#Using a different brush cause sometimes changing it helps art block- used to help me a ton back in the day LMAO almost forgot

[clownsuu]

Some doodles I could muster lmAOO

Silly goober Wally my beloved JDHGDDGDG

[daburuwosagase]

Manga scanning: a practical example

Lately I've been getting a lot of people asking questions about how to scan and subtitle. And it's kinda hit me: there aren't a lot of visible, accessible resources for this, are there? As time winds by, the masters of these arts have moved on and vanished from the internet. So for posterity, I want to talk about my own work process. (Remember to save a backup of this post somewhere if you like it...)

Maybe someone else has already written this up better than me, but it's nice to infodump about the process regardless.

The book I'm scanning is Inazuma Eleven GO: Saikyou Senshu 100-nin Zukan. It was a magazine extra drawn by multiple artists, and to my knowledge it's never been rereleased in tankobon format. Which is a damn shame, because it's full of hilarious gags! Time to bring it back to the world. So, how do we start?

0) Tools and programs

Before anything else, ya gotta have a good, clean scanner. My actual scanning is done with a basic 11x17 flatbed scanner with 1200dpi max. Default OS scanning programs usually suck, so I always download the scanner drivers and programs from the manufacturer's site!!

Other physical requirements are a microwave and some black paper. The digital steps are all done in Photoshop and XNView.

1) Scan the cover

For scan settings, I default to 600dpi PNG. I used to scan things at 200/300dpi, and while this is quicker and more economical, it's not nearly as crisp! It can also cause some weird color banding, due to some scientific phenomenon that still confuses me! Basically, if a scan looks stripey, change the DPI. It's much better to work at higher resolutions and then shrink it down later. I don't have to fret over 100mb+ raw images anymore because I have plenty of external storage! Yippee!!

Before doing anything else, I scan the cover while it's still in the best possible condition. Obviously, opening the book too far will cause creasing near the spine.

Since my edition was a well-loved secondhand copy, there is a LOT of creasing. But I don't feel like spending 3k yen to get a mint copy that I'm just gonna rip apart anyway, so this is where Photoshop comes in!

2) Retouching cover damage

Fortunately, there isn't any color fading to deal with here. The majority of these imperfections were touched up with Content Aware Fill. It's a very powerful tool that assumes what the selected pixels *should* look like based on the surrounding pixels. Use the Lasso or Magic Wand to select the imperfections, and try to avoid selecting pixels you don't want fixed. Content Aware works best on small spots, so you kinda have to break it up by color blocks, but it's still a million times faster and way less depressing. Seriously, cleaning and typesetting let my mind wander too much.

I currently have two Actions shortcuts to make this process even faster:

1) regular Content Aware Fill

2) Expand by 5px > Content Aware Fill > Deselect

When Content Aware fails, this is when I have to go manual. Clone Stamp is my best friend ever. Carefully select a source with the Alt key, line up the dots over the touchup area (toggle Enter for better viewing), and keep brushing! This can be painstaking, but man, I love seeing and comparing the finished result.

Healing Brush is helpful when you have to clone a pattern but the color is different. It'll preserve the source pattern but adjust the lighting to match the surrounding pixels. It's a lot more finicky and will blur colors *too* much sometimes, especially near borders. This tool's really better on photographs, but it still comes in handy.

(I hear that Patch combines the functionality of these two! I wanna try it out next time...)

When Healing Brush can't blend colors well enough, using Clone Stamp in combination with Dodge (lighten) or Burn (darken), with strength adjusted accordingly, is the next best thing. Burn is GREAT on lines that aren't quite black enough! This technique works wonders when touching up gutter shadows especially. I will spend an exorbitant amount of time on retouching if it means I don't have to rip apart my nice books (that being said, it's important to really gauge whether it's worth retouching in the first place! I waste too much of my time on tiny details that nobody else cares about!!)

If being able to see the printer dots bothers you, there's an easy fix: the Surface Blur filter. This is one I've only discovered recently and I'm still playing around with it. On one hand, it gets rid of the tiny white dots and can make scan images look absolutely magnificent. On the other hand, it has some trouble preserving sharp lines and small highlights. Since I don't like altering the original image too much, the scans I post aren't usually blurred -- but it's something you can try out at home!

Hot damn! Look at the difference! Look at my boy Tenma! You'd hardly guess the condition the original is in!

Note that the final version does not have all the creases removed. At this point I had already spent a couple of hours retouching and decided nobody else was gonna care THAT much about the peripheral damage. If you do care that much, feel free to spend *your* time perfecting this.

3) Melt

Now that the cover's scanned... it's time to toss the book in the microwave!

(Pictured is a *different* book, but you get the picture.)

No, seriously. Microwaving is the easiest way to warm up the glue enough to tear the pages out. Or more accurately, gently tug on the pages till they separate from the rest of the bunch. I start from the front cover and tease the pages out one by one. On thicker books, I'll alternate between front and back covers.

I set the initial heating count to 30-50 seconds, and sometimes I turn down the power level if I'm feeling apprehensive. Really gotta play it by ear depending on the book’s size and condition. After tearing out a couple dozen pages, the glue gets cool again and the pages start to resist again. Continuing like this results in the paper tearing!! This is when I chuck the book back in for another 10-15 seconds.

It's a little scary at first, but the toner on the pages heats up too! It doesn't bleed and it shouldn't be *too* hot to the touch though. So it's just something I've had to get used to.

This particular book kinda smelled when I heated it up! I blame either the paper quality or, y'know, being secondhand and maybe not being stored in perfect condition. But the stink was fortunately temporary.

Some people prefer ironing the spine (with a towel over it), but IMO that's more precarious and time-consuming. Maybe it works better for the middle pages though...? Worth trying out someday.

You could just slice out the pages with a knife or something, but with melting, it's possible to rebind the pages later! This is another thing I haven't done myself yet, but I'm excited to try it out with a nice archival glue. I'll update with the results eventually.

So, with the "how" out of the way, "why" would you take apart a book in the first place!? It still feels a little sacrilegious. But scanning pages one at a time gets you the best possible results.

It eliminates three major issues:

1) Gutter shadow

As mentioned before, shadows at the "gutter" (the inside spine) naturally happen because the page isn't lying flat there. It looks bad. And it takes a whole lot of work to retouch.

2) Angled pages

The cousin to gutter shadow, angled pages happen when the spine is a leeeetle more open/closed at the bottom/top. So with a spread, you've got the left page at -1 degree and the right page at .5 degree. Both of these pages are going to have things cut off when they're cropped. And it's going to look very weird when you're flipping through pages and have slightly alternating angles. Rotating these pages so that they're at the same angle is a lot more trouble.

It's really hard to keep the spine open exactly the same way for an entire book! The weight of the scan lid can throw off careful positioning anyway!

3) See-through pages

Manga in Japan is CHEAP and is not printed on the best paper possible. If you have the pages all bundled together, you can see large splotches of black or white from the spread that's behind the page being scanned. Leveling the image can fix this, but it comes at the cost of destroying midtones. Which is to say, any gray in the image becomes off-white or almost-black.

I hope you're beginning to understand how much effort and technical detail goes into the scans you enjoy.

4) Scanning

Same scan settings as the cover (600dpi PNG). I always scan in color, even for grayscale images. And I don't trust the auto settings enough to let the machine fiddle with colors and cropping.

You know how scanners have a little arrow at the corner saying "align here"? Don't do that. The ones I've worked with like to shave off a few millimeters from the edge because they assume there's a margin anyway. So I place my documents about 1cm AWAY from the edge just to make sure the whole page is scanned in. This inevitably causes some slight rotation, which will be fixed later.

A new technique I've learned to reduce the effects of aforementioned see-through pages: use a black background! The toner blends in with the dark backing. This reduces the luminosity of the whites, but that's something that can easily be fixed via leveling later. I do not have black paper around the house, so I resorted to fabric.

For comparison, here's the first page scanned with both a white and a black background. Note that white is slightly brighter, but there are some weird shadowy lines in the background. If you look really hard, the line goes through the screentone on Tenma's hair! Maybe it's excessive, but these tiny details can be weirdly distracting.

This book doesn't have page numbers, so I had to be extra cautious about missing pages (or accidentally dropping the stack)!

5) Leveling

Typically this step is something I leave for last, but since it significantly reduces file size, that's going to make the next steps easier.

So I've mentioned leveling before. But what is it?

Essentially, Levels make black *blacker* and white *whiter*. This is one very easy step to make pages look SO much better.

Switching over to XNView now, I'm setting these pages to about 40-220. Usually this would be a bit too heavy -- this could easily erase something light or turn something dark into pure black. But in this instance, the high dpi means individual screentone dots are visible and any grays are pretty well preserved anyway. So let it rip! XNView batch processing can run through all selected pages all at once and save the leveled copies to a new folder.

There's a ton of dust left still. Leveling gets a *lot* of it, but again, the paper quality is not great in the first place so it's kind of unavoidable. Resizing and cleaning the page later will help somewhat.

6) Rotate

This is the one step I do fully manually. I haven't had much luck with auto deskew/crop before, nor have I tried any different methods for it recently. Please tell me if there's a better way of doing this step that won't sacrifice border pixels.

Anyway, since I scanned slightly away from the edges earlier, the resulting digital image is slightly rotated at a random angle! For some ungodly reason, Photoshop doesn't have a shortcut for custom rotation, nor can you really set an action for it. XNView once again comes in clutch here. The basic steps are:

5a) Click and drag to create a bounding box. This will be used as a guideline to check whether the digital image is actually upright.

5b) Shift-O and test out values from -3 to 3. Ctrl-Z and repeat until it's just right.

After a while, you get a hang for approximate values, but "just right" means getting within .05 of a degree!! Even the untrained eye can tell when something's off by a mite.

5c) Adjust the bounding box's borders to the edges. If the box is aligned to one corner and the adjacent corners *aren't* aligned too, that means you have to rotate until all four corners are aligned. Then crop and save and move onto the next one!

7) Align

This is a new step I've never done before! Given the number and size of pages I'm working with here, I had to think and plan out this process in advance for once. Basically, instead of cropping and resizing each individual file, I load them all in at once so that they're perfectly aligned with each other. This is gonna require a lot of Photoshop automation.

First off, I go to File > Scripts > Load Files into Stack. There are four types of pages here: 1 comic on the left, 1 comic on the right, 2 comics on the left, and 2 comics on the right. This process will have to be repeated for each type so that the automation doesn't get confused. Then we check the "Align Source Images" box and let the process run... for a while.

So now I have a single file with one layer for each of the pages, and the comics themselves are all nicely aligned! Yahoo! The edges are mismatched though, so it's time to crop again. There's gonna be some cutoff but that's acceptable in this instance since I just care about the small comics. If I was doing bigger, full-page manga, I'd probably *add* some margin after cropping.

The pages are approximately a 5:8 ratio, so I've decided to crop these down to 2550 x 4080. To make sure that the comics are at the same distance from the margin regardless of page type, I'm using Guides to roughly estimate the comic positions after cropping. I want them to end up at about 70px and 100px from the horizontal and vertical margins respectively. I could also change the size of the canvas instead of cropping if I really wanted to.

Once I'm satisfied with the cropping, I use the Timeline/Animations window to flip through (at about 0.5 seconds) and check that all of the layers look right. There are a couple tears and visible background instances which are quickly fixed with Content Aware Fill and Clone Stamp. Since the background's black, I even had to temporarily change the Photoshop interface color lighter so that I could detect the imperfections better.

Then at last I go to File > Scripts > Export Layers to Files and... wait for a while again. Now we have separate files! And now I have to repeat these steps all over again for the three other page types!

Lastly, it's time to rename the resulting files in order. I actually screwed up on this step. Photoshop exported all the files *backwards*, which gave me file names like "PSexp0025-InaGo01". This is an issue because it makes batch-renaming via XNView a whole lot harder!! Photoshop automatically adds a numbered prefix to all the auto-exported files, and XNView can't remove wildcards from filenames. The result is weirdly staggered out-of-ordered files. It took some careful manual work to fix this, but at long last, we have a whole folder of 90 beautiful pages!

8) Translate (FINALLY)

You see how long it took to get here!? This took at least six hours for 90 pages. After all that work with the raws, finally I can do something with them!

Guess what! If you have a digital edition, you can skip all of these steps! Instant gratification for five bucks! Buy digital editions when you can and give your money directly to the author!!

Anyway, further stages may be discussed in another post once we get around to them. Lassoing translators and typesetters is its own struggle. I hope you learned something new from this post!

[spikeinthepunch]

i dont intend to say this like im putting myself down but when im burnt out or in an extended art block i do often look to what i have done in the past- maybe as a "was i doing something back then that i miss doing now?"

my art has shifted a lot over the years. im sure anyone whos followed for a long time would say so. ive gone through phases and styles and vibes of many kinds and theyre all very different. and theyre all times that sometimes i look back and think "maybe i should do that again". of course i need to avoid getting overwhelmed with the "i want to do this- no this- maybe that-".

But the hardest "change" in my art was probably a year ago when all that stuff happened with wcrp. which i wont reiterate- but it was forced. that was the big thing. and i think its whats hurt now that i have this burn out settling and i am looking at old art. I did hit a burn out last year after wcrp when i quickly dove into other fandoms like half life- i did what i often did, where i overexerted myself from hype and quickly burned out. but then i picked up mcyt which has been going strong for a year after leaving it for many years back.

when i look at whats changed about my art from then to now, i notice one big things, which i felt was obvious (and i deliberately did this)- i was going into that fandom simple. first it was a lot of lineart, no color. then i started adding some one flat color to bodies and sometimes minor effects done with the help of gradient maps. then i started using thicker brushes where i could, knocking out the need for clean details. then i started using the binary pen. i had a few detailed drawings in between but really so much of what i have done has been so simple.

and as i said, i did this on purpose. i got into this right after half life and i knew i was burnt out but i really wanted to draw anyways, so my plan was to do it like that! i wasnt very good with humans either so i didnt want to focus too hard on it anyways. and i certainly have liked this method. i enjoyed finding a way to draw that IS simple and doesnt put a lot of strain on me... it helps me no longer be a perfectionist as much as i used to

but at the same time its taken away some aspects that i liked about my art from 2020-early 2022. which was that i was so much more detailed than ever. my warriors art was very detailed, the designs were intricate, i drew a number of scenes just for the rps i loved, etc. i experimented quite a bit with coloring and shading and i still love a number of looks i tried, and i keep wanting that back. (ex 1, ex 2, ex 3)

interestingly i actually started to simplify that style too, esp as i got deeper into my own rp, and i know full well it was because i was also getting tired. used a lasso tool for markings, used less layers, dropped the texture and using a thin pen brush to make sketchier lines. (from this -> to this)

THE problem with these notes about simplifying stuff is that like. i rush things. i rush them SO much. and this has always been my biggest struggle, and what leads to annoyance with my current art and also to burn out. Burn out, caused by how much i am drawing, because im fast. drawing fast because i want to make content for the fandom i am focused on. art block because im not happy with my art, but im also too impatient to slow down and take my time and REALLY remember and realize what it is i want out of my art!

its a never ending cycle and sorry we're at the end of the post because i dont have a solution lol

[trinrose3]

What got you into art? Would you say you're satisfied with how far you've come as an artist? How do you usually go about things like art block? Is there any advice you have to new artists? Do you have any tips on drawing POC/larger people since most art tips are usually focused on skinny white cishets?

hate to give the stereotypical “always been into it” answer but that is pretty much it lol. I drew a lot when I was LITTLE little especially cause my mom didn’t want me watching too much tv lol. Eventually I guess I just…forgot about it?? Until about like 8th grade when I found a sketchbook and started drawing stuff if me and my friends and out characters and realized how much I loved it again.

