red Vine packet.

Your laughter started to fade into softer giggles, eyes still on her face.

She looked down at you, cheeks pink, lips slightly parted from smiling so hard. “Okay,” she said, still catching her breath, “but seriously. When the zombie ripped off his own face just to kiss his ex? That was art.”

You snorted, tucking your head slightly against her shoulder. “He was committed to the bit. I respect that.”

You looked up at her, and this time the laughter slipped into something quieter—gentler.

Ellie was already looking back..

You were still smiling—barely—but it wasn’t about the movie anymore.

The screen had long since dimmed to its idle menu, casting flickering blue light across Ellie’s face. She looked different like this—softer, like all the guarded edges she’d carried were slowly melting under the weight of the moment.

Neither of you said a word.

You shifted just slightly, and her hand at your waist moved with you, instinctively anchoring you closer.

Her thumb brushed over the fabric of your hoodie, and you felt it—how close you really were, how close you wanted to be.

Your eyes dropped to her lips, just for a second.

Ellie noticed.

Her breath hitched, almost imperceptibly, and she leaned in—just an inch, maybe less.

You mirrored her without thinking. A slow, subconscious gravitation, like you were both afraid of pushing too fast, but more afraid of pulling away.

Your foreheads were nearly touching now, the air between you thick with hesitation and want.

She whispered something—your name, maybe—but it got lost in the space between your mouths.

Then you kissed her.

It wasn’t perfect, not in the storybook way.

You were half-curled into her, the angle weird, her nose bumping slightly into yours, but it didn’t matter.

Her lips were soft and a little chapped, and the moment your mouth pressed to hers, something in your chest went still.

She kissed you back immediately, shy at first—then more sure, more Ellie, with the way her hand slid up your back and held you just a little tighter.

It was a small kiss, barely more than a press of lips, but the way she leaned into it made it feel like the world had tipped over.

You pulled apart just slightly, noses brushing, and she let out a breath against your cheek like she’d been holding it in forever.

“Was that—”

You nodded, voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah, it was.”

Ellie blinked, stunned quiet, then laughed once—small and breathless.

“Cool,” she murmured, eyes falling back to your lips for half a second. “Good. Just…checking.”

The quiet hung between you again, but it wasn’t awkward now—it was charged.

Tense in a way that pulled at your skin, pulled at her fingers still gripping your waist like she didn’t know how to let go.

You both tried to play it cool.

You leaned your head against her shoulder like it was just casual. She exhaled a shaky breath like maybe that first kiss hadn’t just wrecked her entire ability to think.

But then her hand slid up your back, slow and warm and deliberate, and you shifted—just a little—to meet her eyes again.

Ellie looked at you like she was caught between trying to hold herself back and giving in completely.

“Okay,” she muttered, half to herself. “Fuck it.”

She kissed you again—no hesitation this time. Just heat.

You barely had time to react before her lips were on yours, firmer, needier.

She groaned softly into your mouth, her fingers tightening at your waist as she pulled you upward, drawing you further over her.

You moved without thinking, letting her guide you, your knees sliding across the couch as your body pressed closer to hers.

This kiss wasn’t awkward. It was desperate, focused.

All the tension that had simmered between texts and shared glances and whispered laughter were now pouring out between your mouths.

You could hear it—the soft, wet sounds of your lips meeting, parting, meeting again—sharp against the quiet hum of the TV menu behind you.

Ellie tilted her head, deepening the kiss, her breath hitching as she pulled you even closer.

You gasped into her, and she drank it in, her hand sliding up your back to cradle the base of your neck.

When you finally pulled apart, breathless, your chest rising and falling against hers, Ellie’s lips already bruising—flushed red and slightly swollen.

She stared up at you, dazed, thumb still grazing your side like she wasn’t ready to let go, not even close.

Then she leaned in again—no pause, no words—and kissed you hard, like this time, she needed to remind herself it was real.

+

Morning came slowly, bleeding soft light through the cracks in Ellie’s blinds, warming the corners of her small bedroom.

The world outside muted, far away, like the city had agreed to sleep in too.

You were wrapped in one of her oversized shirts—something faded and threadbare, with a logo you couldn’t even read anymore. It hung off your shoulder just enough to feel deliberate, the scent of her still clinging faintly to the fabric.

You laid curled beside her, your legs tangled with hers under the blanket, and your forehead nearly brushing hers.

Ellie’s arm was tucked beneath your head, her other hand lazily stroking through your hair, fingers warm and slow against your scalp.

Every so often, she’d scratch gently near the base of your neck, and it made you want to melt right into her.

Neither of you had said much yet, you didn’t need to.

You shifted slightly, nudging your nose against her cheek. “You snore,” you mumbled, voice low and thick with sleep.

Ellie cracked one eye open, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “That’s slander,” she whispered.

“You absolutely do.”

“You were literally drooling.”

You gasped, mock-offended. “I was cozy, there's a difference.”

She chuckled, a lazy sound deep in her throat, and her hand moved up to gently comb through your hair again. “You looked cute, like a passed-out cat in my shirt.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the grin tugging at your lips. “You’re only saying that ‘cause I’m in your bed.”

Ellie raised a brow, still half-asleep. “And yet… not denying it.”

You buried your face into the crook of her neck, laughing softly. “God, you’re annoying.”

Her hand cradled the back of your head, thumb grazing slow circles at your nape. “Yeah,” she whispered. “But you’re still here.”

You didn’t reply to that—not because you didn’t have anything to say, but because the truth of it settled in too easily between you.

You were still there.

And neither of you were in a rush to move.

So instead, you let the morning stretch on, your fingers lightly tracing patterns against her chest, her hand never leaving your hair.

Just breathing, curled into each other, letting the quiet speak for what words couldn’t quite hold yet.

+

The hum of Ellie’s old car idled beneath you as she pulled up in front of your apartment building, tires crunching slightly over the curb.

Morning sunlight poured through the windshield, catching in the dust on the dashboard and the tiny charm hanging from her rearview mirror—some cracked little keychain you didn’t remember noticing the night before.

Ellie shifted into park and glanced sideways at you, her hand still resting on the gear shift. She looked more awake now, hair pulled up messily, hoodie sleeves shoved halfway up her forearms.

But her eyes… they were softer.

Like something had settled in her overnight.

You opened the passenger door but didn’t move to get out just yet. “I think I’ve got everything,” you said, checking your tote in your lap. “Phone, keys, dignity…”

Ellie laughed under her breath, but didn’t say anything right away. She leaned slightly across the console, one hand brushing your arm.

