#how to draw realistic trees

[javierduffy]

different.

[b1asho]

How have the humans and wildlife been influenced evolutionarily wise by the dragons in their world? A guy named Sawyer Lee has explored this over in his Dragonslayer Codex series “https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=eotc_T4EIOw&pp=0gcJCbAJAYcqIYzv” and I’m curious how you would approach the matter.

What do pantalan dragons think of humans?

Appreciate the ask! I don't exactly have a cohesive answer:

Humans are pretty much the same except their early predaors were dragons instead of crocodiles or big cats. Nearly every herbivore is more dangerous than the carnivores (of which there's very few of left in the wild, dragons kinda drove them out) and some even have their own weird fantasy defense mechanisms (such as firebreathing). Everything is also bigger idk. Like the dragons, other animals have features that we'd recognize but are overall nothing like an animal on earth (the only exception being whatever wof primate became humans???) I'd have to draw some to get my meaning across idk XD

The pantalan dragons have never seen or heard of humans (in my version?). If they ever met, Hivewings would incorporate them into the colony structure in some way (maybe childcare because of how small and gentle with babies humans are) and silkwings probably wouldn't really think much of them (probably becoming allies under the same rule since theyd be living together). Leafwings would definitely eat them if given the chance, but some groups may also band together with them to resist hive rule.

[shiawasekai]

I promised myself to return to the Nela drawing once I had finished 4 family members in the tree, then I proceed to not draw in days when I'm probably close to being done.

[kotori-mochi]

Can't afford art school?

After seeing post like this 👇

And this gem 👇

As well as countless of others from the AI generator community. Just talking about how "inaccessible art" is, I decided why not show how wrong these guys are while also helping anyone who actually wants to learn.

Here is the first one ART TEACHERS! There are plenty online and in places like youtube.

📺Here is my list:

Proko (Free, mostly teaches anatomy and how to draw people. But does have art talks and teaches the basics.)

Marc Brunet (Free but he does have other classes for a cheap price. Use to work for Blizzard and teaches you everything)

Aaron Rutten (free, tips about art, talks about art programs and the best products for digital art)

BoroCG (free, teaches a verity of art mediums from 3D modeling to digital painting. As well as some tips that can be used across styles)

Jesse J. Jones (free, talks about animating)

Jesus Conde (free, teaches digital painting and has classes in Spanish)

Mohammed Agbadi (free, he gives some advice in some videos and talks about art)

Ross Draws (free, he does have other classes for a good price. Mostly teaching character designs and simple backgrounds.)

SamDoesArts (free, gives good advice and critiques)

Drawfee Show (free, they do give some good advice and great inspiration)

The Art of Aaron Blaise ( useful tips for digital art and animation. Was an animator for Disney. Mostly nature art)

Bobby Chiu ( useful tips and interviews with artist who are in the industry or making a living as artist)

Sinix Design (has some tips on drawing people)

Winged canvas (art school for free on a verity of mediums)

Bob Ross (just a good time, learn how to paint, as well as how too relax when doing art. "there are no mistakes only happy accidents", this channel also provides tips from another artist)

Scott Christian Sava (Inspiration and provides tips and advice)

Pikat (art advice and critiques)

Drawbox (a suggested cheap online art school, made of a community of artist)

Skillshare (A cheap learning site that has art classes ranging from traditional to digital. As well as Animation and tutorials on art programs. All under one price, in the USA it's around $34 a month)

Human anatomy for artist (not a video or teacher but the site is full of awesome refs to practice and get better at anatomy)

Second part BOOKS, I have collected some books that have helped me and might help others.

📚Here is my list:

The "how to draw manga" series produced by Graphic-sha. These are for manga artist but they give great advice and information.

"Creating characters with personality" by Tom Bancroft. A great book that can help not just people who draw cartoons but also realistic ones. As it helps you with facial ques and how to make a character interesting.

"Albinus on anatomy" by Robert Beverly Hale and Terence Coyle. Great book to help someone learn basic anatomy.

"Artistic Anatomy" by Dr. Paul Richer and Robert Beverly Hale. A good book if you want to go further in-depth with anatomy.

"Directing the story" by Francis Glebas. A good book if you want to Story board or make comics.

"Animal Anatomy for Artists" by Eliot Goldfinger. A good book for if you want to draw animals or creatures.

"Constructive Anatomy: with almost 500 illustrations" by George B. Bridgman. A great book to help you block out shadows in your figures and see them in a more 3 diamantine way.

"Dynamic Anatomy: Revised and expand" by Burne Hogarth. A book that shows how to block out shapes and easily understand what you are looking out. When it comes to human subjects.

"An Atlas of animal anatomy for artist" by W. Ellenberger and H. Dittrich and H. Baum. This is another good one for people who want to draw animals or creatures.

Etherington Brothers, they make books and have a free blog with art tips.

📝As for Supplies, I recommend starting out cheap, buying Pencils and art paper at dollar tree or 5 below. If you want to go fancy Michaels is always a good place for traditional supplies. They also get in some good sales and discounts. For digital art, I recommend not starting with a screen art drawing tablet as they are usually more expensive.

For the Best art Tablet I recommend either Xp-pen, Bamboo or Huion. Some can range from about 40$ to the thousands.

💻As for art programs here is a list of Free to pay.

Clip Studio paint ( you can choose to pay once or sub and get updates. Galaxy, Windows, macOS, iPad, iPhone, Android, or Chromebook device. )

Procreate ( pay once for $9.99 usd, IPAD & IPHONE ONLY)

Blender (for 3D modules/sculpting, animation and more. Free)

PaintTool SAI (pay but has a 31 day free trail)

Krita (Free)

mypaint (free)

FireAlpaca (free)

Aseprite ($19.99 usd but has a free trail, for pixel art Windows & macOS)

Drawpile (free and for if you want to draw with others)

IbisPaint (free, phone app ONLY)

Medibang (free, IPAD, Android and PC)

NOTE: Some of these can work on almost any computer like Clip and Sai but others will require a bit stronger computer like Blender. Please check their sites for if your computer is compatible.

So do with this information as you will but as you can tell there are ways to learn how to become an artist, without breaking the bank. The only thing that might be stopping YOU from using any of these things, is YOU.

I have made time to learn to draw and many artist have too. Either in-between working two jobs or taking care of your family and a job or regular school and chores. YOU just have to take the time or use some time management, it really doesn't take long to practice for like an hour or less. YOU also don't have to do it every day, just once or three times a week is fine.

Hope this was helpful and have a great day.

"also apologies for any spelling or grammar errors, I have Dyslexia and it makes my brain go XP when it comes to speech or writing"

[kiwianacat]

I love stained glass.

This was largely inspired by this collection of photos; I'd been wanting to do a redraw of an old stained glass founders drawing from a while back and it was such a perfect reference I knew I had to give it a go. It kinda fits into my medieval au, although it's a lot more extravagant than is probably realistic lol.

Some fun things to note:

It's based off of the ending of The First Battle with the founders swearing their devotion to Starclan. It's more supposed to depict how the modern clans (or kingdoms) remember the mythology rather than being an unbiased depiction of events.

It's displayed at four trees, hence the oak leaves bordering each window.

When Sky's Kingdom left the forest Cloudstar broke Skystar's window in anger. Rather than repair it the other monarchs just removed the window entirely.

The two skeletons represent Jackdaw's Cry and Falling Feather; I imagine they're remembered as a cautionary tale about the dangers of sharing blood across kingdom borders (as well as representing the mass grave buried beneath four trees)

Storm is remembered as the first angel of Starclan and is said to be the one who covers the stars and moon with clouds to show Starclans anger.

[fozmeadows]

Something I'm working on lately is trying to find healthy approach when it comes to engaging with opposing viewpoints re: discourse and politics. Because yes, there are trolls and bad actors, and it's seldom worth wasting your energy on them; but particularly online, you can't always immediately distinguish these people from, say, a teenager grappling inexpertly with difficult topics, or a boomer working with outdated language and assumptions, or someone who's been given bad information - and these are all people that it can be worthwhile attempting to reach, even if you don't always succeed. I don't want to burn myself out, but I don't want disconnect, either, and so I've been thinking: what approach best allows me to remain optimistic while still drawing boundaries?

