#I usually go over them once or twice before posting my usual ‘sketches’

[vimse]

Aahh FREE!! Yes you may 🧡🧡🧡 Thank you. This is so nice ugghhhhghgh (positive). I do believe it takes a certain patience and gentleness to coax out the vulnerable side of him, of which the reader did splendidly in this fic. And hey I think I get it; it hurts to see him, because we are then reminded that he is gone. I hope this feeling will pass for you one day, because I really do love the way you write him 🧡 until then, here’s a little sketch of a scene that really sparked the dopaminergic neurons:

Okay I have a request 😌

"someone's hair ending up getting caught in the others glasses/jewelry" with Tech ❤️

Hah! This one is a twofer! Requested by you as well as @littlemissmanga. PLUS, adorable reblog divider artwork down below by @vimse!

Tech x GN!Reader Word Count: 1.6k

Tech’s breath caught in his throat. He swallowed hard, furrowing his brow and analyzing the components of the current situation. You’d been working together for quite a while now, and it had been increasingly difficult for him to compartmentalize or deny the feelings you created simply with your proximity, your thoughts, and your humor. Now, crammed in the maintenance corridor with barely a few inches between you, he was nearly overcome with the rush of sensations that were occurring. 

Your face was scrunched in your look of intense focus that he’d noted as remarkably endearing. The wires and conduits normally held his full attention, but as he stood in the narrow space with his shoulder brushing against yours, he was struggling to focus on the task at hand. There was a light fragrance that he could just barely catch a whiff of, and it was as alluring as it was pleasant. The sound of your muttering gave him a warm and fuzzy feeling in his chest, and as a small shower of sparks cascaded from your soldering hands, he felt the same in his stomach. 

Pausing in your work, you lifted the face mask above your head, regarding him with fond curiosity. His owlish eyes seemed even larger than normal, and he had been uncharacteristically quiet this time around. You were slightly concerned, and also somewhat humored as you realized you honestly missed his steady stream of information shared while working, whether it pertained to the current assignment or not. 

“Everything alright?” you asked, shifting slightly to ease the soreness where one durasteel panel had been digging into your shoulder as you’d hunched over the circuitry. His eyes flitted to yours before returning to the wires, although they didn’t seem to be focused. 

“Ah… yes,” Tech said after a pause, clearing his throat and pointing vaguely at the work area. “The adjustments so far appear to have been in order, and the final few steps shall complete it satisfactorily.” 

You smiled, tilting your head but accidentally banging the bulky face cover into the panel. You pulled it off your head for a moment, sliding your arm down the narrow space and dropping it near your feet. “I meant with you,” you clarified, reaching out to touch his arm. He wasn’t watching, and he visibly jumped at the touch, causing you to pull your hand back apologetically. You hadn’t complained when he insisted on joining you for the repairs, and the fact that he’d foregone his full armor kit in favor of his blacks had been quite the perk. It made it easier for you to steal glances at his toned physique from behind the dark lens of your protective gear, and the “accidental” brushes against one another felt ten times more enthralling without the bulky plastoid between you. 

“I am also in satisfactory working order,” he replied pertly, and you chuckled at the quick reply. 

“You’re unusually quiet,” you pointed out. “It feels weird without your informational accompaniment.”

“Apologies,” Tech answered, still refusing to meet your gaze. “A numerous variety of concerns are vying for my attention and while I am able to entertain many simultaneously, there appear to be significantly more than usual.” 

“What’s on your mind?” you asked, squeezing yourself a little closer. You loved the chance to hear him open up a little. He spoke often of anything and everything in the galaxy, but spoke little of his internal world. When he did let you in, it was enthralling and enchanting, always leaving you wanting more. But you didn’t want to press, so you waited and watched for the occasions where he was willing to respond to your invitation to vulnerability. 

“I have no wish to burden you as well.”

“Tech,” you said softly, touching his arm again but leaving your hand on it this time. His golden eyes finally lifted to yours, sending a thrill down your spine. His mouth was in a thin line as you continued, “It’s not a burden… I really enjoy hearing your thoughts.” You were always soft with him, but something about this sudden fragility made you want to cup his face in your hands and whisper affirmation and affection. You’d long since stuffed down your little crush on him, realizing it wasn’t something he would ever reciprocate and therefore would only lead to disappointment. But you still took whatever you could get, relishing any sense of closeness with the intelligent engineer. 

“While I am appreciative of your desire to be supportive and attentive,” he began, awkwardly fidgeting with his hands at his sides, “I would prefer to have them a bit more organized before sharing.”

Now you were really curious. And equally obligated to respect his privacy and wishes. But somehow it made your heart yearn even more. Whatever this was, this moment of being suddenly off-balance, it felt like the space between you was electrically charged… And the magnetic pull you felt toward him was amplified beyond anything you’d felt before. 

“I understand,” you said, idly brushing your thumb back and forth across his forearm as you looked at his gloved hands. You edged a little closer, drawn in by the way he studied you with a new curiosity, as though there were a new facet he’d just discovered that he was eager to explore. He was simultaneously alluring and cautious, and you were thoroughly hooked. “Does this bother you?” you asked, nodding toward your hand on his arm. 

“No.”

A small smile ghosted across your face and you hummed contentedly in response. An invisible force was pushing you, encouraging you on, and you looked back up to his face, turning slightly in the narrow corridor to face him fully. Clearly and slowly, so he could stop you at any moment, you lifted your other hand to his cheek, trying to steady your shaking fingers as you brushed the backs of them across it before opening them to stroke it with your thumb. He was frozen in place, eyes now moving rapidly from yours to the ground to the wires to anything and everything else he could spot. 

“Does this?” you whispered, irresistibly leaning in a little closer. 

“No,” he breathed, closing his eyes in an attempt to focus his swirling mind. It was a shockingly new sensation that felt like it deserved significant time and attention to process appropriately, and yet he found himself simply wanting to commit it all to memory, to be fully present and soak it all up. The vulnerability on his dashing features made your heart swell in your chest, and you continued on, propelled by the momentum and the thrill of it all. 

You left your hand on his cheek, breathing through your mouth as you tilted your head and lightly rested your forehead on his. His sharp inhale was the only response, and he left his eyes closed. It hit you like a ton of bricks suddenly – he trusted you. For someone who always had as complete an understanding of any situation as could be attained, he was wildly out of his element here. Yet he wasn’t frantically searching for the right answer or trying to escape, and you were thoroughly enamored. 

He kissed you. 

Tingles washed over you from head to toe and it took you a second to realize what was happening. With a quick tip of his chin, his lips had met yours, pressing gently and precariously. You snaked an arm around his waist, lightly resting it on his hips, and snuggled a little closer, never wanting it to end. You were both uncomfortably cramped, shifting around each other in attempts to get arms and legs more comfortably nestled together, but it was fruitless. 

When he finally did pull away, taking an immediate deep breath, your absolute bliss was interrupted by a sharp tug on your head. You gasped as he made his own sound of surprised distaste, and you peered through your hair to see his goggles crooked on his face. He was trying to get his arms up to his own face, impeded by both your body and the wiring panels, and you unsuccessfully tried to suppress a chuckle as you realized what was going on. The small instrument on the side of his goggles had somehow snagged a decently-sized chunk of your hair, and the slightest of motions the two of you had made together had thoroughly tangled them together.

“Oh my gosh,” you laughed, flushed with excitement and embarrassment and everything else all at once. “Sorry… Here, let me get my…” you drifted off, trying to get your own hands to your head for an assist. Somehow that made things worse, and you accidentally smacked his wrist against his goggles, pushing them further to the side and jabbing them into his nose. 

“This is not ideal,” Tech muttered, attempting to unwind the hairs warped around the tiny space between the goggle strap and the recorder. His fruitless endeavor finally led him to pull the goggles off completely, giving you the freedom to stand up straight again. You rubbed the back of your neck, heart still fluttering in your chest as you smiled at his peevish squint. 

“Not ideal, no,” you agreed, reaching a hand over his to free the goggles from your hair. “But certainly memorable.” 

“I posit that it would have been memorable with or without the unnecessarily distracting interruption,” he said, taking his goggles from your outstretched hand and pulling them back into place. As he blinked at you with a mixture of embarrassment and uncertainty, you diffused the situation with a comical little eyebrow waggle. 

“Why don’t we test that theory?”

[alsoanyways]

@transgender-scout @1ight wait fuck now i have to compile them okay okay okay i have a feeling this is gonna get long so I'm gonna put it under a cut haha but for real thank you for asking!!

First things first! This is how I imagine the flock is able to disguise themselves. There's no going undercover at an actual school for them, but I don't think anyone's looking twice at a bulky coat, especially if it's set in the future. Not too far in the future though, still in the 21st century. I have no ideas for a plot restructuring or anything, I never read past Nevermore and I barely remember anything past the fourth book, so most of my headcanons are character dynamics and such. I do have some that aren't focused on the flock but not many. Anyways.

(also idk if most of this can even be considered headcanon bc its basically fanfic at this point)

A couple things I should've added to the design post are Toto's Total’s nonexistence (I'm sorry if you like him but I do not lmao) and the fact that their hair is feathers. Like those very fine and very long feathers that roosters get. The flock also doesn't develop superpowers.

In my version of things, there's a small town close-ish to the E shaped house. Far enough that no one in town is gonna drop by for a visit, but close enough to fly down to for some groceries, which they'd do after Jeb left and until the money was gone. I think he would've taught them how to forage for things and that's how they get by since then.

Max (21) isn't The Leader TM either, I think leadership is shared more with Fang/Friday and Iggy. She likes volleyball and usually the one to go foraging. She's never thought about it but if she did, she'd probably consider herself agender.

Fang/Friday (22) gets his name from a Friday the 13th DVD cover, Jeb thinks he wants to be called Jason when he first points to it. He used to help Nudge/Dora and Angel with their hair when they were little and still does occasionally. He likes to draw and he's the go-to when someone needs to be comforted. There's no way in hell I would let him be anything less than bisexual.

Iggy (20) is the one that probably hears Friday's voice the most. He was also taught braille and Jeb got them a labeling machine. He's still the best cook and he's very protective over the vinyls/tapes/cds in the house. He mourns the loss of them when they have to flee the house, but he is excited to finally have access to new music. He's also gay. Because I said so.

Nudge/Dora (17) still wishes she could live a normal life, but has accepted that it's just not a possibility. She clings to "Dorothy" when she learns it. Being talkative and into fashion are still part of her character, but now she also loves bugs. She tags along when Max goes foraging so she can try and get pictures of any new bugs she hasn't seen before. Friday often gets to hear which bugs and what they were doing when they're sketching together.

Gazzy/Gizmo (14) gets his name when he watches the Gremlins movie for two months straight and starts mimicking the mogwai noises. He almost kills everyone when he mixes a couple cleaners from under the kitchen sink. He's quickly enamored with the chemistry books he's given afterwards. Like any other teenage boy, he likes video games and has too much energy for his own good. Max offers to race him when he's particularly amped.

Angel (11) is the only one out of the group that wasn't experimented on and she doesn't get the protectiveness or why they never go anywhere. She likes sitcoms and never refuses an offer to forage with Max. She also took a liking to helping Iggy cook things. She was very quick to tell people she wasn't a boy once she had the vocabulary.

Ari (15) has chronic pain. Being turned to goo and rebuilt into something different will do that to you. It doesn't get better the second time. Nor the third. He used to live in the E shaped house, before Jeb brought Gizmo, back when he was a regular kid. He's always liked animals, caring for them. He wanted to be a farmer or something when he grew up. After he joins the flock, he and Gizmo are fast friends. (Watching him and Gizmo dick around is what makes Friday realize that he really is just a kid.)

Maya/Em (21, kinda) my identity issues queen!! Cloning keeps the original memories intact and then they were further messed with to ensure her allegiance. She has a hard time coming to terms with that, with not being Max, not being who she thought she was. Her friends aren't her friends, she didn't watch Gizmo and Angel grow up, she didn't go to Friday after another nightmare, or call Dora to come catch a spider. That wasn't her. Having time away from them before she joins the flock helps. She renames herself Em during that time, distinct enough from Max but not removed from it completely. She learns that she likes cooking and she discovers cheerleading. She thinks she'd like that if she got the chance to participate. She's also aroace. She wants nothing to do with any of that.

Dylan (21) sticks closest to Em, but he eventually grows close to Iggy as well. They share a soaring/gliding wing shape and Iggy is grateful to have someone who can fly as long as he can (recreational flying is always cut short in his opinion, because the others have to work harder to stay airborne and get tired). Dylan likes to tinker around with motors and mechanisms, trying to get them to work again or building them from the ground up. Not that he has an abundance of opportunities to do that, but being able to fix a busted car comes in handy. He's one of them gays that can drive.

Lastly, I do have ideas on Erasers and different classes of them and their usages but jesus christ this did in fact get very long and I need to go eat something lmao so that'll have to be a separate post for another time.

[mintaka14]

WIP Wednesday (well, it was Wednesday when I was thinking 'I really should post something', so that counts, doesn't it?) 4 April 2024

This is a bit of the ML Lukanette hanahaki fic I've been working on (in between working on everything else). It's a little more angsty than my usual fare, but nobody dies, I promise! So, here... have a bit of Lily White and Blood Red:

Marinette couldn’t tell Alya that the thought of the Liberty was the only thing that had kept her going all day, through the attack of hanahaki that had left her wrung out, and the exhausting tedium of the afternoon’s maths class. It was all that was keeping her upright now.

She could breathe easier on the Liberty.

For such a chaotic, noisy place, it never failed to amaze Marinette how restful it felt to settle on the boxes haphazardly stacked all over the deck, while the band ran through their songs or argued amiably about instrumentation. They all seemed to take it for granted that she was there and a part of it all, and they were all focused on the music, and not on Marinette’s failing love life.

