#first one is from a couple months ago in my sketchbook

[actualjenna]

when im bored i like to draw my magus oc

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 8: Jealousy Doesn't Look Good On Anybody Except...

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter eight of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 4.1K

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing (a few times), Drinking, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC,

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

The song they dance to is "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" by Russ Columbo and this should take you to the song. It's the song I named the series for, because I believe it encompasses how both the reader feels, but also how Soldier Boy will feel in a few chapters. I also believe that the song House of Memories by Panic at the Disco, fits the more modern parts of the series.

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

********************

Philadelphia 1938

The lights twinkled along the ceiling of the dance hall as the gentle swell of jazz floated through the air. Couples swayed on the dance floor clinging to one another as the soft tones of the music soothed the dull throb of the whispers of rising tension overseas. It was a Saturday night, and you and a few of your friends from the Dawson School for Girls had slipped away to spend the evening twirling in the arms of whomever caught your fancy.

Well, at least that's what your friends wanted to do. There was only one particular man who'd caught your fancy, but he was nowhere to be seen.

The Dawson School for Girls was the answer to your mother's prayers, a boarding school in Boston, far away from Ben's "corruptive influence" as she put it. Ben was currently at boarding school number ten in Upstate New York. The last time you’d seen him was when you were on break and Ben had just left boarding school number nine for fighting with other students, but he wouldn't say what for. You’d sent him a few letters to tell him how bored you were including a few sketches and watercolor paintings, with minimal response, but it was like him not to write back.

You hadn't mentioned that Howard Stine had been coming on the weekends to take you out. Your mother was pleased with him, he checked all the boxes: wealthy, not Ben, educated, not Ben, from a nice family, not Ben, and of course most importantly, not Ben.

She was practically making wedding invitations and choosing the names of your children after only three months. However, it was nice to see her happy for a change, kept her from sniping at your figure now that someone was interested. Well, not sniping that much.

Howard was… nice, but he was one of the most boring people you'd ever met and he never understood why you always carried a sketchbook with you. When he'd taken you to Franklin Park one weekend, you stopped along the pond to sketch some of the ducks that were waddling on the bank, but Howard told you he didn’t have time to wait for you to draw them. Instead of telling him that he could just leave, you shut the sketchpad and continued to walk with him and quickly learned that it was better to leave your sketchpad at the dorm whenever he was in town. You also found yourself talking less and less, allowing him to fill the silence with his talk of the stock market crash and how the United States economy recovered due to the efforts of President FDR.

You hated that. You didn't recognize yourself when you were with him. You didn't feel like you.

And every time he was here all you could do was compare him to Ben. Ben would never tell you to stop drawing, yes he would tease you about it, but he always sat next to you while you were sketching, watching you work. You never understood that. Ben was so impatient with everyone else, but he was willing to sit with you for any inordinate amount of time if you were drawing while making you laugh the whole time.

I miss him so much.

"Can I get you a drink?" Howard puts his hand on the small of your back, leaning in to whisper in your ear. You try not to flinch at his touch. He had already been in town, walking you home from a dinner that was dominated by awkward silence and the clicking of utensils on plates when you'd run into your friends just as he was walking you back to the dorm. They had rounded the corner giggling and begging you to come with them. Despite your insistences for him to stay in and relax for the night at his hotel, he refused.

It meant that now you were stuck with him while all your friends got to twirl around with men that made them warm and giddy. Howard made you feel like you'd swallowed a lemon.

"I'm fine, but thank you." You force a smile.

Howard shrugs, before he walks away towards the crowded bar on the other side of the room and blessedly far away from you.

Your thoughts drifted to Ben. You missed your friend more than words could comprehend. Not just because you were far from your family in another city, but because it felt like you were missing apart of yourself when he wasn't there. You briefly wonder if he felt the same way when he wasn't with you.

Probably not.

You turn away from Howard's retreating figure, to watch the couples on the dance floor. You sway to the music, holding your arms around yourself and feeling your dark green dress swish around your ankles, one that you'd picked out yourself, not a monstrosity of pink tulle, but something that you believed accentuated the natural curves of your body that your mother used other dresses to hide. Your mouth turns down into a frown remembering how Howard had reacted to seeing you in it, when he tried to give you his jacket to cover up, but you refused.

You had wanted him to be stunned by how you looked in it, or at least, wanted someone to be. The same someone that was miles away and probably tickling the skirt of someone who caught his fancy.

"One of the most attractive men I've ever seen in my life is at the bar." Your friend Pearl stated looking behind you with wide eyes.

I've got you beat. You think to yourself to a sigh, wishing, again, that you were here with Ben instead of Howard.

"Very funny." You roll your eyes, thinking that she’s making fun of where Howard is sitting probably flagging down the bartender with both hands to catch his attention.

"I'm not talking about Howard. This guy is seriously a looker. And he's staring at you." Pearl says again.

"Sure." You continue to watch an elderly couple sway back and forth to the smooth jazz that ebbs from the band on stage.

Must be nice to be with someone for that long.

You watch how effortlessly the couple moves as one, how the man stares down at the woman with more love than you can comprehend. It makes your heart sink in your chest.

The way things were panning out, you were going to end up with Howard and you couldn't imagine looking at anyone like that other than Ben.

"You're about to see, because he's coming this way." Pearl takes a step back from you as if anticipating the stranger interrupting your conversation.

"He's not-" You begin to say, but you feel someone place their hand on the small of your back, turning you towards them.

"Fancy meeting you here." Ben smiles down at you, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

"Ben!" Your heart soars when you recognize your friend and you can't help but hug him so tight he laughs, the movement of his chuckle makes you feel alive for the first time in weeks. The sharp smell of whiskey and the familiar spicy scent of his cologne greets you.

"Guess you missed me." The rumble of his voice vibrates where your cheek rests against his chest.

"I did." You pull away from him reluctantly. "What are you doing here?" You can't help but smile at him, probably wider than what was attractive.

"Thought I'd stop by and visit on my way back to Philadelphia. Saw you walk into this place. " Ben shrugs. "What are you doing out so late?"