Here's my current solution: to treat potentially difficult conversations with strangers like a rewilding project. A sort of social conservationism, where the idea is to untangle what you can in passing, leave behind a few potential seeds, and then move on: a project of impact over intent. Nobody expects conservation efforts to succeed in a day, and it would be foolish to fixate so heavily on trying to plant a single tree in arid soil that you've got no energy left for more achievable goals. Inevitably, you'll encounter areas that can't be recovered - or at least, not by you - in which case, any time you spend making sure of their unviability is just due diligence, and only becomes a waste if you commit yourself to trying to salvage the unsalvageable. But by the same token, you don't want to over-engage with a healthy area, either. You want to see what's needed, give it a push in that direction if it's within your capabilities, and then keep going.

And maybe this is a strange way to think of things, but I'm finding it helpful. The fantasy of completely flipping someone's perspective if you can only find the exact right thing to say is a powerful one, but it's not a realistic expectation to carry around for 99.9% of interactions, and as such, there's a need - for me, at least - to detach the success of the exchange from the visibility of the outcome. I can't see into someone else's head, and in all probability, I'll never speak to that particular stranger again: therefore, my concept of catharsis needs to change. So instead of thinking, Did I change their mind? and considering anything less than a yes a failure, it's better to ask, Did I do my best to give them something to think about?, because realistically, this is all I can actually do. I can't control how a stranger receives what I say, but I can make an effort to be clear, calm and comprehensible, and that ought to be worth something.

[ducksido]

OMGGGGG I WANT NOW THIS[i am still not fed enough]. Yuu is an artist but no one likes their art:((( but their art is rlly good like realistically and it has meanings the art is like this:

Some of them as beautiful and maybe like showing their idk power, they draw them beautiful and make an au's drawing a traditional clothing on them from our world or in their dorm uniforms idk AGHHH I just want it, you can take houswardens+Ace and Deuce and Jamil PLS...

I wnat Ace and Deuc as having swords like drawing them as knights?!?!? You can make it romantically if u wanna 😙 it will juts make it interesting lol.

Yuu paints in silence.

Not because they want to be alone—but because the world makes them feel as though their silence is more welcome than their voice.

Their art is painstaking. Realistic. Expressive. Each brushstroke is a love letter and a lament. They do not simply “draw the boys of Night Raven College”—they immortalize them. Elevate them to something more than students. More than dorm leaders. They turn them into gods, warriors, ghosts of a past that never was.

But no one cares.

They walk past the canvases with flat eyes, say, “Kinda creepy, don't you think?” or “Looks nothing like me.”

Only a few look closer. Only a few ever wonder why Yuu captured them that way.

Ace & Deuce – The Knights of Heart

Yuu's painting shows them not in their school uniforms, but in armor—each with a sword of gleaming steel. Deuce’s posture is rigid, proud, noble. Ace’s smirk peeks from behind his raised sword, always cocky, always two steps away from reckless.

In the background, a cracked chessboard floor and red rose petals falling like blood.

No one asked for this AU. But Yuu needed it.

A story where Ace and Deuce are sworn to protect a crownless royal—Yuu themself. Their loyalty goes unspoken in reality. But in the painting, it's sacred.

Ace scoffs at the piece when he sees it.

“What, you got a crush on us or something?”

But he goes very, very quiet the next day when he finds a smaller sketch tucked under his textbook: it’s the same knight AU, but this time... he and Deuce are standing in front of a ruined castle, holding Yuu’s hand.

Deuce blushes for two whole days straight and keeps the original version in his notebook. Pressed flat. Hidden from everyone but him.

Riddle – The Crimson Law

In Yuu’s art, Riddle isn’t a boy.

He’s a blood-stained monarch atop a throne of roses, a crown broken in half and still worn like a badge of defiance. His scepter burns with red magic. His expression? Cold. Regal. Lonely.

He sees it once. Scoffs.

“You really think that’s how I see myself?”

Yuu only shrugs. “It’s how I see you.”

He never compliments it. But he comes back to stare at it... more than once. When no one is watching.

Leona – The Sleeping Beast King

Leona is painted like a lion-headed war god emerging from golden dust, his cloak shredded by sandstorms, eyes sharp like obsidian.

He doesn’t say anything when he sees it. Just grunts.

But he doesn’t look away.

What he doesn’t know is that Yuu drew the background after seeing him asleep under a tree. Not peaceful. Not lazy. Just tired in a way the world never lets him rest.

Later, a folded canvas appears on Yuu’s bed—Leona painted them back. Sleeping on his shoulder. They never speak about it.

Azul – The Bargain Prince Beneath the Sea

Yuu’s painting shows Azul surrounded by glass contracts floating midair like jellyfish. His eyes are bright with desperation, pride, and fear all at once. Tentacles curl around his ankles like a curse.

He’s underwater. Alone.

Azul laughs when he sees it, a too-tight sound. “That’s dramatic.”

But he doesn’t deny it. He even keeps a print of it in the VIP room. Framed. Hidden.

Kalim – The Gold-Sunned Joybringer

He’s dancing, arms open, light spilling from his chest like a sun cracked open. His jewelry glints like hope, and behind him is a swirling crowd of faceless figures. He’s trying to reach one in the center—Yuu, small and shadowed.

It’s beautiful. Glowing. Sad.

Kalim beams when he sees it. “You made me look like a storybook hero!”

But when he realizes he’s not the focus, when he sees Yuu in the background reaching back... he tilts his head.

He doesn’t ask. But he thinks about it.

Jamil – The Coiled Cobra

He’s shown with a cobra at his side, dressed in black with red eyes gleaming. His hands are controlling puppet strings, but he himself is tangled in invisible chains.

It’s regal. And painful.

He doesn’t speak when he sees it. Just stares. Then asks quietly,

“Why did you paint me like this?”

Yuu replies, “Because you deserve to be known.”

He never says more. But he starts leaving fruit near Yuu’s studio after that.

Vil – The Poisoned Beauty

In the painting, Vil is mid-transformation—one hand clutching a crown, the other bleeding from a thorny rose. His reflection in a mirror is shattered, each shard showing him at different ages—child, teen, adult.

Each face screams not enough.

He stares at it for a long time.

“You’ve seen too much,” he says softly.

But he doesn’t deny it. He touches the edge of the canvas like it’s glass, and sighs.

Idia – The Fire Beneath Ashes

He is painted not as he is, but as he could be. Hair not blue but flaming orange, cloaked in stars, eyes burning like collapsed galaxies. He’s alone in a digital void—codes swirling, emotions raw.

Yuu writes under the painting: “Your silence is not your curse. It’s your sword.”

He panics when he sees it. But he steals it. Gone in a day.

Malleus – The Prince of Forgotten Legends

He stands in a field of ruins, thorns growing from the stones, wings unfurled. In one hand: a withered crown. In the other: a child’s drawing of a castle and three friends holding hands. Lightning arcs in the sky.

He doesn’t say a word.

Just smiles, for once, with sorrow and warmth. “You see the old stories too.”

He asks Yuu to draw another version—one where the castle is rebuilt.

Yuu paints in silence still.

But slowly... small glimmers return. A flower left on their palette. A quietly scribbled thank you on their sketchbook cover. A printout of their art—taped to a dorm wall where no one will see.

They were never painting for praise.

But now, at least, they are seen.

[starkeymeow]

❛ we make each other alive . .

does it matter if it hurts? ❜

I’M COMING, WAIT FOR ME.

PLOT you enter the hunger games a proud weapon of your district, only to find your sharpest blade is the boy beside you, and you’re not sure which one of you the capitol wants to break first.

CONTENT chapter eleven, best read in dark mode, rafe cameron x reader au, feast, im TIRED I WANNA BE DONE WITH THESE GAMES HELP, lowkey jj dies here ok warning, me not knowing how to make this non cringe LMFAO im sorry ok its also fast paced bc idk realistically it would be too bc who tf drags out a death idk ok sorry goodbye

main masterlist | series ml | tag list | previous next

you pull your knees up tighter to your chest the second that fanfare cuts through.

you lift your head slightly, your eyes sore from crying. it’s not just for kie, but for everything. the stress, the cameras, the deaths surely, the mutts that could come back at any moment if they wanted. it’s all still clinging to you like sweat.

the death recap of the night begins.

the first face that flickers is that boy, the one who tackled you. turns out he was from district three. he’s got a scratch on his chin in his photo and his hair’s slicked back like someone took time to style him. he looks tired, even in that still image. he clearly didn’t want to be there in the first place.

a few seconds later, it flicks again. kie.

you feel your heart sink all over again.

her photo is clean. there’s no bruises, no blood. not the way you last saw her. not the way she looked when you heard her scream jj’s name through a mouthful of blood. in her picture, she’s confident. her chin’s lifted, her hair’s beautiful. she was ready. ready to win.