Her fingers curled gently under your chin, tilting your face towards hers like she couldn’t stop herself.

“Wait,” she murmured, and then she kissed you.

It wasn’t shy, or rushed.

Just slow and sure, like she needed one more moment of you before she let you go.

Her lips moved against yours with a quiet kind of hunger, deepening the kiss just enough to steal your breath.

A low hum of pleasure slipped from her throat—quiet but unguarded—and it made your heart stutter in your chest.

When she pulled back, your eyes met again, dazed and grinning.

And then, almost as an afterthought, she leaned in one last time and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek—sweet and warm like punctuation.

“Bye, baby. See you later,” Ellie said casually, voice low and a little rough.

It took half a second for both of you to realize what she’d just said.

You blinked.

Her eyes widened a fraction.

And then—you both laughed.

It wasn’t nervous, or awkward.

Just this giddy, breathless kind of laughter that filled the cab of the car like sunlight.

Ellie rubbed the back of her neck, shaking her head with a crooked smile. “I mean… yeah. I guess I said that.”

“I noticed,” you teased, already stepping out with a dumb smile you couldn’t hide if you tried.

She leaned over the console again, resting her chin on her arm. “Text me when you’re inside, yeah?”

“Always.”

You shut the door, gave her one last look through the open window, and waved as you walked towards your building.

She waited until you disappeared behind the glass doors, before pulling away from the curb, her car grumbling quietly as it rolled down the street.

Author's note: hey.....How y'all doing! As promised, chapter one is here😛I did not proofread this... Mainly because I'm lazy and just transferring it from my google docs.. So I hope you enjoyed it😭chapter two next week.... trust me you guys!! Lmk what you think in the comments!!

TAGLIST: @mayfldss @sewithinsouls @wwefan2002 @persymons

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANNA BE TAGGED IN THE FUTURE...

[willlic]

First piece of digital art I have ever done, finished. I started a brook Pic ages ago, realized I was being too literal with color, and too obsessed with textures and perfection. It's so weird trying out digital art. With traditional art, if you fuck up you can't really fix it. But because you *can* fix it in digital art, it takes me way longer because it's so easy to get obsessed with fine-tuning things. I realized that's what was happening with the brook one I started months ago, so I stopped and followed advice from other artists. I needed to practice limiting my color palette, making it a bit more fun by practicing some color theory, and being okay with messiness and minimalism. I decided the best way to do this was framing it in my head as trying out another style, so I wanted to try out a style similar to the jet set radio promotional art from the early 2000s. Messy linework, weird warping and perspective, interesting color schemes, with no additional texture. It was a lot of fun, even though I deleted whole layers repeatedly. I wanted to practice those skills rather than aim for a specific perfect outcome. I think I might do more egghead fan art, it's just so cool, and really gives heavy jet set radio vibes to me.

[hplonesomeart]

Here’s an short unsuccessful test I did today; attempting to create an animation in a program I quite literally have ZERO experience with using ahaha :’)

Storytime/long ramble (unimportant):

I wanted to be like the “cool kids” and shift out of my comfort zone—no more relying solely on FlipaClip! Gotta branch out to a more effective program (ideally one that has an interface resembling animation software used directly in industry work)! I’ve seen people make good use of AlightMotion and figured it’s worth a shot!….that goal quickly fell apart <<

There’s definitely a wide variety of tools and especially emphasis on built-in editing features. I was intimidated by the sheer amount of mechanics going on at first, but gradually you get used to navigating stuff (even if some stuff I’m still trying to figure out the purpose of lmao). The only issue is that (to me at least) AlightMotion seems to handle tweening better then frame-by-frame animation. Which immediately lands me in a predicament of sorts since uh…can’t say I’m good at tweening. That would require me to actually finish coloring characters/have the ability to polish things using clean linework :P

Tweening (from my perspective) is about making something visually appealing by rigging separated assets of characters (like you would for puppets) rather then the whole. Or alternatively, some people tween by slightly moving the same drawn lines around on a singular drawing…so TLDR the exact opposite of frame-by-frame. I’m not an illustrator, I’m a storyteller. I can only manage rough line work with uncolored motions. Usually the smooth flow of frame-by saves me, else it would all look rather unfinished. I know where my strengths and my weaknesses lie; I’ve given AlightMotion a shot, but unfortunately it’s not gonna be solving the FlipaClip replacement problem 🥲

Was still beneficial challenging myself to play around with an unfamiliar environment! It’s a step in the right direction to encourage myself to try different things/figure out what works or doesn’t. If my patience didn’t wear thin, I’m sure I could’ve attempted authentic tweening instead of trying to push the program to work with frame-by-frame (it kept crashing, lagging, and pixelating while I tried to force it to comply with my methods. Think it’s safe to assume it doesn’t like me fighting against tweening lol). Who knows! Might return to AlightMotion in the future or might not. Depends on how adventurous or up for a challenge I’m feeling :3

Also goes without saying that online video tutorials would have probably helped—I’m just stubborn & prefer taking hands on approach sometimes. Learning any new program is gonna be overwhelming and scary at first, it is normal! I don’t think anything bad about AlightMotion. Just not for me at the moment. Was fun to play with while it lasted

[rorydrawsandwrites]

StrawPage Number Whateverthefuck

Okay it's fine guys I returned to my inbox-

PYRAMID STEVE!!!!

Sorry I post this so late after his popularity boom. But I loved it. All the cool kids love Pyramid Steve

A devious little face watches faintly from the canvas

Me when. Me when the the week ends and it's Monday again

It's okayyy (funny how she could be saying that too. but you both do your best and I apprecite it <3)

THAT'S SO PRETTY AND CUTE alicornze is that you. Love the framing and the lil roses she's so precious. What's that ugly bug in the corner tho /lh

:) :3

Jax's teacher...? Hm. What would she teach him

(Reminds me of something funny in high school... we had a teacher for a while who was young as hell, like, had to have been fresh out of university himself. It felt so weird)

Awh tradgedie mask... Please do not give Gangle teeth

MY BEAUTIFUL GORGEOUS SPECTACULAR CRITMIT GIFT FROM @penappal- damn these were old...

