#anyways the pencilling on this one needed help like its not even a coloring issue at the core of it its legit this guest guy drawing

[themyscirah]

Philippus? Wym philippus this is a wholeass other woman?????? She's white?????? Guys come on now

ALSO cursed white Euboea in this same sequence.... homeboy she's Asian please stop

Joe Phillips I'm sorry but this is some shitty ass guest pencilling how can you not know anything abt what these people look like thats literally your job... you also just needed to read the issue before this to know?

Editors should have caught this one these are major Amazon characters

[b-ritney]

Hugs <3

I'm not gonna lie, I'm trying really hard not to complain but I am going through it right now. The celebration of life for my friend was yesterday and it was beautiful and everything but I just can't wrap my head around the fact that he's gone... I was brought up in a spiritual family, not necessarily religious but spiritual, and this whole situation has altered all my beliefs and I think that scares me more than anything...

I really hope all you lovely people out there are doing ok, hug the ones you love and tell them you love them while you can. You never really know how far that goes... anyway... :)

Summary: you're going through a really REALLY hard time, and you don't have many close friends. Your family doesn't seem bothered to try and understand your internal suffering (my mom does don't worry) so your left on your own, with a desperate need to be held.

Warnings: It's just really sad and frustrating if you've experienced this before. I just hope it makes you feel less alone. Implied panic attacks, and internal turmoil, implication of past trauma. ENDS SWEET

Eddie X y/n

Not proof read.

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

You were walking through the halls of school just barely keeping it together. Although from the outside nobody would have known you were suffering. You always tried to be happy or seem happy, you were always there for everyone ALL the time but no one was really ever there for you. It was upsetting sometimes but most days you just let it roll off your back, it made you feel better knowing that you weren't bothering anyone with your issues. You liked being everyone's safe person but right now you really needed someone. But when you thought about it, you really didn't know anyone well enough to call for help, this was the final fact that took the last fragment of your heart and shattered it. You grabbed the last of your things from your locker and started making your way to the parking lot keeping your head up, trying to look as normal as possible, but no one could deny the lack of color in your face and the redness of your eyes. Many consecutive nights without sleep had taken its toll on you, whether you'd like to avoid it or not. You're old music class partner, Eddie, passed by as you swung your book bag over your shoulder and into your trunk, a pencil flying out of one of the pockets. He bent over and grabbed it for you. "Here you go," he said passing it to you with a smile.

"Thank you," you said keeping your face out of his sight.

"Hey, y/n, you okay?" you couldn't hide from him, it just wouldn't be polite.

"Yeah, yeah I'm ok," you said swiping a trembling hand across your forehead. You prayed he didn't notice... he did... but he wasn't gonna tell you.

"Oh, ok, good.. listen I have some new tapes I'm gonna bring you, I borrowed them from Gareth," he said laughing with air quotes.

"Sounds great, can't wait to hear them." you smiled kindly, waving goodbye, and stepping into your car. Eddie didn't know how to tell you, but you looked like hell, and it was troubling to see someone so nice upset. He pondered what to do as he made his way back inside for Hellfire.

Back at home, you let it all out, you took your hair down and changed your clothes, and immediately collapsed into your bed, drowning in tears. Your chest felt like a thousand pounds of dead weight was resting there. Inside you thought you were dying, your pulse racing as if you had just injected straight caffeine into your veins. You cried out into your empty house for anybody to help you, to hold you, to console your aching heart. You decided to get in the shower to relax your muscles but you could only last so long in the heat, the constant waves of tears making it hard to breathe. You needed someone to hold you so badly, just to feel grounded and cared for, even for a second. Then it came to you, Eddie... Eddie seemed to care. He was always nice to you regardless of how much time you spent together.. and he remembered your favorite music... that was really nice of him... you needed Eddie. You had his address from your last group project tucked into your binder. He had to be home from Hellfire by now, there was no time for a phone call you had to get to him. You flew out of the driveway and sped all the way to his trailer the cool autumn air making your wet hair feel like ice as it stuck to your back. You listened closely for any signs of life within the trailer. The familiar sound of Eddie's radio blasting filled your ears, as you knocked on the door. No answer. So you knocked a little harder... Eddie's head snapped up as he looked at the clock... Who would be knocking at 9 o'clock at night? He hung his guitar up and made his way to the door, pulling back the curtain before unlocking the latch. Oh my god. He practically ripped the door off the hinges when he realized it was you. "Y/n? What's going on? Get in here you're shaking like a leaf." you hurried in the door standing before him as he rubbed up and down your arms trying to warm you up. You couldn't bare to meet his eyes, this contact alone was taking away so much of your pain. He took one hand and tilted your chin up to look at him, you immediately burst into tears, wrapping him in a tight embrace.

"Y/n, sweetheart? What's going on?"

You sniffed wiping your nose on your sleeve. "You promise you won't make fun of me?"

"Absolutely." he leaned down to look you in the eyes.

"I just... I really needed a hug Eddie," new tears blurring your vision, "I didn't have anyone else to call... you're the last person I wanted to dump this on." you cried.

"It's ok, I'm glad you're here," he pulled you back into his arms, rubbing soothing circles on your back. "Here," he grabbed a discarded sweatshirt from the back of a kitchen chair, pulling it over your head; " you're freezing."

"Thanks." you said letting your head fall into his chest.

"Come here," he walked you to the couch and threw a pillow on the floor, "sit down here I'll be right back." you did as he said and watched as he walk away. When he came back he had a mug of hot chocolate a hair tie and a brush. He handed you the mug and sat behind you on the couch. He planted his feet on either side of you, urging you to settle against the couch. He lifted the brush and started combing your hair, "This okay?" he asked gently. You nodded and smiled as he softly continued to brush through your hair and tie it back in a loose braid, "all done, this is really some of my best work." he laughed. You tilted your head back and smiled at him, he leaned down and placed a tender kiss on your forehead.

"Thank you, Eddie." you whispered turning around to wrap him in another hug.

"Anytime," he cooed, lifting you onto the couch with him, holding you until you were ready to let go.

___________________________________________

I gotta go to bed. Sleep good wherever you are, I hope you have sweet dreams and that every one of your tomorrows from here to eternity is the best day ever. <3

[flowerfeast444]

you were a house on fire || h.s. {pt 6}

harry styles x oc

chapter summary: roe and harry open up more. part of roe reminds harry of his old life

word count: 2.9k

series masterlist

"So if I remember to carry the one, it's four hundred-sixty-five?" Demi mumbled, her chin perched on top of her hand as she slouched over the table. A few curly bangs fell in front of her face, dusting her cheekbones. She needed a haircut soon, Roe decided.

"I think you're close?"

Roe leaned closer towards Demi's problem set to read her work, attempting to find the issue. Demi rolled her eyes, dropped her pencil on the kitchen table, and threw herself back in the creaky wooden chair. Neither of them excelled in math, making afternoons like these a throbbing pain in the ass; but Roe would sacrifice anything for the kids, even if it meant suffering through a migraine and an argument to get them to complete their homework. They may not appreciate it now, but Roe would see them to their graduation day- that's a promise.

"This is impossible."

"Don't say that," Roe berated.

The next hour ensued similarly to how it began, and neither of them saw much hope for improvement. It was only when Roe got distracted with the sound of her text tone going off that Demi fully exploded.

"You're not even being helpful! This sucks, I'm going to my room. Don't come after me."

Roe threw up her hands in defeat and allowed her sister to stomp up the stairs. Perhaps next time she'll recruit Aaron to help tutor math, he's sure to pass at the top of his class. When she finally heard a door slam, she unlocked her phone to read the offending notification.

"I'm sorry again about the other night."

Harry.

Roe rubbed her eyes until she saw flashes of color. It's not that she's angry about that night because she's not. She has always kept her expectations low, it's necessary, especially when dealing with men that clearly have some underlying issues they needed to deal with. But she's not a psychiatrist. Really, it was a matter of time before he said something of that manner; he stood out like a silver spoon in a case of rusty cutlery. She wasn't angry with him. She should have expected his arrogance, and therefore any negative feelings are inevitably her fault for not preparing herself more.

Roe pulled up the message thread between her and Harry and sent, "its fine".

"Are you sure?" his reply came immediately, followed by, "Can we talk?"

A few hours later, Roe opened the front door for Harry. She had just coaxed River to lay down without crying, and she had scarcely seen the twins since dinner. As the clock ticked nearer to eleven, Roe accepted her siblings' contentment in hiding away in their bedrooms. As per usual on Wednesday nights, the oldest two brothers were still at work

"Thanks for letting me come over," he said.

Roe nodded her head once and smiled, unable to think of an appropriate response. She knew his intentions were good-willed based on the minimal texts they exchanged, but the anxiety that came with knowing he would be seeing her house for the first time nearly caused her to refuse to see him altogether. She barely had time to clean anywhere before he arrived, and she couldn't help but obsess over the toys strewn about, the yellowing smoke-stained walls, and mismatched furniture- or lack thereof. It was ridiculous, she contended. She likely couldn't fix any of those things in a day, anyway. But compared to Harry's sleek apartment, the Byrnes were flat broke.

He followed her to the plaid couch and they sat, a pressing distance separating them as Roe's eyes trained on a stain on the cushion between them. It was only the size of a quarter, likely a drop of ketchup or baby food, but it stuck out against the loud print of the couch as if it were screaming to be attended to. Maybe she'll clean it tomorrow.

"I want you to know I'm not the kind of person who does stuff like this." he gestured between them, "I don't know, I guess I just kind of panicked when I said I'd pay you-"

"It's fine, really. We fucked, you were a dick. I can move on. I have moved on. I don't know how many times I have to say it, Harry," her voice softened, despite its unwavering tone.

"Okay, " he nodded, "we can move on, then." Roe followed his gaze to River's Hot Wheels scattered beside the other chair across the room, "I hope I'm not intruding on your night or anything."

"No, I put him to bed a little bit ago. And we already finished dinner and everything, so." She nodded.

"Sounds lovely," he cleared his throat and smiled. "Do anything else interesting today?"

He came all this way to clear the air when in reality, there was nothing more for him to say. He felt it would have been rude for him to get up and leave after only sitting on her couch for a mere three minutes- if anything it would have been a simple waste of both of their times. Knowing the kids were home gave him a slight quiver to his voice, knowing their conversation could be impeded. He pushed that thought down, carrying on the conversation as if she were any other girl and this was any regular night.

"I was just helping Demi- you remember my sister you met at the shop? with her homework when you texted earlier, but it went as well as you could have expected."

"I doubt it; you're smart, I bet you were better than her teacher." Casual flirting. Normal.

"I wouldn't put money on that, I didn't even finish high school."

"Really? Why not? I mean, you don't have to tell me. I get it. I didn't finish school either. Shit happens." Harry leaned back into the cushions of the couch and crossed his arms.

"You didn't finish?"

"No. I went straight into One Direction after I turned sixteen. Who needs a diploma when you've got stardom, right?" Roe mimicked his smile, but soon after, they were both met with a tight silence. So much for normal conversation, he supposed.

"River was born the summer before my senior year," Roe blurted, "and the twins were still in elementary school then, the boys not much older. Long story short, my parents are shitty, and my sister and I dropped out to pick up some of their slack."

"Demi?" He furrowed his brow and tilted his head back.

"No. I have a twin, too. Fae," she strained.

"Oh, does she live nearby? I don't think I've met her yet."

"No. She's not around much anymore."

The stillness returned, and it brought an itch down to Roe's bones. In a house with so many kids, she usually got on her knees and rejoiced when no one was yelling at each other, crying, or cranking the volume on a boombox. Tonight, however, she prayed for any sound other than her heartbeat ringing in her ears.

When she finally couldn't take it anymore, she stood abruptly from the couch and faced Harry, "Wanna smoke?" she asked.

Harry shrugged and nodded, standing to follow her. While she didn't exactly anticipate this happening, she luckily tidied up her bedroom this morning after River spilled his juice on her sheets. And by 'tidied up', she simply changed the sheets, shoved loose items of clothing into an empty dresser drawer, and relocated River's toys to the closet in the living room. The closet was stuffed to begin with, and she empathized with whoever is next to open it.

Together, they gently ascended the stairs towards the door at the end of the hall; a Rocky Horror Picture Show poster peeling off the center. Roe shut the door behind him and moved swiftly towards her dresser. Harry stood near the end of her full-sized bed picking at a scab on his right thumb, unsure of what to do with himself, while she jostled some unfolded shirts around until she found the jar she was looking for. She triumphantly raised it in the air before settling on the bed, eliciting a chuckle out of Harry for the first time that night. She grabbed a green pipe out of her nightstand and only spared a single glance at the man beside her before crumbling the dried bud into its bowl.

The first time Harry smoked was at his friend's birthday party. They barely passed the halfway mark of year eleven, and he still had high hopes of attending college to study something worthwhile, like environmental science. He didn't mean what he said to Roe earlier about graduating; he had thought about getting his diploma often, and he took his studies seriously. There were weekends, however, that he set his books aside and let himself fall into the stereotypes about kids his age. He never found out where they got it from, but Alex brought a few grams of weed and a bong to James' party, and, Jesus, it was a party to remember. Despite embarrassing himself by coughing immediately after inhaling the bud, his first kiss happened later that night.

He never intended on making this smoking thing a habit. In fact, he didn't smoke the entire time he was on XFactor or the first three years of the band. He hadn't been attached to the substance as Alex had (and definitely still was), but that doesn't mean he didn't crave its warmth and ability to slow every emotion. Perhaps he felt the need to prove something about 'teenage popstars'- something a few of his bandmates regarded lightly- or he simply wanted to avoid disappointing his mother. It didn't matter much. Either way, as the band began slipping into disarray, so did his conscience.

At that point, Harry stopped looking at his calendar to follow the days of the month or the week; enough people on the team and in management steered him to his next destination and never allowed him to wander too far. And there were simply too many days until their next break to be able to keep a countdown, so what was the point? Niall told him this was a depressing sentiment. He held it anyway.

So, that May (he was fairly certain they entered May by then), he finished recording his parts of the new album for the day and was sent to find Zayn for his recordings. He jabbed the call button for the hotel elevator and combed through his hair with his fingers as he waited impatiently. The closer he got to his and Louis' hotel room, the smell emanating from it confirmed that Zayn was there.

"Shut up, you wanker," Zayn laughed, Louis just shaking his head. The two of them sat perched on the windowsill, a few feet and an ashtray between them. Harry cleared his throat. "Oh, hey, Harry. Uh, what's up?"

Harry repeated their manager's message for Zayn, but he only nodded in response. Louis shot Zayn a look before taking a drag of the short blunt between his fingertips. Harry still stood in the middle of the hotel room, shifting his weight from his left foot to his right, then back to his left. So, this is how it would be.

"Well, you want a hit, or?" Zayn trailed off. Harry watched Louis comb through his fringe and wished he would just look at him.

"I'm good, thanks."

///

"Sorry, what was that?"

"I asked if you want the first hit," Roe laughed.

Harry shook the memory away and finally sat on the bed beside her. They took turns drawing the smoke into their lungs, holding for a few seconds, then releasing. He secretly held a theory that half of the anxiety-reducing properties of smoking was simply the practiced breathing. He tried to keep that in mind when craving anything more.

By the time Roe sat up to refill the bowl for another round, Harry realized he had slouched far down the wall and, oddly enough, neither of them had spoken since they first entered her room. Harry pushed himself higher. His back ached slightly, and though years of neglect were surely to blame, he suddenly held the single flat pillow behind him accountable. Roe seemed oblivious to this agitation.

"So, you have a lot of siblings," Harry said after Roe lit the fresh bowl. She didn't know whether he meant this as a question or a statement but nodded her head nonetheless.

"Oldest of six- seven if you count Fae. Most of us don't though. So, oldest of six."

"I just have one sister. She's older."

Roe hums a note of interest but doesn't prompt him any further so they fall back into quietness. If he weren't so high, Harry surely would be ticking with restlessness. Though he longed for the ease that accompanied close relationships, Roe was essentially still a stranger. Sure, they spent several hours together at Keystone or the diner, but Harry can't recall any substantial conversations. Anything he revealed about himself was surely a click away on Google, and half of the time, Roe shrouded herself in ambiguity or changed topics on the fly. Honestly, it scared him a little. He recognized that if this were to be any type of relationship that went somewhere, there would have to be some give and take. Vulnerability. That is if Roe actually wanted this to go anywhere. If not, Harry supposed he could feel content where they were.

A soft knock on Roe's bedroom door jolted Harry out of his haze. The door creaked open, but Roe seemed unconcerned as she took another hit- the bowl almost entirely ash by now. With the light in the hallway off and a single lamp to illuminate Roe's room, an odd shadow cast across the face of the man in the doorway. Still, Harry recognized him. He had been there at the diner to pick up the toddler that Roe came in with. Their connection bemused him, but he figured it wasn't his place to dig further.

"Why are you smoking that shit in here?" Lucas eyed Harry up and down but restrained himself from making any extra comments.

"Kids are asleep, window's open." She lazily pointed towards the hallway, then behind her towards the window.

"Next time consider the backyard?" He turned to close the door, "Or just trashing the habit altogether," he muttered.

///

A tiny elbow to the stomach jolted Roe from her sleep. As she blinked away the morning's blurriness, River giggled as he crawled around her with his stuffed pig tucked under his left arm. After a few moments, he settled down and sat on the tops of her stomach.

"Good morning, Jellybean. Did you sleep okay?"

"Yes! No scary pictures." He promptly put his thumb in his mouth.

