#How to Draw a Dragon for Kids Easy Step by Step

[saintsanddevils]

Never Alone - pt 2

Aaric Graycastle x Fem!Reader

Summary: You’re called to the Fourth Wing, much to Aaric’s annoyance.

Warnings: Iron Flame spoilers, ANGST, yearning, slow burn friends-to-lovers, dual POV (Reader & Aaric)

Word Count: 2.5K

Part One | Part Three

————

-Rider’s Quadrant-

(Reader POV)

My thighs are burning and my feet ache from climbing those damn stairs when I finally reach the top. The line of recruits is going by faster now. I’m hoping this means it’s almost over. Or maybe more people are falling to their deaths on the parapet.

Shit, this is such a bad idea.

I close my eyes to calm my breathing, counting backwards from 100 before I can feel the nerves slowly dissipate. I try to tap into that earlier anger and frustration. Remembering when I found Cam’s room empty and barren, a half-ass letter about touring the country twisting my gut. He’d never do such a frivolous thing. Halden would, but not Cam. Besides, he would’ve invited me to go with him. The fact that he didn’t was his first mistake.

Now, I’m sweaty, tired, and grumpy and about to strangle the life out of a Prince of Navarre.

I’m next in line when I freeze. Violet Sorrengail stares at me in horror. I’ve known her for far too long that I recognize the waves of shock, worry, and sorrow flit through her hazel eyes.

It’s Dain who speaks first, startling me by his presence.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he mutters low enough so only the three of us can hear. “You too?”

I steel my spine, pinching my nails into my palms to keep myself from bolting. If Cam wants to get himself caught up in a war, I’m going to make sure he doesn’t die.

“Y/N… Thorne,” I wince, knowing I just used my mother’s maiden name. Hopefully, no one will see the connection. It’s too late now.

Both Violet and Dain stare openly, the latter looking as though he’ll crack a tooth from grinding his teeth so hard. Violet looks more understanding with the way her face begins to soften.

“I know why you’re here,” she says. “But I don’t think anyone can stop him.”

I narrow my gaze. “I know, that’s why I’ve come to make sure he doesn’t break that pretty neck of his.”

Violet’s mouth almost curves into a smile while Dain shakes his head in obvious annoyance.

“Let’s just invite the entire palace, while we’re at it,” he murmurs to himself.

“Y/N Thorne,” I repeat.

Violet nods, motioning to the woman next to her to write it down.

I turn away from them only to stop when Violet whispers, “Don’t die, Y/L/N.”

I smirk before stepping onto the parapet. “Promise, Sorrengail.”

——————————————

“Aaric Graycastle to Second Squad, Flame Section, Fourth Wing.”

Aaric Graycastle. I scoff. He must’ve made that last name up. I recognize his middle name, and I promise myself not to give in and tell him how much it suits him. He has enough arrogance as it is.

I don’t take my eyes off his sandy-brown hair as he makes his way to stand in the first row of the Fourth Wing, a few feet away from Violet in the second row. He stands perfectly straight as he waits next to a girl who looks like she might puke at any second.

The crowd of cadets thins the longer we stand here until the woman on the dais draws my attention away from Aaric. “Y/N Thorne to Second Squad, Flame Section, Second Wing—“

Dain stops her, speaking quickly before she nods, and he steps away, meeting my gaze.

“Correction,” she continues. “Y/N Thorne to Second Squad, Flame Section, Fourth Wing.”

I give Dain a nod of appreciation as I make my way over to Aaric’s and Violet’s wing. Violet gives me a look of relief, but as I look for Aaric, he’s glaring up at Dain on the dais.

“Miss me?” I mutter as I walk by him.

His tight fists are white by the time I find a spot in line. I’m two people away from him, but there could practically be no one around with the way I’m entirely too aware of his presence. He’s taller than all the first years, broader too, making it easy to see him in my peripheral.

Time moves quickly as speeches are made and when the dragons land heavily on the roof of the courtyard, panic grips me by the throat. Screams fill the air as they assess us like prey. They’re huge. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen a dragon, but it’s still just as terrifying. Survival instincts rise up and I feel myself begin to take a step back. A large hand suddenly grips my wrist, stopping me.

“Don’t move.”

Aaric is now beside me, holding me from bolting from the courtyard. With how quick he is in a fight, I’m not shocked he was able to maneuver his way next to me before the dragons could take notice.

His fingers tighten before slowly moving down my wrist to my palm, over the small scar, to the tips of my fingers. Warmth rushes through me from his touch, calming the rising panic. He slips his hand around mine and squeezes until they’re bound tightly together.

I count my breaths as he holds on to me, never letting go for a second. Not even as the new recruits around us scream and run for the parapet behind us.

Aaric suddenly stiffens as a one-eyed Orange Daggertail swivels its head towards them. And we’re directly in the way.

The dragon opens its massive jaw.

“Get down!” I hear Violet shout behind us just as Aaric lunges, tackling me to the gravel. He covers my body with his as fire blazes above us, close enough that the heat is practically suffocating. I curl to touch my forehead to the ground, holding back tears as a wave of overwhelming fear crashes over me.

I will not die.

I will not die.

I will. Not. Die.

I begin to count backwards from 100, breathing in and out, slowly. The crescendo of screams slowly begins to die down the longer we lie here, but the smell of burning flesh intensifies.

“You’re okay,” Aaric whispers in my ear. His breath tickles the skin of my neck. “Stay still. Keep counting, that’s it. In and out.”

I don’t acknowledge how I must be muttering the numbers aloud. I keep counting, as he instructed. My body trembles beneath his as I feel him slide his hands into mine. He tightens his fingers, grounding me.

I’m reminded of a time when I nearly drowned in the frozen lake near Cam’s winter home. We were reckless and young, and I remember him pulling me from the ice as he screamed for his guards. He was so scared as he held me on the shore, panicking over my lips turning blue. The way he held my hands, his warmth burrowing deep inside my bones as he wrapped around me, is similar to the way he holds me now. It’s achingly familiar.

As quickly as it came, the fire dies. Sulfur and burning flesh still fill the air.

And Aaric hasn’t let go of me.

His body cages me, his chest to my back. His breathing matching mine as I slowly rise out of the fog of fear. It lingers, but I’m more clear-headed now. And I’m now more aware of Aaric’s closeness. It’s been years since we were this close to each other, and the thought sends blistering heat up my body into my cheeks.

Now is not the time.

Aaric slowly rises, his weight lifting from me as he continues to hold my hand to help me scramble to stand next to him.

My heart swells with the idea of him protecting me, keeping me safe, but anxiety rushes over me as the smell of burning still lingers around us.

I look him up and down. “Are you hurt?”

He’s doing the same thing to me as he shakes his head. “No, I’m fine. Thank, Malek.” His hand squeezes mine, lingering before reluctantly releasing. He drops it back to his side quickly. “Are you?”

I shake my head, staring up into those concerned green eyes of his as everyone around us tries to get back into formation.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

Aaric visibly swallows before he nods and shifts to stand facing the dais. I catch sight of Violet over his shoulder, and besides her smoldering jacket, she seems okay. Her wide eyes meet mine, and she nods towards the line.

Right.

I turn away from Aaric and stand with my back straight, trying to keep still as Lyron Panchek yells from the dais to get everyone in order.

The trembling has settled now that I know I’m still breathing. In its place, guilt has settled like lead in my stomach. The gravity of what I’m doing is startlingly clear now. I could die any day at any moment. All because of my unwavering loyalty to the one man I’ve ever… I swallow that emotion down before it escalates any further.

I need to stay focused.

I would’ve been dead moments ago if it weren’t for Aaric. And because of me, he almost got hurt or worse. I can’t let that happen. Even if we’re in the one place guaranteeing we’ll die with even one misstep, I need to keep him alive.

No matter the cost.

————

(Aaric POV)

Aaric is waiting in the shadows outside of the girls’ dormitory when Y/N finally steps out. With the night cloaking him, he quickly grabs her from behind. She turns in time to throw her elbow into his stomach on instinct. Aaric drops his hands from her, holding his torso as pain racks up his ribs.

“Good shot,” he coughs.

Her eyes widen before she pushes him back into the corner he was hiding in.

“What the hell, Ca-“ she catches herself before continuing at a lower volume. “What the hell, Aaric?”

He leans against the stone, breathing deeply as he holds his stomach. “Well, I was hoping you and I could talk, but clearly you’d rather beat me up first.”

She rolls her eyes at him. “It’s your own fault for creeping around in the dark. You’re far too comfortable kidnapping me, it seems.”

Aaric can’t help the laugh that barks its way out of his mouth, causing pulses of pain from his newly bruised rib.

She visibly softens at the sound, her mouth twitching before she looks away to hide her smile. Aaric clenches his hand to resist the urge of grabbing her by the chin so he can see it.

“Well,” she leans against the opposite wall, giving each other ample space. Space Aaric really doesn’t want to give her, but he doesn’t move from his spot. “What is it? Curfew is in a few minutes.”

Aaric nods. “That won’t matter much longer because I found you a way out of here.”

She startles. “What?”

“Don’t worry, Dain will take you. He’ll escort you back home, and you can—“

In the next blink, she’s suddenly before him. Just as he steps back, hitting the wall, her hand reaches up to wrap around the collar of his leathers.

“Don’t make me slap you again,” she says slowly, menacingly. “Because I won’t hesitate.”

Aaric doesn’t doubt it. The tenderness of his cheek reminds him that she didn’t hesitate earlier.

“You listen to me, because I guess I wasn’t clear enough before,” she leans forward, her eyes blazing as she pulls him down by the collar so he’s inches from her face. “If you’re staying, I’m staying. You’re getting a dragon? I’ll get myself a damn dragon—”

“And what?!” He stops her, his voice gaining volume as the last of his patience wears thin, making him cling to desperation. “I jump, you jump, I die, you die? Is that what this is?” He shakes his head. Over his dead body would he let her die because of him. “I’m not going to let that happen, Y/N. You’re going home.”

“It’s not up to you,” she shakes her head before letting him go and stepping away as if he burned her. “You’re so concerned for me? Then stay alive. I’m not going anywhere.”

She tries to move past him to the door, but he crowds her against the wall, holding her hostage. Fury lights her eyes as she bears her teeth at him like a caged animal.

“Let me go, Cam.”

Aaric gives her a smirk as sharp as a blade. “Sorry, I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

She scoffs. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“And you’re being unnecessarily difficult.”

She glares up at him, and it’s only when the flames from a distant torch light her eyes that he softens his hold. He feels her chest brushing his, breathing heavily against him. Her skin pulses against his fingers as he holds her wrists to the wall. His thigh between hers to keep her from kicking.

This close, her scent is intoxicating, making his head swim with indecision. If this were an entirely different situation, he’d be trying to hold himself back from finally leaning down and capturing her soft lips with his—

He steps away, setting her free. Grinding his teeth, he watches her face contort from annoyance to confusion. He thanks every god he can think of for the darkness of the corridor.

