#the sketch is actually from last year but I found it while looking for something else on my backup hard drive lol

[5231045]

final

[jaggedamethyst]

golden boy | jayce x female reader

1.7k words

content: fawk it, jayce making a damn vibrator with hextech…and suspending my disbelief that they even knew what that was and he legit created it idc!! walk with me girl!!!

18+ minors dni, angst, pathetic! jayce, kinda mean but closed off reader, pining (?), some fluff, smut duh, vibrator used on reader…also jayce is kinda a sarcastic mf here

notes: idk what came over me guys, but I feel like this could end up being longer than just a one shot bc the angst made its way in like usual. also jayce is a smartie pants, leave him alone guys.

update: part two is up now!

series masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

He heard you before he saw you, your light saunter approaching him. Jayce had to immediately curse himself, because while he was rather smart, his reflexes were damn slow. He didn’t even think to cover his sketches before you were already close enough to crane your head over his shoulder.

A hand found his back, rubbing it encouragingly. “What ya workin on?”

Jayce was someone who loved to be affirmed. You both knew that. So before even registering the odd shapes you were looking at in his drawings, you wanted to let him know you were there and that any stress that lingered would soon dissipate. You were confused, then, when he rose quickly. He used his broad shoulders and back to block your view.

He smiled, clearly caught off guard. “Just some new stuff…you know…the mind never stops!” His cheeks soon blossomed with a rosy sheen across them. There was a sympathy in your gaze, but an even larger feeling of intrigue.

Jayce was easy to distract. As much as he loved to work on his creations and improving Hextech, he was also extremely needy. This often left him quite impressionable under your touch. Over the course of your relationship—which you would admit wasn’t actually a thing—you used this to your advantage.

You approached him slowly, an arm outstretched toward his face. He instinctively learned towards the palm of your hand. You intended to at least plant a kiss on his cheek, but he was a lost puppy these days. Just that action alone was enough for his body to relax into you. You had an opening. You slipped your hand behind him under the guise of stabilizing yourself on his workbench—grabbing a handful of the loose pages.

With a squeal you backed up, and spun around. “Wooooo what do we have here!”

“Wait-“ he turned between you and his work, “you tricked me?”

Holding the papers up toward the light to inspect them, you quirked a brow. “All in a days work, babe. Although…I don’t exactly know what I’m looking at here.”

Jayce was exasperated, how humiliating for you to have found these—even more that they weren’t even done. He was a scientist, after all. He needed time to finalize and test every possibility. He didn’t want to fight you for the papers—couldn’t really.

“Its just,” he sighed, “some stuff for you- or um, us?” He didn’t mean to sound like it was a question, a chance. It was definitive. He knew numbers and percentiles the same way he knew you. There was a desire there to be something more than just this. But he was entirely too passive to ever tell you. So he worked tirelessly at the only thing he knew you would show up and stay for. He didn’t mean for us to sound like a question, but it was.

You’d turned your back by then, the best angle of the sun shining towards your back and thus highlighting the drawings. Your intense gaze had faltered, your shoulders slumping. Like any other feeling you’d felt for Jayce in the last two years, you pushed it away—relying on humor as a shield. People are too fickle; you liked your independence and didn’t want to get hurt. Not again.

You ignored that feeling in your stomach that said to not be mean to him again, you knew he didn’t deserve it. You just couldn’t help it. Without acknowledging the weight of his statement, you continued, “what do they do?”

He senses your lack of focus, hastily snatching the pages from over your head. They quickly found their way back into a folder and cast aside.

“Well…its for,” his eyes purposely avoided yours. The ceiling was suddenly really amusing.

“Way to leave a girl hanging,” you scoffed, turning towards the door. “I just wanted to check in, but I will come back when I am wanted I guess.”

You didn’t take him seriously. That wasn’t new, but the feeling of wanting to do something about it was definitely a unique occurrence.

Before he could grasp what he wanted to say, the words flew from his lips. “Sit down.”

You stopped in your tracks, intrigued and slightly turned on by the firmness in his tone. “Scuse me?”

“You should sit…sit down. Over there.” He gestured towards a couch he’d made in his workshop. You complimented him on it once, knowing he’d made it just because he could. That was something you liked about him, undoubtedly. He had the capabilities to do so much more than he could even conceptualize and you wanted that for him. But the hopes for his future, rubs on his back, and longing gazes were too much for you.

Despite this, you were never one turn down a man like him finally standing up to you. You shrugged, “Sure, whatever…I’ll sit.”

“Good.”

The man turned quickly to retrieve one of the items he’d drawn in his sketches. This specific one was made with you in mind. It took so much dedication to perfect, but little effort to actually create, really. He’d think of your time together, the praise that would leave your lips each time he’d even breathe near your clit. The way your body would writhe against his. It was intoxicating. He figured something to make that even more special for you was due. But how could he just keep giving to someone who didn’t want to truly have him.

He wasn’t brainless. As much as he loved to hear it, being a good boy felt demeaning sometimes. He was a man, and he wanted you in a way you refused to see.

He’d show you.

“Take off your clothes.”

Jayce explained to you once that the body had red blood cells, that they carry oxygen. It confused you, now, because you were damn sure weren’t bleeding all over his chair and yet every single breath in your body was gone.

“What?”

“Clothes. Off.”

“In a I’m gonna experiment on you kind of way, or we’re gonna fuck kind of way because-“

“Both.”

You didn’t want to seem too eager, but damn you wished you had less pieces of clothing on right now. As you stripped, you were grateful then for the warmth of the forge. The sudden chill on your skin caused you to shiver. Jayce appeared suddenly, something in hand.

“I am actually not sure what to call this,” he showed you the object in the palm of his hand. It wasn’t very large, or maybe his hands made it seem smaller, you weren’t sure.

“Thats okay,” you leaned back on the couch, “show me.”

He was on you immediately, an eagerness on his lips you’d never felt from him before. You were usually the one in charge. So when he pushed you flat on your back, his clothes still on, you felt the difference. He’d swung his leg over you, now straddling you. You were too distracted by the kisses trailing over you to realize he’d reached between you two.

He made his way around your neck and toward your ear. “Let me know how this feels.”

You gasped, a vibration hitting your body unlike anything you’d felt before. Jayce was skilled in many ways but this was—wow. You met eyes with him, words struggling to form in your throat. Your brain seemed to have been empty, too.

He let the feeling pulse before slightly circling you, teasing you.

“So this, is what I have been working on.” He surveyed the way you gasped underneath him, looking into the distance. “Its not quite done yet, but I had to change some things here and there to make it better. Ya know, make it ergonomic, not too loud, stuff like that.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but all you managed was a frustrated groan. He was pissing you off. How could he be making you feel this good and talking like a fucking nerd right now.

“I also thought about sensation…what you like,” he smirked a bit. He was proud of himself. “Sometimes when you’ve had a particularly hard day, slow and deliberate does the trick, right?”

He continued to press into you, urging an answer from you. It was quite interesting how the tables seemed to turn but he didn’t complain. This is what he wanted—you helpless and confused under him while he ruined you for anyone else. He was tired of hearing how you couldn’t be tied down. Jayce Talis was no idiot, you were holding back.

“Isn’t that right sweet girl?” At the same time he questioned you, he’d raised the speed on you. A buck of your hips immediately after. “You don’t have to answer, I know.”

Sweet girl. He’d never said that before. The undertone of him trying to rile you up while simultaneously being his usual endearing self was too much. Your hands had found your face, a sudden embarrassment looming over you. That didn’t stop him.

“But, because I care about you feeling good, I added another feature.”

You felt the continuous sensation increase sporadically and then back down, chocking out a whine.

“Intuitive right?” He used a free hand to brush the hair from your collarbone, latching his lips there. He spoke into your skin, “Essentially, I used the Hextech to not only control the stimulation but to work at the users command with little effort.” He paused, wanting to see you. “So when I do this,” a surprised yelp from you, “or this, you really feel it.”

He’d never been more proud. You were often one to lead him, and he liked it. But now, with you here helpless, he couldn’t help but urge you on. He continued to ramble, speeding up to a pace he knew left you unraveling.

You couldn’t take it. It took everything in you to get the energy to yank his hair and finally speak, “Jayce-“

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

“Can do,” and with that, he sucked down on your chest. He knew you’d loved that.

The entire ordeal felt like years when in fact, it had only been a few minutes since he started in on you.

“You go ahead and finish, I’ve got you.”

It wasn’t much longer before the heat in you exploded, a series of groans clawing its way from your vocal chords.

He’d continued to coax more from you, he felt he was owed as much.

Eventually sleep overtook you, the man recognizing the familiar lull that creeped up on you.

He spoke, mostly to himself, “we’ll talk later.”

You replied, to his surprise. “Sure thing, golden boy.”

part two

[kill4luvina]

"Fucked Around and Found out"

Vampire!Ony x Nerd!Reader (Fem)

Onyakapon ain't the type to get caught up in relationships—he's always been about casual hookups, bouncing from girl to girl, never sticking around long enough for anything real. But that all changes when he meets you. Over the years at Oak Ridge High, he’s never met anyone quite like you—to the public eye your the sweet, innocent & quiet girl nobody pays any mind to. He believed it too, Until one night at a wild house party, he sees a whole different side of you.

Warnings : SMUT, Ony & Reader are both drunk, Unprotected Sex, Choking, fingering, manhandling, biting & death (reader turns into a vampire at the end), reader has nipple piercing, spit kink, Oral (m receiving), mating press, reader is a slut for ony, breeding, creampie, Telepathy, cockdrunk reader, ooh girll, and so much more.

Onyakapon only sees you during Art Studio on Fridays, the one time he decided to stop by on a sunny day instead of going home after his last lecture. He sat next to you, and charmed his way into becoming your friend—complimenting your art and literally just talking to you about anything.

Today was like any other Friday, he walked into the studio with McDonald's. Catching your attention as you greeted him. "Why’d you get McDonald's?" you tilted your head, addressing the elephant in the room.

"So, you don’t want some?" he asked, making you laugh and shake your head. While eating, he couldn’t help but notice you got your hair and nails done.

You adjusted your glasses on your face as you picked up your phone, realizing you were running a little late. "I gotta go, me and my friend are going out tonight. I’ll see you next week?" you smiled, your braces making you even cuter to him.

"Mmhmm, be safe," he said, and you nodded before leaving.

He sat there for a minute, looking to the side, and noticed you left your drawing. He pulled it closer and realized it was a few different sketches of him, with his name drawn in the middle. There was a cute note at the bottom with your number & Instagram.

Ony’s homeboys had noticed the change in him since he met you. He didn’t really talk to or about any other girl but you. It was like his brain didn’t even register that today was his 3rd time seeing you, but he felt so comfortable around you. The weekdays were now just him, doing his schoolwork and making art.

A shocking change, due to his history of hooking up with girls every other day. Once in a while using them as a snack when they didn’t meet his standards.

This new change made being a vampire difficult, rather then killing girls he found peace in buying extra rats for his snake and him as well. Which wasn’t enough but would get him through the day.

But today, after what you said, he felt like he needed to get back in the game. And what better way than hitting up a house party? One hosted by his homeboys, Eren and Connie. Being asked to help set up Ony was there hours before the party even started.

His homeboys pressured him into drinking, three shots in and the three of them killed six girls. Two girls each boy, Eren and Connie leaving Ony to take care of the party as they rid the girls bodies.

Around 10:30, that's when you walked into the living room, completely catching his attention. You made your way over to one of your friends as she poured some Don into your mouth, both of you giggling, already tipsy from earlier.

"Y/n?" you heard Onyakapon’s voice as you turned around, slightly startled. You walked over to him, and he chuckled. "I never knew I'd see you at something like this." “fr? i go out a lot actually.”

Smiling you quickly turned to get the bottle of Don. He’d let out a light huff as he felt you get comfortable on his lap pressing your pussy against his lil big friend through the fabric of his sweats. “y/n?..” “yess??” you’d giggle before looking for something on you.

You’d pull your phone out and start recording. “say aahh.” he’d hesitate before opening his mouth as you pour some down his throat. You’d giggle more as you pressed your head against his, triggering his telepathy ‘he smells too good.’ hed hear making his eyes flashing a glint of red.

You looked so different, your deep side part sleeked to the side framing your face as the straight hair fell a little past your waist. Your pink and cheetah prink nails, matching with the very short pink crop top that barely covered your tits. Your jean skirt that barely cover your ass didn’t help the fact you had no panties on. 

‘when is he gonna touch me…’

All with cute Jordans that matched the pink of your outfit. You play with his chain will in his lap, as he finds himself playing with your pierced nipples through the thin fabric of your tight top. Picking you up in the same position, he’d walk you upstairs to the second floor where no one else was allowed.

“No panties?” He’d almost choke on his words, spreading your thighs open, noticing you were already soaked. About to go down on you,  he found himself watching your head bop up and down his dick slowly, swallowing as much of him as you could at a time. “fuckk— “ 

His eyes rolling back the moment you locked eyes with him for a second, head falling back as his hands quickly reached for your head. “Mamas—sloooo uw! the fuck down!” he’d almost whine. You had him in a vulnerable state nobody had ever, in his years of living. 

This only encouraged you to take him deeper, and faster drooling all over his dick. Your eyes watering as you messed up your make up with saliva. You’d pop him out of your mouth for a moment stroking his full length. Mentally trying to process how you were gonna handle all 9 ½ inches. 

