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sparkling-moonbeam · 3 years

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Xiao x Reader (Genshin Impact) 🍀A Subject🍀

A/N: It’s been a while since I posted something so here’s a Xiao one. Sorry, it took a while but I’ll try me best to write more since vacation is now here. Reader is gender-neutral. Hope you enjoy reading!

🍀💐🍀🍀💐🍀🍀💐🍀🍀💐🍀🍀💐🍀🍀💐🍀🍀💐🍀🍀💐🍀🍀💐

Black smokes and a pair of golden eyes. It’s the first thing that caught your eye as you arrived in the rooftop of the Wangshu Inn, a place that the traveler recommended on you as you told them you’re planning to go to Liyue, looking for a subject to sketch. The traveler warned you on the dangers you might encounter, making sure to remind you to call a friend of theirs in times of great danger and when you try to questioned it:

“He knows what to do. He’s an adeptus, a protector of Liyue,” they stated.

“Like a Knight of Favonious?” you questioned.

“You can say that…except the fact he works directly for their archon and really held great responsibility for the duties that the Geo archon laid upon him,” they explained further. “Oh and, please don’t forget to call him in case of danger. His name is-”

“Xiao.”

You uttered, staring into his golden eyes. You notice the black smokes surrounding him, you don’t know if it’s the effect of the teleportation he used or something else. You also take note of the spear he’s holding, the color same with the tips of his upfront hair. The once peaceful feeling on the terrace suddenly disappearing as the intense tension in the air completely evaporated it.

“How do you know my name?” He questioned, eyes squinting in suspicion. “You don’t seem like a citizen here. State your business.”

You blinked, “I-I’m from Mondstadt, I’m a friend of the traveler that-”

“The traveler, you say?”

As soon as he heard that, his whole demeanor changed. The black smokes slowly disappearing into thin air, clearing the whole tension that build up earlier. His grip on the spear relaxing a bit as he continues to inspect you.

“Did they send you here?”

His eyes remained looking at you carefully, maybe taking notes of your actions and what you might be up to. If not for mentioning the traveler, you might be in great danger now. Thank the Archons, the traveler warned you and lend you their knowledge for this trip.

“Not…exactly.” You answered, smiling slightly as you try to explain your reason. “You see, I came here because I need a new subject-”

“For what?”

“…Sketching an art. The traveler just assisted me on the things I should know before going here. They told me about you and to call you if ever I face something..really dangerous?”

He didn’t move an inch after your explanation. His lips remained in a straight line as he stared at you, processing your words before flipping his spear into the air which quickly disappeared in a blink. The movement making you flinch a little.

“The traveler’s right. In any case that you face something dangerous ahead, call my name. I’ll take care of it.”

He turned his back at you, looking at the view on the terrace as if scrutinizing every place around the inn. You watched as the wind blew, his hair dancing with it as the leaves on the tree fell into the terrace. You gently tiptoed to the side, not really going near him as it might put you in a bad situation. The sun reflecting half of his face add effects on what you were witnessing just right now. His gold eyes looking seriously but also faraway. You notice how the tips of his hair and his eyes seems to glow, you thought it might be because of the shade of the tree and the sun. His pale lips never moving an inch, remaining still like before.

You were too busy taking notes of everything you’re seeing. It’s perfect, way too perfect, in all honestly. The timing, the lighting and him, it’s pretty. A beautiful sight that you’re actually witnessing right now. A smile escaped your lips as you were taken in by the view. Fascinating.

“What are you still doing here?”

You blinked as he took a glance at you. All of your thoughts moving away for a second. Your smile turning into an awkward one as you thought he caught you looking too intensely at him.

“N-Nothing.” You tried to laugh, fixing your gaze into his gold orbs. “I just…really wanted to stay for a while. I mean, the scenery here is breathe taking like really breathe taking.”

He blinked slightly, confusion filling his eyes as he continued to look at you. You’re being weird in his eyes; your actions are too baffling for him. “You should go somewhere. Liyue has more places to offer with breath taking views. Don’t come near me as it might bring you in danger.”

Your head tilted in confusion, looking at him with a blank stare. “I don’t get it.”

“What?”

“I mean, you told me to call you whenever there’s danger and yet you threat yourself as a danger too. Aren’t you the protector of this city, Liyue?”

He scoffed. “You know there’s different kind of protectors, right?”

“Oh, so you mean like a vigilant or something. You’re like that?” you questioned; your voice fills with curiosity.

“Yes. Now, stay away-”

“But still, you’re just doing your duty right?” You cut him off unexpectedly. “Regardless of how evil or dangerous your actions are in your eyes, at the end of the day, it’s for the safety of the people here.”

He looked away, “You don’t get it, it’s much more complicated than that.”

You smiled, sitting down as you grab your sketching materials from your bag. “Can you explain it to me then?”

He sighed, “It’s something hard to-”

He stopped as soon as he saw you sitting down, a brush and a piece of paper in front of you as you were surrounded by brushes. At first, he was confused at what you were doing then it hits him.

“Are you secretly just keeping me distracted by talking to me?”

You hummed, glancing at him. “Not really, I’m curious too but I won’t pass any opportunity to sketch something…remarkable.”

“You’re wasting your time. Like what I said, there’s a whole lot of places than-”

“Say, can I…interest you into something?”

He looked at you in confusion. His eyes eyeing your brushes and other materials on the floor. You’re cutting his words, usually it was him that always cut someone off. It’s amusing, he thought but you’re being bizarre on your actions as time goes by. It’s not unusual for him to find a really determined and hard-headed mortals and you give off the same aura, except that you’re not begging him to give you wealth or something.

“Hello?” He snapped to reality as he heard your voice. You smiled as his eyes meet yours. “Are you okay?”

He closed his eyes; you should be no exception still. A mere mortal like you can’t get close too much to him or you’ll suffer, sooner and later.

“Get all of your stuff and leave.”

You lean back to the railings of the terrace, a sad smile forming your lips as you sighed. “Don’t I really stand a chance?”

“I told you, no.”

“Even if you’re the subject?”

His eyebrows knitted. “What? Do you really think that would make a difference?”

You chuckled. “Look, I’m trying. I’m not a good persuader like the traveler.”

He sighed, “You’re hopeless.”

A laughter escaped your lips on his remark. He looked at you as you laugh. He was never one for jokes, that meant to be an insult, he thought. Why are you laughing so light-heartedly? He wanted to ask you but you seem like you’re really having your time laughing and for some reason, he don’t want to disturb you. It’s the first time someone laughed at his comment with no any sign of malicious intent or hurt.

“Alright, I’m fine.” You fix yourself, fixing your throat for a second to stop yourself from laughing. “But seriously, don’t you wanted to see yourself in-”

“I’m not interested. A common behaviour of mortals like you was to always look for something priceable. I assumed you’re just going to sell it in high price anyway.”

You gasped in exaggeration, clutching your heart in a jokingly manner as you look at him. “That’s a very harmful stereotype to the people out there!”

“It was a normal act for mortals,” he deadpanned.

You hummed, “I mean, you’re not entirely wrong…”

“Because it’s what they are.”

You looked at the sky, thinking about what he said. “Say, do you have some deep grudge against these mortals?”

“Don’t call them like you’re not a part of them,” he stated.

You pouted. “I’m just asking.”

“Stop asking then.”

A sigh escaped your lips. “I don’t really sell some of my works, I only sell paintings or sketches of sceneries. It’s different when it’s personal.”

“Personal?”

“Something that really caught my eye, you know. Like what they said, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Whenever I see those moments, I keep them or sometimes I gave them to the people I shared the memories with. So…”

You looked at him, a warm smile on your lips. “I’ll give it to you once I’m done.”

He turned to you with a puzzled look, “What benefit is there for you then?”

“Connection with different people.”

“You should get close too much-”

“I know. Just let me sketch you and the scenery, then we’re finished,” you stated.

“Will you keep-”

“It’s a deal. I will keep those words.”

He looked at you intently as he tried to decipher your mind but no matter how he tried to looked at you, his curiosity just eats him more. You’re a weird one, he wanted to tell you but instead he kept it in his mind. He has a feeling you’ll just laugh again anyways.

He looked away. “Fine, just do it quickly.”

You cheered before picking up your brush again. “If I do it quickly, I won’t caught it perfectly.”

“You’re the one who wanted this,” he stated.

You pursed your lips. “It’s not my fault if I found my subject earlier than I anticipated.”

He glanced at you for a second before returning his gaze to the scenery ahead of him. He took note of the orange hue of the sky and the cold breeze of the wind. He closed his eyes as a thought entered his mind.

Maybe he can let this one slide.

#xiao x reader #xiao x y/n #xiao x you #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #xiao #vigilant yaksha #genshin impact adeptus #adeptus xiao #genshin xiao #genshin impact scenarios

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zelkams-art · 3 years

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#ShowYourProcess

From planning to posting, share your process for making creative content!

To continue supporting content makers, this tag game is meant to show the entire process of making creative content: this can be for any creation.

RULES — When your work is tagged, show the process of its creation from planning to posting, then tag 5 people with a specific link to one of their creative works you’d like to see the process of. Use the tag #showyourprocess so we can find yours!

I was tagged by @milkcrates, who showed her process of making this gorgeous piece with Wei Wuxian and little A-Yuan!! It was awesome to see how it came to life - and thank you for tagging me! ✨

So I got tagged to show how this Yunmeng brothers + golden core art happened! I already included the digital sketch for it in my sketch vs final compilation, but I guess I can show some more!

This is gonna be long because I like talking a lot, so putting the rest under a cut!

1. Planning

SO. A golden core pic was on my to-draw list as soon as I finished watching the show. I had a WIP of a different pic for that waiting, but actually I noticed that a very similar thing has already been drawn, so that was kinda dropped. But I’m glad I waited until the idea for this one slapped me! It was pretty much a moment of “w a i t a second” and I had to grab a random piece of paper to sketch it while I still had it in my head.

This is the sketch - as you can see from the coffee stains, it has been through some stuff. On the left I actually tried out some different ideas for the golden core - the 1st one was the winner and led to the whole leaking/water/rain theme. I ended up mirroring the whole sketch because I didn’t want Wei Wuxian’s hand to cover Jiang Cheng’s front hair wisp, as that would make that area too crowded.

Meta-wise: I wanted to show that the whole thing was kept as a secret from Jiang Cheng. But we also knew about it - so Wei Wuxian is breaking the 4th wall and looking at us [the audience] directly, shushing to keep it a secret as well. Then there’s his hand hovering over the blindfold - it was included in the show, but also sprinkles in that extra symbolism. Then there’s the rain - the sky crying for the two brothers, so you’re not sure if those are raindrops or tears on their faces + lotus pond for the Yunmeng vibes. As for the golden core, I wanted to make it kinda messy and leaking like blood + shining and make it the main light source of the piece. Also kinda like a glow stick liquid.

I also like finding fitting music to go with my art and this one was actually supposed to go with Avicii’s Hey Brother, but when I was looking it up on Spotify I saw Kodaline’s Brother right above, gave it a listen and then the lyrics hit me. So I already knew that they’re gonna go in the caption. Also apparently it’s like The Song for them and yeah, makes sense.

2. Creating

2.1 Set up and tools

I use Paint Tool SAI + Wacom Intuos S to do all my art! The entire pic was made on a 2000 x 3000 px canvas, since I don’t like to work too big because of limited brush sizes in SAI + I don’t want to torture my laptop, as my art takes up quite a lot of processing power with a lot of layers and modes and sometimes things like to crash at the final steps 😬.

2.2 Planning and composition

So I started off by doing a digital sketch and focusing on the composition a bit more - I wanted something geometrical, so I went for the diamond shape with Wei Wuxian’s silhouette and the placement of the lotuses. Also the composition is vertical, all the important info is in the middle column - you could cut off 2/3 of the picture and it would still tell the story.

2.3 Lineart

Then I did the lineart over the sketch layer (there was a more detailed one than the “planning” sketch, but it looks like I deleted it once I finished). I usually draw more than I have to and on separate layers, so that I can move/modify things easily later - for example JC’s headpiece here didn’t really make it that much into the final piece but It Was There. Once I was satisfied with the lineart, I cleaned it by erasing overlapping things, like Wei Wuxian’s clothes behind Jiang Cheng’s head.

2.4 Planning the lighting

After doing the lineart I blocked the characters with a single color and planned the lighting. The golden core is the main light source here, so it dictates which parts are gonna be lighter and which darker (although there is gonna some ambient occlusion from the background + reflected light from the water). I also added water and lotuses in the foreground + painted the background.

2.5 Shading the characters

After that, I started shading the pic. I usually do two steps here - one with “base” shading - focusing on the details and values based on the light source, then the mood shading with more coloring - based on the setting the characters are in. The first one is mostly done with the Multiply tool and base layer blending/painting, the second mostly with layer modes like Overlay and Luminosity. I also colored some parts of the lineart to make the shapes stand out (see: wwx’s front hairs)

2.6 Environment and touch-up details

Then it was time for the water and lotuses + the “special effects” for the rain and all the stuff associated with it - water splashes, mist, sparkling drops! Also some more mood lighting. Lots of new layers to keep everything organized and separated.

2.7 Finished pic

And done! After finishing I usually adjust the contrast/gamma/saturation of my art (or just edit it all in curves) + sometimes sharpen it to bring out details → I make a few different versions and pick the one that works the best. Although with this pic I was satisfied with the raw result so no major changes happened.

3. Posting

For posting I always scale down the pictures and upload them as a draft on this art blog. Then I check if things look okay on mobile as well - from what I’ve noticed my phone makes everything more warm-toned. Depending on the time I finish drawing, I either post it right away or wait until the next day, when there is more traffic on tumblr. I finished this one around 8PM of my local time, which is fine - so I posted it right away (also I was just excited, couldn’t wait 😅)!

As caption I used the lyrics from Brother by Kodaline, as mentioned before!

So yeah, that would be it!

If you made it till this part - thank you and I hope you have an awesome day! ✨

Let’s keep the artist vibes here - I’m gonna tag (not 5 ppl but shh) @still-snowing and this piece that still breaks my heart @driszol and this Song Jiyang pic that lives in my head to this day @kushexi and this pic with fox Wei Wuxian and A-Yuan bc it still makes me melt → no pressure of course! or if you want to do some other piece that’s awesome as well!

#showyourprocess #[and now tags for my own blog →]#not art #art process #oh this was fun - thank you for tagging me!!#always crying abt those self-sacrificial siblings :'')

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phoenotopia · 3 years

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The Last Phoenotopia Blog Update

(Date 2021 MAR 01)

I debated how to open this blog post, but perhaps the main crux of this blog post is the best place to start. The blog is being retired.

The purpose of this blog was to be a "development" blog for Phoenotopia, and well, Phoenotopia's development is done. I'll still be doing bug fixes and maintenance on the PC and Switch versions, and playstation and xbox ports are underway (by a publisher). But I'm not going to be making any more major changes to the game. At some point, you put the paintbrush down and say it's done. Blemishes and all.

Recent Events

The game launched on Steam last month, and like any launch, it was hectic. Bugs Galore. This is our first commercial PC launch, so it was a real baptism by fire. Unlike Switch's one configuration, the PC has multiple configurations and factors to account for. The game needed to be able to handle multiple control schemes, screen resolutions, refresh rates, and more! I had a 60Hz monitor going into launch and didn't know anything about Hz (I do now). There was a troublesome stutter that some players were sensitive to that my whole team didn't notice since our eyes compensated it away. There were a few times where in fixing something at one party's behest, it introduced problems for another party. A few times, due to disorganization, I unwittingly rolled back a fix that was meant to be applied. For some, the game couldn't play at all (really glad Steam allows refunds).

It was messy. It was tiring. I.AM.BEAT.

I think the worst of it is over... I'll still be around to do the last updates and bug fixes, but I'm ultimately ready for what's next.

SO what is next?

What isn't next... is Phoenotopia 2. As you may have heard down the grapevine, the game couldn't be what you call successful. No one's earned even minimum wage on it.

Maybe there's hope in the game's long tail. A year or two down the line... maybe. I won't hold my breath though. At some point in the past few months, I finished processing (or grieving) and it's time to move on.

The game has at least earned enough for us to continue our modest operations. As long as we don't expand the team, and we don't take another monster six-year dev cycle like what Phoenotopia took, we can continue. We'll have to be smarter and faster. Perhaps the most valuable thing we gained from all this is experience.

The Experience

It is a dev blog. Here are some of the lessons I've accumulated from this game's development.

- Have a good menu design. Menus aren't just that in-between fluff before you get to the good stuff. Menus are KEY. Your menus need to be robust, expandable, and *understandable* (to you, the developer). Because once the game's out, you will invariably be asked to add more options. And if your menu design is bad, every time you have to add a new menu option, it becomes a whole new pain all over again. Support mouse from the get-go, etc.

- Focus on features that people will actually care about. For instance, I've never seen anyone praise the camera's zoom feature. In practice, people try that feature a few times and then never use it again. But that feature was a constant consideration factor for every level. Run through it multiple times to make sure the level didn't break, think about which zoom levels made sense, resize rooms because they worked at one zoom level but not the other, and so on.

