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gogobootz1 · 23 days

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An American in London

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: One of Benedict's old schoolmates enlists his help with wooing his American penpal, but when Benedict (literally) runs into her travel companion, things take a turn

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: blood (nosebleed)

"Why, exactly, have you dragged me here?" Benedict bemoaned, looking around the nearly empty hotel bar. There were plenty of better places to drink in the city.

"Because tomorrow morning we are meeting my hopefully lovely pen pal here," came the arrogant voice of one of Benedict's old school friends. Charles had made no effort to continue their friendship into adulthood until earlier that day.

"We?" Benedict asked, skeptically as they sat.

"Yes, we," Charles nodded, motioning for drinks to be brought over. "You are to help me impress the girl and play chaperone."

Benedict squinted at him, "Why would I do that?"

"Do you have anything better to do?" Charles shrugged. Benedict blinked at him for a minute. The truth was, after dropping out of the academy, he did not. He had actually been rather bored as of late.

"Fine," he swallowed bitterly.

"Excellent!" Charles sprang up from his seat, "I'll be by Bridgerton house at ten tomorrow to pick you up."

"Where are you going?" Benedict asked as the man began walking off.

"I have an appointment," Charles called back, and Benedict rolled his eyes. He polished off his drink before putting some money on the table. Of course, Charles had left that to him. He made quickly for the side exit and frustratedly shoved the door open.

A pained cry drew his attention as he stepped out, and he found a young woman with her hand clapped over her nose. All previous annoyance seeped from him instantly. Guilt and shame flooded into its place as he rushed to check on you.

“Are you quite alright miss?”

“Not quite,” the muffled American accent caught him off guard.

“I’m terribly sorry,” he rushed out, eyes full of earnest regret. He grabbed the handkerchief from the pocket over his chest and reached toward your face with it. You reared back, hand still firmly covering your nose, though he swore he could see deep crimson starting to leak out.

“Will you let me have a look?”

“Oh, no,” you firmly shook her head, laughing without any humor, “I have had enough embarrassment for one night. I will not end my evening by bleeding on some random English gentleman.”

You began walking in the opposite direction, but he was quick to follow.

“Please, allow me to make amends, I feel at fault for-“

“You are at fault!” You stopped in your tracks to fix him with a glare.

He blinked back at you, “Well, yes, but I-“

“Unless you’d like to ram a door into your own nose, I’ve seen more than enough of you tonight, thank you,” you snapped, turning to leave. Before you could, you felt a drip of blood fall from your hand onto your dress. You let out a frustrated groan and turned back toward the stranger, snatching his still-outstretched handkerchief.

Working fast, you wiped your bloody palm, then your face. All the while, the concerned gentleman looked on in worry. Once you’d wiped the excess, you held the cloth up to your nose to catch any more.

“Perhaps I should introduce myself,” He nervously straightened his jacket.

“Perhaps not,” you shook your head, “if you introduce yourself we might just meet again, and you should pray for that not to happen.”

You might’ve laughed at his expression if your nose didn’t ache like hell. “Goodnight!” You said with faux cheer, as you left him standing in confusion.

“Goodnight?” You hardly registered his weak reply.

----------------------------

Benedict woke up on the floor after being violently tugged off the small sofa in his room. He'd been so absorbed with his sketch he hadn't even made it to bed last night.

"Come on then, Bridgerton," Charles' voice taunted from above him, "up and at 'em."

Benedict rolled his eyes as he pushed himself off of the floor, catching sight of the prior night's labors as he stood. A pair of intense eyes stared back at him, and since you'd kept the rest of your face closely covered, a swath of ruby replaced everything below the bridge of your nose. He tried to casually cover the piece before Charles could butt in and ask about it.

"I thought we agreed upon ten," Benedict told the man, stifling a yawn.

"It is ten," Charles snapped, and Benedict winced.

"A moment, then," he requested.

Charles rolled his eyes, "Make it fast, Bridgerton." Benedict rushed to dress in fresh clothing and fix his hair as quickly as possible. Being late would be an early point against him in making both England and Charles seem appealing. Not that those were easy tasks to begin with.

Luckily, he managed a quick turnaround, and a carriage waited outside for them. The grey sky, however, promised rain, yet another factor working against him.

Thanks to a hefty tip to the driver, the men were no more than five minutes late.

"Remind me of her name again," Benedict asked as the two exited the carriage.

Charles glared at him, "I swear to God if you-"

"Just tell me her name," they breezed through the door to the cafe within the hotel.

"Sarah," Charles said, scanning the room, "Sarah!"

A young woman had raced over, and likely would have embraced Charles had she not been held back by the elbow. The woman who prevented the social faux pas was instantly familiar to Benedict when he met the same pair of fierce eyes he'd stayed up too late sketching. Then took the time to examine the rest of your pretty face, though it was marred by a bruised nose. He had to hold back a wince at his own accidental handiwork.

When Charles elbowed him in the ribs, he tuned back into the conversation. Charles not-so-subtly nodded towards Sarah.

"Very fine to meet you, Sarah," he said, hoping he'd assessed the situation correctly. Pleased laughter from the lady told him he had.

"And you," she nodded, "I'd like you both to meet my dearest friend." Sarah introduced you, nudging you forward a bit.

You smiled reluctantly, "Nice to meet you, gentlemen." When you locked eyes again, your smile grew wider yet more mocking. Charles dipped his hat, but Benedict bowed to kiss your hand. Doing everything possible to enter your good graces couldn't hurt.

"Might I ask how you injured your nose?" Charles ventured. Benedict tensed and he saw your jaw clench.

Sarah, however, laughed good-naturedly, "Oh, you'll laugh at this Charles," she turned to you, "go on."

"Silly me, I walked right into a door," you said, tone bordering on teasing. To anyone else, it might’ve come off as humorously self-deprecating. Anyone else might’ve thought you clumsy or perhaps a little ditsy, but Benedict knew better. Benedict could see the threat behind your eyes.

"Well, that's not funny," Charles admonished Sarah, "I'm sorry you're hurt." Sarah seemed surprised but mildly impressed. You, too, seemed content with his answer. One point for Charles.

"Are you in much pain?" Benedict asked, hoping the answer would be no.

You blinked at him, mischief sparkling in your eyes. "Only when I breath," you nodded, deadly serious, but he saw the way your mouth fought a grin.

"That's awful," Charles said, sympathetically. "You couldn't find some medicine or some powder to cover the bruise?" He asked that to Sarah, and Benedict saw your expression shift. One point against Charles.

"I wear my wounds with pride," you challenged. Benedict was once again reminded that your wound was his fault while Charles seemed to struggle for a reply.

"Shall we sit?" Your well-mannered question seemed to Benedict to be the first victory of inevitably multiple challenges to Charles. He wondered if that was your purpose in accompanying Sarah from the States- to determine if Charles was up to snuff.

The four of you were nearly finished enjoying tea and scones when you pulled out the handkerchief you'd taken last night. It was pink, presumably from you trying to wash out the blood. Benedict choked on his sip of tea as you wiped the crumbs from your lips with it.

"When did you buy that?" Sarah asked.

"Oh, I'm only borrowing it until I get the favor I'm owed," Benedict gulped at that. You weren't kidding last night when you said he should hope to never run into you again. Though he did have trouble agreeing at the moment, and somehow, even still.

Sarah easily dismissed your comment and reengaged Charles in conversation. Benedict's attention remained on you, however, and you cheekily tilted your head at him.

Your eyes remained locked with his before you started speaking, "Perhaps you two would like to take a stroll of the hotel gardens before we leave for whatever plans you've made for the day."

Charles nodded at this, "An excellent idea." He walked around the table to offer Sarah a hand. When the two were out of hearing range, Benedict turned back to you.

"Will this favor earn me your forgiveness?" He asked, "Because I really do feel terribly about-"

"Stop," you said, "It's fine. Sarah had no problem believing I still have sea legs and tripped into a door."

Benedict's shoulders drooped as he breathed in relief. "But are you in pain? I couldn't tell if you were serious earlier."

Your expression became softer, "Only a little." He was relieved by that answer. "But I wasn't kidding about the favor," you reminded, sternly.

He froze, "And what favor do you require?"

"I'd like a full report of Charles' background, personality, what he does in his free time," you listed off, "anything of the like."

The questioning glance he gave you encouraged you to elaborate.

"Look," you said with a huff. "Sarah's mom is over the moon about this. Marrying her daughter off to an English lord will boost her social status by leaps and bounds. Her father, however, is not so convinced. Mr. Du Pont has always been kind to me, so when he asked me to assess this potential marriage, I gave him my word."

Benedict nodded, "And you'd like me to inform you on Charles, so you can inform Mr. Du Pont on Charles."

"Exactly," you said simply.

"That's rather funny, you know, Charles asked me to help woo Sarah and convince her he's worth a permanent trip across the Atlantic," he said, and you raised a brow.

"Are you trying to repent for hitting Charles in the face with a door?"

Benedict blinked, "What would you do if I said yes?"

"Help me," you snarled.

He raised his hands defensively, "All right! How am I meant to do that?"

"Have pertinent information sent to my hotel suite," you shrugged.

"Fine," Benedict assented after a minute.

"What's fine?" Sarah asked, having just returned with Charles. Her tinkling voice took him by surprise, and he laughed nervously.

"These biscuits," he said, standing, "they're very fine, I may even take some to go." Benedict stuffed two of the shortbread biscuits into his pocket and regretted it soon after. He regretted it even more after catching Charles' nasty glare at him.

Taking a sharp breath, he turned to offer you his arm, "Shall we?"

You politely took his arm, repressing your laughter. As Sarah and Charles walked on ahead, you leaned in, "Save one for me." Benedict lightly snorted before catching himself, but you seemed pleased at his laughter.

----------------------------

As weeks began to pass, notes from Benedict began to pile up. They were originally only about Charles, but as you started sending replies, the notes grew more conversational.

Sarah certainly only grew more besotted with time, and you were beginning to worry she'd rubbed off on you. The more time you spent with Benedict by way of monitoring Sarah and Charles, the more you found him positively charming.

His good looks were apparent from the beginning and made the door incident all the worse for you, but you'd recently grown fond of his personality.

Last week's art gallery found you admiring him while he spoke passionately of the use of light in one of the paintings you'd come across. You'd only snapped out of it was he asked your thoughts on the piece. The most you could muster up was that you absolutely agreed.

As the two of you chaperoned countless walks and lunches, you conversed about any and everything. Benedict told you of his artwork and promised to eventually show you some of it after you asked a few times. You told him of your own passions, and how they were often trampled by society's expectations. He confessed that since both his older and one of his younger brothers had been recently married, his mother had been nagging him about finding someone.

"I think it's important to be comfortable alone," you'd told him on one particularly breezy walk. "You shouldn't make do with someone else's life when you can't be content with your own."

"Come again?"

"I only mean it's unfair to put certain expectations on a spouse," you shrugged, "No one is who anyone else wants them to be, and trying to force people to be what they are not leads to unhappy marriages."

"In that case, I'm glad no one expects a thing from me," Benedict said.

You laughed a little, "I don't think people expect much of me either. At least we won't let anyone down."

"Setting the bar low," he nodded, smiling, "I like it." Your laughter drew a smile to his face.

----------------------------

A few months had gone by, and Benedict was overjoyed when Charles proposed to Sarah. He was happy for the two of them, sure, but mostly, he was glad your stay had been extended. You'd become such a fixture in his life that he struggled to imagine a time after your visit.

Your return tickets were canceled. Instead, Sarah's parents had booked their spots on a ship sailing over to England. They wanted to plan their daughter's wedding and see her well-adjusted in her new homeland.

"What will your first report to Mr. Du Pont entail, then?" Benedict asked you. The two of you had been tasked with greeting Sarah's parents upon their arrival, and you sat opposite each other in a carriage.

"What makes you think this will be my first report?" You raised a brow at him.

"You've been exchanging letters across the Atlantic about Charles? He's nowhere near interesting enough for that," Benedict told you, inspiring a grin.

"They're mostly about mine and Sarah's time here. She's not great at staying in touch- yet another reason they sent me along," you said. "But you're right, I have yet to form a full opinion on Charles. I go back and forth, but I trust your judgment."

Benedict's eyes widened at the admission as you pulled up to your destination. He exited the carriage first to helpfully offer you his hand. To his displeasure, you pulled away all too soon when you saw the Du Ponts.

Mrs. Du Pont cheerfully called your name as you rushed excitedly towards them. Benedict smiled as he watched you greet the older couple. They were clearly quite fond of you.

It took a minute before they registered his presence.

"Where is Sarah? And who is this gentleman?" Mrs. Du Pont asked you, trying to lower her voice for the latter question.

You perked up, "This is Mr. Benedict Bridgerton." You grabbed his forearm and pulled him closer to the conversation. "He's a friend of Charles. They've both been showing us the best of England!"

"So this is Benedict!" Mr. Du Pont said happily, "I've read a lot about you."

Benedict shot you a questioning look as he shook the older man's hand, "You have?"

"Oh yes," the man nodded despite you shaking your head at him. When Benedict turned to you again, you stopped and let an angelic smile grace your face. His smirk told you you'd been caught. Oh well, if he asked, you'd simply tell the truth. He was by far the most interesting part of Great Britain.

----------------------------

Wedding preparations had been running smoothly, and soon enough Benedict was out with a group of high society men to celebrate the impending nuptials.

The men were a few drinks deep when Charles made a toast, "Soon, lads, I will no longer be a free man, so you best believe I will enjoy it while it lasts."

Benedict was not sure he appreciated that sentiment, but let it pass as his other companions gave cries of, "Here, here!"