"Looking for trouble." You smirk.

"You found him sweetheart." Ben leans down towards you making your throat get unusually tight.

"Hi." Pearl says interrupting the conversation.

 Ben turns his smug smile on her. "Hi."

"I'm Pearl." She looks from you to Ben as if trying to decide that it's okay for her to introduce yourself.

"Benjamin." You watch him slip into the cool and smooth Ben, the one that charmed whomever caught his eye.

You can't help but feel a prick of jealousy against your skin. It was familiar, but every time it happened, it didn't make any of this easier. You knew that you shouldn't be jealous, you didn't have a claim on him, you were friends, just friends, only friends, best friends…

And now you were with Howard.

You let out a soft sigh watching the way that Pearl looks up at Ben and the way he leans towards her with the confident smirk you love so much on his face.

"Would you like to dance Benjamin?" She asks.

"I would." Ben's smirk turns into a smile.

Pearl steps forward to reach for his hand, expecting him to take it, but he doesnt.

"Come on sweetheart." Ben reaches out and takes your hand, twirling you ahead of him onto the dance floor.

"Ben-" You giggle, head spinning with the movement, but when he twirls you back into his chest, you feel your breath catch. This wasn't the first time you'd been pressed up against him and it wasn't the first time you recognized how perfectly you fit together. Your soft curves molding against the hardness of his muscles as you sway back and forth to the music. When you were pressed up against him, you didn't feel like you were too big, you felt perfect, because of the way you fit against him.

"You know I am here with someone-" You say, before you get too wrapped up in how good it feels to be with him.

"Yes. Howard Stine. Though I do believe you said he stepped on your toes." Ben smiles at you, eyes twinkling in the light.

"That was four years ago, and he's… sweet?"

"Hmph." Ben rolls his eyes. "You can't even say it with a straight face sweetheart."

"I have never said anything bad about your companions."

"Missy-"

"Besides her." You frown.

He laughs at your reaction, the hand clutched in your right seems to warm with his smile. "You've never said anything about them period."

Because I hate thinking about how many of them there have been. Because I hate that you don't see me as someone who could be with you.

"I try not to dwell on your numerous escapades."

"You sound a little jealous doll." He smirks at you.

"What was that you were saying about Howard again?" You tease, holding on to his shoulders as you sway back and forth to the music.

"Can't be jealous of someone I've seen get chased by a duck." Ben's eyes trace your body for a moment. Your cheeks blush under his gaze. "You look nice. Not one of your mom's I'm guessing?"

"What makes you say that?"

"You don't look like a cupcake." He spins you away one more time before bringing you back into his chest.

"No. I think she'd probably have an aneurysm if she saw me wearing this. Howard also thought it was a bit much-"

Ben's hand tightens on your waist. "What?"

You shrug, leveling your eyes on his chest to distract yourself from his hand placement. "He tried to get me to wear his coat."

"He what?"

You shake your head to dissipate the self-doubt and body-shaming conversation that was about to unfold in your head.

"It's nothing." You raise your gaze back to his, but you're surprised to see the anger that burns behind his green eyes.

"It's not nothing. He had no right to-"

"Ben." You soothe, rubbing your thumb over his shoulder to comfort him.

The song shifts to something softer, forlorn, a song that reminded you of the heartache you felt with Ben, but also a melody that eases your soul somehow.

"I don't understand why you're with him." Ben sighs, but you can still feel the tension in his shoulders beneath your hand.

"My mother is happy-"

"But you're not." The look in his eyes is unfamiliar, almost earnest, as if he's trying to get you to understand something that he can't say.

"Ben." You breathe.

"Fine. I don't want you to think about him when we're dancing to our song anyway." The look in his eyes shifts back to the playful green they'd been before.

"Our song?" The words make your heart skip a beat and you can't help but smile at him.

You couldn't remember the last time you'd smiled this much. Probably the last time I saw him.

"Yes." Ben dips you back, before bringing you up against him, the playful look in his eyes becoming softer as you come back.

You know that your own gaze is filled with love and you remember watching the elderly couple. The way they looked at one another warming your heart as you gaze up at Ben. The three little words tiptoe against your tongue, the three little words that you'd been trying to say forever, but you can't. You don't want to lose him, don't want to live in a world without him, because you know that it won't be worth living.

So instead you lean forward and lay your head against his chest, in the space between his neck and shoulder as the song continues. You think that you feel Ben's arms tighten around you, pulling you further into his embrace, but you chock that up to wishful thinking.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" You hear someone yell, and all of a sudden someone's hand is on your wrist jerking you away from Ben.

What?

Howard is standing there his chest pushed against Ben’s, trying to look intimidating, but Howard's inability to reach Ben's shoulders made it difficult for him.

You rub your fingers over your wrist, where Howard’s bright red handprint stands out against your skin.

Ben’s eyes shift to notice your ministrations, darkening with the force of his anger at the thought that Howard hurt you.

“I think I was dancing with my girl.” Ben’s eyes narrow, skating back to Howard.

Your heart skips a beat when he says that, but you shake away the thought, knowing that Ben is only saying that to make Howard angry.

“Your girl?!” Howard sputters, his face growing red. “She’s not your girl!”

“Howie, buddy-“ Ben’s confident smirk slips over his features but you still see the anger beneath the surface. “Calm down, you’ll give yourself a heart attack.”

“Just because you think you have some claim on her because you’ve been stringing her along with the harem that usually follows you, does not make her your girl!” Howard fumes. “She’s with me.” Howard grabs your wrist again and drags you towards him.

“Hey wait a minute-“ You begin to say.

Ben grabs the front of Howard's tailored suit, rumpling the pristine fabric. “Don’t you dare touch her like that.”

“I will touch her however I damn well please! She's mine-"

The grip on your wrist is so tight that you know it’ll leave bruises. “Howard wait-“ You try again to diffuse the tension, bringing your free hand to rest on his forearm to make him let go.

“Shut up.” He snaps, eyes flashing back to you.