"That's great! Can you go downstairs and wait for me? I'll get you juice and breakfast in a minute, okay?" Roe kissed his cheek and helped him slide back down onto the floor. Roe and Harry eyed each other shyly. She shook her head and he let out a laugh as they heard River's small feet pitter-patter through the still house. Roe covered her face with her hands and explained, "He's an early riser. The rest of the kids don't wake up for another hour."

Harry shifted onto his back but kept his smile present. He thought of his plans for the day and how they really amounted to nothing. At least, they were so simple compared to Roe's. She had a routine, people that relied on her. The only things on Harry's to-do list consisted of a load of laundry and perhaps going through his voicemails. They had truly stacked up the last few weeks.

"I don't mean to pry, but can I ask you something?" Roe nodded in encouragement, so he continued, "I saw you with him- River, that morning at the diner when he was sick. Just the way you were holding him, and, I don't know. Are you," his voice trailed off, "Is he-" He felt his cheeks darken, and sunk further into the mattress in attempts to conceal it. "You know, never mind, I-"

"He calls me mom sometimes," she laughed.

"Oh."

"If you're asking whether or not I carried him for nine months before pushing him out, that would be a no. But, if you're asking if I'm his mother," she paused and shrugged.

"I suppose I should get going then, especially before the others wake. You must have a busy day, " Harry said, "And, I'm not sure how much I want this," he lifted a hand to gesture between them, "to be public knowledge. Not that I don't trust your family, just- " he shrugged, attempting to find the right words to say so early in the morning.

"No, I get it. They can be nosy little bitches, " she crinkled her nose. "Plus, I just got out of a messy relationship, or maybe I'm still getting out of it, I don't even know, and it could be good to just be, " she let out a big sigh as she rubbed her shoulder, "casual?"

"Casual." Harry nodded.

[o-wyrmlight]

What do you use to draw? I'm pretty sure you use a drawing tablet, but what brand? Any reccomendations?

I have two Gaomon tablets! One which I use for my laptop and one that I use for my desktop.

The one I use for my desktop is a Gaomon PD2200. It's a rather large tablet that comes with a stand. It's really neat, and the screen itself is this sort of matte cover that makes it feel a little more like paper. The main downside is that the 'buttons' aren't 'buttons' so much as they are 'touch buttons'. As a result, you can't really feel when you're pressing on the buttons, so if you try to use them without looking at them, you could press the wrong thing. I ended up not using them and keeping them on, and eventually had to turn that whole function off because it kept picking up inputs that I wasn't giving it and making me think that my computer was messing up.

The one I use for my laptop is a much smaller one that plugs directly into it. It's a PD1161. It has a much smaller screen, but the upside is that it's a display tablet (like the PD2200) and it acts as a second monitor, so I can look at what I'm drawing while I'm watching a YouTube channel and being online. This one has unmarked buttons (that I could mark with a silver sharpie or something), but they're actual buttons, so I already consider that to be a plus.

I like Gaomon! It's a rather fair brand for the price, I feel. The only things I don't really like about them that I've consistently noticed in between both of the products that I have is that:

The colors look different from how they are on the other screen and it's difficult to try to figure out how to adjust them to the same values

The biggest issue I have is that there's often a drift from where the pen is and where the tablet detects it as being. It varies all around the board, and calibrating the screen doesn't seem to do much to fix it. Checking on my drawing tablet right now, it looks to be less accurate towards the center and more accurate around the edges of the screen for some reason. You can work around it, but it's a little frustrating at times that you have to focus on the actual cursor on the screen.

The PD2200 and its touch buttons are difficult to use, and even when I wasn't using them, they still eventually ended up detecting false inputs that made me dread trying to draw on it and frustrated me to no end. I eventually figured out what the issue was, but it took a good couple of months before it finally clicked in my brain after getting a whole other keyboard and noticing that the issues were still continuing.

Aside from drawing tablets, my traditional mediums tend to vary! I like to experiment from time to time with different mediums, and this includes ballpoint pens, sketching pencils, India inks, calligraphy ink, watercolors, alcohol markers, colored pencils... it helps me feel less like I'm sitting in the same rut all the time, being able to swap in between different mediums and experiment. Sometimes what you need to get out of art block is a bit of rest. Sometimes what you need is trying something different!

Traditional-wise, what I really want to do is get a bundle of colored calligraphy inks so I can do some colored lineart, but all that Amazon's really showing me is India inks and glass pen inks. Which are all water-based and not made for calligraphy pens.

As an aside, as a touch of experimentation, I figured out that India inks and glass pen inks work very well on watercolor paper, and it doesn't blot or bleed as much as it does on sketch paper! Sort of makes me wish I did that Pure Vanilla drawing on watercolor paper instead of a sketchbook, but then again I also wish I used a different color for the lineart anyway, so. You win some, you lose some.

Experimenting is,, fun. I think people deserve to experiment.

[molluskzone]

art tipz:

sketch in a different color than you do lineart in and also make sure you use either a brush that is a low opacity or turn the opacity down on the layer so you dont accidentally draw the lineart on the sketch layer (i do pink, red, or blue for my sketch color and i always initially do lineart in black).

make sure your sketch is the same brush size or smaller than your lineart because it will be harder to line precisely if youre tracing over the sketch. this might be way you always think your sketch looks better than your lineart: thick sketches, or sketches where you go over the same line multiple times or chicken scratch will look better to you because its more ambiguous.

people are correct when they say that tracing is Morally Neutral but make sure youre A. using either your own photos or photos that are free to use (you can use unsplash to find reference photos or there is a function on google to filter by usage rights). photography is an art form too and you shouldnt just trace over photographs you dont have permission to use especially if youre tracing the composition and B. make sure the traced bit matches with the rest of your art style and stylization or else its gonna be super obvious that you traced it. also while tracing isnt a mortal sin you should draw from reference too it makes it way easier to draw from memory if you cant find or take a photo to trace.

if youre stuck on a piece download a new brush.

if you primarily draw digitally pick up a pencil. if you primarily draw traditionally try digitizing a piece you already made in photopea (or draw digitally if you have a tablet).

flip your canvas

flip your canvas

flip your canvas (ive seen some people complain about this advice because "if whoever looks at my art flips it in an editing program thats THEIR problem!!!" when thats not why people ask you to flip your canvas. they ask you to flip your canvas so YOU can see the mistakes easier. a lot of people tend to draw their characters at a lean/warp depending on if theyre right or left handed or what pose the character is in, and flipping the canvas helps you see this. the audience, however, has fresh eyes, and will likely be able to see the lean WITHOUT editing the photo. i personally see leans and unevenness all the time in other peoples art (not judging, i think its Fine and im not gonna complain about it, the pieces usually look good anyways, but you dont need to be a nitpick to notice this. also if you come back to your own piece later you might be able to see it). also if you draw traditionally look at it in a mirror or take a photo of it with your front camera)

the top jaw is connected to the head. the lower jaw is the one that moves. the NOSE and LIPS can move around because theyre flexible, but the teeth and the stop will not move unless the entire head moves.

notice how even though the mouth is open, the entire skull is moved along with the upper jaw. the lower jaw is the only part capable of moving independently from the rest of the skull

this is mainly an issue in furry art where people will break their characters skulls in order to open the mouth: only the squishy part of the nose and lips will flex

EXAMPLE OF THIS:

the soft part of his NOSE can be pushed up, but the rest of his face cannot be bent that way.

the front and back legs of most 4 legged animals (not all) bend differently from each other. example:

use a reference 4 more information... the internet is such a beautiful place

even if you are drawing just a bust of halfbody shot of a character. if you are drawing them With another character in in an environment MAKE A SIMPLE SKETCH OF THE ENTIRE BODY AND *THEN* CROP IT TO YOUR DESIRED SIZE. please learn from me i never do this and i always mess up the heights or proportions...

perhaps this advice is specific to me and nobody else but stop trying to "learn color theory" none of the tutorials work. color theory is learned by violently throwing yourself at it over and over and over and over and over again until you make something that works. you just Get It or you Dont Get It UNTIL you Get It and ive never met someone able to teach it properly in a way that allows you to apply it to your own art (especially digital art). just keep trying ur not doing something wrong just look at pieces you like and try to emulate how they use colors by eyeballing it. you will pick it up eventually. also try not using pure black or white unless you REALLY know what youre doing bc it usually is kind of distracting.

if ur trying to make a clear pose squint your eyes at it, if you can still see whats going on its probably fine. or just color the entire thing the lineart color to see the silhouette. or start sketching in blocked out silhouettes instead.

you can do whatever you want forever

[ikroah]

Whiskey river, take my mind, don't let her memory torture me. Whiskey river, don't run dry, you're all I got, take care of me. —“Whiskey River,” Shotgun Willie (1973)

It Keeps Right On a-Hurtin’ #15 - Vegas Outskirts

Collaborative Issue! Guest Colorist: @malpaislegate​ / @socksual-innuendos​

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Notes / Original Pencils / Transcript:

Notes:

MAN that’s gotta hurt!! Volume 2 kicks off with a bang, literally if you count the gunshot and honorifically if you count Socks’ knockout color job on this issue. Look at those lovingly rendered bullet wounds!! Muah!!!

It’s been a relief having a month off from the comic as I handled a bunch of other things but there’s a lot to look forward to in Volume 2, as you can probably tell from that very forboding fist clench at the end there. Will Agnes and Cass get the revenge they’re looking for? Can they make it big in Vegas? Will it keep right on a-hurtin’? Find out next ish as Cass leads Agnes to meet the first of their new “friends.”

Original Pencils:

The pencils for this issue are like an autopsy report of all the things that can go wrong with your art if you don’t plan ahead and pay attention. Listen, friend, to my tale of woe, and learn from my mistakes so they don’t become yours!

First, you can see a lot of places where there’s floating objects, empty backgrounds, and incomplete heads. Part of this is because I always intended to just copy and paste repeated elements across each panel instead of drawing them multiple times, but other times I was forced to just because of my lack of planning. The top three panels on page two, for example, required me to draw the background I’d use for them on a separate page.

Second, you can probably tell that I actually had to flip the two raiders around in the final lineart because I forgot to keep the hands their were holding their guns in consistent—and since I couldn’t flip the middle panel on the second page without ruining the composition, I decided to flip all of their other appearances so that they’d be lefties. I doubt you even can seamlessly wield those particular guns left-handed.

Third, the size of the cart that Agnes and Cass are kneeling behind changes CONSTANTLY and is dramatically oversized from the third page onward. After inking these pages, it took a lot of work to correct the inks and shrink that cart in each panel, but fortunately it came out looking good.

And finally, I completely redrew the second panel on the fifth page because it wasn’t until I had already handed he pages off to my colorist that I realized having a second profile shot of Cass so soon after a first one was just...redundant and lazy-looking. So I went back to my sketchbook and whipped up a much more unique, striking angle (I also just wasn’t satisfied with the quality of my art on that panel, so I’m very glad I redrew it). But again, my failure to plan ahead bit me in the ass and my redraw attempt wound up taking up a lot more space than I thought it would, so after inking it I had to basically surgically remove it from the other inks.

I’ll be honest with you folks: part of the reason that I work in such simple, thick, high-contrast lineart is because it’s very easy to make corrections and adjustments with stuff you could technically color in Microsoft Paint.

Transcript:

EXT. SOMEWHERE IN THE MOJAVE, morning. AGNES SANDS and ROSE OF SHARON CASSIDY stand over the wreckage of a caravan, scattered over a dirt road.

CASS: Hell.

EXT. SOMEWHERE ELSE IN THE MOJAVE, midday. Looking over a second wrecked caravan, at the bottom of a ditch.

CASS: Fuck.

EXT. PRE-WAR HIGHWAY OUTSIDE OF VEGAS, mid-afternoon. AGNES and CASS survey a third wrecked caravan.

CASS: Shit. The proof is in the pudding. Or the pile of ash, rather. These attacks were done with Van Graff guns for Crimson Caravan caps. I'm sure of it.

As CASS explains her theory to AGNES, a short distance from the caravan two RAIDERS peer at the two of them from inside a barn at a ruined farmstead. They have snake-bite tattoos on the sides of their shaved heads and are holding rifles.

CASS: The scorchmarks and residue in the wreckages? That's energy weapon shit. Plasma and laser. Silver Rush special. Not like it'd be the Brotherhood. And Crimson Caravan must have bankrolled this fucked-up little hunting trip themselves.

The RAIDERS move out from the barn, sneaking up on two passers-by who’ve stopped at the caravan wreckage.

CASS: That explains why they bought me out...they needed the last loose end to saddle up back west with a tidy sum.

(NOTE: *Agnes delivered it and Cass signed it in IKROAH #7—Lou.)

CASS: It's a racket, Agnes: torch the local competition and it's win-win for both the f—

SFX: KRAK

A gunshot rips out from one of the RAIDERS’ rifles and sears across CASS’ shoulder.

CASS (gasping): —uckers.

CASS slumps down beneath the overturned caravan wagon on the road, clutching her shot shoulder.

CASS: —Aaggghghhhhhhh.

AGNES: Cass! Are you—

CASS: Fuck! Agnes, get down you moron!

AGNES ducks behind the cover of the wooden caravan wagon just as another gunshot splinters the top lip of it.

SFX: DTHWAK!

The RAIDERS advance on CASS and AGNES’ position, firing at them from off the road.

SFX: KRAK

AGNES leans over the top of the wagon with her pistol, returning fire.

SFX: BTAK BTAK BTAK

AGNES lands a shot right in one of the RAIDERS’ guts, and she drops her weapon and falls down.

SFX: SPLUT

CASS, leaning out the side of the wagon, takes as careful of aim as she can with her shotgun by holding it with her good arm. Trembling, she fires, connecting with the other RAIDER.

SFX: KBLAM

The would-have-been RAIDERS are dead.

AGNES: ...were those the Van Graffs?

CASS: No. Just some vultures.

CASS leans back behind cover to sit against the bottom of the overturned wagon again, wincing from her shoulder injury.

CASS: Ugghhn.

AGNES (slipping off duffel bag): Cass, your shoulder—

CASS: Yeah, it's been shot. I'm pretty fucking aware.

AGNES (unzipping bag): Quick, can you take your shirt off—

CASS: What!?

AGNES: —so I can dress the wound, Cass!

CASS: Oh! Good! So you weren't coming onto me on what remains of Griffin Wares Caravan.

CASS starts removing her shirt while AGNES produces a bottle of something from her duffel bag, and dampens a rag with its contents.

CASS: And since when are you a fucking field medic, anyway?

AGNES: 2269. NCR Certified.

CASS: What?

AGES: Yeah. I've been one kind of doctor or another since I was six.

CASS: What?

AGNES: Now hold still, this is antiseptic.

CASS: Since you were six!? I...shit, wait, hang on, Agnes—

AGNES pressess the rag onto CASS’ shoulder wound, and CASS winces instinctively. But, confusingly, there isn’t any pain.

CASS: ...isn't this supposed to sting like hell?

AGNES: No, not really. It's an acetic acid solution. Vinegar, basically.

AGNES begins cleaning the wound with the rag.

CASS: I thought you put alcohol on wounds to clean them.

AGNES: That's...a common misconception. It's good for tools, maybe, but too strong for skin. And it can complicate healing if you apply it directly.

CASS: So you're telling me, all my years, I've been wasting good whiskey only making my boo-boos worse?

AGNES: I mean...it's better than nothing in a pinch, but...

CASS: Well, then. Thanks for the lecture, doc. Can you just pass the whiskey anyway? Shoulder still hurts like hell regar—

AGNES hands her the whiskey bottle. She’d already gotten it out.

CASS: —dless. Oh. Thanks.

AGNES unspools a roll of bandages in her hands, then begins wrapping it over CASS’ shoulder and across her chest..

AGNES: So. It's a relatively minor wound, more of a deep graze than a real gunshot.

CASS: You'd know all about real gunshots, huh?

AGNES (unfazed): Uh-huh. I can suture it if necessary, but for now, these bandages will be fine. Just hold still. How do you feel?

CASS: I feel fucking pissed, Agnes!

AGNES recoils, taken aback slightly.

CASS: As I was saying before I got shot in the shoulder—which, however "minor" the wound, is real fucking close to my head, Agnes—this wasn't some random attack. These caravans, my caravan, got hit by the Van Graffs and Crimson Caravan. It ain't just some tragedy anymore. Now I've got names. Places. Faces.

AGNES resumes bandaging CASS.

CASS: I told you—ow! Don't pinch my tit, dammit—

AGNES: I said hold still.

CASS: —I told you, when you told me about this guy who shot you...when I let you drag me out of that fucking outpost...and when we went to Boulder City...that I would do the exact same thing in your shoes. Now, it is the exact same thing. This fucker shoots your eye out, these fuckers ash my caravan...these same fuckers I sold my own goddamn name to on a piece of paper. I mean...what else are we doing out here, Agnes? Getting shot at by Khans and Raiders just for kicks? Are we just fucking around?

AGNES finishes bandaging CASS, then leans back, pensive.

AGNES: No...no, I really guess we’re not.

CASS: That's what I thought. Your friend in Vegas can wait. Help me get mine, and we can get that shitheel together, and that's a prom—

CASS raises her arm  to shake her fist as she speaks, straining her shoulder injury.

CASS: —mmmmmmghhhh. Ooww, oww, oww, oww...

CASS grabs her shoulder in pain while AGNES looks off in the distance and stands up. She looks out towards the horizon—towards VEGAS, and the pre-war casinos and hotels that still gleam and glitter in blinding sunlight.

