#so i just made some shapes and put them all on a canvas | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cringequeenwrites · 3 months

Note

hi <3 id like to request larry johnson smut. i have this idea of just like laying around being lazy with him, talking about his art, music, maybe even smoking a little. as he’s comfortably rambling with you, he keeps trailing off getting distracted by looking at you. he starts grabbing at your thighs (super obsessed with them) and listing off phrases of adoration about you. just overall super lovey, entranced by you, almost can’t help himself but just being all over you. just some guilty pleasure lazy lovey smut plss 😭😭

Sorry for taking so long I was in art block for a hot minute, long intro,fluff,love making smut >>

•oO* •oO* •oO* •oO* •oO* •oO* •oO* •oO*•oO*•o

The Artist’s muse

Art credit: @deordah on instagram

You woke up begrudgingly to the buzz on your phone. The rectangular light emitted shadowed your bewildered, but sleepy features as you grasp your phone with your eyes still closed. Once you could lift the weight of your eyelids you could just see a text from your boyfriend.

‘Come to my room, I need your help.’

You muster a groan before slugging off the bed before putting on some more appropriate pjs to where before sliding on some fluffy slippers and exiting your apartment to trudge into his. Times like this you feel grateful that you live in the same complex as your lover.

The elevator shuddered and reeked of cigarettes and mildew finally stopped and you exited. Softly opening is shared apt door to not wake his mom up with the spare key she gave you a couple months back. In her words Larry made too much noise trying to sneak you in himself than you actually coming normally.

You lock the door behind you and shuffle to his bedroom. The deafening silence of your slippers and his music looming vibrations into the thin wall made you feel almost invisible like a ghost. The familiar smell of burning marijuana and incense filled your nose.

You open his door and slide in to close it behind you. He hadn’t notice your presence yet. You spotted his figure behind a canvas atop of his big easily that also blocked the door way. Most likely the cause of him not noticing you come in. His vinyl player playing a more low and somber tone in contrast of the typical metallic death metal.

You scooted to the side, he still doesn’t notice you. But now you see he’s hyper-focused and high painting something. You see the shapes and color of a figure but you can’t tell what it is yet. You see him put down his paint brush with his brows furrowed as he takes another hit from his blunt, reaching for his phone.

‘Hurry up’

‘I’m right next to you dumby.’

You waited for text to deliver, to ping his phone, and to fully read your one sentence before lifting his head up like a barn owl. You see him jump in his stool and almost fall back. “Jesus fuck, sals a bad influence on you, you know that?” You chuckle at his response and move closer, hugging his tall frame as an apology. “What did you need help with larva.” Larva was the nick name you gave him because you grimaced every time you used larr-bear. Larva being way cuter you argued. You boyfriend who had mixed feelings about being compared to a worm, got back to what he wanted to say.

“I need you to pose for me, I wanna paint ya.”

You paused and looked at him, looking in his features to decipher if he was messing with you or not. His eyes stared back at yours with honesty and the white of his eyes a more pink from weed.

He then wrapped his arms around you to pick you up. You wide eyed and flattered at first, now flustered and in the air. “How bout,no..actually hold on.” He muttered before he flopped you on the bed with heist as he rearranges the position of his easel. You were torn with emotion. Flattered that your boyfriend wanted to paint you, but tired because it’s almost two and half in the morning.

You steal the neglected blunt off his nightstand as he fumbled with his pants. Still lit and burning you inhale while just accepting what’s happing. Still half asleep as you stare off into space. “You’re so pretty you know that?” His voice dipping an octave with his brush against the canvas. “I’m tired.” You almost whispered, even talking normally felt like too much work right now. “I mean it, you’re so fucking beautiful.” You say nothing unintentionally,zoned out from sleep deprivation and the slow high as you inhaled the blunt with your lips touching the rolled up paper.

You’re unsure how much time has passed. Your mind brought back to Larry when you no longer hear the brush strokes and music from the player suddenly click off. You observe him turn of the lights, but still seeing his silhouette shuffle toward you. Climbing in the bed quietly, the light of your blunt being the only light emitting from the room.

He sits closer to you,not saying a word, but you can tell what he is doing. You give him the blunt, he cranes his head. you cup his cheek with your free hand and place the joint to his lips with your other hand. You two shared the dwindling blunt until it was just bits of burnt paper. Breathing smoke from his mouth into yours, feeling as if you’re sucking his soul.

“I love you.” He said. His head coming to rest on your shoulder as you put your hands around his neck. “I love you too, don’t ever wake me up this late again.” You hear his sudden chuckle, feeling his dopey smile on your skin. “I’m sorry, just miss you.” He continued. Pulling down your pj pants with your underwear. “You see me everyday.” You entertained him as you pulled his shirt off. “I know.” He huffed. Taking off your shirt he gave you years ago.

“I just want you here, I want your heart.. Your attention, I wanted to hear your voice. I don’t know how to put it. I even miss the smell of your clothes.”

He uttered through whispers. Shuffling his pants off to kick them away. Kissing the shell of your ear down to your neck. Hands on your waist as his legs intertwined with yours.

“I need you.”

He grabbed the lube from that laid on the covers from a couple nights before. Pouring a generous amount on his shaft. You lock his waist between you with your legs. He rubbed his cock between your folds,heat already emitting from the both of you. The squelching sound made by your mixture of slick and lube coating your lips as his tip plays with your sensitive clit. You let out a shuddered whimper from the teasing, earning a chuckle from the man above you. He then inserted the head in, pausing to give you time to adjust before sinking his length in. His thickness was something you never got used to, no matter how many times you two were together. He bottomed out with a huff. Pausing again to give you time to adjust. You ran your hands through his hair to signal him to go. He slowly thrusted but thoroughly pressed into your core when he made contact. Now spouting endless praise and encouragement to you. “You so fucking hot, fuck, your pussy is so good I could fuck you forever. Your noises are so fucking cute too. I love you so much baby you don’t even know.” He sped up to where you could hear the plaps and squelching of your skin together. Inching closer and closer before you were about to climax. “Larry I’m close-“ you could only warn too soon before you felt your legs spasm and shake as you gush around his cock. Hiding your face in the crook of his neck as he chased his high, thrust coming to a sloppy rhythm as he pumped his cum I side you, filling your pussy until it was spilling out as he pulled out.

“We can clean up tomorrow morning.” He exhaled, still lying on top of you as he drew the blanket covers over the two of you. “I love you.” You whispered with soft huffs. “Love you too.” He said, falling asleep with your arms around him.

#sally face #larry johnson fluff #larry johnson x reader smut #sally face larry x reader #larry johnson x reader #larry johnson sally face #sally face larry #larry x reader #larry johnson

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crow-raven-crow · 7 months

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I love everything you write feat Larissa Weems esp sub!Larissa, do you have plans to write more of that? If not I'd love to request some but everything is completely up to you, I just love the idea of her trusting someone enough to submit like that!

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐬

𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 - [𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝟏𝟖+]

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

Larissa Weems x Shapeshifter f!reader words: ~2.7k 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: texting, fluff, photos, voice messages, NSFW, sub!Larissa, dom!Reader, g!p Reader, shape shifted dick, oral sex, pinning, fingering, overstimulation, slight voyeurism, dumbification, marking, scratching, praise kink, slight degradation

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 see above

masterlist

AO3 link in title ✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

a/n: i looooovvvee sub!Larissa and I think it's definately going to start showing more in some of the things I put out. i love the idea of her trusting someone like that. She's been through so much, so allowing herself to give her body to someone can mean more than what meets the eye.

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

You had left your shared questers a bit earlier this morning, with the hope of getting some extra work done to share a better weekend with Larissa. You hadn't been gone for long, only about 10 minutes until your class was to start for the day, when you saw an abundance of messaged being sent to your phone. It wasn't often that you found your phone blowing up with messages from your lover, but when it did it was always full of a night of fun.

You had gotten a few messaged from her while you were grading your last paper, and decided to look at all of them when you were finished. The constant flashing of your phone screen and the small buzzing against the desk did a good job in distracting you, however, and ultimately left you with the assignment nearly finished.

You grabbed your phone, quickly typed in your password, and opened your messages as the first small group of students had walked into your class. You looked up and gave them a small 'good morning' before throwing your focus back to your woman.

When you had looked back at your phone, there were more messages being thrown your way, photos stacked together of her in the most delicious lingerie you had seen her in to date. The dark colors contrasted her pale skin in a way that made your mouth water. As you scrolled through all of them, the air from your lungs stilled and your heart rate quickened. When you scrolled back to the bottom, there was one message from 15 seconds ago.

Riss: Like what you see? I've heard I can be quite the distraction..

Y/N: If I knew you were sending me these, I would've opened my messages much sooner.. Such a beauty for me, aren't you?

Your face paired with a deep blush and a smirk had made a home on your lips. You scrolled back to the photos, lost in the traces she always managed to capture you in, before being shocked back to reality as the school bell rang through the room.

Riss: Better get to work - I'd hate to be the reason you couldn't focus

Y/N: You should do the same, hmm? Focus for me, love. You might get rewarded at the end of today, so behave

With that you let out a sign as you stood, clicking your phone off and placing it into a drawer for safe keeping. You looked around the room, seeing your students all ready to learn, and smiled.

Throughout your lessons, your mind had wandered back to the photos that plagued your mind. There were moments where you had your students doing independent work at the end of your classes and you had caught yourself simply staring at your computer screen as you imagined everything you could do to her..

The way the lingerie hugged her body was enchanting, the lace highlighting every curve and the sheer fabric leaving nothing to the imagination.. Her skin was the mere empty canvas that you were sure to fill up with your art when you were able to capture her in your arms, pulling the fabric off her body as your cold fingertips left goosebumps along her skin, grabbing onto her hips as she arched into you with every mark.

You were once again snapped away from your desires when there were questions about the assignment being thrown your way. You stood from your desk, feeling the warmth that had pooled between your thighs, and went over to answer any questions or clear up any comments they had.

This was going to be a long day..

Your lunch break had come at an agonizingly slow pace - looking at the clock multiple times over the hours that had passed didn't help either. You were lucky to have your classroom alone, ushering the last student out of the room, before shutting and locking the door.

You basically ran back to your seat. Hearing your phone buzz in your desk drawer only made you riled up, especially because you knew each message was from your good girl..

You threw all focus out the window as you leaned back against your office chair, phone in hand. Your breathing had already picked up significantly, and you were waiting for your brain to absolutely short circuit at anything else she managed to come up with.

You had to stop yourself from drooling as you opened the app, a segment of photos allowing her sliver of control to unfold. There were groups of photos, all seemingly going together as she slowly had less clothing on in each one. The first was her taking off her coat and settling herself on the bed, photos being taken from the reflection of one of the mirrors or with her front camera. The next was her slipping off her dress, the pale skin becoming exposed within the walls of your shared bedroom.

The last nearly had you calling out for the rest of the day. The first photo in the group was a body shot of her in the lingerie she showed you this morning, followed by one with her hand between her thighs, then her fingers moving the fabric away to show how incredibly drenched she was, then her fingers running through her folds, and the last one showing her fingers knuckle deep in her cunt.

The last segment was sent three minutes ago..

Y/N: What did I say about behaving?

Riss: I took it as a suggestion

Y/N: One you didn't follow

Riss: Correct - and one I won't follow today

The last text from her made you groan, and you knew she wouldn't let up. The fact was proven as your own message was cut off from another one sent from her - a beautiful voice message full of her moans..

The sound of her made your your body curl forward in heat, electricity course through you, and make your whole body tingle. The want that settled itself between your legs only grew, and you couldn't wait for this work day to be over.

Y/N: You better not cum. You'll edge yourself until it's my fingers, my cock that fills you. Understood?

Riss: Yes, Y/n

Y/N: Good girl..

You were practically running through the halls after you cleared out your classroom, after you gathered all your things and locked your door like a madman. She sent you updates, proving to you that she didn't cum, proving that she could be a good girl for you..

And it only made your body ache and burn with immense need..

You barged into her office, dropping your things by the door and locking it behind you, before stalking over to your shared quarters. You could hear her muffled moans through the wood, but nothing could've prepared you for the sight you were about to see.

She was sprawled out onto the bed, her lingerie still on as one hand pumped her fingers in and out of her core at a slow pace. Her head was thrown back in pleasure, and you could barely see the tears that were threatening to fall from the amount of times she almost reached her peak. Her face and chest were flushed, a sheen of sweat covering her pale skin as her body trembled.

Suddenly, you were eternally thankful that it was the weekend.

“Y/N, I-“ She was cut off by her own moans, her fingers working at a quicker pace as her eyes filled with desperation. “Plea- Please.. I need you-“

“You have no right to beg for me, my love.” Your voice boomed as you treaded over to her, taking your shirt off before placing your body above her own as you grabbed her hands, removing her fingers from her core and pinning them above her head. “Couldn’t wait for me, couldn’t behave.. It’s going to be so sweet destroying you…”

Your gaze filtered between both of her eyes, finding unquenchable need swirling in them. You took her hand and saw the slick that covered her fingers, before looking back at her and taking them into your mouth. Your eyes fluttered shut at the taste of her, your tongue swirling around her digits as her eyes burned into your every move.

You released them from your mouth slowly, loving the way her entire focus was on you alone, and pinned it back with her other hand. You moved your head low, down to her ear, and your voice rang out low, full of lust and the need to take her. “I wonder just how much you can take, just how many times I can make my goddess cum, hmm?”

You were met back with whimpers leaving her throat and her back arching into your touch. You kissed along her jawline, stopping just above her lips, and whispered against them. “Color?”

“Gre- Green.. please-“

Your lips crashed into hers, your own need driving your actions as you swiped your tongue along her bottom lip. She gladly let you in, your tongues dancing together and translating the growing flame that traveled throughout your beings.

You kissed down her neck, meeting her pulse point and leaving a deep mark there, licking up the porcelain column right after. You were torturing her already; you could tell by the way her hips bucked and how ragged her breathing had gotten. “Absolutely delicious..”

You placed featherlight kisses down her body, your hands releasing your grip around her wrists and traveling underneath her to unclasp her bra, tossing it somewhere in the room right after. Your fingers traced over her breasts, squeezing the soft skin in the palms of your hands, feeling her nipples harden under your touch.

You licked over her right bud and rolled the other between your fingers, the action causing loud whimpers to leave the sapphire beauty. Her back arched, pushing her breasts into your touch, as your other hand scratched lightly along her side. You gave her other bud the same attention, pulling back after and adoring the marks that were left along her skin, adoring just how much she wished that you would dive into her, give her what she wants, what she needs..

It only urged you forward, even if it was at a torturous pace..

You kissed down her body, marking up the canvas that she provided you, and had to stop due to the overwhelming desire that the smell of her arousal had filled you with. You moved your hand down to her hips and tore away that separated you from her core. She was drenched, her own arousal flooding out of her.

“All this for me?”

"Yes- Yes, Y/n please.. I need-"

You cut her off before she could finished her sentence, your tongue running through her folds at an excruciatingly slow pace, putting pressure against her clit before you pulled away completely. You were met with protests, whimpers and whines from the blonde, only to be cut off by her moans as you did the same thing.

You loved toying with her

But as her hands met your shoulders, digging her nails into your skin, as her moans got louder and less filtered, you lost the rest of your resolve.

Your tongue moved in and out of her core, fucking her and collecting everything she had to offer as your hands locked onto her hips, keeping her from moving as you made her see stars. Her first orgasm came fast, her thighs flexing and threatening to close around your head.

You moved your tongue to circle her clit to build her up for the next one, pushing two fingers into her core and moaning as her walls clenched around them. You felt her back arch underneath you, hearing her moans grow higher in pitch made your own arousal flood between your thighs. "F-Fuck! Pleas- Pleaseplease- so good"

Her moans slurred her words together, and you knew she was nearing her second orgasm soon. You applied more pressure to her clit, curling your fingers in a way that had her falling over the edge all over again. You built her back down from her high, taking a moment to take off the rest of your clothes before kissing back up her body.