Ben’s temper flares and the sharp crack of his fist against Howard’s face echoes through the room. Howard stumbles away, letting go of your wrist as he reels backward to the welcoming hardwood floor that catches him when he falls.

“Don’t you ever speak to her that way you arrogant son of a bitch!” Ben shouts taking a step forward. His shoulders are tense, fists clenched at his sides and his jaw is tight, as his anger burns through the air.

By now the band has stopped playing music and all the couples around you are watching with wide eyes.

I have to do something before he kills him.

You put yourself between them, your hands firmly planted on Ben’s muscular chest so your back is to where Howard stands fuming. “Ben. Don’t.”

But he’s not looking at you, his gaze is locked with Howard’s, eyes blazing, muscles tensing beneath the palms of your hands. You try to ignore how good his chest feels beneath your touch.

Damn it.

“Ben.” You say his name again.

His eyes snap back to yours. The soft green has hardened to an emerald with the force of his rage, so different than how he looked when the two of you were dancing. But he doesn’t say anything.

“Please.” You whisper. "Stop."

Ben looks from you to Howard, before he finally exhales. “Fine.” He mutters, and he turns and vanishes into the crowd of people without another word.

A minute passes and the music begins all over again, the band on the stage starting with a lively tune that makes the couples around you to move back on to the dance floor, but the tension of what just happened remains in the air.

Because what did just happen? Did Ben do that because he was protective of me? Or did he do that because he was jealous?

Your eyes trace where he vanished, longing for him to come back, but when he doesn't appear, you're left to deal with the aftermath. 

********************************

After numerous apologies to Howard, he finally relented and took you back to your dorm, leaving your group of friends at the dance hall. You knew there would definitely be a conversation about what just happened between you all when they got back, but even you were confused. Ben was always protective of you, but what happened seemed over the top. You think about how Ben called you “my girl," the way he said it sending a thrill down your spine. He’d never done that before and you wondered if it was because he wanted to get a rise out of Howard or because he believed it.

Not like he’s tried to do anything about it. You think to yourself stroking one finger against your bruised wrist. The discoloration was more prominent now, black and blue marks beginning to sprout like flowers in spring. Howard’s eye didn’t look much better when he dropped you off. You were surprised that he’d been forgiving enough to continue to see you, not that you wanted to see him, but you didn't think you could handle a letter from your mother.

Then again maybe she would pull you out of this ridiculous school.

A small tap at your window causes you to raise your head to look out the glass. Ben is sitting there, but he doesn’t smile like he usually does. Your dorm room was on the first floor, which meant that Ben didn't need to shimmy up a tree to get into it like he did when you were home. Then again this was the first time he'd showed up here and you wondered how he knew where your room was. You also weren't thrilled at his appearance because you didn't know when Pearl would come back and you weren't sure what your roommate would do if she came back and found Ben in your room. She was a stickler for the rules and despite your friendship, rooming with her was one of your least favorite things about the Dawson School For Girls.

“If they find you here I’m going to be in so much trouble.” You say helping him through the small window, putting your hand on the back of his head so that he doesn't bang it against the glass. "You might like getting kicked out of boarding schools, but I don't."

“They won’t find out.” Ben rolls his eyes. He glances at Pearl’s empty bed on the other side of the room. “Roommate not back yet?”

“No she was still dancing when I left.”

Ben frowns. “Where’s the asshole?”

“Ben-“

“What?”

“He left. And I don't exactly invite him up to where I sleep."

“Good.” Ben flexes his fist.

“How did you know which room was mine?” You ask. Ben had never come to see you before at boarding school and the fact that he was here probably meant that boarding school number ten was out.

“I might have guessed wrong.” He smirks.

“Uh-huh.” You sigh, but all you can think about is how he acted earlier. Your feet shift back and forth “Why did you hit him?”

Ben’s eyes darken. “He shouldn’t have touched you like that or said that to you.”

You stand there for a minute observing his reaction.

“He kinda deserved it." You say slowly.

You knew it was true. When Ben showed up Howard shouldn’t have lost it like he did, he definitely shouldn’t have grabbed you like that or called you his-

You stutter on that thought. But maybe he is right. I am Howard’s. We’ve been going steady… The thought of being his makes something curl up in your chest and die. There was only one man that you wanted to belong to.

"Yeah.” Ben sighs.

"Why did you call me your 'girl'?" You ask.

"Um." Ben shrugs. "Felt right in the moment."

"What?"

"I mean you are. You're my friend-"

"But that doesn't mean friend Ben." You say it gently trying to catch his eye, but Ben won't meet your gaze.

"Fine. I just wanted to mess with him a little bit." Ben frowns. "But I didn't like that he called you his, or the fact that he hurt you."

“But Ben I am his.” You whisper even though you don’t want to. “We’re going steady-“

“That doesn’t make you his!” Ben snaps, eyes flashing. “Just because he feels the need to say it doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“But Ben-“

“And I never want to hear you say it.” He continues loudly.

What is wrong with him? I've never seen him this angry about anything.

“Why?”

“Because that means he has some claim on you. You’re not his, you’re my friend.”

"You're being ridiculous. You're saying that he can't have some claim on me but you're possessively calling me your friend!" You shout back frustrated.

Why is he acting like this? Does he really hate Howard that much?

"I am not! I'm just saying that you're my friend and you're not his!"

“I can’t be both?” Your words hang in the air between the two of you and you mentally beg Ben to answer. He was acting like he wanted you to be his, like he believed that he had some claim on you and you couldn't remember another time that he'd acted this way. Sure he teased Howard, but this was more than that.

It was almost possessive and it kinda scared you how much you liked it.

Ben doesn’t answer your question. His shoulders are tense, hands clenched into fists at his sides, while something lurks behind his eyes that you can’t identify.

“Ben?” You say it like a question, ignoring the urge to press your hands against his chest like you did earlier at the dance to calm him down.

His gaze drops to your arm, where Howard grabbed you, tracing the bruises and clenching his jaw together. Ben’s right hand comes to delicately pick up your bruised wrist, running his thumb over the discolored flesh with a frown. “Does it hurt?” He rumbles changing the subject.

