#another one traced from a pencil and paper doodle

[lazycranberrydoodles]

stylized hua cheng headshot #233

[munson-blurbs]

HEY HEY HEY

How about Wayne at Eddie’s funeral and reader shows up because she was a classmate and secretly loved him

Oh, you wanted sad? I'll give you sad. Enjoy your cry!

Warnings: S4 is canon, told in third person, mentions of death/funeral

WC: 1.3k

--

Wayne didn't realize who she was at first, when she walked in to the garden in her black dress and makeup already slightly smudged from tears shed on the way to Eddie's funeral. It wasn't until he overheard one of Eddie's friends--one of the younger boys; a curly-haired kid named Dustin--whisper to another one, "Told ya she'd show up."

And then Wayne knew.

He watched as she made her way over to him, hand trembling as she reached out to him. "Mr. Munson?" she croaked, voice breaking.

"'S me," he replies, fumbling with the unlit cigarette between his fingers.

"I'm, um, I'm a friend of Eddie's?" She says this like a question, like she's unsure. "We had world history together this year, and he sat next to me."

Her crystal blue eyes are glassy, and Wayne has to stop himself from wiping the tears from her cheeks. "He was...he was such a kind person," she starts, casting her gaze down at the grass. "He probably never told you this, but one time, right before class started, Jason Carver stuck gum to the back of my shirt, and Eddie..."

"It is you," Wayne muses. "You're the one Eddie gave his shirt to."

She nods. "Literally took it right off in the middle of the classroom and handed it to me so I could change in the bathroom. He walked around the rest of the day with nothing under his jean jacket." She gives a small smile at the memory.

"He was a really special boy," Wayne agrees. "Wish everyone else could see that."

"I have the shirt," she blurts out, almost involuntarily. "He told me to keep it when I tried to return it, but I figured you'd might w-want it back." She reaches into her bag and pulls out a worn Metallica t-shirt, hems frayed.

Wayne wants to take it, bury his face in it and inhale any remaining trace of his nephew, but he refrains. "If Eddie wanted you to keep it, then you should," he says finally. "I have plenty of his shirts back home." Though it doesn't feel like a home anymore, not without Eddie there playing his axe too loudly or headbanging along with the radio or giving his uncle a play-by-play of his latest D&D campaign with his mouth full of pizza.

"Thank you," her voice is barely above a whisper, and she can't hold back from enveloping the man in a hug. He was never one for physical touch, usually opting for a nod of the head rather than a handshake, but he allows himself to fall into her embrace, placing a calloused hand on her back before hugging her tighter.

He pulls back and clears his throat. "There's...there's something that I oughta show you," he admits. "'F you wouldn't mind coming back to the trailer after the service."

She nods in agreement, squeezing his hand before taking her seat amongst the smattering of other mourners. There aren't a lot; Eddie was an outcast at best and a (falsely accused) murderer at worst, but there were more people than Wayne had anticipated. He felt a pang of warmth in his chest each time someone showed up.

People loved you, Eddie, he thinks. You were so goddamn loved.

She finds Wayne as soon as the service concludes, and he motions to his truck. The ride to the trailer is silent but not uncomfortable; just the two of you silently remembering the boy who died a hero.

Wayne leads her straight to Eddie's bedroom. He grabs a cardboard box out of a dresser drawer, clothes haphazardly strewn around it. It's filled with notebooks and looseleaf papers covered in pencil markings, doodles of dragons and elves along the margins.

"Where is it..." he mutters as he rifles through the box. His tongue pokes out of his mouth slightly, just like Eddie's did. When he spots the paper, he snatches it with a victorious grin.

"He wrote this for you," Wayne tells her, tears threatening to spill over his lash line as he thinks back on the memory.

"It's finished, and it's perfect!" Eddie exclaims, flinging open the door to his room. He slams the paper on the snack table in front of his uncle, smiling so wide his cheeks start to ache.

Wayne looks over the lyrics and feels a grin tug at his lips, too. "This for that girl in your history class? The one you keep chewin' my ear off about?"

Eddie nods. "That's the one!" He paces around the room, chewing on a fingernail. "Now I just need to ask her to come to a gig so I can play it for her." He looks at Wayne nervously. "What do I say?"

"He was gonna invite you to a Corroded Coffin show after spring break," Wayne tells the girl now. "I'm sorry that he never got the chance."

Her eyes flit over the lyrics, soaking in Eddie's scratchy handwriting:

Blue eyes cryin' And I'll keep tryin' To stop them from cryin' again

She couldn't be sweeter And I would treat her Like the diamond in the rough that she is

I'd give her my heart if it meant that she'd smile And I'd do it again to hold her for awhile There'd be nothin' more divine Than knowing she is mine

So I'm done with pretendin' Want my happy endin' I'm tearing off my disguise

You and me 'gainst the world Let me call you my girl Just show me those pretty blue eyes

She's stunned into silence. "This was for me?" she asks unbelievingly. "He felt this way about me?"

"Oh, yes," Wayne offers a small chuckle. "He was head over heels for ya, darlin'."

"This is going to sound so stupid, because we weren't even dating or anything," she mumbles, forcing herself to look at Wayne, "but I loved him. I swear to you, I loved Eddie so much."

Wayne swallows the lump in his throat, lips quivering. "He loved you, too. Every day he came home, telling me somethin' about you. How you let him borrow your notes, or if you so much as laughed at a joke he told. There was one time where you pulled a little piece of dust from his hair, and the boy talked about it like you were the second coming of Christ."

"Well, I couldn't let him walk around all day with lint in those curls!" She relaxes slightly when she sees Wayne smile.

"And, well, pardon me if this is too forward," he says, "but your eyes; he wouldn't shut up about them! At one point I forgot your name for a bit because I just used to tease him and ask, 'how was Blue Eyes today?'."

She chews on her lower lip before speaking. "I never knew he liked them. Never knew he liked me." She looks up at Wayne. "What might've been, huh?"

Wayne just nods; there's nothing to be said. "You, uh, you keep that song. Keep it with the shirt," he instructs her. "And you read it anytime you start to forget how much he cared about you."

"I'll do that," she promises him, starting for the door. "Thank you."

"And if you see me around town, don't be a stranger. He might not be here anymore, but he'll always be in here," Wayne points to his heart, and she feels herself instinctively doing the same. "When keeping him in there gets to be too much, you come find me."

"Of course." She pulls him in for another hug, this one lasting even longer than the first.

Wayne watches forlornly as she closes the door behind her. He waits until she's far enough away before he speaks again.

"Hang in there, Blue Eyes."

--

[silassinclair]

“You’re my Muse”

[Billy H. x Artistic Reader] 🎨

Summary: Y/n loves Billy’s face. He’s just so handsome and gorgeous and UGH. She loves holding his face and looking into his eyes, and Billy is just like, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

FLUFFY FLUFF FLUFF

Glam metal music played softly from Billy’s stereo. The volume was turned down more than his usual listening volume because his girlfriend Y/n was doodling in her sketchbook on his bed. He absolutely adored her. She was cute seven ways to sunday. Her cute little hobby of drawing, her love for bugs, but most importantly was her weird fascination for his face.

Weird because it was only his face. Her pages were full of realistic sketches of his face at many different angles and making many different expressions. He was flattered and never questioned it, but it got to the point where she would hold his face in her hands for long minutes at a time and just stare adoringly.

Billy loves her to the moon and back but he cannot help but feel… a little weirded out by her quirky behavior, not in a bad way of course. So he finally asks, “Hey baby?”

The sound of pencil on paper stops. “Yeah Billy?” Y/n asks and crawls over to him. He was seated on the floor against the bed she was on so she leaned down and put her cheek against his, another thing she did quite often.

“Not to sound mean.” He starts, “But I gotta ask you, what is with you and always being all over my face. I know that I’m handsome and attractive and the hottest guy ever but I can’t help but feel like you have a weird fascination for my face.” He says with a light grin.

An awkward pause fills the room. Even the song on the stereo was quieting down, playing it’s last part.

“Well uh.” Y/n say straight up and scratched her neck. She knew this day would come. After all personal space is important so of course her boyfriend would question her weird actions. “I just really like your face.”

Billy turned around with a quirked up eyebrow and a smirk. “Oh I know that babe. That’s why you’re all over me after all. But I wanna know more. Give me the sweet juicy details.” His thumb brushed against her hand that he had held in his.

“To put it simply, you’re my muse Billy.” She said with a smile. Her head tilted to the side to see Billy’s facial expression change from smugness to wonder.

“Your jawline is sharp, cheekbones are prominent, and your eyes,” Y/n gently takes hold of his face. His head is turned up as her fingers trace gently against his jaw. Billy is at a loss for words, no one has EVER said anything like this to him before.

“Your eyes are absolutely stunning. I could drown in that gorgeous blue color.” She places a small peck on the space between his eyes.

“And don’t get me started on your lips.” Her thumb traces the plump bottom lip. “They’re so smooth and plump. I just wanna kiss em all day.”

At this point Billy’s face was as red and flush as the crimson paint Y/n used in her artworks. The affection was almost overwhelming. His brain simply couldn’t process how someone so sweet, cute, and humble could adore him this much. He thought men were the ones who were supposed to fluster their girlfriends, but apparently it was the other way around right now.

“I love all of you.” Y/n whispered softly and placed a light kiss on his cheek.

In the blink of an eye Billy pounced and had Y/n pinned under his body. Her arms spread limply by her sides under the soft cushion of Billy’s mattress.

“Do you really mean that?” Billy said. His tone was like a whisper. Hope in his voice wishing it were true, but he knew it was too good to be true. “All that you said, you mean it?” His golden brown locks fluttered from side to side, framing his perfect face.

The girl reached a hand up to cup the jaw of her lover above. A smile painted her face. “I meant every word, love.” That petname for him had hime weak in the knees any time she said it, which was pretty rarely. Usually she’d just call him Billy, baby, or B.

Billy leant down and trapped her lips in a heated kiss. He never wanted tor leave this moment. In between kisses Y/n giggled, her arm’s wrapped around his neck lovingly.

“Aw? Is my sweet boyfriend flustered? Or do you just really like being praised and complimented?”

A growl escaped the depths of his throat. “How could I not be a blushin’ mess when you say shit like that?” His lips traced the shell of her ear. “God I don’t deserve you baby.” His whisper sent a shiver down her spine.

She smirked and batted her lashes, “Oh and that sexy voice of yours, I could listen to it all da-”

She was cut off with a kiss. Her boyfriend’s eyes were wide and his cheeks were on fire, his bottom lip twitching too much so he bit down on it.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll show you how much I love you more.”

[eddieandbird]

Can’t Stop Staring

Summary: Eddie notices you staring at him during class and confronts you about it.

Warnings/Tags: fluff|just sweetness|short blurb

A/N: @unbetaedimagines convinced me to write a fic around my fan art and I couldn’t resist! -Bird

____

You walked into your second period government class, caught off guard by the rearrangement of the room since spring break ended. The desks were now in groups of four; two desks side by side and all four were facing each other. You sit roughly where you’d usually be. In the middle near the window.

“Good morning, fellow classmates! Are you ready for another day of pretending to pay attention?” Eddie slammed his torn up notebook on the desk in front of you. The other kids at your section rolled their eyes and gave no response.

“Good morning, Eddie,” You said softly with a smile.

“Finally someone responds! How ya doing, Darling? Did you have a good break?” He took your hand and shook it. Before you could respond, the bell rang.

“Alright, Mr. Munson. Please take your seat. Class is starting now,” Mr. Levi scolded him.

