#art juices going down the drain drain

[tsukinoshinjiu]

XII - The hanged man

"The hanged man understands that his position is a sacrifice that he needed to make in order to progress forward - whether as repentance for past wrongdoings, or a calculated step backward to recalculate his path onward."

[scrawnytreedemon]

Decided to nail down my design for this dingus, lol. I think he's face turned out a bit more robust in that 3/4ths view than I intended, but hey! It gets the idea across.

I'm really proud of this :}

A humble doodlesheet beneath the cut [minor alcohol cw]:

Life is hard as an 18-yro ex-hero apocalypse refugee trying to rent his wares. No friends but your bird(?) and this child you pay rent to.

These games are something else.

Now, onto the rambling proper:

I wanted to further the contrast between Link and Ravio even further. I gave Ravio a stockier frame(what else do I do with robed characters?) and made him a few years older. He looks stronger, sturdier.

And yet, he's actually quite sickly. His dark skin is pale and blotchy, with circles under his eyes. He suffers from malnutrition in the wake of Lorule's ongoing famine, and as such, despite his formidible strength, is saddled with frequent fatigue. That man sees shrimp colours when he stands up. He is a worn, weary, wary thing.

Regarding his garb, I took a page out of Yuga's book when it came to the undergarments you can see peeking from beneath the robe, as well as the shape of the boots. Lorulian fashion, baby! The world may be ending, but at least we have our colourful stripes and pointy shoes.

Also pulled minor inspiration from the Happy Mask Salesman, what with the gold ornamentation(especially near the wrists and throat) on his own purple garb. While not nearly as cumbersome, I gave Ravio some sacks, pouches and pockets. He's a travelling merchant! Where else is he gonna keep his stuff?

May or may not give Ravio a cooler skintone, but I don't want to lose the contrast against the purple.

I could probably go on and on, but I'll leave it here <3 Hope he brings you Joy.

[locallixie]

Hi if your request is open, can I request a top!sub! bang chan x dom!bot!male reader were the bang chan fails his art class yet his art teacher (reader) gave him a chance to pass his exam by inviting bang chan to paint him naked which lead to reader riding his student's cock.

extra credit — bang chan

> summary . art is the one subject he hated the most, and it shows through his falling grades. luckily the teacher was nice enough to let him do extra credit to pass.

> genre . smut, lowkey pwp, art teacher!reader, student!bang chan, sub-top!bang chan, dom-bot!reader, masc!reader.

> warnings . unprotected sex, blowjob, strong language, semi-public sex, cum eating.

(wc) > 2.1k

(taglist) > @jihanlovic

(sunny’s note) ✩ here’s my opinions on art through a bang chan smut, i don’t like modern art.

Art is subjective, and sometimes, it could even be absolutely senseless. There was no strict mold or form that art had, it was made to be a creativity exercise for the people participating. Yet, how did his own artistry failed him this badly? He was fairly good at every other subject, even chemistry! He was excellent at music, where his creative juice flowed the most. But how come it wasn’t the same for this god-forsaken subject?

“Chan, I need to talk to you after class.” You told right after handing him back his final exam’s piece.

He cussed under his breath, poorly scored with being below fifty percent which instantly meant that he failed. There was no way in hell he could explain this to his parents, this one subject really fucked him over. What did he signed up for art in the first place, it wasn't mandatory to have an additional elective?—Music was his original choice. Chan could not let one bad final grade to fuck up his reports completely, a mindset of a perfectionist. Definitely could not make any more mistakes during his senior year, he was nearing his graduation soon in about two or three months of school left.

Minho looked over, noticing the other's distressful state. "Bad score? Show me, what did that geezer give you?"

Chan sighed, silently sliding his final piece to Minho's space of the desk they shared together. "Minho, watch your mouth, what is with you and [Y/N]?"

Expressing disgust as he gazed at the bold red numbers on Chan's final piece, "I don't like [Y/N], he's such a bitch." Minho wasn't entirely sure why he hated you, more like conflicted as you were nice yet overly strict at points, that made him despised the bipolar behaviour of yours and you all together.

You were young, early-twenties it seemed, you have only been teaching for about two years which meant you were fairly new. Your students mainly comprised of juniors and seniors, but you had other freshmen and sophomores when operating after school club. In charge of standard level IB art, you weren't a big deal.

The bell rang loudly, signifying the end of fifth period. Chan stayed behind, waiting for everyone to leave the classroom so he could get this conversation over with. Minho wished him 'goodluck', before he was about to come face-to-face with the devil.

"Bang Chan, I think you're fully aware of why we are having this talk, right?" You leaned on your desk, resting your head on your hand as you focused your gaze upon him.

Without sugar-coating anything, "You're failing my class." You told sternly. "You know this is IB level art, correct? It's also your senior year, you can't turn back now."

Chan let out a dragged breath, "I...I'm not satisfied with this grade."

You simply nodded, a bit of deviousness in your tone of voice. "I figured, are you asking me for a second chance?"

He was crazy for going through with this, an IB diploma? He remembered now, he signed up for art was because of his goal of diversifying his profile for future academic opportunities. If his first and prioritized major didn't work out, he had multiple back-up plans with such a powerful diploma. But now here hopeless with his IB diploma jeopardized, all that hard work down the drain in less than a minute.

"Is there something I could do for extra credits? [Y/N], please." Everyone called you by your first name, despite being in the higher position of a teacher. In repay for letting your students get comfortable and dropping almost all formality, you would break them down even harder than the shape they used to be. If they failed with the same comfortability, you wouldn't come save them, too bad!

But Chan, Chan in particular piqued your interests. You caught on with the looks he gave you during class, he glanced and shyly waved when you two would passed by in the hallway. He had many potentials, you liked his ideas and perspective, however he lacked experiences and techniques.

"You come to my class after school, you'll do a gouache painting for me. How does that sound?" You suggested, even though you knew beforehand that he was going to accept nonetheless.

“When should I drop by?”

“Thursday, and I expect you to arrive on time.” Chan was usually late when class took place during sixth period—which is the last period of the day. Only late to your class, you heard from your colleague who taught global politics during sixth period that Chan has always been on-time except for some rare excused absences. Odd was it? As if he didn’t want to see you, or he dreaded attending your class almost. Students these days, gosh!

This week has been hectic, final projects from multiple different classes, a mock exam coming up soon on next Tuesday, and now he has to worry about fixing his damned grades. One more bad day and he was going to actually lose his mind. Prom was coming up as well, and if all of this wasn't resolve by next week, he might not be able to attend.

Thursday rolled around, after all the classes during the day, he came over to the art room on the south corridor—where your classroom was located. Chan was supposed to be tutoring Jisung on calculus today at the library, but now he has to reschedule with the younger. If he could get this stupid final piece over with, he might be able to make it to the tutoring session.

You were in the midst of setting up when he barged in, "Oh great, we'll get started right away! Just take a seat, I'll go get you a new spatula."

After placing a brand new spatula on the small stool in front of Chan, next to the five tubes of gouache paint, you went to lock the door. There were barely anyone at school at this hour, but just as an extra precaution.

"Well, your assigment is simple really. You'll do a painting with a nude model in roughly two hours time." You explained.

"So when is the model coming in?"

"They're already here, you'll be painting me." You smiled at the bewildered look on his face, his ears slowly getting redder by the second. So, this was really happening? Unbuttoning each and every button on your loosely-fitted shirt. A little bit of skin, then your entire shoulders, and then your bare torso on display before his eyes. Off with your dress pants, the rest being discarded along with it, until the cool air was your only article of clothing worn on yourself.

You sat on a couch in front of his station—one that was moved around often for other figure drawing excercises that you had for your students. Leaning back down at the cushion, you chose a pose that you would be comfortable in for the next few hours. Though the pose itself was quite normal, nothing too crazy. But the gaze you had on him made it all the more suggestive, almost like a sex invitation.

"Your time starts..." You glanced at the hanged clock above the blackboard, "Now."

Chan got into work right away, squeezing out paint from the small tubes onto the palette. Chan was a bit embarrassed to look at you, his teacher who he had been with for a whole year, was now naked from head to toes and sitting there with this look in his eyes. To come completely clean, he did thought about your naked body under the clothes you wore during your lectures from time to time, he was a bit surprised to be able to see the real thing.

Painting in the essential shapes as a quick base before he went in with the details a little later. His hands were shaking, his heart was bouncing around his chest like a mad man, he kept turning to his painting then at you and then again. He couldn't keep his eyes off you to save his life, and his pants felt a bit tight too! All he could think about was your bare self on display. Each inch of your skin, each strands of hair that fell on your face, each pinky shade of your cock.

"What's the matter? You look on edge." Asking with half legitimate concerns.

His Adam's apple moved up and down for a split second as he gulped down his saliva. God, he was having a massive boner, and he could not have you know about it. Using his mixing palette as a shield of sort, hopefully covering the tent that formed on his pants away from your knowledge.

"Is it me?" You smirked, your intentions clear on your inviting lips.

"Well...um..." He couldn't think of anything to say, the entire atmosphere between you two were all sexual tension. He wanted to fuck you, but it wasn't like he could say it out and proud.

You put on your robe, lazily drapping it over your nude body. Each step reaching towards him, he couldn't help but wanting to drop everything and take you then and there. You stood just inches away from him, grazing your fingers over his broad shoulders as if you were feeling expensive fur at the store.

Admiring his unfinished piece, "Wow, you're making quite the improvement." You commented.

The shading and the colours were all carefully made decisions, the brush strokes made things looked smoother and more polished in the earlier state. In a way, an artist's painting was their own perspective on the world surrounding them. With that philosophy, that was how Chan saw you through his own eyes. And damn was it also filled with his inner desires.

"You know," You began, "I like your pieces, they all have such a distinct personal touch." Keeping eye contacts, you held his hand and slowly guiding it down your bare chest under the silk robe. Holding up his chin slightly, you placed your lips on his. Out of the blue, yet, you both were expecting this to happen. As if manifested throughout time, every single time he thought about wanting to get freaky with you contributed to this moment.

Young people were bold, Chan was not an exception. He was quick to shove his tongue in your mouth, pump lips crying out for yours. Almost feeling like you were close to passing out with how aggressive he was, you had to pull away for air.

You brought him over to the couch, pushing him down as you got on your knees before him. Undoing his pants, immediately placing your wet and hot mouth over his throbbing cock. Chan's breath hitched, his rough hand grabbing your hair as he squirmed and twitched in his place.

"Oh my God, [Y/N], keep sucking me like that, you're amazing." Chan breathed heavily, hips slightly jerking up. Tongue flicking over his sensitive tip, sending shivers all over his body. Technically screaming for you with his little whimpers, breathy moans turning you on.

Your mouth felt full as he emptied his load, a few drops even leaked out the corners of your mouth. You swallowed the entirety down your throat like the dirty whore that you were for your student, an action that brazen made his face blushed like an after party.

Before he could unbutton his uniform shirt, you were already disrobed and stradling him. Your lips were back to kissing him, at the same time, you were lining up his cock for the next event. Steadily sitting yourself down on top of him, his hard cock stabbing slowly into you, your fleshy and warm walls wrapping over.

Chan placed his hands on your hips, securing you in place. The next minute, and you were bouncing, grinding on him as if none of this was wrong. His head tilting back, the fucked expression on his face was pleasing to the eyes. "Yeah, baby. Feels good to be inside of me, right? You wish you could just fuck me everyday."