“No. Does that hurt?” You breathe noticing his bruised knuckles and gently probe your fingers along them.

You hated the though that he was hurt and for you, no less.

Why did he have to intervene? Why did he hit Howard?

“It was worth it.”

You both stand there for a minute, with Ben holding on to your wrist, touch surprisingly gentle.

��I just don’t like that he hurt you okay?” He mutters raising his eyes to yours. You weren't prepared for the soft look in his eyes. You expected him to still be angry over Howard, but he almost looked, worried.

“I'm okay Ben." You whisper back.

You want him to answer your question. You think again about telling him those three little words you wanted to say when you were swaying on the dance floor together but you can’t.

He nods once before he looks around the room, eyes falling on your sketchpad where it lays closed on your bed. "Got any new ones?"

You knew it was Ben's way of asking if he could stay, trying to tell you that he didn’t want to go back to Philadelphia that night, and you didn't want him to either.

"A few. If you're not too tired-"

"I’m never too tired for you."

You feel your heart beat rapidly in your chest. “Okay.”

The whole time you sit together on your bed, Ben doesn't drop your wrist, in fact he continues to brush his thumb against it while you look through your sketchbook. And in a few hours when Pearl finds you and Ben curled up in bed together, you’re not embarrassed, because deep down you’re starting to believe that Ben cared for you more than he was willing to admit.

*******************************

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series, please let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303 @deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs @bughill126

[illusioncanthurtme--art]

Style experimentation feat. zim and dib (rough chronological order). This is the most fun I've had drawing in a long time!! Still kind of in shock over it.

This all started from Two Things: A.) I've been looking at animatics in preparation to make a ✨Portfolio✨, and B.) I saw some fanart that had me making heart eyes and I still can't stop looking at it.

When I first started this invader zim kick a couple months ago, I didn't think it was going to lead me down this path. I thought I was going to draw some of the characters in "my style", and eventually move onto something else. I don't know HOW it ended up being this sort of retrospective muse for me, where I'm challenging myself and trying new things. Maybe iz isn't the cause, maybe this would have happened regardless of what characters I was drawing. But here we are.

And I am so so so happy for it because I USED to draw like this all the time!!! This is what my sketchbook used to look like!! And somehow I just?? Forgot? That I could draw this way. That there wasn't anything stopping me. And that it would be so FUN. You can literally draw, and make the characters less detailed, but simultaneously more exaggerated and expressive, AND you can make more drawings in less time?? Ive always been a quantity over quality person when it comes to drawing, and i think its the animator in me that loves drawing like that. I was drawing all day yesterday. I didn't want to put the pencil down, and it's been a long time since I've felt that way about drawing. I had so much fun and I don't want to draw any other way ever again...That's just how I feel right now at least.

I swear, I probably come off as the most wishy washy person. First I messed around with zims design multiple times, now I'm inking stuff, now I'm drawing cartoonier. THIS IS NEW FOR ME I SWEAR... its been a long long time since ive let myself draw this way. I guess I just hadn't realized how much I was restricting myself.

Anyway, rough chronological order. The first adult dib page (second to last image) was actually the first one I drew. You can tell from the last page that I used the shapes n such from the kid dib on the older dib to make it look more like him. The big forehead is actually pretty crucial lol

[hannahssimblr]

After art class on Wednesday morning I purposefully take longer than everybody else does to pack away my pencils and gather up the sheets of paper I was working from, slotting them meticulously inside the hard cover of my sketchbook so that the corners won’t get crushed inside the disorganised chaos of my school bag. Evan waits by the door tentatively waiting for me in case I might want to have lunch with him again, but I wave him away, I’ll talk to him after school, and when he’s gone it’s just me and the teacher, the last ones in the room. 

Miss O’Reilly is busy organising papers on her desk. She is separating the watercolour sheets from the cartridge and stacking them into neat little piles for the paper shelf, and doesn't seem to realise I am there until I address her. 

“Miss?” 

She glances up, “Yes?” 

My fingers fidget with the zipper of my bag, pulling it open then closed again. The sound it makes is probably annoying but I can’t seem to stop myself. “Do you mind if I talk to you for a minute?”

“Of course, what is it?” 

I approach her desk with caution as I enter this unfamiliar territory, reaching out to a teacher, risking vulnerability, but Miss O’Reilly doesn’t seem to think it weird that I want to speak with her. She simply leans against the front of her desk with an open expression, smiling warmly at me as if I am not the student who routinely ignores what she is saying in class, talks over her and interrupts her lessons by throwing bits of eraser into Philip Delaney’s mad ginger frizz. 

“I’ve been thinking about college, miss.”

“Well that’s good!”

“Yeah, um, I think I want to… like, do… art?” I exhale in a rush. I don’t fully understand why I am so nervous to speak, especially when, so far, she’s being nice. She doesn’t even look like she’s going to laugh, like she’s thinking about doing it soon, or even like she's holding it in so that she can do it later in the staff room with the other teachers. Still I keep my guard up, waiting for her features to twist into a sneer.

“I think that’s a fantastic idea,” Miss O’Reilly beams, and her eyes flick to that drawing I did of Michelle a couple of months ago and which she pinned up on the wall for everyone to see. She’s using it as an example to other students of the right things to do, the right way to capture a perfect likeness, and I should be flattered, but its presence embarrasses me. It is a symbol of my earnest effort, hard work, in which I am not known for, and I wish she would take it down and hide it. I don’t want others to know that I have tried. 

“Do you?”

“Yes! And I'm glad that you've said that, honestly. You’re one of the students in my classes who shows a lot of promise, and who I think could really do well in art school, and I know it’s not often a popular choice with parents, but I think there’s a lot of value in an art degree if you’re passionate about it,” She moves around to the front of her desk and begins rummaging in a drawer. “Here,” She produces a form and hands it to me, “These are the portfolio requirements for some colleges. It seems like a lot, but normally students take a year to do a portfolio course in a local college before applying to university.”