I would say I’m satisfied! Up until college I was almost completely self taught (I did have an art “teacher” after school at one point but that was for painting mainly not illustration). Sometimes I see how good some of my classmates are and feel a bit jealous ngl but than again I’m competing with a bunch of rich kids who are usually benefiting from SOME form of nepotism so…

IDK how art block goes for everyone else but for me it’s when I can’t seem to draw “correctly” or in a way that I deem at least somewhat decent. I don’t stress about it TOO much cause I know this is part of the process of “leveling up” a skill. It’s called conscious incompetence(?) and is typical in a skill building process. I typically don’t deal with the “idk what to draw” kinda cause my solution is always Amelia lol. At that point I keep trying till I get a break through and/or leave it alone. I also like to change the brushes I use when this happens or go to my sketchbook. This usually helps cause your brush can give you a whole different style even when it’s digital which can help break out of a funk by giving you an out of the box opportunity.

general advice for new artists: don’t clout chase. I know it’s tempting. I’ve been there and honestly it drained me emotionally and felt like something I enjoyed was becoming more of a burden. It gave me guilt everytime I tried to draw something that wasn’t fanart and while the reaction that I got was motivating and satisfying in the end I realized I stopped making art for myself and that *I* wasn’t enjoying it as much anymore. You’re the ONLY person you EVER need to satisfy when it comes to art (bar the people who are commissioning/hiring you, their satisfaction is just as if not more important). EXPERIMENT!! A lot of artists in the beginning are GREAT at this but the more they become aware of their skill(not talent! Talent isn’t real!!) the more afraid of stepping outside their comfort zone they become. But like a REALLY cheap and tiny sketchbook and carry that around with you! If you want to experiment and try something new do it in there! Use pens only in it too it’ll make you more confident and precise with your line art and for god sake stop the chicken scratch (repeating various lines to make one solid one this is not the same as sketchy line art) also you do NOT need a perfect circle or a ruler and in fact it’s best to avoid both of those things! It doesn’t look natural or organic (unless of course that’s the point lol)! Gonna also cover some general tips in my guide that I’m making lol.

I do! I’m gonna add a bunch in the guide that I’m making :}. Took a small break cause I’m at the boring part now aka clean up and boy do I fucking hate clean up lol. Of course the most important and universal tip every artist gives besides practice is to use a reference. If an artist ever tells you to NOT use one or that it’s “cheating” don’t listen to them and don’t trust any other tip they give henceforth, they’re just mad that they can’t do observational art :). Also just listen to poc and larger people. Please. It’s not that hard. If someone says that your doing something offensive or incorrectly it’s not an attack on you as a person or artist. Also learn what stereotypes and characatures are made in art of these specific groups so you know what to avoid!

[magnusrosen-blog]

Irony and reality can sometimes be close to each other.

The sleeping people!

We sleep so heavily in an illusion that everything is done for our own good!

In the history of man we find a conclusion.

Even though people are injured and die in war, shot on our streets and in our homes in front of our noses, even though we have poor pensioners, Swedish citizens who are homeless, drug sales outside middle school in some schools in our country!!!

😴 So we sleep so well and soundly and I shouldn't question it, what if someone says against me, oh yeah yeah I don't want to be part of that, then it's better to be quiet and sleep on, then people get hurt while I closes my eyes.

Even fixed service agencies like banks are starting to question us all as if we were criminals. Questions like if we are active politically or have feelings in the military, why we want to deposit our cash or withdraw cash, act like we support terrorists or other criminal activities. Is integrity and respect for people completely gone?

Is it ok that we are all treated as potential criminals?

😴 But we just sleep on in a dream that everything is so good.

Our news is no longer objective, nor is the new healthcare that recommends preparations that have not been tested according to all the rules of the art, but they spread chemical mixtures into people's bodies, what is actually in these substances? 😴 But no one dares to ask, we just dare to say "yes" and continue to sleep.

5 G, which would make the whole world wake up to a thunderous quality and speed, turns out to be more intended for something else as everything has become worse when it comes to telephony and data speed.

Where I live slightly outside of Gothenburg, it has definitely gotten worse, so I have turned off my 5G.

The radiation inside the city is on "warning" for humans, I have seen this myself on a radiation meter.

😴 But no one seems to care or question this either.

Did you know that there are several different techniques that cause the sunlight to be blocked from our globe.

Yes, it is certainly scary that some people are experimenting with our entire mother earth.

Tinkering with the weather has been done since the Vietnam War.

😴 But what does it do when you can close your eyes and sleep on?

Wars are encouraged instead of effective peace processes, at the same time they talk about climate change which entails high environmental taxes, tax money that is not even earmarked?????

War is a terrible environmentally friendly act, but it doesn't matter because you fight for the good of everyone????? Or do you do this for the good of all. 😴 When did a war bring anything but illusions and death to the little man???

The vegetables are now genetically engineered to such a mild degree that the vitamins are starting to become difficult to detect in the increasingly brilliant, colorful vegetables that many times next only taste like water, 😴 but that can't wake us up either!

Some pieces of meat start to get an aftertaste from the brush 😴 but what does that do, or beef fillets filled with water to charge a higher kg price, 😴 but oh yes it's nothing to worry about when you can sleep on.

Yes, now it is even difficult in some professions to get full time since the 80% salary came into effect.

More expensive prices with less wages.

😴 Yes, that's good, then we won't be able to afford to live.

Think how good life is anyway, well until the day you open your eyes 👀 and ask yourself, how could it be like this.

Yes, that day started to get its last "well before date"

Then the road back is very long.

Yes there are many more alarm clocks ⏰, 😴 but it doesn't seem to help.

Shouldn't we at least question and demand an objective picture with more than one perspective?

Questioning gives answers but silence does not.

The wise ask and the foolish dare not question. But no questions are wrong and clear, transparent answers must always be given so that no major misunderstandings occur against the people.

The worst thing is if society splits up into small different groups that are against each other, because then we easily fall into the plates that the perfection of power has put out and become easy to sink our teeth into.

😴 But what does that do when you can close your eyes and sleep on.

Perhaps it is simply too much to ask to open one's beautiful eyes and instead just sleep further into an illusion and future that is currently presented when this text is read?!

But in any case, in the sign of love, you can wish everyone 😴 sleeping a good sleep.

Sleep tight!!! ❤️🙏

Magnus.

Love peace understanding

Remember: Questions bring knowledge

Free speech makes for a free world

Photo  Gabriel Henningson

www.magnusrosen.com

www.magnusrosenband.com

www.culturemeetsindustry.com

#book #magnusrosenband #outsidetherockbox #sound pollution #moderearth #spiritual #barvcafebar#brännö

#avelibooks #noise pollution

#magnusrosen #bassplayer #ljuset #miraclet #basenimitthjärta #avelibooks #mrb #nyhetsmorgon #tv4#rocknytt #manneinstrument #manneguitars #ebs #mannebass #understanding #thesea #sun#heavymetal #rockmusic #rock #itstimetorocktheworldagain

[kaijusplotch]

Deaging clones fic wip

so this is titled "Rejuvination" and i wanna share this so...ENJOY!

Cody was glad that the latest campaign was over. It had been hell for the 212th and the 501st. While casualties had been low, it was still a blow to each battalion. They felt too much, sometimes, both Rex and himself; as well as their generals. Something heavy was hanging over The Negotiator, and he was sure that was the same over on The Resolute.

“Cody, we need to change course,” Obi-Wan said softly as they stood on the bridge.

“Sir?” Cody frowned worriedly, wondering what it was that pulled his general off of their return route to Coruscant.

Obi-Wan just smiled and patted Cody’s shoulder. “It’s nothing bad. The Force is...pulling me toward something. But it’s a good feeling.”

Cody eyed his general, raising an eyebrow before shaking his head. “Alright. Should we let The Resolute know?”

“Yes, if Anakin hasn’t sensed it as well. There’s a planet that has a strong force presence; a peaceful one. It must be a well of the Force or something like it.”

Cody hadn’t seen his general so relaxed in a long time. If this detour was going to give Obi-Wan a little more peace, then Cody was all for it. He smiled and nodded to Siren. “Send the coordinates to The Resolute. I think we’ve all earned a little detour/shore leave.”

The command center was filled with cheers from the clones, and soft laughs from the nat-born administrators. Some peace and quiet (or as much as Cody could get from some of his men) would be nice. He just hoped Waxer didn’t try to adopt any local wildlife.

The planet was uninhabited by any sentient species, which was a surprise to Cody. The air was safe, even had safe food and water if they wanted to have a snack. What seemed to be what drew the Jedi was a strange abandoned temple. What drew Cody’s, and by extension most of the exhausted 212th and 501st command structure were the hot springs.

“You should enjoy yourselves while here,” Obi-Wan said with a small smile. “The scanners are working on the shuttle; there’s no need to be on edge.”

“Are you sure, sir?” Cody watched his General carefully. He seemed already to be so much more at ease, he wanted to thank whatever deities existed.

“Very. Nothing bad will happen here.” Obi-Wan was so confident in his assessment that Cody had no choice but to have faith in him.

“All right.” Cody sighed and looked up as the sound of another shuttle breaking atmosphere broke the peaceful silence. He smiled, noticing the nose-art of the two LA/ATs settled down besides the 212th. Cody was excited to see his little brother, and hopefully catch up on the chaos that the Domino Squad was no doubt causing.

“Hey Master!” Anakin cried as he jumped from the shuttle, beaming and stretching. Behind him Ashoka was already pulling an exhausted looking Rex from where he had settled.

“Anakin, Ashoka,” Obi-Wan said with a smile as he walked to meet them.

“General, Commander, Rex’ika.” Cody grinned when Rex just glared at him.

“Really, Cody?” Rex grumbled.

“I’ve effectively been given a short term leave by Obi-Wan. I can call you whatever I want.” Cody beamed and punched his brother’s shoulder playfully. He looked up when the rest of the 501st came out, smiling as they mingled with brothers from the 212th.

“You’re right, Master. This place feels...so bright and light!” Ashoka smiled and closed her eyes as she stood with her masters.

“General Kenobi says there’s nothing here to be worried about, I have to believe him, if only for how much better he looks,” Cody said, smiling at the young Torgruta. “Although I’m more interested in the hot springs.”

“Hot springs?” Anakin and Ashoka asked with bright smiles.

“Sorry, claimed first use,” Rex joined in, looking more eager than he was before.

“I want to meditate anyway first. The old temple is this way.” Obi-Wan beckoned the other two Jedi away and toward the eroded stone ruins on top of the small hill looking over the deeper valley below them.

“I’m up for hot spring dip!” Hardcase chirped beaming and already stripping out of his armor as he hurried away.

“YES! C’mon Boil!” Waxer grabbed his twin and dragged the other ARF trooper toward the several large hot springs tucked close to the mountain side.

Cody snorted and looked to the rest of the troops who were joining in with the rush to fresh hot water. “C’mon. Maybe we can find a pool that won’t be full of chaos.” He pulled Rex along at a more sedated pace, soaking in the good feelings and bright warm sunlight filtering through the trees as they stepped under them.

Already piles of blue and orange-gold armor were on the edges of the pools, with a few piles of blacks already. hanging on low hanging branches. Cody spotted the Domino squad chatting away with Jesse, Kix, Waxer, and Boil. He was glad to see that even with Echo and Fives going off on missions with other units, they were still close with Droidbait, Hevy, and Cutup.

“This one’s small, but no one else is here,” Rex called past a small collection of small shrubs and thin seedlings.

Cody smiled, spotting the ten foot wide pool and nodded. “Brotherly bonding time it is then.” He said smirking and pulling his armor off and piling it to the side, stripping down completely.

“Oh come on, leave your briefs, I don’t want to see your junk, Cody!”

“We have the same junk.” Cody rolled his eyes and tossed his shorts over a branch before walking into the hot water. He hissed a bit before settling down and finding a rock to sit on, leaning back against the edge of the pool with a sigh. “Never knew you’d become such a prude.”

“I have a 14 year old FEMALE Padawan on the ship.” Rex grumbled, settling in next to his brother in his underclothes. “AND she’s here on planet.”

“Oh...kriff, good point.” Cody frowned and stood to turn around. “OI! Someone better be on watch to stop Ashoka from walking in on the sausage festival!” Cody cried to the loud chatter of his brothers. The answering “KRIFF!” explained all he needed, even as he heard water splashing and yelling at brothers to toss each other their shorts.

“See?” Rex tossed Cody’s shorts in his face and smirked.

Cody glared and splashed him back before putting the shorts back on. “Shit head,” he spat, although it just felt good to not be a soldier and just be an older brother.

“Shebs kisser.”

“I know you are but what am I?”

Rex burst out laughing and Cody couldn’t help but join him. It felt good; he felt younger than he had in - well - forever. He held his breath and dunked under the water, rubbing his face.

“Gods this feels so good…” Rex said with a deep sigh.

“Second that, Rex.” Cody leaned his head back, closing his eyes and letting the hot water and the peaceful energy soak into his muscles and bones.

The laughter and splashing of the sixty-some brothers in the other larger pools was a siren song and Cody slowly found himself falling into a restful drifting sleep; even as a few voices sounded slightly different. Nothing bad would happen here. His General promised him.

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure exactly how long he, Anakin, and Ashoka had been meditating, but when he finally felt the gentle caress of awareness brush his consciousness he finally allowed himself to come out of the meditation. Opening his eyes he had to hold a small chuckle at the sight of both his Padawan and grand-padawan sprawled across each other in a peaceful sleep. The lines of stress across their faces were gone; like they never happened. Even their force signatures were lighter and brighter; even the super-nova-like brightness of Anakin’s.

“Anakin, Ashoka,” Obi-Wan gently prodded, poking their feet. He was rewarded by a very classic Anakin whine and grumpy face. Obi-Wan openly laughed at that. It had been so long.

“Ugh! Master, I don’t want to get up!”

“We should, especially if we want to go to the hot springs, Master.” Ashoka slowly uncurled from where she was sleeping and stretched. She looked like a Tooka as she yawned widely and arched her back; another reminder for Obi-Wan of her carnivorous nature.

“I should make sure that the boys are at least decent.” Obi-Wan stood and stretched, feeling his aches gone and his heart lighter. “Come on, both of you up. It’s nearly sundown and we should be getting back to the ships soon.”

He left to the complaints of both of his friends, knowing well that they wouldn’t leave before everyone had had a soak. He wasn’t as cruel as he played. Besides, Obi-Wan hadn’t felt this good in years. The Force was soothing and rejuvenating; lifting the years of weight that seemed to double from the war.