Half-lidded eyes, hair sticking to his forehead, way too lost to reply. "If you're this fucking great, I guess I have to let you pass." You complimented, gripping a handful of his brown locks, slaming your lower body down on him. He came so much that you felt it dripping out onto the couch—that meant you would have to get it clean up, what a difficult story it would be to tell the cleaners.

After cleaning up the brushes and paint, you were officially finished for the day. You placed Chan's piece on the drying racks, you would never be able to look at this painting without being reminded of what went down today. Though, now you knew how vast his skills were.

You held his tie, flattening his shirt with your hand. "I'll see you in class next Monday, don't be late~"

[altraviolet]

Oh man now that I've seen TWO asks this day about Soundwave dying, is that the inevitable conclusion to this fic? Did I miss this big spoiler somewhere or all the clues to it? I don't remember seeing a "Major character death" tag, either.

Or is this people speculating and doing "what if"? ...not that I'd be adverse to it, especially if it made sense to do so!

Also I completely understand about work sapping all creative juices. While I don't write (I've dabbled in the past, but little 3k words or less things for OC's way back in the LJ days), I used to sketch, draw, paint nearly every day for hours before I ended up in a corporate 9-5, full time job. Even doing customer service jobs, I was able to sketch on napkins and scrap receipt paper and sticky notes.. and now I just.. can't. Its unbelievable how mentally draining full time jobs can be. Every now and then I'll get the sketch pad or watercolors out,but it's maybe once or twice a year now.

I've seen writers who do ko-fi for tips or writing commissions for certain stories (I remember a tf author I used to follow did this - where a story was only continued if the chapters were commissioned) - or even patreons, where they set up an early access to the newer chapters, and the cut scenes, additional content - have you thought about those? I think you've got a big enough following where it could be feasible to go part time! And maybe fund a self publishing of an original work sometime down the road!

>is that the inevitable conclusion to this fic? Did I miss this big spoiler somewhere or all the clues to it? I don't remember seeing a "Major character death" tag, either.

The major tag on the fic is "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings." You haven't missed a big spoiler or clues. The influx of "WHAT IF HE DIES" was puzzling to me, too, but I rolled with it.

I'm curious why people think Soundwave is going to die, when one of the major themes of the fic (at least to me, inside my head) is bringing people back from the dead. Not literally, of course. But... but did they see the whole point of what Rodimus is doing? Trailbreaker, Ambulon, and Mirage? Skywarp? Literally pulling Soundwave from the shadow zone, where life is not worth living?

There's actually a lot more I want to say on this, but I don't want to spoil the story. I have a FAQ planned for when the fic is done and I address death in it, and my approach to writing it vs JRO, and the aforementioned major theme.

I'm guessssssssinnnnnnng people are going the doom route because of the Scavengers, and because Soundwave keeps getting injured and can't be healed, and because... ? I feel like stakes have been high in the past, so maybe that's part of it, too. I won't say anything else for now, though.

This post got long so I'll put the rest under a cut.

>Its unbelievable how mentally draining full time jobs can be.

good god, yeah. low key, I used to be an artist (mostly hobbyist, a few pro jobs). I gave up and went back to writing because it's much easier/comes more naturally to me, and that's all I have energy for. I fuckin' mourned stopping art, to be honest. but you know what, I'd rather have Echo Garden than slog through commissions. I learned I'd rather create my own things than do things other people want me to do. so I guess learning that about myself was ... good. it's absolutely unbelievable how draining a 9-5 job is. I will admit I am jealous of people who have spouses or understanding parents that allow them to do art full time by providing a safety net in the form of housing and health insurance. jealousy is very human, you know :D surely there is a better balance out there for us ;A;

>I remember a tf author I used to follow did this - where a story was only continued if the chapters were commissioned

oooohhhhhhhh you know... I get it. I get people need money. but that doesn't sit right with me. I would not withhold fic like that.

>patreons, where they set up an early access to the newer chapters, and the cut scenes, additional content - have you thought about those?

I've thought about it only in the fanciful sense. To be honest, unless I was getting enough support to quit my job, it's not really going to change my life. Like, how do I say this. I won't have any more additional time in the week to write if I make $50 extra/month through patreon. I'll still be doing my full time job AND I'll have an obligation to write for people. Does that make sense? Unless a patreon offsets the actually draining thing in my life, it's just another thing I have to do.

Although 'early access to chapters' sits way better with me than denying future chapters UNLESS funded. Though paying for fic is a huge gray area and I don't think it's wise to poke that beast...

>I think you've got a big enough following where it could be feasible to go part time!

thank you, I appreciate your kindness here :D I don't think my following is big enough, though. I think the readership is maybe 1400 people? and a bunch of those are minors and most of the adult fandom is fucking broke, lol. (the tf fans with the money tend to be the major toy buying ones, not the fanfic reading ones. Stereotype, but that's my observation)

and part of the problem is my place of employment. I asked, years ago, if I could go part time (so I could practice art) and my boss said no. it's a full time only position ;A; which is why I say, unless patreon can fully support me, it's not really feasible. freelancing incurs a higher tax rate and you don't have any health insurance, so I'd actually have to make more than I am now... and given the number of absolutely fantastic fan artists I see struggling to make it with patreon, I know I can't (since fan artists make more than fan writers)

I hope that my answers don't sound dismissive. Thank you very much for your empathy and kind ideas. I don't think the fandom can support me monetarily in the way I would need, and I think their interest in me will drop as soon as Echo Garden is finished. I base this statement on the fact that TEG has exponentially higher stats than any of my other fics.

The people clearly want only one thing, and it will eventually end xD

If you or anyone else thinks I'm looking at this wrong and there may actually be a way I can write without dying, please let me know. I've thought about this for years and the above is what I've concluded.

Thank you again for the kind ask! <3

[personasdestinyy]

Sorrowful Love | Ch#2 | JJK

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; All he desires is vengeance.

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: thriller, angst, love at first sight, au! sexting

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x Sena oc!

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: This story contains explicit language, graphic violence(murders, blood etc), and other mature content, If you are easily affected by such themes, it might be best to avoid reading it.

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 0.9k+

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭⇢

Sena's Pov:

The sound of my alarm clock rudely interrupts my peaceful slumber, signaling the start of another dreadful Monday. Reluctantly, I drag myself out of bed, my hair in disarray, and I force myself to sit up. With a groggy mind, my first instinct is to silence the annoying alarm. Once the noise is finally gone, I slip on my slippers and make my way to the bathroom.

As I approach the bathroom door, a sudden shadow catches my eye, sending a jolt of fear through my body. For a split second, I feel as if my soul is about to escape my trembling form. But soon enough, I realize that the shadow is none other than my own reflection.

"Fuck me," I curse myself, closing the door behind me with a frustrated kick.

After a refreshing shower, I stand in front of my wardrobe, towel wrapped around me, contemplating what to wear for the day. My fashion sense has always been lacking.

And I can't help but mutter under my breath, "I don't think I'm good at anything." After creating a chaotic mess, I settle on a white top, baggy blue jeans, and white joggers. Once dressed, I quickly brush my hair and apply some makeup.

With my morning routine complete, I head to the kitchen to prepare a simple breakfast of apple juice and a sandwich. As I leisurely eat, I grab my phone from the kitchen counter and my eyes widen as I glance at the time. Hastily finishing my meal, I grab my camera from the closet and my car keys from the bedroom drawer before rushing out of my apartment to make it to work on time.

My name is Sena, as all of you know, the slacker person in the whole world. I work as a photographer at Mg company.

Photography started as a mere hobby when I was 16, but it was my friend Mai who discovered my talent at the age of 18.

Unfortunately.

She couldn't keep it to herself and showed my photos to her father, who offered me a job at his company. I started working there at the age of 20, and it's been eight months since I've been working there.

And so, this is my life. Busy.

After a long and tiring day at work, I finally make it back to my apartment, feeling completely drained. I walk through the door and immediately place my camera and car key in their designated spots before making a beeline for the bathroom to freshen up.

Once I've changed into more comfortable clothes, I make my way to the bedroom and retrieve my phone from my bag. As I settle into the soft and inviting bed, a notification suddenly appears, causing my heart to skip a beat. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I quickly glance at the notification.

To my surprise, it's a message from my brother, someone I haven't heard from in ages. Without wasting a second, I swipe the notification away without even reading the contents of the message. My mind is too preoccupied with other thoughts to fully process what he might have said.

Leaving my phone on the bed, I head to the kitchen to quench my thirst with a glass of water. Taking a deep breath, I try to let go of all the emotions that have built up throughout the day, allowing the cool water to help calm my racing heartbeat. Once I feel more composed, I return to the bedroom, retrieve my phone from the nightstand, and settle back onto the comfortable bed.

As I mindlessly scroll through Instagram for past forty minutes, an art page catches my eye. Intrigued, I decide to read the artist's biography, which turns out to be incredibly fascinating. His work is centered around capturing the emotions of others, which instantly captivates me. Without hesitation, I jot down the contact number provided on Instagram and dial it.

After two rings, a sleepy voice answers the phone with a simple "hello."

Trying to sound composed.

"Um hi, I want to place an order-", I quickly state. However, before I can finish my sentence, the person on the other end abruptly ends the call, leaving me bewildered. I stare at my phone screen, unsure of what just happened. "Well, that was strange," I mutter to myself.

Five minutes later, my phone rings again, and I answer, fully prepared to confront the person about their odd behavior.

But he was quick to speak up,

"I am sorry, my friend posted my number on Instagram without my knowledge. When you called, I was asleep and confused, so I ended the call abruptly. I'm so sorry for my odd behavior."

Taking in his explanation, and understanding that it was an honest mistake, I didn't dwell on the inconvenience caused by the untimely call.

"You don't have to be sorry, it's alright." I reassured him.

"And I'll give you his number, but please reach out to him after a week," the man on the other end of the line informed me before we bid farewell and ended the call.

In just a minute, he sends me a number labeled 'Jungkook'. As I glance at it, my heart inexplicably quickens its pace. Uncertain of the reason behind this reaction, I attempt to dismiss the feeling and store his contact details.

Feeling overwhelmed, I decide to let go of all my feelings and simply focus on getting some rest. The weight of the world seems to lift off my shoulders as I release all my worries and anxieties into the universe. Placing my phone down on the table, I take a deep breath and allow myself to drift off into the world of dreams. The soft hum of the air coming from windows lulls me into a peaceful slumber.