A year out? To just work on my portfolio? The thought of delaying my exit from Dublin for an extra twelve months makes me queasy, but my eyes flit over the paper in my hands anyway. It’s all about figure studies and expression, colour work, painting, charcoal, pencil…

“I don’t want to go to college in Dublin,” I manage, handing it back to her. “I want to move away. And I want to do my portfolio soon, so that I can do that as soon as I can.”

She eyes me curiously, “Alright… Well, there are heaps of options for international study...”

“Yeah, I think that’s what I want.” 

“Do you study French?” 

“No, German,” German, which I chose in first year because I am lazy and it seemed easy at first. The words were just like eccentric cousins of English ones that could all be squished together into hilariously long streams of letters that my friends and I would laugh about. Schwarzwälderkirschtorte. I’ll never forget that one, nor will I Krankenwagen, Backpfeifengesicht, Schadenfreude. All of us lazy boys who didn’t want to make the effort with French took German, whose words actually sounded the way they were written. I admire directness in people, so I expect it in languages too. French is underhanded, insincere. Why speak one that makes you work so hard? It’s absurd. 

“Well,” Miss O’Reilly goes back to her drawer for more shuffling, “Have you considered studying in Germany? Or the UK? There are lots of great universities abroad.”

“I never thought very far ahead,” I admit, “I just know I don’t want to study here.”

“Okay, well, at least that narrows it down some. Have a look at some of these in your free time,” She slots a small stack of forms into my hand, to which I stare dumbly at. The barrage of information is a visual assault with all of these bullet points and new abbreviated words, application fees this, UCAS that… 

I must look stricken as I feel, because Miss O’Reilly softens, “or you could come back to me when I have a few moments free and we can go through it all together. I know it’s a lot to take in, and usually we don’t go so much into depth with fifth years. This kind of thing is for next year, and usually we try not to overwhelm kids with too many decisions too soon.”

“I know, I just think I’d like a head start. Especially if there’s all these, um, requirements.”

“Well, as I said, a portfolio preparation course at a local college-”

“I don’t want to do that.”

She blinks, “Right.”

“I really just want to go somewhere new, miss. I’m willing to work hard at every chance I get to do it, I’ll make art all summer, I’ll have the best portfolio ever-”

She laughs, “I’m sure you will! I don’t doubt you at all, Jude, you’re a wonderful artist and I’m willing to help you with your work whenever there’s time to.”

“Well I don’t do Irish,” I say, “I’m exempt, so I have a free class every day where I usually just try and do my homework…”

“Well come to my class then, even when I’m teaching other years, you can sit down at the back of my lessons and just do your own thing, get working on those figure studies, the paintings, whatever. As long as you don’t cause trouble…” she eyes me warily, “It’s not a problem.”

“Really?” I don’t mean to sound so overwhelmingly grateful to her, as though I’m on the brink of falling to my knees and worshipping her, but truly, I am in slight disbelief at her offer. Most of my interactions with the teachers in this school have been of them snapping fingers in my face, rolling their eyes, calling me out of class so that they can berate me loudly in the hallway while my gleeful classmates crowd around listening at the glass panel in the doorway. It’s almost hard to believe that I have found one who is intent on being supportive.

“Yeah,” she says, and she’s distracted by the crowd of third years piling into the room behind me. “Come by any time between classes, I’m happy to help.”

“Thanks, miss.”

“No problem at all,” she turns to the hoard, “hello everyone! Art history today!” and they let out a collective groan as I slip out into the hallway. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[vampsquerade]

Hey, can you write a little story where Gaz s/o is an artist, they both go on an artist date (painting together, visiting museums together). Just a big art day. Thank you ❤️

YES oh my god art dates are so cute 🥹 i used some inspiration from a museum date i went on a couple years ago. i hope you enjoy! thanks for the request pandora 💕

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Gaz x GN!Reader: Sketching The Day

Trigger Warnings: none, all fluff

“Hey love, do you want to go on a date today?” Kyle asked, looking across the table at you. You perk up slightly, smiling widely. “Yes, please! I’ve been wanting to go on a proper date with you for so long since you’ve come home.” you say. “Grand. I’ve got a good set of things we should do today before it’s over.” Kyle says. “Oh yeah? Are you gonna tell me what, or is this going to be one of those surprise dates?” you ask. “Hmm,” Kyle hums, tapping his chin with his finger before grinning and nodding at you, “definitely is. You’ll just have to wait and see. Now go get yourself ready, alright?” You can see the warmth on his face, and it makes you happy to be able to finally go on a date with Kyle.

His last mission was pretty tiring from what he was allowed to tell you and it didn’t help with the fact that it was one of those that took up more than half the year. Months had passed and finally, you were able to be with your beloved boyfriend again. After getting yourself all readied up an hour and a half later, you go back towards the kitchen and see Kyle’s already changed. You smile and give him a hug, inhaling a bit deeply because he put on a cologne you really liked. “All ready to go now love?” Kyle asks, giving you a kiss on the head. “Can I stand here and just smell your cologne a bit more?” you ask jokingly as you continue to sniff him. “You’ll have plenty of time to smell it once we get back, I promise,” he says.

Pleased with this deal, you pull away from him and the two of you head out to have what you considered your first “mystery date.” After a bit of driving, you see your first stop is what you assume to be a family-owned art supplies store. “We’re doing an art date, aren’t we?” you ask excitedly. It was something you had wanted to do for so long, and seeing Kyle surprise you like this made you happy that he remembered. “We are indeed! Now then, let’s get ourselves inside and get what we’ll need for the most important part of today’s date.” he says cheerfully. Kyle helps you out of the car and continues to hold your hand as you walk inside of the store. You’re amazed by everything inside, as there are paintings, sketches, and several other little art displays made by patrons and the owners themselves.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Kyle asks, chuckling softly at your amazement. “Yeah…and it smells so nice in here.” you say softly. “But does it smell better than me?” Kyle jokingly asks. “Nothing could ever smell as good as you.” you say, letting go of his hand and wandering off. Kyle stands there for a moment, a bit stunned despite the warm sensation in his heart before he follows after you. The two of you discuss whether or not to buy some watercolors alongside the sketchbooks that Kyle planned on purchasing for the both of you. “Have you tried using watercolors before?” you ask him. “I have, yeah. It’s a bit more tedious than I thought it’d be when I first tried it.” he says. “Would you be willing to let me teach you some more? I’m pretty good with watercolors myself, plus I think it’d be a fun way to bond some more.” you suggest.

