#and somehow the shading and all that was actually easier than my usual style? which I definitely wasn't expecting

[personalized-chaos]

Finally finished drawing of Ballister as one of the Green Knight posters since they have such a nice colour pallet and quite a matching theme :D

Image description: 2D digital drawing of Ballister from the movie Nimona. He is shown from chest up, is a young man with dark hair and mustache and goatee. He also has a scar across his right eye. He is wearing a dark grey armor with many geometrical shapes and a cape over his shoulders, both the cape and armor are tinted blue in this image. He also has a golden crown on his head with an ornate circle going from the back of it, which is similar to a halo. The background is bright read and so it the text written over his chest which says 'Ballister Boldheart' in bold upper case letter. On each side of his head the phrase 'Face thy destiny' is written in yellow ornate letters. /End of image description

[bluebeads-art]

your art is so amazing !!! i adored the 3d printed stuff (as someone who has had to design myself 3d printed merch before because i don't usually have much access to the merch in my fandom lol), it's so good?? and all your coloring is beautiful <3

all this to say it might not seem like i reblog much but rest assured all the stuff i liked (or didn't) went into my queue a few times over hehehe. i LOVE your art it's amazing <3

wishing you luck with the identity and health stuff, even if it doesn't get better i hope you find happiness within it 🫡

gah this got away from me sorry for the ramble

aaaaaaa I saw this message in a notification on my phone, said "I'll read that when I actually have time to reply," then the notification got dismissed somehow and if there's no notification prompt to remind me of something, it no longer exists to me. It's been a month I'm so sorry ^^;;

Thank you so much! I wish it was easier to convert more of my stuff to be 3D printable, but my usual modeling style is not watertight in the slightest and disregards gravity entirely. 😆 3D modeling has always been really cool to me because there's so many different workflows depending on what you're trying to make. Keeps things from getting stale!

Speaking of differences, I feel like people don't tend to mention my coloring. :0 I think my line art usually steals the show, heh. I used to be a lot more conscious about color theory and shading when I was younger, but these days there's no thoughts, only vibes 😂

Ok the line, "even if it doesn't get better i hope you find happiness within it" hit me unexpectedly hard (in a good way). Any nice messages I get always means a ton to me, but while I don't seem to be able to articulate why at the moment, I think that line will stick with me for much longer than usual. Thank you so much ♥

---

Speaking more generally (this message just gave me a good excuse to talk, heh)- spoilers; the artist in my brain refuses to die. So after, like, a literal year of not touching it, I've started working again on a 3D modeling project that I started in 2021 that has been haunting me ever since. Been trying to redesign a robot OC of mine Rayner, and I'm really particular about wanting his joints to work in a physical space instead of bending the rules artistically. I'm Really bad at designing complex hard surface objects in flat 2D though. However, there's a reason artists tell you not to character design in 3D, and that's because it's slow, it's easy to lose design cohesion, and most importantly it just sucks, awful workflow. But I am Doing it. And while I was super stuck for years and almost developed a friggin phobia of the project, I am now Doing It. And it's actually working out this time. The 3D model itself is MILES from being done, but the design almost is, and while that's a boring end result for other people, it represents a huge milestone and accomplishment for me in many ways.

I've been drawing a little bit lately too! But I feel my social media hiatus has given me a healthier relationship with posting? Like I have a few doodles that I could either post now or post soon, but I don't feel the same pressure to anymore? Where even if I never post them, I think I'm fine with that. I've always thought I made art for myself, but that's not exactly true because I was also making art for the sake of sharing. And while I don't think there's anything wrong with that, I think being able to separate the two and be content with simply just creating is healthy. Also I'm still not as active on social media in general anymore which is probably healthier as well LOL.

So I'll prrrobably start posting again soon-ish now that I've broken this blog's posting silence? Not sure how to wrap this monologue up. My physical health problems are going to keep on probleming, but in terms of artistic fulfillment I've been in a much better place this past month, and that's a huge yeehaw from me 👍

[k00299539]

Movement Project Artist Research - Mamoru Hosoda

Above: Guy has somehow looked the exact same for 20 years

Mamoru Hosoda is a Japanese animator and director best known for his family focused feature films. Hosoda got his start in the animation industry in early 90's with Toei Animation, initially as an animator before moving into a directorial role by the end of the decade. While his career was already on an ever accelerating rise, his work on the second Digimon film; Our War Game, catapulted him into being the most sought after talent in the industry.

While still an employee of Toei, he was drafted in to direct Studio Ghibli's feature; Howl's Moving Castle. This ended in disaster with Hosoda feeling as though the company wanted him to mimic Ghibli founder Hayao Miyazaki rather than direct on his own terms. Having abandoned the project it wasn't too long after he left Toei as well, going freelance.

He next directed The Girl Who Leapt Through Time for Madhouse, becoming a sleeper hit for them. This was followed up with Summer Wars, the success of which afforded him the opportunity to open his own studio; Chizu, and work truly on his own terms. He has since directed a number of films under the Chizu banner, with 2018's Mirai having been nominated for an Academy Award.

Above: Stills from Our War Game

...That was probably too many words. Hosoda is a director I'm overly familiar with and it's dfficult to sum him up in a couple of paragraphs. I guess if I had to sum up what it is about Hosoda I'm so drawn to it would be his unrelenting desire to express exactly what it is he wants to express on screen for better or for worse. I actually think a number of Hosoda's films have suffered as a result of his hardheadedness but I have to admit all the same that's interesting to see a film fail not for the myriad of factors it normally would but instead for the uncompromsing vision of it's director. I guess what I mean is, no matter what I make or whether I fail or succeed, I'd like to do it on my terms and take responsibility for the result. Now that I write that out I'm begging to doubt if it's even an admirable quality ...but that's how I feel and I don't want to rewrite this whole blog post.

The other thing I wanted to give specific mention to in regards to Hosoda is his continued use of the kagenashi, or without-shadow style. Hosoda's stated philosophy is to ignore shadows and unnecessary details and let the drawings speak for the themselves. He employs this approach in particular to capture the essence of children in his work. It is a style derived from a desire to portray something accurately, not realistically.

Of course this is easier said than done, as the drawing has to be perfect when you can't fall back on shading or detailing to convey information. Hosoda has a ringer however, Takaaki Yamashita.

Above: This is literally the only picture of him on the internet...

Takaaki Yamashita is Hosoda's right hand man, having mentored him early on in their Toei days and eventually following him to Studio Chizu. He has served as animation director on virtually all of Hosoda's films. He's also just really good at drawing and animating. For as good as Hosoda is, his philosophy in depicting life on screen through strict adherence to the kagenashi style wouldn't be possible without Yamashita's skill. Yamashita can create drawings that express themselves as open and honestly as children, this is something I try to emulate when animating (and usually fail).

Above: Yamashita's work on Slam Dunk, Below: a link to more of his work

[thunderheadfred]

🐈‍Aizawa HC’s🐈‍

I dunno if people will care for this; I suspect my HC's for Aizawa are a little off the fandom norm. Still. I tried. Things get approximately NSFW under the cut. Minors do not interact.

- - - - -

General

He has like, one discernible change of clothes per season. There is no distinction between hero outfit, casual wear, and pajamas. That fabric used to be black. It is now an exhausted shade of ‘please stop washing me.’ If you suggest that he buy new clothes, he will stare you down like you have three heads, and none of those heads have a brain.

This man does not spend money. He has a mind-blowing amount of savings, but no one will ever know until he dies and wills it all to a random animal shelter in the middle of nowhere. Has a secret scholarship fund for UA students. Again, this is completely anonymous. Only the principal knows.

He's a startlingly competent sketch artist. Nothing fancy, and he never took an art class in his life, but his quirk innately lends itself to spacial reasoning and feature recognition. He has sketch books brimming with sloppy but pin-point accurate life drawings. He can capture your soul in three strokes of a dried-up ballpoint pen. It's eerie.

Given his schedule, you’d expect him to prioritze convenience first, but junk food makes him cross-eyed. His body is a temple and he eats like a fucking monk.

He’s a wine snob. Well, a liquor snob generally. He knows the name of every regional sake-maker in Japan, and can tell you exactly which bottle is the best, down the the month of production. Assumes everyone possesses such laser-focused knowledge.

Tea drinker. Yeah, he has encyclopedic knowledge about that too. Apparently everything this man drinks comes with a bibliography.

Technically he’s supposed to live in the UA dorms part of the time. He sleeps poorly there, and goes home whenever he has the opportunity.

His house is old, but not valuable. Probably inherited. Traditional style with very few modern updates. He keeps it meticulously clean and does repairs as needed, but the age is still obvious. Everything creaks. You swear the place is haunted but won’t dare admit it aloud - he WILL laugh you out of the house.

There’s a garden but he doesn’t have time to keep it up. He has a lot of memories of the plants in full bloom. Letting it go to seed upsets him more than he lets on.

He has zero personal possessions aside from household appliances, which he meticulously researches and keeps in perfect condition.

Reads an insane amount of books. These mostly come from the library. There’s always a stack near his bed. You have no idea how he finishes them, because every time you see him with a book, he’s asleep with it on his face.

He doesn’t adopt cats so much as just leaves his doors open and lets them freely colonize the place. It’s not his house, it’s theirs. Somehow there's not a single cat hair on anything.

Most of these cats are cuddly little angels; you've never met nicer. But there’s a few beasts in the mix, with battle scars and three legs and a craving for human meat; these are Aizawa’s special favorites.

- - - - -

Dating

Falls for you when he stumbles across you taking care of one of the hideous strays he usually feeds on his route. Doesn’t approach you at first (definitely tries to hide) but the cat is like "mrrr?" and brings you over to him, giving the game away. Traitor.

Will make you pay for your half of everything, down to the last yen. So what if you’ve been together for ten years? You have your own income.

One exception to the above: he’ll never buy you presents but he WILL treat you to lavish meals in dark restaurants with hand-written menus. Don’t mistake this for romance, he just likes the quiet atmosphere and excellent service.

He cleans every day; there’s an unwritten five-dimensional schedule and that schedule is EXACT. Zero time wasted. He’ll never actually ask you to help with any of it. He’ll never directly thank you, either. But if you learn how to take over certain chores and do the daily upkeep while he’s away, he’ll love you forever.

Not the type to talk about his day; he’d rather sit with you outside. He values silence. Not because he doesn’t want to talk to you, but a lot of the time he doesn’t have the energy to give you his full conversational attention. Physical contact is easier, and more comforting besides. Just... hold his hand a while.

His scalp gets tingly and sore from overusing his quirk. If you run your fingers through his hair he will pass out instantly.

He will cozy trap you. He’s touch-starved and was definitely a cat in a past life. Will hang all over you if you don't give him enough attention and constantly falls sleep in your lap. Hope you don’t need to get up anytime soon; he’s not moving.

You don’t exactly ‘move in’ with him. He never wants to spend a night without you, but his living space is already exactly how he likes it. He will never move out of that old house, but he’ll give you some rooms to yourself. Your stuff and his... complete absence of stuff... stay pretty much separate. Do NOT clutter up the bedroom.

The kitchen is the exception. That's a warm and cozy shared spot, the heart of the home. You’ll always be stepping around a cat.

He LOVES when you cook for him (so that he doesn't have to take the time). Will shower you with praise and encourage you to make huge earthenware vats of old-timey tsukemono that the two of you cannot possibly eat by yourselves. He’ll help with food prep and knows his way around, but he insists you’re the better cook (even if you aren’t).

Big on actions over words. Makes an effort to be present with you as much as he can.

Will stare into your eyes until you look away. When you look back, he's still staring with a rare warm smile on his face.

God, he loves you. You will never, ever know how much. He doesn't tell you often, but he shows you every day.

- - - - -

Somnophilia???.........

ACE ACE ACE ACE

This man is A-fucking-sexual. He’s not sex repulsed in any way, he’s just not personally invested.

Aromantic too. Deadass doesn’t get the hype. You are the most important person in his life and he’s deeply commited to and comforted by you. Just don’t expect to be seduced; it will literally never happen.

If you are allosexual, he will still be devoted to your sexual well-being. At first, that means buying you a DELUXE toy and encouraging you to use it on your own.

His voice is too damn sexy, even when he isn’t trying. He’ll give you all the phone sex you want; he thinks it’s sweet how you unravel for him. Edging you for ages is a fun little power play, but he’s definitely grading papers while he does it. Don’t be offended. Toshinori has overheard some THINGS.

When your relationship gets sufficiently serious, he’ll help out with his hands. He’s VERY SKILLED AT IT. He likes to lay down next to you and whisper encouragement in your ear. Eventually he gets possessive about your orgasms, and will make you ask for permission.

Sometimes the stars align, but his arousal is a rare bird. He'll take a whole afternoon to prepare. It’s love-making, full stop. Always slow and intensely emotional. He'll cherish every inch of you but might not cum at all; you can’t force it.

[leftski-art]

First off- Love your art. Big, hard yet somehow soft and warm. I can't really explain but I feel like all your characters smell great and give serotonine-filled hugs.

I would just love to know your drawing process. All your lines and colors are so clean, so straight, so nice. How do sketches look? Whats the walkthrough. Tell me your secrets. I beg of you.

Thank you! It’s a running joke among my D&D group that my characters give the best hugs, so I’d say your feeling is right ^^

Secrets can be found below 👀

The tools I use are as follows

a small Wacom Intuos tablet

Clip Studio Paint (sketch, lineart, flat colours, shading)

Photoshop (textures, backgrounds and lighting effects, colour correction, abusing the Liquify tool to try to fix anatomy mistakes)

Sketches

My sketches usually look something like this and involve a lot of scribbling and experimentation and use of the Transform tool until I end up with something I like. I kinda just feel out the shapes as I go and am constantly redoing and adjusting things.

The different colours are just so I can differentiate between the different elements and it doesn't all just become a giant scribbly mess when I'm trying to line it after.

Lines

As for my lineart, half of it is just a result of practice. I've been doing lineart + cell shading as my main style for over ten years now so I like to think I've managed to acquire some decent line control in that time.

The other half is a good stabilizer and pen pressure settings on the brushes I use.

Before Clip Studio Paint, I used Paint Tool SAI for my lineart because I could never get line results I was happy with in Photoshop, but not only does CSP have phenomenal stabilizer settings, its vector layers feature (which automatically turns your lines into vector shapes regardless of the brush you use!) has also made the process way easier by allowing me to edit and adjust my lines after the fact.

The one tip I can share when it comes to lineart is to take advantage of momentum. I never draw directly on my lineart layer; I make a new layer above it, draw on that one, and then merge it down every few minutes. This lets me use momentum to carry my brush strokes and then erase the parts that overlap without worrying about messing up the stuff I already have, resulting in smoother lines than if I had tried to precisely draw a straight line the entire time.

In the example above, the green line is on its own layer and can be easily erased without damaging the black lines around it.

I also tend to use a smaller brush for interior/detail lines and thicker ones for the outer edges of a shape just because I think it looks nice.

Process in General

Honestly, my process is just a lot of trial and error. I draw a line, undo it, draw a line, undo it. I sketch several hairstyles or outfits on different layers and then swap between them like some weird dress up game until I decide which to keep. I experiment with adjusting the hue and saturation of flat colours until I find something I like. I’m a very “make it up as I go” kind of artist, and really, creator in general; and rarely is the finished piece the result of any sort of plan.