Drinking eventually turned to debauchery, and Benedict soon felt crowded at the table slowly attracting more women of the night. He excused himself to find another drink. Upon his return, however, he found Charles happily skipping off with one of them.

"Charles?!"

The man's attention turned to him, "Don't wait up, Bridgerton!" Charles laughed, and Benedict felt his face drop.

"Don't tell me..."

"Oh lighten up mate," Charles shrugged, "it's not like it counts."

Benedict blinked as his old school friend sauntered off with the woman. Every time he drank with men of the ton, it became more apparent that Violet Bridgerton's parenting methods were not widespread.

----------------------------

When he woke up in the hotel suite the next morning, Benedict spent a few blissful moments without the memory of the prior night. When he did remember, he tried to brush it off as a drunken illusion. Only, logic won out in the end. He hadn't drunk that much, and he had very clearly seen the scene with his own eyes.

Why did Charles have to go and make a mess of things? Everything had been going swimmingly. Now, just because the man couldn't keep it in his pants, countless hours of wedding planning would go down the drain. Sarah would be inconsolable, her parents would be furious, and they'd all be going back home. You'd be going back home. Shit.

He agonized over the situation, pacing the floor for an hour before Charles waltzed in.

"Are you only now getting back?" Benedict asked him, taking in the disheveled clothing Charles had been wearing the night prior.

"What can I say? I certainly enjoyed myself," Charles said smugly. He walked off, presumably to freshen up, but Benedict called after him.

"Charles?" The man turned, "You wouldn't... engage in that sort of behavior as a married man?"

Charles chuckled a bit, "Bridgerton, prostitutes don't count," that was concerning, "That sort of revelry was a one-time thing." That was... a bit better? Benedict let out a miserable groan.

----------------------------

Your bright eyes at the wedding rehearsal made him briefly forget his troubles. Once you were both in the proper position, Benedict didn't bother to pay attention. In fact, he pretty much just stared at you from across the altar. You looked good up there. He liked seeing you at the altar. He liked being across from you at the altar.

He was in trouble.

You whispered to him as he escorted you back down the aisle when the faux-service was over. Being best-man did afford him some benefits. "Guess what?"

"What?" He smiled down at you.

"The Du Ponts are thinking of staying indefinitely," you said, secretively, "they bought a house here. They've invited me to stay with them."

"Oh," he said, sense suddenly knocked back into him.

"It's looking like I might be in your hair a while longer."

Benedict quite nearly told you to stay in his hair as long as you cared to but felt it might be too forward. He also felt you'd make a lice joke at his expense. Your sharp sense of humor was one of the many things he found charming about you and one of the many reasons he did not want to let you go.

But if Charles and Sarah were getting married, you were staying. The Du Ponts were staying.

Just how bad was some debauchery at a stag party, really? In the grand scheme of things?

"Oh, how was the gentlemen's party?" You asked, excitedly, "I hope none of you behaved too poorly."

A nervous laugh bubbled from his mouth, "No. No, just the usual level of poor behavior." Fuck.

"Glad to hear it," you nodded. "Was Charles drunk out of his mind?" You laughed a bit.

"Quite possibly," Benedict said, smiling uncomfortably. The man was definitely out of his mind. Whether it could be attributed to the drink Benedict wasn't sure.

"Well, thanks for keeping an eye on him," you said, giving his arm a squeeze.

He was in big trouble.

----------------------------

On the morning of the wedding, Benedict was jittery. In a hallway of the church, he kept nervously adjusting his collar. A steady pair of hands pulled his away, and he looked up to find you fixing his collar.

"Stop touching it," you told him as you worked, "it looks good."

"Right," he breathed stiffly.

"And try not to look like you're attending a funeral," you reminded him, smirking. "Oh! I have something for you," you pulled the handkerchief he'd given you when you first met out of a small bag. Pressing it into his hand, you smiled up at him, "favor complete. Consider us even."

He could only nod at you as you began to retreat.

"I'm off to help Sarah. See you soon!"

Benedict gazed after you, guilt creeping in.

"I'm relieved she's kept such a close eye on Sarah," Mr. Du Pont suddenly appeared beside him, "but I should've expected it. The two have been like sisters ever since..."

"Since?' Benedict asked him curiously while straightening his bow tie.

"Well, we took her in some years back when her family passed," the older man explained.

As much as Benedict thought he'd gotten to know you, it seemed you'd yet to feel comfortable enough to tell him that, "I hadn't known."

"No," Du Pont shook his head, "she doesn't like to talk about it. Hates having to bear people's pity."

That, Benedict could understand. He had found that to be one of the worst parts of the aftermath of his father's death.

"But it's been a pleasure to have her in our family. I'm only happy it's expanding! Hopefully, she'll have nieces and nephews soon," Sarah's father looked around before leaning in a bit, "I'm hoping for lots of grandchildren. I'll be perfectly happy when both my girls have good, loyal husbands at their side. It seems we're almost there!" With a pat on Benedict's shoulder, Mr. Du Pont walked off, "I'll see you in there."

Benedict nodded absently. Oh. He had mucked things up. He had really, really mucked things up.

Benedict paled a little. In his bid to keep you by his side as long as possible he'd neglected all other considerations. Including the life and happiness of your sister in all but blood. This wedding was very real and very imminent. And despite the time he dreamt it was the two of you getting married, his feelings were not nearly the most important of those involved.

Sarah was about to marry a man who had cheated on her only two nights prior.

But Charles had said it was a one-time thing. A last hooray before settling down. He'd said that prostitutes do not count anyway and- oh.

Benedict sharply inhaled when he realized his own foolishness. How had he not seen this? The bars they'd visited in the past months were all down the street from the one they'd entered two nights ago- the one next to the brothel. Each time he would excuse himself to retire to his home, Charles had stayed.

A fool, indeed. He'd been so enamored and distracted with you that his spy work on your behalf was entirely lackluster. Worse yet, when he did find pertinent information out, he had lied.

He had to make it right.

Benedict raised his fist to knock on the door of the room Sarah had taken over. Before he could, it swung open. You smiled at him, a little confused.

"You know you're only supposed to escort me down the aisle," you joked, "You don't have to start this far back."

He shook his head grimly, and your face fell. "I need to talk to you," he looked up to find Sarah behind you, "both of you."

You stepped aside and let Benedict in, nervous at his shift in attitude.

"You cannot marry him," Benedict had summoned all of his nerve to say the words and looked Sarah square in the eye when he did so. She deserved that much. She deserved the truth.

"What?" Sarah asked skeptically. She was already in her wedding gown. She had no idea what was happening.

"Benedict, what are you talking about?" Your question was quieter, but you were deadly serious. As soon as he said it you knew something was wrong, and he was right in bringing it to Sarah.

He swallowed when he looked into your eyes, "I lied to you." You felt like he'd just slammed a door in your face again. "Charles did behave poorly the other night. In fact, I think he's been behaving poorly for months and I've been too blind to see it."

"What? He was drinking?" Sarah asked, "I knew that would happen."

"No," Benedict shook his head, "He was with- with other women."

And with that, Sarah was out the door. You, however, could not bring yourself to follow. You were frozen to the floor, looking at the man you'd trusted with glassy eyes.

"You lied to me," you whispered.

"I'm sorry."

You shook your head, laughing a little. The sound was sad, "I guess I broke my own rule." His eyes pleaded with you, but it was far from enough, "I expected too much from you. You couldn't help but let me down." His heart sank.

Finally, you turned to race after Sarah. Benedict was hot on your trail, "Please-"

"Oh, this is not over," you called over your shoulder, "but we have more pressing matters to deal with."

You stopped dead in your tracks after rounding a corner. It was so abrupt that Benedict could not slow his own pace enough not to bump into you. You both stumbled a bit but recovered in time to see Sarah slap Charles in the face. She then marched out of the church with her head held high.

Mrs. Du Pont followed her straight away. And Charles rushed after them both. Mr. Du Pont stopped only to briefly speak to you, "Would you both be so kind as to handle-"

"Consider it done," Benedict said. You sent him a sidelong glance before begrudgingly nodding at the man who had taken you in. Mr. Du Pont left to chase after his wife and daughter, leaving you and Benedict to dismiss guests and try to cancel vendors.

----------------------------

A long and tiresome day of working to undo weeks of wedding planning and avoiding the sad blue eyes that followed your every move ended in your hotel's garden. More specifically, eating the wedding cake that could not be returned in the hotel garden. You had very generously given most of it to the hotel staff. But you saved the top tier for yourself.

Draped across a bench, you stabbed into it with a fork. As you did, the charming figurine of Sarah and Charles fell from its place. You did not hesitate to grab the miniature and toss it into some shrubs.

"Rather harsh, don't you think?" A familiar voice drew your attention. You huffed when you saw who it was.

Benedict Bridgerton slowly made his way over to your bench. He gestured towards your legs, silently asking you to make room for him on the bench. When you didn't move, he simply sat himself parallel to you on the gravel floor.

"I am sorry," he said after some silence, looking straight ahead.

"I know," you nodded, not yet looking at him, "I suppose I am too."

"Whatever for?" Benedict's surprise broke the quietness of the moment, and he gazed at you questioningly.

You shrugged, still not looking at him, "I should have known better than to think you'd prioritize me over him. Charles is your friend."

"Maybe," he spat defensively, "but you're-" He cut himself off.

"What am I? To you?" You asked, now looking intently into his eyes, trying to discern his thoughts.

Benedict inhaled a large breath before telling you the God's honest truth, "When I realized what Charles was doing, I also realized that you would leave England with Sarah almost as soon as you found out. And I wanted you to stay." He paused, " I want you to stay."

Your lips parted as if to say something in return, but he barreled on, "I behaved selfishly, and I am a beast for it, but you were always my priority. Do not dream of thinking otherwise."

You swung your legs off of the bench and leaned forward towards him. Stabbing a bite of cake with your fork, you stuck it out to him in a gesture of peace. He cautiously ate the cake from your fork, waiting for you to say something. You took another bite before you did.

"A ship sets sail tomorrow," you said lightly, "back across the Atlantic." And with it, his hopes would sink. "I secured three tickets on it this morning."

Benedict blinked. That didn't add up right. "Is Mr. Du Pont stay-"

You quickly shook your head, and things started to click in place for him.

"Mrs. Du Pont?"

Your smirk started to grow.

"Sarah?"

"Now you're being deliberately obtuse," you mocked.

He grinned up at you, "Then...?"

"The Du Ponts need someone to mind their new manor in the English countryside. Who better than their favorite non-daughter?" You shrugged happily.

"Will you not get lonely in such a large estate out in the country?" Benedict asked teasingly.

You smiled playfully at him, "Then I should hope someone will be kind enough to call on me." Benedict looked rather self-satisfied at that. "I should only hope they clean up before they do."

His confusion was answered when you took a handful of cake and smeared it down the left side of his face. He stuck his tongue in his cheek to try not to laugh. It was well-played and deserved.

"Now we're even," you whispered close to his face before standing and walking away.

"Jokes on you," he shouted after you, "it tastes better like this!" Your laughter filled the night air, and he was happy to have made such sweet amends.

--------------------------------------------------------

I love Benedict sooo much!!! I wrote this super quick after watching the new season, so sorry if anything didn't make sense

Thanks for reading <3

(also sorry for any historical inaccuracies or whatever but this is Bridgerton we're talking about )

#benedict bridgerton #benedict x reader #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #Benedict Bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader

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dangoren · 10 months

Text

⚠️ WARNING: LONG POST (no complete works)

Yo look at what I found sitting on my computer. Drew this half a year ago and never bothered to finish.

Hi guys, I don’t usually write a lot (nor post that frequently), but I just wanted to let you guys know I’m constantly drawing even when I don’t post a lot.

For every finished drawing, there’s at least 3 unfinished/abandoned ones, or stuff I just didn’t post.

(There are many more, but I’m too embarrassed to show them)

I’ve been experiencing burnout and I wanted to give my unfinished projects a chance to see the light of day.

If this post gets enough notes or enough feedback, I will give some of these projects another go, so please tell me which ones you like.

Or if you don’t like any of them, if you have any ideas in mind you want to see, please make a request. I would love to try them out.

I want to thank the people that have stuck with me for these past 50+ posts over the span of 4 years 😅. I also want to thank the people that left likes and comments. Your feedback and support is much appreciated and motivates me to push forward.

I hope my drawings can put a smile on your face, and I hope you have an awesome day.

Myself: Hey! You haven’t posted any new clone wars stuff lately, only yugioh crap. And now the only clone wars related thing you post are half baked ideas and loose sketches??? You have no shame. And this post is hideous.

Me:

I’m working on it!

#commander cody #cc 2224 #obi wan kenobi #clone wars #unfinished

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loverofpiggies · 1 year

Photo

IT’S POWER, EVERYONE!!!

Check out my etsy shop

If you want to see how I made this piece, check out the extended stuff below!

Okay, the story behind this piece is nuts, but. I’ve known I’ve needed to work on improving my art for a while, so as you can tell from all the newest pieces, I’ve been trying to push myself. It started like this:

This was actually the fourth sketch I made. I knew I wanted Power to be looking down at us (you know, what she does with everyone), and I wanted to have her swinging a blood scythe in one way or another. I set up composition lines, but the more I looked at the sketch, the more frustrated I got. I finally just had to accept my anatomy and my 3d understanding of the body is very much lacking, and If I wanted to improve I had to work on something.