Your lovely boyfriend then turns to you, the watercolor set still in his hands, “I reckon I’ll have to take you up on that then. Nothing better than getting to spend time with you.” Kyle says, giving you a wink. You fluster a bit, taking the set from him and putting it in the little basket you had grabbed. A bit more of looking around and gathering things you’ll need, the two of you then pay and make your way out and to what Kyle considered the most important part of your date: a museum that was the closest to your shared flat. Sketchbooks and pencils in hand, the two of you pay to enter the museum and begin your date sketching the various sculptures and paintings you see.

It definitely helps with your sense of perspective once again, as getting to see the bottom half of the sculpture gradually gets further and further away from you the larger it is. The shadows and highlights in the paintings also made for good practice in shading again while giving you that nagging question wondering why you had ever stopped focusing on it as much as you had. The two of you decided to fill up as many pages as you could before the museum closed, considering the two of you went a bit later in the day, heading out into the rain. “Tsk…typical England, am I right?” Kyle asks, making you laugh. “One learns to live with it,” you say as you carefully step further out to reach your hand out of the shelter of the porch of the museum and into the rain, “and thankfully it isn’t too hard. We’ll be able to make it to the car!”

Trusting you fully, Kyle then removes his coat and drapes it over you. “Even if the rain isn’t too bad, the cold definitely is. Let’s head home for a nice tea, yeah?” he suggests. Smiling and giving him a kiss on the cheek, you nod and the both of you quickly and safely make your way to the car. Kyle helps you in by opening the door and taking his coat off your back to put it in front of you to help you readjust to the cold interior of the car. Shivering a bit, you reach back and put your sketchbook into the backseat to make sure it didn’t get any more wet than it possibly was. Kyle then gets into the car and does the same before starting the car and letting it warm up.

“I had loads of fun today with you, Y/N. I’m so sorry that we can’t just have more of a normal life to do things like this more often.” Kyle apologizes, abruptly breaking the silence between you two. “Don’t be sorry. Whether you’re here or not I’ll always love any time I get to spend with you. Even if it’s something as simple as getting to just wander around a museum and sketching the things we see—any time I just get to have you makes me happy.” you say. Kyle smiles, leaning forward to gently cup your face with one hand before giving you a kiss. You kiss back, bringing a hand of your own up to caress his cheekbone with your thumb. “Let’s get home, I don’t want to risk you getting sick from the cold.” Kyle says once he pulls away.

You stare out the window a bit as you pass by the now dimly lit streets of England, watching the rain fall as it falls past the streetlights. The soft pitter patter combined with the lights and movement of the car relaxed you enough to cause you to fall asleep the way back home. Kyle glanced over at your sleeping form briefly, smiling softly to himself as he continued driving. Eventually arriving back at your shared flat, you’re carefully carried inside and woken up once you’re laid onto your shared bed. “Hm?” you hum softly as you come to, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. “We’re home. I’ll bring you your pajamas then help you to our room so you can get dressed. I just wanted to set you down real quick so you could try and sleep a bit longer while I got them.” Kyle says.

The amount of care in his voice makes you smile, reaching both your arms up to try and get him to embrace you. Kyle immediately clings to you carefully, rubbing your back and kissing your face all over. “I love you lots, Y/N…truly…I’ll be right back with those pajamas.” he says. You’re let go of and left alone for a moment as Kyle goes to the dryer and comes back with your pajamas. He made sure to warm them up a bit so you’d feel better after being in the cold rain earlier, and the amount of attention that Kyle put into caring for you showed you exactly why you stay with him despite him constantly being away. “You’re the absolute best boyfriend, Kyle. I really can’t express how much I love you but I wish I could…” you say sleepily.

Kyle flusters a bit and you just barely catch it, as you love the way his eyes just shine a little bit more than usual when he does. You yawn softly as you change into your pajamas; Kyle’s turned away completely from you so you don’t have to see him fluster again as you change in front of him. “Oh come on Kyle, you’re gonna see me naked someday. Maybe I could even let you sketch me nude for anatomy practice.” you tease. “I-I know that! It’s just…you know, rude of me to look at you without your permission…” he says, rubbing the back of his neck shyly. “I know, I’m just teasing! But do know, you most certainly always have permission to look at me when I’m changing.” you say. Kyle nods and sighs then gets his own pajamas and changes in another room, much to your dismay.

You liked when he took his shirt in front of you.

Kyle then steps back into your room and finds you laying down half asleep, the blanket resting halfway on top of your body. He smiles softly and turns the light in your room off before going to join you under the blanket. He readjusts it so it’s properly covering you and the action itself has you nuzzling up to him for extra warmth. Kyle chuckles softly, completely wrapping his arms around you. “Did the museum date really make you this tired, Y/N?” he asks. “Mhm…it was just so fun and relaxing…let’s do it again someday…” you mumble sleepily. “We will, I promise. Get some proper rest now.” Kyle says, kissing the top of your head as you nuzzle further into his chest.

[hereforlou]

bad buddy fandom getting-to-know-you meme!

I was tagged by @dudeyuri to answer these BB related questions by @fiercynn Thank youuu <3 these are always fun but I often forget to do them u_u

note: i consider "fanworks" to pretty much everything people create related to a fandom, including but not limited to meta/analysis/discussion, gifs, fanvids/edits/fancams, filk, fanart, fanfic, fan food, fan crafts, etc. please include this note with the meme unless you have a different definition

name and whatever you want to share about yourself

I’m Maggie (Magui), from Argentina, in my 30s, just enjoying the creative burst this show (which I love very, very much) gave me until it petters out. I’ve been in a loOOooOOoot of fandoms under different usernames over the years and I tend to delete stuff from the internet without much warning, so save what you like (but don’t repost, please!)

when did you watch bad buddy/join the fandom?