That being said, I do have a general order in which I do things:

Sketch a bunch of random things until I find something I like

Merge all sketch layers and reduce the layer opacity until it’s very faint

Make a lineart layer above, then a layer to actually draw on above that

Draw the lineart using the techniques mentioned above (I often jump around and line different sections randomly), fixing any wonky parts of the sketch as I go

Make a separate layer below the finished lineart for each differently-coloured element (eg: hair layer, skin layer, pants layer, etc.) and fill with fill bucket*

Tweak each layer’s colour until vaguely happy with it

Make a layer below all other layers, select the entire interior of the lineart, fill it with black to fill any tiny gaps left by the fill bucket

Make a layer above all other layers, set it to multiply, draw shadows with a light grey-blue-purple colour (I shade one element at a time by selecting the area and then drawing within that selection on the shading layer)

Repeat step 7 with a layer set to Overlay and a light-medium grey for highlights

Open the image in Photoshop and apply gradients, patterns, lighting etc.

Notice all the mistakes it’s too late to fix and start second guessing the entire piece, say “screw it”, save it as a .png, and post anyway!

And I think that’s about it.

Sorry if that was confusing, I’m not sure how much previous knowledge of these programs you have or how much detail I should go into, but I hope maybe some of it was interesting and/or educational lol

I also have a short process video here that shows the steps one at a time that might help you visualise it better

- - - - - - -

*In case anyone’s brave enough to try using this as a tutorial and isn’t sure what I mean here:

CSP lets you set the lineart layer as a reference layer and still fill the colour on a different layer as though the lines were present on that layer. In other programs you may have to select the area you want to colour on the lineart layer manually with the magic wand tool and then move to the corresponding colour layer before filling it in.

If you use a program where you have to select the area manually, you may want to keep all your tiny detailed lines on a separate lineart layer just so you don’t have to spend time selecting all the small gaps between them. Alternatively, you could just fill it by hand with a brush.

[svnflowervol666]

Ma Petite Chérie: Sweet Creature (Harry Styles x fem!Reader)

Read more from this little universe, Ma Petite Chérie, in my masterlist!

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: Harry goes out of town and leaves Tallulah with Y/N for the week. 

Author’s Note: Hiiiii. I decided to turn Ma Petite Chérie into it’s own little “thing,” so here’s another look at Harry, Tallulah and Y/N’s life! I’ve found it much easier to write in little blips rather than following a direct plot, so expect random little moments featuring the three of them. Also, this is not proofread and I am going through a period of having full blown insomnia, so I’m praying there aren’t too many mistakes. I hope you all enjoy and send any ideas, asks, or questions you have for them my way and I’ll be happy to respond! Take care and TPWK.

“I left her car seat in the garage. If she starts gettin’ fussy during the day, just put her in her room and turn on the noise machine and let her color - that usually does it. I refilled her medicine the other day, didn’t I-”

“Har-,” she shushed him, “We’ll be fine. I know the drill. Allergy meds and gummy vitamins in the morning, french vocabulary every other day, no tv before bed, and no sugar after six.”

He took a deep breath in and placed his palms on top of Y/N’s that are gripping his shoulders to ground him. He was a mess, but how could he not when one of the only people he trusted with his daughter, his mother, was away on holiday and couldn’t stay with her when he had to go on a week-long business trip? It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Y/N, he absolutely did. He just hated feeling like she thought he was using her as a free babysitter rather than the loving girlfriend she actually was. That couldn’t be further from the truth, but his anxieties always had a way of getting the best of him.

“Sorry. Always get nervous leavin’ her. Feel like something bad’s gonna happen every time and I won’t be there t’ help her.”

“It’s just a few days, bubs. She seems to like me, or at least pretends to. I’ll keep her entertained. Take her to the park and go get our nails done or something. It’ll be like one, big sleepover.”

“If yeh take her t’ the park, make sure yeh put sunscreen o-”

“Harry,” she’s stern and it shut Harry up immediately.

“Right,” he paused and took another intense, labored breath in an attempt to stop himself from canceling his plans and just staying home with Y/N and Tallulah for the week.

“She does like yeh. Asks about yeh all the time when you’re gone. Loves yeh a lot, actually. We both do.”

That word used to scare him, love. He realized long ago that he had only ever truly been in love with his daughter, so making himself vulnerable to sharing those same emotions with another person was genuinely terrifying. But each and every time, Y/N does something to remind him that it is well-worth the internal struggle he’s endured. 

The proud smile that adorned Y/N’s face at his words is another one of those moments. It’s full of light and reassurance that his baby will be perfectly safe and healthy while he tended to business an entire continent away.

“I love you both as well. Might have a slight preference towards Lulah, but it’s nothing to worry yourself over.”

“Swear yeh only datin’ me because of her,” Harry muttered under his breath.

“You’re absolutely right,” she scoffed, “I only come over five nights out of the week to watch The Little Mermaid with her and I just tolerate you.”

Harry laughed, a genuine cackle that reared his cavernous dimples and turned the apples of his cheeks a pale shade of pink.

“I’d do the same,” he said with a shrug.

“Harry, you’re stalling. You’re gonna miss your flight if you don’t get on the road soon. I don’t think you want me to kick you out of the door.”

He feigned ponderance and tapped his index finger on his chin.

“I do love it when yeh mean t’ me.”

“Harry, go.”

“Alright, alright. I’m leaving. Just...check in with me every once in a while. Let me know how she’s doin’, yeah? I’ll call every night t’ talk t’ her.”

“Was already expecting you to.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” she repeated.

He cleared his throat, heart weighing heavy in his chest. He knew he was supposed to leave for the airport ten minutes ago, but he couldn’t find himself to wheel his luggage out to the trunk of his car.

“Goodbye, Harry,” Y/N whispers in hushed tones.

She reached up on her tiptoes to plant a chaste kiss on his bright pink lips, which he then took upon himself to deepen by loosely wrapping his fingers around her throat and applying just enough pressure to make her contemplate giving into his obvious hesitance about leaving.

“Tell Lulah I love her when she wakes up, okay? Feel like shit leavin’ her in the middle of the night.”

“I’ll tell her first thing.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too, Harry,” she smiles, “See you in a week.”

//

Their first few days went by smoothly, a little too smoothly, Y/N thinks. She’d let her pick one activity to do each day and it seemed like to Harry and Y/N, she was having the time of her life. 

Monday was the park, an obvious choice for a toddler. Tallulah wore herself out so much that she’d gone to bed that night with no trouble whatsoever.

Tuesday was a pampering day. Y/N had tried to get them into her preferred nail salon for pedicures, but there were no empty slots so she’d made up Harry’s master bathroom to look like a spa. She painted Tallulah’s nails blue (because Tallulah said blue was her dad’s favorite color), ran her a bubble bath with more bubbles than Harry ever allowed, and even let her put on some of her expensive face mask cream (Harry nearly shit himself out of pure adoration when he received a selfie of the two of them with pink goop smeared all over their faces and cucumbers over their eyes).

Tallulah’s request for Wednesday was a trip to the carnival that was in town, in which Y/N spent nearly fifteen dollars trying to win a stuffed bear for her but was unsuccessful. They went home with a real, live goldfish instead that Tallulah named Carrot because she claimed he looked like her favorite vegetable - she told Tallulah not to mention it to Harry and that she’d break the news to him later. She even let Tallulah have sugar after six o’clock (what Harry knew wouldn’t hurt him and besides, she told Y/N that she’d never had cotton candy before and Y/N totally wanted bragging rights for introducing her to basically a two-year-old’s fever dream of eating pink clouds).

She hadn’t asked about Harry once.

It wasn’t until Wednesday night after the carnival and her bath and daily FaceTime call with him that she began to get antsy with Y/N, claiming that she wanted her dad to tuck her in and read her a bedtime story. No matter how many times Y/N told her that Harry couldn’t do that but that he would be home in a few days, Tallulah didn’t understand why her dad wasn’t there to give her cuddles and rub her back until she fell asleep like he often did. Eventually, her exhaustion caught up to her and she gave in to the need for sleep, but Y/N had a feeling that that wouldn’t be the end of her tantrum.

It was nearly eleven o’clock, and Y/N was in the living room enjoying a glass of red wine from Harry’s vast collection of alcohol that he kept in his office (for some reason he had an irrational fear that Tallulah would somehow get into it, so he kept it locked away in a room where she wasn’t allowed in). The fermented concoction had almost lulled her to into a light slumber right there on the couch in the middle of a documentary about how agriculture influenced climate change when she heard the piercing cries of a toddler coming from down the hall.

Y/N rushed towards Tallulah’s room, all effects of the wine immediately dissipating as her mind went to the worst possible scenario. She’d fallen off her bed and hurt herself, she was having an allergic reaction, there was a strange man in her room trying to kidnap her. But there was seemingly nothing wrong with Tallulah when Y/N flung her bedroom door open so quickly she almost broke the knob.

“What’s wrong, Lulah?” she asked as she approached her on the bed that sat low to the ground.

Tallulah was red in the face, covered in a thin layer of sweat, and tears continuously flowed from her bright, green eyes that looked exactly like Harry’s and even shifted a teal blue in the sunlight.

Y/N’s heart sunk when she heard it. Over and over again. Nothing else. Only crying out one word.

“Daddy.”

She didn’t want to overwhelm her, so Y/N laid down next to Tallulah and pulled her close. As she brushed her curls away from where they were matted to her sweaty forehead, Y/N cooed her reptitiously in an attempt to calm her down. After about three minutes of incesant crying and copious amounts of fat, shiny tears, Y/N needed a better idea.

“I know you miss him, bubs. I miss him too. But he’ll be home soon, okay? I know something that might make you feel better. Do you want to come in daddy’s room with me?”

It was quiet and muffled over her blubbery cries, but Y/N heard a tiny, “yes,” escape through her lips and then she was scooping Tallulah up into her arms and carrying her off to the master bedroom.

She placed her in the middle of Harry’s bed and quickly began digging through Harry’s dresser for what she was looking for. When she found it, she ran back to Tallulah’s curled up body on the mattress.

“Okay, whenever I miss your dad, I put on one of his shirts because it smells like him. It always makes me feel like he’s close to me. Do you want try that?” 

The toddler had calmed down dramatically since she’d left her own bed, most likely due to exhaustion from crying so much in such a short period of time. She gave Y/N a gentle nod and let her take off her matching set of pajamas and replace them with the shirt of Harry’s that dropped almost all of the way to her feet. It was a white t-shirt with the words “Dream Boat” screened onto the fabric, which was perhaps a bit controversial for his two-year-old daughter to be wearing, but it was the smallest shirt of his that she could find. Otherwise, it’d be falling off of her shoulders and she wouldn’t be able to move.

“Can you smell it?” Y/N bunches the fabric in her hands and raises it to Tallulah’s nose.

“Smells like daddy, doesn’t it?”

Tallulah inhaled the best she could through her stuffy nose.

“‘mells good,” she whimpered, reaching her short arms to wrap around Y/N’s neck.

“Do you want to lie in daddy’s bed with me for a little bit? You can sleep in here, if you want,” Y/N spoke softly into Tallulah’s hair while she held her.

Y/N felt a nod against her chest and that was all it took for her to climb towards the pillow with Tallulah in her arms. She laid Tallulah on Harry’s side of the bed, hoping that the extra scent he left in the sheets would further will her back to sleep.

And it worked.

After reaffirming what felt like a million times that Harry would cuddle her for an entire day straight when he got home because he missed her just as much as she missed him, her eyes slowly shut and peace took over. Y/N thought the coast was clear and a crisis had been averted, and she also remembered that she hadn’t taken her makeup off yet. So she wriggled Tallulah off of her chest and slipped stealthily out of the bed like a burglar attempting to not get caught and tiptoed away into the bathroom to wash her face.

Right when she was patting her face dry with one of the plush towels on the rack in Harry’s bathroom, she realized that the coast was indeed, not clear, and Tallulah began wailing once again.

“It’s okay, Lulah. I’m right here,” Y/N consoled the small girl that looked even smaller in Harry’s king-sized bed.

But she wasn’t interested in Y/N at all. Her sobbing was louder than the last and it was Harry’s name that fell from her weepy lips like it was the only thing keeping her alive. This time, Y/N knew there was nothing that could soothe her besides Harry himself.

“Here, baby,” Y/N wriggled the toddler out of her arms and reached over to the nightstand to grab her cell phone, “Let’s see if daddy’s awake and maybe you can talk to him again, okay?”

“Okay,” Tallulah huffed, but it sounded more like “o-tay.”

Under any other circumstances, Y/N would be awing at the way she said certain words, but now, she just wanted Tallulah to go back to sleep. She was just as exhausted as Tallulah and was starting to become overwhelmed by the nature of everything that was happening.

Harry picked up her FaceTime on the second ring, eyes wide and concerning even though Y/N could tell that her call had woken him up.

“What’s goin’ on? ‘S she alright?”

Her cries that he heard through his speaker broke his heart, and he wanted nothing more than to jump on the next flight home to hold his sweet little girl until all of the tears had dried from her face.

“She’s been crying for the last hour, Har. She wants you. Maybe talk to her a little and see if she calms down?”

She heard Harry curse under his breath and rub the sleep out of his eyes. There was a sense of relief that washed over him when he realized that everything was alright and his daughter wasn’t in any immediate danger, but he didn’t quite feel better by any means. Y/N tilted the phone down towards Tallulah who had taken to rubbing the corner of Harry’s pillowcase between her thumb and forefinger.

“Lulah, baby. Talk t’ me. What’s the matter?”

“Daddy?” her face lifted from where it was buried in her stuffed elephant that she’d had since she was a baby and looked up to see her father’s face lit up on Y/N’s phone screen.

“Hi, lovie. Why’re yeh cryin’?”

“Want you come home,” she pouted, her bottom lip jutting out in a way that made her look far too adorable for how sad she really was.

“I know yeh do, petal. I’ll be home soon. I promise. Then, we can have a big cuddle. Does that sound good?”

“You come home tomorrow?” she asked, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

Harry internally cringed when he saw her wipe it on his sheets, but he was obviously not going to scold her for it at the moment.

“Not tomorrow, but soon. I’m not goin’ anywhere for a long time after this so it’ll be just me and you for a bit.”

Tallulah grew upset by this, and understandably so. Her dad always gave her cuddles when she was sad. Why was he telling her that he couldn’t?

He sensed her tears springing back to life, to which he quickly diverted her attention away from.

“Tell me more about what yeh did with Y/N today at the carnival, bug.”

After sucking up a few slobbery breaths, Tallulah was able to speak to Harry again.

“We got a fishy.”

Damnit.

Harry’s ears perked up.

“A fishy? At the carnival? How did yeh do that?”

“Y/N gotted it.”

“She did?”

Y/N knew Harry was not only talking to Tallulah but also to her. A tone that suggested Y/N had some explaining to do, but he wasn’t going to bring that up now.

“Yeah, she winned a game.”

“Does the fishy have a name?”

“Carrot.”

This made Harry snort, as he was not expected that one.

“And did Y/N get Carrot a nice bowl and some food?”

“Mhmm,” Tallulah nodded, “He’s in the kitchen.”

“Well, that sounds lovely. I can’t wait to meet Carrot. Gonna give him cuddles when I get home, too.”