- Don't do boxes that you can move around. Other 2D platformers avoid movable boxes because they're a huge headache to program and they really complicate the game space. Enemies need to respond to boxes you throw in their path and either navigate around or attack it. When you're moving the box, you have to worry about constantly changing your collision size and reconciling when the box gets snagged on the environment. The boxes were also a constant source of bugs because people can manipulate them to soft-lock themselves and more.

- More focused script. Phoenotopia's 100,000+ word script was panned more for being bloated than it was praised for being lengthy. Long scripts take a long time to write and make the game more unwieldy, increasing the costs of translation and upkeep. Every update we're addressing some textual error or mistranslation. There are some highly renowned games (e.g. Hyper Light Drifter) that do without a script at all!

- Be flashy! A bat and a lightsaber take the same amount of work to program, but the lightsaber will draw a lot more attention and interest.

- Slopes, surprisingly! Six years ago when I started, Unity was ill-equipped for 2D games. If you used the physics that Unity provided you'd have a really floaty character that wouldn't adhere to the slope when going downhill. There were a hundred different tutorials saying different things (use forces, use move position, use translation, etc). You can get rectangular collisions done in a day, but to do slopes took weeks. Meanwhile, games can actually get by fine without slopes. Most people won't even notice. Did you know the Phoenotopia flash game didn't have slopes? Neither does Hollow Knight or Rogue Legacy. You can save yourself a lot of work by avoiding slopes.

(big entities look weird on slopes. Bad slope!)

I could write enough little knowledge nuggets like this to fill a book! But I'd rather just make the next game.

So… what IS next?

As mentioned previously, it's not Phoenotopia 2. Pirate and I are mostly just tossing some ideas back and forth right now. We'll go silent for a year (or two). Our next game's scope will be more modest in some ways, more ambitious in others. It will definitely be more smartly designed. (There will be a map!)

We'll announce it when it's ready for the public. It might be necessary for us to do a kickstarter. I've tried to avoid kickstarters having been burnt on quite a few myself and also because I worry that mismanaging a kickstarter would earn the ire of backers.

But I did keep this blog regularly updated for six years. So I've gained some confidence in my abilities to at least manage a kickstarter well.

Is it really the last Phoenotopia Blog update though?

Okay, not really. There is some news that I'll need to announce, and this blog is one of the game's main outreach channels. Here are the events that will cause me to update the blog:

Announcing the launch of the xbox/playstation ports when they're ready

If a physical edition of the game happens

If a new language is getting introduced into the game (Korean is a high possibility)

When we're ready to talk about our next game

If (BIG IF) we begin development on a Phoenotopia sequel. I do want to do a sequel one day if we have the means and the demand is there.

Those updates will be more on a "when they happen" basis, rather than me reporting in every couple months.

Fan Art

As always, I'm very happy to see fanart of Phoenotopia. Major thanks again to Pimez for collecting all the artwork from the corners of the internet! Since this is the "last" blogpost, Sir Pimez can finally take a rest from collecting the fanart :P

ÆV made a series of pictures that tell a story. A Pooki is humanely sheared of its wool to create a hat. The Pooki is unharmed. Nice! Gotta love Gail’s expressions.

Amagoo Mazeru makes a stunning landscape shot of a full moon and shooting stars. It’s a sharp and clear vector art. I like the faint glow of the moon and the fire and the subtle gradient in the night sky. Very skillfully done!

Hah hah. I got a chuckle out of this one. I imagine this is how Gail's enemies see her by the end of the game. CaESar made this image based on TerminalMontage's famous youtube videos. Nailed it!

CrownStar drew two pictures of Gail. I'm a big player of JRPGs, so the first shot instantly reminded me of Persona 4's art style. (Hmmm... Phoeonotopia as a JRPG... there’s potential there...) Next, Birdy is shown carried off after her defeat. I really like Birdy's expression here - she just seems mildly uncomfortable.

There's a bit of a story behind the first image. As Firanka shares it, she wasn't able to defeat the Big Eye monster at the end of the flash game, so she believed a tall tale that what awaited after was a 6 armed Kobold boss. Hilarious! The second is a rendition of the lonely Anuri elder. A rare subject. The loneliness is portrayed well here. I feel lonely just looking at it!

Koo_chop draws the clash between Gail and Katash at the top of the towers. I really like this interpretation of the game's art style. It’s faithful to the in-game graphics. And the lighting, from the glow of Gail's bat, to Katash's sword, and the lightning in the background... Amazing!

Lime Hazard shows Gail with a salute pose. Very appropriate for this occasion. I also like how there's a slight tilt in the angle that Gail is portrayed. Those dynamic angles are always hard to get right, and Lime Hazard pulled it off very skillfully. See you next mission!

Lyoung0J with a digital painting of Gail posed sitting on a rock. I like how it almost seems like she was caught in a candid moment - she’s smiling, but also feeling self-conscious. Cute! The art style really pops, and I like how Gail is sporting what I call the old anime style nose.

MyUesrNameIsSh*t with a sketch of Gail performing a skillful slingshot. I like how Gail is depicted with her tongue out in a mischievous manner, the way all mischievous people with slingshots do.

Niitsu Kentaro returns with a 2021 Happy New Year picture. That happened didn't it? A New Year... Gail's pose gave me a chuckle with how she seems to be waving the bat around as casually as one would wave hello. And "Phoenotopiyear"... Well said! One day we'll have our Phoenotopiyear...

Ochan Nu breaks all records with a stunning NINE pictures in one session :O

There's so many goodies here. My favorite would be the one with Gail staring intently at the screen - it's like she's looking directly at you. You almost feel uncomfortable.

Next, there's an Animal Crossing villager dressed as Gail and sporting her pink hair. It even looks like a house Gail would live in. Gail is a connoisseur of the arts and likes Mona Lisa. Yes :)

There are various comics of Gail pointing out Gail's weird food habits. A picture of Fran looking really cool, and even Gail rocking a bathing suit. (bathing suit image linked here in case NSFW). Wow!

Pimez didn't just collect the arts, he creates them as well! This one, which he aptly named 'The Year 175' is a depiction of when the dragons invaded the towers as told by an elderly Daean woman. Great pixeling skills! I got a good chuckle from the ice dragon leaving with its stuff slung over its shoulder.

Quo made a stunning picture of Gail playing the flute surrounded by the 5 musical notes and the Phoenix logo behind her. The theme seems to be "fire" and it works really well. Gail herself looks awesome depicted in her red suit - it's like she's leading a marching band!

Rai Asuha depicts Gail in the late game with her red suit, and night star bat, and holding a lamp. She looks ready for adventure! I really like the white outline here and Gail's poofy shoulders here - the art style feels reminiscent of Final Fantasy Tactics.

Seri also draws Gail bearing her late game equipment. Unique to Seri's drawing is how all of Gail's equipment is accessible from a pocket on her shirt. I also like how Gail is depicted with her lucky earrings - that accessory is often forgotten.

Treedude depicts Gail with a bat and wearing a funny smirk. She looks like she's ready to hurt someone!

Warotar returns with everyone's favorite Great Drake, Bubbles! It seems so happy to be featured!

I'm really grateful for all the fanart this game has received. From the bottom of my heart, thank you!

Closing Notes

Pirate drew a picture to mark the occasion. It shows Gail enjoying a hot chocolate with marshmallows and a pumpkin muffin. A rest well-earned...

Goodbye! Until next time!

#phoenotopia

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yostresswritinggirl · 3 years

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100 Followers Special

(And how to participate) you don't need to be a follower to vote ack

~yostresswritinggirl

Hello AGAIN, with your back to back followers special! Exiled here, very tired, as I just closed the requests box for our 50 followers special. I asked for some recommendations and no one helped me so this is what I came up with!

Granted, it's nothing that special, I literally just dumped my notes into this so—

Please make sure to follow the guidelines and read this thoroughly to properly participate!

1. You will be given a long list of fic prompts specific to a character that I've come up with for weeks on end, please don't steal, as I will remove them after this event is done!

2. Voting! You now have the power to influence my writing schedule haha- what you need to do: is to pick three prompts from the list and send it to me; either through reblog tag, a reply, or in my ask box (not anon so we can count fairly, will not publish these answers tho so worry not)! Not in messages tho! It should be in this format:

1. Character - prompt or prompt title

2. Character - prompt or prompt title

3. Character - prompt or prompt title

example:

1. Albedo - Citrinitas

2. Zhongli - Braid

3. Xingqui - Author!Reader

The top three most voted prompt and character will be the next fics I'll publish after I'm done with the current reqs. Speaking of: Voting ends when I finish the current reqs. You'll know it's done once the counter in my blog desc reaches 12/12.

3. In addition to the three prompts, you also get to add your own prompt to it! My prompts list does not include ALL the characters that's why I wanted to give you this option too! Add a fourth number and specify a character, a prompt/idea, and the format of the fic! Format it this way:

4. Character - Prompt/Idea (Format)

4. Kaeya - What's under that eyepatch? (Scenario)

After I pooled the answers, I'll randomly pick between the bonus answers and write them last! So give it your best shot!

4. Tags-list! I thought this would be necessary for this kind of a whim special, so if you wanna be tagged, just put Tag Me! at the end of your vote. Please make sure that you're actually able to be tagged because I just tried and some users are not in my orbit huhu, look here

5. If a pocket watch/series prompt gets chosen, I will only post the first chapter, not the whole damn fic pls. Have mercy,,,

I will post a counter of the top three in my blog description and will be updated as frequently as possible. Any questions, please direct to this post or my dms <3

Without further ado, here is your choice list!

Xingqui - "My liege, would you care to accompany me on my reading break? I've picked up a romance novel and it reminded me of us."

-> Author!Reader: You met Xingqui at Wanwen Bookhouse when delivering a batch of your newly-published book. But as a ghost writer, no one knew it was you that authored such books. Safe to say it was cute watching the noble bookworm fanboy about you in front of you. [FLUFF] [FIC]

-> Headcanons with a reader older than Xingqui who's a close family friend of the Feiyun Commerce Guild. Fascinated after meeting you in a party, the noble boy aspires to become the best man for you despite the difference, promising to be the best suitable partner for you in the future. [FLUFF] [HEADCANON SCENARIO]

Childe - "Hey there, comrade! What a coincidence that we had a break at the same time, care to accompany me for a walk? I promise I won’t lead you to a fight haha... hey, don’t look at me like that!”

-> Antinomy - The 10th Harbinger (You) and the little shit they had to mentor (Childe), this fic enumerates the trials of the 11th before he became a Harbinger under your care. From strangers to mentor to friends to love- Childe made a grave mistake, now you’re once again strangers. [FLANGST] [ONESHOT]

Albedo - "Ah, it's you. I've heard of fleeting rumors that you've been pestering a certain someone just to see me. Next time, just come directly to me, I wouldn't mind the assertiveness."

-> Refer to these three as well: Albedo Fic Ideas [FLUFF/FLANGST/FLANGST] [ONESHOT/ONESHOT/SERIES]

-> “You’re Enough”: A year into being the new Chief Alchemist of Mond, Albedo finds himself holed up in his room in the dead of night, haunted as he continuously comes out empty on his research to bring his master back, feeling inadequate. So you reminded him of what he’s capable of. [FLUFF?] [ONESHOT INSPIRED BY You Are Enough - Sleeping At Last]

-> Under the Artificial Sky: Michaelangelo Scenario focused on Albedo’s sketching aspect. Grand Master Varka and Acting Grand Master Jean figured Albedo needed a break and a change of scenery, and sent him off under the guise of a commission in Liyue. What he didn’t expect was another artist from Fontaine accompanying him in this big project.(Albedo and Reader are tasked to paint the new Jade Chamber within 7 days) [FLUFF] [SERIES - 7 CHAPTERS]

-> Albedo SMUT: I had this idea while laying wide awake at 3 AM. The alchemist had been trying all remedies to shake off the stress and fatigue in his system and they all seemed to fail, no amount of sketching or discoveries can pull him away from it. So when you offered a solution he hasn’t heard, he’d jump at it immediately. “You know, some people say having intercourse with someone is a good stress-reliever.” “Intercourse? If it’s true, then please, I wish to have intercourse with you.” “Wha- wait Albedo, do you not know what that is? It’s only done between lovers!” “Convenient, I love you, anything else?” (Two virgin dumbasses do the thing to relieve stress) [SMUT] [ONESHOT]

Xiao - “I’ve taken care of every threat around this area, you can relax now, I made sure of that.”

-> What is it with you and Qingxin flowers? The Traveler had once heard of Xiao’s affinity for Qingxin flowers, and they’re flying companion boldly asked this lingering question to the adepti himself. His pupils dilate and sharpen before Paimon could finish her sentence. (An origin story about his favorite flower, and his favorite person) [SLIGHT FLANGST] [ONESHOT]

-> Just how harmful is adeptal energy to normal humans? You both found out in the worst way possible: silently, deadly. (Slight spoiler: you fucking die) [ANGST] [ONESHOT]

-> Nightmares Taste Horrible: He’s seen that look in your eyes and the ancient soul within it; you’ve lived long ago, and the only thing your soul carried now was the nightmares of a macabre timeline. Was it him or was it demons that brought you that fear? No matter, he’ll protect you even from yourself. (eating the nightmare of a dead soul reincarnated to you) [FLANGST?] [ONESHOT]

-> Go for the throat: The seal that marked you had made it all too late for him to remedy. Bleeding eyes, growing fangs, it’s just another demon to vanquish just like he’s done for centuries. What makes it different was it was sealed in you. (Inspired from Melanie Martinez’s song uhu) [ANGST] [ONESHOT]

Zhongli - “Mortals are capable creatures that evolve and adapt for means of survival, but they advance in ways that changes the world around them. This retirement, may be harder to me than it is to them.”

-> “In human history, there’s a certain noble and powerful connotation to rulers who braid their hair.” Convince to braid his hair using some historical braid trivia; that long hair behind his back should not be ignored for any longer. [PURE FLUFF] [DRABBLE]

-> History has its eyes on you: A traveling theatre hailing from the land of entertainment finds its way to Liyue for their last caravan. A certain Geo Vision man seems to resonate with your newest script: fighting and protecting your land, building up its nation, before being forced to let go of it. He resonates maybe a little too much. (Musical!Reader with heavy references to Hamilton hehe) [FLUFF] [ONESHOT]

Venti - "Can you hear the symphonies of the wind as it sings to you? That's me, guiding you and protecting you! Whenever you hear it, know that you're safe and sound under my protection!"

-> the one the bard once loved: like actual bard, you are the archer or smth, loved by Venti and Barbatos. Yandere!Barbatos undertones, very unhealthy relationship. This hurts the kokoro. [PURE ANGST] [ONESHOT]

-> The Caravan: (related to the Zhongli and Musical!Reader up there) Your caravan stops at Mondstadt for a whole week before it reaches its final destination. This new fanfare pulled in a peculiar bard who now wants to tag along for the fun of it. "I have no more responsibilities in this free land!" Just what kind of responsibilities does a broke bard have in the first place? [FLUFF] [ONESHOT/HEADCANON]

Diluc - "You look weary, and you still managed to pull yourself here. Here, a fresh and cold glass, on the house. A relieved smile should be enough payment."

-> Abandoned by The Altar: A timeline oriented story focused on your once perfect childhood relationship as Diluc's bride to be, soon becoming estranged after the death of his father and his neglect. You only wish now that he looks at you the same way he did when you heard you were supposed to be together forever when you were young. [FLANFF] (The ending gets better pls; Inspired by Still Into You - Paramore) [ONESHOT]

-> There are No Laws Against Homelessness in Mondstadt: My favorite title out of all of this ahahhaa- who says adventurers can't be broke? You're the living embodiment of that. (Good boi Diluc with a broke ass reader) [FLUFF] (Warning: homelessness) [ONESHOT]

Scaramouche - "Let's go already, the sun is setting and we're nowhere near our destination. If you wanted to linger just to spend more time with me, I would have indulged you behind closed doors anyways."

-> Scaramouche Finally Does the Fandango: Have you ever wondered how Scaramouche is like working with other people? His first assignment was to accompany you in your main region and he sees you in your natural habitat, entranced. [I dunno how to tag this, NORMAL?] [ONESHOT/SHORT]

-> Skincare bitch, how I headcanon Scaramouche as someone actually conscious and always tending to their skin. Look at that smooth skin, cute cheeks, let me pinch, eyeliner glory— In which case, that hat has more purpose than being a frisbee. (May or may not include reader. (based from a reblog convo with chels-void) [GOOD VIBES] [HEADCANONS]

-> Once Supreme: Before Scaramouche, there was someone else higher than him. Before Balladeer there was just a young man fighting for his beliefs and her Majesty. Before Mondstadt, his smile wasn't just for deception. "Someday, someone would take advantage of that smile, Scaramouche. It's not appropriate in this work environment." The day you break a man. (Harbinger!Reader again, and lots of HCs for Scaramouche, same format as Antinomy) [I also do not know how to call this, eventual ANGST] [ONESHOT]

Kaeya - "What are you doing out here in the dead of night? Citizens like you should be cozied up in bed and leaving the patrols to us Knights. Come, I'll accompany you back home."

