#but i remind myself this is the rough outline sketch and move on

[ickmick]

ok tumblr dot com im going to bed now

(only meant to browse a few posts for a few minutes)

have this update on the wip of the life series thingy *tosses confetti and then collapses in bed*

[mappinglasirena]

Bothersome Beams in Sirena’s Sickbay

You know how I’ve drawn a clean layout of the Captain’s Quarters to make it reflect the room as seen on screen by e.g. erasing the false door, adding in furniture and marks for the windows, etc? I've been doing that for a bunch of other places as well (toooootally not because I’m procrastinating the two Deep Dives I should be working on....), and a few days ago I started on sickbay. And now I'm stuck.

I've been staring at this so long my brain is turning to mush, so now you all get to suffer with me!

(Fair warning: there be loads of extremely pedantic observations ahead. I hope you like staring at deck plans :D)

This is the outline of sickbay on the deck plans from the blu-ray Set Me Up featurette:

(For orientation and because it will become important later: The front of the ship is on the right-hand side, the back is on the left.)

A quick reminder of the relevant main features: the round part of sickbay has walls that slope outward towards the top, a counter running along the wall around 2/5 of the way up, and three support beams cutting through the wall and the counter.

(Note that in reality, the beams are all straight across the top; they just appear curved here due to lense distortion.)

Looking at the concentric circles in the outline above, let’s try to figure out what’s what. Easiest: the broken grey lines, i.e. the largest two circles, surely must be where the wall meets the ceiling at its widest extension. (Here marked in blue.)

Next, when we look at the transition between the rectangular alcove at the back of the room (marked “med bay” in the plan) and the round “lab area”, we see that it’s smooth and there is no step in between.

(Again: the walls are straight, not curved, it looks that way because of lense effects.)

Given that and the thickness of the line, I think it’s safe to assume this is the outline of the wall, most likely at floor level:

These, as far as I can tell, are the windows at the front of the room, next to the door.

As you can see, they extend almost to the top of the wall and stop short of the unidentified outer circle. Looking at a screenshot...

...the windows sit right above the counter, so it makes sense that the remaining lines would be the outline of said counter (here in green):

So far so good.

Here’s the rub. I was trying to figure out what the vertical lines dividing the counter next to the support beams might be, when I noticed these four bits:

Those look like the places where the support beams cut through the counter.

That makes sense, right?

As you’ve probably noticed before, these beams run throughout the entire ship. We see them everywhere on the upper and lower deck, they are clearly the skeleton that holds Sirena together. You can tell how important they are to the structural integrity because all the deck plans have these vertical, broken grey lines to indicate where the beams are located.

Now, take another look at the markings where the beam towards the back of the room cuts through the counter (I magnified the one on the bottom left):

As you can see pretty clearly, the marking in the counter doesn’t line up with the normal position of the beams, indicated by the broken grey lines. It isn’t off by much. My rough estimate so far is that the beams are about a foot wide with seven feet between them, so this is a difference of maybe 15cm (~6″, apparently). But something is clearly strange here.

You can tell there’s something different at the back of the room, because where the beams in the middle and front are marked by long rectangles, the one in the back is only a small square. It looks almost as if there was only a single column on either side. If that was the case, it would probably mean that the beam at the back of the room was a fake, not technically connected to the beams at the rest of the ship like the middle and front ones.

But does that mean it was also moved a few centimetres further to the front? This has been driving me nuts.

There are a few possible explanations for what might be happening here.

1. I am wrong about those being the markers for where the beams cut through the counter. That is entirely possible.

2. Some changes were made to the set that aren’t yet reflected in this version of the layout. As I said elsewhere, these plans aren’t quite accurate to the final set in all details (e.g. the two steps between the mess hall and sickbay aren’t marked), so it’s possible that this is some intermediate version where the counter design varies a little from its final configuration.

3. The support beams at the back of sickbay do not line up with the beams in the rest of the ship. The production designers decided that they wanted sickbay to be the exact size we see in the plans, but for some logistical or aesthetic reason, having the beams at the back of the room in the logical position (i.e. parallel to the ones on the upper deck) didn’t work, so they moved them forward a little bit.

I cannot tell you how long I spent over the weekend trying to make heads or tails of this. 

At first I thought: Well, obviously the beams must have been moved to the front. The grey line marking where they should be goes right across the front of the rectangular bit of the room. They’d block the way if they were in the “correct” place, right?

Except I realized my spatial reasoning is woefully inadequate when trying to visualize a round room with sloped walls, so I did the only reasonable thing: I taught myself how to use SketchUp (again) to make a very, very crude 3D sketch of the relevant sections of this room.

Turns out: when you put the beam exactly where it’s supposed to go, it does actually work out okay. I know it’s a little too small here compared to what it should be...

...but that’s probably more due to my estimates for the thickness of the beams and especially the height of the room being off.

I did another version where I moved the beam forward so it sits where the counter is marked on the deck plan, and the difference is pretty negligible:

It looks a little closer to what we see on screen, but again, that’s probably more a miscalculation issue than an honest-to-god result.

As a last-ditch effort I had another look through my screenshot collection. My thinking was that if the beam was moved forward slightly from where it was “supposed” to be, that would mean we’d see more of it.

(On the left, the beam lines up with the grey lines. The area where it intersects with the counter (solid red) is smaller than in the right-hand example, where the beam was moved to align with the marking in the counter.)

Likewise, the distance the beams extend under the counter would be different, if not by much.

(The beam on the right is moved slightly towards the middle of the room. You can see that it dips lower than the beam on the left, which is in the “correct” position.)

If this was the case we should be able to see it in the screenshots, right? Except...

This is the view towards the front of the room. It’s difficult to tell with the perspective, but I don’t think there is much of a difference in how far the beam towards the front of the room (far right) and the one at the back of the room (far left) extend below the counter?

Maaayyybe there’s a difference there? But then again, if you compare how far they dip below the tops of the chests of drawers, that seems pretty similar...

And this is the point where I decided this insanity had gone on long enough and I should probably stop before my brain got entirely scrambled (since, sadly, I don’t have an EMH to unscramble it for me).

So, what’s the takeaway here?

1.: Short of somebody from the production team giving confirmation either way, we won’t know what happened here. I might have misread the set plan, the plan might have changed, or the beams might have been moved. It will have to remain a mystery until we get more shots with incontrovertible evidence, or somebody takes a measuring tape to the set and reports back ;9

2.: For the purposes of drawing a layout of sickbay, I’m going to assume the beams are in the correct position, since that makes more sense in-universe. I’ll move the counter markings accordingly. If I have to make a correction to that at some point, at least I have done the legwork and can refer back to this post instead of having to explain the whole issue again.

3.: Yes, I did just spend half the weekend obsessing over 15 centimetres, to the point where I taught myself SketchUp (again) and wrote a way too long blog post (I did warn you ;9 ), only to come to the conclusion that, as we say over here: “Nichts Genaues weiß man nicht.” - I guess we’ll never know. I have absolutely no regrets!

And finally 4.: staring at images of sickbay for hours on end really makes you appreciate just how beautiful that space is. Scroll up again and have a look at the screenshots. The way the circle repeats in the lights and the table and the concentric markings on the floor. The intricate holograms projected by the ceiling lights. The plants and tools all along the counters that give the room so much texture and make it seem like a real, lived-in place. The way the crisp black and white paint on the beams and the gleaming floor contrast with the cared-for but scuffed up plating and worn-off red paint all over the rest of Sirena... I just really love this ship, okay?

Anyway. If you have any thoughts on this, or you’ve noticed something I missed, I’d love to hear about it!

I was about to say “I promise the next post will be shorter”, but who are we kidding? My brain doesn’t do brief. And what is this blog for if not extremely rambly analyses that give us all an excuse to ogle screenshots of La Sirena for a few minutes?

[theghoularchives]

-“One man's trash is another man's treasure”

Excited for a fresh start, I was boldly reminded by the students who came before me of the old saying  “One man's trash is another man's treasure.” As I cleared through the cold, clinical studio space, the remnants of discarded litter showed me there was more history to this space than I once perceived. This was a birthplace of passion, a nest of intrigue ; I felt compelled to honour this charity of muse and the fervor for creativity grew within me instantly. Upon removing what I thought to be trash I found a perfectly circular piece of wood illuminated by the rays of the outdoor sun. I quickly got to work transforming this discarded object into a piece that symbolised a burning desire to create art, using a pencil I sketched down rough outlines for a face and decided to pay homage to the ball of gas that lit up my work space everyday. I carefully used watercolour paints to convert the plain whiteness that stained my object into a warm and inviting yellow. Once the paint had dried I went back in with a graffiti pen to make the details of the face boldly stand out, growing up I have always had a passionate love for street art and the use of my trusted POSCA pens symbolised my roots as a lowly vandal doing graffiti for the fun of it ; however now transformed into a refined artist creating pieces to express my innermost feelings and tackle subjects I believe in. 

Once the face was complete I knew I needed to add sun rays to make the already large piece come to life. Luckily for me a large sheet of cardboard was also discarded in my studio area, as if the students before me were giving me a helping hand. I sketched out and painted a vast array of sun beams, curving and warping them in all sorts of directions, making them look more like the tendrils of a horrid creature itching to grasp anything that moves. Once I had cut out the “limbs'' of my sun I got to work placing them around their face. I chose to have some of the rays protrude off the top of my wall adding even more well needed depth to my piece, I used double sided tape to secure them firmly to the wall as I found that the glue I had on hand didn’t take very well to the wooden background. In the wake of attaching the rays around my creations face I took a few steps back to admire my work, the stench of completion was intoxicating however my inner voice whispered that I was yet to rest. Using a paint pen I added accent lines to make the sun rays feel alive and give off the illusion of movement.

Following this, I again stepped back to view the beauty of my piece. An alluring feeling of pure euphoria overloaded my senses as I felt the serotonin flood into my brain. This feeling of ecstasy entranced me for a few moments as I stood in awe of my creation, never before had I felt such a sense of accomplishment when viewing a piece. I pondered why it was I felt such a way; was it the knowledge this was my first official piece of art created at university? Was it the fact that I had poured hours of my time into its creation? Was it my sleep deprivation? Alas, as the answer shifted ever further from my grasp I became progressively content with the blissful ignorance of my satisfaction, choosing to allow myself to become enveloped in the feeling instead of pondering it’s arrival. And thus completed my piece by adding a burning skeleton with its hands on it’s head as if it too were caught in a mental loop of complex thought. Feeling more than happy with my piece I walked out of the studio beaming with joy, for I knew this was only the beginning of an intense three years. Silently I vowed to always put in this same amount of effort into every piece I create, inside and outside of my course. 

-”The Ghoul”

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

How Long

Summary: The call comes sometime after midnight, pulling you instantly alert from your deep sleep. Your phone is set to “Do Not Disturb,” and only one number is programmed as an exception.

Characters: Reader, Steve Rogers (Nomad Steve Rogers, Nomad Captain America)

Word Count: 2201

Warnings: Sexual Content, a dash of angst, splash of consensual roughness.  

18+ ONLY.

Author’s Notes: Thanks to @there-must-be-a-lock​ for advice, fix-its, and flails. Thanks to @thoughtslikeaminefield​ for flails, swoons, and suggests. 

Extra thanks to @glassjacket​. You influenced every step of this story, you gave me my song, and this beautiful image edit. 

ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

How long you would wait for me? How long I've been away? The shape that I’m in now is shaping the doorway. Make your good love known to me.  Just tell me about your day.

Hozier, “As It Was”

The call comes sometime after midnight, pulling you instantly alert from your deep sleep. Your phone is set to “Do Not Disturb,” and only one number is programmed as an exception.

“Are you home? I...I need you.”

“Of course you can come, let me just-”

“I’m already here.” A pause, and then, “I let myself in. It was too risky to wait-”

You hang up the phone, switching it off as you slide out of bed. Your feet don’t even register the shock of the cold hardwood as you pad across the floor, opening your bedroom door and moving down the hallway. The hair on the back of your neck rises, your nerves jangling in anticipation.

It’s been nearly five months since you’ve seen him (you had him for three whole days, that time), and it was six months before that (only a single day). You don’t allow yourself to speculate in the brief moment before you see him, refusing to analyze just how tired and broken and lost he sounded in the few seconds you spoke.

He’s here, he’s here, he’s here, your heart whispers with each rush of blood.

You turn the corner from the hall into your cramped living room, big enough for a loveseat and a tiny coffee table, but no more. It seems all the more cramped for the super soldier occupying the room. 

He fills all the available space, his black-clad figure blending with the shadows as you pause to take him in.He hasn’t bothered to turn a lamp on, and the only light filters in from the street through your amber curtains. 

The room is tinted sienna, and the bare skin of your legs that shows beneath the hem of your oversize t-shirt (his shirt, left behind many visits ago) is shaded a dark, aged bronze. Steve’s hair is nearly black in the gloom, his eyes colorless and deep. He's no longer the golden hero you'd learned about in school; he's tarnished and aged with misuse. Up until the last few years, the media had been singing songs of praise for the wonder soldier.

You pause a few feet away. His eyes linger on the floor for a heartbeat or two before rising to meet yours. His face is streaked with dirt and what might be faint smudges of blood if you were to look any closer. He’s shed his tactical gear, leaving it in a neat pile near the door, but otherwise, he hasn’t bothered to clean up from his last mission.

“Nat and Sam told me to say hello,” he says, a tired smile raising the corners of his lips.

“Did it go badly?” you ask. 

Steve drops onto the loveseat and sits for a moment, silent, lost, and worn. He doesn’t speak for a long, loaded moment, but you can’t think of what to do to fill the silence.

Finally, Steve exhales, his hands scrubbing up through his beard to dig the heels of his palms into his eyes. His face tilts forward, damps strands of hair swinging loose from where he’s pushed it back out of his face.

“I hate coming to you like this. I should clean up, get a shower or wash my face, at least.” Despite his strength, the lightest brush of your hand on his shoulder halts his rising. His face, otherwise untouched by the years, is lined with worry and grief. You cup his cheek in your palm, your thumb gently smoothing over the dark circles under his eyes. Exhaustion radiates from him, and your heart aches.

“You can shower later. You’re exhausted. Let me help you clean up enough so you can at least get some rest with me. Then we’ll get you a shower. Are you hungry?”

You’re expecting the refusal of food, but you still sigh as you retrieve a deep bowl and a clean towel from your kitchen. Steve is always hungry, but he will almost never admit it, especially when he’s like this. You fill the bowl with warm water and return to find him bent over, elbows planted on his knees, face buried in his hands.

“Still awake there, soldier?”

Steve snaps to, every line of him tense as if he’s ready to spring up from the couch, but you’re ready for this reaction (some lessons are learned the hard way), and you’ve stopped a few feet short of your target. You give him time to relax and then you set your bowl on the coffee table. 

“Take your shirt off?” 

Steve nods wearily, stripping down to the waist, and you examine his torso with a critical eye. It doesn’t seem to matter how many times he reminds you of his healing abilities; you always have to see for yourself. As always, his abdomen is free from marks and wounds: literally more perfect than the day he was born.

“Do you want to talk about the mission?” A toss up, really; some nights, he needs to vent. Most nights, he needs to escape. A quick shake of his head shows you it’s going to be one of the latter.

“In that case, have you heard about a pigment called Vantablack?” Steve shakes his head, his eyes locked on your face as you move over him with your warm, damp cloth. “Then let me tell you about a couple of guys named Anish Kapoor and Stuart Semple. You’ll love this.”

For the next several minutes, you carefully clean Steve’s face of any traces of filth, moving on to his neck and chest when you are satisfied with your work. You keep up a steady narrative, outlining the drama between the two artists, giving Steve as detailed a history as you can, knowing he appreciates those little tidbits as much as you do. 