“He said he loves you.”

“That’s very sweet of him. Tell Carrot I love him, too.”

There was a long pause in which Harry, Tallulah, and Y/N all yawned, clearly overtaken by the urge to fall into a deep sleep.

“It’s really late, Lulah. Yeh think yeh can go back t’ bed for me?”

Tallulah brazenly shook her head from side to side, no. 

Harry sighed heavily, his frustration and sadness becoming all too much for him to bear. He was nervous to do what he was about to offer, but he knew it was the last resort in anyone in this scenario getting any sleep whatsoever.

“What if I sing yeh your song? Will that make yeh feel better?”

He watched as her eyes light up with a glint of joy and he knew that that was possibly the cure to everyone’s problems. 

“Peas?”

“Of course, baby. Thank yeh for usin’ yeh manners.”

Y/N laid the phone down so she could reposition Tallulah in her lap as Harry’s melodic voice began to pour from the speakers.

It was her favorite song in the entire world. No matter what was wrong or how upset she was, the second he sang the first few notes and the sound registered in her ears, Tallulah was always able to bring herself back down to earth. 

The first time he sang it to her, she was only ten weeks old, just two weeks after she was brought into his life. He first thought it was a one-off chance that the song had lulled her to sleep, but he quickly found out he was wrong and that she took a genuine liking to it. He’s always assumed it brought on a sense of familiarity and comfort to her whenever she felt like her tiny, two-year-old life was crashing down on her. 

Y/N had never actually seen him sing to her. She’d heard it a time or two through the door of her bedroom when she stayed over, but she’d never asked Harry about it. She had always let their song be just that - their song.

Hopefully, and he genuinely means hopefully, the trick works just as well as it usually does despite him not being there physically. He’s got to be up at five and he refuses to hang up the phone until his baby isn’t sad anymore.

It took a bit longer than usual, but by the second round of the chorus, her eyelids were heavy and the grip she had on Y/N’s lotus pendant had weakened. Hell, the song almost put Y/N to sleep as well. Had she not been worried sick over waking Harry up in the middle of the night and his daughter spilling the beans about the fucking fish, she would have been out well before Tallulah. She loved his singing voice, but she only ever got to hear it when he bopping along to a song on the radio or when he was really, really drunk. 

As the last few notes of the song trailed to silence, both Y/N and Harry took a peek at Tallulah through the phone screen, eager to see if she was fully asleep or just in a state of tranquility. Sure enough, she was out cold.

“I think she’s asleep,” Y/N whispered.

“Thank god,” Harry muttered, “Bloody awful, that was. She’d been cryin’ like that the whole time?”

“Pretty much. Sorry for calling so late, I didn’t know what else to do.”

“‘S alright. Honestly, I was waiting for it. When she stays with mum, I usually get a call or two just like this. By the way, was she wearin’ my ‘Dream Boat’ shirt?”

Y/N starts to chuckle but remembers there is a fragile (both physically and emotionally) child on her chest and she can’t move too much in fear of waking her back up.

“Yeah, she is. I told her I wear your shirts and sleep on your side of the bed when I miss you because they smell like you and thought it would calm her down. It kinda did, but she woke up when I left to go to the bathroom.”

“Christ,” Harry wipes his face with his large, ringed hands.

“What?”

“That’s the cutest shit I’ve ever heard in my life. I love you. A lot.”

“I love you a lot, too,” Y/N grinned.

After a brief moment, Harry talks again.

“So, what’s this about a fish named Carrot?”

Y/N grits her teeth together and sucks in a deep breath.

“Have you seen her face? I know you have. What was I supposed to tell her? No? Got that fucker on the first try after spending seventeen dollars trying to win her a stuffed animal.”

A laugh from deep within Harry’s belly reached the surface and he stifled it with his fist.

“You’ve got a point, princess.”

“I can get rid of him, if you want. I figured she’d get bored and forget about him in a few days, so it wasn’t a big deal.”

“No,” Harry insists, “Keep him. Teach her how t’ take care of him. Give her a responsibility. Maybe she’ll stop harrassin’ me about gettin’ a damn cat.”

“Already done,” Y/N smiles proudly at the camera.

“She knows we feed him in the mornings and she told me she’d help clean his bowl once a week. Even taught her how to say ‘fish’ in french.”

“Have I already told yeh that I love yeh? ‘Cause I do.”

“You did. But I don’t mind hearing it again.”

Harry took a moment to just look at her. Her eyes were bloodshot and he knew she probably felt like she’d just been to hell and back, but there, with his baby girl on her chest, she had never looked more beautiful. He was physically incapable of stopping the words that left his mouth.

“Move in with me.”

“Hmm?” she lifted her head from where it was resting halfway on her pillow and halfway on Harry’s as if to see if he really just said what she thought he said.

“Only if yeh want to. I know it’s a bigger deal because of Lulah, so I get it if yeh still want yeh space. Just...really want yeh around all of the time. And I know she does, too.”

Y/N smiled from ear to ear and placed her free hand that wasn’t holding the phone on top of Tallulah’s curls. She’d been wondering when this conversation would happen, given that she sleeps over at Harry’s more than she does her own apartment and she’d slowly taken over half of the drawers in his bathroom and three shelves in his closet; she just hadn’t expected it to come at midnight, directly after his daughter had the biggest meltdown she’d ever witnessed.

“If I say yes, will you sing to me like that every night?”

Harry blushed beet red as he breathed heavily through his nose.

“If that’s what it takes. Then, yes.”

“Think Lulah’s strong enough to help me carry some boxes?”

[residentanchor-writes]

Downside Ch. 2

Summary: Clyde tries his hand at ‘robbing’ a bank. << Chapter 1 Watch the animatic here. Check out the Downside au @robinsdownside! TW: Cursing, mental manipulation

Clyde was anxiously sitting in his trashy car in front of the bank. He wasn't too sure of the thing he was about to do. But he needed the money and he couldn’t crash at Remy’s place forever.

Checking his face in the rearview mirror again, he gladly noted that the makeup still hid his scales that seemed to like to appear more often on his face than anywhere else now. He also let his hair grow out quite a bit to hide them a little behind bangs that fell over the left side of his face. By now he nearly looked like an emo. Working with that style, he wore a gray scarf that hid the scales that had appeared on his neck as well.

Looking down on himself he wondered if his yellow shirt and black leather jacket were casual enough.

Yeah, probably. He was thinking too hard about this. Or not hard enough.

Breathing in through his nose and letting the air slowly out through slightly parted lips, he got out of his car. He could see his breath in the air in front of him. It has gotten pretty cold since he left his parents with the most valued things he had, including his pet snake, a few weeks ago.

With a faked confident walk as he squared his shoulders, he got closer to the glass door and stepped into the building.

He was extremely lucky, there were only three other people inside. Two women who worked there as the tellers and one man who was talking to the woman on the left, so Clyde went to the other teller on the right.

“Hello, sir. What can I help you with, today?” the brunette in the white blouse asked with a sweet smile.

Clyde put on as much charm as he could muster as he smiled back. “Hello there, I hope you're having a lovely day. I'm here to make a withdrawal.”

He was good at pretending to be a more likable person than he actually was. He always wanted to be an actor, but never went to any auditions for school plays because of his social status as one of the “cool kids” that smoked and drank alcohol behind the school. The entire thing was an act in his school days, but he was good at adapting to change.

“Very well, your name sir?”

“Oh, no.” He chuckled “I was under the impression that you just wanted to give it to me,” his smile widened a little.

The woman gave him an amused sound, taking it as a joke. Out of the corner of his eye, Clyde could see the other man leaving the bank. It was just him and the two tellers alone, now.

“Good one, sir, but this would be easier with a name,” The woman spoke with a chuckle. The other teller woman went into a back door and slipped away for the moment. Perfect.

“Well if you want to call me something, I think you could just go with Deceit,” He spoke with a calmness he wouldn’t have thought he could muster at this moment. He felt his hands shaking and start to sweat as he held down his nervousness.

The woman’s smile faltered a little. “Excuse me?”

Clyde looked back over her shoulder to make sure the other girl was really gone. Then, he looked back into the sweet face in front of him which got more confused by the second.

The perfect opportunity.

He looked in her deep blue eyes.

“You wanted to give me $50,000, right? That’s why I’m here.”

His left eye shimmered and glowed with a light yellow and he noticed the familiar sensation of an itch on his left forearm.

He still looked at the woman who stared back with a face he couldn’t quite put into place. It was nearly blank but still a little puzzled at his words.

That happened every time but he always felt the nervousness at that moment again and again. A million thoughts rushed into his head, like what if it didn’t work (again) or what if he phrased it wrong? Happens to the best, and this scenario was new to him.

This was the first time he did something really bad. Usually, he used his powers to get out of trouble for smaller things or to get free booze, but stealing $50,000 directly out of a bank, in bright daylight? That was insanity!

He had felt a weird sensation in his gut since he began ‘planning’ this. Honestly, this whole ‘rob a bank’ thing was an idea he and Remy had the night before while they were balls drunk in the basement of Rem’s parents. His parents that had no clue Clyde was even hiding there.

Rem was two years younger than him but was a pretty chill dude he had hung out with in school. He was the only one he could count on that wouldn’t snitch him out to anyone about his powers and where he was, because, well, he had powers too. Powers Remy’s parents weren’t very fond of, so they generally stayed away from the cellar.

The woman blinked as she awoke from a daze. The moment surely wasn’t longer than a second, but to Clyde, it felt like years.

The brunette locked eyes with him again and put her smile from the beginning back on.

“Of course, I remember now. It will only be a second, Mr. Deceit.”

--------

“Fuck! I did it!”

Clyde opened the basement door so fast he nearly broke it out of the old, rusty hinges. A very startled Remy, who looked like he had just been woken up, fought his way out of the blanket that had been lying on him.

He had been sleeping on his disgusting makeshift bed, which was made of just two stacked mattresses on top of the cold concrete ground. The basement looked like it should have been finished years ago but no one ever bothered to finish the job. At night, they took one of the mattresses off and slid it onto the floor next to the other so that Clyde didn’t have to sleep out on the bean bag. They had tried that the first night, but it resulted in a stiff back and a very grumpy Clyde in the morning.

Clyde-- er, Deceit moved a few steps forward, to click on the floor lamp that only had an old light bulb screwed on top and no lamp shade. The lightbulb was a normal, fluorescent bulb which somehow exclusively produced greenish light. Clyde had asked about that the second day he had stayed here but Remy too didn’t exactly know why either, not that he cared.

With the light, the messy room had become a little more visible. It was even dirtier than Clyde's old room had been, especially since he had moved in. They both didn’t really care enough to clean all the filthy clothes of the ground except when they ran out of fresh clothes, in which case Remy had to go upstairs with a decent sized pile that was unsuspicious to his parents since they didn’t have to know about Clyde’s existence in Remy’s room.

If they found out about the other kid with powers in their basement? That would mean massive trouble for both of them.

Remy’s guardians were already not on best terms with their son since he had intruded their dreams by accident on more than one occasion. They didn’t hate him but Remy had sometimes messed up their sleep so much that they were first confused what was happening, then they screamed at him to stop and at last, they started to get him out of the way.

He was ok with that. He was just in his basement room, enjoying his life without the worry that his parents would storm in.

But if they knew that he invited someone else to live at their house without their knowledge, they would be very mad. They would probably scream at him again and would call Clyde’s parents, even though he was actually old enough to live on his own, as a 19-year-old. Clyde just didn’t have the money to live on his own. He had been fired a few months ago from his job at the pet shop.

He had to leave his home weeks ago in order to hide his powers from his family as the scales became more and more obvious, so he came to the only one he knew that would at least understand.

It wasn’t much fun sleeping next to someone who had the ability to go into your dreams whenever both of them slept at the same time. Rem didn’t do it on purpose of course, the closer you sleep next to him the more likely it is that he just stumbles into your dream by accident. That's why he had to sleep in the basement, while his parents slept on the third floor. They simply wanted him as far away at night as possible.

What the two did all day now was lying around in the dirty cellar on the green bean bag and the mattresses and talked about everything and nothing. Somedays they played games on the old arcade machine Remy had or they had matches on his kicker, all while smoking pot or drinking beer Clyde brought back every time he went out.

But not this time. This time he brought something better. Money. And lots of it.

Remy tried focusing on the guy with the weird scales in front of him as he blinked the sleep from his eyes, “Wha-?”

Deceit ripped away the blanket and threw a full plastic bag him. It hit him in the chest, where you could read ‘Never SLEEP again’ on a gray shirt, and caused him to lay down again with the bag sitting on top of him.

“I said I did it! I actually did it, I stole the money!” Deceit stood proudly next to the ‘bed’, hands on his hips, with the broadest smile Remy had ever seen on the guy. It kinda creeped him out, to be honest.

Then the bank robber turned around into the direction of the old foosball table and lifted his arm triumphantly into the air and tilted his head back so he looked at the ceiling.

“Oh my god! I feel great! This was way better than drugs!” he screamed in euphoria.

Remy leaned up on his elbow and let the bag fall next to him on the bed.

“Flippin’ shut up, man! You're gonna wake the whole street shoutin’ like that.”

Deceit turned his head back to his friend, puzzled.

“It's 5 in the afternoon?”

“Oh really? I'm up early,” the sleepy head grinned.

Deceit made a face at him that could only have meant ‘you fu**king serious?’

Rem's eyes fell on the plastic bag next to him. With one hand he lifted a handle and looked inside. His eyes widened, only now had he realized what Deceit had actually done. He shot up straight on the mattress and put the bag on the ground so he could take a bundle of hundred dollar notes out. He ran a finger across the stop slowly as the reality of the situation began to sink in.

“Jesus Christ, you actually did it?!” he looked up shocked at the criminal who now faced him again. With the head movement, the green shade sunglasses that had apparently been lying on his purple dyed and messy hair the whole time he slept, fell onto his nose.

“Hell yeah, I did! And it was so easy too! Like stealing a lolly from a baby.”

The seventeen-year-old sitting on the mattresses gathered himself enough to get a little of his sass back.

“Cliché.” He looked back down to the pile of money. “Jeez, how much even is this?”

“50,000 bugs,” Dee’s eyes sparkled saying that.

“Holy shit. Holy shit, I can't believe it! I thought we were just joking around yesterday! We were drunk for fucks sake!”

Remy would have never thought that Clyde would actually do something this incredibly stupid. They just talked like idiots about how they could have anything they wanted if they used their powers more, not that he ever actually considered doing so.

“Come on, just imagine what we can do with that much money!” Deceit stepped closer to him, gesturing with his hands.

“With the stolen money.”

“No one knows that!”

“Babe, don't you think 50k will be missed? Where did you even get that from? The bank like we said?” he took his shades with his forefinger and thumb on the rim of the glasses and slid them down a bit so he could look into Deceit's eyes.

“Yeah and no, no one knows I took the money. I made sure the woman was the only one there and I just made her give it to me.”

“50k in cash. Someone will miss that! They’re going to notice that much missing! Did you think of the cameras?” Rem’s eyebrows furrowed as he put his shades back on properly.

“I do not like to repeat myself. She just handed it to me! It looks completely innocent on camera. And as far as she knows, that money belongs to me.”

Deceit got frustrated with his friend. Just the night before he also loved the idea and now he was lecturing him?!