“Sorry, Teach! Just trying to be friendly,” Eddie chuckled as he sat down. “He seems like he has a stick up his ass today. I’ll try to behave,” He leaned in to whisper to you. You giggled pulling out a couple notebooks.

You found it strange that even though you and Eddie had been going to school together for a couple years, you felt like you were meeting him for the first time. He wasn’t as mean and scary as your friends warned you he was. Eddie seemed really nice, charming even. You couldn’t help being stuck on the thought as Mr. Levi’s voice drowned out.

You couldn’t stop yourself from studying Eddie. You made a game of staring at him and looking away as soon as he made a sudden movement. Mr. Levi rolled a TV stand in the front of class to play a Ronald Regan speech. The assignment was to take notes on it, but you brought out your sketchbook instead. Eddie’s eyes looking off to the TV had you completely mesmerized and you knew you couldn’t resist capturing the moment. You brought your knees up to your chest, using them as a drawing surface so no one could see what you were doing.

Your cheeks were on fire, as your eyes traced lines over Eddie’s face. Your wrist was following what you saw, flicking over the paper trying to get his locks of hair in his face just perfect. Eddie felt your eyes burning into him, even though every time he would turn to look at you, your face was buried in your sketchbook.

“What?” Eddie mouthed silently to you. You shook your head in response. He rolled his eyes and went back to watching the video. Your heart was beating out of your chest. Your position wasn’t giving your lungs enough air, so you relaxed your legs, slipping them back under the desk. As soon as you did, you felt something rubbing against your ankle. You look underneath to see Eddie’s dirty white sneaker working at your leg. You lifted your head to see him smirk and then look away pretending like it didn’t happen.

“Stop,” You mouthed to him, trying not to smile too wide. He shrugged and crossed his arms, looking pleased with himself. You smirked to yourself and dove back into your drawing. You looked longingly at the picture, excitedly putting down details of Eddie’s face. You were so captured by it, you didn’t even notice that the class was wrapping up. The school bell startled you, causing you to drop your pencil. Students rushed out of the room as you bent over to pick it up. Once you returned to your previous position, you found Eddie sitting on top of your desk. He swiped your sketchbook off of your lap and you desperately reached for it. His strong arm held yours down.

“Eddie, stop! Give it back,” You whined.

“Let me see it first! I need proof that someone actually would write me love notes in class!” He declared.

“What? It’s not a love letter!” You stuttered. “It’s just a stupid doodle!” You watched in horror as Eddie gave it a long look in silence for a moment.

“W-wow… I didn’t know I looked like this…” His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open. He thought to himself, this wasn’t just a doodle. The drawing had detailed shading and you got the sparkle in his eye just right. “Did you really draw this just now?” You shyly nodded. “You are amazing, seriously,” He excitedly pointed at your drawing, showing you his favorite details.

“Thanks, Eddie,” You blushed.

“Do you mind if I keep this?” He asked nervously. You giggled and shook your head, taking the sketchbook out of his hands. He watched intently as you carefully pulled out the page and handed it to him.

“Here you go, Munson,” You said as you passed it to him.

“Y’know, Hellfire could use an artist like you,” He smirked, nudging your arm.

“Your D&D club? I thought that was just a roleplay game,” You chuckled nervously.

“Yeah, but I’m looking to upgrade the campaigns a little more visually. I would love it if you came and helped me draw maps and paint figures with me,” He had one hand on his chest and the other out for you to shake.

“I’m going to have to see what my schedule’s like…” You elongated your words. “…but sure, why not?” You took Eddie’s hand and shook it.

“Welcome to Hellfire,” He smiled back.

Sequel

[yandereloveraw]

A huge thank you to @zephyrus77 for encouraging me to write this. ♡

Warning for angst. [There is a happy ending, I promise.] I use masculine pronouns for both Sun and Moon.

This one-shot was inspired by Why Don't You Love Me by Hot Chelle Rae.

"We have flowers in our chest cavity," Moon stated, expression serious.

There was a fair amount of animatronics in the Fazbear pizza plex, but none whose company I enjoyed more than the Daycare Attendant's. Sun's energy was a bit much for me at first, but he and I bonded over our shared love of art. Thanks to him, I was slowly starting to come out of my shell. When he would joke with me, I would laugh. It was nice. He made me feel nice.

Today, I was seated on the floor in front of one of the daycare's small tables. I was too tall for the chairs, sadly. A small group of children had joined me for drawing. Each had a piece of paper while a shared box of colored pencils was pushed around to whoever needed it. My heart swelled whenever a child would proudly show me a colored portion on thier paper.

"How's everyone's art coming along?," Sun's chipper voice inquired. I had not seen him move over to our table.

"Great! Does someone have a yellow I could borrow?"

A small hand held out the bright colored pencil to me, which I took thankfully. I curiously glanced down at the gifter's paper, revealing a brightly colored sun with some flowers. Aw. Just as I was about to compliment the child's drawing, Sun spoke again.

"What are you drawing, Ally?"

His question had caught me off guard. I shifted slightly in embarrassment. "Um..I'm drawing you.."

That piqued his interest. The sunny attendant carefully made his way around the table to where I was sitting. When he glanced down at my paper, he was greeted with the sight of a slightly colored in colored pencil sketch of himself. Embarrassed now that I had an audience, I colored the rays, bells, arms, pant stripes and midsection of the paper Sun in. I also added shading to these parts.

The real Sun silently watched as I added suns and pink flowers of varying sizes to the background of my drawing. After doing that, I used a black pencil to write my signature next to Sun's left shoe. With the drawing now complete, I watched as the children around me continued to color. The daycare attendant's voice nearly made me jump out of my skin.

"Can I keep it? Your drawing, I mean. It's really good!"

I could never say no to someone who was this cute. Picking up my drawing, I held it above my head for Sun to take it. "Sure."

Metallic fingers gently brushed mine as he took the paper from me. I grabbed another piece of blank paper from the pile on the table. If I was to draw Moon, I would need a lot of blue.

-----------------Timeskip------------------------

The daycare had not opened yet, so Sun and I sat once again at the art table, if you could call it that. I was simply doodling mindlessly until I glanced at Sun, who had his hands cupped under his faceplate and his elbows on the table. I scrambled to flip my piece of paper over.

"Sunny, please hold that pose for a few seconds!"

The animatronic froze as if on command, which allowed me to quickly sketch his pose onto the paper. Not wanting to leave him like that for too long, I lightly traced his faceplate, rays, ribbons and bells onto my drawing. The table was added last.

"Okay. You can move now. Thank you, Sunny."

When I felt something cold brush my left hand, I pulled away from whatever it was. Since Sun had a cute lovestruck expression in the drawing, I sketched hearts in his eyes and next to his head. 'I wonder what he was thinking about,' I thought. The animatronic and I sat in silence until the daycare opened. Kids rushed to greet Sunny while I continued to doodle.

"We have flowers in our chest cavity," Moon stated, expression serious. Flowers? How did flowers get into their system? I couldn't think of any way that could happen other than-

I gifted the majority of the art I made that day to Sun, who was extremely happy to receive it. The following day, however, Sun seemed slightly less energetic than normal. I chocked it up to him probably needing to charge later. I admired how hard he worked.

"Hey, Sunny? Can you let Moon know that this is for him?" The paper I passed him contained my drawing of his counterpart. When Sun took it, his smile somehow seemed strained. He was probably more low on battery than I thought. I had my fingers crossed that he wouldn't crash that entire day.

The thought that Moon wouldn't let that happen comforted me. 'Hopefully he'll feel better and more like himself tomorrow,' I thought.

------------------Next day------------------------

I was wrong. Sun didn't greet me when I came in today. He was in the daycare, but it felt like he was making a conscious effort to avoid me. His strange behavior made me sad and confused. I figured that if he wouldn't talk to me, maybe Moon would.

I had to wait until nap time for Moon to make his appearance. When he did, I sat down next to him where he was observing the children.

"Moony, is Sun ok? He won't talk to me..."

I spoke quietly as to not wake up the sleeping kids. The slight turn of the attendant's faceplate told me he had heard me. Moon hummed.

"Have you gathered that he may have a reason for that?"

His question made me pause. "What do you mean?"

"Can I see?"

Moon quirked a nonexistent brow before opening the panel on his midsection. I was greeted with the sight of a pastel purple and green bundle. Thin vines had snaked themselves around vibrant wires. Small buds clung to the vines. Nearly all of their chest cavity was filled with purple petals.

"Sun really likes you, yknow. He's the reason we're like this. You like him back, don't you? You should tell him that."

I could only nod in response. Self-loathing washed over me. I should have noticed sooner. The signs were there, and I ignored them. Sun must be hurting so bad. I felt tears gather in my eyes at the thought. The sound of all the lights in the pizza plex turning back on was deafening in the silence.

When I lifted my head, I was met with Sun's brightly painted face. He jolted at how close I was to him.

"Ah, Sunshine! It's good that you're here! I sure could use your help cleaning up!" He paused at my teary-eyed expression. "Sunshine..? What's wrong?"

The daycare attendant froze as my lips met the teeth on his faceplate. My tears trailed freely down my cheeks. I stayed that way for about a few minutes before pulling away.

"I'm so sorry. I love you too, Sunny." My voice was barely above a whisper, but I could tell that Sun had heard it. His expression slowly softened. A metallic hand rose to wipe my tears.

"Oh, Sunshine. I've waited so long to hear you say that."

Sun could hear as well as feel Moon doing a victory dance in their shared mind as he pulled me into another tender kiss.

[ohagi-eats]

99: Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The cold air outside chilled my skin. It looked like it was about to rain. I didn’t bring an umbrella, unfortunately. I ran inside the school before it rained and sat down to do my homework in the cafeteria and eat breakfast. Daniel took his seat next to me and I waved hi to him. He ignored me.

I decided to make amends before he ignored me during partner work in class, too. 

I tore a piece of paper from my notebook, wrote an apology note, and handed it to him along with a granola bar.

Sorry about yesterday. Could you forget about it?

He ripped up the note and shrugged, but he took the granola bar. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I left the cafeteria to put my stuff in my locker. 

A hand suddenly grabbed my shoulder and slammed me into the lockers in the hallway. 

Naomi Brown.

A lot of people bullied and taunted me for not speaking.

She just did it the most.

I looked behind her. It was just her today, none of her friends.

“Aw, Akari, are you feeling sick today? Or do you have a sore throat? Is that why you can’t speak like some mute idiot?” she sneered. I expressed the tiniest grit of my teeth in annoyance and pain. I just got a beating yesterday from my dad, I didn’t need another failed attempt from Naomi that would waste my time. “What is it, Akari? Does your poor little back hurt too?” She said as she dug her fingernails into my shoulder and pushed me harder against the locker. I grabbed her wrist and twisted it so she let go, and then pushed her with my shoulder to walk away. I gathered up the courage and whispered, “Leave me the hell alone, Naomi,” without looking her in the eye.

I heard her gasp and I turned around to see Daniel outside of the restroom, blinking repeatedly. “D-Daniel! You scared me. Have you had breakfast yet? Do you-” Naomi sputtered. 