The path down into the small group of trees near was clear of any stones, although the piles of armor that were peeking out from between bushes and shrubs broke up the monotony of neon green and purple. The sound of a panicked scream broke through the peaceful chatter of aves and other creatures, causing anxiety to well in Obi-Wan’s heart.

“Cody?!” Obi-Wan rushed forward, abandoning his outer cloak to the wind. He burst through the bushes that blocked the path and drew his saber, only to stare in shock.

Sixty high ranking clones were staring back at Obi-Wan with wide, slightly shocked, slightly terrified, brown eyes. Most were scrambling to hold up their too-big under clothes as they abandoned the pools, some were swimming in their blacks, some were trying to use their armor to hide their nudity. Cody and Rex were part of the first group, staring up at Obi-Wan. Every single one between the ages of ten and 12.

“Oh dear…”

[ot3]

My approach to flat colors + limited palette drawings

This is a follow up to this post  i made about how i go about figuring out a color palette for my limited palette drawings. an anon asked me about my actual technique of finishing them so this is gonna be an explanation of how I work in a limited palette with flat colors. I ended up with these thumbnails for a sketch last time so we’re gonna work from here and I’m gonna sort of walk through how i got to the finished version

first things first: every part of this process is just developed as a result of me messing around. take my advice with a grain of salt and if you think you know a way to do something better/that makes you more comfortable. go with that over what I say.

I’m honestly a little surprised when people express confusion about how i draw like this because it’s SUPER simple - literally all you’re doing is just stacking solid color blocks of shape. its very imprecise despite how sharp everything ends up looking. 

First things first is that you want to decide how you will be handling your edges throughout the duration. Do you want your shapes to be ultra-sharp and precise, or do you want a little bit of a wobblier, grainier edge? Both can look good but it’s VERY much a matter of situational basis. i’ve been favoring looser and grainier shapes so that’s how i’m going to be working on this. 

on the left here, you can see the shapes made with precise rectangular selections and an untextured pen, on the right, freehand drawn shapes and a grittier pen. There’s something immediately pretty different feeling about them. So play around with that first - its not something that’s fun to change halfway through! But lets step back a minute. It helps to work large to small. The two biggest shapes here are these orange chunks and everything gets stacked on top of them so i’m gonna do that first. 

Now, a key feature of what i do: clipping masks. almost all digital art programs have them. What a clipping mask does is it constrains the pixels of a layer to the transparency of the layer below it. Here I have the light orange layer, and then on top of it the buildings and billboard are clipped to the orange. Most of you probably already know this and I’m overexplaining a bit, but there was a time when i didnt know how clipping layers worked and someone had to explain it to me.

now you’ll notice the shapes of the buildings are rough, and sloppy. here’s the fun part: since this is all about stacking shapes, only your exterior edges matter. this all gets filled in. be as sloppy as you want when you’re making your shapes. in fact, the outside edges get trimmed out a bunch to when i do this - i go in and erase them clean. Don’t be too finnicky about drawing perfect and precise! its a waste of time. As long as the silhouette is what you want, the interior can be a nightmare.

Working this way, it’s important to keep your layers stacked in a way you can make sense of. Right now there are four layers here: the background dark orange, the two main orange rectangle shapes, and then the buildings on one layer and a billboard on the other. I rack up a LOT of layers doing this and it makes it annoying in some aspects, but being able to freely recolor any one chunk without losing my detail is a key aspect of this.

So, I block those out

Next, I do the same for the smaller chunks that are still main shapes. There are once again, a lot of layers here. The top layer is the hair - you can see the head showing through it. The head and arm underneath the hair, same layer. Then the cup. Then the light green pieces of paper. Then the dark green ones.

The cup is technically farther forward than the head and arm so you would think it’d go on top, but the point isnt to recreate the foreground and background hierarchy with layers so much as it is to group things in a way i can work with. The cup goes underneath so it can be grouped with all the other objects on the table. 

now, i just go and fill in all the shapes. i forgot to do the blinds but i get them later. you might notice a lot of these shapes are pretty rough, which was harder to notice before they were filled in. Now that I can see better, I go in with an eraser and clean up the edges until they’re the shape I want 

sometimes erasing leaves little bits of ‘noise’ around objects like on this napkin here. i like to keep a little bit of this noise for texture, but if you dont like it make sure to get rid of it! if you’re working very crisp this will stand out a LOT

Next up is to add some detail onto the objects

I flipped the canvas here because the head shape was wrong - the ears were uneven and i wanted to fix it. I want to go about adding detail onto the billboard and buildings. i do all detail with clipping masks - but the objects are clipped to another layer and so nothing can be clipped to them. instead, i unclip them and just erase by selection for the same effect

all of the text on the papers is clipped to the papers below it. the buttons are clipped to the phone. the yellow photos and card are actually another independent layer on top, in case i want to recolor them separately. im indecisive and end up recoloring things a lot. For the most part these objects are starting to become recognizable as more than just shapes

i go in an add the details on the background and character now. theres some more stuff on the table. the lines of the face and ears are on one layer, and the flats of the eyes below that. Here’s what each group of layers is, and what they look like on their own

The background/bottom chunk. Just the table, window, and shirt.

The middle bit. All the stuff on the table and the blinds.

Finally, the top, which is just his head and arm. 

now this stage is the bare bones of the drawing. you can more or less tell everything that’s happening. it reads. but its very much lacking in something - it doesnt have a ton of depth or interest. and adding that additional detailing, the dept and interest, is where stuff starts getting REALLY tricky and subjective. 

im gonna take you to a much simpler scenario to show the sort of options i go through at this stage

ahh its our dear friend, sphere casting shadow. this is, more or less, the kind of image we have. you can tell whats happening but it’s lackluster. there are TONSSS of ways frm here that you can go add interior detail to a shape once it has been established. here are some quick and SUPER rough examples

from top left to bottom right: flat cel shading, softer airbrushed/gradient shading, halftone, and a textured brush. Each of these has their strengths and weaknesses. They can also be combined.

for example, here’s the solid cel shading being used to contain a gradient/airbrushed detail. This image - probably the single oldest piece of my art i still willingly show people - is entirely colored with gradients being contained in cel-shaded chunks. It has a sort of soft, luminous quality but without losing its crispness.

here’s a super quick bust with some variations of stuff going on. obviously this is no masterpiece but you see how different types of detailing can interact with each other and be used to distinguish materials too. 

With the mob psycho comic I did, the detailing that wasnt line was done using a variety of halftones of different shapes layered on top of each other

by contrast parts of my ace attorney comic use a textured brush and have a sort of blended, papery feel

any of them can work for pretty much anything as long as you are using it with intent. practice around. mix styles of finishing together. find a comfort zone. the more you do it the more intuitive it becomes and at the heart of it this process is a very intuitive way of drawing because of how far removed it is from realism.

Now here is the trick - light and shadow.

Everything up to this point has been very flat and adding detail helps but there’s only so much that can accomplish. To get HEAVY light and shadow you need to think about things differently. I think if there’s any part of this process that’s complicated, its this one. 

To truly get the most out of your palette, you need to pick chunks of an image to be in higher/lower light and then either ‘step up’ or ‘step down’ the colors in that chunk. here’s what I mean.

Here’s our ball with a beam of light on it. Everything Within the beam of light is one step in our limited palette lighter than anything outside of it. Here’s how I go about doing this: the shape of the beam of light is below everything else. Then, once I have the shape blocked out, i select it. With that selection in place, i go to EVERY SINGLE LAYER that’s effected, lock the opacity, and recolor that chunk. So what’s going on here is that there is only one more layer - the beam of light, below everything but the background, and the rest of this effect is just caused by every layer above it now being two-toned following the exact same silhouette. THIS is why it’s so important to keep your layers separate - if the shadow and highlight had been painted onto the base directly, i would not be able to do this without significant effort. 

This works with all of the finishing techniques I talked about above

A combination of cel shading and half toning, all stepped up to give the appearance of heavier light on one area.This is also how I go about rendering transparency in this style. All of my layers are fully opaque and I allow the colors to do the work of conveying transparent material

Here’s our ball with the patterned/textured brush  shading, being viewed partially through a window

it’s obviously not a very representational way of working, but as long as your audience UNDERSTANDS what you’re trying to convey, then you’re executing it successfully.

So with that, now we’re gonna go and finish this drawing.

For this one, I decide a big central shadow is necessary. In the original thumbnail, he was backlit, which I still plan on doing, and that wouldn’t make sense without casting a shadow.

I’ve had to change the colors of some objects entirely in order to get this to work right. This is what I mean when I call this an intuitive process - some stuff felt weird, so I changed it. This also involves a bit of problem solving. The newspaper is now unable to be separated from his hand. Sometimes changing the color of an object makes that object look better, but ruins its relationship with the objects around it. It’s up to you to learn how to adjust and finagle things until you get it where you want.The paper he has and the napkin underneath it also all blend together now.

The next few parts of this process are REALLY just trial and error, where I toss a bunch of spaghetti at it until it works. It’s hard to decide what to screenshot, because I don’t know what will or will not be part of the finished drawing. To that end, you can watch the recording of this drawing here. This video isn’t edited at all so it contains a couple of minutes of really shitty sketching, and then all of the color thumbnailing work i did in the last post. Actually getting started on these final colors begins around the two minute mark. It is also sideways, I am sorry I don’t know why. 

Now, here you can see where I’ve more or less worked things out. His hand’s not on the cup anymore because my friend pointed out it didnt have an arm attached to it. I added some halftoning to make a gradiating effect in the sky and on the table to give the impression of a sunrise. His eyes are different but as of posting this, I don’t like them and am probably about to go back and change them again. The Cup now has a shadow and some rim lighting. His hand is in shadow. The stain on the napkin is big enough to define the edge of the paper on top of it.

Little things like that. 

The more you draw like this the more the way you need to think about your space becomes natural. I hope this helps and I wish you all the best of luck!

[talkfastromance4]

Ashton snippet

Found this while perusing through old docs, it’s titled ‘Don’t Call Me Angel” and it ends abruptly because I never finished or I don’t know what happened. But here’s a snippet of a TA!Ashton as an art teacher. 

Might have to add this to my list of WIPs to finish if it gets good reviews. Let me know what you think :)

Copyright talkfastromance4 © All works is intellectual property of the author. All rights reserved. Any redistribution or reproduction or any part or all contents in any form is prohibited. You may not, without written expression and consent from the author, distribute works amongst other social media platforms

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Masterlist

• • • •

Ashton has always felt things so deeply. He loves deeply, he rages deeply, he sympathizes deeply and he plays his drums with everything he’s got. He tries to keep his emotions in check but they change like the tides, even he finds it hard to keep up with them.

Ashton lives, breathes and sweats creativity. His passion is seen in his brush strokes, his despair is shown through the negative space of his photographs. Long hours spent in the dark room and sometimes endless nights painting on large canvases in his studio apartment has given him the cliché brooding artist look; dark circles under his eyes complete the look.

When he’s not in the dark room or his apartment he frequents the coffee shop that is the perfect halfway point between his familiar places. It’s called Java Bean and serve the best iced coffee Ashton has ever tasted to tell you the God honest truth and the shop is a literal godsend for being open twenty-four hours.

Ashton’s insides are made of caffeine, paint and a constant ebb and flow of pulsating thoughts and phrases that won’t leave his mind unless he writes them down in his sketchbook. That’s another thing Ashton can never leave the house without, his sketchbook.

It’s large, black and hard covered even though the spine has long since lost the potency of its glue causing it to lie open like a cracked crab. It’s filled with his thoughts, lyrics he can’t get out of his head, small sketches of flowers or images he sees late at night when he dreams (when he gets a chance to sleep).

The book is his vice and he would rather die than ever part with it for Ashton is a closed book with every person (aside from his three best friends) but he opens up fully between those pages.

For his last year at University he’s the TA for his favorite art professor, Miss Dooley who is the perfect amount of scatter-brained and genius. She calls every student ‘pet’ and always has incense or essential oils burning in her classroom.

It has been Ashton’s wish and dream to be an art teacher for high school students, to help those like him who want to stay in their shell reveal who they truly are on the inside.

“Hello, my pet,” Miss Dooley trills in her usual sing song voice as Ashton enters the large art classroom.

He inhales the acrylic paint, the fresh wood waiting to be turned into canvases and the waxy aroma from the oil pastels stowed away in a cupboard. It’s one of his favorite smells in the world, the mediums just waiting to be used and Ashton’s fingers twitch in anticipation to create.

“Hey, Miss D,” he grins making a beeline to her desk at the front of the room. Behind her on the charcoal colored chalkboard is her name in calligraphy with broad strokes of curves and flowers.

‘Advanced Art Multi-Medium’ is written in block letters below her name as well.

“Excited for this year?” she asks rolling around a small was of blue putty in her hands. She claims it keeps her fingers and joints from failing so she’ll always be able to make art.

“Yeah, does it look like we’ll have a good class this year?” he taps the pads of his fingers on the black resin tabletop, a habit he’s always had when he’s anxious.

“Oh, I think so,” she beams her robin’s egg eyes twinkle. “It’s a full class this year, which I have you to thank for my little chickadee.”

“Me? What do you mean?”

“You’ve been the best student for the past six years you’ve been here, my prized pupil and a very handsome fella if you don’t mind me saying.”

Ashton feels the back of his neck heat up from her sentence full of compliments. Surely he’s not the reason for a full class this year? That’s ridiculous.

“I don’t think—“

Before he could finish the double wooden doors swung open and a flood of college students entered and Ashton couldn’t help but judge the first few that came in. He recognized three of the girls in front who were in Delta Zeta which he knew the only amount of creativity in their body was decorating photo backdrops.

Apart from them the rest of the class he’s seen hanging around the art wing of the school and at some of the showings he was at. At the rear was one of his best friends, Michael Clifford who decided a month ago to dye his hair a deep purple again. Michael smirks at his friend as he takes a seat next to a petite girl opening up a small black notebook.

Ashton let out an exasperated breath through his nostrils at his friend who did not tell him he’d be taking this class.

“ . . . Twenty- three . . . and twenty-four. Excellent! We’re all here!” Miss Dooley claps her hands together and moves to the front of her desk to smile sweetly at her pupils. “I recognize some of your faces but welcome to Advanced Art! I am Miss Dooley and this young man next to me is Ashton Irwin who will be my aide for this year. Would you like to inform them what this year will consist of?”

Ashton clears his throat then steps forward to stand next to Miss Dooley but ends up leaning his back against the counter behind him. He wanted them to see he was relaxed.

“Hey everybody. This year will be about using different mediums and creating something great out of them and also finding your niche in your art. Every class you’ll have five sketches of a landscape or a self-portrait or anything else that catches your eye. If you don’t have a sketchbook I recommend getting on.”

Every eye is on him and he is making a point not to look anywhere near Michael in the back. He clears his throat again before continuing.

“Your final exam for the first semester will be the beginning of your portfolio which will show the progression of your ‘voice.’ When—“

“Our voice?” a platinum blond of the Delta Zeta trio asks with her hand in the air, a confused pout on her glossed lips.

Ashton folds his arms across his chest, the leather of his jacket squeaks from the motion.