Her fist clenches. Her brow furrows. Her body tenses, all over, staring at that city, that place.

The caravan wreckage remains alone on the highway, brahmin bones long picked clean by scavengers.

AGNES SANDS IN: IT KEEPS RIGHT ON A HURTIN’

VOLUME 2: MAKE IT BIG IN VEGAS

[trashcankitty12]

Helia Headcanons

Helia Scofield, nephew of Saladin; Master Artist in the making.

Don’t let his soft demeanor and pacifistic leanings fool you; Helia’s up for the fight if he’s needed.

(All headcanons are mainly for my verses: Left and the New Company of Light. Fair warning.)

-Helia was born to Harley and Hannah Scofield.

-Hannah, Saladin’s twin (and the elder twin, thank you) is an illusion-based witch who works with her Great Uncle’s army. She’s a commander of the Pegasus Unit of the Callistan Army, and unlike her brother, tries to keep herself out of trouble.

-Harley’s more of a gentle soul who enjoys art and runs an art gallery in Callisto.

-As you can imagine, his parents, though loving to him and though they did love each other at one point, have had many disagreements about their lifestyles and what would be best for the family.

-Harley was more pacifistic while Hannah preferred to ‘face things head on’. (Both have great strategic minds though, and… Tended to use them against each other.)

-At a young age, Helia showed potential for magic. Hannah and Saladin tried to help hone his potential skills as a wizard, but the best he could do was simple spells to make himself faster and stronger than normal and to send magic notes. (And a few other minimalistic spells. He couldn’t do anything fancy like his mom and uncle though…)

-It didn’t really bum him out too much though. In fact, it was partially a relief that he wouldn’t have to worry about hurting someone with his magic if his feelings or concentration went out of control. And he had an easy way of keeping his utensils nearby while he was working.

-Helia was in a junior sword fighting league as a kid, something his Uncle Saladin and his mother were very proud of. (Though his father thought it reckless and dangerous and ugly… Even if there was a sort of elegance to sword fighting when done right.)

-He also participated in art clubs at his school and did his to earn high marks in elementary and middle school. (He tended to be a daydreamer and often spaced out in class, especially if the subject was boring to him. Which became another argument for his parents.)

-When he was about 12/13, his parents decided to divorce. Hannah relocated and deployed to serve in Magix at the Callistan Embassy (and to be closer to her brother). His father remained in Callisto.

-He was actually happy that they finally divorced, thrilled to never have to hear one of their ‘we’re not really arguing, just having a heated discussion’ sort of fights. Having to decide where to live and what his plans for the future, however, made him sick.

-His social anxiety was through the roof anyway, and on top of all of this… His art took a bit of a dark turn and so did his poetry.

-How dare his parents fight each other and then demand he choose? How dare they implode on him like this?

-(Faragonda and Griffin were honestly the best people during this time. And so were his childhood friends. They helped him keep his cool and realize what he wanted and how to go about talking to his parents about this stuff.)

-Helia left the sword fighting league, he never really enjoyed it anyway except for the moments he was benched and could sketch the matches. And he decided to stay with his father and enroll at the Callistan Art Academy. His mother was so proud that he wanted to follow his dreams, and agreed to weekends and holidays.

-(Honestly his parents were just happy that he was talking to them again instead of pushing them away. They were so worried, they even went to therapy so they could try and do better for Helia.)

-Helia stayed in touch with some of his sword fighting league friends and kept up with his childhood friends when he went to the Art Academy.

-He loved showing off his new works and talking his friends into being models for some of his works. (One of his favorite portraits is of his best guy friend posing with his new weapon after being accepted into Red Fountain.)

-His parents did move on from each other. On his dad’s side, he has a stepdad and a lovely younger stepsister who adores him. (And he has a half-brother on the way!!)

-His mom remarried a fellow soldier, Monroe. And Monroe has two children of their own; Seneca and Marie. (Older stepsisters… They’re loud and boisterous, but they mean well and Helia enjoys watching them pose and give him fashion shows to help out his own work.)

-Though he was only at the Academy for a short time, Helia discovered many things about himself. (And made friends with the Princess of Linphea who had gotten in despite her age. The fairy is truly gifted in making topiary art.)

-He loves his charcoal brushes and using colored pencils when doing sketches. Something about the way it moves on the paper just makes him so happy.

-And he does love to paint, though he’s not much for water colors. (And never ask him to do a digital piece. The last time he tried working with a tablet, he nearly got electrocuted. Granted, it was probably a one-time thing, but he took it as a sign.)

-Poetry is second love, aside from sketching and painting. He loves being able to verbalize his feelings and put the words down that he can feel inside. Its one of the few ways he feels he can truly connect to people, since it’s easier to write down the words instead of saying them. (Though he has done poetry readings from time to time.)

-Between portraits and landscapes, Helia prefers landscapes. And he’d really gotten into architecture drawings before he left the Academy.

-Because his parents were often busy when he was a kid, he found he had useful skills to ‘adult’ while at the Academy and on his own for the first time. (He can cook fairly well, at least, you know what you’re supposed to be eating and it tastes pretty good. But he’s no Chef Langdon.)

-He was great at keeping his room spotless and clean. His workspaces however? Not so much.

-Over half his wardrobe is stained with either paint or charcoal or clay.

-(Yes, he can do pottery. Just not very well. In fact, it usually looks pretty shit, but hey, he tried.)

-After seeing the news about what happened in Magix and how his uncle’s school was destroyed and the people he cared about nearly died, Helia decided to transfer. (Which took a lot of convincing with his dad and the Dean of the Academy and Saladin.)

-But once he was in, he was in. And when given the choice about his weapon, he went with one his mother loves to use, the laser-string gloves. Great for restraint and for quick weapon-recovery in battle without potentially causing further harm.

-Add in his ability to make himself stronger, and he can wield that glove with the confidence of a sword fighter.

-He quickly clicked with Timmy once he joined their squadron, despite the two having different views of technology.

-Helia was Riven’s roommate though, and while their personalities didn’t compete with each other, they didn’t completely get along either. (Riven reminded Helia of Hannah with his ‘let’s just face it’ ways and Riven felt Helia wasn’t much of a hero if all he did was restrain instead of fight.)

-Of course, as time went on, Helia and Riven do have respect for each other, and have many inside jokes that came from their time living together.

-Helia quickly found he was one of the ‘advisors’ of the group, with everyone coming to him for advice. He was flattered, sure, but dudes… Just because he managed to get what he got, doesn’t mean he knows how he did it.

-Aside from training with his gloves, he’s good using a whip and decent with a sword. Bows and arrows/anything needing aim isn’t his strong suit. He’s also not the best at giving reports on how things went on their missions, which is why that task gets delegated to Sky or Riven.

-He trained as a medic too, deciding that while he wouldn’t be the best in a fight, he can help with the aftermath. And his squad kind of needed a medic aside from Timmy and Brandon…

-Helia may not enjoy fighting, but he’s not above doing what’s necessary when the people he cares about are in danger. There have been plenty of times, not just when saving the Magical Dimension, that Helia has risked his life and limbs to protect his friends.

-One such incident was a survival trip to the Marshlands of Amanal. Brandon never would have made it home in one piece if Helia hadn’t thrown himself at the hippogriff. (And he somehow managed to befriend it afterward. No, he has no memory of how he did it.)

-Helia tends to be a stress-sketcher. Worried about a test? Doodles on his notes from class. Worried about an upcoming mission? Sketchbook in hand. Relationship issues? Sketchbook.

-Oh! He’s a great pilot too! Helia has a great sense of direction and has grown up around the ships, so he knows how to work them. (Now, if you want to know what makes them tick or how to put them together if they fall apart, ask someone else. Preferably Timmy or Riven.)

-Helia has a whole stash of teas. A collection, if you will. (Something that he blames Faragonda for, but hey, it’s not the worst habit ever.)

-After all the traveling he’s done thanks to Red Fountain, Helia sort of understands better why his mom and uncle loved their military days so much. Seeing new places, learning new things, enjoying new foods… It’s quite an existence. (If you can look passed all the fighting and wars and invasions…)

-Yes, Helia does yoga. He also enjoys dance. (And with friends like Layla, Musa, and Nabu, he never has to do it alone.)

-Some of his favorite people to sketch: Flora, for her grace and beauty and the way she seems to just breathe life into natural settings; Sky, for his posture and presence and ability to always appear in charge; Layla, for her strength and grace and how every body of water seems to be at her command; and finally, Timmy and Tecna, As a couple, those two just radiate this feeling of joy and it just… How can you not want to sketch it?!

-(Kiko is also a favorite sketch subject. The little rabbit just has so much personality!)

-This may come as a shock to people, but Helia enjoys horror movies. Preferably the psychological/thriller-based horror movies. It’s the way they capture human emotion and it’s just so poignant and interesting. He wants to learn how to convey such feelings in his work.

-Between his parents, you’d think Helia was closer to his father… In actuality, he’s closer to his mother.

-His mom enjoyed doing things and showing him things and just getting him to be more active and curious as a child.

-His father was more of a watcher. An observer-type. Always looking for something awe-inspiring for his next piece. (Something Helia and Harley bond over now. And laugh at, from time to time.)

-Helia enjoys swapping sketching ideas with Bloom and Stella, looking to see what they’re up to and how they can try and work off of each other.

-(And he has done some physical character sheets and layout ideas for Tecna’s video game idea to help her see her vision more clearly.)

-Helia doesn’t play a lot of video games. They’re just not his thing… But he does have a soft spot for the Sims series after Bloom introduced him to it, and he enjoys this maze creation game that a Solarian gaming company came up with for phones (level 200!!!).

-He swears more than people think he does. It’s almost comical how shocked people are when they meet this ‘sweet and soulful guy’ and then he drops a few ‘f’ bombs while working on his projects. (Not just ‘f’ bombs either… Dude gets creative with his curses. Even Riven’s impressed.)

-Helia didn’t go to Earth with the others, instead taking up a job offer on Callisto to help with remodeling his great uncle’s barracks. (And now, the castle itself… He’s so honored it’s his designs in the works.)

-However, he does visit from time to time. It makes him a little sad though, seeing Earth the way it is. All the pollution creating cars, the strange fashion, the way people seem to disregard each other. It’s so sad.

-When the ‘saving the Magical Dimension’ stuff stops, Helia’s hoping to join with his father’s art gallery and to build on his portfolio of projects. (He knows he already has a few jobs waiting for him, like Stella’s coronation portrait for when she becomes queen.)

-He just hopes his works inspire and touch people the way they do as he works on them.

[yanderelovebites]

Warning: hinted DDLG, not too explicit but reader does show signs of a Little.

*This is part of a thirst book that is both Fluff and Smut. This is a fluff one with a soulmate reader from the tattoo AU. Some future ones will be connected to this.

It was a long power struggle but the villains came on top. Many heroes and heroes-in-training lost a chip. The chips were made so they could avoid their soulmate in the event their soulmate was a villain or any other type of criminal. Most heroes were executed if they didn't match up to a villain. Some that were in training were given a choice redemption based on their year and if they interacted at all with villains before. Then, there was the rest of the classes.

These children gathered were found to have been forced to, while in the school, have a temporary working chip as well. They took it out and yet again the villains checked. You were in the last class they checked. You were young so you knew if by chance you were one... they would be older than you. You trembled at the thought of some much older woman or man potentially having right over you... you were raised to believe if someone is a villain, they can't love and they will mistreat their match.

That's terrifying.

To be honest... you hope you bleed out, but it's been slow. It'll close only to reopen if people are too rough. And it was a sloppy job. You see, you were stabbed because you were the forced 'volunteer' of what would happen if any of you resisted. They said for being a such a 'good girl and helping' they'd bandage the stab wound.

You hear the door open and you and your classmates are picked up. You didn't fight it. You were only a general class so judgement wouldn't be too harsh after they realize none matched a villain. You all were put in a line alphabetically. You were no. 14. You shiver as you see them scan the soulmate tattoo on the class rep. They pulled her away to the right... she would be okay right? The left is where the... soulmates have been pulled. Over there are nurses forced to be there. It's terrifying... this whole situation. You can't really describe it...

As each person went ahead, not single before you went to the left nor were they moved forward to die by the leader in all this....

Tomura Shigaraki.

You trembled a bit as the last person before you was moved. You trembled partly in fear and partly in pain. It still hurt. The men picked you up like the last and put you on the scan. Unlike the last thirteen people, there was green flash once it scanned the back of your neck... your tattoo was a hand with spider lilies growing from the palm. You were picked up but... brought to the left..?

The left...!

You didn't see who it was. They only said the match would appear on top of the machine, but those being scanned can't see that. A nurse takes you and says she's just going to check you over because the villains were definitely rough with the others. You could only nod.

She takes your clothes off and gasps a little "W-Were you the 'example' dear?" You nod again and she tells you to lay back as she fixes this and phones the doctor. Things got hazy from there and at some point, you passed out sometime after the doctor came.

You woke again in cozy bedroom. You were on a soft, but firm, mattress with purple sheets and a black bed cover. Under it was a fluffy blanket and even more at the foot of the bed. You had pillows around you and a couple stuffies. The nurse was at your side and smiled "Nice to see you're awake dearie. Please don't move, we don't want you to reopen the wound or undo the stitches. I was checking on your monitor. I will get someone to bring in food, alright?"

You replied hoarsely "A-Alright, ma'am..." She scurried off so you can better look around, but only on your back. There's an empty cork board, a simple desk with what you can assume are notebooks and pencils. There's a stain-glass window that cant be open and you can somewhat see has bars on the other side.

The walls were a dark shade of purple and the curtains were also black like the bed cover. There were color changing lights around the ceiling and in the center of the ceiling appeared to be the main room light. There was a TV hooked to the wall with - Blue Ray and an Xbox set up. The TV was on a clothes dresser.

You waited a few more minutes and a young girl came in with eggs, toast and some juice. The helped you sit up so you wouldn't open the wound and they supervise the meal.

You get sleepy after and they help you go back to sleep. You unconsciously hugged one of the many stuffies. You loved stuffies... back with your horrible mom who only cared that you be in a dumb hero school, you had many on your bed.

You held it close and let your dreams take you. This happened repeatedly that you asked the nurse if they put stuff in your food. She said "Yes, h-he asked us to. It's to make sure you don't reopen the wound... I assure you it's just until your fully healed, then you won't need that anymore!" She nervously chuckled it off. You latched onto her sleeve.

"Ma'am, I never saw who was flashed on the machine as to who my... mate is. Do you know?" You asked her. She looks at you sadly... "Miss L/n, it's the very man responsible for our nation's hell. Tomura Shigaraki is your match," she said as you let go. She scurried away once again.

Tomura Shigaraki.

The man who broke Izuku Midoriya. (He's alive babies)

The man who disabled your mom's sperm donor... (daddy issues :3)

A man who can leave you literally in dust is your soulmate?

Someone who has killed thousands?

The man who did the executions?

The man who you felt stare at you and your peers like you're insignificant ants?

You could only hold the stuffies, now frightened once again of your unfortunate situation. The second nurse comes again and you eat swiftly again. Would you feel safe knowing the stuffies and Blankies and the pillows you hugged so close were his doing?

Heh.

The man from the security screen room wouldn't know yet. He always kept watch of you there since that day. It was maybe two weeks ago. You're his, you had no choice. He never had the choice either. He's yet to explicitly interact, afraid one slight action from either of you would destroy your fragile body. On one hand, he could get a quirk disabling room-they had one available-and force you to share with him, but that could lead to safety issues.

It would be best left as a room used when you both are ready for it.

He knew you'd enjoy the stuffies, they questioned your mother through threats. She's expected to release some of your materialistic treasures. Anything significant. He, quite amused, enjoyed watching you ask finally who you were stuck with, although didn't like the nurse's tone. You seemed scared, but Tomura knew it would be that way. It's why he spoils you. He's bound to be shitty so you might as well get something good, right?

He really didn't want to admit he liked the idea of being able to care about someone. To be able to love them without any other reason than it's what he craves.

He hopes he won't have to discipline you too much once you're fully healed...

—

Eventually, it comes to the nearing point of  your healing process, but also the fact you've grown an immunity. The drug only left you unable to move now. It was quiet. No sound and unable to open your eyes... it's like a horror film. At least you know no one would harm you... but it still scared you.

After a good while, you hear a door creak open. You hear unfamiliar footsteps. These ones are more... stealthy. The nurse's were hard and left a tapping sound once it met the floor. This seemed quiet, as if he didn't want anyone to know he or she is there. You feel the bed sink in and wish you could open your eyes.

They stroke your head with only two fingers. It felt... calming. Your body accepted his touch like second nature. You hear a rough voice say "So innocent..." They gently move hair away from your face. "I wonder how you're fairing inside that little head of yours, being confined to a bed, no freedom besides what little conversation that nurse has with you... I'd imagine its boring," the voice said to your immobile body. After some thought... the voice sounded somewhat familiar.

He strokes your head again with two fingers. "You like these don't you... the stuffed animals. You cling to them like a small child, it adorable. I'm glad you like them so much... means I didn't waste time picking a few for you after that long day of going through your entire school," the voice said. His last sentence was all you needed to know who this was without any doubt. Tomura.

"You're mine regardless," he said, twirling a piece of your hair with his index finger, you assume anyway. "When you heal, I'll make sure you understand what that means," he mutters, almost too low for you to catch. It was creepy, but comforting, knowing he's talking to you while unconscious-or at least he thinks you are.

