#I sketched up all might but then lost the motivation to finish it :'(

[joshym]

Muse

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Summary: Your struggling artist is desperate for some inspiration.

Word Count: 3.4k+

Warnings: smut (18+ ONLY), unprotected p in v, oral (f! receiving), a smidge of sir kink, some spanking, a lot of fluff because i can't help myself, Jake draws a naked portrait of you (let me know if i've missed anything)

a/n: special thanks to this lovely anon for this brilliant idea. this was way too much fun to write.

this was inspired heavily by that scene from the Titanic. (you know the one.)

as always, thank you to my favorite editor/motivator, @jakeyt.

i hope you enjoy. ♡

“I want you to draw me wearing this.” You reach into the lapel of the robe, retrieving his coin that now hangs from your neck. “Only this.”

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

His frustration is palpable, evident in the nearly incessant huffing emanating from behind the closed door of his studio.

It's moments like these that leave you feeling utterly helpless. There’s nothing you can do, no inspiration you can provide that will pull him from his artist’s block.  

He's been holed up in there for hours, since the early dawn, lost in the depths of his imagination, sketching away. You know better than to intrude; he's never been keen on sharing his work until it's finished.

In fact, he's never once allowed you a glimpse into his creative process. "It's the strange doodlings of a mind overrun with ideas. It's not to be seen until it's in its final form," he's reminded you countless times when your curiosity gets the better of you.

Still yet, you're consumed by the desire to witness his beautiful mind in action, crafting masterpieces in real-time, each stroke flowing from his soul through his tireless hand on his Somerset velvet sheets.

But, like any artist, he’s his own worst critic. He’s never truly satisfied with anything he creates, though you are left utterly speechless after each piece he finishes. His mind is a beautifully profound chasm of endless wonder, manifested through his artistry.

You hate when he has these moments of doubt, these instances when he questions whether he’s truly capable of such greatness. 

And you especially despise days like today, when he spends the better part of it feeling as though he has a mental brick wall in the way of his ingenuity, hindering his hand from bringing to life what his mind so desperately longs to conceive. 

Commissioned pieces, like his project today, always hold the most weight for him— from the need to earn a living, to his persistent worry that his art might not meet the expectations of the client. 

It’s not that he doesn’t love doing them, or that he’ll ever stop taking them; quite the contrary, they’re his favorite pieces to work on. They provide him with an added pressure that elicits some of his best work. 

But, reaching that point can be rather strenuous for him. It can at times take days, weeks before he discovers the creative impulsion he needs. 

And right now, he’s in that very rut, awaiting the surge of inspiration that will reignite his dulled spirit.

There truly is nothing you can do when he’s lost like this, and any effort you’ve attempted in the past has always proved useless. 

The one thing you can do, however, is prepare him some dinner.

He’s hardly left his studio today, and you know he’s not eaten much, if anything at all. Perhaps a morsel of sustenance will ignite the dormant embers of his mind. 

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

After a quiet tap to the door, he invites you in with a serene voice. 

He looks tired, but lovely as ever. The golden hour has officially set in the sky, and the opened curtains on the windows have allowed for a warm hue to encompass his studio, enveloping him in its delicate lume.

“That smells absolutely divine,” he remarks as you enter his studio, his plate and yours delicately balanced in your hands. 

“I figured a little homemade pasta would do you some good,” you tell him while you pad across the floor to his work station.

With a sly disposition and a playful glint in your eye, you aim to steal a glance of his day-long project, but alas, you’ve been caught. Your sweet Jake misses nothing.

"Not yet, my love," he murmurs, flipping the page over as he takes your hand, planting a tender kiss over your knuckles. "You know the rules."

“I know, I know.” Your response holds a bit of remorse. You know better, but can’t begin to help the relentless desire to see his mind at work. 

Setting his dinner on the desk he’s working from, you move yourself across the small office to the green chaise lounge that sits across from him, silently seeking his permission with your gentle glances. The smile in his eyes tells you that he’s more than happy to be graced with your company for the time being. 

After taking a bite of the spinach tortellini you prepared, he unbuttons his white striped shirt, removing it from his shoulders and stretching his arms high above his head as though he’s ridding himself of the weight of his frustrations.

You can’t help your glare, watching him do something so normal yet so intriguing all at once. 

His skin is velvety smooth, his chest rising and falling with every breath he takes, his chestnut wavy locks sitting atop his broad shoulders. You’re in awe each time you look at him; the sheer magnitude of his beauty never fails to steal your breath away.

And his necklace, his most cherished piece of jewelry that he wears each and every day. The precious coin, a relic salvaged from a centuries-old shipwreck that hangs against his chest.

The way it sits on his bare skin is nothing short of elating, sexy. It’s a wonderful addition to his already captivating aura. 

He’s flawless. Everything about him.

Once he catches your gaze, he responds with a sly wink, eliciting a blush that paints your cheeks a bright shade of pink.

Then, a thought begins to swirl around your mind for a brief moment. One that you’re shocked you’ve not conjured until now. 

The vision of the pendant against his bare skin sets your own imagination alight. 

“I’ve got an idea,” you propose, your voice soft and sultry, trying to pique his interest even just a little, something that may help the rusted wheels of his mind turn at full capacity once again.

While his focus remains on his work, his right eyebrow arches ever so slightly, and you catch the hint of a grin daring to curl in the corners of his mouth.

“And what might that be, my dear?” he asks with an unknowing, devilish smirk. 

As you get up, he hastily flips the page back over to hide his work from you once again.

“Don’t worry,” you say as you move behind him, placing your hands on his bare shoulders. “I won’t peek.”

You glide your fingers along his skin, feeling the subtle rise of each goosebump in the wake of your gentle touch.

He hums inquisitively as you delicately take hold of the clasp of his necklace in between your index and thumb, undoing it in one fluid motion before slowly slipping it from around his neck. 

“Be right back,” you say as you head towards the door. “Don’t move.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he responds, a myriad of questions splayed across his features.

With light steps, you make your way down the wooden floors of the hall towards your shared bedroom. Hanging on the back of the door is your sapphire hued satin robe, adorned with a delicate lace detailing along the hem—the one Jake has always fawned over. 

The satin drapes coolly against your skin as you slip it on, wearing nothing underneath, save for the weight of Jake’s necklace resting against your chest that you hide beneath the fabric. 

You run your fingers through your hair, adding a subtle tousled look, before applying a light blush to your lips and cheeks to impart a bit of natural color to your complexion.

And with that, you're poised and ready.

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

As you turn the corner to face his studio, you see a very weary version of your Jake. His head sits in the palms of his hands, his leg bounces up and down at a rapid rate—a clear sign of the mental battle he’s waging. 

This is as good a time as any for your little idea, and you’re hoping that it’ll be the very thing he needs to find some much needed initiative to keep going. 

“Hi, baby,” you venture, leaning your body alluringly against the frame of the door. 

As he looks up, a familiar twinkle dances in his eyes—a sight you've longed for all day long. It's a glimmer that tells you he's rather fond of the vision before him.

“And what exactly is your idea?” he inquires softly, slowly standing from his chair. But you stop him, motioning for him to stay just where he is as you saunter towards the chaise you were seated on just moments ago. 

“My idea,” you begin, making a very slow, deliberate attempt to untie the sash holding your robe together at the waist. “...is for you to draw me.” 

As if your thought has affected him physically, his posture immediately straightens, and his once tired eyes hold a renewed sense of life as they watch you intently. 

“I want you to draw me wearing this.” You reach into the lapel of the robe, retrieving his coin that now hangs from your neck. “Only this.” 

Your robe suddenly falls to the floor, revealing your fully nude figure that was hidden beneath. 

“Oh…” he utters, his tongue wetting his lower lip before tucking it between his teeth. “You can’t do this to me, baby. I can’t look at you like this an–”

“Consider it a commission,” you interrupt, tracing your fingers lightly up and down the skin of your torso. “And when you’re finished, if it’s to my liking, you’ll receive a full payment.”

With a raised eyebrow, his gaze sweeps up and down your form, while his index finger lightly grazes his chin.

“You’re quickly becoming my favorite client,” he quips, wiping a stray bead of sweat away from his forehead, tousling the front of his hair in the process. “Consider it done, ma’am,” he continues with a confirming nod of his head. 

You lay yourself down on the forest green velvet cushions, positioning yourself sensually across the chaise. Your body is turned slightly to the side, your leg gracefully crossed over the other, an elegant display of your curved silhouette. 

The warm glow that is so beautifully cast upon Jake, is now cast upon you, the aura laying over your nude body like a golden blanket of light. 

“Is this okay?” you ask him, draping your arm over the back of the chaise, making sure the coin sits meticulously atop your chest before your other arm falls to rest against your body. 

He simply grins while nodding his head, his eyes drinking you in, a mix of surprise and desire evident within his expression.

“Yeah, that um…that’ll do just fine,” he tells you, the slight crack in his voice eliciting a smile from you, a break in his professional facade. 

With a deep breath, he takes his prized Faber Castell 9000, carefully sharpening the tip just a bit before putting it against a blank sheet. 

And then, as the true artist you know him to be, he begins without a hint of hesitancy. The gentle sound of the lead scratching away at the paper fills the quiet room— a sound you’ve come to cherish, a sound that signifies his craft is steadily blossoming to life.

He seems charmingly nervous, his hand gently brushing against his nose every so often between a series of strokes from his pencil, clearing his throat more than usual. His eyes flint to you, then back to the paper, then back to you, a succession of his adoration and determination, ensuring that the likeness captured in his art closely mirrors your essence. 

You try to keep your face composed, a seductive allure about your features. But as you watch him, immersed in his passion, the way he’s studying you so intently, it becomes nearly impossible to suppress the beginnings of a smile upon your lips. 

But despite your efforts, he takes note of the curve adorning your flushed lips, mirroring it with his own. “Relax your face for me, beautiful.” The soft rasp in his tone is enough to send a blush throughout your whole body. 

Breathing in your nose and exhaling through parted lips, you’re able to reclaim your composure enough to steady your expression. 

Every moment you share with him is a brushstroke of beauty, but something about this one stands out. The intimacy of it all, how he must diligently study every inch of your form to convey your image through his art, the intensity behind his focused gaze…your heart is racing in your chest, despite your relaxed demeanor. 

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

With the sun almost hidden behind the early moon, he completes the final stroke.

He lays his pencil down, gently blowing on the paper to remove any stray lead before he picks it up, examining it closely while he walks it over to you. 

As he holds it out before you, allowing you to at last see his craft come to life, you’re left entirely awestruck. 

“Oh, Jake.” The sight before you leaves you nearly breathless. It exceeds every expectation, beyond the boundaries of your imagination. It’s a portrayal of you, but not just that— it’s how he sees you.

It’s the first time you’re witnessing yourself through his eyes, and in that, you feel a profound sense of beauty within yourself that you’ve never known. 

“Do you like it?” He asks, a slight tremor present in his voice. 

“It’s…incredible, Jake.” 

Propping yourself up a bit, you carefully take the drawing from his hands, poring over his vast attention to the detail in your face, your body. 

Specifically your breasts, how perfectly he depicted their round curve above your rib cage, encapsulating the fullness and allure of them. 

You’re entranced by the way he drew the contour of your hips, how he captured the dip in them that you’ve always looked at with disdain, yet in his portrayal, you’re able to see the beauty in what you’ve considered a flaw.

He encapsulated everything, even the faint freckle beneath the curve of your left breast, and the mole under your belly button. He managed to immortalize all the intricate nuances that you typically overlook.

“Is this what I really look like?”

“Yes, but,” he takes the drawing from you, placing it on the mahogany table beside the chaise lounge. He helps you lay back down, gently caressing your face that he’s just conveyed through his artistry as he props himself above you. “The essence of your beauty defies any depiction.”

Then, his lips envelope yours in a kiss so fervent, so ardent, as though he’s waited hours to finally have you within his grasp. 

His hand moves with a swift grace to your breast, fingers toying with your perked bud. This erotic moment with him has you already so flustered, so sensitive to every touch of his hands. 

He breaks his lips from yours, only to land them down the column of your heaving chest.

“You’ve no idea how hard it was for me to look at you like this, to look at these,” he mumbles against the tingling skin, hands kneading the flesh of your breasts. “And fight the urge to come place my lips on every inch of this beautiful fucking body.”

And just as he said, he bestows tender yet hungry kisses down the length of your torso, maneuvering his body down the chaise lounge until he kneels before you. He nestles his face perfectly between your thighs, his warm breath tantalizing your wet center from his dangerously close proximity. 

“I certainly hope you don’t let all of your clients pay you like this,” you mutter, breathless and yearning for his mouth. 

“Only the ones that tickle my fancy,” he says, his words adorned with a playful wink before he delves into you. 

He laps away at your pulsing cunt, like he’s been starved for your taste this entire evening. The lewd, lascivious sounds he’s emitting from between your legs only serve to heighten your need for him, causing your back to instinctively arch away from the plush cushions. 

And when his lips envelop your throbbing clit, his tongue swirling around it inside his warm mouth, your body trembles and shudders. A rush of warmth encompasses you, starting from the depths of your core, the pit of your stomach, spreading to every inch of your being. 

You surrender to the intoxicating bliss, your breath catching in your throat while your heart pounds in a crescendoing rhythm.  

He guides you through it, gently holding your hips in place while the movement of his tongue slows in perfect time as with the ebb of your climax.

“Oh, that was so beautiful, my love.” He lovingly kisses the inside of your thigh before he stands, removing the belt from his patchwork jeans. “Turn over for me, baby.”

“Yes, sir,” you quietly utter as you obey his demand, knowing good and damn well what that specific name does to him. 

Just as he commanded, you turn your body over to your stomach, placing your elbows against the arm of the chaise, your back arched as much as you can so that your ass is sticking up just right for him.

“Love when my sweet girl calls me that,” he purrs before his belt hits the floor, his jeans and underwear quickly in tow and freeing his impossibly hard cock. 

“So, what’s the verdict, my love?” You feel the cushion sink in behind you as he settles himself between your legs, his right hand caressing your hip while the other teases your soaked cunt with the tip of his cock, leaking with precum. “Was my work to your liking?”

You giggle breathlessly, poking your ass out even further as an offering to him for his hard work. “Yes, I believe you’ve earned your reward.” 

He steadily begins nudging his cock into you, going slow at first, allowing you to fully adjust to him. 

Inch by thick inch, he fills you completely to the hilt, your breath catching in heavy gasps that are robbed from your lungs as he buries himself deeply within you. 

Your nails claw at the velvet armrest as his thrusts quicken in their pace, your upper body nearly going limp as you’re no longer able to easily hold yourself up.  

His hands hold a firm grip at your lower waist, pulling you into his cock rhythmically, yet becoming more and more disordered as he’s beginning to lose himself to the pleasure. 

