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otherone12 · 8 months ago

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High School Stuff

Basement!Gerard Way x Reader

-> Masterlist

A/N: Hey!! I recently realized that I had never written a Basement Gerard fic, so I made this one. I also never did a DD era too, but soon I will… idk if i really liked this one, but I hope you like it! <3

(If u have some suggestion, idea, or request, just drop it! )

Summary: Gerard alwas has a crush on you, but you're part of "popular" world, so he didn't get any hope to be with you. Little did he know that you liked him as much as he liked you. (I know that canonically basemant gee would already be an adult, but in this fic he is like 17 years old.)

- Word Count: 2.850

- Warnings: None, but this fic is a teenage cliché, and swach from the 1st person to the 3rd person POVs a lot.

- Ps: I'll not use y/n…

- Ps2: I'm brazilian, so english is not my first language ... sorry if i wrote something wrong.

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3 Person POV

- They're so perfect! - Gerard sighed, daydreaming, and drawing them in his sketchbook - Like... all pretty, and so kind, so smart... fuck!

It wasn't the first time he did this, everytime they passed through him in the school corridors, he spent the morning talking about this. In the beginning, it was cute, but it turned out to be a bother.

Spending lunch listening to him talk wouldn't be a problem if the topics were different, but before he could continue declaring himself to his own drawing, Frank couldn't contain himself.

- Gee, we know that you're in love. - He began, still chewing his sandwich - Hm... But can you shut up about this for once?!

Without Stopping looking at what he was scribbling, Gerard sighed once more.

- Sorry...

His sad voice made the boys exchange glances, a little regretful for cutting off their friend. But that didn't last long, because he went back to talking as if nothing had happened.

- But I could literally kill for a kiss! - Gerard growled - Nothing is ever gonna happen,I know, but I can dream, can't I?

Frank huffed, burying his face in his hands, while Ray found himself in need of interfering before they ended up being rude to Gerard.

- Sure you can, dude. - Ray's comforting smile didn't mask the fact that they couldn't take it anymore. - But I think Frank is right... you talk too much about them.

- But the draw is pretty cool, by the way. - Mikey smiles, putting his hand on his brother's shoulder.

- Thanks, Mikey... - An awkward smile filled his face - I'll stop talking about this... I didn't mean to bother you, guys.

- That's fine, Gee. - Mikey said, while he chuckles - We know you can't help it.

It wasn't long before the bell rang, causing each of the boys to go to their respective classrooms. Before going to the classroom, Gerard needed to stop by his locker to get the right books.

1st Person POV

- Want me to go with you? - My friend asked me, after we heard the bell rings. - I'll skip the next class anyway...

- No need, I'll manage. - I chuckled, getting up - Thanks... if you get bored, text me!

Walking through the school's corridor, going to my locker, I couldn't help but stare at Gerard, who was in the middle of the crowd of teenagers, walking to his locker too. He always looks so cute...

I never had the chance to talk to him, but, discreetly, I've heard him talking about comics, movies, rock bands... but whenever I had the opportunity to talk to him, my friends ended up stopping me in some way.

They say he's weird, he stinks, his locker is gross... Once, my friend said he has a dungeon in his basement. Still, I think he's interesting.

I made my way towards him, thinking that would be my chance to talk to him, but I wasn't fast enough, and he got in the classroom. It's been months trying, but something always goes wrong.

Well, my class went smoothly, but I still couldn't get him out of my mind. I think if something was going to happen, it would have already happened. If he had any feelings, he would have told me, right? Or is the lack of opportunity mutual? Anyways, the next class is my favorite... Gerard sits in front of me, but his science partner doesn't stop talking for a minute.

The teacher arrived in the room, and the noise of the conversations stopped. Nobody really likes her, but she sure is scary.

- Good afternoon, class! - she starts, with a fake sympathy - Well, today we're gonna do something different. I'm gonna change your partners.

The whole class booed, but soon the noise stopped.

- Calm down, everyone! It's just for today. But... I'm gonna choose.

She started to separate the pairs, in the end I think I ended up without one.

- Are you left without a partner? - She asked, with the least kindness a human being could have.

- I guess so... - I responded, I won't lie, the feeling of being alone is bad, but I faked confidence - But I can do it by myself.

She took a quick look around the room, and her gaze landed on the only person who was oblivious to the whole situation, with his headphones on full volume and his head buried in a sketchbook.

- I think mr. Way has no partner too... Well, now you both have.

Finally it was my chance, I didn't take long and got close to his table, I didn't know exactly how to get his attention, Gerard seemed to be in his own world, very completely distant.

My body ended up casting a shadow over his drawing, causing Gerard to look in my direction. His eyes widened, and he quickly took off his headphones.

- Hey! Gerard, right? - Obviously I knew who he was, but since we never talked, it would be weird if I said I knew a lot about him.

- Y-yes - His face turned light red, and he swallowed hard.

- I'm-

- I know who you are - Panic took hold of him, turning him even more red, as he realized what he had said without thinking. - I-i mean, you're one of the p-popular ones, so e-everybody knows you and-

- I got it - I smiled at him, taking a seat in the chair by his side. - good thing, I didn't waste time with introductions.

He stared at me, his eyes were even more beautiful up close... well, if I didn't speak, he wouldn't either, so I started

- Well, I think we're partners for the class today...

- A-are we? - A shy smile appeared on his face - That's n-nice...

Gerard put a lock of his black hair behind his ear, damn he's so strangely handsome... That shy way of his, I've actually never heard him stutter, could it be because of me?

Not giving a damn about the work the teacher had given, and realizing that he wasn't paying attention either, I started to bring up a subject.

- I saw you were drawing... - I looked towards his notebook, but unfortunately he had already quickly closed it when I sat down next to him. - May I see?

- I-i don't know... - Strangely, he turned the notebook over, handpicking the drawing he was going to show me. - M-maybe this one-

Before he could turn the notebook over, a sheet fell out of it, gliding delicately to the floor, right next to my foot.

In an effort to help, I bent down and picked up the sheet from the floor. As soon as I did it, I couldn't help but look at the drawing on it.

- I-is that... me? - I stared in disbelief at the drawing, then back at him, who was about to pass out, trying to hide every inch of his beautiful face in his hands. - What's wrong? That's fucking awesome!

- Y-you not supposed to see this... - he whined, shaking his mug in disappointment

- Why not?! - The more I looked at the drawing, the more I loved every detail... but I didn't understand why he didn't want to show it to me... or why he chose to draw me... among so many people. - The drawing is perfect!

- D-do you think so? - Little by little he was digging his face out of his hands.- D-don't you think it is c-creepy or something?

- No way! I'm even flattered! - He let out a proud smile, but his shyness was still visible. - I was thinking... maybe we could-

Before I could say anything, and finally make plans for us to go outside this damn school, but it turned out that the bell rang right on time and my friend came running and grabbed me by the arm.

- 'Cmon, I have a million things to tell you.

It all happened so fast that I didn't even get to say goodbye to him. But I don't plan on telling anyone about his drawing... if he got nervous just because I saw it, imagine if other people knew.

Even though they told me a million things, I couldn't absorb anything, my mind was still lost in the science period I spent with Gerard.

3 Person POV

Gerard stood there, Sitting in class and putting materials in the backpack. He was taking in everything that had just happened. It was a mixture of joy, at having finally talked to them, and fear that they would find him even more weird.

Knowing where he would find his friends, Gerard left the room and ran to tell them every detail.

- ... And then they saw one of the drawings I made of them.

The boys looked at each other, already expecting the worst, then Mikey asked the question that was on everyone's mind.

- So now they think you're a perv?

Gerard was embarrassed, remembering the exact moment it all happened, but a small, hopeful smile appeared on his slightly flushed face.

- I-i don't think so... - the excitement in his voice was becoming more evident - They said they were flattered, so...

The worried expressions soon turned into smiles, and Gerard sighed in relief.

- Man, that's a great thing... - Ray put his hand on Gerard's shoulder, encouraging his friend. - I don't want to get your hopes up, but you should talk to them.

- You think? - His hazel eyes glowed.

- I'm sure! - Ray almost screamed, but he didn't care.

Before they could celebrate, Frank raised an extremely important point that none of the others had thought of.

- But you have to find them alone - He suggested, seriously - 'cause their friends are jerks and gonna humiliate you.

- Frank! - Mikey widens his eyes, afraid that this would make his brother give up.

- But it's true! - Frank defended himself - I already heard them saying shit about you, about us, actually...

- You're right... I should meet them alone... - Gerard took a deep breath, pausing for a moment to think about when he could actually have a conversation without their friends around. - But it's almost impossible... they're always with a friend.

1st Person POV

A few days have passed and I still can't get him out of my mind. All I want to do is chat about him to someone, but my friends definitely won't take it easy. Sometimes I wonder if they're really my friends, or if we just decided it was socially appropriate for us to hang out together. Like, I disagree with almost all the things they do, the way they talk about people is just not nice and once in a while I ask myself if they talk shit about me too.

Well, my parents aren't a good option either, they think that dating at my age is a waste of time or whatever. So I have to keep it to myself... I wish I had asked him to give me the drawing he did, y'know, just to make sure i didn't make it all up in my head.

Well, the days went by, one more boring than the other, until one ordinary morning, I was in the corridor again, and I saw Gerard approaching, I couldn't help but let a smile grow on my face

- Hey! - He said a bit shy.

- Hi! - I smiled at him, excited that we were finally talking again - How’s it going?

- I’m fine! How ‘bout you?

- Better now - He took a deep breath and scratched his hand behind his neck - i…hm… i wanted to ask if you wan-

I wanted to hear it, but then a couple of my friends showed up, interrupting, like always. They looked at us, trying to understand the situation and expressing their annoyance that Gerard was there.

- Does he really think he can talk to you? - He chuckled, pointing to Gerard with disgust.

I saw Gerard's gaze change completely, one second ago I saw the most beautiful smile I've ever seen, and now he was looking down, avoiding any eye contact, embarrassed.

- Dude, you have no chance here - She said threateningly, stucking up her nose - so why don't you just get away, you freak!

Gerard gave me a brief look, making his way to leave, and before he could really do it, thinking I would act like my "friends", I didn't help myself back and stared at them in an unafraid way.

- I was actually talking to him, so I think you guys really should leave. - I was calm, but ready if they wanted to discuss.

Gerard's eyes wide, unexpecting me say that. A light smile appeared in his face,

- Are you trading us for this thing?! - She was shocked. Her eyebrows furrowed, and almost screamed in the hallway.

- Yep, - I wrapped my arm around Gerard's waist and he gasped. I keep eye contact with my not-friend-anymore and mocked- it's that hard for you to get it? I thought you're smarter than that.

- So now you're dating this? - He curled his lips, looking at the top from the bottom of us. - How gross.

Carried by the heat of the moment and wanting them to leave, I held Gerard's face, pulling him close enough for me to reach his lips. Damn how I wanted this kiss. I got drunk on the taste of coffee and cigarettes in their mouths, for a second I even forgot that they were looking at us.

Surprisingly, he kept kissing me, so I didn't break it until I really needed to breathe. The soft skin of his face in my hand and the feeling of his lips on mine was so perfect, I wanted this never to end.

Letting go of his mouth, I smiled at him, which was clearly still holding his breath, and didn't know how to react. I ignored the disgusted looks our audience were giving us, just smiling at him, as he did the same, blushing hard.

- I am - I answered, confident - Right, Gee?

When I looked at him, Gerard passed his hand behind my back, not even looking at the idiots in front of us.

- Y-yeah! - He was still stunned, but in a good way, I think.

they exchanged looks, chuckling, i was supposed to feel embarrassed or something like that, but being by Gerard made things seem different. Is not like he was confident, but at least I wasn't alone.

- Don't you ever talk with us again. - He said, and they walked away.

I waved at them, playfully, trying to have fun with the situation , but I knew that they wouldn't leave Gee alone, quite the opposite, now I was a brand new target. Anyway, at that moment, the only thing I could think was "what if he didn't want me to kiss him?!".

- I-i'm, sorry for the kiss. - Desperately and not wanting him to think I was weird or he saying that he didn't like me that way, I started to apologize - I didn't mean to. Like, i did, i want it really bad, but i shouldn't have-

Without warning, he cut me off, kissing me with his soft lips, his two hands holding my face. The kiss was not delicate, but messy and inexperienced. My hands went up to his greasy hair, and I could hear little moans coming from his mouth as my tongue made its way over his lower lip. There were people in the corridor, but I didn't care, and neither did he. Again, we ran out of steam, slowly separating from each other. I licked my lips, absorbing the situation.

- Don't worry, i wanted it too, you can't even imagine how much - He admitted, without any sort of shame - and thanks for defending me. I am used to them doing this kind of thing, you don't need to worry...

-You shouldn't have to get used to this. - I sighed - The least I could do was be by your side.

I turned my attention to the materials in my locker, picking up the things I would need for the next lesson, but he didn't seem completely satisfied. His eyes remained on me, not a bad feeling, but I was curious to know what he was thinking. Gerard snorted, and I closed the cupboard, looking at him again.

- So... you said we were dating - He sounded confused and innocent, so fucking cute - Were you serious? I mean, I know we're not dating, but would you?

- Well, I really like you, but before we could properly date, I think we should hang out, if you wanted to, of course.

With every word that came out of my mouth, I saw his eyes shine brighter and brighter, he looked like a child who just got a new toy

- Yes! I want, I always wanted! - He cheered, trying to hold his enthusiasm - Are you up to get to starbucks after school?

- Sure! - my joy was cut off by the school bell - But I really gotta go now... math test.

- May I accompany you there? - He let out a shy smile

- Yes, please. - I giggled.

Gerard extended his hand, and I held it. I'm not gonna lie, it was weird at first, 'cause his hands were sticky, but after a couple steps, i didn't mind anymore.

He was practically jumpping, and I followed suit down the corridor, taking advantage of the company I could get from him in that moment.

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~Soo, that's it! hope u enjoyed. ;)

#my chemical romance #mcr #gerard way #gerard way x reader

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kier-with-a-k · 25 days ago

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I Don't Wanna Break Up With You - N. S.

Photographer!Nick x Artist!Oliver(oc)

A/N: this one took so long to write lmao! I had to redo a lot of things to get it where I want it to be... This was their biggest argument ever based on this ask! By @sturnsblogs!

Warning: angst? Idk... Fluff at the end, arguing.

Nick and I have been bickering for weeks now.

It started small—whose turn it was to pick the show, what to have for dinner. Silly things. Mundane things. The kind of arguments that are supposed to end in laughter, curled up on the couch, someone surrendering with a smile.

But we never laughed.

Somehow, the small stuff mutated. Grew claws.

Now it’s full-on shouting matches—dense with static, thick with tension and invisible bruises we don't name out loud. We stopped kissing goodnight. Stopped asking about each other’s day.

We started keeping score.

I didn’t mean to raise my voice—I swear I didn’t. But when Nick started in again—about the dishes, or my brushes soaking too long, or how I "never make time for him anymore"—something inside me cracked like glass under pressure.

Each comment landed like a jab, like he was naming everything wrong with me out loud.

And I was tired. Bruised. Prideful. Too proud to retreat.

“You don’t get it,” I snapped last night, voice cutting sharp enough to bleed. “You’re always behind that damn camera, chasing light, chasing moments, but you don’t see what’s right in front of you.”

He flinched. Barely. But I caught it—the twitch in his jaw, the way his hands curled into fists.

And I hated that.

Hated how deeply I wanted him to feel hurt. To ache like I did.