She grabbed your jaw and pulled you in for a passionate and heated kiss. You shifted the lower part of your body as you kissed her, your length rubbing against her core and making her break the kiss. "Y/n.. can you- could- Gods, fuck me- please.."

"Anything for you, my darling.."

You kissed her once more, translating more softness in the touch, as you moved a hand down and lined up your member with her core. Her eyes widened slightly as you teased her entrance, always forgetting just how much of you there was.

“You can take it, sweet thing.. Gods, you feel amazing around me..” You pushed inside of her, the overwhelming pleasure making your head fall and your eyes flutter shut. Fucking Larissa was always a pleasure, both of you understanding just how delicious it was to fill the other and feel everything, but with how she was acting today, it made fucking her senseless all the more better.

"I can- I can, y/n.. I want all of you.." Her nails scratched into your back as you continued to push into her.

“That’s my girl..” Your hips met hers, and you took the time of her adjusting to your length to move down to her ear and whisper out to her. “You look divine beneath me, taking all of me like a good little slut, absolutely beautiful taking my cock like the whore you are, hmm?”

She gave you the signal to move, and the sensations that coursed through your body were divine enough to nearly make you double over. Your thrusts got rougher, faster in pace, and you moaned low above Larissa at the feeling of her around you.

"Such a good girl for me, hmm?" You moaned loudly as she clenched around you at the praise you threw at her.

"Yes- your good girl, so good-" Her head was thrown back in pleasure, her brows furrowed closely, and her eyes half lidded in lust. She was close, the way her nails dug into your back and the way she urged you to go faster made that apparent. You felt your own high coming, building behind your navel and tightening, ready to snap.

"I-I'm close.. let- let me cum- please-" You loved the way she begged, her pleas falling from her lips so easily for you.

"Cum for me, love.. Let go - I got you.." You whispered low into her ear, your words being the allowance to send her over the edge and you to follow right after her.

The room filled with your high pitched moans and heavy breaths, a layer of sweat resting along the skin of you both at the actions you'd both been through. You gently pulled out of her and shifted back to your normal form, only to be met with whimpers from your lover beneath you.

"I know, baby.. I know, I'm sorry.." You planted kissed all around her face and gently rubbed your hands along her sides, in acts of reassurance. "Let me clean you up, hmm?"

You were back just as quickly, a glass of water and a wet, warm rag in hang. You moved her to sit up against the pillows, holding the water to her lips and allowing her to drink as much as she wanted. You placed it on your bedside table, and moved to softly clean her up, tossing the rag aside when you were all done.

You moved the covers back, moving her body under them, and covering you both right after. Pulling her into your arms was the greatest reward - the way she nuzzled into your neck and placed soft kisses along it only making your heart soar.

"I wasn't too much, was I? You're okay?" Your fingers traced along her sides and rubbed warm circled on her back. It was always important to you to make sure she truly enjoyed herself and everything that had taken place.

"It was amazing.. You're perfect, my dear.." Her voice rang out against your skin, her accent filling your ears and easing all your worries. You pulled her impossibly closer, your legs tangling together as your breaths traveled along each others skin.

Your hearts were happy there, and it reminded you both how everything about you two was much better than the photos.

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

𝐚/𝐧: i know i say this every time, but this one was so fun to write.

i've realized how much i adore sub!Larissa, and i've also seen shapshifter!Reader float around more recently

which made this absolute joy of a fic

i hope you enjoyed this, anon, because i definately enjoyed writing it

if you saw errors no you didnt <3

~ 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐯𝐲𝐧

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: (tagged anyone who asked/wanted to be on the "all works" taglist)

@autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze @weemssapphic @readingtheentrails @finnja555 @barbarasstar @s-c-rambledegggs @vendocrap8008 @gwendolinechristieiscute @lilfartbox1 @agathaandgwenslesbian @lvinhs @elvira-dear @kimiinou

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

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phantom-nisnow · 3 months

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NARRATIVE STORYTELLING + COMPOSITION

First thing I always think of before doing ANY drawing is: what’s the story I want to tell? What’s the mood/emotion it should give off?

For The Visionary, I wanted to capture that feeling of seeing your hard work and creations finally come to life. It’s that satisfaction as artists, engineers, and creators we feel after seeing our hard work finally bear the fruits of our labor. It’s an exhilarating feeling and we feel a sense of pride.

I can pick out some key words from those descriptions: pride, excitement, satisfaction. Now, how do I depict that in the illustration + what compositional tools can reinforce that feeling and therefore story?

I also knew I wanted to draw my character, Kala. To reinforce the feeling, I wanted to think of his action and, in general, what he would be thinking in the illustration. I did a few thumbnails like below and figured to have him writing in his book and depicting boats in the background, almost like he’s drawing them at the moment and they’re appearing in the background.

Action: writing in his journal, almost as if making the background come to life -> gives a sense of pride and excitement.

This forms the basis of my composition. Everything from here on out (every decision in the illustration) relates back to this.

When thinking of your own illustrations and what you want your characters to do, try this simple template (do this for each of your characters in the scene):

<character> <action> -> gives <mood/emotion> e.g. The rogue flees from the castle guards -> gives a sense of urgency. A witch backs away from her cauldron -> gives a sense of fear.

Kala’s placement is important as well. I purposely made him stand on one of the fourths of the canvas at the far left to make him feel almost like one of the boats (one of his creations). You know those scenes in pirate movies (or even just Navia Genshin Impact) where the character stands next to all their soldiers or a series of cannons? Yeah, I wanted to do something similar here.

After thumbnailing, I’ll start refining the drawing and getting the structure right before doing anything else. Often, I’ll take reference photos like this and put them together in Photoshop. This helps not only get more accurate drawings but you can even put yourself in the shoes of your character. Imagine how they’re feeling in your illustration and act it out. Your pose—and therefore, your character’s pose—might change depending on how you do it which can help with your drawing.

The boats get lighter in value as they recede to the background. I fix this later on in the composition, but since Kala is the focus, I had to make sure that he had the greatest amount of contrast. So I put a hint of light near his face so that his silhouette would pop well against the darker boat behind him. I later enforce this contrast through differences in color saturation which I will show soon.

I felt the boats weren’t grand enough + the mast shapes were too busy, and therefore didn’t support the story as strongly as I wanted to. And to further add contrast + give Kala more focus, I made the boats a bit larger, drawing them more from a low angle to further emphasize their grandiosity and the pride Kala feels in his work. It’s great when something works both compositionally well and enforces the story:

General lines of action of objects for flow. The boats specifically are all angled differently, converging towards Kala, to draw the eye towards him more + not feel static. It creates a sweeping motion to draw the eye towards him, along with the placement of papers and the shape of his coat further adding to the flow.

In general, you can strategically place objects in your drawing to follow certain lines of flow that go back to your focus. This helps guide your viewer around your piece while also giving a sense of motion and energy.

Every artistic decision you make should reinforce the story in some way. Even the tiniest things like the line art style. This idea came after looking through the Across the Spiderverse concept art book, specifically reading about the art style choices of Nueva York. Constructional lines and architectural diagrams are seen throughout the city and I wanted to bring a bit of that into this piece.

It further enforces the idea that Kala is creating the background behind him while also making the boats recede into the background due to atmospheric perspective. Depth of field is determined by how refined the boat’s sketch is, so the boat furthest away is still in pure constructional lines while the one closest to him is fully rendered. I thought that was a big brain idea and I’m glad I went with it >:)

To add a bit of texture, I added a grid pattern off in the distance to help with the feeling of the background being drawn in. I also added sketches of engineering diagrams into Kala’s blue coat for a bit of visual interest. These further add to the fact my character is an engineer and is almost drawing the background himself. Plus, it just looks cool.

Quick breakdown of some visual choices + how they show the story:

large value range: the values go from very dark to very light -> deeper contrast gives sense of drama and overall intensity to the image -> reinforces feelings of epicness

strong warm vs. cool color contrast: shows the sunrise lighting, gives the character more focus (red is a very intense color) -> gives of sense of pride

sketch-y depth of field: objects further away have a more sketch-y, drawn look -> helps with atmospheric perspective and shows that the character is an engineer. contrast with more refined foreground and character.

character pose: Kala is standing tall while also writing in his journal with a very satisfied look ->

flowing papers in the foreground: intentionally placed to aid in the overall flow of the piece -> also enforces the idea that the character in question is very experienced + shows his hard work to get to where he is now

These are all my personal choices for the illustration based on my own experiences and intentions. But every choice, from the character pose, the value range, or whatnot was intentionally done to support the story I wanted to tell in the piece. You or another artist may have different choices given the same prompt, and that’s cool! It’s these kinds of intentional choices based on one’s own experience and emotions that make art awesome and inherently human.

Let me know if you like posts like this and I’ll do more, breaking down the process and my thinking in some of my other pieces!

#nis talks art #tutorial #art tutorial #art walkthrough #my art #1k+ words of nis rambling on about art #idk if i even made sense but I did my best to describe some of my decision processes in regards to composition #composition #steamworks family #art

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mysterious-ocarina · 11 months

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Picture Perfect

Chuuya Nakahara x reader

A/N if you can figure out what book I based your ability on, we have to get married. thems the rules ;)

please give me recommendations for books to use as abilities or just abilities in general for bsd content

Main Masterlist BSD Masterlist Requests AO3

(3.4k words)

You sat in your office, sewing kit in hand, doing your best to not cry out in pain. God, why did stitches have to hurt so bad?

There was a knock on your door before someone came in. Too focused on your task, you didn’t bother looking up to see who had entered.

“Wow, rough mission?” Chuuya Nakahara commented, sarcastically. He was your very attractive, charming, funny, hot, charming, and did I mention attractive boss.

“I’m sure you can use that big brain of yours to see all of these cuts,” you replied. The pain was making you grumpy. You dropped the needle and thread, taking a break. The ripped portrait on your lap felt like a heavy weight.

“If it hurts so bad, why don’t you just do it tomorrow?” Chuuya replied. He took off his hat and his coat, leaving them on your door. He ruffled his hair before taking a seat in the single chair across from your desk. You let your eyes watch as he relaxed in your space.

You placed the portrait on top of your desk, getting up. You grabbed a cold water bottle and some ice cubes from the fridge. You placed the ice cubes on your arm, immediately letting out a sigh of relief. “Because, if I have to go on an impromptu mission, I need to be in tip-top shape. It’s better to get it done as early as possible.”

“Let me help, sweetheart,” Chuuya offered, making you flush, before picking up the sewing supplies and pulling the portrait closer to him. As soon as the first stitch was placed through the canvas, you felt the pain race through your arm.

You sat in front of Chuuya, watching him work on your portrait. The silence is only broken by your pained hisses. A ding was heard from Chuuya’s phone. Checking it, he let out a sigh. “Well, look at that timing.”

He placed your portrait down, and you watched as all of his stitchwork faded until the portrait looked as good as knew. With your portrait all fixed up, you let out a sigh of relief seeing the painting of yourself all clean and unmarred.

“What’s up?” you asked. You picked the portrait up and hung it up in its secret cubby hole, placing an extra painting on top of it, efficiently hiding it.

“We have an impromptu mission. Some weapons have been going missing at one of our warehouses and Mori wants us to check it out,” Chuuya informed you. He got up to put his hat and coat back on. You grabbed your gun off your desk, tucking it in your back waistband before making sure that the knives holstered on your thighs were in place.

Following Chuuya, you asked, “Do you think it’s a traitor or an outsider?”

Chuuya shrugged one shoulder, waving his hand around as he explained, “If it was an outsider, we would have known about it earlier. It’s definitely a rat, wanting to make more money for themselves.”

The both of you made your way to the parking lot. Chuuya climbed onto his motorcycle, scooting slightly forward to make room for you. You climbed on, settling behind him. You loved his motorcycle, or more specifically, the times when you got to ride it with him. It was the only time where it was socially appropriate for you to be holding onto him.

Sometimes when Chuuya took sharp turns or swerved through the streets to scare you, you could feel his stomach tense and ripple as he laughed at your nervous squeaks. The more nervous you got with his driving, the tighter you held onto him so he knew he would never stop teasing you like that.

At the warehouse, the both of you snuck your way through the secret executive entrance from the roof. You both wanted to watch the operations without being noticed to see if anything looked suspicious.

You watched as a tall man looked around his coworkers. You patted Chuuya’s arm, grabbed his attention and pointed at the man you were watching.

The both of you watched as, thinking no one was paying attention, moved one of the full crates towards a back section of the room before returning to his post.

You blushed as Chuuya placed his hand in yours, thankfully he was too busy staring at the man to notice your flushed expression. Chuuya used his ability bringing the both of you down until you were equal with the man.

“What do we have here?” Chuuya asked, announcing your presence. You pulled one of your knives off your thigh, twirling it around your fingers, looking the spitting image of an intimidating mafioso.

“Do you smell that, sir?” you turned towards Chuuya. The man was looking at the both of you, a bewildered yet frightened expression on his face.

“I think I do, y/n. It kinda smells like a rat,” Chuuya answered, a smirk dancing on his pretty face. The both of you surrounded the man on two sides. Other people in the warehouse backed away, sensing that something was up. How smart of everyone, to give you space. It looks like your reputations might precede you.

“What’s your name, boy?” you asked from behind him. Your face was inches away from the back of his shoulder. You brought your knife up, tickling the back of his neck with it. A crazed smile painted itself on your face upon noticing the shivers and goosebumps that wracked his body.

The man stood ramrod straight, sweat building on his face, “O-Oscar.”

“Well, Oscar. You’ll never guess what my partner and I just witnessed,” you toyed with him. Chuuya chuckled at your antics, watching you in amusement. This wasn’t the first time you played with your food and Chuuya adored watching you at work, not that you knew this.

“Can I take over, sir?” you asked, not taking your eyes off of Oscar.

Chuuya gave you a smirk, “Go ahead, have your fun.”

You gave Chuuya a smile before circling Oscar until you were in front of him. He was taller than you but any onlookers would definitely be able to tell which one of you was the one in charge.

You backed up, standing a few feet in front of Oscar. Pointing your knife in his direction, you asked, “Do you happen to know anything about stolen weapons?”

Without answering, Oscar pulled a gun from his waistband. You smiled at the shake in his hand, “Ooh, this will be fun. Come on, Oscar. Shoot me.”

Unsurprisingly, Oscar pulled the trigger, shooting a bullet into your stomach. The bullet shot straight through your stomach, leaving a hole in its spot. You watched in amusement as he took in the sight. The hole in your stomach glowed green before filling in itself, leaving nothing but a bruise in its wake.

Horrified, Oscar questioned, “What the hell are you?”

“You see, dear friend, my special ability allows me to avoid being wounded. I have a special painting that takes my damage for me. When I’m done here, I’ll have to stitch up my portrait so I’m good as new,” you explained, bragging about your ability.

You loved the fearful look people got when they thought that there was no way to harm you. “Now, I would love for you to shoot me again so I can show off my power but I recently ran out of sewing thread and I’m not in the mood to do repairs.”

Oscar stared at you, dread filling his eyes, “You’re fucking crazy!”

A sinister smile graced your face, a look that Chuuya admired from afar, before you replied, “I think I prefer the word wild!”

Immediately you sprung into action, knocking the gun from Oscar’s hand with a kick. You got behind him, wrapping your arm around his neck and pressed your knife into his cheek.

Chuuya finally stepped forward, a smirk on his face, “Why were you stealing weapons from us?”

Oscar had tears in his eyes, “I just wanted some extra cash. I’ll give the money back if you let me go.”

You laughed as Chuuya stepped closer. He simply responded, “Are you working for someone? If you tell us the truth, I won’t kill you.”

“I-I’m not working for anyone. I was just going to sell them on the black market for myself,” Oscar answered. Both you and Chuuya could tell he was telling the truth.