-> Honey Whiskey: A mysterious band of dancers from Sumeru visits Mondstadt and its taverns to offer a night of alluring dances. What was supposed to be a night of drinking for Kaeya and his troops ended up becoming a tipsy surprise mission when the main dancer steps down from the stage— and ignores him?! How scandalous! (Slightly suggestive themes/You're a bad guy) [COOL?] [ONESHOT] [slightly inspired by song with the same name]

General:

-> A Musical!Reader but with a scenario with every other character, most probably headcanons master post.

-> Genshin Food prompts: From that one post, I ended up making a whole storyline of oneshots related to their special dishes. Oneshots connected to a bigger picture. By impulse you've ended up leaving your normal life behind to pursue your cooking career, starting from Mondstadt, to learn all the cuisines to establish the first ever international restaurant. With the implications of magic and peculiar customers, your simple dream turns into a harder goal. [GOOD SHIT] [SERIES] [CANON-COMPLIANT]

-> God of Time!Reader that hails from Fontaine. Do you wish to know more about their origins and their purpose in this world? [CANON-COMPLIANT] [HEADCANONS] (General since it deals with all the characters/interactions)

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

Tagslist-for-my-thirsty-homies:

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whumpingcrow · 3 years

Text

Ink Poisoning - Chapter 1

Introduction

Surprise! A new story, new characters, inspired by all the lovely authors of tumblr who do BBU or WRU writing :) enjoy!!

CW: BBU and everything in relation to that, drugs/alcohol, party themes/setting, plane mention, college setting, breakup mention, tattooing/tattoo shop mentions (let me know if I missed anything!)

Nicko and Salem had never really been too close. They lived a few houses away from each other in high school, had some of the same classes, and were tied in with the same friend groups. They were friends, as much as you could be friends with someone you only hang out with cause they’re close by, but not close by any means. Salem felt a certain way about Nicko, he always had, a way that told him to keep himself a safe distance from him. Maybe it was his recklessness, the way he did awful, often mean, things seemingly on impulse, just because it popped into his head and he wanted to follow through. He was unreasonably harsh and manipulative and just attractive and charismatic enough to not suffer the repercussions.

Because of this, Salem wasn’t really entirely sure how he had ended up living with the kid in his last two years of college. Both him and Nicko had gotten into the state college and were both art majors (Nicko was in visual arts and Salem in music), so they had been around each other since they both moved into the dorms as smooth faced freshmen. Nicko was on the football team for the first year and a half, then he got kicked from the team. At that point he hadn’t spoken to Salem for a while, so he never figured out the real reason why. He heard gossip, that Nicko was caught doing drugs, that he had slept with the coach’s daughter, that he’d been fighting, but it was impossible to know if it was the truth. On one hand, Salem wouldn’t exactly be surprised if it was something like that, but on the other hand he didn’t want to believe that he was that bad. After that, he focused on his studies. Salem saw him around campus working in sketch books or on a canvas, sometimes he would show up to a class covered in paint and tired, like he’d been working on something all night. He was also doing an internship at a tattoo shop, he got paid a lot to stab people with needles, and he genuinely enjoyed it. Plus, Salem had seen some of the stuff he’d made, and he certainly had talent, even though he was sort of a dick.

During that time, freshman and sophomore year, Salem was pretty preoccupied in his own respects, so these were the only things he really knew about Nicko. Those two years had been difficult, looking back on it he was surprised he was able to pass all of his classes with what he had going on. There was a messy relationship, horrible breakup, and he used it mostly to put into his music. He wrote some of his best pieces about it, so in a way he was thankful. He was better off now, anyway.

Now, he and Nicko lived together off-campus, along with three other art majors who neither of them knew too well, but rent was cheaper with more people and they were easy enough to get along with. School was almost over, it was their last stretch of their senior year, and things were good. Salem’s future was looking promising, he’d already been speaking to different producers and composers who he’d been set up with by his teachers, as soon as he graduated he would have enough saved up to buy his own place, closer to where he would work, on his own. Life was so simple, Salem was happy and hopeful and for once, things made sense. He just had to get through winter break, then the last few grueling months would crawl by, and then he would be free.

But then winter break came and went, Salem went back north to visit his parents, and when he got back things suddenly got...complicated.

Nicko would insist over and over again to Salem that they had “talked about this!” and he tried to persuade him by saying “you said it could be cool!” every time they talked about it afterwards. Salem told him that bringing it up as a concept while they were getting drunk after midterms was not talking about it.

What happened was someone had read an article somewhere, maybe it was from a click bait thing on Instagram or a frightening news article on facebook, and had brought it up while they were all throwing back beers before they went out to their own respective parties. It was about something Salem had only heard hushed whispers about online, he wasn’t even sure how legit it was because of how rarely he heard about it: boxies. The word made him cringe every time one of them threw it out drunkenly, like it was something cute. If what Salem had heard about it was true, they were essentially criminals who were brainwashed (or trained, as they liked to call it to sound more appealing) instead of taking another sentence. Box Boys, Box Babes, they had more gross marketing names, all involving a box. Supposedly it was because they were notoriously shipped to you conveniently in a box right to your front porch, as if they were an Amazon package. Yes, living human beings stuffed inside of a box and left on your porch, just waiting to be let out so they can start doing whatever it is they’ve been retrained to do. And somehow it was all completely legal, if you did it through certain companies.

So, that’s what they’d been talking about, when Salem looked back on it, all he remembered from the conversation was something like:

“Dude, how the fuck is owning a boxie legal at all? I was just reading this article and-”

"Those are like, those servant things you order online or whatever? I've heard about those, I think."

“That’s not the point, Nicko. I’m talking about how it’s fucking crazy this is allowed.”

“I think it’s cool. I mean if it were me I’d rather get to live in a house as like...a maid or whatever than go to jail. Jail sucks. I dunno, I think it’s cool. What about you, Cobain?”

Salem hated when Nicko called him that, he’d been doing it since freshman year, when one of Salem’s songs was suddenly being passed around the school in a youtube video he’d forgotten he’d posted. Nicko told him that it was edgy, that he sounded like Kurt Cobain. That would have been fine, Salem really wouldn’t have cared, if Nicko hadn’t personally told him before how much he hated Nirvana, how the music sucked. So every time he used the nickname it was patronizing, a little stab at him.

Still, Salem merely looked up from his laptop, he was probably checking back on his flight information for going back home, maybe checking to see if his test scores were posted yet, and scowled at him. “Yeah, Picasso, I think that owning a person is super cool.” He’d been sarcastic, obviously so, and Nicko knew that.

And still, here he was, telling Salem that he’d “agreed” to getting this boxie. Salem would disagree every time, and Nicko would just roll his eyes and shrug his shoulders and he would get away with it. He was always getting away with shit, it was really starting to piss Salem off.

The day Salem got back from break it had been snowing. The drive back from the airport was stressful, it was late, Salem just wanted to go home and sleep. Going back to the town he grew up in was draining, sometimes. It reminded him of complicated times and hopelessness. He wanted to forget all about those feelings, things were going good, he could be hopeful now, and going back home made those feelings a little...muted, for a while. So he figured he’d go home, get into bed, sleep it off, and get back to being hopeful in the morning.

Only he couldn’t do that, because of course Nicko was having a party. He usually called it “having people over”, because he was trying to be an adult now and that’s what adults usually said, but when it consisted of beer pong and body shots that didn’t seem like the right term. The lawn was covered in cars, so was the driveway, so were both sides of the street directly outside. Salem had to park halfway down the block, get his suitcase and guitar, and walk down the street. To his own house. He wanted to break Nicko’s face.

When he walked into the house, the air was thick with smoke and reeked of pot and sweat and booze. The living room was mostly empty, Salem could see from the front door that almost everyone was in the kitchen playing some sort of drinking game or outside. The house was a mess, almost all the lights were off so Salem couldn’t see the full damage yet, but he could tell that he wasn’t going to like it when he did. He shuffled into the house, kicking away cups and bottles as he walked past them. Part of him wanted to just turn around and get back in his car and drive far away, never come back and never see Nicko or this shitty house again. But he had to stick to his plan, he had to play it safe here.

“Salem!” He snapped his head up, in the direction of the voice, sighing when he saw it was Nicko’s girlfriend, Aurora. Or Rory, as most people called her. She had dyed her hair a bright, shocking blue since Salem had last seen her, if he remembered correctly she had it a pale pink before. Her makeup was dark and heavy, like it usually was, making her eyes look all that more intense and striking. Except for right then, because she was very obviously high, her eyes hooded and lazy. She was sitting on the couch, a boy who looked a lot younger than her on his knees right in between her legs. He looked even more fucked up than she did, glaring hard at the floor and swaying slightly as she raked her fingers through his messy, dark hair. As Salem approached them, the kid flinched away from him and snapped his eyes up to look at him. He didn’t pay too much attention to him, too distracted by his anger. Rory had to shout over the music just a little when she started talking again. “I was wondering when you were gonna be back! How was your tri-”

“Where the fuck is Nicko?” He interrupted. His hand was tight around the handle to his guitar case, he could feel his heartbeat in his closed fist.

Rory gawked at him, then her crimson painted lips turned up into a lazy smile and she laughed. “Wow, someone’s in a mood,” she teased, “why don’t you have a drink? Calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Rory. Tell me where he fucking is!”

Rory turned her attention downwards, toward the rough looking boy on the floor in front of her. Salem followed her gaze, realizing that he was now shaking, pressing his thin frame against Rory’s leg like he couldn’t get close enough. He was looking at Salem’s shoes, his face twisted up in a nervous frown. Rory instantly leaned close to him, hands on his cheeks and lips against his jaw, saying something in a real low, soft voice. She was calming him down, soothing him, Salem noticed, because he had frightened him.

Salem realized, then, how angry he sounded, shouting and cursing, and he sighed to himself. He decided he’d be better off just going to bed, putting in earplugs and waiting until the morning to deal with the problem. It’s not like he’d really be able to fight Nicko anyway, he was so much taller and he’d been on the football team and honestly Salem just wasn’t equipped for fighting. So he turned away from both of them and made his way down the hallway, to his room. He locked his door and set his things down, then he promptly stripped down to his boxers and got into bed.

The next morning, Salem was surprised to wake up to a clean, quiet house. He walked down the hallway, expecting at any second to see all of the trash pushed into a corner somewhere, he didn’t think Nicko would have cleaned up himself, unprompted. But it was clean all the way through, and he was impressed when he walked into the living room and saw Nicko, decked out in all black clothes and black boots, relaxing on the couch with his keys clutched readily in his hands, like he was leaving. He was speechless, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he approached him.

“Morning, sleepy head,” Nicko teased, tilting his head back and looking him up and down, “how was your trip?”

“Uh...good.” Salem answered, voice still gruff from sleep.

“Morning, Salem!”

He turned to see Rory standing there in fishnets and an oversized hoodie, dramatically tall heels wrapped around her ankles, making Salem wonder how she was standing straight. One time, when Nicko was busy doing an art piece or working on school work, he couldn’t remember now, she and Salem had been in the kitchen alone and Rory told him that she liked to wear tall heels because Nicko likes when she’s short and it entertains her to bother him. She said the best part of her day sometimes is irritating Nicko.

Behind Rory, standing with his head dipped downwards and his shoulders slightly hunched, was the same scared looking kid from the night before. He was allowing Rory to pull him along by his wrist, focusing on his shiny black boots, ones that he looked rather unsteady in, like he wasn’t used to tall shoes. His thin, oversized black tee shirt hung off of one boney shoulder, showcasing a few tattoos up on his collar bone and neck. They looked fresh, like they were healing. After Salem scanned the rest of his body (why was he wearing shorts and a tee shirt!? It was snowing outside!), he had healing tattoos all over, scattered every few inches. Were they all new? Salem didn’t know much about tattooing, but he didn’t think that was safe.

Salem didn’t realize he’d been staring at him, silent, until Rory cleared her throat, redirecting his attention to her. “He’s cute, huh?” She smiled, smacking her gum at him. “Nicko picked out a good one.”

“I...What?” Salem muttered.

“Our boxie,” she explained, holding his limp arm up in the air and waving it a little, making the kid flinch hard, “You were looking at him. Isn’t he precious?”

Now, he was shrinking in on himself more, looking rather embarrassed and ashamed, his face hidden mostly by his floppy hair. Salem frowned at him, then at Rory, then at Nicko, who was smiling smugly.

“You didn’t.”

Nicko laughed at him, and thus began the famous “You said it would be cool” argument. Salem was so shocked in the moment he wasn’t able to form a proper argument, so Nicko took both Rory and the boxie out the door and into the snow with him.

So that’s when things got complicated. Well, not necessarily right away, but that was the thing that kickstarted it all. It was a total snowball effect, where one bad thing happens and it just gets worse and collects more velocity and severity the longer it goes on, until it’s huge and it can’t be stopped and it flattens a poor snowboarder or a small city. Salem had to finish school, he had to start living his life and building his career, he didn’t have time to worry about huge snowball problems. That could ruin everything, all of his hard work and pain would have been pointless. All because Nicko decided to get a fucking boxie.

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moth-based-cryptology · 3 years

Note

annnnd i’m supposed to be doing hw so that means it’s head canon time!

they do a q+a and someone asks about al’s nickname red (did it come from his hair or the fact that he blushes rly red) and race is like ;)) you should see how red he gets when- and al is like !!race!! and race is like WHEN i embarrass him mind out of the gutter al jeez and al’s face burns

al does a stream with tiny little braids in his hair bc race plays with his hair and race does a video where he has a bunch of butterfly clips n stuff in his hair bc al put them there and race isnt ever taking them off

race is slowly getting better at games and he’s like babe!!! there’s someone right behind you!!! and al turns and promptly gets shot point blank by race

jack was chilling on the couch once as they did a stream together and when he left they found a few drawings of them looking at the screens and also looking at each other and they’re like damn,,,,, we really do be in love

on april fools day race pours water over al and al starts freaking out and he’s like race oh my god the game setup the waters gonna ruin in oh my god oh no can i even afford an entire new setup oh god oh shit and race is like slowly panicking like babe oh crap i’m so sorry i’ll help i swear i didn’t think about that and al puts his head in his hands and race is like baby please don’t cry i’m so sorry

but al’s not crying he’s laughing, because the water didnt get into the console (race is smarter than that) and race totally fell for it and race just stops and he’s like you little-

for one of race’s videos he wants to try his art skills so he paints on al, and afterwards he’s just staring at shirtless al and al’s like uhh. you’re just staring at my abs babe and race is like oh my bad and then proceeds to stare at his arms

when they eventually do get engaged race posts smth and captions it smth about his fiancé but he’s so excited that he accidentally writes finance and everyone’s like ??? did he mean??? fiancé??? if so i’m happy for them if he’s genuinely this excited about a finance then cool i guess??

race makes an offhand comment abt stealing all of al’s shirts so he’ll just be shirtless and al is like sure race and race takes that as a challenge and the next stream al is wearing race’s hoodie (one that race had worn in multiple of his own vids) and he’s like so anyways he actually took my tops and race is like “hey at least you still have your bottom ;)” and al is like “ONE PEACEFUL STREAM RACE”

i love the hcs but for legal reasons i have to tell you to go work on your homework before you write any more because i have a ✨guilt complex✨

- race is a heathen and is constantly making jokes like this when he KNOWS albert is hyper-aware theyre on stream cause it embarrasses him b u t albert is the type that just,,,, constantly makes jokes like that regularly so if they’ve been on stream and he’s chatting with race or distracted by the discord’s banter or something he’ll casually make a joke about race using cover up on his neck in videos or something and chat will loose it and race just stares at him for a full 10 seconds like ‘😲’

- albert also did a whole stream with winged eyeliner cause race wanted to do his makeup and he refused to wash it off. race came in with bright red lipstick and left a massive kiss print on albert’s cheek before winking at the camera and walking out again to wash his face. albert 100% noticed but just left it there. race is in love with all the pictures of him from the stream with the butterfly clips and saves every piece of fanart from it to his phone for safe keeping.

- the thing i’m imagining is pubg and the animation on that makes me fucking cry laugh. just the head snapping back and then al’s character just crumbling while race is on the game floor cackling and albert is just blankly staring at his screen before he just turns to race and goes “you’re going to regret that.” very seriously. race stops laughing.

- race frames and hangs the art in their gaming room cause he thinks it’s cute. jack sees it one day like “guys- i have better ones you could’ve just a s k e d” and just gives race this massive box full of sketches of them cause they’re gross and couple-y and he teases them but they ARE a perfect character study for ‘fools in love’ and it makes for good art.

- i picture race as highly empathetic so he would immediately feel SO GUILTY if he thought albert was actually upset b u t albert cant even bring himself to feel bad cause race got trying to get him

- race is a massive al simp he frequently gets caught,,,, admiring his boyfriend (aka positively drooling over him) and it always makes albert slightly smug, which as we know, isn’t his usual state of being.