You stop once to fetch a clean towel and fresh bowl of water, and by the time you reach the waistband of his trousers, Steve is visibly more relaxed and even smiling a little as you bring him up to speed on the pigment feud. A shower would have been more efficient, probably even better for his muscles, but Steve doesn’t come to you for efficiency. Every stroke of your hand, every time your fingers press the cloth to his flushed skin, brings you a little closer until you’re straddling him, his hands firmly bracing you against him as the cloth drops from your nerveless fingers to fall to the floor behind the loveseat.

“I missed you,” he says. His eyes search your face restlessly, maybe memorizing with that artist’s eye, always searching for his next sketch; maybe trying to see what’s changed since the last time he held you; maybe just reassuring himself that you are still here, waiting for him like you promised you would.

Like he tried to tell you not to. 

Like he’ll never admit he deserves.

Your palms find his jaw again, fingers slide gently through his beard, and you shiver as the thick, coarse growth scratches against your skin. Your lips meet unconsciously, neither of you meaning to initiate the kiss, and you sigh with relief at the silky, plump press of his mouth against yours.

“Let me dump this water,” you say, sliding back off his lap and standing on shaking legs. “Then we can go to bed.”

But you never make it from between his knees. His hand catches yours, his grip gentle but resolute, and you don't have it in you to pull away. Not that you really want to. He reels you back to him, just a couple of steps, and then his arms are around you, his forehead pressed to your stomach. The heat of him through the thin material of the worn t-shirt is enough to loosen your muscles, send shivers of giddiness through your limbs.

“I missed you,” he murmurs into your navel, sliding his face to the side. Individual hairs from his beard slip through your shirt, scraping over your skin, and Steve’s arms instinctually tighten as your legs falter. Your fingers anchor in his hair, your grip tight enough to make any lesser man cringe. 

Steve groans heavily against your belly, rolling his face to the other side, his teeth nipping and pulling the shirt as he moves. His hands shift, moving his grip from your backside to your hips, digging in tight before his thumbs begin to rise, lifting the hem of your shirt as they move. His nose presses against your bare skin, inhaling deeply as he mercilessly slides the worn garment up. 

“Take it off,” he says, his voice resonant against your hip bone. His lips press, hot and devastating, along the crease between your thigh and pelvis, and you obey without hesitation.

Steve seems determined to memorize the span of skin between your hip bones, to map it with his tongue and lips, but as his mouth trails lower, you grasp his face between both hands, fingers pressing tight as you pull his gaze up to meet yours.

“It’s been too long. I need you inside me.”

His nostrils flair, his eyes sliding shut as he sucks in a sharp breath. His eyelashes lie feather black against his cheeks for a long moment, his jaw clenching, but you know better than to speak.

“Sometimes I dream of you saying those exact words to me.”

You move to open his fly with shaking fingers, and after a couple of stumbling attempts, Steve stills your hands, pressing your fingers down on his lap as he shifts his hips, a hiss escaping his throat as you stroke his length through his pants.

You lean down, sliding your lips across his cheek, your hands pressing down harder as Steve ruts up into your grip. There's a sudden line of pressure on your hips, and then Steve lets your shredded underwear drop unceremoniously to the floor.

He pulls you down to his lap just as your mouth finds his ear. Your lips ghost up the edge, teeth nipping the cool skin there; Steve settles your thighs on either side of his, still rutting against you even as he turns his head to give you better access. The tendons in his hands creak with restraint as he pulls you down harder, and you know he holds back for fear of hurting you, no matter how much he needs this release. 

But tonight, in reverently simple, soft words, you tell him to hold on as hard as he needs. You reassure him, tell him everything you both need to hear, a mantra repeated so much it’s sunk deep into your bones.

That you’ll wait for him no matter how long he’s away.

That your love is absolute and unmoved, how it will remain until the dust takes you both. 

That even if it’s only for tonight, he has to let everything else go and just be with you, feel you, lose himself in you.

“I’m here, Steve. Take what you need.”

And for the first time since you’ve known him, the captain obeys orders and digs in harder. You lift up long enough for him to finally open his pants and pull himself clear of material before sinking down on his length. 

And if the word forced from your lips is some unrecognizable hybrid between a prayer and a curse, both of you are too far gone to notice.

Later tonight, when the two of you have finally migrated back to the bed, Steve will apologize. He will soothe raw skin and blossoming bruises with tender kisses. Tomorrow will find him massaging your aching joints and icing the darkened prints of his grip left on your skin. 

But right now he clutches you harder and absolutely uses you. He doesn’t waste breath with instructions, just moves and places you exactly as he wants.

His arms line your back, his enormous hands clutching your shoulders from behind for leverage as he grinds into you. Your fingers lock into his hair, pulling his head back to bare his throat to your teeth, and the snarl that erupts from his chest at the sharp, unexpected contact sends a jagged spike of lust straight down to your belly.

Steve’s eyes darken, his eyebrows knitting together as he gazes down at where you’re joined. His breathing speeds up the longer he watches his hips rising to meet yours, and his face flushes as he loosens a hand, slipping his fingers between you.

With a jerk, you wrench his head back up, bringing his mouth to your own throat as he curses, his fingers clenching between you. His beard scratches your throat raw as his tongue travels over the tensed muscles and tendons of your neck.

Profanity, filthy promises spill onto your skin as Steve pushes you harder, demands more from you. He swears as he tells you you can take everything he gives you, that you have to, that he needs you to.

And you do, absolutely everything and more.

[soranihimawari]

sketchbook & coffees

this is a part of a time stamp draft i had in my drafts for a while. after several revisions, i opted to continue using asahi as an inspiration behind this piece. 

summary: yn is an artist. her club project for the annual ‘local artist fall soiree’ is sketches of the young and old in miyagi. when the model the club had lined up for the month cancels, she asks her classmate, azumane to “borrow” his hands for the project.

warnings: anxiety/anxiety attacks, how to cope when having one in public/public setting (let me know if my tw tag is operating please)

genre: fluff with healing/romantic comedy at the end (classmates to lovers?)

rating: pg-15+ (for the anxiety scenes)// A.A.F [azumane asahi fluff]

[20:45]

the pencil scratches against the rough page delicately tracing the outline of the shadows of your lover’s hand. somewhere in the distance, you hear the faint sounds of the city coming to life for the first time since the sun has set. the neon lights of the corner shops in front of the local bogedas in roppengi reflect the golden flecks on your eyes. you enjoy the company of the man sitting across from you, his silent stare causes you to empathize with him and as a show of gratitude you pause your drawing of his hands for a moment and smile. he asks if he can move his hands now, to which you nod. his cherrywood dyed hair is brushed to one side, only tied by a thin pink elastic you leant him earlier that day in class. you had slipped him a note in his locker right as classes were ending, knowing he had practice for the volleyball club later. you, whose handwriting he could never forget for peer review essays, asked if he would mind getting coffee with you one day when he was free. you mentioned you had an art project for your club due that month and the model they were going to try to invite for said project had backed out (due to personal reasons); although you weren’t sure why he seemed more flustered, you dismissed it as being nervous since most thought the art club drew semi-nudes, but that wasn’t the case. you explained your senior project was sketching different body parts (clothed or not was at the level of the model’s comfort) of both the old and the young. you had a sketch for every part you needed except for the hands. hence why you suggested the coffeeshop down the street from your mother’s job. with the date and time set, you are now sitting across the table with the ace of your school’s volleyball club.

he offered to pay for the coffees when you had arrived to the cafe, but you insisted on paying him back with tickets for the exhibition as well as a pack of hair ties for his time. what you chose to ignore was the way his friends (and teammates) would tease the tall lad about the way you made his heart soar whenever you were within a three foot radius. he always wanted to play his best for himself, yet he couldn’t help to recall all the times you tried to encourage him after he was completely shut out from date tech the season prior. you knelt down in front of his desk and rested your chin on his desk before spewing some words of advice: “a scientist never repeats the same experiment twice if the results are the same, azumane.” you knew of his anxieties about rejoining the club after the spunky first years showed up outside to corner him and ask if he still wanted to rejoin. you gave him an encouraging thumbs up when he saw you walking down the hall with a broad grin, how could he say no to them? 

as you were putting the finishing notes on the gesture drawing of his hands, you heard him inhale sharply. you glance up quickly, not sure if he was exhibiting any other signs of a panic attack, but you wrapped your hand around his palm for stability. even seated down as you were, you realize how erratic his hand had begun to shake from staying in one position for so long. he began to slowly hyperventilate as the espresso machine went off and the night crowd began trickling into the small shop. attacks, especially for him, were far and inbetween, and you recall the first time you helped him through one: 

you were in the science lab stock room and the door closed on you both. he began to get this panicked look in his eyes; it was not an easy expression to forget. unaware of how to handle the situation properly back then, you tell your classmate to close his eyes as you lifted one of his hands by his wrist and placed it near your neck pulse point. you were a lot more calmer then, thus instructing him to breath in and out with every thump his fingers felt. 

“how do you know this will work yn?” azumane said. his voice was rattled with fear and his eyes looked every which way but down at you. the closeness of it all was what got to him.

“i know it’s a lot to handle right now, but do your best and trust me,” you said. you were stern in your disposition and once he took you up on your advice, you both rode through his attack together. your lips grazed his wrist before asking him if he knew anyone who could help him through an attack. to be quite frank, after you two exited the room, you asked to speak with the teacher after class. when you explain your thoughts about how worried you were for him, the teacher suggested in the next staff meeting to have at least one member (including yourself) in all of azumane’s classes the following year considering what had transpired in her lab supply room. you were lucky the school staff cared about their students’ well being and had implemented a ‘buddy’ system for those who experienced similar issues. you don’t let asahi know about this set up and you both were elated to know you were in the same class again for senior year.

more often than he would like to admit, he thought about that day, because it was the day he changed your contact info in his phone to ‘my wisest yn-chan’. although, one practice early on in the season, noya noticed his friend’s phone going off right as practice was wrapping up and that was the day when the rest of the crows got their ace to admit how he truly felt about the “wise yn-chan”.

you gave his hand a firm squeeze as if to say, ‘i’m here for you. calm yourself, just for me, please.’ 

“asahi, it’s all right,” your voice is like finely spun sugar to him. “focus on my voice and breathe with me this time, ok?”

you don’t know the power you hold over his heart just yet, but you had an idea once he began to breathe in rhythm with you. his knuckles which had turned white when you held his free hand, began to relax more once you helped him through the worse of it.

“i-i’m sorry,” his voice was small. he was as gentle as they come, but he was still the frightened boy from your second year science class. truthfully, he didn’t want to have an attack when he was having such a lovely afternoon with you; all he really wanted to do was enjoy some time with you ever since you explained why you wanted to meet at the cafe. now that he was a bit embarrassed by his handling of his own attack because it had been so long between his last anxiety attack, yet he thanked whatever gods were nearby for having you there with him.

“don’t worry about it,” you said. then a coy smile carved its way across your features. you realized he was becoming more flustered, so you release his hand from yours. you ask several follow up questions to him after the last remaining bits of the attack subsided and as you talk through him, you noticed how much more calmer your voice makes him. if you thought he didn’t have a crush you prior to today, you were proven wrong the moment he used both of his hands to reach for yours before you packed away your things. he muttered a “p-please don’t go just yet,” but when you studied the beads of sweat forming on his forehead, his eyes telegraphed his plea of ‘i might have another one when you’re gone and i’m still not used to handling one by myself yet.’ 

the action alone startled you at first, granted you have known asahi since second year (through walking the same route with him home from school prior to the science lab incident), but this was the fifth time you helped him through an assortment of anxiety ridden attacks (and you didn’t mind it at all since he was the only one of the third years who didn’t share a class with either the captain or vice-captain that year). you tell him to close his eyes as his breathing returned to normal again and when a familiar tune came on the playlist for the cafe, you started to hum the opening bars. you weren’t a hero perse, but you were pretty damn close especially for the classmate sitting across from you. when you feel his grip relax, you don’t dare to let either of his hands return to his side of the table. 

roughly twenty minutes later, you and asahi roam the streets of roppengi heading back to the train platform headed for the miyagi stops. you still hold his hand, wondering how long would it take for him to realize you had felt the same about him since the start of the semester. asahi walks you to your father’s house a few blocks away from his when you return back to the safety of your hometown.

“azumane,” your voice is resilient in it’s unwavering support. the gentle giant had begun to turn around mentioning he’d see you the day of the art festival (you had planned on going together originally, but that changed as soon as you teased him for labeling himself as your date. you mentioned you liked the color of strawberry ice cream since his blush reminded you of it in the fluorescent light inside the train).

“hmm?” he asks, taking his hands out of his jacket pocket. you dropped your school bag on the porch before you pulled him into a hug.

“ack!” he exclaims right as he felt your arms wrap around him with your face turning to one side against his torso. he chuckled nervously before hugging you back; he bent down slightly and rested one of his cheeks atop your head. your shoulder length hair danced in the nightly breeze against the nape of your neck.

“i’ll always be here for you; i believe in you doing your best,” you say suddenly thus causing your soon-to-be-boyfriend(?)/crush to nod. “now come on, get yourself home and i’ll see you next friday at six.” 

you release him from your embrace, backing away slowly to create some space between you two, and with what found courage he had stored in him, azumane extends his hand to grip your shoulder lightly. it was a slight warning before you shut your eyes quickly blinking as you felt his breath tickle the side of your face. whatever he whispered to you made you more flustered than you already were. he left soon thereafter with the widest grin.

***

“woah woah woah,” noya said. the libero casually glanced up and down at his best friend who was dressed in business casual clothes after the team caught wind of their ace having a date on a friday night. azumane decided to wear navy slacks and a dress shirt with a belt and his hair was left down (noya’s idea). the ace knew his friends from the club would help him give some encouraging words of wisdom about fashion sense and style, but since he wanted to impress you a little, he wanted to stop by the gym where you had agreed to meet up prior to you arriving on campus.

“noya,” azumane began. he breathed a sigh of exasperation. “do you think this is too much?”

“you’re going to an exhibit by the art club, right?” sugawara inquires, walking around his friend before said friend gave him an approving nod. “you look fine.”

low whistles were heard from tanaka as well all the while the first years along with the single-second year bachelors just laughed and made a few kissing noises up until both sawamura and ennoshita told them to quit it.

on the other hand, none of the boys, with the exception of their managers noticed you in the doorway of their gym. you chose to wear a form-fitting azure cocktail dress with peep toe heels. your dress had pockets, so you had a pair of flats tucked away there. you opted to wear your hair in a messy side braid and all talking ceased as soon as your shoes made contact with the gym floor. 

“holy crap,” kazuhita whispered before he elbowed ennoshita who then turned red in the face. you walked a little taller that day and the quieter the team got, the more the nerves came back to asahi’s mind. the first years as a whole were frozen for a second suddenly blushing like mad.

“literal goddess!” tanaka said nearly crying as you winked at him and noya. to be fair, they almost passed out. sugawara and daichi suddenly froze up finding various details around the gym suddenly very interesting so they weren’t caught staring at you. honestly, what else would you expect from the crows of karasuno?

“stop making fun of me, guys. i just want tonight to go smoothly,” asahi’s voice said. there was a hush over the gym and judging by hiw quiet his usually talkative teammates were being, he got more nervous about the date he had with you.

 “wait, why is no one talking?” he asked, after re-fixing the feather shaped cuff link on his shirt. you were standing a few paces behind him, pondering if the ace knew just how effortlessly handsome he was.