I watched a bunch of tutorial videos, and decided to try out the 3D model in Clip Studio paint. It didn’t take too long to learn how to manipulate the model, and I came up with this:

From here, I decided to do my quick sketch with Power

While I was experimenting with Clip studio’s art stuff, I decided to try playing around with their new “Shade Assist”. I figured it could give me some more ideas to make my shadows feel more ‘real’ or have me look at my art in a different way. Once I finished the lineart, got the color in there, and drew in Meowy, this is what I tried.

I really loved how the ‘evening’ mode of shade assist looked, even after playing around with my own colors, but I liked how it gave her a slightly more ‘yellow’ tone, and how the shadows were actually just lavender and light pink. So I took those colors, and worked on the shadows.

From there, I made the background layer. I used one of the Clip Studio gradient pre-sets, the ‘evening’ one, and painted a texture on top of it to have it match more with the textured painting style I went with. I added blood splatters, and ‘rectangles’ in the background, just to have more things visually going on.

On top of all of that, I added another layer on top of Power herself, with a very slight tone color of the gradient behind her, to make her and the background feel like they’re supposed to be together. And that’s it!!

I’m really happy with this so I wanted to explain my process. Looking around at tutorials on youtube, talking to artist friends who- tbh, are WAY more knowledgeable then me, helped a ton. And using the 3d model helped visualize the body, and different angles, WAY better then anything else I could find.

So uhhh thank you, and enjoy!

#chainsaw man #power #meowy #power and meowy #cqart #fanart

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ttunaartt · 9 days

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what are some art warm ups you do? i’m recovering from a month long art block and when i tried to go back to drawing regularly, it’s like i can’t get into the flow like i used to

This is a perfectly timed question actually, since I haven’t been drawing much this year and am trying to get myself back into the practice of daily sketching. I’m taking it easy on myself so I don’t get overwhelmed, but here are some examples of my go-to exercises that I literally did this morning when I woke up:

I love love loveeee to draw random faces and expressions as the first thing I do when I open my program, it just helps me get back into the motions. I’m not actually working on pushing myself to do anything novel with this one, I’m just scribbling within my comfort zone for about 10-15 minutes. I’m not trying to make it look good either, once I realize it looks off (or I start wanting to avoid the next steps, love a little executive dysfunction) I just leave and start a new face all over again. I don’t let myself pause, either!! If I have no ideas for a new face, I usually doodle cubes.

The next thing I use to warm up, probably the most, is an exercise I just call art-telephone. I start with a random set of lines, and challenge myself to pull something out of it. I almost exclusively draw bodies and faces, so that’s what I end up creating.

I try to see how many I can come up with, and keep it as loose as my brain allows. I love studying flow, but I’m also a perfectionist, so this kind of warm up is hard, but helps me rly wake up.

And the extension of art telephone is this part, where I scribble out similar thumbnails to the original, but change up the motions a little.

If I’m being honest, these are my only warm-ups. I’ve been doing this kind of thing for years and it’s always worked for me, but to each their own! Hope this was at least interesting 🫶🏼

#art tutorial #warm up #sketch #asks

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bmodiwrites · 1 year

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I got a request for single dad!steve & I'm so here for it! I think this little ficlet is going to be the first part in a little series. I have so many ideas, so let me know what you think!

It’s a rare Thursday off that changes Eddie’s life forever.

He’s sitting on his favorite bench in the park when a high pitched yell catches his attention. Looking up from the drawing he’s been zoned into for the past hour, Eddie glances left and then right over his shoulder to see a small girl trying not to cry on the ground.

As a children’s librarian, Eddie is more than familiar with the little lip wobble that’s happening and the usual tears that follow. If he were back at work, his arsenal of book references and character impressions would be the perfect fix. Out in the wild, Eddie isn’t as well equipped.

It doesn’t take a genius to comfort a hurt person, however.

Setting aside his pencil and sketch book, Eddie gets up from the bench and walks quietly over to the little girl. He’s impressed she’s not screaming with agony – the scrape on her knee is worse than most and more than worth a wail or two. Instead of questioning this little girl’s integrity as he approaches, Eddie slowly kneels down in front of her.

“Everything okay over here? I was halfway through my drawing of a goblin when I thought I heard one squealing in the grass.”

It only takes a second of sniffing for the girl to look up at him with a wet attempt at a smile. “I’m not a goblin. I’m a girl. A human girl.” Said girl tries to sound defiant and strong, despite the tears still welling up in her eyes. She’s so close to forgetting her pain, it’s almost comical.

“Are you sure? Some of the goblins I’ve seen sort of look like little girls. They even have pigtails like you,” Eddie says, pointing at the two long braids thrown over either shoulder. The pink helmet she’s wearing does nothing to hide them.

Just like that, the little girl’s mind is no longer on the injury to her knee – instead, her ire is pointed right at Eddie and his theory on goblins. It’s both sharp and adorable. Especially when the little girl says “I’m absolutely positive. My name is Judy and I’m a human girl, not a goblin.”

This time, Eddie can’t help himself, a chuckle is let loose.

“Okay, okay. You’re a human girl. I just needed to make sure. Goblins are very tricky and I like to know what I’m getting myself into.” Eddie pauses for a second to watch Judy’s eyes grow as interest in his words settle in. It’s still astounding to see wonder light up a person’s world.

Instead of lingering on that thought, Eddie puts a hand between them, intent on introducing himself the proper way now that her goblin status is ironed out. “It’s very nice to meet you, Judy. I’m Eddie.”

Judy doesn’t hesitate to slip her little hand into Eddie’s. Her grip is firm and so is the look she gives him as they shake hands. “There’s a man at the library that’s named Eddie. My daddy talks about him all the time.”

For a second, Eddie is stumped by the girl’s ability to be so candid and loose with her words. He always forgets that children have no filter; it’s both gloriously refreshing and shocking as all hell. Once he’s past the initial rock of his world, Eddie tries to push past his befuddlement. “Huh, it’s kind of a small world. I’m the children’s librarian at the library in town.”

Judy’s adorable hazel eyes lit up as Eddie spoke, realization colors her expression. “That’s why you look so familiar! You’re Mr. Munson, who does all the voices when you read.” She crosses her arms then, trying to look petulant. “No wonder you thought I was a goblin!”

After that, it’s easy to check over Judy’s wounds while they talk about the book he’s going to be reading at story time this week. She’s a fast learner that immediately catches onto the runaround that Eddie is trying to subtly give her. By the third attempt at asking him for the book’s title, Judy gives up with a loud sigh. “You grownups and your secrets. Don’t tell me, then!”

Eddie believes he might cave into the cutest little pout he’s ever seen, but his willpower comes back just in time. “You’ll have to come to story time to find out. The surprise is half the fun.”

Before Judy can agree with him, another loud voice registers in Eddie’s ears. This time, it’s very deep and masculine, more than likely belonging to the dad that Judy’s been mumbling about. He’s proven right a second later when she pipes up “I’m over here, daddy!”

Eddie is not prepared at all for the sight of Judy’s dad running towards them. Everything from the moment Eddie heard Judy’s voice to the familiarity of talking to her makes sense now – Judy’s father is the man Eddie’s been checking out behind the counter for months. The strong thighs and wide shoulders are strong players in Eddie’s fantasies. To be perfectly honest, it’s all a bit too much.

He’s thinking about how small the world really is when that deep voice cuts in –

“Judy, oh my god – I thought you got lost on the path again. What happened to you? Are you okay?”

It’s almost like Eddie isn’t standing right there with a couple of his lunch napkins pressed to Judy’s leg. Even Judy seems to think so.

“Daddy, I’m fine. Eddie is taking care of me. He’s the man from the library, daddy. That does the voices!”

Like he’s been shocked, Judy’s dad jolts to the present where Eddie is there next to him, where their shoulders are brushing and a little girl is watching the whole thing unfold. Eddie lets him come back to himself before using his free hand to wave. “Hi, Judy’s Dad!”

The worried look that’s been on the man’s face since he walked drops down to the ground with Judy’s bike, only to be replaced with a soft smile, sort of like the one Judy first flashed him a few minutes ago. Eddie’s taken aback by how beautiful the man is – despite him being kind of a jerk for a quick second, Eddie is absolutely still on board the hot dad train. Especially now that he knows the little girl the dad belongs to.

They share a look that’s way too long in the presence of such a young person, so Eddie clears his throat. Only then does Judy’s dad start acting like a human again. “I’m Steve. Steve Harrington. Not uh – not just Judy’s dad.”

“Steve Harrington. You’re the middle school guidance counselor, right? I supply a lot of books to Nancy in the library and she’s always talking about you. I had no idea this little one was the kid she’s forever going on about.”

“Yeah, yeah that’s me. I – you know Nancy? It’s crazy to think we’ve been running in the same circles and never met before.” Steve’s cheeks turn a little red then, almost as if he’s admitting to something more than just curiosity.

It’s a gorgeous sight, one that Eddie hopes he gets to see more often.

“She’s been trying to get me to meet her friend Steve for a while. I never thought much about being set up but now I’m kind of sorry I never took her up on the offer.” He stops for a second and looks between a dad and his daughter. “Maybe this way is better, though. More raw – organic.”

The blush brightens on Steve’s cheeks and Eddie knows he’s got him.

“Are you up for it now? I hear the ice cream sundaes at Hop’s are the perfect treatment for a scraped up knee.”

The gasp he gets from Judy is almost as telling as the large smile on Steve’s lips. There’s no hesitation in the way Steve nods eagerly.

“I think that’s exactly what the doctor ordered.”

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #single dad steve #librarian eddie #bobbie writes #ficlets #steddie ficlets #fanfic things #fanfic #steddie fanfic

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bungowife · 5 months

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I’ve been following your art for a long time and I was just wondering what do you use as inspiration for your stuff, and do you have tips for people who kind of want a cartoony stretchy and very expressive art style (sorry if this is too much to ask I just love your stuff! Also what do you use to draw your stuff)

Thank you!!! Nice to see long-time followers :3

When I was first learning how to draw cartoons I bought the book Cartoon Animation by Preston Blair. It's a really good source that covers all the basics + some animation. When I started animating as a high school freshman I copied his walk cycles before trying anything on my own

This is a very old mini guide I made for a friend on how I push poses so the art's a little outdated but the idea is the same... I think line of action is neat lol I try to make the character follow the line as much as possible with the only thing that might break the silhouette being appendages like tails etc

My personal rule for expressions is that it just has to look like an exaggerated version of a real expression a human could actually do. To me it's not as appealing when artists add wrinkles in random places with no forethought, faces stretch around the eyes and mouth and chin and that's where I usually place wrinkles

I take inspiration from a lot of shtuffs these are just the ones I can think of right now:

-Fleischer cartoons. Favorite 30s studio besides Van Beuren

-obviously 90s cartoons, for Smokey my main inspiration is Twisted Tales of Felix The Cat and Pat Ventura's shorts for Oh Yeah! Cartoons. Animation wise I try to do something similar to season 2 of Space Goofs and Cats Don't Dance

-90s 2d point and clicks. Two big favorites are Toonstruck and UFOs

-anything by Ralph Bakshi. Fully aware it's bad lol but Cool World is one of my favorite movies ever

-underground comix but specifically 80s/90s newave stuff

-music!!! I like psychobilly and ska and it helps me draw. Massive Frank Zappa fan too

I think it's good to vary what you take inspiration from. When I started drawing cartoons I didn't let my myself improve because I only took inspiration from 30s and 90s cartoons and was so bent on perfectly replicating it that I didn't develop my own style. I see a lot of cartoonists blend together because they're only influenced by ren and stimpy and looney tunes that they don't have their own voice or bring anything new to the table

I recently just switched to my relatively new ipad so I'm using Procreate and then Procreate Dreams and Toonsquid for animation. Since 2020 I had been using Firealpaca and pencil2d because they were both free. I used a screenless Gaomon tablet I got for 30-40 dollars. I do all my sketches on paper and then airdrop them to myself since my hand doesn't move as naturally when sketching on a screen

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blenselche · 2 months

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wanted to sketch this scene from Oneirogenic Coalescence out

“Shoko?”

She stares back at him, only a few inches away and inspecting his face with narrowed eyes.

“I’m stuck being your guide again,” she surmises. “Subtractional. We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” She blows a sigh out, pushing a hand through her hair. “I should have stayed in the deadworlds.”

Finn snorts, elbowing her. “Well, for what it’s worth I’m glad you didn’t. Is it actually you this time, or- or is this just part of the hallucination?”

“I’ve been dragged out of your subconscious. I’m still with you, after all, as you’ve aged you’ve grown closer to me. You remember my life,” she turns, and they’re back at the gang’s open bathhouse, overgrowth creeping backwards. “Why is that?”

The Plant Teacher metamorphoses into a bath boy, poking at its hair rollers. “Your future is debating removing you from the cycle of reincarnation.”

Shoko looks over her shoulder, quirking a critical brow at him.

“I—“ his hands raise in defense of himself. “Maybe. It was just a stupid thought,” he muffles into his palm as he stares at their feet, uncomfortable and edgy. “Fern is immortal, he doesn’t have to die unless I do, and- and if I don’t die, then…”

“You’re afraid you won’t be able to find yourself in the next life,” she guesses, and he lifts a finger gun to the air without looking up. “You found the Princess, Finn, and we were barely friends. You found our closure, what makes you think you wouldn’t be able to find it again?”

“Maybe I’m tired of finding myself! Maybe- maybe I’m tired of going through painful junk and learning the same lessons just to find something good under it all,” his hands raise and slap back down to his sides as he walks in a circle on the concrete platform. “I’ve never been in love in any of my lives, and I finally have that. Why can’t I get off the ride if I have the chance? What if I want us to stay like we are?”

Shoko stops him, dragging him to sit on a cracked step as her life bustles around them in blurry, fluid dreamscapes. Finn watches with tired, drooping eyes as she releases the Ice King from a group of old witch women.