And down below deck, she could retreat to Luka’s bedroom whenever it all got a bit much. She could listen to the sound of the drums and bass rumbling through the hull of the boat as she curled up on his bed while she sketched. The last time she’d apologised for taking over his space, Luka had just given her that easy, sweet smile of his and told her she was welcome to it any time.

That was where he found her when the rehearsal eventually wrapped up and gave way to the muffled sound of talk and the occasional laugh from up on deck. Marinette heard the steady squeak as someone came down the galley stairs from above, and Luka paused in the doorway of his bedroom, his guitar in his hand.

“Hey, melody,” he said, and she gave him as much of a smile as she could muster as he came in and stretched out on the other end of his bed, his back propped up against the bulkhead. “Will it disturb you if I play?”

She didn’t bother to argue that it was his room – she was the interloper here – they’d had that discussion before. She just shook her head, and turned her attention back to her sketchbook as he settled his guitar in his lap and plucked out a soft melody that drifted into a rippling chord that became a familiar riff transposed into a slow, minor key.

He didn’t question it when she stayed where she was long after Ivan had gone home, and Rose and Juleka had vanished somewhere, leaving the Liberty uncharacteristically quiet except for the soft sound of Luka’s guitar and the desultory scratch of her pencil on paper. He might have glanced at her once or twice, but there were never any demands for answers she couldn’t give with Luka, just peace and music, and words when either of them had something they felt like saying.

There weren’t any questions that would force petals out of her mouth with Luka.

[moonchild-in-blue]

Ohh, this is nice! Brb I'll be wiping my tears 🥺💔 Thank you for this wonderful question!

(tw: depression; implied sh/suicidal thoughts)

Alright, so. I heard about them earlier this year when The Summoning came out. I had seen their name pop-up a few times before (when they toured with Issues back in 2019) but knew absolutely nothing about them and payed no mind (still beating myself up for it).

There is this one account on Instagram (also TT but I don't use/have) that kept popping up on my discover page. I never interacted with his content, nor had any interest, but every few weeks his reels would show up and he often used the Sexy Funky Part™ on them. The comments were always crazy over it, but again, I payed no attention.

Until the 3rd of June (I have the date on my journal). That day I woke up with that section on my head, and I finally decided to look it up. And oh. My. God. I heard it once, twice, three times. Then I listened to TMBTE (the song). Then Chokehold. CHOKEHOLD. Listened to The Summoning again. Decided that, okay, I need to listen to this album, who are these guys?? Listened once, twice. Looked them up. Oh, they're anonymous? Oh, there's lore?? Oh, there's masks??? Oh, oh, oh-

And so it began. About a week later I posted here, saying that I needed someone to talk to me about them, not really expecting to see any replies - I was mostly venting since I had no one else irl to talk about them. To my surprise, so, so many wonder people actually reached out to me. It was so heart warming. For the first time in a very long time, I felt genuinely part of a community. Not just as a spectator, but as someone actively in it. Everybody was (and still are!) so welcoming and friendly, it's great.

(if any of my moots reads this, I'm sending you a billion hugs and kissies and wonky heart signs 🥺💖)

Now, for context. I have been in the metal/emo/alt scene since I was around 11/12. It's always been my main music, and the reason why I'm still alive and standing today. About 7 years ago, when I moved away for uni, I coincidently started to get super into kpop, which then led me to embrace many other genres, like r&b and hip-hop (my 14yo self would call me a normie if she knew I was obsessed with Tyler the Creator).

For several reasons, I stepped back a little on the heavier side of music. I had a really bad depressive episode in 2018, and I was scared I'd go back to old habits. I needed to break my usual "listens to sad music to cope" cycle, because during that particular time, I was in very real danger of hurting myself again. Things got better, and I still listened to my old stuff, but with a much broader range added. I shifted my focus, and what was once an overwhelming presence in my life, became just one more thing. I changed and silenced many parts of myself. Some for the better, some because they were necessary to survive.

Fast forward to late 2021. I moved back home after graduation, as I needed some time to heal. My mental health had been wrecked beyond recognition during the pandemic, and as an art student, I was experiencing extreme burn-out. In a way, I still am. I went to painting and being in a studio everyday, to completely stop creating. Even just simple sketches were a huge task for me. I stopped writing my poetry, my stories. In the last year, I may have picked up a paintbrush twice.

I was glad to be back, but started to feel so left behind, as if time had moved a much slower pace to me than to everyone else. Somehow, three of my closest friends got married within months of each other. Others were finishing degrees, getting Big Jobs, moving in with partners. Me? I was back to living with my parents. I was taking driving lessons - something most of them had been doing for years. I had left 5 years ago, with plans and hopes and expectations, and came back absolutely broken, nothing but a shell of a person that no longer existed.

I was lost. I spent so much time not knowing what to do, or where to go. I had plans post-grad, but everything seemed impossible to achieve. I had 0 motivation, 0 energy. Somehow, somewhere along the way, I had forgotten about who I was.

But when I got into Sleep Token, something inside me clicked. It was as if their music took all the scattered fragments of me and glued them back together. For the first time in a very, very long time, I was so excited for something. The music was so unlike anything I had ever heard. Every cell of my being glowed and vibrated with each new song, each element. The lore was so interesting to study, the people here were wonderful to interact with. The words, his voice, everything - it was like I had woken up from a very long, hazy dream.

Thanks to them, I began writing again. Lore and lyric analysis, fanfiction, my own personal things, you name it. I have just picked up painting and I'm so happy to be creating again. Thanks to them, I've connected and met so many wonderful people here. It may sound silly, but I'm genuinely having so much fun these days in here.

Also thanks to them, I've re-kindled my love for my older music/bands, and I feel like myself again. I can't say I'm 100% okay, as I'm very much not, but I at least have the strength to face and accept that things are not okay, instead of bottling it up. I spent so long trying to adapt and survive the next thing, and the next thing, and the next thing, that I ended up abandoning who I was.

I don't know if this will make much sense or not but, yeah. Listening to Sleep Token has allowed me to connect with parts of me I thought were gone, while still allowing me to confront and make piece with my struggles. I think Euclid is a very fitting description of all the changes ST has brought in me. It's accepting reality for what it is, and knowing that, even though there are still things that linger, there is more to life. To myself. There is more than wallowing in grief or staying stagnant - and I am deserving and capable of that.

Like Vessel once said, "We are here to remember. We are here to forget. We are here to worship". Above all, I think Sleep Token's music is defined by connection, by shared experiences. Be it through the music, the lyrics, the band/Vessel, something about it allows us to connect with ourselves and with each other. And I think that's what I was missing - the ability to make a meaningful connection to something/myself.

By now, the night belongs to you

This bough was broken through

I must be someone new

How did you find out about Sleep Token and how have they changed your life?

Even if it's the smallest of changes,it still matters. I'd love to hear everyone's stories.

[tottymatsuno]

I posted 7,455 times in 2022

That's 5,731 more posts than 2021!

911 posts created (12%)

6,544 posts reblogged (88%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@ichikos

@osopine

@milfmatsu

@abiesachalinensis

@girlymatsu

I tagged 4,307 of my posts in 2022

Only 42% of my posts had no tags

#openMouth.exe - 490 posts

#tottyra - 129 posts

#sundried sketches - 121 posts

#todomatsu - 71 posts

#my cherished anon - 69 posts

#tottimemes - 64 posts

#undercover bastards - 42 posts

#assigned unlovable at birth - 38 posts

#osomatsu - 33 posts

#totty - 32 posts

Longest Tag: 124 characters

#💕💕💖💖💖🥰💖💕💖💕💖💕💕🥰💕💕💖💖💕🥰🥰💖🥰💕🥰😍😍😍🥰😘😘🤭💋💌💖💟💞💕💓💕💖💞🧡💙💛💙💟💛💘💞💋❣️💗💙💜💖💙🧡🤎💖🤎🧡

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

See the full post

129 notes - Posted February 13, 2022

#4

See the full post

133 notes - Posted February 17, 2022

#3

Valentines Day Matsuno Sextuplets X GN!Reader

you guys were nice to me so i made this for u <3 thank u for all the kind comments iluguys!! plspls remember if yall want me to make stuff open ur mouths and praise me thank u!!!!! also its still february, it still only technically counts as late but not irrelevant yet!!!

OSOMATSU

Osomatsu isn’t gonna even pretend for a second that he’s not bitter and envious while walking through the streets. He’s kicking rocks, spitting just cause, glaring at any happy couple who dares looks in his line of sight. Where the hell are you? What’s the point of dating somebody if Osomatsu doesn’t get his fill and more on romantic holidays?

So he went to all of your usual hang out spots, your job, your house, your grandma’s, the grocery store, the laundry mat, the bank, the post office? Well, some of them aren’t your hang out spots but more like where a regular functional adult might need to go during a weekday…but you weren’t there at any of them! And you didn’t even call Osomatsu over to come play! What’s he supposed to do other than walk around stomping litter and making his hurt feelings everyone else’s issue?

Where’s Iyami? Where’s his brothers? Surely Osomatsu can rally a couple of them to beat the shit outta Iyami just for fun! Iyami probably did something to deserve it?

Osomachuu wants some chocolates! Please! Any! He lets out a giant whine so the universe hears, “Where’s my chocolate?!” Right in the middle of his anguished cries something hits him right on the back of the head with enough force to damn near crack his skull. What the fuck?! Osomatsu takes a pretty comical spill right onto the pavement and eats shit in front of a group of teenage girls discussing who they’re giving their candies to.

Immediately the sound of your laughter fills the air which causes Osomatsu to burst into his own smile when he sees what actually assaulted him. It’s a box of chocolates that has a clear markdown price on it that says it’s on clearance. Its base price was only 200 yen to begin with and on the package there’s a sticky note that says, “Made ya look! <3” and when Osomatsu turns around you’re pointing and laughing in his face.

You mock him for a few more seconds before running over and kissing him once on the lips. After that you raise your hand up to hit Osomatsu. He should’ve known not to go out with someone the same level of childish as him because when Osomatsu jumps you gleefully shout, “And two for flinching!” before smacking him on the back of the head twice.

After that you run away shouting about Osomatsu catching you if he can which leaves him dumbfound. “Sheesh…” Osomatsu smiles fondly in the direction you ran off in while turning the box over in his hands. On the opposite side there’s a limerick:

Oso’s are red

Karas are blue

visit my house

and you’ll cum too!

With a series of little dicks peppering it like they’re hearts. Osomatsu’s never felt so fucking in love when he mutters, “What the hell? We’re not kids anymore…” He’s definitely not going to let you get away with this, especially because you’re calling him “Slowpoke Osomatsu!” from half a block over. When Osomatsu gets to his feet he runs after you as fast as he can shouting some pretty juvenile swears. “That hurts! I’ll kill you!!” The second Osomatsu has you cornered you start making fun of him again.

“Oooh, you caught me! What now?” Osomatsu thinks about it before answering.

“I’m gonna rob you.” Your smile faulters just a second. “For my money?” Osomatsu shakes his head, “Give me the good stuff you have in your backpack.” It only takes a second before you shove him away, “Not until you answer my riddles three!” Osomatsu rolls his eyes.

“I said I’m mugging you, gimme!” With that he starts fighting for your backpack which ends up with Osomatsu getting his ass beat in an impromptu wrestling match as you scream about your riddles. Eventually a police officer shoos you both off with the threats of satiations and triumphantly Osomatsu steals the backpack full of chocolates and baked goods. “I let you win by the way!” You announce holding onto Osomatsu’s hand. “I was just tired and the sun was in my eyes.”

“You’re the biggest fucking kid I know and I know some goofballs.” Osomatsu shoves a brownie into your mouth when you try to argue your way out of it. “I thought I was childish but you take the cake. Happy Valentines I guess.”

____

KARAMATSU

You pick up Karamatsu after the sun sets because you know ambiance is important for him; you decked out your car in all of the little things that you know would set the mood for your insanely romantic boyfriend. It’s taken over three weeks to obtain and arrange everything to make tonight oh so special for Karamatsu because you know an equal exchange is important. The last time Karamatsu felt unappreciated you woke up to him hammering nails into the floor. You won’t slip up again.

“Wowowow!!” Karamatsu gasps as he climbs into the passenger’s side and he gingerly touches one of the fairylights you strategically placed. You’ve got that musician he’s obsessed with playing softly, you’ve got your pair of sunglasses on even though God knows that’s a terrible idea. His silly little face is placed directly over your heart and fuck you’re cold in this tank top but you know Karamatsu’s love language is conceited and sweet so you’re getting points. “You did all this for me?” Karamatsu sounds earnest in his affections, “Of course! I even have a gift for you in the back.” That’s all you have to say before Karamatsu dives behind the seat and grabs the navy-blue gift bag. You know Christmas was only a few months ago and you kinda dropped the ball on last year’s gifts so you wanted to make sure at least Valentine’s day was special.

You hand sown a mini Karamatsu plushie and you can hear him gasping about the stitching. You fucking pricked the shit outta your fingers for months trying to get that embroidered rose just right on mini Kara’s back. “It looks amazing!” Karamatsu gushes before digging more into the bag, “There’s more?!”

“Of course there is! I am your ever faithful Karamatsu servant, so you know I had to return the favor and spoil my mans.” You’re so happy that Karamatsu instantly examines the blue carbon pocket watch and just watching his fingers gently trail across the inscription is so much. “This is too much! Please my honey, tell me there isn’t more in this bag.” Karamatsu eventually pulls the gift bag onto his lap and starts almost screaming in delight with each present removed.

You got his favorite brand of cologne, a new set of sunglasses, a custom shot tumbler with his face printed on it, and finally the thing you wanted him to see the most! “You didn’t?! Seriously – you didn’t!” Karamatsu very solemnly sounds so giddy but he’s holding up the Tenjin Works peacoat. “What?!” You’re thankful you didn’t pull off yet because Karamatsu’s hands tremble as he triple checks the tags.