“probably because they saw me walk by,” your voice had a lilt of laughter in it. what asahi imagined you would wear versus what you were wearing in real time, clearly outweighed his imagination tenfold. the dress hugged you in all the right places causing you to spin around, slowly, just for him. who knew you had that figure tucked away underneath the girls uniform was beyond the members of the team. as you complete your semi-spin, you walk up toward asahi with an amused expression meeting his flirtatious stare (the rest of his face telegraphed a slight case of nervousness, but he had his brain keep his eyes trained solely on your movements. probably didn’t help he was restraining himself from asking you to skip the soiree because he’s be far too invested in leaving you breathless).

“you clean up well,” you tease, poking his chest. you laugh at how his feigns surprise before leaning down and whispering his reply.

“so do you,” asahi’s voice is dangerously low. far lower than what you’re used to hearing in class.then again, it was mostly due to you showing up in that dress. she’s really pretty. is this really y/n-san? hold on, is that a new lipstick color? 

“ready to get out of here with me?” you ask, extending your hand out for him, which he gladly takes. 

he leads you out of the gym, but before you cross over the threshold of the gym, you say over your shoulder: “don’t worry guys! i promise i’ll have him home in time for morning practice!” 

“you better!” sugawara yelled before he noticed you laughing at how quickly asahi’s hand held yours a little tighter. 

before the evening’s event draws to a close, you ask one of the wait staff to take a photo of you and your ‘friend.’ you stand side by side and before the shutter closes, you give him a peck on the side of his face leaving an imprint of your strawberry pink painted lips. it was the best image you have of you two together from the local artist fall soiree mostly because of how wide the ace actually smiled.

--end--

[blarrghe]

“i don’t care if the world knows my name, i just want you to remember me.” For whoever!

Wellp since it’s zevwarden week I decided to tie this into that, and also the “death” prompt of the day. I posted this story about my zevmancing warden earlier, so this is a bit of a more in-depth moment from that.

Denerim was a dirty, cramped, and dusty city, walled in with stone and ceilinged by an almost omnipresent raft of grey clouds. The city seemed to bleed grey. It’s only whorehouse was a lifeless shack, and its proper taverns were filled too often with high class travelers, and not often enough with interesting locals. Zevran wished that their epic quest to save all of Thedas could have led them somewhere warm and beautiful, but he took some small comfort in knowing that the Archdemon would come to ruin this pile of mildewy cobblestones, and not the gem of Antiva. And even if it was but a dismal scrape of butter upon the dry brown toast that was Ferelden, it was, at least, a city on a coast.

The shores of the Amaranthine Ocean did not open onto Denerim in wide sandy beaches, but into grubby ports sectioned off with gates and guards. The water linked itself to no great canals, but to a tributary which ran through the city, crisscrossed by stony bridges and busy roads. But, if one followed that river just a short distance beyond the city’s walls, along the west road, and through just a few secret paths in the surrounding wood, one could find a place upon it where a wide clearing of grass opened up beneath tall trees, and the river gave way to several small streams, trickling in a cascade over hills of rock and old wood. 

There, on the eve of their great battle, the completion of their legendary adventure, Zevran snuck away with his love. 

They had been quartered in Denerim’s castle for weeks, since arriving in the city with the Arl of Redcliffe newly won to their side, and to sleep in a bed had indeed been a relief, but on this final night of the journey, it seemed more fitting to rest beneath the stars. Zevran laid out blankets and some simple lanterns, then emptied his pack of the vital necessities he had brought with them for this return to wilderness living; books of poetry, an empty journal, various decadent pastries which he had deftly acquired from the castle kitchens, and several bottles of Antivan wine - nothing from the royal wine cellars, but cheap bottles he had bought off smugglers at the ports. Neither he nor his love much cared for dignified vintages, and with Antivan wine, it was the cheap stuff which conjured images of the sea. 

The night was blissfully still. The clouds had parted for them, it seemed, in their hidden place just a few hours away from the world, and stars glittered in the sky overhead. They filled the night with passion, and then with rest and murmured words.

Zevran read his lover poetry, emphasizing the phrases from his books of romance which reminded him of her, and he wrote, too. His love drank wine from the bottle, sitting with her legs leisurely draped over his, as he jotted down quick words and made hasty sketches. 

“What are you doing?” She asked him as she placed the bottle gently down.

He passed her the journal, there were a few lines written, and the outlines of a sketch of herself that was rough still, but clear. “I told you I would show you a beautiful evening,” He explained as she admired his artistic skill, “and I want us never to forget a moment of it.” 

“Least of all me, naked.” She said with a smile, passing the journal back. 

“Least of all, my dear. It is a pity to think that when they design your statues, they will surely miss much of your beauty.” Zevran replied. 

She moved to lean into him, winding herself up between his legs and pushing her head back onto his chest. He closed the book and let it fall to the side as he wrapped his arms around her. 

“You are going to be very famous after all this, you know. A hero, one of the great tales.” Zevran teased softly, his lips at his lover’s ear. 

“I don’t care if the world knows my name,” She closed her eyes as she tilted her head up for him to kiss her lips, “I just want you to remember me.” 

Zevran sighed, pulling his arms tighter around her waist. “Do not speak so, beautiful Warden.” The risk of death was not new, it was a thing built into each of their lives from even the earliest memories, but this battle held a weight that was different. He did not want that looming shadow here, in this starlit grove. 

“Zevran, I love you.” His Warden said in return, tilting her head once more with the expectation of a kiss. It was something he could not refuse. “Write that down for me.” She said as their lips parted. 

She shifted, reaching for her pack which lay atop the pile of their clothes just to her feet. From it she pulled a small box, and rolled back toward him, bringing her face up to his own with one more kiss before she pressed it into his palm. 

“You gave me one.” She said as he opened it. 

Inside was a ring, a thin band of plain gold. He held it up, tilting it to reflect the glow of the dim lantern light, and his heart filled with wonder at it’s shine. 

“It doesn’t look like much, but it has a story, like yours.” He heard her explaining, and brought his eyes back to her to find her face unfathomably timid. “First thing I ever bought for myself, that.” He took her hand and pressed the ring back into it, returning it to her care. But as he pulled his hand away she caught it, and taking his hand in both of hers she slipped the band securely over one of his fingers.

She brought his hand to her lips and kissed it; a gesture that he had previously thought himself the master of. He felt a redness not caused by wine flooding to his cheeks. “Zevran, if I die,” the somber words interrupted the peace of their hideaway again, bringing dark shadows on their wings. 

“My love, you mustn’t talk so.” He insisted, hushing her with a kiss. “We will face the Archdemon together, and come back in one piece.” He pushed the words out confidently, but she pressed his hand to her lips again, gazing softly over his fingers to lock her golden eyes with his. 

“If I die,” she repeated, holding his eyes in her gaze, “I need you to understand what this has meant to me, what you have meant to me. I did not think I would ever feel so happy, so…” She trailed off, but quieted him when he tried again to interrupt the finality of her speech. “I love you.” She said it again, pulling his hand to her own heart, where the earring he had once given her was hung on a long chain. “Promise you will remember that.” 

His beautiful Warden, determined and fast-acting, the woman of few words. She was mighty, adventurous, tough, and had been brought up in straits as dire as his own. He had once thought she would be ruthless, brutal, in need of no one. And yet she had been trusting and caring to him, a fast friend, a passionate partner. Love had been a surprise for both of them, the feeling creeping upon them as the months wore on. His trusted, loyal, dependable, fearless Warden. Her words threw his heart into quicker beats, while the desperately pleading look on her face and the sureness in her grasp on his hand left him struggling to remember to breathe. There was no poem in his books that could describe how he loved her. 

“I promise.” He said with a quiet strength. “Until the end of my days.”

[fangirlingatstuff]

Killigon ficlet

I would draw this scene but Im not too good at sketching scenes on a whim, this is a week after Killian woke up after Kyrgyzstan (that ficlet will come later)

She grabbed the tweezers and held his face still, “Hold still, krasotka.”

She made the face that most women use when putting on eyeliner or mascara and Killian watched as she began placing layers of metal and tech into his otherwise numb eye socket. She was gentle, but still firm. She didn’t want any of his skin moving out of place as she arranged each little circuit.

They were both quiet, not saying a word as she worked on his face. He couldn’t feel anything, the burns deep in his face and the only sense was of Rogon’s rough touch against some more tender wounds. Her hand rested on one side of his face, holding him still even if he said he would comply. As her left hand placed circuits and plates of sheet metal into his eyeless socket, her right hand kept a firm hold on his scarred face. She stroked the wounds, even if she knew he couldnt feel her.

She promised she would fix that, and she never went back on her promises. Besides, neural nets were easy to come by, at least in her market.

Rogon connected wires and plates, her pointed tongue sticking out between her sharp teeth as she placed each little piece. He loved her thinking face. Her tongue never seemed to fit in her mouth, and would get stuck between her oh so sharp teeth often.

Killian knew what market she worked for, or at least pretended to work for. And even if all the other upgrade junkies had fancy tech and extreme modifications to their bodies, none were as seamless as Rogon’s. It was almost as if she was born as she was.

He would never ask, he found it rude, but he wondered if she was even human. Or if she never has been.

Their silence was caught in the ambience of light clinks and scrapes of thin metal. Her green eyes flickered like wild embers as she focused and pressed gently on one piece.

Rogon leant back and went for the case.

There, in the little black box, was what made Killian swallow.

It was a white orb, with a semi translucent glossy case around it. It was seamless, perfectly round and satisfying to look at. It reminded him of those Fushigi balls that was advertised on tv, but probably could have actually levitated, unlike that magicians trick.

His mouth went dry. Did it stay that white?

Rogon looked up at him as she polished the orb even more. “Don’t worry,” she knew what and why his skin prickled for, and lightly smirked, “it’ll look good.”

She spun around to face him again and licked her lips, which he noticed she had been biting.

“I save all the good shit for myself,” she said. “I know my biotech, unlike those upgrade junkies.” He knew he heard her say that before.

He looked to the floor and sighed. She stopped and looked away sadly. They still hadn’t talked about. About....

She shook her head, breathed in, and brought his gaze back to hers with a gentle hand.

“It’s a new model,” she said. “Fresh out of testing. It’s magnetic, so you don’t have to worry about time wasting connections.”

She carefully placed the shiny orb into his eye socket, a puff of air brushing against the parts of his brow he could still feel. “I told you,” he mumbled, “I don’t want a glass eye.”

“It’s not glass, dummy,” she scoffed, “it’s...I’m not sure about the specifics. It’s high tech.”

“Oh is it now?”

“Shut up,” she snorted and brought his face closer. Rogon wiped down the eye socket once more and slowly pushed the orb into place. It was snug, incredibly snug. 

Rogon reached for the case once more and brought out a card with small indents in it. She showed it to the orb.

In a flash, he had dual vision, but instead of being two parts of the same image, he was currently looking at a startup screen in his left eye. He jolted and she took out a screen from behind her.

She scooted next to him, thighs pressing against his, and showed him the screen. “Gotta calibrate it first,” she said. “You only have to do this once. If it ever gets knocked out of focus, it should just refocus itself. Just blink a few times.”

With a few simple clicks, and a very quick line of light in his good eye, he could see the other half of the room.

He blinked. He expected to hear the optic move, like in movies, but everything was quiet. It was smooth, and even though he did not feel skin move, the optic did mimic a blink. He sighed, this time, in relief.

Rogon’s jaw locked as she moved to his left side once again. He watched her press more sheets of metal onto his face and around his ear. His hearing cleared up, now less fuzzy and muffled. With a hiss of air, the ear completely covered the burnt remains of his own.

She sat back and took his hand in hers. “So, how’s it feel?”

“Like...like I never lost it.” He breathed.

She smiled and reached for the nearest mirror. “You should be able to access the administrator program through the ear piece,” she explained. “Then you can toggle on and off the scanners.”

He took it from her hand and raised it.

He cringed at his reflection. His skin warped and bubbled, still, but now the bare bone and tendons were covered by metal sheets, filling in some spaces. The new eye gave him some comfort, but that was where it settled for him. His eye looked...just as it had before. Instead of the plain glossy white surface, he could see his own iris, his pupil, just as they had been. An icy blue color, matching his true eye exactly.

His blood ran cold. And his eye did the same.

His anxiety had caused his optic color to change from blue to stark white.

“Shit, I forgot to mention that,” Rogon facepalmed. “The optic may react to stress.” She looked away and crossed her arms, hair flaring in nervousness.

He brushed his face. Echoes of explosions and flashes of light and screams replayed behind his eyelid. He squeezed his eye shut. He couldn’t see out of his other eye, even if he had no way to close it.

Rogon wrapped her arms around him and squeezed.

“Kills...I-”

He stopped her.

They sat in silence, and he could feel her talons stretch and scratch his back.

She wouldn’t tell him how she felt. He was more important than her. Even if her own hidden arm was burning and searing in heat, she would not bring it up. Even if, in her mind, she was replaying not one, but two scenes, she would not bring it up.

He was more important than her.

—

Welp...since he’s one of 4 characters I heavily ship Rogon with, I wrote out the little outline I had for this scene

I might write out more, this is fun!

@xxstar-bluesxx

[hetacon]

Eternally Connected

Word Count: 1,360

Pairings: Platonic/Parental Moxiety, Background Platonic Analogical, Background Prinxiety

Warning: Grief, crying, a bed frame is punched (It makes sense in context), itty bitty food mention, allusion to a major character death that is not described in any way

______________________________

Summary: How can you possibly recover from losing someone so important?

______________________________

Note: This is entirely angst. I’m in a mood. I don’t ever write angst. This is so unlike what I normally write. I’m not feeling great. So take my suffering in the form of writing

______________________________

“You weren’t supposed to leave..”

Virgil gripped the sheets. Virgil’s head was buried in his boyfriend’s lap.

Virgil barely reacted to soft strokes of his hair.

Virgil tried not to react.

Virgil couldn’t not think of it now. He would always stroke Virgil’s bangs out of his eyes like this.

“You weren’t supposed to leave me here..”

Virgil took in a sharp breath. His entire frame shook as he was once again gripping to the sheets. Heavy tears poured down his face. Virgil glared angrily at the wall before punching the bed frame, burying his face as he shrieked and sobbed.

“I can’t do this alone..”

Virgil stared blankly at the wall from his seat at the kitchen. His hands grasped at his mug. A single tear slid down his face, dripping into the now cold coffee.

“I can’t do this without you..”

Virgil’s roommate and boyfriend each held his hand as he sat in silence, watching a bird flit past the window.

Virgil quickly stood from the couch.

Virgil walked up the stairs.

“I’m scared..”

Finally, Virgil was able to go into the room. Once inside, he just sat at the doorway.

Progress.

“I want you here.”

His belongings were packed neatly away. Virgil sorted through each one carefully.

Virgil kept his most loved sweater. As Virgil hugged it tight to his chest, he broke down. Virgil insisted to be alone with the feeling this time.

“I wish I could say I’m doing better but I don’t know if I can. I wish I could have you here right now.”

Virgil sat on the couch, glancing to the empty spot next to him. Virgil’s eyes moved back to his boyfriend and roommate again. Virgil muttered out about how much it hurt.

All that was received was a nod in response. That was all Virgil could handle, his hand shifting to the empty spot.

“I’m trying to take steps forward. Moving forward, you’d always say. Not moving on. Moving on means leaving you. You’re someone that can never be left behind.”

Virgil found himself humming a sad little song as he drew over a large sketchbook.

Lines scrawled over the page, scattered, incoherent. And yet Virgil knew that he and another being would understand in that moment.

Virgil hadn’t sung in a while.

“I can’t quite bring myself to say why this hurts so much yet. All I can tell you is just how much it hurts. I’m trying to be kind to myself, just how you always insisted everyone did to me.”