“You can’t stay,” he chokes out. This plan went to hell, and now he has nothing left but to beg. “Please… Please don’t stay here.”

She tries to reclaim the space they lost by stepping forward, but he steps back. It’s better this way, or else he’ll never let her go.

“As long as you’re here, I’m staying.” Her voice is soft, calm. A part of him wishes she was yelling at him instead. It’d be easier that way.

Can’t she see how scared he is? How terrified he’s been since that deranged dragon tried to burn her to ash? He knows it’ll haunt him. He can’t live with himself if she ends up on that gods-forsaken death roll one morning.

Guilt creates a hole in his chest as she turns away, heading back to her dorm.

“Tell Dain if he’s going to take me back, I’m going down fighting. And if you ask him to do this for you ever again,” she gives him a cold, dead stare. “I’ll tell every single person who you are and find a way to ensure your father knows exactly where to find you.”

The threat stings, but he knew she’d use it. She held every card the second she stepped off the parapet. If only she knew how close he’d come to leaving when he saw tears in her eyes after the dragon’s fire.

“I can’t-“ he swallows, closing his eyes to compose himself. “I can’t watch you die.”

She doesn’t look back as she twists open the door. “Then don’t look.”

[luveline]

Jade I’ve entered my Fred Weasley era and a special friend owns me. Almost finished with my second read through and will probably immediately roll into my third. From the bottom of my heart, it hits different. I was wondering if you’d do one where ghostie gets overwhelmed in the shop and spontaneously decides to take a walk to clear her head. And Fred assumes she’s just stepping out for a moment to get air and promptly freaks out when he sees she’s gone? Doting, overprotective Fred makes me melt 🥹

The Weasley’s do three for two on Thursdays, drawing a large crowd without fail and despite a sore lack of their most common demographic. The school kids, often too overwhelmed with their schoolwork to mail in, and too far away to come in person, send their parental gophers with lists and good intent. 

“And, uh…  Genovian powder,” the white-haired woman says, peering at you through a pair of wonky glasses. Behind one green half moon and a purple star lense, spider-leg lashes blink slowly. 

“Peruvian?” you offer nervously. 

“No, don’t think so.” 

“We have Peruvian Darkness Powder, or there’s Calesthian Dragon Powder, but if there’s a Genovian one here I haven’t seen it,” you say with an apologetic frown. “But I can ask George.” 

“Who’s that?” 

“One of the Weasley’s. I’ll be right back, okay?” 

Working like this as someone to help and appease customers makes you cringe at yourself. Hearing how you talk to people. It’s not as though there’s shame in giving the customers patience or working, but there’s definitely something to be said about how fake it feels on you. Your poor attempts at being easy-going can make your chest ache in slow, overdue regret hours after you’ve turned the OPEN sign to CLOSED. You’re still worrying at your cheek when you find George where you’d suspected him, demonstrating firecracker poppers disguised as hair ties to a crowd of frowning parents. 

He thankfully abandons the task quickly when he notices you waiting. “What, ghost?” 

The nickname is said without thought. Anyone listening won’t get it, but it doesn’t matter. You feel a little bit better when he says it because getting it marked the first time anyone ever noticed you enough to care, and whenever they use it now, it’s reinforcement. Like a reminder that you’re their ghost, whatever that is (a too long definition). 

“Genovian powder?” you ask. 

“No, not us. Calesthian–”

“I asked her, she’s sure it was Genovian–”

“They’re all bloody sure until you show them the box–”

“I know, but I don’t think she’ll believe me–”

“She’ll bloody well believe me, then,” George says, giving your arm a shake before he rounds you. He spots the woman and her Technicolor glasses immediately, jumping into a spiel they give about the Darkness Powder as he goes. 

“Can you show us the Pygmies?” someone asks you. 

Pygmy puffs, fake love love potions that explode in your face when you try to use them, help with a return, bathroom break, tight jeans with a stiff zipper, bruise on your elbow from the back door, customer doesn’t know where the stairs are to get to the second floor, you’re on the second floor, a flash of lovely Fred by the till, his loving smile, encouraging, his huff and the hair on his forehead ruffling about. 

You nod toward the door. Fred nods back, hurried, It’s fine. 

The second you’re through the door you can take a breath. The further you get from the shop, the looser your chest feels. You hurry down the alley past the dragon popcorn machine and just keep walking. Some of the other shopkeepers are around and greet you quickly, but there’s barely anyone to see. Everyone must be in the Weasleys’. 

You spot a few sturdy looking boxes down the side of the Magician’s Tree pub and sit down hard. Your face feels greasy and itchy, your hands are aching from the Pygmies, a scratch running in a road line down your wrist. You feel at it with your thumb nail. It looks like you could’ve done it on purpose. 

What if Fred thinks you did it on purpose? 

You scratch at the thickest part, which isn’t any wider than the edge of a nail, not even deep enough to scab. It’s just two lines one after the other where whatever hurt you must’ve been jagged. It’s a scratch. It isn’t– you couldn’t have done it with intent, and Fred will know that. You picture his worrying and feel sick to your stomach suddenly, dropping your head back against the wall to take deep, cold breaths. He won’t mind the scratch, and he’ll believe you when you tell him it wasn’t you, but he’ll worry first. 

You aren’t sure where you are for a little while. Eyes slipped shut, someone else’s hand on the wheel. 

He’ll worry, you think insistently, standing up. 

You make your way back to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and shoulder open the door. 

The displays are a mess. A stack of potions that promise to turn your skin a modern, appealing green have come down. Ones come unstoppered, leaking a bright yellow liquid in an oval across the floor. You think vaguely that you should clean it and kneel beside it, pulling the slight of your wand from your back pocket. “Tergeo,” you whisper, curling your wrist. 

The potion disappears. 

Standing, you hold your arm wide and pull, thinking a meagre moving spell that deigns to work, upping the display and shuffling each potion back onto its shelves. 

You hadn’t thought you were gone so long as for it to be closing time, but perhaps it was nearly the end of the day. You give most things a clean with quick magic or elbow grease, closing the shutters and locking the door. You go up the staircase to the second level and do the same, before retreating back to the ground floor and heading past the tills to the stairs to the flat. Fred and George will be making dinner, or George might’ve gone home already, though he usually says bye first. Yesterday he stole a sideways hug and disappeared a half a step away from you, clothes whipping in his wake. Fred called him a prat, and a few seconds later George had apparated back, sure that Fred had said something cruel. I know you were, brother mine. Their freaky twin sense knows no bounds. 

The boys aren’t in the flat. The door to the bedroom is open wide and there’s an obvious lack of them —if Fred were here, you’d hear him. Humming or mumbling or making the bed. 

A slip of white fog slams its way into the room in a swoop from the kitchen, a hurried magpie curling around your shoulders to hold itself, flapping pearly wings an inch from your face. GHOST, it whispers, WHERE ARE YOU? MEET ME AT THE FLAT, NOW. 

You blink at it. “I’m here,” you say, startled again when it disappears in a burst like sand. 

A minute later and there are footsteps barrelling up the stairs. You let your wand fall back into your hand and point it at the entrance through doorways, not actually sure what you’d do if it were an intruder. 

The logical part of you knows that it’s Fred, but the relief doesn’t come until he’s opening the door and stopping short. “Oh,” he says, sounding as cracked in half as he can be while still physically whole. His lips part again as though he’s got more to say, but he crosses the flat to you in four big strides and wraps his arms around you instead. He squeezes you hard enough to make the bones in your back click. 

“What happened?” you ask worriedly. “Are you okay?” 

He says your name, again like he means to keep on. 

“What?” you ask. 

“Are you alright?” he asks, pulling away to take your face into cold hands, missing nearly all of his usual tenderness. This is the touch of lingering panic, slowly melding itself into love. “Are you? Where did you go?” 

“I went– just went past the Magic Tree. Did you close?” 

“When I couldn’t find you, yes, I closed. I looked up and down the alley twice, I didn’t see you.” 

“I– sorry–”

“No, it’s okay, it’s fine if you’re alright.” He gazes at you imploringly. “Are you?” 

“I don’t know,” you admit, a little diffident in the face of all this worry. You hadn’t thought of whether you were alright or not, you’d just walked off, and now you’re not sure you were fully you when you came back. The longer he holds you in his palms, the worse you feel. The pinch of his mouth brings tears to your eyes. 

“Are you hurt?” he asks quietly. 

Obviously you aren’t. You show him the scratch anyway. 

“Ow,” he murmurs, sympathetic as his hands fall from your face to hold your elbow and wrist instead. It seems deeper while he looks, longer, and it stings as he presses his thumb to an edge. “Shall I mend it?” 

“Yeah. Yes.” 

Fred pulls your arm to kiss the crook of your elbow, and then the cut is healing, from red to pink to purple to white, a second and then gone, his non-verbal cut-mending charm practised, perfect. Tomorrow, you won’t be able to see the scar. 

He smiles at you. “See that? Magic kiss.”

“That was good.” 

“They’re all like that, you know,” he says, which is as much warning as you want or need as he ducks in to kiss you. Kisses twice, a third time, nose tapped into yours and breath warm as it skims your lips, your Cupid’s bow, and your soft cheek. 

“Fred.”

“Ghost, I thought you were going to have a sit down outside of the shop like you do, but you– why’d you go all the way to Magic Tree?” 

“I didn’t mean to walk that far.” 

You can see his tongue behind his lips, running against the line of his teeth. He’s frowning without meaning to, deeply, his eyebrows drawn and his usually gentle eyes dark, like he’s angry, or he could be, but it never turns itself on you. 

“No?” Fred asks, his voice dropping in register, “Where’d you mean to go?”

“I didn’t mean to go anywhere.” 

“You don’t have to cry,” he says under his breath. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I’m not,” you say back, because you don’t want him to worry, because you’re not sure if you’re gonna cry or not and it wouldn’t matter if you did, only you don’t think you can stand the look on his face now, like you’ve accidentally hurt yourself and he feels sorry for you, like you could be sitting in the hospital wing at school right now waiting for a verdict. 

“What happened?” he asks. 

“The scratch?” 

“Everything, lovely.” 

“I cleaned up downstairs.” 

He nods. “Okay. Thank you.” 

Fred guides you wordlessly to the sofa and waits for you to sit before sitting right next to you, not a lick of space between you as he bunches an arm around you and presses your forehead to his mouth, but he doesn’t kiss it. He hugs you, occasionally adjusting against you like you’re slippery, and he doesn’t speak. 

“I scared you,” you croak. 

“Yeah, you did.” 

You feel a sob like a bubble in your throat. You squeeze your mouth shut and press your face into Fred’s shoulder, nonplussed by your own emotion, hating to make a show of things. Fred shushes you gently, already waiting to rub your back as the tears start, and when they won’t end. “It’s okay,” he says, twice, three times, until it’s one word. “S’okay, you’re okay, it’s alright, Y/N. It is.” 

You don’t make a sound that isn’t sucking in air or the worst kind of whine at the back of your throat. You don’t sob out loud. You don’t try to say sorry. 