- sjhdbdhd race WOULD make a typo in engagement announcement post. albert’s comment is just “hahahhahaha FiNaNcE. good one babe” and race never ever lives it down.

- they have exactly zero peaceful streams he should be used to this by now. also he does dares for donations over $50 (cause he makes questionable choices) and someone drops $100 and just puts “i dare you to give race his hoodie back” and race just smiles like the cheshire cat. albert asks if this makes him a stripper. also when race says that “at least you still have your bottom ;)” line and winks DIRECTLY into the camera, al just gets up and pretends to leave the game room for dramatic effect.

yeah,,,,,, i’m still obsessed with this au thank you for the fantastic hcs

#newsies #livesies #racetrack higgins #albert dasilva #never not read the tags #ralbert #spam ralbert gang #chaotic red and radioactive racer #youtuber ralbert #youtuber!au #i’m obsessed #al is a dirty joke king everywhere but online prove me wrong

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hartigays · 4 years

Note

How about #9 as a prompt, please? Maybe something post Starcourt??

9. “I missed you so much.”

every second leading up to steve knocking on the apartment door that looms before him was, initially, filled with excitement. but now that steve is finally here, soon to be face-to-face with the person who’s only lived in his dreams for the past year and a half, he hesitates.

it’s just nerves, but it feels like it’s eating away at steve’s core. leaving him exposed and raw, like a nerve.

what if things are different? what if nothing feels the same? what if steve’s dreams are better than reality? there are too many questions in need of answers. but steve doesn’t have the luxury of taking another few months to figure them out.

so he knocks.

steve takes a deep breath, steeling himself. willing his hands to stop shaking and his heart to stop feeling like it’s beating in his throat. it takes a moment, but finally he hears the sound of distant footsteps, growing closer and closer until the door swings open.

it isn’t billy. steve doesn’t know whether he should feel relieved, or concerned.

“you must be steve,” the woman in the doorway says, giving steve a dazzling smile.

it’s then that steve is confronted with recognition. she has the same smile as billy, the same bright blue eyes and sharp jawline.

she has to be billy’s mother, sandy. the person steve knows only through stories and shared memories. the person who had to leave billy behind years ago, when neil fought dirty for custody and painted her as some sort of evil criminal, stripping her of her parental rights.

billy is 18 now. billy can live with whoever the fuck he wants. billy is here, now, in california. and this is billy’s mother, the person he never should’ve been taken from, giving steve a smile bright enough to rival the sun.

steve isn’t expecting the swell of emotion that bubbles up inside of him. it has him surging forward, flinging his arms around the woman that he’d met mere seconds ago.

it’s a thank you, of sorts. a thank you for coming back, for welcoming billy back into her home, for giving billy a safe place to rest his head while he heals and recovers after the trauma and near-death of starcourt.

for letting billy love whoever he wants, and for letting steve stay here in her home, just for a little while, to love him right back.

“sorry,” steve says when he pulls away, clearing his throat. he wipes his eyes on the back of his hand, stepping back. “didn’t mean to bombard you like that.”

“come in, sweetheart. let’s get you something to drink,” is all sandy says, stepping aside to let steve in. “billy’s just hopped in the shower, he won’t be long.”

steve doesn’t say it, but he’s grateful for the extra time to collect himself. he’d turned into a blubbering mess after speaking little more than two words to billy’s mother - he doesn’t need to fall apart the minute billy walks through the door.

billy has had enough to deal with. it’s the least steve can do to not turn into a gigantic crybaby today.

“was the flight okay?” sandy asks from where she’s rummaging around in the fridge. she returns with a bottle of water a moment later, and steve accepts it gratefully.

“oh, yeah. it was fine,” steve tells her, his leg jiggling nervously. he’s seated at one of the barstools at the kitchen counter, his elbows resting on the cool marble. “getting a cab here from the airport was the hardest part.”

sandy chuckles, nodding. “i imagine so. sounds like your flight came in at one of the busiest times of the day.”

steve just smiles. he picks at the label on his water bottle, trying to come up with something to say. nothing seems to fit, but in the end he goes with, “i, uh. i want to thank you for letting me stay here for a bit. with billy, and - um. and stuff. i know that it’s not - it’s not usual. but i appreciate it a lot.”

“everything and nothing is usual. it’s just a matter of perspective, or circumstance,” sandy says. she huffs out a soft laugh when steve just blinks. “billy can love whoever he wants. it doesn’t bother me one bit - i just want my son to be happy. i think you and i are alike in that respect.”

“has he been?” steve asks, relief flooding through him, warm and comforting. “happy, i mean?”

“he’s been well. healing. he misses you, though. i think he mentions it about five times a day,” sandy says, a small smile playing on her lips. “writing to you has helped him take some important steps in his recovery.”

“i’ve kept them all, the letters. didn’t know if i’d ever get to come out here,” steve explains, his voice soft. “it was nice to have that little piece of him while he was gone.”

“not gone, just a little out of reach.”

steve whirls around at the sound of billy’s voice, accidentally knocking his water bottle onto the floor in the process. it spills all over the counter and the hardwood, and steve curses.

“shit- i mean, sorry, that wasn’t- i didn’t mean to do that,” steve says, rushing to find something to soak up the water with.

sandy just shakes her head, resting a hand on his shoulder. “go on, i’ll take care of this. it’s just water, honey, don’t worry about it.”

billy is standing in the entrance to the hallway, leaning against the wall with a fond smile on his face. steve gives sandy a grateful look, before moving around the counter to put himself directly in front of billy.

it isn’t until they’re in billy’s room, with the door cracked at sandy’s request, that steve pounces. he has billy in his arms in a split-second, burying his face in billy’s hair and breathing in deep.

“i missed you so much,” steve mumbles, his voice muffled and strands of billy’s hair getting stuck to his tongue.

“missed you too, princess.”

billy smells like the beach. like coconut shampoo and sunscreen and saltwater, even after his shower. he’s squeezing steve tightly, and steve knows it means that billy has missed him just as much.

they stand there for a long time, holding each other. it doesn’t feel right to speak, so neither of them do. they just cling to each other like their each other’s lifelines, their hearts beating in sync.

“do you want to sit down?” billy asks after a while, rubbing soothing circles onto steve’s back.

“no, i want- ” steve stops short, pulling back just enough to look into billy’s eyes.

then, he’s kissing billy with enough force to make them both sway a little. billy nearly topples over and steve eases up, but their lips never separate. steve kisses billy desperately, chasing the taste of weed and nicotine and toothpaste on his tongue. billy kisses him back just as desperately, one hand grabbing a fistful of steve’s hair, the other holding steve steady by the small of his back.

“you know, we could’ve done that sitting down,” billy says when they break apart, panting just as hard as steve. but he’s grinning from ear to ear, and steve is suddenly struck by just how much he looks like his mom.

“didn’t want to wait,” steve murmurs, leaning in to press another kiss to billy’s lips, this one quick, but tender.

then steve pulls away, taking a moment to look around the room. he’d been in billy’s room in hawkins once before when neil was out of town, but it’d felt like it belonged to someone else. there were posters of women in bikinis everywhere, playboys stacked on almost every surface, beer cans crushed and tossed around the room, almost like they were staged that way.

here, steve feels like he’s resting comfortably in billy’s mind. there are still posters hung up, but they’re of the movies steve knows are billy’s favorites. billy’s got two big bookshelves, filled top to bottom with worn books that have steve’s lips twitching into a soft smile when he spots them.

there’s also a hell of a lot of art all over the place, hanging on his walls and even tacked up on his ceiling. all pieces steve knows billy painted or drew himself, because whenever he and billy were alone, billy’s nose would always be buried in some sketchbook or another. he’s always struck by billy’s talent, rendered speechless at the depth to it all.

steve spots a small drawing resting on billy’s nightstand, propped up against his lamp. it’s a simple piece done in black ink, but steve can’t see what it’s of until he steps closer. his breath catches in his throat when he sees that it’s a sketch of him, perched on the hood of the beemer, smiling with a cigarette in hand.

“you drew me?” steve asks, picking up the drawing and cradling it delicately in his hands.

“i draw you a lot,” billy says, shrugging. he comes up behind steve and wraps his arms around his middle, hooking his chin over steve’s shoulder. “i can show you the rest later, but first you have to let me draw you again. it’s been a while.”

billy doesn’t let steve go, but he does maneuver around him to open the drawer of his nightstand, pulling out a faded polaroid. it’s the photo billy’s drawing is based on, and the memory of the night it was taken hits steve like a train.

they’d been out at the quarry, drinking beer and smoking, shooting the shit. the sun was starting to set, and steve knew they were days away from graduating and everything was about change. he remembers his heart feeling so heavy he thought it might fall right out of him. but billy had been all smiles, staring at steve as he leaned up against the beemer, the sun setting behind him.

billy had said something stupid to make steve laugh, and the moment steve smiled billy had taken the shot. the memory has steve smiling down at the polaroid, his smile a little watery.

“i can’t believe you kept this,” steve says, twisting a little in billy’s hold to try and look at him. “it feels like this was so long ago.”

“i carry it around everywhere,” billy tells him, pressing a gentle kiss to steve’s shoulder. “carry these in my wallet, too.”

billy digs in his pocket and pulls out his wallet, producing a torn photo strip. it’s from the time they’d taken pictures in the photobooth at starcourt, before all the pain and devastation that came soon after. the booth had only printed one set, so billy took half, and steve took the other.

“i ever tell you that you’re kind of a softie?” steve jokes.

billy huffs a soft laugh, unwinding himself from around steve so he can take his hand and pull him towards the bed. he flops backwards onto it, and pats the spot next to him. steve curls up next to him immediately, resting his head on billy’s chest.

steve hears the click of billy’s lighter, and smells the smoke soon after. the window behind them is cracked, and steve can only hear the sound of the ocean crashing against the shore, seagulls, and billy’s soft breathing. he passes steve the cigarette a moment later and steve accepts it gratefully, taking a long drag.

“how long can you stay?” billy asks after several beats of silence, taking the cigarette from steve’s outstretched hand.

“‘bout a week. that’s all they’d let me take off,” steve sighs. “wish i could stay forever.”

“wish you could too,” billy says, his voice almost inaudible.

steve tilts his head up, pressing a kiss to the underside of billy’s jaw. “one day. i promise. i’ll be here to stay.”

billy just combs his fingers through steve’s hair, humming softly. they end up falling asleep like that once the cigarette is finished, dozing off to the sounds of the ocean and the city, the evening breeze ruffling their hair. but not before steve looks up at billy one last time, struck dumb by how much he loves him.

and for the first time in a long time, everything just feels right.

#thanks for the request nonnie! i love me some post-starcourt feels 💜💜💜#harringrove #my fics #ask #anon

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mageicalwishes · 3 years

Text

Read on AO3: Here

Rating: Teen & Up

Chapter: 1/? (More chapters to come a little later in Dec + Early Jan!)

Summary: A loose crossover between Carry On and parts of I'll Give You The Sun. "He’s haloed under the streetlights, and I’m trying not to stare. But, it’s hard. His face is celestial - The sunshine of his soul peeking through his features. I want to say more, just so that he doesn’t leave. Our houses are right there but, I feel so ... multicoloured."

Carry On Countdown, Day 10 - Crossover @carryon-countdown

Tags: Fluff, Getting Together, Meet-Cute, Social Anxiety, Crossover, Pining Baz, Artist Baz, Space Enthusiast Simon, Star Gazing, Anxious Thoughts, Carry On Countdown 2020 Day 10

Words: 2,145

Baz

I need to stop thinking about grey, slippery roads and black shrouds. About the purple under my Father’s dull eyes, and the red of my Aunt’s anger. I need to stop thinking about me - About my life. My head is too loud. Too noxious. I need someone else to take my mind for a while. I need to see. To paint. And so, I search for a subject.

Dragging my binoculars across the bleak, colourless houses, I search, desperately, for even a glimpse of a hue. But the colours are slipping from the world again. They always do when I’m trapped in my head.

And then I see them - The movers - so far from colourless that I’m dizzied. They’re great work horses, both of them - One chestnut, and one palomino - Hulking a grandfather clock up the house-next-door’s stairs. I’m zooming in, before I have time to reconsider - Into the stretch of navy against the flex of their arms, the rose flush of their foreheads, the tan swath of smooth stomach revealed each time they lift their arms. And then ... Shit.

I drop the binoculars onto the floor, my body following swiftly behind them. Because, on the roof of the house, there’s a boy pointing a telescope directly at me. Fucking Hell. How long has he even been there?

I risk a glance over the top of my windowsill. He’s wearing a tatty purple jumper, and there’s a mess of bronze curls tangled atop his head. Even without the binoculars, I can see that he’s grinning at me. Is he laughing at me, already? Does he know what I was doing? That I was watching the movers? Does he think that I’m ...? He must. Why else would I be ogling them. God. I feel the dread pinching at my throat, and try to tether my mind, so that it doesn’t get away from me again. Maybe he’s just a smiley person. Maybe he thinks I was looking at his clock. That’s equally as plausible, surely? And, I mean, he has a telescope. Dickheads don’t tend to have telescopes, do they?

Tugging at the ends of my hair, I stand. When he sees me he waves, but before I have a chance to reciprocate, he’s reaching into his pocket, drawing his arms backwards, and lobbing something straight at me. (Maybe he is a dickhead, after all).

On reflex, I stick out my hand. The unknown object slapping hard against my skin, as I close my fingers around it.

“Nice catch!” He yells. His voice deep and bright, with a definite Northern tinge. I decide that I like it. It suits him.

But, I don’t know what to say back. So, I don’t. Instead, I examine his potentially dangerous ‘gift’ - Spinning the rock around in the palm of my hand. It’s small (About the size of a pound coin) and covered in irregular lightening-like cracks. What am I supposed to do with it? Do I throw it back? Why did he even throw it at me, in the first place? I don’t know, but I slip it into my back pocket for safe-keeping, anyway.

When I look back at him, hoping for some kind of explanation, he’s turned himself back towards the sky. Too focused on looking through his telescope to notice me. Which, to be honest, is odd. I mean, it’s daytime. What could he possibly be looking at?

Even though I’m curious, I don’t stick around to find out. I’m worryingly off-kilter, and I need to rebalance. I hadn’t prepared myself for meeting a new person. I wasn’t ready. And so, I run to the place that I know best, to recuperate - The Art Institute. Where I can carry out further recon on the studio.

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

It was a good, productive sketch session. Nobody caught me peeping through the window, and I was able to get a few decent body references down. But … I don’t feel my usual post-art calm. My mind is still racing (Although, with a different genre of thought than earlier).

Every over time I have visited, the models have been women. Posing demurely, with a bowl of fruit or silks. Arms placed, to partially protect their modesty. I’m used to that. I’m prepared for that. But today … it was a bloke.

I don’t have a problem with that (Not really). There’s nothing wrong with blokes. And there’s nothing wrong with naked blokes, either. I’m mature enough to handle that. A body is a body. A sketch is a sketch. And I’m an artist first, queer person second. I just … hadn’t expected it. And I don’t like to be caught off guard. So, I’m feeling slightly rattled. I just need to get home, and get back to normality. To safe things - Like a beach scene, or a self-portrait. Familiar things. No more surprises.

And yet, a few steps into my walk back home, I see the guy from the roof leaning against a nearby tree, the same lopsided-grin aimed over at me. I blink, confirming his existence, and then he’s talking. Stood, barely 3 metres in front of me, in the dirt.

“How was class?”

He says it like it isn’t the strangest thing in the world that he’s here, with me, where he really has no reason to be. Like it isn’t only just slightly beaten in its absurdity by me, sketching propped-up on a wall outside, rather than inside, the studio. Like we aren’t complete strangers (Because, no matter how much he may be smiling at me, we don’t even know each other's names yet).

‘Yeah, sorry, I kinda’ followed you. I wanted to check out the woods, but I wasn’t sure of the way. So … I just tagged along. Figured you wouldn’t mind. Don’t worry though, I wasn’t watching you the whole time. I was busy with my own stuff.”

He points to an open suitcase filled to the brim with ... rocks? As if that’s normal.

“My meteorite bag’s all packed.”

I nod like that explains something, but it really doesn’t. Meteorites? I thought those were in the sky, not on the ground. And what does that even mean? He just carries around pieces of infinity. For what?

I look at him more closely, studying his face for any sign of disingenuity. For any sign that he’s just having me on. But I find nothing. Nothing … bad, anyway. Just a deep dimple accompanying his crooked smile, and miles of tawny skin, speckled with moles. He exists in shades of orange and gold. He’s the sun. And I can’t look away.

“Stare much?”

I drop my gaze, embarrassed - Staring down at his scuffed Nikes, as my neck prickles with heat. I don’t talk. What am I even supposed to say to that? Yes?

“Well ... you’re probably just used to it from staring at that bloke for so long. You know … for your drawing.” I look up - Grey meeting blue. He’s eyeing my pad curiously. “He was naked?” He breathes in as he says it, like the words stole his oxygen. It makes my stomach plummet, but I try to keep my face calm. I think about him watching me, watching the movers. How he watched me, watching the model. He must know. And ... I don’t know how I feel about that, just yet.