“Each artist has a voice in their work, a certain style that is all their own. That’s why when you see the blurred colors of a lily pond you know it’s Monet or the small pointed brush strokes and vivid colors of Van Gogh. Art is a voice for when you don’t know what to say, you can convey so much emotion into it. By the end of the year I want to be able to tell who’s piece is who’s, that’s how prominent it needs to be.

“If you don’t think you have it in you or won’t rise up to the challenge of being vulnerable, then I suggest you drop the class. Some people really want to be here and create art, I don’t want you to be deprived of that.”

He stands there eyeing each and every person almost daring one of them to stand up and walk out. A motion of a hand raise catches his eye in the back, he thinks it’s Michael and is ready to kick his friend out if he makes a rude comment. But it’s not Michael, it’s the girl sitting next to him.

“Yes, pet?” Miss Dooley calls on her.

“How many pieces should be in our portfolio?” she asks in a gentle voice but with sureness behind it.

“However many it takes to find your voice,” Ashton answers her. She nods then bends over her notebook to write furiously on the page.

“Well, since no one has jumped ship, let’s start off with a little exercise. Turn to the person you share a table with, introduce yourself and sketch them while you get to know each other. You will be each other’s buddies for the semester. Begin, my pets,” Miss Dooley claps her hands together again and all the students shuffle around for pencils and paper.

» » » » »

It’s a Friday night and Ashton is sitting in his favorite booth at Java Bean with his sketchbook out and earphones in to block out the small chatter of other college students. His first week of class as a TA went really well, a lot of the students showed promise. To his amusement Michael’s first sketches were of the little succulents he has scattered about his apartment.

Ashton was pleased that they took him seriously and Miss Dooley always offered her help and guidance to those who had questions. None of the students had approached Ashton but he was fine with that, he’s still learning by watching Miss Dooley interact with them.

Ashton’s hazel eyes landed on Michael and Calum approaching his table as he sipped at his black coffee. He licks his lips watching them approach with shit eating grins on their faces and he reluctantly removes his earphones. He closes his sketchbook with a soft thump, slightly glaring at his friends. They know better than to interrupt him while he’s drinking coffee and immersed in his sketchbook.

“Hey teacher,” Michael snickers pulling up a chair from the next table over. He slumps down in it with his fingers twiddling in his lap while Calum spins the chair opposite Ashton around and straddles it.

Calum pulls his dark gray beanie down lower over his ears then rests his chin on his elbows.

“Can I help you with something?” Ashton sighs leaning back in his own chair.

“Luke’s throwing a party tonight,” Calum begins, “a back to school rager, if you will.”

“Good for him.”

“C’mon Ash,” Michael whines leaning forward on his knees. “Come party with us like old times.”

“You mean like when we were freshman and your head caught fire?” Ashton quirked his eyebrows up.

“We were young and dumb then,” Michael waves it off. “Come on, it’ll be great. The girl I sit next to in your class will be there.”

“And?”

“What girl?” Calum pipes up.

“And she’s cute,” Michael shrugs, “and it will be fun for you to get out of your little hermit hole you’ve set up here.”

“I dunno guys. I want to get up early tomorrow to take some photos of the waterfall. In my photography class I’m doing a series of different locations throughout the seasons, and I think the—“

“Yeah, yeah, we get it,” Calum interrupts holding his hand up. “Just . . . come hang out with us before you get neck deep in your work, yeah? Just for a few hours.”

Ashton rolls his eyes then sighs before giving in.

“All right, fine. I’ll come.”

“YES! The Ash Man is back!” Michael hollers clapping his friend on the back and the other customers turn to look over in irritation.

“You’ve never called me that,” Ashton says gathering his stuff in his shoulder bag, “and don’t start now.”

 The party was like any other party Ashton has been to in his college career, granted it is a bit tamer than when they were all freshman and sophomores. For the most part everyone had their clothes on which relieved Ashton. He hated having to try and wrangle whoever it was to get their clothes back on.

The townhouse was stuffy with vape smoke making the air foggy, beer and liquor filled his nose and he felt the music course through his body.

“Hey, you brought him!” Luke exclaims with a large smile. His arms are raised bringing Ashton in for a tight hug. “Glad you’re here, buddy.”

“Thanks man,” Ashton says tousling the younger guy’s golden curls.

“Drinks are in the kitchen, but I think I hear a shot of fireball calling your name,” Luke wiggles his eyebrows dragging the guys into the kitchen.

“I haven’t had fireball since New Year’s two years ago,” Ashton chuckles.

“Ashton! Hey!”

His head snaps when he hears his name then wishes that he hadn’t. The voice belonged to Breanne Thomas, a girl he used to hook up with on and off a few years back. She was even the model for some of his photography assignments.

“Oh, hey, Breanne,” he nods politely then shuffles past her into the kitchen. He did not want to relive old times with her at the moment.

“Yikes, sorry, mate,” Calum says handing him a shot glass filled with the golden liquid.

“Whatever, let’s cheers to a new year,” he shakes it off holding his glass up in the air. They all clink and down the shots heartily. Ashton remembers the burn as it travels down his throat and into his stomach.

As the night progresses he becomes pleasantly buzzed and that’s when he knows to stop. He just stumbles out of the bathroom when he hears his name being called and looks up to see Michael waving him over near the back of the house to the backyard.

Ashton pushes through the bodies, waves of weed swirl around his head and it’s so strong he’s sure he’ll get a contact high from it. When Michael becomes more in view he notices the girl from his class standing next to him.

“This is Lennox Hastings,” Michael introduces with a loopy smile. “Lennox Hastings this is Ashton Irwin. Our teacher. My best friend.” A small hiccup escapes him.

“Hi,” she smiles shyly at Ashton, “And it’s just Lennox. You don’t have to use my last name Michael.”

“It’s a badass name, Lennox Hastings! I have to say it all. You should show him your notebook, he’s got one too. Oops, I’ve got to go. Bye!”

He skirts away into the crowd and Ashton shakes his head at his drunken friend then turns to Lennox who now looks oddly familiar now that he knows her name. Apart from seeing her in his class he swears he’s seen her somewhere else before, but where? Or did she have a twin?

“I’m sorry you’re stuck with him as a table partner,” Ashton apologizes and she laughs lightly.

“He’s not so bad. He’s fun to talk to when I’m not working.”

“How’re you liking the class so far?”

“It’s good, I’ve been looking forward to it since I got here, actually. I was in all advanced classes in my high school and I’ve heard how amazing Miss Dooley is.”

“Yeah, she’s great,” he smiles then glances around at their surroundings. There’s a couple making out against the fridge and Ashton realizes it’s Calum and some short blond haired girl. “You wanna step outside? Get some fresh air?”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” she smiles opening the door.

Ashton picks up two water bottles from the bucket on the counter then follows her into the warm August night. The screen door swings shut behind him, he inhales deeply and sits on the gliding bench besides Lennox.

“Thanks,” she says taking the water bottle from him and takes a sip. “This isn’t weird, is it?”

“What isn’t weird?”

“Us being out here? You’re basically my teacher,” she laughs nervously.

“Nah, I’m just an aide. I’m not a teacher yet,” he grins at her.

Now that he’s not inside the house with loads of distractions all around, he can finally get a good look at her. She looks familiar for some reason now as he stares at her in the yellow porchlight. Her auburn hair is pulled up in a half ponytail with some fly aways clinging to her round cheeks. Her eyelashes are long atop her doe eyes and Ashton finds himself wishing to see what type of blue they are and if he could paint them.

“You’ll make a good one,” she says pulling him from his wandering mind.

“Ya think?” he leans back and rocks the glider back and forth slowly, it creaks and groans as he does.

“Yeah, you control the room well and I can tell how passionate you are about art.”

“Thanks,” he says sheepishly. He’s never been able to take compliments well, whether it’s about his art or himself. “How’re the rest of your classes going?”

“Okay so far, lots of work already in my poetry class and advanced art,” she gives him a sly smirk and nudges his ribs playfully with her elbow.

“You write?”

“Mhm. Wrote a lot this summer, great inspiration,” she says grimly.

“That’s good, right? I’ve heard writers block is shit.”

“It is.”

“So what inspired you?” he turns his body so he’s angled towards her more.

Lennox shakes her head, a piece of hair clings to her lip and Ashton desperately wants to pull it away.

“I don’t want to bore you with my heartbreak, Mr. Irwin,” she says.

“Please, call me Ashton,” he grimaces at the title. “I’m an artist, too, remember? Heartbreak makes the artist.”

“You already know it, though, the cliché story of girl meets boy. Girl falls for boy and they date and commit but then the boy gets a record deal and leaves girl behind.”

“Wait,” Ashton sits up straighter when he heard record deal. “You aren’t talking about Harry Styles, are you?”

“You know him, huh?” she says airily.

“Yeah, we don’t get along very well. At all, actually,” he chuckles.

“How come?”

“That’s not important right now. I’m sorry he hurt you.”

• • • •

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**if your url has a strike through it’s because your blog didn’t show up as a tag! :(

[jorjathomas]

Process of rendering physical work

This post involves some screengrabs of the process of samples I have currently made. 

As you can see above, I have began to edit the original image of the paint. Threshold has been used to segment the image into sections. As I wanted the image to be binary, I did this process twice but at different levels. On the left I set the threshold level to 122 however the other image I placed it at 124. This brings out different shaded areas. Before I began the duotone process I had to flatten the image using grayscale so I am able to see the threshold better.

I then used duotone with the two layers I had made with the threshold and set them to the original colours of the picture I took. This was because I wanted to see the difference between the two. Above are the results. This was the most enjoyable process by far as the fact that the paint gave a marble effect so I was able to create to outcomes with the duotone and threshold combination.

This was a screenshot of the art which I had created on the opposite side of the print sample. This was a font which I had downloaded of adobe fonts as I wanted to find the best block like text. This enabled me to liquify it better using the smudge and expand tool. I had done this process already however I loved this outcome more as I began to become more familiar with the technique and the result I wanted.

Here is another outcome of the process above. Again, I went through the combined techniques twice to get different colours within the duotone image. My final outcome is pink and orange however this was originally created with different shaded of pink because I thought it would be beneficial to use in my zine.

Moving away from the digital comparison samples, I began to look at my aesthetic post where I looked at artists work which had inspired me. I had yet to make many physical samples so I began to look through magazines for any imagery I liked and could cut out. I knew I wanted to make some ‘abnormal’ collages. This means combining multiple objects which aren't normally combined to create this new sense of reality. I wanted this kind of escapism in my work ,with the help of landscapes, to portray the abnormality of stressing over tiny problems. I want the readers to remind themselves of who they are and where they are which I hope eases their worries because its easy to get lost in your own world without acknowledging your the world your living in with others.

 Above was the process of working into the collage once I had scanned it in. I removed its white background, which is formed after scanning, using ‘colour range’ then, I used one of my mixed media art pieces to create its background. I made this using acrylic paint and my fingers. I would normally use a brush to be precise but I didn't want this outcome. I then began to adjust the image using the ‘saturation tool’ to make it appear brighter almost like the collage was spiralling into the page. My previous samples have been looking flat against the backgrounds which is why I created another layer of the background and erased certain areas of the brushstrokes. I then layered this on top of the collage to make the two blend together. I liked this outcome because not only does the collage reflect the common saying ‘ It’s raining cats and dogs outside’, but the outcome doesn't look flat against the page. Keeping the binding of the book I painted on helped bring in the personal elements of the samples aswell. Overall I hope the sample has reflected the meaning behind the saying in visual form to highlight the silliness of life's problems sometimes. This sample is humorous and uplifts me so I am interested in including this style in my work to create the same emotion for the readers.

This was the process of another collage sample. This time I wanted to add more personal imagery alongside the magazine cutouts to help portray my story. At first, this collage only had the road in the centre of the pencils, and I was going to edit out the man walking along it as I didn't need it however not only was this difficult to do, but I thought the sample looks empty so it was harmless to leave him in. Luckily, I didn't throw away my cut outs so I found the head of the model to attach back to the body. This didn't look right either. I tried to create a new layer with the man selected and adjusted the image to make it look smooth however this didn't work very well. I think this was because of the angle I scanned in the second cut out. The first collage was scanned in on my printer at home however the second was scanned in through my phone instead. Nevertheless, I worked around this dilemma by adding loads of flowers on the models head. This helps the abnormality become present in the centre of the sample. I also believe this helps portray my message of growth. For example, the pencils in the back symbolises a playground and all aspects of what the noun is associated with which is why I am playing on it as a child with my mom (image on the near left). The road coming out the the pencil mountain portrays the aging of life and abandonment of childhood as you have to grow up. The man in the centre also helps this interpretation with him walking on the road with flower blossoms on his head symbolising the growth of the mind and soul within a person. Aka character development. This is also one of my favourite samples as it holds its message well and feels more personal with my childhood images. It has helped me understand the exact message I want to give to my audience visually.

This final screengrab is of the process of the poster sample I had made digitally. Although the collage was made digitally, the background wasn't. The image above is actually a picture of one of the screen prints I made using a stripped generic screen. Originally, it was purple but as you can see above, I changed it’s saturation and hue to create new colours. I loved this outcome because you can see the different textures of the screen print especially since its on paper. When screen printing, the paper obviously got wet so it caused the paper to crimple which is why there are different tons in this adjusted image. This process was before I liquified it and I think I were to do it again, I might have left it like the image before to make the outcome look more authentic.(scrapbook/journal)

[rosedavid]

embers

a tyrus fic based on the b[redacted}h scene in the promo

The air is thick with frost. Cyrus can see his breath puffing out as he walks. A bitter wind brushes through the trees. He makes it to the lit-up fire pit which attracted his attention from inside. He sits down. The wood of the bench is damp and cold, but the heat from the fire pit keeps it bearable. Cyrus then stares into the flame, orange embers dancing in his eyes. He can barely hear the noise from the party inside over the repetitive song of the crickets and the crackling of the fire. The smell of pine lingers around him. 

Overwhelmed from the emotions induced by the party, he attempts to relax, leaning back into the bench. A sad smile forms on his face as he reminisces the last few weeks with his friends. He can’t imagine his life without them, but now with Andi’s going away party, he’ll have to get used to it. After all, art is Andi’s passion. She deserves to go somewhere that allows her to cultivate that talent. That doesn’t make the pang of sadness in Cyrus’s heart any less when he thinks about it, though.

Not only that, but Cyrus has felt things in his life spiraling recently as well. So much has happened in the last few months, good and bad. The events with Kira and TJ stick in his mind. Over the last few weeks he’s spent hours playing it over and over in his head.

The shuffling of rocks and leaves alerts Cyrus to someone approaching. He doesn’t even need to look up, as he already knows who it will be. As if on cue, the figure reaches him, standing and blocking the warmth radiating from the fire.

“Can I join you?”

Cyrus notices the slight waver in TJ’s voice. With it comes a level of uncertainty and caution that he’d never expect from the other boy. Then again, he’s learned a lot of things about TJ that he never would have expected. Cyrus shivers, scooting over and patting the spot on the bench beside him.

“What are you doing out here?” Cyrus wonders, eyes flitting back and forth from the fire to TJ.

TJ shrugs, picking at his nails. “I could ask you the same question.”