You dug the knife into his cheek a bit more, drawing blood, before exclaiming, “Well, that’s just dandy. Since you told us the truth, we have some special plans for you.”

Oscar shook in your grasp, “You said you would let me live.”

Chuuya chuckled, “I said that I wouldn’t kill you. I never said anything about my wild partner here.”

After everything was taken care of, you and Chuuya were sitting on a bench overlooking the ocean. The both of you had take out boxes in hand, enjoying dinner together.

“I always forget how you can get sometimes,” Chuuya mentioned. “It’s always a treat to watch you work.”

“Thank you. It’s my favorite way to unwind,” you responded. The thrill of a fight was why you joined up with the Port Mafia, so it was understandable that you enjoyed what you did.

Chuuya released a sigh, “I get what you mean.”

He grabbed your empty take out box and got up to throw away both of your trash. He sat down, slightly closer than he was before, making you shiver at his proximity.

Chuuya looked at you, “Are you cold?”

“Just a little bit,” you responded, not willing to tell him that the reason you were shivering was him.

Chuuya stood to remove his coat. Sitting back down next to you, he wrapped the coat around you. You could feel the heat in your face as he grazed your arms.

“Thank you,” you responded, snuggling into his coat, basking in his scent.

Being alone right now with Chuuya was calm. You weren't working on a mission or in the middle of some kind of fist fight. It was just the two of you, sitting under a street light, admiring the stars and the ocean around you.

The only problem was that you could sometimes get lost in your head, mostly about your place in the mafia.

"Can I ask you something, Sir?" you wondered aloud. You picked at the lint on your pants just so you didn't have to look up at him.

"Sure and also you don't have to call me sir outside of work," Chuuya replied, bumping your shoulder with his. You looked up at him to see he had a soft smile on his face.

You finally spoke up, asking, "Do you think I'm fit to be in the mafia?”

Chuuya gave you a bewildered look, “Of course you are. Did you not just see the job well done we just did?”

You traced the features of his face with your eyes. You took in the way the streetlight made his hair shine a little brighter red and the way the night sky was reflecting in his pretty eyes. It took all of your willpower to drag your gaze away from him, not willing to be caught staring like that.

“I mean, yeah but you could have easily done that yourself. You’re so much more skilled in combat that I am and it’s understandable why I’m just your subordinate. Sometimes I just feel a little inferior. Don’t get me wrong, I love working with you. My missions with you are always my favorite-” you rambled, cutting yourself off before you reveal too much to the red-head.

Staring at your hands in your lap, you missed the soft gaze that Chuuya gave you. He got up from the bench and stood in front of you. You thought he was about to walk away until he spoke up, “You’re a lot more powerful than you give yourself credit for. You are my wild and free partner, not just my subordinate. My right-hand woman. My partner in crime, if you will.”

You both chuckled at the title and you finally looked up at Chuuya. He had his hands in his pockets and was smiling down at you. All you could do was look up and admire him. The both of you couldn’t look away from the other, a certain tension filling the air.

Chuuya offered you his hand, “Come on. We need to write our reports for the day.”

You grabbed his hand to get up, not bothering to hide the flush on your cheeks. Smiling at him, you asked with a pout, “Will you do mine for me, ChuChu?”

“Not a chance, sweetheart,” Chuuya chuckled.

A few weeks later, you were sitting in your office sulking and overthinking every interaction you’ve ever had with Chuuya. Since that night, when you expressed your feelings of inferiority, Chuuya has been acting differently.

After missions, he never fails to remind you how well you did. If you get hurt, he’s the one who offers to stitch your painting just so you don’t have to. He talks to you and teases you to distract you from the pain. He even asked if you wanted to spar together, claiming that sparring is a good bonding exercise for partners.

You loved all the little things he has been doing. It’s like your conversation sparked something in Chuuya that made him want to be a better partner to you. There was only one slight problem with all of this. A new woman had joined the Port Mafia since then and Chuuya was assigned to facilitate her arrival.

She seemed nice enough, the few times you had talked to her. She also didn’t seem to have any kind of romantic interest in Chuuya. It still bothered you, how much they were together.

Just the other day, you went to Chuuya’s office after finishing your work, to see if he wanted to get takeout with you. Through his office door that was wide open, you watched as they were giggling and laughing together. The smile that Chuuya had on his face as he was talking to her made you feel sick. Why couldn’t he give you that smile?

If you had stayed any longer and listened, you would have heard Chuuya talking about you and asking her for advice.

A knock on your door interrupted your dreary reverie. Chuuya slipped into your office, “I have a mission to go to. Do you want to tag along? It’s kind of a stake out and it’ll be boring.”

Bitterly and without thought, you replied, “Why don’t you take Ms. Sunshine? I’m sure she can entertain you.”

Chuuya gave you a bewildered look, not understanding what you were implying. He stepped closer to your desk, leaning both hands on it, “Who shit in your cereal? I asked you to join me because I wanted you to join. Seeing as you are in need of comfort and have been cooped up in here all day, I am now hereby ordering you to join me.”

Chuuya had a charming smirk on his face and you, being defenseless to his charms, relented. “Fine, let’s go.”

Chuuya only smirked wider, forcing you to roll your eyes and look away. You grabbed your belongings and made your way to the parking lot with him. Seeing as it was a stakeout, you grabbed one of the mafia cars. Chuuya’s motorcycle would be a bit too flashy.

Sitting in the driver seat, you refused to look at Chuuya. If he could feel your bitterness towards him during the car ride, he said nothing of it. This stakeout was near a large park which you thought was a little odd but didn't mention anything about it. Chuuya never mentioned what you were watching for so you just looked around for anything that might be out of sorts.

“What’s up with you?” Chuuya broke the silence of the car. Coat discarded in the backseat, he had his body angling towards you.

Ignoring the way he was intently staring at you, you replied dryly, “There’s nothing up with me.”

“I know you’re lying, you can tell me what’s wrong. If it’s because I’ve been busy lately, I promise to make it up to you. Also you should know more than anyone about busy mafia schedules,” Chuuya explained.

Hastily, you commented, “Oh, I know you’ve been busy. Mister Dark and Miss Sunshine prancing the headquarters halls, laughing without a care in the world. Can hear it all the way from my office.”

You don’t know why you had said anything at all about his relationship with the new girl. You weren’t together, so it’s not like he owed you anything. You were just salty and feeling a bit neglected or unseen.

Chuuya stared at you for a long time, assessing you. His gaze made you squirm, feeling like he was going to unearth all of your secrets that you’ve kept hidden away.

“Interesting,” was the only thing he said. He just stared at you, a smile on his face. Somehow, you knew that he knew what you were hiding.

“What?” you snapped, unable to ignore his amused silence. A blush was tinting your cheeks at this point.

“Oh, nothing. You’re just interesting,” Chuuya cooly responded. He leaned forward, close yet still so far away from you. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you’re jealous-” he waved his hand, nonchalantly, “-but that can’t be.”

“Why can’t it be?” you asked, a slight tremor in your voice. You were unsure of where this conversation could be going and you refused to look at him.

His charming smirk still planted on his face, he answered with a lilt, “‘Cause, if you were jealous, that would mean you like me. And seeing as I am your superior, it would be extremely inappropriate for us to fraternize. I think I heard Mori mention that fraternization was punishable by death.”

You gulped. You never heard of this rule against fraternization but it’s not like you kept up with that sort of thing. It would definitely make sense that you couldn’t be with your superior. Stewing in your fear and thoughts, you missed the laugh that Chuuya was trying so hard to keep in.

You eventually looked up to find him smiling widely at you. Dubiously, you questioned, “What are you smiling at. . .Sir?” The title comes out of your mouth feeling like needles.

Chuuya never answered you. He stared at you for a second longer before grabbing the back of your neck. He guided your face closer to his and absolutely adored the shiver he caused with his proximity. It felt like eternity was passing as you waited for him to do anything.

Against your lips, he whispered, “There are no such rules about that. I was only messing with you. You can do with me as you please.”

You were embarrassed for only a moment before his last sentence had butterflies swirling in your stomach. Without hesitation, you removed the distance between you.

It wasn’t a rough kiss, something you imagined Chuuya would have been like. It was a soft and adoring kiss. He kissed you like you were the only one that he could ever want and right now, you understood that it was true. Running out of breath, you both slowly back away, a wide smile covering your face.

“You know, Sweetheart, jealousy looks extremely hot on you,” Chuuya smirked.

You blushed and smacked him on the top of his head, knocking his hat onto his lap, “Whatever, ChuChu. Now let’s get back to the stakeout.”

You pointedly looked away from him, not wanting him to see how much he affected you.

Chuuya laughed, “There is no mission. I just wanted to get you alone. And let me just say, you look picture perfect under the glow of midnight.”

You looked back at him, shocked. You swooned at his charm before kissing him again, anything to keep his mouth from talking anymore. This man was going to be the death of you.

#fluff #one shot #chuuya nakahara #bsd chuuya #chuuya my beloved #chuuya x reader #chuuya x y/n #chuuya x you #bungou stray dogs #fanfiction

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cant-shake-it · 8 months

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How to Make a Printing Screen from Home

I wanted to share a quick cute little tutorial for how I made my own screen for making patches (and other things that don't require exact measurements). Cute lil how-to under the cut >:)

Disclaimer: I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing at any given moment. There could be a better tutorial out there for you. I'm just guessing for a lot of the things I do and this is no exception. With that out of the way:

THE SUPPLIES YOU DEFINITELY ABSOLUTELY NEED:

a small/medium canvas (depending on what you have and how big your design will be)

paintbrushes

a tight-woven sheer fabric (preferably not stretchy and STRONG)

a fine-tip pen

water-resistant gloss of some kind (mod podge works, but make sure it's a waterproof kind if you want to make more than one print)

paint that won't come off in the wash (acrylic/spray paint work)

good strong tape

a good sturdy card-like thingy

an easy/cool design for your print :)

THE SUPPLIES THAT ARE RECCOMENDED BUT NOT NECESSARY (aka things I like to use):

a good canvas fabric/thick cotton for printing on

fabric paint (will stay on the fabric best duh)

a 1/2in, 1/3in, and fine tip paintbrush for details (depending on your design)

some company for fun :)

Alright, so first you'll want to figure out the design you want to print out and get a good sketch over it. I'm a detail freak so I like sketching out my design then going over it in a black pen. The ideal is hard contrast and clear and discernable lines/fill-in spots, like pictured below:

(Note how I emphasized which spots were to have thicker lines, which parts of the stripes were to be printed, etc. I tried to think a lot about which portions I wanted to show up on the finished design and how they would look on the fabric as a whole.)

So you've got your design. Great! Next step is a fun one: Grab a canvas you are willing to part with (this one was a painting I made when I was 16. I hate it), and rip all the fabric off of that fucker!! If you pull off some staples in the process, don't worry. Just make sure you can retain the shape of the frame, since that's the part you'll need to keep. You don't need to take off every single bit of the fabric, but as previously stated, I'm a freak, so I did. You'll come out with something like this:

For the next steps you'll need a good pair of scissors as well as your pen and your sheer fabric. You're going to want to set the frame on your fabric and cut about an inch and a half around it so there's extra to wrap around the frame and tape down. You can draw a guideline for where to cut if you want, but once again, I'm a freak:

Now lay the front of the canvas frame (the part without staples on it) face down on the fabric and grab your tape! Now we're going to tape down each end of the frame so the sheer lays taut on the frame. I like to put one or two strips of tape on the ends parallel to each other and pull them tight, then do the same with the other side, then continue adding tape until the whole outside of the frame is covered. See below:

(Note: your goal in this step is to stretch the sheer as tight as it can comfortably go so there are no wrinkles or depressions in the fabric.)

So now you have you're frame. Fuck yes!!! Go ahead and grab the design you came up with as well as your pen (you can use a pencil too, but the pen shows up much better through the fabric so I definitely prefer it), and put the frame front side down onto the sketch.

If you're worried about keeping the frame steady, feel free to tape the frame down and go ahead and trace over the design with your pen. Make sure to fill in all the dark parts enough that you can differentiate them from the light parts.

Once you have your sketch copied to the frame, now you can grab your gloss!!! Hurry!!! You're almost done!!!!

With this step I like to start big and go into the details once all the larger portions of the sheer are covered. Pretty much you're going to paint over every part that isn't the black of the pen with your waterproof gloss. This ensures that once you start printing, the only parts that are going to bleed through the fabric will be the black parts that weren't painted over with gloss/varnish/mod podge/whatever you used as long as it's waterproof!!! Take all the time you need, it's not a race. Once you're done and the gloss has dried, your screen is going to look something like this when put up to a light:

Now that this step is over with, congratulations - you have just made a mesh screen!!! Keep reading to learn how to use it lol

So for the patches that I make I just went with black and white paint, and black and white fabric to keep it traditional, but you can use any colors of paint and fabric you want, truly! The world is your oyster! I do not care! That being said, we're keeping it simple today.

Grab your screen, a piece of fabric that can cover the design and leave at least an inch of space around it, and a surface you won't mid getting paint on on accident. You'll also want to grab that card-like thingy for this as well. It can really be anything that can provide a sturdy, even pressure across the screen consistently. Go ahead and pick up that fabric paint too, I guess. We'll probably need that.

At this point, this is what your workspace might look like:

Next up you are going to center your design onto your piece of fabric-

-and grab your fabric paint. put a thin little stripe over the top (start slow and add more - as you can see I added a little too much and kinda fucked up my design) then grab your card thingy. Make sure you have even pressure on it and swipe it down at a medium speed so you're dragging the paint down the screen:

Once you've got everything covered I like to go over it a few more times for even coverage. Then you pull it up from the screen (which you might want to rinse off so no paint sticks to it!!!), wait for that bitch to dry, and you're done!! Congratulations, you have your very own fun silly patch! Go sew it on something! Or not! I do really do not care!!!!!!

#blog post #cant-shake-it #patches #homemade #punk #punk diy #punk patches #tutorial #how to #screen printing #diy #fashion #if i get hate for this im prepared bc i ride life on the seat of my pants #there are no rules and i am so inefficient

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thecassafrasstree · 1 month

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I finally finished putting patches on my pencil case/art bag! Some I made myself, some I purchased, and some had been sitting in my mom's sewing kit for 20+ years so I just took them. 😂

[ID: A brown canvas purse with embroidered patches all over it. Individual patch descriptions in the next image. End ID.]

The front. I have a lot of Critical Role stuff on this bag, as it's my current hyperfixation.

[ID: Top - The top flap of the front pocket. Has a blue embroidered patch of the Bell's Hells logo from Critical Role on the left, and enamel chibi pins of two of the Bell's Hells characters, Ashton and Orym, on the right.

Bottom - The bottom flap of the front pocket. There is a triangular, blue and white Girl Guides patch; a round, green patch with a person considering 3 roads before them; a homemade patch of a blue, cartoon dragon head: a honeybee patch; a red and black patch that says "Just Don’t"; a rectangular, black patch with a yellow border and a blue violin; and a black and white patch of the Critical Role logo. End ID. ]

Close-ups of the front patches and pins. I'm pretty sure the green one and the violin patch are badges from my Girl Guide days. The triangle patch is from the Guiding troop I was in in my hometown, but I've blanked out the town name for privacy reasons. The dragon patch I made myself.

[ID: The back of the purse, featuring more embroidered patches. There is a rectangular Asexual Pride flag patch; a watermelon slice patch; a black and white, oval-shaped patch from the TV show Supernatural that says "Protected by Castiel"; a rainbow with clouds patch; and a black and red patch that features the Anarchy symbol of an A inside a circle. End ID.]

The Ace Pride patch and the Anarchy patch are handmade. I've had the Castiel patch sitting around for a while, and just had to figure out what to put it on.