Eventually, you scare Fred worse. “Baby,” he says into your forehead, more touch than sound, “you need to calm down. You’re gonna make yourself sick.” 

You nod emphatically and cling to him, worried he’ll move. He stays where he is, humming approvingly when your tears begin to slow. You must sniffle into his shoulder for a quarter of an hour without his complaint, an odd relief in his hand as he rubs circles against your upper back, like this is a good thing. A part of you thinks he must be furious and annoyed to have to do it, but the reality, and that you’re familiar with, is that Fred just loves you, so he doesn’t mind. 

You don’t say sorry. You won’t try. It’ll upset him more. 

“Alright?” he asks. 

“Yeah.” 

“Want a drink or something?” 

“No.” 

“Sure you’re okay?” 

“I don’t know what’s wrong.” 

“You don’t have to know,” he says, pulling away to rub a nice finger down your cheek. He dries salt tracks and carefully, carefully brushes the last of your tears from your eyelashes with a pale fingertips. His cheeks are blushed from your hugging. His freckles are like paint flecks wet against his skin. “We can have a cup of tea, or hot chocolate or coffee. I can make you cream of chicken, if you want. It’s about dinner time.” 

“I don’t want anything. Do you want something?” 

He smiles. Endeared. 

“No,” —he follows the bridge of your nose with a fingertip— “I don’t need anything.” 

“Okay,” you say, more to yourself than him, paying a great deal of interest to your lap. 

“Are you feeling at all better?” 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” 

He draws a line across your jaw, past your chin to shy of your ear. “It’s okay if you don’t feel better.”

“Do you want me to?” 

“Feel better? Of course I do.” 

You let yourself sink into his lap. Shuffling and collapsing, his hand falling to the small of your back.

Fred holds you for a long time. After, he makes dinner, and you get misty eyed at the table, and he can’t pretend he doesn’t notice, and you struggle through every bite and ask him if he was really, truly scared, and he says he was. He doesn't protest when you ask to go to bed while the sun is still up, only closes the curtains and casts a charm to keep the light out, only tucks you in, only rests his weight against you with his hand held lightly across the bottom of your face. You kiss his palm. He lets his index finger brush under your nose, like he’s looking for a seam.

[selein13]

Short story - shoot the messager

Macaque was pissed. Not his normal 'I am going to kick your ass' kind of pissed. No, this was a 'I will tear you apart, feel your remains to animals and trap your soul in a cursed object' level of pissed. The current source of his ire had decided it was a good idea to full-on traumatize Mk. Kid hadn't left his room in a week.

Now Mac was down for scaring the crap out of people, especially when they deserved it. Wukong was always on his list of definitely deserved it, but even then, there were still lines that shouldn't be crossed. Even with wukong.

The shadow had heard about what happened from Mei. The dragon-horse girl had been savvy enough to get her hands on his number, then proceeded to flood his phone with videos and memes. The only reason he hadn't blocked her for it was she also kept him updated on anything important. It was useful since the king was notoriously bad at keeping him in the loop.

After Mei had given him the heads up on what happened, plus the description of the demon responsible, he decided to take a more passive approach than how wukong was trying to deal with it.

Rampaging through the demon market was good for grabbing attention, not sourcing information.

This is how he had ended up at a demon bar that was popular with those who hated the king and everyone associated with him.

The demon who he had been looking for was rather easy to find, given how loud he was. He was on the opposing end of the bar counter, and the shadow was steadily getting more irritated as he waited for the right moment to confront the fool.

The demon had been boasting about how he had broken the monkey king's successor for over an hour before he started bragging about his plans for hurting the kid again. It was really starting to piss him off to an unreasonable level.

Finally, the warrior got his opening when the onlookers had gotten bored of demon's preening, filtering off to their preferred drinking groups.

It took barely any effort to slip behind his target. A quick grab of the scruff and a net of shadows against the demon's skin made the fool completely immobile without drawing too much attention.

"You leave him alone or I will rip you to pieces." The threat, quiet and menacing was whispered into the now terrified demon's ear.

"I-I don't understand..." Macaque was a little disappointed on how quickly the false Bravo began to melt. He had been hoping to have an excuse to break the arrogant demon. Oh well, he could use the coward's fear to confirm a suspicion.

"Oh, but I think you do. And you would do well to heed my warning because we both know that contrary to your boasting. You have neither the power or courage to pull off something like that without the help of a significantly bigger fish." The warrior grinned when the demon flinched at the mention help from another. It almost felt too easy.

Either way, it was time to wrap this up.

"I hope we have an understanding because I do believe in killing the messager. know why? Because it sends a message." Did he play up the theatrics? Absolutely. It always helped getting his point across with minimal effort. And now that the small fish had the piss taken out of him, Macaque could focus on finding the instigator without having to worry about another attack on mk any time soon.

Claws and magic released the whimpering mess from his clutches as he turned to leave. He sent Mei a text update as he passed through a shadow portal to the next step of his investigation.

[dragonmasterhiccup]

Her lips pursed together. “But Hiccup, everybody calls you the Dragon Master, it’s kinda what comes to mind when people first hear about you— I think of you as the Dragon Master, so…that might fit you better.”

Shaking her head, she shrugged, then frowned. “That’s not helpful, though. Your projects are useful, and they help us; my drawings just sit there and look cool…” Sighing, she added, “I wish I knew how to do more important stuff, stuff that could really help people…”

“It doesn’t have to be like that y’know; I could absolutely hate a place—“ Berk. She hadn’t even stepped foot there, but she knew that she hated it. “—And I’d still go there if you were there.”

She was just too scared of ending up alone again.

…

“You’re welcome.”

———

“How?! Hiccup, they could end up just wanting to kill me and not you— then what? You do exactly what you did before and tick everybody off by standing up for me and then you’re forced to leave again?!”

She shook her head, hand coming up to scratch at her arm. “No, no, I’m not going to make you leave if you don’t want to—“

Her body froze. A good thing? How in Thors name could this be good for her?

“I don’t care about that crap, Hiccup! I don’t need my bed to be warm, and I already have food. A-and seriously? Other kids? I don’t need to know more people; you’re more than enough!”

Her face fell. Danny hated when he was upset with her or disappointed in her. All she wanted was for him to feel like she was worth sticking around. For him to be proud of her.

“You know what? Never mind—“ She could get out of there some other way if she really had to. “—I’ll ride with you, okay? It’s not a big deal.”

As soon as he had his back turned to her, she let out a breath, her shoulders deflating. She hadn’t realized how tense she’d been.

———

Packing had been easy for her, as she really didn’t own much; she had her bedroll, her one change of clothes that barely even fit her anymore, her beyond boring book, and her stuffed dragon toy, which she ended up throwing away and leaving behind. After all, she was ten, that was way too old for that kind of stuff.

…

She already missed it.

———

That night, she didn’t sleep a wink, her mind racing with all the terrible, no-good, very bad possible outcomes of this.

They could both die, for starters. They could both kicked banished from ever coming back. Maybe everybody would love Hiccup and hate her. She knew she wasn’t very likable. She was weird, and she knew it.

Whatever happened, happened, she guessed.

———

That morning, Danny took the time to say goodbye to her favorite dragons, hugging them and petting them and making them know how loved they are by her.

She only cried a little bit.

Then, they ate their final breakfast on this island; bland, unseasoned fish. It tasted like home.

…

She didn’t talk much, only giving short-sentence or one-word replies. It made her feel bad, because she knew it made Hiccup worry. But what was there to say?

…

Without any help, she mounted onto Toothless’ saddle, this time behind Hiccup.

Letting a breath, she wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his back.

“‘Kay, let’s get going.”

"Don't sell yourself short," he told her, "you're only ten. We have limited resources here. There's so many helpful things that you could end up making that I never even thought of."

He didn't know what to say to that, no one had ever said anything remotely like that to him before. "...I'd do the same for you."

-------

Determination came across his features, his voice heavy with resolve. "Yes. But I wouldn't be forced to leave, Danny. We'd be out of there before they could lay a finger on you. I've left before, I can do it again."

He wouldn't get attached, he wouldn't let his guard down. They cast him out before, he knew they could do it again.

"Hey," he met her gaze, speaking earnestly, "it's you, me, and our dragons. Whatever happens, that's not changing. If we have to leave, then that's what we'll do. This island isn't going anywhere."

Straightening up, he ran a hand through his hair, beginning to pace. "We barely made it out of last winter, Danny! What if this year is worse?"

You're more than enough.

But he wasn't. There were so many things she needed to know that he couldn't teach her. Life with him wasn't bad per se, but the missions against hunters were dangerous at best. He'd already lost his leg, and bore many new scars from his altercations with them, he didn't want Danny to suffer the same injuries, especially not worse ones.

"All I'm asking is that you give this a chance. A fair chance. Nothing more, nothing less."

Hiccup wasn't serious about the disappointment, but he was surprised she relented so easily. "You don't, you don't have to, but I won't say no. Still, you should pick a dragon to come with us. It's a good idea."

----------

He had a bit more to pack than he expected.

His maps, bedroll, and a few other things he'd found and gathered over the years. Taking a last look, he saw Danny's old dragon toy cast aside. Picking it up, he remembered the day he gave it to her.

Not long after she came with him, it was clear that she was having frequent nightmares. He scrounged up the fabric and made it for her, stuffing it with dried grass.

He'll scare away the bad dreams, he told her, so long as you hold him tight.

He added it to his things, having a feeling that it should come with them.

-----------

That night, he had a restless sleep, tossing and turning, his leg aching.

What if he was making a mistake? What if they hated him even more now than they did back then?

But if he didn't go, he'd constantly be asking himself even more what ifs.

As much as he knew he needed to find out, he couldn't feel at ease.

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

He was up long before dawn, taking a walk.

The dragons would be fine without him, he knew that, but he would miss them. At least he'd have Toothless, as always.

Hiccup didn't talk much that morning, either, but he could tell something was off about Danny.

He knew her well enough to know that she had no desire to go. She made it pretty clear with her protests. But they may not be there very long, there was no guarantee what would happen.

Now, as she sat behind him, he took one more look at their camp. He would miss it, but they could always come back.

"Alright. Hold on tight."

Reaching a hand behind, he held her firmly at her waist as Toothless took off, and off to Berk they went.

------

Hiccup wasn't sure what he was feeling as Berk drew closer. There was a knot in his stomach, and his jaw was clenched, his whole body feeling tense with a mix of nerves, anger, and anticipation.

.....

"Night Fury!"

Stoick blinked in surprise before his voice boomed, "Hold your fire! If any of you so much as loose an arrow, you'll have me to deal with!"

The scouts looked at each other in shock. Since when did Stoick not want to kill a dragon, especially a Night Fury?

As the dragon drew closer, it became clear that it had a rider. Two, actually.

Stoick stood firm as the dragon landed, though the scouts backed away at the sight.

Hiccup swallowed hard, but held his father's gaze.

"Son."

"Dad."

The chief stepped closer, "I'm glad you're here. I didn't think you'd give me another chance, after our talk the other day."