His voice came back, louder than I’ve ever heard it. “And you—”

Shouted. Nick shouted.

“—you drown yourself in canvases and turpentine and shut me out. I try, Oliver. I try. But maybe you’re too wrapped up in your own mess to notice.”

The words didn’t just hurt. They hollowed.

I grabbed my keys. Slammed the door hard enough to make the picture frames quake.

And then I was gone.

I didn’t have a destination. Just... not here. Not near him. Not near this version of us—bitter and burning.

I walked for hours.

Ended up pacing the edge of a grocery store parking lot like some sleepless ghost, my shoes scuffing the pavement, chest tight and trembling.

Was this it?

No.

It was just a fight.

A really bad one.

We’ve been through worse... haven’t we?

But panic bloomed—wild and fast like ivy up a wall. I couldn’t breathe. My throat closed. My heart felt like it was trying to claw out of my chest. I wiped my palms on my jeans. I wanted to scream. To call him. Apologize. Rewind.

But I didn’t.

I stood still. Alone under a flickering streetlight, watching my breath fog in the night air.

Eventually... I went home.

But he wasn’t there.

And then came the silence.

Three long, echoing, grief-heavy days.

The apartment feels... haunted. Every room a ghost town of old routines. Old warmth.

I keep expecting to hear the shutter click of his camera. The soft murmur of his music edits. The laugh that used to roll from the kitchen.

The way he said my name—half-asleep, low and reverent like a prayer he didn’t know he was saying.

Today, while digging through the clutter of my studio, I found one of his prints buried beneath a pile of sketchbooks.

It’s me. Mid-laugh. Eyes squinting at the sun. Frozen in a slice of light like something holy.

I don’t even remember him taking it.

On the back, in his chaotic scrawl:

Even when you’re not looking, I see you.

I stared at those words until my eyes burned.

He sees me.

He always has.

And maybe that’s the problem.

His art—his life—is built on the now. On noticing what’s real, what’s raw, what’s here.

And me? I’ve been painting memories. Stretching backward. Grasping for something that was, instead of showing up for what is.

God.

I miss him.

I miss the way our hands found each other without looking. The way he hummed while kissing the back of my neck, paintbrush in my hand, heart in his. The way he believed in me when I barely believed in myself.

I don’t know if we can fix this.

But I know I want to try.

So I grab my coat. I don’t think. I just move.

I walk. Past streetlights, closed cafés, the bookstore we used to loiter in.

My heart hammering faster with every block. Until I’m standing in front of his studio, breath catching.

I raise my hand. Knock.

Once.

Twice.

It takes a while. Long enough for panic to crawl back in. Long enough for me to start convincing myself he’s not home—or worse, he is and doesn’t want to see me.

Then��

The door opens.

Nick stands there, bleary-eyed in the hoodie I gave him last winter. His curls are wild, like he’s been running his hands through them. His lips part, then stop, like he forgot how to talk.

He looks like home.

Like my home.

When our eyes meet, something flickers. Not quite certainty. Not yet. But something softer. Like hope disguised as hesitation.

“Hi,” I whisper.

He just stares for a second, then exhales—like he’s been holding his breath for three days too—and pulls me in.

It’s not perfect. It’s clumsy. A little stiff, like we’re both afraid we’ll break each other.

But then his arms settle around me. And mine around him. And it clicks.

We fit.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, voice low against my shoulder.

I pull back, just enough to look at him.

“Me too.”

A quiet pause.

“I hated being away from you,” I say, voice thick.

He nods slowly. “I know. I hated it too.”

His hands find mine. Cold fingers, familiar warmth.

And then, through the quiet hum in my head—some weird mental background music—I hear his whisper:

“I don’t wanna break up with you.”

So soft I almost think I imagined it.

But I didn’t.

“I don’t too,” I whisper back, awkward and breathless.

He chuckles once, almost shy. “I love you more than anyone. Is that... weird?”

“It’s not,” I say. “Guess I’m weird too.”

I don’t tell him that I love him more than anyone, even though I do. The words catch somewhere between my heart and my mouth—too sacred to say out loud. Not yet. Maybe later. Maybe soon.

We don’t say let’s try again. We don’t need to.

We already are.

Standing here in the middle of his messy studio, surrounded by coffee cups and the faint smell of chemicals and something so uniquely us—we’re already beginning again.

Nick reaches for my hand. Our fingers thread together like muscle memory.

And maybe we’re still messy. Still bruised. Still learning how to speak each other’s language without shouting.

But maybe—just maybe—that’s enough.

For now, it’s enough.

And maybe tomorrow, we’ll wake up and pick the same show without arguing.

Or maybe we’ll argue again.

But this time, we’ll know how to come back.

A/N: I had fun writing this! I know that the last one was low key argumentative too but yk... This one was worse ig lmao

TAGLIST: @sturnsblogs @thenickgirl @sturns-mermaid @sarahsturnn @jacksonsturniolo @certifiednickboy @nickssidewitch @fentiesturns @oopsiedaisydeer @messi10-fcb @nickscoconutwater @ed1tssturnn @lilyswirly @ev1ldeadboy @mattsfrenchtoast

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo #christopher owen sturniolo #the sturniolos

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stupidlittlespirit · 1 month ago

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What got you into gravity falls in the first place??

It's kind of sad and grim but I don't mind telling you haha. Just tw for personal abuse and mental health stuff!

I got into Gravity Falls when it was airing, just at the start of the second season. I was about 19, I think? History is really fuzzy to me because of ptsd and stuff, I have a hard time pinning time down for sure so give or take.

I had been kicked out of home by my mother and was very lonely and low. I had a lot going on in terms of abuse at home and estrangement/distance between me and my younger sibling. I'd also just started noticing symptoms of BPD on top of everything else. So, as you can probably imagine, I was not in the best of places.

It was around that time that I started watching movies and tv shows constantly to drown out my thoughts. I've loved movies since I was a child but I was always controlled on what I was allowed to watch, whereas at that point, for the first time in my life, I was free to find what I wanted. So I started picking stuff up just because I could. I only had a tiny little old samsung phone because it was all I could afford at the time, but I would watch stuff on it 24/7.

I can't remember exactly how I heard about it, but I think it was via tumblr? I was already on the site and had been for a while at that point (in the Sherlock and X-Men fandom), and iirc I think I saw a few posts about GF on my dashboard. People were raving about it and I thought it looked fun, so I found a way to access it because I could do that now, I could watch whatever I wanted. And I did.

Given what I was going through at the time, I expect you can understand the impression that it left on me. I had absolutely no one and this show acted as a faux family for me for a little while. Here was this loser uncle who really loved these kids despite them being 'naughty' (realistically they were just being kids, but to me, I was taught that that behaviour was bad). There were lots of lessons about it being okay to be weird, which was something I was badly treated for by my own family, and this shared bond between siblings which I had lost/was losing. I was also super into cryptids and monsters, and I'd always wanted to be a cryptozoologist anyway haha!

My life experience at that time was running eerily adjacent to Stan's. It would continue to do so, but it struck me very deeply in the moment. I saw this guy who went through everything I was going through, and he was still kicking and people still valued him. So, I thought maybe I should take a leaf out of his book and keep kicking back as hard as I could. Maybe one day I'd find someone who loved me the way the kids came to love him or the way his brother inevitably would.

So, I would wait every week for a new episode and I would watch it in bed on my shitty phone at fuck o'clock in the morning (because the episodes were uploaded really late at night for me in the UK) and for about twenty something minutes a day, I didn't want to die.

I felt very familial about Stan and the kids, and then when Ford was introduced, I fell head over heels LMAO. I started writing fanfiction for it which developed into me exploring more through drawing/art, and into me creating worlds of my own. Although I never went because life had other plans, I even got into an art course because of it! I actually also wrote this huge AU for Ford with an OC. It never came to fruition, but I had a huge sketchbook filled with plans/layouts/architecture/character designs/story lines for it. I lost it in a move a while ago and I'm still sad about it, but I was so obsessed with it that I remember most of it anyway. It was the first time I ever created a full, fleshed out world in minute detail and it really started a fire in me for it.

So yeah.... It meant a lot to me and still does.

#asks #that's a whole lot of info you didn't ask for but whatever #despite the sadness and stuff #that period was one of the best times of my life for many reasons that are hard to put into words #i wrote long before GF but it was The Thing that made me consider it as a career #life didn't work out that way for a long time and im only just pursuing it for real now #but it's responsible for a lot #that's why it meant so much to me to see Alex in person last year :)#a real full circle moment

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dexiiexox · 3 months ago

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Hello !❀˖°

Before I start I would like to apologize for any spelling mistakes or wrong grammar, english is not my native language, thanks !

This is technically my 7th post on Tumblr, but I havent posted in.. a good while. I doubt anyone even remembers, but I posted some imagines and headcanons, that I now have privated.

I privated them all mostly becuase I`m honestly not into writing like that anymore and it also feels pretty wierd to me now(ㅠ﹏ㅠ) NO HATE THOUGH ! I respect fan written stuff so much, and I used to love it so much, but I think i might have just outgrown it? I turned 19 this year and A LOT has changed in my life the last few years.

But more about why I`m making THIS post ! •ᴗ•

For some reason blogging has been so appealing to me lately, and its gonna make me work more on my english again ! I used to love writing and my english was honestly pretty good, but after I stopped writing it went so downhill to be honest ·‿· yay. So I will start blogging ! Wether people tune in or not is honestly not that important to me, Im just doing this for myself, but if you decide to follow along, you`re very welcome ! ♡⸜(ˆᗜˆ˵ )⸝♡

Right now Im realy unsure if Im going to do a sort of introduction right now, or if I`m going to make it a whole seperate post?

I do want to be real and honest here though, but I dont want to share too much about myself, mostly for privacy reasons and becuase the internet is a scary place ˙◠˙ But I`ll still be me ! ( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ

I think I`ll just have a little introduction right now and if anyone reads this has questions they can ask :> yuuuuuhhhh

First of, I go by dexiiexox, but more simply its just dexie or dex, whatever floats your boatദ്ദി( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

I am 19, as I previously stated, turned 19 this year

I am female and go by she/her

I love South Park (I`m obsessed actuallyദ്ദി ≽^⎚˕⎚^≼ .ᐟ)

I enjoy a lot of shows/movies, but some I used to love a lot more a few years ago. Like Wayne, which is actually the reason I joined Tumblr.... ( °ヮ° ) SIDE STORY↴

I somehow found the show WAYNE, dont remember how or when, but after watching it I was looking into headcanons or imagines about it on google and found a post on Tumblr, I had never used or heard of it before, but I made an account and I was mindblown seeing this platform and it became my go to app for so long.

I was SUCH a Potterhead like.. 3 years ago I`d say. Looking back... I hate it, but at the same time I enjoyed it so much back then and I would just dream about it all day long, wishing it was all real. It was really my escape from reality.

I also fell into the TMR fandom (The Maze Runner). It also became a comfort show to me, but that faze didnt last very long. Still love the movies though, same for Harry Potter.

I just really like watching stuff and I honestly need to have something running in the background when doing legit anything(ㅠ﹏ㅠ) Like right now... I have some youtube video about South Park characters in the background while I write...

I really enjoy drawing and thats also something Im working on ! Like writing, I used to draw and paint a lot when I was younger, but I stopped that as well for some reason. So last year I bought a sketchbook to work oon finding my own art style and expressing my feelings through "art" ( ᵔ ᴗ ᵔ ) And Im really enjoying it right now !

I added only 3 photos, but one is a pink jellyfish and the 2 other are drawings of Stan and Kyle from South Park•ᴗ• The Stan and Kyle drawings looked better before I decided to outline them (legit regretting it so much) I found the shittiest pen ever becuase I coulndt find one with a small tip :,) I`m still trying to figure out my art style so please dont hate.. 𓁹‿𓁹 HEH.

I do enjoy fashion, but I wouldnt say my style is that great, especially on the daily. That is mostly becuase I currently work in a kindergarten and I dont want to wear clothes is actually care about at work, so I end up in just sweats and some old sweater (ㅠ﹏ㅠ)

I honestly dont really hang out with friends a whole lot anymore, but Im trying to do more with them now that spring is on its way ! Like this weekend, Ive asked some friends to go grilling and I`m really excited !(∩˃o˂∩)♡ YIPPIEEEEE !

All in all this blogg is just gonna be my own little space to let our feelings, work on my english and document things in my life !

I think this is long enough for now ! If you read all of this youre an actuall warriorᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ And thank you soooo much for reading !! hihihiᓚ₍ ^. .^₎

untill next time !

-dexie❀˖°

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#blogging #girl blogger #blogg #digital diary #personal blog #trendingnow #my art #art #drawings

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prinxxxesscomplex · 2 months ago

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I got my start in art making “problematic” art- I won’t go into details but at age 8 I was already dealing with some pretty horrific and heavy stuff so the way I coped was through writing and drawing. A lot of the time I couldn’t draw what I wanted to because my parents would go through my sketchbooks and my trash and piece together stuff I threw out or scribbled over to yell at me about it. Same went for journals so a lot of my writing was confined to the notepad on my old ass desktop.

So! Punished for thought crimes at a very young age even though I was doing everything in my power to cope made me turn very hard towards shamefully hiding the art that made me happy in favor for the cleaner output and lack of ridicule that came with that, be it from my family and then later the internet as I began to post my art online and become exposed to “problematic” as a cultural buzzword for “makes me uncomfortable”

I’ve always found gore and pain and violence and specifically expressing that in art, where I can control my exposure to it, is a lot more empowering to me than any of the cutesy semi-illustrative character design bs I can do.

Frankly, the censorship on the internet nowadays has really reignited my desire to share the things about me that are upsetting and asocial.

So, I know I’ve hinted to wanting to post my guro and stuff in the past but I’m kinda firmly asserting to those that follow me that this blog is owned by a sadomasochist with a strong imagination and an obsession w cannibalism and voyeurism and a lot of the stories I want to explore revolve around why people do the terrible things they do and leaning directly into it

#prinxcess and the pea

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randomkduck · 9 months ago

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Chapter 4: Time With Green

sorry for the delay of this chapter. My original plan was to give each boy time but I'm gonna scrap the Red and Vio 1-on-1 chapters or else this will never get finished lol. Just know that Red gives Shadow a bath and Vio has suspicious 'trying to resurrect Shadow' stuff under his bed.

Anyways on to the chapter!

Shadow already liked Green. The guy was the first to show him genuine kindness, no strings attached, no expectations. He was kind, and he accepted him in his final moments, so Shadow liked him even if he would never admit it to anyone.

But this? This made him like Green even more.

Green and Shadow had been alone in the house that day. Green doing miscellaneous tasks and Shadow messing around in whatever room he was doing chores in to bug him or just to ease his own boredom.

At one point Green was picking up books and things while Shadow was weaving his way between his legs, tripping him up, and Green dropped one of the books on the ground. Shadow, seizing the opportunity to mess with him and his cleaning, took the book and ran away with it.

Green just huffed out a little “hey! Rude.” and went back to putting the rest of what was in his hands away.

Shadow just sighed and stared down at the book. He was hoping for a chase but didn’t get one and was very disappointed. He’d have to try again later, maybe steal one of the books in Vio’s room. Although the book did have a lot of pictures in it. Maybe a sketchbook? Or a picture one considering the words, though Shadow didn’t know how to read he would have no idea which it actually was.

When Green found him later, Shadow had already flipped through most of the book and was turning the next page to look at more of the pretty art.

“Holy shit.” Green breathed, and then chuckled when Shadow whipped his head up and stared wide-eyed, like a chu chu caught on a train track.