Although they’ve made up since costume day, things have changed since then. Cyrus has been testing the water recently, but he still isn’t sure where they stand with each other. Despite them lapsing back into their unique friendship rather quickly, Cyrus can’t shake the feeling that something is different. Right now, it’s more obvious than ever; a sort of tangible tension that lingers between them.

“I guess I just needed to get away from everything for a bit. It can be…a lot sometimes.”

“Yeah, trust me, I know,” TJ agrees. “I’m sorry things have been weird between us lately.”

Cyrus plays dumb. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve noticed it, too. I can tell. Kira really messed us up.”

Us.

Although Kira has since apologized, the consequences of her actions remain. Of course, Cyrus forgave her, as he’s a person who believes in second chances (as shown with Amber and TJ), but he won’t forget the rift she caused between them all.

“But she knows what she did was wrong,” Cyrus says. “Maybe now she can change.”

“You always see the best in people, Cyrus Goodman. You certainly did with me.”

TJ shifts, draping a hand over his knee. His fingers dangle down and brush up against Cyrus’s cold hand which lies along the bench. With this new angle, their knees can’t help but knock against one another. Cyrus glances down at their hands when they touch, smile forming on the edges of his lips.

The glow of the fire illuminates the side of TJ’s face. Cyrus swallows, noticing for once how close they are to each other. Cyrus chews on his lip in contemplation. The numerous thoughts that have been rushing through his head the whole day turn to just one.

TJ notices his brief change of countenance and posture. He always seems to notice these little things when it comes to Cyrus. Both look up at the same time, eyes meeting each other. TJ’s fingers inch closer, curling around the top of Cyrus’s hand. Cyrus feels his pulse pounding.

“I don’t know how I got so lucky,” TJ continues. “After we met, you helped me become a better person. Without you, I’d probably be the same old bully I used to be. I missed you everyday when I was with Kira, you know? I can’t ever get you off my mind.”

TJ shuffles impossibly closer to Cyrus, fingers sweeping across his knuckles. Cyrus’s breath hitches at his movement. TJ looks up from under his eyelashes.

“Is there anything you want to tell me?” TJ asks softly.

“Teej…” Cyrus murmurs, eyes glancing back down to their hands for reassurance. “I missed you too. So much. In fact, my feelings kept growing even when we were apart.”

“Feelings?”

“I-I’m gay, TJ,” Cyrus admits, but the hard part isn’t over yet. TJ smiles with gleaming eyes, urging him to continue. “And I didn’t realize it at first, but soon I figured out that what I feel for you is more than what friends feel. It’s something deeper. And I’m not sure if you feel how I’m feeling, but—"

TJ fully places his hand over Cyrus’s own, effectively cutting him off.

“I like you too, Underdog.”

“Yeah?”

“And you said I’m the oblivious one,” TJ teases.

Suddenly, the heat from the fire feels even warmer. As if it’s automatic, they both lean in. Cyrus tightens his grip on TJ’s hand. When their lips meet, the fire seems to glow even brighter in front of them, creating two joined silhouettes in the dark. Embers flutter in the air around them. They break apart giggling with joy, hands still clutched together. Cyrus waits until their laughs die down before speaking again.

“What you said about me making you a better person,” Cyrus starts, “You always had that in you, TJ. You’ve always been a good person. I just helped you realize your own potential. And you helped me realize my strengths.”

“I guess we bring out the best in each other, huh?”

They share a smile.

Despite the long pathway it took to arrive here, starting with their first meeting in the cafeteria to their encounters at the swing sets to the conflict with Kira, Cyrus decides that it was all worth it in the end. Every moment, every laugh, every conversation, every conflict.

It was worth it.

[magnusrosen-blog]

Irony and reality can sometimes be close to each other.

The sleeping people!

We sleep so heavily in an illusion that everything is done for our own good!

In the history of man we find a conclusion.

Even though people are injured and die in war, shot on our streets and in our homes in front of our noses, even though we have poor pensioners, Swedish citizens who are homeless, drug sales outside middle school in some schools in our country!!!

😴 So we sleep so well and soundly and I shouldn't question it, what if someone says against me, oh yeah yeah I don't want to be part of that, then it's better to be quiet and sleep on, then people get hurt while I closes my eyes.

Even fixed service agencies like banks are starting to question us all as if we were criminals. Questions like if we are active politically or have feelings in the military, why we want to deposit our cash or withdraw cash, act like we support terrorists or other criminal activities. Is integrity and respect for people completely gone?

Is it ok that we are all treated as potential criminals?

😴 But we just sleep on in a dream that everything is so good.

Our news is no longer objective, nor is the new healthcare that recommends preparations that have not been tested according to all the rules of the art, but they spread chemical mixtures into people's bodies, what is actually in these substances? 😴 But no one dares to ask, we just dare to say "yes" and continue to sleep.

5 G, which would make the whole world wake up to a thunderous quality and speed, turns out to be more intended for something else as everything has become worse when it comes to telephony and data speed.

Where I live slightly outside of Gothenburg, it has definitely gotten worse, so I have turned off my 5G.

The radiation inside the city is on "warning" for humans, I have seen this myself on a radiation meter.

😴 But no one seems to care or question this either.

Did you know that there are several different techniques that cause the sunlight to be blocked from our globe.

Yes, it is certainly scary that some people are experimenting with our entire mother earth.

Tinkering with the weather has been done since the Vietnam War.

😴 But what does it do when you can close your eyes and sleep on?

Wars are encouraged instead of effective peace processes, at the same time they talk about climate change which entails high environmental taxes, tax money that is not even earmarked?????

War is a terrible environmentally friendly act, but it doesn't matter because you fight for the good of everyone????? Or do you do this for the good of all. 😴 When did a war bring anything but illusions and death to the little man???

The vegetables are now genetically engineered to such a mild degree that the vitamins are starting to become difficult to detect in the increasingly brilliant, colorful vegetables that many times next only taste like water, 😴 but that can't wake us up either!

Some pieces of meat start to get an aftertaste from the brush 😴 but what does that do, or beef fillets filled with water to charge a higher kg price, 😴 but oh yes it's nothing to worry about when you can sleep on.

Yes, now it is even difficult in some professions to get full time since the 80% salary came into effect.

More expensive prices with less wages.

😴 Yes, that's good, then we won't be able to afford to live.

Think how good life is anyway, well until the day you open your eyes 👀 and ask yourself, how could it be like this.

Yes, that day started to get its last "well before date"

Then the road back is very long.

Yes there are many more alarm clocks ⏰, 😴 but it doesn't seem to help.

Shouldn't we at least question and demand an objective picture with more than one perspective?

Questioning gives answers but silence does not.

The wise ask and the foolish dare not question. But no questions are wrong and clear, transparent answers must always be given so that no major misunderstandings occur against the people.

The worst thing is if society splits up into small different groups that are against each other, because then we easily fall into the plates that the perfection of power has put out and become easy to sink our teeth into.

😴 But what does that do when you can close your eyes and sleep on.

Perhaps it is simply too much to ask to open one's beautiful eyes and instead just sleep further into an illusion and future that is currently presented when this text is read?!

But in any case, in the sign of love, you can wish everyone 😴 sleeping a good sleep.

Sleep tight!!! ❤️🙏

Magnus.

Love peace understanding

Remember: Questions bring knowledge

Free speech makes for a free world

Photo  Gabriel Henningson

www.magnusrosen.com

www.magnusrosenband.com

www.culturemeetsindustry.com

#book #magnusrosenband #outsidetherockbox #sound pollution #moderearth #spiritual #barvcafebar#brännö

#avelibooks #noise pollution

#magnusrosen #bassplayer #ljuset #miraclet #basenimitthjärta #avelibooks #mrb #nyhetsmorgon #tv4#rocknytt #manneinstrument #manneguitars #ebs #mannebass #understanding #thesea #sun#heavymetal #rockmusic #rock #itstimetorocktheworldagain

[mattzerella-sticks]

Let’s Play - Batflash Week Day 2: Parents are Alive AU & Jealousy

One night, the Wayne family decided to take a shortcut through an alleyway. Unknowingly a mugger was waiting in the shadows, and because of this fateful run-in their lives were changed forever.

By a stroke of luck all three Waynes escaped with their lives. But, fearful of the dangers of the world, Thomas and Martha decide it's better to lock their canaries up than let them soar free. When being under the constant watchful eye of bodyguards becomes too much, Bruce finds freedom with the strangest boy who won't shut up.

“...and it’s actually really amazing what the artist did, using the canvas to tell a story pushed forward with each minimal stroke of the brush…” The guide carries on with his explanation of the painting, Bruce squinting at it while racking up a list of criticisms. Sitting on top, his largest complaint had nothing to do with the art on display. Instead his parents shared the number one spot. Baffling how they could entertain the meaningless blather coming from their guide.

He tugs on his father’s sleeve drawing Thomas closer. “Can we leave?” he whispers.

Thomas frowns at him. “No,” he says, “and please stop asking, Bruce.”

“But I’m bored .”

“We’re guests ,” Thomas hisses, “it would be rude.”

Returning to full height, his father leaves Bruce to stew in his increasingly horrible mood. His mother pays no mind to their conversation, giving her full attention to the guide. Even though Bruce can tell her mind wanders like his, lips stretched thin like cellophane when she pretends to listen. It’s a common feature during galas and gallery opens, like this one.

Why his parents continue attending these events Bruce will never know. What made it worse was how they were miles away from their home, stuck in Missouri until tomorrow.

“The artist is truly grateful that you all came and showed your support,” the guide finishes, leading them away from the painting and the collection as a whole. Bruce’s spirits pick up, trembling at the possibility presented. He imagines the thin-stick man slipping through a stray crack in the floor, freeing them from the torturous tour. Or a door opening and blowing him across the room, crowd piling through the exit without care.

Unfortunately neither of these happen. Instead the guide brings the crowd to a small room off to the side of the wing cluttered with tables, waiters bustling between them.

“And we here at the museum want to show our gratitude, too, with a lovely banquet in the artist’s honor,” he says, “Please find your seats and enjoy the food. In an hour the artist will give a speech, but before and after that he’ll be walking around, fielding questions.” He left then, mission accomplished.

Their group dispersed. Martha and Thomas tried leaving, but Bruce barely budged.

Glancing behind at the statue of his son, Thomas sighed. “Bruce…”

“I want to go .”

“Please, Bruce, we’re almost done here,” Martha says, running gentle fingers through his hair, “All we need to do is listen to the artist and then we’ll go back to the hotel room.”

“Can’t we skip the hotel and head straight for Gotham?”

“You know we can’t,” she frowns, “your father has a very important dinner meeting with a few investors. First thing in the morning, though…”

Bruce groans, uncaring to the wry stares he draws. His parents squirm under the attention, shuffling him closer to the shadows.

“Please, Bruce,” Thomas asks him, “your mother and I would rather be in Gotham, too. But this is one of those situations grown ups find themselves in where they make obligations and need to see them through. Now do you want to be a grown up?”

Two answers present themselves - the one Bruce wants to pick and the other his parents want to hear. “Yes,” he relents, tucking his chin to his chest. Thomas squeezes his shoulders, saying how proud they are of how mature he is. That with a full plate he’ll hardly notice time flying by. They try and leave again, only a sudden idea hits Bruce that very moment. “Wait!” he says, stopping them, “I… have to go to the bathroom.”

Martha and Thomas look at each other, brows furrowed.

Bruce carries on, adding to his lie. “We passed one on our way here, it won’t take long. I promise -  I promise .”

He pouts, using every dirty trick he has to earn a few minutes of reprieve.

It works. His parents waved him off, telling him to be quick. “And don’t forget to take Willoughsby with you,” Martha says, “in case anything happens.”

The plan sours as the guard in question steps up, bald head shiny under the harsh lighting. Willoughsby nods at Thomas, ushering Bruce over to the bathrooms. “Right this way, Master Wayne.”

Bruce sneaks a final peek at his parents conversing with the others on their security team until they’re blocked by the door. Out of the room Bruce shrugs Willoughby off. “I can walk fine on my own.” The guard stays stone-faced, curtly huffing as he paces towards the nearest bathroom. Bruce walks three steps behind, glaring at the guard.

All it took was one mugging for his world to upend. Not as dangerously as it could have, the mugger inexperienced and oafish. He aimed his gun at his mother and fired only for nothing to erupt. With nothing on him but an unloaded gun, Thomas made quick work of their attacker. Tied him up with his shoelaces until the police arrived.

His parents were alive and well, but the night’s events left them shook. Immediately they placed feelers within their community of socialites and entrepreneurs, asking for references on building a team of security guards. To protect them in case of another wrong turn down a dark alley.

Once they assembled the perfect team, the guards never left their family’s side. They hung about the house like the paintings in the gallery, serving a purpose that needn’t be filled. Assembled because a mind was allowed to run wild.

Bruce entered that alleyway a child, but left an adult. Shoulders burdened with the heavy responsibility someone his age shouldn’t know. Unable to break free from the chains of fear or the watchful gaze of his bodyguards.

That didn’t stop him from trying, though. Especially with Willoughsby, Bruce’s personal guard. Strictest of all the others, with as much of a concept for boundaries like a squirrel.“What do you think you’re doing?” Bruce asks.

Willougshby had one hand on the bathroom door, pushing it open halfway. He cranes his neck to answer, “Going to the bathroom.”

“Do you have to go?”

“No, but you do.”

“I can go perfectly well on my own.”

“It doesn’t matter if you can or cannot,” Willoughsby answers, frowning, “my job is to protect you -”

“Which you can do from out here,” Bruce tells him, pushing past and entering the other room. Pausing halfway through the entrance, he mimics his mother from earlier. The smile as asphyxiating as it is sweet. “It doesn’t make much of a difference, right? Good. Won’t be long!”

He shuts the door. Advancing halfway, he waits for Willoughsby to enter after him. When the door doesn’t budge, he relaxes his fist. Bypassing the stalls he shuffles towards the mirrors. Stares at his reflection like it could jump out and take his place for him. So Bruce can remain hidden in the bathroom, alone.

But not totally. A flush echoes, startling him. In the mirror Bruce sees a boy around his age leave the middle stall, bouncing over to the sink beside him. He dresses opposite Bruce, shorts and t-shirt making Bruce feel uncomfortable in his tiny suit. Tugging at his tie, he rakes his gaze over the collection of buttons decorating his backpack. A few he recognizes from the comics his classmates pour over during lunch and the moments between classes.

“Yeah, they’re cool aren’t they?”

Bruce looks to the boy, finished washing his hands and now facing him. Blushing, Bruce shrugs and runs his hands under the faucet. “Really cool,” he mumbles.

“My name’s Barry,” the other boy continues, grinning madly, “It’s short for Bartholomew - that’s my grandfather’s name. But I don’t like being called Bartholomew because it’s so long and usually whenever my mom uses my full name it means I’m in trouble. So I go by Barry - which sounds like berry and I like blueberries, but not strawberries. Raspberries, I’m on the fence with. What’s your name and favorite type of fruit?”

He reels from the seventy turns Barry forced him through during that one sentence, water pouring from the faucet and dampening his cuffs. Blinking, Bruce snaps his jaw shut. “Bruce,” he says, “And I don’t know.”

“You don’t know what your favorite fruit is?”