“What?!” That’s all you get before you’re absolutely covered in kisses! Karamatsu tries his very best to say more than “I love you, I love you, I love you!” but he’s blubbering so loudly it muddles together while he shakes your shoulders. After a few minutes of happy sobbing and wiping his eyes Karamatsu tries his very best to save face, “I’m better now. Thank you, after today you are no longer my Karamatsu fan! I have seen the light and I underestimated your power, after this night I am your eternal beau! I live and breathe for you, there is no way to return this debt other than my life long servitude! I will worship you until my dying breath!” You nod along and buckle Karamatsu into his seat. “Sounds good, let’s go then!” When you drive Karamatsu to your house he’s even more shocked when you usher him into the candle lit room, “You shouldn’t leave these unattended!” Which is something so unlike him to say but you don’t mind it.

“Sit over there.” You point to the couch and go to the kitchen. When you return Karamatsu’s eyes are lit up like he’s a kid on Christmas before he bursts into tears again because he sees you have a platter of chocolate covered fruits. “Please my dearest, my heart cannot take any more joy! Allow me a moment to recuperate before I explode!” You feel like a bully but no, Karamatsu doesn’t get a moment to recuperate.

You walk over with a chocolate covered strawberry in hand, “I thought it was my turn to spoil you though, Karamatsu? Am I not doing a good job?” The second Karamatsu opens his mouth to protest you pop the strawberry in. “Happy Valentines.”

____

See the full post

145 notes - Posted February 27, 2022

#2

See the full post

324 notes - Posted January 25, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

girl its not the "puritans/anti porn/think of the children" sanitizing the internet. its the advertizers who dont want to pay for ads on porn sites. its the board chairmen, its the shareholders, its the people who have money and capital and its the hands that money exchanges through. its capitalism.

its NOT the person with PTSD saying "hey stop fucking posting sexual violence where i can see it and spiral into flashbacks for several hours and have serious breakdowns with its effects that last for weeks" but yall are stupid. Like incredibly stupid. Like impressively stupid and you've learnt through confirmation bias that your idiotic arguments are sound.

They're not.

731 notes - Posted February 14, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[thetomorrowshow]

unless you take your army back

Hello and welcome to the sequel to my work i will make the sky collapse! You honestly do not have to read the first one to understand this one--the first was a Crutchie-centric whump-focused refuge story, and this one is about his recovery and Jack coming to terms with what happened (and maybe some,,, sprace).

So yeah! This is chapter one! Content warnings will be posted at the beginning of each chapter :) This is a queued post, so as soon as I have time to post it on AO3 I’ll update this with the link.

cw: blood, brief description of injury

~

On the same day they won the strike, there were a good dozen kids clamoring to be a newsie, appearing out of nowhere with the sole purpose of bothering Jack. He didn’t really want to care--they could be a newsie all they wanted--but the problem was they all needed a start-up fund. They all wanted Jack to foot the cost of their first papes and first week of room and board, and though he had just gotten a job offer and an improved living overall, he just didn’t have the time or money to train so many penniless kids. So he sent them to Spot Conlon, of course.

It was pretty clear that these kids all came from the Refuge, which had just been shut down by the governor. Jack had never been happier than he was when he saw the cop drag Snyder away in chains. The nagging question that was slowly coming to the front of his mind, though, was where was Crutchie?

Katherine had been here for the short celebration, but had seemed distracted and had left almost immediately, without giving Jack a chance to ask after his brother. He wanted to go look for the kid, comb through the Refuge and the streets surrounding it, but Davey had regretfully told him he couldn’t leave. He was the union leader, and a nice official union it was at that. He actually couldn’t even sell right now, he had to return to Pulitzer’s office and continue working on a bunch of paperwork registering the union or something. Pulitzer had told him that they would be working together occasionally due to his new position as leader of the Newsboys Union, which apparently meant that whenever there was a problem on either of their ends they had to include the other in their solving of the problem. It made sense to Jack, what he didn’t get was why he had to read a billion papers telling him it made sense.

Katherine did not ride with him and Mr. Pulitzer in the carriage back to his office, and she didn’t come and see him when he left late in the afternoon, but maybe she was just at work. There was a lot to report, after all. Jack wished it didn’t hurt. There was no way it was intentional, they all had a lot going on right now. It wasn't like he'd gone looking for her, after all. He'd see her tomorrow, cross paths on the way to work.

What with all the stressful arrangements and intense discussions, Jack was more tired than he usually was by the time he entered the lodging house. In later days, he wished that he had spoken to Mush, waiting anxiously outside. He wished that he had not gone with Pulitzer to his office, and instead sought out Katherine straightaway. Most of all, he wished that he had gone personally to the Refuge, made sure to set those kids free himself.

He didn’t do any of those things, though. Instead, he walked home from Pulitzer’s office, nodded to Mush, and went straight inside.

-

Katherine was there, which was odd, but certainly not unwelcome. According to Race, she had spent time with them without him, just celebrating with them and getting to know them all. That was fine, but most girls didn’t seek out a bunch of street rat teenage boys as preferred company.

Not only was Katherine there, but half of the newsies were seemingly just waiting by the door, dropping what they’d been doing and standing to stare at him. Sure, Jack was something of a celebrity now--and he had betrayed them more than once, which could be the reason also--but they looked almost guilty.

“Jack,” Katherine started, and Jack saw that sorry look on her face and his heart dropped. What could this be about? He’d been with Pulitzer all day, so it wasn’t like the old man had turned on them. Where was Crutchie? Was he--he couldn’t be. Right? No.

“Jack,” she said again, and now she was crying. Jack wanted to kiss the tears off her face, tell her she never needed to cry again, but he couldn’t. He had to know--his stomach was roiling, threatening to toss up whatever bite he’d eaten earlier. Something had happened, and it--it couldn’t be--

“It’s Crutchie,” Katherine said, and Jack had a brief moment of huh, so that’s how swoonin’ feels before he was on his knees. He can’t have died. Crutchie was--well, Crutchie. He was just as capable as any newsie, could sell papes twice as well as half of them, and was stronger than anyone Jack knew--certainly far stronger than himself. But if Snyder--if the Refuge--if--

“He’s alive,” Katherine hurried to say, kneeling on the floor beside him, and Jack let out a choked laugh, only just realizing he was crying.

“Ya couldn’ta said that sooner?” he asked weakly, and Katherine sniffled, trying to regain composure.

“He’s alive,” she repeated, “but he isn’t doing well at all. He wanted to see you, but I think he’s still asleep.”

In seconds, Jack was back on his feet, pulling her up with him. “Let’s go,” he said, pulling her towards the bunkroom. “I gotta see ‘im.”

He ignored her cries of “Jack, wait, you have to know--” and took the stairs two at a time, yanking open the door as soon as it was in front of him. The room was dead silent for once, and only one bed was occupied (despite the fact that he’d told Romeo to rest up today after the strike). Over by the open window on the far wall, a figure was laying in the only bed without a top bunk (the one that belonged to Jack, seeing as he was in charge).

Jack could barely hold back a retch as he came closer, seeing the matted hair crusted in blood, but sticking straight up, same as always. Crutchie was sleeping almost peacefully on the bed, the blankets tucked around him messily, as if one of the boys had tried his very best to arrange it like a mother would. His face was swollen and cut up, almost unrecognizable as his brother, though his neck was what caught Jack’s attention. A brownish-purple bruise in the vague shape of a gripped hand was found there, where the fingers had dug in marked by little round black bruises, a sick imitation of a constellation crossing his brother’s throat.

Jack’s fists curled into tight balls as he stared down at Crutchie, seeing red. The rest of his body was hidden by the covers, excepting a stiff arm that was tightly wrapped in gauze. The collar of his undershirt was the only part of his clothes visible, and it was stained brown and torn. 

There were two sides of Jack warring for dominance. One screamed at him to storm down to the county jail right this moment and give Snyder everything he deserved. The other side tried to pull him to the floor, weeping at Crutchie’s bedside. Jack fought both, not wanting to seem weak in front of Katherine, who was watching him with that soft-concerned look on her face that he had already come to know too well. He needed to get alone, needed space, needed a moment to cope with what he’d just been confronted with so that he could best help Crutchie later.

Jack calmly left the room, replying something along the lines of fine, just need a minute when Katherine asked tentatively if he was okay. Then he walked slowly down the steps and through the main room, where all of the newsies watched him silently. He nodded vaguely in their direction. Luckily, none of them asked any questions. If they had, Jack wasn’t sure that he would’ve been able to hold back the sobs.

Finally he was outside, and here he could run. Run he did, all the way around the side of the building and up the fire escape, running and running until all that existed was the clang! of his feet against the metal and the wind rushing past his ears. Then he was climbing the ladder to the very top, where only a week ago he and Crutchie had woken, excited to start striking for real.

Jack had woken early that morning, and had taken the time to sketch out the New York skyline against the starry night sky. It was a frequent subject of his, but that morning he had filled in himself and Crutchie, sitting on the roof closest to the perspective, curled up and reaching toward the stars.

When Crutchie had gotten up, they had made mundane small talk, both trying to hide nervousness that showed too plainly. They eventually stopped talking around it, laughing and joking about it directly, before deciding--no, vowing--to not let the other come to serious harm or danger. Then they had gone downstairs, ready to wake the other boys and get on with the revolution.

The last promise--maybe the last one ever--that Jack had made to Crutchie, and he’d broken it not even hours later. On the rooftop now, Jack kicked the low wall angrily, then again and again. What was wrong with him? How could he focus so intently on these--these mundanities, paperwork and politeness and whatall, while Crutchie was suffering so? How had he not been here for him, when he arguably needed Jack more than anyone else at the moment?

He kicked the wall one more time, then threw himself to the floor. What kind of leader was he? He’d betrayed everyone, almost left Crutchie; then when he’d gotten his head on the right way, he hadn’t done anything to make sure the kid was all right!

“Jack?”

Katherine. She would come up here, tell him it was okay, that it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t want that. It was his fault, and he couldn’t have anyone denying it or he might just explode.

“Leave me alone,” he called back, barely keeping his voice from breaking. Silence, then a sigh and the sound of soft footsteps going down the fire escape. Good.

Jack drew his hands across his face, taking in a shuddering breath. He had to pull himself together. He couldn’t dream about leaving anymore, that would just make things worse. He had to be here for Crutchie, and the other boys. Prove that he wasn’t a scab.

He hadn’t eaten any supper, but he didn’t really care. It was dark enough that he shouldn’t have a problem resting. Add it to the tired ache in his bones and he’d be out in no time. He’d get up when everyone else went to bed, then he’d stay up the rest of the night with Crutchie, be there in case he had nightmares or woke up. He had to be there for him. He had to.

[schleierkauz]

Some Highlights from the 03.05 Stream

As usual, here’s some interesting bits of the last Cornelia Funke Q&A. I tried to structure it all a bit better this time but these talks are pretty chaotic sooo... bear with me. There’s more interesting stuff under the read more, I just put it there because it was getting so long. Anything in (brackets) is my own commentary. I hope you enjoy! :)

Inkworld

Q: What's the deal with the death bond between Mo and Dustfinger and will it be relevant in the new book? A: Since Dustfinger is probably immortal now, he’s been operating on a different level than Mo who is very much still mortal. Other than that, Cornelia doesn't want to reveal too much about TCoR for now. She worked on it the day before the stream, and she shows us the notebook she uses for it.

She thought she had a pretty good idea of what the story was going to be but more and more things keep happening and the book is already looking to be a lot longer and more complex than she intended.

- She will focus on TCoR once the move to Italy is complete and she's very excited about that since the Inkworld is essentially Magical Italy. She can't wait to sit in Volterra and write about Ombra.

- The TCoR sketch book might just be published at some point as a sort of bonus making-of book since it's already full of illustrations and other fun stuff

(That looks like the witch character, doesn’t it? I wonder who the other woman is... And god, I wish I could actually read the text. :/)

- The Inkworld exists around 1360 by our understanding of time

- The Mystery Chapter I translated ages ago is still canon! More info on that in the Reckless section

Q: Will we ever get to read the "original" Inkheart by Fenoglio? A: No, never. Cornelia's writing style is too different from Fenoglio's and she wouldn't be able to pull it off. 

However! Cornelia still hopes for an Inkworld TV show that would begin long before the story of the first book. She already has a notebook all about Dustfinger's and the Black Prince's childhoods, how they met each other as well as other characters such as Roxane etc. Fenoglio didn't care much for their backstories so Cornelia feels like she can explore them without stepping on his toes.

- A long time ago, Cornelia had an editor who thought Dustfinger was a bad character (lmao. imagine being that wrong.)

Reckless

Q: Will one of the short stories Cornelia wants to write about the Mirrorworld be about Nerron's mother? A: Interesting idea! She will consider it.

Q: Will Cornelia include African and/or Indigenous stories in the Mirrorworld? A: Yes! She planned to do it in the sixth book but right now it looks like it might happen in the fifth, so she's trying to figure out how to include South-American fairytales alongside African and Indigenous ones. She wants to include those stories through characters we meet along the way, without necessarily taking the story to those places directly. Or maybe she'll write a separate book entirely to do those fairytales justice. 

- The Mirrorworld exists around 1860 by our time

- Cornelia feels like there will be a lot of Mirrorworld spin-offs because she keeps having ideas and loves writing in that world

Q: Did Spieler (Player(?)), when he was in the "real" world, know about Capricorn and Fenoglio's Inkheart book? A: The silver book that makes people into silvertongues was created by Spieler. For a while he found it very convenient to travel the worlds through books but eventually he realised that books tend to develop a will of their own, which is why he ultimately decided to travel via mirrors. He probably knows about Fenoglio but Cornelia doesn't think he'd care much about Capricorn since he's playing in an entirely different league of villainy.