Without hesitation you went back to work, hands moving in the opposite direction of eachother as your sucked at his tip. Something about the way his dick touched the back of your throat left the poor boy completely overfilling your mouth with cum. 

‘s’muchhh… n he looks so good all fucked out.’ 

Not even a second after you pulled away he was completely hard again. The way you looked up at him making his dick twitch and pupils turn red. The alochol in his system not helping, as he watched you pull your shirt off.

The eye-contact for a moment giving him complete control of your mind. “C’mere, mamas,” he'd smirk. Watching your eyes flicker a pretty pink, with cute heart in your eyes as your crawled towards him. Your mind completely blank as you followed instructions you could only hear through your thoughts.

‘i want a kiss..’ you’d find yourself thinking.

Eyes flickering back to normal as you now found yourself in his lap, kissing him. His right hand completely wrapped around your neck, that looked so small compared to his hand. The kiss getting deeper and hotter by the second has he started to grip you neck a little tighter, your eyes rolling back as you felt his left hand finds its way from your ass to your fat wet pussy.

The sloppy kiss getting messier as you whined and moaned trying to catch your breath, your head spinning as you got dizzy. “Wanna be a slut right?” he’d pull away to say, sliding to fingers deep in your pussy as tried everything to kiss him again. “Onyy” you’d whine feeling his grip loosen, but his fingers get deeper. 

‘too, gooodddd!’

The sloppy sound of pussy filling the room as his fingered you, with your pretty moans to harmonize with it. He’d watch you cum, your legs shaking as you let out a cry quickly resting your head against his shoulder. 

Before you knew it, you were in arched up in doggy a quick slap to the ass bringing you back to reailty. “What are you?!” you’d panic feeling him push agains’t your wet entrance making you wonder why you even cared anymore. 

‘i just wanna get fuckedd by himm’ you’re brain would spin trying to pull if even just an ounce of concern, but it what no where to be found. You felt completely safe in his hands, his dick slamming into your sloppy cunt. Your eyes rolling back, as your completely forgot your question and worries. 

“I’m- a vampire.” he’d answer, making your quickly turn to face him as smiled showing off his fangs as he watched confused reaction. Fear wanted to consume you, but you were too fucked out and drunk to care. To be honest, you found it hot making your pussy clench and swallow him deeper. 

“fuuckkk, you like that ma?” he’d asked, slowly starting to move as your pussy gripped him tighter making him lightheaded. “pussy too good, you not going anywhere.” he’d think aloud as he sped up the pace. The sloppy slaps and wet sounds mixed with both your moans and his groans.

“Right! THERE!!” you’d cry out, arching deeper and fucking back into him as you felt him hit a spot you never knew existed. Your brain going completely blank, the only thoughts remaining being how well he was fucking you. Eyes rolling back as your pull at the bedsheet trying not to run from it. 

To your rescue, Onyakapon notice his red eyes only glowing brighter and in three seconds you were in mating press. Too fucked out to even question how that was humanily possible, because it wasn’t. His strokes speeding up not helping matter as your started to cry, tears filling your cheeks out of pure bliss.

‘Sooo, close!’

“You about to cum mamas?? Mm?” he’d say, almost making you realize he had been reading your mind all along. Until he pulled back for a moment, slapping your pussy earning a yelp from you. Before going right back to fucking every braincell out of you. “Say aahhh!” he’d smile his heavy lustfilled eyes meeting yours. 

Not even being able to control yourself your mouth opened. “aahhhhhh” you’d obey as he spit in your mouth. “Swallow.” he’d command, no longer being controlled you did and you enjoyed it. Your final straw was when he quietly whispered “good girl” in your ear and started kissing you. 

You squirted, harder then you’ve ever in your life crying into the kiss as he quickly pulled away biting your neck hard making you physically cry even harder. Trying to push him away as you felt blood pouring down your neck. The mixed pleasure and pain not even allowing you to realize he came in you. 

His cum completely painting your walls white, as your lifeless body fell to the bed when he removed his fangs. Ony  hovered above you, admirring his masterpiece as he whispered loving affirmations. Cooing as he watched you open your pretty eyes, pink pupils staring up at him as you batted your lashes. 

Little did you know, you were his no matter what and he has just marked his territory on your whether you liked it or not. But, he had a feeling you wouldn’t mind especially now you could keep up with him.  

"And our happiest days would be spent Picking off all your friends And they'd see A love this deep Won't stay buried"

[bixbythemartian]

50+ Ways to Annoy the Death Witch

Chapter 1: Call her a Necromancer

Ch. 2 >>

I was on the porch sketching when Callahan showed up.

Callahan works for the Council and investigates witchy doings. Mostly in the vein of ‘please lets keep the normies from trying to murder us all’, though that concern has gone down a TON in the internet era.

You’d think it would be the opposite, right? Everybody has a camera, all the time. Surely they’d catch actual magic!

Yeah. They do, all the fuckin time, and they call it something else. Or they do call it magic, and they’re called crazy. You've seen 'em. The internet is full of people who think giants or aliens built the pyramids, people who claim they see shadow people, or think their neighbor controls the cows, they just don't stand out.

Anyway, work has dried up for Callahan and people like him, is my point. It's a much slower gig than it was back in the day.

Is he a witch cop? Ehhhh... he’s the closest we come. Mostly he’s just trying to keep us out of the news, like I said. If one of us was really out of line he’d take it to the council and let them handle it (usually by binding the witch’s magic), but that hasn’t happened in a couple of decades.

He still comes and crawls up my ass every time some teenager finds an old grimoire and brings back the family pet, or whatever.

I stood up as his truck came down the drive. That was my last big project, taking the gravel out and putting pavers in for the driveway. It was expensive as hell, but it means that I can just swap a paver out if one cracks, rather than having to have to deal with gravel all the time.

I do kind of miss the noise of the gravel, though.

That payday was from his last visit, come to think- usually he comes out because he's stumped, and after he's done accusing me of atrocities and grave robbing, he hires me to help him figure out who actually did it.

Pretty often it's some kid with too much magic and not enough sense trying to bring back someone they love. It's always sad, but that's easy to handle. By the time we get involved, they're usually pretty anxious for a solution, because it has gotten out of control.

He parked next to my pickup and got out, strolling over like he had all god damned day. He’s probably in his late 30s, dark hair and eyes. He lives up in the city, these days, but his grandparents went to high school with mine, in a town that gets smaller every year, and are buried in the same damned graveyard.

I first met him in that very graveyard.

“Hey there, Miss Tabitha,” he said. “How’s my favorite necromancer?”

I sighed. He annoys me so much.

“I know, I know, you don’t like being called that.”

“I’m not a necromancer,” I said, for probably the thousandth time.

“Sure, you’re a different kind of death magic witch. Whatever.”

“A necromancer is someone who uses magic to control corpses, and can be any type of witch. I’m a death witch, my power source is the death of any and all organic matter. Some witches get their power from the earth or the stars or weather, mine happens to come from a different natural force.” I don’t know where he gets his from. For a while I suspected it was hair gel, but he switched to wearing ballcaps.

I think he’s balding.

“And you use it to keep your neighbor’s chickens from getting sick and that’s it, huh?”

“I buy eggs off her,” I said. “Do you want something, or do you just get itchy if you haven’t accused me of something unholy?”

He clicked his tongue. “Well, now, there’s a cemetery out in Macomb that’s had some bodies dug up.”

“Macomb,” I said. I knew vaguely where it was- south of highway nine, east of where I lived, but pretty easy driving distance. I’d have to look at a map to be sure, but definitely a place I could drive out and back from in a day and still have plenty of time to get up to trouble. “You actually found a local crime to accuse me of, you’re getting a bit better at your job.” He rolled his eyes.

“What’s going on in Macomb?”

“Well, like I said, some bodies went missing. The cops say it’s funny, it’s almost like they dug themselves out."

"Well, they shouldn't be doin that," I said.

"Right? Coffins are there, just the bodies are gone. I know you’re gonna say it wasn’t you, but it wasn’t you, was it? That’s close enough that you probably draw power from that cemetery. Even if it was an accident?”

“There’s closer cemeteries. Norman has at least two that I know of.”

“Well, that’s fair,” he said. “I gotta ask. Necromancy shit in our neck of the woods? I gotta ask, Tabby.”

“Don’t call me that,” I said.

“Was it you?” he insisted.

“No, it wasn’t me,” I said.

“Alright, that’s all I needed to ask.” Once he'd asked and I'd answered, that was it, he didn't pester me about it again.

“Are you trying to get my help, or do you want to wander around with your thumb up your butt for a few days first?”

“Come on, Tabitha. We’ll pay you the usual rates,” he said.

I sighed at him, just so he knew I was annoyed. “Let me put some pants on and run a brush through my hair, and then I need to see the graves.”

“We’re taking my pickup,” he said. “So, if you’ve got a step stool-”

“Ha ha,” I said. “Wait here.” I took my sketchbook inside, and dropped it on the table by the door, went to find a brush and change into jeans. Grabbed my kit- it’s just got standard odds and ends that one might need when casting on the go, some prepared spells, all stuffed in an ancient maroon Jansport.

I’m probably going to have to get a new bag soon, I’ve had this one since 8th grade, and it’s really starting to wear out.

We head out.

He’s got a 70s Ford pickup he’s been restoring, to sell. Well, he’s been ‘restoring’ it about as long as I’ve been cleaning the house out so I can sell it, maybe longer, and I've been living in the house near a decade, so. Take that as you will.

It’s in decent shape on the inside, and the a/c works, and it’s matte primer gray on the outside, has been for years now.

The road out where I live is dirt, and then it goes to gravel, before you get on something paved.

He looked up in the rearview mirror. “You know, I just figured it was someone else who lived out this way when I came out, but I do believe I’m being followed.”

I looked in the sideview mirror. There was someone behind us, but it was hard to see them through all the dust the truck was kicking up.

Magic came rushing at the mirror, and snapped it off.

“Rude,” I said.

“Did they just snap off my mirror?”

I started cranking the window down. “Turn left if you have to turn, warn me if there’s a right curve,” I said, unbuckling my belt, and wrapping it around my leg. “But try to go straight as you can, that’ll help me aim.”

“It’ll help them aim, too.”

“Don’t worry about them.” Magic whined as it pinged off the vehicle. “You really should shield the pickup.”

“I’m just gonna sell it.”

I pulled myself out of the seat to sit on the window, one hand gripping the ‘oh shit’ handle, my legs clenching the door.

Late model SUV, something dark. I could see why he recognized it right away- it was a sort of dark red and had an engine snorkel. Also some extra lights on front- someone goes out in this truck. Mudding, looks like.

They had someone standing up through the sun/moon roof firing spells at us. He was using something that looks like a gun. That’s pretty common, these days, wands resembling guns.

Wands are a type of prepared spell, they hold charges and you fire off the charges until you’re out. Most people mostly use prepared spells.

Most people just can’t hold that much magic inside their bodies- there’s an upper limit- and so the best way to store the magic they gather from the wind or the stars or the grass or whatever their thing is to make spells and put the magic there. Even the more powerful witches, witches like me with a larger capacity for magic, they tend to store a lot in prepared spells.

Most sources trickle it in. So if you blow your magical load, as it were, you have to wait for it to come back. Recharge under a starlit sky where the light pollution is low. Or lay in the tickling grass.

There’s some exceptions. Sun witches- rare- basically can refuel constantly. Oh, it’s night? Oh, it’s cloudy? The heat in the ground beneath your feet comes from the sun. The sun is a constant, even when it’s not out. Sea witches, too- they have to be in range of the coast, but within that range, powerful. There’s also rumor of one lady up in the midwest who gathers her power specifically from the Great Lakes, and she’s supposed to be one of the most powerful witches in the world.

You know what's also around all the time? Dead shit.

If it is now dead and was ever alive, even briefly, it belongs to me.

Like his wand, a bit of dead wood. I sucked the power out of his wand, and whipped it out of his hand. “Knock it the fuck off!” I shout. I could barely see him, but he looked young.

He swore, shaking his hand. “Ram them!”

The driver I could see even less of, but I could see him shaking his head.

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” I said.

It takes a deep spike of power- the older and longer dead something is, the more briefly it was alive, the harder it is to fuck with.

Gasoline, for example, is derived from something that died at least 66 million years ago, so it’s kind of a big one.

The driver managed not to roll the car off the road as the car engine suddenly stopped working, and Callahan came to a stop.

I figured they'd be alright, they go out mudding, they're used to shit going wrong.

“The hell did you do? It took a ton of power. My nose hairs are burning.”

“Turned their gas into mesozoic algae for long enough to shut their car off,” I said.

"What?"

"Gas is made from crude oil. Crude oil is dead shit. Specifically, algae and plankton from the mesozoic."

"Huh. Your nose is bleeding," he said.

I wiped at my nose, untangled myself from the seatbelt, and managed to dismount from the window and land on both feet, which is about as much as I could ask for.

My right eye was throbbing- I’d drained myself to the last drop for that.

Still, there was a dead skunk on the road, and dead tree limbs, and I breathed magic in. The ache receded, but probably wouldn’t go away until I'd slept.

I walked up to their SUV, the driver keeping both hands on the wheel, like I was a cop. “Hey,” I said. “What the fuck?” I put my hand on the car, and converted all the ancient ocean sludge back into gas. That was easier, but it still made my eye throb.