“No.” And he walked ahead of me to go open his locker, and I saw a trace of a smile on his face. 

~~~

I sat next to Akari and she nodded her head to acknowledge I was there. She was doodling over her notebook, making random circles and lines. I snatched her pencil from her hand and she immediately lunged for it. She put her hand on my shoulder to steady herself and she ended up grabbing it before I could even blink. 

Quick reflexes. Noted. It was just us in the classroom since there were ten more minutes of breakfast left. 

“Why do you write down answers anyway? That’s so stupid and ridiculous. Do you think you’re special-” I’m cut off when she grabs my hand and writes two words on it with her pen.

I repulse and jerk my hand back, reading what she wrote. 

Selective Mutism. 

I stay silent for another few minutes. I guess Maya was right. I feel a little bad now. 

I decided to talk to her for the remaining few minutes, even though she won’t say anything back. It’s not like she’s gonna tell anyone else what I say, either. 

“I’m not sure if you know, but my dad’s company is suing this other agency for theft or something. I forgot. They want to hire this attorney from Infinity, I think. His name is Aku Sato or whatever. I’ve looked through the records and he’s an awful lawyer, I’m not sure why they’re even-” She laughed a little and I raised my eyebrow. “What?”

She dusted her notebook and started writing. 

Aku Sato is my father.

My eyes widened. “Sh*t– I’m sorry, forget I-”

It’s fine. I know he’s a trash attorney. I’m not sure why Infinity even hired him in the first place. 

“I see. Why is your surname, not Sato then?”

I decide whose surname to use. I’m not sure why that matters to you. I decided to use my mother’s.

I nodded as the rest of the class came flooding in before the bell rang. 

“Today, I’m assigning a presentation project. In this jar, I have put several countries inside. Whichever one you pick, you must research this project and create a presentation on it. You must also introduce yourself in the native language. Naomi, you’re up first. Come here.”

She picked a slip of paper out and read it out loud with a sarcastic voice. I fixed the tie to my uniform. 

“Malaysia. Why can’t Akari just do this one? She looks like she speaks Malaysian.”

“Naomi! Akari is Japanese, not Malaysian, and the language of Malaysia is Malay. Detention. Dmitri, come up here and get your country.” He got Saudi Arabia, and then Egypt, Spain, Ethiopia, and Indonesia went by. Then it was my turn. I picked one out of the bowl and read it aloud.

“Japan.”

I walked back to my seat as Akari went to pick up hers.

She unfolded the paper and barely whispered something.

Someone smirked and yelled at her. “Say it louder!” She said it again, but people kept yelling at her to say it louder. I rested my head on my hand in annoyance. Mr. Singh raised his hand. “That’s not very nice of you all to bully your classmate like that. I want everyone to apologize. Akari has the country Taiwan. “

“Isn’t Taiwan the Republic of China?”

“Yes, but I’d like you all to get  to know more about why and the country of Taiwan itself, Kristine.”

After the bell rang, I decided to walk with Akari to our next class, since I’d be seeing her there anyway.

“Can’t we just switch countries? You’re from Japan and I’m from Taiwan. It would be so much more convenient.”

During chemistry, I take her notebook and write something down. 

D: What if I help you do your project and you help me do mine?

A: Why?

D: Because I don’t feel like researching it all when I have an encyclopedia right next to me.

A: What makes you think I know-

D: I saw you reading a history book for fun. I think you very well know everything about the history of your country.

A: Fine.

D: Great. We’ll work at my house on Friday after school. 

<><><><><><><><><>

I didn’t reallllllyyy know how to write Naomi’s character....:/. This was my first story and I struggled with inflicting emotions and Akari’s conflicts into the plot. I tried 🤷🏻‍♀️

Hope you enjoy!

[welcome-to-hyrulepark]

[SKETCHING STORIES №2: WITHOUT AN INSTRUMENT]

It was mentioned in passing in the previous episode, but I tell you about it anyway. In mid-March, a most unpleasant incident happened to me: the tip of my stylus broke.

Fortunately, I was able to find a replacement for the broken tip online, but I have to wait until April 24th for this bunch of plastic sticks. But what will I do all this time? Will the new Hyrule Park update be delayed again for many months?

At that moment, I remembered that before buying the Samsung Galaxy S7 FE tablet, I did a lot of finger painting on my old tablet. Very old because it was a 2014 Samsung Galaxy Tab Pro with a plastic screen cover. Drawing with fingers on a more modern glass-coated device turned out to be extremely inconvenient. In addition, the stylus is easier to control than a finger.

Then I remembered my even more ancient way of drawing: to make sketches first on paper, and then photograph them and trace them in a digital drawing program (in my case, IbisPaint X). In this way, recently published character redesigns have already been made.

But simple character references are one thing, and complex comic scenes are another. How should I draw them while new tips are coming to me from China? At first, I tried to completely draw a sketch of the page on paper, and then draw it digitally.

But then I realized that it is much easier to draw a sketch of each page element (characters, foreground elements, background elements) separately. I also realized that I could very well use my fingers to draw clearer sketches based on pencil doodles. That is why the characters look so careless in the image above — they will be corrected in IbisPaint.

I also noticed that Jimmy doesn't have a guitar on the new pages, although in the pre-previous part, he said that he wanted to get one. I think until the tips arrive, I'll also be painting on the guitar + changing the color of the feather on Jimmy's hat, as it confuses me that he and Stan have feathers of the same color on their heads. Yes, the canons of the comic have been changed down to such trifles.

[candycritic]

Making Treats and Beasts - Rough, Design and Finished Inks

After finally coming up with a concept for an alphabet book, treats and beasts, I had to draw each and every creature and snack. I started each drawing with a very rough pencil sketch. I referenced the animals a great deal from photos online. I never traced anything, but I would have pages on a Google search open throughout most of the sketching process. I would fixate on a few particular images, but I tried to take bits and pieces from each.

Rather than have to erase all my rough pencil lines, I used animation paper and I would then trace out a cleaner version of my sketch onto another piece of paper. The animation paper would allow me to trace the other image easily since I had animation pegs to keep both drawings lined up. Next I would use a few inking tools, mostly sharpy pens and fine liners, and I would start inking my drawings.

I probably worked on the first two or three drawings at the same time when it came to inking. As I progressed I would add a new detail to one drawing and then go back to the others and add the same kind of detail. I love this stage of making art because it allows me to watch television and movies while working. Eventually I discovered the amount of detail I wanted to add without overworking the drawing.

This was probably the longest process of making this book. It was also the most Zen of them of them all. I could just sit and doodle away while watching television. I should also mention that at this point I had not actually decided that this was going to be an actual printed book. My thoughts were that I would just post these pictures online and share them with my friends.

The next phase is when that changed.

Pick up your own copy of the book Treats and Beasts right now on Amazon.

CC

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[uravichii]

highschool crush! [part 2]

ー bnha boys crushing on you in highschool

character/s: bakugo katsuki (again🧍‍♀️), todoroki shouto, shinsou hitoshi, kirishima eijirou

genre: fluff, mutual pining, just,,, fluff

notes: why's this so long 😦 thank u @uxavity for letting me use ur own y/n moment for kirishima >:) and also to the 3 gremlins for helping me choose the header pic 🤩

part one!

bakugo katsuki, who's quick to stand closely behind you when he sees mineta in your vicinity, making sure he doesn't gawk at even the slightest trace of your skin or a single strand of your hair.

bakugo katsuki, who's normally the first one to jeer at anyone's childish antics, stares intently at a tiny piece of paper on his desk where you had written, "bakugo is ugly :)" and a sloppy doodle that's supposed to be his face. he tears another page from his notebook, and soon you and katsuki have started writing harmless jabs to each other everyday in tiny scraps of paper. you've lost count of the names he's called you, but he's never called you ugly, no matter how often you've playfully tossed that word at himー it's the one thing he refuses to call you.

bakugo katsuki, who mentally curses himself for feeling so giddy over a pencil you've lent to himー he finds himself holding the pencil so delicately in his hand, as he does too with all the little scraps of paper he's gotten from you that he's secretly kept all this time.

bakugo katsuki, who tugs your school bag off of your shoulders, swiftly catching you by the small of your back when you lose balance from the sudden pull. when he swings your bag over his shoulders and starts walking a steady pace ahead of you without a word, it takes you a few seconds before you realize he's just decided to walk you home today (and the days after if you'd let him.)

todoroki shouto, whose quiet, mundane gestures for you feel the most intimate, like when he simply holds the door open for you, or when he slides his table closer to yours so he could share his book with you when you'd left yours at home, or even just walking up behind you to zip up your bag that you left openー it's your thankful smile that gets his heart racing, no matter how many times he does these gestures for you everyday.

todoroki shouto, who stares at you in adoration while you're taking a nap on your desk in between classes. he panics a little when the teacher comes in, so he lightly taps your table to wake you up, and when that doesn't work, he tugs the hem of your sleeve gently until you wake up. shouto doesn't really know if you're okay with him touching you without your knowledge.

todoroki shouto, who gets bold enough to sit next to you on the common area's couch, but still leaves a respectful, timid space from you. he doesn't move to a new seat when the others squeezed themselves in beside you, scooting you closer to shouto until your arm and thigh's pressed against his. he only looks over to your face, smiling in relief to see no signs or motions that you're uncomfortable. shouto has no idea though, how easily he just set your cheeks aflame from the long, searing gaze he held at your face that was only inches from his.

todoroki shouto, who finally decides to take midoriya and uraraka's adviceー you'll go home the one day to find a neatly folded paper inside your bag that happens to be a love letter, then you'll finally stop wondering why he took so long zipping up your bag for you before you left, and why he looked unusually tense when you turned to thank him.

shinsou hitoshi, whose heart starts racing immediately once he recognizes your voice from behind when you start greeting your friends in the hallway a good morning, pounding even more when you walk past him and he catches a whiff of your cologne. when you greet him too, you're a little wounded when he doesn't even spare you a glance, but hitoshi just doesn't want you, of all people, to see him miserably failing to compose his flustered self.

shinsou hitoshi, who somehow remembers the exact time you usually arrive at school. you'd find him walking in front of your classroom in a weird, unsteady pace, and since he's already there "by chance", he opens the door to your classroom for you. "i was already here so ..." ー is what he says when you thank him, but the next morning when you arrive a little earlier than usual, you find him speed-walking a few steps ahead of you just so he could open the door for you again.

shinsou hitoshi, who's unconsciously made a habit of peeking at your classroom from the hallway whenever he has the chance to. his classmates and monoma eventually take notice of this, and he's had to put up with monoma's pestering since.

shinsou hitoshi, who still feels bad about ignoring you the last time, so he decides to be the first one to greet you one morning, but he only musters a tiny wave of greeting with his hand before meekly finding its way back to the nape of his neck when you start waving back at him. he's still not used to how easily you fluster him with just that cheery smile of yours.

kirishima eijirou whose friends could catch his attention immediately with just a single mention of your name. his face beams with excitement when he talks about you, and when ashido points out the obvious, “you really like y/n, huh?” his toothy grin narrows down to a lighter, softer one, "y/n's just... amazing! and cool and manly and also really reeally pretty!" it had to take a couple of threats from bakugo to get eijirou to stop babbling about you, and he also had to beg kaminari and sero to stop snickering and nudging him everytime he tries to talk to you.