- Cornelia just signed a contract for a Reckless TV show

Cornelias new Farm in Italy

Q: Will she have animals on the new farm as well? A: Probably not! Right now she's more interested in befriending wild animals. Her dogs will stay with her but otherwise she wants to focus on wild animals as well as wild flowers. She wants to share her garden with any animal that stops by - including, hopefully, the occasional feral cat.

- Cornelia is getting into animation! She will work with a friend of hers who is a teacher in that field to create a little stop motion/animation studio on the farm so artists can bring their characters to life in a new way and create short movies.

Q: How can artists apply to be invited to the farm? A: Cornelia doesn't want people to apply directly, she'd rather leave it up to chance and fate. Most of her artists were recommended to her by friends or former colleagues and this method is working very well. She encourages people to post their work on the internet or send it to her via her website or twitter or something, she just doesn't want to hold contests regularly because it would be overwhelming and she doesn't want to have to reject people. Also, it's aimed at young artists who are just starting out and it’s mainly for girls/women, although not exclusively.

Side note, she plans to have another farm in Germany (probably in Schleswig-Holstein) and there will be other projects that happen there.

Q: Will it be possible to visit the farms, will they sell tickets? A: Cornelia doesn't want to sell tickets and definitely doesn't want "Disneyland vibes". The Mirror Farm (in Germany) isn't supposed to make money but she rather wants it to be a gift to her readers. They'll have to somehow limit how many people show up at once but there will be "open days" where anyone can just show up. Cornelia also wants to offer workshops or something similar herself once or twice a year, where people would have the chance to meet her in person.

Bonus: Life Lessons with Cornelia

Q: Does Cornelia have any advice for people in their mid-twenties who are not quite sure what to do with their lives? A: Figure out what you want to do and follow your heart because being stuck doing something you don't care about at all will make you miserable. And then it comes down to discipline and hard work. You might never get rich doing what you love but someone in their 20s is still young enough to try all kinds of different things and find a path that works. The important thing is actually following through instead of just endlessly thinking about what could be. Travel the world, try different jobs. Don't be fooled into thinking you have to go to university/college, that's nonsense. Knowing how to build a sturdy table or plant a good herb garden makes someone an artist in Cornelia's eyes. Listen to advice but don't blindly follow it. Don't be afraid to change your dreams. Make mistakes and learn from them. You live in one of the richest countries in the world, you won't starve or die on the streets so be grateful and be brave.

Misc.

- The three of them spend the first eight minutes of the stream telling us to visit this website and check out the cool bridge their bookshop is built on and the blackbird that moved into the store

- Cornelia's daughter got married and it was beautiful :)

- Cornelia is looking forward to moving to Italy and being closer to "us" and European artists. She says she'll miss California but she is incredibly tired of all the wild fires.

- Cornelia is now fully vaccinated 

- Cornelia is working on a book about two girls. One used to live in Germany in the 40s-50s, was blind and collected plants from all over the world with her father. She would write letters about those plants to her sister, and those letters are found one day by a girl from Brooklyn. She starts to go looking for the plants the letters are about in the botanical garden. Cornelia has an assistant who keeps sending her pictures from that botanical garden and it's a very fun project because it's very rooted in the real world yet Cornelia still gets to tell a story about a friendship that takes place through letters. She hopes to have finished it by August

- The Wild Chicks movie might just actually happen and everyone's excited about it

- An animated Igraine Ohnefurcht movie is in the works

- So is an animated Geisterritter/Ghost Knight movie

- Cornelia keeps losing books and other important things in the mail and it is pretty infuriating

- Cornelia recommends the book "Sand Talk" and once again says white people should be careful about not speaking over marginalised groups in the name of protecting them

[authenticdesperation]

A Review of Every Single Episode of Inside No. 9 [1/2]

Disclaimer: my opinions are not definitive but they are bloody good. There may be spoilers so read at your own risk. This will probably have to be a two-parter for the sake of my sanity and your scrolling.  

Series 1

1. Sardines 

A killer way to kick off a series with an absolutely top notch cast. This episode probably wins the award for the episode I’ve spent the most time thinking about after watching, putting all the little things that went over my head at first into place. I love the set design in this episode as well with everything seeming delightfully old fashioned. 

2. A Quiet Night In

This episode is something of a masterclass in farce and it is a Bold Move to have the second episode of a new series almost completely free of dialogue. It’s dirty, it’s fully of silly slapstick and it’s a nice change of pace after the rather harrowing ending to the first episode. 

3. Tom and Gerri 

This is an episode I enjoyed more when I thought about it more. It beautifully shows the decline of Tom’s mental health (acted impeccably, lovely work from Reece) due to grief. Also it was quite nice to see Reece and Steve acting opposite each other more, they have great chemistry together and Steve as Migg is perfectly unsettling. 

4. Last Gasp

Now, I have to be honest with you: I do not exclusively have glowing praise for this episode. I enjoyed it far more after watching it more than once as I liked the humour of it. One of my favourite things was the video camera perspective at the start, as well as some lovely moments with the music. However, I’m not overly keen on the ending, I just found it slightly underwhelming. 

5. The Understudy

Back on the praise train kids! I am a big old Shakespeare nerd (as are Reece and Steve, apparently) and I studied Macbeth for my GCSEs so I was particularly excited when I watched it. I will also have to give a little nod to the directing of this episode, it was an absolute feast for the eyes. 

6. The Harrowing

Oh hell yes (no pun intended). I think this episode is a great one to cap off the first series, really demonstrating the versatility of Steve and Reece. Also, I’m a big horror fan and the entire atmosphere of it really appealed to me. Though I would say that the second I saw that house I would have run about fifteen miles in the opposite direction.

Series 2

1. La Couchette

This episode is very similar to Sardines in the sense that it feels rather claustrophobic, but this time it leans far more towards the comedy side of things rather than drama. Bonus points for Steve demonstrating his German skills. 

2. The 12 Days of Christine

Ah yes, the episode I’ve cried at every time I’ve watched it. This one is a strong demonstration of how to wrong foot an audience: you never quite know what’s going on until towards the end and all of the horror-esque moments just add to the confusion making the ending one hell of an emotional gut-punch. I wouldn’t watch it if you need something to cheer you up, though.

3. The Trial of Elizabeth Gadge

My second favourite episode of series two, The Trial of Elizabeth Gadge is packed to the brim with silly puns and smutty jokes. I personally predicted the twist but in this case I don’t think it really mattered as I was too busy enjoying the Horrible Histories for adults thing that was going on. Bonus points for another killer cast.

4. Cold Comfort

The first of two episodes directed by Steve and Reece and really quite a bold one at that. The whole thing is filmed in the style of a CCTV feed, which I’m pretty sure an experienced director would warn you off trying, but it really pays off in the narrative. Since the camera doesn’t switch focus at any point, it really relies on the acting performances to keep your focus which, in my opinion, the cast fucking nailed.

5. Nana’s Party

If I had to describe the episode in two words they would be ‘domestic drama’. It’s a fairly classic setup of a family with their fair share of secrets, namely adultery and alcoholism, but happily doesn’t give the game away too early and a layer of humour is added by the slightly irritating prankster character of Pat. It’s the second episode of the series directed by Steve and Reece and has a sort of understated quality to it, showing Claire Skinner’s character’s exacting nature above a layer of familial drama. 

6. Séance Time

My favourite episode of series two, at first you think you’re walking into another haunted house scenario until you find out it’s a prank show that went off the air due to a scandal. There’s a great sense of humour throughout, and I don’t know whether I’m easily freaked out or the final jumpscare was genuinely terrifying but I flew about fifteen feet into the air when I saw it. Once I’d peeled myself off the ceiling, I really appreciated that it felt like a slow burn horror despite still only being half an hour. 

Series 3

1. The Devil of Christmas

I live for schlocky horror films that are so cheesy they give you nightmares if you watch them before bed. So the 1970s film within the episode, accompanied by a director’s commentary-cum-police interview performed by Derek Jacobi, was an absolute treat. The story of Krampus is one that has been done a lot, but never as a snuff film (as far as I know) so it was a nice little twist.

2. The Bill

Every time I rewatch Inside No. 9 this is the episode I always have to watch no matter what. It is such a simple premise and it feels slightly reminiscent of the Geoff, Mike and Brian sketches from The League of Gentlemen. Now is probably the moment where I should sing the praises of director Guillem Morales who has, quite frankly, become my personal hero having seen the many, many episodes of this series he’s directed. The framing in this episode is absolutely genius, but it’s only really obvious after you’ve watched it a few times and I have to give kudos for making a dialogue-heavy episode visually interesting. There are jokes that I think about at least twice a week and I am obsessed with Jason Watkins’ acting...I think this will be my longest review of this whole post. 

3. The Riddle of the Sphinx

This is the best episode I will never watch again. I love horror, and I’ve watched some bone-chilling films but something about this episode made me feel so uncomfortable. It is also a real testament to Steve Pemberton, who I’m led to believe is the cryptic crossword fan who took the lead writing this episode, that he wrote something involving cryptic crosswords that didn’t give me a migraine. 

4. Empty Orchestra

Ah, what a nice change of pace after the last episode with something far lighter. The karaoke booth concept is so fun and I’ve never understood the criticism of the episode. That being said, of every single antagonist in every single episode of Inside No. 9, Connie is the character I love to hate the most. All of the characters feel more like people you’ve met before and the vibe of a group of work colleagues in a karaoke booth going through the usual petty drama feels familiar. I think series three is one that has some of the darkest concepts and this is a great exception to that. 

5. Diddle Diddle Dumpling

When I looked in the background more while rewatching this episode, I noticed a lot of things were in twos. I can only assume that was a deliberate choice made somewhere along the line, and one that pays off when you notice it. Both Mat Baynton and Keeley Hawes played their parts to perfection, with Mat really doing quite a lot with a fairly small part. The whole episode reads as an interesting analysis of grief, in a similar sense to Tom and Gerri. Also, Reece’s character did not murder the remaining twin and apparently I’m the weirdo for thinking that was what was being implied. In my defence, there was cannibalism earlier in the series; filicide did not seem like that big of a leap.

6. Private View 

Agatha Christie eat your heart out (that wasn’t meant to be a reference to the ending, it’s just a happy accident). Murder mysteries are my absolute jam so I am obsessed with this episode. The modern art show is such a great setting for a whodunnit as demonstrated by the reaction to the discovery of Peter Kay’s character’s body. All the characters have their brilliant little quirks, and the killer is revealed at the perfect time and it was a good idea to not make that reveal the twist. 

[hotpinkhoshi]

kiss it better | one

pairing: mark tuan x reader

genre: angst, smut, brother’s best friend au (sort of)

warnings: age gap (nine years), cursing, explicit sex, slow burn

summary: you were off limits for more reasons than mark could count. but everything changed for him the day you walked into his tattoo shop with those big innocent eyes and a laugh like his favorite song. he couldn’t. he wouldn’t. and yet…

*a/n*: hiiiiii! so here we go. i don’t have much to say except that you’ll probably notice this chapter is a bit shorter than they usually are for my fics. with this story, chapters may or may not be shorter in length. this is just easier on me, and helps me to keep a regular posting schedule. now, i’m not going to say i won’t post longer chapters, but i just wanted to get it out there. i have a tentative posting schedule in mind, which i’ll make a post about later, but i’d say you can probably expect a new chapter every two weeks. 

also, just want to say- i hope everyone is staying safe and healthy right now. stay home, wash your hands, avoid contact with your face, and if you have to order food tip your delivery drivers a lil extra! and to those that don’t get to stay home and still have to work, i’m right there with you. we’ll get through this and all we can do is take it day by day ❤️

✩ index here ✩

make sure you read the prologue first! 

Today had started just like any other day. Mark got up and went about his morning, brushing his teeth, eating his breakfast, and taking his usual ten minutes to sketch the ideas in his brain before heading off to work. 

It’d been slow, but Mark wasn’t worried. There were enough appointments on Saturday and Sunday to make up for a slow Friday. The temperature had reached an uncomfortable high, so he’d dressed himself in a black muscle tee to offer some relief from the sticky air. 

The early afternoon went smoothly. Mark took the opportunity to work on some new designs and do some organizing in his tattoo room, while the other guys opted to sit around showing each other funny videos on their phones. 

By the time lunch rolled around, he decided to sit outside with his iced coffee, scrolling through social media on his phone while relaxing in the shade of the awning. He glanced up mindlessly, his eyes drawn to a figure standing across the street. 

A girl holding an ice cream cone. Mark’s breath caught in his throat because, no, it wouldn’t be you. You’d be back home, attending some tiny college where your parents could keep a watchful eye on your every move, not here in the great big city. 

Then the girl dropped her ice cream cone, her whine audible even from where Mark sat. He couldn’t help the laugh that fell from his lips. He shook his head, just as there was a knock behind him on the glass of the door. 

Dahyun popped her head out. “Youngjae needs help grabbing some boxes from the back, can you help? Jackson and Yugyeom are being assholes.” 

Mark nodded, one last glance across the street before he stood up, heading back inside.

-----

You took in a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut as Mark pressed the tip of his tattoo gun to your skin. Just the constant buzzing of the tool was enough to set your nerves on edge. 

Once you felt it, though, it wasn’t so bad. It hurt, but you’d been through worse. It was comparable to a thousand tiny kittens scratching you with their claws, over and over again. 

“You doing alright?” Mark asked, once one long minute had passed. 

You nodded, your arms squeezing the back of the chair you were straddling. It was an uncomfortable position, but it was the only way Mark would be able to access the back of your shoulder. You’d also had to strip down to just your bra, so at least you were given some modesty. 