I watched it from episode 1 as it aired and could feel the brain rot spreading week after week but didn’t write fic until the day after the last episode came out, and I don’t think I posted any drawings until one or two months later? But I have the first couple of doodles I made on an old sketchbook after the first ep! (note I needed to write their names to remember what they were)

favorite ship(s)

PatPran and InkPa

favorite character(s)

I really can’t choose so I’ll say Nong Nao.

favorite episode(s)

I have a soft spot for ep 11 - running away together to a safe place, both trying to understand each other, the silly guy scene, Our Song, the imaginary montage at the end, the memory of watching it for the first time and being sucker punched by the ep 12 preview??? perfect all around x_x

favorite scene(s)

Off the top of my head (and in chronological order): the trashcan scene in ep 1, the bus stop role-play, rooftop kiss, the last scene/montage in ep 7, the simultaneous parent confrontation and rooftop meeting in ep 10, the silly guy convo at the beach, the last scene with the tin cans on ep 12 ;_;

one thing you would change about the show if you could

I think everyone answered the same thing but the whole Wai conflict and how they resolved it (including maybe Pat getting shot, though at this point would it really be BBS without Pat getting shot?)

what are your some of your favorite fanworks made by other people? 

I'll stick to people instead of particular fanworks, and only those I know for sure are on Tumblr so I can tag them, I'm really sorry if I forget someone!!

@architectxengineer @kit-teung @kornswasianguyswag @miscellar @dimplesandfierceeyes @yourunwiththewolves @icouldhyperfixatehim @fiercynn @charthanry @isaksbestpillow @pransobrave @faillen @jemmo @snickerdoodlles @alexshenry @nanons @mantrisanu

(if you create fanworks) what are your favorite fanworks that you’ve made?

Have I shown you the fridge magnets I made over a year ago? They’re pretty wonky but I think they're cute, considering I don’t know what I’m doing

a song that makes you think of bbs (the ones in the show don’t count lol)

I'll tag the same people I mentioned above, if you haven't done it and want to:

@architectxengineer @kit-teung @kornswasianguyswag @miscellar @dimplesandfierceeyes @yourunwiththewolves @icouldhyperfixatehim @fiercynn @charthanry @isaksbestpillow @pransobrave @faillen @jemmo @snickerdoodlles @alexshenry @nanons @mantrisanu

[foxglovefaun]

1. The skyline in the first page of the new chapter is incredible. Green and especially those shades are my favorite color.

2. The animal gangoon design oh my GOD it's PERFECT. I had imagined something similar when I was writing one of the chapters in my fic!!!

3. Gnashing and gnawing the bars of my cage in anticipation for part 2 AUGH SO GOOD!!!

aaaaaaa THANK YOU SO MUCH ;0;!!!

1. Thank you!! Im so happy with how that intro page came out. I’m doing more and more photobashing lately, which was something I used to do a lot more about ten years ago. It’s a fun way to use the photoshop techniques I have that aren’t just for painting.

On that first page I used a combination of hand painting, photos of the city, special brushes and detail textures, and then kinda mashed them all together using different layer modes and gradient maps. I think the original skyline was purple and pink, and the server units were blue grey. Then I added in clouds and extra buildings, distorted the lights and added more of my own, put in the OakTex hologram, and just kinda fiddled with “lighten” and “darken” layers of texture until it felt right. :)

2. YES! THE BEAST MASK! I was deeply inspired by the work of MissMonster who is a powerful illustrator and craftsperson who makes INCREDIBLE monster masks. The snarling faces and big tusks are such a vibe. Just over all really beautiful work. One of my dream goals is to one day be able to get my hands on one of the mask blanks so I can do a custom paint job.

In Burner there is a whole subculture of custom respirators and filters (there were supposed to be a couple examples in ch 4 but I forgor 😔so I will be doing a retcon) so masks and unusual headgear are super common. Think the customized COVID masks we started seeing about a year in. Some folks also use face garblers due to Camera Everywhere, but an enforcer like [REDACTED] needs something practical that can’t be decoded, so a full face mask does plenty to get the job done.

3. OK BUT SAME haha Hhh I have only just started thumbnails but I have had the script for the next three/four parts ready for months. I’m foaming at the mouth and getting very activated because this next part will be featuring lots of food, cyberware-focused subcultures, and introducing more stuff about Ross and Shiro’s relationship. So I am

EXCITE.

Getting the sleep I did last night helped a lot, but I need some more so I’m not going to start steamrolling forward just yet. But! I’ve been doing a lot of sketchbook studies of people eating food, updated some character portraits, doing some short expression sheets, and took photos of tunnels and streets from around the city to refer to for the car scenes. :)

your message means a lot to me. I actually I saw it shortly after you sent it! But I have been wayyy beyond dysfunctional l so I wanted to wait to reply until I could write something more thought-out ❤️

Thanks so much for your enthusiasm, it really fills me with a special kind of energy that makes me wanna get more of the story moving, and it’s also just very nice to see that folks really are reading it and enjoying it ;w;

Thanks for taking the time to write me. :3 take good care, i hope the next week for your is kind and restful

all the best

-Fox

[girl-next-door-writes]

All I Want For Christmas Is You

Characters: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Now you and Steve are officially together it’s only right that you are so adorably cute it makes people want to puke, right?

Word Count: 1026 words

Prompt: #8: A and B give each other gifts in a gift exchange

A/N: The amazing @stupendous-science science requested this prompt for the wonderful Mrs. Steve Rogers and I figured it was the perfect ending to this little series. I hope you have enjoyed my Steven’s Greetings. If you did then please reblog, if you didn’t then feel free to move on with your life and not give it a second thought.

The month of December seemed to have flown by in the blink of an eye, and part of Steve was sad to see it go. So much had happened, lots of little things that had led him right here, sat with you snuggled beside him on the sofa surrounded by your friends. The final gift exchange of the year was always a much celebrated tradition, something thoughtful that represented the past year for the person you had pulled from the hat. And by hat, that was H.A.P.P.T, Highly Accurate People Picking Technology. Tony insisted the p’s were silent.