The wand wielder jumped out of the SUV and got up in my face, tried to shove me against the car, but Callahan grabbed him and pulled him back.

“My grandparents crawled out of their grave, and everybody knows they got a pet necromancer around here. I want them back.”

Now, I’m not actually that easy to intimidate, and he was just a snot-nosed kid who’s barely old enough to drink, if that. But he was also angry to cover up being scared.

“Well, we’re on our way to find out what’s happened. Having to stop for your bullshit isn’t helpful," Callahan said.

“Everybody knows it was you.”

“Sweetheart, if I was raising the dead, why would I start with your kin? I don’t know you, I don't know your grandparents."

He looked at the driver. He had bleached his hair and it was a sort of peachy pink that could have been intentional or it could have been to light a pink over too orange a bleach. The driver had blue-black hair that was definitely box dye. They both looked indecisive.

"It’s probably someone who know your grandparents. It’s like a murder- it’s almost always someone who knows the victim,” I said. He's just a grieving kid, they both are.

“But you’re the only necromancer in the state, maybe the country,” he said. His heart wasn't really in it, though. He was just upset.

“I’m not a necromancer,” I said. “I am a death witch. It’s not the same thing. They died recently?”

He nodded. “We spent a lot of time living with em, Mom was in and out of rehab, and Dad… I don’t know. He wasn’t around until we were older.”

“You get your magic from this side, or your Daddy’s side?”

“They had magic, but they say I got mine from Dad, and he gets his from Mom.” He jerked his head at his brother in the driver's seat.

“Okay. Why don’t you get out in front, we’ll head on out to the gas station, because I need a fuckin energy drink, and then we can go take a look. Sometimes I can see stuff nobody else can, and I have a good nose for corpses.”

“You really think you can find them?”

"I don't know for sure about finding their bodies, but I'm positive we'll get to the bottom of this," I said.

He nodded and, almost sheepish, headed back to the SUV.

“Just try and start her again,” I told the driver. “I’ll top you off at the Valero station, that trick probably pulled some out of your tank.”

The car started, and they pulled around us and sped off.

“You think they’ll be at the gas station?” Callahan asked.

“Mmm. Fifty fifty, but they’ll be at the cemetery, which is what I really care about. C’mon, I want a Monster.”

“You keep drinking that crap, your heart’ll stop.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I say, climbing into the truck. “Let’s go.”\

Ch. 2 >>

If you read this and enjoyed it, maybe you want to help out and contribute to my ko-fi? I'm disabled and that's the best way for me to earn a living right now! Check out my masterpost for other fiction.

[kozachenko]

[Click for better quality]

Ok yay I'm back from my vacation yipeeeeeee. I started this drawing of Keiki before I left and I was half considering just giving up on it.... until I did a short study of facial planes and then got motivated to work on this again! I'm glad I didn't give up on it though, as I'm actually really happy with this one!

Artist's Notes;

So as I mentioned in my last post about Touhou 17, I wanted to finish this by the game's five year anniversary but with how progress was going I didn't want to rush this so I decided to take a long break from it. Mainly because of the face. For a while now I was kind of feeling like I was stagnating with my drawings, not really in the clothing but in the bodies. There was something about the way I was rendering them that I just wasn't happy with, and after talking with someone else about this issue, I realized that the reason I felt this way was because the faces were too flat and didn't match the rest of the drawing and that I needed to find a way to make the rendering of the face feel consistent with everything else. So after doing a short study of the plains of the face (I used this 3D head model from art station as a reference for my short study, please go give this person some love as they are a lifesaver) I went back into this drawing and applied what I learned here. It was only after that that I finally became motivated to finish the piece, and while it started off as just a simple character sketch like Saki and Yachie's were, the moment I added in Keiki's little fire dragon I knew I had gotten in too deep and now here we are with a full on background. OK it's not super crazy or anything, but it gets the job done and it's better than there just being an empty void behind her. It's rare moments like this when I use brushes other than the Clip Studio Default Charcoal Brush and use the Clip Studio Default Paint Brushes as well (god bless the oil paint and dry gouache clip studio brushes, they were amazing). I don't know why but painting fire has always been really fun for me, there's something oddly satisfying about it y'know? I do think that another reason for this problem was because I was drawing faces like I would in my more sketchy style that didn't mesh well with my lineless style, so I'm glad I've started remedying that.

After adding in the fire dragon I had an idea to kinda make it feel like splash art in the way the composition works... probably because I have been playing Reverse 1999 again and it has taken over my brain. I do feel like Keiki's tools get a little lost in the composition, and I didn't fully render the metal parts of them mainly because I didn't feel like they needed it, but that's just something for me to improve on later down the line.

If you guys are wondering where I went for my vacation, I went to New York and got to go to the MET and the Museum of Natural History. In both places I found Kofun period stuff and I was so happy to see it you have no idea. I remember one of the Haniwa I saw had some neat face paint under the eyes that I tried to replicate with the makeup under Keiki's eyes in my drawing, though I think I'll gave to figure out how to draw makeup on characters because this reads more like blush to me than anything. While drawing this I also looked up some references of Kofun period jewelry and really liked the stuff I found, which also meant that now she has proper Kofun earrings instead of earrings shaped like Kofun tombs. I put some of the things I referenced with a closeup of Keiki's face as well down below. I made her outfit more reminiscent of the outfit I gave her at the beginning of the year with the buttons and all, though I do want to try and draw her in some more period accurate clothing like the Haniwa I took a picture of at the Museum of Natural History. I wish I could find a way to make her handercheif look better though as I wish I made it a little bit bigger, though I think I'm saying this because I've looked at this drawing for too long lmao. Once again something to work on for when I next draw her. Also want to get better at rendering hair, as some details (like the little strands in front of her ears) kinda got unreadable due to the similarities in colour lol.

Now you may have also noticed the little cracks I added onto Keiki's face, and that's because I have fallen in love with the idea of Keiki's body being made from ceramic and that she crafted her body herself. While they aren't very visible I also tried to add some doll joints to her body, which is an idea I played around with in the past but never went to far with. I also want to get better at rendering cracks in ceramic, porcelain, etc, as I'm not sure how those read in the drawing. I also have a headcanon where the cracks in Keiki's face show up because of heightened emotions, and while Keiki is aware of this and does her best to make sure her face doesn't break off.... she will still end up with at least a few cracks during any given day, and she can often forget to repair her own body quite frequently so Mayumi has to remind her quite a lot. Mayumi even taught herself some basic sculpting techniques to help repair parts of her body that are so badly damaged to the point where Keiki can't repair them herself, i.e. if both her arms broke off, Mayumi would put them back together for her so Keiki can at least have something to repair herself with rather than nothing. I also like to imagine that if Keiki created her own body, if you took a look at Keiki from the beginning of her life she would look completely different compared to now.

BTW If you guys are wondering what a very very angry Keiki looks like....ok in order for this to make sense have any of you read volume 11 of Land of The Lustrous? Am I bringing back some memories for those of you that have? Ok good, glad we all got that mental image brewing in our minds, I'll probably draw a version of Keiki that is somewhat inspired by that one day as it's an idea I've had for a little while now. And to those who haven't gotten to that volume yet and are confused.... don't worry about it, just keep reading :)

[vibatu]

"Just a sip" , a comic idea that I have filed away under the "I no longer know when or if I'll ever finish it" category (Doesn't feel right to say "discarded" lmao) (who knows, maybe one day I pick it back up!).

I really love the thumbnails I managed to sketch out (especially that last panel at the third page!!!!!!! I want and need to make more of that), its been I think almost a year since I've made them though, and it just doesn't feel right just let them keep collecting dust after so long especially when I don't even know if the inspiration to complete it strikes again, so, here it is! Read more for further rambling into the details~

This is another "what if" comic where wanted to explore mainly:

1. Ocudeus and The Seaspring. And what could happen within someone's mind once they drink (Lukas is our text subject! Yay!)

2. "Interesting" paneling, or at least visually engaging compositions in pages (I love making comics!) There's so many things I want to practice and try out to make bring the movies in my head come to life in this format.

On to the "plot".

We start out with Lukas drinking from The Spring. Hypothetical-Timeline wise this would be happening at the "ending" of the TS story in which not a single cure is found for MCs curse. Last resort type of situation. This happens on pages 1, 2, and page "3". In this post the 3 image would actually be page 4, I just never sketches the 3rd (I just drew what was clearest in my head first). Imagine 3rd page having a shot of Ais staring at the process from a safe distance with a cig while Lukas is writhing on the floor losing his marbles after drinking (lol).

Now the fun part. Ocudeus. I imagined the process of joining the groupmind not happening instantly. I thought about Ocudeus himself manifesting in their new host's mind and sometimes striking conversation (which happens in isolation with just the two of them) (brain is not part of the primordial soup. Yet)

We don't know what Ocudeus looks like either! So I went crazy. At first I was just gonna make them take Ais' shape. But that felt, not quite right for an eldritch being. So instead, Ocudeus takes the form of whoever is drinking :) thus manifesting themselves as Lukas inside Lukas' mind.

There's a huge jump in events from Image 3 and 4 of the post. After Img 3 there's a lot of talking going on. Asking if the curse can really be cured. Ocudeus being a sassy smug menace cryptic about it and reminding Lukas that there is no going back anyways and that is no longer something Lukas should be concerned about. He will no longer be himself, so why worry.

After this its just a "Descent into true madness", see Img 4 for reference, where the "world" just really starts to warp around and eventually ends with Lukas getting "consumed" by the darkness of the giant octopus, his lasts thoughts as "Lukas" being those of relief of finally getting rid of the curse, and grief over leaving his life behind. Fun stuff.

Comic was supposed to end with Lukas jolting awake (His head was resting on Ais lap now).

After sitting up abruptly and wiping his tears away, with hands that now look properly human. Lukas turns to Ais and asks, with a gaze now as red as the seaspring near them.

"Why am I crying?"

-

THATS A LONG ONE If you read this far, well, thanks! ;w; I hope you enjoyed the read, even if there is no full comic to pair. The Seaspring is so interesting to me.

Some other random things: I got inspired by the Honkai Star Rail promo video where Acheron and Black Swan dance together. The visuals and visualization of Black Swan's "being" being consumed by the endless void was SO good and when I realized this concept could work for the seaspring in a similar way I needed to get the idea out of my system.

Have an extra! Alternative version of my fav panel. Only difference is the eyes, this is the first version. Which I drew before Redspring revealed what Ais' eyes looked like when his cephalopod friend is driving the car.

Vibi out~ (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠)

[eluxurex]

gimmie sooty lore they look cool

Well, that guy is probably one of my least traumatized OCs and that's just because I prefer to keep most of his trauma as a 'what if' scenario that never actually happens in canon.

But I guess before I explain that, I shall explain how his world works.

Well, I like to think that the Earth as well know it (in this universe) has some sort of funnel shaped mist on top of it.

This is just a messy sketch, and probably even accurate too because the mist is so much that you probably won't see the complete shape of it, such everyone just thinks it's funnel shaped

So basically this... thing, generates souls. Nobody is too sure what exactly happens inside it that souls are created, because this mist can only be seen on certain days (If you're someone who doesn't have the gift too see it 24/7) when there's lots of traffic going on (Lots of souls being created or lots of soul 'returning to their origin')

When you die, your soul leaves your body and floats back up into the mist, most people have agreed that when that happens, your soul is broken to its most basic components and recycled, for a new soul to make use of. Sometimes this process isn't entirely clean, as some people have reported having memories of things they don't think they've done, which was something that fueled the idea of past lives.

Anyways, souls are usually given traits on what sort of body they are meant to inhabit (human, monster, animal) but sometimes mistakes happen and they enter the wrong body. When that happens, the current that they are in starts together traits of the sort of vessel that they were actually supposed to be inside (For Sooty's case, he was meant to be a wolf, but his soul entered a human vessel, so the body adapted to the soul and got wolfish traits)

Children who died as soon as they were born, is a result of no soul claiming the vessel during gestation period.

Some souls weren't created from the mist, sometimes two or more very powerful individuals can be able to create a unique soul as they produce offspring, but it's a risky practice, as th mist doesn't accept souls that didn't come from it and the souls would now just be referred to as 'lost souls' floating around until God knows what happens to them. They are other ways a soul can be created, but maybe that will be another topic ig.

Now, enough with that, time for Sooty's lore. Well, since he's technically a wolf, he obviously will have some animalistic behavior. His parents (he never knew them) dumped him in the woods when he was barely a year old, because they got scared by the fact that he was having wolf ears ( there was a time where people didn't accept these sort of things and saw them as failed humans) but luckily for him so ironically got adopted by a pack, because apparently him being in a human body wasn't near to enough to severe the connection between the species he was actually meant to be.

But he didn't really stay with them for long. He wasn't that old when he realized that this sort of thing wouldn't work out in the long run, so he left them, surviving by himself. A lone wolf, if you want to call it. This guy was just around 7 when he did that, btw. That also didn't last for long, because child protective services found him, and were trying to educate him and teach him more human ways. It surprisingly worked out, but Sooty didn't have a legal name so they were still fishing around for names that will good for him.

So after that, they didn't want him to be lonely, so they took him to an orphanage where he met Eli (that one is another story on its own lmao). Eli didn't really like him (or anyone really) but after a while these guys became inseparable. And it was Eli that suggested the name Sooty to him to use.

So ye that's all basically.