“You can't keep the money here, babe. I'm not ok with that much stolen cash under my roof!”

“It will be gone soon anyway.” He tried again to reason. This was a good thing, why couldn’t he see it?

“You need to leave,” The voice sounded monotone.

Deceit’s shoulders fell. “What?”

“Clyde, sweetie, don’t get me wrong. I'm totally up for all kinds of stupid shit but that's a bit too far man and I really don't want to get in trouble because of you.”

“So, you're throwing me out?”

“You have enough money to rent a hotel room,” he said gesturing to the bag at his feet.

Deceit looked with disbelief into the green-tinted sunglasses that hid Remy’s emotions pretty well.

How could he just throw him out? He thought the other would be happy about the money. He would have even shared it with him for letting him stay here, but now…

He growled “Fine. I'll leave. I don't need you anymore anyway. I can do whatever I want without you. Just don't come crawling back to me when I'm ruling the city.”

“Sure thing rip-off Disney villain.”

“You've seen the last of me.”

With that Deceit took his luggage, bound the bag of money to it and lifted a small terrarium with Terrence in it under his arm and left the basement.

Remy let out a shaky breath into the stifling air of his room.

For a second there, he had been afraid that Clyde- no, Deceit would use his powers on him.

---- Chapter 3>>

[sonoda-oomers]

(forewarning: this post is full of opinions)

looking at project diva graphics got me thinking about how presentation and limitations affect art, or at least visual art. somehow all the project diva games when put together present this conundrum perfectly

i’ve only been able to see future tone’s ingame graphics for myself recently. up until now i’ve only ever seen it in compressed youtube videos and i was quite partial to it... now i can really understand why people have a problem with it. the detailed realistic shading, while kind of a standard in big console games, is almost a detriment to the stylized faces of project diva characters

i think this is also why dreamy theater’s graphics have aged arguably more poorly than their psp counterparts. assuming they use the exact same animation and expression data, unmoving eyes and stiff expressions and movements are a lot easier to notice and harder to overlook on higher framerates and resolution. in addition to that, i think in the context of the realistic 3d shading, viewers expect the characters to look and move a certain way, which the dreamy theater models don’t 100% match up with. it’s usually fine enough but if you look at the faces for too long the models start to feel sort of uncanny

animation and mouth/eye movement are improved in future tone, but they also cranked up the shading and add highlights which kinda. only serve to make the models look like unrealistically smooth dolls. i’m personally haunted by how their noses look with the shading it just. feels Wrong

(i honestly can’t say whether mega39s graphics were a step in the right direction or not because it’s a whole unoptimized blurry mess and the game was given much less care than it deserved. actually i lied my personal opinion is it looks even worse than future tone’s overrealistic look but if i present that as a point people will get mad at me)

but lbr i’m only here to praise f and f2nd. the colorful and stylized texturing on the models in f and f2nd are, i think, the true successor to the project diva style established by the psp games. (the real reason why they used the exact same graphics for ps3 was to save costs but i want to believe they learned from dreamy theater) the lighting work in f2nd pvs is particularly delightful in how it strikes the perfect balance between rendered and stylized that dreamy theater back then and even future tone now can’t quite achieve.

the first project diva game for the psp still looks really cute, and while it struggles to keep up the frame rates when anything but a void is rendered in, i’m genuinely fascinated by some of the decisions it made to function in the limitations and budget it had. there’s just something really earnest about it that i find dear ((especially now that sega seems to be doing a skyrim thing with future tone and project diva is very much a husk of what it used to be))

the conversation around whether games should always “push the limits” in how grand and detailed they can look, i think, come down to the age old debate on whether more rendered art is always better. while what you like to see comes down to personal preferences, i think it’s pretty much objective that art doesn’t have to be hyperrealistic to look good, and high-end graphic standards are detrimental half of the time (and that’s not even considering the strain it puts on game devs). sadly it’s not really something that can change until games can truly be made as works of art to enjoy and not products to be sold with all the “marketable” checkmarks they have to fill. but for now with how wonderful the handheld games are i think i’m content with project diva not getting “modern updates”

[delicourse]

Hi, I've got a few questions for you if you don't mind answering them

1. How long does it take you to draw a drawing digitally? Do you have any tips on drawing digitally faster?

2. How do you shade? It looks SO good and I'm in love with your artstyle and shading 🥺

3. Are you ever gonna make a webtoon?

Sorry for bothering you, hope you're healthy, and have a nice day/night 🥰💜

sorry for taking so long to answer these!! i really had to think abt the answer so it took a while! sorry if the first one ended up being an essay

1. it tends to vary depending on how well i have the artwork planned out! the thing that tends to take the longest for me is the decision-making parts (sketch and composition, base colors, and colors again once im almost done but going “ok but...what if..”) and the rest(lineart, shading, details) is basically stuff that i can go on autopilot for. so if i already know what im gonna do and somehow stick to that, an artwork can take 3-6 hours depending on size! but most of the time it can take several days of having multiple artworks up at the same time, and making small changes in each at a time until im happy enough to move on lol. so its really hard to measure the time on those since i don’t really know if going back and forth between “lime green” and “turquoise green” for 2 days counts as me actually drawing. i also have a habit of always letting the artwork “rest” for a day inbetween steps where i dont look at it to make sure im not missing any obvious mistakes. (especially at the sketch and linework stage, if they look off the entire artwork will) looking at your art with a fresh eye is really important!

when it comes to speeding up the process i think simply drawing things often enough really is the way to go. its boring but to me the fast parts are only that bc ive done it so many times i dont have to think too much when doing it! (unless im trying something new, which i have been doing lately and oh wow we sure are Thinking in this house) also i see all my artworks as a very “step by step” routine, so i try to never go back once ive completed a step. it makes just moving forward easier. since i also have several artworks up at a time; theyre almost always at different steps in the process, so if i get stuck at or bored with say, lineart, i just go to another artwork where im doing final details and just have fun with that! it makes me feel like im always making progress somwhere. also dont be afraid to just redo something entirely if it looks off. save ur canvas and open a new one and start over, its usually way faster the second time and u keep ur previous mistakes in mind so overall? its faster than to keep adjusting the same parts of the artwork over and over and never really being happy with it, at least thats how it is for me! also also also; make your own brushes for things u already know how to draw but dont wanna do by hand 50 times over. like say, the diamonds in some of my works? theyre just a confetti esque brush with a bunch of diamonds i drew the outline of. then i color them in manually and do shinies and shades but i wont have to do linework for that at least, and its still in my “style” bc i drew them! (it also lessens the feeling of “cheating” that, i at least, tend to have at not doing everything manually) ....also get over the feeling that ur cheating when ur taking shortcuts. in this house we are Professionals who know what we are doing and there should be NO shame for achieving the same results more efficiently

2. ill post some images of my coloring process soon, i dont know if it explains things too well but it is an attempt hdhsbs

3. i cant write to save my life!! all i do is pretty drawings, which i love doing, but it would rule to someday work with others to create some form of comic or webtoon or just general story that i can illustrate!

[anakinthetrashking]

BnHA One-Shot Fic Recs (pt1)

Making some fic-rec posts has been on my to-do list for a while and I’m finally doing it, yay! Currently I have 6 word doc pages full of just BnHA recs. So I’m splitting them up by length and completion, so first up is (part one of) one-shots! Let’s go!!!

Lets start with some classic Izuku and DadMight!

Pictures, Posters and Tender Beauty by ProPinkist (tumblr: @dazais-guardian-angel ) Rating: G    Category: Gen   ~4,400 words Summary: Izuku has virtually every All Might-themed item out there, and prides himself on all of it, as Toshinori is well aware. However, somehow, the boy still decided that there was something vital missing. This is fluffy and very cute. No one truly appreciates All Might as much as Izuku does, but 1A comes close. All Might deserves all the love, and this fic truly provides!!!

Dear Mr. All Might by QuizzicalCrow (tumblr: @quizzicalcrow​ ) Rating: G   Category: Gen   ~5,000 words Summary: As the #1 hero for decades, All Might has collected a lot of fan mail over the years. Toshinori tracks down a series of letters that only now, years later, does he appreciate for their significance.  I always love the thought of All Might looking through his fan mail, even if he can’t get to all of it. This was a wonderful glimpse into that AND it was made to be so, so personal and sweet. Go have some heart-healing fluff.

Growing Pains by LordofLies (tumblr: @theangelofchildren ) Rating: G   Category: Gen    ~5,900 words Summary: Izuku finds himself changed by his encounter with the Hero Killer, but changes of a more physical kind are in store for him as he begins to truly accept One for All as his own. Once, he would have been thrilled to look more like All Might, but now those connections are as much a source of anxiety as they are of pride.Or, Izuku wakes up one morning and sees the world through different eyes. Izuku having anxiety and Toshi being there to help him through it and calm him down? Sign me UP. Its also a pretty cool take on how One for All is able to change things about it’s holder. Could this happen in cannon? Who knows.... Regardless, it was a great read!

I’ll Carry You Home by Renesvetta Rating: G   Category: Gen   ~2,700 words Summary: While training with All Might, it wasn’t uncommon for Izuku to be so exhausted at the end of the day that he unwittingly fell asleep without regard for where he was. It consequently became part of All Might’s routine to help his young protégé home. During that time, Izuku may have let loose more than one sleepy confession towards his mentor.  Yes, it is as adorable as it sounds. Its tagged with “self indulgent Dad Might fluff” which is both accurate and appreciated. In other words: Superb you funky little writer!

Simple Gifts by QuizzicalCrow Rating: G    Category: Gen   ~6,700 words Summary: One year ago, Izuku received the greatest gift he could ever imagine. Now he’s determined to return the favor for the one responsible for it all with a gift of his own.  First off, I love the idea of Izuku and Toshi quietly celebrating the anniversary of passing on OfA from All Might to Izuku. Even just taking the day to hang out with each other. It’s a really precious idea. But there’s not just fluff! Izuku finds himself in a fight, again. (cool villain quirk, too!) I love all of the small details that are in this fic (and in Crow’s other works, too!) anyway its exciting AND very heartwarming, so go read it!!!

Affectionate by Sevi007 (tumblr: @sevi007 ) Rating: G   Category: Gen   ~2,600 words Summary: Toshinori starts to show affection very easily around his students. The  reactions he gets for that are not quite the ones he had anticipated - well, not all of them, at least.  Toshi is LOVED, APPRECIATED, and 1A feels like HOME. how many times can i say “cute” and “heartwarming” on this post?? bc these are some amazing writers, whom I adore, and their writing makes my heart WARM. AND. FUZZY. i mean, even just the first few paragraphs of this one just, really sets the scene of what i like to believe the 1A dorm is (on a good day, lol). its a really nice read, so go treat yo’ self by reading it.

paint me in trust by dinomight Rating: G   Category: Gen   ~6,400 words Summary: The first mark Izuku gets is a slight brush of green across his temple. It’s the soft touch of a mother holding her son for the first time. Inko has one to match, the same shade of green staining the tips of her fingers. Hers is more noticeable; Izuku’s tends to blend into his hairline. He loves it anyways. He has to. It’s the only soulmate mark he has. (Or: how Izuku goes from just green to a rainbow, UA-style.)  Ok, so this fic sort of plays off the idea of soulmates, and does not fit in with soulmates in the usual form of the trope. First off its completely platonic. Its categorized as Gen and sticks to that. Also it doesn’t seem to be as obligatory and permanent as you would think it would be. It seems to be more of the universe telling you who has the possibility of being important in your life. I really really loved this, it was so adorable and gives you that sweet, sweet Izuku angst, before healing your heart with the power of friendship and found family!!!

The Die Has Been Cast by ChiwiTheKiwi (tumblr: @chiwithekiwi​ ) Rating: G   Category: Gen   ~5,400 words Summary: “There’s something about that kid you aren’t telling me, isn’t there?”When no answer meets him, Shouta tries again.“You know something about Midoriya’s quirk that you haven’t shared with me. Is that right?”(Or: A canon "What If" surrounding the latest manga events and focusing on Aizawa finally making a connection.) First off, this fic has spoilers for the manga, so dont read unless you’re past chp212! I loooooooove OfA reveal fics, especially when it’s Aizawa that finds out. He deserves to know!!! its kind of important!!!! This fic chooses a great moment to work off of, and does a great job with Aizawa’s character. I really enjoyed it and couldn’t keep myself from going back and reading it just now LOL

These last two are actually two-shots, but it makes it an even 10! also Izuku and dadmight, so we can continue the theme here...

Some Unspoken Thing by LittleKy Rating: G   Category: Gen   ~7,900 words (2chps) Green, Toshinori has always thought, is the color of life anew.(Or: It's time for Yagi Toshinori to finally accept that he has a son, now, in all but blood. It's time for Midoriya Hisashi to accept that as well.) YES ALL MIGHT! ADMIT THAT IZUKU IS YOUR SON! great portrayal of the characters and really hits the nail on the head for DadMight. and Izuku in this story is just the smallest green floof that you wish to give a hug. NEVER MIND ALL MIGHT, YOU TOOK TOO LONG SO IZUKU IS MY SON NOW AND IM NOT GIVING HIM BACK ( no but seriously i want to hug this fic its so cute TTuTT )

LAST BUT NOT LEAST! I See You by BirdAntlers (tumblr: @aarymk )

Rating: G   Category: Gen   ~15,400 words (2chps) Midoriya Izuku is a quirkless child, blind from birth. Yagi Toshinori is the most powerful man in the world, loved by millions. They could not be more different, and yet their loneliness is the same.   (From a pair of AU posts on Tumblr that got way out of hand; I wanted to put it here because it turned into more of a fic than a "what-if." Basically a vessel for me to vomit as much Dadmight as I can.) Hey, you! Yeah! You! Do you want to cry? Do you want to start sobbing in a public space?? Do you just want to be destroyed with words and be left there kneeling at the feet of a writer who has torn out your heart and stomped on it before they gently wipe the tears from your face? Yeah?? y oU Wan NA D IE??? READ THIS AND GET REKT.  you’ll thank me later

(under the cut is just me rambling, i kept all the important stuff up here, ur welcome)

Now that the actual recs are over I can rant here- look i really tried to slim my recs down, but i have almost 300 bnha fics bookmarked,some of them are “to read” or theyre in progress, etc but i managed to get this list sorta slimmed down? a little?(to only 58!!!) but as i was gathering this post together it felt like i dont have very many Dadmight recs on that list??? but i havent rechecked all the other fics i was just going through the oneshots. i... kinda read a lot more fics with AIzawa in it instead. it be that way. DadMight content is SO GOOD. but my fav is aizawa im sorryyyyy anyway i have another SEVENteeN oneshots to put in rec posts and that does NOT include the mulitchapter and friikin series and stuff... and like i said this is aaaaaaallllllllllllllll BnHA. batfam fic posts will come after, and then star wars, and then maybe star trek? we’ll see. i have a very specific taste in ST fics and that is Tarsus IV whump. which. i have not read in a while. when they say “that trope came from ST” for sooooooo many tropes, you WISH other fandoms had tarsus as a trope, holy crap it is TOP TIER angst fodder. if you love to write/read whump, angst, and h/c i would HIGHLY recommend that you take a bit of time and explore the content and stories there. heck maybe i will make a ficrec post for just tarsus angst. ok.

my INTENTION is to edit these posts later with little links to the other fic rec lists so that itll be easier to find. but., its me, so itll either happen in painful detail or not at all

asdjkdgh its 2:30am and i need to sleep and not be rambling incoherently again I WILL SAVE THIS AS A DRAFT. 