“Yeah. Just... how long will it take?” 

Glancing over your shoulder, you noticed how hard he was concentrating. His tongue was stuck between his lips, peeking out the corner. He was entirely focused on the art that he was tracing onto your skin. 

“Not long. The shading is what will take the longest, but it’s small, so I should have you out of here within the hour.” 

You exhaled slowly and pressed your forehead into the cushioned back of the chair as he went over the same area a few times. Though he muttered a ‘sorry’, you found yourself wincing from the pain. 

Yerin had left to get ready for work, as the stenciling and position process had gone on longer than either of you had thought. You’d made Mark move the stencil several times until you liked the positioning. Admittedly, it had been a stalling tactic to delay the inevitable pain that was coming. 

“How’s Taehyung?” Mark asked, just as he took a break from tracing onto your skin. You opened your eyes to see him reaching for a cloth to wipe across your skin. 

The question caught you off guard. Just the name of your brother was enough to rub salt into the wound you’d been holding closed for the last two months. You gulped, turning your face to press your other cheek into the chair, hiding your expression. 

“He’s good. He’s been in Japan for two years now, I think. He’s happy there.” 

You barely even noticed Mark returning to your tattoo, the pain less noticeable while your mind was occupied. 

“That’s good. I saw on Facebook he has a girlfriend now?” 

You nodded. “Mhm. Her name’s Jennie--she seems nice.” 

Mark didn’t need to know that you hadn’t spoken to your brother since the week before you moved to Seoul. He didn’t need to know you’d been avoiding his calls, texts, and e-mails. Most of them you deleted without even opening. 

From what you knew, Taehyung and Mark had simply drifted once they both moved out of your tiny town and started creating a life for themselves. Taehyung spent his years after college roaming the world, taking photos and putting on exhibits until he secured a steady photography job for a Japanese magazine. 

Mark moved before that, though you hadn’t known he’d moved to the city until today. You hadn’t ever been close to him besides the casual greeting when he’d be downstairs playing video games with Taehyung while you were doing homework. 

When you were younger, you’d had an innocent crush on him, only because he was one of the few boys that paid you any attention. You’d only ever had a handful of conversations, but he was always polite and even helped you with your math homework once or twice. It really hadn’t taken much to impress you back then.

“So, how long have you been in the city?” Mark asked. 

You were grateful for the slight change in subject. It was only a matter of time before he started asking about your parents, and you wouldn’t have been able to pretend any longer. 

“A couple of months. I just… wanted a change,” you told him honestly. 

Maybe you’d gotten more than you’d bargained for… but regardless, you were grateful for your newfound independence. 

“I get it,” Mark replied. “Alright, outline is done. Now we’ll just have to shade. I’ll give you a few minutes, okay?” 

You lifted your face from the back of the chair and sat up straight. “Can I see it?” you asked. 

It took a moment for you to realize Mark’s ears were turning red because without the shield of the chair, your entire bra-clad chest was now on display for him. It didn’t help that you’d chosen a pink, lacy bra just because it was the first one you’d grabbed out of your laundry bag. 

Quickly, you leaned forward again to cover yourself with the chair, biting forcefully onto your lip. You could feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Sorry…” you said.

Mark cleared his throat and turned around, reaching for a handheld mirror on the table behind him. “It’s okay… I’ve definitely seen worse. Not that it was bad, or, well-” 

It was obvious he’d put his foot in his mouth. You found yourself giggling, bringing your hand up to cover your mouth. Mark looked as if he was desperate for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. 

“Sorry,” he said, shaking his head at himself as he turned back around. “Here,” he said chuckling softly as he held up the mirror behind you so that you could see the work he’d already done. 

You managed to stifle your giggles as you turned your head. It was no wonder Mark was known for pieces like this--his lines were crisp and clear, flowing in such a way that it looked as if your skin was born with this intricate design. You couldn’t wait to see how it looked when it was complete.

“Good?” he asked.

“I love it,” you said, smiling wide. “Makes the pain worth it.” 

Mark looked pleased with your answer. He set the mirror down and got up, switching out the ink on his pen for the color he was going to use for the petals, a soft cool toned purple. 

You resumed your position against the chair after a few more minutes, fists clenched as you prepared for the pain. 

-----

It turned out not to be so bad. Mark kept you distracted, asking you questions about your experience in the city so far. When he sensed you avoiding the topic of home or your parents, he didn’t push. 

Once he got your tattoo bandaged up, you sat around talking for another half an hour while he showed you photos of his drawings, as per your request. You’d never known that he was so talented. 

“I guess I should be going,” you said after a lull in conversation. If you wanted to get back to your room before your roommate began their daily music blasting and loud video game routine, you’d need to head back. 

“Where are you staying?” he asked, pulling off his gloves and washing his hands in the miniature sink against the wall.

“Just… this little place,” you answered. Little was an understatement. 

When you’d moved out, you’d only had a suitcase and a finite amount of cash. It hadn’t exactly been planned, so your options were limited. You stayed in the first hostel you could find, and you were disappointed to find that the wages you received from serving couldn’t provide you with anything better. 

You shared a room, currently with a Russian girl a few years older than you that seemed to only be staying in Seoul to play shooting games and blast ear-piercing rock metal. Your last roommate hadn’t been nearly as bad, but you weren’t having great luck. 

“Here, I’m just finishing up for the day. Why don’t we grab a bite to eat, then I’ll take you home.” 

Your efforts to refuse his offer were basically ignored. He gave you no choice as he led you out to the front room to pay for your tattoo, whispering something lowly to Dahyun as she wrote up your bill. 

“Mark,” you said in protest once you saw the total. You didn’t know much about tattoo pricing, but you were sure this was significantly lower than it should have been.

“What? It’s a family and friends discount.”

You sighed. As much as you wanted to refuse his help, you had to admit you could take whatever discounts you could get. Tattoos were expensive and you certainly didn’t have the budget to get one as impulsively as you had today. 

“I’ll get my stuff ready, then I’ll meet you outside, okay?” Mark asked and you nodded, watching as he walked off to his room. 

“Family and friends, huh?” Dahyun asked, eyebrows raised as she watched you sign your receipt. “You must have gotten really close back there.” 

You laughed, sliding the receipt back over the table. “It turns out, he used to be best friends with my older brother. So… family, I guess,” you said, though you never really saw him as such. No matter how many times your mother acted like he was her second son. 

“Wow, small world,” Dahyun said as she handed over a sheet of paper with a list of bullet points on it. She went over the aftercare process, recommending the creams and ointments that she preferred, and ways to help it heal faster. 

After thanking Dahyun over and over for her kindness, you gathered your things and waited outside of the front door for Mark. 

When your day began, you never would have thought you’d be having dinner with your brother’s old best friend, bringing back memories you hadn’t quite been ready to revisit. But he was so sweet to you, so easy to talk to, you couldn’t bring yourself to say no. You didn’t want to say no. 

You’d always admired Mark’s choice to move to Seoul straight out of school, with no plan and no connections to the city. And he only came back for holidays and special occasions. While you were hastily packing your clothes into a duffel bag, you remembered thinking briefly of him. 

“Ready?” Mark asked from behind you as he exited the shop. The sunlight hit his skin, bringing your attention to the swirling designs upon his shoulder. The way his shirt was cut allowed you a peek of his ribs—you could see loopy cursive etched on his skin but you were unable to make it out.

“Yeah, let’s go,” you replied with a smile, tearing your eyes from his bare skin. 

[nitannichionne]

Luna IV, Chapter 13: The Tournament (A Cavill Syverson Fan Fic)

Chapter 13: The Tournament

CHAPTER 13: The Tournament

The marketplace was in excited upheaval. It had been for the last few weeks. The Luna Women’s competition was drawing close.

Any woman could participate, though single and claimed had their own tournaments. There were ten competitions: artisanship, cooking, cleaning, beauty, hand to hand combat, intelligence, archery, athleticism, gardening and riding.

You had never heard of it before, and for that alone, you are excited. You and Helena take your usual table and watch women and merchants haggling more than usual.

“You’re really into this!” Helena smiles at you.

“I know I can win the rough stuff,” you say excitedly. “Did you see those medals?”

“Yes, but there is some serious competition,” Helena warns softly. “The outlanders, the ones who live on the outside of the cities, their women are pretty rough, too.”

You sigh, “Hopefully my practicing will earn a place, at least.” You smile at Helena. “You’re a shoe-in for beauty, by the way.”

Helena smiles at that, chuckling as she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, with the little pouch here.” She raises an eyebrow. “You should try to enter it. You’re really exotic looking.”

You laugh out loud. “No, thanks!”

“Hi!” Gabrielle smiles, clutching sheets to her breast.

You smile. You honestly have never seen such change in a woman before. Gabrielle was still afraid of most men except Lysander, but she was no longer afraid to smile, look people in the eye. She simply was not the same woman she was three months ago.

               “Where have you been?” you ask her.

               “Lysander,” she says sheepishly. “I honestly don’t understand it. You’d think he’d be tired of me.”

               “Are you?” Helena asks knowingly.

               Gabrielle leaned forward and grinned girlishly. “No!” They all laughed at that. “What did I miss?”

               “I chose my fabric,” You push swatches toward her.

               “I brought my sketches for you two,” Gabrielle smiles. “Let me know what you think, okay? I’ll get some drinks…for you, too, Kane!” She scratches his ears and goes for refreshments.

               You and Helena frown over the sketches.

               “She is good, you know that?” you nod.

               “I know. That’s why we’re going to enter our costumes into the artisan’s competition in Gabrielle’s name!” Helena whispers.

               You gasp softly, “She’s in the gardening competition already. You’re going to put her in another?”

               “She signed the sketches,” Helena taps the sheets. “See? All we have to do is wear the number on our costumes, that’s all.”

               “She might be embarrassed.”

“And Lysander will be there for her,” Helena says with no remorse. “He’s even thinking about entering his outfit for that day. She finished it yesterday.” She pauses, changing the subject. “Are you sure you don’t want to try for the beauty competition?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Zenobia nods, rolling her eyes. “The archery and athleticism events are enough, thank you.”

“Hhmph,” Helena pouts. “I thought you were doing hand to hand.”

“Your brother said no, that’s why I’m doing athleticism instead.” You roll your eyes. “He really gets on my nerves sometimes.”

Helen arches her eyebrow, her smile disbelieving. “Yeah, right.”

*****

The Luna Women’s competition came on a beautiful but hot day. Colors were posted everywhere and merchants sold cool drinks and shade. There was public shade but it was crowded.

You are grateful to find that Sy has not only reserved shade for some of his people, but got you a two room private tent with a cooling system inside. You are relieved to see it as you complete the events of the athleticism competition.

“I saw you in the footrace,” Sy smiles, handing you a drink when you come inside the tent. “I had no idea you were so fast.”

               You raise an eyebrow brow at him. “You never asked.”

               “They should be doing archery soon,” he nods. “Anything you want to tell me about that?”

“I was one of the best on my father’s property,” you beam. “I trained with his archers, but not with arrows. I trained with bullet tips.”

               “That man, rest his soul, gave you way too much advantage.”

               “Ha!” You have become used to his little ribs, but most of the time, you just liked the way his mouth went a little lopsided when he did. “You’ll be there, won’t you?” You watch him sit as if trying to decide and you pounce on him. He laughs up at you as you grab his shirt front and shake him slightly. “You will be there, right?”

“I will be there,” he chuckles, grabbing your wrists and turning your bodies so that he was over you. He brings his lips down on yours, nibbling and teasing your mouth to open to him.

“Sy…” you sigh, and then scramble to your feet when she saw the look in his eyes. “Uh-uh, I need all my strength for today!”

“Before we leave, I will have you in this tent,” he assures, his smile completely suggestive.

Your stomach does flip-flops as you smile back. “Just not now.”

He lunges for you and you duck out, hearing his laughter. Ah, that man…

“It’s true, then!”

You turn to Gabrielle’s gasp. “What?” She looked down at the number. “Oh, you like?”

Gabrielle looks upset, to the point of tears. “I’m not that good!”

“Brielle.” Lysander calls softly, catching up to her. “I told her to.”

“But, but why?!” Gabrielle shakes her head as tears well up in her eyes.

“Because we know talent when we see it,” he nods. “I have been getting compliments on this outfit since we got here.” She opens her mouth to protest and he kisses her forehead, immediately quieting and calming her. “Trust me?”

She looked up at him, nodding. “Always, but--” She sighs as he kissed her soundly.

Lysander raises his head just in time to recognize the man coming toward them. “Oh, hey, Theron!”

Theron was all smiles and a bit excited.  “Let’s go to the beauty competition,” he suggested. “Helena’s one of the finalists.”

“I can only stay a little while,” you say apologetically. “I have a few more things to do.”

“I thought the archery contest was at the end of the day,” Lysander frowns slightly.

“It is,” you nod. “But I have a few more athletic categories too.”

The group went to watch Helena compete. You can’t believe how pretty some of the women were, and how many boldly stared at Sy. It was as if you weren’t there. They smiled at Theron, but Helena was more than their equal in beauty. You look down at your form fitting halter and brown chaps with underlying shorts. You like the outfit; it hugs your curves and you can do just about anything in it, but these women floated across the floor.

Sy’s arms close around you. “What?”

“Hmmm?” you nod, picking at the beadwork on the arm braces Gabrielle made for you.  “Nothing.”

He bends down and nuzzles your ear. “Come on.”

“Nothing.”

“And the winner is…Helena Cavanaugh!”

Helena was tearful as she accepted her crown with three silver moons on it. She smiled at the crowd, and then at her husband.

“I love you,” Theron mouths the words.

“I love you,” Helena mouths back, blowing him a kiss.

It slams into you. You want Sy’s love, and to keep it, more than anything. You kiss him on the cheek and leave to complete your competition.