[fiftyfiftyfinchy]

Pub Quiz Imagine (ArthurTV)

The pub was buzzing with chatter, the kind of hum that made everything feel alive and a little chaotic. Cameras were perched on tripods around the cozy room, capturing every angle of the action. Strings of fairy lights crisscrossed the ceiling, giving the space a warm, golden glow. A large chalkboard behind the bar displayed the words “Pub Quiz Extravaganza,” with doodles of question marks and pint glasses sketched around the edges.

Simon stood in front of the quiz table, wearing his signature cheeky grin and holding a stack of question cards. “Alright, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the ultimate test of general knowledge. The stakes? Bragging rights and maybe some dignity.” He paused for effect, earning a chuckle from the group.

You stood behind one of the cameras, adjusting the focus as Ethan loudly proclaimed, “Mate, you’re looking at the winner right here.”

���Winner of most overconfident,” Harry quipped, earning a round of laughter.

Arthur sat across from Ethan, leaning back in his chair. You caught him glancing in your direction, quickly looking away when your eyes met. His ears turned a faint shade of pink, and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you adjusted the angle again.

“First question,” Simon announced, holding up a card. “What is the capital of Canada?”

“Easy! Toronto,” Ethan declared confidently.

“Wrong,” ChrisMD said immediately, shaking his head. “It’s Ottawa.”

“Correct!” Simon confirmed, tossing Chris a small plastic trophy. “One point to Chris. Ethan, it’s a miracle you know your own name.”

George laughed, throwing a balled-up napkin at Simon. The room erupted in playful chaos for a moment before Simon regained control.

As the quiz went on, you moved between cameras, checking angles and adjusting sound levels. You’d spent the night before scrolling through Arthur’s Instagram, nervously trying to get a sense of what he was like. His smile in those pictures had been disarming, and you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of nerves at the thought of working with for the second time. Now, seeing him answer science questions like it was second nature, you found yourself even more intrigued. It quickly became clear that Arthur had a knack for the science-related questions, answering them with an ease that left the others groaning in defeat. His quiet confidence shone brightest when Simon pulled out anything involving chemistry or physics, earning him grudging admiration and playful jeers alike. Every now and then, you caught Arthur’s eyes drifting toward you. Once, when he thought you weren’t looking, you saw him lean over to whisper something to Bach, who immediately grinned and gave him a not-so-subtle nudge.

Simon’s voice cut through the noise again. “Next question: What year did the Titanic sink?”

“1912,” Ethan blurted out before anyone else could answer.

“Correct! Point to Ethan.”

“See? I told you lot I’m a genius,” Ethan said, throwing his hands up triumphantly.

“A genius who thought Canada’s capital was Toronto five minutes ago,” Becky teased, earning another round of laughs.

By the final round, the scores were close, and the energy in the room was electric. Simon set down the final question card with a flourish. “Last question: What is the chemical symbol for gold?”

“Au!” Arthur shouted, almost jumping out of his seat.

Simon nodded dramatically. “And we have a winner! Arthur takes the crown.”

Arthur looked genuinely surprised, his mouth dropping open before breaking into a shy smile. “Wait, really? I actually won?”

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Harry said, pretending to sulk. “Next time, you’re going down.”

The group dissolved into cheers and groans, the sound of their camaraderie filling the room. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride watching it all unfold, knowing you’d captured every hilarious moment. As you began packing up your equipment, you noticed Arthur standing awkwardly to the side, his gaze darting between you and his phone. He took a deep breath, clearly summoning some courage, before walking over to where you were organizing cables.

"Hey it’s nice to see you again," he said quickly, as if rushing to get the words out. "I just wanted to say, you’ve done an amazing job with all this. Everything’s so... organized. It’s impressive."

You smiled at his awkwardness. "Thanks, Arthur. That really means a lot."

He fidgeted, his cheeks turning pink. "Right. Well, um, if you’re not busy, maybe we could grab a drink sometime? Not like a work thing, just... you know, a drink," he mumbled, clearly nervous.

"A drink sounds good. But I warn you, I’m probably better at camerawork than small talk," you teased.

Arthur’s eyes widened. "Oh, well, that’s actually a relief because I’m much better at trivia than I am at flirting," he said with a nervous laugh.

You chuckled. "Sounds like we’d make a good team."

Arthur’s smile grew more confident. "So, um, could I get your number? So I can text you and arrange a time to get that drink," he asked, clearly eager but still a bit unsure.

"Sure," you replied with a smile. “I’d really like that."

Arthur’s fingers moved a little faster as he added your number to his phone. "Okay, well it was great chatting with but unfortunately I have to leave," he said, seeming slightly apologetic. "I’ll text you soon."

You smiled back. "I’m looking forward to it."

As Arthur walked away, you noticed the spring in his step, a quiet confidence replacing his earlier awkwardness. The pub was nearly empty now, and you lingered, wondering when he might text you to set up that drink.

[trashisstillhere]

Meme with Serenity let’s goooo

Her current design vs her first old design

Yes, that is really, in fact, her first ever design lol.

Og:

Read here if ya wanna know a bit about Serenity’s design and creation history. If not, you can just skip! /lh /nf

- Serenity was first created in 2019/2020. Back then, she was actually my ninjasona (even though she didn’t really look anything close to me and most things about her was completely different from me but hey, nothing wrong with some fun, right?) and her ninja design looked closer to Randy’s but with a few different details and a jacket with a hood and everything.

- Her last name was Bells instead of Peterson and she was one of the past ninjas before Randy. I even gave her random siblings who I never drew because they weren’t even that important, no names, nothing. Just some shit I randomly threw in there. Her backstory was different from how it is now, it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows at the end of it though….what do I mean? Well.. let’s just say, her ninja journey ended in tragedy.

Her old first ever design and ref!

(Yes, this really is it!! This was made in the app called sketch instead of ibis paint years ago! On a oldass tablet too instead of the iPad I have now!… How do I even still have this? Well.. I just found it while looking through some old shit in old chats on discord lolololol-)

(She was actually drawn on a laptop first in ms paint before on the old tablet, both devices that I don’t have anymore :’).. oh well, the old tablet was completely broken at that time anyway)

- btw, the whole wearing the jacket while having the suit on idea may or may have not been kinda inspired by the way Spider verse Miles did it but without the shorts and shoes. I thought it would be cool-

- later on, I made her just be an oc instead, along with a redesign later on and finally her own civilian/normal attire and form. Now she no longer was just one of the past ninjas or whatever, she was a ninja of her own in the same year as Randy! Along with her own villain and all that stuff!

Tho the redesign ofc wasn’t the current one she has now, it was a bit more different! Unfortunately I don’t really have like an actual picture of it buuut I went on to try finding one old drawing of her that could show it perfectly. (I used to have ALOT art of her but due to something in the past, I lost them all :’’)…)

I did find one that did soooo..here ya go! Along with the first old ass drawing of her normal form!

(The first one is from an old drawing in 2022, it’s supposed to be her in Chibiverse style. Yea you heard me-

The second one is another oldass image I got to find from old stuff on discord hehe-)

Ya see, her ninja design back then was…something. You can tell I still kept a few parts from it in the current design!..

Anyway where was I?.. oh right!

- Her redesigned ninja suit was a bit of a mess at one point as you can see here…and then her ninja suit turned to this, the same one she still has now. and then her normal form changed recently…and now she is the way she is today, all nice and better!

- I DO like the part of the first old ref where it says that she almost put a lot of kitty stickers on the Nomicon once, that is honestly cute, I might still keep that part as canon.. with her own Nomicon or/and also Randy’s? Idk…eheh.

- Serenity was my first ever Rc9gn ninja oc.. well exactly not really. When I say that, I don’t mean like she is the FIRST ever Rc9gn oc I have ever made in my entire life! Oh no!… My ACTUAL first ever rc9gn oc was a whole other girl made back when I was a kid and had first watched the show in my childhood… (I can talk about that said old first oc if anyone’s interested-)

What I actually mean by that is that Serenity is the first rc9gn ninja OC I have made AFTER not having one for so many years later on.. before Seth, Esther and the rest, SHE was the one ninja to be created first. She has gone through lots of changes since then and man, has she grown.

That’s the main reason why she means a lot to me. If it weren’t for her existence, none of my other ninja ocs would have ever existed.

My daughterrerrrrr /silly

,,

If you read all of this then wow, damn. I don’t know what to say, I honestly didn’t think anyone would take their time to look through this-

[thedarkestgreys]

for the hundred assorted prompts:

47

hand tattoos that weave around fingers

🖋️🎨🖋️🎨🖋️🎨🖋️🎨 🖋️🎨🖋️🎨🖋️🎨🖋️🎨

After Playboy dropped the dime on ‘em and their place was raided by the Feds, he knew he needed to get him an’ Ash outta the business and outta East Highland. The two of them put their heads together and a plan was formed. Three months of hustling by their estimates was all it would take. Ash even took a gamble on crypto, investing in what they hoped would be a big payout when the time was right.

As it turned out, the kid had good instincts ‘cause the return on investment was more than enough to make things square with Mouse and get them a cozy lil place in LA while affording to put Kitty into a care home. Fezco sold the Dairy off to some couple looking to have a steady stream of income as they reached their twilight years and put the house on the market all in one day, the last of their boxes already in the UHaul that was gon’ take ‘em outta there and to their new place as their grandma was transported to her facility in an ambulance. That morning he hugged Rue goodbye an’ told her not to be a stranger while Lexi Howard lingered awkwardly at her side.

They’d spent all of New Years Eve talkin’ on a couch at Virgil’s party and Fezco thought briefly that there was some typa spark between ‘em, but he was so focused on gettin’ him an’ his lil brother out that life they were in, nothing ever moved past that one special night.

“Take care of yourself Lexi Howard,” Fez says as the girl looks awkwardly at the ground. “You fuckin’ fearless, don’t forget that shit.”

Lexi looks up in a flash and surprises the shit out of him when she throws her arms around his neck quickly, giving him a tight squeeze before pressing her lips briefly against his bearded cheek. “Thanks, Fezco. You too.”

-

Now it’s not like Fezco expected his bad habit of doodling on random ass scraps of paper would ever actually amount to much, but about three weeks into their new life in LA, Ashtray dumps a bag of art supplies onto the coffee table in front of him and tells him to get to sketching instead of sitting around doing nothing. He starts out small, simple figures and shapes, working on his straight lines, and he moves on from there.

He starts working part time at a dispensary, something to fill his time as he’s trying to figure out what he wants to do with his new found freedom. Four months into the job, one of his coworkers finds him working away in his sketchbook and asks if they can take a look.

“I mean, Ion think they’re all that good, but sure,” he says, tossing the book to Ciara.

The twenty-something woman flips through the book slowly, taking her time looking at the art, pausing for a long moment on a page he knows is a portrait of the girl he can’t get outta his head.

“Holy shit kid, these are good,” she says with a low whistle. “You’re really talented. Have you ever thought about becoming an apprentice?”

“A what?”

Ciara grins, leaning against the table. “A tattoo apprentice, where you learn how to become a tattoo artist. My wife owns a shop. You know, she hasn’t had an apprentice in a long time but you’re the type of talent she’d definitely like to nurture.”

Now that’s sumn Fezco hadn’t really considered when he picked up the pencil a few months ago. Fuck, he’s never even been inked himself. He tells Ciara as much.

“The perfect canvas to practice on,” she says with a wink as she pulls her phone from her back pocket, typing quickly. “What’s your work schedule like the rest of the week?”

“Off tomorrow and Thursday.”

“Great,” she says with a smile. “Tamara wants to see what you can do. I’ll send you the address to her shop.”

-

Fezco spends the next year studying under Tamara, soaking everything up like a fuckin’ sponge. And getting himself covered in tattoos in the process.

His thighs and legs he keeps empty, giving himself space to practice. But everything else? It’s free game. Fez covers his arms with religious imagery - angels holding swords and the Holy Mother, a rosary wrapped around his wrist and trailing down his left hand. But his right hand, the one he tattoos with, he leaves empty for the time being, waiting until he’s done with his apprenticeship to fill in that space.

-

Fezco’s twenty-four the next time he sees Lexi Howard.

She’s wearing a short, black bodycon dress that shows off her long legs as she sips a can of Cutwater Yodka Mule in Rue’s moms backyard while they celebrate the girls both graduating from UCLA the week prior. The former addict had kept her word and reached out to Fezco once she ended up in LA for college and the two hung out on occasion, but Fez hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Lexi in all that time.

“It would be easier if you just went up and said hi to her,” Rue comments, sliding up beside him with a Sprite in her hand. “She was asking about you.”

“Funny,” he snorts dismissively. “Ain’t seen her come ‘round in LA.”

Rue sighs. “She had her reasons. Now go talk to her, you dummy.”

He downs the rest of the beer in the bottle he holds for courage and does exactly that. Lexi is… everything he remembered from the time they had their fleeting friendship. Witty, funny, smart as fuck and snarky as hell. There’s a reason he’s spent the last five years drawing her in the margins of every scrap of paper.

“Can I take you on a date sometime?” he asks, a little bold from the third bottle of beer he’s nursing.

Lexi flushes, burying her face in her hands. “Yeah Fezco. You can take me on a date.”

-

They do that.

They go on dates, they have fun, they get to know one another again.

Fezco tells her about getting out of the business, discovering his passion for art and starting his tattooing career. Lexi confides in him about her incredibly lonely last year of high school and reforging her relationship with Rue at UCLA.