You cry out a slew of obscenities mixed with his name, begging him to fuck you harder, faster.

Without question he complies, landing an open palm against your ass cheek. “So good for me baby,” he hums, his thighs slapping against the backs of yours as he drives into you just the way you need. “So fucking good for me.” 

With one more vigorous thrust of his hips, you feel that familiar rush throughout your whole body as your cunt throbs and pulses incessantly around his cock.

“Fuck, I feel you, baby. Pretty little cunt squeezing me so tight.” You feel the twitching of his cock inside of you, an indication that he's on the very brink of his own release. 

“Cum inside me, sir. Please…need you to fill me.” Your voice is faltered, your body still reeling from your second climax. 

“Jesus,” he groans, moaning exasperatedly as your words have him spilling within you, filling you with his warmth just as you requested. 

He stays buried inside of you as he catches his breath, feeling his release slowly trickling down your thighs as you struggle to fill your own lungs. 

You have to fight the urge to protest when he begins pulling himself away from you, not yet ready for the empty feeling he leaves you with. 

You practically collapse against the cushion, your body exhausted in the most enthralling way, the kind of exhaustion that only immense amounts of pleasure can bring forth. 

“My sweet, beautiful girl,” he whispers, kneeling himself before you as he softly caresses your flushed cheek. 

You kiss the pad of his thumb as it crosses over your mouth, summoning the strength to lift yourself up enough to steal one from his lips. “I hope it worked,” you say, gently cupping his face in your hand. 

“You hope what worked, my love?” He asks, leaning into your soft touch. 

“I was hoping this would help inspire you.” You reach for the drawing, savoring its beauty once more. “I was hoping I could help inspire you, pull you out of your moment of doubt.” 

“My love,” he murmurs, setting the portrait back down before he gently brushes his lips against yours. “You inspire me endlessly, every single day.” 

His tender smile warms your very soul as he leans in for a deeper kiss, imbued with all the love you could ever want for.

“You’re my perfect muse,” he utters against your lips, “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.” 

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

a/n: suffice to say, this inspired the hell out of me when i've lacked inspiration/motivation lately. thank you, anon.

if you have any juicy ideas, feel free to send them my way. ♡

love you guys.

taglist: (let me know if you'd like to be added/removed!)

@jakeyt @objectsinspvce @stayinginthesun @sinarainbows @stardustcordzz @klarxtr @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @highway-tuna @way-to-go-lad @reesetrippingthelight @jakesgrapejuice @sacredjake @notthedroidz @kiszkashousee @psychedelicstardust-gvf @jjwasneverhere @gvf-ficreads @stardust-jake @gretavanbear @gvfmelborne @sirjaketkiszkasharmonica @jaaakeeey @neptune2324 @jaketlove @myleftsock @joshskittytickler @audgeppp @jordie-gvf @gretavansara @gretasfallingsky @jazzyfigz @louiseecraigg @hippievanfleet @blacksoul-27 @sarafrusciante2 @heckingfrick @citylight-delight @electricgoldtendercare @musicspeaks @hollyco @gvfpal @dannys-dream @josh-iamyour-mama @edgingthedarkness @earthgrlsreasy @hernameis-heaven @mackalah @gvfmarge

Masterlist

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka fluff #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet smut #gvf fanfic #gvf fics #gvf smut #greta van smut #jake kiszka #greta van fleet

[halfdead-halfskeleton]

Notes:

Lilia x You. Reader knows how to sew clothing(while author does not)

Based off Suitors suit vignette. Technically it's a continuation of the story, so make sure to read the vignette before this fic

A lot of background characters, but I'm not tagging all of them

A bit non-linear storytelling?

The suit was made of magic, meaning it will disappear after a certain amount of time. The fact that such a beautiful sight is not going to stay here for long made your heart ache. And yet, you continued to smile and tried your best to memorize every tiny detail of the tuxedo. You had a plan, after all.

"Feast your eyes while you still can!" said Lilia. The tuxedo Malleus created for him was just marvelous! You and Sebek competed in who's going to complement Lilia more while his face was shining with a smile. Your face did too, it even hurt a bit to smile so much.

The next couple of months casually went by in your room, as you hunched over your secret project. If only your school life wasn't so busy and sometimes downright chaotic, you might have finished it sooner... And if the cruel thing that is perfectionism wouldn't criticize your every move.

After a few not-so-successful, to put it lightly, attempts, you finally finished recreation the suit Malleus made for Lilia back when ghosts that invaded the school for a marriage ceremony left.

Your first attempt failed because you were so obsessed with the idea of recreating the outfit you forgot to take Lilia's measurements. While the final product turned out to be quite nice, it wouldn't fit Lilia at all. Also you didn't have some accessories the original outfit had, which you noticed only at the end.

And so, you began anew, but now without the fabric you intended to use. The end result turned out too different from the tuxedo you remembered. The shade of green? Too vibrant. The pattern on the ribbon? Wrong. The pants? Actually quite nice, but that's the only part of the outfit you liked. And after your sewing machine unexpectedly broke you lost all the crumbs of motivation there were left...

Thankfully, you became a good friends with some students at NRC. While you were earning money for a new sewing machine, Vil and Kalim searched for the fabric and accessories that matched Lilia's suitor suit. Vil didn't get to witness the tuxedo, so you and Kalim had to explain how it looked like. You even showed him all the sketches you made and the first attempt suit as an example.

"Wow, your skill is really shinning here!" Kalim carefully examined the suit from all angles together with Vil. "It's really unfortunate your sewing machine broke... Are you sure you don't want me to get you a new one? It's going to be way faster than working in Mostro Lounge for a whole month."

"That's right, but I'm already asking you for help, you know. It won't be so fair if you do everything for me!" you answered and looked at Vil, who's also visibly impressed by your skills.

"The stitching is quite nice, you clearly took your time to make it the best suit it could be. I'm glad to see you actually listened to the advice I gave you during previous projects. Alright, I'll lend you a hand as well. Just remember that my schedule is tight, so it will take a while to find everything you need."

"Thank you both so, so much!" As you said that, Kalim came closer to give you a big hug. He was super excited to see how it will turn out!

After mountains and mountains of work, you left out a sign. Not out of exhaustion or frustration, but out of relief. You did it. You DID it! Finally, even when it seemed like the whole universe itself didn't want you to complete the suit, you did it!

"Good job." A sudden pat on your back woke you up from all the thoughts. It was Vil who just entered the room. After a minute or so, Kalim came here too.

"Sorry for making you wait!" He panted and leaned on the closest wall. "Oh, I got so scared when I couldn't find the Albert chain I had to call Jamil and a couple of other Scarabia students for help. We found it! It's the same one I gave Lilia that night."

"Wait, if that's the same one... Is it really okay for me to take it? You could get something similar, but..."

"But? I thought you wanted to make 1:1 recreation. Why are you backing up now?" Vil asked with a frown on the face. You pulled him closer and whispered:

"Because it costs 10 million thaumarks!" Such shocking information left Vil speechless for a minute.

"Well, I thought the original one would suit him better! So here it is." As Kalim said that, he placed the Albert chain with a bat on the outfit. You looked at your creation, the exact copy of the tuxedo Malleus has created with magic. Even though some tears appeared on your eyes, your face radiated joy. You finally did it.

It was an after-school evening when you decide to gift Lilia the suit you've been working so hard on. As you roamed around Diasomnia dorm, something poked your back. Strangely, when you looked back there was nothing and no-one. So you turned your head forward and immediately got spooked by upside-down Lilia!

"Ehehe." He smiled mischievously, yet still helped you to get back up. "It's rare to see non-Diasomnia students here at such time. Could it be that you're looking for someone?" Lilia's eyes were set on the box you carried, it was wrapped nicely, like a birthday present.

When your heartbeat calmed down, you remembered the words you prepared in your head. "Yes, there is... But I'm not sure if they'll actually like the present I made. Could you take a look?"

"Oh? A skilled dressmaker like you wishes to hear my opinion? I would be more than glad to assist you." Your heart skipped a beat. Did someone tell him about your secret project? Who could that- oh, probably Kalim, since they're in the same club. And even if Kalim didn't tell it exactly to him, but Cater instead, Lilia would still find out. But maybe Lilia doesn't actually know and said it just because?.. You're kind of known for your great sewing skills. Or... "Let's do it in my room, I was right on my way there." You brushed off the haunting thoughts away and headed to Lilia's room, trying to calm down.

His face beamed with happiness when you let him unwrap the present. Although at first he wondered if it was really okay. "It would be rather troublesome to wrap it back up when you're going to gift it to that person."

"Don't worry, I won't have to do it." A surprised gasp echoed in the room. Lilia carefully picked up the tuxedo, examining every detail. He couldn't believe his eyes. "So, what do you think?"

After a minute of silence, he smiled. "I still remember this tuxedo. I'm really proud of Malleus for coming up with such an elaborate design. And I'm really proud of you for recreating it up to every single detail." As Lilia said that, his eyes began to tear up a bit. "That night I wore a tuxedo for the first time in my life. It's hard to believe I can re-experience that moment again."

"Do you wish to wear it right now?" While you did take Lilia's and some other students'(to make it less suspicious) measurements long time ago, anxiety kept telling you you might have made a mistake at some point.

"I'm eager to wear it!" You smiled unknowingly when Lilia's gentle laugh reached your ears. In a couple of minutes you re-entered the room to see him happily dancing in the suit you made. The moment he saw you he reached for your hand. "Would you mind to dance with me for a moment? Such a delightful gift deserves a special thank-you!"

Blush painted your cheeks red, and heart began to beat faster with joy and excitement. You happily accepted Lilia's offer, taking his hand in yours. And so, you danced around the room. At one point Lilia began to hum a sweet melody. You joined him, and you both hummed in unison while dancing across the room.

You knew this moment, no matter how joyous and bright, would end eventually. So you made sure to enjoy every last bit of it, engraving it in your memory for eternity. And so did he.

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #disney twst #twst fanfic #twst fanfiction #vil schoenheit #kalim al asim #lilia vanrouge #lilia twst #twst lilia #lilia x you #lilia x reader #twst ghost marriage #twst ghost bride #hdhs writing

[starry-nights-garden]

Jiung ✧ Home

✧ P1Harmony Jiung x gn!reader ✧ words: ~600 ✧ genre: fluff, comfort ✧ warnings: (him running his fingers through reader's hair)

You don’t know how much time has passed since you arrived at Jiung’s place and you sat down on the sofa next to him, resting your heavy head on his left shoulder. All you know is that you’ve been watching him do little drawings in a sketchbook for a while now, and you lost count of how many times he’s turned pages because he already filled the last one up with his scribbles. You know that he sometimes sits down to draw for however long he feels like in order to clear his head. As for you, watching him draw almost has a therapeutic effect on you. You love watching the way he lets the tip of whatever pen was closest to him when he decided to start drawing race across the paper at times, or how he moves it very slowly, adding some detail to the drawing. You too can let go of your thoughts as you get lost in the countless lines and shapes he puts down on the paper. Usually, watching him sketch is simply a fun pastime for you, but today you really need the distraction. 

“How long are you gonna keep watching me for?” You can hear Jiung’s calm voice interrupting the silence around you. He doesn’t take his eyes off the paper in front of him while speaking. 

“I don’t know,” you retort briefly, not really having the motivation to talk. An endearing smile appears on your boyfriend’s face. He adds some finishing details to his sketch and then turns a page before glancing over at you.

“What’s wrong, love?” he mumbles. He lets go of the sketchbook that he’s been holding with his left hand so far and rests it on his thighs, so that he can reach out and wrap his fingers around your hand instead.

“Just… a lot’s been going on,” you say, keeping your answer vague. Truth be told, you don’t want to talk about all the things that are plaguing your thoughts all day anyway, and instead just enjoy the time you have with Jiung, being just amongst yourselves.

“Don’t wanna tell me?” he assumes. You shake your head, rubbing your cheek against his shoulder in the process. He carefully puts the pen and the sketchbook aside so he can sit more comfortably, and then he puts his arms around you, so you can rest your head against his chest. “Don’t you think it would help you, though?” he pries, but you don’t change your mind.

“No,” you mutter. “Maybe later, but for now this is enough.” You close your eyes for a while, just enjoying having him close to you, and the way his warmth makes you feel cozy inside. “You know that feeling,” you continue, your voice a mere whisper, “when you come home after a long day and you feel yourself slowly recharge, simply because you’re somewhere familiar and comfy?”

“Of course,” Jiung answers.

“That’s kinda what it feels like to be with you,” you say. Silence follows, and from the way you can hear your boyfriend’s heartbeat speeding up in his chest close to your ear, you can tell that he’s simply too flustered to find a good answer quickly. If you were to open your eyes and look up at him now, you might even see him blush.

“Oh,” he eventually answers, sounding a little awkward, but still deeply touched. “That’s good then… isn’t it?” Jiung lifts his hand to put it on top of your head, and he runs his fingers through your hair in a slow and comforting manner. It’s almost as if he was trying to protect you from whatever made you feel bad in the first place. “I’m glad,” he eventually adds while pulling you a bit closer in his embrace, “that I can be a person like that for you.”

#p1harmony scenarios #p1harmony drabbles #p1harmony imagines #p1harmony fluff #p1h x reader #p1harmony x reader #p1h drabbles #jiung fluff #jiung x reader #jiung imagines #comfort #fluff

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

do you have any advice for writing long fics/series??? I have so many I've been wanting to write but the last times I've tried I always lost motivation, so now I'm scared to try 😭

Ohhh, been there. Okay, so I've done it two different ways, and odds are high that you've only tried one, so maybe whichever you haven't done before, do the other?

Method 1: Write it all, then post one chapter at a time only once complete. That's how I wrote my early multi-chapter series. I was so worried I'd get bored or stuck and bail before I did what I wanted to do, I made sure all of my chapters were written before I posted anything. If you're addicted to the serotonin of feedback, that's fine, find a writing buddy who will read your WIP so you're still getting some of that spark along the way, but don't put up anything public until you're all done and ready to rock and roll.

Side note: This is also a pretty good way to build a bit of a following on AO3. If you promise people up front that everything IS done and written and it WILL finish and you give them a regular posting schedule—a chapter every Tuesday or whatever—they'll subscribe and happily follow along because there's no risk. Short of you getting hit by a bus or something, I guess.

Method 2: If, however, you've tried the above and that's where you're getting stuck, do the opposite. Maybe sketch out some rough notes to yourself on where you want to end up with the fic, just so you know you're heading in the right direction, but then let go of the need for control a little and post as you go along. That's what I had to do for my two biggest fics because they took literal years. Actual literal years, plural. The fear of leaving things dangling might be more motivating than you realize.