[popculturebuffet]

The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck Part 6: Terror of the Transvaal!  “But You...  You Just Made Me Mean.”

Hello you happy people. And welcome back to my look at The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck! And with this one i’ve reached the halfway point of this epic and couldn’t be prouder and have no plans to slow down. In fact while June and July will have one chapter each as is my usual for storylines I do on my own time, August and September will have DOUBLE the chapters to help me reach the finsih line. This dosen’t mean i’m done mind, i’ll probably get into the side chapters next year, possibly sooner. But my main goal when setting out to do this was to cover the main story, one of my favorite comics of all time and easily the best scrooge comic ever. But the point is it’s been a helluva ride so far and i’m not even to the second half yet. 

This chapter is also one of my favorites along with “The Last of Clan McDuck”, “THe Raider of the Copper HIll” and “The Invader of Fort Duckburg”. It’s a compelling and tragic turning point in our heroes life and has THE most badass moment in Scrooge’s history, only rivaled by another moment in this very series, which if you’ve read it you know EXACTLY what i’m talking about for both. This is also a lucky one for me as I scheduled this a while back before me and Kev had settled on doing the season 2 arcs, so I ended up scheduling this one the same week as my coverage of Glomgold’s other origin story in “The Ballad of Duke Baloney!”, a story that take some small cues from this one. So if all of that has peaked your interest, please join me under the cut as Scrooge becomes “The Terror of the Transvaal!”

As for why Rosa set the chapter here there’s two simple reasons: it was one of two gold rushes mentioned in Barks work, meaning Scrooge could get in some more experience before making his fourtune in the Klondike, and Rosa understandably couldn’t resist having Scrooge and his greatest rival meet in their youth. He WAS careful to not have Scrooge learn Flinty’s name, as Scrooge dosen’t recognize him in Flintheart’s first apperance in “The Second Richest Duck”.. but Rosa noticed Flinty seemed familiar with SCROOGE, and simply ran with it, still having his first encounter with the bastard deeply effect Scrooge but leaving Scrooge unaware that the thief and betrayer he met in the Transavaal was the same heartless Scoundrel he’s fated to keep fighting till one or both of them keels over. 

So starting the chapter proper Scrooge has come to the Transvaal to prospect for gold, following his hunch from last chapter, trying to make his way to the rand, a large natural area in south Africa. The Transvaal itself was a large expanse that was cut up in the 90′s after the fall of apartheid. 

Scrooge passes a massive Diamond Mine, large with tons of miners on small claims, but wisely passes it up: there’s too many people, too much fuss and likely too much risk of getting stolen or finding nothing.

And to prove that point we meet Flinty who is trying to steal a guy’s diamonds for the second time today. Now the other miners reaction IS FAIR: they send him up in a bucket thing their using to transport the diamonds as a thief and announce him as such and the people on the surface’s reaction makes it very clear this isn’t new behavior. Him being punished is fine... their punishment though....

Seriously, theft is not worth doing a murder.. and yes he COULD escape and their trying to frame it like that’s not what htier doing.. but their sending someone with clearly low self preservation skills into the desert, with no suplies, tightlyt ied to an angry and clearly wild animal. While Flinty DOES deserve jail for his shit, he doesn’t deserve to DIE for attempted theft. He didn’t ruin anyone’s lives or actually succeed and he’s clearly harmless if eveyrone in the mine knows he’s a criminal. You can’t just murder all your problems away... I mean the blood alone is just not worth the clean up. 

Naturally Scrooge crosses paths with Glomgold and assumes he’s simply gotten himself trapped somehow and being an openly kind soul at this point in his life, gladly helps the guy free. Scrooge mentions he’s headed to Johannesburg and GLomgold offers to come along and do all the work as his guide. Scrooge being Scrooge refuses the “do all the work part” but gladly accepts a guide and a new friend and introduces himself as from Scotland. And as a result we get... something resembling a joke...

Look I’m not against a good pun... but that was not a good pun. It wasn’t even a passable pun. It also feels like a bit of a stretch given Scrooge is well traveled by now. you’d THINK he’d get that he was probably talking about something local and not insulting himself. 

So Scrooge talks about all he’s learned with Flintheart bored and kind of a dick.. and offering a lesson of his own despite being the same age as Scrooge.. specifically he takes first watch and gives a smug speech. 

Scrooge wonders around the wilderness and finds a lion.. then an elephant and soon has the entire savannah after him as he bemoans the betrayal, having never felt like this. We’ll get more into the why in a bit. The point is he’s backed against a wall..but as we all know a cornered animal, human , duck , humanoid duck no matter the species is often at it’s most dangerous. 

Especially if that animal is a McDuck. So here we get that badassery I mentioned: faced with an angry horde of some of the most dangerous and awe inspiring critters in Africa Scrooge uses EVERYTHING he’s learned roping cattle and what not to best them. He uses tricks from besting Long Horns to get the Elephants tangled up in a tree, then uses a log to beat a Rhino, before lassoing himself a motherfucking giraffe:

And if THAT weren’t already cool as all hell he tops himself: Since he dosen’t consider a Zebra a proper mount.. he decides to go for something bigger. 

So to recap just so it all sinks in for you: Scrooge, abandoned with no suplies, defeats two elephants and a rhino, rides a Giraffe, then TAMES a fucking lion with nothing more than an improvised lasso and PURE RAGE. Then RIDES that majestic creature across the planes like a GODDAMN HORSE, before riding iti into town casual as all hell. I MEANT IT and he’s STILL not done. I mean it doesn’t’t top riding a motherfucking lion, what could, but what he does for an encore is still utterly badass and is a nice coda to riding a motherfucking lion. 

So at the local abr Glomgold lies about everything and makes himself the hero of the story, Yes Flintheart Big Dick Glomgold. Purest soul there ever was.  This lasts all of a minute as while Flinty brushes off the fact a cowboy is looking for him, he doesn’t even know what that is... he’s soon rightfully shitting himself when Scrooge comes for his vengeance. 

The art here is as always impeccable. The shading alone. But seriously I’m terrified and I know he can’t harm me... in theory. In practice if ANYONE could reach out of the page and throttle me, it’d be the guy who rode a motherfucking lion. And no i’m never letting that go. Fucker rode a lion. That’s the kind of thing you never forget about a character for damn good reason. We also get one of my favorite lines in the story, and it has tons of greats.. but this is an easy contender for my favorite:

It’s a chilling line and panel, with it made clear Scrooge’s cynsim, his biggest weakness and often what makes him the most unlikable came from this.. the moment where a villain with no scruples, no care and no code or morals of any kind utterly betrayed him and tried to leave him for dead that took any scrap of hope in mankind he had and destroyed it. From now on he likes nobody and nobody likes him. Other mentors helped Scrooge grow as a person, taught him skills and taught him to survive, to enjoy the road getting to fortune as much as the fortune himself, and to make his way square. Flinty. just made him mean. 

But Scrooge isn’t going to kill him.. for one thing he doesn’t’t like shooting people or animals. For another.. he has something far more satisfying in mind: Old West Justice, Tar and Feathearing style, covering the guy and humiliating him by making him do a bullet dance Marty McFly style. 

Flinty TRIES to simply escape and steal Scrooge’s shotgun.. but it fails as he runs into the lion and Scrooge takes the beaten flinty over to the jail to press charges. Flinty is jailed.. and makes his own vow. 

So with that Scrooge has made a foe for life, and this is another thing the 2017 Cartoon took.. it’s just where as this  Flinty was merely angry at his rightful compuance and humilation, the cartoon one was a small child who swore vengance for an honest mistake. But either way you slice it he won’t make Scrooge’s life any easier. 

So with that we get our epilogue: Scrooge never made his forutune her, naturally, as the ore was too low quality for him to process alone so only the already rich could afford to set up shop here. Scrooge packs it in determined to still make his fortune and we get an awesome closing panel. 

Final Thoughts: As you could probably tell, I fucking love this one. It’s utterly amazing. Barks himself has said he felt the best chapters took place over a short time span and it shows: by having to cover less time, only having a time passing bit at the very end, it allows this vital story to take place over less than a day and allows it to move at a hell of a pace. It’s got action, great character work as we see Scrooge’s last bit of trust in his fellow man shatter, and THE best climax of the series. And the others have some whoppers. This one is just so damn awesome, taking most of the issue but using EVERY page of it to tell one epic finale, from Scrooge’s easy mastery of the beasts, to his taming a motherfucking lion, to Flinty’s UTTERLY satstifying humilation conga...this is just a masterpiece and a huge reminder why I love this comic

Next Time: Scrooge sadly dosen’t keep the lion but does head to Australia where he faces what he is in the dark, meets a new mentor, and gets pointed to his destiny. See you next month for that. 

If you liked this review share it, and if you’d like to help me make more join my patreon at patreon.com/popculturebuffet. WIth only 10 days left till the new pay period nows the time to jump in so you can pick a short for my Donald Duck birthday specail next month or help me reach a stretch goal so I can get it on the board. Time’s a wastin. And if you can’t, tha’ts fine, thanks for reading. 

[tenpointstoq]

So thanks to this we now have Flower shop Geraskier AU

Flower shop au - Geralt needs a bouquet to say ‘fuck you’

Don’t mind this stream of consciousness rant. It’s a mess but so are they 🤷🏻

Geralt storming in and Jaskier has fucking flowers in his hair and it’s not some traditional hippy shit flower crown. They look like they ended up there over hours of work, plucking things here and there. There is even what he thinks is a dandelion behind his ear. What flower store sells dandelions? Jaskier is excited as ever because the language of flowers is so wonderfully poetic and isn’t that just beautiful? To speak to another with nature’s first language. Geralt’s just staring at him like he is insane, though he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t oddly endearing really. He ends up leaving with a pretty beautiful arrangement but it does have certain ‘fuck you’ vibes that Geralt can’t properly explain. He also finds out later that several of the flowers caused the persons chambers to smell HORRIFYING when the flowers began to die and others dropped pollen everywhere that stained a lot of things. It’s like 3 punches in one and he will admit he’s impressed. He doesn’t mean to end up going back, but he keeps on running into the damn flowers. It’s like Jaskier and dandelions are following him. To events and lords chambers, even Yen gets on the Jaskier train cause the boy has style and she’s about to go all out for her anniversary with Tissaia. Getting that woman to blush is hard, but Jaskier nails it and Yen sort of won't shut up about him. To the point that he’s at a fucking dinner party Yen refuses to let him skip. They are seated side by side and while he isn’t coated in flowers this time, he still has a distinct floral smell that isn’t overwhelming as much as it is oddly charming and perhaps even a little comforting. He’s bright eyed and sharp as a whip, he can keep up with Yen’s humour and Ciri’s already signing him up as another found family member.

Usually Geralt would brood in the corner, which he does a bit, Jaskier half teases him about it as the group splits up after dinner. A glass of wine in his hands, his cheeks just a little pink. Geralt grunts some kind of response as Jaskier settles himself on the side of the large old reading chair Geralt always favours when he comes over. Jaskier talks about the flowers he put together for Yen, about love and loss and how nature can be astoundingly beautiful just as it can be cruel. He’s making metaphors like an actual mad man, which would piss Geralt off, except somehow it doesn’t. In fact he feels his lips curl a little as Jaskier continues to ramble, watching the way the light from the hearth turns his sea blue eyes shades of pale green and stormy navy. He’s like a hummingbird Geralt thinks. Almost like a fae but not the annoying kind he has to kill every other day, he is otherworldly but with a strange kind of grounding nature that brings a sense of ease to Geralt’s heart. It takes a few more months for Geralt to realise he has actual feelings. But now he’s helping out at the shop because they’ve had coffee a few times and Jaskier has come over to help Geralt with some issues with his greenhouse he keeps to make it easier to create potions at home. Each time Jaskier gives him flowers to take home, and Ciri makes note of it. Geralt won’t admit to actually rather liking being given them, so he doesn’t look at the deeper meaning.

It sort of hits him like a truck, he gets a call from Ciri late one night and all he can hear is her tone, Jaskiers name and wherever the fuck they are. He meets them at the shop, because Jaskier has a little flat above it and the two had been heading out to grab dinner. Ciri’s girlfriend is doing her masters and lives in the same area so the two had been getting dinner whenever Loni her gf had to stay late. That evening however Jaskier on his way to meet Ciri had been mugged. He was okay, his fight or flight mode hadn’t kicked in well and he’d half fought back while also standing like a deer in headlights. So he’s got a growing black eye, some scratches and a split lip. Geralt’s pretty sure he didnt breathe once until he actually saw him. Jaskier is in his arms before either of them know it’s happening. He can feel Jaskier shaking from the shock of it all and Geralt’s running his fingers through his hair, noting the way leaves and flower petals cascade around them as he does. He stays the night, watching Jaskier sleep, fighting so hard not to go and hunt the bastards who did this. What ends up stopping him is the notebook he finds in the kitchen when he goes to get himself some water, it’s just a list of dates and descriptions, it shouldn’t make sense. He reads the cluster of meanings, borage- bluntness, direct. While Camellia - you’re adorable, chamomile (one that pops up very very regularly) patience in adversity. White clover - think of me. Gardenia’s - secret love. Honey suckle- bonds of love. But as Geralt reads on it starts to click into place. There is so much, he looks at the last date, remembering back to the week before when Geralt had come in, truly exhausted after a long hunt and longer bullshit with the elderman who owed him coin. To find Jaskier surrounded by wilting flowers,face in his hands, too caught up within thought to notice the bell ringing or Geralt entering the back room. He’d had a call from his parents. The ones he never talked about because they were rich and powerful and thought Jaskiers trade was foolish and beneath his birth rights. That his university degree had gone to waste and that in general he was not fit to be their child or lay claim to their name (which he hadn’t done in a long time.)

Geralt wakes Jaskier up with coffee and breakfast. He looks so soft in the morning light. Insane bed head and a banged up face that Geralt wants to kiss more than he’s ever wanted to do anything else. While he’s fighting with himself on the thought Jaskier leans over the tea tray and presses a kiss to the corner of his lips as a thank you. He tastes like wild berry jam and milky sweet tea on the tray lay three Camellia’s, pink, red and white. Jaskier grins, holding each one up and explaining the meaning, though for once he knows Geralt already knows. ‘Longing for you, you’re a flame in my heart, you’re adorable.’ Geralt’s never been good with words, so it’s a relief to be allowed another language to explain his love. It’s part of what drew him to Jaskier, someone who said so much but seemed to inherently understand the need and worth of silence.

In the end no one is surprised when the two turn up to Yen’s next dinner party side by side. Geralt’s not one for announcements, but the new grace with which they move is like planets orbiting one another as if they were each other’s sun speaks the volumes their stoic Witcher cannot. Jaskier brings a lightness to Geralt’s life he didn’t know he was missing. While Geralt brings a stability Jaskier has always craved. They balance one another out in equal measure. It’s messy and weird at times, but it’s the happiest any of them have ever seen their white wolf . And if they think he looks entirely adorable with flowers braided into his hair and monster blood staining the petals, well they all just smile and keep it to themselves. Thankful that two lonely wonderful beings found just what they needed.