you frown, shifting your position, letting your chin drop onto your arm, then slowly leaning to the side until your cheek presses there instead. you don’t want to look anymore. you don’t want to imagine your face up there. or jj’s. or rafe’s. but you do anyway.

you think about the photos they made you take, the tribute profile shots they said. it’s necessary for your page, that photo is attached to your name everywhere. and you remember thinking, what’s the point of this? but now you know. the point is this. to see your face up there like some kind of announcement.

you press your lips to your arm and stare at the ground.

somewhere beside you, the leaves shift. an arm moves across your shoulders. it’s rafe.

he’s not awake, just leaning back against the tree behind you, his eyes closed, adjusting in his sleep. he must’ve thought it’d be more comfortable this way, slinging an arm around your neck rather than letting it get crushed between your sides. the weight of it is warm and grounding, and for a second, you don’t move.

you glance over at him quietly, careful, like you’re afraid even just looking will wake him. his face is calm, more relaxed than it’s been all night. maybe even the last few days. you don’t know if it makes you feel better or worse.

you shift your gaze again.

jj’s a few trees away, still as anything, his spear beside him in the dirt. he hasn’t laid down. he hasn’t even closed his eyes. he’s just been leaning against the trunk, his head tilted up slightly.

he didn’t eat earlier. not a bite. you don’t think he even could.

you chew the inside of your lip, watching him.

“good morning, tributes.”

light’s peeking in just barely. you stir awake with a tight ache in your neck and your knees still pulled up like your body forgot it could stretch.

you recognize the voice though. it’s a gamemaker. has to be. you rub your hands over your face and keep listening.

“we hope you’re well-rested, because today brings you an opportunity.”

you squint upward.

“as a reminder, the games are not only a matter of strength, but strategy. survival. will. resourcefulness. and today, we’re giving you a chance to show us all of that and more.”

you frown, your brows drawing together. something’s coming. you can feel it.

“there will be a feast at the cornucopia.”

your stomach knots and you shift upright more fully, palms against the dirt as you sit on your heels now, alert.

“each of you needs something desperately. you will find that something in a backpack marked with your district number, at the cornucopia, at dawn.”

you freeze, eyes widening slightly. it’s a trap. it has to be. at least that’s what your instincts tell you. but you’ve seen the games before, this feast is real. the remaining tributes make it a trap for others.

“think hard about refusing to show up.”

the voice is colder now, like they’re trying to root out your fear.

“for some of you, this will be your last chance.”

then silence. you stare straight ahead for a few seconds, the last words of the announcement ringing inside your skull.

you exhale and glance over your shoulder. rafe’s awake. he’s watching you already, one arm propped up on his knee. when your eyes meet, he gives you a faint little smile. one of those yep, we’re doing this expressions.

you blink back a tired laugh and sigh through your nose, shaking your head.

“of course we’re going,” you mutter, mostly to yourself.

you sit in silence for a long time after, curled up beside rafe while jj stays off on his own. the three of you don’t speak at first. it’s just quiet nods, silent understanding, sharpened weapons. there’s no need for words when the stakes are this high. the bags will be there at dawn, and each one holds something vital. something the capitol knows you can’t live without.

you can’t risk not going.

but that doesn’t mean it isn’t dangerous. there’s still two more tributes out there. they could be separated, could be together. either way, they’re a threat. they’re just as desperate.

you consider every angle. maybe they’ll try to take you out before you even reach the field. maybe they’ll be hiding in the cornucopia already. maybe they won’t show at all, just too afraid to try. it’s a gamble no matter how you look at it.

you move fast anyway. it’s nearly twenty minutes before the trees thin enough for you to glimpse the field. your body stills before your mind does , and there it is. the cornucopia.

four backpacks sit out in the open, perfectly aligned on a steel table placed right at the mouth of the horn. your district number practically glows against the fabric. it’s to the very left.

you expected a drop before you even got there, like hovercraft lights or a countdown. something. but no, they were ready for you. like the gamemakers knew you’d come early. they knew you’d want to stake it out first. they’re always a step ahead.

you drop to a crouch. no movement, no other tributes, not yet.

you feel rafe beside you. jj crouches on the opposite end of the brush, his spear steady in one hand. this is it. the plan’s simple. you just wait for the first sign of movement. whoever dares to step out first, they become your target. you’ll be faster, quieter. you’ll get there before they can blink, or at least that’s what you tell yourself.

you dig your boots into the ground, press your back to the trunk of a tree, and breathe slow. the field is empty. it won’t stay that way for long.

. . . until it actually does.

and what the fuck? is no one coming for their bag?

you shift your weight again, your leg cramping a little from being crouched for so long. rafe’s still posted in place beside you, silent and still like he’s carved out of stone. and jj, well, jj’s lost his patience already. you can tell by the way he keeps standing up and sitting back down, like he’s daring himself to just go for it.

after thirty minutes, he was already pacing. now, he’s dragging a rock across the ground like he’s trying to carve out a new distraction. your stomach grumbles for what feels like the tenth time, but you ignore it. you focus on the treeline.

did the other tributes not hear the announcement? or are they just that scared?

it’s weird. you thought someone would be desperate enough to try. but now it just feels like the gamemakers are waiting, watching you all from their fancy screens in the capitol. watching to see who’ll make a move first.

you glance over at rafe sometimes to see if maybe he’ll finally say it's time to stop waiting. maybe decide that it's not worth it. just grab the bags and go. you’d listen. you’d follow. but he doesn’t move. he just stays still with that same quiet kind of confidence that’s started to gnaw at your nerves. you hate how calm he looks. like he trusts something about this.

you rub your eyes, your hand dragging slow across your face. the exhaustion clings to your skin.

jj mutters something under his breath and you hear the clink of something metallic as he digs around in his backpack. he’s clearly over it, the silence and the waiting. he looks like a kid stuck in a time-out who’s bored and ready to punch something.

you sigh and crawl over, sitting down beside him. you bump your shoulder into his gently, just enough to let him know you’re there. he doesn’t say anything, just shifts a little to the side, still focused on whatever he’s digging out.

you rest your head against his shoulder and watch his hands. he finally pulls something out. it’s small, sharp-looking, half-wrapped in cloth but clearly mechanical. your eyes flicker over the details, the way the wires wind tightly around a tiny trigger. it takes you a second before you recognize it.

“is that kie’s?” you ask. he doesn’t speak. just nods. you look at it for another second before looking away. it makes your chest feel too tight.

“there’s a few,” jj mutters, fingers adjusting one of the small pins in the trap. “gonna set them up at the table so if the others grab their bags, they get caught.”

he stands before you can say anything else, slinging his spear back over his shoulder and holding the traps carefully in one hand.

“do you guys want me to get yours too?”

rafe answers before you do, “we’ll get it.”

you look back once to see rafe watching jj with that same unreadable calm. but jj doesn’t argue. he just nods, turns, and heads off, jogging into the open like he’s daring the arena to try something.

you watch him move across the field. it feels like something should happen, like a cannon should fire, or someone should run out screaming. but nothing does.

you just track jj’s every move. your eyes flick back and forth between him and the trees. your fingers grip the hilts of your daggers, slow and steady as you pull them from their sheath. no sudden movements. not yet. not unless something gives you a reason. you just know you’re there to back him if he gets jumped.

jj makes it to the cornucopia easy, all smooth confidence in the way he drops his spear onto the table. it clatters against the metal, you can even hear it from where you are.

he’s focused, flipping the traps over in his hands, turning them this way and that, trying to find the right angles. he’s careful, faster than he should be for something that delicate. he tucks each one just behind the bags at the base where they’ll be out of sight. it’s smart. if someone tries to grab one without noticing . . . maybe they’ll lose a hand. or worse. you don’t know. they’re kie’s contraptions. you’re not even sure if jj knows what they do.

after the last trap clicks into place, he snatches the district four bag and grabs his spear again, then starts running.

and that’s when you see it.

movement. it’s not big or fast or anything. but something, someone, is at the treeline, across the way. your body locks up for a second. there’s a girl. she’s peeking out just barely, her head low, eyes squinting toward jj like she’s trying to calculate something. and you can tell by the way she flinches that she didn’t expect him to be there.

you don’t hesitate. you whistle. loud.

jj jerks his head up instantly, eyes locking on yours mid-stride. you point. your arm slices through the air, finger held out firm toward the girl.

jj skids a little as he slows, turning just in time to catch sight of her. and then he’s gone again, bolting, fast as hell, feet kicking up dirt behind him.

the girl panics. you can see it. she ducks back into the green like she wasn’t ever there at all.