kirishima eijirou, who's frantically, but sincerely apologizing to you after his friends had nudged him too hard that he crashes into you, almost toppling over if it weren't for the quick reflex of his arms catching your fall. you can't really seem to focus on any of the apologetic words that spill from his mouth though, when you can still feel the warmth around your shoulders and your waist from where he had just touched you and held you so protectively in his arms.

kirishima eijirou, who proudly says your name when asked who he thinks is the prettiest person in the class during a game of truth or dare.

kirishima eijirou, who's the first one to lend you a pen when he sees you've lost yours. he's ridiculously happy to lend you his, even attaching a little note that says, "you can borrow my pen, y/n :D also the thing i just said when we were playing truth or dareー i really did mean that. you're very very pretty :)"

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[bloodytimelady]

Thinking about TMA.

Thinking about Jon and Martin, in the safehouse.

Thinking about how Jon doesn't look at himself in the mirror anymore. Maybe his scars are just a bit too jagged, maybe his eyes are just a bit too green, maybe his reflection is just a bit too blurred, constant reminders of nightmares and fears he doesn't seem able to forget, even in the bright of the day.

Thinking about how Martin notices this and sets to looking for solutions, but his first attempts are unsuccessful. He tries taking pictures of him, first with his phone and then with an old polaroid camera they find in one of Daisy's chests. The pictures never seem to come out right, though, or when they do, Jon's face is scratched and unrecognisable, or warped and deformed.

Martin always manages to destroy them before Jon finds out.

Thinking about how Martin finds, together with the polaroid, an old set of pencils and rubber+sharpener. He didn't know Daisy had an artsy side, and he's certainly never been versed in drawing, but he begins doodling on the side of the pages of his notebook, small flowers framing his poetry, and then circles and squares, stars and hearts. He's surprisingly skilled.

(he avoids spirals or eyes, and his first attempts at human figures all look the same).

He quickly moves on to sketching small objects, playing with the shades and the colours, trying his hand with different pencils. His bedside table is crammed with torn pages, shavings of rubber and wood from the sharpener. Jon smiles when he sees his doodles, and compliments him in a soft voice, and that's when Martin gets the idea.

It's raining outside, and the wind howls in the creaks of the old house, but they managed to get a fire burning in the fireplace and the small couch is the warmest place Martin can think of. Jon has dozed off, his book (a hard-covered tome which he can only describe as "the most boring book I ever read after Anna Karenina") face down on his chest, the letters of the title like small flames of their own in the warm light of the fireplace.

Jon's features are relaxed in his sleep, his hair is spread on the pillow crowning his head, only a slight green twinkle in his eyes reveals they're not completely closed. One of his hands slid down the couch and is now brushing the floor, while the other is wrapped in the quilt, but his grip is slack, a sign he's not having nightmares, for once.

He looks...

Human.

So beautifully human.

Martin grabs the sketchbook from the table, moving slowly as not to awaken Jon, as not to disrupt the peacefulness that engulfs him and that comes so rare these days, and brings it up on his knees where he's nestled, in the corner of the couch.

He begins drawing.

When Jon wakes up, the sun is shining through the window right in his eyes, bathing the living room in warm light to replace that of the dying embers in the fireplace. Martin is nowhere to be seen, but from the kitchen his familiar voice, singing some old pop song, mixes with the gentle whistling of the coffeepot.

Jon stirs and sits up, dragging a hand through his hair. That's when he spots the sheet of paper on the table, neatly folded beside his book. In a blank corner, Martin's even handwriting spells his own name.

Jon takes it and opens it. He freezes for a moment, then his hand rises to meet his face, fingers tracing over the pockmarks left by the worm attack, the jagged scar on his neck, the scruff of his beard. It's a gentle touch that goes against his first instincts, which would be to destroy the vile creature he's become and burn every eldritch horror to the ground.

But he stills his shaking hand and holds the drawing close to his heart, and he makes a promise. He would try with all his strength not to hate someone that another person finds so beautiful.

Time is slowly tracing his face, but strangely he feels at home in this place

[mizunetzu]

wait okay i have so many ideas you have no clue- okay so basically y/n is too scared to confess to either ushijima or shinsou (you decide lol) so he just puts love notes in his locker :)) but ushijima/shinsou catches him one day so he teases him about it but he liked y/n too so he lowkey confesses and its super fluffy i- 🥺🥺 i've had this idea for so long but i have no clue where to start writing it myself lolll

Guess who...took 4 months...to do Mr. Shinsoussimps request...not me...ahahaha...what are you talking about...BUT ANYWAYS IM SO SORRY MR SHINSOU PLS TAKE THIS FIC AS MY APOLOGIES

——————

Ushijima x reader - Secret Admirer Love Letter-kun!

⚠️warnings - none

Pronouns- male, he/him

——————

(Y/n’s) hands shook as he traced the linings of his love letter.

It had a red, heart-shaped sticker on the seal flap, with the words ‘To Ushijima-san’ written in royal purple across the back. The letter had slight crinkles from the shaky grip (Y/n) held it with.

His heart raced purely thinking about how Ushijima would react. Would he even react? Or would he just look at him with that blank stare and walk past him? Would he be ridiculed for being a man giving a love letter to another man?

Every single intrusive thought made (Y/n) want to tear up the letter and flush it down a toilet. Nonetheless, he stood next to Ushijima’s locker, waiting for him to appear.

His legs shook. His heart felt like it was going to explode out of his chest. He could physically feel the sweat running down his forehead. He was probably gaining stares from other students for standing near Ushijima’s locker and panicking silently.

All these ‘what-if’s’ was beginning to make (Y/n) second-guess his decision. Maybe he couldn’t do this after all...

No! He had to! He’s been harboring his feelings for Ushijima for years now, and he was getting nowhere! Even if it was rejection, and he certainly hoped it was not, he needed an answer!

Just as if right on cue, (Y/n) heard the familiar deep voice of Ushijima coming down the hall. He wasn’t saying much, but the accompanied grunts of acknowledgement to Tendou’s ramblings was enough proof it was him. Without thinking, (Y/n’s) panic took over him, shoving his love letter into Ushijima’s locker and dashing out of the way.

He blended himself in with the gaggle of students near their lockers, watching Ushijima as he opened his own locker.

“Ara?” Tendou cocked his head when the letter (Y/n) slipped in fluttered out. It landed on the floor gracefully. Ushijima bent over and plucked it off the ground.

“Our Wakatoshi~kun has a secwet admiwer?” Tendou squashed his face together and boared curious eyes into the heart-shaped sticker on the note. Ushijima grunted.

“It seems to be a love letter.” Ushijima’s low voice sent even more panic through (Y/n). He didn’t want to be there while he opened the letter. But here he was, 10 feet away from him as he carefully peeled off the heart sticker from the envelope.

Ushijima’s eyes silently scanned the letter, it’s meticulous, thought-out writing filling Ushijima’s eyes. The silence rang so, so loud to (Y/n), as he watched Ushijima read his love letter with his emotionless face.

After what seemed like forever, Ushijima lifted his head up from the note. (Y/n’s) heart stopped.

“It is a love letter.” (Y/n), and Tendou, deadpanned.

Tendou reached for the letter. “Fiiiiine, then let me see-!”

Ushijima pulled the letter away, raising it above his head and out of Tendou’s easy reach. He lowered the letter and cradled it to his chest.

“No. It’s mine.”

(Y/n’s) heart fluttered. Could this mean-?

“But it does, however, have no name.”

“Awh. Poor Wakatoshi-kun’s admirer must be rewwy shy~”

(Y/n) internally facepalmed. Of course he forgot to sign the note! Why wouldn’t he?! (Y/n) crinkled up his nose. He was still determined to get his feelings to Ushijima.

He turned around, and walked to class. The next day, for sure, he was going to give him a love letter with his signature on it this time.

——

(Y/n) stared down at his paper, then shifted his eyes to the alarm clock sitting tauntingly at his dorm room’s desk, with the bright red numbers 10:35 pm glaring so menacingly at him. Like it was telling him to hurry up and sign the new love letter he just wrote. (Y/n) re-read the letter on his desk for the 6th time that night.

Everything was perfect. It explained his feelings perfectly, explained how long he’d been smitten for him for, hell, he even doodled a small picture of Ushijima himself with a heart next to it in the corner of the page.

Everything was there, except his name.

Did he really want to put his name, though? I mean, (Y/n) saw how...endearing Ushiwaka’s face looked reading his original letter. What if he ruined that when he finds out it was him who wrote it? And not some cute girl?

(Y/n) stared at the empty space on the page where his name was supposed to go. His hand gripped his pencil tighter than he should’ve, and began to write.

‘(L/n) (Y/...’

He stopped. (Y/n) thought about it for awhile, then grabbed his eraser and scrubbed at the name until it was pristine white again.

‘Your secret admirer’

Was all he wrote.

He packaged up the note in another small envelope, pressed a cute little heart sticker to the flap, and went to bed.

——

The next day, (Y/n) made sure to rush to school early to slip the note in his locker. He wanted to see his reaction to his new note. It made him feel sorta high. What kind of face would he make? Would he be delighted? He hoped he would.

(Y/n) crammed the note into Ushiwaka’s locker. No one was around. Good. No one saw him shove the letter through, therefore no one could tell Ushijima it was him. (Y/n) sighed contently, and timpered off somewhere secluded, but somewhere he could still see Ushijima and his locker.

After scrolling on his phone for what seemed like an hour, he heard Tendou’s familiar voice, humming a strange song and trailing next to Ushijima. It was his daily indicator that Ushijima was near. If he could hear Tendou coming, almost 100% Ushijima would be there too. (Y/n) pocketed his phone quickly and peeked behind a row of lockers.

Ushijima silently unhinged his locker, listening to Tendou talk. However, they fell silent when another letter fluttered out from his locker, this time landing so perfectly in his hands.

“Ara ara? Another note from Admirer-chan?”

“Yes. But I know it’s a boy, Tendou.”

(Y/n’s) heart dropped. He watched as Ushiwaka peeled off the heart sticker once more, while continuing his conversation with Tendou.

“Oh yeah? How so?”

Ushijima stopped, and reached into his locker once more. He pulled out (Y/n’s) previous note, and pointed to a line of text scribbled on there so neatly. Tendou raised his eyebrow, and leaned down to inspect the note.

‘-Besides, there’s no way someone as amazing as you can like a guy like me. It’s weird right? I hope you don’t think it’s weird. But I wouldn’t blame you.’

“Ahhhh~ makes sense...” Tendou hooked his arms dramatically over the back of his head. “But do you? Does Wakatoshi-kun think Secret Admirer-kun is weird?”

Ushijima traced the two love letters with his eyes. “I think he’s brave.”

(Y/n) clutched his tightening chest. It suddenly became really hard to breathe. How was Ushijima being so unintentionally sweet?

Tendou cooed. “Awwww, Is our Wakatoshi-kun catching feelings for his Admirer-kun?”

Ushijima folded the two notes back into their envelopes silently. He said nothing to Tendou’s remarks, while gently placing the two love letters back into a safe spot in his locker.

(Y/n) brisk-walked away, flustered, before he could hear his answer.

——

Writing notes and hiding them in Ushijima’s locker became a sort of habit for (Y/n) in the past few weeks.

Every now and then, he’d write a short love letter signed “Your Secret Admirer” or “Admirer-kun” and slip it under Ushijima’s dorm room door or the cracks between his locker. It became an addiction of watching him unravel the note with the tenderness of an angel. For such a big dude, he held each love letter (Y/n) wrote him with such delicacy.

(Y/n) walked with a pep in his step as he arrived to the school building early, like he’d usually been doing. He’d recently been writing small letters, playground compliments like “I think you look nice today!” or “the way you play volleyball gets me all fired up!” but this was the first time in a while he wrote a good chunk of his feelings out.