[ID: A side panel of the purse. On top there is a patch shaped like a mushroom that has a red cap and white spots. On the bottom is a colourful Ashari symbol from Critical Role that resembles 2 stacked hourglasses with a diamond in the center. End ID.]

These two are both handmade. The mushroom was the first patch I ever made myself. The second is the symbol of the Ashari, a druidic culture from the world of Exandria in Critical Role.

[ID: the other side panel of the purse. On top is a rectangular patch featuring a white Trillium flower and "Ontario" printed in yellow letters. Underneath is a round patch with the Antifascism symbol of a black flag and a red flag waving together on a white background. End ID.]

The top one is a patch I found in my mom's sewing kit. I decided to use it because I'm from Ontario, and the trillium (the provincial flower) is pretty. The other one is an Antifa patch that I made myself.

[ID: Photos of each side of the purse's shoulder strap. A series of colourful pin-back buttons runs the length of each side. End ID.]

I also have a bunch of buttons pinned to the strap. Most of them are fandom buttons for Pokémon, Doctor Who, Supernatural, and Undertale. Some have funny sayings printed on them. A couple are for different causes, like environmental protection, and free university education.

I'm pretty pleased with how it came out! There's a little bit of space under the front flap that I could potentially put a couple more patches or pins on, but I'm happy to take a break from this one for now. It was actually pretty challenging to get them all sewn on. 😅

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lambertdiary · 6 months

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Dalton is nervous about a presentation and you help him to be confident about his painting

Dalton was standing in the middle of his room, a piece of paper on his hand as he nervously talked about one of his art pieces.

Professor Armagan’s last assignment was something he dreaded the most: public speaking. They were supposed to paint something really important and personal to them and talk about it in front of everyone, explaining why they chose to paint that, why they chose those colours, techniques, materials, shapes and why they represent their painting.

“They’re not gonna get it” He said, letting out a loud sigh.

“They’re not supposed to” You stood up from his bed and walked towards him, placing both hands on his shoulders “This piece is personal for a reason, you can explain the reasoning behind your techniques without expecting them to understand the real meaning behind it”

“I know, but I don’t know if I can put it into words and make it make sense”

“You did” You took the piece of paper and read the first sentence which he used to explain what was in the canvas. You brought your eyebrows together, you hadn't seen the painting so you were having a hard time picturing it “Can I see it?”

He looked even more nervous all of the sudden “Uh- it’s not my best work”

“Come on, don’t say that. Everything you do is amazing”

He was unsure, but then decided to show you. He made his way to his desk and picked up the covered canvas, putting it on the easel as he uncovered it.

The painting was captivating. It was crafted with such bright colours instead of the dark ones he’d usually go for, using colour blocking that blends the abstract with some elements of realism. It felt like he poured his entire heart and soul into it, full of emotion and adoration directed towards whoever the painting was about. And you were 90% sure it was about you.

Dalton was incredibly talented, and it hurt you that he didn’t see that most of the time. He’d let things go to his head when he was feeling overwhelmed, luckily you were always there to remind him how talented he was and how brilliant his pieces were.

“Dalton, this is beautiful” You took as few steps closer to examine it better “This might be my favourite painting of yours”

“Thank you” He said with a shy tone.

“Your presentation will be perfect, just like your painting”

“I guess I’m just nervous, it’s gonna be hard to say all of this in front of people I have never talked to”

“Then think about me when you’re up there” You turned around to face him again “Picture us in your room, just the two of us and I promise it’s gonna be easier”

He thought about your words for a moment, and they seemed to relax him “I will”

#concept friday #dalton lambert concept #dalton lambert #dalton lambert x reader #dalton lambert fic #dalton lambert imagine #dalton lambert x you #dalton lambert imagines #dalton lambert fanfic #dalton lambert fluff #insidious the red door #ty simpkins #insidious 5 #insidious

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kanene-yaaay · 3 months

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In Between Feathers and Smiles

Kanene's notes: As it seems when I wasn't looking ??? Fucking Felipe Minecraft just came here and made a nest in my mind and refuses to leave so now I have a new comfort character as it seems.

Also I know that Richas and Philza didn't interact a lot but I like to think they are final bosses for each other. The day Richas adopts him as his father and Philza adopts him as his son the island explodes and life come to a full cycle.

Warnings: None! Just a tad of angst with plenty of fluff and some silly cheer up tickles. Ticklish!Richarlyson and Ler!Philza. Around 4.000 words. Richas uses all pronouns here.

[~*~]

Tio Phil had a nice place.

Richas didn’t spend a lot of time there. Important talks were usually held in other secured spaces and he would rather spend some time building with her parents or causing some ruckus somewhere in the island than constantly invade Tallulah and Chay’s home. Even if they got closer after the Egg Island, it didn’t mean that he stopped feeling awkward around his siblings.

But today… They was tired.

So they hiked to the top of the wall, turned off Philza’s collecting machine and fell in the middle of the potato crops, watching the clouds as they calmly danced around their always-perfectly-sunny sky.

Looking at them, she wouldn’t have to think about how much she missed pai Cellbit and Pa Roier every single day, about how scared Empanada looked and the way she was always clutching her scythe now or how she and mãe Bagi barely came out of their securated base anymore.

If he watched enough the fading forms of the fluffy clouds and the occasional birds that came and went, he wouldn’t have to think about the sharp shapes and bright colors he saw today when he woke up in his old room in pai Cellbit’s castle, full of new stinging scratches covering entirely his arms and legs, the canvas and room filled with red drops of paint and blood. Nor how it felt to burn the piece of art and bury the ashes aways before anyone could see it.

Yes. The Wall was nice. It was calm and beautiful and since her tio and siblings were sleeping like rocks somewhere well hidden he could sneak a few jumps in their trampoline before coming back to a second nap by the plants.

From time to time he would feel something bump on his hand and turn around only to see a cute, small tortoise calmly biting and chewing on a leaf of the crop, probably a fresh fugitive from Talullah’s pond. They could respect its chaotic nature.

“Holy fuck!” A shout nearby almost made him jump out of his skin, fastly turning around, sword in hand, only to see his tio in a similar situation, hand on his heart as he tried to regain his breath amidst his surprised laughter. “Gods, Richarlyson you scared the shit out of me.”

That fished an amused crackle out of Richas, who didn’t feel much like it, but got up and waved a few times, writing a greeting for the adult. She kind of was in his home, afterall.

“Hi, tio! Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon,” Philza answered, putting his tools back on his trusted backpack once again, now already realizing what was the reason for his machine to have stopped working out of nowhere. He instead pulled a basket out of it.

It has been a while since he harvested his own potatoes by hand, but he had no hurry or plans today. Besides, it was quite a calming activity.

“Were you looking for me? Sorry, me, Chayanne and Tallulah have been spending a lot of time in our… other house.”

It was definitely a way to explain Rose’s protected sanctuary, but he couldn’t tell the kid about that.

A crossing thought made Philza’s body freeze and his eyes became wide. “Wait, is it about our trip? Is it time? Ok, I already got everything prepared but I still need a couple more minutes to leave Tallulah and Chayanne somewhere safe with someone and then we can go… Let me see who is already awake…”

A push in his arm stopped his sentence and called his attention to the dragons’ words.

“It’s fine! :D” Another blue sign quickly followed the first, the sentences being written fast and messily. “It’s not the time for our trip yet, don’t worry. I was just passing by here and decided to take a nap.”

The small dragon, a barely nestling, crouched and let their tail drag across the soil in a calming manner.

There was no rush today. Philza felt his muscles untense.

“Alright then. That is good.” The adult smiled, more relaxed. Richas never commented this with anyone, but sometimes his tios looked like they’re a thousand years old. “Sorry for interrupting your relaxing nap then, mate. As I said, I already got everything covered. The moment you need me, just call, ok?”

Energetic nods. Philza answered with one of his own and turned around, going back to his activity. It was already a habit at this point, to watch a kid with the corner of his eyes as he went on about his day, always aware to any danger or enemy that could appear. That is how he watched as Richas swayed in the same place when he turned around, expression falling to a neutral face as they broke their signs and threw them out of the wall before falling on the ground again, closing her eyes.

Richarlyson was a good kid. An energetic little shit rocketing from one place to the other with an adventurous and reckless spirit almost as big as his heart. Anyone who spent more than 2 minutes with him would see, clear as day how much he loved his parents and loved even more to give them gray hair, always ready for a playful chase, a harmless prank or a fun playdate with his siblings. They didn’t stumble on each other too much nowadays, but at any given time Philza would protect and take care of him just as much as his own kids if needed.

He was a good egg (literally).

That is why it was easy to see that something was off with her. Seeing her walking around without one of his parents or Bad was rare, but not an alarming sign itself, being as independent as they was. But that together with the way that her gestures lacked their usual uncontrollable energy, how he fell the moment Philza turned away and how tiredness clung in his form and brought shadows to her eyes and a weight to her shoulders was definitely something worth noticing.

Something had been bothering the boy and knowing his family and their history on the island… Well, not a single islander had been free from the horrors that permeated every corner of the place, but the brazilians seemed to receive a special - and not in the good way - attention more often than not.

Needless to say, Richarlyson probably had a lot to get worried and sad over, unfortunately.

All of them, the guardians, did their best to save their nestlings the best they could from the enemies and disasters that seemed to follow their every step. However there was just so much a small group could do against gods knows how many entities before their children also began paying a parcel of the price.

It was sorrowful to see the young one like this, but Philza wouldn’t pry. If the kid wanted to come and vent he would happily lend them an ear and give his best comfort. If Richas wanted to just hang out in silence and enjoy the refreshing breeze from the top of the wall then Philza would let him be, as well.

Therefore, he kept collecting the potatoes, humming one of Tallulah’s songs while putting them in crates and organizing the crates in a pile next to the security fence together with the other thousands crates that were already there.

Maybe he should follow Pierre’s example and start selling them to the Federation. Getting paid and becoming an official provider or something like that.

… Nah, he would rather die.

Philza turned around to get another round of potatoes, this time to make more avocado toast to nibble on until dinner, where his daughter would oblige him to cook actual true food for them - which is unfair, because avocado toast is a very good, healthy and energetic, fulfilling food! - when he saw it. ‘It’, more specifically being Richarlyson, who was still around three feets away from him, just like she was after the end of their conversation. Which didn’t make any sense since Philza had moved a good distance further away from his initial spot while harvesting and taking care of his plantation.

Hm.

Interesting.

He kept his gaze forward and his hands moving, not actively watching the kid but still paying attention for any kind of move.

A few steps away, he crouched to adjust a crop that had been almost removed from its spot, planting and firming it back on the soil before getting up again, his wings partially open to lower the sun rays hitting his back.

(With them being destroyed as they were, there was little use he could give them, but this would have to do.)

Pretending to stretch, he tilted his head just slightly amount, in the perfect angle to see that Richas, once again, had moved somehow in this short period of time and was now closer to him, laying on the ground with her eyes closed, a light snore coming out of her muzzle in a quiet ‘mimimi’ sound.

Philza held back a snort.

They kept this up for a while, almost as a game. Philza would continue his task, turn his head for half of a second and when he turned his attention back to the young one it was to see that they was already close again, “napping” with no worries, dead to the world as a rock, all across the field. There was a moment when the winged blonde could almost swear that he saw him crawling amidst the potatoes while following him.

Philza thinks he did a pretty good job in not laughing out loud at their antics, only letting out one or two small snickers here and there fly in the air before being swept away.

He was taking the toasts out of the furnace and storing them in pots when the little dragon “woke up”, yawning and stretching, an amused grin blossoming in his face.

“Hey, king, glad that you're awake. Just made a fresh stack of avocado toast. Here, take some, take some, make sure you have enough for any emergency or attack.”

A loud wheeze was pried from his lips at watching her previous grin quickly turn into a sour face at the sight of the toast, stepping away from them in a half of second.

Richarlyson quickly shook her head as she emphasized that he “would rather have a short and happy life instead, thanks” and that “Tallulah told me terror stories about these when we were in Egg Island 0_0 I am traumatized”, as the signs he placed on the ground said.

Philza had to hold himself on the fence so he and the toast didn't fall from the wall with the force of his laughter.

“Alright, alright.” He quickly acquiesced, putting the rest of the food in the remaining pot and disposing them all in his backpack, planning to bring it to the pantry later. “What if we shared these sandwiches Chayanne made me this morning, then? He is trying a new recipe and it's just delicious.”

The disgusted expression quickly melted away when they heard the mention of a new snack. Philza unwrapped it under Richas’ wide attentive eyes and offered him only to have his hand pushed away, the kid shaking his head furiously.

“What? Why? Did Tallulah tell you scary stories about her siblings’ cooking abilities too?”

Richas denied, looking a tad out of the place before apparently deciding on their words.

“You can keep it, tio! Chayanne made it for you and it's no problem, I am not hungry >:D”

Another sign.

“Besides, if I need some I can just go to Tio Bad's house and steal his refrigerator! I still have a lot in my backpack though.”

To show his point, the small one began pulling pot after pot of cooked goodies from his backpack: lasagna, soup, candies, more candies, chocolate, a not very good looking or even fresh bread, tamales… He proudly showed his collection, bouncing on the same spot before starting to put them back from where they came from.

This nestling…

“I am not saying that you don't have food. I know you're always prepared and I am pretty sure you even have one or two illegal items in your backpack too.” He rested his back on the tree behind him, careful to avoid hitting Missa's painting, smiling as his nephew stared at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes, bouncing on the same spot, not denying or confirming his suspicions. “But I still want to share a good sandwich with you, mate.”

Richas still didn't look convinced. He seemed to be listening, though. That was a good step.

“I am sure that Chayanne wouldn’t care too. He actually loves giving everyone good food and showing his skills to the island. Which is perfect. I can send him your thanks later.”

It was interesting how, even though all the similarities, every sibling was still very different from each other, in both their personalities and actions, and sometimes Philza liked to muse about it. At his words Richarlyson didn't nervously twist his fingers like Tallulah used to do when thinking hard about something or deviated his gaze like Chayanne when he knew what he wanted but thought that he should want another thing. Instead, the dragon fledgling watched him intently, looking for something.

They must have found it, because they smiled in an embarrassed manner and let his tail wag excitedly once, breaking the signs and walking to his side on the tree.

Philza handed them their sandwich and Richarlyson began eating, satisfied, small growling sounds escaping between each bite as they enjoyed the moment.

Without meaning to or even thinking too much about it, Philza answered back with a quiet, pleased caw, his right wing expanding to surround the little one, not locking her amidst his feathers, but creating a shield from the Sun.

(If only it could completely shield them from the dangers.)

“Do you like it?” Richas answered by taking a large bite and ripping the sandwich in half, ears wiggling in contentment. The adult chuckled.

“Good to know, king.”

They spent some time like this before a sign was placed, successfully calling the other’s attention.

“How is it to have feathered wings, tio? Yours are so pretty! :D”

Flashes began filling his mind. The feeling of the wind hitting your face, the sound of the birds singing and chirping when flying in flocks, the adrenaline of falling without a single fear of hitting the floor, of expanding his wings and feeling each one of your feathers bristle in the air…

A light touch in one of his primaries shook him out of his memories and his eyes automatically flew to the… mess that were his wings now, with weak muscles and feathers missing from some spots.

Grimly, Philza could surely think about plenty of adjectives he could give them, “pretty” definitely weren’t one.

It was quite hard to focus on that when the fledgling kept carefully touching and looking at them with so much curiosity, however.

“It’s incredible.” He sighed, a mix of longing and awe painting his voice. “They can help with so much stuff, like, I’m not even kidding. Mine are very roughed up, especially after Purgatory, but when they were in their prime they were perfect not only for flying but also for shielding, holding stuff, attacking…There is a lot you can do with them. You also will probably be able to do all of this and more when yours grows.”

“You could attack with them? 0-0”

“Pff, yeah. Actually, you would be surprised about how many people wouldn’t be prepared to have a face full of feathers swinging with full force when fighting an avian.”