but you know better. you and rafe move at the exact same time. you grab your pack, your fingers curling tight around the straps as you shove your daggers back into place and sprint after them both. you’ll get your feast bag later.

the field stretches too long, too wide, but you don’t stop. your backpack shifts against your shoulders with every stride, jostling uncomfortably, but you keep moving.

then—rafe. he veers to the left of you, yelling over his shoulder, “i’ll get it, just stay with jj!”

your head snaps toward him, eyes wide, but he’s already gone, racing straight for the cornucopia table like it’s the only thing keeping you both alive. you almost call his name, but you trust him. you turn your focus back forward and push harder, legs burning now.

jj’s just barely ahead, fast and reckless, tearing across the field. and you, you chase him. every time you think you’re catching up, he’s already ducking through the trees again, vanishing like a shadow just ahead of you. you keep your eyes locked on him.

you’re in the woods now, leaping over exposed roots. ducking under low-hanging limbs. things graze your arms and catch your clothes, but you barely feel them. you know where he’s going. you’ve been this way before. there’s water up ahead. he’s chasing her there. it’s the only reason to head this deep, this fast.

the girl, she’s gone from view. she’s been too far away from you for you to see her anyway.

you move faster, your feet hit the ground harder. your legs ache like they might give out, but you grit your teeth and tear through the forest like something wild, something hunting. you feel like a predator closing in, tracking every sound and movement, heart pounding loud in your ears.

then, jj disappears. he just slips through a patch of trees and just like that, he’s gone. your chest tightens immediately. you swerve between trunks, leap over a moss-covered rock, barely avoiding slamming into a branch.

then you hear it. there’s a scream. it must be hers, but it’s short and panicked.

there’s a struggle. you can hear it, rustling, splashing, the sound of someone grunting, fighting back. and you know you’re close. you know this is the water. they’re here.

you shove through the last of the brush, branches snapping around you. your hand grips the hilt of your dagger just in case. the leaves claw at your skin as you force your way past, and then you see them.

jj’s with the girl, thrashing, tangled up in each other by the edge of the water. your breath catches.

is that diamonte?

jj’s eventually waist-deep, soaking wet, his arms locked around someone who doesn’t want to be touched. diamonte is twisting in his grip like a feral thing, her fingers clawing for anything, her feet pushing off the muddy floor of the lake, trying to lunge deeper, like submerging herself is going to somehow make her invisible or safer.

it’s pathetic, the way she thrashes. stupid, even. and for a second, you think: how the hell did she make it this far?

but you already know. she probably ran, laid low, waited. but it was only a matter of time before someone got to her.

jj tries to drag her back toward shore, but the moment his grip slips, she turns on him, faster than you expect. her elbow jams into his ribs and before he can recover, she’s on his back, wrapping around him like a snake. her hand goes to his throat, the other to the knife at her hip.

you run forward but stop at the edge, frozen.

she’s got the blade pressed just under his chin, not enough to bleed yet, but it wouldn’t take much. jj’s hands go up immediately, his chest rising fast, not struggling. he’s watching you. his eyes are locked on yours like a signal.

you swear that if she does it, if she really does it, you’ll kill her.

you take a step forward, heart pounding. “diamonte.”

she doesn’t look at you. her breathing’s ragged. her face is sunken, her skin pale. she’s still probably gone days without food, maybe more. her cheekbones look sharper than they should. her eyes are sunken.

jj winces slightly under her arm, but doesn’t move.

finally, she speaks. “this is what they want.” her voice is hoarse like she hasn’t used it in days. “they want me to slit his throat, and then you’ll come at me, and then someone else will come at you. and it’ll go on. until we’re all fucking dead.”

you don’t say anything. not yet.

she tilts her head slightly, like she’s listening for something only she can hear. her jaw flexes. her eyes finally cut to you. she’s literally unstable.

“you still don’t get it,” she says, laughing once, breathless. it’s not funny. “you still think this is about districts. about bags. about who kills who.”

she presses the knife a little deeper. jj holds perfectly still. his mouth opens like he’s going to say something.

“they’ve taught you so well,” she hisses. “you really think dying out here means something. you, topper, jj, what were you trying to prove? that you’re strong? that you’re worthy?”

she notices when your eyebrows furrow at their names. she smiles. “topper thought he was brave. that if he just fought hard enough, they’d let him go home. and now he’s, what? dust in a cannon? a body that the capitol has to do whatever they please with it? i thought he’d win, if anything, but look at us. we’re still here.”

your hand clenches around your dagger.

“my brother thought the same thing last year,” she mutters. “district one’s golden boy. volunteered like it was his birthright. the kind of kid they throw a parade for before the blood even dries. said he wanted to die for something.”

her lips curl, but it’s not a smile. it’s something bitter.

“you know what they sent back to my mom? a pin. a fucking pin.”

jj’s breathing harder now. the knife hasn’t moved. you can tell he’s trying to stay calm, but his hands twitch slightly, like he’s getting ready. or like he’s asking you again to do something.

“you’re just like them,” diamonte says, her gaze pinned to yours. “just better fed.”

“i’m not here to give them what they want,” she whispers. “i’m not dying for their cameras. and neither is he.”

her grip tightens, the knife shifts. you know that if you so much as try to move, she’ll kill him just to prove a point.

you’re watching her come undone in real time. and still, jj doesn’t fight. he just looks at you like he’s already decided what’s going to happen. like he’s already accepted it.

no. no, no, no.

if she does it, she better be ready to die. you’ll drag her down into that water yourself.

you barely hear her as she’s still talking. it all blurs together. something about how they’re watching, something about how they’re not showing this part, how panem doesn’t get to see the truth. “they’re probably cutting to a fucking squirrel climbing a tree while i tell the truth,” she spits, mouth foaming. “they won’t show this. they never do.”

you tune it out.

your eyes are on jj, only him. he’s trying to stay still, but you see the tension in his arms, the way his fingers are inching upward, like he’s thinking of grabbing the blade or twisting out of her grip. idiot. don’t be a fucking idiot.

he’s looking down at the knife like he’s studying it, calculating, plotting.

he will. you can feel it in your gut. he’ll try something, he’ll take the risk. maybe he doesn’t care if he dies here, not after kie. not with that guilt still carved into the back of his skull. maybe he thinks this would be justice, or redemption, or an escape.

you shake your head once. don’t move.

he sees it. his jaw tightens. his lips purse and his hands stop rising, but his eyes stay on yours, and it’s like he’s saying, she’s not gonna let me walk away. you know that.

you do. but there’s something else. you glance at the water. you try to come up with something, anything. work under pressure, under a minute, you need to analyze everything.

this isn’t just some random lake. this is the lake. the first one that helped you washed the bloodbath off of your body. it’s the one kie was sitting on the edge of with you. the one with the trap. the snare.

it’s still there, probably sunken under the surface, tangled at the bottom. she doesn’t know it’s there. neither does jj unless he remembers kie setting it there too. but you do.

if they shift just right . . .

“you think this is a game?” diamonte yells suddenly, head snapping toward the sky like she’s screaming at the gamemakers. “you think this is entertainment? say something!” she bellows. “show me the red light. show me you’re watching. come on, i know you’re watching!”

jj’s eyes flick down to the water, then back up to you. did he figure it out too?

don’t, you think again.

there’s a crunch behind you. a single bootstep. it must be rafe. you hear him before you see him, but it’s too late. she reacts.

diamonte’s head jerks, body twisting, and she shouts something incoherent as she yanks jj’s head back. the knife jerks forward—

but jj’s faster.

your hand reaches back instinctively, finding rafe’s arm like it’s the only solid thing left to hold onto as it all unravels too quickly. your other arm stretches out in front of you, as if somehow, reaching far enough could stop it.

jj’s elbow slams into diamonte’s stomach, the knife dropping with a soft splash, her scream piercing the air as her body jerks backward.

her leg snaps back like it’s caught in something, and you already know what it is before she even stumbles. kie’s trap is still there. she’s too distracted to notice, too out of it to realize she’s already marked.

and jj doesn’t wait. he’s spinning, grabbing, his hands snapping around her throat. diamonte freezes. and just for a second, uou can see the fear in her eyes. she looks at jj like she sees something final in him. and maybe she does. maybe they both do.

he drives them both under with one brutal movement, his arms locked around her as they vanish into the water. it all blurs after that, with the splashing, bubbles, flailing, but you can’t see who’s winning, who’s still breathing, who’s drowning who. the water’s too clouded and the light is too bright. your eyes even burn from staring too hard.