At first he thought he would make Ushijima uncomfortable, but after many of his personal notes filled with the most wonderful explanations of his feelings, or rambling about dates he’d like to take him on, he’s grown more comfortable with it. Especially after seeing the teeny tiny, barely noticeable blush tinting his cheeks as he read them.

(Y/n) stopped in front of Ushiwaka’s locker. It was a familiar stop, after cramming in letter after letter inside for about a month or two now. It’s been so long that (Y/n) couldn’t even remember himself.

Just as his hand met with the cold metal locker to slip the note in, two hands slammed down on (Y/n’s) shoulders, effectively scaring him shitless.

“I’ve caught you! Secret admirer-kun!”

“Uwaaaah!”

Tendou made a show of flamboyantly pointing his lanky fingers at (Y/n), bending his back father then (Y/n) knew was possible in the process. (Y/n) jittered, swinging his hands in front of him while stuttering incoherently.

“I-it-its not-! It’s not wh-what it-! T-the letter-I was just-I-!”

“There’s no use for it now, Secret-Admirer (L/n)-kun! You’ve been caught red handed!” Tendou stuck his tongue out heartily while (Y/n) broke into a cold sweat. If Tendou kept yelling the whole damn school would hear him.

“I-I’m not the one leaving notes in Ushijima-kun’s locker! I was just-!”

“Oya? Then how did you know Wakatoshi-kun was gettin’ notes in his locker in the first place?” Tendou eyed him down half jokingly. (Y/n) sputtered.

“More importantly...” Tendou dramatically pointed to the envelope half-sticking out from the slits of Ushijima’s locker. “Whaaaaats that!?”

“That’s-!”

There was no use fighting Tendou on this. (Y/n) deflated, defeated and grasping on to the wall of lockers for support. “Uuuuu...”

“So, Secret Admirer-“

“S-stop calling me that! Just (L/n) is fine-!”

“-Secret Admirer-kun, what made you fancy our lovely Wakatoshi-kun?”

(Y/n) turned around, facing the locker as Tendou smiled his usual, Tendou-grin. (Y/n) didn’t wanna look at Tendou and his stupid knowing smirk.

“He’s just...I dunno, he’s just so-cool...and stuff...and he’s so nice...looking...”

“Ah, such sophisticated words-tell me, do you write all of this down in the letters you give him?”

“Hey!” (Y/n) whipped his head around.

Tendou chuckled, and part of (Y/n) wanted to smack him upside the head. Tendous laughter eventually died down, as he pretended to wipe a tear from his cheek. He looked back at (Y/n), who was blushing profusely and had his arms crossed.

“Phew...haha...” Tendou cleared his throat. He pointed straight at (Y/n). “Now, here’s some ultra wise words from Satori-sama!” He mimicked a fake drum roll on his lap, before pointing at (Y/n) again.

“Ja-jun~! You should Wakatoshi-kun how you feel about him!”

(Y/n’s) heart got stuck in his throat. “A-are you crazy! I could never! I-I’m not...I’m not...I’m scared..”

“Hm? But you’re not scared to write about how much you wanna kiss him alllllllll oveeeeeer-?”

“That’s different!” (Y/n) yelled, more quietly this time. He turned back to the locker, and tipped the rest of the note in sticking out inside the slit. The note disappeared through the gap, just like all of its predecessors. “Like this, I can tell him how much I love him without him knowing it was from me! What if he’s disappointed it’s me and not some other dude?”

“I’m veeeeeery sure he won’t be. But suit yourself, I guess.” Tendou shrugged. He turned around and left, but not before saying,

“But you’d better tell him yourself before he finds out from someone else.”

“Wait-what does that mea-“

(Y/n) looked back, only to find Tendou gone. (Y/n) stood there, perplexed, before dashing off to his own locker, so he wouldn’t be spotted near Ushijima’s.

——

Everyday when (Y/n) went to slip another note into Ushiwaka’s locker, Tendou’s words would ring in his mind.

‘You’d better tell him yourself before he finds out from someone else.’

He knew that. He knew that but he couldn’t stop himself from cowardly slipping notes into Ushijima’s locker, just to run and take cover as he opened them up. And one time he could swear Tendou was looking right at him in his hiding spot when Ushijima was reading one of his letter.

(Y/n) shook the thoughts from his head. That happened 3 days ago, and nothing happened. Tendou was probably just trying to scare him into telling him. Yeah. There’s no way anyone could’ve found out about him being Ushijima’s secret admirer.

He huffed and strode up to Ushijima’s locker, just like he did every time before that. No one was in the hallway. There was no footsteps, at least to (Y/n’s) knowledge, and Tendou wasn’t around with his booming voice. If (Y/n) could hear Tendou coming, chances are Ushijima was not too far behind.

Tendou wasn’t there. (Y/n) was safe. He smiled and rose the letter up to the slot in Ushijima’s locker. He slowly crammed the note in, slowly, slowly until-

Slam!

A large, calloused hand slammed against the locker, making (Y/n) jolt up in surprise. (Y/n’s) heart stopped beating. He felt someone lean against his ear, and then they whispered:

“So Tendou was right. You were the one leaving the letters in my locker.”

“Ushijima-kun-!”

(Y/n) whipped his head around by the speed of lightning, pressing himself against the locker wall as if he’d disappear into it. Stupid fucking Tendou! Of course he’d tell Ushijima!

Ushiwaka didn’t move from his spot in front of (Y/n). His arm outstretched on the wall beside (Y/n) didn’t falter either, making him blush even more. God, he wanted to disappear.

The letter, now hidden crudely behind (Y/n) sweaty back, was being smushed as he tried shrinking in on himself.

“I-I-“ (Y/n’s) mouth ran dry. “It’s not what it looks like-!”

“Hm.” Ushijima’s deep voice manage to startle (Y/n), despite being right infront of him. God, he was close. So close. He’s too close. Oh god, why is he so close?

Ushijima suddenly grabbed (Y/n’s) hand, making him sputter in surprise as Ushijima pulled it out gently. A letter with a red heart sticker on the flap was wedged in between (Y/n’s) shaky, sweaty fingers. Ushijima looked at the envelope, while (Y/n) averted his embarrassed eyes.

“...But it’s exactly what it looks like.”

Words perished in (Y/n’s) throat. If the locker would just open up and swallow him whole, now was the time.

Ushiwaka plucked the note out of (Y/n’s) hands, ignoring the small protests of (Y/n) himself. He tried to grab for the letter, but Ushijima held the envelope high above his head and grabbed at (Y/n’s) shivering wrists. (Y/n) squeaked.

“...why are you trying to grab it back if this letter was meant for me in the first place?” Ushijima looked oblivious to (Y/n’s) embarrassment. (Y/n) croaked. He didn’t even register what Ushiwaka said with how strong and warm his grip on his wrists were.

He didn’t realize Ushijima managed to peel off the heart sticker and fish out the note with his hand until he started reading the letter. His eyes scanned the words, even when (Y/n) quietly squirmed protestingly in his grasp.

“Mm.” Ushijima hummed. (Y/n’s) eyes widened when he realized what he wrote in today’s note.

‘Y’know, I think you’re really cool with how you’re so dedicated to your club. But maybe...one day we could grab a bite to eat after your club activities? Just you and me? And maybe if I’m lucky enough I just might get a kiss from the amazing Ushijima Wakatoshi-kun~’

(Y/n) wanted no more but to die then and there. Ushijima looked at (Y/n) with an unreadable gaze.

“Ah. So it seems in today’s letter, you would like to go out for food and kiss. I am free after club activities today at 6. Are you free at that time or must we reschedule?”

(Y/n) met Ushijima’s state with a confused face. He said nothing-he couldn’t say anything. All he could do was muster up a weak “w-wha..?”

“So...you are not free today...?” Ushijima’s face was normal, but he gave off the same vibe a sad, kicked puppy would. It was sorta cute. (Y/n) waved his hands around frantically in Ushijima’s grasp.

“N-no! That’s not it! I-I’m free! I’m totally free! I just-“

“You just what?” Ushijima cocked his head to the side bluntly. (Y/n) opened his mouth to say something, but let it clamp shut quietly.

(Y/n) averted his gaze. “Well...you don’t think it’s...weird that I was the one leaving you love letters?”

“But I already knew you were a man in the first place.”

“Still!” Ushijima was genuinely confused. (Y/n’s) voice died down a bit.

“Aren’t you...y’know...disappointed?”

Ushijima’s gaze never left (Y/n’s) eyes. “Why would I be disappointed?”

“I’m...w-well...it’s just...”

Ushiwaka placed his free hand on the other side of (Y/n’s) face, effectively trapping him in between his arms. Ushijima’s heavy gaze was too much to bear. (Y/n) instinctively averted his gaze away.

“You still haven’t given me a valid reason to be disappointed.”

“I-“

“You’re lovely, I believe you are very attractive, and you leave nice letters of encouragement in my locker everyday.”

“Wait-“

“I believe we both have feelings for each other. Therefore, I do not see why you are so hesitant on just doing what today’s lovely note said.”

“Ushi-“

“Is this just an excuse to turn me down? Were the letters not your true feelings? Because if so you just have to say so-“

“Ushijima-kun!”

(Y/n) rasped out between his fingers. He was covering his blushing face, and Ushijima didn’t know why until he realized his face was centimeters away from (Y/n’s). If it weren’t for (Y/n’s) hands cupping his face, they’d probably be able to kiss with one push closer.

“P-ple-please s-step back...”

“Oh. Sorry.”

Ushijima moved back, but didn’t quite move his arms from their positions on either side of (Y/n). He blinked. Silence engulfed them both, Ushijima bluntly staring at (Y/n) as he blushed and blushed into his hands.

Ushijima figured he should say something, and even open his mouth to speak when (Y/n) suddenly piped up, bringing his hands down from his face.

“I-I’m free...at 6...”

Ushijima blinked again.

“Ah. Today?”

“Yeah..!”

“Lovely. It is decided then. Will you wait for me at the gym after practice? If not I can pick you up from your dorm room.”

(Y/n) fought the urge to pinch his arm to see if he was dreaming or not. “I-I can meet you at the gym!”

Ushijima smiled gently, and that’s probably the first time (Y/n’s) seen him smile ever. It was so coaxing, relaxed and warm, (Y/n) wanted to take of picture of it and just stare at it for days. Ushijima let his hands fall to his sides. Not before giving a pat to (Y/n’s) head.

“It is decided then. It’s a date.”

(Y/n) had to remind himself to thank Tendou later.

——————

Lowkey this was so fun to write~ why don’t y’all leave some love in the comments because of that~~?

[anakinthetrashking]

Once again, I have batfam brainrot.... Which is what I get for,,, doing basic cooking ig????? No, cooking family recipes just always makes me think of Alfred, bc I always imagine him having a box of handwritten recipe cards, and a basic recipe book with notes in it, and old recipes cut out of the newspaper and just all this loose paper in a folder and stapled together with notes and stuff... And then me while cooking is like, why not make a sideblog called Alfred's kitchen and like,,, recreate that???? (I say recreate but actually it's literally me stealing ideas from my grandma's cookbook ahdkshskk but I don't have the braincells for a sideblog anyway)

Because I mean I have so many Alfred-cooking headcanons and I definitely absorb them from other people too but like, I mean I've talked about them before, it's stuck in my mind that he wanders the grocery store when he's stressed, puzzling through how he can help his family this time, because they go through SO MUCH. And inevitably he runs across another parent or grandparent in the store who immediately recognizes the look in his face as the "stressing and worrying about family" face, and they strike up a conversation with him and he ends up leaving the conversation with new courage and a calm heart and just the right recipe, somehow.... (This is actually in a fic of mine... Link )

And then there's the headcanon that while Bruce was away on his secret Becoming-Batman-World-Tour, he sent so many ingredients and recipes back to Alfred with little notes, because that was his way of saying "I'm thinking of you" and "I miss you" and "I love you". (I have a wip that talks a bit about this... Man I gotta finish that) And while Bruce definitely can't cook, I feel like he's GREAT at writing down recipes just by observing someone making it. Bc he's so observant and detailed he would put in things so exact and yet not be able to recreate it himself 😂 I'm talking, so overly detailed he writes stuff like "stir counter-clockwise 5 times, then clockwise 3 times" etc. And then when he sees Alfred cook and he's not stirring exactly like that but the dish comes out perfectly anyways he's just, SO confused.

I just. I can't help but think of Alfred's notes in the margins that have the calculations already done for doubled recipes, and then tripled as the family grows, and stapled in vegetarian versions for Damian, and maybe, oh gosh I'm gonna cry, but maybe little notes from each of the kids who saw Alfred writing in his cookbook or on notepaper and it's just like, Tiny Child Bruce handwriting because his mom taught him to write thank you notes and so he writes several to Alfred, because Alfred makes him food EVERYDAY! And he always knows exactly what Bruce likes! And of course Alfred saves all of those, and maybe after the Wayne's are gone, Bruce just writes this tiny "Thank You" in the corner of one of the pages that holds the recipe of his favorite food while Alfred's back is turned in the kitchen– and I'm thinking of Robin!Jason spending a lot of time in the kitchen and maybe helping create new recipes or give suggestions and his handwriting is still in the book and maybe that really REALLY hurts for a while, and maybe when Jason finally comes back, maybe he has his own cookbook in his apartment and Alfred returns the favor to write little notes in thwre