“That’s what life is, Finn. Sometimes we have our arm cut off by our father, sometimes we lose it trying to cling to him. It’s just how the cycle works. You can’t stop it.”

“I want to,” he murmurs, muscle of his jaw jumping. “I’ve finally got some stability.”

“Life is change,” the entity reminds him, lifting a slice of cucumber over its eye. “You cannot cross the stream without getting wet. You are not prone to give yourself to indolence, child, you are always moving, always changing. Do not falter to the soul erosion of a middling existence in vampirism, it is counterintuitive to your purpose.”

Finn groans, chest deflating. “I hate that determinism gunk. I’m not made for anything. I don’t believe in destiny.”

“No, I know you don’t. That does not stop it from being true.” It settles lower in the water, watching him. “You are a very purposeful being, Finn. You, a cosmic force trapped within a man cannot remove yourself from the cycle even if you wish it. You have yet to find your final method of being.”

“Not this comet crap again,” he whines, face tipping to the sky and eyes screwing up tight.

“Yes this comet crap again.” It snaps its fingers and they’re hung in the vast nothingness of space, Shoko scrambles to grab onto him, terrified.

“Finn!?” she screeches. “What’s it talking about?”

He curls an arm around her waist and hefts her higher. “We were put here to commit acts of ‘great good’,” Finn says, tense, “Davey stopped Orgalorg, you released Simon, I defeated the Lich, Penny blasts the cosmic elementals…” he pauses, brain skipping on the realization that he remembers her, “and some day we’ll ascend to the fourth dimension. I refused last time.” He nods with a rigid jerk to the comet, to Martin and the moth. “We’re… some godlike entity. But we forgot.” He swallows dry, throat constricting. “I don’t think about it. It makes me feel like- like my skin is on too tight.”

“You may reject predeterminism, but that does not stop it from affecting you,” the Teacher announces, loud enough to rattle his bones. “I can only help you if you’re open to it. Will you open yourself? Or will you pursue this dead ended, disillusioned passivity borne from the fear of your truth?”

He feels Shoko tremble in his arm, smells the sweet spices they used to use in her hair and sighs out a dejected “okay.” His feet hit the hardwood of the tree house’s kitchen, and he lets Shoko dismount his side, knees shaking and wobbly as she falls back into the dingy cushions of the wrap around sofa.

“That was terrifying,” she chokes with an airy laugh, forehead thunking to the table.

“… our bones are like, six feet away,” he thinks out loud and she shoots him a freaked out glance. “Sorry. Nerves.”

“Are you ready to face yourself, little hero?” It hangs from the ceiling, having taken on Marceline’s form.

A smarmy, weak grin stretches across his expression. “I already am, technically.”

“Don’t be tiresome, the other half of your soul gives me enough trouble.”

Finn snickers unevenly in the face of this unknowable tutelar, at the sensation of bantering with some infinite providence when he’s such a tiny animal.

He nods, and the strings of his being unravel as Shoko keeps hold on the red piece of yarn that connects them, steadying the knot at his center.

#keep yourself au #shoko #finn mertens

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hannahssimblr · 5 months

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note: you don't need to know how to pronounce Garda Síochána - just know it's what we call our police force in Ireland. Any mention of garda/guards is in reference to the cops. Jude is saying the Síochána bit (the full name) to be funny and emphasise the fact that they are entirely unarmed. If you do want to know how to pronounce it then here is someone saying it right.

We are greeted at the doctor’s waiting room by two familiar faces. Shane and Joe look up when we enter, and the biggest, dopiest smile I’ve ever seen spreads over Joe’s face. “What’s up guys! You got ticks too?”

“Um, yeah.”

He fist bumps me, then Jen, “Hell yeah! Tick friends. Four thicks with ticks. We should get that tattooed.”

“Good idea,” I slump into a creaky seat and immediately start fidgeting with a ballpoint pen on the table. While the others chat to one another I begin to draw random shapes onto the corner of a magazine.

“So we lose four tents,” Shane is saying, “And we all get ticks. Would ye say that’s the biggest failure of all time?”

“We can go back and get the tents though, lad,” Joe says, “Sure I can remember where we were and all.”

“They’re in the dump by now for sure,” Jen says, “So annoying because I actually really liked that tent, and the sleeping bags too. Like, we lost a bloody fortune worth of stuff that we could have used to go to a music festival or something.”

A fat pigeon lands on the windowsill and I quickly sketch it out, not realistically, but a stupid cartoon version who is trying to swallow an entire loaf of white sliced pan in one gulp. I cock my head. It’s actually a bit grotesque. Maybe I should scribble it out.

“Man, I’m just glad that Jude made it out of there alive,” Joe says, “We didn’t know if you were going to make it.”

“What, like, do you think I was going to get shot to death by the Garda Síochána?”

“No, I dunno, like.”

“Thanks for abandoning me, by the way.”

“Oh stop it Jude,” Jen punches my arm, which throws my line off, “He’s in a huff because we saved ourselves instead of coming to find him, but anyone would have done the same.”

“Well you were fairly busy!” Joe protests, “Off with Clóda.” I’m not looking at him, but I can practically hear the exotic wiggle of his eyebrows, “C’mere, man, did you ride her?”

I glance quickly at Shane who is staring at the floor, “Nah, I didn’t.”

“What? You had the chance and you didn’t take it? You’re crazy, Jude. If that’d been me I’d have-”

I zone out as Joe, the chronic virgin, starts describing what he would have done and not done, while dimly aware that Jen is giving out to him for being disrespectful. The pigeon drawing is coming along. Maybe I’ll make this guy into a new character and put him in different scenarios. I draw a newer version of him on the next page with eyes looking in two different directions and I chuckle to myself at how stupid it looks.

“That’s a cool drawing,” Jen murmurs, peering over my shoulder, “you should bring it home and glue it into your sketchbook.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“-Oh yeah, and that reminds me,” Joe goes on, moving fluidly from his thoughts about Clóda to the next topic without so much as a pause for breath. He’s like a tap that never stops dripping. “I’ve been thinking of getting a tattoo, like an actual tattoo, you know I was joking about the Thicks with Ticks thing before, but now that I’m sixteen I’ve been like, maybe I should get one if my ma or da lets me, and like, I was thinking that Jude is really good at art and all, so it’d be cool if I got him to draw something for me that I could get tattooed on me, you know?”

I sit up wielding my biro, “Where, man?”

“Huh?”

“Where’d you want your tattoo? I’ll do a sketch for you now.”

“Oh cool, yeah, like maybe my neck, like here?” He runs a finger from his ear to his shoulder, “Like something cool, a dragon or whatever, breathing fire, and maybe with its tail curling around like that.”

“A dragon, yeah?” I lean across Jen and push his head to the side to stretch out the skin and I start drawing.

He glances at Jen after several minutes, “How’s it look?”

She keeps a straight face, “Yeah, unreal. It’s a dragon alright.”

I finish it off with a few flourishes and then Joe shows it off to Shane, “Well?”

Shane splutters.

“Is it cool?”

“C’mere give me a proper look,” he turns him all the way around and stares intently at the drawing. “Man, that is the most detailed penis I’ve ever seen.”

Jen and I cling to one another cackling.

“Even the spurts of cum, fuck sake, you’re sick,” Shane starts shaking with laughter too while Joe panics and tries to wipe it away with his hand. “Aw, are you serious? Is it just a dick?”

Shane looks again and shrieks “The veins!”

“No, you’re going to have me go into the doctor with a cumming dick on my neck?”

“You don’t like it?” I pretend to be offended and clutch my heart, “That wounds me, really.”

Jen joins in, “Yeah, he worked hard on it, how could you be so cold?”

The doctor comes to the door, “Joseph Roche?”

He stands up and gives us all the most aggressive middle fingers he can muster. “Fuckers,” he says, and follows the doctor out while we all collapse in fits of hysterical laughter.

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky boy #someone explain to me why teenage boys (and actually adult men too) are obsessed with drawing dicks on everything #i agree it's hilarious #but please ya'll are so weird #tw:sex mention

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kkbardd · 3 months

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hello! i haven’t sent an ask in a while because schoolwork has been piling up infinitely :[ , but your recent posts have been really interesting to me! i really liked the room sketch one, I can’t exactly explain why but there’s something so indescribably human about it. i love spaces that looked lived in, that have personality, and I think that your room (current one? made up? old one?) has done a great job of showing that. and I’m not very good at giving advice— I can hardly follow it myself, but if you don’t know something, don’t know what you want to do, try things. it’s okay if you don’t like them. i recently found out I’m more competent in languages than I thought! i can already read and understand simple sentences in german.

there’s always more to yourself than you’ll know, I think, but the world is kinder than people think. If anything, everyone is still very new at this. we’ve never lived before. do the things you like, branch out, don’t become less of yourself for other people. everything has a place, and my best advice is to treat life as you would a vacation. do all the things you can while you’re here. build a life that makes it worth it. (sorry for the long ask and my rambling, or if this is overstepping in any way. i just read what you wrote and kind of related to it in a way. thank you for continuing to create art, it brings me a lot of joy! :] )

hey isopod!!! thanks for the ask & I wish u good luck with ur school work!

Thank u so much for the compliments, im really glad the vibe of my room was conveyed in those doodles. i absolutely looove drawing my room! It’s extremely small (a renovated utility closet) and just barely fits a bed + my desk but its packed full of the things i love. It’s very lived in and I feel like it reflects my character well.

when i drew that page I was in my senior year of high school and pressures to decide my future were overwhelming. I never thought much about it until then and I didn’t have any idea of what I was going to do. The only thing I felt I had going for me was art but I didn’t want to turn my only hobby into a job I hated. I remember going through a master list of majors on random college websites and one-by-one asking myself if I’d be okay doing it. In the end I had nothing. I was really crushed about it and felt stuck. This was right after the covid quarantine too so focusing in school was difficult & I couldn’t bring myself to apply for scholarships. I started skipping classes, smoking weed, and pushing off my assignments. All of this only made me feel more miserable, of course, so everything seemed pretty bleak at the time.

But luckily I had the support of my family and especially my mother. She would always remind me that “we have option”, “we always have options”. Because I did! This was a fresh start to try my hand at a totally different experience than what I’ve done so far. I ended up choosing my major on a complete whim after hearing my aunt had a job in an adjacent field. I was pretty sure I’d drop out after a semester, yet here I am about to graduate soon & I’m having a ton of fun!! (Hell, I’m 10 hours out in the middle of nowhere right now for my Field Methods class!) It’s not that I had a knack for Geology that I just never tapped into, or that i secretly had a passion for rocks this entire time; I just found something that seemed like an okay fit and grew interest from there. I think that a small level of commitment like that is more than enough to get you going. I had a ton of ideas in my head about how I needed to have a perfect fit major that would connect every dot I’ve laid out in my life thus far, but that’s not true at all. Life is much more messy and unpredictable than that.

But enough of my rambling!! That time of my life may have been stressful but I’m very grateful that I went through it! It changed how I viewed problems and it taught me to always look for other options when everything seems helpless.

Thank u so much for ur encouragement, I really appreciate it <33 I completely agree with everything u said!! Life is an ever changing experience & often leads u in unpredictable directions!

#ask #ilu isopod #I often look back on those sketches (and more that I just haven’t posted)#I find a kind of beauty in it idk how to explain it #teenage angst is just something we all gotta go thru #ranting #we have options

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justafairytailofinnocence · 2 months

Text

Caged birds with broken wings

Chapter 2

A/n: I've made chapter 2, enjoy :).

Chapter 1

I was having the same dream again; I was light in thin air. My movements were fluid as if there were no gravity to keep my legs grounded. My right leg stayed in place whilst my left leg was raised, turning inward toward my supporting leg. I spun over and over without the slightest feeling of light-headedness or dizziness. No matter where I moved, the gold plate within the birdcage did not shatter. My arms raised in mid-position as I extended my left leg, hoping to free myself from this prison eventually. My chest felt light; my mind had no fear, even within this cage. I felt the quick flashes of wind touch my face with every motion. I wanted to spread my wings. I wanted to be free. I wanted to be released from my cage. I wanted to reach the world outside. I. wanted. to. Fly. The same spinning visage of the golden bars occurred repeatedly, experiencing the same routine. The golden plate never shattered beneath me, holding my weight. A sense of comfort washed over me, as though seeing the same scenery brought ease to my mind. As I spun, I felt a surge of adrenaline to try something different, to spin in the other direction, to break the dance routine. I tried to push my arms down and lower my left leg. To no avail did my body react; I still spun. The second time, I pushed my arms down slightly harder, yet again to no avail did my body react. The third time, I pushed even harder, the pressure becoming uncomfortable; despite myself spinning, I pushed more not giving up. I pushed—spinning more—I pushed—spinning further—I pushed harder—I can feel the pain rising—I. just. need. to. push. harder. I could feel my face flinching from the pain rising in my limbs going against the force keeping me dancing. Eventually, with one final push, I yelled out, falling to my front as my arms moved to prevent my face from hitting the ground. I breathed heavily, in and out, as my body lay on the ground. Hair strands poked out from the once neatened bun as sweat slid down my face. The final scene panned out to witness me lying there, still, static, trapped within the golden bird cage.