The rest of the afternoon wears at your nerves. You place second in athletics because you truly didn’t climb walls a lot, nor did you swim. You are thankful that running and agility helped your scores. You hope to win the archery competition.

The archery competition is grueling. You get down to the finals, and it comes down to you and last year’s winner, Gloria Crieger. It comes down to one arrow at twice the distance than before. You shoot within the bullseye but Gloria shoots dead center, leaving you with second place again.

You swallow hard. You can’t believe you lost the archery competition. You’d never lost against a woman. Your pride is crippled. You stand stiffly as you are given the medal, and step off the stand as soon as she can. You see Sy  come toward you, and you can’t look at him.

“Hey,” he lifts your chin so he can look at you. He looks surprised to find tears in your usually bright eyes. “Zen?” He pulls you into his embrace, sighing as your tears come. “Aw, sweetheart…”

“I’m sorry.” You sniff into his shirt, and manage to look at him. “I really tried, Sy. I wanted to make you proud! I wanted to bring glory to your house!”

Sy pulls you closer. He tilts your chin up and wipes your tears. “But sweetheart, I am proud of you. You lost to a woman who has won this competition for years. You just entered, and you placed second. Don’t cry, baby, don’t cry.” He rubs your back comfortingly.

“I don’t care!” How could you hope to keep him? You aren’t an exceptional beauty like Helena, or artistic and sweetly soft like Brielle. Your father once spoke of your mother’s warrior skills like she was unparallel to any other woman, that she was special. “I’m sorry, Sy. I really am. I’ll do—“

He laughs at you, and speaks to you as if you are a child. “I am proud of you—“ He rains kisses on your face as you begin to shake your head, not wanting pity. “No, no, listen to me.” He frames your face in his hands, wiping your tears with his thumbs. “I am proud of you, I am proud you are mine, with me.” He kisses you again, and holds you tightly, and you felt the tightness in your sobbing chest melt as  you begin to snuggle under his chin. He rubs your back. “You’re such a silly girl sometimes, you know that?”

“Oh!” You realize you’ve made a spectacle of herself. Some people are actually watching you, but you were too upset to pay attention. You are mortified.

He laughs down at you. “What?” You snuggle closer to him, hiding to regain the rest of your composure. “Aw, just realized some people are watching?” He laughed louder, kissing the top of your head. “Look around.” He nudges your temple. “Go on, look around.”

You peek around his bicep. You see most people barely paying attention, but some smiled at you. Gabrielle is still marveling at her medal in the artisan’s competition as Lysander holds her. Then you see Gloria with her mate. There is no holding, no kissing, no congratulations from him. He collects her winnings, and gives her a small portion of it. Then he gives her the trophy with a pat on the back. She nods her thanks. He didn’t even hold her hand as they walked away from the crowds. You lock eyes with Gloria, and see the longing and loneliness of the woman. “Sy…”

               “I know, I know. We won.”

                You snuggle closer to him, taking a deep but shaky breath. “Yes. We won.”

@fckdeusername @maan24  @rn7rocks @kaatelyyynn  @october505​ @absentmindedreader @introvertedmouse​

[chimeowrical]

Have you ever faced trial and error when it came to your original characters? I've been having an insane amount of trouble and just can't seem to make any decisions regarding my boy

Oh absolutely!! I already had a fairly decent grasp on the Tau members’ personalities and designs before I started really posting about them, but I go through that process with most of my OCs!!

Like Rhu?? She originally started out with a really bubbly, air-head personality, long tendrils, and went through several colors! In the first phases of her concept, she was a pilot instead of a mechanic. Characters definitely change a lot! I usually go through like 3 to 5 versions of a character’s design before I really start to feel good about it!

My process usually looks something like this

1. Come up with a very vague concept. Like, for Rhu, I wanted a Nautolan who worked with her hands. That’s literally all I knew.

2. (Optional) Make a mood board! I find it helpful to find visuals, quotes, etc, that feed into that conceptual vibe. Plus it’s a great way to find some inspiration. Rooster’s personality mostly stemmed from the quote “I fucked my way into this mess and I’ll fuck my way out”

3. Design and REDESIGN! The first thing I did with Rhu was sketch up a little concept art (which I cannot find because it was about 4 sketchbooks ago), but you can also just write a little paragraph about the character! Then go over it, figure out what you like, scrap what you don’t, and then do it again. It’s like sculpting the character thru figuring out what works and what doesn’t!

4. Keep working on it, even after the character feels fleshed out. Luckily I get amazing people to drop wild questions into my askbox every day. It gives me a chance to get to know my characters that way too! I’d highly suggest finding those “100 questions for your character” things!

I’m still figuring out things with my characters! Salvo’s blue eye has switched sides once or twice, Rooster’s piercings have moved around, hair texture has changed - all sorts of stuff!

Don’t put too much pressure on yourself to make hard rules and decisions on your characters - you can always change them!

[2manyfandoms2count]

#MarichatMay Day 24

Long post ft. a Reveal, Marichat, lowkey other sides of the lovesquare and fluff :3 Hope you guys enjoy! xxx

Based on the prompt list by @marichatmay

---

Day 24: Confession

“Purr-incess? I might have to confess something.”

“What have you done this time?” Marinette sighed, barely looking up from her newspaper. She was reading the fashion pages, regularly bookmarking pictures from the Paris Autumn Fashion Week report. She wasn’t so much interested in the stars as she was in the trends that were emerging, although there were a couple of good shots of Adrien Agreste that would definitely be making it to her picture-board.

Had Marinette been focusing on Chat Noir instead, she would have noticed how fidgety he was, a lot more hyper than usual. He paced around her room, biting his claws in a nervous habit. Ever since he’d found out Ladybug was, in fact, Marinette, he’d done his best to conceal his own identity, while secretly trying to get her attention, but not knowing how to. He hadn’t meant to follow Ladybug Home. In fact, he hadn’t realised he was until he had gotten close enough to Marinette’s flat. He’d been blinded by a familiar red flash just as he prepared to jump onto her balcony, and seen his friend casually walk out from behind the chimney, fishing in her bag to get a macaron out for the red being that floated next to her. 

Chat had been meaning to visit Marinette that particular night to welcome her back after her holiday. Which, now that he thought about it, matched Ladybug’s own time off. He thought about all the times he’d missed the connections. How Marinette had never been akumatised. How fast Ladybug appeared when the attacks happened at school, how well she seemed to know the targets. How the only time he’d seen both Marinette and Ladybug together, Trixx had conveniently been amongst the kidnapped Kwamis. How similar Ladybug and the illusory Marinette had looked, down to the hairstyle. For somebody whose main line of business was looks, he certainly had been very blind.  

Chat had almost collided with a wall as he ran back to his room, laughing about his discovery and the irony of him calling Marinette an everyday Ladybug. Knowing his Lady, she probably had been panicking inside at the thought of being unmasked. Yet it made so much sense that the most caring, mindful and genuinely kind person he knew was the person behind the mask. How had it escaped him for so long?

 He’d spent the rest of the Summer pondering what to do with the information. Should he come clean to Marinette? At least about him knowing? She was the guardian after all, surely it was only a matter of time before she ended up knowing about his identity anyway.

When school started again, still unsure about what to do, Adrien had probed Alya and Nino to figure out if they also knew. Alya being hot on LB’s tracks all the time, surely she must have been aware that her favourite superhero was her best friend. After talking with her, he concluded that either she didn’t know, or she played her cards reaaaally close to her chest. She’d let something slip about Marinette liking him, though, which, once he’d calmed the butterflies in his stomach -the girl of his dreams liked him back-, had lead him to spend a lot of time trying to get closer to her. He thought it would be perfect; he’d know the truth, but she didn’t have to.

Except that to everyone’s disbelief, Marinette had gently rejected Adrien’s date invitations. Once. Twice. Three times. Alya could not fathom what was going on in her best friend’s head, and she wouldn’t tell her. She just said she had a secret crush, but that she couldn’t say anything more. Adrien’s heart ached a bit, but guessed that after all the time he’d made her suffer by calling her a “good friend”, it was normal that she had moved on. He might have been slightly jealous, but he had respectfully backed away. 

Until tonight. Chat Noir had been visiting Marinette (just because she wouldn’t date him didn’t mean he didn’t want to hang out with his friend), and she’d left him for a bit to get some croissants from the bakery. Left unsupervised, Chat had skimmed through her latest sketches, her talent never failing to impress him. And that’s when he’d seen her diary, open wide. It had been pushed back behind her computer monitor, probably when he’d arrived. He really hadn’t meant to pry, but as his gaze landed on the page, he saw his name. Chat Noir. 

His curiosity getting the better of him, he had read the diary entry, his cheeks warming as he read her silent confession that she liked him. She seemed a little conflicted about her feelings, but his bad puns were the main thing she held against him. It was all he could do not to waltz with her when she came up the stairs. 

Marinette mistook his delight for over excitement at the thought of eating pastries, which she faced every time she gave Chat anything to eat. She refrained from worrying about his eating habits, given that he’d admitted to being a high level, part time sportsman (he wouldn’t say which sport, but the fact that his right arm muscles were a bit more developed than his left had made her assume it was tennis). His enthusiasm had made her smile, but she hadn’t paid much attention to it as she opened the magazine Chat had brought her.

“I might have agreed to us going on a double date? Adrien Agreste asked if I could organise a dinner with Ladybug, and well, I didn’t want to be the third wheel so I said we’d both go...” Chat was making it up as he went. This could be a solution to his conundrum. An opportunity to tell her who he was, that he knew, and (he could dream) to make out with her on the Paris rooftops.

“You what?” The magazine fell flat on her lap as all colour drained from her face. 

“I’m so sorry, I know I should have asked first, but he has a photo shoot opportunity for us and wanted to meet her in another context first... And Ladybug said yes.” He looked straight into her eyes as he iterated the last sentence, daring her to contradict him.

Marinette gaped at the audacity. The blatant lie. It hit her that there was nothing she could do, nothing she could say except accept the proposition. The way Chat looked at her told her he at least suspected there was a link between her and Ladybug. She couldn’t call him out on Ladybug’s supposed agreement to go. Outright refusing the dinner invitation would be fishy. 

She took a deep breath before replying. “Okay, fine, then.” She could always make up an excuse closer to the date.

Her answer took Chat by surprise, but he did his best to hide it. He promised he’d be in touch as he left, and pressed a longing kiss on Marinette’s forehead, drawing a bright shade of crimson to her cheeks as he did so. 

---

Ladybug swung from chimney to chimney on her way to the rooftop. She’d decided it would be Marinette bailing tonight. How could she explain getting there otherwise? And after all, it was Ladybug whom Adrien wanted to see. 

She landed at the meeting point, expecting to find the two boys she’d ever had feelings for. Instead, only one was present.

“Good evening, Adrien.” She smiled. Her romantic feelings for him had melted as her relationship with Chat bloomed. Adrien’s recent interest in her had further confused her, but she was certain now that her heart belonged to a certain leather-clad cat. “Has Chat not made it yet?”

“Actually, he has.” He gave her an oddly familiar smile, one she wasn’t used to seeing on him.

“Oh?” She asked, discreetly looking around. She noticed the candle-lit table in the center of the rooftop, a single rose laid on one of the two plates. Ladybug stared at him blankly, her brain taking a minute to register the information. “Is he not staying for dinner, then?”

“Just as much as Marinette will.”

“Do you mean...”

“Plagg, claws out.” Adrien called out, holding his hand out. A black blur cycloned towards his simple, silver ring, and in a green flash, the model was replaced by her partner.

Her face was tense from trying very hard not to gape. Her jaw would probably have hit the floor otherwise. 

“You knew.” She managed to articulate.

“I did.”

“Tikki, spots off.” She felt more comfortable speaking as herself. Which she knew was stupid. She was Ladybug. And Adrien was Chat Noir. “I can’t believe you managed to make me fall for you twice.” She knew there were more pressing matters. They were out in the open, they’d both transformed. They now both knew who the other was. But for once she let her heart speak for her first.

“In my defense, you claw-ly have a type.” He chuckled. They were facing each other now, close enough for his hand to come and cup her face, his thumb gently stroking her cheek.

“As if you don’t!” She snorted, her eyes lost in his green ones. They reflected the flickering candles in a warm way, making her feel at Home. 

“Never said I didn’t.” He kissed her lightly on the forehead. On her nose. On her cheek. “You know, I lied the other day when I said I had to confess something.” He whispered as he continued trailing kisses on her face, behind her ears, just below her jaw.

“Oh yeah?” She sighed, savouring the moment.

“My actual confession is, I love you, my Ladynette.” He smiled tenderly as he drowned into the sapphire of her eyes.

“And I love you, my Chadrien.” 

Their lips found each other like two butterflies as they stood in their own bubble, the Eiffel Tower erupting in lights behind them as the clock struck the hour.

[mcrmadness]

Madness draws: Behind the Scenes of the Bela/Farin: “Widumihei” comic.

A few months ago I posted here this comic:

CLICK HERE for the original post about that comic where you can see it in better and bigger size, and also reblog it ;)

And this post is just a deep dive into how I plan, do and draw my comics.

Let’s start with sketchbook things...

So every comic needs a story, right? My comics usually are born from either some dialogue I imagine in my head or by an impulsive inspiration that happens when I see something or talk with people and a random idea is triggered. I’m very good at coming up with new ideas solely based on just one word or so which is why I often ask people if they have anything they would want to see/read because I suck at coming up ideas on my own. Or I do get ideas, but not as often as I’d want to.

This particular idea was very old and I have tried but I cannot find the piece that was my inspiration but it was in some of my old German books because I remember laughing at it with either my brother or even with the German teacher in 2011 or 2012. I was only able to find my first “sketch” of the story:

This is in the notebook I used for writing down some comic ideas and even had one comic in it, plus it’s also my fanfiction writing notebook. It has no date but I know for sure it was either 2011 or 2012 because that’s when I did my last Bela/Farin comic and pretty much started my (unintentional) 6 year pause from drawing altogether.