Green then decided to dedicate the rest of the day to teaching Shadow how to read. Most teaching him to pick up the books, sit on the couch or on a counter, and then lay down and flip through them.

He also taught him how to open doors, including the ones with the round handle that you’d think somebody without hands wouldn’t be able to open and yet here we are.

It was a fun day. Green looking like a little kid in a candy shop the whole time, his cleaning and chores forgotten.

~~~~~~~~~~

Green ran into the living room and looked around for me. Checking under the couch and in the cat tree before finding me on the rafters above.

“There you are! Quick, they’re coming! Just do what we practiced!” Green giggled and ran back out of the room.

I nodded solemnly after him, and jumped down, running to the book shelf and carefully pulling a book down. Set it on the couch. Grabbed a pair of reading glasses I had seen Vio use, and setting them on the couch as well. Curled up and got in position.

Perfect.

I think the reading glasses were a nice touch on Green’s part. Made me look kinda like an old grandma but I didn’t mind one bit.

Green desperately tried to pretend there wasn’t something funny. I could hear him great everyone in the next room with a tight “hi guys, how was your day!”

Great job selling none-chalance Green, you nailed it! (sarcasm)

“Okay, what did you do?” Blue asked, not entertaining ‘whatever this was’ with Green.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Green fought to keep the grin off his face, tipping his nose down in the hopes they wouldn’t see.

Vio gave him a look and scanned the room. Red had already made eye-contact with me and looked like he was trying not to cry.

Vio noticed Red’s vibrating first somehow, following his line of sight until it landed on me.

The look on his face was priceless!

Something between confusion, betrayal, and shock was written on his face.

I made a show of looking at him over the reading glasses, before looking back down at the book and turning a page.

Red let out a noise that had me fearing for his health before a loud “OH MY GODS IT’S SO CUUUUUUUUTEE!!!!” Tore from his throat.

To my credit, I did not run away this time!

Blue jumped and finally tore his eyes from the staring contest him and Green had started, and stared at me, his expression unreadable before he threw his hands into the air.

“Finally! Somebody to do my paperwork for me!” He exclaimed, then walked over the couch and crouched before me. “You wouldn’t happen to know how to write, do you?” He asked.

I shook my head, hearing a noise come from Vio who was so fucking confused by everything that was happening it was delicious.

Blue nodded sadly, “I knew it was too good to be true.” He put his hand on his chest, bowing his head as if in mourning.

I woulda laughed my fur off if I could have!

“...How?????” Vio asked, pointing at me while looking at Green, who shrugged not at all innocently.

“I have no idea where he learned that from.” To his credit, he did pull off a fake perplexed well.

I felt my tail wrap around me as I went back to reading, very pleased with myself.

#vio link #blue link #red link #shadow link #green link #cat shadow revival au #four swords

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klovarikitty · 2 days ago

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hi againn

i was previously known as a girl called mew.... aka mimichan

i was a proshipper and darkshippur, and i posted my art and stuff and i had lots of moots, i dont think i was extremely popular but lots of people and friends in the proshipping community liked me, i was very happy despite my mental health issues too^^ ( for disclaimer too im not an anti right now) however, via a few days ago my account was found out by my parents and sister, and they told the rest of my whole family. they found my posts about self harm, l0liicon, incest, suicid3, 4chan, etcetc and i was then banned from the internet and all my accounts deleted..

i have been dealing with sooo so many bad thoughts that led me to very very self destructive behavior, not only did i share things about myself that i did not need to, but i shared cp and lewd art, trough my discord and engaged in nsfw rps through discord and other places with adults which they also found (VERY BAD since i am a minor.) they confiscated my devices and all the items i used to commit self-harm, went trough my ibspaint account and my sketchbooks. i was assigned a theripist and we're unpacking all of this still...

i'm kinda sad...welll really really sad, and i couldnt stop crying about everything!! my whole family yelling at me out of anger and pain and confusion, asking why, why i decided to share how i felt to the internet instead of with them.. but im stll very glad that some of them accept that i'm queer, i don't have to hide it anymore, but at what cost.... :(( and im still dealing with thoughts about wanting to die, its very stressful... i am allowed my computer occasionally with HEAVY supervision, but i don't think i myself want to be on any social media site at all for a very long time. i dont think i have to prove this is true becus i have some old art on my computer

old stuff

(u can see my old blog in one of them)

yeh i know its very very cringe but i still love to draw! this time, if i ever even want to share it online and make a community again either here on tumblr or sumewhere else, ill try to be less... mentally ill. i wanted to make some type of last post about my old tumblr atleast so thats why i made a post like this, buuut i cant use social media so i wont be using this account at all

i guess this is it :> bye bye tumblur, thank you

ill put proship tags in here so my old moots and friends can see, even though i'm rethinking my stance on everyyyything right now, i'm not okay but im getting better

#proshipper #proship #proship discourse #proship community #i used to be so crazy #😭#l0lisho #in recovery #proshippers please interact #moots pls interact #recovering from abuse #anti harassment #getting therapy finally #ill put more tags later #...maybe

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archie-sunshine · 10 months ago

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Genuine question for you, Archie, are you self-taught when it comes to art or did you go to school/take classes for it? I also really love your art style, could you share how you developed it? (if it's not too much to ask for that is)

Hi Raz!

Yeah, its a bit of both!! I was always into drawing as a kid, though it sort of ebbed and flowed a bit, until I was about 11 years old. It was tradition to spend a week during the summer in the city with my cousin, and during that time we did a week long comic arts workshop with a professional comicbook illustrator (whos name currently escapes me). I was hooked after that. we went to another workshop the next year, and then after that I'm pretty much entirely self taught aside from highschool arts class.

As for my art style, I pinged around through really liking anime, to really liking comic books, to really really liking fanart and artists i found on tumblr and instagram when i was young. I don't know if i would say i started doing art for the purpose of developing my style, I just drew what felt right. I would fill entire sketchbooks during my school days, drawing at every spare moment I could. drawing the same ocs and characters over and over. I have so many sketchbooks i honestly don't know what to do with them.

I think the most tangible thing i did to improve my artstyle and develop it further was drawing from references. I'd take time out of my day, usually during lectures, that i'd look stuff up on pinterest and draw it. and not just stuff i liked drawing either, I'd try to draw from a variety of things, bugs, animals, houses, plants, people. I'd do an exercise, one i highly recommend to people looking to make their lines more confident, where i'd only draw in highlighter and ink pen. the highlighter was to get the silhouette of the shape, the pen was to define the shapes. No erasing, no going back. Plant your fucking feet as it were. it helped me establish my current style of drawing a lot.

thanks for asking!

#archie answers #faq

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katabay · 2 years ago

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I'm going to be honest finding your account has sent me down a rabbit hole I did not expect to find myself in, yesterday I spent six hours, looking at all of your stuff and I'm absolutely amazed, I have no words. Your art and everything you talk about I'm absolutely fascinated in a very normal way I don't mean to sound weird. I was wondering if you had any thoughts to share with someone who's hating everything they draw and have lost the fun and passion when creating, I want to snap out of it.

I've been holding onto this ask for a minute because a few years back I went through a phase (I call it a phase, I fully intended never to pick up art again) where I also hated everything I was making

ultimately, what got me out of it was mostly doing other stuff. not even in a 'get a new hobby,' kind of way, I hated drawing in my sketchbook, so I started cutting out washi tape as clothes over old sketches and filling in the negative space between scribbles with highlighter and pen colors I thought looked nice. I went out to daiso, bought $10 worth of stickers, and started putting them where I thought it would look nice when I got the urge to do something but still couldn't bring myself to actually pick up a pencil.

if there's something that you know for sure you don't like about art, it can help to confront it and then go in the other direction. there were a lot of things I used to draw because I felt like it was expected, only I was unhappy all the time, and once I realized I was unhappy because I wasn't actually exploring what I thought was interesting about the subject holding my attention, it was sometimes easier to see what I DID want to do, I just had to acknowledge what I DIDNT want first.

that said, I still have an on-off again antagonism with myself and art, it's messy and it's always going to be that way for me, but whenever I feel stuck, I do try to change things up, or head off to a space that I feel has absolutely no expectations from me whatsoever. like. whenever I get really annoyed on my history blog, I actually turn to watching 2PM's vlogs on youtube. I have enough 2PM art in my sketchbooks I almost thought about making a dedicated HOTTEST twitter account lmao.

probably my last thought on this might be: try keeping two sketchbooks. nothing expensive. one can be something more serious, but keep a space just for yourself to fuck around in. don't draw in it unless you want to. put stickers in it, press flowers that you think look neat. buy some cheap water colors and see if you like the blues that you get out of it. it's okay to feel antagonistic towards art, but if you aren't ready to break up with it (and art will always be there if you want to go back, that's an important thing), I've found the straightforwardness of 'I like these stickers, so I'm going to put them on top of this square of blue I liked,' to be akin to leaving messages for someone you aren't ready to talk to face to face just yet, but maybe someday.

#idk if this was helpful but i am wishing you the world anon #(a lot of my current antagonism with art comes from expectations i feel other people have for me #and also this part of me that doesn't want to come across as cringe so i'll suffocate things i want to do for things i think will #come across more serious. usually tho i kill this impulse in its sleep because the joy of embracing whatever bullshit #captures my attention is so much more satisfying in the end #i will say part of what fixed a lot of it was allowing myself to feel angry that art wasn't what i wanted it to be #bc in turn it let me start to figure out what i wanted to do)#ask tag #actually hang on i have a. i have a photoset from a show that had a really good bit on creative burnout that might be #....comforting? maybe. i think about it often #i'll have to dig it up

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elisysd · 1 year ago

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58. Hold on and hope that we'll find our way back in the end

Masterlist - Previously - Next

Chapter soundtrack: About You - The 1975

“Last time we talked about Ethan, I asked you to come with something which symbolized your relationship.” Doctor Francis said as Julia was rummaging through her bag to pull out her sketchbooks which she gave to the therapist.

“It’s not really something that symbolizes us, but at some point in our relationship, I started to draw him. His eyes mostly. And I was cleaning up my stuff lately and I found some very old sketchbooks in boxes… looking through them I noticed that drawing Ethan, or at least things that reminded me of him, wasn’t new. I have little doodles of his karts, cars and even helmets here and there… It started when I was around seven and I used to go with my dad on karting tracks where Ethan was racing because my dad and his dad had a karting team together and Ethan was part of it. The more the years went by, the more I found drawings related to him. I guess I’ve never noticed before that I was drawing a lot of little doodles about everything and I never paid attention.”

“Why do you think it happened?”

“The drawings? I don’t know… that’s what I want to understand.” she replied.

“You know… our mind works in wonderful ways. Most of the time, the words we don’t want to say find another way to come out. You share a lot of history with Ethan. He had always been around you, you grew up together. He has been a huge part of your life.”

“But we couldn’t see eye to eye back then.”

“They’re still strong feelings that you never really got to say out loud, that you kept buried inside. Which isn’t surprising, you had a lot of things going on at the time. Are you able to find in your memories a time when Ethan made you feel nice? That you didn’t consider him as an enemy? Before you guys had to date.”

Julia leaned in her chair, thinking, until a very precise memory striked her.

“I think we were fourteen or fifteen at the time… our dads had the idea of doing Le Mans together, so naturally we went with them. It was a big family trip at the time and quite a huge thing for the media. I mean two world champions, rivals on tracks at the time, united in an attempt to win this prestigious race, you bet we had the media behind us at every move. It was wild and even more since Ethan was starting to grow a reputation in junior racing categories. It was also when school was tough on me. I spent my day trying to avoid the cameras and the journalists, hiding where I could. But at some point, I wanted to enjoy the atmosphere so I left the hospitality and soon I started to get surrounded by journalists asking questions about my dad and things like that. It became too much to the point I felt like I was about to faint until I felt Ethan arriving and brutally asking the journalists to leave me alone. I don’t remember much of what happened exactly but he stayed with me the whole day, not leaving my side and checking up on me. We didn’t talk, I think we were both too stubborn to acknowledge that maybe our rivalry was stupid. We never talked about it after. I’m not even sure he remembers, anyway.”

“How does it make you feel now? Thinking about it?”

“Like we were both very stupid at the time. We could have been friends. We had the same issues, we were very alike. But instead, we chose to fight. In a way, it had always pushed me to try to be the best but at the same time, we would have had each other to lean on. But it’s the past. I don’t want to dread it.” she said.

“Understanding your past is one of the most important things. Because if you don’t, you will inevitably fall back into your bad habits and you will let your worst fears hold you back. I want to talk about your feelings for Ethan. Especially since you’re going to see him and from what you’ve told me you’re ready for a relationship. I’m glad to hear it, by the way. I can’t wait, I’m sure we will have a lot to talk about in the future.”

“Glad to see you have this much faith in me, doctor. I won’t screw up this time. I’m sure of what I want.”

“I’m not saying you’re not. I’m just telling you that it will be a big change for you and that I’ll help you navigate through it.”

She nodded, a little relieved to know that she had someone to talk to if things were getting rough.

She came back right on time to watch the press conference. They were all in New-York for the very first Grand Prix hold there. Julia wasn’t very enthusiastic about it, finding the track design a bit boring but as usual, she didn’t like to judge before seeing what it would be like. On the other hand, Ethan was not so prompt to keep his judgment for himself and when a journalist asked him what his thoughts were, he didn’t hesitate very long.

“Obviously, it’s a new track for everyone so the only way to drive around it was through simulation. I didn’t enjoy it one bit. I think it will be boring to watch and boring to drive. I can’t wait for it to be over.”

She saw Ludwig almost laughing but quickly regaining his composure to say more or less the same thing in a more diplomatic way. Truth be told, she barely watched the race that weekend, busy crafting a little something for Ethan. She had put in a lot of time and effort. It was a personal gift, something she hoped held enough meaning for him to be able to trust her a little bit. As Etha had said, nothing interesting happened besides a third place for Romy, a redemption for the German driver.

Her week before Vegas was full. She had started putting up documentations for the Team Principals as well as for the drivers that she intended to give to Kyle. A few back and forth texts between them had her confirmed that he was onboard and ready to help her. She had never doubted it but she also knew how of an impact he could have and she was grateful for it. Finally, it was time for her to leave. She finished packing her bags, carefully wrapping a gift for Ethan, one she was as excited as she was terrified to give him.