Virgil was looking through the boxes, pulling out the last item he wished to keep. Virgil hugged himself, feeling the familiar material of the cherished and remembered sweater again. It didn’t itch at his skin this time.

“One of the things I could never understand was your faith in me. It seemed so easy to deny any of the truth in your trust. I didn’t think it important. Significant. It was easier to joke about how much of it was untrue. But now I wished I had fully believed it, just as you did in me. Maybe then I would’ve made better memories with you.”

While it had taken some convincing, Virgil’s boyfriend, Roman, had finally taken Virgil out to the little cafe that had just opened up.

They enjoyed themselves. It was a pleasant experience and Virgil couldn’t really tell why he felt better as he smiled at his pastries.

“You helped me through a lot. I don’t ever remember feeling so safe and valued as a person until you came into my life. You were the first person to show me true meaning to myself and the things I do. You always were gentle and kind, you listened even when I insisted you shouldn’t have to.”

A few watercolor sketches hung up to dry as Virgil looked over them in satisfaction. Pops of color drew focus to each of them.

“You gave me a family when I was at the breaking point. You pulled me from that, not out of any obligation or force, but out of pure love. You helped me simply because you loved and cherished me as you do with everything that touches your life. You find meaning in everything, something that I’ve started to see myself.”

Virgil’s roommate, Logan, helped go through the plan for the day. Virgil nodded along intently, adding in a note or two.

Virgil felt ready for the day of productivities, and very much was, just as he hoped.

“But somehow, you found the most meaning in me, in my existence, in the way that I’ve influenced you. I was always a unique thing to your life. I’m rough around the edges and I try to hide but you always held on to me with all of the affections you could possibly hold for a person. Purely familial in affections, everything I’d ever wanted.”

Everything still reminded Virgil of him.

Every brush of Virgil’s bangs from Roman.

Every time Logan engaged in the usual banter, showing the passion that he used to show.

Every birdsong, every ray of sunshine, every clap of thunder.

“If I ever had to chose between the pain and being freed from it, I’d never for a second consider peace. If I were to, I would be wishing to never know you. Without you, I wouldn’t have grown as I have now. I wouldn’t hold faith in my own decisions and capabilities. I wouldn’t know what love feels like. These were both things that you taught me, not by forcing me to believe in them as many others try to do, but by believing in them yourself. You remained constant in your opinions of me and everything I have to offer. It provided a constant view of myself in the world, of everything I was, am, and will become. That’s the influence you’ve had on me in the time we’ve known each other.”

Reminders, though, didn’t shatter Virgil to pieces. Virgil was alright and loved to be reminded of him and his presence.

“Sometimes I wonder if I miss you too much. I’ve taken longer than people usually should to recover from this. I’ve taken longer than others have to be alright with where I am now. I remember how silly that is though because I know that if there’s anything you ever wanted from me, it would just be my love. The more of it available to you, the better, and that’s always going to be true, I’d imagine. You deserve every single bit of love that I will ever hold for you, and even then, it still wouldn’t be enough to demonstrate just how wonderful you are.”

Scrawled messages and pops of color and everything in-between covered an expansive surface, mapping out the history of Virgil’s love and purpose. A love and purpose because of him.

“So if you’re still here with me, Patton, I love you. You became like a dad to me. You were my dad when it felt like I’d never find a family. It hurts to have you gone but that’s ok because I know that that means you were someone truly special. All of your affections were special and significant. And I’d never trade them for the world because I know you’d never trade any of mine. I love you just as much as you love me. And I will always keep you with me, because you’re what’s helping me move forward. Every single day is special because you existed in this world to care for me,” Virgil smiled, lying down.

Patton looked down at him and reached a hand out, his form glowing in a soft blue light. Virgil intertwined his and Patton’s fingers as if in a trance, only barely making out a faint outline of the glowing form. Tears slipped down Virgil’s cheeks, soaking into Patton’s beloved sweater.

“I love you, kiddo, I’ll go anywhere you need me to,” a soft whisper spoke as Patton’s eyes looked into Virgil’s, the two completely connected for eternity.

______________________________

Taglist: @stop-it-anxiety, @ashensanity, @virgils-paranoia, @ambersky0319, @marshmallow-the-panda

[malisonquill]

Rebuild: Behind The Scenes

I thought just for some fun, I might post the plan I made for writing Rebuild. It has some silly alternate titles, some doodles I sketched out, and I thought some people might like to see how much the end product was different from the plan. 

I do also have a section of the plan just for ideas, but I haven’t included it here because it contains spoilers for the sequel(s). 

Hope you enjoy my ramblings below! (Obviously it contains major spoilers for all of Rebuild, so make sure you’re read all that before reading this!)

Rex Brickowski AU Outline

C1: Rexile (AKA Anikin Voice: "I hate Sand". AKA What to do when you're suddenly not dead)

Rex ends up back in his own original timeline in the outskirts of Syspocalypstar. He’s alone, no Rexcelsior, no velociraptors. That makes him sad. 

He looks to the city and thinks about everything.

Cat lady comes, he gets bricks and builds and awesome bike  and drives to the city. 

C2: Shattered (AKA Rex really likes bikes for some reason and also fucks shit up)

There, Lucy and the others are chillin in a park while Rex tears through the city exploring, turning heads. 

He goes up a ramp that sends him up over a building above the park. Whilst in the air he grabs his bike and does a flip. The others watch him. He lands on the road next to the park and spots Lucy, his eyes go wide. He does a skidding turn to pull up beside them. 

They say how awesome that was. They don’t recognise him and he plays along with that. He needs to get used to them and himself before he drops a bombshell on them. 

They show him around the city. He gets a black coffee from the shop. Freezes when he sees a laundromat (PTSD), he hallucinates the deafening roar of the Dryar of Undar until Unikitty distracts him and pulls him away and they continue the tour. 

At one point Everything is awesome plays, he acts aloof but taps his foot quietly and lucy notices. 

Eventually they get to the town square. There is a statue of Emmet. Rex is immediately taken aback and asks what it is (to gauge his friends reactions and also because he's genuinely surprised to see he's been acknowledged). 

Lucy says it honours the special, Emmet. That he was there friend. That they looked for him for a while, but eventually had to admit that he was gone, so they stopped looking. 

BIG ANGST TIME.

Rex snaps. He’s still bitter. He starts off vauge like “You gave up? Would he have given up on you?” but gets increasingly louder and madder. Revealing that he was trapped in Undar, how he feels abandoned and slowly revealing to the others that he’s Emmet. Lucy is like “Emmet…?” And he’s like “Emmet is gone! He’s dead!” 

He breaks the statue in one punch in anger. His friends are horrified. He looks between them and the statue, shocked and saddened by himself. “What have done?” (Internally). He drives off, leaving the others sad and confused. 

C3: Traces Of You (AKA Talking to your ex who you feel betrayed you, even though she thought you were dead… that's rough buddy)

Alternate titles, How can you stand there, a whisper from me? Gone But Not Forgotten

After a short while, giving everyone some time to breathe/ think, Lucy finds Rex in the outskirts. They talk. He explains how he toughened up, how he did some terrible things, how he wants to be better but doesn’t know how. How he’s ruined any chance he had with his friends because of the statue incident. Tears form in his eyes. Lucy goes to comfort him with a hand on his shoulder and says “Emmet...” Queue the “I’m not Emmet anymore and I dont know how to be” line.

Lucy convinces him to not be just one, be a combination. That his friends can help him through this and him to be happier again. He says he’s still can’t fully/ needs time to trust them again, but he’s willing to try. Oh and to call him Rex, cause he wants to be different from movie Emmet. 

C4: Building Blocks (AKA DON'T TOUCH ME WHEN I'M WRITING ABOUT SPACESHIPING!!!!)

Lucy and the others ask Rex to build something with them. He decides on a spaceship, they let him lead. Friend interactions. 

C5: Time Heals All Wounds (AKA So it turns out you based your entire new personality on your friends and also you finally acknowledge your PTSD)

Over a longer time period (make this clear), montage of helping with each individual. Them understanding Rex and who he is more, maybe after he tries to act exactly like Emmet would but it’s unnatural for him? Finding out about raptor training. Helping him cope with his PTSD (Dryar, paralyzation, loneliness) and abandonment issues.

(after writing half the chapter, i realised) His hand injury and recovery mirror emotional healing! )

https://askmarietheapprentice.tumblr.com/post/183050688583/meta-monday-rex-dangervest-based-his-persona-on 

Order: 

Fist, alone with Benny, flying spaceship they all built. (Who Rex developed his spaceship love from.) Emotional thing dealt with: ?

Unikitty. He learnt to harness/ weaponize rage from. Unikitty encouraging him to release some anger and destroy some rubble. Helps him get his anger feels out.

Metalbeard. About being a captain of pirates/ raptors. Talk about how he misses them.

Batman. Learnt how to be tough fighter and suppress deep emotional issues. See below for events. Then they talk about talking through things with others, stuff B learnt in Lego batman movie.

Maybe he’s left alone for ten mins whilst a friend goes to grab a brick or something and is terrified they wont come back. He’s relieved but visibly shaken when they do return. 

Maybe a change over between friends. One has to go and leaves Rex to meet the batman outside of a shop. As he waits his mind wanders thinking Batman has forgotten about him, doesn't want to meet with him, or even like him etc. As this happens he hallucinates hearing the dryer roar. He stands frozen in place, covering his ears as his vision gets darker. Maybe this causes him to glitch to the real world and back every few seconds. The roar gets louder and louder and louder. Batman comes, sees Rex, is concerned and tries to get his attention by touching his shoulder. Rex freaks out, snapping out of his hallucination shouting/ screaming and madly thrashing punches. He smashes a bin or lamppost or car to pieces before Batman can calm him and he realises he's fine. Rex apologies.

Lucy. Made a super cool alias like Wyldstyle, and hides his insecurities under confident exterior like her. Maybe they talk on their way to her surprise. She asks why he changed his name and himself? He explains his thoughts on Undar, how at the time he thought his friends were right and so he toughened up. Made a cool name like she did. He realises a lot of his Rex traits are semi based on his friends. Maybe talk about how it's good to be confident but also not bad to be vulnerable/ talk about problems with others. He realises he's already been doing this with others? Or just have mostly fun not angst for them here!? Meh, idk yet.

Ends with Lucy giving him that cute little house he made for her, that he’d almost forgotten about. Says it’s just a basis and he can change it if he wants. Talk. Suggests they could be platonic (for now) roommates. She leaves him for the night, he’s now ok (ish) with being left alone. 

C6: True Colours (AKA Title made it sound like Rex would turn out evil but surprise! He actually just wanted to look pretty. AKA Rex stares in a mirror for an awkwardly long time)

When Lucy returns, Rex looks different. He briefly went to the Man Upstairs realm and used markers etc, to change his appearance. He wanted some brighter colours to look happier, and more like a combo of Emmet and Rex. He explains this, and decides he wants to be called Rex Brickowski to symbolise this combo of all his aspects. 

Basically this first bit is the man I used to be from count of Monte cristo musical.

(Rex and Lucy designs and also size comparison.)

Maybe some Rex and friends hanging out, it’s better than before. Group karaoke? Tries to warm up to Sweet Mayhem?

C7: Epilogue (AKA The end happens. Everything is awesome is still a bop)

Rex and CO are hopeful for the future. Rex knows who he is now and thinks he can be happy again and trust his friends. He’s a mix of mature and innocent/ sweet. He can now enjoy ‘childish’ things and tough things. He’s happy and thinks everything might be ok now. 

Maybe he goes to the coffee shop, orders Lucy something and a black coffee with 25 sugars for himself and returns home, listening to rock music on his headphones.

(End on poignant thing.)

Side Notes/ Reminders For Myself

“According to a draft from the first film's script, Emmet is 22 years of age in that film, thus making him 27 in the sequel if accepted.” My AU Rex spent 2 years on Undar, plus 5 getting tough before the movie happens. Making him 34 at the start of the AU.

Rex was in his past changing things. But when Emmet was saved, it was no longer his past/ his timeline. So he faded and was sent back to his original timeline. All the stuff he did in the movie timeline still happened, we see three raptors are still there with Ms Scratchen-Post at the end. So the raptors stay where they are in the movie timeline, because they aren’t like Rex who is being written out of the movie timeline’s future. Which is why Rex is alone at the start of this AU. 

Very important! Rex's trust of his friends. My take: friends are the most important thing to Emmet. With friends, he was happy even during the apocalypse. Without them, he becomes jaded, tough. Lucy is who he was closest to/ loved. None of his friends, but especially her not coming for him and moving on hurt him the most. As Rex, he was most mad at her (see him scowling at her during the movie). But then they all try to come back for movie Emmet. Lucy makes it through and saves him. She saved him. This changes post back to the futuring Rex's view. The fact the movie Lucy saved him plus the fact he loved her and cared for her the most before, means AU Rex is inclined to trust her most. 

Titles for 3 stories: Rebuild. Rekindle. Re-----. (I'm an idiot for planning 3 of these!!!!!)

Rebuild: Rex's relationships and himself up again. 

Rekindle: his and Lucy's love for each other. 

Re-----: ((REDACTED BECAUSE IT’S A SPOILER! You’re gonna have to wait to find out what it is!))

INFO

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aw-r_G7rfnU - Chris Pratt Singing

Dino facts:

https://www.psd1.org/cms/lib/WA01001055/Centricity/Domain/36/SS_How_Fast_Did_Trex_Grow.pdf

http://cycles.westinmathies.com/Info_Pages.asp?ptype=Velociraptor_Cycl

SPELLING = Armamageddon (according to the subs)

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

And that’s it! This is the rambling mess that brought you Rebuild. Hope it was interesting to see.

As another note of my writing process, I did a lot of jumping around. If I had an idea for some lines of dialogue pop into my head, I wrote it down before I forgot and then slightly altered it and filled in the gaps later. In fact that whole bit between Lucy and Rex in chapter 3 was almost all dialogue (with a few notes like “He turned. She smiles” Etc in between) and then later after writing some of chapter 4, I went back and filled in all the gaps. 

I would really recommend writing down whatever pops into your head like this if you want to write things. You might think “Oh, i’ll remember to put this in when I get to writing here!”, that is a lie. You won’t. Or it’ll be different to that brilliant thing you came up with whilst day dreaming out a window. It’s definitely better to jot it down and have it, then decide to edit it later if you don’t like it, than lose it entirely. Just make sure when reading over your chapter/ story that everything flows together nicely. :)

This method also meant I wrote chapters 5, 6 and 7 simultaneously. I had about half of chapter 6 and 7 done whilst I was still making my way through 5. (Probably because 5 was so big!) But then when I was done with 5, I finished off 6, then 7. It also really helped when I came up with the idea to put the first line of the story as the last line too. It gave me a direction to go in for the last chapter (after Rex get’s back from the coffee shop) and also was a nice way to end it off. 

Anyway! Hopefully I see you all again for Rekindle! Which by the way, if there is anything involving the characters from this story that you might want to see, please let me know! I might just fit it in somewhere! :D

[drink-n-watch]

  Genre : Action, comedy, supernatural, urban fantasy, science fiction.

Episodes: 12

Studio: Bones

  Being a teenager is hard. Your body does all sorts of crazy things, your hormones go wild. And you’re supposed to figure out who you are through all that? How is that a reasonable plan? And what if there’s a chance that “who you are” is someone very dangerous to everyone around you? But certainly, that couldn’t apply to Mob! If anything, the boy is too soft in every sense of the word. He couldn’t hurt a fly. Even if he somehow manages to summon up the emotional rigour, there’s no way he could catch the fly and still have the strength to do anything else. No, a boy like Mob is not someone to worry about. Not when you have evil spirits, shadowy psychic organizations and smooth-talking con artists to deal with already. What could some quiet, unassuming boy possibly do?