I have always been trilingual when I do these plans for my comics, often writing the “narration” in Finnish and the dialog either in English or German because I just cannot imagine them to speaking Finnish. The translation of that text goes as:

COMIC (sarjis = sarjakuva = comic book in Finnish)

1. The phone is ringing. 2. F: “Widumihei?!” B: ? 3. B: “Farin wtf?” 4. Farin walks from another room. 5. B: “Widumihei?” 6. F: “It means, “will you marry me?”“ 7. B: *wtf* REPLAY:

1. Bela is sitting/laying somewhere. 2. The phone is ringing. Reached with his hand? 3. Looks at the phone, “wtf?”, a thought: “von Jan: Widumihei?!” 4. Bela: “Farin?” / “Jan?” 5. F comes from another room, looks in from behind the door frame or something. B: “Widumihei?” 6. F: “Widumihei: “WIllst DU MIch HEiraten”“ 7. B: “WTF”

So when I then started to draw these comics again in 2018, I kept thinking about this one too and still wanted to draw it one day. If you have read the finished comic, you may notice something different in the old plot versus new: I switched Bela’s and Farin’s roles. Back then I didn’t know too much yet but over the years I have learnt much much more about them and I just figured that asking to marry him even as a joke would be too much for Farin and that it would fit Bela’s persona much much better.

***

I had a bit of problems with getting started with this one, mainly because the last times I drew a dä comic was in June 2020, in April 2020 and before those in October 2019. Because of so long time between the comics, I just always forgot about my methods and in which order I do things and what works for me the best. So every time I started to work on a comic, I had to start completely over because all I had was blank paper and I somehow needed to get my thoughts in order and out of my head, into a physical form aka as text and images on the paper, and it’s easier said than done.

So pardon me but from this on the text is going to get a little bit confusing for a little while from now on - but it’s also a very good look over how the life with my suspected ADHD be like sometimes...

I started working on the plot once again to my sketchbook... I think it was somewhere in the beginning of 2020. Because the next idea there is from the summer. This is what the plot looked like at that point - here I had already switched their roles:

Shortly, the texts go: 1. Farin is reading a book. 2. A phone makes a noise. 3. (Farin) looks at it/read the message. / 6. B appears into the doorway. / 11. F spits out the tea.

And underneath it you can see one of the stick figure storyboards I often do in order to kinda see the text in pictures better, and I will write down or draw important aspects like expressions (Farin’s eyebrows) or things like *facepalm’* or *eyeroll* so that I remember to add them.

Next I was struggling with the era. It needed to be an era with the old mobile phones with SMS options but still not too early because I feel that Farin would have not been the first in line to buy a brand new technology object, especially not when it’s a phone. I was even googling when did Germany get their first mobile phone - I remember I got my first phone aka Nokia 5510 in 2000 or 2001 after my mom got a new one and gave her old one to me, so the story shouldn’t happen too many years before the Millenium.

Originally I planned 1997 for that - I needed to think about that based on their styles because shorter hair is harder to draw. Here’s me trying out some hairs and how they’re to draw and which era would suit my needs the best. I actually find the text hilarious altho it’s mine but this is what it’s in English:

Time period -> 1996-1997? 1998 I’ve never drawn 1999 is not that much fun to draw 2000 is already a bit too late? Bela not that much fun to draw. -2001 moustaches are not fun to draw?

I think I was struggling with my thoughts because the next thing in that sketchbook is yet another storyboard:

Or actually I think this was just to see how many sheets I’d need and how many panels I could fit on one sheet.

Anyhow, I then did other things for some time before I got back to this project this year. Including finishing with the sketchbook I had been using since 2010 (and the half of it since 2018!) and I had to get myself a new one. So when I started to think about this comic again, one night I was just thinking about some Bela/Farin scenarios as usual and suddenly I just felt that I NEED to do the comic in the 1998 style!!! So suddenly we jump from the original 1997 idea to the new era, only because of the colors. 

So asap I grabbed my sketchbook and started to look for the proper colors for the hairs:

This one I posted here before too as I was struggling a lot and just felt that I didn’t know how to draw, again. Sometimes when I feel like that, I start drawing with my non-dominant aka left hand because it doesn’t have all that in muscle memory so drawing and writing with it feels more free and it feels almost like pressing a refresh button in my brain. Suddenly the right one know again how to draw because left isn’t too well in control. The below part of the image is done completely with the left hand, including the coloring.

And because I had now a new sketchbook, I somehow couldn’t... deal with the plot and plans being in a different sketchbook than everything else so I had write the plot/dialog AGAIN, into this new sketchbook, along with the storyboards and everything:

Translations: kirja = book, puhelin = phone, oviaukossa = in the doorway, teet suusta = tea(s) out of a/the mouth. “Puhelin zoom” just means “close up to the phone screen” in Madness.

You can also see that I found out that I don’t need to do the stick figure storyboards to imitate a sheet when I can just draw this rectangle and smaller rectangles inside of it and write there numbers to match the things in the dialog to make it much easier for me to plan the pages. And here’s also a small easter egg: there’s 13 panels overall in this comic :D I almost did 12 but then felt that no, I really need to do 13 because, you know, the hairs, the era, the album title. And also because I like the number so much lmao.

So from there we get to the second storyboard which is not just stick figures anymore but just me planning how I want the panels to look like. To get the imagery of the rooms and facial expressions etc. out onto the paper so that I can see them in real life instead of my shady imagination that sometimes isn’t as vivid as what I could be.

Also have you ever tried to draw a beach chair? It’s more difficult than you’d think:

I tried to draw the same thing from the same reference photos so many times and still I always felt like I was trying to draw that impossible triangle or some other illusion image. And it just went on and on here:

Originally I also had planned the second panel to be a close up of the phone so that Farin’s face would be left at the background from the frog perspective. That’s what I was trying to with that weird-ass face on the left but turned out that I have never drawn these characters from such angle and I just... couldn’t see it in my head clearly enough to be able to draw it. So I dismissed that idea and that’s why the angle changed from a phone close-up to a side view to the room and at Farin.

As I was in the middle of planning the second page, I suddenly wasn’t happy with my original plot anymore. I wasn’t sure if it would work and needed to think about it one more time. So I wrote two other dialogs here, along with a storyboards for them both. I ended up choosing B from those two options eventually.

I don’t remember anymore if I had already done the first sketch of the comics or not but at some point I just felt that I no longer knew how to draw in my style. Sometimes you just draw and learn wrong things and wrong methods that you get used to and then you have to take a break and actually do a little bit of studying over your own style to find again the way how you want to draw, and get rid of the bad habits and find the good ones again. In my case it was to draw the eyes way way too big when they originally never were THAT big, so I had to learn how to draw them small and normal again. That’s why I did these, as I really needed to pay attention to the faces and remember how to draw them again:

The front-side views were another big readong for this “study” because I have drawn that perspective only once or twice before and I needed to figure out how I want to draw that. Also, I don’t know if it’s just me but for some reason the front-side Farin reminds me of one of the parent characters from this cartoon called The Rugrats which I watched as a kid. It was totally unintentional, but you can google The Rugrats if you don’t know how the charatcers looked like in the cartoon.

The things below are just me testing something. The red Farins were just to test how the colored pencils work on each other and how the fineliners work with the colored pencils, and which way is the better way to do the shading. And the red colored pencil was the only one available at the time so that had to do.

A little bit about the heads btw: You might notice some difference between the left and right faces. It’s because I have always, always struggled with drawing anything that is looking at right. Most of the animal portraits and all I have drawn so that they look at left because I just find it so much easier to draw. I think with comics it’s because I always start with the eye (and the eyebrows if I don’t forget it) and then do the forehead, nose, mouth and chin, and after that I either continue from the hair (from the front) or do the ear first. But when I am drawing them to look at right, I have to basically draw the mirror image and starting from the hair is not the key because it can easily mess up with the perspectives. I still usually draw everything in the same order but it really is difficult because I’m doing a mirror image and my own hand is on the way, too. Basically I’m drawing from right to left instead of left to right! (I think I should try drawing those with my left hand, then...)

And from here we get to the first sketch of the comic. From here on the images are from my phone’s camera so they are sometimes illegally bad but no can do, I again didn’t think I’d post these to anywhere:

Here you can see I was mainly just focusing on the shapes and the space inside those panels. Just trying to see the perspective and how everything is. The only thing that I drew more precisely was the third panel, with the hand and phone. I had quite a nice memory of old phones in my head but I still googled for some reference photos of Nokia 5110 phones as that was my first phone (as I mentioned earlier), and I also happened to have some of my other old phones on the table nearby so I took my own hand reference photos too:

They always say there’s a little bit of the artist in their art and this one literally has that - “Farin’s” hand is actually my hand! :D And I think the size is kinda on point too because this phone was like 2-3 times smaller than Nokia 5110 and I have small hands, and I believe Farin must have much bigger hands, so the 5110 probably would have looked about the same size in his hand.

After the first sketch, the next step was then - the second sketch:

I also wanted to add more action to the panels so that it’s interesting to look at and not just basically the same panel over and over again with just different speech bubbles, so I came up with the idea of Farin spitting out his tea not being as cartoony as it could be and that he would have to actually clean it up instead of just leaving it there just because in cartoons/comics everything is possible. That way I got more depth into the panels and it was also interesting for me to draw because I drew lots of new postures I have never drawn before, and I’m surprised how well it went despite me not even looking for any kind of reference photos! The only things I used reference photos for were the beach chair, and the phone in a hand. (I have actually always been quite good at drawing 3D objects and spaces, especially if they are rectangular.)

So yeah, this is the phase where everything is then finished with pencil and what follows next is drawing the lines with fineliners - I use Sakura Pigma Micron fineliners for everything else, and black Promarker for doing the lines for the panels (and also if I need bigger pitch black areas done).

Here are the panel lines done but I only had a photo of this first sheet.

And here are both sheets with the finelining done and all pencil marks etc. erased. I really like this part because it looks so clean when all those sketch marks are gone. It’s also crazy to think I literally spend hours drawing something in pencil only to erase it all away later :D

And here’s one photo of the coloring process, the first one has only the base colors done but none of the shadows yet (apart from the shirts), and the second one has some of the shadows done but not everything yet.

Usually after coloring, I will then go through everything with the fineliners one more time to make sure all the lines are dark enough as it just gives everything the finished yet a bit “sketchy” look that what I really like with my comics. The actual last detail is always adding my signature along with the date or year.

And here’s the finished comic one more time for comparison:

Don’t forget to check and reblog the actual post about this comic if you read this post all the way here. I’d appreaciate that a lot since art and artist on Tumblr are not really that much appreciated.

[ghosttotheparty]

say  my name and say it twice (cotton candy skies)

17. also on AO3 chapter sixteen

The drawings go with Lotte’s above his desk, but there’s one he puts elsewhere. While most of the drawings are pinned up, between, above, and under Lotte’s, stuck with colourful pins and washi tape, there’s one he pins on the wall above his bedside table.

It’s a watercolour ladybug, and he’s barely stopped looking at it sincere he got home, barely stopped admiring the soft colours, the light pencil just barely visible under the paint. He puts it up first, before looking at it and smiling fondly, then moving to his desk with the folder.

As he carefully pins a drawing of a sunflower, he hears a knock at his door. It’s gentle, but firm, which tells him it’s Lotte. (His mom’s are gentle and tentative, usually accompanied by a soft “Jens?” and she waits before he calls for her to come in. His dad never knocked before throwing the door open.) The door opens slightly (he doesn’t look, but hears a creak), and he says “Come in,” before it opens all the way.

Lotte doesn’t say anything, just stands next to Jens’s desk as he kneels on it, watching as he pushes pins into the wall.

“You didn’t do those,” she states after a minute, when he puts up a sketch of a butterfly, under a butterfly by Lotte.

“No,” he says, pausing and leaning back to look at it, making sure it’s straight. “They’re Lucas’s.”

“The FaceTime guy?”

He chuckles softly, picking up the next one, a watercolour of treetops.

“Yeah, the FaceTime guy. He said he tried to go with your theme.”

She steps away, looking around as she processes what he said.

“He’s been here?”

Jens freezes, his eyes wide, his hand still, holding up the painting, and he grins.

“Yeah, he came once.” He turns and looks at her. “He said you’re very talented.”

She smiles after a second and he looks back to the wall, pushing a blue pin into the drawing.

“Why is this one over here?”

He turns and she’s sitting on his bed crisscross, pointing at the ladybug.

“It’s my favourite.”

He picks up the last one, a caterpillar on a leaf, and holds it up, unsure of where to place it.

“Why?”

“It’s pretty.” He sits back, kneeling, and looks at her again. “Makes me think of you.”

He smiles when she giggles after a second and then holds the drawing up again.

“Where do you think this one should go?” he asks, and she gets up, coming to stand next to him and looking.

She hums as she thinks and then points, under one of her flowers.

“Perfect.” He places it and holds up a pin. “You wanna do it?”

She climbs up next to him and carefully takes the pin, pushing it into the wall and smiling.

---

Jens can’t hear the sound of his skateboard over the pavement through his headphones blasting loud music, that could be too loud for eight in the morning. But it’s fine.

He skids to a stop outside the school, kicking the board up and catching it as he pulls his headphones down to hang around his neck and then reaches into his pocket to pause the music. There’s a text from Lucas that he hadn’t seen, didn’t feel the phone vibrate as he skated.

good luck at school, nerd see you tonight💕

Jens laughs to himself, skating his head as he tucks the board under his arm and adjusts his grip on the phone as he responds.