My eyes opened as my vision tried to adjust to make sense of my reality. Once again, it was a nightmare or inspiration. I placed my hands on my face, rubbing my eyes awake; it’s not the first time my sleep schedule has gone off. Once my eyes had adjusted, I noticed I was at my desk with my computer opened from this morning. As my hand ran along my head, I felt something attached to my forehead—paper. I ripped it off, holding it in front of me, realising it was a character sheet for the fae queen, Aelwynn. How late did I stay up last night? I must’ve been writing the first chapter; I recall updating something—huh? On the sheet containing Aelwynn, I noticed her hair was white. I didn’t recall colouring her, but I couldn’t exactly remember what happened last night. As I examined her hair, my finger ran down the traced lines. I quickly grabbed my pencil, drawing extra features of her appearance and outfit. As the pencil traced the outline, it turned into a white gown flowing in motion with the wind as she held a staff made of the oldest oak and decorated in diamonds and quarts. To top it off, I added a crown placed at the back, with pointed edges facing up made from silvery steel. As my hand holding the pencil came off the page, I stopped to glance at her new design. My eyes lit up with amazement as my lips became agape; I was in utter awe of my new creation. Yes! This! This is Aelwynn, the way I wanted to interpret her, an otherworldly beauty that’s kind and graceful, how a true fae queen should look!

However, my eyes glance over to another piece of paper to the side, one depicting a rough sketch of Sarek, my expression nearly dropped. I had figured out Aelwynn, but I’ve yet to figure out how to design the Pirate King. I placed the rough sketch into the pile of papers and neatly folded them on my computer desk. Glancing at the computer, I saw the first few pages written within the document, and the pages went into detail regarding the first drafts. The first couple of chapters read of the pair's first encounter crossing paths: The fae queen danced around the forest alone on an island untouched by man, guarded by heavy forces of magic. She protected the will of fairies and the sources of time. One day, the shield guarding the forest broke. A band of corsairs slashed their way through the dense greenery in search of a plethora of magic jewels. Instead, what they stumbled upon was worth much more than any coffer full of gold or silver. Standing in front of Sarek’s gaze was a woman draped in white, her hair of silver and skin of ice. She danced with the younger fairies of the forest. In his greed, he was smitten; he ordered his men to take her and everything she had. She fell prey. Tears shed down her smooth cheek; she pleaded ‘to take her instead, leave her domain in peace, and they shall be granted with what they desired most’. They complied with her request, binding her in rope, leading her into a world not of her own. She gazed into the eyes of a man whose greed was far more than his ambition; his appearance was—

I jolted from my seat upon hearing my phone’s ringtone; looking at the number, I recognised it was my mum. I picked up the phone, holding it to my ear. I was expecting a ‘Hello, aren’t you going to tell me about your day?’ or ‘You didn’t ring me yesterday; how did you go?’.

I picked up the phone with a “Hi—mo—uh mom”, I said with a slight stutter.

“Y/n, oh, it’s good to hear your voice; I was nearly worried you weren’t going to pick up yesterday,” she said in a high-engaging tone.

“Yeah, sorry I was bus—”.

“So? How was it?” She sounded excited, yet I forgot what happened.

“Was what?” I replied, confused.

“The ballet lessons, the one you attended yesterday.” Once I remembered, the thought sank in; I hadn’t told her these were private lessons.

“O-oh, the lessons, yeah, it’s excellent; I’ve made many connections already.” My lips curved into a smile, trying to make my voice sound sincere.

“Excellent! See what I told you? You're already shining brightly”. I smiled to myself; hearing her words made me feel heartened.

“So, tell me, what’s the instructor like? Is he supportive of you? I know you have trouble speaking to people, and I want to make sure—”

“He’s fine, Mom. He’s—” I pause for a moment, thinking back to the time I met him in that room alone. When our eyes met, I didn’t flinch nor look away. His eyes were like ice, and his hair was like snow; it ignited something I hadn’t remembered in a long time.

“Different.” That was all I could respond with.

“Is he cute?” She asked. I nearly flushed with embarrassment, feeling my cheeks red like a beet.

“What?! N-No! N-not in that way” Where did that come from? Did she really expect me to say yes?

“Oh, I suppose he might be too old for you; what about the guys in your class? Are they any good-looking?” she responded.

“I don’t know; I hadn’t noticed.” I wanted to end this conversation as quickly as possible.

“Oh, hm, well, what about the girls? Surely there are some good-looking girls there too”.

“W-What!” I was flabbergasted.

“I’d be accepting either way—”.

I replied, “Currently, I’m—fine with just me, myself and I”.

That answer had seemed to satisfy her for now.

“Oh, well—of course, if that’s what you're happy with, I’m just happy you're getting out there and speaking to someone. That’s a massive achievement, and I’m so proud of you for that!” she sounded happy, at least.

I sighed deeply. “Thank you”.

“Baby steps, that’s all it takes”, was her final response before I hung up the phone. Sometimes, despite them being my parents, I stumble over my words, even speaking over the phone.

I sighed, gazing at the time. I had no idea that my first lesson was only for an hour. I wouldn’t mind being there early; it was better than falling asleep. What am I saying? I’d much rather sleep! I recall Mr. Oropherion saying he wished me to be there precisely during the seventh hour. Man, the way he phrased it was weird. I quickly rose from my desk, grabbed what I needed, grabbed my car keys, and changed into yesterday's outfit. I should probably stop by to find a leotard, a tutu, or even a pair of pointe shoes. Once I was prepared, I dashed to the car. Making my way through the door leading outside, the cold air hit me; the temperature must’ve dropped vastly since it was dark out. It was nearly seven, after all. To my stupidity, I forgot to park the car inside. Shit, shit, shit, the cars frosted. I panicked, quickly running back inside to grab my parker, zipping it up and then wrapping a scarf around me in the not-so-neatest way possible. I rushed into the kitchen and opened the lower drawer beneath my stove to grab the pan with a deep bottom. I turned on the water quickly, adjusting the temperature to lukewarm. I filled the pan, aiming to get it as full as possible. I tried to walk slowly yet hastily without spilling the water; once outside, I made my way to the car windows, pouring the water slowly. Each one dissolved; I was careful, at least, to make sure it wasn’t hot. I used the sleeve of my parker to rub away what remained of the frost. The frost hadn’t wholly dissolved, but it was enough to see. Quickly, I ran back inside to place the pan back on my kitchen bench. Shit, oh shit, oh shit, I’m going to be late! Coming out of my house, I made it to the car, yet I forgot to lock the front door—I pressed my hands against my forehead, feeling the stupidity rise within me. I sloshed through the snow, heading to the front door to lock it and then back to the car door.

I finally entered and opened the white car door, thank God. I backed out of the parking lot and drove toward where I needed to go. As I drove down, the snow fell heavily, and buildings passed by, turning to blurry visions as I drove further into the distance. It took half an hour to get there, but at least I would make it, I hope. I went to the same car park I had parked in yesterday and turned off the engine. As I got out, I saw many buildings covered in snow. I took a second to look into the sky, feeling the tiny snowflakes touch my face. “Beautiful”, I muttered. I held out my hand; I wanted to feel it; to touch the fragile beauty. As one dropped from the sky, it landed perfectly in my hand. I curled my fingers, feeling the flake melt within my grasp. Such beauty yet fragility. I opened my hand to see it dissolved; my eyes softened at the sight. I can understand; if I were to fall freely, speak my mind, and show my true self, even if someone touched me, I’d melt within their grasp.

Suddenly, I heard someone’s footsteps behind me emitted with a laugh. I turned my head to see the on-coming sight of two ballerinas draped in blue and pink leotards topped with jackets. I recognised them from the class I accidentally stumbled into yesterday. I quickly turned my head, shut the car door, and began to walk briskly. I didn’t want to speak with them, not after how I made a fool of myself. My head lowered into the scarf as I looked down, trying to avoid eye contact. Hopefully, they’ll ignore me. I got to the entrance just in time, or so I thought; I could hear them trailing behind. In a panic, I opened the entrance glass door to the dance studio, walking swiftly up the stairs to where I needed to be. Whilst I walked up the stairs, I could hear them speaking; I didn’t tune in, keeping to myself and focusing on getting to the floor I needed to be. My legs picked up the pace as I heard them walking up. As I got to the fifth floor, I peeked over the side of the staircase railing. I could only see the top of their heads, one brunette and the other raven. I sighed deeply to myself; I realized I lied to Mom. I hated doing that, but—it made her happy in ignorance. Out of curiosity, I attempted to speak out to them, to say hello; perhaps then, I could feel proud of myself. “H-h-hi”, I uttered in a whisper. But before I knew it, they were gone; I was too late.

I couldn’t do it; I couldn’t speak. Why was it so damn hard? Why am I so afraid to show them—me? I could feel the tears prickling the corners of my eyes.

I rubbed the corner of my eyes, letting out a sniff. I needed to be strong, at least for the time being. As Mom said, ‘It’s just baby steps; that’s all it takes.’ I took a deep breath in and exhaled; I made my way toward the empty dance studio I was before. It was nice and quiet, peaceful even, I couldn’t hear anyone. I unzipped my parker and took off my shoes. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the windows with blue curtains pulled over them. I wandered over toward the curtains hiding the tall glass windows. My hand reached out, feeling the cotton edge, I slowly pulled the blue curtains to the side. Looking outside, I was in awe; it showed the snowfall. As the tiny flakes gently fell against the window’s glass, I listened, hearing the gentle tapping against the glass. I backed up to the middle of the room, my train of thought departing as I watched the wonderous sight before me.

Suddenly, I heard a stern voice from behind my shoulder. “You're late”.

I quickly turned, only to notice Mr. Oropherion appear out of nowhere. Seriously, was he lurking around the corner watching me this whole time? Are there secret entrances so that he can purposefully remind me?

“I-I, apologies, Mr. Oropherion, I—” Damn it, I can’t even gather my words!

“You’re precisely five minutes past the hour; I presume you have a gift for tardiness”, he spoke coldly.

Is he serious? Why is he treating me as if I’m an hour late? Don’t tell me I’m in trouble for only being five minutes late.

My eyes narrowed, and I could feel my breath slowing down. I didn’t make eye contact with him, but I could hear his footsteps walking from behind me.

“We begin with the simple plie, a simple move you can surely manage,” he said in a clear, deep voice.

My head stooped low; I could only see his feet moving toward the barre attached to the mirrors. I followed suit, raising my left arm and gripping the wooden barre. “Start bending your knees; move your right foot over here” He placed his leg next to the side of my foot, pushing it gently into the correct position. I didn’t pull my leg away, even though I wanted to. As he corrected it, I gazed down, still avoiding eye contact. As I was in position, I closed my eyes, trying to bend my knees and drown out the idea of someone behind me. “No, you’re bending too far”, he softly muttered. As he approached, my breathing grew heavier. He didn't seem to notice, but I felt my chest rise and fall deeply. I froze in place, not knowing what to do. I didn’t want to look at him; I didn’t want to look up. I didn’t want to show him me! I muttered in a whisper, “P-please d-don—”. I felt his hands touch my waist lightly to guide me.

However, I yelled, stumbling back.

I felt like a deer in headlights; my eyes widened as I gasped for air. Mr. Oropherion stared in confusion, more-so, bewilderment; his hands were left hovering. “You do realise my intent was not of ill purpose; do not mistake me for one with a sickening mind”, he spoke cautiously, not wanting to increase the situation.

I covered my face with my hands, feeling foolish. My head stooped low, wanting to hide my tearful gaze. “I’m so sorry. Oh god, I thought I could do this, but I can’t. I’m so afraid, I’m so afraid.”

He approached slowly, maintaining his icy gaze. “Afraid of what?” he questioned in an austere manner.

“Speaking—talking—Showing myself to the world”, my voice cracked.

“I—'m afraid of what they’ll think, of what they’ll see”, I admitted.

He stayed silent, just as I suspected; he wasn’t fazed. I mean, why should he be? After all, I’m just a random person he met a day ago, someone spewing out all this inner turmoil.

I didn’t expect him to respond, and his answer wasn’t what I expected.

“We are not all born with perfection; there are those of us who have been bruised by imperfection. If you dwell too much in fear, it will overtake you, sending afoul things within your mind to come forth and surface. Whether you wish to remain trapped within it or face it to make a difference, is your decision,” he advised.

Even though his words weren’t the most comforting, he held a point. The first time I saw him yesterday, I gazed into the eyes of a man who rekindled a moment I thought was lost. A time I didn’t live in fear, a time I could look into the eyes of another being and speak freely. If I could do it then, I can do it now.

I lifted my hands away from my face, revealing my sorrowful eyes—the eyes of a fearful bird. I turned to his gaze, trying not to look down, showing my irises. His narrowed eyes slightly raised. I stood upright as my breaths slowed. My almond eyes relaxed at the sight of him. Perhaps, if I aim to speak to him again like before, I can train myself to speak to others. I took the time to gather the words I wanted to say. Inhaling slowly, I spoke the words I wanted to say. “M-Mr Oropherion, I d-don’t want to be a-afraid anymore, I w-want to be free”.

His icy eyes lowered. “Well, well, it seems the little bird has learnt to spread her wings once more; however, little bird, you shan’t take flight just yet, for it will take time to heal your wounds, but I shall teach you”.

I inhaled deeply, allowing myself to grab hold of the barre and stand straight. I tried to bend my knees again, yet he wasn’t satisfied. He moved closer to guide me; this time, my head turned to meet his gaze. His hands hovered just where my waist was. I maintained eye contact for a moment before turning to the front as if permitting him. His slender hands touched my waist lightly; I could feel him pushing me up only slightly and then down. “Hold that position; ensure that your knees are bent until they are over your thumbs.” He muttered. I could feel the pressure of trying to keep my balance.

“This next move is a Grande plie. Lower yourself and lift your heels off the ground.” His hands gently pushed me lower on the ground, my heels lifted slightly as I was told. As he lowered me, I glanced into the mirror, falling silent.