© 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲𝐲 (𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐝)

[sorrowandchartreuse]

A writer's guide to describing passing out

Because i just passed out (again) and the second thing i thought of upon waking up was that glazed donut no mark save it for your art post, here is a list of what you could use when writing about characters passing out:

Beforehand:

you're going to feel really, really lightheaded. for me, that's what starts it all off. it's going to feel like when you stand up too fast, but it never goes away. your head doesn't clear

eventually, that lightheadedness feeds into a tv static sort of fuzziness. your head is whirring, almost. it's like a really drawn out buzz. you feel it in your forehead, in your jaw, in your ears.

your mouth starts to get thick, too. that tv static moves in there. your teeth start to feel fuzzy, especially the front and back ones.

by now, youre shaking and your limbs are heavy. at this point, i know to sit down, but it depends on your characters! is this regular enough of an occurance for them to know to sit? are they going to reach out to another character because they know what's going on? or are they going to reach out because they don't know what's going on? do their knees buckle and they fall while all alone?

it's all very disorienting at this point in the process. you have enough sense to form thoughts, but they're not all that coherent. words? not going to be that coherent either

During:

you can't pinpoint the exact moment you pass out. at least, i can't.

when you're passed out, there can be certain degrees to alertness. for example, i've had times where it feels like years pass but it's only a few seconds. i've had it feel almost like im in a really foggy dream. i've had times where i dont remember anything from it. most recently, i didn't remember passing out itself, but i remembered waking myself up from it. it was a very conscious struggle, where i knew i was passed out and i needed to wake up now

does your character remain somewhat alert? do they enter a dream-like haze? what's waiting for them there? i've seen faces and shapes there.

i personally can't feel when someone is touching me while i'm passed out, regardless of degree of alertness

do they know that being passed out is Just Not Right? do they wake themselves up?

Afterward:

you pee. that's just the deal. your bladder is going to release. i know this is not romantic, but like man thats just what happens.

peeing, like most things, could hold a plot point. who cleans your character up? or if they're on their own, how do they clean themselves up?

youre also drenched in sweat. just absolutely sopping in sweat. passing out loves the release of excess body fluids. its sexy like that

mention sweat on their neck, their forehead, their hair pressed down by it. do they wipe it off? do they have the strength to? if they don't, does someone else?

your face will have no color. describe this, but don't stop at the face. your character's lips will also be drained of it.

you will be wobbly. standing up, even sitting up, is going to involve a lot of shaking.

when you first talk, it won't be loud (fuzzy tongue, remember?) so it takes a couple tries to get what you want to say out. or if you do get it out right away, it surfaces extremely weak

it's important after you pass out to get fluids in you. not just water, but orange juice, cocoa, anything that will get you awake again. who gives this to your character? if there are multiple characters present when your character passes out, who won't leave their side and who runs to get something for them to drink, knowing it will help them?

your hands will shake lifting anything

it takes 3-5 minutes for me to regain color again

it takes about 5-10 minutes for me to feel normal again, but this likely depends on the person and how often passing out occurs for them

Please keep in mind this is based soley on my own experiences! also please feel free to add on! i hope this helps!

[aveegrex]

ASURA MAKI X READER

glorious deity of war, lustful and six-handed, how sweetly can you ruin an aspiring girl?

aveegrex kinktober masterlist

genre: smut pairing: asura! maki x f!reader word count: 0,9k cw: overstim, edging, fingering, pussy slapping, heavy knife play, heavy blood play, kinda sadism, pain kink, knifes used as sex toys, body markings (hickeys and light pricks), bondage, mean dom! maki

author's note: so I wasn't going for a very accurate asura, using it more so to represent a battle-driven deity with six hands. reader here is a striving swordsmaiden that seeks divine guidance, and is very much in favor of whatever maki's doing with her.

“Aww, don’t tell me that’s all you’ve got”

Another shudder runs through your tense limbs. She’s been going at it for what seems like ages, coaxing you closer and closer to the sweet release only to steal the pleasure when it’s mere seconds away. You’d plead again if it wasn’t for her fingers stuffing your mouth so deliciously full, forcing you to communicate in whines and moans alone. 

Her hands are everywhere, running across your sweating body strong and skillful. No, that’s definitely not what you envisioned when the elders at the village told you how hard it is to seek her guidance at the art of sword. 

You thought she’d make you slice up boulders, or dodge her attacks with a tight blindfold across your face. Certain moves repeated in thousands, that’s what your mind prepared you for when you decided to climb the damned mountain to her retreat. 

But, as she said, to be honored by her guidance, one must be stripped of all remaining honor first. And here you are, wrists rubbed raw with coarse ropes, body flush and trembling of her ministrations, cheeks damp of tears, and your core crying to the floor of how deep her fingers reach within you. 

A cold drag of metal pushes you back towards reality, and you hiss, restraints creaking into the dimly lit hall. 

“Watch, mortal” Maki’s breath fluttering against your ear. “Watch, or we’ll start over once again”

It takes all your remaining restraint to pull your head upright and make your lidded eyes focus on the reflection. Oh, she’s done you dirty. There are nips everywhere, from your throat to your thighs, left by her unrelenting dagger. Hickeys bloom across your chest, and here’s your cunt, bare and raw of how much slapping and sweet intrusion it’s endured. 

Her dagger comes dangerously close, mere inches away from your enlarged folds, freezing metal making your hole clench around nothing. A muffled “please” and she slaps you again, another dagger at your throat threatening to prick yet virgin skin. 

“No, no, mortal” she chuckles from behind, sharp teeth nibbling at your earlobe as her fingers snake inside you, picking up the perfect angle right away. “A warrior is no beggar, right? You’ll take everything I give you, and you’ll thank me for it”

Fuck her and her sultry voice, fuck her and her six hands unraveling you so quickly into a blabbering perverted mess of blood and cum, draining you of all your juices. For hours on end she’d mix the pain and pleasure in your mind, slitting a tiny cut somewhere sensitive every time her thumb at your clit would curl your toes. Blood shines maroon under the lights of myriad candles, smeared across your tits and stomach by the teasing hands. 

It’s all at once, it’s all too much, it’s not enough. Maddened and aroused, you try to rebel once again, hips bucking up towards her intoxicating touch, only for it to ghost away. Her fingertips hover above your twitching cunt, so close you cling onto each atom of air they push your way, the most indecent moan rumbling through your chest. 

A slap, a prick, and a strained gasp as her free hand tightens around your neck. “Sshhh, sshhh, you dirty maid” she cooes into your nape, the flat of her blade pressed tight against your heated folds. “We haven’t even gotten to the hilt yet”

Your eyes blow wide and you tremble, sight darting down to the dagger. Its blunt smooth elongated handle, curved just right and damp of blood and slick, now shines like something many would kill to mount and ride. She rotates the weapon with a quick flick to her wrist, the hilt now running along your folds in an all too promising way, and you keen towards it, hole twitching desperately to have something fill it. 

“Patience, mortal” the round tip presses against your clit, forcing a gasp out of you. “You’ll get to meet my knife so intimately. An honor!”

And she laughs, two hands cupping your breasts in sync with another slap to your tortured core. 

Your body buzzes, nerves electrified and wrecked into a lustful mush. “Open up” you feel her fingers finally freeing your mouth, and it hangs agape, tongue lolling out obediently. Your glossy eyes barely make out how she slashes the inside of her palm, the divine blood dripping down to the marble floor, and it’s only natural you catch every drop, throat bobbing at each gulp. 

“Drink, swallow all, maid” her heated whisper attacks your mind once again, and you feel the ivory handle finally filling you up. Each swallow syncs with a thrust, more and more, deeper and deeper, the stingy metal of her blood staining your mind with lewd. Blood and bliss thirsty, you rock your hips to welcome the hilt deeper, being filled from both sides to the brim. 

“Now I’ll only have you befriend all my other weapons, dear” she chuckles into your blissed out mind. “And this cunt will have many allies, right?”

MDNI, reblogs and comments are welcome, this is a very self-idulgent piece and I intend to only get more perverted

taglist: @hoohoohope @justanothernpcartist @the-b-u-n-n-y to join the taglist, please leave a comment on my kinktober masterlist or dm me (remember u have to have ur age in bio)

© 2022 AVEEGREX, all rights reserved. reposting and copying my works without my consent is forbidden.

[masterofengene]

COULD i also request an idol!K oneshot/longshot (perefered fem reader but also wtv you are comfortable w) inspired by you are in love by taylor swift and its like suuper fluffy and he is so sweet and kdramary and like theyre wondering around the city or smth(can you tell I just finished binge watching i-land and immediately need compensation for the pain it caused me 😭😭😭) omg maybe like a friends to lovers trope and he realises how much she means to him and its like a she fell first but he fell ten times harder like IM SO SORRY FOR RAMBLING I NEEDED TO GET THIS OUT OF MEJFDHSKDFGJ like im just imagining confessions in the rain after a miscommunication which left them both rlly sad and then she runs after him in the middle of a city street at midnight. honestly PLS TAKE complete creative freedom because as you can probably tell my thoughts rn r super messy and delulu ajshgfhkfhkgdjhsdfhgfdjkg i literally just have been thinking abt a long fic to get immersed in w K bc i have seen ltrly none😔 THANK U SMSMSMSMSMMS ASDKJFH.

Here i am!! So i finally got back to my writing and this one got those creative writing juices flowing and it gave me so many ideas so enjoy!!

…………………………………………………………………………….

Coffee at Midnight.

K! X fem reader based off the song “ you are in love “ by Taylor Swift.

…………………………………………………………………………….

You and K had been friends for what feels like forever. You guys had gone to the same school and were close in age so you two naturally grew closer. Before you even realized, you two were best friends. But as time went by you couldn’t help but look at K differently, Over the years he had filled out and his features grew more defined. Anyone who knew K would notice this, unless they were blind.

But you hadn’t even registered your own feelings changing, not until you were head over heels for him. You two shared a love of the performing arts so when he debuted, he managed to get you an audition and then he stepped back and let you handle it. He knew you’d land the rest yourself, he always had a blind faith in you. He trusted you more than you trusted yourself. It was a little bit after that, that you realized you’re own feelings towards K.

It was one look, and a dark room, a light hearted joke.

It had been a few months since you had begun your training, and to say that you were exhausted was a major understatement. It was well past 10 at night your monthly evaluations were right around the corner and you couldn’t quite nail the choreography that you would be tested on. Your body was tired and you were drained but you couldn’t just give up. Your eyes were aching so you had dimmed the lighting just enough to relieve the dull ache.

You were so into your practice that you hadn’t heard your phone going off, you didn’t hear the messages that k was sending to check on you. And lets just say when he got no response, he went to check on you himself. Because how dare his best friend not answer him.

What you did hear was the door to the practice room opening. You had thought for a second that it would be an instructor coming to kick you out of the room, luckily it was not. It was just K.

“You weren’t answering me…i was worried about you.” K said, being the one to always speak his mind. But he could read you like a book. So why bother hiding your exhaustion. Without saying anything, you let out a sigh and not-so-gracefully sat down on the ground. You laid back and simply said. “I have been at it for hours and i cannot get it right no matter how hard i try. Im not that much of a dancer.”

And then he gave you that look, the look that would make you feel so loved and cared for that it unlocked all of those hidden feelings.

“Please don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re doing so well. Even if you do not realize it. You know….i think i saw some janitors, trainees… even a few pigeons watching you dance through the windows. An amazing performance.” He said jokingly, although he truly meant that you did an excellent job. He had just wanted to see you smile instead of looking like you would cry any second.

And after that, your feelings for him kept growing but you were certain he would never see you as anything more than a friend. Still you always had hope that he /could/.

That was until you had gone to the mall one day and were window shopping by yourself, you had invited K along but he had said that he was at a practice. You didn’t think anything of it, they had a comeback coming up anyway. You really didn’t give it a second thought. Well…until you did.

You had walked into your favorite store, the place where you got all of your clothes from. It was locally owned and they only had this one location. Everything about it made you smile, from the dresses to the shoes, to their jewelry. You were happily browsing but that soft peaceful smile that you had faded in an instant.