He looks down at my pad again. I don’t understand why. Does he want me to show him the drawings of the model bloke? It seems like he does. And some disturbed part of me wants to. But I doubt it. ‘Hey stranger, wanna’ see how I draw dicks?’ said no sane person ever. My stomach twists tight, and I’m out of control - My brain hazy amongst the moment’s tension.

“Look, man,” he sighs, half-smiling as he scrubs at the back of his neck. “I legit’ have no idea how to get home. I tried, but I just ended up back here. I’ve been waiting for you to lead the way. You don’t mind do you?”

I don’t think I mind. Do I? I don’t know. I shake my head, anyway, and point him in the right direction.

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

It’s a long way home, and we walk the majority of it in silence (Well, near-silence. The bumping of his suitcase creating a constant accompaniment to our steps). I try and resist the urge to look back at him. The urge to ask him all of my ‘Why?’s - Why did you follow me? Why are you still following me? Why are you collecting meteorites? Why were you looking at the stars in daylight? Why were you looking at me in the daylight? It would only make me more muddled. So, rather than relent, I take out my invisible brushes and start to paint behind my eyes.

And, after a while, I feel myself settling back into my skin. The dancing trees and setting sun relaxing me, in spite of the moment’s unsteadiness. Or ... maybe it was him. He’s an alarmingly relaxed person (I mean, I don’t know anybody else who would just follow a stranger around, with zero self-consciousness), so it wouldn’t surprise me if he had some sort of ‘Realm of Calm’ thing going on around him.

When we emerge from the woods, returning to our familiar concrete-laden pavements, he spins around and jumps in front of me. Ecstatic.

“Holy shit! That is like ... the longest I’ve ever gone without talking in my life! I was holding my breath just trying to keep the words in. How do you even do that? Are you always like this?”

He’s a mile a minute, and I’m lagging behind.

“Like what?”

And then he’s laughing at me. I can tell that he’s a person who laughs a lot, from the way he lets it take him over so easily - His whole being lightening up, as the sides of his eyes crinkle, joyfully. But it’s alright, I don’t mind. It’s not a mean laugh. It just makes me feel a little bit fizzy inside (In a good way. I think).

“Dude! Are you kidding? You do know those are the first words you’ve said all day, right?”

I didn’t, actually. But I don’t tell him that. He’d probably just think that I’m more strange than he, no doubt, already does.

He’s properly cracking up now (Although, I don’t know what, exactly, I did that was quite so funny). “And then you’re all just like ‘What?’”. </p>

He makes an absolutely atrocious attempt at imitating my accent (Which leaves him sounding like some kind of drunken Prince Charles impersonator), and before I can stop it, I’m laughing outright, alongside him. Both of us hunched-over cackling, wholeheartedly, probably looking more than a little mad.

Once we’ve calmed down, he starts staring at my pad again. Jesus Christ. I really wish he wouldn’t. I’m not going to show him my sketches. Not even if he begs. I’d never survive the embarrassment.

“So ... lemme’ guess. You do most of your talking in there?” He points down at my pad, and I feel the tips of my ears flood scarlet.

“Yeah. Something like that.” My voice comes out mumbled and gruff. I didn’t mean for it to. He probably thinks I did it on purpose, though.

He’s haloed under the streetlights, and I’m trying not to stare. But, it’s hard. His face is celestial - The sunshine of his soul peeking through his features. I want to say more, just so that he doesn’t leave. Our houses are right there but, I feel so ... multicoloured.

“I paint in my head sometimes,” I blurt. Dumb. So unbelievably dumb. “That’s why I was so quiet, I was painting.”

“Oh that’s cool. Saves paper, I suppose. Better for the trees, and that.” Stalling. He’s stalling. I’ve made it weird. I always make it weird. “So ... were you painting anything specific?”

“You.” Oh, fucking hell! I’ve ruined it - I’ve smeared on that last glob of un-erasable acrylic and ruined the painting. I shouldn’t have said it. I didn’t even mean to say it, it just ... popped out. And now he’s stood, gawping, eyes wide and face flushed. I’ve embarrassed him. I’ve gone and dumped all my greedy keenness on him, completely uninvited, and now he’s drowning in it.

Everything feels tight. The air, suddenly too humid to swallow. I’m gasping - Waves of breath crashing, loudly, in my ears. Panic. I’m panicking. I need to - I have to go.

So, for the second time today, I run. Spinning on my heels and darting back towards my house, without as much as a ‘Goodbye”. Away from him. Away from humiliation. Back to my room, where I pull the blinds shut and open up my pad - Briskly skipping over today’s work. A blank page. A fresh start. I really am no good at talking the normal way.

#carry on #carry on countdown #coc 2020 #simon snow #baz pitch #snowbaz #my fic #my writing

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chappedandfadedvds · 3 years

Text

Nov 7th, Saturday 14:20

„Happy birthday!!“

„Thank you so much, can I be celebrated for days now every year? I really enjoy this.“ Jens joked as he stepped into the livingroom following Senne who had let him and Lotte in.

They even had put up a glittery banner and had a couple of colourful balloons grazing the floor. There was a set table and a cake filled with candles to the brim. Probably exactly 18 and Jens was pretty sure he would not be able to blow them all out at once. They all wore these tiny party hat cones on their heads, Lotte loving hers the minute it was put on when they entered.

„Next year were aren’t celebrating at all to equal it out, so you better make the most of it today.“ Sander declared getting up from his shared sofa with robbe, moving over to pull him into a tight hug. Robbe directly taking over, congratulating Jens once more as the two of them swayed from one foot onto the other in their embrace. He loved this boy so much.

„I can’t believe that you are eighteen. You are becoming a boring adult.“ He heard Robbe whisper giggling as they both pulled back far enough to look at each other grinning, not having let go yet.

„You’ll be eighteen soon too, so you better watch your words, young man.“ Jens joked as he saw his sister being picked up and swung around by Sander. He supposed this and the cake were her only two reasons for coming with.

„At least we have our university years left to fuck it all up, I guess.“ Robbe said happily as Jens kept smiling brightly, while his heart though tightened almost painfully at that thought. He didn’t want to think about it. Not now. Not with people around. Not with Lotte close by to see him. He swallowed it down and for some sort of miracle did Zoe appeared next to them.

„You can keep cuddling all day, if you want, but I wann hug Jens too.“ She complained quite amused as Robbe stepped away, his eyes immidiately searching for Sander to find him pouring Lotte some tea.

„What do you wanna drink?“ Jens heard the boy asking, as he joined the others by the table.

„Coffee would be great if possible.“

„Coming right up.“ Robbe replied, as Zoë and him hugged, her hand brushing through his hair, cautiously enough to not rip the birthday hat off.

„Happy birthday.“ She said, pecking a kiss to his cheek: „Let’s get some cake. Milan spend at least four hours in the kitchen, so even if it is horrible, smile.“

He snorted at her shaking his head. He was pretty sure the cake was amazing. Milan had found his absolute passion in baking since the first lockdown in march began. And though his cooking really left a large room for improvment, his baking skills was great by now. At least that’s what Robbe had told him and the last couple of weekends really proved him right.

„My turn finally.“ Milan said and another hug ensued as he was taking into the arms of the older boy and pressed tight against his chest. As with Zoë he was pecked a kiss on his cheek and welcomed with a bright smile and best wishes. Milan’s hand took holf of his and thus they both went to join the group a couple meteres away.

Robbe had joined Sander in the meantime, Lotte placed happily chatting away on the older boys lap, gesturing wildly about, as the other two listened intently. A child really suited them, Jens thought. And if fate was on their side and they pulled through all the mental health bullshit, he was conviced that they should have one. At least Sander appeared to enjoy that role.

Milan sat on the second sofa with Zoë and Senne, the later one busy lightening all the candles on the cake. That leaving Jens to take his seat on the armchair across of them.

„Alright. Make a wish.“ Senne set presenting his accomplished work, as Robbe took out his phone to either film or take a picture with. „And hurry, we want cake.“

It took him three tries to blow every single candle out as the other laughed and cheered him on.

He only whished for his mom to stay a little longer, like the little child he felt he still was.

„What the hell is this?“ Jens asked, his eyes wide open as he regarded the big package that Sander had pulled from his and Robbe’s room. It was a paper brown rectangle and decorated with a comically large red bow, like it belonged into a cartoon.

Zoë and Senne had gifted him a new year playstation plus membership, that he was very greatful for. And Milan had bought him a quite expensive book on music production, that Jens had wanted and was pretty sure Robbe had told him.

It was nothing compared to the present he was starring at currently infront of him on the floor, as he, followed by everyone else, had gotten up to inspect it.

„Open it!“ Lotte urged excited to his left, pulling his hand forward.

So he did just that. The bow was off in no time and the packet wasn’t that hard to open either.

He was staring in disbelief directly onto a skate board with a photograoh attached to it by tape, that punched the air out of his lungs.

It wasn’t just a skate board, it was his skate board, or at least a version of it. Because he had a pretty big accident with it, when he was eleven and the board broke and with it his heart, as it had been his very first one. He had cried the whole way home, more over the board than his broken arm and scratched knees. It took him weeks to get over it.

The photo was showing Robbe and him on his eights’s birthday, smiling at the camera, with said board in his little arms.

„Robbe, you didn’t..“ He heard his own voice saying, just barely keeping from trembling. His hand searching blindly for the boy behind him, who got the hint and kneeled next tim him to take it.

„Well it obviously isn’t the same one, but I found all these photographs of us and our boards last year, going through all my mothers stuff, before she was admitted and I knew immidiately that I needed to keep them. I planned back then to get you a board resembling it for your eighteen’s, but fate has it, that I fell for an artist. So while I told him what to do, and what was acurate, Sander drew and painted everything.“ Robbe explained, leaving Jens to continue starring at it, cautiously picking it up to turn it over and back.

He couldn’t believe it. It looked exactly the same, all the weird scribbles and sketches and amateurish tags were plastered across it. Jens felt the need to place it on a pedestal and conserve it, never touching it. This was too good to be true.

„Dude...“ He managed to say, putting the board back down, before his arms slung around his best friend burying his head in his neck, while the other laughed and stroke his back.

„And you too.“ Jens gestured towards Sander to come down as well, so he could hug both of them.

„I told you he would love it.“ Robbe was told by his boyfriend, before Lotte tackled them.

„I want to be hugged as well.“ She declared pouting, as they let her into their circle, while Jens was still processing his present.

The next hours Robbe and him spent reminising in old stories, they told the others about. A lot of emberessing ones, Jens thought, but he didn’t really mind. They really had been through a lot together. Robbe was definitely family and Jens couldn’t be more grateful to have him around. He just really hoped that they would all stay in Antwerp.

While Sander still had two years left at the academy, he had voiced interest to move somewhere else for a couple of years to see more of the world. And Jens was pretty sure that Robbe would stick with him, whereever his boyfriend would plan to take them. Jens really didn’t want to loose Robbe as well.

„You good?“ Robbe’s voice pulled him out of it, as Jens noted that the others had went back to the table, finishing of their second round of cake and tea and other sweets that have managed to appear on the table.

Jens nodded lightly at Robbe next to him on the sofa, as they had watched Senne and Sander help his little sister to stand on the used skate board of Robbe. She tried really hard to keep her balance as the two older boys pshed her back and forth across the living room.

„You know that if you want to talk, that you can always come to me, yea?“ His best friend said smikring as he winked, a clear reminder of last year, were the roles had been reversed and Jens had tried to have Robbe open up.

„I will.“

„You will what?“ Zoë inquired curiously as she looked up from her phone again, having texted Jana and the girls group some pictures of todays little birthday party, as she had explained earlier.

„Let you know, that even though it was Jens’s big day, we spent two hours on Lucas yesterday on zoom. Because you girls and my boyfriend can’t get enough of him.“ Robbe joked, taking Zoë’s phone to read through the last couple of messages.

„See.“ Robbe said as he showed Jens the screen, a conversation about Lucas being the prime subject: „Tsk, tsk, tsk.“

Jens was pretty close to tell Robbe that he really didn’t mind that at all, and that he probably could happily chat about the boy himself for days on end. And one day he would have to let Robbe know as well. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it yet. It was all too new.

„I’ve heard Lucas?“ Milan chimed in and Jens could only laugh at Robbe’s whine: “Not you as well.“

„Topic change!“ He threfore declared loudly, clapping his hands, to help his best friend out and made everyone look at him instead expectantly.

„What’s happening now with your exhibition? We all were so excited to behave in the dumbest way possible on thursday. Even Noor was in on it.“ Sander smirked at him, a fuck you on his lips, as he mouthed it silently at Jens.

„It’s all gonna be virtuell, like a tour through the exhibition pieces, so I guess maybe we could organise a litte zoom party again to go through it together?“ It is the best I can come up with now, if you are actually interested in seeing it, as you won’t have a possibilty to embarrass me infront of my professors.“

„Uh that sounds still fun. And Jana could join too! Let me just post the group.“ Zoë said excited as she took her phone back from Robbe, who turned his eyes a last time towards Jens. All serious as he patted Jens’s hand on the sofa between them.

„I mean it. I’m here to listen.“ He said smiling slightly and then getting up to help Senne make space on the table. They had ordered a big round of Pizza that should arrive soon for dinner.

Jens loved his best friend. He really did.

„We should add Lucas to the group as well.“ Milan proposed, being met with an unanimous approval of everyone else.

Jens shrugged at Robbe smirking back at him. He had tried at least. He took out his phone himself now, looking at their group that let everyone know about a new number been added. He needed to remind himself to text the poor boy later.

Zoë 17:56: Welcome to the best group in Antwerp!

Amber 17:57: Hello, Lucas!!! Glad to have you here 🥰

Noor 17:57: You still have time to run and block this. Once you are in, they will never let you out. Trust me. 😭

Moyo 17:59: Bring weed pls

#week 3 #wtfock #skam #vds #jens stoffels #lucas van der heijden #chapped and faded #flatshare time #bff time

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wherevermyway · 3 years

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we’re professional. (1/??) // minbin // 18+

❄ part of yuki’s favourites! ❄

we’re professional. chapter one: sophisticated series navigation: [desktop] [mobile]

pairing: lee minho x seo changbin rating: explicit! 18+ warnings/tags: slow burn, angst, eventual sexual content, age difference, art student changbin, artist minho, fake dating AU. word count: 4,807 also on AO3

originally posted: 17 december 2020

series summary: Lee Minho, or Minho: The Heartless, is a famous artist, which comes with an annoying entourage of paparazzi that are very invested in his life.

Two years ago, a piece at UBC's annual student's exhibit catches Minho's eye: "arranged: in black", a series of greyscale paintings crafted by sophomore Seo Changbin. Minho talks with Changbin at length for hours, then offers to help him financially if they pretend to date for a while, so Minho can please the press. Naturally, a walking exhibit of the "starving artist" stereotype, Changbin accepts the offer wholeheartedly.

There are no strings attached: Changbin can leave at any time. Hell, Minho doesn't even ask him for sex in exchange for the money, just companionship and occasional skinship. Changbin knows that Minho is emotionally damaged from several bad relationships in the past, so to have someone pay him just for providing them company is nice. Sure, he could go off and date someone and work on settling down, but he just doesn't want to. Minho is too interesting, too valuable.

Eventually, something's gotta give. When it does, it could potentially damage their relationship and careers forever.

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction! any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.

chapter summary: Minho brings up an interesting proposal while celebrating the second year of his professional arrangement with Changbin.

“I can’t accept this.” The young, blue-haired man at the opposite side of the table of a middle-aged brunette pushes an open envelope back across the table. “It’s too much. You’ve already given me so much this month, I couldn’t possibly accept anymore.”

“Changbin,” the brunette smirks, bringing the crystal glass of wine up to his mouth. “Please, don’t insult me. I’m not offering this just off the cuff. Besides, it’s not just cash that’s in there.”

The bluenette frowns, bringing his gin and tonic to his mouth, taking a careful, prescribed sip as he watches the older man cautiously. He lets the gin burn its way down his throat before he sighs. “It’s sex, then. That’s what you want, Minho?”

“No.” Minho’s expression quickly turns serious and slightly sour. “Not at all. I told you when we first started this arrangement that this wouldn’t turn sexual.”

“Right.” Changbin cocks his eyebrows up in response, his tone somewhat sarcastic. He brings the glass up again, tilting it and his head backwards, letting the ice slink down and hit him in the nose as he finishes off his drink. He sets the glass down on to the table, ice settling with a soft clink, before he rolls his eyes up and frowns. “What’s all this for, then?” The young man rolls his wrist around, bringing his chin down to his right hand. “You’ve really gone all out for this date.”

Minho softly smiles, then mimics Changbin, mirroring him in the way that he places his head in his left palm. “It’s been two years, officially.” He makes eye contact with a server somewhere off in the distance, and nods upward.