Well, it certainly took me long enough to get to this one. The second season is already out and done before I got my lazy behind to watch the first. There’s no real reason for that. I always knew that I wanted to watch Mob Psycho 100, I just didn’t know why.

get ready to have your mind blown!

I don’t think I’ll shock anyone by saying that Mob Psycho has a very distinctive look. I’m not sure how to describe it. “Sketchy” as in it looks like sketches. The outlines are a little rough. The character models go through wild transformation on a regular basis. The colours are purposefully flat. It’s not at all in line with a lot of the more popular trends in current anime aesthetics.

I loved it. I thought about at least 4 people I could recommend Mob Psycho 100 to on the art alone. But I also know of at least 2 people who refuse to watch the series for the same reason. I guess you have to choose for yourself.

One of the definitive upsides to having more “naive” art and fluid character models is that animation becomes less restricted. There are some crazy physics going on in this show and it’s really fun to watch. One thing I noticed is that while everyone else zooms around the screen, Mob is largely immobile during combat. For a second I thought this might be an animation shortcut but I quickly realized that this goes hand in hand with the running joke (pun intended) of Mob having no physical stamina. Nice little animation character building!

he might need a bit more than encouragement

As the show is unexpectedly character-driven, I was happy to hear such an accomplished cast. I can’t really single any performance out. For me, I would say the strength lies in the undeniable chemistry between characters. The relationships are very important in the narrative and the actors’ performances go a long way toward selling them.

I had heard a lot of vaguely good things about Mob Psycho 100. Mostly personal to the writers. It’s simply a show a lot of people like. However, as I was planning on watching it, I never looked too deeply into why people were enjoying it so much as I didn’t want to spoil myself. That’s probably why I never heard just how smart this show is.

The writing in Mob Psycho is clever and witty. Not just the dialogue mind you. The setups, the visual metaphors and yes, the dialogue, all of them are just..smart. clearly smarter than me. For example, there’s a running gag about Mob accidentally bending the spoon he’s eating with during dinner. His mom exasperated tells him to try and be careful while his dad jovially chimes in that “he’s a teenager, let him bend a few spoons”. I love this joke. It my type of absurdist humour but even if you don’t, I can still use it to illustrate my point. First, it works on many levels. The Yong ones may not register it as a joke at all, older viewers might register the light nonsense, while the others could pick up on the innuendo. It’s like Pixar at it’s best, offering the possibility of being understood and appreciated from multiple angles and therefore by varied audiences.

spoons are a recurring visual metaphor for Ritsu’s insecurities and inability to relate to his brother, often shown in how refections get distorted in the curved surface… 

But it goes beyond just that. These dinner scenes are some of the extremely rare occasions we see Mob’s parents at all, yet we instinctively get so much from them. We know they eat as a family regularly enough for this to be a repeated event, probably just about every day. We know both his parents are comfortable enough with Mob’s powers to either scold him about them or poke fun as if it was no more special than talking with his mouth full. We know his mom is a bit fussy but cares about him and his dad is easy going. We can tell that Mob has a caring and close family which partly explains his crippling fear of accidentally hurting loved ones. We know all this, from one very short , very natural, running gag. Impressive!

Mob Psycho has some masterful exposition free character building. By the middle of the very first episode. Having only seen Reigen and Mob, I already had a pretty good idea who they were and how they related to each other even though I knew almost nothing about them. To me, that was smart writing. And to a lover of character driven shows, it was irresistible!

You may be wondering about my lofty title. You see, while watching the show a few things started to bubble in my brain. There were these themes of growing pains, of having a hero with the mindset of an ordinary guy in extraordinary circumstances, of self imposed isolation through guilt and fear as well as difficult family bonds and disappointing mentor figures. Basically, it really reminded me of Evangelion. I said so on twitter.

Surprisingly only one person was horrified by this statement. But I stand by it. I prefer the subtler approach of Mob Psycho 100 and I will happily point at this show when people tell me quality anime is no longer being made.

Of course comparing Mob Psycho 100 to Neon (grrrr) Genesis Evangelion is rather pointless. Save from the themes and character archetypes, they are drastically different in tone, genre and even message. It’s apples and oranges. In fact when I mentioned Pixar earlier, it wasn’t random. There’s a lot about Mob Psycho that makes you think it’s a kid’s show. A smart one that can easily be enjoyed by adults but still remains accessible to younger audiences. Consequences never get too bloody, villains are fairly uncomplicated evil so far. You always know exactly who to cheer for. Despite all its wit, it stays straightforward in its morality.

But who cares. There are many brilliant works that are written in a way that can be enjoyed by audiences of all ages. That’s part of the brilliance really! And this is one of them.

dimple was a great sarcastic audience surrogate

Favourite character: Reigen

What this anime taught me: When you shave hair it grows back twice as long

One should always be drunk. That’s all that matters…But with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you chose. But get drunk.

Suggested drink: Clairvoyant

Every time Mob performs an exorcism – take a sip

Every time Reigen uses a “special move” – raise your glass

Every time Mob attempts to run – take a sip

Every time we see the super awesome Body Improvement club – cheer!

Every time Mob’s % changes – take a sip

Every time the art style changes – take another sip

Every time Ritsu protects Mob – take a sip

Every time Dimple possesses someone – take a sip

Every time Reigen gives good advice – listen..in stunned silence

Every time we see the Kageyama house – take a sip

Every time we see a spoon – get a snack!

I love Bones’ visuals. They really speak to me. So once again I uploaded a whole bunch of screencaps to Pinterest and Imgur.

    Mob Psycho 100 s1 – The New Guard Genre : Action, comedy, supernatural, urban fantasy, science fiction. Episodes: 12 Studio: Bones Being a teenager is hard.

[spiffyworks]

Artist’s Software Surfing P1 - Sketching

SSSo recently, after finishing (an admittedly long-overdue) a piece, I decided to download a trial of the new Corel Painter 2019. I hadn’t used Painter since my old DeviantArt days (circa 2005) and wanted to see how it felt with more digital art-veteran hands. Loaded it up, started sketching my default doodle-muse and wow, that “Real 2B” pencil feels great. I loved it so much, and wondered why. 

That’s the story that is spawning this weird personal series of Software Surfing. I wanted to write little notes to future-me on how it felt using my favorite sketching tools in each program I have, and after the sixth one I thought it might be a good idea to check out inking, colouring, painting, etc. and writing those down as well.

So I’m writing this series for myself, but making it available in case anyone else can benefit as well. Thanks for sticking with the intro, let’s get into it.

Artist’s Software Surfing P1 - Sketching Artist’s Software Surfing P2 - Inking Artist’s Software Surfing P3 - Colouring Artist’s Software Surfing P4 - Painting

There are many ways to sketch, but this is specifically the classic “pencil” or “drawing” form using the tools with the program’s default settings.

As an introduction, this is my doodle-muse, Cloey. She was my first original character, and though I don’t usually share my anthro art on here (I know that’s not everyone’s thing) I do have a separate blog for that stuff that you can find here if you’re so inclined. If you’re familiar with Artgerm (and you should be), she’s basically my Pepper.

Corel Painter’s “Real 2B”:

The one that started it all. The pencil just GLIDES, and I’ve always loved when you can tilt a pencil tool and it will shade just like tilting a real-life pencil. The only thing I want from a program now is to be able to bind touch to blenders so I can use my finger to smudge-blend the scribbling. (I tried drawing that fist so many times /fume)

Likes: Tilt functionality, line width variance, stroke speed, eraser Dislikes: Rebinding Rotate Canvas tool was a pain. I like Shift+Space, and that key combo is reflected in the shortcut panel, but it just continued to pan. Never worked for me, and rotating or flipping the page quickly is crucial for my sketching process. Also sometimes if I quickly resize the eraser and mash it down to use, it won’t detect any input.

Photoshop, Kyle Webster’s “2B” & “Animator Pencil”: 

**Disclaimer** Firstly, I’ve used Photoshop for over 15 years now, and it’s a great digital art tool, but for drawing and painting I find it’s sorely lacking. It’s slow, expensive, and unintuitive. That being said, there are some things this program does exclusive to others so I’m still clinging to it (desperately) and while I would definitely recommend something else for budding digital artists, I have to supplement my misgivings by purchasing additional plugins and tools, such as the famed Kyle T Webster’s Ultimate Megapack for Photoshop (

which is now complementary with Photoshop CC, damnit

). Unless otherwise noted, all the brushes I use in Photoshop will be from that pack. **End Disclaimer**

Following off the heels of Corel, I remembered messing around with another “2B” (which btw is my personal favorite traditional pencil to sketch with) in Kyle Webster’s Drawing Box in Photoshop. It felt a bit similar, but with no tilt functionality and it really lacked the chunky-thickness (a scientific term) I enjoyed with Painter’s pencil. I switched to my favorite (and the favorite of MANY digital artists btw) his “Animator’s Pencil”. So chunky, but the ability to shade lightly... It’s really a fun brush to use for sketching digitally. Still one of my absolute favorites.

Animator Pencil Likes: Line width variance, texture fills in and scales perfectly Dislikes: It’s a photoshop exclusive, a program that for some reason you can’t bind shortcuts to whatever you please, takes forever to load, and WAY too often suffers input lag while drawing. Also no tilt shading, :’( aw

Paintstorm’s “Textured Pencil” & “Pencil Tilt”

As a bit of an aside, I love Paintstorm, Paintstorm is what got me back into digital drawing and painting after doing 3D and game design for 7 years. I bought it for the very low price of entry (2 licenses for $30) and was impressed by its ability to customize literally anything in the program. You can create your own tool/brush boxes, bind any shortcut to any key combination, and every single brush tool adjustment comes with the most customization control of any program I’ve come across since Photoshop set the bar way back in the day. Out of the box a lot of the basic brushes have that old OpenCanvas or PaintTool Sai feel, but more recently they’ve added some very textured default brushes you can play around with. It’s also hands-down the FASTEST program I’ve ever worked in. I highly recommend giving it a try, it’s great for learning and experimentation. I grew a lot working in Paintstorm.

The Textured Pencil is a fun sketching brush, you can get as think or thick as you’d want and it keeps a clean outline. The Pencil Tilt really blew my mind the first time I used it. YOU CAN SHADE! It was the first time I had ever seen a program do that. The tilt has a great texture, fantastic control, and gets just as dark as you’d need. I’d recommend using them both, the Textured Pencil for a cleaner sketch, and the Pencil Tilt for something more expressive or loose.

Krita’s Ink-Tilt & “Sketch”:

I’ll be honest, I have almost no experience in Krita despite having downloaded and given it a try back in 2014. It was a hell of a time to figure out how to rebind my usual shortcuts (flip horz, rotate canvas). I couldn’t even rebind colour grab/eyedropper. Yikes. I opened up the “Sketching” brush box and there were only two options, made worse as one was a sketch pen... That lacked the flexibility of ballpoint. 

First I grabbed the pencil dubbed “Sketch” and was bewildered why the size of the circle was so large compared to the mark it made. Very confusing. Feeling intimidated, I abandoned it immediately to try out the “ink_tilt” (which by the way there’s no tilt functionality??) and hated it. I reluctantly went back to the pencil and just started trying to make marks. Wow. It’s weird, but surprisingly fun. You have to be willing to relinquish a LOT of control, but the shapes the brush makes while moving and tilting during a stroke can yield some really interesting and suggestive shapes. I would say great for early concepting or making something really loose and expressive. Fun to play with, but not really practical.

Clip Studio Paint’s Real Pencil & Rough Pencil

I’ve been wholly immersed in CSP since I purchased the program back in late 2016. It goes on sale often, so you can pick up a nice fully featured program for ~$35. I’d had my eye on it for a while and still really want to get into self-publishing comics, so I picked it up, bought a couple of brush packs for it (it’s pretty lacking in default painting tools) and I’ve been illustrating in it ever since. The brush creation isn’t as fun as Paintstorm, but brushes are quite customizable. I usually like to use the “Rough Pencil” if I want just a little texture and line variance, or the “Darker Pencil” for something cleaner. Trying to be different, I just jotted out a couple heads in ones I don’t normally use, the Real Pencil and Design Pencil. The Real Pencil has a lot of texture, but for some reason in CSP the textures don’t seem to scale with the brush, so I tend to avoid using it in most cases. I hate the design pencil, I just could never get dark enough. I guess that’s probably the point, though.

Well, that definitely wraps this digest up. I feel refreshed after trying out a lot of new digital sketching brushes. I was really reminded of how much I enjoyed drawing in Paintstorm. I hope someone other than me found this useful or otherwise inspiring! Sometimes, especially if you’re stuck in some art blockage, it’s a good idea to try something new, and for me digitally that’s hopping programs and trying new brushes.

I’m thinking about doing inks, colours, and painting at some point. Let me know if anyone’s interested in those! I’m planning on doing some for myself eventually, but I might expedite a post if anyone is interested. o/ Take it easy,  y’all.

Artist’s Software Surfing P1 - Sketching Artist’s Software Surfing P2 - Inking Artist’s Software Surfing P3 - Colouring Artist’s Software Surfing P4 - Painting

[withinthescripts]

Season 3, Reel 3: November 26, 1953

[tape recorder turns on]

Amy, do you know anything about declawing cats? I know that a lot of people do it, but I don’t know if it’s, well, humane. Do you know if there have been studies of this kind of thing? Can you do some research and find out how this affects cats. I don’t know how people would even begin to understand whether and when cats are happy, apart from the purring and lap-cuddling, but can you see if they have… Can you see if they know whether declawing makes them unhappy? Obviously Vivi and I don’t wanna make a living creature that is in our care unhappy but, well, there’s been some damage to tapestry. To an antique tapestry that was rescued from Belgium during the Reckoning, when most works of art were lost. So… I don’t know that there is a good way to decide which is more important: a rare preserve of the world we lost or the happiness of a living creature that is in your care. Still, some studies would help. If you could look into studies on the well-being of declawed cats, Amy, that would be helpful.

[cut]

Goddammit, Amy, where have you put today’s papers? Papers first thing, god, and turn that fucking music off! [music stops]

[cut]

Letter from the office of Michael Witten on the 26th of November 1953 to Sarah Chisholm, Public Works Department, Philadelphia office.

Dear Sarah. I wanted to get in touch again about my plans regarding the currently abandoned government buildings in Washington. I have been consulting with contractors both local to me and to the buildings - as local as you can get, obviously, as regards the buildings – and pulled together some details and some quotes about what we can accomplish. It looks likely that some parts of the plan, and I’m sure you will be able to predict which, may have to be delayed for a while, but I think we can get going on the foundational things within the next few weeks. As we discussed when I first outlined it to you, I have not spoken to many people about this plan, nor have I obtained clearance from the s`Societal Council. The buildings we’re looking at altering, although they are abandoned and in some cases ruins, they’re still some of the most important buildings on this continent. While they no longer have any place in our society in the symbolic sense they once did, there’s still a great deal of emotional attachment to them, so we must be careful how we communicate our intentions for them. We’re not allowed to have national capitals anymore, so refashioning or restoring from our government buildings, particularly the White House and Capitol, touches some nerves. We will have to let people come to the correct conclusion, that is the conclusion we have both arrived at, that we mut override the nationalist importance of old buildings and remake them for new, practical uses today.

This is why the plans we developed focused entirely on public housing, doctors’ offices, artistic studeos, and store fronts. My wife Vivian suggested that we add theaters and dance bases as well. I can get rough sketches of those designs to you if you’re interested. I remain impressed with the work you’ve done in Philadelphia to maintain the Walnut Street theater. We must show the public as well as the Societal Council that there’s a way to both use such buildings for the good of our new society and remember them as the architectural triumphs they are from the past, while also erasing their patriotic significance.