Right in front of you was K and a girl you had never seen before standing in front of a bracelet rack. They were clearly close, leaning closer to each other as they talked.

In that second, it felt like your whole world had came crashing down. Why had he lied to you about practice? Why was he here with /her/? And why was she standing so close to him? A thousand questions raced through your head as K looked up and made eye contact with you. There was panic in his eyes in that second, and without a word you turned around and left. If only you knew the real reason that he was so panicked….

Unknown to you, the reason he was there in the first place was because he had wanted to buy you a bracelet and confess his own feelings that had grown. He wanted it to be romantic and special. A sweet confession. He had asked his cousin to come along and help him pick out something that you would like. He only wanted to surprise you and not hurt you.

He thought situations like this only happened in the dramas that he watched on the television. But K had seen that devastated look in your eyes and he felt the pain that washed over you in that second. You might have fallen for him first but he fell harder that’s for sure.

it was midnight when you decided to go to the convenience store and get some coffee, your head was still swirling with emotions, and the weather outside represented how you were feeling, windy and stormy. Then you felt your phone go off and found that K had texted you, saying that he was on his way to your apartment. All you said in return was that you were getting coffee, to come a different time.

As you rang up your coffee and a little sweet treat, you pulled your hoodie up to cover your hair before going back out in the rain. You wee still hurting but you couldn’t see K until you felt calmer. You didn’t want to lose him entirely.

The bell sounded from the door and before you knew it you heard your name bing called. You’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“she is my cousin.” That was all k said as he walked up to you. And you were still in shock because how had he known that you were at this convenience store.

“This is the only place open that has coffee near your place..” He seemed to hear your silent question, then you noticed that his hair was soaking wet from walking in the rain.

“still. I thought you had practice.” The hurt in your voice had said enough as you walked around him heading back inside. It was all a fresh feeling for you and you still had so many questions left unanswered.

“stop and listen please.” K said following you outside into the pouring rain. That’s when he let the truth slipped past his lips as he let like he was losing his best friend. He grabbed your hand and you felt a smooth, cool metal press against your hand. “I didn’t know that you felt this way about me until i saw that look in your eye today. (Y/n) i was planning to do this in a better setting but ill just tell you now. She was helping me buy you a bracelet, I couldn’t tell you because it was going to be a surprise. But i really like you, actually no. You’re my best friend and you mean the entire world to me, i love you. Im sorry you had to find out this way.” The look in his eyes was a desperate one.

You felt shocked, you had never once considered any of the things that just fell past his lips, and as if he saw your shock he let go of your hand and left the bracelet there. He rocked back on his heels to give you time to process his words as the rain fell around you two.

“i… you like me? Really? But how did you…. Did you know I’ve felt the same?”

“not until today…i saw that look you had. Like you wee heart broken…I can’t risk losing our burnt toast sundays…” His comment made you crack a smile as all the pieces slowly fit into place.

and the rest…. Well that’s history.

[thewatercolours]

King's Quest Ficlet: "The Brave"

I didn't even polish this, because the creative juices are turning so slowly these days, and if I slowed down for an edit I'm not sure I'd post it. But I want to. Based on this lovely piece of art by @gerbiloftriumph.

Back to back with bars between them. Fingers linked through a gap in the grille. Breaths gradually matching. How is it that Graham can’t bear to look her in the eye after all his poor choices, and yet he dares hold her hand? She’s weakening, all because of him. He should be working himself to the bone to get her out before it’s too late. Or if he’s going to be a sniveling sop who can’t, how has he got the gall to come here?

“I should go,” he whispers, but can’t move.

“And do what?” Amaya says under her breath, too low for goblin eavesdroppers.

“Save you all.”

She snorts. “What, in the next five minutes? You stay where you are.” He can hear her trying to bully some gusto into her voice, but the shivering and exhaustion come out on top.

Graham tries to pull his hand free. “I can’t stay here forever.” If only he could. If only time would pause if he didn’t move, and starvation would pause along with it.

Amaya snags his fingers before they can pull loose, tightening her own grip. “Sure, not forever. But you can take five.” From his periphery he can see her turn to glance over her shoulder at him. “I think you need it, kid. You been getting enough sleep?”

“Oh yes,” he chuckles bitterly. “I get my full eight hours every time.” “And food?”

She doesn’t need to worry about that.

She presses on. “Those chicken legs, or whatever they are. Where are they coming from? When I’m eating, who’s not?”

Graham tries to brush it off with a sternness he can tell she’ll see through before he’s said a word. “I’ve told you. I’ve got a rotation going between you, the Feys, and the Hobblepots. I wish there was more, but –“

“And where do you fit in that rotation, Your Majesty? How many days since you ate?”

“I eat when I need to.”

“How many?” she insists. Even with all the vigour drained from her, her questions are commands.

“A day or two.”

“Or three? Or four?”

He sighs, and even with the bars between them his shoulder blade heaves against hers. “Can you stop now, Amaya?” he says very quietly – perhaps too quietly for her to even hear him properly. “I’ll stay. But can we just sit?”

Amaya goes quiet. Without turning round, he can’t know whether he’s only frustrated her, or if she’s nodded understandingly and just wants to give him the silence he needs. Or if she’s finally realized just how grim it really is and the same silence eating him has taken its first true bite out of her heart. Time doesn’t truly exist down here, except in it’s more terrifying aspects, but he knows at least that he sits there a lot longer than five minutes.

It's Graham who breaks the silence after all. “Amaya --” he says, aloud this time, and there’s a choke in his voice, “—I don’t know if I’m brave enough.”

Her voice sounds monotone, faraway, but real. “Sometimes, admitting that is bravery.” She shifts to look at him again, and he finds himself turning to look too. Gauntness has begun etching her face, and her eyelids are heavy, but the eyes beneath them still have their brightness. She swallows. “Sometimes rest is bravery.” She squeezes his hand, and lets it go at last. “I’m not going to die this time, Graham. I’ve already promised. You can try whatever you need to try to get us out of here – run any risk – and I won’t die on you. I’m not that pathetic.”

He turns round to face her full on, sitting on his ankles. “What if it’s a promise you can’t keep?”

Amaya nods slowly. “Oh, I can. Believe me. It’s not a promise to you. I made it to myself, quite a while ago, and I’ve proved to myself I can keep it.” She rushes into her next sentence, even though he hasn’t tried to interrupt, as though she fears her might. “Listen. You’ve done incredible keeping us alive. Now I need a promise out of you, kid. Will you let us help you keep alive too?”

What can he do but say yes in a moment like that? Even if he can’t quite believe the words he’s saying, he can mean them. “Yes. Yes.”

“Good. So here’s what I want you to do. Don’t go back to that third floor, or try to shift those levers, or whatever it is you’re going to try for the umpteenth time tonight. Just sleep, and wherever you get the food from, next piece is yours. Do you understand me? No more tonight.”

Will arguing do any good? “But –”

She turns away and crosses her arms. “Good night.”

“I –“

“Good night, Graham.”

“Amaya, this isn’t –“

He can only see the back of her head, but he can feel the glare. “Rest. Is. Bravery. Good night.”

Graham rises to his feet, and musters a smile. He doesn’t feel any more hopeful, but something else, something heaver, seems to be dispersing just a little. “Good night.”

[villain-sympathizer]

hi, can i request deidoro sakaki headcannons?

yes you absolutely can!! 💕

not sure if you wanted general headcanons or romantic so i did both!

────── ･ ｡ﾟ: *.☽ .* : ｡ﾟ･ ──────

General:

Absolutely a party guy, I mean how can he not be? He’s never one to turn down an invite to a club or a house party. He’s literally the “party don’t start till I walk in” type of guy but its actually the truth

Beer pong and keg stand champion, undefeated, no matter how hard others (especially Rappa) try to beat him

Despite constantly drinking alcohol, his teeth are in surprisingly good shape

Although he’s depicted as a raging alcoholic, I think he’s a rather casual drinker when he’s not on a job for the Hassaikai or at an absolute rager of a party

A shockingly level-headed guy and fun to talk to when he’s not sloshed out of his mind. He’s perfect for venting to or trying to work out a thought process, rarely one to cut in unless asked for his opinion

Perfect hype man!! This dude will cheer folks on and boost their confidence, even if they’re a random stranger at the bar or across the street

The master at situational humor and making the most out of a bad or embarrassing situation

He looks like he could be a contortionist to me, not sure why. At the very least he’s double-jointed in my mind

-10% shame, obviously. He seemingly absorbs others’ shame too, willing to cause a distraction or take the blame for something if need be. Says it’s fun and thrilling and keeps him humble, plus he likes the attention

Class clown type, but not in that obnoxious way, y’know? Like the kinda stranger to do something wacky or hilarious that makes you go to your friends and say “Holy shit, you’ll ever believe what this random dude did, it was so funny”, that kinda stuff

Is insanely drained and exhausted the day after using his quirk too much. He only gets severe hangover symptoms after using it, rather than just drinking normally. In fact, everyone’s jealous at how he’s totally fine after a night of heavy drinking and partying

His liver is a medical anomaly, change my mind

His hair may always look oily or greasy, but he still showers daily. That’s just unfortunately how his hair is

Strikes me as the kinda guy to be totally down for platonic cuddling, drunk or not, much to the dismay of his co-workers

Although his room and fashion sense are pretty plain (or even dirty), that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a sense of style or interior design. He’s just always out on jobs or partying to really care about his clothes or furniture

^ Regarding that, his fashion style is more street-casual, grunge/punk mix, even dipping into skater-boy territory

His interior design tastes are a sort of mix of boho and art deco, if that makes sense. Also doesn’t mind a modern Japanese look, either

I’m also gonna say he’s the kinda guy who goes to strip clubs just for the fun of it rather than the sexual appeal. He just loves the energy of the place, plus he supports sex workers

Drinks his respect women juice daily!!!!!!

Romantic:

Pansexual and panromantic, is also down to discuss poly relationships too

Love language is physical touch and words of affirmation, which are amplified when he’s even the slightest bit drunk. The second he takes a sip of his drink, he’s immediately showering his partner in praise and kisses, his arm(s) always around them in some way the whole night

Hates huge flashy dates, UNLESS it’s a festival/amusement park date. He LOVES that shit

Would prefer a partner who’s down to go to parties/bars/clubs with him, but if not that’s chill, as long as they’re fine with him going out himself then

Despite always going out to parties and such, he’s more than willing to reserve a few nights a week (or by request) to just stay home with his partner. He’s still gonna casually drink, though

An absolute doofus who comes up with the weirdest, most out of pocket date ideas.

“No, Dei, we’re not going shotgun fishing just to see how long it takes the police to get there.” “… What about a pistol? Crossbow? Bow and arrow? Okay, okay, how about spear? Babe hear me out-“

Will call his partner babe or baby regardless of their gender, but will stop if asked. Still says it for a joke/bit though

[johannstutt413]

(requested by coldgoldlazarus) Fem!Doc gets ‘stamped’ by Warfarin

The Doctor yawned, sunlight hitting her eyes as her alarm woke her up. Warfarin usually opened the blinds before she left for whatever odd hours she was working that week. It was a miracle their schedules lined up… though the Doctor was something of a miracle worker herself, if that was the case. Heh.

God, she needed her morning coffee.