🥰🥰🥰

He tries to wipe his smile away as he puts his phone back, walking past groups of students standing in circles until he sees the guys, also standing in a circle.

“Hey,” he says as he hits Robbe gently with his skateboard, and they all shake his hand (after Robbe smacks him).

“Hey, Jens—”

“Hey, Moyo,” Jens interrupts, like he’s greeting him for the first time, turning to him and smiling as Moyo gives him a discontented look.

“I have a question.”

“I could have an answer.” There’s a pit in his stomach that he ignores. It grows there every time someone says something like that. I have a question, we have to talk, anything like that. Freaks him out.

Moyo fishes his phone out of his pocket and they all wait as he opens something on it.

“Is this you?”

He holds his phone up and there’s an Instagram post open, a slightly blurry of who is obviously Jens, in his orange jacket, his hands covering his face partially.

His heart drops for a second, knowing some kind of secret he has is being ripped away from him, but it raises and warms when he realises what he’s looking at: a photo of him taken by Lucas, a random snapshot as Jens pretended to beatbox, blurring from Jens’s movement and Lucas’s laughter.

Jens’s face softens as he reads the caption.

my dancer

“Yeah, that’s me.”

Robbe and Aaron lean over his shoulder, looking, and Moyo leaves it up for them to see.

“Whose account is that?” Aaron asks curiously and Moyo takes the phone back, looking at it.

“Mm… I’m not gonna tell you.”

For a few reasons.

“Come on, I know you know.”

“Yeah, I do know, but I’m not gonna tell you.”

Aaron frowns, dropping his shoulders.

“I’m not, so don’t even try with the puppy dog eyes,” Jens says, tapping the end of Aaron’s nose, and Aaron rolls his eyes, giving up.

“What’s the ‘my dancer’ thing mean?” Moyo asks, looking up from his phone.

“It’s an inside joke,” Jens says instinctively, the words out his mouth before he even processes the question.

And then he regrets it, as Moyo says, “Oh, okay,” and looks back at his phone, as Robbe tells Aaron that Sander is working on a (legal) mural at his school, a continuation of a conversation Jens had missed.

The pit is back, even though he knows it’s fine. That Moyo is texting someone (probably Noor, not that he’d admit it), not looking at the account, that Robbe and Aaron and talking about Sander, that none of them are thinking about the account or the caption anymore.

But it won’t go away, won’t stop eating away at him, and he can feel his pulse quicken, his breathing quicken, his hands shake in his pocket and his grip on the board shift repeatedly. The guys’ voices seem to get louder, along with the voices of all the other students scattered around them, the sound of doors slamming open and shut, the sound of birds singing, students dropping their backpacks, and laughing.

“It’s not a joke,” he bursts, looking at the guys, who stop and look at him, confused, their minds already far past the topic. He stares back, unsure of what to say, until Robbe breaks the silence.

“What?”

“The—The dancer thing,” he stammers, shoving his hand deeper into his pocket anxiously. “It’s not a joke. I’m a dancer.”

They stare at him blankly.

“But you were so shit during our hip hop video,” Moyo says.

“That’s—” Jens snorts, dropping his head and shoulders, easing up a bit. “That’s because it was hip hop.”

It’s quiet again as they look at him like they’re studying him.

“Waist, so—” Aaron says, stopping and closing his eyes, waving his hands. “You’re a dancer? But when? How?” He looks like his mind just exploded, and Jens laughs.

“Thursdays.”

And there it is.

They all react differently.

Aaron gasps, reaching out and grabbing Jens, pulling him back and forth as Jens laughs. Robbe’s jaw drops and he stares, seemingly processing what Jens just revealed. Moyo lets out a loud “Oh!” and points at him, looking from Jens to Robbe to Aaron to Jens.

“Wait, what the fuck?” Moyo exclaims, pushing Aaron out of the way and gripping Jens’s shoulders. “You dance on Thursdays?”

“I mean, I practise every day, but I go to the studio on Thursdays.”

“Today?” Robbe asks.

“I—Yeah, today. I go home and grab my stuff before going.”

“Can we come?” Aaron asks.

“No, Aaron.”

“Oh.”

“Wait. what kind of dance is it?” Moyo asks, pushing Jens like he’s offended.

“Ballet.”

They go quiet again.

“What the fuck is going on this morning?” Moyo says, and Jens laughs again, harder, feeling lighter, the relief of not keeping this secret lifting the weight of it off his shoulders.

“Okay, so you’re a ballerina,” Aaron states after they’ve all taken a second.

“Yes.”

“Show us.”

“I…”

He digs his phone out of his pocket and goes to the photos app, holding it so they can’t see as he scrolls through selfies taken with Lucas, candids of Lucas looking at his phone while sitting next to Jens, blurry pictures of Lucas covering his face.

“I don’t have any videos, but I…” he trails off again, hesitating. He looks around, at students talking and looking at their phones. He looks back at the guys, all looking at him expectantly.

“Okay,” he sighs, handing his skateboard to Robbe, who takes it, confused, and Jens drops his bag to the ground. He steps out into an open place, looking around again. No one’s looking except them.

So he does a double pirouette, the same he did for Lucas last week. But this time he doesn’t stumble. He lands it, looking at the guys, all three of their jaws dropped, and he laughs, quickly going back over to them.

“That was graceful as hell,” Aaron says as Jens grabs his bag from the ground, and Jens laughs harder.

“How long have you been doing ballet?” Robbe asks, handing him the skateboard.

“Since I was kid,” Jens says, shrugging.

“And this mystery Instagrammer has seen you dance?” Moyo asks.

Jens hums.

“Seen me do what I just did.” He avoids pronouns.

“And you’re not gonna tell us who it is,” Moyo says flatly.

“No. But can you tell me the username?” Jens asks, and Moyo holds his phone up again so Jens can see it.

He repeats it to himself as the bell rings, over and over and over until he can practically hear it, like someone is whispering it to him as he falls behind the guys, holding the skateboard against his chest so it doesn’t hit people as they bustle around him, through the front door.

As he walks down the hallway, he searches for the account, the letters still running through his mind.

There are two pictures of him.

And a drawing.

Which makes his heart fucking swell.

And the captions…

The caption on a photo of Jens’s back as he walks in the opposite direction (he remembers the exact night it was taken. It’s like he can’t forget anything when it comes to Lucas.) reads falling.

Jens smiles, setting his board under his chair and sitting.

He thinks he might be falling too.

[rrasado]

• Gambler's Thrill •

(This is just an old scenario I sent to my friend where MC is good at gambling. Basically they're based off of Yumeko from Kakegurui. Keep in mind I'm in no way shape or form a writer excuse my crackfic😅)

"MC-chaaaan!"

Judging by the honorifics I knew right away that it was Levi so I yelled a short come in and there stood the self proclaimed yucky otaku in all his glory.

"Did ya need something Levi?"

Said boy nodded vigorously and pulled me off my bed.

"Me and the others are doing a game night in the living room right now! You should come to you know, hehe seeing as you're doing nothing"

The curious look I gave him urged him to continue.

"We usually have game nights like these every month! It'd probs be more fun if you tagged along"

"So game as in uh... video games?"

"Gah! I wish that were the case cause if it was then I'd win every time! but it's just mostly card games and what not, and there's the occasional betting that surprise surprise Mammon wins every time"

My face lit up at the mention of card games, it's nothing to brag but I REALLY enjoy card games, especially Blind Man's Bluff.

"Sure I'll go with"

He instantly grabbed my hand and dragged me towards the House of Lamentation's living room. The brothers were already playing and judging by Asmo's expression, he was losing. Sweat was forming on the side of his face while Mammon on the other hand was grinning, widening by the second.

"hAHA! I WIN AGAIN! sweet sweet grimm come to papa!"

He bent over the table to grab the stack of grimm on Asmo's side, said demon was sobbing in the corner after loosing so much money. I leaned over the couch to get a better view, eyeing the giant stack of grimm next to Mammon.

"Good evening MC, are you joining us tonight?"

Satan looked at me with curiosity, I nodded in response seeing as I'm more focused on the next match between Mammon and Lucifer. Satan nodded and turned his attention back to the game.

As the game progressed I was sure Lucifer had the upper hand but one move from Mammon turned the whole round to his favor, in rare moments like these do I see the Avatar of Pride in distress, I mean if you bet 1,000,000 grimm you'd also be stressing how to win it back.

Lucifer sighed in defeat as mammon placed a Queen of Hearts.

"Hmm.. it seems you've won again Mammon, I wouldn't be surprised seeing as you ARE the Avatar Of Greed"

Satan was humming happily beside me seeing as Lucifer lost to Mammon. Mammon for the umpteenth time bent over the table to grab the new stack of grimm from Lucifer's side of the table.

"HAHA! Gah if I keep this up I might as well destroy the Devildom economy! HA!"

Laughing obnoxiously as he added the new stack of grimm to his side. I left my spot behind the couch and walked over to the other side.

"Hey Mammon! Can I play a round with you?"

He stopped laughing and eyed me as if I grew another head, I felt a tap on my shoulder to see Levi give a nervous laugh.

"Uhhh MC... I know I was the one who invited you but I think you shouldn't gamble with Mammon of all people"

I pat his shoulder assuring him I know what I'm doing, he let out a huff and just sat down.

"Yes MC darling, we wouldn't want you going bankrupt after one gamble with Mammon... he is the Avatar of Greed you know"

Beel was hovering over Asmo, mouth stuffed with food, nodding in agreement. I gave them an assuring smile and turned back to Mammon who was counting grimm by stack.

I coughed to get his attention and he looked back up at me.

"A'right MC tell you what, I'll play a round with ya, but that doesn't mean I'll go easy on ya!"

"Sure as long as I get to play I'm happy"

I sat down in front of him as we began to place our bets.

"Since you challenged The Great Mammon! I'll let you place your bet first"

Feeling brave tonight I placed every grimm I had on the table amounting to...

"3 million grimm"

The brothers simultaneously looked at me with wide eyes. I even herd Beel's food drop to the floor and I glanced at the now Awake Belphie.

"MC... surely you know who you're up against correct?"

I felt the slight concern in Lucifer's voice as I smiled at him and assured him I know exactly what I'm getting into. Mammon's grin widened at the prospect of earning such large amounts of grimm in one round. He let out a chuckle and placed his own bet on the table

"Y'never cease to amaze me MC! HAHA! Y'know what! I'll bet your amount two fold"

Brimming with confidence Mammon placed twice my amount on the table all the while still giddy at himself.

"So, shall we begin?"

-Time Skip-

"H...how in the..."

Mammon sat there in absolute disbelief. His eyes widening at the sight of the royal flush in front if him. He'd be lying if he said he was the only skocked. Belphie almost fell off the couch as Levi quickly pulled out his D.D.D posting a status update on his social media

"LMAO! The Great Avatar Of Greed got his ass handed to him by A human in a round of poker!"

Mammon grabbed the edges of the table, his sweat dripping on to the playing card in his hand. Not once in his existence was he beaten in a gamble. He even used every dirty trick in the book! And yet here he was experiencing his first ever crushing defeat. Heck! Lucifer would've spilled his wine if it weren't for his reflexes. But the one who was the most shocked besides Mammon was the cynical fourth brother of wrath.

"Guys... you don't understand"

All heads turned to Satan as he spoke up after recovering from his shock.

"Mammon was playing dirty and yet...MC....still won"

Mammon flinched at the fact that he was exposed. He gingerly glanced at MC only to see her smiling without a care. Beel closed his mouth and softly asked the girl,

"M-MC...how?"

Despite the lack of words in his question, said human seemed to understand and explained.

"Honestly...when I realized Mammon was using underhanded tricks, I wasn't the least bit surprised....Because let's be real here, how could've he maintained his win streak for so long?"

Mammon was at a loss for words,he watched his 6 million grimm being taken by MC's hand beaming happily. Lucifer regained his composure and sat down his wine glass.

"W-well... I guess this goes to show that no matter how good you are there will always be someone... better"

The brothers went silent when they herd a small giggle erupt from the victorious girl, the giggle turned into full on laughter as she clutched her stomach. When she calmed down she looked at Mammon with absolute delight,

"Mammon... why don't we play again"

A million thoughts ran through his head as he herd her offer. Was she mocking him? Is she really that confident in her skill?

"You know... I don't care if you cheat at this point, Iv'e played against people slyer than you before,and you know what..."

He nervously looked up and let out a small what at the girl.

"It just makes the risk all the more interesting... enough to get me high on it"

Now that Mammon was looking clearly at MC, he saw that what he coined as confidence earlier was something much, much more than that. She was oozing with unwavering pride, pride that could even rival Lucifer's, pride that... when you experience first hand is almost terrifying.

Mammon did a double take on her face as he noticed her expression wasn't her usual calm one... it was replaced with something else entirely, replaced with someone who enjoys and gets high with thrill, the thrill of the very thing he was proud of...the thrill...of gambling.

"So.. how 'bout it Mammon"

The smirk on her face growing with each second...Mammon was frozen in his spot, all the brothers in the same state.

"Let's play again"

(Excuse me while I cringe at this insomnia induced crackfic and crappy sketch I did a few months ago that I did to go with the fic)

[abimee]

If it's not too much trouble, could you share the light/color/pop adjustments you usually make to your sketches before colouring them? Thank you in advance!!

Just to lyk I do it twice to thrice over both on my phone and in the coloring app! I choose between two filters honestly

first one is Palma and the second one is Eiffel, typically when I use Palma I then once again go to Adjustment in the Autodesk Sketchbook app and blow it up again, then I top it with an orangy-yellow tone at around %23 opacity with a multiply layer blend over it. Eiffel is reserved for BW pieces of art that I just want to be more crisp

AND THEN post-coloring I send it through my phone's filtering, typically I then use Modena with the Warmth a bit right of center but none of the basic adjustments moved. Hope that helps ya