She landed in Vegas on Friday afternoon, dreaming of a shower and a few hours of sleep. Her flight had been eventful and she was exhausted. She had to meet her dad for dinner in a few hours and she really wanted to not totally look half-dead. Once settled in her room and her suitcase unpacked, she was delighted to notice a bath in her bathroom. She let the water run and enjoyed her newly found peace and quiet to the point she fell asleep in her bath and when finally opened her eyes, the water was cold. She quickly got out and checked her phone, charging on the counter. She was about to be late. She got dressed and ran to the lobby where she encountered Martin, talking to Chloe. Laughing, even. Since when were they close? She thought. The redhead was the one to notice her and smiled.

“Julia, good to see you! I didn’t know you would be here today!”

“Hey… I landed a few hours ago.” she explained.

Martin was looking at her from the corner of his eye and she felt him tensing next to her.

“Ethan will be so happy to see you, he complained a lot about the last races. He has been a bit insufferable. I think he missed you but didn’t want to say it out loud.” Chloe laughed, unaware of Martin’s sudden attitude’s shift.

“I’m happy to see everyone. Martin, can I talk to you?” she asked, turning to him as she saw him shrug.

He promised Chloe they would catch up later and followed Julia in a corner of the lobby.

“What do you want?” he asked, laconically.

“To make amends. I have a lot of ‘I’m sorrys’ to say. To a lot of people and you’re pretty high on the list.”

“I’m listening.”

“Well, first I’m sorry I led you on. I’m sorry I used your feelings to make me feel better. I used you as a bandaid, knowing that you had feelings for me and it wasn’t fair. I’m sorry I let you believe that I could fall in love with you. You deserve better than what I could have ever given you.”

“I’m sorry too. Truth is, I didn’t grieve as well as I thought. Holding on to you, knowing that I was seeing so much of Cecile in you wasn’t fair as well. We both used each other. Maybe, a part of us needed it. But I don’t regret it. It made me understand that I had my own issues to fix as well. I just hope that, maybe not tomorrow but, in the future we will be able to be friends.” he smiled sadly.

“You’re a good guy. Any girl would be lucky to have you and I hope you'll find the right girl soon. Because you’re truly amazing and…”

“I found the right girl once and lost her. Found you and thought that life was giving me a second chance at happiness and only got disappointed. Excuse me, but I think I will give up on love for the future. Maybe I’m just not made to be happy.” he sighed leaving her there.

She looked at his figure disappearing outside as she felt a hand on her shoulder. She smiled recognizing her dad. They left the hotel for the restaurant, sat at their table and started to catch up. Julia explained to him her project in detail and with passion as he listened to her, giving her advice and pointing out the potential struggles she would be facing.

“I have a meeting with Seb after qualifying tomorrow to talk him through it.”

“Good. He will be happy to help you. Have you thought about a name for your association?”

“I did… Somnis. Dreams in latin. I like it because it sounds serious and it’s the purpose of charity. For those kids to believe in their dreams, for them to know they have the right to dream. And it doesn’t give away that I’m the one behind it.” she explained.

“In the span of a few weeks you’ve grown so much. You’re less fidgety, more peaceful.”

“I don’t know if it’s growing up. Letting go of all the lies and starting therapy was what I needed. It’s helping me a lot. The guilt and all the lies were eating me away. I feel free, I have a clear mind and new goals. I’m doing okay, I’m doing better.” she nodded.

They came back to the hotel as the night was starting to fall. She had one last thing to do before calling it a day. Thanks to Chloe who had texted her Ethan’s room number a little while ago, she knew where to find him. On her way to the hotel she had stopped to a florist to buy a gigantic bouquet of white and blue flowers. Bouquet that was resting in her room in a huge vase she had bought at the same time. Maybe it was incredibly cheesy, but she wanted to be. She wanted to surprise him, to see him laugh and tease her.

She reapplied a little bit of lipstick, smudged after her meal and gave herself a few words of encouragement before taking the flowers and going to his room. She took a deep breath, hoped he was there and knocked. She then proceeded to hide behind the bouquet that she had asked gigantic enough to hide her head. She heard the door unlocking before recognizing his voice.

“ What is it for…. oh gosh.”

“Special delivery, for a special driver.” she said, trying to lower her voice.

“And can I ask who this special delivery is from?”

“A very cute girl who approximately flew twelve hours to see you.”

“A cute girl, right? It will have to be a little more precise, I have a few names coming up in my mind.”

She put down the bouquet, revealing herself to Ethan’s smug smile. He was leaning against the doorframe in a white tee-shirt and gray sweatpants, his blonde hair damped after his shower.

“Surprise!” she exclaimed, holding the flowers in front of his face.

“Are they for me?” he asked, taking the flowers in his hands and inviting her to follow him inside. He put them on the coffee table before sitting on an armchair.

“I hope they bring you luck.” she whispered, suddenly shy.

“If I’m lucky, I’m sure it won’t be because of the flowers.”

“How are you doing?” she asked, a little more seriously.

“Honestly? Tired. I can’t wait for the season to be over. I need a break, I need to spend time with my family and friends, I need my bed, I need peace and quiet. And Vegas isn’t the most quiet race. I’m thinking of a trip… Kyle said Bali was amazing and he showed me so many pictures that now, I really want to go. But I’m not sure I want to go alone…”

“Are you asking me to join you?”

“Not yet. I’m waiting to see if you deserve it.” he nudged her shoulder.

“And I’m ready to prove to you that I do.” she let her head fall on his shoulder, jet lag finally catching up to her.

“You’re tired.” Ethan whispered, lips pressed to her forehead.

She nodded, snuggling a little more into his side.

“You’re warm. And you smell nice. I missed it.”

“And whose fault is that?” he asked.

She was surprised to not hear resentment in his voice. Instead, it was playful. His left arm was casually resting around her shoulders as his hand was drawing small patterns on her skin, calming her down and making her fall asleep.

“I should go… You’re a nice pillow but I should let you rest.” she stated, slowly straightening up.

“Don’t.” he pulled her back against him. “Stay.”

“I thought you didn’t want to complicate things.”

“Fuck complicated, Joolsie. You are comfortable, I am too. I don’t want to see you leave, you can barely keep your eyes open. Let’s pretend we are doing good, at least for tonight.”

“It won’t blur the lines, right?”

“I don’t care about the lines tonight.”

“Good, because I don’t care about them either.” she mumbled, letting him take her in his arms to lay her down on the bed.

“We need to get you out of these clothes, miss.”

“Eager to see me naked, Eth?”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Joolsie.” he laughed.

He gave her one of his sweaters so she could change and took a few pillows out of the wardrobe so Julia could feel comfortable.

She had missed his scent, she had missed how his clothes looked on her, she had missed the sheer feeling of anticipation, knowing he was in the same room as her, she had missed his affectionate voice talking to her. She had missed him. She would never let him go. Not again. Not when all that he did made her feel so full of hope for the future, so alive, so happy, so calm, so grounded. How could she have ever thought that it was something she should be running away from? He wasn’t perfect, far from it. She wasn’t either but somehow, they fitted. In a weird and almost twisted way. He was understanding her when she was not understanding herself, he was seeing her. He was seeing everything she was and everything she wanted to hide. And he wasn’t judging her, he wasn’t saying that she was unworthy of his attention. He had decided to stay and she wanted to show him she was doing the same. He was loving her when she was learning how to love herself. She felt a tear on her cheek. A happy one. She was in love.

When she came back he was already in bed, eyes closed. She carefully approached him, slipping under the cover and snuggled against him. He didn’t move, only let out a sigh of content before playing with her hair.

“The nice thing with late races is that I can oversleep a little tomorrow.”

“I don’t want to disturb your sleep schedule, though. You need to be ready for tomorrow.”

“I’ll be fine. How is your therapy going? If I can ask.”

“It’s going well. I learn a lot of stuff about myself. Did I tell you I went skydiving with my dad? To learn how to let go. I thought it was a stupid idea at first but it worked surprisingly well. I would love to do that again. With you this time.”

“I would love to.”

“Well, I can add that to my bucket list, then.” she said.

“Oh, you have a bucket list?”

“Yes. It’s called Julia’s happiness. Another idea from my therapist. He asked me to make a list of all the things I would like to do that could make me happy.”

“And what is on this list?” he asked.

“Spending more time with the people I love, drawing more, reading more, going on hikes, doing more things out of my comfort zone… and you.” she confessed.

“Me? Interesting.”

“Stop pretending like you don’t know.”

“I just hope that I’m not the only reason why you are happy.”

“Not anymore. Not since I’ve found a purpose in my life. Someone once told me that I needed to find a reason to be happy on my own. And I think I’ve found it. It took me a while to get there but… better late than never. Now I can focus on being even happier.”

“One step at a time, Joolsie.”

“You’re right. But, really… therapy is helping me a lot. It’s going to be a long one but now that he knows every single thing that is wrong with me, we can work on them.”

“I’m proud of you. I haven’t told you.”

“I’m proud of you too.” she smiled, burying her face in his chest.

When she woke up the next day, she was alone. Still, Ethan had taken the time to leave her a note, under one of the white roses of his bouquet.

My little sleepyhead,

I don’t know when you’ll wake up but I had to leave for the track and you were very deep asleep. You can find a paddock pass on the coffee table. It is for quali, I wasn’t able to get you one for the race but I’m sure someone else got you covered. I hope you can make it. See you there.

PS: You’re cute when you’re sleeping even if you drool.

She got to the paddock forty-five minutes before the start of qualifying. She had tried to see Ethan or even Chloe to wish them luck but they were respectively training with their physiotherapist and she didn’t want to bother them. Her dad was already on the pitwall, getting ready. She waved at him but he didn’t see her. She briefly saw Kyle, getting ready. He smiled at her as she mouthed him good luck. She stopped by Audi’s garage where Seb was talking to Romy. As soon as the German girl saw her best friend, she ran to her to take her in her arms.

“Oh gosh, I’m so happy to see you. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too.”

“I have so many things to tell you!”

“I know Romy. But now, you have to focus. You have a pole to get.”

“Where are you watching?”

“Ethan’s given me a pass for today but tomorrow, I’m staying close to you and you will be able to tell me everything.”

“Ethan? Girl, you and I have to talk. And yeah, I have to tell you all about how Kyle’s mom is a wicked witch. I can’t wait. I know you’ll get me.”

Romy hugged her one last time before running to her race engineer, leaving Julia with Seb.

“Lewis told me about the meeting with the FIA. He told me what your project is and I’m one hundred percent behind you. Audi will be.”

“It means a lot to know that I have you onboard Seb. You’ve always been an example for people in this sport. I’m not only talking about drivers but for everyone. What you stand for, your values, they are rare in this world.”

“Have you thought about a chart? Something for the team to sign if they are committed to join you?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, here in Audi, all our workforce, whether it’s at the factory or here in the paddock, has to sign a chart where a few principles are written. It’s about what we stand for, what we represent as a brand and as individuals. It’s not much but it means that we are all held accountable. I can send you a copy so you have an idea of what it means.”

She thanked the German team principal before he had to leave. She quickly got into the Maserati garage, in the zone meant for the drivers’ guests. She crossed paths with Chloe who smiled bright at her before giving her a quick hug.

“Ethan is going to be so happy to have you here! He hasn’t shut up about you!” winked the Belgian leaving Julia speechless.

She also saw Sofia, alone in a corner, completely unbothered. Julia gulped. She had not had the occasion to talk to her after assuming that she was Ethan’s new girlfriend. She blushed from awkwardness before approaching her.

“Julia.” the woman greeted her with a tight smile.

“You know who I am?”

“I think I know you inside and out, yeah. Ethan talked a lot about you. You’re one of the reasons why he seeked my help.”

“Yeah… well… I think we didn’t start off on the right foot. I wanted to properly introduce myself and.. I wanted to say sorry. For assuming stuff without properly asking.”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind. You couldn’t know. Let’s move past that, especially since I think we will see each other quite a lot in the near future.”

“I guess, yeah. I hope so. Not that I want to see you, I mean… Don’t take it personally but…”

“It’s okay, Julia. I know what you mean.”

She was grateful when silence was asked to be made as qualifying was about to start. Ethan struggled during the first part, barely managing to make it through as Chloe was flying. Julia felt anxious and hoped that going to see him the day before, and spending the night with him hadn’t made him lose focus, she would feel extremely bad. Thankfully, it got slightly better during the Q2 managing to take the P5 after a last lap where he gave his all. Biting her nails, she hoped for a good place for him. He needed it after two bad weekends, nowhere near his usual performances. She was so anxious that she could’n watch, preferring closing her eyes until she heard cries of joy. She felt a hand on her shoulder as Sofia showed her the broadcast. Pole position. His third one. Chloe was also P3 which was amazing for her. Romy was P2.

She saw the two Maserati’s drivers celebrating after benign rushed to the interviews and Julia felt like a lifetime had been spent when she finally managed to see him. He rushed to her, taking her in his arms.

“I’m so happy. You have no idea. So proud of you.” she mumbled in his neck.

“You brought me luck.” he smiled, kissing the side of her head as he threw an arm around her waist to guide her away from prying eyes.

“You don’t need luck.”

“I’m so gutted you won’t be able to watch the race here! I would have loved to have you in the garage.” he complained.

“No matter where I am tomorrow, I’m rooting for you. Always. And this time, I promise, when you’ll win, I’ll wait for you on the other side of the finish line.” she smiled.

Author's note: Slowly, but very surely we are getting to the moment you're all waiting for... Three chapters left before the end....

What do you think will happen next? Let me know your theories, I love to read them.

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. Besides the fact that I absolutely love to read you, it helps a lot for the story to find its audience. I also have a taglist for this story, so if you want to be added so you never miss a chapter, let me know.

Taglist:

@herondalism @aundercover @musingsbyshreya @karmabyfernando @reengard @mycenterfold @smoooothoperator

#writing #fiction #charles leclerc #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x oc #charles leclerc fanfic #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen

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scatterpatter · 1 year ago

Note

This is a free invitation to infodump about Colorless! Go ham, bestie! I'd love to hear about him!! Pop off, king! /gen /pos

MY FRIEND I AM PICKING YOU UP AND SPINNING YOU AROUND /P

OKAY OKAY SO COLORLESS- mannnn man man i miss him i miss him!!! He's an oc "edgesona" I made back in 2017 and I just missed him! I ramble SO MUCH UNDER THE CUT

Also warning I have OLD ART HERE kjbdfkjbskjfbsjk HELP

Okay so Colorless started as just a spontaneous idea of "Oooo what if Scatter but Evil" waaay back in 2017- think Darkiplier energy

Imma be honest, there's sadly a lot around 2017-2018 that I don't remember, including stuff with Colorless (it's almost like I have the Forget Things Disorder), so going through his older posts is crazy because I don't rember making a lot of this stuff but he was just Evil!Scatter LMAO

Then I convinced Shrike, an ex-friend, and some other mutuals at the time to make their own edgesonas! I frequently did stuff with Shrike's sona Gregory "The Game", or just Gregory Game. Older posts you may also see an "Apathy.txt." but since I'm not in contact with Apathy's owner anymore, I no longer include him in any Colorless content

It was basically just "What if these edgelords lived together and did mayhem"

But then I came up with COLORLESS LORE so here's the rundown of the lore (or at least what I rember... bad memory is bad ;-; )

So it was revealed that C wasn't just some evil alter-ego of Scatter, but rather they were two parts of a fractured whole

Scatter, Colorless, and one other we'll talk about shortly all came from one original person. This person decided to run an experiment to see if he could split himself into different states according to Freudian ego states: Id, Ego, and Superego. The procedure was a success and split the person into Mikhail(Id), Scatter(Ego), and Nathaniel(Superego)

Nat is scratched out. Rip. Scatter was always represented by purple, Mikhail by red, Nat by blue.

Long story short, they decided that they had their time together and needed to fuse back into one person. Mik had his reservations, but Nat and Scatts pushed it. Things went wrong, and they never integrated properly, and even corrupted themselves from it, destabilizing them. I was GOING to give strong hints to this in a comic I was sketching in 2018, but I never finished/posted it. HOWEVER i DO still have the sketchbook so it looked a bit like this! (OOO never before-seen loooore~~~)