And maybe I'm thinking of Tim sitting in the kitchen doing his homework and looking over and seeing all the notes and still being a fanboy at heart and just, softly, oh so softly, tracing his finger over all the little notes in there and wishing that he had something, anything at home that screamed family and love HALF as much as this cookbook and folder of recipes did.

And just– Alfred, organized, put together, but oh so sentimental Alfred, has this messy recipe book and messy folder, with messy notes and stains from being accidentally splattered with something while cooking, and notes in so many different styles of handwriting and different colored pens and pencils, on so many different types of note paper and sticky notes and the backs of receipts,,, and stickers and doodles from Cass... And when Duke shows up, and he catches glimpses of all the notes and he recognizes everyone's handwriting and he's so hesitant because this is obviously a family thing, and he's not really sure if he counts, you know??? But as Alfred is cooking the book gets slid closer to where Duke is sitting and Alfred puts a pen right in his hand before softly patting his arm and saying something so simple like "It's tradition, after all", with that warm look in his eyes and maybe that's the moment that Duke realizes that the barrier he thought was there, in-between being accepted among them as a fellow vigilante and being family just, isn't there, actually. And there's been a lot of moments that led up to that realization but it's the act of putting his own mark on something as simple as their hodgepodge mess of family recipes is what erases that last doubt and he just, relaxes into it. 🥺😭💞

I have a lot of feelings about the Batfam and food, you guys

[lizbotw]

it’s only sharing a disgustingly sweet milkshake at the local college town diner after both of your evening classes that suna graciously provides the answers to the math homework.

the spongy pencil eraser is easy for you to sink your teeth into as you puzzle over his handwriting. “you know,” you mumble around the nib, trying to figure out if that’s a 5 or a 6, “i never know why you do this to me every week.” this time the drink with two plastic straws floating in an unhealthy heaping of whip cream is a syrupy strawberry flavor.

rintarou tips forward to sip at one of them and in your peripheral, chunky pink-coated fruit pieces travel up the clear tube and disappear between his lips. he releases the straw with an annoying ah that makes you frown, even if you weren’t concentrating in the first place. “aw, don’t tell me you don’t like hanging out with me.” he feigns hurt.

a well placed sip of your own allows you to avoid having to answer that—you have a personal rule of never being sappy in the presence of calculus. if you didn’t like him, suna knows you wouldn’t be hanging out with him—there are just some things you can’t do, even if it’s for the sake of your grade. none of this has to be said out loud of course, but he decides to be annoying and ask anyway.

actually—well... maybe hanging out is... not exactly how this appears to bystanders.

sharing a drink like this, you two probably look more like a couple on a (terribly cheap) afternoon date, rather than two broke college students that split meals to save money and believe that sharing answers for homework isn’t cheating, it’s collaboration.

ha, as if it would ever be different��things like the former never come true. maybe in movies, but that’s about where the line is drawn.

as if he knows what you’re thinking, suna raises an eyebrow at you over the glass, a smile playing on his lips—the same stupid look he always gives you. it feels particularly worse this evening.

it’s hard to avoid eye contact with him mere inches away, but you manage when a car painted a very interesting shade of red rumbles past the fingerprint covered window. you’re grateful for the distraction.

the subject changes when you realize suna has terrible taste when it comes to ordering milkshakes. “what flavor is this?” you spit out the word as though the very concept of calling this a real flavor is more disgusting than the drink itself, smacking your lips and screwing up your face at the excessively saccharine, artificial strawberry aftertaste.

this is no ordinary strawberry milkshake. no, this is a so-bad-only-suna-rintarou-would-order-something-this-horrible-(and-not-necessarily-on-purpose-either) strawberry milkshake.

“valentine’s valor,” he states matter-of-factly like those words mean anything to you. you stare at him until he elaborates. “their valentine’s special,” he clarifies and is gifted with a sarcastic thumbs-up from you in thanks—it is pointedly ignored and suna slings an arm over back of his seat. “dunno the exact flavor though. forgot.”

it tastes like the embodiment of pink, you decide. valentine’s valor. what a stupid name. there are a million and one better words that start with v... you can name at least five with a little thinking. you should ask them to hire you as part of their marketing team, you decide.

maybe it’s fitting title though. you certainly need valor to even think about taking another sip of that... concoction—which you do because you are obsessed with getting your money’s worth.

“valentine’s day was half a week ago?” your mental calendar helpfully supplies.

the clatter of pans in the back kitchen somehow mingles charmingly with the way rintarou throws his head back to laugh—a scene straight out of a movie really. you decide you hate him in the moment. “right you are. want a prize?” ugh. you stick your tongue out at his tone.

great. as if to add insult to injury, of course you’re sharing an out-of-date love holiday special with suna of all people. valentine’s was four days ago and this is where you are on a thursday night. the sticky upholstery of the booth seat, ripped and fraying at the corners, squeaks and groans and attaches itself to the fabric of your jeans as you shift around, suddenly hot. what a strange situation to be in, you think. this has to be a metaphor for life—then again, you’d been thinking this whole... thing has been a metaphor anyway.

yup, ever since suna sat next to you in a calculus II lecture all those fated months ago and took pity on how much you fucking sucked at math, up until the present where he takes slightly less pity on you but does enjoy emptying your dorm mini-fridge and making you pay for his milkshakes—all of it. this entire thing with him. one big stupid metaphor.

the specifics of how you came to have a routine like this are certainly murky, but two things are for certain—one, your calculus grade is certainly a lot better than it would have been otherwise, and two, you have one friend more than you did at the start of the school year. (that last one is kind of a big deal, you think. the college social scene is brutal. the word friend has started to become more disappointing than exhilarating lately though.)

rin reaches to your left to pick at the fries you’d ordered as a side—you’ve learned not to try and stop him. “also,” he adds, mouth full, “you’re totally getting me a new pencil after this.” yes, true, the pencil you’re currently leaving frustrated teeth marks all over isn’t yours. very easy to forget in the moment. you’ve probably destroyed 15 of his pencils by now for the 15 weeks of the last semester—only 7 so far for the current one. you do the mental math.

instead of drawing in the sharp lines of the differential equation that should be going in the question box, you lightly trace in the curves of a 2 and then another one next to it in the corner of the worksheet, graphite underlining them both in one swoop. the horribly thin paper of the school library’s printer is scratchy as you write but soon you flip the pencil over and under your fingers to tap the eraser (that has seen better days) just below what you wrote. “this is pencil number 22.”

suna leans over to look at the number as if you hadn’t just told him what it said. what an idiot. “glad you’re keeping count.” he settles back into his seat. “when can i expect my reimbursement?”

“you’re funny,” you say, without a hint of humor in your voice. the pretty 22 you had written now has flower petals growing off of the sides as you get distracted doodling along the edges of your work. it’s quiet for a moment as he watches you, or maybe as he takes the chance while you’re distracted to shove more french fries down his throat—either option is plausible and you don’t lift your eyes to check.

something occurs to you.

“rin.” you take an extended pause in between the words as you continue drawing, just to annoy him. you don’t continue speaking until he grumbles in acknowledgment (you try to hide your smile). “do you ever doodle in your notebooks?” now that you thought about it, suna was surprisingly pretty straight-laced when it came to class—you couldn’t ever recall him ever slacking off to the degree that meant his pages were filled with hearts and stars and flowers and suns and atomically inaccurate animals and tiny people in different colored ink. your work was always certainly the more vibrant out of the two (perhaps that could explain your grades and how you understand like... nothing in your lectures, but you decide correlation does not equal causation).

“waste of time,” he says around another mouthful of fries, another one already halfway there to his mouth.

suna is also surprisingly negative at times—but the blue book flipped open to his homework says maybe he’s just a liar though. you squint at it.

“it’s still pretty early but we probably should get out of here soon,” suna says, pulling his phone out from his pocket to check the time and leaning his elbows on the table. “i’ll walk you back. your roomie doesn’t leave the gym until 9—before you ask, yes i’ve been keeping track. it’s not stalking if it’s for my own sake.”—rin is, of course, referring to the long standing rivalry between him and your (very nice, might you add) roommate you don’t really understand but which has cumulated in him deciding he would avoid them as much as humanly possible purely out of spite. (“the only person i like in dorm 302 is you,” he’d told you one time and the throwaway sentence maybe made your heart flutter more than it probably should’ve.)

the bell above the front door jingles behind you as another patron enters. rin glances up at the sound and then returns to his phone with a bored bat of his eyes, probably scrolling through twitter or replying to texts, and picking at his teeth with a toothpick (where did he even get that?).

you try to get back to work (copying) but something in your gut tells you there’s more to his notebook than the messy handwriting and crossed out words that meet the eye.

with suna distracted, you take the chance to carefully slide the book towards you and then, in a single quick swipe, pull it into your lap under the table, already leafing to the back pages—everyone knows that’s where the real secrets are—not sure what to expect. a flash of color makes you pause and you flip back to a page that has the corner folded into a tiny, crisp triangle.

whatever you were thinking suna had stashed in the back of his calculus notebook certainly does not match up with what’s staring you in the face currently. sparkly, gel-inked hearts in neon colors glitter under the fluorescent overheads. in each of them, written in capital letters neater than you thought possible for suna, is your initials, a small plus sign in the middle, and then S.R. (for none other than suna rinatoru) next to it. it instantly makes sense to you. “rin, what the fuck.” one side of the book dangles from your hand, pages fluttering, and you hold it up for him to see, other hand flying to cover your mouth because you don’t know whether to laugh or pretend to be mortified or what.

it’s very amusing to watch how suna goes from a disinterested stare, to widened eyes, to reaching over the heaps of school supplies to attempt to grab the book from you, frantic. you hold it just out of reach. “what are you—” an old lady at a table shushes him when he half-screams. “—give that back,” suna whisper-yells instead in the greatest verbal equivalent of tiny caps you’ve ever heard.

“not a chance.”

he looks like he wants to lunge across the table and pry his prized possession from your meddling hands, but also has half the mind not to make a scene. getting kicked out and then subsequently banned from his favorite diner all on a noise complaint and disorderly conduct accusation was not ideal.

you hum, flip back to your place, and observe the drawings covering the lined pages. you shoot him a venomous smirk over the edge of the cover, one that’s more theatrics than anything, and say with all the satisfaction of someone who knows they have all the power, “oh, this is gold.” he deflates and you feel grateful he doesn’t see right through your facade because oh man are you sweating inside right now. what the fuck? no way suna rintarou is drawing little hearts with both of your initials in it like a lovesick middle schooler. no fucking way. you almost want to tell him that you did the same thing once when the thoughts about him had gotten especially bad (you felt guilty afterwards though, thinking you never had a chance with him, but... now... if he’s doing the same—well, that kind of changes everything).