you step forward, already bracing to run in after them, heart jackhammering against your ribs as you call out, barely louder than a whisper, “jj—” but you don’t get any further.

rafe’s hand closes around your upper arm and hauls you back. you stumble for a second, caught between fight and freeze, and then you look at him.

he doesn’t speak. he just meets your eyes like he knows the concern inside you, like he’s asking you not to give in to it. you can’t, you shouldn’t. these are the games.

you want to believe jj’s okay. you want to believe he knows what he’s doing, that he’s strong enough to win this and come back up. but the longer you stare at the surface, the longer it stays undisturbed, no gasp for breath, no victorious shout. he’s doing this on purpose.

rafe gives your arm a pull. and somehow, your body starts to follow. you run.

the trees blur past in streaks, your backpack bouncing heavily against your shoulders, and rafe’s footfalls thudding just in front of you. your breath comes fast and uneven, not from the sprint but from the weight in your chest that keeps pressing down.

and then it happens.

one cannon. one of them is dead.

it echoes through the entire arena. your feet falter mid-step. not enough to fall, but enough to make rafe glance at you.

you flinch, visibly, and something inside you folds in half. the tears prick your eyes instantly, but you don’t let them fall. you swipe them away with the back of your hand, jaw clenching as you force your legs to keep moving. another cannon just a minute later.

you don’t speak, and neither does rafe, because what would you even say?

you just keep running, back toward the field, toward the cornucopia. jj’s gone, so is diamonte. it’s just you, rafe, and the last tribute. only three left.

two more people and the victor gets to go home.

but even after all of this, for the first time you start wondering, do you even want it to be you?

a/n: i keep forgetting that as a district two kid y/n is supposed to be a little brainwashed so oops ! idk how to properly show that thru the behavior but ermm

sry smtimes idgaf because im so excited to get to the 75th games timeskip. this is a huge moment bc jj dies but i wrote it so poorly in my opinion (like i couldve done better) but atp its like a filler chapter in my head LMAO

ALSO idk if anyone noticed that itty bitty detail but since jj comes from four itll be canon that he can swim, even hold his breath for longer than someone in another district. his death cannon comes later than diamontes which shows he was purposely drowning himself for a whole minute after he killed her, putting himself thru that struggle n killing himself omg ok im done

@nicholaschavezslut69 @iissza @snowtargaryen @yootvi @ariiwritess @spideysimpossiblegirl @skyslowalking @adribarbie @obsessionsarenotfortheweak @0-tatiana-0 @beebeerockknot @rafestar @drewstarkeyzwhore @drewsephrry @annaconscience @writtenbyhollywood @yourtypicalteenagegirl @daisydark @v4mpscrms @issahruiz @ilovefictionallmenn @derpjungkook @vanessa-rafesgirl @sunny1616 @alphabetically-deranged @nrmlgirl @supercxnt @xoxosblogsblog @rafegetinmybed @siyahmoonlight @livie4lifestarkeyblyth @d-daxx @tsumudoll @ogcrashout @jjasmiineee @loverliner @ailimedae @belle101200 @hiimbrina @nomup @ayy1234567 @girxwrp @k4yr14 @amterasuu @theteenagementality @maggscr @hey-you22w @delilah22pbp @hayleynott @silkenthusiasts ++

[lemnnshark]

After months of chipping away at this and putting it off, I can finally present to you...

Firestar's Genetically Accurate Family Tree

Updated version

Or at least my take on it. There's a lot of room for change depending on how you want them to look!

Here is the spreadsheet with all their genetics, including cats who aren't on the tree but were needed for certain cats' mates

Some notes:

-I tried to keep them as close to canon as possible. A lot on the bottom row don't quite make it, but their parents are more established characters than them, so they were more important to me

-Generally, I didn't care too much about eye color. If the way I did blue eyes doesn't line up with any existing blue eye mutation, pretend these cats magically evolved their own mutation that does what I want it to

-I did as little work as I needed to. All of the ?s in their genotypes just mean that pretty any allele would be fine, and some of their genotypes omit certain genes entirely

-I'm not super familiar with drawing realistic coat colors, so I apologize if any of them (especially the tabbies) are off. I might be able to make some adjustments if anyone has critiques

-I weeded out all the mistakes I could, but there might still be a few lurking somewhere. If you have a keen eye and happen to spot one, let me know and I'll fix it!

-I'm happy to answer any questions regarding this tree or cat genetics in general :> (although I'm not exactly an expert)

-Ignore the Larksong Sparkpelt cross in the middle. It's unfortunate.

[mischievousmoony]

𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜' ⟡ 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟸

⟢ james potter x black!reader (fem)

⟢ summary: after your parents cross the line, you and your older brother sirius find sanctuary at the potters'. however, things don’t go so smoothly at first . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ 3.6k

⟢ warnings/tags: abusive parents, james’ clothes are described as baggy on the reader, siblings fighting, fluff then angst

⟢ part 1 ⟡ part 2 ⟡ part 3 ⟡ part 4 ⟡ masterlist

note: my writing's so rustyyyy the dialogue is so off but im so done editing. and this is gonna need a few more parts, i keep getting carried away.

The Potters' house was very different from yours. It was the first thing you noticed when you woke up. Back home, it felt like Grimmauld Place existed under a perpetual storm cloud. Here, sunshine cannot be escaped. The curtains were drawn closed, but light still filtered in from both sides, almost pleading for them to be opened so that it might do its duty of brightening the house.

Another thing you noticed were birds, who sang pretty songs from right outside your window. You can't remember ever hearing any birds outside your home, and there were plenty of trees for them to nest in. In fact, you started to believe that the aura of your house scared all living things away. Realistically, it was probably all of the yelling and screaming.

As you lie in an unfamiliar room and think of all the reasons why you preferred it over your own, three gentle knocks beat on your door. They sounded different than James' quick staccato, and nerves bubbled in your stomach because you couldn't guess who was on the other side.

You took a deep breath, told yourself that you didn’t have to be so on edge here, and called for the person to come in as you sat up. The knock pattern automatically filed itself away in your brain as belonging to Mrs. Potter. She walked in, carrying a silver tea tray.

"Good morning, dear. Sleep well?" She greeted you as she made her way to your bedside.

"Yes, Ma'am." You said politely.

"Oh, please call me Effie," she insisted as she placed the tray on the bedside table and moved to draw open your curtains. You imagined the sunshine saying thank you for finally letting it in.

“I’ve brought up some tea for you. I wasn't sure how you liked it, alas..." Effie waved her hand over the tray.

The tray had the basics: a teapot, sugar, and a small milk pitcher. However, Effie had also laid out various tea bags for you to choose from, along with some warm biscuits.

“Thank you,” you said in awe as you stared at the display. It was a simple tea setting, really, but the thoughtfulness still had you feeling choked up.

"I spoke with James this morning. May I?" Effie gestured to the edge of your bed, and you welcomed her to sit. "He woke Monty and me up at the crack of dawn, insisting that we let you and your brother stay permanently. Even had tears in his eyes. I tell you, that boy has his father’s big heart."

"Anywho, I nearly tossed a pillow at him for waking me up so early, as if I’d even consider an alternative! But I got to thinking, if James felt like we needed convincing, then we better make sure you and Sirius don’t feel any unease either.”

Effie reached for your hands that lay folded in your lap. “So,” she paused a moment to allow you the chance to shoo her off before placing her hand over yours. “I felt it was important to tell you personally that you are welcomed in this home and this family, assuming you’ll have us, for as long as you need us. That sounds like a good deal to you?”

You bit back tears, “Yea- yes. I think that sounds lovely.”

Effie smiled and squeezed your hands, “Can I give you a hug, dear?”

“Yes, please.” you croaked.

Effie wrapped her arms around you, and you let a few tears loose while she couldn’t see you, wiping them away with your thumb as soon as they appeared. The hug felt warm and unfamiliar, and you wondered if there was a time that your parents ever hugged you like this. If they did, you didn’t remember it.

From behind Effie’s back, you watched James waltz over through your blurry vision. He became distracted by the surprise that the bedroom door was already opened, eyeing it before anything else in the room as he leaned against the doorframe.

“Good morning, sunsh- Mum! You’re in here!”

Effie pulled back from you and craned her neck to look over her shoulder at her son, who was standing up as straight as a board in the doorway. She raised an eyebrow at him, sensing his sudden weirdness.

“I was just welcoming Y/N to our home, like we discussed. Are you alright, dear?” Effie tilted her head.

“‘m splendid, Mum.” James said it with a goofy smile, rocking back and forth on his heels.

She drew her eyebrows together and said, "Lovely, James. What can we do for you?"