It's something C would regularly flashback to and would cause immense distress and generally disrupt his daily functioning

Afterwards all 3 egos shared a body again, but "switched" consciousness frequently, often abruptly and to the detriment of whomever was "fronting" before. Colorless would switch in and take over the body usually to cause harm to Scatter and Nat, or to anons who interacted with him

C would act out in retaliation to get back at both Scatter and Nat, moreso Nat, and during his time corrupted and sharing the body, he took on the name "The Colorless", refusing to go by his real name of Mikhail.

After a few mishaps, he found a way to separate himself from Scatter and Nat! ... It left him a bit... corrupted, still, in the process

It not only left his entire body... not right (see: humans aren't colorless and outlined in red with black tar-like stuff), and also messed up Scatter's and Nat's bodies too

I was GOING to do a whole thing on tumbles where I would've gone into his backstory in depth buuuut that fell through. Oop.

I... admittedly forget a lot of what I was going to do past this. Memory is REAL bad around this time for personal reasons I won't delve into, but C started getting more of a "stabilized" look, though was still able to be VERY evil

WAIT I JUST UNLOCKED A MEMORY TYPING THIS- IIRC, he installed a "chip" in the side of his neck to help stabilize his body- no more corrupted eyes/frame in all-red anymore- and left a scar there he covered with a scarf. Sadly all this part of the lore happened in a server that got nuked BUT I found another never-posted-to-tumblr art in the sketchbook!

These are probably late 2018? VERY early 2019 at the latest?

Thanks to personal life things, C took a back seat for some time, but around 2019-2020 I gave him a semi-revival, and Shrike and I really had fun revisiting C and Greg's whole dynamic together!

Oh also there's another one of the "trio" whose name is Scoot Scoot. I am not joking. They call him Scoot or Scooter for short. He isn't one of the system's ego states- instead, he's a literal demon that looks like the other three. The lore for this was that the person who summoned the demon needed the hair of a human- and stole some from C because the summoner didn't want to use their own in case it went awry. Scoot was summoned and took a similar appearance to C and just... just... is chaos incarnate

SO around 2020ish, I took a pretty hard reboot on C and the egos- it's basically all the same lore, just with a fresh coat of paint... oh also we ship C and Game now. Their ship name is Colorgames.

During this time C decided to go a lot more tame, he didn't want to be a killer anymore, he wanted to be an edgy scientist. He also began patching things up with his brothers so now they're having a decent relationship! ... C also has a portal device attached to his wrist now soooooo... oops

I don't really know what I wanna do with him in the year of our lord and savior 2024, but it's just SO FUN to draw him again!!! Maybe I'll actually make a proper comic about his backstory, who knows!!! I just think he's neat

TL;DR: Colorless (Or "C", real name Mikhail) is one of three parts who consider themselves brothers. He is the Id, Scatter is the Ego, Nat is the Superego. A past event split them apart and they corrupted their bodies trying to put themselves back together. C grew resentful of the others and worked to sabotage them and lash out at them, but now has mellowed and is more of a chaotic scientist than a true villain. He dates @shrike-nest's OC Gregory Game, and they get into mayhem together. They adopted a demon along the way. His name is Scoot Scoot. Don't worry about it.

BONUS: SOME OTHER DOODLES I'VE FOUND IN MY SKETCHBOOK AND DISCORD HISTORY THAT I DONT BELIEVE EVER MADE IT TO TUMBLR:

... id post more that i found but i hit the tumblr image limit OOPS

#long post #ocs #my ocs #the colorless #mikhail #gregory game #edgesquad 2.0 #THANK U I NEEDED AN EXCUSE TO PUT THIS ALL IN ONE PLACE #man thank frick i kept the sketchbook and tagged well otherwise i wouldnt be able to recall half of this stuff #whyyyy is memory baaad (he knows why hes just complaining)#also can you see the blatant 'im portraying systemhood but am in extreme denial that im a system' imagery going on #c and nat were literally loosely based on ALTERS I HAD AND WAS AWARE OF AT THE TIME #also absolutely INSANE comparing the old art to that 2024 piece DANG

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artofjim · 2 years ago

Text

5 Years of Drawing: Part 1

Originally posted on ko-fi.com/artofjim

July marks 5 years since I started learning art and drawing every day. As they say, time flies when you're having fun, and time has really flown! I want to use this blog post to reflect on some things I've learned, look at some old work and compare it to current, and emphasize my gratitude for all of the support I've received in the last half decade. This is a long one so I'm breaking it into 3, but it should give you a ton of insight into my journey as an artist that brought me here today, and hopefully help you carve out your own path!

Before July of 2018, I would occasionally get it in my head that I wanted to draw. This would be prompted by seeing some cool art online, or needing a way to pass the time on trips. I'd spend money on new sketchbooks and tools, and doodle for a weekend in them. That would be that, and my sketchbooks would sit until the next time I felt like drawing again, which was no more than a few times a year. I had a little natural talent at copying proportion and detail, but there was no methodology to my picturemaking and I relied heavily on replicating others' art. Because of the inconsistent schedule and lack of interest in learning, I usually say I started drawing after all of that. Here's some sketches from before 2018.

This is a direct rip of Nate Van Dyke, with a couple additions of my own. 2014? I learned about ink and decided that was the only medium I wanted to work in.

Around the same time. Every artist has been here at some point, I think. I found some photo portraits of homeless people on pinterest probably and took it upon myself to draw them. Lots to unpack there but we should move on (please we must move on oh God). Again, I wasn't trying to learn, I was just copying photos and other art with no rhyme or reason to it, and very rarely. I just loved that kick when people would look at it and say it was good.

2018

In 2018 I was working in Tacoma and there was a great little book store called Culpepper's across the street. Jerry Culpepper had ran that store for decades, and had no great love for comics. As a result, anytime he got graphic novels in, he'd hide them in an unorganized shelf and price them way, way down. This was also true of artbooks, but I wasn't interested in those (yet). Jerry and I had an amicable relationship, with him busting my chops about the coffee shop I worked at being too expensive, and myself ironically bringing him free drip on my breaks. I remember him going into great detail explaining how "Black Panther was absolute shit! Waste of my time seeing that film!" I probably went in there once a week and dug around, spending tip money on anything that looked interesting while Jerry peered down at the titles with a furrowed brow. My love for comics started at this time, and some of the first graphic novels I bought were from Jerry Culpepper. The League of Extraordinary Gentleman and A Small Killing, both written by Alan Moore, and drawn by Kevin O'Neill and Oscar Zarate, respectively (a great place to start, if you ask me!).

Still have them! Jerry always priced books with pencil on the first page. He'd usually charge me at least 30% less than this, and shave off sales-tax if I paid cash.

I bought so many comics and bothered Jerry so often that he started giving me stuff for free (again, he had no interest for comics and was intent on filling his store with civil war history and first edition antiques). I'd pay $20 and walk out of there with an armful of graphic novels, video game concept art, Japanese editions of collected Ukiyo-E plates, published artist sketchbooks, and all sorts of odd things I wouldn't normally look for. That's the beauty of local used book stores, you cannot predict what's waiting in there for you. Those early Culpepper finds were, and still are, very influential to me. I dig through my bookshelf for them regularly. I think it's very important for creatives to have a personal, physical collection of things that inspire and interest them, because they will bury into your style way more than temporary online influences.

"Culpepper Books: here you'll find a man struggling to get the hell home with as much money and few books as possible before he retires" -Jerry, during his last week of business when I asked him for a caption

In late-2019, Jerry Culpepper got an offer to end his lease early from a big developer and decided to retire right as the pandemic started to hit, which was definitely the right decision for him. While writing this, I searched his name to see if I could find his online collection, and learned that he passed away in 2022 at the age of 70. Here is his obituary if you'd like to learn more about my old friend at the bookstore who impacted my life more than I could have realized at the time. https://www.legacy.com/us/obituaries/tribnet/name/gerald-culpepper-obituary?id=32332566

My last purchase from Jerry

Now that I was reading comics a lot, I became hip to Jim Lee, comic art superstar of the early 90s known for his work on X-Men, Punisher: War Journal, and countless other titles soon after. Jim Lee streams on Twitch, and one day in July I popped in to watch purely out of curiosity and ended up following along with his live tutorial drawing Wolverine. There's a recording of this tutorial here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7wxoH_eZgrw I had never had drawing explained to me in the analogous way that Jim Lee did. Much of the concepts he was demonstrating are very fundamental no-brainers to me nowadays, but back then, despite drawing off and on my whole life, I had never been exposed to them. I specifically remember him relating the teeth to a can of soup, and the triceps muscles to parallel canoes. This was mind blowing to me, and sparked an obsession that is still roaring to this day. Here's my results from drawing along with Jim Lee that day.

A little heavyhanded on the spot blacks there, Jimbo...

Even though the idea of using simple forms like soup cans and canoes had been demonstrated so brilliantly by Jim Lee, I immediately went back to my old ways of rote copying. Only now, I was doing it for a few hours a day. I also started streaming art on Twitch during this time, and I'm amazed anyone watched because I was completely directionless.I was reading a lot of Frank Miller and the interest in ink was renewed, and I would just copy things straight out of comics, line-by-line. I didn't have the tools or direction to study in a more meaningful way, so I just copied and copied and copied, with no real improvement besides hand-eye coordination, and my ability to copy from image to paper.Jim Lee had also mentioned Bridgman, and I found a copy of his big book at Culpepper's and copied a few pages (poorly) before giving up.

Notes?? Why would I write down anything from the book? This is drawing!! Sarcasm aside, this was the extent of it. Whatever concepts I pulled from it, I didn't cement with mileage so it was all for not. Granted, Bridgman is not beginner friendly at all.

I also took part in Inktober for the first time in 2018, and actually attempted concept creation. I knew I was bad at drawing heads, so I decided I would twist every prompt into a helmet of some kind. Strange method. You can view the completed pieces here, if you really want to: https://www.instagram.com/p/BokqcKngdlz/

2019

In 2019, I began to become invested in history, and really enjoyed drawing historical garb. Japan especially grabbed my interest, and I bought tons of books about it from Jerry. I'm surprised I didn't try to copy more Japanese art, especially Hokusai's ink sketches. I was filling sketchbooks regularly by now, still just copying for the most part, and getting a little better at it! When I look back at those sketchbooks now, there's a common "Jim" thread present even if I wasn't being very original. I want to point out that I don't think there's anything wrong with copying references, ever, but especially as a beginner artist. The way I was doing it, though, was from a limited perspective: drawing straight to final linework and not considering anything but the 2-d image. I wish I had pursued fundamentals more, and varied my tools, but I just didn't have exposure to those things. I was still wielding a brush pen like a club on every drawing, and using expensive markers that bled through the page.

I learned about Karl Kopinski, and some of the other star artists from Super Ani, and didn't know about all of the mileage and proper practice between where I was and where they were, so I tried to just do what they were doing. Of course, KK appealed to my interest in historical costume, and I copied a bunch of his drawings in my sketchbooks. I also dug into Sergio Toppi, attracted to his painterly hatching and masterful ink compositions, and learned about Moebius. I picked up a Final Fantasy 1-7 artbook for $10 (thanks Jerry) with tons of drawings by Yoshitaka Amano in it, and tried to match his watercolors with my bleeding Copic markers. Because there was no method to my drawings beyond copying mark-by-mark, there was an element of luck involved that decided the success of each drawing. The artmaking journey, then, was just chasing that next lucky winner drawing, which is not sustainable long term! Sure, I might get lucky more often as I copied more accurately, but I wouldn't know why, and I had no lens to understand what made an image work.

Toppi copy

One of the lucky drawings

Kopinski copy

Amano copies. Notice the difference in quality between the Toppi samurai above and these; this is the element of luck I'm referring to. There was no repeatable process, just diving into the final lines and gambling on it.

Beyond that, I wanted to create, not replicate. I would watch Karl Kopinski, Kim Jung Gi, and Peter Han create worlds on the spot, with no reference, and have no idea how to accomplish that. I figured it was my poor visualization ability holding me back. All I thought mattered was drawing a lot, and drawing a variety of things. I would stream on Twitch and take requests to draw anything anyone wanted for ten minutes. I drew 20 different outfits from the Camp-themed Met Gala. I drew video game characters, Power Rangers, cartoons, and Kermit the Frog smoking a blunt. Occasionally, I'd try to draw people and places from life.

My first ever POV sketch

I knew that clothing was something academics studied, so I "studied" some drapery as well! All that meant for me was copying, line by line, a few reference photos. I downloaded Autodesk Sketchbook, a free drawing program, and tried my hand at digital art. If I wasn't just attempting photocopying, I did try my hand at some imaginative work, with a degree of realistic rendering. Here's those paintings, just so we can compare to my current paintings later.

I would paint over Bill Sienkewicz sketches, this is one of those

This funny little fellow is a Japanese God, Fukurokuju. The drapery is looking especially mushy.

In mid-2019, I decided I would challenge myself to making a comic for Inktober. I was very naive, but still took a lot of time planning for it before October started. I scripted out the pages, did some character "designs," and even worked on turnarounds. My thought was that if I took the time to figure out what a character would look like from any angle, I could just use that as reference when I needed it. This is true, and how animators do it, but I created this sheet by smashing together references and finding an image for every expression and angle I could need. I also sculpted the main character's head so I could use it as reference. I had not rediscovered the power of "form" yet, despite Jim Lee's great tutorial that started all of this, and the literal sculpted 3d form sitting on my desk.

Here's a few pages of my Inktober comic, Dog Days. I made it 13 pages in and burned out super hard, since I was working full-time still and spending at least 8 hours a day on the pages. The cyst on my wrist got massive and I was not sleeping at all. I took a break for a few days to go on a trip and just never came back to it. Surprisingly, I haven't ever experienced a burnout since then.

If you're interested in checking out the other 11 pages, they're available to Ko-Fi Members for $4.50/month, along with my other comics.

For my first comic, I am extremely proud of that work. There's a sort of energy that is now inhibited by experience and judgment. I was fearless and committed to every page, because I had no idea how long it would take me or what challenges I might face. I don't think I will or should ever finish it, because I cannot replicate that vibe.

I returned to drawing a few weeks after the burnout and dove back into Japanese historical drawings, becoming obsessed with the photos of Felice Beato, who brought photography to Japan right as it modernized. Some coworkers of mine were my first ever commissioners, asking for some work relevant to what I was already studying. The first was a family portrait taken in the early 1900s. The second was a 6 panel piece on the history of Taiko drumming. I think they spent more on the frame then what I charged them for the piece, which is hilarious to me now. I also experimented with some blacklight ink and collage, which was a nice change from all the inking I did in October.

I did these on expensive Awagami rice paper with ultra-archival Noodler's fountain pen ink. I was fooling myself into thinking that expensive materials were necessary for any sort of "professional" work, and that they would elevate it. In the end, it just made the process nerve-wracking and left no margin for error.

I will continue with years 2020 and 2021 in my next post to keep this one from getting any longer! Follow my Ko-Fi to get notified via email when that comes out, or tune into my social media: https://linktr.ee/artofjim

If you'd like to support my art career and get some goodies in return, become a Ko-Fi Member in exchange for art in the mail every 6 months, monthly giveaways, access to my comics, discounts in my shop, and more. Starts at $4.50/month, goes up for better rewards. https://ko-fi.com/artofjim/tiers Thank you to all of my members, past and current, for enabling me to pursue my greatest interest in life more comfortably.