suna is utterly defeated you think—doesn’t even try to defend himself, just slumps in his seat with a groan. you at least expected a “i can explain!” from him, a last attempt at dignity, not the resigned “i’m never going to live this down, am i?” he mumbles after a few seconds. well, either works for you.

“nope,” you quip, maybe a little too cheerfully because the response you receive is a distressed wail and him banging his head against the table. the old lady shushes him again. you chuckle at that (it feels a little wobbly though because once again, freaking out here) and flip the page. you stop.

this one has similar perfect little hearts drawn all over it, but there are other things. cute, standard shaky drawings of misshapen dogs and volleyballs and other things you never thought suna would take it upon himself to create but all of which make sense are there. but there’s something else. little scribbles in the corners with your last name swapped with his and even him trying out his name with your last one—all of them are scratched out but not so much you can’t read them. a list on the right in a very tiny font that makes you think he was embarrassed even penning the words is titled “date ideas?” (the question mark is in red and the dot is a heart) and has several popular spots around town written down in the local lingo of unofficial names for them.

“listen... please let’s forget about this.” rin’s voice is muffled and he’s still faceplanted. “it’s fine if you don’t... you know... yeah.” if you don’t feel that way, he means. true, the doodles were a pretty good indication of his feelings.

what to do...

well... you take pity on him, let your lips upturn and your eyes soften to reflect the sentiment, and shut the book with a quiet thud. you slide it back across the table from where it came and back to him silently. you give it a resounding pat when suna peeks up at you, expression saying it all—he was so going to get you back for this. you stick your tongue out—acceptance of the challenge. and just like that, you’re friends again—maybe that’s what’s so great about suna.

as you get ready to leave and slowly begin the trek back to the dorm buildings with him, street lamps glimmering a pasty yellow, there’s no awkward tension, no need to ask questions, no verbal wonderings about what ifs between you two. it’s just joking and shoving each other around and challenges to see who can run to the next tree the fastest in the middle of the chilly february night. you know, maybe for now you’ll keep your own thoughts a secret.

[draconic-ichor]

In the Steel Steeds Heart

Chapter 24: Slip of the Hand

Warnings: strong language, sexual themes, blood/gore, stitching/medical instruments, knives, sickness, light body horror

Summary: Juniper picks up an old hobby while Heisenberg makes a big mistake while working on a long-standing one.

Feedback appreciated, 18+. Sorry it’s slower everyone I’ll start posting a bit quicker next month

Juniper sat on the balcony, the sunshine warming her enough to be comfortable. In the recent weeks she and Heisenberg went back to damn near normal, or as normal as their life had ever been given the circumstances. She was fully healed and feeling bright and chipper.

Heisenberg even started to call her newer nicknames more often: like wifey, love and his Mrs.

Juniper got back into making sketches. She was very rusty and most pictures looked little more than doodles but it brought her joy. Heisenberg even found her a whole stack of empty notebooks.

She was using one of them, drawing a sketch of a raven. The bird of interest was sitting on the balcony ledge, watching her with bright eyes.

It cocked its feathered head, making curious gurgles as she looked between it and the paper.

“You are such a pretty bird.” Juniper complimented, earring a throaty little trill in return.

Juniper’s pencil scratched against the paper, “Just like that.” She cooed, “You’re being such a good bird.”

She concentrated on the drawing for a short while longer, looking up at her muse. Eventually she was happy with the finished product, shading in the feathers with the pencil.

She turned the notebook around, showing her work to her subject. “Do you like it?” She asks, holding it before the Raven.

The bird gave a little hop, almost in surprise, leaning in a bit to look over the portrait. It gave a throaty croak of approval, ruffling its feathers.

Juniper giggled, “Thank you!” She turned to look at it again, happy with her work. She closed the sketchbook, standing and stretching a bit.

“You were radiant.” She complimented the bird, reaching out a hand slowly towards it. The raven allowed her to give it a soft stroke down its onyx feathers, closing its eyes in contentment.

Juniper said her goodbyes to the bird, collecting her supplies and heading back into the factory.

The raven sat for a long moment, watching the closed metal door before hoping off into the air. It gave a few strong wing beats before it disintegrated into a moldy cloud, done with its tasks.

Unaware of anything amiss Juniper put everything away, tiring her hair up in preparation to find Heisenberg. She knew he was finishing up a Soldat, so wanted to give a hand if needed.

~

The smell of blood and oil stung Juniper’s nose as she neared the lower workshop. As she opened the door the smell grew so strong it almost fogged her senses for a moment.

Her stomach clenched, taking over the scene.

The most recent soldat was on the floor, head crushed into a bloody pulp. Dark liquid oozed out of it, mixing with the iridescent swirling of oil and the bright crimson of fresh blood.

Fresh blood?

Juniper’s eyes widened, seeing blood drip from one of the creature’s many drills. Her eyes followed the splatters until they found the source.

Heisenberg sat in a chair, eyes dilated and chest heaving in short strained breaths. His arm rested over the nearest desk. A deep gash ran the length of his forearm, alabaster peeked through the flesh of the bone within.

The wound welled blood across the table, staining papers and dripping onto the floor. Juniper saw medical supplies haphazardly around his vicinity, where he attempted to mend himself before the shock set in.

She rushed over to him, touching his face, trying to keep panic from overtaking her.

“Heis..honey can you hear me?” She asked, “You need to breathe.”

His eyes flicked over her face, jaw tight as he huffed out of his nose. She saw blood pulse from the wound as his muscles twitched.

Scrambling to get clean gauze she soaked it in healing fluid before pressing it over the wound.

Heisenberg took a sharp intake of air, pain rippling through him.

“Hold this.” Juniper took his free hand in her own, guiding him to press the gauze over the worst of the wound.

He complied, still looking forward, almost unseeing.

She looked around the mess, not seeing what she needed. Rushing to one of the supply cabinets she found thread and a medical needle. She’d only done things like this on dead bodies, never being taught the intricacies of mending living flesh.

Juniper hoped that her lack of skill would be enough for his healing abilities to take over.

Returning to him, the pressure he’d placed on the wound slowed the bleeding slightly.

“Still with me?” She asked, moving his hand away to clean the wound.

She saw his pale eyes shift to look at her for a brief moment before returning to their ordinal position.

“This is going to hurt.” She warned, threading the needle. She tried to pull the ragged flesh back together the best she could, sinking the needle in to make the first stitch.

He groaned, moving a bit. Juniper angled herself to hold him still as she worked. With shaking hands, she kept stitching up his arm, it becoming more difficult as she neared the worst of the wound.

“B-Butter…cup?” Heisenberg’s voice wavered, shifting a bit.

“Stay still.” Her tone was warning, “I’m trying to fix you up.”

She was able to close the wound, frowning at the divot left in his arm from the loss of muscle in the area.

Juniper cleaned the area more thoroughly, dabbing more healing salve over it.

The stinging sensation sobered Heisenberg’s mind ever so slightly.

“Breathe.” Juniper instructed, finding clean gauze. When she began to wrap his arm he was able to speak a bit to her.

“What happened?” She asked.

“Ba-bastard woke up…” he managed, “…too fast, di-didn’t real-ize…”

“It’s alright.” Juniper soothed, taping down the end of the wrapping, “Can you walk.”

Heisenberg swallowed hard, unable to answer.

Juniper stood, helping him to his feet. He swayed heavily, leaning on her. She grunted, getting his arm around her shoulder for support. It was hard getting to the elevator, his feet like concrete. But she was finally able to get him back to the apartment, sitting him on the bed as she took off his necklaces and boots. His glazed eyes watched her wordlessly.

She helped him lay back, covering him up so he could come down from the shock. His good hand clutched the wrappings of his opposite arm.

Juniper sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to smooth hair from his face.

~

Heisenberg woke up in the bed, it was dark and his arm ached terribly. His memory was hazy at best, the soldat scraping his bone was the last clear thought. It wasn’t the worst thing he’d endured, but he honestly expected to wake up on the shop floor like so many times in the past.

His hand found his injured arm, fingers tracing gauze.

How the fuck had he managed that?

He tried to sit up, a painful spike jolting through his head. His mouth felt dry and a migraine was threatening him.

“Fuck.” He cursed, falling back onto the bed.

Soft hands found his face, and under the blanket of pain he didn’t realize their owner right away.

“Karl?” Came a sweet voice.

“I’m…f-fine.” He answered, blinking up into glowing green eyes. He winced as another ripple of pain wracked his brain.

“You’re a lying bastard.” Juniper’s lips pursed.

He tried to give a tight chuckle, “Tell me something I don’t know sweetheart.”

He felt her leave the bed, his mind clearing slightly.

Her finger lightly tapped him, rousing him to look. She offered him a glass of water.

“You’re dehydrated.” She said matter-of-factly.

He sat up enough to take the glass, downing it thankfully.

The liquid helped, allowing him the small mercy of thought. “Did you?” He gestured to his arm.

“Mhm.”

“Damn…thank you.”

“I cleaned a lot of the blood, but I couldn’t do much about the soldat.”

“That’s fine, I’ll toss him to the Lycans.” He shrugged. He sat up more as she settled on the bed near him. She made a sound as he ripped the gauze away from his arm. He looked over the rough stitching, “Well it’s together.”

He lifted his hand, one of the kitchen knives whizzing through the air, one of the lights flicking on.

“Hey!” Juniper’s stomach clenched when she saw him angle the tip of the knife into the stitching, “What are you doing?!”

“Shut up.” He grumbled, snapping the stitching, pulling them out with small winces. After he was done he showed her his arm. She made a small mummer of surprise.

The gash was now bright pink, in the earliest stages of scaring. It would be a bit more ragged than most of his but it was definitely healing over.

“Already?” She almost gasped, reaching out to delicately touch the new tissue.

“Ain’t my first rodeo, buttercup.” He gave her a toothy smile, “And ain’t my worse fuck up.”

“I didn’t think it would be so fast.” She admitted, meeting his eyes again.

He set the knife on the side table, “It usually is as long as it’s not too extensive. If you help it along with what you did, for example, even bad shit can heal within a day or two.”

“Like can you regrow limbs?”

“I’m not a fucking lizard!”

“If you still had the limb?”

“If you're fast enough, and get it back together right, it would probably heal.” He frowned, “I’d rather not test it….my intestines hitting the floor was the worst I’d like to deal with.”

Juniper’s eyes were the size of saucers, making Heisenberg bark with laughter.

“It was a long time ago, don’t worry about it.” He shrugged again.

“Don’t worry about it??”

“I was younger and thought my cock was big enough that I didn’t need to be careful.” He smiled, “I learned my lesson….mostly.”

“Hmmm.” She frowned.

Heisenberg eased back into the bed, his muscles still aching. He’d lost too much time with the current soldat now being a wash. Juniper watched him, knowing that look of determination that spread across his feathers.

She clung onto him.

“Rest for a bit longer.” She nuzzled into him, “You’re still healing.”

He snorted, “I don’t need rest for healing.”

“Please stay.”

“I’m behind schedule already, kitten…”

“Just a few more hours?” She begged.

He gave a deep sigh, feeling the tug of the warm bed and Juniper’s even warmer snuggles. “Just a few hours.” He pressed.

Juniper wiggled with victory, cuddling deeper into his side. He wrapped an arm around her, smiling when he felt her relax into the contact.

They settled into a much more restful sleep.

Something felt wrong the moment she woke up that morning. Heisenberg had long since gotten to work, he had to trash the old soldat and start prepping the next. But him being gone was not unusual.