Okay so first off I LOVE RECEIVING FANART FOR MY SMALLER AUS?? wee <3 peace and love on the planet Earth

These look so grislyyy love the gritty linework it fits so well. All of the blorbos are so very stable in this one indeed (hey, being at rock bottom for an extended period of time IS stability)

All of the Jaxes look high on some kind of crack I love them. Does Hedonism City have a lighter. He's about to set Remains on fire

Also it's okay I don't draw the fourth one much (but if you were curious):

This bitch ^ (also it's Digital Inertia now. because indecisionnn)

THIS ARTSTYLE LOOKS SO FLUFFY AND CUTESY??? AWEHH in fact it seems slightly familiar... hmm hmm... do I recognize you 👀

(No worries, the slight shakiness adds to it imo)

What's wrong buddy :(

DOEYYY thank you for the he. Puts him in my pocket

[wannabe-cartoonist-blog]

Jabberwock Redesigns + Headcanons (pictures incld. read description)

Thought it'd be fun to redesign/edit pics of Jabberwock from knb, bc I've never really liked their designs (for various reasons).

This is a looooong post, so it's going below a cut, but I hope you enjoy!

Prefacing with these are just my opinions/headcanons.

One of my main issues with Last Game has always been the change in animation style. Characters' hair seems flatter, their eyes smaller, their frames lankier, they also seem much older than they actually are due to an abundance of fine linework. Another thing that always bugged me was Jabberwock. Besides from having only really 2 characters of note (Nash and Jason) their designs were just so....jarring. It didn't feel like these were characters who existed in the world of knb. So I've always wanted to try to redesign them. These are less redesigns, and more like headcanons + edits. I feel like I would draw them (namely Nick, Allen, and Zach) differently if I had the chance (to make them more distinct). But that is a job for another day. A post over on the other subreddit got me thinking harder about my Jabberwock headcanons, and I've always wanted to try to "fix" what I found wrong with their designs, so that's what this post is inspired by. I namely wanted to make it look like you could find these designs for Jabberwock in the anime TV series and not find them aesthetically out of place.

Before I get into my redesigns + explanations, I want to go over something very quickly.

Names in KnB

Canonically, every group/team/character in KnB is given a name with significance by the creator, Fujimaki-sensei. It's one of my most favorite things about knb; how much thought goes into a simple name. A character's first/given name in knb signifies their character traits (Ryouta means "cool boy", Shintaro means "serious son/boy", Atsushi means "serene", etc). A character's last/family name groups them together with their teammates with some sort of theme (the Miracles have colors in their family/lastnames, Kaijo's are names of Japanese rivers, Shutoku's are names of Japanese mountains, etc). Jabberwock's theme for last/family names is precious metals (as assigned by Fujimaki). Of the five significant/named characters in Jabberwock, only two of them have both a first/given and last/family name (Nash Gold Jr and Jason Silver). "Gold" and "silver" being the two precious metals represented by each character. The rest of Jabberwock doesn't have last/family names, and their first/given names are the reference to the precious metal (Allen; aluminum, Nick; nickel, Zach; zinc). So, you can see why this bothers me (bc I'm insane); only two characters match the rest of the knb's cast's pattern of naming. So, a major change I'd make would be to assign lastnames to/rename Allen, Nick, and Zach. But even then, Nash and Jason's last/given names are outliers too, as their names are simply the name of the previous metals by themselves. I've always seen Jabberwock as mirrors to the GoM, and the GoM's last/family names not only have the name of a color in them, but also another word, so their names aren't simply the name of a color on it's own (for example, Kuroko is "kuro" [black] + "ko" [child] and not just simply "Kuro" [Black]). So, if I had control, I would also modify Nash and Jason's last/family names so they weren't simply just the name of the previous metal on it's own. The GoM also have hair + eye colors that are reflective of the color in their names (besides Kuroko, who's color is "black", yet is assigned light blue). So, I would also recolor Jabberwock to have hair + eyecolors that match the colors of the precious metals in their names.

So, here are the main points to keep in mind as you read through this post and look at my redesigns:

- I want Jabberwock to look like they would fit into the anime TV series' style

- I would re-name them so they all fit a theme + pattern established by the main series/Fujimaki

- I would recolor their hair + eyes to reflect the colors of the precious metals alluded to in their names

Okay, now here we go.

Nash Goldbourne Jr.

I feel like Nash would have a name that sounds pretty distinguished, and is perhaps from a well-regarded family, but is sort of the wayward son. So, "goldbourne" seems sort of thematic to me (aka, it means to me "born-into-wealth"). I would also give him darker hair, that is more golden and less flaxen. His eyes are green canonically, but again, I want all of Jabberwock's hair and eye colors to match their precious metals, so I'd change those to gold too. I also feel like his Belial Eye would look extra cool all golden (and would serve as a good mirror to Akashi's golden Emperor Eye). He is also the only character in all of knb to have eyelashes the same color as his hair?? So I would take that away and make 'em black, like everyone else. Nash's OG design just looks too much like Alex (light blonde hair, green eyes) to me. (Alex also has black eyelashes despite being white, just as Nash, so it's not like it's a stylistic choice assigned to all caucasian characters). Jabberwock has a lot of piercings, so I thought it'd be fun if all their piercings were made of the precious metal in their names, so I changed Nash's silver piercings to gold. He still looks a little like Kise, but that was the case for his OG design anyway sooo. -shrug-

Jason Silverton

So. Elephant in the room; anime is notoriously bad at designing characters' of African descent. In specific, I've noticed over the years that a lot of anime artists love to give African characters beady eyes, despite the fact that every other characters' eyes are exaggerated/accentuated. They also love to add a lot of fine linework, which, imo, creates the illusion of wrinkles, which can cause characters to look significantly older than they actually are. Fujimaki/knb is no exception. Jabberwock's members are all in their late teens-early 20s (at most). So, basically, you'll notice a major thing I did for all of Jabberwock's members (that I personally think improved their designs significantly) was simply enlarge their eyes and irises + remove some of their wrinkles. Canon Jason's hair is also very white to me, and doesn't really convey "silver" imo. I don't think I executed it that well, but I think it would be fun if Jason had that same duo-toned hair that Kagami and Aomine had. I think it would be a fun way to allude to the reflective/shiny nature of actual silver. I don't really have a fun explanation behind "Silverton" like I do for Nash's lastname, other than I think it sounds nice and that something, somewhere in the far recesses of my mind is telling me that some sort of irl athlete has the last name Silverton...? Someone lmk is I'm crazy or not.

