#hdotk

I’d like to extend a great big Huzzah to hdotk for working on another KyoKao commission for me.

There’s a story to this picture, but it’s not going to be posted for a good bit of time. I’m working on a chronology here, but that’s not about to stop me from sharing this awesome artwork.

People and poetry are Marco’s drugs of choice, and it never stings any less to see how brutal it can be when he gives too much. When affections go minimally returned;a one-time thing beneath a cloud of jazz, and Jean is left internally screaming on Marco’s behalf.

But oh, the words—the words Marco is left with are nothing short of captivating.

--A fic I’m committed to but has been put on the back burner...

Since hdotk was posting other commissions she’s done, I decided to share this one she did of Marco for me a while back. It’s a late 1940s AU, and he’s an American college kid who is part of the still-quiet, but gaining-in-momentum Beatnik scene. Spoken word is Marco’s outlet, and Jean is an as-yet-unpublished writer.

"The tips of your fingers." Placing his own fingertips just beneath Kyoya's, he brought emphasis to the discoloration on his skin. "There. That bit of blood rarely goes away, from always having to prick yourself. Am I right?"

Quietly staring at his own hand with a mild sense of disbelief, Kyoya was unsure of what shook him more—that Kaoru would notice such a thing at all, or the electric presence sparking within him at Kaoru's touch.

Clearing his throat, Kyoya kept a straight face, while offering a whisper. "Well, you're not wrong."

Team, Chapter One

Sometimes I have difficulty getting back into the place I need to be when writing, which is especially frustrating when it involves something I really love, and am not just wanting to finish, but to hear the story and finish it the way it’s supposed to be.

Stepping back from the internet has helped immensely, and seriously, I’ve written more in the past few days than I have in probably two or so months.

I’m still popping in from time to time, and at the moment it’s to post and say Thank You to hdotk for drawing a very special thing for me.

Spring is dangerous. Thaw of the earth, black dirt haloed by a rising pink sky, and the threat of new and uncharted ideas. He knows it’s only a matter of time before the birds start to sing in the morning that smells of dead leftover leaves and moist topsoil, so he moves closer to his cold little light in his self-made frozen desert.

It’s nice here. Comfortable. And with Jean coming around more often, knowing when not to talk but taking his chances in hovering nearer and nearer, Marco imagines he can take the spring, after all.

Smiling into the collar of his jacket, he watches as breath puffs away from his face, disintegrating into the little light. He smiles to himself and resolves to care for this oncoming spring as though it were his own Misselthwaite Manor.

_________

I plan on doing a drabble a day in the new year, and woke up with this on my mind. It’s fifty degrees in the Midwest the day after Christmas, and my heart refuses to accept that for so many reasons.

Inspired by hdotk's Swedish Winter AU. I hope you don’t mind that your world is the direct inspiration for some words I shot off in the morning! <3

I made a moosestick.

I want to give major thanks to hdotk for bringing something very special to life for me! A short while ago I asked for a commission for a scene from my current fic, Team, and she nailed it. So much better than I could have ever asked for.

She has such a distinct style. I've never seen anything like it, and I love seeing her work pop up all over the SnK fandom. When I decided to see what it would be like to have someone try and draw something so dear to me, her style came to mind, and I am so glad for it.

Thanks again! <3