After guzzling down some instant ramen (water straight from the kettle, as usual) and a cup of cold coffee from the pot Warf left her, the Doctor took a shower and checked herself in the bathroom mirror. Sure, she spent most of her day in a uniform that covered her head-to-toe, but it was still nice to… What was that on her neck? ‘Is that a hickey? Come on, Warf, I know you and I went at it last night, but did you really- wait, wait, WAIT.’

The night before, drinking tea and ‘red wine’ with her favorite vampire, the Doctor had asked her what she thought was a pretty normal question: “Do you think you would have become a doctor if you weren’t a vampire?”

“Probably not,” she’d admitted, sipping her A- ‘wine’ like a bored noble at an unavoidable social function. “I can’t imagine doing anything else now, but I only started researching medicine to try and curb my instincts.”

“Wait, they’re ‘curbed’ right now? First I’ve heard of it.” How else would someone explain the hematologist’s behavior that afternoon?

Warfarin blushed; it was slight, but the Doctor had learned to see the subtle change in her cheeks. “Look, I’m not the kind of person to go around and play up stereotypes-”

“Except that’s exactly the kind of person you are,” she replied, grabbing a scone. “You’re not fooling anyone here with that.”

“-Alright, I enjoy seeing your reactions, so I play it up sometimes. Like in your office earlier.”

The Doctor smiled. “Yeah? Enjoyed my ‘reactions,’ huh?”

“Naturally.” The vampire set her empty glass aside. “I wouldn’t spend time with you like this if you didn’t amuse me.”

“Unless it was to turn me into a juice pouch,” her date shot back, hoping for a reaction of her own.

It wasn’t quite what she’d hoped for, though, as the hematologist’s eyes darted to her neck. “Trying to get your blood that way earned me a restraining order.”

“I dunno,” the Doctor shrugged. “I think if you’d tried hard enough, you probably-”

“No.” Warfarin refilled her glass from a blood pack in a cooler by her feet and drained it almost as fast.

Her date sighed. “Sorry.”

“There are very few people alive that can still get under my skin.” The vampire’s face turned to the blinds to her left. “You’re lucky you’re delicious, or I might’ve changed that while I had you vulnerable.”

“I guess I know what’s at stake the next- okay that was probably too far, I admit-”

She smirked, turning back to face her with a wicked gleam in her eye. “Didn’t you already try to stake me? It certainly didn’t kill me… Then again, you weren’t aiming for my heart, were you?”

“I can always try again...” The Doctor’s fingers twitched. “When’s your next shift?”

“We’ve got time… If you’re quick, anyway!” The hematologist pounced on her date, clinging to her back as she dashed to her bedroom; it didn’t slow her down - the Doctor wasn’t strong, but Warfarin’s Arts kept her on her feet until they reached their destination.

Both physicians were breathing heavily when the vampire received a message. “Oh, right, I traded my shift tonight with Sussurro’s tomorrow morning. Good thing she reminded me.”

“You mean you can stay the night?” The Doctor weakly cheered. The aftereffects of Warf’s Arts were no joke. “Yay~... I’m gonna take a nap.”

“Feel free. I’m not going anywhere until I can feel my legs again.” Warfarin rested her head on the backboard of the bed, arms folded behind her, eyes focused again on her delicious friend’s neck.

The Doctor noticed her gaze and turned to hold it. “Have you ever thought about drinking straight from the tap?”

“...I have,” she replied, slowly and deliberately. “The temptation is constant.”

“Why haven’t you? I know you know the difference between me and a meal. What’s a little biting between lovers?”

The vampire rolled her eyes. “Your teeth aren’t nearly as sharp as mine.”

“I’d still leave a mark,” the Doctor teased, baring her dull fangs and miming a half-hearted claw swipe with her arm. “Rawr~”

“...I guess I wouldn’t mind if you branded me,” the hematologist mused aloud.

Her friend stared at her. “Huh?”

“Oh, you don’t know?” Warfarin smiled. “There’s an old tradition - one I’ve never felt like taking part in - where a vampire brands those most precious to them with their preferred scent.”

“Like a perfume?”

She shook her head. “Not quite.”

“So how is it a scent?” The Doctor sat up, leaning on one arm. “Do vampires mark their lovers like a hound would-”

“NO WE DO NOT.” The vampire shuddered.

Oops. “Sorry, but what else am I supposed to think of here? Like, how do you brand someone, then?”

“...If I remember correctly,” the hematologist replied, “I bite my lip before biting you and let your blood and mine meet. From that moment onward, you’d have a brand where I bit you and carry that mark until you turned to dust.”

“Huh. Is… is that why you haven’t asked about biting my neck, then? Trying not to put labels on things because you accidentally bit your tongue earlier that day?” The Doctor hoped her question sounded playful.

Warfarin smirked. “If I want to find you, I don’t need to follow any scent. It’s an old tradition, and a barbaric one at that. Besides, I shouldn’t play with my food; I may have trained myself all these years to not give into my instincts, but you’re still an exception to that. I might get carried away.”

“Well, if you ever changed your mind, I wouldn’t turn you down.”

The last thing the Doctor saw before falling asleep was a pair of wide open red eyes watching hers close.

…Which meant it absolutely could be a brand on her neck now. Throwing on her uniform and grabbing her badge from her key-bowl, the Doctor ran from her dorm to Medical, skidding to a halt in front of the bay to collect herself.

‘If… If I go in and ask first thing in the morning, she might think I’m starting to get clingy.’ She winced at the thought. “Warf wouldn’t want a clingy girlfriend. Would she? Shit, why am I assuming this means she’d be my girlfriend? Maybe she just got sentimental, or maybe she thought it’s what I wanted, or maybe she gave into her instincts and had a little taste and wanted a subtle way to remind herself of what she did like when Orchid got that tattoo on her-”

“Doctor? Did you need something?” Warfarin had stepped out of the clinic to meet her.

Her brain sputtered to come up with a response. “You.”

“You missed me already?” The vampire smiled as the Doctor hugged herself. “You looked in the mirror this morning, I take it?”

“D-did you brand me?” She shut her eyes, unnoticeable under her hood-

A finger poked her cheek and traced a line down her neck as Warfarin replied, “How would you feel if I did?”

“I…” The Doctor opened her eyes and nearly yelped; the hematologist’s face was centimeters from hers. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“Which way? Leaving a hickey on your neck, or taking advantage of your closed eyes to surprise you?”

That calmed her down a little. She sighed, partway between disappointment and relief. “Both. Phew. You really had me going there, Warf.”

“Did I?” She pulled the Doctor’s mask down to kiss her, making sure to put it back in place afterwards. “I don’t need a brand to find you, Doctor. Your blood is already my favorite scent.”

“...Is that supposed to be sweet?” Well, it was the thought that counted-

Warfarin rolled her eyes. “Obviously.”

“Well, it-” The Doctor stopped as her eyes fell to the vampire’s mouth. Just below her lips was a thin line that hadn’t been there the night before. “You bit your lip.”

“I couldn’t brand you if I didn’t.”

Her friend stumbled back. “Hold on a second, didn’t you just say-”

“You thought I would stop teasing you for a second.” The hematologist laughed. “Oh, your reactions really are just delightful.”

“Did you brand me or not?!” She exclaimed as she stomped her foot. A few passing Operators glanced in her direction.

The vampire simply looked her in the eye. “Bite me.”

And with that invitation, the Doctor pulled down her mask and sunk her teeth into Warfarin’s neck.

Gavial laughed herself into a coughing fit when the pair walked into the clinic shortly afterwards, both nursing bite marks.

[vannahfanfics]

Reckless

Word Count: 2500

Fluff, Romance, Hurt and Comfort

Summary: Natsu's started a fight in the guild hall again, and Lucy must yet again try and calm him down. But things go awry this time, and she ends up burned. Now Natsu can't bring himself to be around her. He blames himself for her injury and has convinced himself that he's too dangerous to ever be around her again. What will Lucy do?

Hello, everyone! Here is my story for the Fairy Tail Reverse Bang hosted by @ftguildevents! I had fun participating again this year. Please do be sure to go check out the art done by my partner @xfangheartx​!

Lucy honestly shouldn’t be surprised to hear clamoring bangs, resounding crashes, and vulgar swears bleeding through the grand wooden doors of the guildhall first thing in the morning. Yet here she was, her mouth twisting as it struggled to form an expression that would capture the level of annoyance she was feeling. It was eight in the morning, for crying out loud! What on Earth could they have to fight about? Lucy almost debated on turning around and going home, but she decided against it. Rent would be due soon, and she needed at least one more job to be in the clear. 

With a heavy sigh, she pushed open the doors, trying her best to mentally and physically prepare herself for the chaos. 

A flagon of milk slammed into the door beside her head, causing her to jump nearly a foot in the air with a loud screech. She was too busy trying to keep her heart from pounding out of her chest to notice that the milk had splattered over her upper arm. After that, her attention was captured by the pure and utter carnage ripping apart the guildhall. 

All the tables had been upended and their contents spilled onto the floor, forming a mush of breakfast foods, fruit juices, and wood splinters. Food and plates and cups were flying left and right—some smashed against the wall, while others smashed into people, whether it be those perpetuating this early-morning brawl or those trying their best to hide behind the overturned furniture. Master Makarov was sitting on the bar sipping at some orange juice, his weary not changing the slightest when he shifted left or right to dodge an errant bagel or muffin lobbed his way. 

Lucy just slumped in the doorway and groaned, “What could have possibly started all this?” 

“Natsu said waffles were better than pancakes, and Gray got offended,” Levy quipped from where she was ducked behind an overturned table. No doubt Gajeel was deep in the scrap; he probably had no opinion on breakfast foods, he just liked to throw hands as much as the rest of them. 

“Of course those two are at the heart of this,” Lucy sighed while running a hand over her face. Well, there was nothing for it. She would have to do what she always did—go into the thick of the fight to drag Natsu out by his ear kicking and screaming before he burned the guild hall to the ground. There were soot marks all over, and poor Juvia was doing her best to put out a fire burning on the remains of a fern that simply refused to die. Lucy rolled up her metaphorical sleeves, then stomped into the fray. 

“Natsu? Natsu, where are you?” she shouted above the cacophonic din. “Natsu, you’d better—whoa!” she cried and swiftly ducked a plate that sailed over her head, the fried egg on it flipping in mid-air before landing back on the plate as it sped away. “Ugh, I don’t get paid enough for this. NATSU!” 

“Hey, Lucy!” he cried as he appeared in front of her, his fists flaming and his grin broad. He punched away a muffin as it came sailing at its head, setting it on fire to instantly burn it into a rock-hard lump of what used to be muffin. “I got a question for ya. Which is better—pancakes or waffles?” 

“Don’t drag her into this, moron!” Gray shouted as he vaulted over a table and fell upon Natsu in a fury. Lucy just watched, her soul draining out the soles of her feet, as the two of them scrapped like a couple of toddlers—punches and kicks everywhere. “Besides, Lucy definitely thinks pancakes are better!” 

“What was all that about not dragging her into this, huh?” Natsu growled back. “And no she doesn’t! She likes waffles!” 

Lucy’s eye twitched in annoyance. She liked them equally as much, but she doubted she could tell the hot-headed boys that. Instead, when Gray and Natsu sprang apart to stick out their tongues at one another, Lucy stomped up to Natsu. 

“Natsu, that’s enough! How many times have I told you not to start fights in the—Aiiieeeeeee!” 