Some things to remember:

It's okay to start small. Like, it's tempting to dive right into a mega-sprawling epic of a fic with 100 chapters or whatever, but it's also okay to... not... do that. Try a fic with a few chapters instead. Build that muscle. Get used to writing beyond oneshots. Pre-built structures like 5+1 might help you build that muscle as well.

Sometimes you just gotta... do it. Like, that sucks, I know, it would be nice if there were an easy trick, believe me. Like, the fic I am procrastinating on is not a long one, but it's kicking my butt and it's so frustrating. But I'm getting it done a literal line at a time—for every ask I answer, I make myself hop over into my doc and write another line. Some nights I'm literally messaging Audrey like "I just want to get one sentence done before bed." And I stack one sentence after another until it's done.

It's okay to procrastinate a little. Emphasis on little. It sounds like you get stuck, procrastinate some, then don't stop procrastinating, but it's okay to give yourself a little break. My two biggest fics spawned so many other fics because I would hop from the chapter I would be working on to my distraction fic... until I needed to be distracted from that fic and then my chapter was the distraction!

It's also okay to combine the above methods. For Nature and Nurture, my first big fic, I used Method 2 allllll the way up to, like, the last three chapters or so. I was so scared of fumbling it all at the end that I switched to Method 1 for the last chunk, made myself write it ALL, and didn't post anything else until it was all written.

You can do it!!

#I need a general ask tag #fanfic writer problems #writing advice

[kiimmyko]

All kofi slots filled! Thank you very much ^^

I've also done some thinking. I know what I want to do for a portfolio and I would like to work on it- but doing commissions full time on top of it might not be the best plan for me.

1st option is bumping up the prices again and possible add-ons for color. The quality for sketch illustrations has continued to increase since i first opened them. I just need to improve on my motivation and speed of getting them done

2nd option is taking a pause on full time art again. Finish what work I have now and do a part time job while making up a portfolio.

I thought sharing my thought process lately would make me feel better, but I kept finding myself lost in my wandering thoughts and feeling helpless. So I'll end it here. I dont even know where I was going with this.

I just want my art career to work man. That's all.

#kimmy speaks #with how much i was going to originally post I just know something is wrong with my mind #can i be honest.. besides the anxiety/depression im sure i have.. i think i have adhd or something like that.. i cannot be normal #but its also so much money to get that checked out and the fear of it being a false negative like i heard thats a possibility #i just KNOW somethings going on up there in my brain but what the hell is it bro i want to be able to focus #again im rambling imma stop

[sugarlovely]

A fashion designer and his model.

Mitsuya x reader!! <33

I haven't posted anything for a while, so I hope yall enjoy this.

The door creaked open just slightly as footsteps were approaching. He himself hadn't bat an eye, too indulged with his work in front of him. His ears, however, had noticed the sudden noise of the stairs that gave the person away.

For the door itself was quite loud. Mitsuya was staring intensely at the device in front of him, his pen gripped firmly.

He was trying to figure out or loosely free his creative ideas onto his sketch. Due to a sudden blockage with no mere motivation nor the ability to figure out what to draw.

Lost in his own thoughts, his glasses that was perfectly framed. Suiting his face very much indeed.

"This is nice." A voice called out, which broke him out of his trance. Mitsuya's eyes had soon landed upon you.

"Hm?" He let out, his right cheek sinking into the inner palm of his hand. His pen was in his other, still grasped.

Gazing at the upcoming fashion designer, Mitsuya. You chuckled lightly. "I was talking about the progress in work on this mannequin of yours."

Nodding your head slightly, you went back to look at the shirt with a nice design on it. "Merely, only that statement was quite true." Admitting with a small smile.

Mitsuya stared at you when he reluctantly perked his eye brow slightly.

"What are you trying to insist?" He questioned, quite unsure. The same calm, slightly boring expressive face expression of his.

You smiled again, gazing at him. "I was trying to say you look nice today, Mitsuya."

Merely the both of you made eye contact. Despite being a model, the atmosphere in the work shop was quite awkward now. You had broken eye contact, and Mitsuya grinned a bit.

"I try my best for I am your fashion designer." He responded, swiftly standing up.

He walked towards you. All you heard was his shoes pressing against the floor. Standing right next to you, hoping that it wasn't much of a bother.

Both of you looked at the shirt again. "Are you planning to finish this design?" You asked, curiously.

He thought for a moment before he opened his mouth. "I haven't decided yet. Might scrap it, but I dislike wasting materials." Shaking his head slightly for disapproval.

"Maybe I could give some insight? Guaranteed might not be much help, but I have a great fashioner designer next to me." Uttering to him.

Mitsuya soon looked at you, seeing a small smile forming on your lips again. He chuckled.

"I would like that." Mitsuya replied.

"Hm." You thought for a while when you touched the nice frabic. Givenly a soft feel and slightly a bit thick.

"How about we try a simple design? Turn it into a blouse, give it some buttons, and see from there?" You had offered the idea which may not have been the best.

Mitsuya stared at the shirt, which was still on the mannequin. "That could be possible, but it might not be what I'm searching for." He explained.

Nodding your head in agreement, awkwardly. The idea of yours was already shut down. Mitsuya noticed when he smiled. "It's alright, thanks for the insight. I'm pretty glad that you're offering ideas since you like fashion as much as I may do. Although, I might enjoy it a bit more than you, though." He spoke until he let out a small laugh.

You scoffed softly. "I'll leave it to the fashion designer then." Speaking to him again.

Walking past the mannequin, he watched your silhouette move farther away. "What brings you here either way?" Questioning the motives of your certain visit.

"Hm?" You perked. As the work shop was quiet again, he waited for your answer.

Soon, moving back towards his work desk. Mitsuya sat down on his comfortable chair before looking down at the device again.

"A little birdie told me to come keep you company."

"Oh, is that so?" He had said. "It was Hakkai, wasn't it?" Continuining the conversation.

Slightly tensing up when Mitsuya mentioned the other model. Reluctantly going back to touch the nice fabric on the shelves. "Darn, I guess I gave it away."

You spoke.

"Of course, though, I came here out of my free will."

Taking a few more steps to stare what was in laid the nice, comfy workshop of his.

He had progressed with his work again but was still listening. The pen of his swiftly moving and lightly tapping against the iPad's screen.

Mitsuya was now hearing your footsteps approach him again. "How long have you shunned yourself from the outside?"

He couldn't help yet chuckle from your question. "It's only been a couple of hours."

Lifting his head up slightly, his eyes gazing at you. Standing next to him, behind his desk. Clearly, you were able to see his sketch on the device.

Mitsuya really didn't mind when he heard a small shuffle. Grabbing a piece of paper on the table along with a black pen.

Moving towards the seating area quietly, he enjoyed your presence dearly. Looking back down onto the device, trying to focus on work when he heard your feet shuffling.

"Look." You had muttered, now holding the piece of paper up to his face. Mitsuya noticed some kind of figure and mostly just curvy lines. He tried his best to understand, but nothing had lit up.

"See, this is a torso then the waist." Pointing at the body parts with the black pen which the cap was firmly placed on.

Noticing how excited and eagerly you were explaining the fashion design that was created in your head that was placed onto the paper. He soon let out a small smile.

Once you were done speaking, Mitsuya decided that this was his chance. "How about I draw it out, and you describe it?" He reluctantly asked.

Staring at the fashion designer. "Are you trying to say my drawing is bad?" You questioned, perking an eyebrow up.

Making contact again, he was silent. "Uh.. well."

"You are!" Exclaiming when you pointed at him with one of your fingers.

"You got me." He smiled, letting out a small laugh.

A grin formed from ear to ear as you couldn't stay mad at Mitsuya.

"I guess I could take that offer up." You uttered.

"Oh, really? Just leave it to me then." He spoke.

"I would rather much prefer if you went on a date with me, though." Admitting to the fashion designer.

He was quite taken a back, but what I meant.

His eyes widened, but merely that was it. His usual calm demeanor until he let out a grin.

"Are you asking me out?"

Putting his pen down onto his desk, he couldn't tear his eyes off of you.

"That's exactly what I'm doing, Mitsuya."

The smile on your face didn't disappear, for it was still there. One Mitsuya enjoyed seeing. Chuckling lightly again.

"I guess I could get some fresh air for a little while." He spoke, stretching his arms slightly.

Still sat in his chair, Mitsuya got up. Making his way over to you, grabbing his keys, and wallet.

Just his mere belongings when the two of you left the work place.

Walking down the stairs, side by side.

"You can say, this is my way of showing I care for you, and it'll be my treat." You spoke with a gleeful attitude.

Walking out of the door now, quite uplifted. The atmosphere itself was extraordinary when Mitsuya himself felt some sudden rain drops land on his head.

"Your treat, you say? It's already sprinkling." He uttered.

"That's what I intend, a fun date in the rain with someone enjoyable." Swiftly grabbing his arm, the both of you were now running in the cold weather.

You laughed slightly, trying to reach the cafe that was across the street.

Mitsuya ran after you, his hand above his head trying to shelter his face from the rain.

He didn't intend on getting sick, but merely right now, he didn't mind it as much.

Both of you had moved quickly across the crosswalk. Hearing the cars rumble a few times.

A smile planted onto your face, turning back a few times to urge Mitsuya to hurry on the sidewalk. Running still, a small flutter happened within his heart when he saw your soft gaze.

Until the both of you had run past a flower store, the sweet aroma of purple lilacs that was placed outside the building.

The flower's aroma lingering into their noses, intaking the smell. Leaving a small reminisce feel. Rushing to the nice cafe for the very first date.

Purple Lilacs indicating first love.

#tokyo revengers #mitsuya scenarios #tokrev mitsuya #mitsuya x you #tokyo rev fluff #tokyorev spoilers #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev x you #tokyo rev x y/n #tokyo revenger x reader

[joyful-joe]

My 2023 art summary. Here's my written rambling thoughts of last year's progress: (spoilers: It's long)

In 2022 I posted about 37 art pieces, I wished I could've beat that record in 2023 but it ended up being about 30 art pieces including sketches. There are reasons for my slow output. A major one being I was focusing on finishing my vocational college which I succeed. The second reason is wanting to continue improving. I feel like each time make something it comes out better than the last one. I don't think that's true for all art pieces I made this year, obviously some are better than others in terms of quality. But I don't think I've ever had a moment were I thought (of a finished piece) to have gotten "worse" compared to previous pieces. I'm glad that I can still keep this positive mindset with me. Of course I couldn't improve that fast without the help on one good friend who helped me each time I got stuck. On one part it's amazing to have someone that's willing to help me even if it might be over done, but on the other hand I'm still trying to be more self reliant which atm I'm getting better at getting out of those situations myself. But occasionally there's nothing wrong to ask for a bit of help. Last reason was I got lost in what my goals were. This art blog started in February 2018, making it almost 6 years now. It started as being a motivational drive to work on art more (since it's been a long hobby of mine) and get better just like the other online artist I admire. Maybe dreaming if I ever got up there with the other I could earn money with doing what I loved. Of course that is still far out of my reach. Account growth has been pathetically slow in comparison to how we see others. But I feel like I have the right to complain of such thing. I know my faults, I'm not really consistent in what I draw and this year felt even more inconsistent. I don't keep up with trends or draw them cus in the end if I look back at them I would only feel shallow, cus it was obviously made to gather (potential) numbers and not be something I really wanted to do. I see other artist that draw way better than me and also under perform when it comes to notes/followers. So maybe it's a bit selfish to complain of such things. But going into the "screw those internet numbers" sort of lead me to ask "okay but why should I keep up? Why not go back drawing whatever and not bother posting it online?" and it goes on and on spiraling down. I questioned if this careless attitude is where I should really be going. That said internet numbers don't really affect me. It's not the end of the world if the fan art doesn't do good numbers. I already tried what I could to improve the number rate and going down this internet rabbit hole of how to get bigger numbers makes it all sound paranoiac (especially on Twitter). But overall 2023 made small achievements. Got at least 2 commissions, one art piece made it into the front page of Newgrounds, some artists I look up to followed me back, posts have gotten in general more attention than last year and the overall quality of my art has improved. It's not much but still small steps in achieving my goals. It's been a good year for me. I'll continue to draw till I drop dead. I'll continue to work on improving my art. I'll continue to explore new ideas even if they're small. I'll draw in different mediums, even if it doesn't help my consistency issues. That's just who I am. I don't expect many to read this but if you did, thank you for reading.

#my art #art summary #art summery 2023

[allineedisonedream]

Hi!! So I saw(and loved) your tangled AU and it got me thinking about how tangled and Frozen are part of the same universe… HEAR ME OUT PLS

I don’t know how familiar you are with Joyfire, or jayroy? But I was think of an au where Jason runs away from Bruce and Alfred for some reason? Maybe he was looking for his real mum like In canon? And stumbles into Kori, who freaks out and injures him with her “powers” (lasers I guess but it could be adapted for the sake of the au) and he recovers, but looses his memory of Bruce and Alfred and his brother, so Kori’s parents adopt him as well. Of course he now has the White hair streak from the injury because. Yeah.

And it would probably be open for interpretation on whether Kori and Jay would be together…

But I’m picturing similar events where the parents die, kori becomes queen and runs away, and Jason goes out to looks for her, when he discovers Roy, (after the events of the tangled au) whose trying to find his childhood friend (Jay) because when he and dick and Wally returned dick home, dick found out about Jason being missing( I don’t know how old you headcanoned dick to be when he was taken but for the sake of me let’s say about 10) and wanted to find him so Roy went looking.

But as we all know, Jason changes a lot in those years away from home, and Roy doesn’t recognise him? So they team up to find Kori and Jay(who is really there all along but… maybe Roy only ever calls him Jaybird? And Jason has been going by Robin or Hood since he lost his memory so neither make the connection

And then I think Jason would slowly get more and more confused? Because sometimes Roy will mention something and He’ll recognise the scenario but have no idea why

That’s as far as I’ve gotten, might draw something for it later if you don’t mind? And I hope you don’t mind the hijacking I was just in love with your idea

(This was not proofread so pls excuse anything that I missed)

Aww, that's a really cute idea. I've kinda thought about this too, like giving every family member a side story that's just another fairytale.

But then I saw the Tangled series and was kinda inspired. I would have probably given Jason Cassandra's storyline, and Tim would follow Varian's story a little bit, but then I lost motivation and never finished it.

Now that I'm reworking the story, I'm kinda not sure if I have the patience to give everyone a side story, I'm probably just mostly gonna finish/redraw my old sketches and concentrate on Roy, Wally, and Dick.

And I totally wouldn’t mind you drawing something for it. I would love to see it^^

#ask me anything

[ecogirl2759]

It's time.