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Hiccup's eyes were hard, his voice showing restraint, "this is only a trial. We can be gone in an instant, just like last time."

At the word 'we', Stoick peered around Hiccup to see the same girl from the markets. "Ah, I see. Well, you are both welcome to stay. Dragons as well, though it'd be best to keep away from our sheep and chickens."

Hiccup glanced around, not liking the amount of people watching. "Can we talk somewhere a little more... private?"

"Aye. This way."

-----

Walking into his childhood home was surreal. It looked very much the same as he remembered, but felt so much smaller.

Probably because he was a lot taller.

Stoick told them to wait as he went to the kitchen to fetch some food, thinking the two dragon riders might be hungry.

Hiccup knelt down, looking at Danny. Keeping his voice low, he asked her, "You holding up okay?"

[lillylux]

This is going to be a really long post about my recent studies with character design, proportions, and improving other skills.

These are some drawings from my studies that I discuss below

It started when I picked Dragon/Olivia's story back up. To give some context about this character, she's a character I made along with 11 others that matched with the Chinese zodiacs (as we all have at some point I'm sure). I initially gifted her and the rest of the characters to my friend, so she had some character to write for. I've since asked if I could work on her story again and we work together with the setting for story congruency.

This kinda takes me to my current studies which is that I want to make interesting characters with appeal. I came into Dragon's redesign with some new tips from youtube about art appeal, specifically: Appeal - The MAGIC Tool to Improve Your Characters After watching that, I'd come faced with a long problem I've had in my art which is proportions, the bane of all artist. I remembered a rule that I've always chosen not to listen to for god knows what reason, the rule of heads (9 heads is like the proportion of a persons body blah blah yall know this one). I'm more of a "just get good" kinda person and prefer not to measure things as I get lost in them later in the piece.

I tested it out here as like a side by side to see how I normally draw, from imagination, just raw dogging it, and then did another drawing trying to incorporate the measurements and I realized how much I sucked at drawing then.

I looped back around to a character that I've had for a long time, oldies are the goodies, Brook, who I always seemed to draw with a head slightly to big for his body. I think this was a crutch at some point, I think the design may have gave him an innocent look that I've always visualized. So I was having fun making him actually look like a 20 something year old then a teenager.

Eventually I circled back to Olivia and began working on her design with a little more confidence. When I initially made Dragon and all of the other zodiacs, I had big ideas of making their silhouettes easy to read and to show off their character.

My old crutch, as many share with me, was having different hair styles. You can see that between Jace and Brook who look very similar, but rock different hairstyles.

This was a bit ago trying to work on that problem, trying to distinguish them with their body types because the story kinda supports them looking the same. I decided to work with shape language to accomplish that.

At the same time as those drawings, I was making characters for my animatic called Unicorn Hunters (you can watch that there). Taking a break from that project, I drew those characters in an alternate universe where they're just alt kids.

Anyways, art is hard and I wanted to post this mainly for myself because I always forget the little steps like this that keeps my art in line.

[twinkuraba]

3, 4, 6, 7, 10, 29 and 30 for the art asks 💖

Ehehehe nice nice >:P This is gonna be a long one probably so prepare for rambling under the read more:

3: My obsession with anything high fantasy; I was always surrounded by dragons and mysticism when I was little (and my folks were always encouraging of my imaginative play, even when it involved their probably very breakable in the hands of a young child ornaments), so pretty much anything I do now I can't stop myself from adding a little magic to it, especially involving long, epic quests and old civilizations.

4: Character design. I like designing characters but deciding their looks and outfits and general appearance is always the hardest part especially when I don't have a particular aesthetic or idea I want to do with them.

(Phoenix and Lucius were easier to design for me bc I had a particular aesthetic/theme to base their appearances off, while a character like Conall or Serendel are harder because they don't really have a design category like that hjfdhj)

6: Oh lots of things, probably. I know I've started favouring chunky lineart instead of my old thin/fuzzy lines based off @yoshiyakiryu's art style, And my current anime-esque style is probably subconsciously drawing influence from any number of them I watched as a kid; Naruto, Bleach, Vampire Knight, Wolf's rain- who knows for sure jhfgdjh

To be honest, I don't really retrospect my style much so this question is hard for me to answer myself, would be interested in seeing what influences other folks can see in my art though :P

7: Anything involving physical mediums. Any sort of sculpting, smithing, embroidery, sewing, hacking ect. Not that I wouldn't give em a go if I could, I just don't have the space for that sort of thing at the moment, and I don't have the spatial awareness of how things look three dimensionally to do something like wood/stone carving jhdfghj

Tattoos are another one, I love the aesthetic of them and the skill behind them.

10: Swooshies and capes/cloaks. Folds are fun, easy way to make characters look epic (and a convenient excuse to hide parts you don't want to draw) :P

But recently I'm also going into my slut art era so lots of collars and earrings and other accessories with tight fitting cropped tops and short bottoms so ayyy

29: Paints and crayons; on one hand they're easy to use, but on the other I just don't really like that I can never get them to do what I want them to, so they're fun to work with but not something I feel drawn towards :V

30: Hah, honestly I think all my works get about the amount of attention I'm happy with for the 'reach' I have :P Most of it is fan art for a small fandom, or original art, and I'm a small-follower-amount account so I was never gonna get large numbers, so shrugging off that expectation has at least let me be happier with the attention my art does get.

Sure, it's normal to be a little bitter when your art doesn't get the attention you wish it would, or if you have other arty friends who get more, but I personally found constantly focusing only on what I wasn't getting instead of what I had managed was a big contributor to why I was so. Art blocked.

I'm not 100% there yet, but I've started getting ideas again that at least trigger a little bit of a spark (even if I don't end up doing anything with them jhsfhj), so it's baby steps :P

[fat-muffins]

Explanation and clearer images under cut!

First attack was for my best friend @vesselai! I wanted to take on something easy and fun to draw while also stepping out of my comfort zone (I have never watched IZ in my life) and get a feel for how AF worked!

Latest attack was for my friend DarlingJen whilst I was doing a Tarot theme for my attacks last year! I ended up getting burnt out unfortunately, but I was going through a small Spiderverse fixation and was excited to draw our sonas together!

My most time consuming and point-heavy attack was my Dutch Angel Dragon mass attack from Bloom vs Wither! I wanted to take in a big challenge while also having fun with it, and the background alone took me two hours to draw! I had to cram hard to finish it in time because I worked the last day of AF and wouldn’t be home in time to finish it before the fight ended- stayed up until 7 AM to get that piece done and I’m so proud of how it turned out!

And finally, my favorite attack! I had trouble narrowing it down, but ultimately I think it has to be the one I did for my friend @hallow-graves! I love the way I managed to get the lighting and I’m happy with the pose and movement in the piece.

Some of the other pieces I was tossing back and forth between for favorite were my attacks for nnmiss during Werewolf vs Vampire, NukeFur during Bloom vs Wither, and StormHeart413 during Steampunk vs Cyberpunk!

For nnmiss, this character was one of the first I’d attacked before and I meant to give more effort than I was able to, so I returned to him and gave it a little more oomf than the first time and I’m very happy with the result!

NukeFur’s is a very simple attack, but even with low spoons I’m still very happy with the emotion that I was still able to portray with the piece. I put all the effort into the character but still managed to make the background give the energy I wanted it to; suspenseful and dark.

And for StormHeart413, this was one of the first attacks me and my friend from middle school were able to reach out and reconnect to each other with. I was very happy to see them start using it as an icon both for profiles and on TH for the character, it felt like when I was a kid and my great grandmother would hole punch my drawings to keep them all in a binder. It felt warm and happy.

Hello Art Fighters, let's take a blast to the past! We created some templates for you to share your art journey through previous Art Fight attacks. Feel free to fill them out and tag us!

Transparent images can be found on our website at https://artfight.net/info/prompts.

We can't wait to see everyone's journey so far!

[serenespacesnsmiles]

11 Best Birthday Party Games for Kids

Is your child’s birthday coming up? Want to make it super fun, memorable, and filled with laughter? A well-planned birthday party is more than just cake and balloons — it’s about creating joyful memories. And the easiest way to do that? Fun birthday party games for kids!

From classic games like musical chairs and hot potato to creative activities like scavenger hunts and story time, we’ve curated a list of the 11 best birthday party games for kids.

Whether you’re planning an indoor birthday party games for kids or have a spacious backyard for outdoor games, this list includes kids’ birthday party games for all settings and age groups between 5 to 10 years.

 Classic Birthday Party Games for Kids

1. Musical Chairs

A classic and one of the most loved birthday party games for children.

How to Play:

Arrange chairs in a circle (1 less than the number of players).

Play music and have children walk around.

When the music stops, everyone finds a chair. The one left out is eliminated.

Continue until one winner remains.

Keywords used: musical chairs, fun party games for kids

2. Pin the Tail on the Donkey

Great for testing coordination and always full of laughs!

How to Play:

Blindfold the child and spin them once.

They try to pin a tail on a poster donkey.

The closest one wins.

Variation Tip: Customize with themes like unicorns, superheroes, or princesses!

3. Hot Potato

Fast-paced fun for indoor or backyard parties.

How to Play:

Kids sit in a circle and pass a soft toy (the “potato”) while music plays.

When music stops, whoever holds it is out.

Continue until one remains.

4. Simon Says

A game to test listening skills and focus.

How to Play:

One child plays “Simon” and gives commands.

The twist? Children only follow instructions starting with “Simon says…”

Anyone who follows wrongly is out!

 Creative Kids’ Birthday Party Activities

5. Scavenger Hunt

An exciting group game for birthday parties!

How to Play:

Hide clues or small items around the house or yard.

Kids team up to solve clues and win a prize.

Tip: Customize for age groups — simpler riddles for 5–6-year-olds, more steps for older kids.

6. Dumb Charades

A great indoor birthday party game.

How to Play:

Divide kids into two teams.

One child acts out a word or phrase silently.

The team guesses — most correct wins!

Keywords used: birthday game ideas for kids, group games for birthday parties

7. Pictionary

Art lovers will love this drawing game.

How to Play:

Kids draw an object or action, while their team tries to guess.

Use whiteboards or chart paper.

Variation: Use a Pictionary board or app for more challenge!

8. Story Time

Best game to spark creativity!

How to Play:

Start with a sentence like: “Once upon a time, a purple dragon…”

Each child adds one line to keep the story going.

Let their imaginations go wild!

 Outdoor Birthday Party Games

9. Sack Race

A lively and competitive game!

How to Play:

Each child stands inside a sack and hops to the finish line.

First one across wins.

Keywords used: outdoor games for kids party, easy birthday games for children

10. Three-Legged Race

Great for teamwork and laughs.

How to Play:

Tie one child’s right leg to their partner’s left.

They must run in sync to the finish line.

11. Obstacle Course

Turn your backyard into a challenge zone!

How to Play:

Set up cones, hoops, tunnels, and boxes to crawl through.

Kids race through the course in record time!

Final Tips for a Fun-Filled Party

Choose games based on the age and interest of the kids.