[fantasyoverreality98]

So You Wanna Write a Novel?: Basics

Okay, I’ve never actually attempted to give some writing advice in a semi-formal manner, but I shall try my best. As someone who’s been writing original stories for about seven years, I have some advice to give that might help out those of you who are interested in learning how to write a novel but are unfamiliar with where to start.

Keep in mind that I’m not super experienced in giving writing advice, and most of my experience with improving my writing comes from school. I’d probably be more helpful providing essay writing advice, but I’ll try my best to give some creative writing advice too.

Also, shoutout to Alya: @anotherbeingsworld,  this one is for you. I hope it helps a bit!

Characters

Personally, I think characters are the most important part of any story. If you don’t care about the characters, why would you want to continue reading? Readers need characters that they can relate to, someone who they see themselves in and that they find themselves rooting for. Without good characters, the rest of the novel won’t matter. So, develop those characters.

Three useful tips I have for making your OCs:

·      Incorporate pieces of yourself into them

·      Establish a goal or a mindset for this character before you even begin writing the story

·      Try to write from the perspectives of people who you may not necessarily agree with

Now that I’ve given those three tips, I’ll go into further detail for each one so that you understand what I mean.

1.     Incorporate pieces of yourself into them: By saying this, I mean take some personality traits and/or personal likes/dislikes that you have and give those to your characters. It can be as simple as a shared favourite drink, or as deep as incorporating one of your own personal experiences or beliefs into the character. As long as you can establish a connection between you and your character, it will make it a bit easier to write from their perspective. However, I must warn you, don’t make the character (especially the protagonist) a copy of yourself. I mean, you can, but I’ve never been a fan of the self-insert. Give us a character that is not like their creator. Show us someone who differs in opinion than you and that you may get into disagreements with in real life. Give us a person.

2.     Establish a goal or a mindset for this character before you even begin writing the story: I want to see this character start one way and end another. Do they begin the plot not believing in love and then somehow manage to fall in love as the story progresses? Are they self-centered and arrogant in the beginning, and then by the end have realized that other people matter, and that life isn’t so black and white? Do they have a goal to stop the “bad guys” and then later realize that those guys aren’t so horrible? I want to see a change. Characters (especially a protagonist) who don’t experience development throughout the story are not as interesting to me. Flip their entire world upside down. Show us some excellent story arcs.

3.     Try to write from the perspectives of people who you may not necessarily agree with: Try to get into the mind of someone who you wouldn’t like in reality. Write from the perspective of someone who infuriates you. Give yourself a challenge by not writing the world through your own eyes, but rather from the eyes of someone who sees things differently than you. Not only do I believe this makes your writing skills better because you can explore different ideals and mindsets, but I think it also teaches a writer to be more empathetic and gives them a more well-rounded view of the world. Of course, if you’re just starting out, this tip isn’t as important, but I still think it should be considered.

Plot

Ah, the part of writing a novel where you must figure out what the hell is going on. I’ll be honest, I’ve always been more of a character-driven writer. Characters are my most cherished possession and the plot itself is just my way of moving them along.

But you can’t have a story without a plot, so here we are.

Have something happen. That might seem obvious, but I’ve read quite a few books where I felt like I was just following characters as they did their daily tasks. Give me a reason to keep reading. Do I want to see two characters get together, do I want to see the hero defeat the villain, am I on the edge of my seat constantly wondering if the team is going to make it out alive? There needs to be action.

It may not be the best way to write, but I like to think of each chapter as a mini “episode” and the whole book is like the “season” of the story. Is it a limited series? Is it an on-going series? You figure it out. Each chapter should be there for a reason. Don’t write about the adventure of Mary as she went to the grocery store and did nothing else. What did Mary see there? Did she find out that some drama is about to go down? There should be a purpose. All the chapters should tell a short story themselves, and then those short stories should all weave together into the overall story. I don’t need five filler chapters. Obviously, this is more for stories that aren’t contemporary, since it’s a bit trickier to make every chapter action-packed for contemporary romance. And yet, there should still be a purpose. We don’t need 150k of almost nothing happening.

The best advice I can offer you is this: figure out the end of your book when you’re only a few chapters in. Decide what the end game is and then work towards it. The story needs to end somewhere, right? We don’t need to follow characters for dozens of chapters only to reach an ending that tells us nothing. Unless you’re making a series, the end of your book should have a definitive conclusion. Don’t drag out the story indefinitely.

Setting

You’re asking the wrong person, I don’t know how to do setting.

Kidding, but seriously, I think that it all depends on what genre you’re writing. If you are working on a contemporary romance, the setting isn’t all the important. I usually give basics: general location, surroundings, different places the characters visit…nothing too extreme. If you’re writing a fantasy, however, you need to establish setting.

Now, I’m mostly a contemporary writer at the moment, but I used to be an action/adventure/fantasy writer, so I do have some experience with writing setting. When I think of setting, I want to be able to envision the area. I want to hear the rain falling, I want to see the night sky, I want to imagine the heat bearing down. I’m trying to not use my own writing for examples, but I think this may need one. When I think setting, I think imagery, and I’ve been told that my imagery is pretty good, so I’ll use a little snippet for fun:

Blinking against the harsh desert sky, A***** stopped to take in what lay before her. Grand pyramids loomed in the distance, towering over the sand dunes on the horizon…The heat seemed to increase the longer she stood out in the open, making it harder to breathe with each passing minute. A*****’s throat screamed for water; her body begged for shade. Pushing the pieces of dark wavy hair from her face, she began to panic. If water didn’t come soon, it would take only a few hours for A***** to dehydrate. The only company was the sound of her laboured breaths. Each inhale became shallower…Hours of agonizing stumbling passed by. The sky had just started to turn a dark red when A***** collapsed from exhaustion. She curled into a tight ball on the side of a sand dune, unable to form any tears. Still, the heat remained unrelenting. Gasps replaced her breathing, and A***** prepared to welcome the cold darkness of sleep drifting her way. Footsteps swished through the sand toward her. A*****’s eyes snapped open. Her hands searched frantically for a grip, for anything to protect her from the stranger she felt standing behind her. When she couldn’t find a weapon, she gathered up what little strength she had and leapt up, whirling to face the unknown person.

Describing setting can be super fun, and if you’re into writing fantasy, then I’d say this is definitely the thing for you. I’m never too concerned about specifics for setting when I write contemporary, since I don’t think much world-building is required, but if you want to create an intriguing world for other genres, I’d say to look up some writing advice on setting (and I will probably do the same because I know I need to work on setting myself).

Point of View

I’ve seen several conflicting opinions when it comes to writing from point of view. Some writers refuse to use first person, some refuse to write in third person, others like second person, and then there are plenty, I’m sure, who do a mixture of all of them. I am the final type, though I do lots of writing in third person.

First, we need you to understand the differences. A first-person narrator uses words like “I, me, we,” etc. It is a narrative told from the perspective of one or more characters, through their eyes. You are the character in first person. Second-person uses “you, your, yourself,” etc. and is a less common writing style. Most of the time I have seen it used in reader-insert fanfiction, and cannot provide much detail on it since it is the POV I use the least. Finally, third-person narrators use the words “he, she, they,” etc. and is told from the perspective of an outside force. Now that doesn’t mean that you don’t get to know the thoughts of characters, since there are several types of third-person POVs. I predominantly use third-person limited, which means telling things from one specific character’s perspective, knowing all of their inner thoughts and emotions. I then switch character’s perspectives in different chapters, but almost never in the same chapter without indicating a clear break in POV.

Why is point of view here? It is necessary to know the point of view you want to write from.

Some writers I’ve seen think that there is almost no reason to write from first person, but I think that some stories require you to follow one main perspective throughout the plot. Most of my contemporary romance is written from first-person, because I think that it’s easier to tell things from the protagonist’s eyes and the other characters’ thoughts are not as valuable to the plot. When writing fantasy or almost any other genre, I like to write from third person, so that readers can experience the story from several different perspectives. Sometimes characters split off and all characters’ experiences are necessary to piece the plot together, and other times I feel it necessary to explore how different characters react to the same situation.

At the end of the day, point of view is entirely up to you and what matters most is that you write in a style that you feel comfortable with.

Theme

Theme is the message of your novel. It is the important aspect of your story, the lesson to be learned when the reader reads the final sentence and has to say goodbye to the characters and the world.

Examples of themes include but are not limited to: love, forgiveness, growth, honour, war, perseverance…the possibilities are endless.

What do you want to tell readers, without really telling them? That’s what a theme is. For example, let’s say you write a story about mental illness and you end the story with the protagonist fighting against it and ultimately realizing they have the power within them to go on; the major themes of that novel would be perseverance and self-discovery. The message readers should get by the end of it is that they can overcome their struggles and find happiness, no matter how hopeless the protagonist may have felt in the beginning and throughout the novel.

Without a theme, your novel has no true meaning. But you don’t need some deep message either, sometimes love is good enough. At the end of the day, it’s your novel, and the significance of your theme is entirely up to you.

---

There is a lot that goes into writing a novel, but these are some basics that can help you get started. I’m not great at explaining in a professional way, but I hope this helps anyone who takes the time to read it. Happy writing!

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 33 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Heya darlings! Hope you’re still with us! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: The Galactica crew headed back to New York.

This Chapter: Violet receives a pleasant surprise, Jinkx meets her crush, and Fame makes a decision.

***

Courtney hurried down the block towards the subway stop in the rain, dodging other pedestrians, her phone pressed to her ear.

“Courtneyyyy, didn’t you miss me?” Adore whined. She was trying to convince Courtney to come to brunch at her new girlfriend’s apartment, which honestly sounded kind of nice--after all, Courtney liked Pearl a lot, and she was thrilled for Adore that she’d succeeded in snagging her dream girl. Unfortunately, brunch just wasn’t in the cards on that particular day.

“Yes, but I have to work, I’m sorry.”

“But it’s Sunday, come oooon!”

“You don’t get it, Adore,” Courtney sighed. “Violet’s been gone all week and I need things to be perfect when she walks in.”

“But you don’t even like Violet!” Adore countered.

“I never said that!” Courtney exclaimed defensively. And it was true. Yes, sometimes she complained about the way Violet talked to her and ordered her around. And yes, she was often frustrated by her own seeming inability to ever truly please her, but when it really came down to it, she did respect her coworker. “It’s not that I dislike her, she’s just a little difficult sometimes. But I want her to see how hard I’ve been working-”

“I don’t know why you’re working so hard to please her when you could please me by coming to brunch,” Adore pouted.

“I’m sorry, Dore, but knowing Violet, she could very well be coming in today, so I have to get everything together ASAP.”

“Ugh, fine! I hate your job!” Adore exclaimed, finally hanging up.

As Courtney descended the stairs into the subway station, she did her very best not to think, ‘Me too!’

***

“Here you go.”

“Thank you darling.” Fame smiled as she took the coffee cup Patrick handed her. It was early noon, the sun high in the sky.

“You’re welcome.” Patrick grinned, and Fame looped her arm in his, Charles by their side, the dog waiting patiently for his humans.

They were on their way to Carl Schurz Park, the entirety of it fenced in, and they even had a part of the park reserved for bigger dogs, which was a real concern when you owned a Great Dane.

“Come on boy,” Fame pulled the leash, and Charles woofed with excitement, Fame unable to keep in a laugh at his enthusiasm.

***

It was nearing 6 am on Monday morning, and as usual, Violet was the only person in the building besides the doorman.

She had spent Sunday in bed, her mattress on the floor nothing like the Parisian king sized bed, jetlag hitting her like a freight train. Though Violet still felt heavy and slightly nauseous, she had managed to get to the gym before work, the familiar routine wonderfully comforting.

Violet took the elevator to the 25th floor, making her way past reception. Violet had expected the office to be dark, but it seemed like Courtney had left the light on over the weekend, an extremely hypocritical mistake from someone who loved to lecture other people about waste and the environment.

Violet swiped her keycard, the little beep allowing her into Fame's outer office. She put her hand on the glass door, taking one last, final, deep breath, preparing herself for an absolute catastrophe as she opened the door, but instead of scattered papers, forgotten cups of coffee and chaos, Violet saw Courtney sitting at her desk, the office perfectly clean.

Courtney looked up from her computer with a smile and a cheerful, “Good morning!”

“Courtney?" Violet closed the door behind her. Courtney was wearing a light blue sweater, her blonde hair styled in big wavy curls, sparkling silver stars in her ears.  

“How was Paris?”

"Paris c’est Paris.” Violet looked around, wondering if Courtney had just shoved everything underneath the desks or inside the closet when she had heard her approach. But instead, she spotted the table, where rows of neatly labeled folders were lined up, along with Miss Fame’s phone sheet, schedule for the day, as well as a week overview.

“I don’t understand…”

Little flags marked all the places where they required Fame’s approval. Looking for the catch, Violet pulled open a drawer in the file cabinet beside Courtney’s desk, and instead of the crammed-full mess of papers she expected, saw newly color-coded file folders in perfectly organized rows.

“You're here early?"

“Yeah,” Courtney chuckled. “I guess I got used to coming in at the crack of dawn while you were away. It’s so much easier to get things done before everyone gets here.”

"Yes." Violet walked over to her desk, still genuinely surprised at how tidy everything was. "It is." She put her bag on the table, unbuttoning her jacket. "I had expected-" Violet cut herself short. "It's nice that I don't have to start the day cleaning up."

Violet turned on her computer, the knowledge that she'd actually get to the emails she had largely ignored while in Paris more than she had hoped for.

She used the time while her computer was starting up to turn on the kettle, shocked to find the little kitchenette as immaculately clean as the office; every item on the shelf in perfect order, labels facing out. She went back into the bullpen to look through paperwork, sure that she’d find something amiss.

“I tried to organize everything to make it easier for you,” Courtney said, gesturing to the folders. “There’s all the notes and reference photos from the shows for the meeting later, press requests, event invitations, and Miss Fame’s upcoming schedule. I thought she might want a light week so everything in purple is tentative.”

"Thank you Courtney, this is very... adequate work."

The last time Violet and Courtney had talked on the phone, Violet had told Courtney to get her head out of her ass, and somehow, after months, it seemed like it had finally happened.

Courtney was actually doing her job, and doing it right. Violet was pleased, but she couldn’t help be a tiny bit suspicious of the sudden improvement. She supposed, though, that it was best not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“I'm glad you decided to use your time wisely while I was away.”

“I tried,” Courtney said earnestly.

“Keep it up,” Violet said, turning back to her computer. “You should cover this morning's meeting with Jaida.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Violet nodded, noting down on her schedule that maybe, just maybe, Courtney was finally ready to cover meetings on her own.

***

“You gonna eat your bread?” Jinkx asked, gesturing to Bianca’s plate.

“Help yourself,” Bianca laughed, pushing the plate towards her friend with a slight shake of the head. They were sitting at one of their favorite cafés, having an early lunch now that Bianca was back from Paris. “You’re like Adore, always trying to eat from my plate.”

“You love it,” Jinkx giggled, mouth full of crusty sourdough. Bianca would probably deny it to her last breath, but the truth of the matter was that she loved taking care of everyone around her.

“It’s just crazy that I have so many of you damn kids. Me, the least maternal person on the planet.”

“You’re very maternal,” Jinkx argued. “Just like...hmmm, in more of a dad way?”