So, I have decided to formally retire from FireAlpaca and will not be revisiting any of my old works made on that app (just because of personal preference). SO, I've decided to share some of my favorite WIPs that I had hoped to finish once upon a time lol.

I'm gonna be tagging all the characters that show up btw, so sorry if this comes up as you're peacefully scrolling your fandom tags hehe.

Please check the tags for the characters/fandoms and decide if you wanna open this post.

So yeah, have a couple of old sketches from 2-5 years ago :D

[Uncolored blood in one of them jsyk]

This one felt appropriate to put first lol I was really liking the way it was turning out... and then I lost motivation lol. Think this is from 2 years ago-ish.

Here's another of my OC. I was going to make a super cool battle illustration with super cool effects and super cool lighting and I gave up almost instantly lol. SHE HAS NO WRISTS!!

This is one I made for Drawfest 2, like, 2 years ago now, I think. I thought it was coming along kinda nice except I couldn't get the perspective to look right so my character ended up looking huge lmao.

Here's ANOTHER of my OC. This one is really old lol. I've redesigned her now and I don't use this shading style anymore, so I retired this profile picture really early on.

Ok, last one of this OC. This was going to be one of many sprites that I was making to use in videos and stuff, but I, once again, lost my motivation hehe. Looks REALLY bad tho so idc.

Now for some fandom junk!

.

.

Pico jumpscare I got really into Pico's school way back when and never saw any fanart for his death screen. So I wanted to try my hand at it. Got through the lineart before I decided I didn't like it and was not skilled enough to salvage it so I gave up. Might redraw this in the future though!

Haha mind the huge empty space on this one.

This was going to be a picture of Gregory and Freddy from FNaF Security Breach (made this around the time the game came out), but I quickly realized I couldn't draw animatronics and quit lol. You can kinda see the stripe on Gregory's shirt, but my sketching abilities back then were awful so it's a little hard.

ASJKFHSABFHJBF I ALMOST FORGOT I WAS DRAWING HIMMM!! This bean is a character from To Your Eternity, an anime I randomly found on Netflix once and fell in love with (I quit at the weird scene in the prison tho, remind me to finish it). HE WAS SO CUTE I JUST HAD TO DRAW HIM <3 Also this isn't the ball, this is the boy. I just didn't get to his eyes.

MULTIFANDOM IDEAAAAA

So me and my sister were talking a few years ago, and I think one of us misspoke and said "Coffee shot" instead of "Coffee shop," so this AU was born.

It's a coffee shop called the Coffee Shot staffed by characters that love guns and have guns and shoot guns and I love them. The shop is frequented by characters from other franchises (in this case Danganronpa), and it's got the best coffee and the best theming you've ever seen >:)

Characters from left to right: Pico (FNF), Kiyotaka Ishimaru (DR1), Mondo Owada (DR1), Lance (EBF5)

Here's another MultiFandom picture :D

This one was based on Pinterest lol. I have boards for both of these franchises, but they kept wanting to save these two characters to each other's boards lol. SO I wanted to make a style swap with them! Didn't end up finishing it, though, but I do want to come back to it!

Characters: Kiyotaka Ishimaru (Danganronpa), Ranma Saotome (Ranma 1/2)

Aaaaand then just take some Danganronpa stuff.

This first one is actually the second piece of fanart I ever did for this game, but I quit really quick because I SCREWED UP TAKA'S HAIR AND DIDN'T WANNA REDO IT BECAUSE EVERY TIME I TRIED IT LOOKED FUNKY SO NOW HE'S JUST FUZZY. AND THE BACKGROUND EWWW I FORGOT IT LOOKED LIKE THIS

And then this one is of the same two characters but based on a fanfic I read once. It was a Beauty and the Beast one. It was really fun to read. I liked it. It's on Wattpad if you're interested. I quit on this picture really quick tho. Made the sketch on Photoshop 2 years ago, transferred the sketch to FireAlpaca, then realized the sketch sucked and didn't bother trying again.

.

.

.

SO

There's all my sketches. The ones that I'm willing to share, that is.

Let this be a lesson that not all of your pictures are going to go the way you want to. Your sketches are going to be messy, your lineart isn't going to match up, your colors are going to look funky, and your shading is going to want to make you rip out your hair sometimes.

I think what's important is to make sure that all that stuff doesn't discourage you.

If you give up all together, you'll never know what you'd've been able to produce if you hadn't.

If a picture isn't working for you, find out why. Then quit that picture, practice, and come back. You'll be able to compare yourself to your own art instead of other people's, which will give you a clearer sense of how far you've come.

.

SORRY DIDN'T MEAN TO GO ON A RANT THERE

I think I'll shoot to redraw some of these next year. I definitely want to come back to that Pico one, the style swap one, the Coffee Shot, and the Christmas one.

Don't really have time for that now, but that's now on my New Year's Resolution list lol.

If you're reading this, thanks for looking at my old crappy art. It feels nice to share <3

#THIS IS A LOT OF TAGS I'M SO SORRY #miscellaneous #ecogirl #drawings #art #artwork #my art #digital sketch #digital art #art wip #wip #my wips #old art #my oc #fandom #danganronpa #fnaf #ranma 1/2 #ranma ½ #to your eternity #picos school #friday night funkin #epic battle fantasy #ranma saotome #trigger happy havoc #dr1 #lance #lance ebf #kiyotaka ishimaru #ishimaru kiyotaka

[ackalice]

Hiiiiiii how are ya?? :D Been a while, sorry I've been sucked into another fandom lol Anyways I found this and thought: why not ask my fren! :3 Here's an ask thing

1. who's your favorite oc?

2. who was your first oc?

3. how many ocs do you have?

4. have you kept all of your

ocs since the beginning?

5. are any of your ocs based

off of a show/book you like?

if so, who?

6. what is the species of the

majority of your ocs?

7. are any of your ocs an

original species? if so,

what's the species and who?

8. if you can, draw (oc name)!

9. write a few sentences as

(oc name)!

10. are any of your ocs part

of a story? if so, what is it

about and who's in it?

11. do you have any twin ocs?

12. are any of your ocs

siblings?

13. what is the gender of the

majority of your ocs?

14. make up a new oc right now

based on (concept/show/color/

etc.)!

15. would you ever give up any

of your ocs?

16. who is your oldest oc

(age-wise)?

17. have you ever roleplayed

as your ocs?

18. how many of your ocs were

adopted from someone else?

19. who is your least favorite

oc?

20. which oc do you think has

changed the most since you

made them?

21. who is your newest oc?

22. have you ever cosplayed

your own ocs? if so, who?

23. which oc do you think has

affected you the most as youve

grown with them?

24. have you gotten cosplayers

of your ocs? if so, of whom?

25. do you have any ocs that

you havent drawn/written as/

talked about in a long time?

if so, who?

(Please ignore this if you either don't want to answer or have had this sent to you already)

OH MY GAWD THE QUESTIONS

Hi meelu!! I’ve been alright, just very inactive because of busy busy life stuff- but I saw this pop up and I wanna answer dis cuz I luv u my moot!

Alrighty anyway OC QUESTIONS MY FAVORITE!!

1. Favorite oc: my favorite oc out of all of them? Uhhhh good god- I’m gonna say my favorite is my very first oc, C.J., because she was a very big part of my early art journey. And also she was very cringy and I love her for it.

2. First oc: whoops I answered this- it was C.J.! She was a generic fox girl I made when I was a very itty bitty kid.

3. How many ocs: don’t judge me here- from what I counted just now it’s 56. There could be more that I’m forgetting, so it’s pretty iffy. But I do remember that the number got up to 60 at some point.

4. Have you kept all your ocs since the beginning: Despite how many I have, it’ll be a surprise to hear that I have actually retired a bunch. And by a punch I mean probably over 15. This does include C.J. And her band but only because I felt like I wasn’t using her enough and she had done her part for me.

5. Are any of your ocs based on a show or book: HELL YEAH! God, dude there’s a lot. Well- I say a lot but it’s not 56 a lot- anyway-

I made warrior cat ocs, like anyone, but those were retired. I based a series I have, Remnant, off of magic girl shows but it’s too far from any of them to be directly from those media. There’s The Owl House, which was several ocs I never continued using (and I’m sad I never did), there was a Brand New Animal oc I scrapped, and of course there are more that didn’t leave the sketch phase.

I guess you could count fnaf, but that’s a given.

I also had some Helluva Boss ocs that I have sketches for and even started a comic for- but when I say a comic I mean half a page was finished and I lost motivation.

Good lord I just remembered I had a whole mlp next gen. So I made a crap ton of mlp ocs- anyway-

But then you delve into two of my favorite shows and you go down a rabbit hole of history I’m not going into- which is My Hero Academia and Tmnt. I’m saying Tmnt in general because I’ve put my ocs into several shows in the franchise. Tmnt has ocs I’ve mentioned before on this blog and MHA has seven ocs of mine, that’s Jejeru, Kami, Kai, Kianami, Marikaida, and Chinatsu. I’ve fallen out of the fandom but I might use them in future, who knows!

6. What is the species of a majority of your ocs: Okay. So. This question is very hard to explain because I delve into some WACK species genetics with my ocs- Remnant is literally based on splicing genetics. But if we are being honest, most of them either started out or were, at the beginning of their story, human. So I’m gonna go with human. The second place runner is definitely an animal crossed with a human though because those are just fun.

7. Are any of your ocs an original species: Yes, actually! I’ve got several. Not that they have names or official species types or backstories or anything, but they sure are there. I’m gonna describe random characters I’ve put together with no specific species in mind.

Lufoa, an oc I did a ramble on a while ago, is not crossed with any known animal. That’s actually part of her story, but I haven’t worked it in yet. Another I could count is Artemis, but I don’t know exactly what she is- I haven’t explained it yet. There’s also my oc Alice, (NOT A SELF INSERT) who’s some kind of demon. I dunno what kind but she’s also there.

!INTERJECTION!

I’m gonna be skipping 8 and 9 because I’m running very low on the creative juice and haven’t drawn or written for fun in a WHILE and just don’t have any motivation for it- I’m so sorry abt it but I’ll answer the rest gladly!

10. Are any of your ocs part of a story: Quite a few of them are, actually! The one’s based on tv shows and books are obviously apart of one, but I’ve got a few I’ve made up on my own. There’s Remnant, the big magical girl-ish show series about teens participating in a high grade school and also accepting genetics testing to be apart of the military (main character is not aware of this second part in the slightest, woOooOoo plot~). I’ve got Midnight Misteps, which is a similar concept but it’s the apocalypse and new species and monsters and cryptdids roam around while our main cast tries to rebuild society again. I have Vivian and Fin, the two characters I don’t have a series name for yet where Viv meets a demon through accidental circumstances but turns out it’s not accidental and she’s been kidnapped by literal Hell but she doesn’t know for a majority of her time down there. And then you’ve got Camila, the rich pink and proper girl who meets secret agent Thomas under the impression he’s just a grouchy guy and then gets roped into a big gang conspiracy in her town and has to avoid these dangers with her new cop buddy all while in heels.

So yeah I’m doing great with work in progress projects

11. Do you have any twin ocs: yes! I’ve got one set, and they’re fnaf ocs, if you can imagine it. I reworked a sister location oc around a few months ago and doubled her into two people! That’s Frankie and Danny, the sweetheart engineers! One of them isn’t a sweetheart, but yadda yadda, plot and story stuff- I’m movin’ on!

12. Are any of your ocs siblings: oh. My. God. Yes. It would be very hard for me to pick them all out and name them, but let’s just say yes. Yes, there are many. I’ve got one set of sextuplets in there somewhere-

13. What is the gender of most of your ocs: Female. It’s so female it’s unfair. I’ve been getting better at this, but I still prefer drawing women over men and I have no idea why?? It’s nothing negative or anything- I just think I started drawing girls and just kept drawing girls and completely missed the boat I had to jump onto to draw guys anatomy correctly. But I’m getting better!

14. Skipped again because creative juices….aughhhhhhh….I’m tired of not having energy to draw ;-;

15. Would you ever give up any of your ocs: Okay I’m gonna assume this is talking about giving up an oc to another person- like an adopt situation- and uh no. I don’t think I would be able to do that just because I have emotional connections to literally all of them. I love them too much to just hand over their birth certificate, y’know?

16. Who is your oldest oc (age wise): oh hah. Okay, so I’m inclined to say C.J., because I ended her story with a cute little story of her growing old with her partner in a little cottage in the countryside- but! I’m gonna give this one to Paula Fidreas, a Remnant oc, because she is quite literally in her 50’s as of the start of the story. In the simplest terms, she’s a PE teacher.

17. Have you ever roleplayed as your ocs: Yes! C.J. Was actually made from a role play! And I think I’ve role played as Camila before, but that memory is a bit fuzzy.

18. How many of your ocs were adopted from someone else: None of em’! They’re mah babies, tried and true.

19. Who is your least favorite oc: I don’t count her in my oc count but Adelaide’s adoptive mom is definitely my least favorite. As a character she has a purpose in the story but I would never use her again or draw her in detail. I don’t know, she’s just there for character development at the moment.

20. Which oc has changed the most since you made them: Vivian. Definitely Vivian. Not just because she’s the oldest of I still use, but she’s also went from a brown haired girl with zero personality and a boyfriend to a troubled teenager who is too weird and different to have friends so she seeks out companionship in the land of the dead.

21. Who is your newest oc: I mentioned them earlier and this totally breaks the abruptness of me mentioning them once out of nowhere, but the sextuplets are my newest ocs. Out of all of them, Orion is the newest because I came up with his concept first.

22. Have you ever cosplayed your own ocs: Alas, I’ve never had the determination nor the money nor the confidence to do such a thing, BUT I ALMOST DID. When I was little I almost cosplayed C.J. Because I had no other ideas for a halloween costume. I didn’t end up doing it because I chickened out. Kinda wish I did though..

23. Which oc has effected you the most as you’ve grown with them: I’m gonna give this one to Alice, actually. She’s the basis of my online persona and username, if you couldn’t tell- and she was with me through quarantine. That was a joke, but no really, she consumed my art that last year.

24. Have you gotten cosplayers of your ocs: No, lol- I don’t know near enough people or anyone who would do it. And if anyone did do it, I would be dead upon seeing or hearing it because OH MY GOD?? You thought my art was good enough to put time and money into a COSPLAY?? THANK YOU???? We’re getting married. Put on the ring.

25. Do you have any ocs you haven’t used in a long time: y e a h… I haven’t ever mentioned Pepper here. She’s uh…okay- imagine Entrapta from She-ra but ten times worse and no moral code. Evil scientist. That’s all I have to say here.