Nicholas "Nick" Nickells

His OG design wasn't so bad, but he suffered from small eyes + excessive wrinkles like everyone else, so I adjusted those to help make him look younger. If I had full control, I'd probably make his hair sliiightly longer, so that Nick's hair less resembles Jason's hair and also makes it so Nash doesn't stand out too much as the only character with longer hair (I think it'd help make him look more youthful too). Also, I had no issue with his OG hair color, but since I wanted to keep him on theme with everybody else, I changed his hair color to resemble the hue of actual nickel a little more (and his piercings!). Canonically, he is only known as "Nick", and since I decided to give all the lastname-less Jabberwock characters lastnames, I thought "Nick Nick____" would sound very cheesy. And since nicknames are a big thing in the US, I thought it'd be fun that what if his firstname was actually "Nicholas", and all his boys simply dubbed him "Nick" based on his lastname/nickname for his given name?

Zach Bronsley

First things first: I gave him less wrinkles, bigger eyes + irises. Now we are truly entering my "I'm doing whatever I want" portion of this post lol. Canonically, "Zach" is suppose to alluded to "zinc" but it doesn't convey that like at all to me. Zinc is also grey-ish and we've got too many elements that color already imo. Plus, we have gold and silver, why not have a bronze, to truly round out the Olympic medals? (lol). So, since I changed his precious metal to "bronze", I recolored his eyes, eyebrows, and 'stache (to a lesser extent) to be more bronze-y. Plus, piercings are now made of bronze!

Allen Copperty

Last but not least, we have our camera-shy Allen. Seriously, it was so hard to get a decent pic of him (and even then, Nick is still in this frame, I just cropped him out lol). Again; bigger eyes + irises, less wrinkles. His canon element is also aluminum, and just like with "Zack" + "zinc", I don't get "Allen" from "aluminum" at all (plus it's also another grey-ish metal grrrr!!). So, I decided to change his precious metal too. Copper is a very iconic precious metal to me so it came to mind/seemed fitting. Also, if we have nickel, it only seemed right to have copper. So I changed his hair and eye color to a more orangey/coppery brown. And his jewlery, but probably not made of actual copper, bc that shit would turn green so fast lol. I also think it'd be quite fun if he had medium-length dreads or something (akin to Meguro's, but with Allen's sweatband pushing them back, plus perhaps copper-toned tips?; it'd also help make him look more youthful). But I wouldn't have been able to edit that well, so just accept this for now.

And that's that!

If you read all the way to the end, thank you! Again, this is just for fun and I don't mean to upset anybody. These are just choices/changes that I personally would make, hypothetically. Lmk what you think!

[teethmeats]

Omg! Your comic is super good! So I was wondering, what's your favorite part of the comic making process?

(Ps. Have a good night/day :D)

Aw tysm ;-; my fav part is probably framing each panel! I really like for it to feel cinematic so I kind of like treating each panel like a shot of a movie, it makes it really fun. I also love scripting and doing linework so I like most all of it, it’s like my favorite way to make art I just think comics are so cool.

Least fav part is coloring bc by that point my hand hurts a lot usually lol.

Thank you sm, this comic is my lil passion project so it makes me so happy when other people tell me how much they appreciate it too ♡

[cali]

what's your opinion on birds?

probably my favorite larger group of animals, like theres more specific smaller types that i like more but its hard to find a bird to dislike so their median is rlly high. i love feathers and ive been picking them up since i was a kid and being told by bad vibe individuals that i shouldnt pick them up or ill get sick...mmmm. this is my feather cabinet i posted it before here once one sec here

and i have a lot of feathers on my big picture wall too cuz they look so nice their plumage qualities work well on me.

i also got some bird pics on there, first one i think highlights their windmage aspects nice. - that super air maneuverability. im always tryna move thru my appartment like bird flying thru hoops. i rlly like thos pics of 50 concurrent frames of bird path spliced together. i always save those in my picture folder of stuff with rlly intent-imbued linework, like when the amount of brainpower used to make a nice curve or swoop bleeds thru the pic.

second one is just about such pleasant streamlined form. a cow is cool but it gets like 0 points in the sleekness category . hawk gets a 100

[boygirlctommy]

SO. deep breath. FOR YOUR ANIMATIC RIGHT I LOVE IT SOSOSOSO MUCH IF YOU COULDNT TELL. FIRST OF ALL THE SONG CHOICE? 10/10 IM A HUGE WILL WOOD FAN I NEVER EVEN. THOUGHT ABOUT HOW MUCH THIS SONG IS CWILBUR BUT YOUR SO. YOUR SO RIGHT. im turning off all caps this is getting annoying imagine it with the same excitement though.

i love the way? you did the animation? if that makes sense. like the wiggly lines and such. it fits the whole Vibe where nothing really stops moving right. even with the like. background shots its never still and i love that.

the color choices too. i feel like most really impactful art (at least in this fandom) for me either uses very little color variety or a lot of color variety. obviously there isnt a lot of color in the animatic but i feel like that makes it more impactful as i said. especially with how the color changes in different- like, eras? in the beginning of the video, the lmanburg era, the blue fits very well imo. like the color of their suits is blue, it probably stands out most for me in the flag even. its just the color i think of when i think of lmanburg. and then when it switches to pogtopia, its red. Again, similar things to say, red is the color i think of when i think of pogtopia. other than brown i guess. and then the yellow at the end. like yeah this is still pogtopia technically but i feel like the color switch is very important. yellow is the brightest color used which is like. its fitting. fitting of his death- the flashy explosion, the theatrical way he went. and then the white in limbo. its only one scene but still. limbo is, well, a limbo. its bare its uninteresting its suffocating in it's blandness. even if c!wilburs limbo isn't particularly bland, if someones in the same place for 13 years straight its gonna get boring. and i think the use of only black and white shows this perfectly. AND THEN THE END. AUGH. when he's revived it switches from the bland white and black to using all the colors shown so far. which is, albeit, only five including white and black. but still my point stands; it's a great contrast.