It becomes quiet, the only thing you hear is the clock, your breathing, his too, and the fabric static from your pillow. Yet, the warmth of his fingers never stops moving. They pet you almost robotically until you hear a beep from a watch. He sighs. "I'll be back tomorrow, awake or not..." he said. You blushed in your sleep as you felt chapped lips kiss your forehead, but then they leave along with your soulmate. He's gone with a simple thud of the door closing...

All while you long for his warmth again.

[memes-in-a-half-shell]

Business AU - Working Late, Part 1

Just a quick idea to test more and play around this AU I’m trying to build. For the sake of taking it easy, I’ll use my OC Vee 😊

Vee didn’t realize how late it was starting to get until she finally glanced away from her computer screen and towards the large windows the building had to offer. The sky was turning to a dark blue, the city’s lights creating a halo around the various skyscrapers. Many coworkers had already left the place and most of the main lights were off, leaving only some bulbs on towards the main hallways here and there for the cleaning team. Well, at least those hours will give me a better pay..., thought Vee as she stretched her arms, trying to ease the stiffness in her shoulders and at the base of her neck. ... All she could think about was getting home and enjoying a nice warm drink to ease her into a better sleep. Or she could always enjoy a nice glass of red wine - the latter much more enticing. Collecting her handbag and coat, her feet instinctively proceeded towards the large room’s exit, until her eyes caught on a glow that wasn’t usually there. It was coming from the nook of a small hallway that led to a room not usually used by any employee. Vee’s reasoning first led her to believe that someone forgot to turn off a switch, but her curiosity actually wondered if another soul was still occupied in this building. She approached the source calmly, taking a peek while still standing by the doorframe of the small space. At first she noticed many tables and shelves, a plethora of paper rolls, books and drawing equipment decorating the room in an organized chaos. Then she noticed him. She had seen the turtle brothers many times ever since she’d been employed barely a month ago. At first it had been a surprise, but now it was simply pure fascination. Vee recognized this one to be Donatello, the tallest of the bunch. His shell was facing her, his attention all on a large sheet of paper laid on a drafting board. The woman couldn’t help watching him for a moment, his movements ever so precise with his scale ruler and his pencil. As he paused to admire his work, Vee studied his form. Even with his white shirt, with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, she could still decipher the subtle shape of his muscles - all thanks to his trainings. He wasn’t as built as his brothers, but he was toned enough to bring a blush on the woman’s cheeks... “You can come forward, I won’t mind.” His voice broke her thoughts. He didn’t even turn around as he had said that, probably feeling observed anyway. Vee suddenly felt embarassed, her audible gasp finally grasping the turtle’s attention. “Oh, uhm, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb your work. ... I saw some lights in the distance and was wondering if someone forgot to turn off something...”

His golden eyes made her trail off her last words, internally melting as she saw the sweet smile on his lips.

“No worries, I know it’s late,” he added. “I’m mostly surprised someone was still working as well.”

“Yeah, that tends to happen whenever I’m too focused,” shyly answered back the woman with a smile.

“What were you working on?”

Vee was silent for some seconds. Am I really having a casual conversation with one of my bosses? she thought with a slight frown. Donatello’s soft chuckle made her realize she was probably taking too much time to answer.

“Please, I won’t bite,” he said. “I’m actually enjoying this break from my work. If you have a minute or two to spare before leaving, I don’t mind having a little conversation!”

The woman conceeded, finally entering the room and taking seat on a chair that was nearby the mutant’s desk. In the process she did not notice the other taking a good look at her, most presumably enjoying her presence. Vee first straightened her back once seated, extending a hand for a shake.

“Well, first of all, hi. I’m Véronique, but you may call me Vee. I’m the newest project manager overseeing the creative team. Everything regarding the company’s outer image has to go through me first.”

“Color me impressed, that’s quite the title,” replied Donatello, shaking her hand. “I do recall seeing and hearing your name a couple of times for the past weeks. You’re our newest addition coming from Montréal, if I stand correct?”

“Indeed! It’s been a dream of mine to come work in New York City, so I am extremely grateful for this job.”

Her hand felt so small in his. Gosh, she could feel her cheeks warm up...

“But I’m blabbering now,” she added, freeing herself from his hold. “I was trying to get through the upcoming evaluations I’ll have to give to the team and revise some designs that are supposed to come out by the end of this month. So it’s crunch time much.”

“Oh I do get that,” smiled the other. “Deadlines can be such a curse. ... I’ve been working late myself as well for a Lower East Side project.”

“What would that be, if it’s okay to ask?”

The turtle gave a better view to his board, revealing some intricate structure designs laid down on paper.

“The Lowline,” he started. “I can quickly summarize it as an underground park that allows sunlight in and vegetation all around. It’s been years since the city had this under work, and I’m trying to push it into completion. ... But there’s a lot of structure issues that needs to be addressed.”

Vee stood up, taking a better look to the drawings. Some calculations could be seen on the sides, but the trickiest parts were clearly the solar collection disks and underground domes that would distribute light. The whole idea in its whole was great, but in the long run it would prove to be a challenge in terms of weather changes and various issues - may they be of human nature or not.

“I’ve heard about it,” added the woman. “And I do hope it’ll come into fruition. It sounds like a great idea overall.”

“Indeed, but I feel like my lines are not organic enough for this line of work,” sighed the mutant. “I’m used to buildings, mechanics, and more ‘structured’ work. ... The city has more of a round and nature-friendly image in mind, so I’m trying to keep that in mind for my designs. Alas my drawings are resembling a prescholer trying to learn how to draw a circle.”

Vee couldn’t help a small laugh at that last remark, smiling as she looked back to the male.

“Don’t be so harsh with yourself, it’s already better compared to some employees around here.” She then pointed some lines. “I could definitely see an improvement here and there if you were to use a compass and smooth the lines, rather than guessing with a ruler and free-handing it. I understand the calculations, but you’ll have to trust the papers’ measure lines for it to truly work and give better measurements for whichever company would handle the creation of those structures.”

“... Have you worked in architecture before?” asked Donatello with a small smile.

“No, but I’ve done plenty of illustration works before and I can recognize the different needs for when you’re drawing buildings, compared to ‘organic’ structures or just plain vegetation.”

Their eyes met, Vee noticing the other’s amusement. She promptly moved away from the drawing, moving away a stray strand of teal colored hair from her face.

“... I’m sorry, I shouldn’t tell you what to do...”

“Oh no, no, I appreciate the insight!” reassured Donatello. “I should ask more of it in the future, in fact. ... Would you mind surpervising my work once this hellish end of the month has gone by? I could even help you, if you accept.”

Did she hear that right? Her slight astonishement made her feel like everything was a dream.

“I wouldn’t mind at all,” she answered. “I’d look forward to it, in fact.”

“Excellent!” added the turtle with a small clasp of his hands. “Then I guess I’m done for tonight and I can rest easy for now.”

He backed his chair a bit, allowing him enough space to stand up afterward. Vee could feel this knot forming in her stomach and throat, truly noticing their differences in size as the top of her head only came up to the height of his shoulders.

“If you don’t mind, we can head towards the exit together? I wouldn’t want you to get attracted to another light source and get lost once more,” he joked lightly.

Vee did a small snort in amusement, suddenly blushing after such display. She did nod through her shyness:

“Yes, that would be fine!”

She tried not to think too much about his smile, his presence such a nice feeling overall... After a small detour to his office so he could collect some of his belongings, they next headed to the building’s exit, and all Vee could feel was as if she was floating on a cloud...

((PART 2))

[marshmallow-phd]

Catching Rain

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Minseok x Reader

Summary: You were more than satisfied with your life. You attended a nice college, had nice friends, a nice boyfriend. That’s what your life was: nice. You weren’t looking for anything more, so what were you to do when this seemingly harmless boy walked into your life and turned your nice little world into one much more dangerous?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I Epilogue

**

On closer inspection, the house in the middle of the field was quite pretty. Simple, white, well kept. A secondary building with metal walls sat adjacent to the house – a garage, perhaps. Waiting on the porch was the man from earlier. Baekhyun. Now you remembered his name. He was joined by a few others – Chanyeol, Sehun, and one you didn’t know – who stared at you in curious wonder. Their eyes were wide and investigative, as if you were the supernatural creature and not Minseok.

“Looks like the cat’s out of the bag,” Baekhyun said with a snicker.

“Or pup, in this case,” said the one you didn’t know. Black hair that fell over his forehead and an upturn sat in both corners of his lips, though he wasn’t smiling.

Minseok merely shook his head as he pushed past them into the house. The screen door shut with a loud slam. You flinched at the noise. Chanyeol sighed as he glanced at you. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Yes, please,” you nodded. He motioned for you to follow him inside.

Through a short front parlor and a cozy living room, he led you into the kitchen where you stood awkwardly. The only noise came from the water flowing from the refrigerator spicket. The ice clinked as it moved around the glass. Your eyes wandered across the large, open space. Sunlight poured in from the windows in the two outer walls. It gave the whole room a yellow hue despite the white and light gray coloring of the cabinets and backsplash. Whoever had last designed this room had done so in a way to make it feel bigger and open, welcoming even. You wondered if there must have been a woman living here to give the finer touches. Minseok hadn’t mentioned anyone beyond his male roommates. The thought of a woman living amongst them made you slightly jealous, but you shoved it aside when Chanyeol held out the glass for you.

“Thank you,” you murmured before taking a sip.

He nodded shyly. His foot tapped lightly against the hard wood floor with his hands shoved into his pockets. He looked everywhere except for at you. Feeling eyes on you anyway, you glanced over your shoulder just in time to see several crops of hair disappear from the hallway entrance.

You scoffed. “You guys act like you’ve never seen a female before.”

“Not one like you.”

Minseok stepped into the room wearing a t-shirt with frayed edges where the sleeves had been cut off and a pair of basketball shorts. As angry as you were with him, the distrust still very much apparent, you were fighting the urge to run to him. What was this stupid, conflicting feeling? Making eye contact with Minseok, Chanyeol ducked his head and hurriedly left the kitchen.

“So,” you crossed your arms after putting down the glass and leaned against the counter, “is this the part where you explain to me what the hell is going on?”

“I will, but not here.”

“No, you don’t get to do that!” you snapped. “You didn’t want to tell me in the forest, so we came back here and now you don’t want to tell me here?”

Minseok shrunk back. “I just meant down here. Can we go upstairs? Away from where the others can hear?”

That suggestion could be accepted. Actually, you felt a little bad for exploding, but could you really be blamed? Given the information dump you were steadily receiving today? “Oh. Okay. Lead the way.”

Minseok’s hand twitched at his side, but he kept it in check as he turned and headed back up the stairs. The top spilled out into a hallway lined with doors. This space wasn’t as bright as the kitchen. Different shades of dark brown covered the wooden floor and plaster walls. No windows gave view to the outside making you feel trapped. “This one’s mine,” Minseok said. He held on to a handle of one of the middle doors and waited for you to come closer before pushing it open. When you saw what lied beyond the door, you nearly smiled.

On the walls were posters of famous soccer players and indie movies you’d never heard of. The bed was made with military precision, not a creased comforter or half-strewn pillow in sight. Against the far wall under a singular window was a desk. The notebooks were stacked in the top right corner, the edges so straight a ruler wouldn’t be able to find fault. Pens and pencils occupied a small cup to keep the rest of the desk clear.

“Not what you expected?” Minseok asked as he closed the door.

“Yes and no.” You stole a glance at him over your shoulder. “It’s very… neat.”

Minseok smiled shyly. He shuffled over to the bed and sat down. If he expected you to take the spot next to him, he was wrong. Instead, you chose the chair. A precaution for yourself.

Neither of you knew where to start. Who was supposed to talk first? What part should even be considered the beginning? Unable to continue in this awkward silence, you jumped in feet first.

“You can really… turn into a wolf?” The words felt like glue in your throat. Creatures like that belonged in fairytales and fantasy films, not a college campus.

“Yeah,” Minseok said. “We all can. All nine of us.”

“All nine.” Oh, great. A whole pack of them. “Even the one’s I met?” Stupid question. He’d already answered that, technically. But Minseok simply nodded instead of calling out the redundancy. “So, were you all bitten or-” You felt ridiculous basing the current situation on myth and legend, but what else did you have to go on?

“We’re all born this way. You can’t be like us from a bite or a scratch. It has to be in your DNA.” He snuck a peek before beating you to the next question. “The moon doesn’t really influence us either. I mean, its easier to see by at night in the forest, but it doesn’t force us to change. We can do that whenever we want. Witches have more of a connection with the giant rock in the sky.”

“Witches! They’re real, too? What else is real? Vampires? Dragons? Goblins?” What kind of world had you stumbled into?

Minseok flinched. “Maybe we should stick to one subject at a time.”

“Right.” That was probably best for your sanity. “So, if you have to be born like,” you gestured to him, “… this, does that mean both of your parents were, too?”

“Just my dad,” Minseok said. “Females wolves are extremely rare.”

“Well, that’s sexist.”

“Hey, we didn’t make up the rules. It’s genetics.” He scratched the back of his neck, twitching his lips from side to side. “I guess I should say that silver doesn’t bother us either.”

Why did you feel relieved at that random fact? It didn’t matter, as that wasn’t the most pressing issue to you. “Earlier you mentioned that it wasn’t you killing the campers-”

“It wasn’t any of us!”

“I believe you.” The words tumbled off your lips. And you realized that it was true. You couldn’t twist the nervous, sweet guy in front of you into a mindless killer. The way he was explaining everything slowly, cautiously, giving you time to understand. He wasn’t hiding anything from you. Not anymore. “I’m just confused when you said it was an omega?”

“Its just a ranking system within a pack,” he explained. “Alpha, beta, MR, omega. Junmyeon’s the alpha of our pack, he’s in charge. Yixing and I are betas, second in command. We help enforce Junmyeon’s word and keep an eye on the younger wolves who like to cause mischief.” He chuckled, as if remembering times when said mischief occurred. “The rest are all MR – Mid-ranking. They all have their own duties should they be needed. Well, except for Jongin and Sehun. They’re the youngest wolves so they get special treatment most of the time. Its okay, though. They kind of make you want to take care of them, the way they are.”

You nodded filing all the information away for later recall. “And the omega?”

“A wolf without a pack. Nine times out of ten they were kicked out for defying the alpha, for putting their own interests ahead of the pack. Without that structure, a lot of them turn feral.”

“Nine times out of ten?”

“It’s extremely rare, but sometimes a wolf will choose to never join a pack in the first place. It’s nearly unheard of though. We’re too social of creatures. Nine-point-five out of ten would probably be a better number.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that came out. Of course he would bring up math in a time like this. Minseok laughed along with you. Eventually, though, it died out, along with the smile that had been growing on his lips. “There’s something else I need to tell you.”

Picking up on his mood, you tilted your head to the side. “I don’t think anything else could take me by surprise at this point.” Minseok stared at you pointedly. Your stomach began to sink. What other little secret could he possibly be harboring at this point? You didn’t think anything could be as shocking as his shapeshifting abilities.

“Have you ever heard the expression ‘wolves mate for life’?” he asked cryptically.

“Yeah?”

“Well-” he shifted, crinkling the perfect comforter in the process. “We don’t know why it happens. Junmyeon thinks its nature’s way of compensating our ‘otherness’ while Jongdae just thinks it’s another level of torture.” An uncomfortable laugh. “But, um, every wolf has their own mate. Just one, that they stick with for the rest of their lives.”

Unable to keep looking at him, you leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees. “So, are you saying that you all get to pick whoever you want as your mate and that’s it? You claim them because of what you are?”

“No!” Minseok jumped to his feet. Swallowing visibly, he cleared his throat, but remained standing. “No, we don’t get to pick. It happens out of nowhere. Our mates are chosen for us before either is born. And we can meet them under any circumstances. Some favorable, some… not so much.”

You looked up at him “What are you trying to say, Minseok?”

He walked up to you, each step hesitant, each step full of fear. Crouching down, he sighed as he looked into your eyes. “What I’m trying to say, (y/n), is that… you’re my mate.”

At first, you only blinked. The words had to be soaked in one at a time before you could piece them together and understand the sentence as a whole. “I- what? How do you even know?”

Reaching out, Minseok took ahold of your hand. You didn’t fight it. The electricity was practically singing between your skins. “Really, all it takes is one look. A few seconds of eye contact and the pull takes hold. But this feeling we both get when we touch, its confirmation. And then there’s this.”

He pulled your hand closer, pressing your palm against his chest. The heat transferring through the thin fabric was enough to make you sweat, but that wasn’t the point of this exercise. It was the rate of which his heart was beating. As he stared at you with awe, his heart sprinted as if it were in second place of a race and needed to pass just one more runner to win.

“Every time I see you, this happens,” Minseok whispered. “It doesn’t matter how good my day has been, its always better when I’m with you.”

“We haven’t even known each other that long.”

“It doesn’t take long, apparently.”

You frowned, confused. “Apparently?”

A small smile pulled up one corner of his mouth. “I’m the first one in the pack to find my mate. The first one to experience this.”

The first…. You wanted to laugh at the romantic angle your brain was seeing this.

A knock came from the door. Minseok stood up, reluctantly dropping your hand before answering the intrusion. “Yeah?”

Several roommates were standing in the hall, all peering around Minseok to get a better look at you.

“Kyungsoo said it was time for dinner,” one of them said. “And that he could hear your mate’s empty stomach from downstairs.”

“And it took all of you to come tell us?” Minseok questioned as he folded his arms. He shifted to block more of the doorway, shielding you from their stares.

“It was an important job,” another one said.

Minseok looked back at you before sighing. “Tell Kyungsoo that I’ll be down in a second.”