"Me? Do for me?" James' eyes widened.

Effie shook her head, perplexed by her son’s reaction.

"I'm wondering what brings you here, James?"

"Ah. I was just in the area," James said, doing a poor job at acting casual. "Y'know, the upstairs... area. Uh, so I thought I'd say good morning... Good morning!"

You thought that this must be the kind of thing people face palm over.

“Hm,” Effie squinted at her son, studying him for a moment before deciding to worry about whatever that was later. She turned back towards you, “Anywho, this is your room now, so I hope it's to your liking. We can see about changing these sheets and painting the walls however you’d like-”

“It’s perfect!” You interrupted, looking bashful for doing so, but Effie didn't seem to mind.

“Well, feel free to customize it any other way. Any posters?” Effie offered.

"I didn't have time to grab that sort of thing,” you admitted, and immediately felt stupid for doing so. Effie clearly just wanted you to feel at home, and you felt like you were being a downer.

But if it phased Effie, she didn’t show it.

"Well then, that means we get to go buy some new ones, yeah?"

She gave your hands a final squeeze before standing up, saying, “I better let you wake up and enjoy the tea,” and walking towards the hall.

Effie affectionately patted James on the cheek as she passed him.

“Have you had breakfast, dear?”

“Mum!” James shrank away from her, his face growing hot. “I will in a minute!”

She tsked at him, gave his cheek one last pinch, and made her way out of the room. James hung from the doorframe into the hall to watch her go. When she was out of sight, he dipped into your room and shut the door silently behind him.

James' back pressed against the closed door as he shot you a toothy grin.

"Good morning, sunshine," he repeated.

You can't help but giggle at him while saying, "Good morning, Jamie."

As he walked over you, his smile slightly faded as a hint of sadness crept onto his face when he noticed your teary eyes.

One thing you loved about James was that he never resorted to any of those hollow phrases like "don't cry" or "stay strong" when he tried to make you feel better. Instead, he always concocted the perfect cure for the situation. Today, it was goofiness and a lot of kisses.

James made a big show of acting innocent as he approached. He whistled some tune and looked anywhere but you before he suddenly dived at you, embracing your waist with a gentle yet decisive sweep of his arms. He flung his body into the mattress, dragging you down with him. You yelped and chided him through laughter.

When you landed, you were tangled awkwardly—your body twisted so that your torso was on top of his, but his legs were draped over yours. James' arms were still wrapped tightly around your waist, keeping you trapped as he peppered kisses on your face. He kissed your cheeks and the corner of your eyes, then your eyelids, effectively kissing away any stray tears.

You were a fit of giggles by the time his lips reached the tip of your nose. Next up, he dipped his head to kiss each side of your mouth before finally capturing your lips with his. You giggled through the feathery kisses he pressed on your lips, and he couldn't help but follow in your footsteps as he smiled against you.

Soon, laughter overtook you both. Yet you remained close, with your noses brushing against each other and your foreheads pressed together, as your happy laughter filled the room.

Eventually, James' laughter began to die down. He removed one of his hands from your waist to help brush your hair back into place, it having gotten disheveled from his attack.

You settled down as well, letting the touch of his fingertips in your hair calm you. He took notice and continued running his fingers through your hair, even after it was all brushed out of your face.

For a peaceful moment, you gazed into his eyes, which were filled with admiration and mirrored your own. James watched as a glint of mischief suddenly sparkled in your eyes.

"So," you voiced.

"Mhm," he hummed.

"You've clearly never tried to hide something from your mum before."

"Why would I 'ave had to hide something from my mum before?" James pouted, briefly bringing your giggles back. "Only reason I haven't gushed to her about my beautiful girlfriend," James gave your waist a squeeze, "is 'coz she would have qualms with me lying to a friend."

"Oh, so I guess we better go tell Sirius then, yeah? I wouldn't want to make you lie to your dear mum, I like her." You teased, amused by James' eyes widening nervously.

You've talked about telling your brothers before, but it's something neither of you were quite ready for—you were too fond of the blissfulness you found in the privacy of your relationship.

"Er, I don't particularly feel like getting socked in the face today." James said.

"Oh, come on. You think he'd react that badly?" You carried on.

"I think Sirius punching me would be a mild reaction for him." James grimaced, "He'll probably hex me into the next century. And I get chills thinking about what would happen if Regulus were to find out. Oh, I'd be a dead man. Or he'd put an irreversible curse on my bloodline. It's a tossup, really."

Your smile faltered at the mention of your twin brother, suddenly remembering your situation. You let yourself get distracted by the warm welcome from Effie and James' affection. How could you lay here happily while Regulus is still stuck at that house?

Your expression suddenly grew very solemn as you began squirming out of James' grip. "Where's Sirius?" you asked.

James seemed to choke on his own spit. "Uh, pardon? You're not really planning on telling him today?” Despite his protest, James loosened his grip, not wanting to keep you somewhere you didn’t want to be. “At least let me put my Quidditch gear on, I might need the protective padding."

You had tunnel vision the moment Regulus’ name was mentioned, but you realized what James was saying by the time he mentioned protective padding.

“Not that, James. I need to find out about Reg.”

His mouth formed an O shape as you stood at the foot of the bed with your hands on your hips.

“So do you know where he is?”

“Uh, eating breakfast probably,” James guessed, “in the dining room.”

You stared at him expectantly and after a while of him not moving, you huffed, “I don’t know where that is, James!”

“Right!” James scrambled up from the bed so he could lead you through the house. You could’ve found it if you wandered long enough, but the Potters’ house was fairly large, and you wanted to talk to Sirius as soon as possible.

By the time James had led you to the kitchen, you could see Sirius in the next room over through the open archway. You pushed past James at once.

Sirius was alone at the head of the table, various platters of breakfast food surrounding him. The kitchen was hot when you passed through it, so one of James’ parents must have just been cooking, but they were nowhere to be seen now. Sirius was shoveling some sausage onto his plate when he saw you.

“Sirius,” you said sternly as your hands returned to your hips.

“Look who’s finally up!” Your brother cheered, “Just in time to eat.” He gestured at the seat next to him.

James appeared at your side, and said, “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Maybe you should have some before you-”

“Where is Regulus?” You interrupted, ignoring James altogether.

James’ utterance of “Yeah, didn’t think so” was lost on your ears.

With a scowl on his face, Sirius turned his attention away from his meal. His eyes scanned over you, and his scowl twisted into an amused expression. “Nice outfit!” he snorted.

You looked down briefly to see yourself drowning in James’ clothes. Being much taller than you, James' sweats pooled at your ankles. You rolled your eyes.

“Stop it, Sirius. Where is our brother?”

Sirius squinted at you. You thought he was finally going to give you answers when he decisively opened his mouth, but instead, “You should sit and eat. James is right, breakfast is the most-”

“Sirius!” You raised your voice, your hands molding into fists as your arms dropped to your sides.

Sirius threw his fork down with a clatter, “What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell me why he’s not here with us.” Your pleading voice cracked as you begged your brother for answers, stepping closer to him.

Sirius had a stormy, faraway look in his eyes, as if recalling something poignant. “The only one who can answer that question is him, so you’re out of luck,” he said bitterly.

The simmering anger in your chest started to bubble, rising up to your throat until you were spitting words that you would later regret. “You left him there!” you accused.

“Excuse me?” Sirius sent a deadly stare your way as he slowly pushed his chair back and stood up.

“Woah,” James tried to interrupt, moving to stand between you two, “Maybe we wanna take a moment and-”

You stepped around James, and his remaining words were drowned out by your raised voice: “I said you left him there. He’s not here because of you.”

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!” Sirius bellowed, growing more irritated with you.

“Then why not enlighten me, Sirius!?”

“He chose to stay!" he disclosed. "Alright? I know you think so highly of your favorite brother, but he chose that place!”

“That’s ridiculous,” you scoffed, crossing your arms and looking away.

You ignored Sirius' choice words of "favorite brother." You weren't going to let yourself get distracted by that conversation, which you've had a countless number of times already. Sirius was sensitive to the fact that Regulus was your twin brother, and Sirius would always just be your brother, no matter how many times you told him that you loved them the same.

“I told him to pack, just like you, and he said no. I told him he had to and he refused," Sirius said vindictively.

“Then you should’ve tried harder!" You snapped, spewing words you didn't mean, "Now he’s there alone. He would’ve come if you would've just tried harder, I know it. This is all your fault!”

Sirius reeled back as if you had punched him in the gut. For a moment, he looked hurt, but then anger overwhelmed him. “How could you say that? You weren’t even there!”