“Two years, eh?” Changbin tuts. “Surprising that neither of us have gotten sick of each other, nor found other people to spend time with.” He takes in a quick breath, then flashes his teeth with a lazy smirk. “Sure you’re not getting serious with me yet?”

The older man opens his mouth to speak, but quickly recedes his statement as a lanky waiter confidently struts over to the table. “Hyunjin, could you please bring me the bottle of Clos D’Ambonnay I have in the back?”

“Of course, Mr. Lee,” the blond waiter nods his head once with a polite smile before he makes his way back to whence he came.

Changbin squinted, knitting his brows together as he shook his head once. “You own this restaurant, too, don’t you?”

“Mmm, I wouldn’t necessarily say own it, no.” Minho hums, bringing his index finger in between his teeth as he ponders. “It’s a partnership with an old colleague of mine, Chan; you met him at the Vivace Vancouver exhibit over the spring. He had that dreadful red hair, the one where you said he looked like he got electrocuted and then spray painted by an angry ex-lover.”

The younger man’s eyes go wide as he tries to hold back his laughter. “Oh my god,” he sighs, “I remember that. How do you forget something so audacious, is that even possible?” He regains his composure and rests upright against the back of the chair. “In my defence, though, I was two glasses of Chianti in when I said that. Please tell me that his hair isn’t that horrible shade anymore. It was so bad.”

Minho smiles widely and softly shakes his head. “No, no, god, no. I met with him the day after and told him that he needed to go back to see my stylist immediately and never go back to the hellspawn that butchered his hair.”

“Apologies for the interruption, Mr. Lee,” the lanky waiter from before returned, presenting a black bottle before he placed it on top of the table. “As requested.” He placed well-crafted champagne flutes in front of both Minho and Changbin.

“Hyunjin,” Minho tutted as the waiter grabbed the bottle, “I’ve told you several times that just ‘Minho’ is fine.”

The blond waiter half-smiled as he wrapped a hand towel around the cork, deftly wiggling it off with a muffled pop. “And I will tell you each time,” he poured some of the champagne into Changbin’s glass first, “you will always be Mr. Lee when I’m at work.”

“You’re too stiff,” the brunette gently pushed his glass towards the blond as he set Changbin’s glass down. “I know that Chan — sorry, Mr. Bang — is strict with all of you, to maintain a pristine image,” Hyunjin picks up Minho’s glass and bites his lip as if he’s holding back commentary, “but you’re still in your prime. Bend the rules a little while you can get away with it.”

Changbin watches the way Minho’s eyes flutter around from the glass to Hyunjin, catching himself getting caught up in the way the light sparkles against his brown eyes, the way his eyelashes paint shadows on his irises. He doesn’t mean for every detail to be etched into his memory, but there was always something about remembering the details of Minho’s soft face that warmed him. If it were any other world, any other person, perhaps he would be catching feelings.

This arrangement, however, was strictly professional. There was no room for feelings.

Hyunjin sets the bottle back down onto the table. “Sure thing, Minho,” he sarcastically scoffs as he wiggles his shoulders in some sort of strange dance of mockery. “Would you like an ice bucket to keep this chilled?”

Minho shrugs, seemingly indifferent, but his expression turns a bit more serious. “I suppose. Don’t worry about us, though. Tend to the other customers first — we’ll be here for a while longer. A bit of champagne slowly warming won’t be the end of the world.”

“You got it, Mr. Lee,” Hyunjin says, tipping his index and middle fingers off of his forehead in some sort of joking salute before he spins on his heel and walks off to another table.

Minho grabs his champagne flute and flashes his teeth at Changbin. “Sorry about that, love, I’ve just gotta give the staff here trouble every now and again.”

Changbin blushes as he picks up his champagne flute, bringing it close to Minho’s. “Don’t apologize.” He tries to restrain his embarrassment, still mentally replaying the way that Minho called him ‘love’, desperately trying to get the sound to imprint upon his memory. “Anyway,” he lifts his head from his palm and stares directly into the brunette’s eyes. “Two years? I can’t believe it’s been this long since I met you.”

“Your ‘arranged: in black’ series captured me, Changbin, what can I say?” The older man tilts his head to the side, tugging his lips into a smile. “I still think about it every day.”

“It’s hard to avoid thinking about it when all four pieces are hanging behind your bed, wouldn’t you say?”

“Suppose that’s fair,” Minho bites his bottom lip as he avoids laughing. “But, wow, two years. Two very eventful years. To think, you were a scraggly sophomore two years ago when I met you. You really kind of fit the ‘starving artist’ stereotype back then, hmm?”

Changbin’s eyes subconsciously darted down to the maroon tablecloth. He avoided thinking about his life before he met Minho, since it wasn’t something he was overly fond of. Sleeping for a couple of hours a night after a late dishwashing shift at the restaurant, waking up before dawn to run to his part-time barista job, then somehow getting to class just in time to nearly doze off mid-project sketch, all to repeat it again the next day. The chronic sleep deprivation painted him in an ashy grey, and he perpetually smelled of instant ramen and coffee.

No. That was in the past.

He shuddered at the thought of his past life. It was stressful, and he was thankful that Minho came along and offered him some kindness. Most art students either came from wealthy families, or lived in the same shoes that Changbin did. The ones that weren’t from wealthy lineage would probably stay under the poverty line for the rest of their lives, but at least they would be happy creating things that came from the depths of their soul.

For some, it was worth the sacrifice. He knew what he was getting into when he was accepted into the visual arts programme at the University of British Columbia, and he was prepared for the pain and agony it would cause him for the small chance he could make it big while doing something he loved.

“Binnie, love?” Minho’s soft voice pulled Changbin from his memory. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Changbin nodded his head a couple of times, almost as if he was willing himself to be calm. “Sorry, I just kinda got distracted. Thought about when we first met and kinda got transported back in time.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, but it definitely was far from the truth.

The older man softly smiled and nudged his champagne flute forward. “Well, here’s to two years of whatever the hell this is. Here’s to however long we have left and to wherever we may go next.”

Changbin smiled, turning his chin slightly inward as he tapped his flute against Minho’s. “I like that. To whatever the hell is next.”

“‘Whatever the hell is next’,” Minho smiled as he brought the flute up to his lips. “That’s a good one.”

They didn’t get to the bottom of the bottle of champagne until about a half-hour past closing. It had been two years of the same company every Tuesday and Thursday night, and usually most Fridays and Saturdays, yet they still found new things to talk about each time they met. “You’re still so foolishly young and in university,” Minho would scold Changbin over the phone, “so go out and get hammered at a stupid house party and I’ll come by tomorrow and help nurse you out of your hangover.” Minho was really a sweetheart, even if he didn’t want to date and was, to quote Minho himself, ‘emotionally unavailable’.

It had been two years, and Changbin still didn’t fully understand why people were so pressed on calling Minho heartless.

“And so,” Changbin took a sip of water from his glass, setting it down a bit roughly, some of the water sloshing around and splashing on to the table, “I had to sketch a live model, right? Turns out Seungmin makes a horrible model at two in the morning, but we thought the idea was brilliant.”

Minho loudly cackles, throwing his head back and clapping his hands once in front of his face. “You had just gotten done downing several shots at the bar. What made either of you think that sketching in charcoal was a good idea?”

The younger man folds over, resting his head in his palms as he tries not to collapse on to the floor in laughter. “The project was due on Monday! And, hey, we got it done, and I somehow got a decent grade in the end.”

“Ah,” Minho leans back into his chair as he looks up to the wall to his left, smiling as he wipes a tear from his eye. “I’d love to scold you for that, but the truth is, I can’t. I did the same things in uni ten years ago.”

Changbin rests his chin against the back of his hand, languidly smiling as he watches Minho get lost in memories past. These moments that they shared, where they were just so plainly human — not a famous artist, not a struggling art student, but simply Minho and Changbin — these were why Changbin never sought out another partner. It was unconventional to most people, especially those his age, to have such a hands-off relationship, but it just worked for them. Sometimes, the things that came off the most discordant could somehow still find a way to harmonize, and that was what they did.

“You know, you didn’t totally open the envelope,” Minho points at the middle of the table with an open hand, as if he were guiding Changbin back to the thick paper.

Changbin shrugged his shoulders and bashfully looked away for a moment before staring Minho down. “Come on, Min,” he lowers his voice a bit, “I don’t need to know how much you’re giving me, at least not now.”

Minho dismissively waves his hand before nudging the envelope back to Changbin. “It’s not just money, love, I promise. Nothing too domestic, either. Just,” he pauses, bringing a finger to his chin as he looks up at the ceiling, “I suppose it’s partially a token of my appreciation? Yeah, that sounds right. A way to tell you I’m thankful you’ve stuck around for so long, even with all of the weird shit we’ve gone through. There’s more to it than that, but that sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

“I dunno, you’re making this feel like a real relationship,” the bluenette sarcastically mumbles a bit as he gingerly picks up the envelope, squinting a bit at Minho. He opens it, then pulls out a few plastic-like polymer bills: some green, some red. His expression quickly shifts to confusion when he comes across papery stationary, the textural difference causing a nerve to spark up in his arm. Stationary. A letter? He pulls the light grey paper out of the envelope, eyeing Minho as he opens it. “Really? Getting awfully boyfriend-like on me, Min.”

“Oh, come on, just read it,” the older man tuts, rifling through the inside pocket of his suit jacket. “I promise, it’s not as sappy as it looks.”

Changbin plucks his glasses from the table, wiggling the temples to fit just behind his ears, then clears his throat. He tries to swallow down the smirk on his face as he mocks Minho’s intonation and speech. “My loveliest Changbin,” a laugh creeps up from his stomach as he reads on. “Every single day, I wake up and I see your ‘arranged: in black’ pieces, intricately framed behind my bed, and I’m taken aback by the fact that your mind knows no bounds when it comes to expressing creativity.” The younger man peers over the sheet again, studying the somewhat bored, slightly flustered expression on the elder’s face.

“So I had a couple of glasses of wine while writing, I got a bit sentimental.” Minho flutters his lips as he rolls his eyes and flicks his wrist. “At least it’s not as bad as last year’s letter.”

Changbin smiled, but quickly brought the paper in front of his face to hide the subtle reddish tint growing on his face. “I usually don’t like keeping my own work, as you know,” he continued to read off of the letter, still avoiding eye contact with Minho, “but the graphite portrait of you, asleep on my bed from your last bout of finals — it holds a special spot in my heart. I love seeing it every time I enter my closet. It’s like there are little reminders of you scattered across my apartment, and across my heart.”

Oh.

There was a warmth that blossomed and grew in Changbin’s abdomen. The warmth reminded him of ivy hanging off of old buildings, quickly encompassing and embracing everything within its reach. It was a strange sensation, and it gave him pause before he continued reading the note.

Perhaps this was more than sentimental.

Perhaps Changbin was reading too far into things again.

“Changbin?” Minho’s voice pulled the bluenette from the cavern of thoughts he had recessed himself into. “Where did you go?” His tone was firm, distracting Changbin from the fact that Minho had interlaced his fingers between the younger man’s left hand.

This was something they always did. Minho was always touchy-feely, even if it didn’t progress past shirtless embraces as they slept next to each other, or walking hand-in-hand. The way the pads of Minho’s fingertips softly caressed the back of his hand, though, made things seem different. Special.

“Your closet.” Realizing he had spent too much time losing himself in between the grooves of Minho’s fingerprints, Changbin sputtered out some words to barely form a coherent thought. “You reminded me that I still have one of your Burberry hoodies lost somewhere in my apartment.”

Minho furrowed his brows for a moment, trying not to get caught up on how distant Changbin’s response was. “The oversized black one? You know I don’t mind if you keep it, Bin.”

“It was nearly a thousand dollars, Minho.”

The older man scoffs and rolls his eyes a bit, bringing his left hand up to the table, a small brown box of sorts covered up by his palm. “Well,” the brunette squeezed Changbin’s hand a bit, causing them to make eye contact, “when you’re done reading that letter, I’ll be sure to avoid telling you how much your ‘anniversary’ gift is.” Minho winked as he ended his sentence, right when Changbin was thinking about saying something in protest.

“Minho,” Changbin whines, drooping his shoulders a bit as he frowns.

“Changbin,” Minho teases a bit as he mockingly whines in response. “Trust me, it’s not just me spending money aimlessly. It’ll tie into the idea I have in that letter. You know, really make some of those tabloids make us look nice and get off our backs for a while.”

The younger man bit his tongue and scanned his eyes down the letter, trying to find the last spot he had read over. Across my apartment , reading the words caused his hands to sweat, across my heart, made his stomach clench. Domestic and soft, exactly what they were, but also, somehow exactly what they were not. He continued reading off the letter, but his memories started creeping up during the empty gaps between sentences.

There was the callous bite to Minho’s tone during their first real meet-up. “Our arrangement is for mutual gains: you’ll be able to live comfortably, and I’ll get the press off of my back. You won’t be a starving artist, and I’ll no longer be ‘Minho, the Heartless’. We’re professional boyfriends: all of the benefits, none of the downsides, like feelings.” His bony hands felt cold, like ice, when they shook hands to confirm their arrangement. Changbin had felt in over his head then, but he knew he didn’t have anywhere else to turn.

In contrast, there was the night that Changbin had recently stayed over at the end of October. They had gotten back shortly after one in the morning after celebrating Minho’s thirty-first birthday with a handful of his friends and several well-renowned professional artists and gallery owners. Sure, Changbin had been Minho’s quote-unquote “boyfriend” for the night, but it benefitted his art career a bit, just to branch out and connect. None of that had mattered, though, because the best part was when they had gotten half-undressed and passed out on Minho’s duvet together, giggling about how some of the attendees thought ‘artist’s birthday’ meant ‘licence to dress as insanely as humanly possible’. The one-on-one time was always what Changbin looked forward to the most: that soft, personal connection with another person on such a raw, human level.

That was the weekend he borrowed Minho’s black, oversized Burberry sweater to wear home. Changbin lied earlier. He knew exactly where it was: curled up next to his wall in his bed. The soft scent of bergamot and mandarin of the Dior Sauvage that Minho wore on his wrists and in the divots of his clavicles had slowly started to fade into hints of vanilla and sandalwood. While he knew that his arrangement with Minho wouldn’t last forever, he wanted to live in the moments that made him feel like he was in a true, caring relationship. He had a friend in Minho, he truly did. It would probably hurt like hell when they eventually decided to move on from their agreement.

We're professional. Changbin would remind himself every night as he curled up into Minho’s sweater, remembering the way Minho’s arms felt warm on his back and on his shoulders, how soft his manicured fingers were when they fit perfectly in between Changbin’s. We are not real boyfriends. The sweater would catch his inevitable tears as he lost himself in the confusing haze they had painted themselves under. Business dynamic. This was the price he would pay to get into the elusive elitist art world. Strictly professional.

Even if it cost him his sanity.

“Did I just read that correctly?” Changbin’s voice was alarmed, and he frantically re-read the words on the paper before darting his eyes around nervously. Minho smirked as Changbin leaned over the table, dropping his voice to a just-audible whisper. “You want to do what to get the press’ attention?”

Minho grabbed the ashy brown jewellery box from the table, letting go of Changbin’s left hand. He opened the box and his expression flattened. “Exactly what the paper says, Bin.” Inside the desaturated box sat a contrastingly bright, rose gold band.

It was a ring embedded with actual fucking diamonds.

To anyone else, this would be serious. ‘Call your parents, scream at your best friend, even at two in the morning’ levels of seriousness. However, Changbin and Minho were not ‘anyone else’. They were in their own strange, unique bubble where the rules of modern society did not apply to them.

“How about we graduate from professional boyfriends to professional fiancés?”

Like most Sunday mornings nowadays, Changbin woke up to the scent of freshly-brewed coffee. Minho may have travelled to fancy galleries across the world and tried extravagant blends of coffee during his tenure, but he would always fall back on Starbucks’ blonde roast for his morning routines. “Why bother going through all of the effort of getting my hands on something overly fancy from Europe? I have yet to be let down by this one, and it’s been over ten years since I started drinking it. Why stop now?”

The logic made sense, really, and the coffee wasn’t bad.

“The Vancouver Sun’s already got an article out,” Minho excitedly muttered under his breath, setting a ceramic mug down on the nightstand closest to Changbin. He stared at his phone as he made his way back around the bed, causing the mattress to sink as he sat down. “So many people are speculating, like it even matters. If they had really been following me these past two years, they’d know better.”

It was too early for this. Minho was always business as soon as he woke up: endearing in theory, terribly annoying in practice.

Changbin rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands as he rolled onto his back, sleepily glaring up at Minho. “You’re loud.”

“And you’re hungover,” the brunette quipped, not looking away from his phone as he smiled at himself. “Drink your water and your coffee, love, you’ll feel better.”

“Whatever,” Changbin grumbled under his breath as he sat up, reaching over to the nightstand. There was a sheen on his left hand that caused him to momentarily lose his breath. Shit. He drew his hand into his face to stare at the ring he had conveniently forgotten about overnight. It felt like nothing before he noticed it, but now that he was staring at it, it felt like the ring was going to cut off the circulation to his finger. It felt like a boa constrictor was tightening around him, making it hard to breathe.