“But-”

The door was shut before the argument could be finished. The rush of footsteps faded in the background until it was only the two of you once again.

“Are you hungry?” Minseok asked. You nodded sheepishly. “You don’t have to go downstairs. You can stay here and I’ll bring it up to. Kyungsoo’s a good cook so whatever he made will be delicious.”

“Actually, I’ll go down with you,” you said, to the surprise of both of you. Everything Minseok had told you was still sinking in. There was too much to process and completely comprehend, but the pieces were fitting together. And you were curious about life here. If you really were meant to be his mate, maybe you should know where that road led. It was the right at the fork. You’d uncovered a sign that gave you a clue to where it was headed. You wanted to follow it.

Minseok waited patiently as you stood up and walked towards him. He let you out the door first. There was a moment where your fingers brushed as you passed. You could feel the muscles in his hand tighten. He wanted to take your hand again – and you almost let him. But you held back. There was still something stopping you. Or, rather, a who.

The noise hit you halfway down the stairs. Being told that nine people lived together and truly witnessing it were two very different concepts. There was no order that you could see. Most of the boys sat around the table, conducting multiple conversations at once that overlapped that you had to wonder how they could understand each other. A few sat in a small booth off to the side in a world of their own. It was the kind of breakfast nook you’d only seen before in home magazines. Two boys stood at the counters, their backs to the chaos behind them.

One of them – sporting a very well put together look and black rimmed glasses – turned and smiled at you and Minseok. “There you are. Glad to see you came down.” He held his hand out to you. “I’m Junmyeon.”

“The alpha,” you said as you shook his hand.

“I see Minseok told you most of it,” Junmeyon said.

“Pretty much everything,” Minseok corrected.

You felt your face contort as you tried to pinpoint where you’d seen this man before. “Wait. Aren’t you a professor?”

Junmyeon laughed. “Yeah, I am. In the literature department. Folklore, to be exactly. But I’d prefer if we kept this between us.” He sent you a wink to show he was teasing. Behind you, Misneok growled, making you jump. “I’m just playing, Minseok.”

“And I’m sure he’ll be playing when he rips your head off,” the other stove-top occupant stated. He held out a plate for you piled high with food. There was no way you would be able to eat all of that. “I’m Kyungsoo, by the way.”

“(y/n),” you greeted back. “It’s nice to meet you.” Taking the plate, you tried to hand it off to Minseok.

“No, that’s yours.”

Not wanting to be rude, you said between gritted teeth, “I can’t eat all of this.”

Minseok pinched his face as if debating on something. “Fine. We’ll share.”

“Are you sure about that?” Junmyeon asked. “There won’t be any left over for seconds. You know that.”

“It’ll be fine.”

Shaking his head, Kyungsoo held on to one side of the plate and added another scoop of rice and meat each. “Just in case.”

After thanking him, Minseok guided you over to the table with a hand hovering over your lower back. Even without the contact, you could feel the heat coming from his palm. Or maybe it was just your imagination filling in. Minseok pulled out a chair for you on the empty end before sitting next you. It was obvious he’d purposefully placed you away from the others.

“Possessive much?” Baekhyun snorted as he dug into a plate of his own.

“I’m sure it’s just instinct.” The comment came from one of the more slender boys – Boys? Wolves? You weren’t sure how to address them properly. Maybe later. Your brain needed a break. The one who had spoken had a very pointed face, but in a way that was still handsome. You weren’t sure if you’d seen him before or not.

“That’s Yixing,” Minseok said. “And the last one to meet, I guess, is Jongdae.”

Jongdae turned out to be the curled-lip one who still wasn’t smiling. In fact, he was the only one not in some level of a cheerful mood as he sat in the breakfast booth. He barely looked at you while everyone else was. Some were even blatantly staring at you as they shoveled in food to their mouths.

“You should eat.” Minseok picked up a fork and stabbed a slice of marinade-covered meat, holding it out for you to eat like a child.

“I can do that myself, thanks.” You took the fork and chewed slowly on the meat. It was good. More than good, really, so you took another bite and another. Soon, you were full, though there was more than half a plate left. You scooted the plate over to Minseok. “Okay, your turn.”

“You’re done? Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m stuffed.”

Minseok didn’t reach for the other fork he’d grabbed, as if giving you a chance to change your mind. When you made no such move, he dug in. You smiled at the way he ate, enjoying every bite with satisfaction. At the sight of every plate being empty, Baekhyun stood up. “I’m going to watch a movie,” he announced.

“Oh, that sounds like a good idea!” Jongin said.

Yixing asked, “Which one?”

Baekhyun shrugged. “I don’t know. Whatever’s new. (Y/n), want to join us?”

Minseok cut in. “I don’t know if that-”

“I’d love to!” You turned to Minseok and gave him a cheeky smile. It felt a bit defiant. Perhaps he wanted to explain more to you or spend time with you alone in general, but you wanted to know how this group operated together. You wanted insight to their normalcy. Getting to your feet, you picked up the plate, but Junmyeon reached over and took it from you.

“Don’t worry about this. We’ll clean up.”

“But-”

The alpha wouldn’t have it. “You’re the guest. Shoo.”

More than happy with that argument (dishes weren’t your thing by a long shot), you followed the cluster of excited men to the living room. They crashed on nearly every surface – the couch, the chairs, the floor, anywhere they could fit. Minseok approached Jongin and Sehun who had taken a corner of the long couch.

“Move,” he ordered.

“But we were here first!” Sehun whined. Jongin look over to you and then got up without a word, sitting down on the floor with his back against the coffee table.

“Sehun….”

“You’re really going to kick the youngest off the comfortable seat?”

You tried to break up the awkward exchange. Well, it was awkward for you since you were the reason for the discussion. “It’s fine, really. I can sit on the floor.”

“You’re not sitting on the floor,” Minseok told you. To Sehun, he said, “I’m the eldest and she’s a guest. Please move.”

For a second nothing happened. Then Sehun huffed. “Fine.” He got up and joined Jongin on the floor. He lied down on his stomach and pulled out his phone, over it already. You felt bad but saw no point in arguing. Minseok let you sit first and then, once again, sat between you and Chanyeol, who happily occupied the other side of the couch.

Baekhyun flipped through a streaming service until he landed on a superhero movie. Everyone cheered at the choice, then quieted down as he pressed play. Someone turned out the lights so only the glow of the television remained.

Sitting shoulder to shoulder and leg to leg, you were hyper aware of Minseok. Arms crossed over your stomach and fists clenched, you told yourself repeatedly not to reach for his hand or lean on his shoulder no matter how heavy your eyelids were getting. Erik may have hit pause on your relationship, but there wasn’t much of a discussion of lines. You didn’t know the rules of that scenario and what was and wasn’t allowed. But as your tiredness grew, your willpower weakened. After a few bobs, your head landed softly on Minseok’s shoulder. It was too comfortable to move. It felt too nice, too right. Like his shoulder was the one you were always supposed to lean on. And that was when Minseok made a move of his own.

Holding your head up, he adjusted his arm so it was now draped over your shoulders. Your head rested against his chest when he laid you back down. Something vibrated against your cheek. Was that… purring? No, it had to be the booming from the movie. Right?

It didn’t take long for you drift into sleep. The movie was one you’d seen before so you couldn’t use that as an excuse to stay awake. You weren’t sure how long it had been. A slight bopping motion roused you. In the shallowness of your conscious you made out that you were being carried. Carried up stairs… and into a bedroom. While still holding you, that person managed to pull back the covers and tuck you into bed. As the arm slipped away you grabbed hold of the wrist. Through the slightest slits in your eyes you could make out Minseok’s silhouette.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he whispered. “Go back to sleep. I’ll take the couch downstairs.”

“No. Stay.”

He froze at your request. “Are you sure?”

“Please.”

Even in the darkness, you could see him smiling. “Okay.” Shutting the door, he peeled back the covers once more and slid in beside you. Happy wasn’t even close to how you felt when he pulled you in close to his chest. You drifted back to sleep with a smile on your face.

[fenheart87]

Blue Changes

We had a fun little challenge, we picked a prompt and had 3, 15 minute sprints to write something for the prompt. Then 24 hours for light editing to finish sentences if needed, grammar etc. This is my take on the the prompt "Has anyone ever told you just how adorable you are Because you really are." Dedicated to @verfound 🧡

“Marinette, where is my favorite designer at?!” Jagged burst into the studio, Fang trotting happily next to him on her leash and Penny multitasking between her phone call and tablet. Technically he was supposed to be on a plane to New York, but decided to swing by Paris on his way because he had an idea that just could not wait and wanted to check on his unofficial niece anyways. There was only one speed bump in that plan, the studio was completely empty. The chaos of fabric strewn about and pieces half cut with scissors still mid snip definitely screamed someone was working hard or trying to at least, the mannequin with a half-pinned design and ripped fabric seemed to lean toward the latter.

“Looks like she’s not here… Must be taking a break. Penny, why don’t we order from my favorite bakery and make sure something extra special for Marinette. I’m glad we came here before the next stop on tour.” Jagged poked around at the sketches laying in abandon on the desk, some half crumbled on the floor and more stacked on a sketchbook.

“Seems like she is having some massive creators block… We should treat her when we have a break on the tour.” Penny suggested, already on the phone with Tom and trying to insist they would pay for their order.

Some of the sketches were brilliant but had marks of black throughout them, others were completely marked out and you could not even tell what the design was to start with. It hurt to physically see what pain Marinette was going through, most of the ones with the darker markings were of the same style. He could clearly see the thought of Adrien in the suits and matching dresses for Marinette, the anger of the marks showing something had happened or changed. Sighing heavily, Jagged gathered the papers, Fang batting the ones further away with her tail over to her owner. One paper had him blinking in surprise.

“Penn! Pen! Lookie here! D'ya see this?!” jagged shouted, shoving the paper into his assistant’s face, not even minding when she sighed and pushed it to a proper distance. It was a one-of-kind leather jacket and a custom hoodie drawn to match it. Either could be worn seperate or paired together. The colors were a contrast of electric blue and smokey turquoise, the theme was music and snake. Jagged recognized it as a rough sketch due to the lack of color or material notes along the edge that appeared on her finished drafts.

“Why was this crumpled up? It’s a really great idea!” Penny wondered aloud, noticing that the eccentric rockstar she commonly felt like she had to babysit was scheming. “Jagged no, whatever is it the answer is no.”

The door opened and in walked the designer they were looking for, Marinette seemed stressed and a bit run down. Her hair was thrown into a messy bun, one sleeve was pushed higher than the other and her shirt was wrinkled where it was tucked into her pencil skirt. Flip flops clacked along with her steps, another sign she was worn out if the basic shoe was more preferred to her custom made and very comfortable flats. An energy drink dangled from one hand and her design tablet occupied the other. Both guests watched as she made it all the way to her desk without noticing they were there.

“I have no idea what I'm going to do! I don't have anyone that fits that one or the orange one… I could make it a dress but who would wear it?! Ugh! I’m going to fail at this rate and then I won't graduate and I'll never design again, who would want something made by a failure-” Fang chose that moment to nudge her head onto the petite woman’s lap, startling her so bad she screamed and fell out of her chair.

“Well I reckon that I would love to have exclusive rights to all designs made by my favorite niece but we all know that’s not fair to the rest of the world. Now I know you are in a pinch and you’re stuck like a boat in the desert, so you’re going to take a break, spend some time with uncle Jay and make sure that you show poor Fang some love, she was all excited and you just screamed right in her poor face. C’mere my poor baby, Marinette is so mean I know.” Jagged showed the croc in love through pets and scratches. 

“When.. How, why?” Poor Marinette was lost and couldn't believe the rockstar was in her studio when he should've been halfway around the world for the next stop on his tour. 

“Okay, the only thing we’re doing right now is leaving all this behind for a much needed break for food and maybe a nap in your case. Time to relax and stop stressing for a minute." Penny authoritatively stepped in, stacking the papers on the desk, handing Marinette her purse and phone and with the help of Fang scooted the younger woman out the door.

Marinette protested "Wait I need to finish, it has to be done! I can't take a break, I just did!"

"Negative, now it's time for chow, and you need a shower, at your parents then we need to have a little chat. Ladies first!" Jagged gently shoved the designer into the car with cheer, allowing Fang and Penny to enter before him. 

"So my little brilliant niece, we have some great news and a rock and roll deal for you! Can't tell you what is until after you've taken a break though." They grinned as Marinette grumbles as she gave fang the attention she wanted until they pulled up to the bakery.

Getting out of the car first, Marinette sighed at the smell of her parents baking, the smell melting off some stress like butter melting on a fresh from the oven croissant roll. Her stomach grumbled and she opened the door for the other guests, sneaking an excited Fang upstairs to not scare the other customers. Deciding to take a refreshing shower, Marinette went to her bathroom and put on some zen meditation music before getting in the shower. Quick ten minutes later and she was feeling much more alive and hungry. On a whim she grabbed a random outfit that she had made but never worn, pleated plaid skirt with a red checker pattern offset by the off the shoulder fitted top in a burgundy color, and threw it on before joining her guests. 

"Oi looking good! One of yours?" Jagged shouted with his mouth full, causing Penny to smack his arm as a reminder to use manners. 

"Sure is! Never worn it before but decided change can be a good thing and sometimes you have to start the change instead of waiting for it to happen." Grabbing her favorite pastry and a croissant because you can't just smell one and not eat it, she missed the concerned look her adopted guardians shared.

"So your studio was, well, you seem to be having a hard time." Pen tried to be gentle but made a face at her words.

"Yeah… Life is… Changing." Marinette mused, picking at the pastry.

"Marinette, what can Uncle Jay do to help?" Jagged's serious tone drew her gaze and his heart broke at the sight of unshed tears.

"I uhm well. I- That is, we-" With a huff, she calmed down and a look of determination shone on her face. "Adrien asked me out, on a date date in this really elaborate way. I turned him down. I have no idea what I was thinking but when he asked me I was so happy and then all I could think of was blue and how soft its is and it can be so calm or so chaotic and it’s always changing like the ocean but yet it's always the same and there this feeling of calm and I just couldn't say yes."

The quiet settled into a slightly awkward silence, Marinette was ignoring it and Penny was having nonverbal argument with Jagged on what to say next. With an eye roll that spoke louder than her shouting at him, the assistant took the lead once more. Quietly she rose from the chair she was occupying and sat next to the young designer smoothing out the crumpled sketch she had taken from the studio.

"Is this the blue you're talking about?" 

"Yeah… That’s my blue." A gentle smile touched peach lips briefly, blue eyes going soft.

"Is this the skater kid?"

"Skater kid?" Marinette blinked in confusion.

"Nah Pen it's the boat kid."

"He has a name you guys!" Marinette broke down into giggles, looking much more like herself and less like a zombie just waltzing around and going through the motions. "His name is Luka, yes the one who went me skating with Adrien and Kagami, yes the boat kid who has a heart way too big for just his mom and sister. And now me…"

"Sounds like you made a change?" Penny prompted smiling widely.

"A blue one yeah, I did."

"Has anyone ever told you just how adorable you are?" Jagged shouted, picking up the younger woman and swinging her around as she shrieked. 

"Okay Jagged, let's not take over her whole day. We did have a reason to show up here after all." Penny handed the tablet to Marinette after he relinquished his hold. "This is what we're looking at for a surprise concert once we are back here in Paris. There's some issues I'm ironing out but I wanted to see what you think and if you would take lead on the design aspect."

"Wait, lead designer for your show?" Blue bell eyes swiveled between ocean blue and hazel sets, wide with disbelief and building excitement.

"Yup, this tablet is yours by the way. I do ask you to keep just business on it for the show, if you want more traditional sketches that's fine but once it's done it needs to be uploaded on here." Jagged explained, clapping a red clad shoulder.

"Oh you need an opening act? I've got that covered." The sparkle was finally back in her eye to match the mischievous grin.

"I agree with Jagged, are you sure no one has said it before because you really are adorable."

[thanksjro]

Dark Cybertron Chapter 1: Welcome to Comic Event Hell

You know what readers love? When the stories they’ve gotten invested in over the course of a couple years get interrupted for some pseudo-crossover bullshit.

And you know what writers love? When the story they’ve been crafting over the course of a couple years get interrupted for some pseudo-crossover bullshit.

Did I say love?

Because I didn’t mean it.

“Dark Cybertron” was penned by John Barber and James Roberts, with collaboration with comic writer and artist Phil Jimenez, and was published from early November, 2013 to late March, 2014. Atilio Rojo, James Raiz, and Livio Ramondelli did the art, each responsible for scenes in specific locations, with Robert Gill filling in as needed. Alex Milne, Andrew Griffith, and Brendan Cahill would also contribute pencils to the first issue and the back half of the series. It was a celebration of the 30th anniversary of the franchise, and the second birthday of Phase Two... which went on for over four months, but never mind that!

Both "Dark Cybertron” and its preliminary materials were made to go alongside the Transformers: Generations toy-line, each issue being included as a toy pack-in with whatever character was being featured… or, at least, that was the plan. Sometimes it didn’t work out. Regardless, this storyline was created to sell toys directly, as opposed to the MTMTE/RID series being made to sell toys more through the power of suggestion. It’s a small distinction, but important, because it will help explain any lack of soul one may perceive while they read “Dark Cybertron”.

“But Hannz!” you cry out, reaching to grab me by the throat and shake me like a rag doll, because to you I’m merely a faceless voice on the internet. “Surely by calling this specific storyline soulless, you’re completely ignoring the very nature of this franchise that you’re almost uncomfortably invested in!”