#blog #art journey #art education #art level up #drawing #art blog #reflection #learn art #art study #art practice #tacoma wa #tacoma

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ahatintimepieces · 4 years ago

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It Comes Down in Buckets

Before Luka and Hattie ended up in Subcon, they faced many challenges on the road as they adjusted to Luka’s curse. This is a lil gift for Mak, @doodledrawsthings, and their “””Coffeeshop au””” where Luka pushes himself a bit too hard while trying to make the day special for Hattie. Please enjoy!

Word Count: 7,678

The rolling waves tumbled against the velvet sand and the morning sunlight skipped across the foaming crests, painting them gold. Hattie’s grip tightened around the old bucket she had found as she inhaled the salty, fishy air. Standing at the patches of grass that separated the edge of the forest from the beach, she gazed out at the shore. Her sketchbook waited in her backpack, begging her to pull it out and to memorialize the look of the sea and snapshot the ebb and flow of surging waves, but she had work to do.

She had to find the prettiest seashells before anyone else so she could sell them for some extra cash. Every little bit helped.

Weaving down to the beach, the warming sand caught between her toes and kicked up with each flop and flip of her flipflops. She swung the dented bucket with rust stains as she hurried to the lapping tide. She stepped into the water and immediately squealed before jumping back from the cold. The foam receded, as if teasing her, and an impish grin spread across her features.

As the water crawled back up the shore, Hattie fixed her old baseball cap and then leapt into the ankle-deep wave. Her initial screech dissolved into laughter. Splashing around, her flipflops tossed clouds of murky dust up and the sloshing, icy water splattered against her leg. She placed her hands on her hips and struck a pose as she gazed out at the sliver of light where the sky paralleled the ocean. With the cascading crackles of the snapping sea rumbling around her, it was hard not to let her mind wander into daydreams.

She could picture it perfectly. A calm day at the beach. No time limits for her dad, no worrying about money, and he could finally rest. He could finally be happy again. And she could play in the surf and chase crabs, pretend to be a pirate finding buried treasure, or draw and paint next to her dad as he napped. She could picture it so perfectly.

But she glanced down at the bucket as it bumped against her hip. Its creaking handle brought her back to reality.

Hattie let out a huff before shuffling out of the grasp of the waves, where it would be easier to spot shells. But before she did, a playful crest rolled back to reveal the tip of a fancy looking shell. Gasping, Hattie knelt and carefully tugged the shell free and revealed what she always thought of as a mini conch, though her dad would probably tell her that it was whelk of some kind since it had a rounder top and thinner end.

After checking the inside cavity for any snail or sea critter by poking a cautious finger around to confirm it was empty, she held the whelk to her ear.

She grinned when she heard the ocean. But she was also standing in it so the shell could still potentially be a dud. Nevertheless, she placed it into the bucket, and it slid around as she went searching for more.

As Hattie combed the beach, a couple people showed up to lounge on the sand or wade in the surf. It didn’t get crowded, since it was a workday, but when she wandered towards the opposite side of the long beach, where the sand was cut off by rounded boulders that jutted out into the sea, she ran into a tourist screaming at a seagull.

“What’s wrong?” Hattie called as she hoisted her bucket overflowing with shells to the side to make it easier to sprint forward.

“That darn seagull took my stuff!” The tourist gestured angrily towards a seagull perched on one of the rocks surrounded by water. It bobbed its head around as it stood proudly over a grey camera. Sunlight glinted against the lens.

“I’ll get it,” Hattie offered without hesitation. She placed the bucket down and scrambled up the boulders.

“Wait, kid, you don’t have to!” He waved his hands across his chest, trying to get her to stop, but it was too late. She didn’t listen as she assessed the slippery boulders and slowly navigated her way across.

She came to the edge of the final boulder and eyed the gap between it and the one in the waves. The seagull cocked its head towards her and let out a squawk. Pausing, Hattie glanced around, trying to figure out how to distract the seagull.

Before she could, the seagull snapped its beak towards something behind her and she glanced over her shoulder to find the tourist was waving a sandwich around. The seagull swooped over her, and she belatedly ducked as it soared over to the tourist. He yelped and turned on his heels before sprinting from the squawking bird.

Hattie tugged her cap down in determination before turning back towards the rock. She took a cautious step back before lunging from the boulder and vaulting onto the next. Grunting after she smacked against the rock, she scrambled up and grabbed the camera. She slung her backpack over her shoulder and nestled the camera between her sketchbook and Professor Popcorn. For good measure, she tucked her dad’s hoodie around it to keep it extra safe.

Once her backpack was zipped, she looped her arms through the straps and got ready to jump back.

The tourist had returned to his spot, hunched over and panting with his cap askew and white and grey feathers stuck to his vibrant orange shirt. She inhaled a steadying breath and leapt back towards shore.

She misjudged the distance.

Nearly sliding over the side of the rock, she scraped her knee against stone as she clambered and clawed. Panic squeezed her chest until she could finally find her grip.

“Careful, now!” the tourist called as she hoisted herself up with her heart pounding. She glanced towards the worried man and gave him a thumbs up before crawling forward.

Her stinging knee threatened to buckle when she first stood, but she gritted her teeth and pushed onward. She navigated back to the beach and dropped down onto the sand.

“Geez, kid, that was dangerous!” the tourist sighed as Hattie pulled out his camera.

“But I got it!” She beamed, holding it out proudly. Her smile faltered when she noticed the identical camera that hung around his neck. His chin tilted down as he followed her gaze.

“I was trying to tell you, I have a spare,” he said apologetically. “But, hey! Since you got it, why don’t you keep it? It’s great for preserving memories!”

Hattie pulled the camera back, appraising the contraption.

Preserving memories? No matter how much she sketched all the places she and her father had been, it might be nice to be able to just take a picture to quickly capture everything. She could take a picture of the sea, in fact. But she stared into the curved lens with growing dismay.

Flashes of headlights and blinding snaps. Posters with blurry images of her shadowy dad offering money for anyone who could capture the pictured creature, dead or alive. And, even when he shapeshifted, he was still so jumpy around cameras.

Maybe she could sell it at a pawn shop for a little extra cash? In the meantime, it might not hurt to keep it on hand…

“Oh, hold on,” the tourist exclaimed, startling her out of her thoughts. She tucked the camera back into her backpack and blinked up at him with wide blue eyes. “You got quite the scrape there, let me help.” He motioned her over to his set up on the beach, complete with a towel and umbrella.

After the tourist helped her clean up and shared back-up sandwiches he had prepared, she let him choose one of the shells to take as thanks and set off to sell the rest.

She set up a little area at the top of the beach, halfway between the rest of the city and the parking lot for beach goers. After doodling a cute sign declaring her wares were ready, she caught the eyes of passersby and wove imaginative tales about the shells for anyone who came near. Since this wasn’t the first time that she had sold items that she salvaged while her dad worked, she had developed a good enough sense to get a read on personalities and how to appeal to them. Parents with children were easily swayed by silly stories about the shells. She even managed to convince a businessman walking by to purchase one since her wares were far cheaper than the nearby souvenir shops that sold the same shells. And, after all, hers were higher quality and, really, didn’t he want to support an aspiring entrepreneur? (It probably helped her chances that she practiced that word a few times prior to make sure she was pronouncing it right).

She bolted when she spotted some cops patrolling the area, though.

By the end of the day, she successfully sold more than half of her shells. She tucked the coins and cash safely into an inside pocket in her backpack, where her secret stash would help her buy food for whenever her dad inevitably got stuck in noddle form and couldn’t work. She had tried giving her earnings to him directly before, but he had only gotten upset, insisting she didn’t need to worry about money and it was his job to take care of her, not the other way around. But they both knew that he often pushed himself past his limits, and he couldn’t do everything himself.

She was just beginning to collect firewood close to their camp when footsteps tracked through the grass. Hattie froze, turning towards the sound and holding her breath. Golden light flickered between the trees and an approaching shadow broke into the small clearing.

“Hey, kiddo!” Her dad, still in his human form, which surprised her, jumped forward with a wide grin and his hands behind his back. Wrinkles lined the corners of his eyes, but he was alert with enthusiasm as he straightened. A plastic bag crinkled noisily as it swayed behind him. “Guess what I got for our most important celebration tonight?”

“Celebration?” Hattie tilted her head, though his energy was infectious, and she cracked a smile.

“Don’t tell me you forgot what day it is,” he teased, bringing his hand forward and adjusting the delivery cap he wore for his morning job of delivering papers.

“Payday?” she guessed, crossing over to their firepit and dropping the dry twigs and branches she found.

“N-no, kiddo,” he faltered, quirking a brow as he revealed a plastic bag with local dollar store logo. “It’s your birthday!”

“Oh.” She blinked up at him.

“Did you really forget?” His features fell and the worn creases on his face highlighted the underlining fatigue. “We talked about it, right? When we were-when we were moving.”

“Y-yeah,” Hattie said. She did sort of remember now that he mentioned it, but she hadn’t thought too much about it since they had other things to worry about. “I just forgot what day of the week it is.”

He didn’t seem to believe her but he accepted the excuse.

“Well, I got hot dogs and marshmallows,” he added quickly, pulling out a bag of large marshmallows for emphasis. If he sensed how she tensed, he ignored it and gestured towards the direction of the beach. “I thought we could start a fire at one of the communal firepits and have a cookout!”

“What about our camp?” Hattie gestured to the little circle of rocks they had set up a few days ago when they first decided to settle in this city.

“It’ll still be here,” he promised. After tucking the marshmallows back into the bag, he walked over to her pile of wood and searched for the longest and cleanest sticks.

“But the beach is out in the open,” she pressed, nervously fiddling with the edge of her shirt. “Don’t you need to change back?”

“Of course not!” he insisted with a little more force than he probably intended. In a lighter tone, he waved his hand dismissively with a smile plastered across his face. “I can hold it together long enough for your birthday. Come on! Let’s have fun!”

He placed a few sticks he deemed worthy for hot dog and marshmallow roasting into the plastic bag and then motioned for her to follow.

“But—” she hesitated.

“You know, I used to do this when I was a kid,” he jumped enthusiastically into the memory, not giving her a chance to argue. She frowned but grabbed her backpack and the bucket that still had the leftover seashells.

Hey, if they were going to be on the beach, she might as well keep an eye out for more.

“Any time we went camping, we would grab a bunch of hot dogs and marshmallows. Of course,” he added a bit quietly as they walked through the woods, “usually we had buns and graham crackers and chocolate. But I did snag some ketchup packets from the restaurant!” He beamed proudly.

Hattie forced a smile, though guilt gnawed at the reminder that he had worked two jobs that day, trying to get enough money together so that they could find a motel to stay at sooner than later. She considered giving him the money she had saved, but she didn’t want to cause him more grief especially since she could tell he was masking his exhaustion. Maybe she could hide the money where he would find it with his things? She could pass it off as him misplacing the bills!

Though, both of them had become increasingly vigilant when dealing with money in the past couple years. He would have noticed if that much went missing in the first place.

“Here we are,” he gestured to the firepit closest to the forest the second they walked onto the sand. “Sit tight while I get the fire going.” There was wrapped firewood next to the pit, all ready for them and their cookout. His water bottle was also leaning against one of the logs, indicating that he had stopped by before running to get her. While he finished setting up, Hattie gazed out at the sea.

The water mirrored the stretch of twilight. Orange-pink rays of dwindling sunlight lingered on the horizon and the occasional star twinkled in the darkening sky. Crackles and pops that came from the growing fire behind her mingled with the surging waves before her. And when her dad joined her side and held out his hand, she smiled as she took it, keeping her gaze locked on the horizon.

“It’s like that one picture in the book at the library in the last town,” she whispered, craning her neck back to meet his warm golden gaze. “The one with the watercolor illustrations!”

“It is!” he agreed, giving her hand a tight squeeze.

“I want to paint something like this one day,” she admitted, turning back to the sea.

“I bet you can, and sooner than you think.” His smile permeated his voice. He gently tugged her hand and nodded towards the firepit. Despite the lines under his eyes, he did seem happy, and that was good enough for Hattie.

“Okay!” She joined him on a log, and eagerly waited for him to pass her a stick he doused with water to keep it from burning.

Her dad filled her in on his day as they roasted the hot dogs. He got her laughing with a few jokes his coworkers shared, and she nodded knowingly when he told her about some of the customers he had worked with. When he asked about her day as he broke open the bag of marshmallows, she explained that she was looking for seashells and presented the bucket with her findings.

“Quick, if you have twenty seashells and I take five, how many do you have left?” he quizzed.

“F-fifteen!” Hattie blinked, hesitating only a moment as she registered the question.

“Good girl,” he praised, passing over a marshmallow.

“If you bought one bag of marshmallows for tonight, how many marshmallows will you have tomorrow morning?” She blinked up at him, trying and failing to conceal her growing smirk.

“Hmm.” He speared his own marshmallow as he gave her a wry grin. “That’s a tough one, why don’t you give me a hint?”

“Zero!” She pulled her burning marshmallow out of the fire and quickly blew on it.

The flames dissipated into a plume of smoke, leaving a burnt crust behind on the marshmallow. Without waiting, she popped it into her mouth and the gooey burst of molten sugar melted on her tongue.

“Becath I’ll eat ‘em all!” she declared through her sticky mouthful.

“Just don’t choke!” He chuckled before putting his arm around her and giving her a side squeeze. She immediately snuggled into his side, comforted by his warmth.

As they worked through the marshmallows and the night cloaked the beach, Hattie pulled out the hoodie and tugged it over herself. The hoodie was far too big since it was her dad’s but despite the floppy sleeves and how it was more like a dress on her, it was cozy and kept the night chill away. She became even cozier when her dad plucked her up and enveloped her in a hug.

“Happy birthday, princess,” he whispered as he nuzzled his cheek against hers.

“Hap—erm,” her cheeks flushed since she had almost wished him a happy birthday back. “Thank you.”

He chuckled and gave her a tight squeeze.

“Okay, I have one more surprise,” he said, arching back and stretching his arm maybe a bit farther than a human arm should, and rummaged around the plastic bag.

She leaned over, trying to peek and his other hand moved over her eyes.

“Don’t look!” He shifted around a bit before Hattie felt something lower into her lap. “Alright, now you can.” He pulled his hand away and she immediately glanced down.

Watercolors. A plastic palette of watercolors rested in her lap with a tiny brush snuggly tucked into a divot on the side. A single golden ribbon was taped on for the birthday wrapping. Her chest tightened as she imagined all the things she could paint, all the things she wanted to bring to life with water-soaked pigments.

But how much did he spend on her?

“Well?” he prompted with an edge of nervousness. “Is it okay?”

“I love it.” In one swift movement, she hugged the palette before swiveling around and burying her face into his chest. A lump threatened to lodge in her throat, but she swallowed it as she hugged her dad.

“Oh, Hattie.” He leaned over her and held her tightly. “I’m glad. I know it’s not much.”

“It’s perfect,” she promised, grasping his shirt.

He did so much for her, sacrificed so much just to take care of her, and now this? She wished she could do more to help.

After a few moments of lingering in his embrace, she pulled back while rubbing at her eyes.

“Everything oh-ahem.” Her dad suddenly pulled his hand away from his task of brushing her hair back. She wrinkled her nose as she blinked up at him.

He held his hand behind his back and his nervous, forced smile revealed his growing fangs.

“Dad,” she shuffled out of his lap, “you need to change back.”