“Because you never let me be! I stayed in my room, like you said to, and was out of my mind with worry. Next thing I know, we’re leaving and Regulus isn’t, and that feeling hasn’t gone away because I have no idea how he is. You should’ve grabbed him and dragged him along! You should’ve-“

“Why is everything my fault!? Why is it what I should’ve done!? You don’t even know what he did!” Sirius' nostrils flared with rage.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about how your dear Reggie isn’t as good as you think he is," he sneered. "If you only saw him…”

“I don’t care what he did, he’s our brother!" You shouted, "He should be here. It doesn’t matter!”

Sirius slammed his hand on the table, “IT DOESN’T MATTER!?” he screamed, causing you to jump back. Tears immediately began welling in your eyes. No matter what you did, when you were being yelled at, you started crying. You weren't like your brothers, who could hold stone-cold, emotionless expressions despite whatever was swirling within. It was one of the reasons your brothers did what they could to keep your parents away from you—to Walburga and Orion, emotion was weakness.

Your tears didn't phase Sirius like they normally would have. He was too furious. “You want to know what he did?" he asked harshly. "He watched. He watched our parents torture me, and then he just walked away!"

“What did you want him to do?” you cried, “He- he was probably scared,” you hiccuped, “you- you should’ve-“

“I shouldn’t have done anything, goddammit! She crucio’d me! THAT’S what he watched our mother do. THAT’S what he let me deal with alone. I was on the ground unable to get up for damn near thirty minutes, and he knew it!"

Sirius nearly doubled over, grabbing the table in front of him for balance so hard that his knuckles blanched. All of the yelling gave him a head rush, but he wouldn't relent, "So don’t you tell me that I should’ve tried harder. That I should’ve grabbed him. He doesn’t care about me, so why should I care about him?”

Your hand clasped over your mouth as you sobbed. Your parents were cruel, but the Cruciatus Curse? You couldn’t fathom it. Your mouth suddenly felt dry, and bile bubbled up in your throat as you recalled Sirius’ scream from the night before.

Neither of you seemed to have anything else to say. You both just stood before each other in your most vulnerable states. It was a miserable sight—you crying your eyes out and Sirius looking sick as a dog.

Neither of you had noticed James leave until he returned. His parents followed closely behind.

"Snitch," Sirius choked out, glaring at his best friend as a fit of coughs hit him, his throat strained from the yelling. He ducked his head down and screwed his eyes shut suddenly, like the light in the room was starting to bother his head.

James didn't seem to care what Sirius thought of him. He was too busy being concerned for you both. Besides, James didn't really snitch. You two were being so loud that his parents were already on their way. He happened to run into them in their pursuit.

"What's going on?" Effie's gentle voice rang through the room, "We could hear yelling from the other side of the house."

Even though James' mum was being stern, she didn't sound angry or upset. Her voice only carried notes of concern and motherly authority.

Neither you nor Sirius answered her, too busy crying and coughing. Both of you would've probably been too sheepish to answer, anyway.

James' parents shared a look with each other, deciding what to do about the situation through eye contact alone.

Fleamont spoke with a firm voice, "Alright, son, we ought to get you up to your room. I think it'd be best for you to lie down." Fleamont clasped a hand on Sirius' shoulder. Your brother let Fleamont assist him in the walk to his room.

Euphemia moved to comfort you, but James stopped her. "Wait, let me."

She raised her eyebrows at her son, skeptical of the idea that her young son was equipped to handle this situation. But James had already started reaching for you, and like a moth to a flame, you melted into his arms the moment you felt his fingertips graze your skin.

Effie's eyes darted between you and her son, settling on him when her features melded into a look of understanding. A million questions raced through her mind. How long had this been going on? Why didn't James tell her? Did James tell Sirius? But the one thing she knew for sure was that you found comfort in James, and comfort was the one thing you needed right now.

She took a deep breath and decided to trust her son. "We'll talk about this later. I'm going to check on Sirius."

"Thanks, Mum." James let out a relieved breath.

"Just... behave."

"Mum!" James blushed, his hands swiftly traveling up to cover your ears with his palms.

"Oh, I didn't mean it like that!" Effie waved a hand in the air as she followed in the direction of Fleamont and Sirius.

James noticed your shoulders had started shaking intensely.

“Lovey,” he cooed. He moved his hands to cup your face, tilting it up to look at him. He was surprised to find that the reason for your shuddering shoulders was not because you had started crying harder. You were still crying, but it was mixed with a bit of laughter.

"I guess neither of us are very good at hiding things,” you said, thinking of how you jumped into his arms right in front of his mother.

James shook his head, a single chuckle escaping from his lips.

“Guess not.”

Your moment of humor quickly passed, your eyes turning sad again as more tears spilled out.

James sighed, brushing away your tears with his thumb before pulling you close to his chest. He rubbed soothing circles on your back, pressed kisses to the top of your head, and whispered professions of love and sweet words in your ear while he let you cry. Sometimes, he knew you just needed to let it all out.

Eventually, you let James’ touch and loving words relax you. When your crying was reduced to a sniffle, James veered back so that you could see his face.

“Let’s go on a walk.”

next part

[physalian]

How to subtly show the passage of time in your narrative

For instances where actual concrete numbers would be either jarring or unrealistic for your characters to know, like if they’re castaways in a remote region, prisoners of war, under house arrest and unable to access technology, or any other situation where a character cannot ground themselves in a reliable timeline. Or simply in fantasy settings that don't tell time in concrete numbers.

Giving your readers actual numbers can be jarring, whether it’s explicit measurements of things that invites readers to do the math that you might not have (thus risking plot holes), looking out of place in your narrative style, or giving numbers your characters realistically wouldn’t know.

Things like a 60lb bag of dog food, or an 8ft ladder, or a 2 liter bottle are different. Those are common measurements most people come across in conversation or otherwise. Taking an aside to make sure your readers know that a kiddie wagon is 3.5 feet long is… weird. Unless the story demands that, for some reason, this measurement is critical knowledge.

Passage of time is the same, and even more prone to potential plot holes. If you’re writing a story where time is critical, like characters are on a mission and timing must be perfect, then lacking numbers would be strange.

Anything else, though, and in the real world, we estimate all the time. “It’ll take maybe 45 mins” we say, not “it’ll take maybe 36 mins”.

But if you’re in a situation where characters don’t have clocks and calendars, their estimates should be broader and broader and more hyperbolic. “Talking for hours” “sleeping for days” etc. Otherwise, how do they have an exact sense of how much time has passed, and why is a specific number important? Readers can tell when a character or narrator is being hyperbolic.

If you want to get even more vague and subtle, you can either have characters notice environmental details, or clue the reader in without characters even knowing.

I think I’ve mentioned this already, but my go-to here for cases that last months is characters commenting on how long their hair has gotten, or the narration saying something like, “their hair has grown out over their eyes”.

But there’s a bunch of others

How thick the dust is on their surroundings

If the leaves on the trees have changed colors, grown back in, or fallen off

How long their fingernails are

How chipped nail polish has become

How nasty bruises have faded and changed colors

How much weight they’ve lost or gained

How much mold is on bread, or how much food has been eaten or rotten

How many cobwebs/spiderwebs have appeared

How desiccated the corpses of frogs or lizards have become

How grey their hair is, or their dog’s fur

How many weeds are growing in the sidewalk or in the gutters of their house

How many leaves are covering the lawn

How faded paint has become

How far natural roots have grown out, or hair dye has faded

All of those tend to be a more negative passing of time so here’s some lighthearted ones

How full the refrigerator door has become with children’s drawings

How cluttered the dresser is now with family photos

How worn a favorite pair of jeans/shoes or sweater is

How big kittens or puppies have grown

How many baby clothes don’t fit anymore

How many gummy fingerprints are all over the sliding glass doors

How worn the couch cushions are

How the floor is all scratched from dog nails or toy wheels

How much fur is everywhere

No matter what, even if characters do have clocks and calendars at the ready, you can still be subtle about it. Yet another example of showing, instead of telling, in about the same amount of words.

[unsoundedcomic]

Any advice on how to convince someone to give the comic a shot when the child abuse stuff and shirtless Sette throws them off?

Well, first of all, don't bug someone to read something with content that they aren't comfortable with. I don't care for realistic war stories and it doesn't matter what the author's intention was or how it all resolves - I just don't like 'em. I empathize too much with the soldiers and am miserable.