Juniper went about the beginning of her day normally, trying to ignore the churning in her gut. The feeling worsened as she descended the elevator, the heat making her head swim.

As she came through the door to the workshop, the smell of organs and old blood hit her nose. It was a smell she was long since accustomed to. At least she thought she was.

Her stomach suddenly clenched and before she could react she curled forward, vomiting onto the shop floor.

Heisenberg looked up with alarm, dropping the liver back into the cadaver’s abdominal cavity.

“Shit, are you ok doll?” He asked suddenly, ripping off his soiled gloves.

Juniper’s head pounded as her body shivered with another round of vomit. Saliva dripped down her chin as she looked shakily up at Heisenberg, tears burning her eyes.

He helped her into a chair, handing her a bucket.

“What’s going on?” He questioned worriedly, putting a hand to her forehead. She wasn’t hot, no fever.

“I don’t know.” She shook her head, holding the bucket to her chest, “I felt queasy when I woke up.”

“Hmm.” He frowned, “It’s probably the cadou.”

Juniper remembered the night she stayed by Heisenberg’s side when he was sick.

“What do I do?” She asked, feeling another bout of nausea wash over her.

“Wait it out.” He said frankly.

She gave him a narrow look before retching again.

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly until she was able to speak again.

“Let’s get you back upstairs.” He helped her stand.

Once she was back in the apartment, Heisenberg got her a fresh bucket and a glass of water. “You take it easy ok.” He pointed to the bed. Before she could protest he placed a walkie talkie on the bedside table, “If you need anything just call.”

The rest of the day she focused on staying hydrated, the feeling washing back away like the tides of the sea. It never quite left her, however, not being a brief bout like Heisenberg was accustomed too.

It was all very puzzling to Juniper…

[papermonkeyism]

I've always loved how dynamic your poses are and the way you use varying angles, do you have any tips for that? (Other than using reference and practising, though they do help a ton!)

Oof, that's a hard one!

Okay, so, I've drawn for most of my life, kinda ever since I could hold a pencil (gonna ding to 34 later this month, for reference), almost a decade of that was spent going through three different art schools, I've got couple entire degrees in this, and a lot of that means that drawing is second nature to me. I don't really have to consciously think of what I'm doing at this point anymore, so i don't know how good an explanation I'd be capable of giving.

So, uh. Couple of tips I could think of?

Practice

Yeah, yeah, practice makes a master, but don't just churn out drawings without thinking. Try to have a purpose in what you do. Draw from photos, draw from real life. Really THINK what is it that makes something look like it does. Watch a lot of videos of things moving. Dogs frolicking. Horses jumping. Google Eadweard Muybridge and study those image sequences. What makes the movement look like moving. How can you convey the weight of the thing you're drawing. How's gravity affecting it. Draw from a photo of a moving thing, and then again, but exaggerate it. Photos on their own can look stiffer than the thing they portrait, as they freeze the time, so thinkbof pushing things further to make the impact feel bigger. How about a video? Ever seen someone get punched in the face in slow mo? See where all the squishy flesh is going.

Perspective is evil, but studying it can make you so much better at drawing things.

Study from art. How have other people portrayed movement before you? Look at classical art, but also animation. Your favourite comics and cartoons. What's exaggerated? Squash and stretch? (note: it is absolutely fine to trace art for practice. Kids do that to learn, and most artist have done, and still do that. BUT! It's polite to not publish these practice drawings online without permission from the artist you copied from. And remember to credit if you do!) And don't just stick to one artist, or you risk learning their shortcuts without knowing WHY they use said shortcuts, you don't want to end up adopting someone else's mistakes in your own art by accident. Watch movies, specially animated. See how and why they work. Frame by frame if you have to or can! (Kung Fu Panda movies are visual porn, just saying)

Study composition and layout. See if you can find storyboards of good looking movies, or just watch a movie and try to draw storyboards from it. Try to find key poses

Don't worry about having a style. Most artists can't actually see their own style (I know I can't! I still have a style, I know I do, but because style is formed from muscle memory, habit and my way of seeing things, my style is inevitably mine, but I can't recognize it, as from my perspective I can only see the mechanics of what make said style, not the results on their own)

Keep a sketchbook!

(traditional artist point of view here) Have a designated place for your doodles and studies. Whenever you draw something that doesn't need to be on it's own paper, draw it in a sketchbook. Fill the sketchbook with anything and everything. Doodles, studies, notes, life drawing, two dozen faces of your favourite anime character, that one eyebrow you saw in another artist's drawing that really spoke to you, and you wanted to understand it (my sketchbooks have sometimes disembodies body parts in them, drawn in other peoples' styles because of this. I don't share them, but I absolutely do them). Date your drawings, so looking back you can easier see your progress? You probably can't see your progress while it's happening, but the hindsight of a sketchbook can help. Don't delete them, just move on. Ruined a page? It's okay, it's just a sketchbook. Turn to the next page and continue. You can learn from your mistakes, but you need to make said mistakes first!

Try different materials or mediums.

Draw with pencil. Draw with marker. Pick a watercolor and try that. Did you know you can paint with coffee? Learn how different materials feel, how they work. Not every medium will be your friend, but you won't know if you don't try.

Try drawing on black paper using only white or light colors. Carve its shapes out of the blank darkness!

Get some playdoh or modelling clay and make something. And then maybe draw what you made. Combo the 3d of the clay with the 2d of the pencils.

Like, it's not just learning to draw, as in make lines on paper. It's also about training your brain to SEE. That's the impirtant bit.

My brain works visually anyway, so I've gotten it trained pretty good at visualizing things before I even pick the pencil up.

Uhhh, is this helpful in any way? I don't know how to advice.

[puthyflapps]

Thot about Anya making one of those cheesy promposal signs for Raven. Her plan was to have the sign read, “prom with you would be out of this world” and there would be images of all things space covering the poster board –planets, stars, the whole nine yards. But she wasn’t exactly good at this artistic stuff. Her block letters were sitting rather crooked on the paper and the picture she’d drawn of the moon looked more like a chocolate chip cookie and the rocket ship...well, I shouldn’t say. All in all, it was a real eye sore.

She’d spent way too many hours working on this stupid thing and it was too late to make an emergency trip to the store for more poster board. So, Anya decides the best course of action at the moment is to just flip the board over and start fresh. Now, with a new, blank canvas she gets smart and enlists the last-minute help of her resources. God bless her sister for dating an artist, right?

With Clarke’s help, this thing actually looks presentable and Anya isn't entirely embarrassed to be seen standing outside of their school with it as she waits for her girlfriend to get out of her last class of the day. Anya and Raven were never ones for cliche high school rituals but this was their last prom together so she wanted to make it special. If that means Anya has to stand awkwardly in front of everyone with a giant, dorky sign then she would because Raven deserved to feel special.

The bell rings signifying the end of class and it makes Anya’s heart thump with a dizzying kind of excitement. She keeps her dark brown eyes trained on the doors of the school, searching for her girlfriend’s form. She notices a few familiar faces staring at her in a mix of shock and confusion. If this were any other day she would’ve sent a sharp scowl back their way as a reminder to fuck off but right now, she is too preoccupied with finding her girl. Another minute or so passes when the blonde finally catches a glimpse of a bright red jacket and she knows immediately, that’s her.

Her sweaty hands tighten their grip on the paper as she waits for the girl to get a little closer before hoisting it up in front of her chest for all to see. A few beats pass and Raven still hasn’t quite noticed yet. It leaves Anya momentarily second guessing herself. Maybe this was a dumb idea. What if Raven didn’t want some grandiose gesture for something as simple as a high school dance?However, before Anya’s thoughts can further spiral, she hears the warm voice of the girl she’s been waiting on call out.

“Oh my god!”

Raven’s bright smile is blindingly beautiful and the happy giggles that overflow from her lips are all the confirmation Anya needs to know she did the right thing. She visibly relaxes and it finally feels like she can finally breathe again but there’s still somewhat of an underlying nervousness clawing at her because Raven hasn’t said yes yet.

The brunette takes her time approaching her girlfriend; making sure to take a mental screenshot of this moment so she can tuck it away safely in her mind and revisit it for years to come. Her cheeks hurt from smiling so much and although it doesn’t seem remotely possible, her smile seems to only grow wider the longer she stares at her adorable girlfriend. Anya doesn’t like to be the center of attention. She’s always been the back-of-the-class, silent observer type. So, to say this was a surprise would be an understatement because this display was certainly an attention grabber.

“Baby,” Raven says as all her words seem to fail her in that moment.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go to prom with me.”

“Yes, of course,” she answers as her hands gently take hold of the sign so she can take an even closer look.

Honey brown orbs meticulously inspect every detail from the nerdy pun to the cute doodles strewn about the board.

“I can’t believe you did all this,” she declares and pauses briefly to rise on her tiptoes and place a sweet kiss on Anya’s thin lips before continuing.

“Did you get Clarke to help you?”

Raven asks sweetly as she notices the familiar art style. Personally, she thinks it’s rather cute that her girlfriend reached out to her best friend for help. The idea of the two working together is a little funny considering the two don’t have much in common besides their love for Raven.

“Yeah, blondie’s a little better at this art thing than I am. She drives a hard bargain though. I owe her like a week's worth of Starbucks for doing this,” Anya mutters in faux frustration.

“Aww, well hopefully it was worth it.”

“It definitely was.”

The two stare lovingly at one another for a moment; just basking in each other’s presence and the feeling of contentment.

“Can I keep it?”

Raven asks, her eyes darting down to the paper and back up to her girlfriend.

“It’s all yours. I just wouldn’t look at the back of it if I were you,” Anya replies as the tips of her ears tinge pink.

The brunette’s brows crease and her head tilts in confusion, prompting the blonde to explain.

“I tried to do it by myself at first but it didn’t turn out the way I hoped it would.”

Curiosity gets the best of the girl and she can’t stop herself from turning the poster over to see what has her girlfriend so flustered. On the back are colorful block letters of varying sizes that to someone else’s eye might be unsightly but, to Raven, are nothing shy of gorgeous. Perhaps her favorite part is the random sprinkling of stars throughout the page. They had been erased and redrawn several times if the faint smudges from what was most likely not the best eraser are anything to go on.

“I wish you would’ve used this side,” the shorter of the two says quietly causing the other girl to vehemently shake her head in opposition.

“It wasn’t good enough. I wanted it to be perfect for you.”

“It is perfect,” Raven argues as her eyes trace over all of the girl’s haphazard pencil marks.

Anya presses a chaste kiss to the other girl’s head and chuckles softly, “You don’t have to say that to make me feel better.”

“I’m not,” Raven replies earnestly and honestly, “I love it.”

And really, she wasn’t lying. There was not so much as the faintest falsehood coating her words that day. That poster remained taped to her bedroom wall for the rest of the school year. Unsavory lettering and poorly drawn doodles on full display for all to see. Raven even brought it with her when the pair moved into their freshman dorm room despite some hesitance from Anya. When the couple moved into their first home together, she made Anya store it safely away in their attic so that one day, when it was time for their children to enjoy a prom of their own, Raven could proudly show them a little piece of their parents past.