“Whatever. Finish your broccolini.”

“See?” Jinkx grinned triumphantly.

Bianca rolled her eyes. “Anyway, you were supposed to tell me about the meeting you had with that producer. What happened?”

“Oh! Omigod, it was so great. We talked about how I’ve been slowly taking bigger and bigger roles, kind of working up to another lead...”

“Yes?” Bianca leaned forward, clearly intrigued, exactly what Jinkx wanted.

“And he thinks that it’s time for a revival of-holy shit…”

Jinkx stopped mid sentence, mouth agape, eyes glazed.

“What? Into the Woods? My Fair Lady? Gypsy?!”

“Ivy Winters…”

“I don’t know that show, is it British?”

“No,” Jinkx groaned, jutting her chin in the direction of the hostess stand, where Ivy was standing, looking absolutely radiant in a maroon wrap dress--Jinkx had always been told growing up that redheads shouldn’t wear any shade of red, but Ivy was proving that rule completely false. She was just stunning.  

“Oh…” Bianca glanced over, head cocking slightly. “Isn’t that Raja’s assistant?”

“Yeah, I guess. Awkward, huh?” Jinkx shook her head. “But omigod, she’s so cute, and okay we’ve never spoken, exactly, but I can tell she’s just the sweetest, kindest-”

“Ivy!” Bianca waved to the girl, catching her eye. “Ivy Winters!”

“What are you doing?” Jinkx hissed through gritted teeth.

“You said you’d never spoken.” Bianca smirked, her hand still in the air. “I’m fixing that.” She beckoned Ivy over, flashing a big smile. “Hi! How are you?”

“I’m...fine, Ms. Del Rio, thank you. Just picking up lunch for Raja.” Ivy looked slightly puzzled as to why she’d been summoned. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Yeah, I realized that I forgot to return Raja’s call this morning. Was it time sensitive?”

“Oh, I don’t think so.” Ivy smiled, adorable as ever, the little gap between her teeth on full display.

“Great, great. Tell her I’ll call as soon as I’m back in the office,” Bianca said, then smoothly transitioned to, “Ivy, you know Jinkx Monsoon, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t think we’ve officially met.” Ivy met Jinkx’s eyes, extending a delicate hand towards her. “You’re Alaska’s friend, right?”

“Yes! Yes, I am. Nice to meet you. Ivy, was it?” Jinkx shook her hand, smiling madly. She knew she probably looked like a loon, but she couldn’t help herself, something about Ivy just made her feel so absolutely wonderful.

“Yeah.”

“Such a pretty name. It really suits you,” Jinkx said, then realized she was holding the girl’s hand far too long and dropped it, stammering out, “I, I...I love your bag. It’s really...uh, very beautiful.”

“You think? I do some quilting in my spare time.” Ivy tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, blushing slightly. The bag in question really was remarkable--quilted velvet embroidered with an intricate botanical design.

“You made that?!” Jinkx exclaimed. “Oh my god, what talent! Bianca, did you see?”

Bianca nodded, hiding an amused expression behind her water glass.  

“Yeah, it’s just a little hobby, I-oh!” Ivy turned to the waiter, who was approaching with a takeout bag.

“Order for Gemini, here you go,” he said.

“Thank you.” She took the bag gratefully and then turned back to Jinkx. “Um...nice to meet you, Ms. Monsoon-”

“No, no, please! That’s my mother! Ha ha! Um, call me Jinkx!”

“Of course, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry! Um, it was very nice meeting you. Officially, you know. Ha ha. Very lovely.”

“Yes,” Ivy smiled again, taking a step backwards, then said, “And I’ll be sure to get your message to Raja, Ms. Del Rio.”

“Thanks, Ivy!” Bianca waved as she exited, waiting until she was out the door before turning back to Jinkx and exhaling. “Wow…I just realized I’ve never seen you flirt sober before.”

“Was it terrible?”

“Excruciating,” Bianca reported with a light cackle.

Jinkx whimpered, letting her head drop onto the table. She knew that Bianca was right--things used to be so easy, but these days? She was so awkward. Not that she regretted her sobriety, exactly, but….

“Sorry, red. Yikes.”

“I mean, I know my skin is better and my kidneys are healthy again, and I can like, hold a job and all that...but go-od…”

Bianca laughed, reaching across the table to pat her lovingly on the back.

“You’ll be alright. So tell me...what’s the show?”

Jinkx perked up immediately, brown eyes sparkling as she said. “Well...I almost don’t want to say, because obviously it’s not official yet and if it doesn’t happen that would just be awful, but-”

“Tell me!”

“Evita.” As Jinkx delivered the news, she was now smiling so much that her cheeks started to hurt. Her dream role, since she was a kid. And it was almost maybe hers.

“Hell yeah, bitch!” Bianca gave her a high five. “Back on top!”

“High flying, adored,” Jinkx said drily, and Bianca cackled loudly.

***

Courtney shifted on the hard cafeteria seat, avoiding Violet’s eyes as they ate their lunch.

She’d been helping Violet put together the packets for the afternoon meeting, and when they finished early, Violet surprised Courtney by asking if she wanted to go down to lunch together while Fame was out.

It was great to have done decent enough work that Violet didn’t snap at her all morning, but at the same time, the kindness from her coworker made Courtney feel even guiltier than she already did.

Neither Violet nor Fame had noticed anything amiss in Fame’s office--which was a relief. Courtney had fully expected to get interrogated over a paperweight moving 2 inches to the left or some other thing that she’d neglected to fix after the Willam disaster.

And now, as she sat with Violet, both of them quickly eating their salads, the guilt continued to eat away at her.

“The collection was absolutely wonderful, I unfortunately didn’t get to see it on the runway, but Miss was asked backstage, and I was allowed to come as well, so-”

Violet was actually talking, sharing about the shows and the clothes she had seen.

“I think you’d genuinely enjoy what they’re doing with silk-”

Courtney didn’t care about fashion as deeply as Violet did, but it was nice to hear her be enthusiastic, and it was the small smile Violet gave her when she accidentally caught her gaze that broke her.

It made her feel just awful, unworthy of trust or kindness.

“Violet,” Courtney burst out, interrupting her coworker, “I have to tell you something!”

Violet paused, surprise clear on her face.

“Something… Something bad happened last week.”

“Is everything okay?" Violet sounded genuinely concerned, and Courtney felt even worse.

“I’m...you know that guy I was dating?" Courtney asked, chewing nervously on her lip, throat feeling dry and scratchy. How was she supposed to explain this?

"Oh?” Violet looked confused. “So it’s not work related?”

“In a way, but, also not-”

“So it’s a romantic situation?"

"I mean...I guess? But it’s more that he- You know-"

“Courtney.” Violet heaved a sigh, cutting her off with a wave of the hand. "I appreciate that you want to share, but I don’t think I have anything worth saying about your love life.”

“Well-” Courtney stopped, suddenly realizing how foolish it would be to unburden herself this way. Instead, she should probably just count her lucky stars that nobody knew, that she still had a job and an income and a way to stay in the country, and shut her damn mouth. The guilt sucked, but she could live with it--she had to. “Right. Right. Sorry.”

“It’s your own business,” Violet tilted her head slightly. “You don’t need anyone’s-” Violet was cut off as her phone vibrated, the screen lighting up. “Oh shit.”

“Miss?”

“Miss.”

***

Raja drummed her fingers on the table. Fame had moved the meeting up 45 minutes, and Raja could clearly feel that she hadn’t had anything to eat since that morning. Normally, she would be fine, food not really that important, but today the moved meeting felt especially insulting since she knew that her favorite lunch was getting cold on Ivy’s desk.

“And then we have-“ Fame paused, Raja realizing that she hadn’t actually paid attention to what she was saying. “Urgh.” Fame groaned, and everyone sat up, Raja clearly sensing how they were all ready to jump in. “Where’s-“ Fame shuffled her papers, her lip between her teeth. “Courtney?!” Fame snapped her fingers, not looking up.

“Yes Miss?” Courtney pushed out from the wall, stepping up to the table, Raja not even realizing that she was the assistant who had been present.

“Packets, please.”

“Right away.” Courtney smiled, and Raja turned in her chair to watch her grab a stack of folders. She had never noticed Courtney much, her own personal assessment that the assistant would barely last the first month, but as she watched Courtney hand everything out, she almost looked put together.

“Here.” Courtney gave Fame the last packet, the blonde taking it without even sparing a glance in Courtney’s direction.

“If everyone could turn to page 5 please,” Fame flipped through, another sound coming from her. “Courtney,” Fame held out her hand, “I need-”

“Of course.” Courtney said, cutting her off as she handed Fame one of her favorite pens.

“A pen….” Fame looked up, her blue eyes focusing on Courtney. “Huh.”

Raja quickly held up her papers, hiding a smile. It was so rare to see Fame be surprised, and while Courtney was only doing her job, it seemed like it was time for Raja to actually pay proper attention to her.

“Anything else?” Courtney tilted her head, a smile on her lips.

“No.” Fame clicked the pen, putting it to her papers. “That’s all.”

***

“You’re humming.”

Violet looked up from her computer, her mouth falling open. “Oh…” She could feel herself blush, light heat rising in her cheeks. “Sorry.” Violet hadn’t realised she had been humming, but so far, she had had a very pleasant Thursday morning.

“No, no,” Courtney shook her head, “It was nice. What were you singing?” Violet considered for a second if it would be worth responding, but she had gotten more used to Courtney, the blonde no longer as mindlessly chattery or overly bubbly. “I didn’t recognize it.”

“It’s Tchaikovsky.”

“Gesundheit.”

Violet rolled her eyes, not dignifying Courtney’s obvious tease with a response, when the phone rang in Fame’s signature tone.

Violet reached out, getting the phone only seconds before Courtney, and Violet raised a brow in surprise. Before Paris, Courtney had been avoiding Fame’s calls like the plague, but it seemed like something had finally changed.

“Hello?” Violet bit her lip as she noted down Fame’s rapidfire morning instructions, the rustles on the phone clearly telling her that Fame was putting her coat on at home. Violet was cut off as Fame hung up, the paper in front of her filled with instructions.

Violet looked up, ready to pass the instructions on to Courtney, which was when she noticed that Courtney had already printed the phone sheet, and that she was pinning the day's schedule without being told that she had to do it.

“Courtney.”

“Yes?” Courtney spun around. She was wearing appropriately muted colors, everything for once looking cohesive.

“If you sweep the office,” Violet reached under her desk, reaching into her bag. “I’ll get the coffee.”

“You?” Courtney sounded genuinely confused, her fingers already closed around the fabric of her jacket, and while Violet didn’t want to acknowledge it, she was pretty sure she was feeling proud. “You never get the coffee.”

“I do,” Violet stood up, her purse in hand, “when I know that I can leave the office. You stay here, where it’s warm.”

***

“Yeeeees! High five!”

Pearl smiled brightly, reaching over to high five Adore. When she’d called earlier suggesting that they spend the day together, Pearl had been expecting something entirely different. She was a Del Rio, after all, and Bianca was notorious for her enjoying all the finest luxuries life had to offer. But unlike her sister, Adore seemed to have endearingly low-rent taste. She’d shown up at Pearl’s door with a case of PBR, armfuls of snacks from the corner Bodega, and a request to play video games.

The two of them had been vegging out for hours, first playing Grand Theft Auto, then Streetfighter, now onto RockBand, only leaving the sofa to pee and answer the door for the pizza guy, Trixie and Katya accepting Adore’s bribe of extra cheese and garlic knots with no complaints at all.

“You are rocking the mic, girl!” Pearl said, “Although I guess that’s to be expected from an actual real-life rock star.”

Adore smiled, clearly pleased at Pearl’s praise.

“Thanks, baby. You’re not too bad on the guitar either. Maybe you should join us at our next gig.”

Pearl laughed and took a swig of her beer, flipping through the song choices.  

“I think my rock career needs to stay strictly virtual,” she said, nudging Adore gently with her foot. “But you do have to tell me about your next gig. I can’t wait to see you perform.”

“Yeah?” Adore’s eyes lit up happily.

“Yeah bitch, it’s not every day you can say you’re fucking the lead singer!”

Adore giggled, lashes fluttering as she pulled Pearl in for a sticky kiss, her mouth tasting like the sweet and sour gummy worms she’d been eating.

“Uhh...do you wanna-”

“Yes! Living on a Prayer!” Adore laughed, looking at the TV screen. “You’re going down, Liaison!”

“That’s exactly what I was about to suggest,” Pearl said with a sly grin.

“Well shit, I’m not gonna say no to that!” Adore threw down her mic and let Pearl grab her hand and pull her into the bedroom.

***

“Is this all of it?”

“Yes Miss.”

Fame swallowed a sigh. She knew that the budget was important, knew her meetings with Jaida were a necessary evil, but that didn’t stop her from being bored to tears whenever a set of numbers was in front of her. They had been slightly more bearable when Patrick had been overseeing the finances, watching her husband yap away about budget cuts at least somewhat interesting as long as his sleeves had been rolled up.

“Violet-” Fame saw Violet pause at the door, her fingers gripping the doorframe. “Stay for a moment please.”

“Yes Miss.” Violet turned around, “Open or closed?”

“Open doors are fine.” Fame had to hide a smile, Violet so wonderfully obedient, the clever little mouse asking without words if she was in trouble or not. “Come sit.”

Violet walked over, the sound of her heels disappearing in Fame’s white carpet. Violet sat down, her black skirt taking up most of the white velvet chair, quickly tugging her feet under the chair. “What can I do for you Miss?”

“What do you think of Courtney’s recent performance?”

“Me?” Violet sounded genuinely surprised, and Fame waited for a second, just to watch Violet squirm, the other woman obviously uncomfortable, and oh how she’d miss it.

“Is there anyone else in here?”

“No, no of course-” Violet was smoothing down her skirt, her hand gliding over the fabric, her brown eyes wide. “No.”

“So?” Fame raised a brow.

“Courtney is…” Violet took a moment, her lip between her perfectly white teeth. “Adequate.”

Fame bit down on a grin, Violet’s sense of humor so wonderfully dry.

“She’s exceeding expectations.”

“Good.” Fame leaned back in her chair, not noticing how Violet was tugging at her skirt over and over again.

“Is there-”

“I want you to proceed with the paperwork for your promotion.”

“Oh?” Violet sat up straight, quickly putting her notebook in her lap. “Should I-”

“Trixie will have to wait until Courtney is fully trained, of course.”

“Fully?” Violet hesitated, and Fame loved how obvious it was that she wanted to ask, the look in her eyes desperate as she was searching for a way to say what she needed without sounding stupid. “How much longer will that-”

“Violet, don’t be silly.” Fame smirked, “It’ll be when she lives up to your satisfaction of course.”

Violet’s eyes widened. “So, that means, if she’s-”

“Adequate?” Fame so enjoyed using Violet’s own words against her. “That’s all.”

[supernutellastuff]

Endings, Beginnings - a short and fluffy Zutara fix-it

Something different from my usual style. Wrote this for my friend because neither of us could deal with our broken shipper hearts after ATLA ended. Feedback is appreciated! Read it on ao3 here :)

xxx

The streets of the Fire Nation capital are awash in the soft golden light of dawn as the new Fire Lord stands at his balcony, struggling with his red ceremonial robes. The bandages covering his chest are stiff and awkward but the only thing preventing him from ripping them off is the prospect of incurring his uncle’s displeasure. Though that doesn’t stop him from cursing out loud while trying to stuff his arms into the robes.