But if you think their reluctance has more to do with authorial distrust, just be honest with them; tell them how you feel about how it's handled and resolved. Also remind them that different people have different boundaries. I'm a woman, I used to be a little girl, and drawing little girls with their shirts off should not be some scandalous thing, in my opinion. I actually think it's kind of sus to find that problematic rather than emblematic of their free spirit. Which is why it's done with Sette. Sette is a Forever Child. Sharteshanian Sette is not restrained by body shame in the way that dead Duane and the Alds are. Duane shrouds himself in his cloak and bandages; Sette strips to climb trees and swim in rivers. This is a really intentional contrast.

Sette's free spirit unsullied by shame is why Starfish was such a great foil. He was this horrid demon of perversion; this tumor of adult derangement that hampered not only Sette, but Jivi and Matty, and ultimately became the Final Argument of all the forgotten dead. It's better not to exist than to live in a reality with monsters like THIS.

It's heavy shit and not everyone wants to stomach it - nor should they be made to feel bad if that's the case! - but Starfish and the repeated incursions against kids in this story are deeply a part of the theme of the work. They're not frivolous.

That's how I'd frame it for doubters. And their doubt is understandable. There is a lot of questionable perversion in media. The line between smut and literature ain't that concrete.

[pomidaea]

When looking at your art I always notice how amazing you are at expressions and body language.... HOW?!?!??!?! like tell me your secret

(　ＴДＴ)

And different face shapes, body types give me some of that talent I'm struggling!!!! Pls

Hello! I can’t show a step-by-step tutorial because my process is too messy to be turned into one, but I can give some general tips and also resources that you could use _(:3 」∠)_

EXPRESSIONS AND FACE SHAPES

Tips:

A general thing for expressions is that the features of a face interact with each other. For example, when you’re happy, you smile and your eyes also squint. If you raise your eyebrows in surprise, your eyes widen a bit. When you’re angry, your eyebrows furrow, your nose scrunches up, and your mouth is downturned. 

Try to observe the people around you, see what facial features move when people are happy, sad, angry, bored, etc.

If the expression feels flat, exaggerate. 

Human Anatomy Fundamentals: Mastering Facial Expressions (Joumana Medlej) - This goes in depth on how features interact with each other, and also has an emotion tree that groups expressions into 5 categories: relaxed, surprised, smiling, angry, and sad.

For face shapes, you need to know the basic proportions of a face before you can start messing around with different features. Here are some resources you can use which are a combination of art channels, challenges, and websites. You can use these for your art studies.

Proko - A gold mine for art tips in general, and they’re beginner-friendly. Note: They cover more realistic proportions rather than stylized ones. The 2 playlists I recommend for drawing faces are Head Proportions and Facial Features.

100 Head Challenge (Ahmed Aldoori) - Basically a challenge of drawing 100 heads in 10 days. You can honestly just go for any reference that you can find, but this Pinterest board could be a good starting point.

Earthsworld - A collection of candid portraits taken from American county fairs. Lots of unique faces that aren’t limited to “conventionally attractive supermodel faces from Pinterest™”.

BODY LANGUAGE AND BODY TYPES

Tips:

I wrote this down a couple of years back, but this did help me a lot. Note that these 4 tips apply to making your poses less stiff and not full on anatomy, that's a whole different thing (Taken from: how to make your art less stiff or whateveR 🤡🎨 - banana boi)

Simplify shapes - Make things easier for yourself. Example: Instead of thinking of drawing an arm, think of it as drawing two connected cylinders. The body can be broken down into different shapes such as spheres, cylinders, and boxes.

Let go of the details - Not everything needs to be super detailed. The main focus is the pose, not anatomy.

Exaggerate - A drawing is 2D so there isn't any depth. Exaggeration brings life into a drawing and makes it less stiff.

Fuck accuracy - It's like letting go of the details, the main point of capturing the body language is the pose and it's gesture. You want to convince people of what you are drawing rather than how accurately you can draw the thing.

Gesture Drawing - Your friend in figuring out poses and adding life to them. The main point of a gesture study is to capture the pose of a figure. Don’t think too much about how it should look. It’s supposed to be messy and not completely accurate. Each pose should be captured in around 30 to 60 seconds.

For example, here are some gesture studies that I did before. I didn’t focus on how accurate the anatomy is and simplified my lines to capture the essence of the pose. Try using S or C curves rather than straight lines.

Figure Drawing - I’d describe it as a more detailed version of a gesture drawing. Aside from the gesture, you are also paying attention to anatomy, proportions, and structure. These drawings take more time to finish, around 2 to 10 minutes.

Line of Action is a great website for figure drawing since you can adjust the timer as well as the models. I’d recommend doing gesture studies first, then moving to figure drawing so that you’ll have a better understanding of proportions.

You can also ask your friends or family to pose for you since live drawing is better than pictures. If you're too shy to ask, you can try drawing them while they're doing something like working, watching a show, or anything that lets them stay in place for a few minutes.

What I do besides looking at regular model poses is search for sports photography. There are lots of good shots that capture the athletes mid action. These are some of the drawings I made all the way back in 2020. These kinds of poses help you look at how the body moves in motion rather than your typical sitting/standing references.

Here's the thing tho, even if you think you're not good at gesture, you can still move forward to figure drawing. Gesture is a foundation while figure builds more to it. You're developing both skills at the same time for these two types of drawing.

Morpho: Anatomy for Artists Book Series (Michel Lauricella) - Great resource for anatomy references. These books simplify figures into basic shapes and explain some anatomy. The downside is that they don’t show a step-by-step guide on how to draw the human figure. If you can’t afford all the books, there are PDFs online. I don't know how you'll get them since there are different "ways", but I’d download with caution. (Example: Morpho: Simplified Forms or Morpho: Fat and Skin Folds).

Quick Anatomy Tips (Sinix Designs) - Deep dive into simplified anatomy and general tips. Honestly, Sinix Designs is also a good art channel on youtube to learn from since he tackles more stuff than just anatomy.

GENERAL TIPS

Here's a fun practice to do for faces and body types. Look for a character from your favorite media with a face and body type you've never drawn before, and try making fanart of them.

What pushed me to actually start learning how to draw different faces and body types was because of Miguel O'Hara from Across the Spiderverse. I got so frustrated in trying to draw him to the point that I used that spite to learn something from it 😅

Other tips would be:

Know at least the basic rules before you break them. Your art style won’t save you from having incorrect anatomy.

OBSERVE. Don't just go straight into drawing. Take the time to look at the figure/object before putting down the first line. How can you draw something when you don't even know what you're looking at?

References are a tool. Don’t feel ashamed if you need one, it's not cheating.

Your art will suck at first but keep going. It’s part of the process of learning. 

It’s better to have bad art than not draw at all. 

Don’t put too much pressure on yourself while learning, have fun!

Hopefully this is easy to understand and you were able to get something out of it! Good luck with your art journey 💙

[solar-sunnyside-up]

I saw you mention wanting an earth ship, they are super cool and I’m personally going to make my future home kind of an earth ship. I also wanted to mention mud houses and cob houses as they’re a really great option as well. I’ve been doing research on it and they’re very eco friendly and these houses can last hundreds of years if maintained properly. In my research I heard someone mention that using tires in earth ships can have some downsides due to the off gassing of harmful chemicals.

Yea so Cob houses are super cool!! And just like earthships, they are specialized to certain climates just like lots of older style housing. While I think a cob house could be super cool, I also live in a place that goes from -60c to +35c season to season so I wouldn't be able to use one realistically. Which is sad!! Bc look at some of this!

(Theres lots but omg so many of them are ai based I dont even wanna risk showing more then this tbh)

But the joy of earthships are how they can be specialized to regions (there are cold weather earthships now!!!!) And in the reuse of material like glass bottles and tile and wood and stuff. Like yea, a passive house or any other sustainability is great but I wanna make art out of the otherwise un-usable!

That and the idea of building green houses within your house is the other draw, the idea of being able to have own fruit tree inside! The idea of a mini river flowing down the side of my house while it's winter would help me fight sadness in the Dark time (winter)

Now, tires. This has been something that often comes up, and a real worry about the tire chemicals potentially leaking into soil there. Though thetr hasn't been any cases of that in follow up studies at any current existing earthship sites since they first were made in the 70s, this is because they are well encased in cob and impacted with earth basically preventing them from breakdown, but also like it takes Ages for tires to break down anyway like.. 80+ years in exposure type conditions. But!!! Even despite all that, generally they no longer use tires in earthship construction due ti the idea thay earthships are intact meant to last that hundreds of years and they don't want to risk it. Generally we see more metal recycling + hay +clay mixes for walls these days or combos of bricks and other styles of walls.