At the mention, he shook his black, glistering feathers in demonstration, finishing his sandwich with a final bite when a snorted squeal cut the air.

Philza turned around to see Richarlyson rubbing a spot on his neck, their other hand pushing his wing away while a small smile grazed his lips.

Hm.

“Also, you see those muscles?” He purposely brought his wing down, letting all the black feathers hit and briefly wiggle on the young’s face and neck, pretending to not notice the way he squeaked and jumped away, shoulders bouncing with the uncontrollable giggles that naturally resulted from the tickles. Philza continued as if nothing happened. “Lot of people don’t think too much about them, but to be able to carry a whole person, the muscles, tendons and bones need to have a lot of strength. So, being punched by them usually hurts a lot more than attentive enemies are prepared for and gives you plenty of time to run away or finish the fight.”

Richas rubbed the buzzing, tickly tingles left by the sudden attack of feathers away, airy titters still escaping from their mouth while they squinted suspiciously at the blonde, who seemed distracted enough by his explanation to realize the onslaught of accidental tickles.

The dragon risked a step closer. The conversation continued to flow without interruption.

“That is also why it’s important to always keep exercising your wings, especially during their initial growth or periods of recovery. Have you been building your core strength, mate?”

Brushing off the previous episode aside, Richas nodded, not helping the excited thrill that filled the air.

“Yes! Tio Bad taught me how and pai Mike has been trying to build a machine to fly with me so he is studying a lot of mechanics about how it works and accompanying me with the exercises. Pa Roier also said he will help me when he comes back, since he used to watch a lot of tia Jaiden and Bobby training.”

Philza tried to not visibly frown at the words. How long has Roier been sleeping, again?

He would have to ask Bagi and Fit for news later.

For now, he had a kid to distract.

“Sounds good. If you need any help you can call me, I wouldn’t mind giving you a few tips. Even if crow wings aren’t that close to dragon ones, they still have a lot in common.”

“Can you teach me the attacks? I want to surprise Dapper the next time he tries to fight me.”

The avian laughed. “Sure, king. Come a bit closer.”

Richas gave two more steps in his direction with wide watching eyes. “Alright, it depends a lot on your wingspan but usually you will need to be in close combat to use these techniques, so that is something to pay attention to. A good tactic you can have is to use them as a distraction.”

With a mischievous smirk, Philza began quickly moving his wings around the kid, letting them get close and then moving them away before he could touch them, the feathers skittering freely across his neck and ears with each swipe. When Richas squirmed to one side to hide, trying to push them away while firmly pressing his mouth shut so no squeak or squeal would escape, Philza simply attacked the other side, even managing to slip a few wiggling of the fluff feathers on his belly and armpits when the shirt would move up enough to reveal a bit of the scaled skin, catching a new giggly growl every time.

“And, when the target is sufficiently confused by them is the moment that you attack.”

Before the words could sink in the kid’s mind, Philza striked, giving to one of his sides a quick tweak, successfully fishing a loud yelp and managing to free a string of snickers that only grew louder and gigglier as he kept the soft, light feathery tickles intertwined them with more and more surprising squeezes and tweaks.

“You can keep it up as long as you need. Remember: confuse, confuse and attack.” Swipe. Swipe. Squeeze. “Again: confuse, confuse and attack.”

Laugh, laugh, laugh.

Richas gave up trying to push his wings and hands away, instead trying to hug himself to hide his most ticklish spots. However, the playful, soft and silly tickling kept following them no matter how much they wiggled or squirmed around, totally surrounding him with those fluffy bristles that made every single patch of skin buzz with a funny kind of electricity, freeing more and more squeaks between peals of uncontrollable laughter.

She started walking backwards, trying to put some distance between her and the tickles, almost stumbling on his own tail by how hard it was wagging in adrenaline and joy.

Philza’s eye twirkled with a gleeful shine.

He stopped his playful attack, but the young one kept stepping away.

“Another good technique that you can use is to create a physical barrier with your wings. It can be dangerous since your enemy can get a hold of them if you’re not careful but very useful in the case you want to stop them from touching you or, in our case,” Richarlyson’s back hit something soft but immovable and suddenly the wheezy titters and snickery snickers were back in full force once again, bordering on a hysterical laughter when skillful hands began scribbling and scratching his ribs. “Preventing them from getting away.”

His fingers danced and burrowed themselves in the space between their ribs, vibrating on the spot, which made a funny kind of squeaky growl escape from the dragon, more high pitched, bouncy laughter and unstoppable wiggles taking over him when the hands kept running away and attacking all over his torso. They spidered over his ribcage to then poke his armpits, or washed down to sneak some digging and squeezing on his stomach and also even skittered across his spine, pulling all kind of yelps, chortles, snorts and high pitched, wheezy laughter over and over again.

It took a few more minutes and a bunch more of snickering and wiggling - which was actually even worse now because each squirm made him sink even more on the tickly feathers - before the avian eventually let him go, chuckling in amusement at the way Richarlyson fell on the floor and curled in a ball, shoulders bouncing with the leftover giggles.

An amused snort was pried from the adult when they showed him their middle finger, trying with no success to frown in his direction while still smiling and snickering non stop, remnant sniggers twinkling freely in the air.

“That is a surprise tickle avian attack for you. Now you already know a few uses for your wings in a battle.”

The dragon nestling ignored him, dramatically rolling and turning around and away from the avian, still fully stretched on the floor as if he had just survived a fight for his life and not some harmless playful sillness. Philza chuckled a bit more, not resisting and giving his unprotected neck one last tickle, which immediately melted the half heartedly pout in a smile and made him turn back again and hold a tnt as a threat, making the adult laugh and pull his arms up in rendition.

Richas showed off his tongue and then fell dramatically on the ground again.

(It was good to him in a lighter spirits, again.)

Philza then got up, stretching and shaking his wings fervently, wincing a bit when their muscles trembled a tad more than normal while holding them, probably from getting so much exercise after being kept so long hidden and immobile.

Maybe he should follow his own advice and build more of their core strength.

Letting them rest, he went back to adjust a few more crates around before checking on his communicator to see if Chayanne or Tallulah had woken up.

It was almost evening now, and yet it showed not a single signal of life.

Hm.

Well, he could give them their cookies tomorrow if needed, there was still plenty of time before the end of the week.

A light poke hit him right below his shoulderblade and suddenly a loud giggly yelp was ripped from his throat. He turned around quickly only to find his own nephew looking at him with a malefic grin in his expression.

“No.” He said, wagging a finger in warning at them, already realizing their intentions just by the slight slow drag of their tail and the step they gave in his direction. His tune tried to come out as stern, but he was pretty sure that even the kid could see there was no real heat behind his words.

Richas answered him with an excited thrill, ignoring the threatening caw - more like a soft chip but he wasn’t about to admit it - he gave her in return.

“No. Richarlyson, you do not want to get into this fight with me, ok, mahahate?! Hey! No! Lehehet go!”

There was indeed a valiant and grandious fight. One of the most playful, silly and joyful ones to ever graze that land, they said. The winner was never revealed at the end but passing friends mentioned listening to plenty of surprised caws and giggly growls falling like waterfalls from the wall, especially when certain two other kids woke up to the lack of their father and went to investigate his whereabouts. They said that the growing match continued until the sun set.

Who knows, who knows.

And since that day, if Richas decided to visit his tio Phil more frequently and if Philza would take the habit of turning off his harvesting machinery from time to time to watch the clouds, that is nobody’s business but their own.

#Richas: a// Philza: silly dad mode activated #qsmp tickles #qsmp tickling #YOU CAN PRY. YOU CAN PRY RICHAS RECEIVING THE COMFORT HE DESERVES FROM MY DEAD COLD HANDS #Ticklish!Richas #Ticklish!Richarlyson #Ler!Philza #This came to me as I was about to fall asleep making me promptly awake and write the idea down #Which was basically: Richas sad. Potatoes. Philza's wings tickly. Philza silly dad mode awakes.#Kanene's fic #Kanene's fanfic #Was sad so wrote this let's goooo fluffy soft cheer up tickles yesh yesh #Also I miss Romero Richas Lore pls bring it back pleaseeee

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eddiediaaz · 9 months

Note

Hey!! I just wanted to say that your recent speak now gif set is sooo stunning. I was wondering how you managed to create that cassette tape effect if it isn’t any trouble? It’s really so pretty.

Have a great day! ✨

ahhh thank you so so much! first of all, i cannot take any credit for this effect, as it was greatly inspired by this amazing yellowjacket gifset by @thewintersoldier!!

but here's how i recreated the effect, from a cassette png (found on pngwing here), to this animated cassette effect (as seen in my speak now set):

psst: i usually always create in photoshop cs5, but for this effect you need a recent version of photoshop because it's using transform keyframes (i think cs5 doesn't let you do that, or i just don't know how to lol). i used cc 2019 for this.

sorry if this is lengthy or has too much or too little details haha, but i hope it's comprehensible! english is not my first language so i also apologize in advance for any mistakes!

I. PREPARING THE CASSETTE

so, starting with the png here:

i removing everything i didn't want on the cassette png with the brush tool by just drawing the right color over the unwanted text. for the color, i then went to image > adjustments > hue/saturation and in the red tab, i played with the hue slider to get that purple color. finally, i added some text to my liking, and this is what i ended up with:

(not necessary but: i also selected the white lines on each side with the magic wand tool because i wanted these lines to be transparent. once your selection is done, go right click > layer via cut. it will create a new layer of the cutout you just made. you just need to disable or delete the layer to make the selection (lines) transparent.)

at this point you want to have only 2 layers: the revamped cassette and the text layer. you can remove the text layer actually, and just add the title back at the end, as it is not necessary for this effect. i just like to have the visual.

if you have multiple layers, you need to select all of them (except the song title layer), right click on the png layer and click on merge layers. this will create one layer with all the editing you made on the cassette. if you think you will need to edit this later though, i would save the file as a psd before merging the layers.

II. THE EFFECT

okay, so now that you have your cassette, make sure your video timeline is activated, not frame animation, and you are ready to go.

first, you want to create a perfect circle shape around one of the reel with the elliptical marquee tool (hold shift while dragging the circle). make sure it covers the entire area that will later be rotated. make sure this circle is perfectly centered around the reel or otherwise the animation will be a bit lopsided.

then right click on this selection and go "layer via copy". this will create a layer of only that circle selection. important step: right click on that new layer and go "convert to smart object". the layer should look like that, i've renamed mine:

now if you go to your timeline and open that new smart object layer, you will see that you have 3 keyframe options. we only need the transform one.

go to the start of the timeline and activate the transform animation by clicking on the stopwatch button. a keyframe will be created automatically.

to create the actual animation, move the position of the cursor on the timeline further, i put mine at the 01:00f mark so it's easier to create the right timing.

then what you want to do is select the reel smart object layer and hit ctrl + T. a box will appear and this is how you will make the reel rotate.

to rotate the reel shape, move your cursor near the blue box on your canvas and drag it until you have rotated the shape halfway through and hit enter. another keyframe will be created and if you play your animation, the reel should rotate on itself for half a turn

move your position on the timeline to 02:00f and do the same thing: select the left reel smart object, hit ctrl + T, rotate for another half turn, and hit enter. this third keyframe should be the last one needed for the animation and you should have a full animated rotation of the reel.

play your animation, and adjust the speed to your liking by dragging the keyframes on the timeline (but make sure they stay within the same distance from each other). the closer the keyframes are, the faster the animation are, and the further they are, the slower it'll be.

then you can just trim the smart object to your animation's length, and duplicate (right click the smart object > duplicate layer) this layer the amount of times needed (i find this less finicky than duplicating keyframes), and placing them one after the other. three full turns should be enough. this is what my timeline looks like right now:

and my animation for the left side looks like this:

as you can see, we can see the little "dents" peeking through behind the animation. we don't want that! to remove it, select the revamped cassette layer (that should be under the reel smart object), and create another perfect circle around it with the marquee tool. this time make sure it's smaller than the previous one, it just needs to cover these dents.

then right click on this selection on your canvas and go "layer via cut". this will create a new layer with that selection, and all you need to do is to disable it. this is removing the information in that circle.

once you are happy and the animation works, you can just delete that cut layer. now the animation is done and looks like this:

III. SECOND ANIMATION

one you have done it on the left side, you just gotta do the same thing on the right side. you can also try duplicating it, but i found it finicky for some reason (or maybe i'm just not used to the controls of this 2019 photoshop version?).

this is what i have once i've done the same thing on the right reel:

once i am happy with the speed and everything, i want to have only one layer so it's easier to use on gifs. first, i will save this animation as a psd file, in case i want to reuse it. then i am removing the song title layer and will be flattening everything and creating frames from this animation. to do so i am using the "save" action from here.

i'm not sure why it does that, but it's creating a couple of frames where the reels are a bit offset from their position everytime there's a full circle done, so i just delete these 5-6 frames. you can also change the speed here, but by default it should be 0.05.

once you are happy with it, just turn these frames into a smart object with the video timeline again (convert frame animation to video timeline and select all the frame layers > right click > convert to smart object)

now you have a smart object that is ready to be used anywhere!

IV. FINAL TOUCHES

for my particular speak now gifset, i have multiple layers of the animated cassette on each gif:

1, bottom one - cassette layer set to the blending mode "hard light" and set to opacity 86%:

2, middle - this same cassette layer set to hard light, but with the opacity at 100%, AND with a layer mask so it's only applied to the animated reels (i wanted them to show up more):

3, top one - and finally a third layer with another layer mask because i wanted the white label and speak now area to be less see through. it's set to the normal blending mode and the opacity is at 75%

and then i just added the song title on top at 100% opacity and normal blending mode, and added some drop shadows, and tada!

there we have it, i hope this was helpful <3

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ahqkas · 8 months

Text

001. THE MAIDEN VOYAGE OF RMS TITANIC

❛ i can't help but feel somewhat like my body marred my soul. handmade beauty sealed up by two man-made walls ❜

PAIRING! simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! Onboard the RMS Titanic, social boundaries blur as a high-class woman's gaze meets that of a man from the lower echelons. In an instant, their eyes lock, kindling an unexpected fascination that lingers until their next encounter

WORD COUNT! 2.6k

WARNINGS! nothing major, the plot is building !! mean mother and bad relationship w her, brief mention of death

NOTES! ahhh so excited for this series even though idk if someone's interested enough to read the whole thing ,, enjoy the journey and thank u for sticking around if u do !!

SERIES M.LIST! NEXT PART!

The sky is nothing but a canvas of light, letting the artist use their talent and imagination to create something unique for a human's eye to catch and cling onto, like a child to its mother. The sight was something natural, yet it still warmed hearts of people around. Even though the eye is plain and the beauty of the nature is too brilliant to be seen by it, it still manages to capture a lot of attention and curious gazes of those who show enough interest and let themselves be pulled in. Just like the beauty of the glorious ship, Titanic.

The world is simple, but the beauty of it is complex and difficult to crack.

The giant of a boat robbed many of their breaths away and caged them with her unforgettable appearance like a simple flower in the meadows. She was constructed of thousands and hundreds with the deepest care to make her look as appealing as she was pictured to be, to steal away hearts with all of her glory. The luxurious ship was meant to be an eye catcher, so that's what they made her to be. Many men even died in the process of her building, but their sacrifice was worthy the heart shaped stares she was bringing upon herself. They put their tears, their blood, and their sweat into perfection and now she was swaying on the gentle waves in the deck of Southampton, England, waiting to outshine the stars themselves. The unsinkable ship, as they said. The ship of dreams.

The distant singing of seagulls wavered through the air along with the chorus of chaotic goodbyes of people who already boarded the ship to their loved ones below, shouting about how they're gonna miss them or how they'll bring a gift from New York once they return home to their awaiting embrace. Lingering words and held breaths painted a canvas of poignant parting, heartbeats echoing their farewell. It was messy but sweet at the moment, the promise of returning in the air as the last warning of departure was echoing in the air from the captain.