Pick 1–2 high-energy and 1–2 calm games to keep things balanced.

Be flexible — if a game doesn’t click, switch it up!

Offer small prizes or treats to keep the enthusiasm going.

 Conclusion

Games are the heartbeat of any children’s birthday party. From classic indoor games like musical chairs and Simon says to creative and outdoor activities, these party games will keep the little guests engaged, smiling, and full of joy.

So go ahead, plan your child’s special day with these fun party games for kids — and create magical memories that last a lifetime.

Original Blog Source:https://serenespacesnsmiles.com/11-best-birthday-party-games-for-kids/

[thedangelodelicacy]

Playing Minecraft with Mike Schmit

Guys this is more on the out-of-character side I really just wanted to make a silly little post about my husband and I was playing on a server last night so it just popped into my head and now we have this

Anyways onto the HC’s *•*

────────────────────────

• He was first introduced to it when all three of you (you, him, and Abby) were hanging out in the living room.

•as Abby’s babysitter you usually stayed after to cook dinner and clean up the house. It didn’t really bother you that Mike didn’t pay right away since you got to screw around as Abby wasn’t really a high maintenance kid to babysit.

•One day after The three of you ate dinner, you stuck around for the night.

•Abby was drawing, Mike was bored watching Tv and you were playing on your phone. You seemed so interested in your phone that he looked over at what you were doing on it. Once he saw you playing a game he wanted to ask about it:

•“What’s that?” “Minecraft” “mine what?” “Minecraft?!” You never played solo after that.

•Mike got the game for himself so when you’d come over you could both play and maybe have something to talk about. Abby saw you guys play one time and begged Mike to get it for her after you left. He gave in after some whining.

•The next time you came over you all loaded the game, found a village and, set up shop.

•You suggested renovating the village, which mike liked. Abby just stayed with you guys, being scared of the mobs and all.

•You started adventuring out to find more variety’s of wood and other ores in case you guys wanted to fight the ender dragon.

•Abby was the girl that looked for flowers to decorate the houses but eventually she started to adventure like you, you guys would go off on “missions” to find structures like the haunted manor or the underwater structure and take the loot.

•Mike would offer to come with you guys but Abby wouldn’t let him (gotta listen to the big boss ^.^) so he became the next flower boy. Mike tore down the houses and built better ones for the villagers littering his steps with as many types of closets he could find. He was also weirdly obsessed with lanterns so best believe they replaced all the villages light sources (goodbye torches!)

•Mikes “better houses” were a step up from the houses the villagers had already but he was trying his best. He made friends with the iron golem and took so many screenshots once he finally got the golem to hold a poppy flower.

•Sometimes when Abby is asleep you’d have some adventures of your own. The both of you snuggled up in bed just exploring in different worlds as to not mess up the OG one.

•In your own world you two *tried* to fight the Ender dragon, you got to the end and had good armor but both died to the void so you both went into creative mode and jumped it.

•y’all decided to just say you beat it fair and square. In that world you have pretty houses which Mike ended up making after watching some tutorials

•You guys have cats and dogs, Mike wanted dogs and you kind of wanted cats so you settled and got one of each.

•Once Mike finally finds the jungle biome he sneaks back to base with a few pandas to keep, despite you telling him that he had too many animals after you created the farm.

•Mike actually hates the wither skeletons. He’s okay with most mobs (he struggled to kill creepers his first few rounds so he lets you handle them. He comes around and Figure the strategy out.) but when you guys get to the Nether those skeletons just annoy him to death.

•He really liked the piglins, he liked how easy it was to be neutral with them and trade. His favorite mob he can befriend though is definitely dogs. (Honorable mentions to pandas)

────────────────────────

Thank you for enjoying my post have a fun day (or night idk where you are)

[shirecorn]

Hey I just wanted to thank you for that studying anatomy post. I'm trying to support my kid's art education as best I can but I am not, technically speaking, a good artist at all, so resources like what you have put together is incredibly helpful for our home ed. Anatomy is something they have been really wanting to learn lately and I think this is going to be very exciting for them!

(How I study Anatomy)

Studying Animals, creatures, and design

ILL DO ANYTHING FOR CHILDREN i think I took out the swears in that post? did I take out all the swears???

My blog in general is not safe for kiddos because I didn't want to cut out that part of my personality as an online persona, but individual posts can be!

Depending on their ages beware setting kids loose on my blog because I swear a lot, draw Sometimes Really Realistic Gore, body horror, and the occasional Fish Tiddies.

Art tips is usually ok tho I think?

I've been meaning to follow up on the reference gathering step. Showing how to get good reference is important because it impress the importance OF reference

Recommendations for further anatomy study!!!!!!

These were super important to me as a young artist, because "draw three circles and add stripes for a tiger!" were completely boring and taught me nothing. But these books were something else entirely.

I recommend buying most of these books rather than borrowing from a library, because it takes a long time to properly chew through them the first time, and there's always concepts that go over your head for a while until you're a stronger artist and can comprehend them.

As for buying books, please buy from a book merchant rather than Amazon if you can afford it. Amazon exploits their workers, including crew for their streaming shows, which are artists like me! Check used book sites like ebay and Thriftbooks for cheap prices if you need those.

Dragonart by Jessica Peffer and the sequel, Dragonart Evolution

She has multiple books for different level artists

This one is great for kids and it illustrates important concepts like anatomy, realism vs stylization, and teaches a ton of important art concepts. This is one of my foundation books as a young artist.

The believable anatomy here is what made me so anal about dragon wings having enough surface area and connecting down the the tail. I haven't read the sequel, but I imagine it's probably even better and higher quality than the first.

I was selftaught until I was 21, so by the time I realized how-to-draw books were a thing, it was hard to find one advanced enough for me.

Drawing Wildlife by J. C. Amberlin

This book is INTENSE, dude. Absolutely perfect for a more advanced artist. It talks about techniques to render fur, how muscles work, why deer are built like tables, etc. It is really intense so if you get it for a child or young teenager they may look at it and then put it aside for a couple years.

I cannot recommend this art enough for people who want to draw animals. it REALLY elevates your technique and skill.

Draw Horses by Lee Hammond

This is a really typical book. Very short, check out from the library type. It's easily interchanged with whatever other horse book is out there, but this is the only one I've read. It was not advanced enough for me after reading Amberlin, but it's a great introduction to the basics of form and shading, as all good art books should be.

Further Study:

Skulls!

As much study as I've done, nothing compared to the leap of improvement as when I started cleaning skulls. Let me tell you, as soon as those kiddos figure out that a jaw hinges behind the eye instead of opening off the bottom like a trap door, they will be unstoppable

Skulls are easy to acquire, actually. I linked to etsy where you can search for replica skulls at affordable prices. Most of the time when you search for replicas, you're get hundred dollar museum-quality pieces, and that's not what we need to learn to draw. As long as they are cast from real bone and have a jaw that separates, they will be useful.

Real skulls are, in my opinion, much better than the replicas, but you need to consider the source when buying. Most bones you can buy are sourced from hunting, fur farms, meat processing, or souvenir shops. You need to know what business you will be supporting with your purchase. All of mine were animals that I found dead, or were given to me by their owners after they died.

Having something you can hold in your hand is super valuable. You just don't get the same kind of understanding from photos.

Museums

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE TAKE YOUR KIDS TO MUSEUMS!!!!!

My parents suffered from Have-too-many-kids disease so I can count on one hand the number of zoos we went to, and I think we only went to One science museum. They didn't really care about art so I never went to an art museum until I was 23 and took myself. I had never seen an oil painting in real life before and I started crying right then and there. Please nurture their love of art with everything you have in you. My family didn't care about art and actively discouraged me from pursuing it, yet here I am. Can you imagine how powerful I would be if I had that backup my whole life?

Oh yeah and at science museums some (Like the cal academy of sciences) have sets of skulls, pelts, rocks, and whatever else that are specifically for kids to handle and touch! Ask if yours has any because when I asked I got access to a treasure trove and got to touch an otter skull!

Zoos!

Super important! Grab a sketchbook and go! Make sure everybody works super loose and doesn't fiddle too long or get frustrated. Living animals move, so trying to do something really detailed won't work, it's not like reffing off a photo!

My sketches are on the left, but I went searching for some looser sketches that are good for little hands. The artist talks about their trip.

Yay

That's all the images I'm allowed and all the ramble I've got left for tonight. I refuse to proofread please enjoy

[dragonmasterhiccup]

“Huh…” She obviously thought of Astrid like a sister, but she wasn’t aware that she fully reciprocated the feeling. “Well, that’s good to know I guess, that I’m helpful. I do feel bad for Astrid though, because by the Gods, some of those kids are beyond stupid, I don’t know how she does it.”

“Yeah, it must be pretty hard, huh? Being away from him more often… Well, think about like this; would you rather have him gone some of the time, or all of the time, for good? Because that would be worse, don’t you think?”

She shrugged, lowering her voice slightly as well. “In the end, it’s your heir, not anyone else’s, so you do whatever you want. I’m just worried how some of the more… old fashioned people of Berk would react to that. You know how they are, being Vikings n’ all that.”

She laughed. “She seems to be on you for everything recently, which is honestly pretty understandable, you’re very easy to criticize and ‘get on’ to,” she insulted, using air quotes.

She nodded back. “Yeah, that’s totally okay! You should let me try and cook, me and Mom have been doing it a lot more recently, and uh, let’s just say I’m a little better than she is, and I mean that in the nicest way possible.”

She was about to retort, maybe make a smug comment on how he was wrong, but she couldn’t find anything to say, because he was completely right. Instead, she ended up choking on her words for a few moments before letting out a sigh, nodding in defeat. “Nope, you uh, you’re actually right, for once…”

“Oh, yeah, sorry, I forgot about that. Hey, when do you think Zephyr will be able to ride dragons? I know it probably won’t be for a while, but do you maybe have some sort of, estimate…?”

She smiled. “Yeah, you’re right, you know, how could you? Leaving your own sister practically defenseless in battle? Tsk tsk, I expected more than this, instead I got a brother who doesn’t care about what happens to me in the slightest.” She let out a chuckle, shaking her head. “Sorry, sorry, I’m just kidding, but yeah, sounds good, do you want me to come over to your place tomorrow then?”

He just shrugged. "It's a mystery to us all, really."

Nodding solemnly, he agreed. "That would be awful...I'm just happy that Toothless is happy." He couldn't ignore the extra spring the Night Fury's had in his steps since they brought Luna back.

His eyes softened, and he smiled warmly at his sister. "Thanks for saying that. You know, I'm not too worried about it. That's years and years away. If they have a problem with it, they can go through me."

He scoffed. "What exactly do you mean by that? You make it sound as if I'm some... some human version of a mess, or something."

Chuckling, he nodded. "Well, how about this? We'll all take turns cooking. I've been working with Astrid, and she's gotten a little better at it, too." Her cooking went from inedible to barely edible, so it's progress, at least.