To which I’ll say this: look, I’m pretty realistic about where my giant space robots came from; Transformers as a franchise would not exist the way it does without Ronald Reagan introducing the Free Market to literal children and fucking up how we interact with media for the rest of time. There is no ethical consumption under capitalism, and that rings especially true when I’ve got a Spinister on my bookshelf staring me down as I write this, that was likely made out of plastics which either involved blood oil or unethical labor practices, if not both.

However!

The choices of a company to have their comic license holders to cook up an entire plot that derails what they’ve already got planned out for toy tie-in comics is a completely different animal than what IDW had had going on up to this point. Phase Two had been about exploring different ideas that hadn’t been able to be explored during the war, and seeing what happens when you take away a third of the logline for Transformers G1 as a whole. Being a part of a brand of toys was almost inconsequential to how the stories were being told; even the Spotlights, which were also toy tie-in comics, had plenty of charm to them, if only because there weren’t quite as many constraints placed on the writers, and they were stand-alone issues.

Of course, being tie-in comics isn’t the only reason that “Dark Cybertron” is a bit of a slog, considering everything IDW itself was trying to get done within this storyline, but we’ll cover the publishing company’s/Simon Furman’s/Transformers’ tumultuous relationship with the concept of gender identity and expression later on, when it becomes relevant to the story proper. This point also ties into the interesting origin of Windblade, who we’ll meet in a few issues, and what happens when you let your fanbase have a taste of power and forget that people might like to see themselves represented in the media they consume.

“Dark Cybertron” is what ended up making me stop reading MTMTE the first time I tried it in 2015. A big part of it was because it forced the reader to need so much information from RID and even events prior to Phase Two, it wasn’t very fun to try to parse what was going on, on top of the writing beginning to flag because of obvious constraints to what Barber and Roberts could actually do, both within their deadlines and the rules put in place by their higher ups for the event.

 “Dark Cybertron” is the result of the sort of executive meddling that kills reader enjoyment by requiring writers to cram their two worlds together as quickly as possible, without the option to go for nuance because there simply isn’t time. The reason we have four separate artists for the front half of this story is because Milne and Griffith didn’t have time to draw both their current workload and “Dark Cybertron” at the same time... but sales probably went up due to the nature of how the story was published, so I’m sure they didn’t really see a problem with it.

That’s a general “they”, not a Milne and Griffith “they”.

In short, we’ve got license contract obligations, fan-poll obligations, and gender stuff fighting for space within the next 12 issues, which will be published in the span of roughly four months. Things are probably going to be a little bloated and sloppy.

Regardless of any of these points, this is what we’ve got. It’s not like it’s all bad- “Dark Cybertron” has the benefit of being written by two people who had been working closely before it had even been conceptualized. Barber was the senior editor for MTMTE, and IDW as a whole until he left in 2016. It also isn’t a proper crossover- y’know, where two completely separate titles get mashed together for a bit. MTMTE and RID exist in the same universe, just have their own things going on, so a decent amount of things still carry over without you needing to have read every single thing in both. The writing, while not quite up to par with pieces that had more creative freedom and breathing room between scenes, is still recognizable as being Barber and Roberts’. Their voices are still here, they’re just strained under the weight of everything that has to be said inside of 12 issues.

With all THAT out of the way, let’s dive in to Dark Dawn: Dark Cybertron Chapter 1.

We get a quick rundown of the most basic information you’ll need for this entire story to make sense, as we reintroduce the fact that Shockwave is an ecoterrorist with more agendas than a daily planner factory on meth, and also that he grows magic crystals. I don’t care what he says, the Ores are fucking space-magic. If you don’t want to read through all of RID for everything else, please see Robots in Disguise (2012), #1-22- A Recap, For Reference Purposes.  We also get a quick rundown of the Lost Lighters’ deal, as Swerve potentially has a meta-episode.

Be careful what you fucking wish for, bucko.

Our story proper starts with a flashback to the shittiest road trip Cyclonus ever went on, as the Ark 1 finds itself at the edge of a mysterious portal. This is likely why he wasn’t super thrilled when the portal to Luna 1 showed up- portals are probably a touchy subject for him.

Jhiaxus doesn’t know what this portal is- surely this means that science has failed us, and it’s time to call in the religious crowd to try and suss out what’s going on here.

It’s moments like this that make me wonder what exactly happened in the Dead Universe that made Cyclonus’ cheek meat just pack up and leave.

Now, we know that Cyclonus is correct here, because we as readers have more knowledge than the characters at this point, but Jhiaxus tries to write off this theory as hogwash, because he is a man of rationality and science. This is a slight removal from his character in the present, whose most notable traits seem to be a lack of ethics and screaming.

Everyone here seems to be slightly different from their current iterations, actually; Galvatron doesn’t say a word as he steps between Jhiaxus and Cyclonus, only using his body to communicate that the scientist might want to back off. Cyclonus himself is certainly the wordiest we’ve ever seen him to be, droning on through his actual thought process before he comes to a conclusion on what exactly they’ve found. Compare this to the Cyclonus of today, who only deigns to grace everyone with his voice if they outright threaten him, have something he wants, or are Tailgate. If he were to ever pull this verbal meandering on board the Lost Light, people would probably assume he’s having a stroke.

Nova Prime- you remember him, don’t you?- gives not a fuck about the Dead Universe, only what it means for him personally. And what it means for him is more locations to subjugate, because he is cartoonishly evil. His character is the least removed from his present-day iteration out of everyone. He tells the crew they’ll be getting a little closer, only for the portal to do the work for them, by way of dark energy tentacles.

Wow, the pilot for the Ark 1 really is just straight-up named Butt, isn’t he? And what the fuck is that face you’re making, Cyclonus? Are you- oh my god, are you emoting? Oh my god, he’s emoting.

As the Ark 1 is pulled to its doom, Jhiaxus makes a quick phone call to Shockwave to tell him he’s his favorite, and to keep up the good work.

In the present, Shockwave reflects on just how friggin’ long this whole ordeal has taken. Fortunately, Waspinator and the Titan are almost here, and he can hardly wait.

Not, uh, that he’s got emotions or anything. It’s been established that he doesn’t have those anymore. Is impatience an emotion? Does that count?

Shockwave seems like he’d be really frustrating to write for.

Anyway, the Titan shows up, the Ore inside him and the Ore in the underground Crystal City combine, and the Titan starts screaming because everything hurts. Shockwave’s about as thrilled as he can be about the situation, given his lack of emotions.

Above Crystal City, we finally get back to that nonsense about the early sunrise, as someone- maybe Starscream, given the color of the narration box- waxes poetic on the planet of Cybertron, wartorn and wild in its rebirth, ruled by paranoia that has nothing to bounce off of, and so creates its own walls.

Then we get a detailed shot of Rattrap’s mug, and the moment is broken.

Rattrap’s character is a lot of fun in everything he gets tossed into, but you’re a goddamn liar if you think he’s pretty to look at. You are lying to yourself, and I won’t apologize for saying it.

Starscream walks out of his room in his hot new body, feeling fine and ready to take on the world. We’ll check in on him later in the day to see how that positive mentality is working out for him.

So, the sun hasn’t moved, and it’s way too early for the sun to even be up right now. That’s weird. Because I guess he didn’t know how the sun works, Starscream’s only just realized that this is perhaps a problem. He does some computer work and realizes that this is indeed a very bad thing, and asks that Rattrap call the Autobots. Not the ones who fucked off into the wilderness, the other ones. The gay, space ones.

Up in space, Orion Pax and his pals have found themselves in dire straits, the collapsing Gorlam Prime sucking their ship back down as the Death Ore consumes everything.

That’s not how engines work! And I think it really says something about the “Prelude” issues that I completely forgot why Wheelie was down an arm for a solid five seconds.

It turns out that Orion was the narrator the entire time, which I should have known- since when is the once and future Optimus Prime not the primary voice in any media he appears in?

It’s looking rough for the fellas, but luckily we’ve got to get the plot rolling, so the Lost Light VZZZZTs into existence and picks up the Skyroller to place it gently into its belly.

Orion isn’t exactly jazzed about the fact that Rodimus didn’t listen to what he told him, not even bothering to thank the guy for saving his life. I say y’all keep going on your Thunderclash Quest and leave this ungrateful loser behind. No space yachting for you, Orion.

The rest of the Pax Posse enter the Lost Light proper, and Hardhead reveals that he nearly joined the Quest, before he saw who all would be coming with, while Garnak has a tearful reunion with Rodimus. The fact that he’s calling him Sir- which I don’t recall him doing in Transformers (2009), at least not in a way that seems reminiscent of an unfortunate Antebellum Period Romance- feels rather weird, but I’m glad someone’s fucking happy to see Rodimus at least. Ultra Magnus asks Orion if he’ll be assuming command of the vessel, as Rodimus tries not to look horrified by the thought alone, but fortunately Orion’s not going to pull his “I’m Optimus Prime and I Can Do What I Want” Card just yet.

Smash cut to the bridge, as Rodimus tries to make himself sound competent, when Starscream calls. Orion doesn’t like that Starscream has their number, Perceptor almost reveals the fact that this ship technically doesn’t belong to a faction, likely due to being purchased after the war, and Cyclonus gets brought in for his professional opinion.

As it turns out, that early sunrise isn’t a sunrise at all, but a portal to the Dead Universe. This is a problem, because the Dead Universe really sucks, and you don’t want to go there, especially if you enjoy being alive. Orion seems more concerned about the fact that Starscream is ruling the planet, and Bumblebee is nowhere to be found.

Speaking of Bumblebee, he and all his camp buddies are psyching themselves up for a confrontation.

Swoop, please, this is hardly the time for crudeness.

The Dinobots, sick of Bumblebee’s dithering about, decide they’re going to fight the fucking sun and gear up. Prowl, though generally disliking their brand of problem-solving, does share his begrudging respect of their can-do attitude.

Their can-do attitude over fighting the fucking sun.

Then an earthquake happens and the ground rips open to reveal that Titan that Waspinator showed up with.

Shockwave takes over the narration at this point, and we get artsy, as we see events that haven’t transpired yet over musings on the nature of... time? Maybe? It would be in line with Roberts’ go-to topics, but honestly the whole thing’s kind of vague so I couldn’t give you a solid answer. Shockwave gets awfully introspective for a guy who shouldn’t care, I know that much. The point is, he is inevitable and is super good at logic and science.

Also, Nova Prime and Galvatron are back, which is cool, I guess. Not sure where Galvatron had gotten to exactly after the events of “Chaos”, but he’s back now, so it doesn’t matter too terribly much. Shockwave serves them, which we’ll probably get an explanation for at some point.

God, you can practically taste the desperation to pin all these plot points together before the entire thing implodes on itself.

[deliberatelyvague]

Please Eat (diavolo x fem!reader)

Started: April 4, 2020 at 10:10pm

Ended: April 5, 2020 at 12:19am

Word Count: 3,669

Ships: [Diavolo x fem!reader]

Trigger Warning(s): depression, eating disorders, self harm (cutting), stressful events

Author’s Note: Uh okay first thing: I’m sorry this is so long, it just keeps going. Second: I’m not sure if doing something this deep so quickly on my page is a good idea, but I’m going to do it anyway. Requests are open and appreciated!

—————

If anyone ever tries to tell you that RAD tests were easy to study for, the best thing for you to do is to either laugh in their face or ask them to tutor you. It might be because the tests in general are much harder than the ones administered on Earth, or maybe it was because you’re a human who hasn’t had any background to any of these topics other than the background taught in class.

And you paid attention, you took notes (when you weren’t distracted by Mammon, that is) to the best of your ability, and you asked for help when you needed it. You even stayed up almost all night the first time you had a test studying and revising your notes, rewriting them and even finding videos to watch on that subject. You had walked into the classroom the next morning, hyped up from (caffeinated beverage) and ready to kick this test in its butt.

The downfall of this attitude came when you looked at the first page of the test to not recognize almost any of the material, only a few things scattered here and there. You say in your chair, staring at the paper and trying to work your way through the questions, making the most sense out of them that you could, but it wasn’t helping all that much.

You weren’t surprised when your test came back with a barely passable grade, but Lucifer was. Oh, Lucifer laid into you for a good two hours, talking about how you were going to ruin Diavolo’s program, and that you should study harder next time and ask more questions. You assured him that you would, and he didn’t seem all too believing in your answer, but he let you be.

His speech stuck something into you, however. Something that you felt all too well in the human world: inadequacy. You felt terrible, you had tried your best, you had studied, but it still didn’t help anything. That night at dinner you heard all the brothers talking about the test, and even though you hadn’t done the worse (that medal went to Mammon, who even though he didn’t study or even pay attention in that class, still managed to only get a few point worse than you) you by far hadn’t done the best. Lucifer and Satan tied for that position. Asmo, Beel, and Belphie got somewhere worse than those two but better than you.

You picked at your food, not all too interested in it, your stomach filled with your old friend. You could feel Beel’s eyes on you, and then once you looked at him you noticed his eyes were actually just on your food. You took your napkin from your lap and placed it on the table next to your food.

“You can have the rest of my food if you want it, Beel. I’m not that hungry,” you say, and leave the dining hall, no one bothered by your exit. There was a sting of pain, but you quickly ignored it. You didn’t need to be their priority 24/7, that’s just ridiculous.

You went immediately to your room, sitting at your desk and looking over your test and then at your notes and textbook, to see where you went wrong. Turns out there was an entire section you had forgotten about, which was what almost the entire test was over. You made revisions on your test and slid them into a file to save for the final over that class, and started to read the next chapter in the textbook.

You idiot, you really didn’t double check that you studied everything? You don’t deserve to be here, you’ll tarnish Diavolo’s name. Worthless, they should’ve picked someone else.

You gripped the edges of your textbook, trying to shake the words from your head. You knew they weren’t true, but deep inside you, you couldn’t help but feel like they were true.

You tried to come up with excuses as to why you had just forgotten about that section, but you couldn’t. You had locked everyone out of your room except for Diavolo and Lucifer, of course, so that you could study. You didn’t have anything distracting you, no demon or phone (which you had hidden away in a drawer by the bed).

So you really just forgot about it? You should be punished for that. You know how to do it, so why not administer them yourself?

But you hadn’t self harmed in so long. You had been clean for multiple years now, and you hated the thought of ruining that for a measly test.

But it’s not just the test, is it? You have possibly tarnished the name of your beloved boyfriend, you broke the respect you’ve gone through so many lengths to build with Lucifer also. You don’t deserve to have either of them, or to be in this program. Just do it, they won’t notice. You need to be punished.

Silently you went over and got the razor out of one of the new pencils sharpeners you had bought a few days ago because you thought they were pretty, and they were having a sale. Moving over to your bathroom, you shut the door and locked it, bringing the blade to your wrist and slashing it a few times. You let out a small breath, an almost instantaneous relief washing over your body.

The dopamine that you had been drastically craving for so long flooded into you again, and you almost didn’t notice the knock on your room’s door. You quickly applied bandages to your wrists after you cleaned them, slipping the razor into the folded towels under your sink and pulling down the sleeves of your turtleneck. You were still wearing your school uniform, just without the jacket on top of it.

After being grilled for two hours and then having to finish homework before dinner you just hadn’t had the time to change. You stepped out of your bathroom to find Diavolo standing by your desk, his back turned toward you and one of his hands placed on something, looking it over.

You felt your stomach drop and you wanted nothing more than to curl up in your closet with a nest of blankets and pillows and just wallow in the darkness, but your boyfriend turned to face you, his hand now gripping the paper, a mask of confusion covering his face.

“I-I’m sorry, I know that grade isn’t acceptable, I thought I studied hard enough I just-”

“[Y/N], I know you studied hard for this test. You didn’t let me talk to you for a good three hours. What happened?”

Tears welled up in your eyes and he came over, wrapping his arms around you, one of his hands stroking the top of your head.

“I forgot an entire section from the chapter. I’m sorry,” You sobbed, and he shushed you.

“You don’t need to apologize, Princess. Sometimes that happens. It’s happened to me, it’s happened to Lucifer. Sometimes we just forgot.”

“But ‘Volo, I can’t forget. My mistakes look bad on the both of us, not just me. Imagine if that grade was worse, how tarnished this exchange program would be?”

His eyebrows laced together.

“Princess, your grades can always come back. One bad test doesn’t harm much, considering your grade in that class, it shouldn’t affect you much.”

You stayed quiet, biting on your bottom lip.

Don’t listen to him. He’s lying to you. That’s all demons do, lie. Are you really going to believe him over me, something you’ve known for so long?

You wrapped your arms around him, heat radiating off of his body. You didn’t believe him, he didn’t discredit that your grades could tarnish the program, so you would just have to make sure to study more. You could stand to skip a few meals, anyway. Then you could study and still manage to keep up your social life.

“‘Volo, no offense, but why did you come to my room anyway?” You ask him after you calm down a bit.

“I’m supposed to take you dress shopping for the ball coming up, remember?”

Suddenly the conversation the two of you had a few days ago came back. He wanted to instill some human school things, and you mentioned dances to him, and he was more than thrilled. He scheduled one for a few weeks from now as soon as he could gather the student council.

“Oh, yeah. I’m not changed or anything, just give me a few minutes, please. He nodded and walked over to your bookcase, filled with books from the human realm that you enjoyed, though some spots were vacant due to Satan.

You chuckled at him, going to your closet and picking out a long sleeved shirt and some skinny jeans, tucking in the shirt and making sure the sleeves covered your bandages.

“Alright, I’m good,” he turned and smiled at you.