NO im not done. back to the linework. i love how in each scene that features a character the lines like. emanate? i guess? from them. specifically in cwilburs case. in the beginning of the video the lines are straight and he's facing forwards. great cool yeah. BUT. when it switches to pogtopia the lines are squiggly and while there are some straight lines they are sporadic and a lot arent coming directly from or to him. ESPECIALLY when pared with the way you redrew each frame it just shows his increased mental instability visually very well. also he's facing away from the viewer instead of towards them which is a really nice touch im just struggling to explain why in words. and then in the first yellow scene after he blew everything up the lines while still sporadic, are a lot straighter and less squiggly. (and only coming from him, the center of everyones attention) while he's still Very mentally unstable, he's just as confident as he was during lmanburg. and in the end when hes revived there isnt any lines like there was before. it gives the same contrasting vibe that the color does. like waking up from a dream, if that makes sense

some other things i noticed. um. the fish in the river in the beginning. really liked that one. gave me a good chuckle after the 10th-15th watch when i noticed it. the transition from the burning flag to pogtopia is really nice. just all the transitions are great actually. and the timing with the lyrics is amazing. also eyebags thumbs up emoji. OH and when cwilbur is revived at the end thats the first time we see his eyes and i like that one.

theres probably more i could talk about if i thought about it for longer but i dont want to keep you here forever. sorry if im the curtains are blue-ing this but take it as a compliment if i am. okay byeeee

SCREAMS OH MY GOD. THANK YOU SOOOO MUCH!!!! im so glad you picked up on the color stuff omg i wasnt sure anyone would outside of it just being the lmanberg flag colors!!! i wrote a whole poem a few years back about red yellow and blue and how they relate to cwil! yeah the blue in lmanberg is based on the suits, and also that one line ghostbur had about lmanbur crying himself to sleep every night! and red for pogtopia is from tnt and the phrase "seeing red"! yellow was originally revival, supposed to represent the sunrise and like a new beginning, but it worked better here as nov 16th, as more of a final blast of light that burns itself into your retinas.

and :DDD SMILESSS im so glad you like the lines!!! i spent so long messing w different patterns and line weights for it, and im pretty happy w how it turned out :D

also soo glad u picked up on revivebur being the only time we see his eyes/ when hes in full color/ no lines around him!! to me at least his revival was like. picking up the different pieces of himself and reconciling them. realizing that every part of him IS still a part of him, always will be, and hes gotta figure out the way forward.

smiles!!!! tysm this ask absolutely made my day omg <333

[reginalusus]

Hey! Idk what gif making program you are using but if you are sussing something that lets you select “keep frame” Vs “discard frame” you can put the background in only the first frame and have the next frames only include the moving parts on transparent background- it really cuts down file size. It also changes the look though, you’ve been making this very cool aesthetic. The background won’t “jump around/flicker” anymore if you do this. Anyway I hope this wasn’t obnoxious and can help, just one of many gif file size reduction tips among many from someone who used to spend hours making HxH gif sets for this website hahahha

Well, I draw everything on Procreate and use CapCut to edit, then I just use EZGIF or whatever it's called to convert and compress because it's just the best of the converters I have used.

I deliberately use noise though, I kind of like when the BG flickers a little. It's not really so much I don't want things moving? The issue is that, when I compress, it erases linework, therefore making everything look slightly blurred, but it makes it look 'older' IG, so whatever. I guess it's kind of a win-lose. That's not really what I care about though. It's the fact that fucking Tumblr always has issues with me uploading anything that is over 10MB in size. I might be crazy, but that is what I have noticed. And it's not just with GIFs either: I've noticed it with normal drawings too. Perhaps this is their revenge on me because I use the Brave browser?

Oh, well. It's not too bothersome. It just pisses me off when it results in it not showing in tags or on the dash. I actually reached out to Tumblr staff about a video I posted a while back and asked them why it just wasn't showing up anywhere, they just said that a lot of people have this issue and they don't know why. Helpful!

Thanks anyway, I'll keep this in mind.

[battaliaart]

Colouring Done - Seeing Red 6 Update 3

I just remembered I also have to highlight this thing. Blahhhhhhh :,)

Since calling the lineart done I've made a large amount of tweaks to it, notably adding a couple extra frames to the final ease, moving one frame up and left quite a bit, and other tweaks I don't remember. I also had to separate the wings and the body into layers because that black on black would've otherwise been bad

Doing this was arguably more obnoxious than the lineart, there's so many separate colour bodies and so much precise colour linework that's just tedious to work with. I think it came out pretty darn cool though. Again the more I look at it the worse it gets but that's probably just me.

At least I learned that CSP can do responsive outlines which is pretty boss and worked real well for workshopping the layers of this

[frogsandfries]

I already showed you guys the front, but I finally got this thing all glued together, and I even sealed the back with a couple thin layers of mod podge. Obviously, with it drying clear, you can't even tell.

I also got the bed frame put together. Not really sure why, since I still don't have a mattress and we're going on a month in the new place. Oh right, I remember. I'm trying to move past it, so I'm not even going to talk about it.

Anyway.

I'm gonna leave this over night and UV seal the front tomorrow. I'm going to try really, really hard to let the whole thing set for about twenty-four hours before hanging it up.

And now, I can finally turn my attention to this diamond painting. I'm also going to make a couple more of these candy box books and finally begin to return my attention to my graphic novel.

Speaking of my graphic novel, I think I've mentioned--it obviously hasn't been a big deal for a while, given what all I've been facing and dealing with, but digitally coloring my graphic novel hasn't been fun. I don't feel connected to it, which is why I haven't updated the graphic novel for......I don't remember how long. I'm still working on it--increasingly so, again. Not as hard or fast as I'd like, but again, life.

I'm not really positive what to do instead of coloring it digitally. What if I clean up and print off all of my lineworks, like I go all the way back to the beginning and start completely over, and I hate that method too? What am I supposed to do? What do I want?

I don't know.

I like the look of gouache. I love the really graphic look, but from a traditional medium. But for a graphic novel??

I like working with colored pencil. One of the things I've been missing in digital art is layering and essentially mixing my own colors--taking a blue that's maybe too cool and warming it up slightly or a red that's too purple and mitigating that purple. I wouldn't even know how to do that in digital. I've just never really gotten comfortable working digitally......

[rileyclaw]

Your last post about your animatic process was super interesting to read! I've always wanted to get into animatics but they become super intimidating to me once I finish thumbnailing. Do you have any tips on ways to keep from getting overwhelmed with big animatic projects?

Also, how do you decide how many frames a moment needs? Do you just start out with stills and then see what feels stale or is that something you figure out in the planning stages? Sorry for all the questions haha, love your work!

Im glad the post was informative!! and dont worry I love fielding questions like this !!

I'm sorry to say that there really is no big secret or anything about getting to the finish line on an animatic but making sure you keep going. If it's any comfort, if this is something you're doing for fun because you're interested in it and think it could be cool to make, there is no rush to the finish line! It's daunting, but there's no race. and think of how cool it'd be to see it to completion

For me personally, making sure I keep toiling away on it even if it's just refining half a shot per day is a big thing because I'm someone who'll forget his keys are if they are not in my direct line of sight (they are in my back pocket )

I've always had a pretty good grasp of timing (aurghhh 12 animation principles . explodes ) for animation so the framecount always comes naturally to me. I usually determine those timings during a cleaned up sketch stage, or even at the linework stage itself if I feel confident enough in the shot's comp.