Goodbyes were bittersweet yet freeing sometimes, and you wished you could say your goodbye to the life you've been living since the day you were born. The cause of your anguish was simply because of your social status, standing between the snob and rich people like you belonged in the place like them.

You didn't.

You weren't like your mother, who only respected and liked people with the same social status like her (the high class, or better said the first class) and you certainly weren't like her in the way she couldn't even look in an eye to a person with a lower class than her. She spoke of them lowly, like their hands have never touched gold and silver like hers did every day. She thought of them lowly, like she was something more than them in the society.

You weren't like your fiancé, König, who you could learn to love in the depths of your big heart if it wasn't for his constant actions to please your mother. He wasn't really that bad but he wanted to fit in and that changed his way of thinking and acting. He started agreeing more with your mother on things he didn't before and the way he did things resembled hers in some way. You couldn't like him anymore after he changed and that left you fluttering your wings in the golden cage your mother trapped you in with her mindset.

However, you were like your father. He was an old man, but he wore his heart on the sleeve of his expensive suit and the words he let out of his mouth were carefully thought through before he let them reach the ears of others. There was nothing but kindness in his blue eyes full of wisdom and he made sure you'd take all the good from him once he was long gone. John was the opposite from your mother, he didn't think differently of other people and treated them all with the same kind of respect until they did something to change his mind. You couldn't put a finger on the thought of how your courteous father ended up with someone as nasty as your mother. It seemed like everyone who walked upon the planet got their piece of love, the question was in which form you'd receive it and if you accepted it.

The voice of your mother, fake sweetness dripping from it like the sticky ice cream had streamed down your tiny hand once the sun shined bright and the warmth of the weather was too much for the cold treat, reached your ears and it sounded like a chalk on a board. Many would say the singing from the gulls was annoying and unpleasant to ears, but you supposed they haven't heard your mother's voice yet.

"At least act like you want to be here, [Name]. You're a lady so act like it. Smile."

Her judgmental words always knew how to get into your heart. No matter how thick walls you built around the muscle to protect it, her cruelty found its way to pierce a path and get through. The words of almost inhumanity made your poor heart bleed, then heal enough for you to forget how mean she can be before they attacked again and that process repeated and repeated without any signs of stopping.

'Who said I even wanted to be here.'

You could only thought in your head because according to her, it was unlady like to speak your mind up and another lecture from the woman you called your mother would only bring you a headache.

'With you from all the people.'

König placed his hand on the small of your back in a silent plea to keep moving forward and you did so, slowly continuing in your path of exploring the ship. His touch brought you comfort in the young days where you've been in love and all over him but those days were long gone. If only he didn't betray your trust like that. And again, you could only blame your mother for that. You saw him nod his head at your mother's words and the urge to push his hand away was stronger than before.

John was walking in front of you with your mother's arm in the crook of his elbow, his other hand resting lovingly at the top of hers, thick fingers occasionally brushing against her knuckles from time to time. He was a gentle man and when he loved, he loved hard and to no end. A personality trait you always admired in the old man.

The man looked over his shoulder at you and König, his eyes twinkling with amusement and excitement while he sent you a wink before he turned his attention to your mother once again. "Give her a break, my love. This was all a sudden opportunity so understand she's a bit . . . well, let's just enjoy the trip."

The old man was all over the opportunity of being on the surface of the giant Titanic and he made clear everyone around him knew it. His love for big ships and ocean was as old as his love for your mother and the excitement he held in himself now was like a child's on Christmas. You didn't want to ruin this moment for him so you forced tight smiles at the people you passed by as you walked on the wooden floor. You had to admit though, even you were robbed of your breath when you saw the unsinkable ship for the first time.

The corset of your dress felt like it was tightening with every step you took and the thought of suffocating there on the spot was welcomed into your restless mind. It would be better than the play pretend game you were showing to people around you and most importantly, you'd be free to fly away from the cage and never return back.

You wanted to turn around, say you didn't feel well or that you forgot to unpack the paintings you took with you, come up with something to convince your parents and fiancé to leave you for a moment so you could clear your head.

A friendly breeze welcomed your uneasy mood as it calmed and ran along your skin like a gentle touch of fingers drawings shapes on your face. You closed your eyes with minimal effort as they felt heavy and let yourself enjoy the simple moment of nature. The salt air entered your nostrils while the wind caressed your skin, your thoughts finally shutting off as the voices and footsteps of your family became more and more distant.

It was just you and your heart now.

Your head moved on its own the moment you felt shivers run down your spine, making you shudder and tense your fingers as they gripped onto the railing you and König were leaning against. The feeling reminded you of an innocent animal, watched by a sinful carnivore. A prey stalked by its predator. Your eyes opened by an instinct and connected with ones that made you feel that way.

And your breath was taken away just like before when you saw Titanic for the first time this day.

Within the Titanic's elegance, an enigmatic stranger appeared in your sight. Shadows clung to him, whispers of intrigue trailing his steps as he returned your stare. Curiosity beckoned, locking gazes and weaving a connection impossible to break and it’s not like you wanted to end whatever was happening.

You weren't a stranger to unwanted attention, you received it all the time as a little kid who danced ballet for the selfish eyes of your mother and you received it even now years later when people saw you with the large man of your fiancé by your side. The attention was all but wanted and you had the urge to hide from that but his attention on you felt somehow different. You didn't feel the tinge of egocentric gaze from him and you certainly didn't feel like he thought any better or worse of you. You were simply just a stranger to him, one that seemed to catch his eyes.

It's probably because it wasn't a look of judgement on his masked face, but rather one of curiosity and intrigue and you welcomed the sudden attention in. The owner was a man, a large one, though he wasn't as big as König, it was clear he was still towering over most of those people amongst him from the C-Deck. Even from the distance you could sense the mystery he was giving off and that made you curious yourself. He wore a dark colored jacket with the hood over his head as he was leaning against a railing like you, his wandering gaze never leaving your form. The weather was fine, warm enough for you to feel good in the short sleeved dress, so the hood threw you off a little but what caught your attention the most was the mask. The skull patterned clothing was hiding his nose, jaw and lips from your gaze as you drank in the appearance of the stranger. He was intriguing and if you could, you'd crack the mystery of him.

You couldn't see well in the distance he was standing in but you were pretty sure his dark eyes never left your figure, even as you turned your head away from him and broke the eye contact. The contact was intense, something you've never experienced before and to your surprise, you wanted more of it even though it sent shivers down your spine. It was like he was pulling you in and you didn't fight against it.

König sent you a concerned glance from the corner of his bright eyes as he stood next to you with his arms crossed on the ship's railing. "You okay? It seemed like you zoned out for a bit here, Schatz."

You turned your head towards him, ignoring the way you still felt his eyes on you before giving your fiancé a tight smile that wasn't convincing at all. "I'm fine. Just tired, I suppose."

"You should rest. We have a dinner planned tonight and your mother will throw a fit when you show up all distracted."

He was right, of course he was, and you didn't like the way he was talking about her. It was like he already made his mind up about his soon to be mother-in-law and the picture of her was pink and sweet. Just the opposite of what she truly was.

You feared she had König wrapped around her finger.

"Okay," you mustered a dismissive reply to his concerns, your head turning oh so slightly in the direction of the masked stranger and your breath hitched in the back of your throat when you caught him looking at you again, his eyes trained on you like you'd disappear if he blinked. The gaze he was offering you felt like he was appreciating you and you felt truly wanted for the first time in your entire life.

What a strange man.

The stranger below was staring off at the A-Deck, his brown eyes drinking your appearance in as you walked away with the large man from Simon's sight and he fought off a disappointed sigh that threatened to spill from his covered lips. You were enchanting like that, a gentle breeze fluttering the short sleeves of your dress with a peaceful expression on your pretty face as you appeared in his life. A sight indeed.

A Scottish man next to Simon waved his hand in front of his friend's face, his own sporting an expression full of cheekiness as he grinned. He wasn't dumb and he saw the way Simon was looking into the distance of the deck above, his eyes trained on one woman in particular. Simon has never acted like this, no matter how the women were attractive or how many drinks he had that night.

"Aye, mate, I think we're losing you there."

Simon Riley was simply down bad, as the Scottish man would say.

A nudge to Johnny's ribs caused for his teasing eyes to pull towards their another friend, Kyle Garrick or rather Gaz as he preferred to be called, as he shook his head in a manner to mock Simon's sudden interest. "You can forget about her right here, pal. She's clearly off limits, one way or another."

All three of them knew to what exactly was Gaz indicating. You were standing amongst rich people and the expensive dress you were wearing that shined in the sunlight with its brightness was of an enough proof. You didn't and wouldn't talk to people like them, whenever you decided on it yourself or because your high status didn't allow such action without having eyes turned on you. And then there was the person next to you, the huge mountain of a man who seemed to care about you with such delicacy Simon was almost pissed off. Of course you'd be taken.

"People like her aren't friendly with people like us."

Simon knew Gaz was right but his mind and heart still wanted to reach for you, to get to know the persona he suddenly became intrigued with.

"Whatever."

But his thoughts were filled with you to the brim, the image of your face imprinted behind his eyes like the finest painting ever painted. It was clear he wouldn't forget about you in some time. And maybe it was for the better.

You didn't know that simple indirect interaction would have a huge effect on your life, both his and yours.

TAGLIST ! @lols-wdym @taylor-clifford-65 @ananas26t @poohkie90 @razzles-boiler @kaysav608 @blvebanisters @sanzuandmikey @snowy-skyways

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malestransforming · 1 year

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Hello generous one. You've blessed so many worlds with your talents. I'm a big fan of your writing skills too. Now what do I have to do to be your canvas that gets turned into a hunky model of a man?

snap

You made it! Welcome. Yes I know I transported you here instantly, but I find it’s nice to engage in some witty banter and greeting, especially if I’m about to alter your DNA and change you into an entirely different person! It helps lighten the mood a little bit.

Let’s get started, shall we? I’ve been thinking about your request and the words ‘hunky model’. I see a model as being cut, and tall and muscular but not too muscular. But hunky just adds a whole new dynamic to that. I think I know what I want to do with you? It might be something I just kind of make up as I go. Anyway…

fwip

Gone are your clothes! I am going to sculpt a perfect V shape from the top of your hips down to your groin. Those muscles are tight. I’ll inflate your thighs and legs with some really intense muscle. Actually, how about a little more… And a little more. And a little more. Okay, just a smidge more. Perfect. Squeeze your thigh. What a beauty.

Oh surprise! You got a tight butt too. Yeah, go ahead a clench it. Let me give it a squeeze too.

Abs? You got them. I’m changing the fat you’ve got into pure muscle. These are some really pretty abs. You’ll need them for all the underwear you’ll model. Pecs and chest will be moderately sized. Nothing over the top here. To be honest, I may have over done it with your thighs!

Just going to pump your arms up and boom! Look at those curvy muscles. You look so good. Now, I’m having a brainwave. I’m thinking… body hair! Kind of the opposite from models, maybe, but it’s going to look good on you, you’ll see. It’ll itch as it spreads across your torso, chest and stomach. Okay that might be too much hair. I’ll scale it back to just your chest and stomach. That looks great! You look rugged and handsome.

Face. Most models have pointy, thin faces. I don’t want that for you. Let’s shave your head down, angle your nose slightly and widen your jaw. Oh you look kind of Eastern European. Dark eyes, some facial hair. I like it.

You’re missing one final thing. You’re older now - I’m aging you up to late 30s. Don’t worry! I’ll put some memories in your head. Like this poor choice of tribal band tattoo on your right bicep. Your skin stings right? Look at your huge fucking arm - you have some ink now.

And you’re done! You’re a model, so not the smartest, but you’re not the dumbest either. I have your first thing you can mode right here. These yellow swimming trunks! Slip ‘em on and let me see you in them.

#everything powers #male tf #male transformation #muscle transformation #reality change

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tothepointofinsanity · 1 month

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Hello ! I am a big fan of your art and was wondering if you could give me some tricks.

How did you come up with your current style ? Was it something you searched to developp or did it come naturaly ? If it's the first option, what made you stylize it like this ? Do you have any idea what I could do to stylize my own art ?

I am a somewhat semi-realistic artist (still learning a lot though) and was searching to also developp a more cartoony style like yours alongside it, so I would appreciate some help to understand what to do.

No need to answer this if you don't want to, for any reasons though ! Just wanted to ask you if you are willing to help me, even just a little bit :)

Thank you !

Hello. ^^ Thank you for the detailed ask and taking your time out to write it 🙇‍♂️.

I developed my current art style through a combination of both exploration (“naturally”) and it being something I searched to develop. In my head, I always wanted to adopt a sharper, blockier art style with bright colours. I was inspired by a lot of different styles, but most importantly I was pursuing an aesthetic I liked.

[1] Trying to introduce new elements in your art takes time, but it was mostly me staring/spending a lot of time looking at people’s art works that I enjoyed. The more you look at the things you like, the clearer the image you have of it is in your mind, so it would be easier to replicate it. The idea is to study what elements you like exactly in a style and then slowly try to transfer them into your own works. Your current style will eventually merge with it to form something that is unique. 🤔

If you are having trouble keeping the image that you want to recreate in your mental space, you can always put your canvas side by side to the thing you want to replicate, if that makes sense. Observing things you like and then devoting time to it was what helped me a lot, but patience tends to get you far in general.

[2] Stylising your own art requires a lot of trial and error. In addition to observing other people’s works, you need to have somewhat of an idea of how things can look like in your own works. If you like something with bright colours, the bright colours you choose for your own work may feel inappropriate or out of place simply because they haven’t been adjusted to your liking yet. A lot about art style is really adjusting things to your own tastes while keeping the courage to experiment. Since you have a semi-realistic style and want a more cartoony one, the idea is to squash/reduce elements of realism and increase the use of shapes that stand out.

^ For example, you can see from this style that the characters have larger, round and doll-like heads, and the colours used to fill them aren’t at all that realistic or “balanced”, more so abstract and played around with (observe how Homura’s leggings are a mixture of blue that bleed to red). If Homura was drawn “realistically”, she would instead have normal colours and her usual palette scheme that don’t seem to jump everywhere. The characters’ anatomy are also simplified, smaller and easier to shape.

The style I have is mainly reducing details on the character and exaggerating their appearance with shapes or certain features. You can choose to make their eyes look more dramatic and detailed, for example, compared to the rest of their bodies. In fact, one way of making things look detailed in a cartoon style is by grouping large shapes together for them to resemble something. You could draw rectangles for fingers and that would still be understood as long as they’re arranged in a way that gives off that impression, not necessarily being a 1:1 real life replica of it.

[3] Overall, experimenting with colours and shapes are important to the style, but it’s not something you have to simply focus on. You can make something look cartoon even just by making the composition look dramatic, which isn’t limited to colours nor shape, but more on your sense of “space” in a drawing.

In summary: you have to first know what you’re inspired by, and then work towards it at your own pace. Attempt to replicate those elements in things you like by observing them and then transferring them onto your own works. Playing with shapes and colours, exaggerating or minimising proportions and anatomy can give you different results, although it may not seem satisfactory at first. The most important thing to developing your style, ultimately, is still giving yourself time and spending time with the things you like o(^-^)o. You can’t exactly rush out a style, so please enjoy the process of drawing!!

I hope this was helpful, if even a little bit, since I’m not good at explaining things, and I’m not a professional 😭🙏🙏. Thank you for the ask!!