She reached out for his shoulder right as Natsu blasted a column of fire at Gray. The flickering flames enveloped her hand, instantly searing her skin. Though she reflexively wrenched her hand back as soon as it hit her skin, just the milliseconds of contact was enough; her skin was bright pink and blistering, clear fluid leaking all over as they burst. Lucy fell to her knees, throwing back her head in an agonized sob. Everything froze around her, everyone halted in the middle of beating one another up with their owlish gazes fixed on Lucy. Not that she realized. 

It hurt, it hurt so bad, she had never felt anything like this. She tenderly held her wrist just underneath the border of burned skin, but that didn’t stop the tendrils of pain from zipping up and down her arm. It felt like snakes of fire were searing through her nerves, burning her from the inside out. She just howled and sobbed, thick tears pouring down her cheeks like the blister fluid sticking to her hand, because she couldn’t think about anything but the pain. 

“Oh, no! Oh, Lucy, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry!” Natsu cried. He fluttered around her, hands flapping around her body like he wanted to help but was too terrified to touch her. “Shit, shit, shit—what do I do, what do I do?” 

“Get the hell back, moron!” Gray snarled and yanked Natsu back by his scarf. “Haven’t you done enough?” 

As Mirajane and the Master rushed to her side, Lucy opened her watery eyes. Everything was a blur around her, but somehow, she could see Natsu clearly. She had never seen such an agonized look on his face; he looked like his soul had been crushed, all the life drained from his eyes as he regarded Lucy’s burned hand like it was Death itself. 