They laugh together, a lot.

He likes her. A stupid amount. It’s probably unhealthy.

And eventually, Fezco gets her in his bed and shows her how much he likes her.

Slowly, they fall in love.

Lexi’s laying across his chest, her fingers tracing over his tattoos. Nails skim over the bull he had Tamara ink on his right hand after he finished his apprenticeship.

“You should tattoo me,” she says, her grin evident against his shoulder. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

“Yeah?” he says slowly in disbelief, entwining his tattooed fingers with hers. “Aight Lex. I gotchu baby. Whatever you want, I’ll hook you up.”

His girl smiles, places a kiss right over his heart. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s do it.”

[ships-n-bats]

Putting under read more 'cause it kind of turned out way longer than intended and has big images attached. ^^'

Warning: I literally am reviewing and judging sketches Kub0 drew of the Ichi//Hime fam post-manga and just being critical of I//H as a whole.

“Kub0 has yet to release any artwork of the Ichi//Hime family together!”

I just recently recalled this statement made years ago by anti I//Hs and became rather curious over whether or not this statement was still true or not. It’s been about 8+ years since the manga ended and I//H became canon with their mini-me child being revealed alongside. So, out of genuine curiosity, I decided to see if Kub0 had since drawn the I//H family in any capacity.

Only to discover that, nope, he indeed had not.

The closest I could find of any drawings made by Kub0 that involved Ichig0's family post-manga were these two sketches he made:

A sketch of Ichig0 and Kαzui with Kub0's signature.

And the pic he drew of Ichig0 with Kαzui during quarantine (which I will admit is super adorable omg).

Two pictures featuring a father and his son.

But! You'll notice with both of these sketches, 0rihime is missing. You know, the wife of Ichig0 and mother to said child?? She's not so much as shown in the background or right there alongside her husband and kid! She's just, not present what-so-ever...

And the saddest part? When I tried searching for any sketches Kub0 made of Kαzui with 0rihime, nothing came up. Not a single sketch featuring mother and son. I only found those two pics of Kαzui with his father. That's it.

And there wasn't a single sketch that had all three of them together.

The closest I could find was of an edited version of the quarantine pic an I//H fan drew where they added 0rihime in. That's right, an I//H fan had to add 0rihime into the sketch in order to get a proper Ichi//Hime family pic, because Mr. Tite Kub0 couldn't be bothered to do so himself in the first place. I also found other edited pics that just took separate pics of the three and mashed them together, which is just... sad.

I think the closest there's been to the three being seen together as a family was in the manga and even that is a bit of a stretch.

This then led me to see if Kub0 had since drawn Ichig0 and 0rihime together and came up with two more sketches:

A sketch of the two standing next to each other, looking at one another.

Another sketch of the two's portraits.

And just like with the previous two pics, I noticed something about both pics. In the first one, 0rihime and Ichig0 are keeping a distance between themselves, and the sketch overall is rather simplistic and not really readable. I can barely make out either of their expressions, though 0rihime looks shocked? Confused?? idk Meanwhile, Ichig0 looks either blank or irritated? He might be talking to her??

As for the second sketch, Ichig0 looks like he had more time and effort put into his portrait, while 0rihime looks thrown in last second. Given how much bigger Ichig0 is, it gives off the impression that Kub0 drew a pic of Ichig0 first, and then added 0rihime off to the side, in the background, which explains why she's so small and seems tacked on. You can essentially remove her from the sketch entirely as she doesn't look part of it as a whole.

Also, this same sketch had an I//H shipper tack on Kαzui to try and make it a family pic, just like with the other one.

Despite Kub0 canonizing Ichig0 and 0rihime as a married couple with a kid, despite it being nearly a decade now, despite I//H shippers asking Kub0 to give more details about how the two got together and what their relationship is like as a family and couple, he still hasn't bothered to actually give the Ichi//Hime fam any proper spotlight.

I hate bringing up other mangas for comparison, but even Nαruto, despite its own controversial ending and endgame ships, showcased some sweet family moments with their next gen families and even had cute couple-y moments between the endgame pairs. Kishim0t0 at least bothered to put some effort into trying to sell his endgame ships to fans. Meanwhile, Kub0 has left I//H high and dry of any basic domestic fluff.

And honestly?

I just find that to be plain sad. Sad that even though a pairing is made canon, is made to be married with a child, there's still this lack of intimacy between the two. Yes, many I//H antis have pointed out how much Ichig0 and 0rihime lacked development and intimacy prior to the ending, but it's post-ending where I feel the failure of I//H really comes to ahead.

I//H stans tend to use Ichig0 and 0rihime's marriage and product of their consummation as a crutch or a "got'cha" to prove them being canon somehow means they're a perfect pairing. But it really doesn't mean anything if there's no real intimacy outside of a legal piece of paper and offspring. Those two things don't prove anything and shouldn't be used as evidence for a happy, healthy relationship.

Because, despite what is believed by many, a marriage and kids does not automatically translate to a good relationship. People can be married with kids and still be unhappy or lack real closeness or intimacy in their relationship. Just like how the alternative (i.e. not married and no kids), can mean a happy and close relationship. Basically, a marriage and children are not required nor are proof of a happy, healthy relationship.

Kub0 himself has already proven to me that he doesn't even care about Ichi//Hime as a pairing, despite the marriage and kid. He hasn't shown that Ichig0 and 0rihime are close and seems to actively avoid drawing the family together, leading the fans to do so for him out of desperation. He was more than happy to show 0rihime's one-sided devotion towards Ichig0 throughout the manga, but never bothered to show Ichig0 ever returning those feelings, and then just ended with the two married with a son. Only later offhandedly mentioning that the two got together sometime after university when a fan asked him about it. And Ichig0 had to be prompted by his friends to make a move on her, not because he did so on his own accord.

Ichi//Hime may be endgame canon, but it's still hollow and empty.

Update 7/9/24

I had actually forgotten about another pic Kub0 did and was only recently reminded of it by a twt user.

The pic features Ichig0, Rukiα, Ichikα, and Kαzui altogether.

And I have to agree with the twt user’s assessment on it, it does look like an accidental family pic. I can totally see some people who aren’t familiar with Bleαch taking this out of context and mistaking Rukiα and Ichig0 as the parents. It’s a very cute and silly sketch too, with Rukiα and Kαzui messing around with Ichig0 and Ichikα dealing with their antics. An overall happy, wholesome pic.

Which makes the fact that Kub0 drew Rukiα alongside Kαzui and not his own mother, 0rihime, all the more noticeable and depressing. It really does feel like Kub0 is actively avoiding making any happy I//H fam material. He always falls back on drawing Ichig0 and Rukiα together (which he has admitted to enjoy doing).

[raainberry]

Studious Confession

« Done deliberately or with a purpose in mind. »

Yunjin x gn!reader

Fluff

synopsis - you and your friend yunjin get sidetracked while speed running revisions for finals

wordcount - 1.8K

A/N - save me scholar yunjin, save me…

Absolute academic weapons.

That’s what you and Yunjin aimed to be when you scheduled a study session at your campus library. Exam season was breathing down your necks, and you ignored it for as long as you could, taking each other on the most impromptu hang-outs instead.

Convenience store runs that lead to mukbangs, walks around campus that somehow turned into treetop adventures, late night drives after a long day of classes you spent screaming to whatever she played on the aux… Risking your education (and probably your future) had never been so fun, but all good things must come to an end.

As the end of your junior year approached you were the first one to bring up studying, suggesting you should probably pump the breaks on the distractions. She only called you a nerd, but gave in when you proposed to study together.

The time itself wouldn’t be fun at all, but at least she’d spend it with you. “A win is a win.”, she’d said over the phone, and it only took a few more days to actually motivate yourselves. Reserving a study room was a step in the right direction, but what happened in there would only make you take two steps back.

“That doesn’t even look like me.” You said after she revealed her doodle in the corner of your notebook.

She spent the last five minutes trying to sketch your features out on the bit of blank paper left on your notes instead of focusing on her own.

“Yes it does, look!” She gestured at the messy drawing. “That’s your eyes and your mouth.”

“I am looking, I’m just not seeing.”

It actually did look like you, Yunjin was too talented for it not to. You were just looking at it upside down as you sat across the table from her.

“Well look harder!”

“I don’t want to, stop distracting me!” You whined, switching your pen for a highlighter.

“You’re so mean! Give me my airpod back.” She whined back, actually catching your attention this time.

“What?”

“I don’t want to share my music with you anymore. I need to listen to sad music alone because you’re so mean to me.” She argued, her hand out waiting for the airpod in your ear.

“Are you serious?” You asked, and she only stared at you, retreating her hand only to fold her arms over her chest. “If I say it does look like me, can I keep it?”

“You can keep the drawing, yeah.” She scoffed and you sighed.

You were unsure whether she was serious or not, so you decided to try something that could only have a positive outcome.

“Coffee break?” You proposed, and just like that, her smile was back.

Relief washed over you when her hand found yours, dragging you down to the nearest vending machine. The latter was familiar, it has seen your faces more times than the study rooms as you sometimes only came by to get a coffee from the machine right next to it.

That’s where you met Yunjin, on one of the rare nights she dedicated to her due projects. You’d offered her one of those cheap paper cups, a hole in your student wallet but nothing compared to the world she invited you in afterwards.

Her own little world, the person she was within it, the things she saw and built… It was all so beautiful. You’d get her a thousand of them if it meant learning one new thing every time.

Sometimes you brought her here in hopes for it, and it never failed. The same thing would happen: you’d get her a coffee, she would fight you, try to pay for yours, and you’d ask her about something you’d noticed about her to change the subject. Small details you’d noticed; a pretty necklace, some new earrings, a new hairstyle or the way her makeup looked. Sometimes her mood stood out to you, had you curious. She’d soon forget about her self-imposed debt, getting caught up in the excitment of whatever had caught your attention that day.

“I like your glasses today. How many pairs do you have?” You asked after she sighed out your name. “This is like the fifth pair I’ve seen you wear.”

“Thank you. I have a few. Even more back home.” She said, making you raise an eyebrow.

Her answer was shorter than usual. No spilling over to another subject that your question reminded her of. No squealing about where she got them from, holding your arm as she practically begged for you to come check the small store out with her next time.

Her hands stayed put in her pockets, below the sweater you’d asked about a few weeks ago. It looked comfortable and cozy, and she seemed to grow fond of it based on the way she pulled her hands into the sleeves so often.

“Do they even help you see?” You asked, joking around in an attempt to pull a little more out of her.

“Only two of them do. These aren’t one of them, though.” She giggled to herself, and you could only shake your head at her absurdity.

“Do you even want to pass?” You chuckled as the machine made all kinds of mechanical noises, signaling that the coffee was ready.

She rolled her eyes, getting her hands out of her pockets to grab the cup from yours. The heat emanating from it was the last thing she needed on this fair weather day, but the taste of that coffee was just too good to pass on.

The taste wasn’t the only thing that pushed her to accept each and every one of the cups you offered her. She didn’t even pay attention to it at first, but as time went on, she started looking forward to it. Sometimes to the point of craving it.

Caffeine was dangerous, sure, but she’d come to realise it wasn’t what she had become addicted to.

“How long are you going to keep this up?”

She broke the small silence that had taken its place between the two of you. One of your favorite songs was playing at a faint volume from the airpods you were still sharing, filling in for the lack of words. Your mind had drifted off, long gone and barely listening to your favorite melody as thoughts of her occupied the back of it.

The sound of her voice brought you back, all conscious and hiding how crazy you felt thinking about someone standing right next to you.

A curious hum resonated from your chest, and your eyes met her questioning ones.

“The coffee. When are you gonna let me pay you back?” She asked, and you smiled.

“You don’t need to.”

“But I want to. You spent like a hundred dollars since the beginning of the year.” She frowned.

“That’s a bit excessive. I’d say 30 dollars at the most. It’s really cheap coffee.” You pointed out.

It took everything in her not to call you a smartass. It seemed like a terrible way to confess her feelings. Especially when what she felt, the light she saw you in painted you as far more than a smartass. The opposite, or maybe a more positive and kind alternative.

“You really don’t want me to pay you back?” She insisted, and you shook your head, amused.

This wasn’t the first time she was asking, and you didn’t expect it to be the last, but your answer would remain the same.

You didn’t want her money.

“You could at least admit you want something in return.”

Her words wiped the delectation right off your face. The lighthearted atmosphere suddenly vanished, replaced by a heavy and uncomfortable one.

You had trouble finding the right way to breathe, scared it would shift the conversation into a much too unpredictable path.

“Wh—what?” You stuttered, furrowing your eyebrows in the most natural way you could.

Yunjin wasn’t having it, although in a simpler moment she would have laughed at your poor attempt.

“Come on, Y/n.” She probed. “No one gives out that many compliments out of pure kindness only.”

“There probably are a few people—” You started, but the way she stared at you kept you from rambling further.

There was no escaping it, she obviously knew what was going on. In theory, you couldn’t be surprised as you hoped for your actions to be obvious, or at the least for her to notice them.

Now that she did, you weren’t sure what to do. Hell, you didn’t even know where or how to stand anymore, you hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“Well—I mean, I kind of have been doing this to get to know you a little more.” You mumbled.

One of her eyebrows furrowed, and you sighed. This wasn’t exactly ideal for the embarrassment you felt.