I generally do begin with just one panel to span a whole section, then break it down based on 'beats' in audio (or dialogue captions). I like to frame animations based on accents in audio - change the drawing on an aural beat and I find it makes the animation more appealing that way!! (And if you're drawing with OR without audio, I often act it out in real time and get video reference of it, and see how I naturally move and if my timing matches up with that.) Sometimes the original plan changes, too, so don't be afraid to remove or add more frames if you feel like it may be better that way!

[dailysandersidesaudoodles]

Ways to comment on creator's works if you're too shy to comment:

emoji ! You Don't have to formulate sentences while still conveying your opinions and feelings!

one word comments - Cool, awesome, mysterious, so elegant, ............. even short commentary is very treasured by content creators!

Just naming one detail of the content - that linework, the cool simile of that one sentence, the transition between those frames.....

keysmashes! Just.... keysmashes. They can say so much while saying nothing, true poetry

Sending a anonymous askfor a certain work! (tumblr only) - protects your identity while still interacting with your fav creator!

Feel free to add on!

[eeyes]

the more we obsess over "AI art looks better cuz its more polished" and copying "better" artists' artstyles the more this happens imo, "bad" art will be more full of creativity.. bc its more about the process and enjoyment, it looks more full of life

this happens to me a lot honestly bc i have to sell my art or get views, and it looks and feels stale. i make my best pieces when its OC stuff, or just cooling off doing truly inspired one-offs. i dont like to reference other artists anymore unless its something i find actually INSPIRING not just a money making tool, e.g. colour, form, anatomy, framing… (when i was growing up, i used to more heavily take inspiration from other peoples' styles, especially what was popular at the time, or just in general take reference of what was en vogue). im not a fan of riding fandom trends for this reason, although i do fandom stuff that actually inspires Me cuz that's still from the heart

all in all i highly agree… my art style has fallen apart these last few years and its the BEST thing for me. like i degrade my linework on purpose bc i want it to feel freeing to draw not constricting. struggled w/ it for some time bc id always put my pen to the canvas and obsess over perfection or "hows the audience gonna like it". well idgaf truly… and i dont publish a lot of it either!

i think it's a hard balance when you're highly competitive because you sell art to make money... it ends up looking stale bc you need to churn it out quickly and have an end product, so there's no time to render, thumbnail, or even think about what the image looks like before jumping into it. that can make it look lifeless. this goes both ways, on one hand an artist's gotta eat, but we also need to support artists who do original artwork, put effort into their pieces and don't just churn out full pieces every other day (dude, artist alley is COMPETITIVE AF), artists who don't trace/steal/only make AI art, and that kind of thing!

nothing sadder to me than when an online artist posts a side by side of the same picture from 5 years ago / redrawn this year, and the first one is fluid and energetic and full of character, and the second one is flat and static and clean to the point of sterility

[amygdalae]

tumblr keeps eating my comments so thats why this is an ask. that lighthouse painting is so fucking good. i think it's safe to say that im decently well regarded as a painter but some of the things that painting does is kind of aspirational.

i really love the edge design and the color scheme works really well. the orange of the sky compliments the blue landscape and the yellow of the lighthouse light compliments the purple of the figures.

the saturated color scheme is beautiful but the large swaths of blueish green give an eerie feeling and the oranges of the sky are overwhelming.

i do really love how its put together and the composition is nice. i havent seen the movie (and i probably wont i dont like scary or unnerving things much) but it is really a great piece of art in my eyes and i do think its an interesting take

:D thank you!!!! this means a lot coming from a painter as skilled as you and is also a really cool critique, painting is kind of a struggle for me (i tend to gravitate towards sharp edges fine detail and linework, so paints are often outside of my comfort zone) so this is nice to hear :) heres the original still that i used as a reference:

since the lighthouse is in sorta fuzzy black and white with a lot of stark framing and strong silhouettes i felt like itd be fun to use bold surreal colors to give it like. an equally bold look but like in a different way. idk. it was 2 years ago so i dont remember the entire process but anyways thank u again :^) im happy

[gryffindors-weasley]

Midnight Dances

Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Summary: Upon your first week settling into your estate as a newlywed couple, you share a moment alone.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: brief mention of alcohol, fluff, kissing

(aesthetic made by the lovely @heloisedaphnebrightmore )

It has been three days since your arrival at your new estate across England, and still, you have yet to see the entirety of its beauty. It was extraordinarily perfect in every way one could imagine, and impossibly grand for two newlyweds who spent most of their time in each other’s presence. In just three days time, you felt as though maybe you’d only seen just half of your newfound home, and you were determined to change that.

You huff out a quiet sigh as you stare up at the ceiling once more, not a single bit of fatigue as you lay awake. The same could not be said about Benedict as he lay tangled with you, soft snores puffing into your skin lightly. Nothing could get you to sleep; not the warmth of his skin on yours, not the late hour of the night, not the breeze seeping in through the open window, bringing with it the scent of flowers and fresh air. Any and all efforts to be swept into a blissful sleep were rapidly proving to be futile as the minutes passed.

With an exasperated sigh, you untangle yourself from him as carefully as you can manage, a smile gracing your lips as you watch his face nuzzle into the pillow. You slip on your night robe with a fond shake of your head, tying it closed before heading towards the door. You offer one last glance at your lover, at the grand details of your bedroom and the way the curtains fluttered under the breeze blowing against them. You slip out of the room and pull the door closed quietly, making your leave down the hall.

Your footsteps go unheard on the navy colored rug, not a single tassel out of place as they lined the entirety of the hall. Warm lighting illuminated the space in a dim glow, just enough to navigate but not enough to wake those trying to sleep. You were quite sure everyone in the vicinity had been asleep, everyone in the town even, everyone except for you.

The windows you pass by overlooked the gardens, perhaps the most brilliant and extravagant you’ve had the pleasure of seeing. It was hard to believe that it was yours. Finely manicured bushes were assembled in a meticulous pattern, almost maze like. And there were as many flowers as one could possibly imagine and then some, each different in color and type, each just as beautiful as the last. The blossoming trees were what had enchanted you the most, with the way their petals rain down in a flurry of pale pinks with just the slightest gust of wind.

You descended the marble staircase, your hand sliding down the smooth and cool stone railing as you made your way down the curving steps. It felt impossible to look at any one thing at a time, for everything was too glamorous and too wondrous to do so. Even down to the candles melted at varying heights as they sit in their rightful candelabras, ready to be lit again.