And then he hung his head, two thin rivers of tears rolling down his cheeks. Lucy lost track of him as the guild members crowded around her, all clamoring to get her medical help. And Lucy reached out to the place where he had been with a quiet whimper of his name… 

~~~

“Hey, Lucy! It’s time to change your bandages.”

Lucy looked up from her book at the sound of Mirajane’s voice. She used her good hand to close the book and set it on the barrel that was serving as her nightstand, while Mirajane pulled up a stool to sit at her bedside. It had been several hours; lunch would be starting soon. Lucy could smell some simmering stew wafting in from the kitchen, which was not far from the back room of the guild in which she was currently resting. 

Mirajane gently took Lucy’s hand and inspected the bandages. It was saturated with burn cream, antibiotics, and fluid from Lucy’s blisters, making them a sticky, tan-colored mess. Mirajane began to unwind them, and though she was doing her utmost to be gentle, Lucy still winced and whined as little jolts of pain assaulted her nerves. Clumps of sloughed skin clung to bandages, and as it peeled away from her flesh, it felt like she was being seared all over again. 

“Sorry,” Mirajane smiled apologetically at her. 

“It’s okay,” Lucy breathed through clenched teeth. “It’s not your fault.” 

“Tch, you’re right. It’s Natsu’s,” she grumbled. Lucy quirked an eyebrow, shocked to see Mirajane slip so easily into her dark persona. She immediately switched back, closing her eyes and smiling awkwardly. “Ah, I shouldn’t say that… He didn’t mean to, and he’s been tearing himself up over it all day.” 

“He has?” The conversation was distracting. Lucy hadn’t even noticed that Mirajane was slathering burn cream all over her hand. Lucy relaxed into the pillows with a quiet sigh; it sure felt good, so cold and soothing. 

“Sure has. I’ve never seen him mope like this. Though maybe it’s good for him. Maybe this’ll finally teach him to be more careful with his flames,” she tutted with a click of her tongue. 

Maybe that’s what everyone else thought, but the idea of the normally boisterous, happy-go-lucky Natsu trudging around in a hyper-depressed state made Lucy’s belly twist. It was just an accident. She didn’t want Natsu to blame himself… 

“Mirajane? Will you send Natsu to come see me?” Lucy asked petulantly. She just couldn’t stand the idea of Natsu being sad. If she could do something, say something… 

Mirajane looked at her questioningly for a moment. Her expression was blank, at first, but it slowly softened into a smile. She took Lucy’s hand and gave it a firm pat, then held it tenderly for a moment. 

“Sure, I’ll send him in. Don’t be too hard on him, okay? He’s already heard it from me and Erza.” 

“I’m not going to be hard on him at all,” Lucy reassured with a wan smile. 

As Mirajane rose, Lucy cast her gaze down to her lap. No, she wasn’t going to be hard on Natsu at all. Even though Erza’s and Mirajane’s lectures were both legendary, there was no one in this entire guildhall that could be harder on Natsu than himself right now. And she could tell that by the way he was hovering just outside the door right now, thinking she couldn’t see him. But she could. She could see him trying to hide in the shadows, but nothing could hide the tension in his body, the faint gleam of his green eyes brimming with regret. 

Lucy’s heart shattered when he finally crept into a room—hesitant, like an animal expecting to be scolded and tensing to take off at the slightest provocation. His expression was absolutely crestfallen. She’d never seen him so crushed. The sadness was so pervasive in his expression that he didn’t even look like the same person. It brought tears to her eyes, and Natsu, who was keenly studying every inch of her, instantly shrunk away. 

“You’re hurting.” His voice was hoarse, like a ghost of the happy-go-lucky cry of joy she was so used to. “I… I hurt you, Lucy.” 

“Natsu,” she sighed and reached out her hand to him—her uninjured hand. If she offered the one swatched in bandages, he’d probably collapse right there. 

Natsu reluctantly crept forward. When he slowly, ever-so-slowly slipped his fingers into hers, they were violently trembling. Lucy crooned soothingly and gave his fingers a squeeze; it enticed him to sit on the edge of the bed. However, though his body relaxed just barely, his expression remained broken. Slowly, his gaze fell to her injured hand resting atop her thigh. 

“I… I burned you.” He fixated on her hand like he couldn’t look away, but his expression also grew more pained the longer he looked at it. “It’s because of my recklessness that you got hurt.” He tore his gaze away from her hand, and his mouth twisted into a self-deprecating scowl. “Lucy… I’m too dangerous to be around you.”

“Natsu, stop, please.” She was so desperate to banish that agonized look off his face that she cupped his cheek with her injured hand. He recoiled from the scratchy bandages with a groan, but she didn’t let him flee; she pressed her hand to his cheek again, and this time, he allowed her to gently turn his face back to her. “Please,” she repeated in a voice just as pained as his own. “You hurt me so much more blaming yourself than you ever could with your flames.” 

“Really?” He looked so pitiful, as if he were afraid to even hope. 

“Yes,” Lucy nodded. “It was an accident. Nothing more.” 

“B-but—” 

“No ‘buts,’” she asserted, poking her lips out in a firm pout. “I could have just as easily been hurt by anyone else in the guild. These things happen sometimes.” Her pout curled into a smile, one of amusement and fondness. “That’s what being in Fairy Tail is all about, right? Chaos and mayhem and craziness. Sure, someone may end up with a bump or a bruise or a burn every now and again, but I wouldn’t trade that for the world.” 

Her smile broadened, and when she leaned forward to touch her forehead to Natsu’s, he drew in a quiet breath. 

“More than that, I wouldn’t change my partner for the world.” 

He looked down at his lap. He fiddled nervously with the cloth of her blanket, then slowly reached up to peel her hand away from his cheek. He looked down at it while idly tracing circles over the bandages with both his thumbs. 

“Even if I burn you, huh?” he sniffed, and Lucy melted a little in relief when she detected a little chuckle in his tone. 

“Hey, you gotta be at least a little bit reckless to be a part of Fairy Tail, right?” she joked. “Guess my reckless bit is being with the most reckless knucklehead there is.” She nudged him with her forehead, prompting his uncertain gaze to flick up to her eyes. “But you know what? So what if he’s reckless? He cares so much that he’d worry himself sick over me. That’s still the best partner in the world, in my book.” 

Natsu blinked, and then a bashful smile bloomed on his face. He eagerly pressed his forehead into hers, then came a little closer to bump the tips of their noses together. It was such a tender and touching moment, one of so many that she had the privilege to share with Natsu. Still, she couldn’t deny that he was owed at least a little repayment for her injury. 

“Ow!” he yelped when she pinched the meat of his arm, hard. He jerked back, his green eyes wide, and Lucy stuck out her tongue playfully at him. 

“There. Now we’re even.” 

It took him a minute to register what had just happened. Then, he snorted in laughter and shook his head.

“Man. You sure are something else.” His shoulders sagged as he heaved a sigh—like he were finally letting out all that tension he was holding on to. He practically fell onto Lucy, dragging her back down into the bed. He snuggled up next to her, hooking one leg over hers, and buried his face into her tresses of blonde hair. He’d always said he loved what she smelled like—like strawberry-lemon, whatever that meant. 

“I wouldn’t trade you for the world either, Lucy,” he mumbled softly against her scalp. Lucy hummed, idly tracing abstract patterns into his arm as he hugged her around her middle. “So I’m gonna take better care of you from now on, ‘kay?” 

“I’ll hold you to that,” she said, then yawned. With Natsu’s body draped around her, cushioning her in soft, mellow heat, it was so easy to be lulled into drowsiness. Natsu was already softly snoring in her ear. She allowed herself to drift off, falling headlong into the comfortable twilight of sleep. After all… even the reckless had to sleep sometimes.

[sapphireginger]

Chapter #5

Summary:

Stiles chuckles softly, his heart swelling. “I love you too, sweet girl. You are absolutely right. They are missing out.” He pulls away to drain the past and sighs. “I mean, who wouldn’t love lightsabers?”  “Exactly! Plus, the women are awesome. Especially Leia!” she cheers with a giggle.  “What about Rey?” Stiles asks. Olivia puts her hands on her hips and huffs. “Rey is the best Daddy. Obviously.” Stiles nods sagely and stifles a smile at the serious expression on her little face. “Can you go wash your hands for dinner please?” “Okay, Daddy,” she says with a nod and heads down the hallway toward the bathroom.

Stiles picks his daughter up from a friend’s house and then they head home. They head inside and Olivia puts her backpack away. “Daddy?”

“Yes, angel?” he replies as he closes the door and locks it.

“Did you have a good day at work today?”

Stiles toes off his shoes and hangs up his keys. “Definitely.”

Olivia wraps her arms around his waist. “Good. Can we have spaghetti for supper please?”

With a nod from Stiles, she goes over to the couch and pulls out her art supplies while Stiles heads to the kitchen to get started on dinner. 

After a few minutes Stiles glances towards the living room. “How was school Liv?”

She looks up from her picture. “It was good. Sadie and I got to jump rope because Max joined us. The other boys said he was weird because only girls jump rope, but I told them that boys and girls can do whatever they want. I told him that I have Star Wars bedding and that my daddy likes to sew. Then Sadie, Max and I ignored them.”

Stiles can’t help the fond smile on his face. “Sounds like you had a really good day then. I’m proud of you for sticking up for yourself and your friend.”

“Me too,” she says as she resumes coloring. “I’m gonna be Rey for Halloween. Sadie is gonna be Leia and we asked Max to join us. He said he wants to be Darth Maul. Some other kid said that he shouldn’t be the bad guy and Max said he can be who he wants. I agree with him. Darth Maul is actually really cool.”

“Well, you know I will always agree when it comes to Star Wars.”

Olivia is quiet and then looks at her daddy. “Daddy?"

“Hm?”

“What’s a nerd?”

Stiles pauses and looks over. “Did someone call you that?” 

She nods and Stiles sighs, shaking his head. “First of all, it’s not okay to call names. Kids are going to be mean, and some adults can be mean as well, but you can’t control them. You can only control how you respond to them.”

“What am I supposed to say to them?” she asks, her trusting eyes on her daddy.

Stiles smiles. “Well, I for one am proud to be a nerd and a geek. We’re special and we like what we like. It’s not a bad thing and anyone who calls you that in a mean way is just being a bully.”

“Well if you’re a nerd and a geek, Daddy then I am too. I’m not ashamed to like Star Wars, Pokémon and comic books. I’m really really smart too, Daddy.” 

“You sure are, angel.”

Olivia gets up and hugs him. “They’re all missing out. You’re the best, Daddy. I love you.”

Stiles chuckles softly, his heart swelling. “I love you too, sweet girl. You are absolutely right. They are missing out.” He pulls away to drain the past and sighs. “I mean, who wouldn’t love lightsabers?” 

“Exactly! Plus, the women are awesome. Especially Leia!” she cheers with a giggle. 

“What about Rey?” Stiles asks.

Olivia puts her hands on her hips and huffs. “Rey is the best Daddy. Obviously.”

Stiles nods sagely and stifles a smile at the serious expression on her little face. “Can you go wash your hands for dinner please?”

“Okay, Daddy,” she says with a nod and heads down the hallway toward the bathroom.

Stiles works on the hamburger meat and thinks about how to make their Halloween costumes. He grins at the excitement building inside him. He’s made her costume every year since she was born. He starts plating their food and grabs out apple juice for Olivia and water for himself.

Once they’re both seated, they start eating and after a few minutes Olivia asks him a question. 

“Who was the best wolf and the best cub today daddy?”

Stiles smiles. “Well, the best wolf and cub were Derek and his son Zeke.”

“Why?” she asks curiously. 

“Well Zeke was excited to be on the course, but his daddy was scared. Derek still went up on the courses with his son even though he was afraid, and his son waited for him, helping through every single obstacle even though he wanted to howl on the ziplines right away.”

“Wow. They really are a good wolf and cub. Can I meet them?”

Stiles chuckles and hands her a napkin to clean the spaghetti sauce from her cheeks. “I don’t know, angel. I think they were only here on vacation but you’re coming in with me tomorrow. So, we’ll see.”

Olivia wipes her face and grins. “Good! I like when cubs and wolves make you smile, daddy. Can we watch Balto now?”

“Of course, but dishes first.”

They do the dishes and then curl up on the couch to watch Balto while Stiles braids her hair. If his mind also wanders to Derek’s gorgeous eyes and his adorable son, well that’s between him and himself.

🐾╰☆╮🍃╰☆╮🍃╰☆╮🐾

“Olivia? Time to get up angel!” Stiles calls out as he gets ready for the day.

“I’m ready daddy!” she calls back, already dressed in a pair of jeans and her small black Howlin’ Heights shirt with Mini A printed on the sleeve. All the shirts that the pack wears are black with a red wolf on the front, Howlin’ Heights in red on the back and their nicknames in red on the sleeve. They also have red shirts with a black wolf on the front, Howlin’ Heights in black on the back and their nicknames in black on the sleeve. Her daddy let her help pick the red shirts when they got them two years ago and says she can help again when they get new ones next year.

Olivia is already planning on blue shirts with a white wolf on the front, Howlin’ Heights in white on the back and their nicknames in white on the sleeve. That and she thinks black shirts with a blue wolf on the front, Howlin’ Heights in blue on the back and their nicknames in blue on the sleeve is awesome too.

She ties her red chucks on and heads to her daddy’s room with hair ties in her hands. 

Stiles looks over from his bathroom where he’s brushing his teeth. Once he rinses his mouth out, he makes his way back into his room and smiles. “You got ready quickly. Are we doing braids today?” he asks, holding his hand out for the hair ties.

“Yes please. I am excited, Daddy. I love Saturdays!” she says excitedly as she hands him the hair ties.

“I’m glad,” he says with a smile. He gets her to sit on the bed and starts brushing her hair. This time with just the two of them is so precious to him. They’re quiet as he braids her hair, deciding to French braid it this morning.

Once the braids are secured, he puts a small red bow on each one to match her shirt. Olivia hurries to her bathroom to check them and grins before running back in and hugging him tightly. “Thank you, Daddy! They’re perfect!”

Stiles lets out an ‘oomph’ when she throws her arms around his waist but grins. “You’re welcome. Go grab your water bottle and we’ll head out.”

They make sure they have everything and then head out to the jeep. Olivia starts singing along with the radio.

If all of the kings had their queens on the throne We would pop champagne and raise a toast To all of the queens who are fighting alone Baby, you're not dancing on your own Can't live without me, you wanna, but you can't, nah-nah-nah Think it's funny, but honey, can't run this show on your own I can feel my body shake, there's only so much I can take I'll show you how a real queen behaves Oh-oh-oh, no damsel in distress, don't need to save me Once I start breathing fire, you can't tame me And you might think I'm weak without a sword But if I had one, it'd be bigger than yours

Stiles sighs happily and turns the song up just a bit before joining in. He loves that she’s so confident and he hopes she never loses that confidence.

🐾╰☆╮🍃╰☆╮🍃╰☆╮🐾

Olivia is vibrating with excitement as they park, and Stiles turns off the car. “Ready?”

“Yes!”

Stiles waits for her to get out and then locks the jeep before heading inside. He’s the first one in on Saturdays. “Let’s see what we have for guests today,” he says, scanning the list.

“Daddy, can I help with the rotation?”

“Sure! The only one we have to keep the same is Theo on Lunar Landing.”

Olivia giggles. “Shadow is on the moon!”

Theo and Jackson show up not long after and Olivia squeals excitedly. The two guys get geared up and make their way to the cabin. “Hey, Mini A!” Theo says.

“Hi Shadow! Hi Chameleon!”

Jackson huffs but his smile grows. “Hey, Mini A,” he says and then gestures to her shoes. “I think you forgot to tie them.”

Stiles glances over and snorts when Olivia merely rolls her eyes. “Nuh uh. I double tied them. You can’t trick me. Plus, daddy taught me that one a long time ago. You’ll have to try harder than that.” She crosses her arms and grins triumphantly.

Jackson looks at Stiles with mock betrayal before the three guys start laughing. 

Kira, Allison and Erica show up next to find red faced Stiles, Theo, and Jackson and a proud Olivia.

“Looks like you guys started off the morning well,” Erica says as she makes her way behind the desk, pulling out the schedule.

Kira and Allison can barely contain their giggles as they head into the den to put their gear on. 

Boyd and Isaac arrive with a half hour left before they open.

Stiles goes to start assigning things, but Erica stops him. “So, I put you in for the second brief today and tomorrow instead of the third one and I made sure you’re on the Howling Course for today and tomorrow.”

“Why?” Stiles asks suspiciously.