Changbin had every intention to pull himself away from the suffocation of the ring. Instead, he found himself trying to count each small diamond wedged between the two layers of rose gold. A sudden dip right behind him and an arm around his waist literally pulled him from his thoughts. “Min!”

“It’s pretty,” Minho gently grabbed Changbin’s hand, tucking his chin into the younger man’s shoulder. “I didn’t know if you’d like rose gold, but I know you hate gold, and silver’s too simple for you. For a fake engagement ring, seems pretty convincing, hmm?”

As much as he doesn’t want to, Changbin sinks into Minho’s embrace. Blame it on the fatigue, he figured, but found himself surprised that the older man didn’t pull away. For the shortest of moments, it almost feels like they’re meant to fit together like this. “It’s expensive,” the brunette whispers, “to no one’s surprise, so please don’t lose it.”

The younger man squints in disapproval. “How much was it?”

“It’s impolite to ask a fiancé something like that, you know,” Minho huffs a bit dramatically as he feigns irritation.

Changbin, however, seems plenty irritated for the both of them. He rolls around, mere centimetres away from Minho’s face as he frowns up at the older man. “It’s a good thing this is all fake, then, right? How much was it?”

“Bin,” the brunette’s expression falters as he cocks his head to the side. “It’s not important, I don’t understand why you’re so—”

Changbin desperately wants to stay this close to Minho, to drown in his embrace and the warmth of his touch. Professional. Fake boyfriends, fake fiancés. “It’s just for show, I know. Since it’s fake, though, you shouldn’t have a problem telling me, right?” There’s a layer of hurt in his voice that he knows he can’t hide. He dips his chin into his chest and closes his eyes, desperate to make this all just stop and go away. Something about this, though, just felt too real, too close to an actual relationship.

What the fuck were they doing? All of this had to cross some sort of unspoken relationship rule somewhere, right? The blurred lines between what was real and what was fake in their arrangement was causing Changbin's head to spin.

Minho doesn’t seem sure about how to handle the situation. The moments pass by in silence until the older man takes in a deep breath, then he wiggles his index finger under Changbin’s chin, tilting his face upwards. “Hey,” he quietly demands, “look at me, Bin.”

So, the bluenette does as requested. He stares into Minho’s eyes and instantly softens.

“If it bothers you that much, I can go out and get something simpler.” Minho’s voice quivers a bit, almost like he feels how uncomfortable Changbin is. “I just… I don’t know what I was thinking when I went out and I got this one. I looked around with the agent for over an hour, and then that one just caught my eye, just as things were looking hopeless.”

Suddenly, Changbin’s hand is in Minho’s again, and the older man stares at the band with purpose, rotating the younger man’s hand around freely. “I guess I put in a bit too much of a personal flair on this. I really prioritized what I figured you’d like before the importance of keeping up the façade that this is all fake.”

They both stare at the ring for a moment, then look at one another. Neither of them moved, neither of them breathed as they stared at each other with shared panic, concern, worry. There was an unfamiliar emotion that lingered at the back of their gaze, but it was hard to place. Changbin hadn’t felt anything like this before. He was equal parts nervous, nauseated, and lost.

If this were like the romantic comedies that Changbin and Seungmin would watch while hungover, this would be the part where Minho would roll on top of him, say something like “fuck the rules, I just want you”. They would cry and kiss and roll around the sheets together. There would be a swell of uplifting orchestral music in the background, indicating that fate had given its blessing on the couple.

This wasn’t a movie, though. This was fucking reality, and there was nothing but tension in the air and a yearning in the bottom of Changbin’s stomach. Their situation was complex and convoluted and it was going to end in heartbreak for him, and only him. Really, he had no one to blame but himself.

Our arrangement is for mutual gains. Minho’s voice was so loud.

We’re professional boyfriends. It was sour.

All of the benefits, none of the downsides, like feelings. It hurt as it echoed in Changbin’s head, but Minho’s voice was all he wanted to hear.

Feelings.

Feelings?

That’s when it hit Changbin: he was falling for Minho — Minho, the (supposedly, yet to be proven) Heartless — and he couldn’t stop himself, no matter how stupid he knew it was. Perhaps the most terrifying part of this, though, wasn’t the fact that Minho didn’t feel the same way.

No, the most terrifying thing was that Changbin couldn’t tell if Minho was actually interested in him or not. Minho always felt strongly one way or another. For them to sit here, struck dumb in silence, was unnerving. The silence meant uncertainty.

It meant possibility.

#we're professional #skz fics #lee minho x seo changbin #seo changbin x lee minho #minbin #minho x changbin #changbin x minho #wherevermyway

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caelpictor · 4 years

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FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS

Who are you?

Kyle Marcus Bryant, aka @caelpictor. He/him/his/pronoun-flexible, Black, queer, 26 (and a half), Taurus, INFP, ADHD af. I’m an artist (with a degree in it, as of 2018!), a nerd, and a lover of Halloween!

What is this event?

Quarantine Halloween: A Virtual Paint Party is an art class conducted via video call in which I teach you step-by-step how to paint a Halloween masterpiece! #distancelearning

When is this taking place?

There are two classes scheduled: Friday October 30, 2020, and Saturday October 31, 2020 (AKA Halloween) from 7-9 PM EST.

Where?

It’s all happening on Zoom! Technology is amazing!

Why?

Like many of us, I lost my job to the pandemic. I am now safely quarantined away in VA with family, staring down my student loan debt, bored out of my mind, and looking for a fun way to connect with others while also offering my talents in exchange for your cold. hard. cash!

How much does it cost?

The $10 instructor fee covers one participant for one night. If you want to take both classes, make sure to get two tickets! And if two or more people will be joining the class from one location, please make sure everyone in the group is covered! Thanks 🙂

Is there a difference between the two classes?

Nope! They will be the same. I’m just offering two different dates for your convenience! Aren’t I nice?

How do I sign up?

Simply send in your payment and the best way to contact you, and let me know which day you’ll be participating (Fri 30 or Sat 31). Once I receive your payment, I’ll add you to my little list, confirm with you that you’re on it, and I’ll send you the Zoom link/meeting ID and password on the day of the event.

Where do I send my payment?

Venmo: @KyleBryant

PayPal: KyleMB13

CashApp: $KyleMarcusBryant

None of these are case-sensitive. If there’s one you prefer that’s not listed, let me know, and we’ll see what we can do!

Which is your preferred payment method?

Venmo, but any of the ones listed above are great!

Do you accept tips/donations?

Yes 🙂 always :)))

What’s the vibe?

Very casual. Drinking, Halloween costumes, and conversation are all highly encouraged! (But never forced)! I will be in costume, probably sipping wine or a cocktail and jamming out to music while I teach. It’s quite liberating, being able to drink on the job.

What’s the etiquette?

We try to stay on mute while the teacher is teaching, but otherwise, go wild. ***And please ALWAYS feel free to jump off mute if you have questions or comments!

Who can join?

Literally everyone! Spread the word! Bring your friends! The more the merrier!

I have no artistic skills! Can I join?

I said EVERYONE, didn’t I? That’s exactly what I’m here for! Just think of me as your personal Bob Ross; I may not be able to hold your hand in person, but I will break every brushstroke down for you as simply as possible, and you’ll be surprised at how well you do. Again, if you ever have questions or need my advice, feel free to chime in at any time! And remember to focus on the experience of the painting, not the product!

General advice for first-time painters?

Work in big, general shapes first, then focus on smaller details later. I also usually start with the background and build the foreground on top of that. Also, relax, experiment, and have fun with it! There are no rules!

How long is the event?

Two hours, but please allow a little extra time for people to settle in at the beginning, finish up at the end, etc.. I promise it’ll breeze right by, but don’t feel pressured to be there for the whole event. If you miss the beginning, I’m great at catching people up, and if you duck out early, I won’t mind!

What image are you teaching us to paint?

Coming soon!

What materials do I need?

Here’s a breakdown:

Essentials:

1. Acrylic paints (a nice set of 5-12 colors is plenty)

2. Palette (for holding/mixing paint; a paper plate works just as well)

3. Brushes (at least one small brush for details, and one large brush for covering large areas; preferably one medium-sized brush as well)

4. Canvas (either a stretched canvas or a flat canvas panel, any size!)

5. Water cup (a vessel to hold brushes; I’m using an old plastic gelato container)

6. Easel (to hold the painting upright and steady; not strictly necessary, as you can use a desk or table or your lap instead if you’d like)

7. Paper towels or old rag (for cleanup and drying brushes)

Other:

1. Workspace (away from things you don’t want paint on; lay down tarp or newspaper to protect walls, floors, and other surfaces if necessary)

2. Paint clothes, smock, apron, etc. (wear something you don’t mind getting paint on!)

3. Trash can, running water, acetone, etc. (for cleanup)

Bonus:

1. Hair dryer (to help paint dry faster)

2. Pencils, pens, markers, pastels, etc. (for sketching, signing your name, etc)

3. Glitter, collage materials, sponges, stamps, stencils, etc. (just for fun!)

4. Your favorite drink (for inspiration 😉)

Where can I get them?

I’ve bought literally everything on this list from Target and Michael’s (except the easel, which I bought online). I would mask up and check your local department store or arts and crafts store (Walmart, Blick, Plaza, Hobby Lobby, Jerry’s, JoAnne’s, etc.), or if you prefer to order it all online, you can do so easily from those same retailers or… 😬 Amazon. (Protip: If you’re lost on the internet, but would like to avoid buying from Amazon, you can use its search engine as a jumping-off point and go directly to the retailers they have listed 😜) Pretty much everything else is just household items.

What will it cost me?

If you’re not worried about the quality—and you shouldn’t be! I’ve found the cheaper stuff works just as well!—you can buy the essentials (paints, palettes, brushes, and canvases) for ~$20. These items are also often sold in bulk, or in sets with each other!

What colors are we using?

My current plan for the palette is black, white, yellow, purple, orange, and green, the sp00kiest of colors! If you just want to get those six, feel free. However, I always recommend having the primary colors: red, yellow, and blue, plus black and white; that way you can mix any color you want!

What size canvas should I buy?

That is entirely up to you! 8 x 10” and 16 x 20” are pretty popular sizes, though.

Are there any extra precautions I should take?

Acrylic paint comes off skin, hair, nails, and smooth non-porous surfaces fairly easily, but it does stain clothing and carpet, and is very stubborn once dried. I would recommend being careful to prevent spills in the first place, but if it does get on something precious, rinse immediately and completely with water. If already dry, try acetone or a similar cleanser to break down the plastic particles in the paint.

How do I clean up afterward?

My method: Scrub brushes along the bottom of your water cup to get all the paint off them, then rinse under running water until water runs clear. Either let the paint water sit in the cup until the paint particles have settled to the bottom, or pour it through a filter (coffee filter, cloth, etc, because acrylic paint is made of a micro-plastic that can be harmful to the environment and your plumbing in large amounts!) Leave everything else alone until it’s completely dry, and then peel or scratch dried paint off your palette if desired. Scrub your paint-covered hands and other body parts until clean, preferably with something exfoliating.

Is the paint non-toxic?

I mean, I wouldn’t drink it on purpose, but yeah, paint left on the skin or ingested (in small amounts) is harmless.

How can I contact you?

You can comment right here on this post, DM me on any of my social media, or email me! I promise to get back to you ASAP!

Social Media: @caelpictor (everywhere)

Email: [email protected]

I will update this post as questions are asked between now and the event, so please let me know if there’s a question I didn’t answer here for you!

Thanks for reading, and I’m excited to see you all there!!!

#caelpictor #quarantine #Halloween #painting class #art

11 notes · View notes

royalcordelia · 4 years

Text

The Secret of Distance (3/?)

Summary: Anne and Gilbert embark on their journeys, but stay close to each other at heart. Courting across 1000 miles isn’t easy, but they’re more than willing to step up to the task. (A post s3 story)

Notes: Some people wanted to be tagged with the update, so I’m tagging y’all down at the bottom. You guys have all my love! ♥

~~*~~

Sebastian had known from Gilbert’s first mentionings of college that he was going to miss the skinny boy he called brother, but it had always seemed so far away. Now Gilbert’s room had been empty for an entire week. Leaning against the doorframe peering into the room, Bash noticed noticed how Gil’s bed-frame and desk were already beginning to collect dust. Delly sat on his hip, sucking her thumb in comfort, her hair growing out so much like her mother’s that Bash’s heart clenched to touch it.

Bash hated change, as most people do when they have to leave behind the things they love most. But standing in Gilbert’s room, Bash couldn’t help but feel homesick for a time when Mary was alive, Delly was strapped to her back, Gilbert was only a few acres away at school, due to return home in the golden hour. Where had his family gone?

So many miles lost in his own thoughts, he didn’t hear the front door squeak open.

“Sebastian, you’ve got letters from Gilbert!” Hazel’s voice echoed from downstairs.

Bash jolted, wrapping another arm around Delly as he hurried down the stairs and slid through the hallway toward the kitchen. Hazel was ready to receive the baby, handing him two cream letters once his hands were free with a smirk and a shake of her head. Her eyes stuck on Bash as he greedily read Gilbert’s scratch on the back of the envelope.

“Bash - open this one first.”

“Well, what it say?” Hazel asked impatiently.

“Give me a chance to read it and I’ll tell you!” Bash retorted. As his eyes skimmed over the slanted words, he relayed bits and pieces to his mother. “It says he’s settled into his new house, living with some fella Ron. Nervous about school and…” Bash’s jaw dropped.

“And?”

“And he’s courting Anne,” Bash continued, a grin sneaking into his voice. “He stopped to see her before she left.”

Hazel spun around from the stove, startled enough to let her ladle drip onto the floor. She considered the news, before a steady look of satisfaction graced her features.

“Finally that boy got his head on straight. I thought he’d always drag it around with him on a leash with the way things were going.”

“You’re telling me,” Bash mumbled, continuing to read. “PS: Please take the other letter to the Cuthberts. I wanted to tell them in person, but with the timing, I wasn’t able to. Would you be my ambassador?”

He flipped the second envelope in his fingers and noticed the difference in address.

Matthew and Marilla Cuthbert Attn: Sebastian Lecroix

“I’ve got to run to Green Gables. I’ll be back in time to help set the table for dinner,” Bash told his mother. He was halfway out the door when he froze and turned around. “Actually, do you mind if we have guests over for dinner? I want to celebrate.”

He must have caught a glimpse of her through the thin autumn curtains, because the very second Anne lifted her hand to manse’s knocker, the entryway door swung open. Anne jumped back an inch, expecting to find the friendly, yet solemn face of Rollings, but instead found Cole. He wore a chestnut colored suit, but his sunny hair matched the elated smile on his cheeks, making his spirit recognizable even dressed in his resplendent clothes. Any of the neighbors peeking out their window would’ve seen the young man sweep Anne into his arms and lift her up off of her feet.

“There’s my queen of Queens!” he said, voice straining through his laughter he held her up. Slipping out of his arms, Anne’s toes found the ground as she straightened this collar.

“I meant to come sooner, but I’ve been in so many meetings with professors and attending so many of the Freshman welcome events that I’ve barely had any time to myself. But I’m not just here to catch up. I’m here on business, as well,” Anne explained. She pulled a drawstring satchel from her purse and held it out before him. “Tell me, are these sufficient funds for a portrait commission?”

Cole didn’t look inside the bag yet, fixing her with an expression of amusement and confusion. “A portrait of you?”

“Yes,” Anne stated matter-of-factly, though she failed at hiding her budding excitement.

“Anne, I have plenty of portraits of you in my portfolio. Why don’t you just take one of those?”

Her new curls bounced as she shook her head.

“I mean a real portrait. It’s going to be a gift, and since a photograph is beyond my allowance, I thought I’d offer you all that I could for the next best thing. Besides, a hand drawn portrait by you is better than any photograph I’ve ever seen. I merely stopped by to give my offer and payment, and see what time would be agreeable for you.”

Cole considered this, vaguely wondering if the smell of violets was coming from the flowerbed or from Anne’s perfume.

“I don’t like accepting your money. I know how hard you work to earn it,” he said honestly. Anne reached forward, moving his hands to cover the sack of coins, then pushed it toward him.

“It’s payment for a service you’d be doing me. You’re a professional artist now, Cole. You deserve to be compensated as such, especially by friends,” she insisted. “Besides, I want you to accept the money now so I can finally tell you what it’s for.”

Biting his lip, Cole finally nodded. He grabbed her hand and tugged her into the house, sitting her down in the parlor. He was darting up the stairs to grab his supplies when he skidded to a stop. From the hallway, Anne heard Cole’s voice echo, “You’ve got time right now, don’t you?”

“Yep! I have all afternoon free!”

He reappeared moments later, large pads of paper in one hand and a leather case in the other. It was only when he began to situate himself directly before her that Anne realized he’d strategically placed her in a beam of bright sunlight. In the corner of her eyes, her hair looked like gilded thread, shining gold and warm. When she turned her gaze back to the artist, she found he had laid out his sketching pencils beside him, as well as the opened his wide assortment of paint pigments within reach.