Thinking for a moment, he said, "Maybe when she's two or three. I need to wait until she can handle fast movement. She feels so fragile right now... probably because she is...but, why do you ask? You want to be there for her first flight?"

As they entered the stables, he rolled his eyes playfully as she teased him. "Oh, is that so? Oh, come on! You know me better than that!" He laughed, knowing she was joking, but grateful she pointed it out all the same. "Yeah, tomorrow is perfect. We'll get your measurements and start drawing up plans for your armor."

[ikeromantic]

In the Spotlight

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfiction, approx. 1700 words. This scene occurs after the events of the romantic epilogue and includes some of what happens in the part 2 introduction. Mostly fluff!

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Uncomfortable Questions

Kyubei bowed low and held the position. It wasn’t his first time to report to Nobunaga, but it was his first time to do so without explicit instructions from his lord. He was nervous, but it didn’t show. Kyubei could hold an icy composure as well as Akechi.

“Report.” Nobunaga’s tone was flat, hiding his own frustration.

Hideyoshi and Masamune weren’t trying to hide theirs. The one-eyed dragon was pacing and Toyotomi’s scowl could have peeled paint.

“There is no evidence,” Kyubei cleared his throat, “that the forces at Kasugayama are involved in the attacks on Azuchi. However -” he paused. This was the part that made him sweat. “The disappearance of Lord Akechi and the lady chatelaine coincide with the vanishing of their ninja, Sarutobi Sasuke.”

“I don’t believe it.” Masamune stopped, one hand dropping to his sword hilt. “There’s no way that ninja got the drop on Mitsuhide.”

Hideyoshi nodded. “Agreed. My guess is that they are working together.”

Kyubei interrupted. “I find that unlikely, my lord. At least, in the manner you suggest. If I may?”

Nobunaga indicated he should continue.

“My sources tell me Shingen Takeda is ill, and between the loss of his ally and his ninja, Kenshin is unstable. Seeking conflict within his own forces as well as outside. It is unlikely he is aiding Kasugayama. Though he must have known Sarutobi's absence might . . .” He frowned, wondering how much he should imply, what he could suggest.

Ieyasu saved him the need. “Mitsuhide was making plans for an extended absence. I think we should consider that he has left, with Sasuke, to visit the chatelaine’s homeland.”

Mitsunari nodded. “This would make sense. There could be something about the events of the night he disappeared that forced them to leave sooner than he expected.”

“There’s more to it, and if I know that snake -” Hideyoshi’s rant was cut short by Nobunaga’s raised hand.

“Enough. I did not wish to bare Akechi’s secrets, but Ieyasu is correct. Mitsuhide sought my permission to take the chatelaine to her home. He was uncertain how long they would be gone.”

The room exploded with sound, warlords talking over one another. Hideyoshi was ranting about safety and plots; Masamune demanded permission to seek them out. Keiji was laughing. Ieyasu and Mitsunari were relatively silent, waiting for the excitement to die down.

Nobunaga’s carnelian eyes quieted each man in turn.

When he could be heard again, Kyubei continued. “I made contact with Ranmaru. He is seeking out the forces responsible for the attack on Azuchi, along with other spies in our network.”

“Ranmaru? That boy is afraid of his own shadow. Completely unreliable,” Hideyoshi muttered, not unkindly. “He should be here.”

Kyubei couldn’t help the slight smile at that. He didn’t approve of Ranmaru’s tangled loyalties, but one could not argue with his ability to act a part. “Of course, my lord. But Ranmaru insisted. And he does have many friends to rely on for information.”

Ieyasu stood. “This doesn’t answer my questions though. Where is the chatelaine? Is she safe? When will she return? We all know Akechi has his . . . plans. I’m not worried about him. He’ll turn up when and where he wants to. But she’s -”

“You’re worried about her!” Mitsunari beamed. “I knew you were just trying to hide it when you told me-”

“Shut up.” Ieyasu glared. “I’m just . . . the enemy could use her against us. We need to know where she is.”

“Agreed,” Masamune spoke up. “I will put together a team. We’ll find her.”

“My lords, I am afraid she and Mitsuhide are beyond any team.” Kyubei sighed. “The greater concern is what this impacts and how it will be used against us. The Ikko Ikki are moving. The Mouri clan have resumed pirating, and we know it was Kichou that executed the attack on Azuchi. In addition, we have rumors the shogun in exile is drawing a new following.”

Mitsunari frowned. “Yes, I reviewed several shipment records and troop movements from old loyalist daimyo. It appears we are not done with the shogun as of yet.”

Kyubei bit his lip. The scribe they’d installed should have been satisfied to live in luxurious exile, but it seemed the old shogun’s loyalist stirred his greed. Or maybe they were using him as a puppet. He had no way to know, as the spies in Ashitaka’s court had all fallen silent.

Nounaga spoke again. “Hideyoshi, you and Keiji will pursue the Mouri. Masamune, I want you to make contact with Kasugayama. Offer a truce. See what they can offer up about their missing ninja. They may be willing to hunt down our enemies with us, as it does them no benefit to see this land descend into chaos.” His gaze fell on Ieyasu. “You will join Kyubei’s efforts to track down Mitsuhide and the chatelaine. Your research and his current knowledge will yield results.”

“May I assist Lord Tokugawa?” Mitsunari’s innocent smile could have been worn by an angel. He was completely oblivious to the sudden grimace on his friend’s face.

“You may, in your spare time. I need your mind fixed on calculating provisions, troop movements, bridges, and roads. There will be fighting soon.”

Mitsunari acquiesced with a bow.

Kyubei delivered the rest of his report, and then was dismissed. He went straight to the Akechi mansion and opened a bottle of sake. Alcohol was a vice he rarely indulged in, but today he felt like he needed it. He’d exposed some of his lord’s business without permission. He had no idea how or if this would impact Akechi’s plans. And now . . . he’d be working with Ieyasu. It would be difficult to keep the secrets he needed to keep.

He kept drinking until the room spun and the lights all wore halos. Kyubei might have kept it up, but he ran out of bottles and couldn’t make the walk to fetch more. Instead, he fell asleep, sprawled out on the floor of his lord’s office.

***

Mitsuhide felt a mix of relief and distress when his little one explained the plastic stick on the bathroom counter. It meant they were not having a child together. Not yet, at any rate. And this was good. He was in no position here to father a child. But . . .

The image of himself holding a child. His. Hers. His heart felt too big for his chest, thinking of what such a child would be like. His very own son or daughter. One with his love’s sweetness. His eyes. Her nose. His perception. It made him ache, as if he had an old bruise, a wound that hadn’t healed. Which was completely irrational.

He looked out the train window at the rapidly passing countryside. Trees. Hills. Houses. Different and not so different from the world he knew. He should be spending this time planning the next few days, not moping. Kitsunes did not mope.

“Are you ok? Are you nervous?” His little mouse put her hand on his leg, comforting.

“Yes and yes.” Mitsuhide turned his head to give her a sideways smile. “I have never had to meet the parents of my betrothed.” He had expected Nobunaga to marry a woman to him for political purpose. Some well-bred woman who knew how to run a house and had courtly manners. A woman he would never love, but could put up with, at a distance. Yet here he was.

She laughed. “It will be ok, really. I talked to okaasan and she is excited to meet you. She’s happy for us.”

“And you father?” Mitsuhide raised an eyebrow.

“I’m sure he’ll get used to the idea. He’s just . . . to him, I’m still a little kid. But I’m sure once he sees us together, he’ll come around.”

Mitsuhide was less certain about that. He’d known several fathers and they fell into two categories, most of the time. There were the men who could care less about their children beyond their use to the clan. And there were the men that treated their children as things of wonder. Not that they coddled them - but they cared. About their education, their work, their friends. He was sure his lover’s otousan fell into that second group.

The train stop came sooner than he might have liked. The two of them disembarked. There were only a handful of people getting off the train here, so it was easy to spot her parents.

They were dressed conservatively. Her father was a little shorter than Mitsuhide, and a little thicker around the middle. His greying hair was thin on top, and he wore glasses. Her mother was small and wore a smile he would have known anywhere.

The parents caught sight of them at about the same time Mitsuhide’s study of them finished.

“Otou-chan! Okaasan!” His little mouse flung herself across the platform, and was swept up in a hug from both sides. Tears ran down her face, and her cheeks were stretched in a wide smile.

Mitsuhide felt out of place in this moment of familial warmth. He had no such experience himself, and did not want to intrude either way. He stood quietly, holding their bags. Waiting as they exchanged hugs, kisses, and stammered apologies and explanations. As if they could make up for half a year apart in a few minutes.

Her father finally looked up and met Mitsuhide’s eyes. His were dark and suspicious. Protective. “You.”

His little one smacked his arm. “Be nice, papa. This is my fiancé, Mitsuhide. Mitsuhide, this is my father, Minoru, and my mother, Youko.”

Mitsuhide bowed low. “I am pleased to meet you both.”

Her father didn’t reply, but her mother did. “We are so glad to meet you too! It was such a surprise . . . our little girl . . . disappearing and then -”

“And then coming back with a weird boyfriend,” her father interrupted.

Oh yes. This was already going very well. Just as expected. Mitsuhide straightened and put on his best ‘trust me’ smile. “If there were any way we could have done it differently, I promise we would have. I hope we’ll be able to lay any worries you have to rest.”

She stepped over to his side and took his arm. “Yes, I plan on explaining everything.” His little mouse was the one to look nervous now. And no wonder. After much discussion, they’d decided on telling her family a version of the truth.

In fact, Sasuke and Miyake were supposed to come out the following day to provide backup evidence for their story. But even with that, they were asking her parents to accept a lot all at once. Mitsuhide did not see their chances of success as being very high, but for her, he would try anything.

Next: Bonding

[harringrooves]

Inspired by the #cherrylanechallenge day 1 prompt knife but this is not spooky at all so technically this is just a random little ficlet! AO3

The chair outside the principal's office is already taken when Billy gets there. He lets his eyes follow the trail from the clean, white sneakers up the impossibly long stretch of denim clad leg and even further upwards over the two toned striped polo shirt to the moles peeking out from just under the collar.

Steve Harrington glances up at him, then grimaces. Sighs.

"Jesus Christ," Harrington mutters.

"What are you doing here?" Billy grunts. There's no where left to sit, so he flung his jacket onto the linoleum and drops down onto it, back resting against the wall directly opposite Harrington.

Despite the distance of the entire width of the hallway between them, when Billy stretches his legs out the scuffed points of his boots almost touch the edge of Harrington's sneakers.

"Waiting for Mrs Reyes."

"Yeah, no shit."

That earns him a glare from Harrington. Billy's stomach turns a little at the disdain in Harrington's dark eyes, but it's the curiosity shining through that makes him squirm. Like an ant under a magnifying glass.

"Why're you here?"

Billy rolls his eyes, letting the familiar motion draw out the equally familiar sneer. "Same as you, dumbass."

Harrington huffs and turns away again as they both fall silent, glancing at the door every so often as the minutes tick by. It's not at all a comfortable silence. Harrington's not looking at Billy so Billy shouldn't be looking at him. But the walls are blank and the only other remotely interesting thing is the name plaque on the principal's door.