It’s been suggested to me by my more artistically minded friends that the Capitol building is neo-classical regurgitation, that it has no architectural significance, but that’s not how history works, you can’t just erase it. You have to embrace it and learn from it, and know that what is unfashionable today will be fashionable again later. National patriotism is anathema to our rebuilding efforts, and we have to move beyond it, but we cannot deny the atrocities and the violence committed by our forbearers. Nor can we sterilize our past and keep it safely in a jar on a shelf. If we can reclaim that dome and those buttresses to mean something other than the quote “United States of America”, we can not only acknowledge our past, but reshape the future, it’s so poorly intended.

I don’t expect that this will be easy to sell, Sarah, which is why we should be careful about who we tell now. I’m all for acting now and untangling red tape later. But I believe we should think about how we can make announcements soon. Since the area around these buildings is unpopulated, we can begin work before we announce, I think. No one will be there to see it. But we don’t wanna leave it too long. We don’t want it to look like we’re keeping secrets.

I have to say, Sarah, after all this time talking and thinking, I’m excited to be getting close to the point of beginning. There are parts of this job that feel like mitigating or alleviating destruction but occasionally, something comes along that reminds you that it is really just creation. Creation borne out of destruction, yes, but creation nonetheless. I’m sorry for getting sentimental. It’s an emotional time.

I look forward to celebrating with you in person when you visit Chicago next month. Kind regards, Michael.

[cut]

Amy, never mind about the papers, I found them. They were under all this paperwork from doctor Woods’ office. Thanks for revising the pregnancy contracts, but always keep the newspapers on top.

[cut]

Shit! Shit, Amy!

[cut]

Amy, why didn’t you tell me about the papers as soon as I came in? I assume you saw them. I assume that, even though you covered them up with a bunch of hospital paperwork, as if that’s the most important thing. Fuck! Shit, Amy, I dunno what to do! How did they find out? Why did they write this up without asking me for comment? What is going.. Amy, don’t send that letter to Sarah obviously. I’ll have to write another one, or you will. Sorry, I recorded all things on the same reel, hope it didn’t take you too long. What the fuck am I going to say?

Also, did you know about these stories ahead of time? You didn’t, did you? Had you heard anything? You better not have heard anything and not brought it directly to my attention, Amy, I swear to God. From now on, read the papers first before you bring them to me. You’ll need to come in earlier for that.

[cut]

How did they find out? There’s only two people in our office and I sure as fuck didn’t say anything.

[tape recorder turns off] [ads] [tape recorder turns on]

Amy, deliver this memo immediately. From the office of Michael Witten on the 26th of November 1953, to Reina Bachelor, PR Department, Chicago office.

Dear Raina. There have been some stories printed in today’s papers - I’ve seem them in The Post and The Tribune, I’m not sure if they’re elsewhere as well - that concern this department. I’m hoping you can help me with them. The stories specifically mention this department and myself and discuss, with surprising detail, some undisclosed plans for renovations in Washington, or schemes as The Post put it. I was not contacted for comment by journalists, and many of the details have been misconstrued and in most cases reported incorrectly. It is crucial that we get on top of this story as soon as possible to correct the misinformation that is being spread. Please contact my secretary Amy Castillo to set up a management team meeting this week.

I know this will be difficult, lies run faster than the truth, and I would like you to devote as much effort and resource as you can spare in the attempt. Please prepare a statement for immediate release and advice me on your media strategy.

Kind regards, Michael.

If this gets in the way of things I just… [pause]

[cut]

OK, Amy. New letter from the office of Michael Witten on the 26th of November 1935 to Sarah Chisholm, Public Works Department, Philadelphia office.

Dear Sarah, I’m assuming you will have seen the stories in the papers recently. It seems someone found out about our plans and leaked them, or at least leaked some version of them to the press. They have almost everything wrong. The Chicago Tribune says we’re rebuilding a national capital in Washington, and the Washington Post claims that we will reinstate American agencies, and unlike The New York Times, they seem thrilled about it.

[long pause] But even if the headlines are completely misleading, the bulk of the facts are correct. There were a couple of government offices in these reconstruction plans, but they’re for administrative purposes. These buildings weren’t reviving the American capital, they’re for public good with just one or two small offices for minor paperwork and local management. You can’t have public housing and then place the agency in charge of it across town. It’s a few square feet in each building. It’s not a goddamn renaissance of American chauvinism. Don’t say goddamn. We are now being accused of both revitalizing nationalism and destroying cultural history, which would be laughable if these papers didn’t hold the power to derail all of our plans.

I’m consulting with our PR department, obviously, as I think it’s crucial that we change the narrative around this as soon as possible. It’s going to be so much harder now. Talk to your publicity team in Philadelphia. I think, no no, it is imperative we work together to snuff out this oversensitivity. The secrecy is obviously not an issue anymore.

My current plan is this. [sighs], Amy, what is my plan? I’m just reacting to all this, I don’t have a plan to deal with this. plan, my plan, uh…

We will have to explain why a public announcement was not made swiftly. I think we are best off saying that we decided to confirm all the details before we announced, rather than pester people with constant updates about something that to all intents and purposes wouldn’t affect them. Play it off as no big deal. I mean, we have the plans I sent you, there’s nothing to hide from. There will be more back and forth once the statement goes out, I’m sure, people appear to have a lot of thoughts and opinions about this. and while it is useless to try and assuage all doubts, I think we are honor bound to address at least some of the more common concerns as they arise.

In the long term, it is my opinion that we need to start planning a serious ongoing public awareness campaign, one that stretches even beyond our current plan to encompass an ideology around dealing with similar situations going forward. We can frame this as one in a long string of moments in which we, as a society, decide who we are and how we relate to the past. It will take some time and effort to convince people of the correctness of our plans for these buildings, and bringing them into the context of a wider idea for the world as a whole could help with that. We are gonna have to do a lot more work in the early stages than we had hoped. We’ll have to manage people’s expectations as well as manage the actual work.

I’m not sure who within our collective teams is completely behind this, but I will try to make inquiries, to rally support within the government. With our luck, the current outcry will only be a blip on the way to greater understanding of our goals.

Kind regards, Michael.

Fuck!

[cut]

Amy, I’m sure you’ve typed the memo up already, but forget it. Just get Raina on the phone for me. I want her ass in my office ASAP, I’ll just tell her this in person.

[cut]

I’m sorry I snapped a bit before. I wasn’t expecting this today, it threw me off balance a bit and I became slightly unreasonable. I want you to know that I appreciate your work and your discretion in this, as I do in all things. I’m sorry if I made you believe I doubted your loyalty even for a moment. I’m sure that made this day almost as stressful for you as it has been for me.

Amy, I need you to do a little investigating for me. If the public turns the Societal Counci in opposition to my plan for Washington, I’m hoping there will be people willing to stand beside me, uh besides Vishwati, and persuading them into agreement. Of course, we could go ahead with the plan without their blessing, but it would be unwise, I think. We are still living in unstable and unpredictable times, and peace must be maintained at all costs.

No, it would be dangerous to proceed if too many people do not approve. So it is very important I know how my colleagues feel about this and who I can rely on. If you can find out, probably just from the other secretaries, how I am regarded and whether the plan has support and from whom, I would appreciate that. It will be fine, of course. I shall speak to Vishwati, I’m sure she has seen the papers and is already eager to be of help. She’s the fixer. Even journalists are in awe of her. The hard part is telling her I’ve, we’ve, I’ve fucked up. But the newspapers solved that problem. I just need to tell her what I think needs to be done and she’ll do it. She’s always looking for solutions, not excuses. Solutions, yes.

Amy, contact Vishwati Ramadoss’ office and see when she will be free to take a call. It’ll have to be a rather long one, so make sure there’s no danger of her being called away to a meeting midway through.

[cut]

By the way, Amy, as well as declawing, are you able to look into the causes of hairballs in cats? Is there a way to discourage them happening at all? Something about how you feed the cat or maybe controlling how they clean themselves? I suspect it’s one of the things that you juts have to live with, isn’t it? Well, Vivi has fallen in love with the thing so there’s no hope for it, but one can only clean a rug so many times before it becomes quite a different rug.

[cut]

I need a drink. Amy, join me around 4. I’ve opened some bourbon. Knock first, though. [long silence]

[tape recorder turns off]

Within the Wires is a production of Night Vale Presents. It is written by Jeffrey Cranor and Janina Matthewson with original music by Mary Epworth. Find more of Mary’s music at maryepworth.com. The voice of Michael Witten is Lee LeBreton. You can support our show and get exclusive episodes and other cool things at patreon.com/withinthewires.

OK, our time is done. It’s you time now. Time to head to happy hour after a long day of work at the [bird factory], to enjoy a pint of [bacon fat] with your friend [Benicio del Toro].

[runawayballista]

i think the reason that writing in a notebook has been really working out for me, other than it being a really useful tool for writing thru the bad brain fog, is that its kind of like laying down a sketch layer. it's the first draft "this won't be perfect" mentality with a more practical (for me) approach. i can't backspace or make things tidy, so instead i let my brain free range and write notes in the margins, cross things out, outline things in boxes and draw arrows to move them elsewhere or star a passage and then add something to it i forgot in another box on the next page. one of my problems with brain fog is that my working memory is really short. if i know what i want to write 3 paragraphs from now, i'm liable to forget in the time that it takes to write those 3 pargraphs, so i'm frequently sketching out reminders or snippets of dialogue in the middle of paragraphs so i can remember where i was going. (sometimes this means i forget what i'm in the middle of writing, but not usually.) writing by hand does mean the writing goes slower but it's good in a way, it means my hands can't get ahead of my brain and stall out on the next thought like sometimes happens while typing, at which point i have to try to remember where i was going, and then the time it takes to turn over the ignition in my brain makes me incredibly prone to doing things like, getting distracted by a funny tweet.

but i don't worry too much about sentence structure, or being concise, or whether or not the prose is elegant. my handwriting is messy and hard to scan, so it's not uncommon for me to lose track of a sentence structure or end up with an unintentional sentence fragment. i do a lot of stream-of-consciousness writing to get around the brain fog, because it's easier for me to write until i figure out what i want to say than think it out. and i wind up with some really great prose this way, too! i try to avoid ever putting things like [insert joke here] because it's just a blank space in my writing that will be harder to fill in later, but i will put a less funny joke there that's more or less to the effect i want. punching up a flat joke is, for me, way easier (or at least more reliable) than spinning a really funny one out of nothing later. i'll write some flat prose sketching out what i want to happen knowing i can reword it later instead of writing "and this is where they talk about the thing". i save typing up what i've written for when i'm more awake and edit as i write, fixing the glaring issues like sentence structure and omitted words and reworking it as ideas come to me, but i save the heavy lifting for actual editing because it's still a rough draft.

i don't really think writing two rough drafts is a universally useful approach, but a lot of what i do (in life in general, not just writing for fun) is basically focused on reducing the cognitive load for any given task. my fog-riddled brain can't juggle too many parallel lines of thought without losing track of them, so i try to frontload as much of my thinking as i can, so that i can think about as little else as possible than the words right in front of me. i don't trust my memory so i write out ideas for future scenes (or things later down the line in this scene) as they come and highlight those sections or pages in bright colors so it's easy to flip through and remind myself what i was going to include. it is a little labor intensive and i am limited by how long i can get my hand to cooperate, but i found a really comfortable to hold pen and as someone who has a hard time unplugging and unwinding it's really nice to just put on a ragtime piano album and write by hand for a few hours. it worked well enough to write a whole-ass romance novel last year during one of the most stressful work periods of my life and it's working out pretty dang well for fanfiction

[abdicatedarchive]

you know too much || cody and bella

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍: art building // spring 2021.

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: cody x bella.

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒: none.

𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒: cody holds up his end of the agreement.

Cody begrudgingly entered the art building and went to the correct room to find Bella. He realized he was already five minutes late, but he went to the water fountain and took a long drink. Cody was dreading entering the room. It was part of the deal though, and he was willing to make it work. With his bag resting on his shoulder, he walked into the art room and shrugged it off his shoulder to put it on the ground as he pulled up a stool next to Bella. "Abs" said Cody as the chair made a loud noise as he moved it under him. Slouching down to be at her height he smiled, might as well fake it till you make it. "What kind of art are we doing today? The Ghost scene with the pottery? Am I just posing? What's the deal" he asked.

Bella had came in an hour earlier to do all her prep. This was the last project for the semester and she wanted it to be accepted into the exhibit that was being held after this term was completed. She kept checking her phone to see the time, nervous that Cody wasn't going to show up at all. Thankfully he did, but the moment she heard that nickname, her heart sank. All it did was remind her of her ex boyfriend. "You could just call me Bella." she flinched a bit from the noise the chair made. "I did my ceramics class last semester, but if that's something you're interested in, you can borrow my tools. I'm going to be painting. One subject, two styles. Realism and expressionism. But I need photographic references so I will be taking pictures of you. I apologize in advance, photography is unfortunately not my forte." Bella looked over at the clothes he was wearing before grabbing a tape measure. "Can I take your measurements? Just from the waist up?"

Cody didn't know why she was acting so weird at the nickname, he just wanted to do something nice that could be like a them thing. Something very tangible that would show people that they were dating. But, he guessed she was as hard to please as his ex. This was going to be a nightmare. Cody nodded and stood up, "just don't put me in a skirt and we're gucci" said the boy, laughing a little to himself. He was bi, but when it came to clothes he definitely dressed like a straight man. No expression there, just clean cut and awkward. "I also happen to be a pretty good model, a girl last semester used me for her photography class. It was kinda fun" he said with a shrug as he put his arms out so she could measure him better. "I don't know too much about art. I was supposed to go abroad for an exchange my sophomore year, get a little cultured. But I opted out of it because of you know" said the boy, making conversation. He wasn't sure why he was sharing so much, but that was the extent he knew about art. His missed opportunity.

"I feel like with your height you'd look really nice in a skirt." Bella said as she looked Cody up and down for a second. "But I don't want you to be uncomfortable so I won't. I don't think this will be a full body painting anyways, I want to focus on your face more. Adding a nice shirt won't hurt though." She began to take his measurements and write them down in her notebook. Bella assumed he was talking about his ex girlfriend, and she already promised she wouldn't bring her up again. "I'm sorry, hopefully you'll get to travel soon. It's never too late to go and explore. That's the beauty of art, it will always be there. It's all around us." she smiled to herself. Bella believed that there was some good that could come out of this weird situation they were in. She spent most of her life trying to avoid people like Cody, but if they had to spend all this time together, she might as well get to know him better. How bad could it be? "I think that's why I admire photography so much. It makes one fleeting moment last forever. Do you enjoy photography? I was doing some fake girlfriend research by looking through your instagram and saw that post you made."

“I might do a summer program. It’s just hard with sports” Cody explained, he definitely wanted to go abroad. It felt like a right of passage, they all had their place that they felt was their second home. He was hoping his would be Amsterdam, but he didn’t want to get his hopes up. He faltered when he realized she had put actual thought into this and looked through his Instagram, he had given hers a peruse for the same reason. He just assumed he was more in this than her. “It’s the only class I’ve enjoyed here. I guess I’m just not a school person. My teacher said I have the eye, not really sure what that means. I’m not an art guy. I’m an athlete: head empty” said the boy, realizing that he was talking about himself a lot. He never really talked about himself, usually just about other people or tangible things. Cody found himself opening up like he did with AP, and that was a dangerous game. “How did you know you’re an art person? Clearly you have passion for it if you’re going to defy your parents plan” he asked to turn the subject to her.