Shortly you arrive at the first landing, the familiar skylight coming into view as you continue walking down the stairs. The arched glass structure tucked amongst the lavish detailings on the ceiling lit up the first floor with a natural glow, the stars glimmering just beyond it. You found you liked it better at night than in the light of day.

You pass through familiar halls, ones you’ve frequented most often since arriving there but a few days ago. You passed familiar rooms such as the library, too grand and full of books for your own excited good. You passed the kitchen, still smelling of honey and cinnamon from that night’s dessert. It was the kind of scent that carried with it warmth and the feeling of being truly at home, regardless of the fact that this estate was still very new to you and most likely would be for a little while as you adjust.

With what seemed like a daunting amount of wandering through gorgeous hallways, each just as vacant as the last, you finally reach unfamiliar territory. Maybe you’d already been there, things tended to look quite similar when you were lost. The sound of ticking clocks had been apparent just about anywhere you’d been and anywhere you will go, as was the consistent artwork adorning every other wall in small glimpses of other worlds in depictions of nature. The only noticeable difference was the navy rugs had since changed to a soft lilac, fluffy golden tassels lining the perimeter.

With a few more steps, your brow raises at the sight of the unfamiliar double doors standing tall before you, adorned with intricately carved woodwork as gold sparkled on its surface. You have yet to see what was on the other side at all, and now you were taking full advantage of the opportunity to with your newfound time.

Upon pushing open the doors, you’re met with a sight so grand and enthralling you hadn’t quite expected to be presented with such beauty. Perhaps the most wondrous ballroom was contained within your very own home. It’s cream-colored walls were lined with carved framework at every edge and every corner, a metallic bronze detailing every curve and bit of linework lacing along its perimeters. Several paintings lined them, each encased in a carved and complex frame to house each nature scene captured within them. The far end of the large room held rather tall windows, nearly floor to ceiling, the very tops arched with a matching set of mirrors to adorn the walls between the glass structures. Not a single smudge was to be found.

Ruffles of silky cream curtains frame each window, pooling on the polished wood floors. Through those very windows, the moonlight had been streaming in so brightly it illuminated the room much like any candelabra could. It’s moonbeams reflected off the several chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, the myriad of crystals that dangle from each one casting little flecks of light on the floor and over your skin. The ceilings were made up of several sunken ovals, the same bronze detailing encircling each one. The murals inside had made you feel as though you were standing underneath the sky itself, and it was so meticulously painted you hadn’t known how many hours it must have taken. Surely far too many to wrap your head around. The ceiling in its entirety was so impossibly detailed and intricate you could give yourself a headache thinking of the effort put into creating it. It was delightfully busy.

Your eyes fall on a grand piano sat in the corner next, sleek and pristine with its ivory keys on display and waiting to be played. And the silky upholstered seats spaced out throughout the room. It was spacious, so vast you felt as though it could house all of England if they’d been invited. Though selfishly, a part of you wanted to keep this all to yourself.

“So, this is where you’ve run off to?”

You spin on your heel, a smile pulling at your lips once you see Benedict standing in the doorway. His arms crossed over his chest, the buttons of his shirt only half done and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows in a haphazard attempt to look decent as he roamed the halls in search of you. His hair was a mess, however, dipping over his forehead as the corner of his mouth quirked up in a lopsided grin. A grin that never fails to uncage butterflies in your stomach. You were unaware of just how long you’d been gone.

You smile, twirling once in the grand room as your nightdress flutters at the action. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“I quite like it,” he says with a shrug, pushing himself off the doorframe to make his way over to you. “Though I do believe that some things in this room are far more beautiful than others.”

You turn to face him fully, a blush staining your cheeks that had fortunately gone unseen in the lighting. His smile widened as he raised a brow at you, a laugh falling past his lips when you rolled your eyes.

“What? I was referring to the chandeliers, of course,” He quips with mischief, his eyes crinkling with his grin as you swat at his arm lightly. Your attempts to evade his grasp were futile as he grabs your hand, turning you to face him again as his lips press to your cheek. “I am only kidding, my love.”

“You really are terrible sometimes, you know that, don’t you?” You ask, a lightness in your tone as he drops a kiss to your neck.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” He says, his hands squeezing your own. “Though I suppose it’s better than being terrible all the time, is it not?”

You roll your eyes once more as you turn away from him in an effort to conceal your smile at his antics, walking over to one of the large windows. Just outside was a different angle of the garden, a view aiming straight down a long pathway of perfectly imperfect trees. Fluffy hydrangeas appeared just under the stone window ledges in varying hues of pinks and purples, vines climbing up the far wall of the building.

It hadn’t been long before you felt his arms snake around you, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“We must take a walk through the garden tomorrow,” you state, your heart fluttering at the feeling of his lips on the exposed skin of your shoulder. You could barely remember what you had planned to say next, until you’d forgotten altogether. “Are you listening?”

“Certainly, we must,” he responds with a soft laugh, pressing his lips to your cheek again. “And should it rain?”

“Then we shall take an umbrella,” you say as if your answer was entirely obvious as you slip from his arms with a delighted grin and a tap of your finger to his nose. You left him to look after you with parted lips and a shake of his head. He was awestruck to say the very least.

You wander about the room again with a bounce in your step, running the tips of your fingers along the soft curtains. Upon closer inspection, you discover the detailed linework you had seen moments before were in fact sculpted and carved vines and flowers spidering up the walls. Such a beauty nearly made you swoon at the very sight of it. Everything just kept getting better and better the more you gazed at it.

“What could be the need of a ballroom this grand?” You ask with a laugh, your eyes falling on Benedict.

“Perhaps to dance in,” he says with a shrug, an amusement in his features. You huff out a sigh though you can’t seem to fight your smile this time.

“You know what I meant. Of course it is made for dancing. ”

“Would you be so kind as to have this dance with me, then?” He asks, a teasing tone still weaving around his words as he offers you his hand.

“If I must,” you huff lightheartedly.

His nose scrunches at your counter and he promptly pulls you close, eliciting a squeal to echo into the room at the sudden action. His hand envelopes your own and his arm encircles your waist in the rightful position of a slow dance. Though this time, it was much less formal with the absence of watchful eyes and the need to execute every move with a flawless ease. For you were quite sure bare feet and slippers, night robes and half-tucked in, half-unbuttoned dress shirts were not of appropriate attire for such things.

No music was needed to find your own rhythm, no music was ever needed when the two of you were in your own world.

“I apologize…for waking you,” you say after a few moments, meeting his gaze once more.

“I was barely asleep, not with all your tossing and turning,” He says as you sway.