She glanced around the beach quickly, relieved that there was no one nearby to see him.

“No!” He winced when an edge of a reverb tainted his voice. He cleared his throat and waved his other hand dismissively. It had completely turned ebony-violet. “I’m fine! I can hold it for a little long—” he stalled as he glimpsed his other hand and snapped it behind his back too, “—longer.”

Hattie frowned with her brows drooping. His irises radiated golden light as his pupils faded.

“Please. I know I can—” he faltered, pulling his hands back and holding them out before himself. His fingers trembled as they dripped, trying to reconnect. He bit his lip and grimaced when his lengthening fangs jabbed him. The familiar, purple-singed shadows spread from the expanding tips of his chestnut hair.

“It’s okay,” she insisted, turning around and rolling up the sleeves of the hoodie to start cleaning up so that they could head back to camp. She knew he was probably more exhausted than he let on.

“But it’s your birthday,” he whispered in such a broken voice that she felt a world of guilt press against her shoulders.

“And I can still spend it with you as a noodle!” She kept her tone light, giving him a smile strained from her concern.

The gold had encased his eyes and his teeth became backlit by a surging light in his throat. He considered her with tight dismay before scowling.

“No!” He pushed to his feet. “No, I can do this!”

“But, Dad,” Hattie called anxiously, unable to do anything but watch as he paced by the bonfire.

He held his hands out in front of himself, clenching them as he stared daggers into his purple palms. During his pacing, his legs began to quiver, and he paused, hunching as his hair began to drip. His fingers merged into mittens, taking on a gloopy appearance and Hattie thought that that was it, that he would just start getting bigger. She opened her mouth to try and get him to focus on saving his clothes, but the words died in her throat.

“Stop changing,” he wheezed in a wavering voice. He doubled over, clutching his stomach as he strained to keep a human shape. He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth, snuffing out his golden light. The flickering fire cast twisting shadows against his trembling form. His arms lost all pretense of having bones and flopped down like limp noodles. His legs buckled and he thrust out his hand to catch himself.

“Something’s wrong!” Hattie hurried to his side, reaching out as his mitten hand clenching the sand lost its shape entirely and expanded into a puddle.

“N-no,” his reverberating voice gurgled behind globs of dripping purple that stretched across his mouth when he parted his lips. “I can do this!” But just as he said that, he grunted and lurched forward. Viscous liquid oozed from his shoes as his legs melted.

But they didn’t form a tail.

They just pooled out uselessly behind him.

“Dad!” Hattie placed a hand on his arm, but it collapsed under her touch. He let out a strangled cry as his whole arm gave away and he slammed against the beach.

He continued to melt despite his groaning and straining. The trembling shadows spilled from his clothes and into the sand. Panic seized Hattie’s chest as she feared she was going to lose him to the beach. Glancing around frantically, her gaze fell onto the bucket, and she lunged for it.

“Hold on!” Hattie called as she dumped the shells out and slid over to her father, who had gone eerily silent as the pooling liquid oozed and spread.

She dropped the bucket into the sand and quickly tried to shove waves of the viscous liquid inside, catching particles of sand with it. Once half of him filled the rusted bucket and kept spilling out, she righted it before scooping up purple globs. She tossed handful after handful of the soupy remains of her father into the bucket. The trembling sludge sputtered and splashed. Tears stung the corners of her eyes when she saw some liquid darkening and fading into intangible shadows that disappeared into the sand, gone for good.

“Stay with me,” she whispered in a cracking voice as she scooped up every last bit that she could.

After wringing purple from his shirt, pants, and the edges of her sleeves which had tumbled into the puddle a few times, Hattie searched for any of her father’s features in the goop squelching against the edges of the bucket.

“Dad?” She lightly prodded the thick surface of the liquid and it shivered. A muffled groan bubbled up, though no golden light from his eyes or mouth followed. Hattie sighed, sitting back in the sand as she convinced herself that the fact that he had groaned meant he was still there. But now just as soup. In a bucket.

They’ve been through worse, right? This, too, should pass?

“Okay, you just sleep while I clean up,” she muttered as she pushed to her feet.

She collected their things and put out the fire, all the while glancing at the bucket as the goop settled. Once she had the plastic bag slung over her shoulder and her birthday gift tucked into her backpack, she slowly picked up the bucket.

“Oof,” she huffed as she heaved the bucket up, wincing when droplets splashed over the side. “Why is magic goop so heavy? That’s stupid,” she grumbled as she slowly made her way across the dark beach and back to their camping area. As she paused multiple times to give her arms a break and catch her breath, she swallowed the rising lump in her throat and pushed onward.

Luka groaned and on top of the usual reverb that came with his noodle body it sounded oddly like the gurgle of a garbage disposal choking on water. He blinked tired eyes and the golden glow rebounded against the daffodil-yellow inside of Hattie’s baseball cap.

Oh. Had he shrunk down and dozed while Hattie was shopping? That didn’t seem right. Actually, what had he been doing before this?

A surge of panic bubbled up as he recalled trying to hold onto his humanity at the beach. He remembered the tighter he held the form, the more it slipped through his clenched fingers. He heard a slosh of thick liquid when he tried to lift his hand.

He couldn’t lift his hand.

He couldn’t even turn his head! His eyes darted around frantically, catching the rim of some sort of curving, metal wall in the corners of his vision but he could only really look straight up at Hattie’s cap.

“K-ki—” he sputtered as some sort of gunk trickled into his mouth. Expelling wet coughs only caused more of the viscous goop to slip in. His anxious attempts to move coupled with his hyperventilating only increased the panicked sloshing that sounded like puddles disrupted by pricks of rain.

“Dad?” Hattie’s sleepy voice responded.

“H-help I’m—” he gagged on a particularly large glob.

“Hold on!”

He tried to spit out the gunk and a heavy droplet plunked against him. He shivered from the sensation but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what was going on. Relief swelled when the cap was removed and Hattie looked down at him, with sunlight filtering through the trees. Squinting at the sudden light, he tried to squirm around.

While not happy, she at least looked safe and sound. She wore his delivery cap, and he could see the dangling strings of his hoodie. If the sunlight was any indication, he must have slept through the night. He grimaced, hoping she hadn’t been too uncomfortable or cold without his coil to protect her from the elements.

“What’s going on?” he forced out, feeling like he was talking through a wad of bubblegum.

Hattie sat back, making it harder for him to see her at his angle. He twisted to try to get closer.

“You’re in a bucket,” she answered tiredly. When she glanced up and realized she was wearing his delivery cap, she jolted and swiftly took it off.

“A bucket?” he echoed in distress. His eyes shifted around as he glimpsed the walls and the occasional splash of purple-black goop if he moved too quickly. He blinked.

“Oh my god, I melted.”

“Yeah,” Hattie sighed as she rubbed her eyes with the baggy, purple sleeve. “Are you okay?”

“Um.”

No.

“I’ve been better.” He winced, realizing all the gunk that was getting caught in his mouth was himself. Fantastic.

“Do you need anything?” she prompted with hesitation as she glanced around. “Like water or something?”

“I need to get out of this bucket!” He pushed his eye against the rim, and he felt himself ripple. “Here, dump me out! I can try to—” he coughed, “—pull myself back together.”

“I lost so much of you on the beach though,” Hattie objected. “And y-you just disappeared, like the goopy stuff turned all shadowy.”

He caught the crack in her voice, and frowned, both from hearing how part of him just up and evaporated—okay, a lot of him if what was left of his monstrous noodle form could fit inside a tiny bucket—and from how much he had frightened her.

“I can’t stay like this, though,” he argued. “I have work! And you can’t stay in the woods on your own!” He shifted around, trying to figure out how to stretch his neck or anything but his neck and everything was gone! First, he lost his body and now he lost his monster body? This wasn’t fair! He couldn’t live like this!

In his frustration, he tried to will himself to have arms or hands or even his tail would work. The goop bubbled and frothed, and he grunted from the strain, but he could do it! He could pull himself together!

“Stop!” Hattie commanded. He yelped as he felt small hands jut into the goop and scoop up his features.

He felt himself spread out and winced as strands dripped back down into the bucket with heavy plops. It was like the world and his body were spinning around him, disconnected and far from his grasp as his head remained stagnant but stuck. After blinking and spotting Hattie’s thumb acting as a barrier as trickles of him slipped through the cracks of her fingers, he grounded himself in her frustrated blue gaze.

“If you keep hurting yourself, you’ll just make it worse!” Her nose scrunched up into a hard scowl, but he heard the lump in her throat underneath her irate bite. “Just stop!”

“Sorry,” he gurgled quietly. Her brows furrowed even more, and he added as gently as he could, “I’ll rest, kiddo. I’ll take it easy.”

“Promise?” She stared him down.

“Promise,” he breathed out, slumping.

She lowered him back into the bucket and a soft bloop sound was followed by flickers of drops as she pulled her hands out. He hummed to relieve some distress as he tried to force himself to relax.

“Maybe you just need sleep,” Hattie offered. She grumbled a bit, but he could tell she was trying to soften her tone.

“That’s usually all it is,” he agreed.

He did feel a similar exhaustion to all the times he pushed his time limit and got stuck in noodle form. Only this was much worse. Even when he was a human, he wasn’t sure he could ever remember a time he was so tired that he couldn’t move his muscles.

Leaning his eyes against the rim of the bucket for some semblance of security, he desperately hoped he wouldn’t be stuck like this. But even if he did eventually turn back to monster-normal, he had a sneaking suspicion he really screwed over his already sparse shapeshifting time.

“Do you want me to put the hat back over?” Hattie lifted her cap into his view. “To help you sleep?”

“No,” he said a little quickly. She lowered the hat and he added, sheepishly, “I know I can’t see much from here, but it’s better than nothing.”

“Okay. Go to sleep. Let me know if you need anything.” She scooted over to their campfire, and he heard the click of the lighter.

He sighed but tried to let the distant crackle of flame and the low tap of Hattie sketching on paper lull him into a semi-relaxed state. His eyes closed into tiny slits and as he dozed, a gentle and continuous rumble bubbled up from within.

“Dad?” Hattie whispered after a stretch of time, scooting back into view and looking down with her hair slipping from behind her ear.

“Hmm?” His eyes cracked open, slowly registering the rumbling sound. In his peripheral vision, the surface of the ebony-violet goop rippled steadily.

Hattie cracked a grin.

“You’re purring!” she said in slight disbelief before exploding into giggles.

“I’m—?” he began before he recognized the familiar and involuntary purr. A dusting of faint gold emanated from beneath the surface of the goop as he blushed.

“The whole bucket is shaking!” Hattie covered her mouth as her laugh trickled out in mirthful chimes.

Despite himself, Luka smiled, glad to hear her laugh.

“I guess it looks pretty silly,” he admitted, imagining the bucket wiggling around. Though now that he was becoming more alert, the rumbling slowed to a stop. In their absence, he realized how comforting the vibrations had been.

Hmm. Maybe the purring was a way to pull himself back together? It wasn’t something he could force or speed up, though. Typical.

“Do you want any food?” Hattie perked after she calmed down from laughing. “I was roasting some hot dogs.”

“I’ll try a bite,” his eyes and mouth shifted up and down in an affirmative nod that sent tiny waves splashing against the side of the bucket.

He couldn’t really tell if he was hungry, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to eat but he would do anything that would help him replenish some energy.

When Hattie returned with a torn piece of a hot dog, Luka opened his mouth and let out a gurgling, “ah.”

With a giggle, she gently lowered the hot dog as close as she could before dropping it. He felt the hot dog plop down and coughed. Hattie winced in apology as he closed his mouth and pensively chewed.

“I’m fine,” he said after a thick swallow. He couldn’t feel the lump of the hot dog anymore but in the past few years of dealing with his magic, goopy body, he learned to not ask questions he couldn’t answer and near the top of that list was wondering what the heck replaced his melted digestive track.

Hattie fed him a few more pieces and he swallowed the dismay of not being able to feed himself. Even though he had grown accustomed to relying on Hattie for help when his chameleon paws couldn’t work with delicate silverware, the familiar sorrow from the early days returned now that he didn’t even have hands.

After what he was certain was a late lunch, he napped on and off as Hattie remained nearby. When he would check in with her, she would present her latest sketches proudly, and even had one completed work in watercolor. It was a scene of the ocean, and while her sketchbook paper wasn’t meant to hold so much moisture, causing it to crinkle and warp when it dried, she excitedly explained that she was going to do other paintings exactly like it, but all showcasing the ocean at different times of the day. He told her that he was eager to see them, overjoyed that she was having fun with her gift like he had hoped she would.

If only he had been able to save up enough for a motel in time for her birthday, or at the very least, if only he hadn’t melted on her. But that was really his fault for pushing himself so hard.

He had just so badly wanted to make it special. She hadn’t even remembered her own birthday! What else was he supposed to do? Let himself turn into a monster? She deserved to have her actual dad on her birthday.

“Hey, Dad?” Her voice drew him out of his sinking despair.

“What’s up, kiddo?” he shifted his eyes in the bucket, trying to find a position that best allowed him to see her.

“What should I tell your boss?” She held out his phone, which was lit up with messages with letters in all caps.

Luka groaned.

“Can you read the messages for me?” He mentally prepared for the nerve-wracking ordeal of trying to explain himself without admitting to his boss that the reason he couldn’t make it to work was because he turned into a bucket of silly putty.

With Luka directing her, Hattie responded to the understandably angry but maybe harsher than necessary texts from his boss at the restaurant. Once that was done, he let out a heavy sigh, accidentally blowing a bubble in the goop, which shortly popped and splattered. He flinched when a drop landed in his eye.

“Do I have anything from the newspaper office?” Luka asked, dreading the thought of not only the manager getting upset when he found out no one had delivered newspapers in the morning, but of all the people who would no doubt call to complain about empty doorsteps.

“No,” Hattie replied slowly.

“Really?” Luka wasn’t sure if he should count that as good or bad. Either way, he was probably out of a job. “I’ll need to start looking for something else.”

“Why?” Hattie scooted closer, hugging her knees to her chest as she looked down at him.

“They’ve probably already decided to fire me,” he lamented with his mouth sinking and gurgling in the gunk.

“Nah.” She glanced away, tapping around on his phone.

He blinked up at her.

“Nah?” he repeated. When Hattie kept her gaze down and her lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes narrowed. “Hattie? What did you do?”

“I maybe did your deliveries for you?” she offered guiltily.

He stared at her.

“You what?” he sputtered, causing his sludge to ripple as panic seized him. “By yourself? Hattie! You just turned eight! My route is a couple miles long, and you would have had to bike before dawn! There are child labor laws! What do you mean you did my deliveries?”

“I had help!” Hattie hurried to explain. “I ran into a nice tourist I met yesterday, and he gave me a map and delivered half of the newspapers for me.”

“You worked with a stranger?” Luka demanded, shifting around in the bucket. “Harriet Princeton, you are not supposed to talk to strangers!”

“So, I’m only supposed to talk to you?” She threw her hands up in the air.

“No! I mean—that’s not the point!” he faltered, sloshing around as the bite in her words stung. Bits of goop splattered over the rim and Hattie jolted.

“Stop freaking out!” She helplessly tried to grasp at the stray droplets. “I can’t lose you again!”

He paused, tensing. Well, tensing as much as he could as a viscous liquid.

“Wh-what do you mean lose me again?” he pressed tightly.

“I thought you were gone when you melted,” she said with a cracking voice. She hugged her legs and rest her chin on her knees. “I thought I didn’t get all of you in time and you were gone, and I just wanted to help because you’re so tired all time but—” she trailed off in a squeak as tears filled her eyes.

“Hattie—” he shifted towards her, but the goop sputtered as he instinctively tried to reach out to his daughter. Liquid stung his eyes and he blinked rapidly. “Hattie, look at me please.”

She turned and revealed tears streaming down her cheeks.

Gold blurred his vision, but he pressed on.