"You must have that natural talent for it, that's a great gift to have. If you have anything you'd want to show, I'd love to see it. Sometimes art could be really personal so I understand if you don't want to show people. There's some stuff I keep to myself." Bella told him with a friendly smile, sure she wished she was better in the photographic field, but she enjoyed what she was good in. "You could always be both, like Troy Bolton. But switch the kind of art and the kind of sport, unless you like musical theater and basketball too." Bella kept quiet once she finished the measurements, did he have to include the part where she was defying her parents' plan? Was it that obvious that they weren't supportive? "So when I was younger, I didn't speak too much. My mom thought something was wrong with me, but I think she was just being dramatic." she shrugged her shoulders as she started to jot down some notes for herself. "They took me to a specialist and she first suggested writing to express my thoughts. I didn't enjoy that cause it felt like homework, so then she suggested art and that one stuck for me. It was a kind of release for me, but it wasn't so literal. I did it my own way. Sorry, I don't know if that made sense."

"How about this?" said Cody as he took a picture of her and posted it to his story, "photography and an evil scheme" he teased. He didn't really show the pictures he took last semester to anyone, it was something he kept to himself. He hadn't really thought to why he did that. "Somehow, I don't think High School Musical is the answer to every situation" said Cody with a shrug. Cody had to laugh when she said she had to be taken to a specialist, "A specialist, are you fucking kidding me?" he was laughing pretty hard at that. He wasn't laughing at her, not necessarily, but it was too funny not to laugh at. She was always surprising him, he thought she was just comfortable being weird. Letting her freak flag fly. She never seemed worried about what people thought, the only weak spot being her parents.

Bella looked like a deer in headlights as he randomly took a picture of her, "I would appreciate a warning, Cody Summers." she said with a small frown, hoping she didn't look completely stupid in the picture. "I'm sorry, are you more of a Camp Rock person?" she asked jokingly. Him laughing at her didn't feel too great, she just stood there awkwardly, unsure of how to respond. She regretted bringing that up, she simply could have told him she found art when she was a kid, but her rambling got the best of her yet again. "No I am not kidding." she mumbled. "It wasn't my decision, but I guess I'm grateful that something nice came out of it. I'm not sure what I'd do without art." Bella walked over to her canvas and started outlining a rough sketch at first. "Is that how you feel with your sports?" she asked, wanting to take the attention off of her.

"I promise at the end of this I will look stupid so you can post it, or I'll send you an embarassing photo" said Cody shrugging it off. She looked pretty in the photo, and a little mad. It was perfect, very believable. No one would buy that they were a completely happy couple, but a fun one they definitely would. He noticed her mumbling, and he almost felt bad for laughing. It was just so hilarious that she'd been tested. "Sports has been a natural thing, especially with Charlie taking an interest in it. Dad really liked the idea of us doing sports. So I got into it, it was the only way I could play with Charlie and Marshall when I was little" he explained, sports wasn't really a question at home. It was just the answer when it came to the boys, there wasn't time for the arts. Charlie was sensitive sure, but he never did anything other than the baking.

"Maybe I'll post a picture of you in a skirt. Then we could be even." Bella said with a smile, it was mostly a joke, but she wouldn't mind posting a funny photo of him. As she was listening to Cody talk about sports, she couldn't help but wonder if that was his actual passion or not. It didn't have to be, but she hoped he had some kind of passion in life. "But is that how you feel with your sports?" she asked again, she wasn't sure why she was being pushy about it. "Like it's almost apart of you? Like it's your calling?" she asked with big eyes.

"You have to make me a skirt first" said Cody with a small chuckle, "you know us Summers, it's tailored or nothing" he said, mocking Channing's voice with the last line. When she asked if it was his calling, he just shrugged. "I mean, it's something I'm good at. I'm okay at plenty of things, but shouldn't I spend my time doing something I'm good at?" he replied. Cody just kind of followed in Charlie's footsteps a lot of the time. It felt like the easy answer, because Charlie was arguably the happiest of them all. To be happy was the goal, to be comfortable. It was still hard though, being in the shadows. "What is a calling anyway? Some excuse people throw out when they want to change everything about their lives for no reason or upset people who love them" he added cynically.

Bella thought that his first statement was some kind of invitation to take his measurements and actually make him a skirt, so she quickly picked up the measure tape once again and walked up to him. "I'm not that good with making clothes, but skirts are generally easy. Maybe I can even get someone from the fashion design department to make it." she said with such excitement, maybe a little too much excitement. Cody was just so tall, the skirt would look great. "Hm, I guess. But I would like to focus on what I really love instead and get better at that." she shrugged her shoulders, they seemed to have two very different mindsets. Especially after hearing what he said next. This is why she did like get pushy about topics like this, there were just some people that viewed things so negatively. It made her think about how she was upsetting the people who loved her. "Maybe changing everything about your life isn't so bad. Especially if it's for something you love. As long as you're not hurting someone, of course. But there's a difference between hurting those people and those people just not being supportive."

He hadn't been serious at all, but he figured wearing a skirt would probably pull him a pretty big favor. She had a fair point, but people just not being supportive. He wasn't going to give her that one though because his parents had his best intentions in mind. They always did. They had high standards because he should meet them, and it wasn't like he was actually good at anything besides sports. His photography teacher was just being nice because he actually paid attention in class. "I mean that's why sports medicine is the way to go for me right now. Sure, the classes are boring but it'll be meaningful work for when I'm a washed up athlete" said the boy, wondering if he was sharing too much again.

Bella frowned up at Cody once he referred to himself as a washed up athlete, "You should be kinder to yourself." she mumbled, though it was pretty rich coming from her, Bella was her worst critic. She was always putting herself down, especially when it came to her art. It was just never good enough. Nothing she ever did was good enough. "I'm sure you're great." She had been to a few games, but she couldn't exactly pin point him out on the field. They all looked like little ants out there to her, and they moved too quick for her to read the names on the back of their jerseys. "Just getting to play college football is a big deal. So many people don't make that cut. Have you tried pursuing football professionally?" she asked, trying to stay on a topic he would like. "I know that's really difficult, but you're pretty much one step away from it. It's very possible."

"The odds of that are very slim, and I don't know if I want to commit like that to a sport that can really fuck with your brain. College seems like enough" said the boy. He had given it some thought, but he wanted something more stable. Something where he couldn't peak so easily. He was worried he had already plateaued in his football abilities, "I mean with art you can always improve or change styles and master something else. With football there's just ... football" he explained. He wasn't sure if he was making sense, but with art there was always something new or exciting it seemed like, football hadn't changed much.

"That makes sense, I was terrified of flag football back in p.e. class. I can't imagine actually tackling people." Bella understood where Cody was coming from, there wasn't much change in football, and if you didn't absolutely love it, it may not be as exciting after all those years. "Maybe you can try some other sport in your free time. I tried tennis because I really enjoyed wii tennis. Not the same thing at all. Who knew, right?" Bella let out a quiet laugh, she was one again rambling and she didn't know why. "Then I tried badminton. That was a lot more like wii tennis, I was quite a fan." She backed away from him once she finished the rest of the measurements and felt rude for bringing the topic back to herself. It's not like what she said was really important. "There'a a world of possibilities if you want to try something new."

Cody listened to her as she rambled on, and somehow he was actually paying attention. She had a way of commanding a room in a weird way ... he couldn't take his eyes or ears off of her. Maybe that's why she attracted so much negative attention from his friends. People don't like what they don't understand but still like on some level. "If we ever need to prove we're dating to our siblings, a family event of wii games would probably do the trick" said Cody with a small laugh. It was a family favorite, especially because Channing was horrid at wii sports. How can you be bad at Wii games? Excellent question, but Channing found a way. Just Dance was more her speed, so they always voted on Wii sports. He ignored her questioning about him trying new things, it just wasn't in him to do anything new. To break the mold was scary, it was just one of those things were he was destined to live here and work a 9-5 until it was time to move on to the next 9-5.

Bella smiled at Cody and nodded, it was going to be difficult for her to be around his family and lie the entire time, but something like wii would probably help her relax and just have fun. "I will never deny the wii. She has a very special place in my heart." Bella had some fond memories of her siblings playing games together when she was younger, but as time went on, the more separated she felt from them, so she kept those old memories close to her. "Wii resort was a popular one with my siblings. We used to have board game nights as kids. Oh, and uno. They loved uno. Fiona was ruthless when it came to that one." Thinking of those times warmed her heart, but it quickly made her realized how different everything was. "Are you close with them? Your siblings, I mean."

The thing about the Summers household was that it was very closed doors. By the time they were old enough to make their own food, they were all eating in their rooms and shutting their doors behind them. Claire and Charlie definitely set that trend, especially when they had friends over. The tolerance for my little sibling has to come was very low. "Not really. I'm on good terms with Courtney, and not necessarily on bad terms with anyone. We just don't really spend time together unless it's mandated or requires more than one person" he explained. He didn't exactly have a want to know his siblings better, it was an accepted thing at this point. Also, they weren't exactly great people. Maybe him and Charlie would become better friends at some point, but that was down the road. "What about you and your siblings? Close?" he asked.

Bella knew Cody came from a big family like herself, but she had hoped his relationships with his siblings were a bit different. It’s not that she had actual problems with her siblings, it was just that she didn’t have too much of a relationship with them at this point, and sometimes she blamed herself for that. The older she got, the bigger the divide became. Her siblings were just so much like her parents. Granted, they were a lot better than her mom and dad, but they still had that overly professional, composed, sometimes harsh personality. “I guess we were when we were younger, but not so much anymore. They’re more closer with each other. I think it’s the age difference.” she shrugged. “But one of your cousins go here, right? That must be fun for you both.”

He nodded when she mentioned Stevie, "yeah, me and her don't really get along. Her parents don't really let her hang out with us anyways, and my parents aren't exactly approving of it either. So I definitely let that get the best of me. Plus Courtney and Channing were really cruel to her, so the animosity was always there" he explained. He knew he didn't treat Stevie well, but he was following the example. Stevie didn't like him anyways, why bother being kind? "Do you know Stevie well?" he asked, worried about what might have been said about things he definitely did.

Bella listened quietly, maybe bringing his cousin up wasn't a great idea. She assumed they were cool with each other, because Stevie just seemed to be cool with everyone she knew. But her parents were also pretty weary of that side of the Summers family. The Langston's cared a lot about reputation, and Stevie's family didn't have a great one. "I know her, but not well." she answered, looking back and forth between her rough sketch and Cody. "Our groups would sometimes mix." she said, referring to the art and music kids. Bella didn't exactly have her own group. "I do know some of the people in her band. The ones that graduated with us. Miles Cambric, him and his family were always nice. Maybe I should get to know her better, I do see her around often."

Cody didn't really like the idea of Stevie and Bella hanging out, Stevie was a pretty good sleuth. She could smell societal bullshit from a mile away, including a fake dating scheme. He didn't take her as one who would out them to their families, but who was to say. Maybe he should be nicer to Stevie to save his own ass. "If you want to, but she's definitely going to ask you why you're dating me when you could date someone else. Repeatedly probably. She really doesn't like me" he warned, hoping that would stop her. He didn't want to be controlling, that was something that his ex really imprinted on him as bad. Alexandra was deeply controlling and manipulative.

Bella had always been someone that was easily influenced. She thought the other person had her best interest at heart when telling her to do or don't do something, and that usually wasn't the case. But did she ever learn? No, not really. "Oh, so should I stay away? At least for a while?" she asked. It was just easier for someone else to make the decisions. That and she was already starting to get questioned by her friends as to why she was dating Cody. Their friends never seemed to mix well. "It's not like I've talked to her too much anyways."

"Maybe for the best" said the boy, nervous about getting found out too quickly. "You have complete freedom to do whatever you want. It's just a warning. My friends have been asking a lot of questions, but luckily with guy talk I can just shake it off pretty easy. I know your girlfriends might not be giving you the same easy time" he said with a shrug. He never really knew what to say, but he found the words just pouring out of him when he was around her. It was kind of like talking to a weird reflection of himself.

Bella couldn't help but laugh a little when he said she had complete freedom. Of course this wasn't the case, but it sounded like he was gifting her it. She quickly saluted the boy and smiled, "Thank you, Cody Summers. Because of your generosity, I will also grant you complete freedom to do what you want. Please do not make me regret that." she said jokingly. "Yeah my friends have been asking. I just say I really like you and you shouldn't deny what your heart wants. They still question me about it though." she shrugged. "How do you answer? Maybe my answer isn't believable enough."

He saluted back. The question wasn't going to paint him that well, because he usually would just say that she was really good in bed. It was an easy way to stop the suspicions. They would be going on about the fact that she's so weird and he would come back at them about how weird girls do the craziest stuff. "I usually just say the sex is really hot" he said, cleaning up what he usually said with his friends. "That it was something that I didn't want to let get away from me so it made sense to go ahead and give dating a shot" Cody added.

Bella was having a decent time with Cody so far. She was scared that he'd be pretty rude, especially because helping out with her project was not something he suggested. Thankfully, that hadn't been the case yet, but hearing him speak now sort of reminded her why she wasn't too fond of his crowd. Couldn't he have just told them he liked her? It made it sound like he was just using her for sex, and if she had to lie about dating, she at least wanted it to look like a sweet relationship. Now she looked like she had a type, that type being shitty people. "...I'll just stick with my answer then. I uh, don't think saying something like that to my friends would sound more believable. They'd probably question me even more than usual." she forced out a laugh.

It was weird. For the first time he actually felt bad about his friends. Like they should be better. That he should be better. He shrugged it off, "it's just whatever works to keep things going. My parents have been awesome the last while. No questions about anything, my mom is sending cookies later. I played a game of basketball with my dad the other day" said the boy, trying to move off the topic. "Have things been going better for you at home?" he asked. He was hoping this would pay off for her too. If she bailed then things would be hard again, and he wasn't interested in that.

Bella looked over and smiled at Cody, it was nice to know that he was getting something good out of this. She wasn't sure if he was in the same boat as her, but Bella always wished for a better relationship with her parents, and it seemed like this whole plan was helping with that. "That's really good, I'm happy for you." she said sincerely. "Yes, a bit. My mom has been in a really good mood lately. I told them both about this project and they said they wanted to go to the exhibit." Her smile widened as she spoke about the exhibit. It was the first time they ever showed any interest in her art. It may have only been because she mentioned that the work was based around Cody, but she would take what she could get. "My siblings also wanted to hangout with us both. Veronica said she would bring her girlfriend, and she's really sweet. She owns the bakery in town with Laney Kestner." she began to explain. "Nate isn't seeing anyone, and Fiona is always a mystery, so I wouldn't be surprised if she had someone with her."

Cody smiled, this was good. As long as she was getting what she needed from her family then their agreement was in the clear. The second it stopped benefitting one of them it was over, and he wasn't ready to be back in the dog house with his family. "Bassist Bakery, I know the one for sure. Me and Val hung out a few times" he said with a nod, "their cupcakes are really good. I'll pick some up sometime soon. For the gram of course, but we'll still get to eat them so that's good" Cody added. "Is Nathaniel okay? He's so uptight. Whatever happened with that girl he was seeing? Charlie was talking about how they were going to be engaged" he asked, curious to know what was going on. The guy had a whole tree up his ass basically.

"Mm sounds like a delicious plan." Bella nodded. The food around here was pretty good, but nothing could beat the local businesses in their hometown. Her expression softened as Cody mentioned her brother's ex. "Oh, Cordelia. It was kind of rough, my whole family makes it very known that they do not like the Maddox's anymore, at least most of them." Cordelia's younger sister was always a favorite, so she got a pass. "They were, my brother had bought the ring and was going to ask her, but right before he could, she broke up with him. Then not too long after, she was with another man. A little suspicious but I don't want to assume anything." she explained. "They were together for a while, and it seemed like he really loved her. But between you and me, she was a pretty rude lady." If there was something Bella and Nathaniel had in common, it was that they were really bad at picking their partners.