“Never thought about it.”

“Really?” Barry squints, leaning closer than comfortable, “Usually when someone asks about favorites a thought immediately pops into their heads. It’s not something you need to think about, it should just be. Unless you don’t have any favorites, which is cool I guess. I don’t have a favorite vegetable. Or maybe you have too many ! Like, my bag!” Barry spins, showing off his backpack again. “There are just too many cool heroes to choose from so I put all of these on my bag. My mom helped me with each one ‘cause the first time I tried I kept stabbing myself with the pin…”

Bruce watches the boy ramble with amazing speed, frighteningly intelligible. Like breathing was a suggestion and not a necessity. Instead of focusing on what Barry says, Bruce instead drifts to wonder about the boy and his willingness to talk to a stranger. How, if Bruce had tried the same approach anywhere else, he’d be shunted away by Willoughsby and his bodyguards and his parents. To protect him from shadows that exist in alleyways after movies.

He hates Barry a little bit for the ease of his life.

“Hey,” Barry shakes him, “are you okay? You look like Molly Dorchester in math class?”

“What?”

“Molly Dorchester,” he says, “she’s this girl in my grade who thinks it’s funny to take my lunch and throw it in the trash. Anyway, whenever the teacher switches over from history to math her eyes kind of lose focus and sometimes she drools a little. One time I pointed this out and she had Kyle Dombrowski and Manny Ortiz pants me during recess but… yeah…” Barry steps back, finally red-faced, “Was I like math class right now?”

The kernel of jealousy explodes at the way Barry shifts to mask his energy, inspiring some of it to rouse Bruce into wakefulness. “No,” Bruce says, “I… I was having trouble following along.”

“I get that a lot,” Barry tells him, “Every year on my report cards my teachers say that I do really well, but I could learn something from slowing down. My mom says I shouldn’t have to slow down, though. There’s nothing wrong with running at your own pace!”

Bruce matches his timid smile. “She sounds great.”

“She is!” Barry jumps, enthusiasm returning, “She’s waiting for me right now, actually. We were on our way to the park when I had to go to the bathroom. Since this is right across the street we stopped in here because I don’t like going to the public bathrooms in the park, they’re really gross, y’know?”

He wouldn’t, but Bruce nods all the same.

“What about you?” Barry asks, “What are you doing here?”

His question, innocent in theory, reminds Bruce of what’s waiting for him on the other side of the door. He sighs, hunching over. “Stuck at this event my parents forced me to go to,” he says, “and I’m bored .”

“And they won’t let you leave?”

“No…”

“That’s awful!”

Bruce looks up at Barry’s sympathetic frown. He feels a fresh gust of air fill his lungs, except he knew he didn’t breathe. The shiny blue of Barry’s eyes were the cause, glinting with concern at the injustice of his situation.

It forces a giggle from Bruce, the first in a long while. Barry grins again, joining him.

“I know,” Bruce says, “I wish I could just… get out of here.”

“Why not?”

“I’m… under a lot of supervision right now.”

Barry tilts his head to the side. “Are you in some sort of trouble?”

Bruce frowns, “No, but my parents… they’re afraid that I might get into it.”

Nodding, Barry’s eyebrows furrow over his eyes. Lightning crackles in the sea of his eyes, stoking the fires of Bruce’s curiosity. Like a switch Barry’s levity floats the brows high again, disappearing under his baseball cap. “Don’t worry!” Barry says, “You won’t get into any trouble with me!”

“What?” Barry latches onto Bruce’s hands, dragging him towards the exit. Bruce digs his heels in, panicking. “What are you doing?”

“We’re gonna find your parents and tell ‘em we’re gonna go play!” Barry says, “I’m very hard to say no to.”

“I… That’s probably not a good idea.”

“Why’s that?”

Bruce rushes for an answer, the simplest explanation waiting on the other side of the door. “Someone is waiting for me, just outside. The second I leave the bathroom he’s gonna drag me back to my parents. I doubt he’ll let you follow - he’s mean .”

Barry pouts, but doesn’t let go. Instead he squeezes tighter while he thinks, storm clouds reappearing. They erupt with an idea that booms in the small space.

Letting go, Barry zips his bag open and digs around. Bruce waits, wondering exactly he looks for. Blanching when the other boy finds it and tosses it at Bruce.

“What’s this?”

“It’s a hoodie!” Barry says, slipping his shoes off, “Put it on, and switch shoes with me!” Bruce does so, stuffing his feet into the dirty Sketchers. The hoodie smothers him in warmth, smelling so different from anything he’s ever smelt. Instead of the rich jasmine Alfred uses, it smells like a cheap soap that cloys at his nose. Still he finds it refreshing.

Barry rubs at his chin, scanning him. “Almost perfect…” He pulls his cap from his head, freeing his unruly blond locks, and stuffs it onto Bruce’s head. “There!” Barry says, “You look really cool .”

Bruce blushes, fiddling with the hoodie strings. “Really?”

Nodding, Barry reaches forward and eases the hood over his head to obscure more of his features. “Yeah. It’s not hard to look cool in red - it’s the coolest color. But you’re making it even better! How do you do that?”

“...I’m not sure.”

Shrugging, Barry grabs at Bruce’s hand again. “Doesn’t matter. We’re wasting valuable play time !”

Time plays out slowly in the seconds they leave the bathroom. Bruce tucks his head into his chest, wincing, ready for Willoughsby to spot him and yell. However all he hears is the squeaking of Barry’s shoes against the linoleum and the swinging of the bathroom door. The farther they get from the bathroom the softer his heart beats.

Risking everything, Bruce glances behind him at Willoughsby. The bodyguard watches the door, back rigid.

He floats after Barry, riding a sugar rush of freedom. Only crashing when he hears someone clearing their throat.

“Barry?” an older woman asks, tone suspicious, “Who is this?”

“This is my new friend Bruce!” Barry introduces him, “Bruce, this is the mom I was telling you about. Her name’s Mom.” He turns to his mom, “He and I are gonna play in the park together.”

“Are you?” she asks, looking at Bruce. “Bruce? Do your parents know about yours and Barry’s plans?”

Wide-eyed, Bruce nods. Not trusting his own voice. He expects Barry’s mother to drag them back where they came from and ruin their plans. However, glancing between him and Barry, her features softened.

“Okay,” she says, “as long as they said it’s okay.”

Bruce keeps silent. Barry groans though, hand not in Bruce’s to tug on her jacket. “Mom! I wanna go play.”

She chuckles, taking his hand and guiding them out of the museum. “Patience, sweetie. We’ll be at the park in a few minutes. Then you and Bruce can have your fun.”

Barry turns to Bruce, beaming. “You’re gonna like it, we just got this new jungle gym. It’s pirate-themed !”

Bruce finds himself excited the more Barry describes the game of make-believe they’ll play.

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

Thomas knows he looks insane, puffing and shouting his son’s name like an animal. Except it’s all he can do besides break down into tears. Martha busied herself with her terror by firing their bodyguards and driving with Alfred to the police station while Thomas stayed behind to scour the area.

All hope seems lost, and visions of the alleyway flash into awareness. The glinting of the gun as the mugger raised it, ready to fire if necessary. How Bruce clung to his leg with a fear no boy should ever know. Remembers the prayers he said, hoping that a miracle would appear in the moment between the man stopping them in the alley and him demanding for Martha’s pearls. Pearls she doesn’t have anymore. That she donated after spending too many nights staring at them with half a glass of scotch in her hand because she couldn’t sleep.

He shakes the foggy tendrils of the nightmares away, sure that if they clawed their way in finding Bruce would be impossible. Instead he waits for the light to change then dashes across the street.

Staggering, he readies himself to find the nearest phone booth to call Martha at the police station. Except he hears a shrill laughter that echoes in his heart, and another boy yelling, “Bruce!”

Thomas follows the sounds towards a playground, spying the familiar dark curls as they chase a blond boy around a grounded pirate ship.

“Bruce,” he breathes, shuffling over. The closer he gets the reassuring feeling of seeing Bruce safe gets corrupted by the anger of realizing nothing happened to Bruce. A thought creeps into mind, that he ran away knowing full well how his parents might react. His son’s name readies itself in his mouth again, sharper than before, only for a hand on his shoulder to interrupt.

“Hi,” a woman stops him, “Are you Bruce’s dad?”

Startled, his plans fall apart. “Uh - yes… I - I am.”

She smiles, “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Nora, your son is playing with mine.”

“...I see,” he says, following her gaze over to the boys, “They seem to be having fun .”

“Yeah,” Nora nods, “it’d be a shame to interrupt them, wouldn’t it?”

He whips around to stare at her, Nora remaining calm. Thomas glares, “I don’t know. Considering all the worry he put me and his mother through, playtime is far from over.”

“Figured he was lying when he said you were okay with this.”

“And you still allowed him to come here?”

She shrugs. “My son is a whirlwind. He wanted to play with your boy and… well, Barry doesn’t have many friends. So maybe I was a little selfish.” Nora faces him, finally, smiling in the sad way only a parent can. “Sue me.”

Thomas raises a wry brow, lips stretching thin. “If you knew who I was you wouldn’t be joking around with the ‘sue’ word.”

“Maybe not, but I can tell that your suit probably costs more than my lemon of a car,” she says, “C’mon, a bench just opened up. Let’s grab a seat and chat.” Nora walks away, leaving Thomas with no other option but to follow. They sit with their children still in view. Barry swings an invisible sword in the air, Bruce shaking his fist from below.

“So,” she starts, “what were you and your family doing at the museum?”

He crosses his legs, sinking against the cold wood as his body gives into the tremors of exhaustion coursing within. “We were invited to an artist’s gallery opening, someone who benefited from a grant we created a few years back. Although after what I saw I wish my wife never suggested it.”

“Art is subjective.”

“If you’d suffered through his explanation on how a squiggle represents the unknown possibility of his future since his parents’ evicted him from their house you’d become pretty objective.”

Nora laughs loudly, head tossed back in joy. “I’ll take your word for it.”

They hear a shout and a slam, both turning to see the cause. Thomas’s heart seizes at Bruce crumpled on the ground, tiny hands wrapped around his knee. Standing above him, Nora’s boy gapes with worry.

Thomas readies to stand, except Nora’s grip keeps him tethered to the bench. “Excuse me,” he grows, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Bruce is fine.”

“He’s not fine, he’s hurt .”

“It’s a skinned knee,” she says, “Barry gets them all the time, mostly because he always forgets to tie his shoes. He’ll know what to do.” Nora gestures to their kids, Bruce joined by Barry who hopped down from the ship. Digging around in his bag, he searches for something. It becomes obvious to Thomas exactly what it is when Barry fiddles with Bruce’s knee. He relaxes in the bench as Barry finishes patching his son up, dropping a kiss on the wound for extra measure. “I taught him what to do after the fifth time,” she says, “for when he falls and I’m not around to help.”

“But you are here,” Thomas argues, “And I’m here. Shouldn’t we go and help our children when they need us.”

Nora agrees. “But I don’t think they need us now, do you?”

Bruce stands as if he didn’t tumble, the only evidence being the tear in his suit pants. Barry shoves him and runs away, Bruce chasing after with the wildness of youth.

“Kids are kids,” Nora continues, “They’re going to get hurt. But they’ll pick themselves up and keep going… it’s inspiring really. The older we get the easier it is to be afraid. To live our lives like whatever’s waiting around the corner can smash us into a million little pieces. I was like that, for some time.”

Thomas watches Nora slip into the past, a far away gleam dancing in her eyes. “I got home a little earlier than planned and the door was unlocked. Figured Barry left it open, as usual. So I thought nothing of it and walked in - only to see a man standing in the middle of my living room with a knife . Neither of us expected the other to be there. I rushed for the phone only he… he grabbed me. Grappled me to the floor and held the knife up to my throat. He was going to kill me and if… if Barry hadn’t come home just then I…” She breathes deeply, wiping at a few stray tears. Thomas reaches across and squeezes her hand. Nora smiles at the gesture, thanking him. “Anyway, he hesitated for a moment. That’s all I needed. I kneed him in the groin, flipped him over, and thanked every self-defense class my parents forced on me as I held the knife to his neck while telling Barry to go call the cops.”

“And the after?” Thomas asked, “What happened after?”

“We moved on with our lives.”

“... How ?”

“It wasn’t easy at first,” Nora admits, “I was scared. That the breeze behind me was the man breathing down my neck, ready to finish me off. I’d wake up screaming in my husband’s arms because I thought ht was someone else. I could barely eat, I wasn’t as present as I was with my family.”

“But then Barry…” she smiles, returning to the present to watch her boy, “one day I was sitting on the couch, letting the TV play while I was somewhere else… he climbed up beside me and laid down on my lap. I was nervous, asked him what he was doing. He said that he was spending time with me… that all I ever seem to do anymore is sit in the living room and watch TV. So if that’s what I liked than it’s what he wanted to do, too, because it meant we could spend time together like we used to.”

Thomas reflects on the past year since the attempted mugging. A montage of family dinners where his family stretched away from him, growing more distant with each day. Blocked from view by bodyguard after bodyguard. Bruce’s excitement never returned since that fateful night watching Zorro, but since he was safe it hadn’t occurred to either him or Martha that it meant anything was wrong.

They went to bed each night thankful that Bruce was safe and their family was together. When in reality the mugging shattered their family and the shards of what was continued to hurt.

“Barry gave me the push I needed to turn things around,” Nora tells him, “I went to therapy… joined a support group. Over time I felt like my old self again, doing the same things I used to with the people I love. Because I wasn’t going to let that bastard steal me away from my boy. I might not always be around to patch up a scraped knee or a paper cut, but when Barry really needs me… I’ll be there.”

Thomas clears his throat, unable to say anything with enough gravity to compare with the unburdened trauma Nora presented him. A few words string together, though, after staring at Bruce playing with Barry. “It’s been awhile since my boy’s been a… well - a boy. We, him, my wife, and I, we actually suffered a similar circumstance. Martha and I might have… overreacted . Put a bandaid over a gouging wound… I never considered Bruce wasn’t happy.”

“But he looks it now?”

“Very happy.”

“So does Barry,” Nora smiles, “I meant what I said about him not having that many friends… he always had trouble finding kids who wanted to stick around. It’s disheartening watching your kid get turned down again and again, left alone by everyone else.” She slips her hand free from Thomas, blushing. “I really am sorry about taking Bruce. I ignored every good instinct I had just to give Barry an hour or two of having a friend.”

“Parents will do anything for their kids,” Thomas shrugs, “Even if it’s not the best decision.”

“Exactly.”

A few more minutes pass contedly of Bruce and Barry running around, playing. Thomas and Nora sit together in silence, wind blowing between them.

“You’re not from around here are you?”

He hums. “Afraid not.”

Nora chuckles, shifting in her seat. “I figured things were too good to be true.”

“But,” Thomas says, “I’ll be spending more of my time here in Central City, especially if this new deal I’m working on pulls through. And maybe on my visits Bruce will come along… and he won’t want to be stuck with me all day long in meetings. Better he has someone his own age to play with, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I definitely agree,” Nora says. “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship, Mr…?”

“Wayne. Thomas Wayne.”