I saw my eyes with eyebags beneath them, the same hair falling to my shoulders, and my lips; however, this time, something was different. Something changed. Something made a difference. In the mirror, there were two, two people.

A small smile faintly formed on my lips.

For once, I wasn’t alone.

#thranduil x reader #thranduil #the hobbit #thranduil fanfic #the hobbit au #modern thranduil #modern thranduil au #thranduil x you #the hobbit x reader #thranduil oropherion x reader #thranduil oropherion #thranduil fluff #thranduil angst

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epiicaricacy-arts · 10 months

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(reblogs appreciated 🫶)

and this is my girlfriend. everyday she comes home from work and i’ve done the cooking and the cleaning and i kiss the very ground she walks on. if she gets mad at me i just straight up die.

process discussion utc

it’s the matching one to my lyney drawing 👍

as much as i like the lyney drawing, i have a lot of problems with it, namely the anatomy and how flat all the shapes felt.

the problem is specifically around the pelvis and i think it’s cause he wears a skin tight suit and i didn’t want to have to draw..

well you know what i mean.

it’s gonna be a problem i’ll have to find a solution to somehow 😭

so, for this lynette piece, my focus was to make sure the shapes felt more 3-dimensional and had actual depth to them, taking care to specifically target the torso area so she didn’t just look like a flat shape

i also wanted to make sure i actually rendered the latex properly 😭 i don’t know why it didn’t really register to me that that’s what the material is in lyney’s drawing, but i took the extra time to make it shiny!!

these two drawings have been a lot of experiment with strong shadows and light simultaneously, and i think in those areas i’ve definitely improved!

i wanna talk about the composition of this piece since i had a lot of thoughts when making it

similar to lyney’s, i went through many iterations of the composition, most of which aren’t shown in this post. however unlike his, i had more restrictions in mind when deciding the pose and angle.

i wanted to accurately portray lynette’s personality with her pose, but i also wanted to push it a bit to add more movement to the piece, since i felt lyney’s was a bit stiff in comparison to the thumbnail. i wanted to make sure the energy in the thumbnail translated to the final piece, and i think i did pretty well?

however, i had 2 rules in mind when trying to create said thumbnail:

1) avoid making anything too similar to her splash art

2) avoid posing her in such a way it could be read as sexualization

my problem with drawing girls is always that i want to keep pushing their poses as far as i can, but i stopped to ask myself why when drawing lynette. well, thinking back to media such as Marvel posters and other female character splash arts (both genshin and non-genshin) it’s usually to show off her body..

but since i’ve been surrounded by art like that all my life, that became my instinct. it was natural because that’s what my brain pulled from previous media i’ve seen before.

i almost went with the backward angle for this drawing (as seen by the bigger iteration in the 2nd image) but after considering lynette’s design and the proper anatomy to complete said sketch, i scrapped it.

and of course, not all drawings of female characters are inherently sexual, but given the type of media i was drawing for, it would most certainly be read that way

i wanted lynette’s drawing to mirror lyney’s, but to also be able to function as a standalone piece. lynette, of course, exists outside of her job/her connection with her brother, so i tried to portray that individuality while also acknowledging their similarities (e.g the round framing shape, stepping out of the background, the cat companion)

in the initial iteration (left), her left hand is almost covering her face. lynette’s role is a “low-profile magic assistant,” so i thought having her try to hide her face would be an accurate portrayal.

however, i decided to go with the second iteration (right), in which she’s using her hand to direct attention towards the cat as she uncovers it with the cloth. as a magician in the spotlight, trying to hide herself away would be redundant, and it would be more professional to divert the audiences gaze rather than hope it isn’t on her.

both a storytelling element and another bit of framing!

i chose to have her other hand behind her back since

1) the composition would be too crowded if it was more visible

2) back to the “hiding away” idea, having her arm visible would just be another piece to potentially have attention on rather than the actual trick. her eyes are also looking down towards the cat rather than at the camera, unlike in lyney’s piece. the attention is all on him, she simply serves to help divert it

and yeah!! that’s all i have to say for this piece. i like writing these discussions, and i’m glad people like reading them! it’s nice to have a place to write about my thoughts behind a drawing, so as long as people are enjoying them, i’ll keep talking 👍

thank you for reading!! 🫶🫶

#my art #fanart #genshin impact #genshin fanart #illustration #digital art #artists on tumblr #art #digital painting #lynette #genshin lynette #genshin fontaine

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koocycle · 2 years

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as you were | jungkook one shot

↳ synopsis. He was only two months into knowing you, yet he already loved and cherished you like no one had done before. But now you’re gone, and you brutally left him nothing behind besides a story with missing puzzle pieces and a set of questions.

pairing. architect! jungkook x fem reader

word count. 4.6k

au + genre. summer! au, semi-exes! au, angst, fluff.

warnings. none

author’s note. being on a writing hiatus for more than a year now, you’d think this was planned to make a come back. (jokes on you and me both), but i actually wrote this rough draft half a year ago and never pushed myself to finish it. struggled with it, could cry over it, same old same old when it comes to me and writing. i’ve decided to get my ass out there and post one of my hundred, rotten and forgotten drafts!!

also why i want to thank @latetaektalk for being SO patient with me as she keeps pushing me (in the most unfriendliest ways) to keep it going!! linh who’s been reading every draft (and each version of every draft, if yk what i mean), from hundreds of different aus. MUCH much thanks!!

while i’m working on bigger things that bring me more joy while writing, i want to show my face out here before i hide in my docs again, and until i dare to peek out again with something new and better, i’d love to read what you think!

this is based off the netflix series ‘lovestruck in the city’.

Jungkook was eager to unravel your every secret.

Without much doubt, both parties knew that you’ve gotten him hooked around your finger from the moment he laid his eyes on you. And you knew there was not much that could go wrong; it never mattered to him how mischievous or how harmless your secrets could possibly be, to what limit his imagination dared to sketch the images you never showed him. Never has he cared about the weight they could hold on to, about the depth that only seemed to increase the longer he thought about all the things you could be hiding from him. You drove him insane like nobody had ever done before. There were no restrictions when it came to you and him, never did he even dare himself to think about setting boundaries. Like a love-sick campus boy, Jungkook was only longing to learn more about you. Over his dead body that he was ever losing you like a damned fool would.

‘‘I think what I’m trying to say is that… it’s probably better for us to pretend last summer never happened.’’

Jungkook’s phone screen falls black in his hand when the voicemail goes quiet once more, coming to an abrupt ending that has his office go mute. His fingers travel through his dark locks ever so gently, like they aren’t filled with rage. His body grows tense in his office chair, no tears hanging on for dear’s life in the corners of his eyes this time around. Maybe they were there the first few times he listened to the 30-second audio eight months ago, maybe the tears were shamelessly streaming down his cheeks back then. Yet today, his sadness is replaced with fury, and it’s everything he can’t handle.

Jungkook doesn’t want to go home just yet. The sky above his workplace paints a hideous, jet black shade and the inside of the building is gloomy and tragic at this hour of the day. The place looks a bit unfortunate without the presence of his colleagues around here, but it’s not enough reason to bring himself home. He’d tell you the cheap prosecco he just poured in his coffee cup is what keeps him at the office this late, just like how he’d tell you he’s used to heavier liquids other than the bubbled wine he buys at local night shops. Yet his eyes are starting to get heavy, and there’s no point in lying when you were the person who knew him best.

Your voice doesn’t even sound the same in the message. The merry tone that always colored your words was not there when you told him to forget about you—again, over a voice message. An action so impersonal, so distant and so foolish, like it was easy for you to forget about him, expecting him to do the same thing with a snap of his fingers. And maybe it was him who was the foolish one for not expecting you to be capable of such cruelty.

‘‘You remember my phone number, right?’’ Is what he asked the final time he was able to hold you, beams of sweat dripping down his forehead with the way the sun fell down his skin.

Worried, massive eyes met yours for the nth time that day.

‘‘Yes, Jungkook.’’ You grinned at him, eyes twinkling the longer you watched him in his troubled state. ‘‘You only made me repeat it a hundred times. I’ll probably forget it the second you’re gone.’’

His smile was unbeatable. ‘‘You’re cheeky.’’ His fingers nipped at your cheeks, ‘‘what if you forget?’’

‘‘I won’t.’’

He sent you a knowing glare. ‘‘What will you do if you do?’’

Merely to satisfy him, your hands scurried inside your shoulder bag to find what he was wishing to see. In a rather clumsy manner, you pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, fingers hurrying to open it. ‘‘Then I got this.’’

His teeth showed. ‘‘That’s my girl.’’ It only took another look into your eyes before he felt secured again, arms falling atop your shoulders to pull you closer to him. His chest was firm as your head rested against him, the assuring hand on the back of your head not dismissed. ‘‘I told you to get yourself a phone. Would’ve made this so much easier.’’

‘‘I told you I’ll be getting one as soon as I get back home.’’ You had told him. ‘‘You’ll miss your flight if we’re getting into this now.’’

‘‘You say that as if that’s a bad thing.’’

‘’You’re lame.’’ Your eyes shot up to meet his, the arms you had wrapped around his waist tightening when they did. ‘‘You should go before you actually miss it, though.’’

He took another moment to take your features in, eyes scanning over every possible detail he could find so he could safely hide them in a memory box up his head. That, for what he thought would be for the time being.

‘‘Kiss me first?’’

Jungkook was a dork, you should’ve seen it coming, yet the taken aback looking smile that made your lips curve was there all the same. You reached up as you stood on your tippy toes, a chuckle leaving both you and him before you were able to press your lips against his. ‘‘I’ll miss this.’’

‘‘No need to.’’ He grinned down at you. ‘‘Do you remember our meeting spot?’’

Your eyes flickered back to his lips. ‘‘Of course I do.’’

‘‘When, baby?’’

You studied him. ‘‘The final Saturday of the month.’’ You cooed, meeting his gaze again and a hand reaching up to rest on his chest so you could gently push him away. ‘‘Now go. I’m not joking.’’

‘‘Whatever you want’’

With a silly, boyish grin on his face, he gripped on to the suitcases on his side. A firm grip on them in the hopes they’d increase his will to leave you. And barely later, when he was only a few steps ahead of you, Jeon Jungkook turned back around to shower you with a dozen of pecks, not without muttering a quick but ensured ‘‘I’ll see you soon.’’ after, of course.

The cup of prosecco in his grip feels heavier than ever before now. He should’ve known you were not one to keep a promise.

Jungkook is in a mourning state the day after. Ever since the clock hit 9 AM as he’s cleared his office; throwing unnecessary papers, floor plans and blueprints out of the way, his mind still doesn’t stay on track. The ongoing design that’s displayed on his computer screen stares back at him in a mocking manner and if it wasn’t for the way Jung Hoseok is keeping an eye out on him just outside his office, he’d be losing himself in another bottle of wine by now. He could always close his blinds, a little voice in the back of his head has been challenging him, but Jungkook knows that it’s only a matter of time before the office’s little mouse barges in to give him a lecture about whatever ‘consequences’ he could be going through if he continues now.

And as if proving his exact point not too long after that, it’s exactly Jung Hoseok that titters into the room like it’s him who owns the place.

‘‘Can’t you knock?’’ Jungkook groans when the older man is only a couple steps in, fingertips reaching up to massage his throbbing temples, elbows supporting his position.

‘‘I could if I wanted to,’’ Hoseok sing-songs in response, a disturbing layer of satisfaction coating his voice as he does so. ‘‘But I like the concept of caution. Makes things a little more exciting in here.’’

The younger can only so much roll his eyes at him, swallowing the words that are seated at the tip of his tongue. ‘‘You don’t have to check up on me every hour. I can take care of myself.’’

‘‘Oh, but I know you can. You’re just not doing it.’’ The elder marvels, his voice a tad bit too loud for an already hectic morning like this. He makes himself comfortable in place, diving down Jungkook’s leather sofa with his hands behind his head like it isn’t his first time. ‘‘How is the design going?’’

‘‘Fine, I guess.’’ Jungkook whimpers, palms rubbing his eyes like he just strolled out of bed. His hair looks like something has gone through them a couple times already, and once more, a hand goes up to do exactly that. ‘‘I’m changing it up.’’

‘‘Again?’’ Hoseok asks from his snug position on the couch. ‘‘How long do you want to keep those people waiting for?”

‘‘I wanna give them what they’re paying me for. God damn.’’ He falls back in his chair with a loud huff, fingers crossing over his chest. ‘‘Not some shitty design that’s making me run in circles.’’

‘‘You know you’re not, right?’’ The brunet sits up, tugging his glasses higher up his nose before leaning down to rest his arms atop his thighs. ‘‘Come on, what did she do to you, Jeon?’’

She.

It’s not Jung Hoseok’s fault that Jungkook became so fucking delicate. And the younger usually enjoys putting a flat hand on his chest as he swears it’s merely a phase he has to go through: a phase of heartbreak, a phase of discomfort that takes some more time to heal. It’s easy for people like Jung Hoseok to walk in here and pretend like everything is fine. People like Jung Hoseok who got their lives figured out with the people they love. It’s an easy job for them to talk out loud, and it’s peak arrogance if Jungkook were one to speak.

‘‘Don’t talk about her.’’

‘‘Obviously, it seems like I’ve got to when you’re not doing what those people pay you for. All fingers point her way, Jungkook.’’ Hoseok hisses, pinched brows pulling together. ‘‘You went on a vacation and met that woman just as fast as she disappeared. You used to finish project after project with ease, people quite literally lined up to see you work in action. Suddenly you come back and lose your drive? As if.’’