#ASKS 💌

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genericpuff · 3 months

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hello! i was wondering if you're familiar with the process of a canvas story becoming an original/how long it normally takes? there was a comic on canvas i was following that was supposed to become an original but after almost a year of no updates and no move to originals, the author made a post about merch and then dropped off again. can it really take a year or longer to make the transition or is it more likely the author lost interest in the comic? (and i understand that redrawing pages or preparing a buffer would take time, it's more the complete lack of communication/updates and only popping up to drop merch that seems concerning to me)

Ah, I'm not an Originals creator so I'm definitely not an authority on this or fully informed of how things work behind the scenes in any way shape or form, but there have definitely been loads of cases where Canvas series took that length of time to become Originals. It often comes down to a variety of factors including (but not limited to):

If a series needs extensive time for pre-production and building a buffer, this can be affected by the genre (ex. action comics may take a lot more time to put together than romance comics due to having a lot more dynamic scenes that aren't just characters talking to each other)

Some creators will opt to leave their original Canvas episodes untouched but others will decide to rehaul them entirely for Originals. This means a lot of redrawing which adds onto that pre-production process.

Preparing for an Originals schedule isn't just preparing a buffer and/or rehauling episodes, for many creators it's also building extensive reference libraries made up of head turnarounds, expression sheets, 3D models, etc. for all the things they can reuse during the production process.

Webtoons itself ultimately decides when a series is set to launch, so despite a comic being ready for release, its actual launch date is often left entirely out of the creator's hands and up to Webtoons. Obviously I don't have any insight as to what decisions Webtoons is making on the backend and why (and neither do its creators in a lot of ways tbh) but sometimes it can be based purely on what Webtoons wants to release in that cycle depending on genre, theme, etc. Don't cite me on this because I'm VAGUELY remembering this from memory, but there was one incident where a creator was on a hiatus in between seasons and Webtoons announced their series was returning in the promo banner reels... before actually informing the creator their series was coming back. So that, of course, led to a lot of scrambling on the creator's part to put out all the promotional material they could to get their audience prepared for their series' return. If I dig up their name I'll be sure to update this. Though I also have a pal (who shall remain unnamed) who's an Originals creator who also had to deal with some very annoying lack of communication between themselves and Webtoons as to when their series was launching, if I recall correctly it was basically left up to a last minute "they'll call you when they call you" type situation.

All that said, there's undoubtedly only so much this particular creator you're referring to is allowed to say, and for all we know, that creator may know about as much as you do in regards to when specifically their series is launching. Unfortunately it's just the way of the beast with Webtoons, they're not exactly great at communicating so that lack of information ends up being extended to their creators and their audiences as well.

Hope that helps give you a little peace of mind that the creator is unlikely "ditching their project" and more so just still in pre-production phase! Definitely sending y'all good vibes that it releases soon <3

#ask me anything #ama #anon ama #anon ask me anything

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velidewrites · 10 months

Text

To get back what the Cauldron has taken from her, Elain Archeron makes a deal with Prythian’s most dangerous enemy.

Now, a servant of a cruel Death God, Elain must make sure her efforts are not discovered—especially not by someone tied to her darkening heart by a golden thread.

Someone like her mate.

Tags: Post-ACOSF, Canon Compliant, NSFW

Read on AO3 || Chapter 1 || Masterlist

@elucienweekofficial

Chapter 2 - Could You Be The Devil?

Feyre chewed on the tip of her brush, frustration building in her chest with every useless stroke of paint.

She’d barely slept last night, having returned from the human lands too rattled to lie still for any longer than five minutes. Rhys was gone, too, which had made falling asleep all the more difficult—he’d been held back in Windhaven along with Cassian, both males thoroughly displeased with this turn of events. Feyre could only guess the Illyrian warlords—well, one warlord in particular—continued to be less accommodating than anticipated, and from the tired strain in Rhysand’s voice as it slithered into her mind, she figured it might be best to wait with questions until he returned.

Besides, Feyre had too many questions of her own right now to even begin thinking about Devlon.

Another pointless swipe of her brush against the canvas drew a long-suffering groan from her throat, and she might have given up completely had it not been for a quiet chuckle somewhere behind her.

“By the Cauldron, Feyre—that looks terrible.”

She whirled back with a gasp. “Lucien!”

Practically launching from her seat, she reached her friend in two quick strides, throwing her arms around his neck. She only felt him still for a moment—a fact that made her heart clench—before two, strong arms wrapped around her, radiating warmth. “You asshole,” she accused, pulling back to meet his russet-golden stare.

His lips twitched. “Such foul language for a High Lady.”

She pointed a finger at his chest, nail digging lightly into the hard muscle. “I’ve missed you, you know. It’s been…a while.”

Lucien’s smile faded. “I know,” he said, giving her shoulder a small squeeze. “I’m sorry.”

She studied his scarred face—ever-twisted in something she knew he’d been trying to mask, but—at least to her watchful eyes—failed miserably. It was the same thing she’d once seen in the darkened depths of his mind, haunting her to this day. Pain and longing—and endless, infinite sadness.

“What changed?” she asked, motioning for him to sit beside her as she plopped down on the couch.

Lucien opened his mouth—then closed it, seemingly not ready to have that conversation yet. His gaze flickered towards the canvas instead, auburn brows furrowing at the mess of scattered lines and brownish shapes. “So what exactly are you painting?” His head cocked to the side slightly, as if a different angle could perhaps lead him to an explanation. “Looks like your hair, just when you wake up.”

Feyre smacked his arm playfully. “Very funny. If you must know, I’m painting that owl over there,” she gestured toward the window, where the large bird cleaned its feathers blissfully from an apple tree. Feyre frowned. “But for some reason, no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to get it right. I thought…” she considered, musing more to herself now than the male beside her, “I thought it got the colours right—but, as soon as I put them on the canvas, they just don’t look the same.” She huffed, throwing the bird an accusatory look. “It’s almost like the owl doesn’t want to be painted.”

When she turned back to face him, she found Lucien’s brows were now high with amusement. “Losing your touch, Cursebreaker?”

Her eyes narrowed, willing Winter’s hard, piercing ice into her stare.

It only made Lucien chuckle again. “Perhaps you just need to regain your focus.” His expression turned sympathetic. “Has the baby been keeping you up?”

Feyre sighed—it wasn’t Nyx that made her so restless. “No—he sleeps through the night without a sound, really.” A smile tugged at her mouth again. “You have to meet him—he’s still asleep now, but—”

“I will. It will be my pleasure, Feyre, believe me, but—” he hesitated, the muscle in his jaw tight, “You know why I’m here.”

Gods—perhaps she really did need to go to sleep.

“Is she alright?” Feyre asked carefully, unsure how much could’ve possibly changed in the past ten hours.

Lucien shifted in his seat, shoulders rolling back slightly. “I wouldn’t know.” He cleared his throat. “She was asleep when I got back.”

“Oh.”

His eyes sharpened. “Would you like to tell me why, exactly, there are burn marks on Vassa’s hands?”

“How much do you know?” Feyre asked. “I thought Jurian would fill you in after Vassa…well.”

“Jurian, as old as he is, is still a human—which means he does not understand magic in the same way you and I, or even Vassa, do. He told me why you were there—about Beron and Koschei, and the vision, too—but whatever magic was involved, there is no way he could’ve scented it.”

Feyre chewed on her lip. “Elain was burned, too.”

Lucien’s gaze flashed a living flame. “What?”

“I understand as much as you do, Lucien. All I know is that one second, Elain and Vassa were cutting their palms open, and the next, their blood turned into white, liquid fire—I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Lucien looked horrified. “Cutting their palms open?”

“Jurian had a knife on hand.”

A low snarl ripped free from his throat. “Easy,” Feyre told him. “I healed them both right away.”

“Why would either of them even do that?” Lucien asked. “I don’t know much about Seers, but I’ve never heard…” the words died on his tongue as his mind seemed to drift away.

“Elain seemed to think it necessary,” Feyre said, unsure what to make of it herself. “To trigger the vision, that is.”

“I thought you said she had no interest in developing her abilities.”

“She didn’t,” Feyre insisted. “Things have changed—I don’t know what happened, but I know this is a good thing, Lucien. She cannot escape her powers, so to see her try to embrace them is comforting—no matter how strange those powers seem to me.” She added, “Her mental shields are nearly impenetrable. She asked me how to build them a few months ago.”

“You’ve been training her?” Lucien asked.

“No—and neither has Rhys. Elain seemed to want to figure it out on her own.”

Lucien hummed. “Sounds like she’d been doing a good enough job.”

“What happened last night is concerning,” Feyre said, wondering how he felt about all of this. “I’ve never felt magic like this before.”

Lucien ran a hand through his hair until it fell down his back in waves, the auburn like molten flames under the morning sunlight. “Do you think it came from the Cauldron?”

Feyre considered. The Cauldron’s power had been overwhelming to the senses in ways she could not quite describe—its thrumming magic had seemed to call out to her very soul as it hummed its song at the war camp all those months ago. It simmered in Nesta, too, from the moment her sister had stepped out of its black waters—like a living creature fighting to be freed from her veins.

“No,” she finally decided. “The feel of it, the scent…it was different. Rotten,” she scrunched her nose as she recalled the stench, “like slowly decaying earth.”

“That doesn’t sound very reassuring, Feyre.”

“I would’ve thought you’d be more concerned about the fire.”

Lucien shrugged. “A fire can be extinguished,” he said. “There is no reversing the rot.”

Feyre fell back on the cushions with a heavy sigh. “I wish the Bone Carver were still here.”

The look of puzzlement on Lucien’s face almost made her chuckle. “He always seemed to have all the answers. Oh, don’t give me that look,” she said as his expression shifted into silent judgement. “He was Koschei’s brother, besides. Something tells me he would’ve helped.”

“If the Bone Carver had known how to kill Koschei, I don’t think he would’ve spent all those millennia in the Prison,” Lucien pointed out.

Feyre closed her eyes. “I suppose.”

“When was the last time you slept, Feyre?” his smooth voice reached her.

“Don’t make fun of me again,” she grunted.

A soft laugh. “I’m not—I only mean…after everything, you deserve some rest.”

She knew exactly what he meant by everything.

“I’ll rest once I finally manage to figure out what’s going on,” she said. “I need to speak to Rhys about this, but I was thinking of going up to the library at the House of Wind—see if any of the priestesses have studied Seers at any point in time. Perhaps what Elain had done was not as unusual as we might think.”

“That sounds like a good place to start,” Lucien agreed.

“You should come with me,” Feyre offered. “It would be good for you to take this information back since you’re…well.” She tried not to sigh. “I’m assuming you’ll end up crossing paths eventually.”

His tone radiated nothing but indifference. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”

Feyre sat up to survey his face. Not a single emotion creased it as expected, though she could’ve sworn his throat bobbed slightly as he evenly returned her gaze.

Perhaps that was why she started softly, “Lucien—”

But Lucien rose then, smoothing out the front of his jacket with a hand. “I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

“Lucien,” Feyre pressed on, rising to her feet as well. “Don’t—just stay a little while longer.”

He offered her a sad smile. “I can’t, Feyre. It’s just…it’s not a good idea.” He huffed a bitter laugh. “Though, I supposed, there is no place I could run to in our current, ah…predicament.”

She reached to squeeze his hand—warm and broad even with the chill morning breeze whooshing in through the window. “I know you two will sort this out,” she said in what she could only hope he took as encouragement. “In the meantime, I will visit the House of Wind and try to find some answers.”

Lucien nodded. “How will you know how to start?”

Someone cleared their throat behind them, and they both whirled toward the source that had managed to creep up on two, fully trained High Fae.

Nesta smirked from where she leaned against the doorway. “I know just the right priestess to help.”

———

Ironically, the air at the House of Wind stood completely still.

It hung something heavy over the training ring, though, something that made Feyre’s breaths come thicker as she watched the duel, unable to tear her gaze off the two sparring figures. She didn’t think she’d ever seen Azriel break a sweat, and yet—there it was, beading on his forehead as he shifted into a more defensive stance.

Gwyneth Berdara flashed him a winning grin before she attacked.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this determined, Rhys’s voice slid into her mind, sparkling with a mischief that told her he and Cassian would definitely be bringing this up to their brother later. There was something else hiding in Rhys’s tone, though—a sense of barely repressed joy, as though her mate did not want to get his hopes up entirely—not yet, at least.

A silvery swoosh of a knife was his only warning as Azriel pivoted, dodging the priestess’s weapon by only an inch. Standing beside Feyre, Nesta gave him a mocking smile, even as pride flickered in her icy blue gaze.

The shadowsinger grunted and swung, his sword cutting through the air as Gwyneth twirled to her left, a small laugh escaping her lips. “Too slow,” she teased, making Azriel’s eyes narrow. Feyre had to give her credit, though—she was fast, an advantage he clearly hadn’t taken into account.

“Wrap it up, Berdara!” Nesta shouted from across the ring, making her coppery head snap toward the sound. A pair of teal eyes widened as she realised who, exactly, was standing beside her friend, as she met Rhysand’s stare first, then Feyre’s.

Rhys gave a mental click of his tongue. He’s got her, now.

Are you not cheering for your brother? Feyre teased, a chuckle meeting her in answer.

Oh, no, her mate said. I would love to see him get his ass kicked.

She rolled her eyes. There’s nothing quite like a supportive family.

Cruel, beautiful female, he purred, heat rising in her cheeks at the sound.

Rhys had been right, though—the odds seemed to have shifted, with Gwyneth backing up towards the training ring’s edge as she blocked Azriel’s attacks one after another. He was smiling now, shadows dancing around him, and Feyre could’ve sworn she saw one of them wrap around the priestess’s leg as she nearly tripped over a rock.

He hasn’t been this happy in a while, Rhys remarked.

I wonder, Feyre mused, if this is why Elain left.

Rhys stilled. Feyre—

I do not blame you, she said, thinking back to the memory he’d shown her on that fateful Solstice night. This—whatever she’s doing right now in the human lands—with Vassa, with Lucien…it needs to be resolved before her final choice is made.

Rhys looked at the training ring again. Looks like there may be nothing to resolve.

She followed his gaze, where Gwyneth now stood pinned, a new dagger none of them had seen before now pointed at her throat. Perhaps not.

The duel finished, and Azriel passed by them, giving Nesta, Rhys and herself a brief nod before turning to the priestess again with a shadow of a smile.

“Maybe next time, Berdara.” Her eyes narrowed into slits, glueing to his winged back as she watched him walk away.

Nesta chuckled. “My sister,” she introduced, motioning towards Feyre, “and her mate.”

Rhys smiled. “It’s a true pleasure to meet you, Gwyneth.”

Gwyn’s brows rose in surprise—as though she hadn’t expected a High Lord to be content with the introduction Nesta had given him. Still, she bowed deeply. “My Lady,” Gwyneth said, “My Lord. If you could allow me to freshen up—the library’s main study can be prepared in a few minutes—”

Rhys waved a hand. “There’s no need for such formalities.” And with that, a small table appeared in the shaded corner in the back, along with four heavy, wooden chairs. Gesturing towards them, Rhys added, “Please, take a seat.”

Feyre laced her fingers atop the table as Rhysand took a seat to her right, meeting Gwyneth’s gaze from opposite the table. “We won’t take too much of your time,” she promised.

Gwyneth looked as though the very idea was ridiculous. “I am at your disposal for however long you need me, my Lady.”

“Just Feyre, please. If it’s not too much trouble for you,” she added quickly, unsure how comfortable the priestess would be with such pleasantries.

She loosed a breath then. “Alright,” Gwyneth started carefully, her teal gaze swiping over Nesta, then Rhys, then finally Feyre again. “How can I help you?”

“Tea?” Rhys asked, and, as if unable to help herself, Gwyneth smiled, motioning to her training gear—to the Illyrian leathers hugging her body far too tightly for the spring sun—and said, “I’m alright, but thank you for the offer.”

Beside her, Nesta shrugged. “I’ll have some.”

A set of teas and pastries appeared, both Rhys and Nesta reaching for their cups as Feyre rolled her eyes at the two. “I was wondering if you were aware of any priestesses conducting research on the Seers in the library,” Feyre said, figuring Gwyneth was not the type of female to divulge in unnecessary small talk.