He was surprised to hear the whole story, it was definitely cleaned up around town. The big families, if done right, could move their way around a scandal very secretively. No one wanted their names rubbed in the dirt. "That's crazy" said Cody, shocked honestly at the story. "That's really uncomfortable, I had no idea. Honestly, I felt the same way with redacted. I had a lot of plans for the two of us" he admitted. He knew he asked her not to talk about Alexandra, but it reminded him of it and he felt weird even saying something. Like he shouldn't have.

"Yep, she's married now and has a kid so Nate tries to avoid her as often as possible. It's kind of hard when we all live in the same neighborhood, and she's always trying to put her nose into his business. Like I said, rude lady." Bella wasn't too sure if her brother would want her talking about this, but she just hoped Cody wouldn't bring this information back to Charlie. She stayed quiet for a moment when he mentioned his ex. Bella had promised not to talk about Alexandra, but she didn't want to seem uninterested either. "I'm sorry, but maybe you could still see those plans through, just with someone else, or even yourself. Like that trip you mentioned before, you should still do that."

"If my ex had a kid, I would also avoid at all costs" said Cody laughing a little. He already did avoid his ex at all costs, but every time she asked for something he was at her door in minutes. "Plans are a little late, they were about staying together for college. So approximately four years too late" he replied, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck. "Enough about her though, sometimes I don't know when to shut up" said the boy, shocked he was sharing so much. It was something about how they had both been treated so poorly by the same family, like they had this trauma bond. He couldn't keep sharing like this. It wasn't good.

"Oh, I get it. I shouldn't have suggested anything, sorry. I promise, no more mention of she-who-must-not-be-named." Bella always tried to look at the bright side of every situation, but sometimes, like now, it would only make her look stupid. Or at least that's how she felt. "You're fine. I bounce back and forth between both extremes. Most times I don't speak too much ... hence the specialist back in the day." she mumbled. "But sometimes I can't stop talking. My mouth starts moving faster than my brain and I don't know when to stop or what I'm even saying. Then once my brain catches up, it's like, what was I talking about? where was I going with this?" She was very much proving her point in this moment. "I think I overwhelmed Landon, I couldn't stop talking when I was around him." Bella immediately shut her mouth the moment she brought up her ex, she didn't really intend to mention him. It just sort of came out.

Cody didn't know a lot about Landon, other than the fact that even Cody thought the guy was a pretentious douche. It was definitely something he didn't like about being over at Alexandra's house: Landon's presence in the building. "They both suck" he replied simply. Cody just didn't want to get into it, he didn't want to know her like this. Like they actually cared for one another. Like they were friends. They weren't. This was a deal, a deal they were both putting up with until a better solution came along. //END

[lbkingofcards]

Jean-Michel Basquiat Workshop:

This lockdown has seriously effected my general mood and creativity compared to the other lockdowns, I am not too sure why but it is effecting my work and life more than it should. I think one of these reasons could be that to me, my work has to be perfect and it is hard for me to feel as if a piece of work is complete unless it is perfect. To get out of this rut I decided to try something completely out of my comfort zone and as far away from perfect as it could possibly be. One artist that sprung to mind when I thought of this was Jean-Michel Basquiat. His work has always been somehow amazing to me, even though it is the opposite end of the spectrum to mine. His work shows me that it does not have to be perfect for it to be accepted, he bends the artistic norms.

Basquiat was an American artist who focused on political subjects when creating his work. This seems to be a very powerful subject when creating artwork, as it is also seen in the likes of Banksy and many other artists. His work is very abstract and out of the ordinary, yet everyone still seems to know his name.

This above piece is Basquiat's self portrait. I think this artwork really helps to show off his insanely unique style, it reminds me an awful lot of Picasso’s portraits due to its irregular proportions and crazy colours and placements.

One thing that always amazes me is the amount of mediums Basquiat can use on a single piece of work. I personally think this is one of the things that defines him. For me, the best part of this work is the internals of the body, I think this is down to the powerful colour palette used which contrasts against the body.

This is the piece that helps me understand that not everything needs to be perfect, as in a sense, this is far from it. The colours and shapes are completely off compared to a real person, however this is the style that he was going for, and this made me realise that you do not have to have the perfect colours or dimensions or even line work, for a work of art to be considered perfect by the world. This piece is a piece that I am heavily influenced by and would like to carry this into my own work.

My Outcomes:

It started within photoshop, where I imported a basic picture of a few playing cards and got drawing. I got the drawing tablet out especially for this. I normally stay as far away from a drawing pad as possible as I always thought that they were near useless for me because I could not use one accurately and precisely. However, this fear soon flew away and I was really enjoying using it, it gave me a new love for the tablet. I sketched round the cards and pips, which created a child-like outline of the card. Once this was done I went in with the pencil tool and went crazy. It almost felt wrong scribbling like this and to start off with it was not sitting right. When I started adding more and more layers something suddenly clicked and I was thoroughly enjoying myself. It is a style that I was very unfamiliar with but this didn’t stop me from having a great time. 

Once I had these rough drawings I went in and did some final details. Here is the final outcome.

In conclusion, this workshop has taught me so much to do with mindset and design. If I were to do it again I would have done it physically in person, as I feel like I was limited in-terms of mediums on a Photoshop. These are probably the messiest pieces I have ever done, but they are probably one of my favourites just because of the emotion that was put into them. I loved how natural this was, I felt that all of my other work was becoming forced and was no longer enjoyable. I will not be using these moving forward, but I am extremely happy with how they came out and I will be doing this style of work much more often as a release of creativity and idea generation

[wordsdrippinginink]

Marco frowns standing in the door of his shop, the insides were torn up from the last occupant and there were wires spilling out where there should be plug sockets and light switches. It looked like someone took a sledgehammer to at least one of the walls that linked the area to the back, leaving a mess of sheetrock and wires spilling out onto the floor, a gaping hole into the prep room behind it.

"This is gonna takes ages to get up and running," Thatch states leaning around Marco's side to glance inside the building. "You sure this is the shop you want? The one over on tenth is at least ready for you to get started in under a week. You wouldn’t have to do anything but hire a few people to get started and you would be ready to go."

"And the one on tenth is in direct competition with a Starbucks," Marco reminds him, frowning. "Which is why the previous coffee shop went out of business. This one is outside the circle of influence of all the Starbucks in the area and, on top of that, convenient for a number of office buildings, including yours. Look, there’s not a coffee shop in the area, I’ve planned this out carefully." He shows off the map on his phone.

"Aw, how sweet of you," Thatch laughs pushing past Marco, shoving his hand up, into the room and kicking at what might have been the counter at one point. "This is gonna take months to get up and running and a lot of money."

Marco nods, already calculating the costs to fix it up and get it set up the way he wanted it to be. It was fortunate that the owner was willing to discount the price of it since the last occupant had decided to trash the place after they had fallen behind on payments and been asked to vacate. He wasn’t sure if it was worth it yet, not even with that discount, not with how much damage he could already see and not without getting a quote from a contractor before that. However, it still put his plans further back than he would have liked them to be.

"I think Izo's got a buddy that does construction who might be willing to at least get you an estimate without breaking your bank account. Might have taken out a load bearing wall over here," Thatch says sticking his head into the hole that opened up into the back of the shop. "Which might get the place condemned."

"Don't say that," Marco groans. "This is the only shop for sale, or rent, that isn't in direct competition with anyone and I'm not going to lose out on it. Who's Izo's friend?"

Thatch blinks, "Oh, right. He did some posing in one of Izo's art classes and I guess they're friends now? I didn't ask, but Izo should be able to ask him if he's busy and if he's willing to at least take a look."

"That would be nice. If it's repairable than I can figure out how much it's going to cost and how much I can do myself."

"I sent a text to Izo to see-," Thatch cuts himself off, answering his phone, "That was fast, I just texted you."

Marco shook his head moving to the back as Thatch spoke with Izo, glancing at the empty space. There was far less damage back here than there had been in the front, but there was still a lot of money that would be needed to be shoved into it, considering the fact he had to purchase all the equipment that would be used. He had some of it already, sitting in storage, but not enough once the shop started picking up customers, and it would. He had already heard some rumors that a coffee shop would pick up more business than one could expect, the complaints his brother’s brought home were more than enough to tell him that.

"Izo's bringing his buddy around," Thatch says sliding his phone into his pocket and joining him in the back of the shop, blinking at much less damage there was. "They were having lunch when I called and I guess the dude's got the day off since he was going to be the model for the class Izo had to cancel."

"Convenient," Marco says with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "But also good. It means I can start planning sooner than expected."

"This part doesn't look so bad. That's at least something," Thatch grins, trying to look excited. "You're gonna need to expand it further aren't you?"

"At least cut into the secondary prep room. I'm not going to need that much space for storage and I really only need one prep room. This side should be good for everything else and then I can get the ovens installed in the back."

Marco was already sketching out the design plans on his notebook when the door opened.

"This is a mess," Izo states, frowning at the rubble. "Marco, this is Ace. Ace this is my brother Marco, the one who wants to open up his new coffee shop."

Ace waves, his hands sliding back into his coat pockets as he looks around, whistling softly, "Someone was not happy."

"Previous owner was evicted," Marco says holding out a hand, "Marco Newgate."

"Ace Portgas, I'm a contractor with ASL Construction," Ace says shaking it. "This is something else. Izo says that you wanted an estimate and an idea of how long it would take for the repairs?"

"And some changes to the place. I want to get it all set up to my specifications as well."

"If you have some ideas, then I can give you what it will take for the repairs and then factor in the changes afterwards? Sometimes it's cheaper to combine them depending on what you have planned," Ace explains moving further into the room. "But I'm almost positive, you're gonna have to redo the flooring."

"I had thought as much. I'm most worried about the wall right now, they took out one of the support beams with a sledge hammer."

Ace raises an eyebrow, but follows to take a better look, frowning at it in concern, "That is definitely a support beam. The real question was is it load bearing," He kneels down in the mess of sheetrock and splinters, pulling a flashlight from his pocket as he peered into the wall. "Good news, it doesn't look like it's load bearing. Bad news, it's still gonna have to get replaced."

"I can live with that," Marco admits, sighing in relief. "It's not load bearing?"

"Nope," Ace agrees as he stands. "Just a support beam, now if it had been the one to the left of it, this place would have been fucked, that corner? Is the start of a load bearing wall."

"Are beams not load bearing?"

"Sure, but the walls are usually what we're talking about in that respect," Ace tugs his phone from his pocket and opens a video. "This is a load bearing beam."

Marco nods, "So like the random columns you see in stores?"

"Exactly. This building will have load bearing walls, everything has load bearing walls, that’s how it it is. Now you can replace those walls with columns, but that's another story. What else are you going to be doing to the place?"

Marco outlines his plans, pointing to the diagram in his note book and the shop itself as he went, elaborating when Ace asked and letting Ace add notes to the papers.

"Well, the wall we're gonna have to check this one," Ace taps it with his knuckles. "But if it's not load bearing, we should be able to move it back the way you want, otherwise, we're gonna have to do a beam of some kind to take over the support. The rest of it shouldn't be too bad. Rough estimate? About twenty thousand, that's for labor and materials."

"That's less than I was thinking," Marco says blinking at Ace in confusion.

"Taking out the wall actually would be easy and we could use some of the material from it to make the new wall, at least the support beams anyway as long as we're careful. That's not counting fixtures or anything. I don't work that, I'd have to drag Sabo down here and get his opinion on that."

"I would like to talk to him too then, about what he thinks the fixtures will cost, whenever he might be available."

Ace nods, pulling out his phone and fiddling with it, "Let's see, today is Saturday? I think Sab's got the day off too, usually Saturday's are Lu's day to take care of things. I can call and see if he's busy, if not we can work something into his schedule without too much issue."

"I wouldn't want to interrupt his day off."

"Sab's probably mooning over his girlfriend, she's out of town for the time being for a conference and he always gets weird. Or he's hanging out with Dragon again and no," Ace states already texting Sabo.

"Dragon?" Izo asks curiously.

"Conspiracy theorist and maybe leader of an underground revolutionary movement that I like to pretend that Sab's not involved with. I told you about it before."

"Right, that Dragon."

"I only know one Dragon."

Izo frowns looking confused for a long moment, "If you only know one, does that make Luffy's father Dragon the same Conspiracy theorist and possible revolutionary Dragon?"

"Yeah, Lu's honestly not even sure who his dad is and we tend to let him live with that. Bad enough he's related to-" Ace stops look up at the door and the blond waving at him from the other side of the road, waving back just as vigorously. "Sabo's here."

Sabo jogs across the road, slamming into the building only to skid to a halt, looking around with an eyebrow raised, "Jesus, did you get drunk and try to demo again, Ace?"

"Ha ha, very funny Sab. Sabo meet Marco, he wants to talk about estimates on counters and shit. I've already given him the one for the work needed and what he wants to get done."

"Fun. Alright, tell me what you're thinking about. Are we talking display cases in the front? Tables?"

"You do furniture as well?" Marco asks curiously. "I thought you worked construction?"

"We own our little construction/restoration/whatever else we wanna do business," Sabo says grinning proudly. "That's why it's ASL Construction. Technically we could have called it something else, but we mostly do construction and custom orders of furniture. That's Ace's other job."

"You mean besides posing naked for my brother's art classes?"

"Is that what you do with Izo?" Sabo demands turning to Ace with wide eyes. "Never mind. I don't want to know. Alright Marco, talk to me about cabinets."

Marco hums, “I do have a lot to say about them, Ace already heard most of it, let me get my notes.”

"He wants to hire us," Sabo states leaning back in his seat, one of his legs thrown over his knee as he stares up at the roof of the trailer.

Ace frowns at his phone, "Marco?"

"Mhm, apparently he's been looking online at our work and looking at a couple other places, seems that we gave him the best deal. Think we should accept? We've already got the other two projects."

"Luffy's got control of the Alabasta project and we know it, Vivi's already said as much and Crocodile's already been told that he's not being chosen. We can leave Luffy in charge, he's got his usual team to back him up and I had them borrow someone from Mihawk's security company to make sure there's no sabotage," Ace answers yawning. "And Dragon's project is basically your baby. I can take lead on Marco's, it's not like there's anything he's doing that my team can't fix."

Sabo hums softly, "We've never run three projects simultaneously before."

"We're gonna have to, we're getting more requests."

"And Luffy wants to hire more people. God his team needs more people, I still don't know how Sanji can work for Zeff and us."

"Magic and Luffy. Anyway, we need to expand at least some and I'm sure we could do more projects to make up for the expansion."

"Than looks like we're going to accept Marco's project and go from there," Ace says resting his head on his arms. "Coffee shops aren’t that complicated and I'll take Deuce over tomorrow to check it out and see what we want to start on other than pulling out all the shit on the floors and getting the permits."

"Sounds like fun. And paperwork. Have lots of fun with that," Sabo pats his head softly. "And Ace, don't flirt with the pretty blond."

Ace pouts, "But he's gorgeous."

"Not while you're working, you know the rules."

"What about after we finish working? Like can I show interest if he flirts with me? Is that allowed? And you can't say anything, you were flirting with Koala when we worked on her patio!"

"Ace."

"I need to know, Sabo."

"Fine, if he flirts with you, you can flirt back. But he doesn't look like the kind to flirt."

Ace sighs, "I can hope," He drops his head back on his arms when Sabo laughed, leaving him alone in the kitchen. "This is going to be a long couple weeks, I know just know it."