“Do you always introduce yourself like you’re James Bond?” “Unfortunately I’m the furthest thing from a spy, but if you need a doctor…”

“No kidding, my husband is a heart surgeon.”

“Really? Small world…”

They talk while their kids tucker each other out, playing to their heart’s content. Of the four of them, no one is whole. But they’re all healing. Growing past the trauma inflicted, building something new, magnificent, and strong.

Thomas incorporates all this into his toast, sniffing past the tears as he congratulates Bruce and Barry on their wedding. After the clapping he sits in his seat beside Nora, watching Bruce guide his husband onto the dance floor.

“That was a touching speech,” she starts, sipping at her wine glass, “I see you decided against embarrassing him.”

“Figured you’re better at that, Nora,” he says.

“I mean I had a few memories picked out,” she said, “About how I stumbled on them practicing kissing with each other when they were thirteen, or Bruce flying over to throw Barry his own dance when he wasn’t asked to his. Maybe the summer after high school graduation where they were arrested for nudity… Although who can compete with your speech.”

Martha chuckles, sliding her hand into Thomas’s. “I told him to go easy but he wouldn’t listen.”

“It’s okay,” Nora says, “it just means he owes me. Which I’ll collect on when they have their first child named after me.” The joke tickles everyone, both the Waynes and Allens laughing. Thomas sighs and grabs for his glass, drinking. Over the rim of his wine he sees Barry whispering to Bruce, causing the smile on his son’s face to grow wider.

Barry Allen is the best thing that ever happened to his boy, even if he almost caused Thomas to experience his first heart attack.

[deviationdivine]

Be The One Destroyed (RK900!Prompt Request)

TLDR: When your ex makes an unexpected appearance Nines decides to show you what you really mean to him...

Word Count: 4.4k

TW: Fluff to Smut, Language, Mentions of Abuse

A/N: Follower/Reader Appreciation Drabble | Prompt: “Ice King? More like spice king.” - @tropfenlady request! Here we go baby! Thanks for putting in your prompt request! Could it be fluffy/protective Nines? It just might be! 

I'll never see what you wanted, love

RK900′s protocols are state of the art. He analyzes data at utmost accuracy. Sampling DNA at crime scenes are much more proficient than this burning sensation he feels. Deep in his artificial gut a fire spreads. This inferno is agitating. Furthermore it melts a perpetually stoic facade into heated anger. Showing emotions is not part of his repertoire. Deviancy is a means of feeling. He does so. Others do not need to see it for their pleasure however. 

Curiosity is an abomination of this human race. While adept at integration just as his predecessor it hardly means he wishes to “chit-chat” with these fools. 

Does it stop his interest in you? An officer who works quiet but diligent filing piles of paperwork. At first he assumed you were simply another typical leech such as Gavin Reed. Most do not seem to take proper consideration of time management. It would seem they are not actually working as detectives in a precinct. 

Nines’ attitude does not make easy conversation. Yet that did not stop you conversing with him. The first time he imagined you somehow mistook him for Connor despite several glaring clues to the contrary. To say this stern android was taken aback at your genuine interest to converse with him is - frankly undesirable.

Or so he thought – until he spies you one afternoon in presence of another man during a lunch break. Enjoying such at a cafe located several blocks from DPD, Nines similarly found himself in the area following a locally reported incident. He took notice easily through shop window. 

Something stilled him where he would otherwise continue without distraction. Witnessing your downcast exterior, lips drooped and not that insufferable smile he replays to memory. There is an odd atmosphere surrounding your company. Unwanted company from body language and RK900 is equipped with all the latest technologies. Reading humans is part of his programming but you-you are…different. 

The android also does not like another male around you. He sneered, entering shop without a care. Eyes glued to him instantly. A tall imposing figure standing out in white stepping foot in an all human establishment will create a circus for them. He scoffed before deciding to interrupt your ‘date.’ 

You were the one rising from seat. Not giving him a chance to come over but practically hurrying to reach him. 

Nines’ indicator became a glow of amber. Deciphering your actions only seemed to be more difficult. It makes him uncomfortable. Is that the correct word for this strange feeling cast inside his gut? 

“Nines!” You smile automatically washing away whatever anxiety is left in your body. Seeing him spurs life into you, warm and safe. 

“Detective,” he greets curtly. “You are needed back at the station.” 

Blatantly the android lies. He glowers at the back of the man who does not turn around. Merely sitting with hunched shoulders but presumably listening. His death glare snaps away from your unknown companion under a snag of your hand. Fingers dance at the cuff of his sleeve. Warm digits brush atop synthetic skin as you pull him back outside. The event comes to haunt his system. There is something uneasy surrounding you but it is not due to him. 

He casts a look back into cafe. Seemingly aware of the culprit it may not be as he suspected after all. “Is there something you require?”

“Is that how you’re always going to talk to me?” Poking at his chest under that emblazoned RK900, you can’t help grinning up at him. His face holds this permanent resting bitch face. You’d like to kiss it right into submission if you’re being honest. Still, android Darcy is at his finest playing hard to get in genial conversation. 

Nines’ eyes shift down. Fingers catch in his before pulling away and he feels how stiff you freeze. Your eyes float up to his and he gently allows freedom to your soft hand. 

Clearing your throat isn’t cutting it. What was that? Can’t tell if he was annoyed that you poked him or-? 

“You’re not very sociable are you, Nines?” 

The playful tone suggests you are teasing. Perhaps flirting would be an appropriate alternative. A tiny smirk curls lips but he forces them to a line just as quickly. 

“I am programmed for sociability if it is required of me,” he bites back. “Perhaps you would prefer Connor’s demeanor for idle conversation.” Part of his statement is a test to see if you hold interest outside this vexing meeting inside cafe. 

Is that jealousy? Please. Please, let your ice king be jealous. That’d be so good. “Um, don’t get me wrong. I love Connor. He’s just a cute bunny. One that can rip my head off but… So could you. Probably worse. But I prefer your company - Ice King.’ 

Letting it roll off your tongue for the first time leaves no shame. You hope it riles him just a little bit. 

While the android does not show his hand it does exactly what you wish. He believed this is the moment he gives you proper permission to approach him more. While he does not elaborate or confess any strange sensation building up in him, Nines unfortunately does not realize what you need from this cordial relationship. 

  “Perhaps if you paid proper attention none of this would have happened!” Invoking frustrations to the end results of this case leaves Nines in a state of fury. A simple apprehension would have been by the book and most assuredly productive. If it were not for your senseless distractions! 

“Shoot me for having a bad day once in my life!” Shouting back in his face only amplifies stress. You feel it piling on some days. This-this is not helping! 

Why does he have to be the one to say it’s a fuck up? Why can’t someone else do it? Why not Connor for once?! Just let the very android that you’re growing so goddamn attached to be the one to crush you in his bare hands. 

Those hands could do unspeakable things. Oh, how sure you are. Too bad fantasizing at work doesn’t get you past this friendship. Is it even that? Sometimes you wonder why you bother! 

“Suffering what you refer to as a ‘bad day’ is not an excuse!” 

You seize to the spot. Having to listen to this is too much. “You know what Nines!?” 

“Pray do tell!” He snarls. Leaning closer, eyes sweeping over you as if prey ready to be caught on a live hook. 

Something stirs in your stomach that hasn’t taken over in a while. It’s not good. It just makes you feel sick. You shrink back from him. All too aware that your flighty reaction will only make you look worse. 

“Never mind,” you whisper quietly. Anger dissipates too quickly not to cause a swirl in his indicator. He is scanning isn’t he? As if you asked for that or-or him to latch on. 

Is he truly attached? No. You continue to work frustrated with how easy it is to fall. When his attitude is hardly pleasant most times with others around why do you continuously go for the asshole type? Depends which type but-but maybe it isn’t fair to compare. Honestly there is nothing at all to compare. He wouldn’t…

The android snaps straight at your abrupt departure. His gaze glues to you until there is no more hesitation. 

Something drives this advanced android to follow. Unaware of how much this will change things. Perhaps unaware of how much is to change. No. He does know. The RK900 wants you. 

  Slamming locker door only rings in ears causing your pounding headache to worsen. Banging your hand into the metal surface won’t cure it but it will make you feel better. Just beat something in since that was such a great way for that motherfucker to do when he-

A sob chokes. Coming fast along with your slide down to bench you land in a huff. Isn’t it enough that work gets to you sometimes? Added personal drama doesn’t help nerves and insecurities. 

God. You were so over this. Just because that son of a bitch starts popping up again. He blew the city a long time ago while you were still a weak wisp compared to now. You work at the damn DPD. If you wanted to you could punch that bastard in the throat and he wouldn’t be able to take you down. Not like he used to knock you down… 

“Y/N?” 

Your head snaps up. Realizing your current state is on full display to the last person you want to see you fall. What is he doing? Did he need to add more to a list of offenses you perpetrated today? According to him the list must be a mile long. 

“I heard you already, Nines. I don’t want…” 

“I am sorry,” the android interrupts firmly. Can you stop speaking for one minute?! “Is that not what you wanted to hear?”

Wanted to hear because what? He doesn’t mean it? 

You get up. Finding inner strength is easy. “Oh, that’s funny. I thought you actually wanted to come down here and apologize. Not tell me what I want to hear as if I’m some…!” 

Nines’ fingers snag around your wrist. Pulling you slowly to him, he narrows steely ice searching for a true answer now. “Why were you crying?” 

Zero hostility floods his voice. He genuinely wants to know. Why tell anyone? Why not tell anyone? At least tell the android…man…that you’ve fallen in love with. 

“Do you remember the cafe that one day?” 

An unnecessary question, he finds, for a prototype who stores information. However, he nods without adding more words that may upset you further. 

“That man at my table,” you explain disgusted. “Who I didn’t want to sit down? My ex.” 

Ex? As in ex partner. RK900′s lip twitches nearly curling a sneer. 

“Just kind of popped back around. Another reason why I wasn’t exactly focused today.” Where does this bastard get the gall anyway? As if you’re that stupid? Anybody who goes back to that type of situation is just beyond getting out. “I just - want to not have to see that scumbag. After what he…” 

Nines does not have need for an elaboration. Flinching away from him previously offers insight into residual trauma. It would appear this so-called ex laid hands upon you at one time. 

“Y/N,” his voice softens. Uncharacteristically he allows the facade to fall entirely for you. “I would never harm you.”

Tears run freely in a river of personal woes. Problems should be hidden in some capacity while working. Have a bit more self respect for yourself why don’t you? You find a small laugh suits. 

Fingers brushing streaks off your cheek is unexpected but not unwanted. For a haughty one he sure makes your heart thud. 

“OK.” Trusting him is easy because he’s different. Even if he is a smug hardass, Nines is something special. “Ice King.” 

The RK900′s brow creases sharply at such an endearment. He scoffs. How strange and beautiful you are. 

I was the one that you needed, love

Snowflakes never looked prettier dotting his head of rich dark hair. Resembling dollops of whip cream atop steamy cocoa it sure touched your sweet tooth. Craving his lips is nothing new. They do know how to zap breath right out from your lungs. Lately you’ve been really craving him and not just those spicy make outs. 

Maybe it’s time to take this to another level? Dating Nines is definitely a roller coaster, a safe one that won’t derail any moment. Doesn’t mean it’s dull by any stretch. 

Who would’ve thought you’d wind up falling for a chiseled, pompous prince? He meets all those standards and more. 

Grabbing his hand is perfect since he clearly hates PDA. In this frigid atmosphere he does not disentangle. He heats up those systems just a bit. His fingers are warmer now against your chilled digits. Mister advancement likes showing off subtlety. 

“Is this necessary?” he huffs impatiently. 

“Don’t tell me my big, strong android is afraid of a little snow.” Teasing relentlessly produces such a smolder. Nines can ravage you with his eyes alone. They are so beautiful. Silver chimes tinkle goose bumps all over your body. “You’re not going to melt, Nines. Unless you suddenly became the wicked witch of-” 

The android halts you. Sweeping an arm around your waist drags you to him. For this moment he will forget the derision he holds for public display. The more you move your mouth the more Nines wants to devour the curve of lips. 

Breath hitches divinely and his eyes are fire. “Ice King? More like spice king.” 

Leaning up on toes settles you directly against his warmth. His lips melt softer than snow. Into yours, savoring and teasing with teeth as he nips your bottom lip for access. Willingly parting lips for his tongue sends you somewhere distant. 

For being against PDA he certainly is holding snug to you middle of snowfall. Dotting atop your figures, creating a frosty cocoon and this is the warmest you will ever be. 

 “Y/N?!” 

Breaking the kiss prematurely wipes away this cozy moment. Dropping down on level after leaning to exceptionally tall boyfriend attention falls to one witness that inherently makes your blood run cold. You shift towards Nines instinctual and also a means to prevent something happening.  

You already know this is not going to go well. The tension in Nines’ arm is clear beneath your fingers. Still you squeeze in hopes he will not kill someone. 

“It is you.” Your ex laughs a bit before nodding at the android. “Who’s this guy?” 

“Who do you presume I am?” The RK900 detaches from you with a snarl on his breath. 

“Wait, a minute. You’re an android?” Squinting at the LED glowing in the snow your ex couldn’t help laughing. It was particularly gut busting. “Are you fucking kidding? You’re with a goddamn android? Wow. How low can you go? I mean, I always knew you were a hard up, worthless…” 

Before another word drops from his breath Nines has him slammed into the nearest chain link fence. It comes so swift there is no reaction time. 

“Nines!” You move quickly over snow. Trying not to slide on any unsuspecting ice this is just great! 

“I will gladly rip the tongue from your throat!” The android growls ferociously. 

“Let go. Nines, just don’t. It’s not worth it!” Is he even listening? No! He’s not listening! As much as you hate this piece of shit you don’t want anybody to have their limbs ripped out of sockets. There is no doubt Nines could do it effortlessly. “Nines…please!” 

Drawing his gaze to you relinquishes the flood of rage in his system. Stress levels are higher than normal. For you he will do anything and if you do not wish him to pulverize this leech so be it. 

“If I ever see you near Y/N again,” the android twists his collar threateningly. “I will destroy you. Do I make myself clear? You pathetic worm?” 

“Y-yeah! I-I won’t bother Y/N. I won’t!” 

Nines wrenches him clear of fence. Boosting him along makes the human stumble but he continues a speedy exit. “Shall I escort you home now, My Flower?”

You shake your head. He’s not going to say a word about what just happened? “I swear to God, Nines!” 

I was the one when you needed love 

Throwing a coat down doesn’t stop your nerves. Everything’s haywire when things were just fine. Of course it goes south. What else did you expect? 

“You should not have stopped me from squashing that pathetic insect.” 

Just what you want to do is argue, right? Twisting around, you watch him drape long black coat and pull sleeves up forearms. The black sweater is snug definitely warm to look at. Eyeing his arms through material does offer a pleasing sight. 

Let it be known you are attracted to strong forearms. Make that strong everything. Never would’ve guessed while dating that scum years ago. “It wasn’t worth doing. Besides, aren’t you supposed to be a detective? We both are.”

Incessantly stubborn you are for a morsel he desires on his artificial tongue. He says nothing. Moving towards you is all the words he will speak. 