“We’ve been friends for months, is it so difficult to do that? Am I that hard to read?” She wondered, amused.

“I don’t know, it feels easier this way… For me at least.” You looked down, eyes sweeping the floor as you did your best to avoid her gaze.

Embarrassed was only the start to describing how this whole thing made you feel. Everything you did, everything you told and asked her in order to find out more, as sincere and truthful it all was… It all seemed so silly. Collecting all those bits of her personnality, of her mind; piecing them all together in sercret and falling behind closed doors…

What was the point of putting yourself through so much if it would all come to light anyway?

Would it even be worth it?

“Right. Well…” She trailed off, and your eyes were pulled by the sudden movement of her hand between the two of you.

You watched as it hesitantly approached yours, waiting to see if it would welcome it only for you to wrap your fingers around her palm in a heartbeat— that was to say it happened fast as your heart had picked up the pace for a while now.

Yunjin kept her smile to herself, hiding her appreciation behind treacherous eyes that she focused on your joined hands. The spark she held in her gaze whenever she looked at you was hard to erase—she couldn’t believe you hadn’t noticed it.

“Let your wallet rest a bit.” She joked, finally looking up at you. “Whatever you want to know, next time you can just ask.”

“Do you like me?”

“Oh.” Her eyebrows raised in surprise as you shared a laugh over the sudden, bold question.

It wasn’t exactly unlike you, but judging on the past couple minutes, neither of you really expected it.

“I do like you.” She admitted, a shy smile letting you know she wasn’t as cool about it as she tried to be before adding. “When you’re not nagging me about finals.”

“If this is one of your ways to get out of studying I’m gonna be so mad.” You half-joked.

It would be a pretty insane thing to pull, but you wouldn’t put it past her. She loved to avoid schoolwork, no matter the excuse.

“If it was I wouldn’t ask you to get back to it.”

“You haven’t.”

“I am now.” She smiled, tugging on your hand the same way she had to bring you here.

You could only follow as she jogged back to your study room. Whether her excitment came from studying or the progression of your relationship, you had a small idea. It put a smile on your face that you wouldn’t be able to get rid of for as long as she was the one holding your hand.

And wherever she’d lead you, you’d follow.

[cimmerian1275]

A little insight from me when it comes to drawing

Over the past year or so, ive gotten allot of people asking me "how do u do that?/i dont understand how you can draw this??" & "how do you draw so fast?" & "i wish i could be as productive as you" & "how are you so good at art?" <- to name a few of the most common comments i get.

——————

I never have a good answer for that in the moment because i overthink and spiral. But i can ramble my thoughts about it here.

I dont THINK i draw very fast, comparatively to some other people my art style/method that ive developed up over the years actually makes drawing for me take longer than it would for someone else.

Theres definitely artists out there who take a longer time to draw than me, and artists out there who can draw much faster than me.

But for me personally? Im probably somewhere in the middle.

I technically do draw very fast with the amount of details i can add in a short span of time, but 50% of the time spent drawing is actually me sketching, adjusting the sketch, using the liquify tool, resizing and rotating things a bunch of times, resketching the sketch and basically creating a whole rough draft of the artwork before i even begin drawing the actual lineart.

If my artwork took 2 hours to complete, i can guarantee you the first hour was just the sketch.

And after explaining that 👆 it makes it easier to explain "how are you so good at art?". For me, being good at art is... tough to explain because the way i view "good art" is probably different to how others think it is. Itll be a long info dump but ill circle back to that at the end.

——————

I unfortunately have a bit of a perfectionist streak and a very spur of the moment "if i can, why not?" attitude and that heavily influences my art. This is where being neurodivergent (think adhd, autism) becomes a very important factor to consider during my art process:

If the inspiration hits me to draw *something* in a cool dynamic pose that the art gods just beamed into my brain, ill go "ohhh hey that would look awesome!" which then turns into "why not draw that right now? whats stopping me?" ill pause whatever im doing and leap into sketching out that idea. I am a tragedy when it comes to impulse control.

This part is where i inevitably get doomed by my own brain xD

I have two options ahead of me:

1, 'Start drawing right now before the idea runs away' OR 2, 'Let that idea float around in my head for a few weeks, procrastinating how awesome it would be but never actually act on it'

And when i pick option 1?

Ill forget and drop whatever half baked plans i had for the day, ill forget i havent had anything to eat in the last 10 hours, ill forget i should probably go outside and touch grass. Ill lock in, grab my pen and get comfortable because i wont be moving for a couple of hours.

Ill leap into sketching that idea while its still hot, because i know if i just sit there and let myself procrastinate about it, ill never actually draw anything.

I can spend around 2 - 5 hours on average just non-stop drawing when it comes to bigger projects. I absolutely suck at taking breaks, and i only ever do when i get thirsty or begin to feel my brain telling me it needs some enrichment (which is usually just getting up for a snack or drink). Take this with a grain of salt because im no professional or psychologist, but i like to think that i have found my own personal ways weaponize my adhd/autism to aid me with art.

(Lots of people are probably going to relate to what i say next, so buckle up! I need to do some explaining first so you can understand how my brain works)

I tend to lose focus, SO EASILY, i can switch up conversations really fast without a sweat and enjoy it. I can be reading, listening/humming to a song, and have a secret third option where a corner of my brain is thinking of fanfic and art ideas all at the same time. Ill zone out in the middle of a book, a show, an artwork, and start procrastinating about the randomest of things. Ill spend a good couple of minutes trying to stack my pillows just right to sit in a comfortable posture, ill get pissed off if theres itchy fabric brushing against my drawing arm and ill drop everything to fix that, ill keep fluffing up that blanket on my lap until its in the exact right position.

These things often make it difficult for me to sit down, get focused, and start drawing...

But i actually have a good list of tricks that make it possible for me to avoid distractions and comfortably lock in on drawing. And oh boy, when i lock in i reeaaaallly lock in.

——————

Some common problems i face when drawing, that you might have trouble with aswell:

🔶 Ill have an art idea hit me, but by the time i open up the program i use to draw its already nyoooomed back into the void it came from: IT SUCKS!! I lost the idea and cant grasp it in my imagination :C but ive got a strategy i use to grip that idea and keep it in my head long enough for me to draw. And its MUSIC. I love scrolling my playlist for the right song/playlist that fits the "vibe" of what im trying to draw, and i often associate an artwork to a specific song. Some examples of what happens when i just looped 1 song (or playlist) the entire time as i drew it: - 'Odysseus' - 'King Of The World' - 'Falling Feels A Little Like Your Flying' - 'Let The Wind Carry Us' - 'Gold' - 'First Flight/Flight Over Alps' - 'To The Ends Of The Earth' For ALL of these big artworks, i owe so much to music for enabling me to lock in and get that idea down on paper. Not every artwork is based on 1 song though, sometimes ill just have a playlist on shuffle in the background instead as i draw away. I find music helps slow down and focus my thoughts long enough for me to imagine what im actually trying to draw.

🔶 Ill stop midway drawing and lose focus, just zone out for seemingly no reason: Ive discovered when that happens for me, ive simply gotten lost in a decision making process at some point while i was drawing. When i eventually notice ive zoned out, i pause what im doing and take a step back to think... "What was i trying to do earlier?" -> I was trying to decide what part of the artwork i was going to draw next, theres a few things i rlly wanna draw now but i can only pick one! I got lost imagining how both options would look when i do them, and once id stopped to procrastinate about those my thoughts had taken the wheel and spiraled into a ditch instead of actually going ahead and drawing it. This is really common in my case, and its often about 5 songs later that ive noticed im just sitting here staring into space thinking about a fanfic i read 2 months ago and how much i loved it, and not working on the artwork in front of me xD

🔶 Ive lost the motivation to start/finish an artwork/project: Happens all the time, and its horrible, i have projects, commissions and owed art that people are waiting for... yet i cant seem to find the will to work on them. I dont really have advice for this, but i want to drop some wisdom on you and say that Its okay if you cant seem to draw that right now. You dont need to put everything else on hold to finish this, you can start a fresh project instead of continuing that old one thats looming at you from the corner of your files. Dont allow yourself to feel burdened and pressured to complete something, dont let the mere thought of losing motivation turn something you love to do into something you hate. (this is probably not effective advice for anything with a due date, but it can still help in a roundabout way) Ive come to think that when youve lost motivation, your brain is simply just still loading the ideas and motivation, theyll come to you in time. Its like waiting for a massive game to install or update, its going to take a while, but youll still get it in the end. When your motivation finally returns, you can be satisfied that youll enjoy what your drawing again! Maybe you just needed a break from it, maybe your brain needed a moment to work up the courage.

I still have artworks that are MONTHS in the making, and that people are still waiting for, but im content to know what when my motivation returns to finish those ill actually be able to put genuine effort and joy into completing them. Meanwhile, ill keep drawing what im currently motivated for so that i dont get rusty <3

🔶 ARTBLOCK!!! *falls into the void/dies for a month* The thing thats always peeking over my shoulder and asking if its time.... From my perspective, i perceive art block TWO ways:

Exhausted mentally, burnt out <- OR -> Literally art-blocked, your stuck without ideas, trapped in a rut D:

Exhausted and burnt out? Too dead inside to draw? Thats the universe knocking on your door saying you reeaaally need to take a vacation, listen to it. Burning out is NOT fun, and the longer you push past your limits the longer youll have to spend recovering from it. Having breaks for a couple days to a week every once in a while does wonders for my sanity.

Literally facing art-block, ideas not idea-ing? Ive discovered that my brain is asking for enrichment when i face that, it wants to try something new and exiting and fresh, it wants to stretch its muscles and stop drawing the same old boring stuff youve been drawing for the past couple of weeks.

Try drawing in a new artstyle!! Maybe change what brushes you draw lineart with, make them thicker, or thinner? Try a brush with a unique texture to it. Draw with a smaller/larger canvas than usual, participate in a daily art challenge or event? Spontaneously draw someones OC that you like. You just need a breath of fresh air and to mix things up a little bit <3

🔶 Hyperfixating so much that i forget to take care of myself: Half the time I WILL get really bad hyperfixation on a bigger artwork because im in the zone and i locked in too hard that its become obsessive, and it often feels like...

"If i dont finish this or keep drawing, my anxiety spikes like theres something after me and theres this unwarranted sense of NEED to do good and get that artwork done"

Thats the big driving force that gets me to be productive with my art. Depending on how you view it, it can be seen as a good or bad thought process. This is usually a good heads up that im getting close to a burn out when im finally done with that artwork, and i really NEED a break. Stop for lunch, or dinner, grab a snack and walk around a bit.

——————

To the people who say: "how are you so good at art? how do you do that?", "i wish i could be as productive as you", "tell me how/teach me your ways"

Im gonna be sappy and say its NOT straightforward and this is definitely not the answer youd expect, but im good at what i do because ive taken time to look at myself and understand how my own brain works.

Im good at art because ive spent all this time getting SUPER introspective, picking my own brain apart and discovering that: "when i do this, it makes me enjoy drawing! If this makes it enjoyable it means i can draw more" and that ultimately leads to "When im able to draw more, im constantly growing and improving my skills from all of the experiences im gaining, i now have the motivation and passion to do THIS because im actively enjoying it"

If i know what distracts me, what makes me lose motivation, what causes me to burn out, what i dont enjoy drawing... and ive learned ways to overcome those obstacles? Thats what i think enables me to be a good artist and be so productive.

Im gonna be cliche and say LOTS of practice is also literally the only reason why im where im at today. Sure, i already had a boost at the beginning because i was naturally artistic and its probably genetic somehow with all the artistically talented people in my family, but its because ive put work into refining those skills and honing them that theyre actually GOOD. They would be useless if i hadnt done anything to build them up.

You dont need to have a predestined skillset to become good at art, your just a little behind and have a longer learning curve. Ive watched a close friend of mine over about 5 years, go from really bad scribbles and awkward looking doodles to practicing and discovering they have a really good knack for colors and shapes.

I like to think "whats actually stopping me from learning to draw?", whats stopping me from downloading an art app and messing around, whats stopping me from doodling in the corner of a book, whats stopping me from stealing sticky notes and scribbling on them, whats stopping me from wanting to improve more and more? Too many people are close-minded and negative with "i dont have any devices to draw on" so what? grab a book and pen, i started with traditional art myself. "But i dont have pens or drawing books?" that sucks, but whats stopping you from grabbing a stick and even drawing in the dirt or sand or snow?

[shingekinomyfeelings]

Per my last threat, here's more backstory on Vega. In the story that exists only in my head because I'm probably absolutely never going to actually write it, her thing with Reiner starts as a real slow burn, in large part because in year 1 of training she's flighty and timid about existing around other people. He's intimidating because he's so (apparently) effortlessly liked by others, and he's kind of rowdy and built like an actual titan.

Vega's skills and speed with the odm gear rival Connie's, and she'll attack titan dummies with a lot of ferocity, but when it comes to hand to hand combat training she becomes incredibly awkward and sort of shuts down and does the bare minimum; she tends to abandon group drills to act alone, and while she's generally acknowledged as knowing a lot, she's distant in any group setting. As a result she's seen as a bit antisocial and cold, like Annie but without the bite.

Armin's actually the one who discovers she's actually pretty friendly when caught one on one, like that spooky stray dog that slinks around the yard making everyone nervous until someone is like 'hi there puppy!' and then the dog turns into a tail waggy goob (Armin definitely knows another soft hearted nerd when he sees one, you can't convince me otherwise). I'll spare you the year one angst, because it's really around the start of year 2 that she's caught Reiner's attention as Just a Cute Little Sweetie in a similar vein as Krista.