So Billy traces the letters dutifully, keeps going even when he gets nearer to the end of Reyes and stripes creep into the very edge of his vision. Even when he hears Harrington shift in the chair, moving his legs under him onto the seat then over the arms than back down to the floor. Even when Harrington asks, "You go crazy on some kid again?"

Billy goes round and round the shape of the capital R. "No. The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Harrington laughs. It's loud and braying, and not what Billy would've guessed King Steve's laugh would sound like. He imagined something smooth and dark, something that would exude effortless charm with an undertone of something mysteriously rich and out of reach.

It just sounds like a teenage guy laughing, if a teenage guy was also part donkey. Billy would find it funny, if Harrington wasn't laughing at him. "What?" he repeats harshly.

Harrington eventually quiets. "What do I mean? The night at the Byer's, you went like, fully psycho. Your eyes were fucking dead. Did you get like that again, is that why you're here?"

Finally, Billy tears his eyes away from the plaque and meets Harrington's head on. "No," Billy says firmly. "I didn't fucking- no."

Harrington shrugs. "Whatever. Wouldn't surprise me if you did, sooner or later."

That stings. In California he was good at skating and surfing and babysitting and he was top of his class in English and History. Even after she left everyone knew him as Rosaline's boy (never Neil's), with the blonde hair and the yellow surfboard and the white smile that was a little too charming for his own good. Here in Hawkins, he was the Hargrove kid, the one who fucked and ditched, the one who fought and drank.

Maybe Billy's fine with everyone else thinking that about him, but not Harrington. Billy won't let himself think about why, but he wants Harrington see him. To look at him and think he's better than that night.

"I got kicked out of shop class," Billy bites out quietly. Harrington blinks at him.

"You got in a fight in shop-"

"I didn't get in a fight, for fuck's sake!"

Harrington holds his hands up in mock placation, bobbing his head mockingly. "Alright, alright." He stretches his leg out and lazily nudges at Billy's foot. "What'd you do then?"

"Made a knife," Billy mumbles, eyes back on the plaque.

Harrington laughs again. "You what?"

"I made a-"

"A knife, yeah." Harrington cocks his head like a little dog, some of his fringe flopping into his eye. "You know that just makes you sound even crazier, right?"

Billy just shrugs and lets his head fall back against the wall. "Wasn't for me, it was s'posed to be a gift. For- for Max." Harrington freezes.

"You were gonna make Max a knife as a gift?" It sounds like Harrington's struggling with every implication of that sentence. That Billy would gift Max something. That a knife was an appropriate gift. That Billy would care enough about anything to create something hand made.

"Yeah." He can't help but let a little bit of defensiveness slip into his tone. Billy kicks Harrington's foot away, probably a bit harder than necessary. "It was a replica of that one her character has in that stupid game her nerd friends play. Demons in Dungeons, or whatever." Dungeons and Dragons. Billy's not that stupid, but he's also not that shameless to admit to knowing what it's called. "It was a full scaled up one, even got the pattern on the handle half done."

"That's- cool," Harrington says hesitantly. "Didn't know you cared, Hargrove."

"Shitbird's birthday soon. Thought she'd like it." Billy glances over to Harrington, who's watching him with narrowed eyes. Billy coughs, shifting his shoulders a little to roll off the weight of the scrutiny. "Doesn't matter, that fucker Morrison confiscated it anyway."

Silence falls again, still just as awkward as last time but lacking a large amount of the hostility. Harrington's still watching him. The plaque's lost it's draw and Billy resorts to tracing the seams of his jeans with a fingernail.

"I'm failing English," Harrington offers abruptly. Billy's head snaps up, but for the first time Harrington's looking away as he speaks. "That's why I'm here. They're not sure if I'm gonna graduate."

"Sucks," Billy says roughly. Harrington nods slowly.

"Yeah."

Billy swallows, fingers clenching into fists atop his thighs. "I could, uh, give you my notes."

"Why would I need your notes?"

"'Cause you're failing English." Billy doesn't mean to say it like Harrington's an idiot, but those big brown eyes are wide and confused, like he's never thought about actually asking for help. "And 'cause I'm acing it."

Harrington's nose wrinkles in obvious disbelief, but he doesn't challenge it. He just sighs and lets his head loll to the side, propped up by his fist. "Yeah. Whatever. I'll do anything, at this point."

Billy nods silently. Harrington opens his mouth again, but he's interrupted by the click of the office door finally opening. Mrs Reyes pokes her head out.

"Steve," she greets him warmly. Her eyes slide over to Billy on the floor and her lips thin ever so slightly. "William."

"Hi," Billy says as obnoxiously peppy as he can manage.

"I'll see to you in a minute, after I've spoken with Steve." And then Harrington steps through into the office and the door swings shut once again.

Billy could get up and sit in the now vacant chair, but he stays right where he is until it's his turn to be called in. Harrington looks at him as he passes him in the doorway, but it's obvious that he's a million miles away, frowning at Billy but his mind no doubt occupied by something else.

Mrs Reyes doesn't ask what happened, just gives him a Friday detention and a lecture on how badly his behaviour is going to affect his record and how that's such a shame given his academic achievements. Billy lets it wash over him, not bothering to really pay attention. He's heard it all before.

When school lets out and Billy makes his way out the Camaro, he almost trips over his feet at the sight of Steve Harrington leaning against his car, twirling a knife in his long fingers.

"Here," Harrington says as soon as Billy gets close enough, holding the knife out to him blade first. Billy takes it gingerly and slips it into his jacket pocket.

"How'd you get it back?"

Harrington's chest puffs up in some god awful display of smugness as he smirks at Billy. "Morrison leaves his office unlocked during lunch. Everyone knows, it's like the number one place to make out. I was in an out, the couple in there didn't even notice me."

"That's disgusting. But, thanks, I guess-"

"Don't." Harrington holds up a hand, wincing a little. "I didn't do it for you, I think Max will really like the gift so if anything, I did it for her. And consider this payment for the notes."

"Payment?" Billy's brow furrows. "I didn't ask you to pay me." But now that Harrington's mentioned it, he definitely should have. Harrington's rich, everyone knows that. Billy could've got an easy $100 or some of the good weed Tommy's always talking about Harrington having.

"And now you don't have to," Harrington says smugly. "I give you the knife, you give me the notes. I don't want you asking me a month down the track to give you like $80 or a bag of weed or whatever in return. So there's the knife, aaaaand we're even."

Billy glowers as Harrington grins smarmily at him. "Fine. We're even. Now fuck off, some of us got places to be."

Harrington dutifully pushes off the Camaro, walking backwards towards his own car a few rows over. "Cool. Give me the notes whenever this week."

Billy doesn't say bye, just gets in his car and drives off, studiously not watching the fading image of Steve Harrington in his rear view mirror.

...

Max loves the knife. She doesn't hug him, but she nudges his shoulder with hers and declares that she's going to tie it to her belt and carry it with her at all times from now on. Neil goes purple trying to hold back his commentary on just how ladylike and appropriate for a young woman that is. Billy gets a cuff to the back of the head later, but it's worth it.

Harrington does get to graduate. He leans over from his seat beside Billy's (alphabetical order) during the opening speech of the graduation ceremony and whispers closer than necessary into Billy's ear, "Thanks, man." He doesn't so much as glance at Billy for the rest of the three hour ceremony, or during the party later that night that goes until daybreak the next morning, but it's worth it.

Billy bides his time. He can handle one more summer if it means getting enough cash to be independent when he leaves for college in a few months. Neil sucks as much as always, and driving Max everywhere cuts into the hours he's able to put in at the pool, but when she drags him to the new mall after his shift and right into the blissfully cool ice cream shop, Steve Harrington's eyes catch tellingly on the bare skin between the bottom of Billy's crop top and his tiny, red shorts and it's so, so fucking worth it.

[abysscronica]

The astonishing world building of Hunter x Hunter and its problem with the 'show don't tell'

Alright guys. I binge-watched the 2011 Hunter x Hunter anime and I read all the 390 available chapters of the manga, so here comes my personal trash take on it. Please be aware that there might be some minor spoilers for the series.

Let's cut to the chase: overall, I really enjoyed the series, just as most people who get to experience it. There's a reason if HxH is so popular and Togashi is one of the most loved mangaka in Japan. But let's proceed step by step.

Like many shōnen of the 90s-00s, HxH starts off with a slow, introductory arc. You'll have to get through the first 10-15ish episodes before getting a glimpse of the bright originalities this series has to offer. It gradually gets better episode after episode, but it's in the third arc (Yorknew City) that HxH really starts shining. From that point on, it's simply great.

What is the biggest strength of this show? The astonishing world building and the totally unexpected twists and turns of the plot, something extremely rare in shōnen manga (believe me, I've read a lot of those).

Togashi outlined a world that has nothing to envy to MANY epic fantasy series. He's not afraid to go into geopolitics, laws, subcultures, history, professions and their related skills...

Every character has their own mentality, often tied to their personal background, which leads to complex and unique relationships between people. And you never, never know how the story might evolve.

Normally, shōnen arcs are pretty easy to predict, at least to their major plot points: there is a main villain that will face the protagonist, their second and third strongest allies, who will fight the second and third strongest associates of the main character, and so on. According to the premise of the arc, you can often guess what the focus of the climax will be. Except HxH doesn't play by these rules. A tertiary character that was barely introduced may take an unexpected decision that will sway the curse of the arc. A key character may fall much sooner than expected, maybe because they caught a disease. A strong villain may have a change of heart unrelated to the protagonist's actions. The protagonist may not even be part of the arc. An unannounced natural calamity may change the stage of the foreseen fight. Anything is possible in HxH, which makes this world feel awfully real. For that alone, you should watch the show.

But the manga also has some prominent issues. First of all, the main character, Gon, is one of the weakest shōnen protagonists I've ever come across.

This is surprising, considering that not only Togashi is more than capable of building amazing characters, but the main character of one of his early works, Yusuke from Yu Yu Hakusho, is carefully designed and full of subtle facets.

And yet Gon is... a rip-off of Goku, from the original Dragon Ball. Both in design and personality. I know that many won't agree, and that's why this is just my trash take, but I honestly don't understand why Togashi decided to go for such a flat, uninteresting protagonist for such a rich and complex story. Or maybe it's exactly because of it? Is Gon supposed to be a breath of fresh air as we try to navigate the complexity of the manga? I'm not sure, but as a results, Gon's parts account for the most boring parts of the series. Thankfully in HxH the protagonist is not remotely as prominent as in standard shōnen (he's not even present in the latest arc!).

This is opposed by a masterfully crafted antagonist, Hisoka.

The guy is terribly original and creepy. He's quite explicitly shown to draw sexual pleasure in grooming and then fighting his opponents. Even kids. This is sick af and very bold for this genre.

The deuteragonist (Killua), and other important characters such as Kurapika and the Phantom Troupe also make for amazing storylines.