“Need help with that?”

Zuko turns. There she is, leaning casually against the open doorway, a teasing smile playing on her lips. She looks fresh, considering the ordeal she’s been through.

“Katara.”

“You sound surprised.”

“I thought you’d be with Aang.”

“Aang…has Avatar duties. I came to check up on you.”

“First day as the Fire Lord and I’m already failing.” He gestures ruefully at his half-open robes.

Katara rolls her eyes and walks over to him. With practiced movements, she gets his arms through the holes but pauses before tying up the front of his clothes. Her eyes linger on his chest. “Does it hurt?”

“Sometimes.”

“I still don’t know how to thank you.” She backs away, maintaining a more respectable distance.

“Then don’t,” he snaps. He still has nightmares about being a split-second too late and watching the lightning strike Katara. It hadn’t even crossed his mind to redirect it when he’d realised what Azula was going to do. Bending lightning required mastery over emotions, something which Zuko had long recognised was impossible when it came to Katara.

“You saved my life.” Her eyes are fierce.

“And you saved mine, so we’re even.”

“What about when you saved me from being crushed by rocks at the Western Air Temple?”

“Oh, we’re acknowledging that now, are we?”

“And when you helped find my mother’s killer and bring me closure?”

“It was the least I could do for betraying you in the crystal catacombs.” He’d given her every reason to hate him and yet she hadn’t hesitated in offering to heal him. He still remembers the way she’d traced his scar with her fingertips. Even Mai had never touched his scar. He thinks of Mai, now on a ship headed far far away from the Fire Nation. As soon she’d been released from prison, they had sat down and talked and this time it was she who had ended things for good. Zuko hadn’t even pretended to feel anything but relief.

She crosses her arms. “What, are you saying you’re the one in my debt?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm…” Zuko is nonplussed to see that she’s smiling. “You’ll have to put up with me a little longer then, until I figure out a way to collect on my debt.”

“I do have a way,” he blurts out before he can think twice. “Become the Southern Water Tribe ambassador to the Fire Nation. Help in the reconstruction and rehabilitation. Help in resuming trade and peace relations between the nations.” She looks taken aback so he blunders on, suddenly uncertain of the offer. “It’s a lot of boring politics and it’ll keep you away from your friends and family, so I understand why you may not—actually forget I ever said anything.”

“Sokka and Suki are thinking of travelling on their own, Toph is planning to open a metalbending academy, Aang wants to resettle the Air Nomad colonies. It’s not like I had anything else planned…” she trails off.

“You’re not going with Aang?” He toys with a stray thread, voice deliberately casual. While it was obvious the way the kid mooned over Katara, it had been a little more ambiguous on her side. But things might have changed now: who wouldn’t choose the Avatar, the hero who ended the war?

Katara’s face clouds over. “Aang needs to realise that I don’t fit into all his plans. That I don’t want to.” She tugs on her hair loops, anxious. “So it’s not about Aang or the rest. I just…I don’t know if I deserve the position,” she whispers.

Zuko snorts. “Who’s more deserving than the master waterbender who took down Azula at the height of her powers?”

Her smile grows. “In that case, I accept.”

“Good.” Their eyes meet, hold, and the moment stretches. He breaks away with difficulty; he has nations to address and he needs to look the part.

The rest of the royal raiment has been laid out on the bed. It was somehow important to him that he do this by himself so he’d dismissed his attendants. Katara, perhaps sensing this, refrains from extending a helping hand. He puts on his gold-threaded robes, gathers his hair into a topknot, slides on the ornamental headpiece and adjusts it until it stops scraping painfully against his skull. All the while, he can sense her gaze on him. It does not make him feel flustered. Not at all.

“Would you like some tea?” he asks after the fifth time accidentally catching her eye in the mirror. If one thing Iroh has taught him, it’s this: never let your guests leave without a cup of tea. Luckily he has a pot ready in his room.

Katara nods. He crosses to the little table in front of the still-burning fireplace and picks up the pot, stays the lid with one hand, and pours into a porcelain cup. The tea’s gone cold, so Zuko takes a deep breath, reaches into his chi, and exhales. The inside of his hands glow with warmth. He places his palms around the cup until steam rises gently from the surface.

She takes the cup from him and their hands brush, her fingers cool against his burning skin. An expression of delight spreads across her face at the first sip. “This is lovely!”

Zuko grins. “Uncle’s special blend—white dragon bush. ‘So delicious, it’s heart-breaking’” he quotes, fondly.

They chat about nothing and everything while he finishes his transformation into the Fire Lord and Katara her tea. She’s already bursting with ideas about her new role.

When he’s finally ready, he extinguishes the fireplace with a deft flick of his wrist, and turns to leave. And that's when the skies choose to burst open. Groaning, he cranes his head out the balcony and catches a few stray drops of water on his face. The rain comes down in waves, lashing the marbled courtyard. The walkway from his quarters to the palace where the official ceremony will be held is fully uncovered. It would’ve been easier to stay in one of the palace rooms but Zuko wasn’t fully comfortable with that idea. Living in the guest quarters had seemed like a suitable temporary solution until the weather had gone and ruined that as well.

Zuko hurries down to the gate and stops at the threshold, deeply annoyed. Water seeps through, almost soaking his feet. “Great. Just great.”

“What are you waiting for?” says Katara, coming up from behind.

He waves a listless hand at the rain and then over his ceremonial clothes and careful updo.

“Good thing you have a waterbender by your side.” Katara places a hand between his shoulders, just like the time when they’d been standing over a chained Azula, half-crazed with anger and spitting fire, and the only thing keeping him upright had been the unyielding support of Katara’s palm on his back.

She nudges him to move and they fall into step together. Her other hand cuts through the air in graceful arcs, bending away the rain directly above their heads. They shuffle slowly across the courtyard, enclosed in a bubble of dry air amidst the heavy shower. It’s like he is behind thick-plated glass; all he can hear is the sound of her breathing, all he can see are the sinuous shadows of the rain on her face.

When they’re finally safe beneath the shade on the palace steps, she releases him. “I should go find Sokka and my father,” she says. “Aang should be waiting for you inside.”

He nods, suddenly nervous.

“You’ll be fine, Zuko.” He doesn’t know what she means—the speech, ruling as the Fire Lord, climbing up the steps without tripping himself—but a spark of hope ignites in his chest.

The rain stops as abruptly as it had begun. He watches Katara walk away, stepping nimbly over puddles, her ocean blue tunic swishing around her legs. And long after she is gone, he feels the warmth of her hand on his back.

[hypexion]

A Pile of Fanwalkers (Part 3)

Part three of all these fanwalkers. Now it’s time for all the ones who are mean, and should not be trusted. Sometimes because they’ll stab you, and sometimes because they’re just... kind of massively evil.

The basic format for each planeswalker will be a Name/Colour Identity/Pre-Ignition Typeline/Homeplane blob of information, a quickish description of them and some “fun“ facts, and then some hits and misses for extra flavour. Also, I’m going to split this into three posts - “Heroic“, “Okay“ and “Villians“, for I believe I have the moral authority to judge my creations.

Also some of these are going to be from fanplanes, which will go undescribed beyond whatever tidbits come out the character flavour. Others will just have a ?, representing a lack of knowledge and/or sufficent worldbuilding. With that out of the way, let’s go!

Villians

Evil is not a state of being. It is a form of intent, and a form of action. Some of these Planeswalkers can be trusted. Some of them may even appear to be nice. But make no mistake. They have caused suffering. They have altered lives for the worse. Either by design or consequence, their effect upon the multiverse marks them as villians.

Aster - B, Human Warlock, Zodyas - Aster was born under the influence of a bad star, which granted him the ability to draw power from negative emotions. But don’t think that makes him a bad person. Aster’s powers do not compel him to perform evil deeds. They simply enable him. Motivated by nothing greater than his own self-interest, Aster is the truest example of a disaster with a point of view. He was, while it lasted, a member of the Infinite Consortium. After Tezzeret forget how to run it, Aster managed to… convince a number of cells to accept his leadership. While lacking a grand plan for his splinter group, he’s interested in expansion, if only for the sake of increasing his own personal power. Aster may possess a certain kind of charm, and some level of restraint when compared to other ‘walkers, but do not be decieved. The moment harming you becomes worth the effort, Aster will be ready to do so.

Aster is often described as being pale of skin and dark of hair. There’s some weird magic causing that, since different cultures usually focus on different things when describing others. Aster prefers to dress in the fashions of power, whether that happens to be expensive robes, hand-tailored suits, togas or other such clothing. He preferes to wear darker colours, but if opulence is the style of a plane’s elite, then opulent he shall be. While he does carry a mean looking dagger, his primary form of defense are his so-called attendants - humanoid shades he commands via magic. These can perform many tasks, such as “fetch me more wine“, “open that door“ and “kill them“. When Aster planeswalks, he dissipates into a fine black mist. Interestingly, if he’s thinking about planeswalking, his magic generates a similar mist, that trails from him as he moves.

Hits: Power, influcence, tormenting his enemies, using people’s guilt to literally physically crush them. Misses: The undead, constructs, Loxy, Constellation Cults trying to recruit him, being around Ashiok for too long.

Galina - WB, Human Advisor, Ithmorne - In her early life, Galina leaned much more towards the White aspects of her personality. Even as a member of the Zoriac Imperium, she valued their goal of peace greatly, and was one of those that saw certain practices as a detriment to that goal. However, this did not last. When the outpost she was in was raided, everything changed. The ignition of her spark saved her life, but not her right eye. Fortunately for her, Galina arrived on Ravnica within dragging distance of a Simic emergency care clinic, where it was assumed she was an Azorius member who had suffered a run in with the Gruul. This was a role she was happy to take up for real, once the chance provided itself, seeing the Senate as an obvious parallel for the Imperium of her homeplane. In fact, Ravnica seemed to have many similarities with Ithmorne. This could only be due to the work of Azor, the great Sphinx who had brought peace to her warring plane so long ago, and whose Compact still enforced it now. Galina soon realised that her ability to traverse the multiverse would allow her to find more worlds ‘saved’ by Azor, and in turn learn more from them. Ultimately, she decided, those factions on Ithmorne too small to be affected be the Compact would be forced into co-operating. And if not? Then they would perish. Such would be the price of peace. The process had already begun, Galina believed, and if accelerating the pace was necessary, it would be done.

Galina has white skin and long brown hair. Additionally, the events that led to her ignition left her with a noticeable scar, running from her temple, across her right eye, to halfway down her right cheek. Many wonder how her right eye survived such a wound, and the truth is that it didn’t. Instead, she had it replaced by the Simic while on Ravnica. Galina generally wears the standard uniform for those in her position in the Zoriac Imperium - navy blue military robes, kept in the best condition possible. Rather than carry a weapon, Galina relies on her mastery of law magic, using it bind and impede her enemies. She is also capable of many of the standard black mana abilities, especially those which weaken her foes. When combined, these make her a formidable, and potentially deadly opponent. Galina’s planeswalking effect is a jagged and chaotic burst of darkness, which can cause minor damage to living things that nearby.

Hits: Peace through power, Azor, law and order, her own take on the concept of justice, Simic biomagic. Misses: “Barbarians“, insubordination, traumatic memories.

Malius - UBR, Human Wizard, Innistrad - In every profession, there are those that push boundaries. They look at the rules, and wonder which are truly needed. These are the kind of people the majority of Innistrad distrusts. And in the case of the stitcher pariah Malius, they are completely right to do so. While his fellow skaberen found his “wolf with werewolf arms“ experiment a daring new idea, even they had limits. Rumors began that he had started to use demons as a source of parts, and that he consorted with diabolists for unknown purposes. These rumors contained some truth - Malius was interested in demons and had, for a time, used them to “improve” his creations. But over time, he had become interested in the nature of demonic pacts, and how one might acquire the benefits without having to pay the price. Somehow, he was able to construct a device that extracted the source of a demon’s power, and began using it to infuse himself with dark power. For a time, not demon, nor mob, nor torch-wielding monstrosity could stop him. The destruction of the Helvault was an opportunity to Malius, bring him yet more specimins. Everything was going well, until an angel arrived. She cut through his creations, and had both the strength and motivation to kill Malius. In an act of desparation, he activated the extractor, aiming it at the angel. She exploded (don’t worry - she got better (sort of)). This would have been incredibly fatal to Malius had his Spark not ignited, sending him across the Blind Eternities to Zendikar. And so, he soon discovered all sorts of new things to stitch. Including Eldrazi. In fact, Malius was straight-up ecstatic during the events of Eldritch Moon.

Malius’ various experiments have left him with sickly, pallid skin, and pale white hair. His eyes no longer appear human, and those who spend time around him soon feel uneasy. Malius wears the standard dress of the stitcher, a white labcoat, brimming with tools and notebooks. Malius often manipulates his tools via telekinesis, either to work upon a new creation, or as a method of attack. In dire situations, he calls upon the demonic powers he has infused himself with, physically taking on the form of a demon. This grants him signifigance strength, speed and endurance while it lasts, but prevents him from planeswalking, making it as risky as it is useful. When Malius planeswalkers, he disappears in cloud of dark and burning ash, crackling with lightning. This occurs even when he cannot actually planeswalk due to being a demon.

Hits: Extracting demonic power, demonic infusions, terrifying creations. Misses: Angels, torch-weilding mobs, basic medical ethics.

Skath - WBG, Naga Assassin, Orpheri - At first glance, Skath is like any other planeswalker assassin you might meet. She kills people for money, and she does it well. However, she is still a member of the organisation that trained her, a religious order of assassins on Orpheri. So Skath will not kill those standing on sacred grond, those not old enough to be an adult of their kind, and she requires more than just a payment before targetting a diplomat or member of a religious order. Beyond the rules of her faith, however, Skath kills without hesitation, selling death for gold and jewels. When not killing, she is surprisingly thoughtful, a writer of poetry and cultivator of interesting plants. And while unrepentant, she not always unrelenting. Put up enought of a fight, or simple hide in a shrine for a few days, and Skath will move onto easier targets.

Skath has copper-brown scales, and no hair, because Naga don’t have hair on Orpheri. She wears light armor on her torso, which is engraved with protective magic. Her favoured weapons are two scimitars, enchanted to deliver venomous strikes. She also carries a dagger, and a number of poisons, so that she might have the perfect tool for any assassination. In a pinch, she can bite someone, however the Naga Assassins of Orpheri consider this an act of last resort. Mainly because once you identify the cause of death as Naga venom, finding the killer is fairly simple. Skath planeswalks with a flash of pale orange light, leaving behind traces of sand. Interestingly, she is capable of being incredibly precise with her appearance on a plane, and has sometimes managed to planeswalk into a room based on it’s relative position to a know location.

Hits: Getting paid, botany, the statisfaction of a job well done. Misses: Cold places, oath-breakers, Locke, people attacking her from sacred ground (this is actually a bad idea - her religion sees this as an act of desecration, meaning you ultimately forfeit the protection provided).

Look at all these not nice people. It’s probably best to keep a distance between you and them. Of course, their motivations differ greatly, so if you were to find yourself in close proximity to them, you might be able to avoid getting stabbed. Or worse.