“Your snoring tells me otherwise.”

A look of faux surprise and offense crosses his face as he twirls you, wrapping his arm around you once more, “I do no such thing!”

An incredulous scoff leaves your lips as he tugs you close, your brows knit together and he continues to act as though he had entirely no idea what you had been talking about.

“I suppose I’m just hearing things then,” you state, far from being earnest as he nods along, “Perhaps it may have even been me.”

“Perhaps it might’ve,” he repeats in playful agreement, halting your frown from deepening as his lips press to yours in what surely would not be the last of many kisses that evening.

You sigh softly as your lighthearted bickering falls silent in favor of enjoying each other’s presence, enjoying the very fact that this was your home. This was your life now and you couldn’t think of anything better than that. He was ever so tender when he kissed you, when his fingers grazed up your side each time you fell out of rhythm. He claims it was just to hear you laugh, and rightfully so, but it was also in a playful payback for your sleepy dancing skills or lack thereof.

He was patient regardless, for the technicalities of the dance were not of much importance, they never were. Not even in a formal setting did he care if it was done perfectly. He cared about the fact that the most wonderful person in the world had been in his arms, and he loved you for all that you are and all that you will be. He hadn’t even needed a fancy ballroom to want to dance with you, hadn’t needed a large estate to be happy with you. He was perfectly content dancing with you in the field of flowers he’d spotted just two days before, and he made a mental note to take you there the following day.

For a while it was silent between the two of you, save for the occasional giggle when his fingers brushed over your skin. Or the patter of your slippers on the hardwood floors. Or his boisterous laughter he cannot contain when your lips ghost over that very sensitive spot just under his jaw, the fading scent of his cologne still lingering on his skin.

He twirls you before drawing you back into his arms, not without you stumbling into him, of course. It was as if your own two feet had been out to get you, and the undeniable grin on his face was telling enough that he’d been up to no good. Not after that.

“Remember that one dinner with my family?” You sigh in mild exasperation as you groan and look away from him at his words, fighting your smile nonetheless. “You had been so nervous you’d sent a spoonful of peas all over the floor. And—if I recall correctly, you proceeded to knock your wine onto my lap.”

“Am I to assume that you shall never let me live that down, Benedict?” You ask with a squint, your arms wrapping around his neck.

“Yes, you would assume correctly, Y/n.”

“It is only your fault, you have a dreadful habit of making me flustered after all,” you defend with furrowed brows and pursed lips.

“I very well see that,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smirk.

You bite the inside of your cheek to stave off your grin, he did not deserve that satisfaction. Instead, you lean on your toes and press your lips on his, effectively kissing away the teasing smile he once had in favor of basking in the feeling of the warmth of your lips brushing over his own. In the feeling of your fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck once more. His arms tighten their hold around you out of instinct, a soft hum escaping him.

“Perhaps I should bring it up more often if this is how you choose to quiet me,” he suggests against you, stealing another kiss.

“Or perhaps you shouldn’t.”

You pull away from him much to his dismay, and he finds himself chasing your lips for more. You laugh softly, your hand settling on his cheek as his once teasing smirk turns to that of a fond smile. The crystal reflections of the chandeliers above glimmer down over you, the moonlight illuminating the loving gaze that had been focused on you and only you. He couldn’t help but to capture your lips once more, for now that he had the opportunity to do so just as much as so he pleases he finds he can’t get enough.

Your hand falls from his face as your giggle brushes against his lips, his embrace sending you stumbling back a step or two.

“We’re supposed to be dancing, are we not?” You ask, breaking from his hold and spinning away from him, leaving him to smile after you in a lovestruck daze as you twirl in the glow moonlight.

He stood back to watch you for a moment, the way you seemed to beam more beautifully than any natural wonder ever could. The way you captured his attention far more than the lavish ballroom you currently resided in. Of all the luxuries he’s seen, of all the dashing estates and elegantly decorated soirée’s he’s been in attendance of in his life, there could be no greater beauty than you. There could be nothing in the world that is more enamoring, more effortlessly alluring.

He never knew the profound effects of love until it came along and grabbed hold of his heart, the feeling lancing through him with a wholehearted certainty that it was real and it was all-consuming. He knew love, of course. The Bridgerton family was large and filled with an unwavering warmth and welcoming one could surely wish for. He knew unconditional familial love amongst numerous siblings no matter the bickering that was bound to take place, serious or not. But this—this was different.

This kind of love was wonderfully and delightfully dizzying as it crashed down upon him in waves, immeasurably intoxicating with every fleeting moment that passed him by.

“Are you going to stare at me for the entirety of the night?”

Your teasing voice had stolen his attention once more, his attention that had been so distracted focused on you. It was then that he grabbed you by the waist and lifted you off your feet, suddenly spinning with you in playful retaliation for noting his gawking and telling him all about such a thing. Your laughter rang out into the glorious space while his lips pressed a flurry of kisses up your neck, your hands settling on his shoulders as his breath danced across your flushed skin.

To marry your best friend, whom you truly love endlessly is but a wonder indeed, a fate many dream of but very few experience. It is a feeling most incomparable to all else.

He set you back on your feet but his kisses never cease, his lips brushing along the underside of your jaw with his laughter left to linger against your skin. They travel upwards to press tenderly across your blush stained cheeks, to the very tip of your nose, and perhaps most giddily and passionately to your already kiss swollen lips.

He doesn’t know how he manages to stop; perhaps it’s your constant yet soft laughter breaking the two of you apart, or perhaps it’s his desire to see the way your eyes sparkle in the glowing light. Or the way your face is illuminated so beautifully that it has him fighting the urge to grab his sketchbook, but he does not want to leave you not even for a second. Perhaps it’s both and it’s almost entirely too much for him to handle all in one moment.

“Why ever are you looking at me like that?” You ask, amusement in your tone.

“Because,” He says with a breathless laugh, “because I love you. I burn for you.”

A fond smile pulls at your lips immediately as you look at him, and it is impossible to ignore the warmth blossoming in your chest, lancing through you. It is impossible to ignore the insurmountable love coursing through every part of your being as you gaze into the eyes of your lover.

“I love you, Benedict,” you murmur, “I burn for you.”

He finds his smile unable to be contained as his forehead drops to rest on yours, noses brushing. His hand once again finds yours, his arm encircling your waist, and you sway. In the ridiculously large ballroom, to a melody unheard by anyone else. You sway and twirl and laugh in a slow dance all your own, a midnight dance.

—

Tags: @dreaming-about-fanfictions @valwritesx