The thing is, Krista is easy to idealize, because she puts on a veneer and makes a personality out of people pleasing. Vega, on the other hand, doesn't hide much once she starts warming up to people, so Reiner is kind of like 'well she's CUTE, but I'd have to choose Krista, if i had to, because Vega's kind of an oddball' while periodically mentally rebuking himself for being interested in any of these island devils - he can't help it if girls are cute 😩 He figures it's okay to have a distant crush, and even though he doesn't explicitly realize it, Krista makes that easier

Vega in the meantime has come to have a real hero worship of Hanji, volunteering to aid Hanji's research in any spare time she can find. She gets swept up in the fascination with titans pretty easily, viewing them as simply part of the natural world, big mysterious animals that humans just don't know enough about yet. With a genuine belief that learning more about titan behavior might be the key to humanity going beyond the walls, she throws herself wholeheartedly into adding chapters about titans to her journals, right alongside herbal remedies and sketches of flowers.

When a 12 meter titan presents itself as an easy capture, Hanji is thrilled to have a new beloved subject, and also thrilled that her studious new protege is just as excited to document observations. As one night falls, the titan going dormant, Vega implores Hanji to let her sit at a safe distance and sketch the beast while Hanji actually gets some rest and hygiene in. Doesn't seem like much can go wrong, but Hanji probably also doesn't realize how similar to her Vega really is.

Reiner comes snooping along, scoping the scene to find out how easy it would be to kill the captured titan before it can be studied too closely, and finds Vega, jotting notes in a journal, next to a lantern on a pole. He's spotted by her and plays off his being there as coming to check on her. Vega, who's been getting a lot more comfortable with him, says 'hey ���� wanna see something really cool I found out? Look at this,' and demonstrates moving the lantern towards and away from the titan's face a few times. 'See, his pupils don't expand or contract when the light changes, weird right?'

Reiner's like 'uhh... okay?' and Vega goes 'yeah but watch this' and scooches right up to the mostly-immobilized titan and puts a hand on its face. The titan's pupils expand and even in its nighttime dormancy, it's clearly trembling like it's going to try to lurch forward at her. She's like 'isn't that cool??' and Reiner, having a mini heart attack, grabs her arm and yanks her away from it and more or less shouts at her like 'WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK ARE YOU THINKING??' To which Vega is just kind of alarmed that he's suddenly mad at her, not really understanding why. Reiner's even more taken aback by that, and in that moment his brain goes '...oh god. oh no. I... really, REALLY like this idiot 😨'

[corvus--rex]

Lance and Keith started dating early in high school, even before Keith came out and started his transition, and it's now just after college and they're engaged. They've been with Lance's family for the day, Sylvio and Nadia included.

The kids are 6 and 4 and have known Keith literally their entire lives. They were too young during various stages to understand what was going on, but they both know Keith's trans.

Needing a break, Keith is curled up against Lance in the living room, while Sylvio and Nadia are sprawled on the floor with a book each. Nadia's only just learning to read, but she already loves books. She's turning the pages, mostly looking at the pictures, when she looks up, interrupting Keith and Lance's quiet conversation.

"Tío Keef, why aren't there families in my stories like ours?"

It's been about 15 years since he's read a kids' book and doesn't understand where's she's going with this. "What do you mean, munchkin?"

Nadia puts her book down, turning to face him in all the seriousness a 4 year old can muster. "They all have a mami and a papi, but not - not -" her face scrunches as she tries to find the right word.

She doesn't need to find the right word, the realization of what she's asking hits him at full force. He sits up, leaning forward to meet her eyes. "You wanna know why there isn't anyone like me?"

She nods. "It's not fair."

It's an innocent question, but she asked it with such naive sincerity, genuinely upset that she didn't see her own family in her favorite books. It gave Keith an idea. He had a new sketchbook in the backseat of his car, a very recent art degree, and the few creative writing classes he'd taken.

Nadia's books didn't have her family in their pages, but maybe they could.

"Y'know what? I'll be right back."

He ran out to his car and back with the sketchbook, plus the mechanical pencil and ballpoint pen from his bag, and sat down on the floor with her, meeting Lance's confused look asking what the hell he was doing with one that said "trust me".

"Ok, munchkin," he said to Nadia, "If your stories don't have our family in them, how about we make a new story?"

Nadia's face lit up. "We can make a new one? With our kind of family in it?"

"We can, but I'll need your help."

Sylvio was pretending to read his own book, but Lance could see him listening in and sneaking looks at the rough sketches. That didn't last long, the book quickly forgotten in favor of throwing out wilder and wilder ideas for the story with Keith gently reeling him in. Sylvio was not one to be reeled in, and Lance soon joined them on the floor to help wrangle the kids' enthusiasm. They stayed there for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, neither one wanting to leave when their parents came to tell them it was time to go. They only stopped fighting it when Keith promised them they'd work on the story again.

He kept that promise, taking the kids out every few weeks, showing them what he'd done in between when he had time, and them continuing the story and illustrations.

After it was finished, he left it for a while, not forgotten, but resting. Eventually, he pulled the illustrations and their companion sheets of text from the shoebox-like storage box he'd gotten just for this, matching art to words.

Lance came home from work to their apartment that evening to find Keith on the living room floor, bristol board and printer paper in an organized chaos around him.

"Think it's really done?" Lance asked.

Keith sighed and leaned back against the sofa. There was one thing about the book he hadn't told anyone yet, but after the email he'd gotten earlier in the day, he finally could.

"Yeah I do." He paused and looked up, a little bit guilty, but mostly trying to contain excitement. "I found a publisher for it. They're a queer-owned company. I actually sent it off about a month ago and I finally heard back today. They love it."

It had started as a picture book, but evolved since then into something a little bigger. Nadia wanted cats - all different colors, and not little kitties, no she wanted lions. And the lions had to have knights to ride on them. Sylvio was the one to insist on a princess and that she had to be their honorary Tía Allura. Gradually, all of the knights and princess ended up based on people the kids knew, Keith and Lance included. It made sense and Keith loved it and the idea of family including the one you make for yourself.

When it came time for a name for this story of found family and adventures, Sylvio yelled "Defenders of the UNIVERSE!" at the top of his lungs in the middle of the park. Nadia had been taking a break from the playground, sitting next to Keith with her coloring pad. She'd drawn the lions from their story, facing out in a vaguely star shape, their tails meeting in the middle.

Keith asked for her opinion on a story name and also what she was drawing and without looking up from her coloring, she said "Its name is Voltron."

Keith put the two together, and when the book was published, its cover was the lions Nadia had drawn that day, only by Keith's hand this time, framed on top and bottom by the book's name: Defenders of The Universe, a Voltron story.

No one had seen the dedication, not until Keith got the advance copies, giving one each to Sylvio and Nadia in the same living room the story had started in. Nadia climbed into Keith's lap with it, Sylvio squeezing himself in between Keith and Lance on the sofa.

Looking over Sylvio's shoulder, Lance read it aloud.

"For Sylvio and Nadia, the original Defenders, this book wouldn't exist without you. Don't stop reading or dreaming."

[doormatty3]

Blizzards and Beef Stew - Chapter 10 (Patrick Wilson x FOC)

Masterlist Ao3

Blizzards and Beef Stew Masterlink

Summary

[Patrick Wilson x Original Female Character] [Patrick Wilson x Original Character] Éléanor had always adored winter: its snow, its crisp air. But what she treasured most was retreating to her cosy cabin in the Swedish mountains. There, she could bake, sketch, and enjoy the solitude, far from the noise of the world. At least, that’s how it used to be—until a new neighbour arrived. Patrick Wilson was tall, charming, and with a smile that seemed to melt the coldest days. As they struck up a friendship, Éléanor found herself drawn to him, even though he remained oddly secretive about his last name and evasive about his work. But when a fierce snowstorm trapped them both, it became clear that Patrick might just be the warmth she needed in more ways than one. OR: Patrick uses his body to warm up Éléanor in the snowy mountains.

Wordcount: 3429

Later that evening, as the sun sank behind the mountains, casting long shadows across the snow-draped landscape, Éléanor found herself alone in the cabin. The fire crackled softly in the background, its warmth filling the room, while Patrick was in the shower. 

It felt like the perfect opportunity to call Virginie and share her big revelation—who Patrick��really was. She paced the floor, her heart pounding with excitement and nerves as the call connected. 

When Virginie’s lively face popped up on the screen, wearing her usual mischievous grin, Éléanor felt a flutter of relief. Beside her, Enrique lounged casually, offering a small wave.

“Hey, Virginie!” Éléanor greeted, trying to keep her tone light and casual despite the bombshell she was about to drop. “Okay, I’ve got something to tell you—and you're seriously not going to believe it. I finally figured out who Patrick actually is.”

Virginie’s eyes lit up instantly, her smile stretching wide as she leaned toward the camera. “Ooh, this already sounds juicy.  Do tell! Who’s the mystery man? And what do you mean by ‘figured out’? Is he an axe murderer or something? Should I be worried?”

Éléanor burst out laughing, the tension easing slightly as she shook her head, pacing a little. “God, no! Though, weirdly, that might’ve been easier to process.”

She hesitated, drew in a deep breath, then blurted it out before she could second-guess herself. “Okay—so, turns out… he’s Patrick Wilson. Yes, that Patrick Wilson. The actor. You know, the hot guy from The Conjuring and Moonfall ?”

Virginie’s jaw dropped in mock disbelief, her eyes going wide as she stared at the screen. “No way. Shut up! Patrick Wilson? As in the guy from all those horror movies? ”

A beat passed before she added, teasingly, “Wait…isn’t he kinda… old?”

Rolling her eyes, Éléanor groaned, already bracing for more teasing as she tried to find the right words. “Rude. First of all. And second—no, he’s not. He’s gorgeous. Seriously, he looks even better in person. Like, stupidly attractive.”

Just then, Enrique leaned into view behind Virginie, phone already in hand. “Hang on, I’m Googling him,” he muttered, tapping away.

Before Éléanor could say anything to stop him, Virginie snatched the phone and turned it toward the camera. “Oh my God!” she cried, wheezing with laughter. “This? This is your mystery man? Girl, his hairline’s fighting for its life in this one!”

Éléanor let out an exaggerated groan, as she buried her face in her hands. “Okay, okay, I know, that’s not a great photo,” she said, her voice muffled. “But I swear he looks so much better in person! That picture is like ten years old or something. He still has plenty of hair, and he’s so much more... I don’t know... handsome in real life!”

Grinning, Virginie tilted her head. “Mhm. If you say so, I’m just saying, next time bring me a warning when you start dating someone famous.”

“You think I knew ?” Éléanor paced the cabin’s narrow living room, one hand tugging nervously at the hem of her sweater, the other clutching her phone. “I found out by accident! Trust me, I was just as shocked.”

Virginie leaned in, eyes glinting with mischief. “Uh-huh. Sure, Éléanor. We’re talking about the same Patrick Wilson, right? As in, old enough to have memories of the original Star Wars premiere?”

Éléanor groaned, her cheeks turning pink, though the grin on her face was impossible to hide. “He is not that old. He’s in his forties—barely.”

Raising her eyebrows dramatically, Virginie leaned back as if contemplating something. “Mmm... right. Let’s see… oh!” She tapped away at her phone before gasping theatrically. “Oh look! He’s fifty. Exactly fifty! Éléanor, you’re fucking a senior citizen!”

“Shut up,” Éléanor nearly choked on her laughter, holding up a hand as if to stop the onslaught. “He’s not that old! And he doesn’t have that much grey hair!”

“Oh, come on, Éléanor,” Virginie smirked, leaning back with a mischievous gleam in her eye. “I’m just saying, does he, like, need a walker to get around the cabin? Or does he still have a bit of spring in his step?”

“ Virginie! ” Éléanor wheezed with laughter. “He’s in amazing shape! He’s been splitting logs and hauling firewood like it’s nothing.”

Virginie’s eyebrows shot up, her grin widening. “Oh, chopping wood, is that what we’re calling it these days?”

Éléanor's face flushed with a mix of exasperation and laughter as she struggled to respond. “Can we please stop this now? What about you? Enrique can’t be more than, what, 25? Does he even know how to do taxes yet?”

Without missing a beat, Virginie turned the camera toward Enrique, who was lounging next to her on the couch, bare-chested and flexing his muscles like a model in a fitness magazine. “Oh, he’s got plenty of experience,” she said, running a hand playfully across his chest. Enrique smirked and gave a casual wave at the camera, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth.

Just as Virginie’s camera began to dip lower, Éléanor let out a mock-horrified gasp and flung a hand over her eyes. “Oh my God, Virginie, put Enrique’s prepubescent penis away! No one needs a live demo of your thirst. Save it for your OnlyFans—or your diary.”

Virginie burst into laughter, the phone jerking wildly as she nearly dropped it. “Relax, prude. I’m just saying, you’re out here living your winter romance novel with a silver fox, and I fully expect chapter updates.”

Enrique chuckled, raising his eyebrows playfully. “For the record,” he said, tone teasing and cocky, “I’m twenty-nine. Not some clueless teenager. I work in finance, thank you very much.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “But I bet your Patrick has his accountant on speed dial—for his pension plan.”