MEELU THANK YOU I NEEDED SOMETHING TO DO LOL

I’ve been off tumblr for a while bro thank you for bringing me these! They were so fun <3

#mutuals #mutual shenanigans #ask #ask game #insta thought #oc

[e-wills-afterhours]

Affairs Of the Heart, Chapter 10

Chapters 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

--------

"You're up early." Gobber narrowed his eyes as he hobbled into the smithy. The sun had not yet risen. "It's not like you to be workin' before the Terrible Terrors sing." He leaned against a workbench. "Are you sick?"

Hiccup shook his head, grogginess holding on with a vengeance. His brain was fuzzy and body, sluggish; his eyes itched with protest, urging him to go back to bed. The soon-breaking dawn and the cool, misty morning were meant to be enjoyed indoors, fast asleep under a layer of warm furs, with Sharpshot curled up against him. Not even Toothless roused him so early, but Hiccup had a purpose in that shop: a motivation that kept him from dropping his head onto his workbench and dozing off again.

"No. I just have a personal p-project," he yawned. "With all the saddle orders to finish up this week, I figured I needed to do this on my own time."

He rubbed his bleary eyes, brows knitted together as he tried to make sense of the plans he had sketched the night before when he was more lucid. He had hurried home from the Great Hall with a burning idea: a way to win; a way to have the upper hand in his eventual fight with Stefnir Svenson; a way to, well, not die. Or, so he hoped.

Charcoal had moved across blank parchment with conviction, cheered on the by the flickering candle. Toothless had been by Hiccup's side, head on his lap as he sketched out his victory. Hiccup had been in his element, so clever, so confident so…

Idiotic, maybe.

In the dim morning light, he scanned over the plans with new doubt.

"Dragon Blade?" Gobber mused, peering over Hiccup's shoulder, much too close.

Hiccup jumped, resisting the inherent urge to throw his arms over his work. It was not like the older man had not already seen it, and it was not like his mentor was not already used to his more bizarre schemes. Hiccup was no stranger to skepticism, with his penchant for creating remarkable inventions out of the most impractical of ideas.

Gobber scoffed. "What could you possibly need a sword for? Besides, we've got a whole shop full of them, if you felt the need to endanger life and remainin' limb." He jerked his thumb in the direction of the weapon's display: an assortment of untouched swords and axes that were now in less demand than dragon-related wares.

"I need this sword, Gobber. I can't…I can't exactly explain why, right now," Hiccup drummed his fingers against his work station, "but it's important."

The older Viking waved dismissively, in a manner that Hiccup knew all too well, and that he had seen far too often in his younger years. The gesture stirred up some latent resentment and Hiccup frowned, shoulders falling.

"I can't see the use in a flamin' sword when you've got a dragon, but as long as you get the rest of your work done, I can't complain what daft project you do in your free time. Less than a week 'til the Selection." Gobber brandished a thick finger accusingly. "Don't let me catch you slackin'!"

"Not slacking," Hiccup muttered. "More like sitting here, hopelessly lost." He glanced over his plans one more time, scratching his head. "Now, how am I going to apply the Monstrous Nightmare saliva?"

He stood up and made his way for the iron ore.

-------

Astrid leaned in, resting her head on Hiccup's shoulder. They were in the cove under the cover of night and their dragons were sentinels guarding their privacy. It was better than crawling through his window, trying not to step too heavily or moan too loudly. Every creaking floorboard made Astrid tense, like it might give them away. That night, outdoors, only the moon spied on them, luminous in the sky and sparkling over the pond water, neutral and silent.

They had been lucky over the past week, not yet caught, and not arousing too much suspicion. Stefnir still strutted about with his arm around Astrid like he had won some great prize—like she was his trophy to wave over everyone else. She affirmed his superiority. He held her tighter if Hiccup was anywhere around. She hated it: his undesirable traits growing more prominent as her relationship with Hiccup became more comfortable. She had been oblivious before she had someone to compare her fiancé too. Now it was a stark contrast between Hiccup and Stefnir.

She fooled herself into believing that the outcome of the holmgang had already been decided, and that she was free of her arranged marriage, because it was easier. Such imaginings dampened any guilt that cropped up. She did not want to dwell on what was a more likely reality to come: Stefnir defeating Hiccup, winning her officially and holding it against her the rest of their miserable, married lives. Pretending Hiccup's victory was a sure thing was how she could sleep and night. If she convinced herself they were collecting their winnings early, it made everything between them permissible; and she could forget.

Sitting with her lover on the cool grass, tracing his clavicle with her fingertips, felt right. She decided it was what should have been, and what she hoped might finally be—without the stain of infidelity tarnishing what was otherwise so beautiful and effortless. She could laugh with Hiccup, saying whatever stupid thing came to her mind that she might bite back in Stefnir's presence for fear of his judgment. No quip or stumbled punchline fell too flat with Hiccup. She could not remember the last time she had joked around with Stefnir, so carefree.

She sat up, running her hand through his auburn hair, soft and sleek, and missing a crucial piece of ornamentation.

"Handsome," she crooned, and Hiccup smiled sardonically as she twisted two braids in place.

Once a sad excuse to touch him, the small plaits had become enduring symbol of her affection. In public, they were a sort of claim to him, their true significance unbeknownst to anyone else. She never let him go too long without on; and though he rolled his eyes, he let her play with his hair anyway.

"Thank you, Astrid," he said, gently tugging at the braids. "What would I do without you?"

She nudged him. "Not look half as stylish, for one thing."

"Oh, well, that's what matters."

He kissed her forehead and those dormant butterflies in her stomach exploded to life. She felt feminine, girlish—and it was alright as long as she still possessed the ability to grasp him by the tunic or the back of the head, pulling him in for a decisive kiss in which she had the control. Theirs was a relationship of mutual give and take, a dance between lovers. Hiccup surrendered to her as often as he initiated.

Things had been frantic those first few nights together: a bit of talk preceded the passionate entwining of their bodies, hot and breathless in the dark. Time had been running out then, the inevitable wedding approaching that would drive a wedge between them they could not circumvent.

Hiccup's hand was on her waist, innocent and unmoving. Astrid crushed their lips together less often in recent days, savoring the slow and languid kisses instead. She did not know exactly how long they had been in the cove, just talking, being together, and filling in the missing pieces of themselves before things escalated any further that night, as they were bound to do.

Their dragons frolicked and it all seemed too comfortable. Too relaxed. A romantic make-believe born of false sense of security. Astrid picked at her fingernails absentmindedly. There as a nagging fear in the corner of her mind too loud to ignore, even as she tried to muffle it with false, newfound hope.

"Hiccup…the Selection is tomorrow, and the wedding is a few days after that." She took his hand in hers, massaging over his knuckles, appreciating all the subtle details of his skin—contours and textures that made him tangible beyond the passing fantasies of adolescent desire. "You still haven't challenged Stefnir to the holmgang."

He sighed and nodded, fingers curling around her hand with an acknowledging squeeze. "I intend to after the Selection. The kids and their families deserve the village's full attention tomorrow. I don't want to take away from that. It's about them, not about us, or him."

"Hiccup…" she frowned, staring at the grass. "What are you doing about it, though? It's not enough to challenge Stefnir and hope for the best."

Hiccup leaned back on one hand, voice upbeat. "I have something I'm working on. I've been up early every morning. It's going to give me the advantage." His eyes had that gleam—the one that always heralded a stroke of brilliance, bordering on insanity.

"What is it?"

He pursed his lips, tilting his head one way and the other, hands gesturing noncommittedly. "I think it's better if you don't know. Think of is as, um…plausible deniability!"

She wrinkled her nose, yanking her hand from his. "Hiccup—"

He reached for her again, but she folded her arms, clenching her jaw as she glared. His smile did little to reassure her.

"Don't worry, Astrid. I think I've got a real shot." He captured her braid in his palm, smoothing over it with his fingers. It was an innocuous touch, but she still shuddered. She could not look at him and betray her doubt—but he dropped his hand anyway. It fell to his lap, defeated. "You don't think so."

"It's not that I think you can't do it," she clarified, fiddling with his bangs until he jerked away. She dragged her hand over her face, breathing deeply. "Your methods are unconventional. But this is combat, Hiccup—clashing swords that you can't just…think your way out of." She gripped his knee like a vice, leaning in until their eyes met. "You're actually going to have to cross blades with him, and Stenir is brutal."

"I intend to challenge him to a real fight. I'm not going to talk him into surrender, or use Toothless, or anything beyond what is acceptable by the terms of the holmgang. If I'm going to save you from him, then it has to be fair. It can't be anything that breaks the rules or can later be contested—or we'll end up right where we started. One weapon. One shield. That is what's allowed, and that's what I'm going to use." He paused for a beat, then his hand covered hers, warm and comforting. "With, y'know…my particular flair."

"Okay, but what does that even mean?"

He shrugged and she growled—but the way he brushed his fingertips along her arm, sweet and not overly suggestive, tempted her forgiveness. In her foresight, she had brought a blanket to their prearranged meeting, and she felt they should put it to use.

More pretending, more assumptions things would end in their favor. But even delusions could be pleasant for a time.

-----

Vibrant banners adorned with images of dragons waved in the steady breeze. There was not an inch of the village untouched by the enticing aroma of food wafting from simmering cauldrons and stalls, fragrant with fresh produce and delectable concoctions, undercut by the bitter, heady scent of copious beer. It was a typical festival on Berk. The air hummed with excited chatter and dragons' roars. Children hurried about, practically underfoot, paying no heed to the neatness of their attire as they wrestled and played with the carelessness of youth.

The Selection was a formal occasion, like Snoggletog or Vetrnaetr. Although new by comparison, it still an important aspect of Hooligan life. Traditions had to start somewhere, and dragons had become an integral part of their tribe. It had been Stoick's decision to create a significant celebration with dragons as its focus. Any excuse to throw a festival, get drunk, and be merry, went over well the rest of the village, boosting morale; there had been no contest to the new holiday.

For two years, the Selection had been a highly anticipated event: a rite of passage for children turning ten. That had been the arbitrary age agreed upon by Hiccup, his father, and their council for owning a dragon. It was not practical for younger children to select and ride dragons on a whim—something that required skill and some measure of maturity. Only two years in practice, the Selection had been easily and widely accepted as a defining moment in any young Hooligan's life. To be old enough to own and care for a dragon was monumental, marking a transition into a more responsible age. It also served the dual purpose of keeping an accurate census: which families owned which dragons. The whole event was treated with as much reverence as their village could muster.

Hiccup wrapped a fox-fur cloak around his shoulders, pinning it in place with a silver broach. He had designed the decoration himself, sporting the Strike Class emblem, which he had adopted as his own personal sigil. His dark charcoal-colored tunic was trimmed with silver silk samite, embroidered with knotwork at the neck, sleeves, and hem. His belt was thick and snug around his waist, tooled with stylized dragons woven into more intricate patterns on leather that fed into an ornate buckle: all a pretentious display of his wealth and status that was somehow excusable under the guise of formality. On his wrists were identical fur-lined bracers of woven and studded leather. He looked every bit the son of a Viking chief, and he sighed, picking up Sharpshot and setting the dragon on his shoulder, resigned to playing his part of chief-in-training for the day.

The Terrible Terror scurried about on his upper back, wrapping his tail around him for added balance. How fortunate Sharpshot was, unconcerned with meticulous bathing and grooming at first light, or dressing himself in display of his power, assuming he had any. Hiccup did not know if the Berkian dragons had their own social hierarchy in the absence of the Red Death.

"Come on, bud," he said, stroking along Toothless's jaw to rouse the dragon from where he had been basking in the sunlight.

The Night Fury cocked his large head to the side, studying Hiccup's appearance with uncertain eyes.

"Yeah, it's as uncomfortable as it looks." Hiccup did an odd sort of shimmy as he readjusted the belt around his midriff. "Let's go."

As he stepped out into the village with his dragons, he squinted while his eyes adjusted to the bright light the gods deemed fit to bless them with that day. The faint buzz of the spirited crowd was now a dull roar, out in the open.

Everyone was filing toward the old arena, re-purposed as a hub for dragon racing and outdoor merriment. The densely packed throngs of Vikings was not nearly as pungent it normally was, thanks to the standard etiquette of bathing before important events. The twins did not seem all that thrilled, scratching themselves where their clean clothes chafed. They wore no furs, but instead, were covered in an abundance of decent leather garb, still looking quite nice, and positively sullen about it. They nodded as Hiccup walked by, then spit into their hands and scrubbed smudges from each other's helmets.

Up ahead, Stoick the Vast stood, proud and well-armored, by his chiseled throne overlooking the old kill ring where dragons used to bleed out. That day, only happiness would abound as wide-eyed children finally had dragons to call their own—one step closer to being a fully actualized Hairy Hooligan.

Hiccup climbed on Toothless. Sharpshot sunk his claws in deeper to the fur cloak that cushioned him. People scattered to give the Night Fury room without a hitch in their conversations.

Hiccup flew up to join the chief, whose excess of fine armor and sumptuous fabrics made him look prepared to do battle with Thor himself. If possible, the man was more intimidating than usual, even with the ornate beads woven into his substantial beard. Hiccup was certain his regal father could give the god of thunder a good, long fight. Then, they'd probably sit down for a drink and chortle over it afterward, swapping war stories.

Yes. That seemed completely plausible.

"Dad," Hiccup greeted, dismounting Toothless. Sharpshot scurried down his chest until he cradled the Terror in his arms.

"Ah, Hiccup!" the chief exclaimed, patting him hard on the back and his knees nearly buckled. "You look you could be chief."

Hiccup laughed dryly, forcing a well-practice, appeasing smile. "Thanks, dad. I guess that's kind of the point."

He looked down at the group of children, gathered in the arena and jittery with excitement. They gazed around at the swelling crowd, waving to loved ones and friends. Hiccup envied them, wondering what it might have been like if he had gotten to choose Toothless, his father looking on with approval. None of the secrets. None of the lies.

"You and me, son—creating traditions for this village that will endure for generations." Stoick beamed at him.

"Mmn, yeah. Tradition. I'm…I'm all about it," Hiccup muttered.

Stoick chortled again, clapping Hiccup's back as he strode forward with his arms outstretched. His voice was booming, demanding attention in a way Hiccup doubted he ever could. The chatter died down and Hiccup placed Sharpshot back up on his shoulders, standing beside his father like a good and proper heir should. He was flanked by Toothless while his father had no dragon counterpart. Still, in the presence of his tribesmen with all of their dragons, Stoick was in high spirits, feeding off the energy of a happy village.

The chieftain gave a nice speech about youth, responsibility, and the companionship of dragons; powerful, as most all of his speeches were—but Hiccup was busy scanning the crowd.

To the right of his father stood the Jorgensons. Snotlout and Spitelout wore heavy black cloaks of fur-lined wool, held in place by decorative silver chains. Their bracers and armbands were flamboyant compared to their normal dress; and it would have been laughable how identical they looked, had his uncle not cast him a scrutinizing glare. Further down the line were other members of his father's council, including the Hoffersons. Specifically, Astrid.