“Beautiful, you know I love that color on you.” You blush and nod, taking his hand as he drags you to dress stores to find a base dress because “Barbatos can add anything you want to it.”

You felt bad, but then thought that Barbatos might enjoy something else to work on other than Diavolo’s issues.

You both decided on a simple long-sleeved crimson a-line dress, asking Barbatos to add whatever he felt would look nice. You had enough trust in him, and you’re sure that Diavolo will pitch in some ideas, too.

————

Your plan of skipping meals had worked well enough, you steered away from the brother’s questioning by grabbing a granola bar from the supply you kept in your room and showing it to them before you left for school each day. You packed a few grapes and other soft fruits for your lunch so when you were in the library you wouldn’t disturb anyone.

You had been studying enough that you felt confident in your next few tests in any classes, and your efforts paid off when you passed all of them. Lucifer seemed pleased, and so did Diavolo when you showed him.

You still ate dinner with the brothers when Diavolo didn’t invite you out, but slowly you started to lose your appetite. You didn’t want to eat. You’ve noticed how much trimmer your waist was, and how much clearer your skin was. You knew it wasn’t healthy in the slightest, but you felt better about yourself. And if you could improve your grades and lose a few pounds, it couldn’t hurt to do this for a few more weeks, right?

That night was a try-on for the dress for the dance, to make sure it fit you correctly with the shoes you planned on wearing and the add-ons didn’t take away from any place or attract eyes to any place you didn’t want them to.

You were met by Barbatos at the foyer, and he led you to the dress’s room. You gasped when you saw it. Underneath a light and on a mannequin stood your dress in all its glory: the red dress had black tulle added underneath to add a bit of volume to the skirt, and red flowers were embroidered to the chest area and the sleeves.

“Barbatos, this looks beautiful!” You exclaim, walking over it to feel the fabric.

“I told you she’d say that,” you hear your boyfriend’s voice, and you look over at him and smile, quickly looking back at the dress. “Are you going to try it on, or are you going to let the mannequin model it?”

You squeal and nod, Barbatos unzipping the back and leading you and the dress over to a division. You quickly undress and step into the dress and he zips you up.

You look in the mirror and frown slightly. It doesn’t sit on you like it did, and you expected that because you were losing weight, but you didn’t expect this much. It had only been a few weeks- maybe two or three- it shouldn’t fit you like this.

“Is something wrong, Miss?” You quickly look at Barbatos and shake your head.

“No, no it’s amazing,” you run your hands over the gap in the waist and the shoulders before stepping out from behind the curtains.

Diavolo’s face flashed confusion for the quickest of seconds before returning to adoration.

“Ah, that looks stunning on you, Princess.”

You feel blood rush to your ears and cheeks before Barbatos comes at you with pins, pinning it where it needed altered. He fit it so that it laid against your body like it had in the dressing room at the shop.

You thanked Barbatos when he was finished, and he brushed off the thanks, saying that it was his duty.

You walked with Diavolo back to your dorm, and he offered to buy ice cream. The thought of ice cream made your stomach rumble, but then the thoughts of how many calories filled it also came and you told him you were hungry.

“[Y/N], I asked Lucifer and he said you hadn’t eaten dinner for the past few days. I also find it hard to believe that a granola bar and handful of fruit can keep you filled at all. Why aren’t you eating?”

He had stopped and grabbed your wrist directly over where the scars were healed, but the skin still felt slightly tender. You winced slightly and pulled away.

“Princess, please. Talk to me. I won’t judge you,” he comforts after you stayed quiet.

Don’t tell him. You’re perfectly fine. You know you are. Why is it his place to tell you what’s best for your body?

You felt a sudden wave of anger so strong you wonder if there was a lesser demon of wrath around impeding your judgement.

“Why does it matter?” You snap at him. “I’m thriving right now, I’ve never done better in school and I’m managing to lose a few pounds. I’m doing good.”

He’s just jealous. He’s trying to hold you back.

“Why are you trying to hold me back? I thought you would be proud of me.”

“I am proud of you Princess, but you can’t sacrifice your health to make me proud. Please, Princess I’m worried.”

You roll your eyes and look at anywhere but him.

“Can you just take me home, please.”

His mouth opens like he wants to say something else, but instead just closes his mouth and nods.

“Of course, Princess,” he comes over to you and laces his fingers with yours, and you walk in tension.

He kisses you when you reach the gate of the House of Lamentation, and you part ways.

—————

You didn’t have another issue until the next night, when you were setting up a small nest of pillows in your closet. You had put a light in there and made it a perfect place to study, other than your desk.

“Hey, Normie, Lucifer says you have to come to dinner tonight,” you hear Levi’s voice call to you through the door.

You huff and call back that you weren’t hungry and you could practically hear Levi’s eye roll through the door.

“He said if you said that to send Mammon so he could pester you, so I think I’ll just save you the agony of that and just tell you to come now.”

You scoff and pull on a flannel, buttoning it up over your sports bra you had been wearing.

You open the door and walk with him to the dining room, sitting at your place. You could feel all of the brother’s eyes on you, and you could hear Asmo whimper slightly.

“[Y/N], what have you done to yourself?” You hear him whisper, and you choose to ignore him. You hadn’t seen any of them but Lucifer for at least 5 days and that’s what he chose to start whatever conversation they planned on having with you?

You look at the plate in front of you, it was spaghetti and a side salad with garlic bread. Coincidentally, one of your favorite meals on Earth.

You pick up the fork to the side of your plate and place the napkin on your lap, stabbing a tomato from the salad and putting it in your mouth. You could still feel the eyes of the brothers on you.

“Why are you all staring at me? Please stop,” you ask them, and they almost immediately diverted their gaze to their food where they started to eat.

You finished the salad and took a bite of the garlic bread, almost gagging immediately. Not because of the taste, you noted. So why had you gagged? You placed the garlic bread down before taking your napkin off of your lap and setting it beside your plate.

“You think you’re done?” You hear Lucifer ask. You frown and look over at him, your heartbeat picking up in your chest.

“Yes? I’m not hungry. I wasn’t planning on coming to dinner but you made me anyway,” you told him, and pushed away from the seat.

“No, sit back down. You’re not done eating,”

“Yes I am, Lucifer,” you shot back, but you didn’t move from your seat.

Suddenly you were overloaded with all of the brother’s pleas that tried to make you eat. You felt the room start to spin as you look at the plate of food. You could only imagine the embarrassment of trying on that dress and it not fitting correctly, of you looking like a laughing stock next to Diavolo in an ill-fitting dress.

“[Y/N], please, you have to eat.” You heard a brother say, and to be honest you couldn’t remember or discern which one it was. All of their voices were melding together.

“No! I don’t have to do anything! I’m not fucking eating okay? You’ll have to deal with it. I can’t. I can’t eat this food, I’m sorry. I’m leaving.”

You stand up from the table, rushing out of the room and to your room, fastening the lock on your door that even Lucifer couldn’t get through with his powers, only Diavolo. You went directly into your closet after grabbing the blade from the towels and shut the door. You were in almost pitch black other than the little sliver underneath the door, but you didn’t bother turning on the light before you cut into your wrist. But you didn’t feel the dopamine this time, so you made another one.

Your movements were in such hysterics at this point that you didn’t notice how many you had made and how bloody it had gotten before you heard your door open and a bunch of feet come running in.

“Princess,” you hear Diavolo’s voice.

“Please, make them leave. Please,” you whimper out, loud enough for them to hear. You hear a few pairs of feet leave and a door close before Diavolo opens the door, looking at your wrists.

“Princess-” he started, and you sobbed.

“I’m sorry, ‘Volo, I’m so sorry, I just-”

“It’s going to be alright Princess,” he soothes you, and thankfully the cuts weren’t that deep, they had already stopped bleeding when he rinsed them in the sink.

He brings you to your bed after he puts ointment on the cuts and bandages them.

He sits leaning against the headboard and brings you to his lap and leaning against his chest.

“Princess, I don’t expect for you to talk to me unless you want to, I’ll wait here as long as you need me to.”

“Are you angry with me?”

“No, no! Of course not. I’m more disappointed than anything. Princess, you know you can tell me anything, and I’m saddened that you thought that the only resort you had to take whatever you were feeling out was on yourself.”

“I didn’t want to burden you. You have so many duties.”

His hand came up to rest on your hair, stroking it and rocking you slightly.

“All of my duties can be waived. I can always deal with my duties at another time, but how would I be able to console you if you are dead? How am I supposed to help you, Princess? I don’t want to lose you. I’m watching you waste away to nothing right in front of me and I don’t know why, I don’t know anything!”

“I just feel a lot of pressure from school, I guess. It’s a lot of changes at once, and I was never very good at changes. Then I started studying more in place of meals, and I started losing weight, and I liked the results. But now I can’t eat more than a few bites of anything substantial at mealtimes, because I’m scared I’ll look like an oaf standing next to you in my dress if I gain any amount of weight.”

“Princess, you shouldn’t treat yourself like an object. You aren’t just any ‘exchange program member’, you’re my girlfriend. You’re the one I want to marry, the one that will carry our children eventually. You aren’t an object to make me look better, you are your own self. You shouldn’t base your value or how you treat yourself off of other people’s perception of you or how you think they perceive you.”

You stayed quiet for a good while, thinking about what he said. You leaned back away from him, looking into his beautiful golden eyes, bringing one of your hands up to rub your thumb on his cheek bone.

“Can you help me, please? I need help. I don’t think I can do this alone.”

“Of course I’ll help, Princess. Everyone will help. Lucifer, Satan, Asmo, Beel, Belphie, and I’m sure even Mammon and Barbatos will help in their own ways.”

You smiled slightly.

“I love you,” you tell him before laying back on his chest.

“I love you too, Princess.”

————

This was written by me in no way trying to romanticize mental illnesses. I try to write what I feel would help me in the moment. I completely understand that mental illnesses don’t just ‘disappear’ when you’ve figured out that someone loves you or someone helps you once- that’s why I don’t write what happens after in most cases. If you are struggling, please reach out to anyone you trust, or call a hotline.

[thewolfmanslayer]

Honestly the amount of people who say artists and writers should do stuff for free, or try to rip them off on comissions still royally piss me off.

I think the worst part of it is the entitlement, I dont want to make this too much about generations but a lot of commissioners are millenial/Gen z's who grew up on the "steal and pirate everything" mentality, take everything that you can because no one else is going to hand it to you. which I can get behind, when you are screwing over MULTI BILLION DOLLAR COMPANIES. NOT THE STRUGGLING ARTISTS AND WRITERS who are trying to keep food on the table as desperately as you probably are!

It's simple, you wouldn't walk into a restaurant, order food and tell the server "sorry I don't have any money, but I've got like a few thousand followers on social media, I can get your name out there, get the restaurant some exposure" NO! They don't need "exposure" they need you to pay the damn bill!

On top of that, most of these artists and writers ALREADY HAVE FOLLOWINGS. They already have thousands of people following them, waiting for the chance to get a commission, who are willing to pay for said commission, they don't need "exposure" when they're already out there! He'll even the artists and writers with a few hundred don't need it, they'll get more followers as time goes by, their skill alone will see to it.

And what is with people trying to get free art and writing? It's not going to work! You can't harass someone until they cave, trust me, you'll be long since blocked before you even have the opportunity. I don't do comissions, online anyways, but my own friends and family, people who actually know me STILL PAY ME whenever they ask for me to do art for them because they KNOW it takes TIME AND EFFORT.

How many times do we need to have this discussion???? Like when is it going to finally click that people who need to pay their bills just as much as you do AREN'T going to do this shit for free!?

Here's the thing about art and writing, that you've heard a billion times but still aren't getting; IT. TAKES. TIME. AND. EFFORT. TO. GET. DONE. the art isn't going to magically appear and the writing isn't going to suddenly write itself, if either were so convenient YOU WOULDNT BE ASKING AN ARTIST OR WRITER IN THE FIRST PLACE!

Look at that, you see that? The first picture I did back in 2012-13, the picture beside it? I did that TWO YEARS AGO. I didn't suddenly know exactly what to do, or had anything close to a god given talent for drawing (I'm not that talented). The first picture WAS THE ABSOLUTE BEST I COULD DO AT THE TIME THAT I MADE IT. In the time between these two drawings I admittedly took a break from art, but then I got back into it four years ago. EVEN STILL that was four YEARS of starting over from the basics, relearning everything, learning new things, wanting to actually improve my art.

Which, guess what, DID NOT HAPPEN OVER NIGHT. It was HOURS UPON HOURS of my limited free time as an adult drawing over and over and over and over again, every single goddamn day to get to the point that I was able to make that redraw look as good as it does in comparison. He'll, my art now puts them both to shame! Because I spent the time improving my quality!!

Now look at these artists doing comissions, they've probably put EVEN MORE of their time to get that good! They've put in LITERAL YEARS of sweat, blood, tears, frustrations and dedicated hardwork. Some did the same as me, self teaching and lots of practice, others probably had to go to school, which definitely wasn't cheap. But all of us put in that time and effort TO REACH THESE POINTS. Of being better artists, developing our styles, getting faster at drawing.

And maybe you think that this is super easy, right? That I or every other artist can just fire some art off and boom its good and done in like an hour?

FUCK. NO.

Even now it takes me several hours a day OVER MANY DAYS to make something exceptionally good! It doesn't matter how good an artist is, it still. Takes. Time.

Maybe the issue is that you don't understand how much actually goes into art, let me break it down for you, the steps that most people follow to finish ONE drawing.

-Rough draft: general character outline, get a feel for what I want to draw.

-Rough sketch: I start doing a bit of pencil to start filling in details like mouth, nose, eyes, hair, clothes. Ect.

-Penciling: I go over the rough sketch and clean everything up, maybe do some editing, this is when you can start making out all the details.

-Ink: I trace over the finished pencil with a pen tool and actually have the line art, everything looks clean, presentable, it actually looks like a character now. I'll spend time editing this and possibly redoing the inking many times over to get to a point where I like it.

-Flat color: I decide on which colors to use for skin tone, clothes accessories. Ect.

-Shading/highlights: I figure out where my light source is and how strong it is, I then apply the correct amount of lighting and shadows to the color to give it depth, I also have determine the texture of skin, clothes and accessories to make everything look real and natural.

-Blending: I smooth out the shading and highlights so that it looks more natural and isn't too hard (noticeable difference between color) so that it looks as natural as possible.

-Finish: I go over last minute details, finish any editing or corrections that need to be done. Once it's good I call it a day.

Each process is longer in length then the previous, with the exception of the final editing (as long as everything looks good) and even the rough draft can take some time. Over all this is SEVERAL HOURS of work for a SINGLE DRAWING.

So is it sinking in yet? How much is put into doing even a single character drawing? God forbid if its done with background. This isn't a "scratch a pen around and be done with it in ten minutes" kinda deal, no, this is SEVERAL HOURS OF SOMEONES LIFE BEING PUT INTO THIS

And if you still have the AUDACITY to try and wrangle free art from an artist then there's no helping you, you're just a selfish piece of shit, no question and I want nothing to do with you.

Someone might say "But I got free art/writing from.-" look I don't give a shit if someone did something for you THAT ONE TIME, these other artists and writers? Totally seperate and different people. You're one freebie experience does not, and should not apply to other artists and writers.

"But what if I really want this commission but don't have the money right now?" Well, that's tough shit. Save up and properly commission them when you can, it's not their problem.

"But what if I'm in a really bad financial situation and really want it?" That sucks, and I'm sorry, but again, not their problem. Chances are this is their only source of income and they need to make money so that they don't end up in a similar situation.

"They have a gift! They should share it!" What kind of cheap ass- LOOK, just because someone is talented or really good at something does not automatically obligate them to do anything for total strangers in anyway shape or form. These are living, breathing people, the same as you. They need to eat, they need to pay rent/mortgages, they need to pay vet bills, send their kids to college, do their taxes and everything else that YOU YOURSELF need to do. Asking anyone to spend their time doing something for free, when that something is how THEY ARE SURVIVING is beyond asinine. Not only that, this obviously isn't a hobby to them, it is very clearly THEIR JOB. Would you want to do a job where you didn't get paid at all? Doing a shit ton of work for absolutely nothing? No? Didn't think so.

"It shouldn't be about the money!" Well unfortunately, as with almost every other job, it is. We live in a world where we desperately need to make money in order to survive. That's the painful fact of the matter. If money never had to be an issue ever again then this would be a very different story. But it's not, plain and simple as can be.

Look, these people are just like you, artists and writers who are just trying to get by in a shitty ass world, using the one thing they have that let's them have an income. Leave them be, don't try and trick them, guilt them, or cuss them out when you don't get your way. Either properly comission or leave them the hell alone, plain and simple.

[lutrain2020]

Meet the Creator!

Introducing: Squido!

Commission:  I haven't and don't really intend to. I don't want to take anyone's hard-earned money. Just ask me to draw things and there's a good chance I will.

Social Media:  Tumblr: @sky-squido​ AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sky_squido/pseuds/sky_squido

Tell us a little bit about yourself!

Call me Squido! I love to draw and write but I'm also super extraverted and I love interacting with humans so always feel free to chat with me! Aside from drawing and writing, I just love being outside and have a tumblr sideblog dedicated exclusively to nature photos I take. I love mountains, the ocean, the sky, and just about everything else in this beautiful world of ours! If you ever feel like having an internet stranger give you a thousand word rant, ask me why my favorite color is blue and you will not be disappointed!

What got you into creating? what inspires you to keep creating?