“I’m sorry,” he began in a congested voice, thick with gunk and reverb. “I know you were just trying to help, and I appreciate it! But I don’t want you worrying about my jobs or money. You shouldn’t have to.”

His voice cracked and all too late, he realized that the reason he sounded so congested was partly because of the golden tears filling the bucket. They glittered in the goop, separated like oil drops in water. His breath hitched and the goop swelled.

“But I can—” he tried to continue as the tears slipped out and the goop splashed up when he instinctively tried to wipe them away with a hand that wasn��t there.

“You’re spilling!” Hattie interrupted, jolting upward and hurrying over, placing her arms around the rim but the added tears were causing his anxious sloshing to spill over. “Stop crying!”

“What?” He jolted, shifting his eyes around and catching glimpses of purple and gold staining her sleeves. Her dismayed features above him only encouraged his tears and he made a muffled sniffling noise as panic surged and his tears swelled.

“Dad!” she yelped. But her own distraught features cleaved through his squishy, melted chest.

“I-I can’t! Give me a moment!” Twisting away, he tried to lock his eyes on something to ground himself, but in his panic, he kept attempting to turn and wipe his tears. The spilling goop sloshed uncontrollably.

“Try to laugh!” Hattie begged. “Tell me a stupid joke!”

“Ah, uh.” He pressed his lips into a tight line as he struggled to think of something. “Um. You know what? This situation really pails in comparison to—uh—that one time we teleported into that bear den!”

“What?” Hattie furrowed her brows. But it looked like her tears halted in confusion.

“P-pails, like a pun? It’s a joke. It’s supposed to be funny. Please laugh,” he said weakly. He blinked and let out a tight exhale as he felt himself calm and the rest of the goop start to settle.

“That’s a stupid joke.” Hattie sniffled as she leaned back and slowly lifted her arms, revealing sleeves soaked with purple sludge.

“I got buckets of them.” He added a sardonic, “ha,” as the gold ebbed. While a few dancing droplets of tears wiggled in his goop, now that he was calmer, trembling splashes no longer spilled over the rim.

Hattie wrung out the sleeves. He flinched at the droplets that pelted his face and sent ripples along the surface.

“That’s even worse,” she sighed, though a small smile found its way onto her features. She tugged up one of her sleeves and gingerly reached over and wiped at the edge of his eye.

He grunted, squeezing it shut but when she pulled away, he watched her flick a golden droplet towards the grass. He sighed, blowing a few bubbles.

“Please don’t do my job tomorrow,” he said quietly. “We’ll be okay.”

She nodded slowly before thinking better of it.

“Only if you promise not to push yourself, okay?”

“Okay,” he said tiredly before he yawned. Sludge dribbled into his mouth, and he sputtered.

“Sleep.” She poked the goop. He shifted his eyes next to her finger, which was the closest he could come to giving her an encouraging nuzzle.

“What about you?” he asked, staring up at the canopy of leaves. There was still sunlight trickling down, but it seemed fainter.

“I can eat soon,” she shrugged.

“Wake me if you need anything,” he muttered, feeling his eyelids grow heavy.

Did he even have eyelids at this point? Maybe it was more that his eyes were sinking. Might be more apt.

Hattie promised to, but he had a feeling they both knew she would deal with any problem on her own before waking him. Frowning, he supposed the best thing he could do for her would be to recover as swiftly as possible.

He settled into the bucket, and soon enough, the sludge began to ripple as he automatically purred. He caught Hattie’s stifled snort at the vibrating bucket before he fell asleep.

Night blanketed the forest by the time he woke up again. Still purring, he blinked as he felt something shift. The rippling rumbles of goop seemed to be tightening and when he moved to lift his head, he peeked over the rim of the bucket. Relief swelled inside as he spotted Hattie’s back. She was drawing by the fire, safe and sound.

Edging backward, he tilted his head down, blinking at the vibrating goop as it slowly re-solidified into shape. After a moment, he lifted his noodle arms and wiggled his chameleon paws. Funny, he was actually relieved to see them for once. Once his tail formed, he heaved out a sigh. There wasn’t a drop of him left behind in the bucket, but now he took up less volume.

“Kiddo,” he called softly, floating up to the rim of the bucket and placing his hands on the edge, curling his tail beneath himself.

“Dad!” Hattie gasped when she saw his familiar form. Scrambling around, she darted over, and he flew up into her embrace.

“You’re tiny,” she muttered into the plush fluff around his neck. His tail waved back and forth as he returned her firm hug.

“I’m sure I’ll get back to normal size,” he guessed. Probably. After a long enough rest without using his shapeshifting.

Moments passed until he caught a low grumble coming from Hattie’s stomach. He craned his neck with a smirk.

“In the meantime, are there anymore marshmallows to share?”

“I ate them all. Remember our math quiz? Zero left.” Hattie said without missing a beat as she turned back around and brought him to the fireside. “Just kidding, I saved you some.”

“That’s my girl!” His tail waved harder as he chuckled.

He extended an arm towards the bag, noting that he couldn’t really stretch it like usual, and made a grasping motion. Hattie plopped the bag into her lap, still using an arm to hug him, and they both took turns popping the confections into their mouths.

Yes, after a week’s worth of rest, he would grow to his usual massive size and when he could shapeshift again, he would have to deal with the consequences of missing so much work. But until then, he and Hattie would take it day by day and one marshmallow at a time.

#ahit coffee shop au #doodledrawsthings #ahit prince #ahit hat kid #my writing #*kickflips into ur tumblr experience wearing rubber fishing suspenders and a cap that says 'words want me. ghost dads fear me'*#Me: Bucket's haunted #You probably: What?#Me not breaking eye contact as i grab a pail and head for the exit: Bucket's haunted #this got very long whoops #but i hope its a fun read!#thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!

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lily-drake · 4 years ago

Text

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO TIMOTHY JACKSON DRAKE-WAYNE, THE BEST BAT BOY OF THEM ALL!!! YOU CAN’T CHANGE MY MIND!!!!!!

Happy Birthday Tim

Tim never really cared for his birthday, afterall nobody ever remembered it, and he doubted that Bruce would care. He had never shown much of an interest in him, which was fine since he wasn’t supposed to get close to him. His entire job as Robin was to make sure Batman didn’t go crazy, he wasn’t supposed to get attached. So he didn’t, at least that’s what he told himself. It was around 10:45 PM when Tim went upstairs at Alfred’s request. Timidly the 14 year old walked into the kitchen only to be met with a small white cake. Upon closer inspection the cake had red and green letting that spelled out in neat scroll, “Happy Birthday Timothy” with perfectly cut strawberries decorating the sides. Tim stared at the cake in awe, he’d never been given a birthday cake before, except at galas; but that didn’t count as he wasn’t really aloud to eat any.

“Good to see you up here Master Timothy. Happy birthday young sir. I apologize for the others absence, but I’m afraid that they are ‘busy’.”

Tim swiftlet lifted up his arms in a placating manner,

“Oh no, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it, I wouldn’t want to bother anyone.”

Alfred gave him a small smile and nodded.

“Well, I believe that it is time for a bit of cake.”

Alfred walked around the counter and pulled out a plate, for, and knife before he cut a large piece and plated it. Tim held back tears as he took his first bite of the cake. This was the best cake he had ever had, and this was definitely his favorite birthday.

*******

Tim stared at the computer screen in front of him trying to figure out what he was missing. He was tired, he hadn’t slept in a few days, and he was on his 8th cup of coffee from that hour alone.

“Tim, come with me!”

Dick said, suddenly on his right side. Out of habit he turned and threw a punch at him. Dick quickly ducked and laughed.

“Your getting faster baby bird.”

Tim sighed and rolled his eyes turning back to the computer.

“What do you need, Dick?”

He asked typing something onto the screen and scrunching his brow in frustration at the facts in front of him. Dick rolled his eyes and sighed before he grabbed Tim and pulled him from the computer chair and onto his feet. Tim groaned and tried to pull away in protest, but Dick overpowered him and he was dragged up the stairs. Tim looked around to see where he was so he could make a quick escape if necessary. When he looked forward again he saw he was being dragged to one of the main room doors. He was thinking and going through all of the things he could have missed or forgotten, but nothing came to mind. When the door opened the lights were off until they suddenly turned on and loud voices screamed,

“Happy birthday!”

From all around the room. Tim blinked a few times everything catching up to him as he looked around and saw his family; Bruce, Alfred, Barbara, Stephanie, Cass, and Dick all around him. The room was covered in decorations and on the table sat a decent sized 3 tier cake, just like the one he had had when turned fourteen, but bigger. Tim ran through his memory and tried to recall what the date was and froze. Oh, it was his 16th birthday, he had forgotten all about it. He was pulled out of his stooped by Steph grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the table were 16 candles lined the rim of the cake and in the center it said, “Happy 16th Birthday Tim!” in the neatest cursive with a robin made of frosting right below it. There was also neatly plated and perfectly made sushi on another table near them. Tim smiled as everyone began to sing happy birthday to him and when he was done he blew out the candles happy and content with his day. There was so much warmth that spread through his chest as he talked and ate cake with his family. So much joy that surrounded the manor, he even saw Bruce smile. Tim didn’t need to wish for anything, he was happy, and that’s all he could ever wish for.

*******

Tim looked at his watch and frowned. He was now officially 19, but it didn’t matter, nothing mattered much now. He was alone in Paris training with Lady Shiva, and his family didn’t care. They were the ones who kicked him out afterall, he wasn’t wanted. He sat under a shady tree bench in the park and watched as people talked and interacted with eachother. It was peaceful, but that didn’t fill the hollowness he felt in his chest. As he stood and began to walk away he felt someone crash into him and fell foreword, someone landing on his back. Quickly the person got up and began to call out apologies obviously embarrassed. Tim got up and turned around and came face to face with a girl about his age with dark black hair that tinted blue in the light and show startlingly bright bluebell eyes. The girl was still talking and he wasn’t sure if she had even breathed yet.

“Hey, it’s ok. Don’t worry about it.”

The girl immediately bit her lip and bowed her head as she tried to hide her face. Tim smiled at the girl who was slightly shorter than him.

“I’m Tim.”

He said casually as he held out his hand. The girl gave an awkward smile before excepting his hand and giving it a firm shake.

“Marinette. Sorry again.”

“It’s nice to meet you Marinette. Do you know where any good coffee shops are, I haven’t slept in a while and I really need a pick me up to finish my things.”

Marinette lit up and nodded.

“I totally understand. I design and commissions keep me up all night half the time. I live in a bakery and have concocted the best wake up coffee. My friends say it’s very dangerous and I’m going to kill myself with it one day, but all well. Why sleep when you can get things done?!”

Tim smiled at the girl as she began to walk and talk. She was cute and was very dramatic in the way she spoke and expressed herself. They walked across the street to a small bakery, the one Marinette must live in, and walked to the front where a short Asian woman stood near the register. When the woman saw Marinette her smile grew as she welcomed them.

“I’m gonna make one of my specials for him!”

Marinette called out as she went to the back and started making some kind of coffee concoction. The woman rolled her eyes, but she still held an amused smile.

“Hello, I’m Sabine. Please choose a sweet, you’ll need it if you’re going to drink her “Miracle Cure”, as the college students like to call it.”

“Thank miss. Please, call me Tim.”

He said giving her a small smile back as he browsed the selection. In the display he noticed lots of animal themed treats and smiled. There were many ladybug and cat themed ones as well as an orange fox, a turtle, a bee, a blue snake, a monkey, and a red dragon. It was an interesting choice of animals and he wondered if they were important in some way here. He found a small tarte aux fruits with an assortment of fruits that formed the red dragon. When he looked up he saw the woman waiting for him still wearing her friendly smile.

“Could I please have the Tarte aux fruits du dragon please?”

“Of course dear.”

Carefully she opened the door to the refrigerated case and grabbed one of the fruit tarts and carefully put it in a small box. Tim went to the register right as Marinette had finished and placed the large drink in front of him. He pulled out his wallet but was stopped by Marinette’s hand.

“Nope, on the house. An apology for earlier.”

She said with a bright smile. Tim was shocked and felt a warmth he hadn’t felt in years begin to bloom once again. He gently took the coffee from her hands and carefully picked up the small box with a plastic fork atop it.

“Thank you, Marinette. That’s very kind of you.”

Her smile brightened and before Tim could stop or even think of what he was saying the words had already left his mouth,

“If you’re free, do you want to walk around Paris with me?”

Marinette blinked for a moment shocked, but then smiled again and nodded.

“Sure, that sounds nice!”

She took off the apron she had been wearing while making the coffee and hung it up on a wrack before walking out from behind the counter snd grabbing his arm and almost dragging him out the door. When she realized what she was doing she quickly dropped it slightly blushing and scratched the back of her neck in embarrassment.

“S-sorry. I should have asked first.”

Tim snickered a little, she was adorable.

“No it’s fine, so where to first?”

Tim asked as he gently placed the tart in his satchel and sipped the coffee. When he did he felt his mind begin to clear and he felt more awake than he had in a long time. He understood why it was called Miracle Cure now, this stuff was amazing!

“Well, where were you thinking of?”

“I was thinking of going to the Arc de Triomphe then head towards the Effiel Tower.”

Marinette beamed and nodded and began to walk towards the Arc de Triomphe. She knew the path by heart as she often went there for inspiration. The two talked the whole way there and bonded over their love of coffee and insomniac tendencies. As they arrived at their first destination the sat on the steps and watched people pass them. Tim pulled out the small tart and began to slowly eat it and smiled. It tasted like Alfred’s cooking, though he didn’t want to admit that this might just be a bit better. He glanced over at Marinette and noticed that she now had a sketchbook out and was drawing something. He didn’t want to disturb her as he didn’t like being interrupted when he was really into something and let her draw as he watched the people. Suddenly there was a loud crash. He looked up and was shocked to see a giant child walking around smashing and destroying buildings. He looked over and saw that Marinette had disappeared and he began to panic.

He stood up and began to move so he could get a better place to watch and analyze what was happening so that he could see if he needed to interfere. He watched silently from a roof and saw a bunch of people begin to surround the child all with the same theme. His mind flashed to the animals in the bakery and connected the dots as he glanced at all of the different people in animal costumes. He watched as the Ladybug ordered everyone on the plan and on what to do which lead him to believe that she was the leader of this group. It only took a few minutes and he watched the cat hero completely destroy a toy car from the giant child’s hand and a purple feather and butterfly flew out. The ladybug hero quickly caught them and released them into the air. She threw the object she had summoned into the air and he watched in amazement as thousands, maybe millions, of small ladybugs flew around the damage done and repaired all of it, including the bodies that had not been moving moments ago.

Tim ran back to the Arc de Triomphe and waited there to see if Marinette would come back. It took a few minutes and then he saw her figure running towards him with panic and worry.

“Tim, I’m so sorry! Are you ok? I shouldn’t have left like that, I’m so sorry.”

Tim gave her an awkward smile and nodded.

“It’s fine, you came back afterall.”

She smiled at him and he lifted his arm out for her to take,

“Shall we continue our walk Mademoiselle?”

Tim asked with a slight bow. Marinette giggled and gave a small curtsy before she placed her hand atop of his.

“Why of course Monsieur.”

They both laughed as they walked. They enjoyed the silence for a bit before Tim asked what had happened.

Marinette gave him a sad sigh and explained the situation that had been happening in Paris for about 4 years now. Tim was shocked that this hadn’t made it to the Justuce League, especially if it had been happening for four entire years. Tim asked a few more questions that Marinette happily answered and they felt happy and content in the warm companionable silence. Tim thought of all of his past birthdays, and he knew that this one was on the top 5 best list of his favorite birthdays.

#HAPPY BIRTHDAY TIMOTHY JACKSON DRAKE-WAYNE!!!!!!!!!#Tim Drake #Dick Grayson #Maribat #marinette dupen chang #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #mlb x batman #timinette #timari #romantic timinette #Bruce Wayne #alfred pennyworth #Tim is best robin #Fight me

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