The second major issue of HxH is intrinsically bound to its major strength.

While reading, it's possible you'll ask yourself a question: is there such a thing as too much world building?

My personal opinion is that no, there isn't, but it all depends on how the wb is delivered.

I'm a big fan of the 'show don't tell' concept, which is a way of delivering information (or even actions and introspection) without spelling it out for the reader/watcher.

I'll make a practical example utilizing two popular epic fantasy series, Lord of the Rings and A Song of Ice and Fire (Game of Thrones). They both have extensive and meticulous wb (LOTR probably more than ASOIAF), but they go about it in very different ways, at least in the books of the main series. Tolkien introduces a character, and then spends five pages listing their background, their ancestry, weapons of choice, major achievements, mentions in other books, etc. Martin introduces a character and he gives you the same information by disseminating them in the way they talk, how we see them fight, maybe a fleeting gaze they exchange with another character (which means that you'll have to read into things to infer stuff, and some other things are left to the interpretation of the reader). The latter approach is the show don't tell.

Anime and manga, being visual media, usually rely on this concept, some more than others. HxH gradually abandons it until it almost completely disappears. Here's an example in one of the recent manga chapters, so SPOILER. (you don't have to read, having a look at the page is enough):

This is... waaaaay too much for a manga that's already heavy in dialogue as it is. You would think that this is crucial to the plot but no, not really. This is the personal reasoning of a very secondary character that may never come into play. And this style is often used for battles too, which slows the action down and makes it often overly complicated. It's curious because this wasn't the case in Yu Yu Hakusho.

I don't know whether this tendency increased because of Togashi's poor health condition that forced him to take several long breaks, to the point we may never see the end of HxH. It's possible that he wasn't in shape to draw and switched to more text, I'm not sure.

Either way, I still enjoy HxH A LOT, I think Togashi is a great writer that certainly stands out compared to most of his colleagues, and I wish him the best. I hope he gets well enough to finish his opera, or at least to live his life peacefully. ���️

If you're still reading, thank you very much for indulging me and my stupid review! 😁 Now go read HxH, you won't regret it!

[alondradina]

AUgust day 2!

Prompt: Artist's muse

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairing: Solavallen, Lavellan/Solas

Rating: G

Modern day AU

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40756011

-

It was a beautiful day in the park. Sunny skies, fluffy clouds, and a breeze just strong enough to bring the lower 80's temps down to a comfortable level.

Unfortunately, that meant Ellana's lighting was unreliable and the pages in her sketchbook kept fluttering around. She'd drawn in worse conditions, of course, but it was just that little bit extra irritation on top of an already irritating day.

Tilting her head back in frustration, she was considering just calling the day a loss when he finally showed up. She didn't know his name, she only saw him at a carefully maintained distance, but the handsome elf was the reason she even came to this particular park.

His unusual features made him a treat to draw, and her art instructor gave Ellana a lot better feedback when she drew this guy rather than some random kid at the park.

He was tall for an elf, broad-shouldered, with a strong jawline and a pouty lower lip. She'd never gotten close enough to see any specific detail on eye color aside from "light," but it was easy to draw attention away from that by emphasizing his sharp, beaky nose and the prominent scar over his left eyebrow.

When Ellana had first sketched him, she had thought drawing a bald head like his would be easier than hair. That was a lie. Getting the exact contours and soft wrinkles took a lot of work to make realistic, and not like she'd been lazy and plopped a bald cap on him.

Today he was conveniently setting up underneath a tree directly across from her. Spreading a dull gray blanket over the lumpy ground, he pulled a book out of his bag and lay down on his stomach facing her. He left his legs up in the air, ankles crossed, and she found it strangely adorable.

Some time passed before Ellana realized that she was being watched. Glancing up from her sketchbook, she made eye contact with him. He was staring directly at her. Smiling pleasantly, he resumed reading. She didn't trust it, though.

Taking tiny peeks up from the drawing she was no longer working on, Ellana caught him looking at her more than his book. He wasn't even turning the pages anymore. She had definitely been caught.

There was no way she could draw the stranger with him aware of her like this. Sighing, she finally gave up on the day and started packing her things up. A charcoal pencil rolled out of her bag while she was stuffing the sketchbook in. By the time she had finished wrangling that and finally looked for the pencil, it was being held out to her.

The elf smiled, dove gray eyes crinkling at the corners. "Hello. I believe this is yours."

"Hi, and thanks," she mumbled, accepting the pencil and carelessly tossing it into her bag instead of putting it into its pouch. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she smiled tightly. "Have a nice day."

"Pardon me," he said, stepping in her way, with his hands raised in a placating manner, "My name is Solas. I recently started coming to this park, and noticed that you are also always on your own."

"Yeah?"

He ran a hand down the back of his head abruptly and moved back out of her way. "If you should ever want company, I would enjoy getting to know you."

"I- uh-" Ellana could feel her face flushing, and was gratified to see the tinge of pink across his cheeks as well.

"If, of course, you are here alone because that's how you prefer to be, then feel free to ignore my invitation. I will not be offended. I just thought you might, perhaps, be interested, since you always set up near wherever I sit."

"Oh. You, uh- noticed that, huh?"

"Yes." Solas grinned, eyes sparkling with hints of purple in the sudden direct sunlight. "You would not make a very good spy, though I doubt that was your intention."

"Uh, no. Not at all the intention," she said, feeling like a complete idiot. "I've gotta get home now, but I'll keep your offer in mind."

"Fair enough. Though…"

"Though what?"

"What are my chances of seeing what you have been drawing?"

"Slim," Ellana muttered, pushing past. She stopped a few feet away, though, and smiled back at him. "Though not non-existent."

Solas chuckled. "Another day then?"

"Sure," she said, sharing a smile with him before heading for the bus stop. Peeking over her shoulder, Ellana was amused to find him still standing there; watching her go. Maybe getting to sketch him up close would be worth letting him watch her work? He had freckles. She hadn't really drawn freckles before.

[cluecrue]

the crossover no one asked for: the hardy boys in hawkins!

After the events of the third season of stranger things--after the string of mysterious deaths, government coverups, and the “fire” at starcourt mall--ATAC took great interest in Hawkins, Indiana, and sent their top two young agents to investigate the goings on of the previously quiet little town.

Frank and Joe, operating under the new identities of Frank and Joe Johnson, arrive in Hawkins two weeks before school is set to begin with their “parents,” two undercover ATAC handlers posing as factory workers. They get to work immediately, trying to make the most of their very limited summer free time to get as much information as they can.

They eventually zero in on Dustin, Lucas, Mike, and Max as persons of interest after rumor after rumor kept mentioning them, their families, and old friends who’d moved away. They also manage to plant bugs in and around the sheriff’s office after a staged drunk and disorderly arrest involving their “father.”

[ SPOILERS FOR S4 AFTER THE BREAK ]

It is around this time that Frank notices the basketball team captain’s girlfriend, Chrissy, is acting somewhat strangely. Jason, however, is far too wrapped up in his team’s potential success and his idealization of the relationship to notice that anything is amiss. So Frank takes it upon himself to do what he can to keep an eye on here as another person of interest. Though it’s hard to say what it is for sure that he’s looking for.

She meets with the school counselor on a regular schedule, but so do a whole bunch of other students, which is only fair knowing what the town as a whole has been through in recent years. But it’s still something that holds Frank’s attention; something that has him thinking about raiding the counselor's files should he be able to get in there alone.

Though with her seeing so many students every day, it’s hard to imagine getting the timing right. And Frank never gets the chance to enact his plan to break in after school hours to do so. Not while Chrissy is alive, anyway.

The night of the championship game, Frank notices–again–how lackluster the cheerleader is. She goes along with the routine, matching the others step for step, but with no passion; with a seemingly bone deep fatigue. And even Jason’s infrequent attempts to bring a smile to her face from the court do little to liven her up.

With his head elsewhere, Frank is an easy target, and a player from the opposing team fouls him, effectively ending his time on the court with a minor injury. It’s disappointing from the perspective of the new kid who’d found something of a family in the team he’d been accepted into, but Frank can’t afford to mind too terribly. And he keeps as close an eye on Chrissy as he can without drawing her–or anyone else’s attention, unable to shake the grave feeling growing in his core.

Unable to get out of the afterparty without raising a few eyebrows, Frank had pleaded with Joe–who’d just finished a game of Dungeons & Dragons as a member of the Hellfire Club–to follow Chrissy after the big game to Eddie Munson’s trailer. Joe had thought little of it, and had nearly written the whole thing off as a simple drug deal (something illegal, yes, but not at the top of his priorities while in Hawkins) or a hookup, and he’d nearly left the scene. But what had occured next shook him to the core.

Joe had creeped closer to the trailer, ready to peek in and get visual confirmation that nothing of ATAC’s primary concern was happening inside. When Chrissy darted suddenly to the window to draw the curtains, he thought he’d been caught, and he’d dropped flat to his chest in the dirt to army crawl away. But he didn’t get far before hearing Eddie's frantic voice calling out Chrissy's name. Joe had heard that tone before–so many times before–but it still chilled the blood in his veins.

Something was wrong. Frank had been right. But about what?

Having ridden to the trailer park on his bike, Joe is not prepared to give chase to someone driving as erratically as Eddie Munson. Instead, he pulls himself up off the ground, tries to steady himself by pulling his ATAC-issued stun gun out of his bag, and quietly shoves the door open.

The image he was met with is forever seared into his mind.

Stomach and knees weak, Joe exchanges his stun gun for his special issue camera, and he snaps as many pictures of the scene as he possibly can.

Once he’s home, he hands off the photographs to his handlers and has them arrange for Mr. Munson to head back to his home early–his machine breaking down at the plant–to make the discovery himself, kickstarting the official police investigation. Deeply affected, Joe does not verbalize what he’d seen to Frank immediately, and he just directs him to the dedicated caseroom where they’d filed the photos.

It takes him a good few hours to be able to walk his brother through everything after that. And Frank wars with himself in the aftermath, wondering if he should pull himself and his brother off the case. Neither of them are particularly squeamish despite their age; their intensive training had beaten that weakness out of them. But nothing had prepared them for this.

Ultimately, after a sit down with Joe in the relative privacy of their shared bedroom, the pair come to the conclusion that helping solve the many mysteries of Hawkins would be the only way to move forward. The only way to heal. They could not leave these people behind knowing that Chrissy’s fate could befall the rest of the town.

And as the bodies of the young people keep piling up, they know they had to work harder, and faster. Even if it means breaking their cover.

MISC INFO:

The Hardys are both high school aged in this AU, and as such, I have chosen new faceclaims for them. With Frank, I’m using Rohan Campbell’s appearance in Hulu’s The Hardy Boys (which is still not my main canon* but c’mon, how could I not?), and for Joe, I’m using early!Skam era Tjarei Sandvik Moe. 

* Among other things, I do not recognize the giant age gap between the brothers in Hulu’s adaptation, and it will not be translating to this AU despite my use of Rohan as Frank. They are just under two years apart.

More coming soon? Maybe.