‘‘Can you stop? I don’t need you to give me a lecture.’’ Jungkook jeers. ‘‘You don’t know her. The way I get to work these days is on me, I don’t appreciate you sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.’’

Hoseok nods with a tightness to it, like he’s holding himself back from spilling words he’ll regret. ‘‘Okay.’’ he mutters quietly, fingers grazing over his denim jeans. ‘‘I just want the best for you, you’re my friend and that woman was no good. It’s for the better if you forget about her.’’

For the better, he said.

Jungkook huffs, fixing his position so half his face hides behind his computer screen. ‘‘You can get out if you came to argue.’’ He doesn’t like the way his voice sounds, but he’s having a hard time toning it down. ‘‘I’ve got work to do.’’

Hoseok doesn’t say anything after that, sensing that silence is the best way to deal with his younger friend for now. Thus he gets up and exits the room without another word, leaving Jungkook and his thoughts to suffer by himself for the time being. It’s not something he enjoys doing, but Jungkook has always been a little stubborn, an individual that needs time for himself to sort his thoughts out. He’ll figure it out by himself sooner or later.

On the other side of the door, Jungkook is unsure what to do with himself as soon as the soft thud is heard from behind Hoseok’s back. The office runs quiet again and Jungkook’s thoughts are the one thing keeping him trapped in his chair, still and timid like the incomplete design isn’t staring back at him in a pleading, discomforting manner. He would love to care, take charge and put a little more effort into it, yet his mind is elsewhere, making it hard for him to keep his head into the game.

That woman was no good, he had said. His chest filled with confidence as he spoke, making sure Jungkook understood every word even though the younger boy would much rather cover his ears. It was a work in progress, Jungkook had been telling himself the past couple of months, but people like Jung Hoseok only seemed to be eager to speed things up.

You can’t be a bad person—Jungkook knows you are not a bad person. Jungkook saw things that others didn’t see, felt things that he knew you felt as well. And even though he had known you for no longer than a brisk two months, he was sure he was ready to examine your every persona that was hidden beneath the flowery, dazzling girl he met at that beach last year. You promised him that much.

‘‘I think we should just dive in!’’ You had exclaimed back then, wet sand creeping between your toes the more you jumped around the place. ‘‘I’m like, so ready to catch some of those waves you’ve been gushing about.’’

‘‘Absolutely not.’’ Jungkook scoffed on your side, the slight curves that tugged on to the edges of his lips betraying his cool character nonetheless. ‘‘We’ve got to go through the basics before we actually get into the water, you know that right?’’

He watched as you threw your head back at him, a loud and exaggerated groan leaving your throat before you locked gazes again, an obvious pout on your lips this time. ‘‘What’s even fun about that,’’ you whined. ‘‘You’re so boring.’’

‘‘Patience, baby.’’ He beamed, two hands curled around each hip from behind with a slight push forward, ever so gentle, of course. ‘‘Now, get on that board for me. I’ll teach you some positions.’’

He knew what was coming when he saw the way your brows shot up. ‘‘Positions…’’ You sang, a teasing edge to it as a silly grin spread on your face.

‘‘Keep on dreaming, doll.’’ He quipped, fingers nipping at your chin and the way he fought his smile back not missed by you. ‘‘Now do as I say before I make you figure it out yourself.’’

You complied with ease after deciding you shouldn’t be the one to give him such a hard time that early into the crisped morning. He noted how you were having a difficult time keeping your lips sealed shut as he kept stepping around the surfboard beneath your feet, knowing he got the upper hand even if it was you who slipped inside his trailer that morning. Ever the sly little fox you were, your feather-light footsteps did nothing to wake him up as you sneaked into his cramped bed—it was nothing compared to the queen-sized bed you hid from him inside your hotel room just a little away from the beach’s area, but you were not planning on telling him as long as you could slip beneath his thinned covers instead.

It wasn’t like Jungkook was giving you a run for your money, either. Even that same night, when you eventually snuggled deeper at his side and let your arms fall all over his body, outside’s chilly air still lingering on your skin as you did so, he didn’t complain one bit. Jungkook slept with his door unlocked for a reason, and he thought it was more than worth it. Not even when you dragged him out of his bus barely an hour later, clumsily tugging his surfboard beneath your free arm on your way to the shore as you begged him to teach you how to surf. His eyes were still puffy and his hair was a hot mess in the middle of the empty beach, pushed out of his face by the many times you had run your fingers through it.

Yet still, he taught you how to surf. Because Jungkook could never say no to you.

‘‘Basically,’’ you had started, feet planted on the wooden material. ‘‘We live together at this point.’’

‘‘Is that so,’’ Jungkook chirped, his question not really a question. ‘‘Spread your arms. Like this,’’ his hands moved from your behind to grip on both of your wrists, spreading them to match the board beneath you.

‘‘Hmm, yeah,’’ your head fell down his shoulder as soon as you felt his chest pressed against your back, hot breath fanning in his neck. ‘‘Don’t you think so? I’ve been sleeping in your trailer for a week now and you haven’t kicked me out once.’’

‘‘I should’ve.’’ He piped, his smile evident in his voice. ‘‘Spread your feet as well.’’

You did as he told you, curving your upper body when you felt his hands guide you. ‘‘You would never,’’ you snapped back at him, a smile fighting its way on your face. ‘‘Could never.’’

‘‘Curve your back and go down your knees a bit. Your posture looks off.’’ Ignoring your previous comment, he knew he couldn’t beat you to it.

‘‘I think I got it now.’’ You started, waving his hands off you before you turned around. ‘‘We should totally get into the water now that we’ve got the place to ourselves.’’

Jungkook was nearly melting in your hands when you brought them up to cup the plush of his cheeks, ushering him a tad bit closer to place a quick kiss on the tip of his nose, another one followed against the corner of his mouth when he didn’t provide you an answer.

Hooded eyes looked down at you instead. ‘‘You’re underestimating how complex of a sport this is, doll.’’ His features fell serious even as his thumb rubbed circles on your hip bone, a small gesture of kindness Jungkook always seemed to carry with him.

‘‘I don’t doubt that at all.’’ You preened, hands playing with the hairs at the back of his neck, ‘‘but I got myself such a great tutor, not much can go wrong.’’

With a pause and another look into your eyes, he couldn’t pass. ‘‘You’re so used to having everything your way, I don’t know how you do it.’’

Correction: Jeon Jungkook knew quite exactly how you did it—it was like you had put a spell on him that’s got him looking like a lovesick fool chasing rainbows. Hence it didn’t surprise him when your fingers intertwined with his own the moment a smile flashed up on his face. With your hand that had looked so much smaller, so much more delicate than his rough ones, he underestimated the power they held when you dragged him forward, heading straight towards the water with his surfboard clutched beneath your arm.

‘‘I told you it seems easier than it actually is.’’

The damp piece of cloth felt hot against your skin the more pressure Jungkook put against it, the shed’s familiar scent of old paint and planed wood reaching your senses as soon as he told you to sit down. ‘‘And I believed you,’’ you chirped, ‘‘but we had fun, right?’’

Jungkook huffed. ‘‘There is no fun in you getting hurt.’’

‘‘Good thing I’m not hurt anywhere.’’ Jungkook crouched down to match your eye level, not offering you a response as he pinched his brows together and gently continued tapping the cloth against the blossoming bruise on your forehead. ‘‘Can you stop worrying that big head of yours? You’re making me nervous.’’

‘‘I make you nervous?’’ He snorted. ‘‘You fell pretty fucking hard, ___.’’

A hint of annoyance coated his voice like you haven’t heard before. The lips that curled inwards gave it away. ‘‘So? I feel fine now.’’

He didn’t say anything at that and continued to focus on the bruised spot above your brow. You took the opportunity to inspect his features as he did so, allowing your head to fall back against the wall on your side as your eyes attempted to pry into his. Silence took over when you waited for him to say something to tame the tension down, but yet again, without much luck on your side.

‘‘Now what, you’ll just ignore me because you don’t believe me?’’

It didn’t take much for him to drop his hand then, thighs supporting his elbows as a hand ran over his face with a huff. ‘‘It’s not that, ___.’’ He refuted, cheeks blown out. ‘‘You’re just so fucking careless, I wish you wouldn’t push your safety aside just because you,’’ he air quoted, ‘‘‘had fun’.’’

The look that swam in your eyes after that was something he had rather not seen; they were a little conflicted, unable to think of words to say next and the silence that ran through was a bit strange for the type of relationship you shared.

‘‘Ah,’’ he groaned, standing up on stretched legs once again. ‘‘Forget about it.’’

You gave yourself a little longer to keep quiet then, watching as Jungkook awkwardly dusted his pants off and casually started to pace around the shed like you wouldn’t notice the way his cheeks colored a pretty pink. His tattooed fingers played with a couple figurines by the window and it took everything in you to keep yourself composed, (for the sake of his own ego).

‘‘It’s okay,’’ you stood up from your seat, the rusted creak obvious to Jungkook’s ears. ‘‘I like listening to what you’ve got to say.’’

His stomach grew warmer the closer you got, and unlike the floor in his camper, where you tried your best to hide every footstep from him, the shed’s unoiled floor gave them all away.

‘‘It wasn’t important.’’ He had said, body visibly relaxing at the feel of your arms that wrapped around his waist, cheek squished against his back like you knew what it did to him.

‘‘Sounded important to me,’’ you replied, voice small as you hugged him tighter. ‘‘Besides, I like it when you get concerned like that—at what? Week three into knowing me?’’ You teased him, knowing he felt the way you looked up at him from behind. ‘‘When will you be proposing, Jeon? You can’t keep me on my toes forever.’’

‘‘Please,’’ He prattled, no way you couldn’t sense his smile. ‘‘Like you’d say yes.’’

You hummed, the vibrations running through his skin. ‘‘You don’t know unless you try.’’

It didn’t surprise you when he turned back around with a toothy grin on his face. ‘‘Alright, you little tease,’’ he cooed. ‘‘Show me that huge bulge on your forehead.’’

You slapped his chest. ‘‘It’s not huge!’’

‘‘Hm, sure.’’ He mumbled, thumb softly stroking against your forehead. ‘‘It’s massive. Can’t keep my eyes off it.’’

You crossed your arms, muttering a quiet ‘‘jerk,’’ underneath your breath but swallowed the rest of your complaints when his hands cupped the sides of your face, fingertips tugging strands of hair behind your ears as his eyes flickered down your lips. He didn’t ask for permission this time, feeling like it was the right thing to do when your mouths molded together, his fingers resting at the back of your neck as his thumb caressed your cheeks, lips guiding you for better access. Jungkook’s hands slipped lower down your back and rested in place before he pushed you closer to stand chest to chest.

A look of uncertainty painted his face when you broke the kiss, ‘‘You haven’t brought me here before.’’ your arms still embraced him but your curious cat eyes scanned your surroundings. ‘‘Is this where you hide from me?’’

He snickered. ‘‘Can’t hide from you, doll.’’

Jungkook leaned down to press another longing kiss on your lips again but you moved away, resulting in him kissing your jaw instead. ‘‘Are those yours?’’

‘‘Mhm.’’ He hummed, nose pressing against your skin as he inhaled your sweet fragrance.

‘‘You’re not even looking!’’

The heavy man in your arms didn’t bother to lift his head from the comfortable spot on your shoulder this time, the small, wet pecks he left in the crook of your neck not coming to a nearing end, either. ‘‘I don’t have to look. Everything in here is mine.’’

‘‘You’ve got to be kidding.’’ You struggled yourself out of his arms when your eyes fell on something in the distance, moving past him to reach out for it. Jungkook followed after you with a long huff, arms limply falling next to his frame. ‘‘These are yours?’’

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, but your excited voice made up for it. ‘‘Yeah,’’ he grinned. ‘‘You like them?’’

‘‘Do I like them?’’ Your eyes bulged out of your head, a camera in each hand that you came to admire. ‘‘I love them Kook, what…’’

‘‘Careful with them, baby.’’ He quickly reached out for them just in case anything went wrong, one hand on your hip as the other went to the heavier device. ‘‘They’re fragile.’’

Heartening eyes met his, yours filled with curiosity. ‘‘Can you teach me how to work with them?’’

And there you went doing that again; eyes growing until they couldn’t increase any more, corners of your lips that were unable to stay into a straight line due to the excitement that became visible feature by feature. And yes, Jungkook fell for it, once again.

‘‘Again,’’ he began, wanting to tease you a bit further. ‘‘It’s not the easiest hobby out there.’’

He watched as you rolled your eyes to the back of your head. ‘‘We get it, you’re a genius. But I’ve got to start somewhere, no?’’ You gauged, fingers playing with the buttons before you looked through the viewfinder. ‘‘How hard can it be to shoot a couple pictures?’’

Jungkook studied the way you pinched one eye to a close, how your nose scrunched and lips pursed. ‘‘There’s a lot you need to keep in mind while doing so,’’ he dared to wrap his arms around your waist again, nice and warm as he placed his chin on your shoulder. ‘‘Where is all this curiosity coming from anyway? First the surfing, now the cameras…’’

‘‘Hm, can’t I be curious?’’ You smiled, loving the way his breath fanned your throat. ‘‘You’re an architect that surfs and photographs? Something is not clicking.’’

He listened to your mumbles, the teasing tone not dismissed. ‘‘Are you doubting my skills now?’’ He jabbered, ‘‘Come on baby, can’t deny that I was pretty impressive out there. Don’t think I didn’t see you drooling all over me.’’

‘‘Of course, Kook.’’ You hummed, a pretty smile on your face. ‘‘My boyfriend is pretty impressive.’’

The larger man grew still against you for a moment, progressing your words first. ‘‘Boyfriend…’’ he muttered, arms growing tighter around you as his fingers intertwined. ‘‘I like the way you say that.’’