She was beautiful in all-white furs, gilded threads, and simple beading. Her hair was braided over one shoulder, neat and elegant, with tiny plaits feeding into a larger one. How he wanted to touch it, unwind it, and feel her hair slip between his fingers—but there was a frown on her face marring the otherwise stunning vision she was. She had impeccable posture in a long pale blue shift, overlain with a neutral apron-skirt, fastened above each breast with a bronze broach. A simple belt rested at her hips, cinched tight on her narrow frame, and hanging loose past the buckle. Hiccup had never seen her dressed so affluently—but he suspected it was a perk of being promised to a wealthy merchant family. Indeed, Stefnir stood beside her in garb so flashy it had to be intentional.

Hiccup watched them with fists clenched. Astrid kept staring straight ahead, hands clasped in front of her has Stefnir held her close with a hand on her waist, making Hiccup's eyes narrow.

The rest of their tribesmen cheered as Gobber opened one of the old stalls that had once served as Hookfang's prison. Instead of a flaming Nightmare, however, young dragons ambled out into the light. There were three of each of Berk's most common resident species: Nadders, Nightmares, Gronckles, and Zipplebacks. Twelve in all to choose from, for the handful of kids fidgeting with anticipation. The young dragons, just nearing their adolescence, had been handpicked by Fishlegs, who had nearly hyperventilated when Hiccup had passed him the honor that year.

Gobber corralled the dragons into as neat a group as he could, appearing to be the only soul in the village who did not take the formality of the event seriously—then again, his tunic looked like it actually had been washed, free of stains, and a single bead adorned one half of his mustache. Perhaps that was as much as anyone could hope for.

Stoick uttered a prayer aloud, asking the Allfather and the goddess of youth, Ithunn, to guide the children and shine wisdom upon them as they selected their dragons.

There were more dragons than there were kids, and some would be ushered back to the stables without riders. After a time, they turned feral, beholden to no one and returning to the wilderness with nothing on Berk to tether them. But new bonds were formed between the little Vikings and the dragons they selected: genuine, deep, and beautiful. When first suggested by his father, Hiccup had been a strong supporter of the Selection for that very reason. He knew what it was like to make a real connection with a dragon, and he thought a festival showcasing it was genius on his father's part. He wanted every young Hooligan to one day have that same opportunity.

Even Reyr Svenson.

The kid was an innocent, and so Hiccup did not harbor any ill will for him—but he did roll his eyes when, predictably, Reyr chose a Monstrous Nightmare.

Everyone in the Svenson clan owned one, and dragon preference seemed to run in families. It spoke clearly of their values; attributes they cherished. Hiccup clapped along with everyone else, shaking his head as the rest of the Svenson clan whopped and hollered loudly.

One by one, each of the eight children shuffled forward and chose their dragons, followed by thunderous applause...and then, it was over. The actual ceremony had lasted the span of half an hour, maybe, with all the pomp and circumstance included. It was always short, but that did not mean the festivities were to end. If anything, it was a very pleasant excuse for the necessity of the revels to follow.

The dragon race came next, and Hiccup saw Fishlegs and the Twins muscling their way into the arena. Snotlout disappeared from his father's side as well; and Hiccup's heart began to hammer with gathering adrenaline. He and his friends were to do what they did best: kick ass at riding dragons.

The spectators thinned in the interim as the racers readied themselves, undoubtedly to line up for tankards of beer and cider.

Hiccup plucked Sharpshot from his shoulders and set him on the ground. His Terrible Terror became interested in a nearby pack of his scaly peers, Sneaky among them. The small dragon scurried off.

"Ready Toothless?" Hiccup asked, patting the Night Fury's thick neck.

The dragon warbled and nudged him impatiently as if to say, 'I've only been waiting all damned day!'

-------

Astrid squeezed between bodies, careful not to tread on the hem of a nice dress, or jostle loose anyone's cloak pin. Stormfly obediently stayed put, reserving her premium seat ring side.

"Excuse me. Excuse me. Sorry!" she repeated inching closer to the arena where her fiancé and her lover prepped for the race in too close a proximity. They had their backs turned to one another, and though it was midsummer, an unnaturally cool air blew between them.

"Astrid!" Stefnir said brightly, pausing from adjusting Harbinger's saddle.

His smile was expectant, and she strode over to him with a sidelong glance at Hiccup, but he was busy with Toothless. She tore her eyes away from him for only a moment, to flash Stefnir a dutiful smile as he swept her into his arms. She cocked her head at the last second, and his lips brushed her cheek instead of her mouth.

"Good luck," she told him.

"I won't need it," he replied, and she suppressed the urge to laugh.

His hands were on her waist, eyes traveling over her with an uncomfortable intensity. She looked up at her dragon, peering down through the chains with a soft croon.

"Gods, you are beautiful." Stefnir's voice was suddenly louder, and Astrid noticed Hiccup tense, much to her intended's satisfaction.

"Yes, well, I appreciate all the gifts—but I'm glad this outfit isn't a regular thing. It's really uncomfortable." She shifted the heavy fur stole on her shoulders.

"That's a shame. It suits you."

Astrid scoffed, examining the long, cumbersome dress. "No, it doesn't. I'd much rather have my tunic and my leggings and my—"

"You'll get used to it," he interrupted, caressing the side of her face. He just grinned, haughty. "There's more of this to come, once we're married."

She recoiled, her face scrunched in disapproval. "It's not me."

Dismissive as always, he retorted, "It will be."

He leaned in to kiss her again and she wiggled free from his grasp, blurting out the only escape she could think of. "I need to talk to Hiccup."

Stefnir scowled, glancing up at the other young man accusingly. He reached out and sized Astrid's wrist, tight and unyielding. "Why?"

Her eyes went ice cold, lip curling in challenge, and her fiancé puffed up. He might have looked intimidating, if she any real measure of respect left for him. There was a pull, an inescapable tether between her and Hiccup, and it grew shorter the deeper she fell for him. She felt his presence behind her like the radiant heat of a dragon's flame. Stefnir's indignation barely registered with her; and that false sense of security flared up again. It was a brazen and presumptuous affront to her betrothed when she backed away with a nonchalant shrug of her fur-covered shoulders.

"Wedding details," she answered, and he took a step toward her. "I need to discuss details about the ceremonial sword he's forging for us."

"I'm handling that," he declared. He brandished a finger in Hiccup's direction. "There's no reason for you to talk to him."

From the corner of her eye, Astrid saw her lover drop his arms by his side, both limbs bent stiffly at the elbow. He turned toward them, though she could not read his expression in her periphery.

"You need to focus on the race, for now," she asserted. "I'll worry about the sword and you just keep thinking up that winning strategy." She turned her back on him just as he was about to protest. "I'll be up there, cheering you on!"

A haphazard wave was all the less-than-enthusiastic support she could muster.

She ambled toward Hiccup, not too slow and not too desperate. She did not need to glance back to feel Stefnir's gaze boring into her. Hiccup was the enemy and no impending marriage would ever be enough for her fiancée to trust her around an old flame that, to his knowledge, had fizzled out two years ago. She was always on a proverbial leash, kept in line by Stefnir's unwavering leer.

"Smooth," Hiccup murmured.

He turned back to Toothless and Astrid sidled up to him. The smirk on her face mirrored his. She wondered how much Stefnir could read in their body language from behind.

"I had to get away. He's had a death-grip on me all morning." Astrid whispered, patting Toothless when he nudged her affectionately. She felt the back of her neck prickle, as if Stefnir's scrutiny was the breeze bringing goosebumps to her skin.

Hiccup had the foresight not to glance her over as he replied, "Because you look incredible."

Astrid's face split into a broad grin. Stefnir had told her the same thing all morning, but it was insulting coming from him. Possessive. Even though she felt ridiculous and costumed, a simple compliment from Hiccup had unusual sway over her self-image.

"No more than you do. You make a lovely toothpick."

He was gorgeous, really—which was never a word she thought would apply to him. He was regularly handsome, of course, in his lanky unique sort of way. But that fur cloak on him, the silk trim, and the dark gray clothes worked together. The fine, detailed leather did not hurt, either. He looked every bit the chief Astrid believed he would become; and it was utterly dishonest for her to deny it was a turn on. He smiled, bright and obvious, and that endearing gap in his teeth just added to it all.

"Oh, but you're the prettiest," he teased.

They laughed, tugging at each other's luxurious, but completely uncharacteristic attire.

"Having a nice chat?" Stefnir's voice was low and close, making the two of them jump.

Astrid should have expected it. She was his gem, and she was shining because of someone else—and he could not stand it.

Hiccup rebounded first, standing taller and clenching his fists. "We were, actually."

Stefnir rounded on him, chest swelling again, but Hiccup did not balk. The older man was less than a wild dragon to him, and Hiccup had an almost unshakeable resolve when convinced he was in the right. It did not matter he and Astrid were having an affair; to him, it was a justifiable affair. In his mind, he and Stefnir were already set to fight, though nothing had been declared officially—and Thordamn anyone who tried to talk him down from a ledge he so ardently wished to jump from.

"What 'details' have the two of you worked out?" Stefnir asked him, something menacing behind the disingenuous manners.

Though he was apt to stutter under most interrogations, Hiccup was surprisingly articulate when there was an enemy to outwit. He lied, "Astrid was just suggesting I should wrap the hilt of your matrimonial sword in fine leather. I, uh…I happen to agree with her."

"Do you now?" Stefnir took a step forward.

Hiccup stood his ground. He was sharpest and the most cunning in such moments, his witty tongue barbed with sarcasm and thinly veiled insults.

He said, "Yes. I support most of her ideas. She comes up with plenty good ones. But I'm sure you would know all about that since you're so close and everything."

"And what would you know about our relationship? Or her ideas? Or anything?" Stefnir growled.

"A fair amount. I care about Astrid—about all my…friends."

"Oh? I suppose that's why you've been so distant over the past couple years?"

Hiccup clenched his jaw, muscle twitching. "I had my reasons."

"Well, your friendship is a bit worn out now, I'm afraid"

Hiccup actually stepped forward—a half-step, to be exact, but still an advance. "Really? Did she tell you that herself, or did you just decide that for her, like you do for everything else?"

Stefnir opened his mouth, baring his teeth with a gathering derision—but a horn cut him off: one long, blaring note to signal the start of the race, beckoning spectators back to the arena. Gobber limped into the ring, dragging one large basket with his good arm, marked with a red rim, and kicking the other along the ground for the opposing, green team.

"Racers! Mount your dragons!" he instructed, setting the baskets in the center of the ring. "Astrid, you should get goin' now."

She nodded, lingering a moment longer while Hiccup and Stefnir stared each other down with palpable contempt. They stripped off their fur cloaks and turned back to their dragons. Hiccup folded his fur and set it neatly on the ground, as did Stefnir and Snotlout.

"Astrid...," Hiccup mumbled under his breath, grasping her hand. She felt something cold and metallic squeezed into her palm. He nodded then let go of her abruptly, climbing on Toothless.

Her fingers curled over the object in her hand, mapping the Strike Class emblem by feel alone. She smiled, clasping her other hand over it before sauntering back to her fiancé.

"Good luck, Stef," she said in what she hope was a convincing simper. "I'll be cheering for you."

He scowled down at her from where he sat, poised atop Harbinger. "Will you?"

She kept walking, pinning Hiccup's Strick Class broach on her dress beneath her decorative fur, once her back was to Stefnir.

----

"Oh, come on! That isn't legal!" Spitelout shouted, gesturing wildly at a member of the green team, whose Deadly Nadder had nearly unseated Snotlout with a low hanging claw.

Lap after lap had seen the same aggression. Dragon racing was not a soft and dainty sport to begin with, but there had been far more contact that was necessary, or typical. Meatlug had been shoulder-checked by Harbinger, sending her spiraling into a nearby house. She and Fishlegs had recovered, but the roof had not. At one point, Stoick froze the match so Hiccup could intervene in a midair fight between Barf and Belch and the other team's Nadder. But perhaps the greatest ugliness was not so apparent: a personal grudge between team captains that only Astrid was aware of.

Toothless dove and swerve, both to snatch sheep for points and to avoid the tawny Nightmare, tailing him without fail. The Night Fury pulled off a spectacular grab, skimming the grass, only to climb into a sudden block by Harbinger. Stefnir grinned down at Hiccup, smug.

"Tuff!" Hiccup shouted and Toothless rolled to be free of the Harbinger. The sheep was airborne, bleating in anger as it was thrown to the twins.

"The wool is ours!" Tuffnut cried. Legs locked around Barf's neck, Ruffnut swung from her saddle and caught the sheep, hanging inverted. "The wool is ours!" she repeated.

Another opposing Nightmare was on them immediately, but the Zippleback was too close to the basket. He glided into the arena and Ruffnut sank the sheep in their goal with minimal effort. Gobber marked another point on the wall. He then released the frazzled animal.

The team captains continued into the next lap, and Toothless shrieked in annoyance at Harbinger's persistent close flying. Astrid could not make out their riders' faces, only the furious beating of the dragons' wings. She glanced down the line. Stoick was sitting on his throne with a heavy, intense brow. Beside him, Spitelout was pacing, cheeks puffing with ire. All around her, Hoffersons and Svensons clapped for Stefnir and the green team, while she was a silent supporter of the red team, deep in hostile territory.

"Come on, Hiccup," she whispered to herself, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

She wanted to be in it. Next to Hiccup, she was the second-best player on Berk; and only because Toothless was faster by default. She would have Stefnir off Hiccup in a heartbeat—but she was too precious, lovely, and too valuable to participate in a contact sport. She scowled at the thought.

The spectators ducked, hands over their heads as Toothless and Harbringer flew by, low and fast. The dragons were little more than streaks in the midday sky, powerful and vicious. Astrid clutched her fur stole under which she had secured the Strike Class broach for safe keeping. The wind off the dragons blew her hair and clothes about; and as she and the other onlookers straightened up, she heard the Stoick bellow, "Get 'em, son!"

His encouragement was drowned in tumultuous cheers, people rooting for one team or the other. A horn blew, the black sheep was in play—and Astrid's excitement bubbled up to an uncontainable volume.

She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, "Finish this, babe!" And there was only one person who really knew to whom she called—the one person it was meant for, and the one person who mattered.

The crowd roared as Fishlegs emerged from between two buildings, cradling the black sheep in his thick arms. His eyes were wide and anxious. He kept glancing back at the opposing dragon riders in close pursuit. The other team's Nadder and Monstrous Nightmare tore after him, and poor Meatlug growled with the strenuous flapping of her wings. She looked pained, flying as fast as a Gronckle could, and perhaps faster than was advisable. Hookfang glided in alongside her.