A shiver runs teasingly down spine. Nines’ wolfish gleam makes you weak in the knees. Already he is there sweeping you against his hard body. You have nothing to protest just succumb. 

Lips on lips, hands clawing, pinching; his teeth nibble your earlobe sending a wave straight between legs. 

“I want you,” he hisses into the grind of your hips. “I will show you how precious you are.” 

  “Nines,” a whimper crawls up throat.

He too crawls, slithers cool fingers between your legs. Swiping delicately, his eyes train upon your face. Watching eyelids droop for him in surrender and he pushes your knees apart. 

All that DNA sampling you witnessed him do never prepares you for how smooth his tongue actually is. Running up your slick trembles sweetly through your body. Your hips rock on this wave. Reaching to pull at the hem of your shirt to get it off while your android boyfriend goes down on you so passionately it’s about to get interesting. 

“Oh. Oh! Nines!” 

His head lifts at the frantic grab of his hair. He removes his fingers from their deep stroke. “Do you want me to stop yet, Little Bite?”

“No. I want you to come up here.” Reaching down for him nothing stops his slink up your figure to oblige. He pauses before making any move to kiss. You watch him shift to unbuckle dark jeans and completely shed himself of any remaining garments. Biting your lip is the only thing you can think to do when appraising him. 

Cyberlife designers must be perverts because he’s delicious. 

You laugh when he grabs onto your hips. Cupping his face drags him into you for a sweet kiss. There is still the essence of you inside hot mouth. You moan past his lips, shifting legs to give him access. 

His thick waist welcomes the squeeze of your thighs. Welcoming him in return, wanting his torso between legs for all eternity. You come undone, naturally accepting him sinking up to the hilt in all of his thick glory.

Your head falls back.

The android lies heavily against your heat. Creak of the mattress beneath your supine form a soundtrack stuck in his audio processors. A naturally human aura to find in a bed with you sprawled, naked and unafraid of his android exterior. Instead you plead for him and Nines aims to deliver. 

“Please,” begging him to move is futile. Peering up into his eyes they are silvery wisps, morphing a glacial hideaway for a mere mortal loved by power itself. Swiping hands along his hips you can’t help but tease that modeled perfection. Even his ass is a sculpted wonder. 

Digging fingers there into the flesh finally gets his hips moving. You sigh. Wrapped up in how good he feels shuts thoughts off to the world. 

Those hands are to die for. Clutching in sweeps and drawing you further down to deepen this tantalizing connection. Nines curls fingers beneath your thigh. Forcing your leg up props the limb against his shoulder opening you up further for his pleasurable snap.

Your lips part breathless. The more he fucks into you the more you lose whatever worries plague the heart. This is more than that. This is all you want. 

“N-Nines, please.” 

“I want to hear you say it.” The android groans delectably within your clenching walls.

“I-I’m going to…”

“Not yet,” he hisses, snapping his body. 

A sculpted piece he hovers serene in his shivering euphoria. Experiencing this rush through his system overheats but coolant releases itself automatically to stifle this burn. His advancement allows for many things. 

Tonight he will simply show you what these inane emotions have done to him. They are as real as this deviancy but never more true than you are. 

Protesting any upcoming ideas is farthest from mind. Questioning your android lover might not end well for this night. Depending on how one from an outside perspective views this relationship. They may think so. Not you, never you because an unwell end means the most satisfying, spirit rendering fuck you will ever receive. In your life he makes you like a cloud floating on horizons distant, euphoric in cosmic heavens.

Gladly your body responds as he grips onto your hips. Hoisting up from where you lie on back, your arms drop around his neck. His eyes lock onto yours glimmering. 

“Oh,” you huff against his lips. “God, Nines.” 

He moves with your body attached to his. Carrying you center of bed as his knees sink into mattress under weight of a muscled plastic frame; he is alive, precious to your heart. Bringing you down atop his lap now rests your bodies in a comfortable entanglement. Wrapping legs around adjusts you better onto his hard body. Despite that inner shell his synthetic skin is creamy. 

Caressing him with lips is a dream become reality. Often imagining what he might taste like. Kissing the broad curve of his shoulder doesn’t disappoint. There is something too natural about androids. Honestly it gets things going even more. 

His hips move up into you as he groans sharply into your collar. Such a beautiful sound rumbles deep from that chest you dig nails to. Swirling a thumb to circle the android’s nipple heightens his growl. The sound gets you off better. Knowing he feels everything just as you do. This is beautiful. He is a beautiful being and you rock hips to swallow him whole. 

The android grazes teeth along your flesh. Nibbling at your skin he takes time to flick tongue over each mark he imprints. Causing your moans to heighten, his fingers dig into your hips hard and possessive. 

“Mmm. Yes. Nines, you’re so good to me.”

  Slipping in with you brightens a smile. Tugging at your swollen lips, snuggling into him you do not fear rejection. Where he began cold he warms you every night. You completely come into contact with this muscled android. He allows you just as he allows this peace.

Others might find it strange. Smug Nines with his penchant to turn nose up at most people whether they are android or human. Hardly matters when he has the indifference against the world. With you though? This man is the best lover you ever had. Not just when it comes to his bedroom skills, which are plenty amazing. He is just strength, sheltering and today proved that.

Whisking you off after running into your old ex. Nines barely managed out of that without murdering the asshole. Upset after did no good but this-this is everything.

“Are you well after our session?” 

An uncontrollable giggle slips out. Who calls it that?! Oh, you love him. 

Everything stands still battling these fantasies of the mind. This is reality. Finally being together this way but does he mimic those very words desiring escape? Confessing may ruin it all. Always a story told with you the main character; you twist away to break transparency untold. How it shines so brightly in your eyes. He will read it then. Only thing left is turning a cheek to the one. An android of all beings in the world.

Silence does not bode well for an android as meticulous as Nines. He shifts. Silver sparkles in glacial heat making your entire body fidget. Soft rustling of blankets, sheets do little to hide. 

“I love you, Nines,” professing undoes the world. 

Inside his space you feel mighty. A shield cast of steel not once dented even though you most certainly were before. He comes as a crystal knight riding the palest steed. He is a handsome prince not of sunshine or rainbows no not he; one of pursed lips, naturally harsh brows. Never is he harsh with you. Power that can crush in those wonderful, large hands if he so chose. 

He chooses to grip, caress and fondle you into oblivion. Ecstasy pours from fingers, wine spills from his smooth lips; your heart cannot stand it. 

“I’m sorry if you…” Shuddering breath slips your tongue at cool fingers. Gently kissing skin of cheek, strokes to calm erratic thrums of your heartbeat. Does he realize that will not work? Touch alone arouses wonders in you that never rose to the surface until this. 

He makes you feel wanted. He makes you feel worth. You deserve actual love and protection. Why did it take so long to find? 

The android does not speak. Simply using action to seal an oath as he already did by taking you every which way you desired. Many more ways will come. Many other times he will make stars come alive in the hues of your eyes that capture his human side. Deviancy will be his to share. 

Nines captures soft lips. Hungrily he cages your form pressing beneath his sturdy frame. The tangle of your leg with his sends a delicious shudder in an otherwise unsettled shell. He cracks under sweet pressure of you. 

“Nines,” a number craved mumbles wet.

Vibrating on the android’s tongue flicking against yours does not end this affection. While he pleasured you any way you asked it’s still amazing to feel those edges go soft. Kisses with him can be ravenous but also sweet. This is a mixture of both sides. Two coins clink together in harmony. 

The RK900 does not shun your confessional. He does not detach because it is too late. You are part of his circuitry. Lifeblood of thirium could not power his existence more. Even if he bled every ounce Nines will continue to function…live for you. 

Resting forehead against yours, drawing fingers to dust gorgeous curves, tracing delicate. He will show you that nothing will come to tarnish your beauty again. None will touch you, inflict harm upon you without swift retribution.

“I love you as well,” the android reveals in your shared solitude. “I will always protect you. My Flower.” 

Tag List: @elydith  @your-taxidermy  @tropfenlady  @connorswink  @tommy-10-k

[vexedtonightmares]

I LOVED your last prompt fill! Are you taking requests? If so, could you please do one where eliott comes home stressed, and he demands cuddles from lucas? And lucas wraps him up in blankets, cuddles and kisses him, and holds him until he feels better? Lucas/axel looks like he would give the best cuddles, he looks so soft and warm and I just want to hug him.

Feel Something

The door swung open just as Lucas was lifting a glass of water to his mouth. A grin broke across his face immediately, knowing that the only person who would walk in like he lived there was the other boy who did live there. He stood up from the couch to greet Eliott, smile fading when he took in Eliott’s expression.

“Hey… you alright?” he asked, setting his glass down on one of the end tables. Eliott’s glazed stare met his as he shook his head.

Lucas took another step closer, holding out his arms to fold Eliott into a hug. “What’s up?” he whispered into Eliott’s chest.

Eliott took a shaky breath. “I can’t do it anymore.”

Lucas’ heart sped up a bit, and he was sure Eliott could feel it, pressed together as they were. He chose his words carefully, not wanting to cause Eliott to shut down. “What… don’t you want to do?”

“Everything. School, mostly.” Eliott’s head dropped onto his shoulder. His arms were still limp at his sides, not coming up to hold Lucas the same way Lucas was holding him. Lucas wished he could say that he had been anticipating this, but he hadn’t. He didn’t know if this was maybe the start of an episode, or just a bad day, but he didn’t want to ask, lest Eliott block him out.

Lucas pulled his head back, loosening his grip slightly. “What happened with school?”

“Nothing.”

“Eliott—” Lucas pleaded, but Eliott just shook his head, still resting on Lucas’ shoulder.

“No, that’s what’s wrong. Nothing is happening, I can't do anything right,” Eliott mumbled.

Lucas traced his spine, up and down. “I’m sure that’s not true. I’ve seen your projects, they’re spectacular.”

Eliott lifted his head up and looked into Lucas’ eyes. He didn’t look great. Well, he did look great, because he was Eliott, but even so, he didn’t quite look like himself. The bags around his eyes were darker than ever, darker than Lucas’ even, and the light that usually spread from his head to his toes seemed dimmed. Not quite extinguished, but dimmed quite a bit. Nevertheless, he did force out a weak smile. “Of course you would say that,” he teased.

Lucas put his hands up in surrender. “I know jack shit about art, so if I’m complimenting you, that means you must have done something right.”

Eliott started walking away, but he brushed Lucas’ hand as he passed, an indication that he wanted Lucas to follow. Lucas did so, following Eliott into their living room and back onto the couch. As Lucas sat down, Eliott laid his head in his lap, causing Lucas to smile softly to himself. He ran his fingers through Eliott’s hair, loving the way the silky strands slipped through his fingers seamlessly.

“I’m not doing anything wrong, not really,” Eliott said at last. Lucas hummed in response, letting Eliott continue on his own time. “I’m doing my assignments, and I’m doing them all technically well, but I don’t see myself in them. It’s like I’m too empty to feel anything worth capturing.”

“Are you… do you think…” Lucas didn’t know how to ask, but Eliott understood what he was trying to say.

“Am I having an episode?” Lucas nodded, and Eliott just shrugged, and settled deeper into Lucas’ lap. “I don’t know. I don’t think so… but I’m not always good at knowing what the fuck is happening inside of my head either. Sometimes I just feel like I do now and it never leads to anything more.”

“And what do you feel now?” Lucas asked.

Eliott shut his eyes, words coming out in a hoarse whisper. “Nothing.”

Lucas bit his lip, trying not to let his fingers still in Eliott’s hair for even a moment. If Eliott thought he was upsetting Lucas, he would stop talking and withdraw into himself, which would only make things worse. “Nothing at all?” he prompted eventually.

Eliott turned his head and buried it in Lucas’ stomach. “I don’t know. I know that I love you, that never changes. I know that I’m not sad. But I also know that I’m not happy, and I can’t help it.”

Lucas was silent, not knowing if Eliott wanted to speak more or not. Eventually, he did. “I don’t feel like a person, or how a person should feel, I guess. I know I should be having certain reactions to things, but I just can’t. I want to feel something real.”

“Can I help it?” Lucas asked.

“I don’t know,” Eliott admitted, “You being here, listening, does help in a way. It doesn’t totally help me feel real emotions the way I’m used to, but it helps me feel like I’m not alone.”

Lucas cupped a hand under Eliott’s chin. “I told you that you weren’t alone anymore and I meant it. I’ll be with you as long as you’ll have me.”

Eliott grinned somewhat sadly and Lucas traced the smile with his fingertips. “No matter what I’m feeling, or not feeling, you make my heart happy,” Eliott said softly. Under any other circumstances, Lucas probably would have joked about how cheesy that sounded, but hearing it at that moment, Lucas felt a dam break through inside him. Maybe Eliott had accidentally transferred all his emotion to Lucas, causing him to feel everything that much more.

“You make my heart happy too,” Lucas said, and it was the truth. Even when Eliott was feeling down, or didn’t know what he was feeling, he loved him more than anything. There was no circumstance that could possibly make him feel differently.

Eliott pulled his head back and looked up at Lucas. “What if this is an episode?”

“Then we’ll get through it, minute by minute,” Lucas answered simply. Eliott had asked him that question many times, and he always answered the same way. Sometimes there was an episode, sometimes there wasn’t, but Lucas stayed true to his word and they got through it. The bad moments made the good ones that much better, so even though they were tough, they were worth it.

“And this minute?” Lucas added, raising an eyebrow. If Eliott wanted to go to bed alone, Lucas would sleep on the couch. If Eliott wanted to stay there with Lucas petting his hair all night, he would do that too.

Eliott considered a moment. “Will you cuddle with me?”

“Of course,” he answered with a grin, “Bed or couch?”

“Here’s fine.”

Lucas nodded and moved to stand up, Eliott’s hand grasping his as he did so. “Where are you going?” Eliott asked.

“We can’t properly cuddle without a million and a half blankets,” he explained, “Well, maybe we can, but where’s the fun in that?”

Eliott didn’t say anything, but let him go to find blankets. Lucas came back with nearly all the blankets they owned, save the comforter on their bed. Eliott’s eyes lit up in amusement, and Lucas nearly sighed in relief at the sight of Eliott’s eyes bright and full of life. “Scoot over, I’ll be the big spoon,” he requested, Eliott obliging him immediately.

Lucas took the blankets as he laid down, adjusting the two of them slightly as he did so that they could wrap themselves up like one giant cocoon. It probably looked ridiculous, but it was ridiculously comfortable. He wrapped his arms around Eliott’s body, both of their hands folding together around Eliott’s chest. Their legs tangled naturally, a position their bodies were used to, and Lucas buried his face in the crook of Eliott’s neck.

If someone were to walk in all they would see was a head and a half poking out of a mountain of blankets. The thought almost made Lucas giggle to himself, and he would be sure to bring it up once Eliott was in the mood for joking and laughing.

Eliott’s breathing evened out beneath his hands after a while, easing into a deep sleep. Lucas stayed awake a bit longer, admiring Eliott’s strength, thinking about how he had to deal with so much inside his own mind but always came out the other end. He admired Eliott more than he could ever express, but he’d damn well spend the rest of his life trying.

For now, though, he could hold Eliott tight and never let him go.