Erica merely shrugs avoiding answering. “Let’s see. Looks like Mini A helped with the rotation. Theo you’re on Lunar Landing. Allison, you and Kira are on the Cub Course. Isaac you’re doing the first safety brief. Alpha is on the second safety brief. Jackson you’re on the third safety brief. Boyd, you're here with me in the cabin for now, unless we have any repairs to do.”

“What about me?” Olivia asks.

Stiles tugs gently on her braid. “You can hang with anyone except for Isaac. Cause he’s got the first brief.” 

Olivia goes over to Jackson and leans her back against him. 

Stiles huffs with a smile. Then he turns to look at Erica, taking the sheet from her. “Okay. Isaac, go ahead and open courses one and two. I’ll open courses three and four. Mini A, you’ll need to stick with Boyd until Jackson gets courses five and six open.” He meets all their gazes one by one and then nods. “Let’s open, pack!”

Boyd leads Olivia into the office with Erica while everyone else heads out to open.

Stiles makes his way to the Howling Course and breathes in the fresh morning air feeling himself settle into his role as Alpha. He’s up on course three pretty quickly, making sure things are secure. He and Isaac chat a little bit after they finish opening their courses and wait for Jackson to finish opening his two courses before making their way back up to the den.

By the time 8:30 am rolls around, everyone is ready to go. Erica has people for group one signed in, with wristbands and heading down to the harnessing area.

Jackson is down at courses five and six of the Howling Course. Stiles, after making sure Olivia is harnessed and safe with Jackson, heads down to where courses three and four of the Howling Course are. Theo is up on the platform for Lunar Landing while Allison and Kira take their places at the Cub Course.

“Alpha to Pack.”

“Pack to Alpha,” they chorus back.

“Awooooooo!!!”

They all howl back, and Stiles starts his work day with a grin on his face and a warmth in his heart.

[comparativetarot]

Four of Swords. Art by Kim Thompson, from Divine Your Dinner.

FINDING VALUES

Forming a personal value system takes a lot of effort. You take in piles of information from your surroundings, sift through it, try some values on for size, get uncomfortable, find your boundaries, and finally see which principles are most important to uphold. It’s a rite of passage we go through over and over in life, so it’s best to cozy up to it.

Nothing is more cozy than chicken soup (we asked the entire world, and everyone agreed). Sit down with a bowl of this chicken tortilla soup and reflect on how great it feels to be standing solid in your convictions. The scallions and garlic will clear out any last bits of doubt while lime keeps you true to your word.

MAGICKAL INGREDIENTS: SCALLION, GARLIC, LIME, GUAJILLO CHILE, CILANTRO, ONION, AVOCADO

CHICKEN TORTILLA SOUP FOR THE WITCHY SOUL MAIN—SERVES 4 TO 6

This soup is based on the traditional Mexican sopa de Azteca, which, in its most basic form, is a chicken and tomato broth flavored with chiles and topped with fried tortilla strips. If you ever have the chance to go to Mexico and taste an authentic sopa de Azteca, it will change your life.

Canola or peanut oil, for shallow-frying 4 corn tortillas, cut into ¼-inch-wide strips Kosher salt 6 guajillo chiles, stemmed and seeded 6 cups chicken broth, store bought or homemade 1 small bunch cilantro, separated into stems and leaves 1 large white or yellow onion, peeled and quartered 6 garlic cloves, peeled 2 whole peeled tomatoes (from a can), plus 2 tablespoons of the juice Kosher salt, to taste (about 2 teaspoons) 1½ teaspoons ground cumin ¼ cup fresh lime juice 2 teaspoons sugar 2 cups shredded cooked chicken, store-bought or homemade

FOR SERVING 1 avocado, sliced Sliced scallions Sour cream Crumbled queso fresco 1 lime, cut into wedges

1. Pour ½ inch oil into a medium pot and heat over medium-high until it begins to shimmer. Add the tortilla strips and fry until they are lightly browned and crispy, 3 to 4 minutes. Drain on paper towels and season with salt.

2. In a medium skillet, dry-toast the guajillo chiles over medium-high heat until covered with dark brown spots, about 1 minute per side.

3. Fill a pot three-quarters full with water. Add the guajillos and bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Reduce the heat to low and simmer until the chiles are soft, about 30 minutes, submerging them as needed throughout cooking.

4. Meanwhile, in a separate large pot, bring the chicken broth to a simmer over medium-high heat. Add the cilantro stems, remove from the heat, cover, and set aside. Chop the cilantro leaves and set aside.

5.Transfer the softened chiles to a blender. Add the onion, garlic, tomatoes, tomato juice, cumin, and 3 tablespoons of the chili cooking water. Puree on high.

6. In a large skillet, cook the chile-tomato puree over medium-high heat, stirring occasionally, until darkened and reduced to about 1½ cups, about 10 minutes.

7. Remove the cilantro stems from the chicken broth and discard. Whisk the reduced puree, lime juice, and sugar into the broth, then stir in the shredded chicken. Bring the mixture to a simmer over medium-high heat, then remove from the heat.

8. Serve family style with the tortilla strips, chopped cilantro leaves, avocado, scallions, sour cream, queso fresco, and lime wedges on the side.

[themeanpea]

Ah shit here we go again-

I told myself I would stop writing long emotional inner ramblings to the void of the internet, but um…new year old me I guess. Well technically it’s not the new year yet but time is an illusion, tear it apart.

I’ve been putting off reflecting on my relationship with art and drawing and work and life and blah - but seeing as things are coming to a volcanic peak irl (or at least, it feels so in my head, but then again I react to stress badly), I decided I might as well take the leap of returning to tumblr while also forcing myself to finally, finally - reflect.

Why have I been putting off reflecting? Because it’s easier to just come home from work and blast my brain juice out with YouTube and podcasts. Real life problems don’t exist when you have liquid content coursing through your veins at all times. Facts.

Anyways here we go…strap on in if you’re interested in the epic saga of millennial mundanity - artist version:

The past few months have been pretty tough art-wise. I lost a lot of confidence in my art, and posting to the great wide world waiting for people to respond wasn’t helping. Yes I know that sounds naive, and I hate admitting this because it makes me feel vulnerable but it’s true - I was seeking that validation. Why? I don’t know. I guess I was excited to share my art with others and it was tough to swallow when no one responded. I don’t think I was seeking compliments so much as interaction - Ig I kinda wanted an art community but social media wasn’t giving it to me. And I know it’s wrong now but I thought that creating good art was how I gained that artist acceptance. And when my art was ignored I thought it was a silent pass of judgment, “You’re not good enough yet to join the inner circle”. I know this sounds dramatic and over-the-top but I’m just really trying to figure out why it was affecting me so much - it must have seemed that bad to me even though it really wasn’t (story of my life lmao).

Anyway, I had taken a 6 year break from art previously (not gonna go into it but it was due to school and life, not anything related to social media), I was making drawings maybe 3-4 times a year? Barely anything. My art skills stagnated tremendously, and I was at that point in the art curve where I couldn’t even realize how weak my art was - and frankly all I cared about was churning out fanart like a little goblin lmao. That’s all fine btw, to each their own - but looking back on my non-existent progress, I felt dissatisfied. I wanted to see progress in my art, and I listened to a lot of YouTube talks by Industry Experts TM - but wait! Their advice was not trite and profit-oriented, they gave really, really motivational talks - about why they pursued art, and how you could improve, and why it would be worth it. I was honestly really touched by the talks that I watched, and it inspired me to work on my art to create the worlds that I wanted to create, and visualize the stories that I saw in my head. Also, I just really like aesthetics and pretty stuff.

Social media was draining me like - exhausting and felt like a total chore. I just wanted to draw, I didn’t want to post and be judged. I conducted a thought experiment - if I could either have bad art and have a huge social media following, or good art and a non-existent social media following - which one would I choose? I knew the answer was the latter hands down, so I decided to just stop posting to social media.

In the meantime, I’d also signed up for an online art class, bought more art books, and started practicing the fundamentals and doing homework from the online course. I didn’t even think about posting or anything of the sort, and I was the happiest I had been while doing art in a long time. The online course was amazing - I loved the assignments and homework and the feeling of being in school again and being guided by a teacher who could critique my work. I never learned art professionally and I felt like I was larping as an art student lmao (No hogwarts halls tho, just my ipad on a standing desk in my bedroom :D). I was really going through a low-confidence + low-motivation patch around the same time that the course started, and honestly having weekly structured assignments to do was a life-saver. I didn’t feel inspired to draw anything of my own because my skills were at a level that meant they never came out the way I wanted them to look. I was very insecure about my rendering ability, and the more I looked at my human faces the wonkier they got. I wanted to table-flip so bad but the standing desk is heavy af. So to be forced to paint greyscale bargue plates and map out black-and-white silhouettes…honestly it was boring at times, but it was something very new to me and it gave me something to do to feel like I was improving in art. I mean maybe I wasn’t but hey we got feedback from our mentors and were told how it could help us to improve. I knew nothing about values except the bare basics, so I was happy to just do a shit ton of greyscale stuff tbvh - it gave me the illusion of improvement at the very least.

The thing is…I think the course really did help me to improve. I was amazed at this realisation myself since I couldn’t figure out how drawing moustachioed old men in greyscale could help me to draw cute anime boys in color, but somehow it did?? Wild I know. Which is why I’m swearing up, down, left, right, sideways, frontways, and back on practicing the fundamentals now. Most importantly, 3D form and structure!! It’s a must. The weirdest feeling ever was that painting with awareness of the 3D form actually helped to improve my drawing as well. Dear lord I could write an entire essay about the importance of learning the 3D form so I’ll stop here for now. But 3D form, shape language, structure. So, so, so freaking important.

Wow I went on a tangent. So anyway, when I focused on the art again - taking the course, doing assignments, reading art books, scrolling through pinterest - and blocked out social media, I was the happiest I had ever been art-wise. Negative feelings - all-time low. Even when I sucked it felt ok because I didn’t have any pressure to share my art! I was literally just drawing for my own eyes (and for my partner - who is super lovely and supportive). And yeah, I don’t know - it made me realize again why I wanted to do art. Because I love creating, even if it’s just for one person, even if it’s just for myself, I’m a creator. I’ll draw and write about worlds and characters that no one will ever know about, and I really don’t mind. I mean if someone’s interested I don’t mind sharing, but I really, really don’t mind just doing it for myself as well. But I want to be proud of the work I do. When I draw my characters, I want them to look the way I see them in my head. When I see the greats, I want to be able to draw like them, render like them - not because I want the adoration or fans, but because…it’s inspiring. And also I often feel my favourite content is in my head, so I have to like…get it out to enjoy it myself lol. I’m the producer and the consumer. I’m used to shipping rarepairs and writing fics for myself and the one other person in the community lol. Like I didn’t care who saw my ship art, I just needed to create it, damn it. And I feel the same way for my OCs too - I needed to do them justice by bringing them to the life the way I envisioned them, not…flat faces and wonky smiles.

Anyway, I’m not sure where this post is going or if it’s going anywhere, but I felt like I needed to force myself to reflect on my art journey and question…why do I draw? Because if I don’t figure out why…then what will come of it? No end goal in sight or whatever. Don’t get me wrong, I think if something makes you happy you shouldn’t need an end-goal, and that’s what I’ve been doing thus far tbvh. I just draw - no thoughts, head empty, just draw and listen to podcasts and chill. But lately as I open myself up to others, as I come under more scrutiny for what I do in my free time, as people get genuinely curious to see the stuff I’ve been doing and perhaps question why I spend all my weekends locked away in my room…I start to feel a need to come to terms with what I draw. I’m not revealing the full story here but tl;dr I’ve been…procrastinating on something huge, to say the least, and I’ve just thrown myself full-fledge into drawing with even more intensity than ever. And that’s when I realized:

I draw to escape. Escapism. It all makes sense. It’s not limited to just OCs, though OCs are the easiest way to build an escapist world since you get to control all the variables. You can do it via fandoms too, e.g. fanart, fanfics. I used to feel guilty for indulging in this escapism, a day-dreamer. And now I guess that lingering guilt is still there - I should be doing Real Adult Things TM, but instead I procrastinate by drawing and working on my art. Because if I can’t control the real world…at least I can control the one that I literally crafted from scratch? If I think too hard about where my own life is going, it scares me - so full of uncertainty and I don’t have protagonist protection - anything could happen. But my OCs, they’re safe. Even through all the fictional tragedy and romance and drama, they end up ok because as the creator, I said so. And their world is beautiful, aesthetic (tbh I’m still rly bad at drawing environments but it’s on my goals list for 2023!), I don’t feel the same way about my world. At least not right now. Hopefully things will change.

And I need to tell myself - escapism is a good goal to have. I don’t know where I would be without escapism - without tales of heroics and drama and problematic faves and ships. Without purely fictional fun to laugh and talk about with friends, to wonder and expand on while doing the mundanity of everyday tasks. And If I’m working towards making that escapism even better day by day, to make my visual storytelling even more immersive, my aesthetics even more attention-grabbing, to bring you away from the troubles of real life and into this fictional world that I created to make myself feel better first, and hopefully others can share in that joy as well…maybe that’s a good goal to have. That’s something I shouldn’t shy away from sharing or feel ashamed to admit that as a 25 year old adult, I’m locked up in my room on the weekends to keep working on my craft towards the goal of enhanced immersive escapism.

There’s no conclusion to this thesis lol. So…back to drawing! 👾

[drkineildwicks]

Writing Snippets--10/24/2022

Still going on that time-travelling Obake AU--like I said I’ll go until the juice is gone.

Anywho, “Rivalry Weak” stuff:

“So you and I are apparently the only ones still working on the kaiju,” Obake said to Hiro.

“Yeah, apparently,” Hiro said, looking baffled.  “What’s turpentine doing at SFAI anyway?”

“Turpentine is a paint thinner—it stands to reason it’s used for painting.”

“Hmm.  Honey Lemon—how does turpentine relate to art anyway?”

“It’s a paint thinner used with oil painting,” Honey Lemon said.

“So…your firebomb was made from oil paints?”

“Oil paints are made from linseed oil, Hiro.  I mean yes you have to be careful when disposing of old paint rags but, um….”

“Both: turpentine, and oil paints, are made from: plant-based products,” Baymax offered, pulling up schematics.  “There are no fossil fuels used in the making of: oil paints.”

“So how does she make a firebomb out of that?” Hiro asked Obake.

“Turpentine fumes are highly flammable,” Obake said.  “And as I understand it most old oil paints were mixed with toxic ingredients—hence why most artists died young and insane.”

“Boy I hope that doesn’t happen to Honey Lemon,” Hiro said—suddenly panicked.  “Y-you know, from messing with that stuff—”

Ah.  “So you do know about her extracurricular activities.”

“Yeah but don’t tell her,” Hiro hissed.  “Tadashi told me to leave it until she felt like sharing.”

Now let me tell you about this because it is very important, I did NOT suffer through having to use oil paints in college to have some nudniks not know this, so here we go:

Yes, you have to use turpentine to thin/clean oil paints, oil paints laugh at water and any other attempts to clean them

Yes, both turpentine and oil paints are highly flammable and oil paint rags, when dry, are combustible

Yes, you so very much need good ventilation while working with this stuff

Yes, you need to dispose of turpentine carefully you can’t just pour it down the drain because you’re not supposed to pour ANY oil or grease down the drain

Yes, oil paints back in the day had ingredients that were toxic af--matter of fact they still do, cinnabar and mercury are in some modern oil paints

NO, these are NOT made from fossil fuels

Turpentine is made from pine sap

Oil paints are made from linseed oil

They are plant-based

So yes, those idiots throwing tomato soup at priceless paintings are as brainless as you think they are.