‘‘Do you?’’

‘‘Hm, yes.’’ He pretended to think, trying to hide his beam in the dark spot of your neck. ‘‘Say it again?’’

You put the camera away. ‘‘Say what again?’’ You quipped, turning around to face him and wrap your arms around his neck. ‘‘Boyfriend?’’

‘‘Yeah,’’ he groaned, squinting his eyes. ‘‘Feels good.’’

It did feel good.

#jungkook #jungkook au #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts #bts au #jungkook imagine #jungkook drabble #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook x you #bts x you #bangtan

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destinylordoffreaks · 1 year

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has promised my yearly strong heart bears piece it's been 7 years of draw her the idea began because I remember seeing a breast cancer awareness bear when I was a kid and thought the idea was intriguing Care Bears that taught awareness and understanding of health issues As someone who grew up with physical and mental disabilities, it’s been cool to be able to see representation, but I’ve never really seen anything for my specific issue, so I decided to make one.

Strong heart bear and grumpy bear enjoying a beautiful day in the forest of feelings with their family after the rain

I did it I finally did it. It took me over two weeks from start to finish. It’s finally done. I had to push myself so hard to finish the coloring job on this like I hit a wall where I just did not want to finish but I promised you guys art and so here it is.

So the concept was kind of like a follow up to my earlier strong heart bear and grumpy bear piece where strong heart is sort of comforting him because he’s upset and the idea is sort of the sunshine after the rain how sometimes you just need someone to be there and it helps I had at one point considered making this as a two-part piece and having a second piece that would’ve been just strong heart and grumpy bear but I’m not sure if I’m gonna finish it if I do I’ll post it but at the moment it’s just a Sketch’s

You also may have noticed I kind of a redesigned, noble, hard horse a little. It always bugged me that in the cartoon he didn’t really look like a horse where has in his original sketches. He looks a lot more horselike as well as the comics, so I just sort of decided to change that a little and I feel like I like the way it turned out. I also tried to make the colors on all of the care Bears has close to their original stuffed animals has possible except true heart and noble heart colors are sort of a mix between their concept art and their movie art although I ended up using their concept art belly badges I use their TV art colors has the umbrella that they’re holding so fun fact for you.

And the trees in the background were off pain I redrew them like three or four times trying to get this look just right, so I hope you guys enjoy it and I don’t know if I ever said it, but I would love to hear comments and opinions, especially on any of my random thought posts Even if it’s constructive criticism like if I missed something or forgot some thing remembered feel free to chat I can’t guarantee that I will respond quickly, but I will try to respond .

#chd awareness month #chdawarenes #strong heart bear #care bears #care bears art #oc #original art #destinylordoffreaks #grumpy bear #cheer bear #swift heart rabbit #tenderheart bear #funshine bear #friend bear #hugs and tugs #lotsa heart elephant #noble heart horse #true heart bear #2023

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cookieeks-art · 7 months

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I’m still somewhat lacking the energy to really throw myself into being as active and social online as I was last year sadly, but I am going to try to share the art I make / have made when I’m able to, since that’s something I really like doing. So! Here’s two superhero au related things I’ve done!

(IDs in alt and under cut)

[ID:

Two images

The first is a digital in-part line-less drawing of Arthur from Red shoes and my oc Edda (A pale chubby woman, with deep eyebags, brown hair and grey eyes), specifically from my superhero au where Edda has short hair that just past her chin. Arthur is wearing a orange t-shirt, and has his hand placed on Eddas shoulder. Edda is wearing a dark red button up shirt with rolled up sleeves and her hair is cut a little bit lover then her chin. She is turned to the left, holding a vial on her hand. They are both looking to the right, with wide plotting grins and their faces thrown in dramatic shadows. The background is a gradient that makes it seem like light is coming from the upper right.The signature in the corner reads “Cookieek”.

The second is a collection of pencil sketches that have been photographed and digitally shaded with warm grey tones. In the upper left corner is text reading “Superhero! AU”. Bellow the text is a sketch of Edda and Arthur. Edda is dressed in formalwear, a button up shirt with a type of winged collar that are pointed upwards, a vest with dark lapels, and a dark cravat. Her hair is pushed back with a hairband and she’s looking up at Arthur with a grin on her face, one hand holding the collar of his armour. Arthur is dressed in full armour, including helmet and cape, and is standing with one arm on his back and one over his stomach, looking down at Edda with a surprised expression. To the upper right is another sketch of Arthur and Edda. Arthur is still in full armour, but Edda is dressed in work clothes, a simple dark button up and pants and with her hair loose. Arthur is holding her side as he kisses the back of her hand from behind her with a blush on his face. Eddas looking at him also blushing and with a confused expression. On the lower right is yet another sketch of Arthur and Edda. Arthur is in full armour and Edda is wearing work clothes, this time with light pants. Arthur is holding her bridal style and smiling down at her with hearts around his head. Edda is looking up at him appearing perplexed. Finally to the lower right is a sketch depicting a magazine cover with Arthur on it. Arthur on the image is in full armour, but excluding the helmet, he has a hand on his neck and is grinning smugly. The title of the magazine isn’t visible aside from a p and s at the end, a textbox in one corner is visible reading “Nr 10 2037”. There’s a few other text boxes surrounding Arthur reading “Exclusive interview!” “The Knight of Camelots training routine!” “10 Hot new villain sightings” “Tribulations of dating superhero’s”. Someone has written with a pen on the cover, one reading “What” with an arrow pointing to the villain sightings text block, and one reading “Smuggest prick” with an arrow pointing to Arthur. A cup of tea or coffee is visible beside the magazine alongside an uncapped pen. In the lower left corner is a signature reading “Cookieek”.

End if ID]

#red shoes and the 7 dwarfs #red shoes and the seven dwarfs #oc #oc's #fanart #edda

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barilleon · 1 year

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Arcanolinguistics Companion Blog

Arcanolinguistics, my article about verbal components in spellcasting for 5e, is out today in MCDM's ARCADIA. Please check it out! This blog post is a small dive into what went into its creation. Today marks a milestone in my career: the best thing I've ever written by far, which serves as a love letter to 5e and the people who made it worth playing for me.

When I build a character for a TTRPG and there’s an option for a language-based skill or power, I take it. One of my first D&D characters, Thavma Sanguine, was built with the linguist feat, the spell comprehend languages, and the anthropologist background from Tomb of Annihilation. Thavma was—like me—young, curious, and desperate to connect with the people around her. After years of academic study, she was eager to put her skills to the test in the real world. Language was an extension of that.

Immediately upon her creation, Thavma was captured by drow and taken to the Underdark, where the prisoners all spoke different languages. She used her abilities to bring people who did not understand each other together, to hatch an escape plan that only worked because everyone was on the same page. The DM of that campaign (you might know him, his name’s Willy Abeel) picked up on the fact that I really enjoyed exploring the game world through language, and the rest of the campaign was full of little moments for Thavma to puzzle through bits of text or linguistic differences to move the story forward. From there, our shared table started to develop some interesting linguistic trivia, some of which you can read in the article.

Playing Thavma, who was also a Wizard, made me super aware of spellcasting components. Most of the time you don’t really pay attention to them, but I feel like there’s so much storytelling potential there. I wrote a blog post about getting the most out of material components once. After that I started wondering about verbal components. Thus the idea for Arcanolinguistics was born.

On Collaboration

As of its release, Arcanolinguistics is the best thing I’ve ever written. This is in no small part due to everyone who worked on it. At dinner the other day, Hannah and I rounded up how many people it took to make, before it ever even made it to playtesters: two developmental editors, two line editors, four cultural and sensitivity consultants, two artists, and two (haha) writers.

I never intended S.A.M. to be a co-author on the article. But when I sat down to write, actually take my messy outlines and notes and put them into something for somebody else, no words came. This happens often, and like every professional I’ve developed a toolbox for fixing it. Sometimes I will start my day with a writing warmup. A quick blog post, opinion piece, or stream of consciousness to get the words flowing. Like a warmup sketch, but with words. Since at the time S.A.M. was a student in one of my home games (at Thavma’s institution, no less!), I decided to write research notes from its point of view. The more I wrote, the more I realized that S.A.M. wanted to write the article. So I let it.

This work would not exist without MCDM, especially Hannah. I only pitched this article because I know that MCDM was the only place with the passion and the resources who would help me make this article what it was supposed to be. The pitch was a risk from the start. It needed heavy development, consulting, and playtesting, and right now for a freelancer like me MCDM is the only place that can make that happen. I cannot stress enough how much of a gift ARCADIA has been to my professional development. I learned a lot on this project, pushed myself, and made something I never would have without these resources.

Hannah was always there to hop on a call and talk over spell ideas or brainstorm ways to make effects work. A lot of the effects in the article are very different from their original ideas. Without Hannah, much of them would have been super overpowered, confusing, or just plain wrong. It’s hard to add a system like this on top of spellcasting and make it click, but I think we did it. She found not one but FOUR consultants to work with us. It was important to us to do this right, from the outline stage to the end.

Kathryn and Hakan provided amazing insight for the early drafts. I’m a hobbyist; I don’t know what I’m doing. But they helped me find the right words and guided my concepts in the right direction. Yes, they were consulting on my article, but it felt like my own personal crash course in all things language. I learned about a bunch of amazing linguistic concepts thanks to them. And though I didn’t get to work directly with Rogan or Basil, their notes and suggestions made this piece shine!

The testers at MCDM are unrivaled. They built a spreadsheet for every language and every official 5e spell that the language could possibly affect. They caught some edge cases that were devastating, and devastatingly funny. My favorite was the entry for casting ray of sickness in Goblin, which just read, "Ray of Vaccination?"

I offer both my awe and apologies to Sadie and Amber, for sending them a behemoth that was so large it took two editors to tame. The final product is clear and usable and flows great thanks to them. They’re the reason you can bring this to your table instead of just considering it abstractly. They’re also the reason we got the Dohma Raskovar joke on Orcish!

Speaking of, there is always Willy, the co-creator of the personal playground inside my head. I didn’t ask what he thought of the Dohma joke. Maybe I should have, considering Raskovar is his character, designed for Flee, Mortals! But after I sent the bit in to Hannah, I just told him I did it and he laughed. I got to turn a question about wording into a love note just for him.

On My Interest in Linguistics

Linguistics (specifically sociolinguistics and the history of language) has always been an interest of mine. I love reading about the origins of language, how it’s evolved over time, and how a language’s structure can shape its speakers’ way of thinking. I’m not an academic; I can’t elaborate on that. But I can point you to some people who can. People I read and watched whose work served as research and inspiration for this article include:

The Mother Tongue: English and How it Got That Way, by Bill Bryson Lingo and Babel, both by Gaston Dorren The Story of French, by Jean-Benoît Nadeau and Julie Barlow The Linguistics Crash Course with Taylor Behnke on YouTube Conlang 101 from David Peterson (creator of Dothraki) on YouTube My favorite ttrpg: Dialect, from Thorny Games (imagine my surprise and delight when Hannah brought on this linguistic duo to CONSULT for my article!!! Holy shit!!!) The Language Instinct, by Steven Pinker Exploring Language, a collection of essays compiled by Gary Goshgarian The Language of Thieves, by Martin Puchner Jews and Words by Amos Oz and Fania Oz-Salzberger Legends of Localization blog, run by Clyde “Tomato” Mandelin A Language Family Tree in Pictures illustration by Minna Sundberg, for The Guardian's "Case for Language Learning" series.

If TTRPGs can be power fantasy, then mine is being able to use many languages, to connect with and understand as many people as I can. Not just in the /comprehend languages/ way (which I’ve likened to Google Translate), but in the authentic way, where you start to get the jokes and nuances, where you can forge relationships and shift your own perspective. I’ve been studying French on and off for over a decade, but I wouldn’t call myself any good at it. It’s hard! I don’t have anyone to practice with, and I’m also super shy in real life about speaking foreign languages. That’s why I wanted to add a fail-forward mechanic for language learning in the article. I want to believe that even though I’m not a toddler anymore, and my adult sponge-like mind has been left for many years to dry by the sink of knowledge, that I can keep working at it and get there someday.

On 5e Design

When I turned in the final draft of this article, I thought it was going to be the last major 5e thing I ever worked on. This is because I turned it in in January 2023, and you remember what happened all those years ago. While things have worked out differently and I am still designing in 5e, I sought to “leave it all on the page” with this one. It is, in my opinion, the purest expression of my 5e design philosophy: it’s fanfiction all the way down.

I liken my career as a 5e designer to my experience as an incredibly niche fanfic author. I like finding the little cracks in canon and filling them in, adding nice little layers of things that could have plausibly happened within canon and supporting them with as much textual evidence as possible so that people reading can accept it as their own headcanon. I think these are important skills to have for a designer of someone else’s game, especially when there’s a lot of other third party material competing to be incorporated into your table.

I found a niche in the 5e system—spellcasting components could be cooler and tied more to the world—and I filled it. While language is very much setting-based, I tried hard to use as much textual evidence as possible when forming these concepts. Devils have forked tongues, elves live everywhere and can all understand each other somehow, the dwarvish writing system is by far the most common in use. So I hope these ideas can conform to your own table, too.

But if they don’t, remember that everything not discussed at your table (yes, even official material) is fanfiction. Take it or leave it! If your table’s world doesn’t have the same languages as the SRD, maybe you can still find a way to map my rules onto your world. Or maybe it’ll inspire you to write brand-new rules for your own languages. As a writer and designer of fanfiction, nothing would make me happier.

#my blogs #dnd 5e #mcdm

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