Her brows knitted. “Seers?” A glance at Nesta—she knew what Elain was, then. “Not that I’m aware. The ability to See has been forgotten for quite some time—I’m afraid the only knowledge our library might possess are the old scrolls from the previous millennium, if not more.”

“Ancient scrolls are good,” Feyre said. “Better, actually. What we seek is…” she hesitated, casting Rhys a quick look.

Her mate picked up smoothly, “We believe the knowledge we’re after stems from a time when Seers were far more common—and therefore, their skills understood in more depth.”

The priestess chewed on the inside of her cheek, as if cataloguing her mind for any information she might have stored there before. “What kind of skills are you interested in, specifically?”

“How they navigated their visions,” Feyre began, “or induced them, even. A more…controlled technique of looking into the future rather than unprompted glimpses.”

Nesta added, “Whatever you can find, Gwyn, really. Anything that lets us learn more about Elain’s magic would get us one step closer to our goal.”

Gwyneth frowned. “Which is?” She blinked quickly as the question left her mouth, a pink blush creeping onto her cheeks. “Forgive me,” she addressed them, “I forget myself.”

Rhys smiled. “It’s quite alright. It is only fair you wish to know our reasons for the knowledge we ask you to find. All I can say, I’m afraid—at least for now—is that we wish to use Elain’s skills to prevent any threats to our lands before they truly come into fruition.”

Gwyneth’s face betrayed that Rhys’s answer had only spurred more questions—but something about the look Nesta gave her friend told Feyre the priestess would be getting the answers later, anyway.

“I see,” she said then. “I will consult the priestesses—Clotho and Merril might be a good start, I think—to see if they’re aware of any existing research. In the meantime, I will look into some research of my own. Is there a timeframe you wish to seem my findings delivered?”

Feyre offered her a tight smile. “As soon as you learn anything. Thank you, Gwyneth.”

She smiled. “Please—just call me Gwyn.”

———

Lucien’s original plan to make a quick stop at Dawn ended up taking his entire day.

He was stalling and he was not too proud to admit it. The idea of returning to the manor filled him with unease running deep enough to keep him occupied for hours—and so he had done exactly that. Nuan—though not without first scolding him for not keeping in touch as often as he’d used to—had invited him into her shop, surprising him with his order being finished a month early. The potion was nowhere near a true antidote, but it was enough—more than he’d hoped for, actually—and it had taken everything in him not to immediately run back to the house to shove it into Vassa’s hands.

He hadn’t known her transformations were painful at first, though looking back at it, it was so obvious that he beat himself over the head for not having guessed it right away. Vassa’s firebird form was at least six times her human size, and there was no ailment for the curse breaking and stretching her bones every morning before she turned.

It doesn’t hurt as much as it used to, she’d once told him after seeing the horror written on his face. It only takes a few seconds—and it’s not like it could ever kill me.

There was a bitterness to her tone as she’d said it, and it had made Lucien winnow to Dawn right away then.

Lucien knew very little about alchemy, but Nuan had patiently listened to every grotesque detail he was giving as he recalled the transformations he had seen. She’d then told him of a similar issue faced by a Lesser Fae shapeshifter—a customer of hers who, though without the time constraints Vassa had to abide to, could not shift into his reptile-like form without the blinding pain of scales cutting through his skin. Nuan had used his cure as a base, working tirelessly for the past four months or so to develop a remedy of sorts—anything to ease the pain of the transformation his friend endured each day.

The day he’d told the Band of Exiles of his commissioned elixir, Lucien and Jurian became friends.

True friends—not just roommates of convenience, as Jurian had initially liked to call them. His apprehension had not returned when Lucien had clarified that there was a good chance the medicine Nuan was curating might not even work given Vassa’s unusual circumstances—Jurian had simply shaken Lucien’s hand and told him they’d have to hope for the best.

It seemed that the best had finally arrived, the small vial flashing a cool blue in Lucien’s palm.

“One drop,” Nuan instructed. “Swallowed the moment she turns back into her human form. She should try to sleep, too—for at least an hour after each dosage to give her body time to absorb it.”

Vassa would not like that—her time as a human was already precious as it was, and another hour taken off that time would only be seen by the queen as a waste. Still, Lucien placed an outrageously heavy satchel of gold marks—far more than she’d expected, from the exasperated gasp that tore free from her lips—on Nuan’s desk and kissed her cheek.

“You’re amazing,” he told her.

She rolled her yes. “That we already knew. Let me know if it works, Lucien.” She angled her head, examining his face—the golden eye carved into it. “And, for Cauldron’s sake, try to stop by more often.”

He should have winnowed back into the house then—but he found himself aimlessly wandering the streets of Dawn’s capital city instead. It was still basked in daylight, which meant that Vassa still had a few more hours until he could pass on the good news. Jurian, too, would be absent for a good while—the general, to Vassa’s quiet surprise, had recently opted to switch into a more nocturnal lifestyle, having slept through most of the day.

And then, of course, there was his guest—one Lucien would rather not think about until his time to stall ran out at last.

Right now, Elain Archeron was probably lurking around the manor with solitude as her only companion—solitude and that sweet, intoxicating scent of hers that put his mind in a daze and set his chest alight.

Lucien hated that scent. It reminded him that this light, bright as golden as it was, would forever be out of his reach as he continued to drown in the darkness.

The greyish veil of dusk had to drape over the sky eventually, though, and, his chest tight with dread, Lucien winnowed back home.

Every last inch of the manor was covered in her scent. The jasmine and honey seeped its roots into the splintered wood and etched itself into the peeling tapestries, that golden thread carrying it weaving itself into the carpets. The place that was meant to be an escape from the bond was now home to the very female it tied him to—for how long, Lucien had no idea.

What are you doing here, Elain?

Jurian’s grim expression—the same one he’d offered Lucien last night upon his return—did not greet him as soon as he reached the stony doorstep, which meant his friend was still asleep somewhere, most probably on the third and highest floor of the house where the guest rooms were located. For reasons unknown to Lucien, Jurian had not opted for a bedroom of his own, instead making his way through the spares day by day in a strange, restless sort of arrangement. It seemed that no matter where he stayed, no matter how spacious the room or how comfortable the mattress, the Mad General would not be able to wedge himself into sleep’s peaceful embrace for a while.

And so, the only familiar presence waiting for Lucien as he entered the manor was the empty silence.

He moved to the back of the house at first, navigating the dark corridors of the first floor and glimpsing a scowl on his face on a nearby mirror. If there was one place she could be, he supposed it would be the gardens—if he could even call the sea of weeds and dug-up earth as such. He smothered a smile quickly as the image of an exasperated Elain, elbows-deep in the soil popped into his mind, not a true memory, not even wishful thinking—but rather, a cruel figment of his imagination, apparently intent on torturing him even within the comforts of his own mind.

But Elain was not in the gardens—nor was she seated in any of the drawing rooms adjoining them. His next guess—and last resort, really since he sure as hell was not going into her bedroom—was the kitchen, shoved into a far-right nook of the house, severely underwhelming in its contents as neither one of the manor’s permanent residents seemed to have an appetite these days. Lucien knew—from stories, of course, because he sure as hell was not getting that information directly from the source herself—that Elain had taken to baking, most of her time before the last Solstice taken up by pastries and pies of infinite kinds. She was a skilled baker, Feyre had claimed so in her letters, at least, not that Lucien would ever find out—not when the consequences of an offering of such kind were neither expected nor desired by either of them.

It wasn’t that Lucien did not like Elain—how could he, when baking and gardening were the only two things he truly knew about her. They weren’t even true attributes he could attune to her—they weren’t things that told him who his mate was, deep in that same place he felt her in his own heart. Was she kind? Was she lost, thwarted by a world unwelcoming to her since the very beginning? Was she drowning in the darkness, the same way Lucien was? Or was she perfectly content, wishing for nothing more from life than for peace and quiet, a life undisturbed by whatever else the world had in store for her?

Yes—Lucien knew nothing about Elain Archeron, and, from the looks of it, he never would.

Perhaps, noticing the almost pathetic silence of the manor, she’d simply decided to sleep through the day, too. Lucien was under the impression that her attempts at triggering a vision of any kind would resume as soon as Vassa returned, both females intent on understanding two problems that seemed to have a common solution. How could they kill Koschei, a Death God with a power perhaps only the Cauldron could tame? Would killing him bring peace to the world as much as to Vassa’s own life? The answers seemed to lie far beyond anyone’s sight, with the only person able to reach them being the female Lucien could not, for the life of him, find.

Deciding she would have to turn up eventually—there was no way Lucien would use the bond to try to locate her whereabouts—he decided to head to bed himself, hoping that an hour of sleep or two could bring forward a clarity Elain’s presence in his house seemed to erase with each passing moment.

His own room was on the second floor, just above the offices beneath, and Lucien made way for the small staircase he knew snaked up straight to his wing. He was stopped in his tracks, though, when he felt a disturbance—a phantom brush against his arm, like a singular blow of a dying wind.

Frowning, Lucien turned around to the window behind him, finding an oval-shaped figure shaded by the fading sun. It flapped its wings again, that same wind grazing his skin—and Lucien sighed, moving to close the window before the bird found its way inside.

“It’s you,” a quiet, if not stunned voice reached him.

Lucien whipped back, the window snapping shut behind him.

Elain Archeron stood at the entrance to one of the private studies, a large tome in her hand.

Fuck—he’d forgotten how beautiful she was. Up close, her beauty seemed even more unreal, like something from a dream—it made his breath catch slightly and his nostrils flared as the fragrant jasmine and honey infused the air between them.

It was then that he recognised another layer to her scent—something different, hidden as though seeking shelter between the thick folds of honey, between the white petals of a blooming flower. He could not quite discern it, the feeling infuriating to no end as he practically tasted the word on the tip of his tongue—something he’d definitely heard of before but could not seem to recall even if it killed him.

Not being able to stand looking at her achingly beautiful face for another moment, Lucien’s gaze flickered to the open doors behind her small frame, then to the tome she gripped in her hands. “What are you doing here?” he asked, the question coming out a touch more offensively than he had intended.

Elain huffed. “Hello to you, too, I suppose.”

Interesting. “I wasn’t aware we were in the habit of exchanging pleasantries, lady,” he said. “My sincerest apologies.”

Her eyes, brown like a fawn’s coat, flashed with annoyance at the sarcasm. “You are not sorry one bit.”

Anger simmered through him, not having anticipated this manner of conversation at all. “Perhaps not,” Lucien said tightly. “You haven’t answered my question,” he added, gesturing toward the study behind her.

Elain followed his hand, shoulders rolling back as she straightened, her frown smoothing out as she seemingly worked to regain her composure. “It’s me who should apologise, actually,” she said politely, though he could have sworn that the angry glint in her eyes remained. “I am only a guest in your home.” Her gaze dipped down, giving him a full view of her long, dark lashes as she added, “Forgive me.”

Had Lucien not been a courtier his entire life, he might have even bought the apology. “Well?” he pressed again, unsure whether he should feel proud or concern at her ability to delay an answer.

Elain’s brow rose an inch.

“Your answer,” Lucien reminded, the fire in his gut stirring impatiently.

“Oh—right,” Elain said, tucking a stray golden-brown curl behind her arched ear, its lengths falling over her shoulder. Lucien’s traitorous eyes trailed the movement for only a moment before darting back to hers again. “It was quiet here, I wanted—well, I thought I could find a book, but I couldn’t seem the find the library.”

“There is no library here.” Had she not frequented this house for months before the War?

This was odd—she was odd, and Lucien was fairly certain it wasn’t Vassa’s panicked voice from last night that spurred his concern. Elain shifted on her feet under his scrutiny. “Last I remember, reading was not a crime in the human lands.”

Lucien smirked. “Ah, so the rose does have its thorns after all.” He angled his head. “Tell me, Elain, when have you grown so…spirited?”

Elain’s eyes narrowed. “Whatever insinuation you are attempting to make, I can assure you I am already quite offended.”

Lucien dismissed the retort. “What book are you reading, then?” he asked, his gaze sliding back to the old, black tome. “The Military Strategies of The Great War?” he barked a laugh. “Since when have you taken up interest in warcraft?”

She gripped the book tighter to her chest. “I’ll have you know I’ve recently been looking into receiving some…defence training.”

To say Lucien did not believe her would be an understatement. She seemed to read as much from his face, adding, “My sisters have done it—I do not see why I couldn’t too.” She angled her head, her luminous hair cascading down her back in immaculate waves. “Unless you believe me ill-fitted for the task?”

It was a challenge—and the sort of bait Lucien did not feel inclined to catch at the moment. She was toying with him, meeting his every question with a strike of her own when it was Lucien who’d spent centuries studying the art. There was no doubt left in his mind that Elain was trying to rattle him—for some strange reason, perhaps thinking getting him agitated enough would make him simply give up and go away.

Lucien found himself not wanting to give up just yet.

He did something he’d only done once before—something he thought he’d never have to do again. Offering his mate a long-suffering sigh he hoped would mislead her, Lucien reached down the bond—down that shimmering, golden thread until he found the rib in her chest it had tied itself to—and tugged.

But, instead of the soft, warm light, darkness flashed in his eyes and overwhelmed his senses—wrapping itself around the thread like a weed growing on a blooming stem. There and gone like the blink of an eye.

Elain staggered back, as though she’d physically felt the intrusion, all the propriety gone from her face as she bared her teeth. “Do not do that again,” she snarled, the sound perhaps the most Fae-like thing he’d ever heard from her. Her hands trembled, her knuckles white against the book’s leathery, black sleeve.

“Everyone pinned you as the quiet gardener,” he hummed as though she hadn’t flashed her fangs at him at all, “But I had a feeling there was more to you than that, Elain Archeron.”

There was only a beat of silence—a glimmer of surprise he felt deep at the end of the bridge between them—before anger quickly replaced it again.

“You know nothing about me,” Elain seethed, the words her only goodbye as she turned away to disappear in the dim, musty corridor.

She was right—Lucien didn’t.

Not yet, at least.

———

Before the starless night took over the sky at last, Elain opened her bedroom window.

She was already late, her heart still racing from the encounter downstairs. She hadn’t expected to see him—had foolishly hoped he would keep away knowing she’d be staying at the manor for the time being—but Lucien was apparently as persistent as he was handsome, which were two more things she could not let become a threat to her plans.

The bond, yet another foolish hope she’d been harbouring, was still there, then. Elain had shoved it so deep inside her for those many months in Lucien’s absence that, eventually, forgetting about its presence—at least partially—seemed to have fuelled her need for ignorance. But the mating bond decidedly remained—now, as Lucien had so eloquently put it, a thorn in her side. Perhaps insisting on staying here had been a bad idea—though, as much thought as she’d given it over the past few weeks, Elain could not think of another option that could get her to her goal any quicker than moving in with the source itself.

She would deal with Lucien later. For now, Elain needed to explain herself.

A quiet sound of wings on the cooling wind made her body stiffen, and her spine straightened as if on instinct as the owl landed on her windowsill. Its dark green eyes fixed immediately on her own, the feeling so deeply unsettling Elain had to fight to keep from flinching.

“It saddens me to see you so frightened, my sweet.”

Elain watched its sharp beak as it spoke, the sight as inconceivable as the first time she’d witnessed it. Still, she kept her eyes on the owl, on its smooth, shadowy voice that was so entirely human she nearly leaned out the window to look for its true origin.

That same voice now sounded with a quiet sigh. “It is no matter. One day, you will see.” It cocked its head, those round eyes narrowing on her slightly as though examining. “You’ve been unsuccessful, then. How thoroughly disappointing.”

Elain swallowed. Hard.

“I shall give you a week. You know what happens if you fail.”

Elain loosed a shuddering breath. A week—she could work with that.

If she only managed to get Lucien out of her way.

Elain looked into the owl’s eyes and nodded. “Yes, my lord.”

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