"Fishlegs!" Snotlout shouted, holding up his hands.

The sheep was lobbed and he caught it, just in time for the other team to slam into Meatlug in a tangle of tails and wings.

The poor sheep struggled but Snotlout had an unyielding grip. Hookfang veered away from the trailing dragons, flying low on the final lap to the baskets. Toothless dove to give him cover and, predictably, Harbinger followed.

"TAKE IT TO THE BASKET, SNOTLOUT!" Spitelout pumped his fist into the air, looking like he might explode from the tension. The score was green-six to red-four, and the black sheep would clinch victory for Hiccup's team.

Stoick was on his feet as well, all composure forgotten. He gestured at the arena as if it could make the young man fly faster. "Go! GO!"

It was Hookfang, Toothless, and Harbinger, out in front. Stefnir flew his dragon in a tight loop, attempting to steal the sheep from above, but Toothless cut between them. Harbringer came to a dead stop, smacked in the face by the Night Fury's tail as he passed. The majority of the crowd applauded, including the Stoick and Spitelout, practically dancing on the spot like giddy children. The rest of the spectators booed and hissed.

Harbinger recovered, streaking after Hookfang. Large claws seized the red Nightmare's tail, and Snotlout just barely kept himself from being thrown from his dragon from the abrupt stop.

"Foul! FOUL!" Spitelout bellowed, stomping his foot. Astrid could see the bulging of his neck veins from where she stood.

But there were no such things as 'fouls' in dragon racing. The only rules in dragon were to drop sheep into a designated basket, and that the black sheep was worth ten points. All rough housing was fair, and good entertainment.

Stefnir leaped onto Hookfang's tail, scrambling along the dragon's back toward Snotlout. Harbinger firmly held onto the other Nightmare. No matter how desperately Hookfang flapped his mighty wings, he could not move forward. He would not ignite, nor retaliate. There was an innocent Viking on his back—Snotlout not necessarily included in that tally.

"You dirty—! HICCUP!" Snotlout stood in his saddle, wobbling precariously, and threw the black sheep as far he could.

It fell in a graceful arc, but Toothless was already diving for it. He was a blurred shadow while Stefnir cried out, "NO!"

Then Hiccup had the black sheep, and his Night Fury was too fast and unchecked. He soared into the arena while the opposing team could only watch and swear. The resulting screams of red team supporters was deafening, and Astrid rubbed the lump under her fur, biting back a grin.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, strong and bracing.

"It's alright, Astrid. It was a close game. Stefnir played hard," her father said.

"I should go see him. Show him support," she said, slipping away.

Only when she was lost among the gleeful crowd, did she finally let out a sharp, relieved laugh, unheard by anyone else.

------

"Seriously! What was that?" Snotlout growled, readjusting his fur cloak on his broad shoulders, now back in full decoration. "Did you see how that asshole just attacked Hookfang?"

"I know, right? Or how about the way he kept running into Meatlug?" Fishlegs replied, turning to hug his Gronckle.

"None of that is against the rules," Hiccup told them as they weaved their way through the village.

The Great Hall was their destination. Celebratory rounds of beer and mead were called for. Their tribesmen called out to them as they passed, congratulating them on their win. Hiccup also noticed goods and pieces of hacksilver being exchanged to settle up wagers on the race. The festival was in full swing, and it was a dense pack of Vikings to wade through. Everyone was shopping or tending to their dragons. A few people were already drunk, dancing, singing and laughing their way through Berk. The few ten-year-old kids of the day were congratulated on their new dragons—on now being fully Hooligan.

"Well, it would be against the rules to unseat another rider…if there were any rules," Ruffnut droned.

She ducked, nearly getting backhanded by the flailing limbs of drunken Vikings in boisterous song.

"I prefer to sort of just 'wing' it, myself," Tuffnut said, shrugging.

"Well, at least we won. That's a good thing." Hiccup replied. He waved as a family called out their thanks for the child's saddle he built. The little girl had been one of the selectees, and she was learning how to properly strap a saddle to her new Gronckle. "They played dirty, so I'm glad we beat them."

"Yeah. It's only fun if we're the ones playing dirty!" Ruffnut snickered, elbowing him with a wink.

Hiccup rolled his eyes. Sometimes it was ambiguous whether or not she was making passes at him, and he thought it best not to ask.

"Ugh! This leather freakin' chafes!" Tuffnut groaned suddenly, scratching his privates with vigor.

Hiccup glanced down at his own formal attire, mildly rumpled from the game. His fur cloak was draped over his arm. Astrid still had his broach, but she had been intercepted by Stefnir, steered away before she could speak with him. She had glanced apologetically over her shoulder as she was marched back out of the arena; and Hiccup could only watch, sighing to himself.

The racers climbed the steps to the Great Hall, followed by their dragons. Their supporters clapped and whooped as they sauntered through the double doors. Hiccup spotted his father, beaming proudly and raising his mug. Hiccup smirked and rubbed the back of his neck, always feeling small and inadequate under his father's lofty expectations and abundant praise. Snotlout, however, adopted an obvious swagger. Fishlegs stood straighter, reflecting the glow of their tribe's adoration. Tuffnut was more interested in scoping out the nearest mug of beer he could get his hands on. Ruffnut, well…Hiccup did not know who she was making those heavy-lidded eyes at, but he was glad it was not him.

They sat at their usual table, and they did not have to ask for drinks or food before tankards and plates were being shoved into their hands. Individual compliments were lost among the noise—babbling, laughing, and off-key singing. Someone was playing a lute to encourage melodic screeching, and Hiccup tried not to slosh beer onto the fur cloak now in his lap as hands jovially slapped his back.

He smiled, nodding in acknowledgment. He tipped his mug to his lips to avoid conversation, but through the fans he noticed a commotion, tucked away in the back of the hall. In the shadows and muffled by the surrounding revelry, Stefnir was berating Astrid. He kept grabbing for her, sharp and aggressive, and she kept wrenching free. She snarled something back at him and his fist struck the wall beside her head. Hiccup was on his feet before he even realized it.

He slammed his mug down too forcefully, because Snotlout glanced up at him, bewildered.

"What's with you?" he asked, brow quirked.

"That jar of Hookfang's saliva we talked about?" Hiccup led.

"Yeaaah…?" Snotlout hesitantly followed.

"I'm going to need it as soon as possible."

Snotlout scoffed. "You're crazy, cuz, but whatever." He returned to his drink.

Hiccup excused himself from the table, crossing the hall with tunnel vision. A few people tried to get his attention, but the only thing he heard was the distant argument between his lover and her husband-to-be. Every blow of Stefnir's hand against the wall quickened his pace. Astrid shoved Stefnir back.

Toothless followed his rider, sensing Hiccup's disquiet; and seeing the frustration on Astrid's face tempted Hiccup to command a plasma blast from his dragon. He had not planned to challenge the other man until the morning. But Stefnir's violent hands were too close to Astrid, and she drew back her fist like she was poised to strike; and her fiancé grew louder, slapping her hands away from him. Hiccup was out of patience and restraint.

"Stefnir!" he snapped.

"You!" Stefnir snarled. With a flick of his wrist, something hard and metallic hit Hiccup in the chest, glinting in the light from the sconces as it fell to the floor. "What gives you the right?"

Rubbing his sternum, Hiccup bent down and picked up his broach, clenching his fist around it.

"I have every right," he replied calmly.

Stefnir gesticulated with a flourish, the scowl on his face littered with condescension. "You hang around like you have chance and it's pathetic. Stop putting ideas in her head! She loves me! She wants to marry me!" He thumbed his own chest emphatically.

"Last I checked a happy marriage is a partnership—unless I've failed to grasp the concept entirely."

"We are—!"

Hiccup shook his head. "Astrid. Do you love him?"

She hesitated for a beat and Stefnir leaned in, tall and solid. She inched up the wall until she was at full height, glaring back at him.

"No," she answered.

He recoiled, fingers trembling as he dragged them over his mouth. His eyes were searing coals.

"Do you want to marry him?" Hiccup continued.

Astrid was cold as winter ice.

"No," she answered again.

"You…You lying—!" he seized her by the front of her apron-skirt, and Toothless growled in response to Hiccup's flaring outrage.

"Take your hands off her, Stefnir," he demanded. "I challenge you to a holmgang. Until then, your claim to Astrid is under dispute. She's not mine. She's not yours. So don't touch her."

Astrid flinched as Stefnir snapped the beautiful necklace he had undoubtedly given her with a rough jerk of his hand. Colorful beads scattered on the floor, rolling every which way.

She growled at him, "Put your hands on me again, and I will not hesitate to knock out all your teeth!"

"You are a godsdamn liar!" he accused. "Both of you!"

"If I could, I'd fight you myself! I'm not a trophy—but if that's the way this has to be settled then fine! Let us be done with it!" Astrid hissed. "I never wanted to marry you, but boy did I try."

Stefnir told her, "No. This is a pointless exercise. We will still be married! I will not lose like this!" He stalked towards Hiccup, stopping just sort of their chests bumping, like he had done before the race. "You really think you can beat me in a fight?"

No, thought Hiccup—but he would try his damnedest.

"Yes."

Stefnir's nose almost touched his, and he hissed through gritted teeth, "Then I'm going to enjoy watching you bleed."

#hiccstrid fic #hiccstrid #affairs au #Hiccup and stefnir are basically cockfighting through this entire chapter and I haven't read it in years #i forgot how glorious and hilarious it is

[lgcbk]

⸻ AN ORIGIN STORY

Project Origin Audition / wc: 695

"So, I was thinking a while about the character I wanted to present to you today..."

A solid three days - a record for Byeongkwan and he would be proud of himself for at least the next three weeks. "I really wanted to come up with a character that really embodied who I was as a person... My personality, my strengths -" he aptly cuts himself off at even the mention of his nonexistent irrelevant okay, maybe a few fine, MANY weaknesses.

"And if I'm being honest... It was pretty hard. I'm not the best at - Stuff like this always - But I think I've come up with, uh - " He glances down at the spiral notebook in his hands, scanning the page of haphazardly scribbled notes alongside the rap he'd prepared for the first part of his audition. "I'll just - "

"My knight is nothing extraordinary. He's not the strongest, although he can pull his weight. He's not the fastest - unless something's chasing him, that's a different story. He might not even be the brightest, but he likes to think that his dashing good looks makes up for it - " Byeongkwan glances up at the panel with a cheeky smirk, framing his chin with his thumb and forefinger before continuing his spiel. "I guess at first look he's... practically useless. And I'm sure that a lot of the other knights - most of the other knights, wonder how he even made the cut. A lot of people would probably see him as a nuisance. The kind of person who rather spend all his time flipping swords and racing dragons - those exist in this universe, yeah...?" he trails off with a curious blink.

"Anyway, he's not someone anyone would think capable of protecting a kingdom. So, what good is he, really? And that's where my knight's special power comes in. In the heat of battle, when all hope might seem lost - Luck is on his side."

"His power isn't something that's as obvious as flight or super speed, but he has his own brand of magic. He's always at the right place at the right time. Finding some mystical tool that the other knights need to take down an enemy. Stumbling out of harm's way at the very last second to get it to them. And in battle, it's almost like no on can touch him. You might even call him invincible. Not because of his amazing combat skill or anything like that. ...Just a well-timed rolling boulder, a sudden stampede of magical creatures, quicksand... Who knows."

"He doesn't know why or how - but things just always work out in his favor. And with each random instance of success, it gives him the motivation to push forward and become a knight worthy of his status. A knight others can really rely on." He gives a shrug and tucks his notebook under his arm. "When it's all said and done, and the smoke clears, and the kingdom is saved... I want him to be the character that no one saw coming. He probably didn't even see it coming himself. And maybe, just maybe, it's not just because of his 'dumb luck' anymore."

He finishes up with a final nod, clasping his hands together. "And... that's it. I'm not really the type to believe in luck or anything like that, but... I know that I'm lucky to be here, and although I think my 'ideal public persona' is still a work in progress I hope to be someone that others can believe in. And... I think I could believe in a character like that." The corners of his lips curve up into a half smile, bowing his head. "Thank you for your time, and I'm, uh... looking forward to this."

He starts for the hall, greeting the staff member waving him out with a pursed grin, somewhat satisfied with himself. He pauses in the doorway brows raised as if he'd forgotten the most important part. "Oh! And if anyone needs any storyboard design ideas I have some pretty great sketches - No? You sure? Oh, alright - If you ever change your m - " He calls out as the door is slowly closed on him.

#( trainee mission 012. ) #lgc:projectorigin002 #( nothing to see here ) #( scroll on ) #( ignore ) #( kthnxbye )

[theangrypokemaniac]

Thank you for your kind words, @iloitse, and your thoughts, with which I agree.

I also see Brock with Suzie. When I used to plan out my own region, it finished with them together.

To me she's the one girl receptive to his attention, perhaps not in a loving sense, at least not yet, but no other lady ever treated him so well.

Vulpix will always connect them, meaning Brock has a lasting relationship with Suzie, and a reason to find her again.

If Suzie handed Vulpix over within hours of meeting Brock, in that short period she'd recognized him as a kind, caring young man worthy of her trust, someone to keep Vulpix safe, and he did, repaying her faith in him.

That's the sort of lad any girl wants to marry, and, as Vulpix is one of my favourite Pokémon, both can own it if they're together, which is my main motivation.

Vulpix for everyone!

I understand Tracey's true dream being to meet Professor Oak, but that's almost more useless than aiming to be an artist.

Drawing is dull viewing, but it keeps him occupied, and may lead to a career, but what did he want from Oak?

Yes, you've seen him. Very nice. And what are you intending to do now?

If I think of it too much, it gives me the idea Tracey naturally assumed Oak would be so impressed he'd take him on immediately, and so he needn't plan further into future than that, which brings me back to his arrogance.

As for getting there, the only direct progress he makes is in three epidodes:

• The Lost Lapras, his introduction, by encountering Ash and Misty.

• A Tents Situation, his penultimate appearance, when he meets Oak.

• The Rivalry Revival, his exit, when he becomes an assistant.

Between the first and final two, there's a hole of nothingness.

I suppose each step he takes puts him closer, but plot-wise, it's an abstact quest of no use at this exact moment.

This wish of his won't motivate him into any action in individual episodes, nor does it affect how he behaves throughout.

He should've had a task in the meantime that combined both interests, if say Oak directly asked him to make detailed illustrations of all the tropical Pokémon varieties.

As in, he must purposely go out and find them, not just the few he sees passing through.

There'd then be scenes when Tracey led the team, racing off into the woods as he's heard rumours of oddly-coloured Pokémon on the island, having to traverse caves and cliffs to find it, and maybe the Pokémon wants a favour before it complies, leading to another search.