“Jo is out for the afternoon, but if you can, you must stay for dinner. If she discovers you were here without seeing her, she’ll never let you hear the end of it,” Cole explained, flipping open to a fresh new piece of paper. Then, with a keen energy of excitement and a pretense of professionalism, he straightened his shoulders. “Now, what did you have in mind for this portrait, Miss Shirley-Cuthbert?”

Anne opened her mouth to answer, but pressed her lips together with a knowing smile.

“Well,” she drawled finally, “As I mentioned, I’ll be giving this as a gift. I’d like to send it already framed to my new suitor. He requested something for his bedside table.”

Cole slammed his pencil on his lap, nearly breaking the tip. The expression of delighted shock on his face nearly had Anne roaring with laughter, but she knew she had not yet delivered the best part.

“Anne Shirley Cuthbert. You attend college for all of one week and you’ve already got a suitor! Finally, the young gentlemen of Prince Edward Island are realizing what a gem exists amongst their midst!” Cole praised. Then, his face became more masked, but his voice dropped to the floor, low with hesitance. “Does this mean that you...no longer care for Gilbert?”

For a split second, Anne remembered the last thing she’d told Cole about Gilbert - about how she expected him to marry, and how she’d forever love him across an ocean of distance. She could remember with visceral perfectness the way she’d ached to let him go. Thus, it was with resounding joy that Anne allowed a cheek splitting grin to overcome her face as she spoke.

“It’s for Gilbert.”

Cole blinked. “It’s for Gilbert,” he repeated blankly. Then, nearly knocking over his things, he cried, “It’s for Gibert!?”

This time, Anne did laugh, covering her blush with her hands.

“Oh, Cole, I could burst just thinking about it! It’s a story right out of a fairy tale book.”

The feather-haired blonde pointed the sharp edge of his pencil at Anne.

“I told you so! Years ago!” he bragged. Anne nodded through her laughter, struggling to maintain a poised portrait pose. “Alright, I want to hear everything. Sit just like that. You talk, I’ll draw.”

Bash had no idea what the letters. All he knew was that the one in Marilla’s hand was the one he hand delivered from Gilbert, likely making her aware of his intentions, and the other one was from Anne, likely of a similar content. The Cuthberts read their respective letters with such severity that Bash feared for a moment Marilla would crumple up the correspondence and toss it in the oven. He fidgeted in his seat, scolding himself when he thought to himself, Wonder if I’ll read so slow when I get that old.

Matthew was the first to finish, placing down the letter with tender fingers in front of Marilla. The woman in question hurried over the last lines of hers, then scanned over the entire paper once more, before handing it to Matthew. Bash bit back a groan. Couldn’t they just get to the celebrating?

His patience broke sooner than he thought it would, and he leaned across the table as if to ask for a secret.

“What’s it say, Marilla?”

Marilla peered at Bash over the rim of her glasses and forced her smile from growing too noticeable. Beside her, Matthew blushed as he set down Gilbert’s letter and fisted his hands on the table to give his shaking fingers something to do. Taking a short inhale, Marilla began to read.

Dearest Matthew and Marilla,

The view from my window reminds me ever so much of my own gable room. I find small hints of Avonlea everywhere I go - from the people I share my house with, to the billowing wildflowers in my neighbor’s gardens. Charlottetown people aren’t as rude as I had once surmised, and I expect that I will find a bouquet of kindred spirits as queens. You remain my most beloved kindred spirits, always.

I’m afraid I’m short on time this afternoon - the Freshettes have an orientation to attend within the hour. A lengthier letter will follow this one once I have settled into my classes, fully denoting every delicious thing happening here. The purpose of this quick note, then, is to give you a delighted warning at something that I suspect will be arriving at Green Gables within the next few days.

That is to say, if Gilbert Blythe writes to you both speaking of intentions and courting, please don’t be alarmed. I have given him my own ecstatic, wholehearted consent, but it would be so very like Gilbert to want to honor you both as well. I don’t know for sure, as he and I didn’t have very much time to detangle all of our many misunderstandings last we saw each other, but if on the off chance he chooses not to write, let me be the first to tell you: Gilbert and I are going to start courting. Oh, the last time something felt so beautifully perfect was when I came to live at Green Gables and when Mrs. Barry said Diana and I could be friends after all! Truly, my feet haven’t touched the ground!

I hope all is well for you both. I miss you abundantly. Charlottetown will never truly be home, not when there’s a Green Gables and a White Way of Delight beckoning me. I give you both

All my love,

Anne

(PS: Please tell the Lacroix’s I miss them. Bash looked so forlorn the last I saw him.)

As silence fell back over the room, Bash remembered the last time he’d seen Anne. She’d been peering up with such a hopeful smile and a handful of Avonlea blossoms, but he hadn’t really thought much of it until after peace had settled over his household. By then, Gilbert was gone, and it occurred to him he never got a proper goodbye with Avonlea’s Anne with an E.

“Well, she was right about him sending a letter,” Matthew concluded in a strange voice.

“I hope that boy gave you a good explanation for all his foolishness these last months,” Bash said finally.

“I do believe he has made a more than adequate case for himself, though you’re welcome to have a look for yourself,” Marilla replied. Bash lifted his brows as if to ask Are you sure? Marilla gave a stiff nod, but smiled, sliding Gilbert’s letter across the table for him to read.

Dear Mr. and Miss Cuthbert,

I’m sure that I am the last person you expected a letter from, especially after all the gossip about me that has made its rounds through Avonlea. However, the matter I wish to write to you about is of such importance that it could not wait until my next visit home. It’s times like these I wish I had Anne’s elegant command of language. Instead, all I can do is tell you that I adore your daughter and humbly request your blessing to begin courting her.

Your immediate feelings must be some variation of confusion because of the public knowledge that I intended to marry a young woman in Charlottetown. The sole reason I had been contemplating this decision was because Miss Rose’s presence in my life would have granted me the opportunity to fulfill an academic dream of mine. It all seemed so providential that I assumed Miss Rose’s presence in my life was supposed to be providential as well. This assumption was not only incorrect, but it also led to the pain of many people I care about.

Still, I have been so relieved every day that I read my Book of Revelations when I did. All my confusion has been cleared away, it is so apparent to me that I was a complete fool to pretend I could ever move on from how much I care about Anne. I’ve decided I don’t want my life to be successful because of the people around me. I want those people to be part of my success and the blessings of life - blessings that I intend to earn all on my own merit.

I tell you all these things so that you don’t assume Anne is my second choice. I hope you understand me when I tell you that Anne has always been and always will be my first, and only, choice. From the day I met her, I admired her intelligence, her passion, and the loveliness of her spirit. My dream isn’t just to be become a successful doctor - what good is that if can’t honor the people I love most? And I truly do love Anne, as well as your family. That is why I ended my courtship with Winifred. It would be unfair to lead on her heart when mine was so undeniably and permanently tied to someone else.

It’s unlike me to lay my heart on my sleeve, but it’s because I believe this matter is important that I do. I anxiously await your response (In full disclosure, I am fully prepared to travel sixteen hours home to convince you in person if this letter isn’t enough.)

It’s my genuine hope that you all are faring well. Enjoy the warm harvest weather!

With Sincerity,

Gilbert Blythe

When he was done, Bash folded the letter back up and pushed it to the middle of the table. His chest swelled with pride for his brother, who had finally grown into the man he’d been rushing to be all these months. Now, the lad had done it on his own volition and on his own merit.

“Well, what’s it to be?” Bash asked carefully. Matthew and Marilla exchanged a look that only a pair of siblings would be able to decipher before the older woman took up her own pencil and a sheet of paper. For a moment, Bash worried that she would say, “ Sorry Bash, but he isn’t good enough for our Anne.” But then she sent a smile of genuine satisfaction across the table and he heaved a sigh of relief.

“If you give me just a moment, I’d like to write to Gilbert to tell him that he’s had our blessing long before Anne burst into our kitchen to say she was in love with him. Would you mail it for us once I’m finished?”

“I’d be delighted to,” Bash replied warmly. He paused before adding, “Everyone knew except him, didn’t they?”

“Seems so,” Matthew said bashfully. “She said it so loud, even the horses knew.”

The perk of living with a philosophy major was that the house was almost always quiet. Silence suited the Sunset House - they’d begun to call it that without realizing it - and Gilbert couldn’t help but sometimes feel like he was sitting at his own desk back home. When he listened to the birdsong just outside his window or looked up at the printed skeleton models hanging above his desk, he could almost forget he was a thousand miles away from home. He shared the apartment’s study with Ron, but the man worked so soundlessly that the only sound Gilbert could ever make out was the gears turning in the man’s head.

School, as it turned out, was more tiring and more fulfilling than he could have prepared himself for. Two weeks into his classes, he’d collected an odd array of friends - mostly people Ron knew, which explained their peculiar nature. Yet, none of them were, as Anne would say, kindred spirits. Ron was either growing on him or he was merely becoming more accustomed to his nosy roommate’s antics.

But when the day was over and Gilbert needed to share the intimacies of his heart with someone who belonged in his life, he’d add another page to his weekly letter to Anne and tell her everything that was on his mind. It paled in comparison to having her in person.

On days like these when he was exhausted and homesick, he imagined what it would be like to rest his head on Anne’s chest while she held him and stroked his hair. Knowing she’d probably let him only made being away from PEI worse, but the quiet daydreams had a way of keeping him grounded.

He was gazing out his window, picturing Anne dancing in ambered firelight, when Ron called up the stairs, “Gil? You’ve got mail.”

The legs of his chair screeched against the old wood floors and Gilbert pushed himself away from his desk and raced down the stairs. He found Ron shuffling through the various letters, peering with interest at a paper-wrapped parcel tied to one of the letters.

“Let’s see. One from Sebastian Lacroix, one from the Cuthberts, and…” Ron wiggled his eyebrows and waved the package. “One from the ever-lovely, ever-red headed Anne Shirley-Cuthbert. My, you are popular!”

“Give me those,” Gilbert chided, snatching away his mail and pulling it to his chest. For a second, he contemplated running back upstairs and locking his door behind him where Ron wouldn’t be able to follow, but the man would probably just pester him wherever he tried to hide. Shooting Ron a warning look, he sat down on the parlor couch and heaved a deep sigh. Where should he start?

“The one from her parents is probably the most pressing,” he said aloud.

His fingers hovered over the flap of the envelope, trembling with hesitation. What if they said no? If he had a daughter and some schmuck like him came calling after her, he’d send the poor lad running.

“Jesus Christ, Gilbert, just open the damn thing,” Ron cried, snapping Gilbert out of his thoughts. Tearing open the flap, Gilbert gently pulled the letter from inside.

Dear Gilbert,

Matthew and I have been anticipating this development for quite some time. Rest assured that you have proven yourself to be a most admirable young man. We all must learn the hard lessons of life at some time or another. I imagine you will discover more about the matters of the heart as you grow older - Matthew and I are still learning with Anne in our family - but it’s the best type of learning a person can undergo. Thank you for your transparency and your honesty. Anne has expressed to us that she has already given you her consent, and therefore, you have our blessing to court her. Though it does sadden us a little bit to see our young girl mature into a woman, we could not keep her from the desires of her heart. I hope you know we could not have asked for a better young man for Anne. Both Matthew and I wish you all the best in your studies. You make Avonlea proud.

Sincerely,

Marilla Cuthbert

Gilbert’s relief must have been tangible because Ron whistled as he blew a cooling breath over his coffee.

“Did you expect them to send you to the witch’s stake or something?” Ron asked.

“For everything I’ve put Anne through? Yes. Absolutely,” Gilbert said, stunned.

Unable to wait any longer, Gilbert took Anne’s parcel in his hands and smiled at the familiarity of her handwriting. There were two letters attached, one with a note on the envelope that said, “I wrote this before I received your letter. Open the present last.” He was unsure whether that boded well for the contents inside, but decided to take the risk and finally read the letter he’d been waiting for all week. As his eyes skimmed the text, he fell back onto the couch and held the letter above his head.

“What’s it say?” Ron queried.

“ Shhh !” Gilbert shot, pulling the letter closer to his face. He read and read and read. When he was finished with the first letter, he found he had a lovesick grin plastered across his face and a glimmering light in his eyes. With a voice as gentle as wind, Gilbert breathed, “She says she loves me.”

“I thought you knew that already,” Ron replied.

“Not for sure. When I asked her if she did, she kissed me. I was fairly convinced then, but to have the words written out is much more certain,” Gilbert explained, already opening the second letter. He could barely bring himself to care that he sounded like an absolute romantic fool in front of his roommate. Anne loved him!

My dearest Gil,

It’s finally autumn! She’s officially arrived with her cold air and hints of dusky colors on the leaves. It makes me wonder if all those miles away, you’re seeing any hints of autumn as well. I was so pleased to hear that you’re doing well and settling in to your new home. I can just picture your apartment on North Sunset street! Tell me, is your home made of bricks the same color as the PEI roads? Does your window overlook anything spectacular? In truth, my window has a lovely view over Charlottetown, but I find myself preferring to reread your letter than look out over the city.

Do you truly love me, Gilbert? Oh, I know you do, but I think I’d like to see you say it over and over and over - that is, if it isn’t too much trouble. It’s just so breathtakingly wonderful to see it written in your handwriting. You have my full permission to be bold and assume that I love you to equal measure. So much so, that I’m tempted to write you of little else. Perhaps one day I shall tell you how I adore you, in every way my imagination can conjure. For now, I will answer your questions.

You asked me when I began to have feelings for you. In truth, I pondered this myself because once I realized what the feelings were, I couldn’t remember a time when they weren’t there. I trace them farther and farther back, and there I am, looking upon a very dashing young man asking me if there are any dragons in need of slaying. It seemed at times, I wasn’t only jealous and spiteful of your kindness and intelligence, but I seemed to desire it too. Perhaps that accounts for my lengthy bout of confusion. Once we became friends, every day I grew closer to realizing that my admiration was equal parts attraction.

As for when I realized that I cared for you. It was after dance practice that I realized I wanted to be the object of your warm gazes and soft touches for the rest of eternity. But it was after that night at the ruins that I realized I loved you. I didn’t want to be the one thing holding you back. Love was what prepared me to let you go, and be grateful that you’d be happy, even if it meant without me. I am a thousand times more grateful that we intend to be happy together, not apart.

As for the letter you wrote me, I am utterly ashamed to admit that I tore it to pieces before reading it. I hadn’t really allowed myself to be angry and hurt until that moment, but as soon as my anger expressed itself, it was gone. I tried to piece together the torn fragments, but came up with a message in which you said you didn’t love me and intended to marry Winifred. I couldn’t bring myself to throw them away though. They’re in an envelope in my bureau at Green Gables. Do you think you could piece them together for me during Christmas break?

Phew! With all that out in the open, I can tell you that I am doing wonderfully here at Queens! I do occasionally get homesick, especially for you, but I do love my curriculum and the people in my classes. In my free time, when I’m not writing you or my family, I plan to write some short stories for publication. Hopefully, I can earn enough to come visit you soon. Would Ron mind?

My hand is cramping, so I will conclude here for tonight. Think of me in the golden hours of the morning and afternoon, and I won’t be terribly far away at all.

Unabashedly yours,

Anne

(PS: I tried out that new nickname. How did you like it?)

(PPS: I’ve included something for you, per your request. Is it vain to say that Cole did a magnificent job?)

Gilbert did not waste time, pulling parcel from his lap and tearing off the brown paper. Immediately the breath was knocked from his chest as he gazed upon a small painted portrait of Anne, signed at the bottom by Cole Mackenzie. She was depicted with her face angled toward the sun, with a rose blush on her cheeks and cherry color to her lips. Cole had paid amazing detail to her freckles, capturing them in each perfect location. She’d worn her hair and dress exactly as she had the last time he’d seen her, freezing that moment in the timeless artistic existence. Her smile was as he remembered it, so realistic that he could vividly hear her laughter as if she were in the room.

He must’ve been staring at the portrait for so long that Ron rose from his chair and peered over Gilbert’s shoulder.

“You weren’t kidding about the red hair,” he commented. Gilbert glanced up, before returning his gaze to the picture. “Not too far off from the color of carrots.”

Gilbert snorted, an affectionate smile turning his face to sunlight. “Don’t let her hear you say that.”

~~*~~

Tag list! (if you want to be added or taken off, let me know). @pterparkcr @be-feminine-be-unique @firehaireddeamer @annabel-lee23 @beinmyheart @forcordelia @ladyofhousewaters @brookie-cookie3 @peculiarly-deactivated @mrs-shirley-cuthbert-blythe @lexfangirls @amoraeternusforyou @pastaismysignificantother @spellsandbells @instantknightartisanwagon @noctislightning @lonelyscreaming @lbhmoon @findurhappy @mynameisbluenotjane

#anne with an e #anne of green gables #shirbert #awae spoilers #shirbert fic #tessa writes #catch this on ao3 too!#the formatting is better on ao3 probably #ngl #anyways i love you all!

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