Virginie gasped dramatically, her eyes wide with pretend astonishment. “Oh my God, yes! Éléanor, does he need his reading glasses just to check his bank balance? He probably still writes checks, doesn’t he?”

Éléanor plopped down on an armchair. “ Enough! And for the record, his reading glasses are only for books, not his finances!”

Virginie leaned toward the screen, her expression positively devilish. “ Reading glasses, huh?” she purred. “So… does he put them on when he’s trying to locate your clit, or what?”

Éléanor’s face turned bright red, and she gasped in mock horror, laughing despite herself. “Oh my God, no! He’s perfectly capable, thank you very much!”

“Uh-huh,” Virginie drawled, clearly savoring every second. “I can just see it. Him looking over the top of those glasses all slow and serious—like, ‘Excuse me, ma’am, looks like you need my... professional assistance.’” She lowered her voice into a sultry baritone, miming a dramatic adjustment of imaginary specs.

Éléanor nearly fell off the armchair, dissolving into breathless, tear-streaming laughter. “I cannot with you! And for the record, he looks stupidly hot in those glasses. Like rugged professor meets mountain lumberjack, it’s a look .”

Virginie waggled her brows. “Rugged professor, huh? Well, as long as he’s not asking you to file his Medicare paperwork, I guess I can give you my blessing.”

Éléanor rolled her eyes, still giggling. “He’s not that old, Virginie! Why are you so obsessed with his age?”

“Because it’s hilarious,” Virginie declared. “Be real—does he need a grab bar to get out of the bathtub? Or one of those little stools to sit on while he showers?”

Éléanor almost dropped her phone, barely catching it as she was laughing so hard she could barely breathe. “No! He’s—he’s very mobile , okay? He does yoga and chops wood and carries heavy things with his bare hands. He’s like... rustic Thor!”

Virginie’s grin widened wickedly. “ Rustic Thor , oh my God . You mean Elder God of Thunder .”

Éléanor tried to hold it together, dabbing at her eyes. “Stop it. I swear, if you call him ancient one more time—”

“Okay, okay,” Virginie said, pretending to wave a white flag. “I’ll stop. But riddle me this—does he grunt when he sits down? You know, that little old man grunt?”

Éléanor gasped, her laughter so intense that tears spilled from her eyes. “No, he doesn’t grunt! And for the record, he’s super strong. I’ve seen him lift all kinds of heavy stuff like it’s nothing.”

Virginie’s grin turned devilish again. “Does he call you ‘sweetheart’ in that old-timey way? Like, ‘come here, darling, let me show you how we used to do it back in my day.’”

Éléanor wiped her eyes, barely able to catch her breath through the laughing fit. “Virginie! Oh my God! I hate you so much right now!”

“Oh, I’m not done.” Virginie’s eyes practically sparkled with mischief. “Please don’t tell me he’s got a little glass on the nightstand. You know. For his teeth.”

Éléanor gasped, half-laughing, half-horrified. “He does not have dentures! He has all his teeth—and they are very… nice, thank you.”

“I’m just saying…” Virginie held her hands up in mock surrender, her tone sweet and insufferable. “As long as they don’t start slipping during important activities, then I guess it’s all good.”

Enrique snorted off-screen, and Virginie kept going, fully enjoying herself. “Does he smell like Old Spice and Werther’s Originals? Keep butterscotch candies in his coat pocket for you?”

Éléanor let herself collapse onto the couch, laughing so hard she could barely breathe. “He smells amazing, okay? Like pine trees and something rugged and masculine. No candy, no mothballs, just woodsy and him .”

“Uh-huh,” Virginie said, unconvinced. She leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. “So... be honest. Do you call him Daddy? Or wait— Grandpa?”

Éléanor covered her face with her hands once again, the tips of her ears red. “ Virginie! I swear to God, stop it! You’re the worst! I do not call him either of those things! This conversation is over.”

Laughter erupted on the other end of the call—Virginie doubled over, gasping for breath, while Enrique laughed along like this was the best free show he'd seen all week.

“I’m teasing, I’m teasing,” Virginie finally said, brushing away a tear. “I really am happy for you. He sounds... honestly, kind of great. Even if he is just a tiny bit prehistoric.”

Éléanor rolled her eyes but smiled, the teasing unable to touch the quiet warmth glowing behind her ribcage. Her gaze flicked towards the bathroom, where the sound of the shower still ran steady. “He’s more than just great. He’s kind. Steady. And somehow, all this…” she gestured vaguely to the snow-covered cabin around her. “Feels like something I didn’t know I needed until it showed up.”

Something in Virginie softened then. She leaned back on the couch, her grin mellowing into something genuine. “I know I joke a lot, but if he makes you feel like this, then I’m all in.”

Éléanor nodded, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. “Thanks. It’s just... it’s weird sometimes, you know? He’s famous, but up here, he’s just... Patrick. No cameras, no Hollywood stuff, just him. And I really like him.”

Virginie sighed happily, leaning back with a grin. “Well, I’m glad for you. But don’t think I’m done making fun of you just yet. I’ve got years of senior citizen jokes left in me.”

Éléanor groaned dramatically. “I feared as much.”

“And I swear ,” Virginie said, pointing at her through the screen, “I’m going to start sending you nursing home brochures. Gotta make sure there’s decent Wi-Fi, so he can keep up with his bingo tournaments online.”

“You are the worst, ” Éléanor said, giggling again. “Why are we even friends?”

“Because you love me.” Virginie leaned smugly against Enrique, who was still chuckling. “And let’s be real—he does sound like a good match. Even if he needs reading glasses to check the expiration date on the milk.”

Enrique leaned in, tapping her arm. “Babe, you should cool it. The guy could probably buy this cabin and turn it into a Hallmark movie set.”

Virginie let out a dramatic gasp, clutching her chest. “Oh no. You’re right. Does this mean I can’t make fun of him anymore?” She turned back to the screen, wide-eyed. “Éléanor, would you really ban the jokes? For the sake of love and friendship?”

Éléanor tilted her head, pretending to consider it. “Hmm. It’s tempting…”

Virginie snorted. “Fine, fine. Truce—for now. But next time we talk, I want every juicy detail. Don’t hold out on me.”

“Deal,” Éléanor said, grinning.

Virginie blew a kiss to the screen. “Alright, I’ll let you go before your rugged mountain man finishes his shower and catches you gossiping about his bedtime vitamins.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Éléanor replied with a wicked smirk. “I’m telling him everything. Just to be fair.”

Virginie threw her hands up. “Okay! Truce, I swear! No more jokes… today. ”

Éléanor laughed, warm and real. “I’ll take it. Love you, Virg.”

“Love you more, El. Talk soon!” Virginie’s voice echoed as she reached for the ‘End Call’ button. “And I’m just glad you found someone who isn’t yeast-based!”

The call cut out on her final burst of laughter, leaving Éléanor smiling alone in the glow of the screen, the cabin quiet but for the distant sound of running water.

Éléanor blinked, her smile faltering as Virginie’s words sank in. Her eyes widened in sudden realisation. 

“Oh God! ” she gasped, clutching her forehead with both hands. “I forgot Jacques! ”

Panic shot through her like a lightning bolt. She began pacing the small cabin living room, her slippers muffled against the old wooden floorboards. Her breath came fast, visible even indoors thanks to the lingering bite of mountain air that crept in through the logs.

How could she forget him?

Jacques—her precious, temperamental sourdough starter—had been left alone in her cabin, for days . The thought of him sitting there, untended, neglected in his jar like some abandoned science experiment made her stomach twist. What if he was already dead? What if she found him sunken and sour, a flat, lifeless mass of yeast that once had such promise?

She imagined him, poor Jacques, suffering in silence. Slowly deflating. Starving.

Patrick stepped into the room just then, freshly showered and radiating a quiet warmth that seemed completely unaware of the existential baking crisis unfolding. He was barefoot, dressed in a soft, worn t-shirt and grey sweatpants that clung just slightly to the damp skin of his hips. 

A towel was draped lazily over one shoulder, and his hair was still wet, curling in unruly waves that made him look unfairly good for someone who’d just stepped out of the shower.

His brows furrowed instantly when he saw her pacing.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, crossing the room in three long strides. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Éléanor turned to him, hands flying out dramatically. “I forgot Jacques at my cabin!”

Patrick blinked, visibly trying to catch up. “Jacques...?”

“My sourdough starter !” she wailed, pacing faster. “He’s probably suffocating in his jar right now, dying a slow, yeast-related death, and it’s my fault!”

Patrick’s expression softened, a grin tugging at his lips as he tried to suppress his amusement. “Wait, hold on—you named your sourdough starter Jacques ?”

“Yes, Patrick, I did! And he’s alive, thank you very much. He’s not just a blob of dough…he’s practically a dependent. And I left him alone in that cold cabin like a monster !”

Patrick ran the towel over his hair, chuckling as he leaned a shoulder against the doorframe. “Okay, okay. You’re seriously worried about a fermenting blob?”

“It’s not just a blob or dough!” she shot back, chest rising and falling with exasperation. “I’ve been nurturing him for ever. You have to feed him, keep him warm—he’s basically the sourdough equivalent of a houseplant with abandonment issues! Jacques is an essential part of my life! He’s like... a living being! And I can’t just let him die.”

Patrick bit back another laugh, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. “Well, then I guess we’re heading back to your cabin to rescue him.”

Éléanor’s eyes lit up, her entire body practically vibrating with urgency. “Now. We have to go now.”

He glanced toward the windows where darkness pressed thick and silent against the glass, moonlight casting silver shadows across the snow. “You want to head out right now? In the dark? Through the snow?”

Éléanor was already pulling on her coat and gloves, not giving him a chance to object. “Yes! Jacques needs me, Patrick. And I won’t be able to sleep knowing I abandoned him.”

Patrick sighed with a good-natured smile, shaking his head as he grabbed his own jacket. “Alright, alright. Let’s go save Jacques.”

The icy wind hit them as soon as they stepped outside, the snow crunching beneath their feet. The darkness of the forest wrapped around them, but the moon hung low and bright, casting a silvery glow across the snowy landscape. 

Patrick, with his hands stuffed into his pockets, looked over at Éléanor as she marched ahead, clearly on a mission. He couldn’t help but admire her determination—even if it was for a jar of fermenting dough.

“So,” he called after her, voice carrying in the cold, “how exactly did you end up naming a jar of yeast ‘Jacques’?”

She looked back at him over her shoulder, her cheeks flushed, her scarf slightly askew. “The guy who taught me to bake... his name was Jacques. He was this grumpy Frenchman who lived in the village. Total kitchen tyrant, but brilliant. He passed away a few years ago, and it just felt right—keeping the name going.”

Patrick caught up, bumping her shoulder gently with his. “That’s actually kind of sweet.”

Éléanor grinned as they trudged through the snow, the path to her cabin growing steeper. “So you see, not just any sourdough starter, Patrick.”

“Clearly,” Patrick said, shaking his head with a laugh. “This might be the strangest rescue mission I’ve ever been a part of.”

“Hey, don’t mock me,” Éléanor shot back playfully, her cheeks flushed. “Jacques is important. If he dies, so does my homemade bread! And I remember you liking my bread!”

Patrick raised his hands in playful surrender. “I’m not mocking! I’m just saying, this is a first for me,” he said, reaching for her hand and intertwining his fingers with hers to show he was with her in this.

Eventually, her cabin came into view—quiet and unlit, half-buried in snowdrifts. Éléanor fumbled with the key, her fingers stiff with cold and nerves. The door creaked open, releasing the familiar scent of cedar and cinnamon into the night.

She rushed inside like a woman possessed, stripping off her gloves as she made a beeline for the kitchen. “Please be okay, please be okay…”

There he was. Sitting on the counter. Unmoving.

“ There he is! ” she breathed, scooping up the jar as if it were something precious. She cracked the lid, nose hovering close, eyes narrowing with scientific scrutiny.

Patrick leaned over her shoulder, peering in at the unimpressive blob of slightly bubbly goo. “So... is he... alive?”

Éléanor gave a cautious sniff, then smiled. “A little sluggish. But he’ll recover. He just needs a meal.”

Relief bloomed across her face as she grabbed a measuring cup and began the ritual—equal parts flour and warm water, mixed with quiet reverence. Patrick watched her, leaning against the counter, amused by the way her entire demeanor softened as she stirred.

“You really are something else,” he murmured.

She glanced up at him, her cheeks flushed from the cold and her earlier panic, but now there was a soft, affectionate glint in her eyes. “Well, Jacques is family.”

Patrick shook his head, a smirk playing at his lips. “I’m just glad we didn’t have to break out the defibrillator.”

Éléanor laughed, finally feeling the tension melt away. She closed the jar and set Jacques back in his rightful place on the counter. “Crisis averted.”

“Thank God,” Patrick said, pretending to wipe sweat from his brow. “I don’t think I could’ve handled the emotional toll of losing Jacques.”

Éléanor swatted him playfully, a grin spreading across her face. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously supportive,” he said, catching her hand and pulling her gently toward him. His touch was warm despite the cold, and she melted into it without hesitation. “And yet, here I am, risking frostbite to save a jar of sourdough. Must mean I’m a good guy.”

Éléanor laughed, leaning into him. “Yeah, I think it does.”

Patrick pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his arms wrapping around her as they stood there in the warmth of her cabin, the night’s absurd adventure leaving them both feeling a little lighter, a little closer