It might encourage him to colour the sketches in for a change.

As a trope, 'The Quiet One' works, but not so much in a trio. There's too few members for it to be a recognizable role.

It looks more like you're not doing enough.

I'm not certain it's what Tracey's supposed to be either, because he speaks often, but just doesn't say anything memorable.

Usually 'The Quiet One' is portrayed as sensitive, emotionally intelligent and highly perceptive, spotting the tiny details the loud mouths miss.

They'll sit on their own, or stare silently out to sea, in picturesque scenes absorbing their surroundings.

Whilst watching Pokémon encompasses this, I doubt he was deliberately designed to fill the spiritual or philosophical model, but that's the best interpretation of a flat, undeveloped personality.

He certainly doesn't behave as The Quiet One when he has the major part in the story, so given the show credit for making a calm, laidback yet deep character, isn't something I can do.

It's so ridiculous. These writers put effort into creating Tracey, and cared enough to include him in the series, and then never took it further.

As soon as he was in, they gave up!

If however I accepted him as intentionally reserved, perhaps to counter the wilder edges of Ash and Misty, we still come back to Brock.

Tracey as The Quiet One would only ever be well-received had he been there from the outset, his relaxed, or withdrawn attitude given greater focus and serving as integrel to its beginnings.

By coming in late, no one will ever judge him on his own terms, or for himself.

He'll be held up beside Brock, and found to be not as interesting, and the longer the comparison persists, the less consideration he'll get, until fans lock him out of their minds and feel nothing but resentment.

With regards to Pokéshipping, Tracey was seen as an obstacle to any theoretical romantic moments simply by being there.

When Pokémon started, shipping as a concept, plus the surrounding fandom 'culture' didn't yet exist, as least not fully, and the only fellow fans available for discussion were those you knew in real life, which limited the sharing of ideas.

Therefore, children watching the very first episode weren't conditioned to see everything in terms of pairings, obsessively analysing each scene for clues etc.

By the time Pokéshipping began, Brock was already there, so part of it, in a sense, and the ship fitted around him.

Whilst Tracey is also the 'third wheel', and technically, any allowances shippers made for Brock could also work for him, it will always come back to the ill-feeling Tracey provoked.

What people overlook or ignore in their friends they will hate in their enemies.

It's not particularly rational, but then human nature isn't rational.

Some fans take against Ash and Misty. Some dislike Team Rocket. But no one hates Brock. He holds both sides of the divide together.

Therefore, Pokéshippers will accept him, as he was there almost from day one, but not Tracey, as he's not built into the foundations, neither of the anime nor the ship.

The writers didn't help matters by hinting at what might have been, fully knowing they'd never deliver.

At the close of Pokéball Peril, as soon as Brock's gone, Team Rocket tease Ash and Misty as 'lovebirds', as if that's the obvious conclusion to them being alone.

A lot of shippers at home, still smarting at losing Brock, might've got over it had this continued, in that, whilst missed, Brock's absence is tolerable if it leads to more focus on Ash and Misty as characters, and greater detail on their emotions and thoughts, especially for each other.

Then Brock leaving means something, and can be justified as crucial to the coming story arc, but adding a replacement erases all that potential.

Removing Brock is pointless if we 'need' three Twerps, thus the writers squandered the opportunity to go in a new direction, which is, frustratingly, straight after they implied the opposite.

I forgot to say before that Tracey is also hindered by his and the Orange League's perceived lack of legitimacy.

Ash, Misty, Brock, Gary, Delia, Oak, Joy and Jenny all come from the games.

Jessie and James, whilst not specifically featured, represent the villains of Red and Blue, which is a necessary invention as there were no named Team Rocket members besides Giovanni.

Pokémon Yellow had also come out by then, retroactively adding them to the game world, so that's alright.

Tracey however was the first main character to exist inside the anime alone, so not someone we were eager to see onscreen.

Back then, the branches of Pokémon: games, cartoon, cards, manga and merchandise, were much more connected and cross-referenced than they are now, and for the anime to adapt the game was considered very important.

When Tracey, with no roots in Red and Blue, comes in, and takes the place of Brock, who does, there was a feeling he hadn't 'earnt' his right to be there.

Who do you think you are, coming over here and acting like you belong?

The Orange Islands aren't a bad series compared to what follows, but when judged only by Kanto, it marked a step away from the original purpose of animating the game, and that wasn't a popular move.

We 'knew' the Indigo League as players. We'd walked through the towns, battled there, and been the hero, but this place, this brand-new, never-before-mentioned archipelago, with little relevance to the mainland, held no such significance.

It's a bonus round before Johto, as if not worthy in itself, merely a stop-gap edition, just to have something, anything even, to keep the kids occupied until the real stuff arrives.

It didn't seem to matter as much because of all of the above, and the sleepy, drifting tone of wandering the seas, sailing wherever the currents go, amplified that.

If it doesn't care, why should we?

Brock experienced blizzards, deserts, shipwrecks and eruptions like a proper adventurer.

He'd been through it all with Ash and Misty as a true companion.

Tracey meanwhile, had really nothing but blue seas, clean beaches and fruit groves to worry about.

Overall, and visually, it's just one long summer holiday for him, with no hardship to test his mettle.

How could we even tell if he was worth our investment, when we never saw him deal with serious situations?

It's another circle: no one likes Tracey, because they associate him with the 'false' Orange League, and no one likes the Orange League, as that's the one with Tracey.

Hating him is a very time-specific reaction.

You need to have been a child then, watching Pokémon in order, with no knowledge of what's to come, to feel it.

I wouldn't expect any fan outside that to join in if it's not part of their experience.

My younger self would never forgive me for mellowing with age, but then, when innocent enough to think Tracey was the worst thing that could ever happen to Pokémon, I didn't realise how lucky I was.

Because he most certainly isn't.

#Pokémon #Tracey #Brock #Suzie #Vulpix #Pokéshipping #Ash #Misty #Ash and Misty #Professor Oak #Team Rocket #Kanto #Pokéball Peril #Orange Islands #GIFS

[iztopher]

hi. at this point it may be evident what i'm about to say. but for that ask meme: ALL OF THE QUESTIONS

JHFDASK YESSSS okay here we go!!!

1. Art programs you have but don't use: Clip Studio Paint!! I pretty much ONLY use it for the grid and text feature, otherwise I don't like the workflow haha

2. Is it easier to draw someone facing left or right (or forward even): Drawing in profile is the same to me from either direction, but for 3/4 view, I naturally gravitate towards / find it easier to draw people facing left

3. What ideas come from when you were little: Since I've been into Aveyond for so long, and that's what I mostly draw, I have a lot of ideas that pretty much originated as "I wanted to draw this as a kid and didn't have the skill to"!

4. Fav character/subject that's a bitch to draw: Te'ijal and also Galahad. it's the hair.

5. Estimate of how much of your art you post online vs. the art you keep for yourself: Finished art I'd say I share a good 90% of it! Once we get into sketches... hoo boy, maybe 40%?

6. Anything that might inspire you subconsciously (i.e. this horse wasn't supposed to look like the Last Unicorn but I see it): Whatever this is, it's either too specific to the piece or too subconscious for me to think of it

7. A medium of art you don't work in but appreciate: traditional illustration, painting, watercolor...

8. What's an old project idea that you've lost interest in: A heads up that my answer to this is sad but I'm trying to talk about this type of stuff relatively openly, so: spring 2021, I watched Willy's Wonderland for the first time w/ Ishti + Moonie; we kept talking about a Galahad & Mel AU for it. I had two pictures for it planned, and I drew one of them, and... the timing worked out where Moonie never got to see it, and I've lost the motivation to do the second one. But I like the first one and I'm glad I drew it and I take some comfort/peace in the fact that I was working on something I was excited to share with her at the time.

9. What are your file name conventions: I have a folder for all my art, a subfolder for every year, and then a subfolder for every month, which means there isn't that much overlap! so unless I have a funny title idea my file name conventions are generally pretty straightforward: "mella1.sai", "teijalahad.sai", "teijalstudy.sai" etc etc

10. Favorite piece of clothing to draw: Does armor count? If not, gambesons.

11. Do you listen to anything while drawing? If so, what: Yes!!! Pretty much always music, occasionally video essays. Usually I'll pick a song and play it on loop, or if I'm in the mood for more variety I'll pick a playlist or an artist and listen through that. I also really like drawing while on call with people.

12. Easiest part of body to draw: I'm so sorry for my answer. Boobs.

13. A creator who you admire but whose work isn't your thing: I'm not sure I have an answer for this one, actually - there's a lot of artists I like the work of who I wouldn't want to emulate, but that feels different to me?

14. Any favorite motifs: Not really, in theory I really love flowers but I almost never draw them

15. *Where* do you draw (don't drop your ip address this just means do you doodle at a park or smth): I used to draw pretty much everywhere, but post chronic pain it's my desk only because using a tablet hurts wayyy less than a sketchbook!

16. Something you are good at but don't really have fun doing: Landscapes / natural areas from photographs lol

17. Do you eat/drink when drawing? if so, what: Water ALL the time, coffee if it lines up properly

18. An estimate of how much art supplies you've broken: Very few!! Probably less than 10. I mostly draw digitally

19. Favorite inanimate objects to draw (food, nature, etc.): ARMOR AND WEAPONS

20. Something everyone else finds hard to draw but you enjoy: Hands and armor!

21. Art styles nothing like your own but you like anyways: Honestly the art styles unlike mine that I like tend to be ones... I wish I had... I'm really drawn to realistic, somber, softer stuff

22. What physical exercises do you do before drawing, if any: Tendon gliding exercises! Tbh I should start doing more, it might help

23. Do you use different layer modes: VERY rarely, mostly not

24. Do your references include stock images: Yessss

25. Something your art has been compared to that you were NOT inspired by: I KNOW this has happened but I'm totally blanking on it

26. What's a piece that got a wildly different interpretation from what you intended: I'm not sure if this counts but pretty much any time I get a "cute!" response on a te'ijalahad picture I'm like oh no please do not say that,

27. Do you warm up before getting to the good stuff? If so, what is it you draw to warm up with: I tend to warm up by drawing a headshot of the character I'm going to be drawing, but lately I've been trying to shift to warm ups that are more focused on like, the action of drawing and loosening up

28. Any art events you have participated in the past (like zines): I participated in a zine that ended up not happening, and I've done several fandom exchanges!! Mostly the Aveyond Winter Exchange, but also the Oneshot Podcast Network exchange on AO3 (yeah it was AO3 but I did art for it)

29. Media you love, but doesn't inspire you artistically: Infinity Train!!! absolutely adore it, the art style doesn't really inspire me at all & because I got into it in the thick of my hand pain I never got used to drawing it

30. What piece of yours do you think is underrated: None! I mostly draw Aveyond so pretty much all of my art is in the 1-10 response zone so it all feels pretty consistent gdjkgklsdf

#dear mel #THANK UUU <3333

[keefwho]

July 27 - 2023 Thursday

9:35 PM

I was reading my book some and I have some questions to answer.

How would I act differently if painful thoughts and feelings were no longer an obstacle?

I would be letting my head do more of the deciding and probably pursue pleasures I want to experience in a methodical way. Often times my actions are dictated by my feelings even during times where that isn't wise. I think I'd be able to do a lot without painful thoughts and feeling scaring me away from my goals.

What projects or activities would I start (or continue) if my time and energy weren’t consumed by troublesome emotions?

I think I would be in VRchat a lot more trying to make more friends. I might even go outside to the bar across the street every now and then, or plan a trip to a con. I might be engaging sexually with people more.

What would I do if fear were no longer an issue?

Everything mentioned above. Everything I do would be easier to focus on. I wouldn't keep getting held up worrying about outcomes. I think there would be a lot more doing.

What would I attempt if thoughts of failure didn’t deter me?

The biggest things would be going to a con and trying to hang out with someone IRL.

When you contemplate these four questions, what trouble some thoughts and images come to mind? Do you visualise yourself getting hurt in some way? Does your thinking self tell you, ‘It’s hopeless’ or ‘It’s too hard’ or that you can’t make these changes because you are too weak/ inadequate/ depressed/ anxious/ stupid/ unlovable?

I'm always telling myself things are hopeless because I just don't have what it takes to be who I want to be. I always envision myself failing or going downhill. I don't like pursuing anything because I can't imagine victory. At this point it feels like having a low opinion of myself is worked deep into my characters, like its just who I am at this point. It feels impossible to break out of.

10:41 PM

This morning while making breakfast, I hopped into desktop VRchat to set things clear with a friend who was concerned things might be weird between us because of some very brief drama that happened with someone else. Everything was fine with me though, there were no problems. While talking I kept wishing I could be more involved and more present. I opened up a bit and we talked about some deep topics but I didn't really feel heard or that I was listening in return. Something in me blocks that from happening. The stream didn't go so great. I was tired the whole time and only did 40 minutes on the commission today. After that I didn't feel like I could do any drawing justice so I ended after doing a few sketches. To sort of make up for it I worked on my avatar for 30ish minutes and made nice progress. I didn't do my mini leg workout like I wanted mostly because mom talked my ear off over the phone for about 30 minutes. I cleaned up my dog's cage and clipped her nails. I felt constipated or something during and after my shower and it was impeding my appetite a bit. I was able to eat a bologna sandwich and some white rice but my tummy problems persisted all evening. I was supposed to work on a YCH or something today, I'd be starting a new one if I did. But instead I finished this Zelda pic for me and my friend. I think I did a very good job on it, it did take awhile. I was totally lost all evening. I had the goal of trying to do anything as long as I was doing it freely and expressing myself. I played a bit of Zelda and even streamed some and slightly achieved my goal but for the most part it was another dull evening not knowing what to do with myself. My friend hasn't been around at all either, not even for bed time. I would have gotten into VRchat or something if I felt like socializing but my usual feelings were limiting me. I can't work up the motivation to try and chat if I inherently believe it's not going to go anywhere. I'm hoping tomorrow will be better, I think I've been in a sort of natural slump. I will have my up again, its just a matter of when.

#journal #diary #fear

[lollitree]

Happy Halloween!! I wanted to redraw this piece from 2 years ago, but I only ended up finishing the AFO one...

#bnha #all for one #all for son #afs #all for son au #I've improved a lot since the original!! :D #art #allartstuff #I sketched up all might but then lost the motivation to finish it :'( #I still love the original too #ok this is my last afo focused art piece in a row HOPEFULLY #who know's what I'll draw next I certainly dont #could be a comic which will most likely feature him.. but he wont be the main focus!! #or I could draw Izuku #or even an OC gasp imagine that #impossible #my OCs never get nice art from me #oh no wait I've been working on an OC painting I could finish that duh