I've been drawing for as long as I can remember and can't seem to stop, though I take long breaks sometimes I always seem to come back to it again. I try not to have anything in mind when I draw, but to start sketching and let the drawing happen. Sometimes I find that what I'm trying to draw is not what my drawing wants to be (if that makes any sense) and change what I'm making halfway through. It makes drawing a really relaxing and carefree therapeutic experience! Writing is different. I've always enjoyed writing, but I didn't write much and never shared my writing with anyone because I thought it was super pretentious. It wasn't until entering High School and joining the literature club and making a deal with a friend that we'd share our writing with each other that I actually gained any sort of confidence in my ability and sought to improve it. Being in that club and sharing my pieces at the open mics was a really encouraging experience! I invite everyone to share their writing, even if it's with some random internet stranger (I'm open anytime!) if they're unsure of their abilities. A little encouragement goes a long way! Now that I'm on Discord, ao3, and tumblr, I receive so much more feedback than I ever have before! It's been super encouraging! What inspires me most is definitely nature. Even if my ideas aren't directly related to the outdoors, I get my best ideas there. Fandoms are also a great idea generator. The sheer volume of headcanons and prompts is enough to make me dizzy with ideas!

What's your creative process like?

I love sketching. My favorite thing about drawing digitally is that I can sketch as much as I like and never worry about wasting materials! Often times my sketches turn themselves into drawings without permission and other times they stubbornly remain sketches for all eternity. I always dive right in because I have no patience and the idea I started out with generally isn't that great but in the process of pursuing it, it spirals out of control and sometimes the idea gets better and sometimes it gets worse but I just kinda roll with it. Creating is a really chill process for me and while I regularly scream stuff like "I'M DRAWING ON THE WRONG LAYER NONONONONONO" or "NO HECK FRICK SHOOT IT SMUDGED HECK HECK GET THE ERASER QUICK," the creative process is a great way for me to unwind. I'm the same way about writing. I never plan or outline and just kind of roll with things. I mean I generally have the basic jist in mind, but I try to not have a plan so I can keep the story driven by the characters and not force them into acting the way I wanted them to in the outline I made hours or even days ago. Creating is my opportunity to break free so I don't really see what good a plan or outline does me. I'm a pretty spontaneous person!

What kind of mediums do you like to use?

I like to take pictures, but it's not really my main focus. I've been mostly digitally drawing—I use my iPad Pro and Procreate—but lately I've been pencil sketching with just your average everyday mechanical pencil (I'd forgotten how nice the texture of paper was! Clearly I spent too much time drawing on my iPad!). I have these Stabilio chalk pastels I love to pieces, but have also spent a great deal of time with watercolors. Digital is my primary medium currently, though.

Is there a specific scene wrote that you are particularly proud of?

"Sky’s golden scales are glowing with reflected light from the sun while beneath them, the same pulsing blue in her mane runs like a river as her very skin is alive with electricity. The sun’s beginning to dip, fading through the color wheel from yellow to deep orange to scarlet and the world is bathed in watercolor and hue shifted through the rainbow until all that was blue becomes red. This new alien world begins to darken as red fades to deep purple-pink, the clouds catching last vestiges of gold in their pillowy folds, yet Sky continues rippling with lighting, the bright blue flowing like blood through her veins and the gold shimmering in the eerie azure glow. We weave through the winds and zephyrs and I close my eyes and let the breeze caress my hair and when I reopen them, I’m standing back on the ground again in a world long since darkened by night. I place my hand over my beating heart where Sky is still laughing with joy and smile because once you’ve awakened your dragon, you don’t need wings to fly anymore."

Is there someone who inspires you and your writing or art?

Every fanartist and fanfic writer that posts their stuff online is an inspiration to me. Even if their stuff isn't very good—especially if it isn't very good—it's a huge testament to the courage of the creator and their bravery in expressing themself! I sat on fanfic and fanart for years and never shared it and here were kids half my age putting out art that was their first experiment in a new medium and a little shaky but it was still out there and they were still being supported by the community and that really inspired me to reach out and stop lurking in fandom and actually get involved!

is there something that you struggled with that made you grow as a creator?

I feel like everyone has these periods where they were just gaining confidence in their artistic ability but suddenly everything they make is trash and they're not happy with any of it and they feel so down and worthless and "where did all of my hard-earned ability go? Will I ever get it back?" I think this is a pretty common experience and when I find myself there, I find it most helpful to share what I make anyway, even if I hate it, with someone who I know will give it to me straight because they'll point out the deeper problems—the root of the issue—that I hadn't even noticed and I can use that information to grow as an artist. Bad pieces are just as valuable as good ones. There was also a time where I had a lot of trouble developing a style. I did a lot of experimenting and never found anything I liked. What happened is I just kept drawing and whatever popped out eventually evolved into my style. I used to get frustrated that I couldn't draw anything without a reference, but after years and years of using references and drawing some of the same things over and over again, you won't need the references anymore. I mean, they're great and you should always feel free to use them, but over time, you won't need to look up a picture of every little thing you try to doodle.

What got you into writing or art?

My silly twitchy fingers can't ever seem to stop drawing! Same with writing. Words and ideas follow me around, little plot bunnies pestering me until they get written down somewhere. I was greatly inspired by the works of C.S. Lewis in my writing, especially his Cosmic Trilogy. My art style was aided by Hiromu Arakawa's Fullmetal Alchemist, which was a valuable stepping stone in developing my own style. Other than that, it was my own insatiable desire to MAKE THINGS that spurred me onwards. I don't think I could stop if I tried!

What's your favorite part of the creative process?

After you've got that first paragraph and you've found a flow and you've got a topic and you just GO. I get into the zone and the story starts happening on its own and I'm not an author anymore, I'm just a channel between the world of the piece and the page. That's my favorite. I love watching things take shape. I love shading a sketch for these same reasons. The whole drawing comes together and becomes A Thing and it's the most exciting time to be a creator. Something else inside you has taken over and you're just along for the ride. I have no idea if my experiences are common at all but this is what it's like for me!

What's your least favorite part of the creative process?

EDITING. I HAVE ZERO PATIENCE. THE THING IS DONE. WHY DO I HAVE TO KEEP LOOKING AT IT. CAN I POST IT YET. This leaves me with a lot of holes in what I make and I can't do a very clean, super detailed drawing unless it's for an art class and I'm forced to keep working on it. I have a terrible habit of never proofreading my things!

What's your favorite type of scene to write?

AAH hard question! I love writing description and places where I can really let my inner 19th century romantic be unleashed but I also love a good emotional moment between two characters. Something tense. I like fight scenes, but I try to keep them brief and interesting. Sometimes I find scenes where I have no idea what's going on and I try to avoid that, but it's really hard sometimes.

What's the hardest for you to create?

I have so much trouble with endings. I can generally figure something out, but there's always a moment of panic before the end like "heck I wrote everything I wanted how do I wrap this up????" That's probably a byproduct of me planning nothing XD I sometimes have trouble with characterization and making sure everyone acts the way they actually would. The hardest part is continuing after you have an "oh heck what do I do now" moment that breaks you out of your zone and all of your ideas and plot threads turn invisible or evaporate or go wherever it is they go when you're looking for them.

What's your favorite genre to write?

ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST. Wellll... scratch that. I love something adventure-y and plot driven with a lot of really meaningful character interactions. I've always had trouble putting my writing into genres, but I guess that kind of speaks for itself in a way.

What fandoms do you enjoy creating for?

Linked Universe is the fandom I have created and posted the most for by a LONG SHOT. I found LU shortly after making my tumblr and I joined the Discord shortly thereafter. Since then, it has been nonstop inspiration and creativity for me! I tend to get sucked into one fandom and it consumes me for a few months before I silently drift out of it and never think about it again. LU is the fandom I've been the most active in EVER though—and it's still going—so there's a good chance I'm never getting off this ride.

What's the work you are most proud of?

AAAAAAAAAAH MY BABIES. okay um here's the first and only fanfic I've ever posted anywhere but I'm really happy with: https://sky-squido.tumblr.com/post/618964544219463680/turn-back-time-a-linked-universe-fanfic I have a lot of other pieces kicking about, but they're not fandom so I haven't shared them yet. I probably will after I touch them up a bit.

Do you have any fics inspired by real life stories?

Not really? I don't really know where my ideas come from to be honest!

Where do you post your finished works?

my tumblr. I tag stuff #squido writes and #squido draws so you can find them easily. I also put them on the discord but they get lost in the stream of other works pretty quickly so stick to my tumblr. I also have an ao3 now! https://archiveofourown.org/users/sky_squido

If you have any fun stories about the pieces you made, please do share!

Turn Back Time was actually live written in the Discord, but entirely unplanned and in the #angst channel! It was just a headcanon but then I started describing it and like 2 hours and 5k words later I'm sitting in the Discord like "what just happened??"

[taehyungphille]

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

AU: Mafia + Life Long Rivals

Genre: Angst|Romance|Slight Fluff|Smut

Rating: Censored|Rated 18+

Summary:Taehyung’s life long goal was to eradicate your family’s existence. He was clear to this purpose until you interrupted and proposed for a marriage instead.

AN: This contains a lot of sensitive issues, words and triggering scenarios. I’m warning you of the risks, it’s your choice anyway.

Prologue

“I’d marry you.”

Those were the words that left your lips by the moment you hit the ground. You can feel the eyes drilling through you, surprised gazes.

You were breathless, wheezing and desperate, both hands rested behind your head. “I’d be your wife, your woman. Make me do everything, I’d be your anything. I won’t ever protest, I swear.”

You begged on your knees, mud painting your trousers with deep, filthy brown color. Your eyes were red, hair sticking allover your face, drenched in the rain. Ever since you were formally introduced to this savagery, your family always chased victory after victory. You never knew anything about vanquish or fear, you were taught to always have the upper hand no matter what. However, it was your mother whom we’re talking about now. Her in the hands of the family that yours have always despised for ages. And here you are, defeated.

“No offense but who are you?” a man calmly said, he whom is on average height, leaning against an old tree as he wiped off the blood on his hands. All were curious. They looked at you like an odd. They were familiar of the members of your clan but not of you.

You had to do this. Even when they made you swear an oath to keep your identity out of the radar. Even when your father had to banish you from the land and spend your days in foreign countries. Even when your mother raised another child, a boy who had your place in the family for years. You had to do this .

“I’m Y/N” you softly spoke “I am the daughter”

There were gasps all around you. Surprise looks were printed on their faces.You mother closed her eyes shut as tears escaped from them. Her body trembled as she cried silently. This was the day she have always feared of coming, the day that you will be exposed as the one and only descendant of the Takahashi.

“So the here-says were true.” one man spoke up “That they’ve been hiding the true child after all this time?”

“They have a female successor?” the man leaning against the tree started walking up to you as he chuckled

“That doesn’t make me less than any man” you sassed back “I don’t need to have a penis to have the right to rule. Being a woman myself is so much more than all men here combined”

He stopped midway and replied “And yet you’re the one who’s kneeling and surrendering.” You kept a straight face. You didn’t let them know how a huge slap that was for you.

“But did I hear it right?” some other man exclaimed with a funny tone “The heiress is trading her body, for her mommy?” He laughed hilariously with dirty look on his face.The other men joined the monotonous laughter, all of them except for him.

He intently looked at you, brown eyes penetrating yours, as if he could see all of you. You never left his gaze to indicate the severity of your words. He should know that you are genuinely serious of the proposal.

“Is that a proposition?” He mockingly mumbled as he pressed the gun harder against the head of your mother; she shrieked. “You, my little angel, is willing to leave everything behind, enter my dominion, for the sake of this woman?”

You flinched with dreadful look on your face as you balled your fist against the back of your head “Yes, yes” you confessed desperately “You can have me, permanently. Just please, let her go.”

He watched you, sharp eyes, mouth slightly gaped with a little bit twitch of smirk. There was a brief silence until he slowly withdrew the weapon and walked towards your direction “Do I really look stupid to you, angel?” He sneered, as he knelt one knee and grabbed you by the neck, gently yet forcefully, enough to scare you yet enough to let you breathe.

“Did you think I’d want my heirs to have the blood of a traitor, a stinking, shameful DNA of yours?”

You couldn’t help but to sigh and roll your eyes. You planned to be nice , but your innate sarcasm just popped up somewhere and regretted it immediately “I asked you to marry me, not to bear your little versions, dumbass”

He was taken aback as he narrowed his eyes and his smile grew “So they’re right about your smart mouth” he said as he moved his fist higher, rested it on your cheeks and chin, gripped it a little hard to keep your mouth open then inserted his index finger. He pushed it further until you gagged and stumbled back.

“Please just take me, she has nothing to do with this” your mother exclaimed, gasping for air, hissing as the pain in her left flank continued to burn

“No, I won’t!” you stubbornly answered “I won’t let them touch you mother. I had no business nor any involvement in this long term hatred of our families, and neither are you.”

You returned your eyes back to the man in front of you. You kept the brave composure despite of the hole on your left abdomen “My father was foolish for being your ally, but he was more stupid when he betrayed his oath”

“At least this one got some sense” you heard someone said it but you never really shifted your gaze from the boss himself.

“I would fight you to death if that’s what you want. But know that I should not be taken guilty for my father’s sins. I might be his daughter, but never was his successor. I don’t intend on taking responsibility of his stupidity” you bellowed that the whole ground you are at fell silent. You continued “Yet, I’d be ignorant if I actually ask you for a fight. With my current condition and having my mother as your hostage, I’d rather throw away my pride than let her blood flood this place”

“How dramatic” a blonde girl interrupted your powerful little speech. She played her dagger soaked with blood of your comrades as if she’s holding a light pencil between her fingers. You shot her a look and she replied with pointing the knife to your direction saying “One word darling and this will stuck in your throat”

You walked through the dirt, holding your stomach as blood oozed from it “What else do you wish to fulfill? You’ve already killed my father, congrats you have also murdered Jungkook. You’ve basically eradicated most of us all, what else do you want?”

You were about to be intimidatingly close to him when your pain tolerance reached its threshold and you immediately slumped on the ground. You heard your mother call your name, then you heard the blonde girl screaming at her to shut her mouth or else she’ll blow her skull into pieces.

You turned your head towards your mother to see her state but the man blocked you. He grabbed your wrist and yanked you up, you pursed your lips to muffled the cry of pain from your cuts but tears started to pool in your eyes again.

“I want you all dead” he snickered “I want to wipe your history, I want you to vanish in this very Earth. I want to watch the colors in your eyes fade as you beg for mercy.”

He wasn’t a man, you thought. You knew him through stories of Jungkook. You were told that he’s animalistic and ruthless, you were told that he’s always angry and hateful. You were told that he’s speaks bullets and bombs, you were told that he never leave a battle with any survivor. However, you still find yourself shocked with his actual attitude, eyes wide in terror like how you reacted when you first heard about him at the age of 13.

The grip on your wrist slowly loosened “Even so,hearing your little stunt there rang an idea in my head” he pressed his palm hard over the cut on your stomach. You immediately fell unto his arms, clenched his suit and buried your face on the crook of his neck “And I asked myself, what do I gain from your proposal “

“Please Taehyung, let my child go, she’s-“ your mother couldn’t finish her words when the blonde girl quickly kicked her hard on the stomach

“Who and where on Earth did you get the permission to call him by his name huh?” yelled at her as she brought the knife close to her face

“Enough with that Minji, you’re being an overdramatic girlfriend now” the man whom you described by height dragged Minji away from your powerless mother

“Let me go Jimin!” She wriggled off of him yet he kept tugging her far from you.

You wanted to rush towards your mother. Tend to her, reassure her of safety and care, but then you can’t even get yourself stable, can’t even breathe properly, and can’t even let go of Taehyung as you held him as your temporary anchor keeping you from collapsing on the floor again. He didn’t mind at all, or that’s what you just wish to tell yourself.

Nobody spoke for minutes. Not one, until you slowly rose your head up looking at him, and gradually let go of your clutch on him. “What do you say?” your voice was rasp, obviously tired and drain.

“I say I accept your clever scheme” he tucked strands of your hair behind your ear. In a split of second, you almost convinced yourself that he’s endearing. “We’ll get married, but you’ll be just a wife. You won’t get my name and you won’t be allowed to use yours. You cut ties with all your connections around the globe. You are bound to obey my rules. You won’t be involved in our work. You won’t live with me.“ he gently rested a hand on your cheek and caressed it gently “In short, I’ll keep you alive but dead at the same time”

“And you will spare my mother.” You exclaimed as you politely knock off his hand against your skin, ignoring his threats and plans.

“You have my word, angel” he took a step back “You have my word” he took another stride backwards, towards your mother but kept his gaze on you. Crazy it may sound but you put a little faith on his words. He might be heartless but he sure is a man of word. You took a deep breath, glanced at your mother and mouthed “I love you”

That’s when she lost it. She started crying your name. Begging the heavens to save you. Asking the non-existing spirits for a miracle. Verbalizing apologies to you for letting you be in this situation. Cursing herself for being a worthless woman was.

You were about to alleviate her through words again when a sharp blow of punch on your stomach almost shattered your soul into pieces. You fell to the ground, yelped in pain, curled yourself as you struggle to regain your breathing. But then you saw the blonde woman folding a hanky and swiftly wrapped around your head, completely blinding you. You felt arms tucking you to the ground, hushing you down.

“Good girl” Taehyung’s voice was like a catastrophe enveloping your body, pricking thorns on your skin, webs entangling your head, smoke suffocating your lungs, and moments later you heard 3 gunshots, one last grunt and fading breath sounds from your mother.

Your cried so hard that the sky responded with a loud roar, and then everything went pitch black.