Steve had been nervous and excited when he had picked out your name, torn between revealing his feelings for you and keeping them hidden. Now the cat was out of the bag about his deep affection for you he decided to combine the gifts he into one super soldier sized gift.

Secretly, everyone hoped that Tony had picked them. His gifts were always incredibly personal, outrageously expensive and the envy of everyone. He had a knack for gifts, despite claiming to hate the sentimentality of the season. Steve could only hope that you weren’t too disappointed.

“Okay, so this one is for Capsicle. Well done whoever bought this, you have perfectly disguised your handwriting and I have been unable to figure out who you are.” Tony narrowed his eyes as he looked at his friends, trying to see any hint of a reaction that would give them away.

“Tony, if you really wanted to know who everyone got you could just ask happt.” Scott grinned, knowing how much the mispronunciation would irritate Stark.

“Come on, punk. Open it up so we can get round to Tony’s before he has an aneurism.” Bucky chuckled, knowing full well who Steve’s ‘secret santa’ was.

Carefully, he unwrapped his gift, folding the paper and placing it to one side just as his mom had always done when he was growing up, no point wasting good paper. His brow furrowed as he revealed a box, wondering if this was one of those trick gifts from Stark that would result in him opening smaller and smaller boxes until he found a set of car keys. Removing the lid, a smile tugged at his lips when he saw it was basically a hamper of all his favourite things. There were a couple of records, new sketching pencils, a book he had mentioned wanting to read a couple of months ago, some soft, fluffy Captain America socks, some bubble bath which claimed it helped relax and sooth aching muscles, a small bottle of Asgardian mead and a sketchbook that looked somehow familiar. His fingers ran over the leather cover as his mind tried to pluck out where he had seen them. It was hand bound, filled with handmade pages, no two the same size or shade. It reminded him of his first sketchbooks made up of random pieces of paper he had shuffled together between two sheets of cardboard.

He must have been completely silent as he stared at his gift because people weren’t sure how he was feeling about it. Was he disappointed? Was he upset?

“Hey man, you okay?” Sam asked softly, bringing Steve back to the present.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. I just can’t believe one of you guys put so much thought into this! This is amazing. Thank you.” He looked up and smiled at everyone before turning his attention back to the mystery of the sketchbook. He had seen it recently, seen a whole bunch of them, he just couldn’t figure out where.

He had been so preoccupied that he hadn’t realised Tony was passing a gift to you until your elbow bumped him as you pulled back the wrapping paper. Steve’s eyes flitted from the pile on your lap to your face, eager to see your reaction, hoping he had this all right.

Your heart stuttered when you saw your haul. “Looks like we had the same idea.” You looked over at your boy with a soft smile and he realised where he had seen those books! It had been at the Christmas market he’d gone to with you because Bucky bailed. You had left him standing in the crowd and must have bought it then.

Steve grinned as he watched you inspect each item. Your favourite chocolate, favourite book, favourite movie. There was a mix cd with all your favourite songs on it and you chuckled at how old school that was before making a mental note to ask Tony if he had a way to play a cd. There was one of Steve’s hoodies that you had commented on several times, a lip balm in your favourite flavour and a plushie of your favourite animal. In amongst all this was a small box, which you looked at curiously before picking it up and looking at Steve.

It was too big for a ring, but smaller than shoes. The box itself looked a little battered but that didn’t bother you. Opening the lid, your brow furrowed in confusion for a moment. Inside was a paper napkin, a golden brown leaf, some ticket stubs, a square of folded up used wrapping paper and various detritus. It took you a moment before you realised the wrapping paper was the kind you’d used to wrap the tree presents. The ticket stubs were from the Christmas market. The napkin was from the restaurant you’d had dinner with your family. Each and every little piece of tat in that box was something Steve had kept over the past year that had anything to do with you.

“Oh, Steve.” You whispered breathlessly as the full emotional weight of the gift hit you. Carefully placing everything on the ground, you climbed into his lap and wrapped your arms around him tight, whispering a million 'thank yous’ in his ear.

“Anything for my girl.” He murmured back, holding you just as tight. This was everything he had ever wished for, and he would happily give up each and every gift he’d ever got because all he wanted for Christmas was you, and you were all he needed.

[loveletterworm]

I wanted to draw on paper but i have too much printer paper in my desk drawer so I forced myself to use my sketchbook again for the first time in 6 months (I didn't realize it had been that long...)

^ This is one of the characters involved in "cutesy slop" I referred to at some point in the past couple days. I came up with her at some point early this year her name is Agate...I have no interesting information to share about her at all. (Information exists, but it is not interesting.) Normally she's taller than this. (I think her design is kind of busy so the only picture I drew of her i liked enough to share was this really little one...) This has been a certified Crayola Colored Pencils I Bought From The Grocery Store Six Months Ago moment

[pico-digital-studios]

Into, Across and Beyond! Scripting: An Adventurous Date

The evening after the ceremony had passed, OMT!Tails was getting ready to settle down in his room, listening to some music and not noticing things floating around his room.

"Hey, Tails?"

He looked up, seeing OMT!Mina up on his ceiling with a bright smile.

OMT!Tails: Mina? How did you-?

She leapt down and quickly enveloped him in a gentle hug as SS!Amy came into the room too.

OMT!Tails: Hehe, hey! How have you been?

OMT!Mina: Been great! Is this the room you grew up in?

OMT!Tails: Uh, yeah. My dorm room at school is more grown-up, of course.

OMT!Mina: Oh, cool! I used to play with stuff like this when I was younger.

She found a boxed figure set of Peni Parker and SP//dr (their Into variants).

OMT!Tails: Uh, that's a collectible-.

SS!Amy: Oh! I remember Peni Parker!

OMT!Mina: Yeah! I used to have this figure pack!

OMT!Tails: Well, that's an extremely rare, highly sought after-.

SS!Amy (confused): Wait, why is it still in the packaging?

She ripped open the package as OMT!Tails muffled out a scream, before putting it on the shelf and giving the Peni figure an affectionate finger pat.

OMT!Tails: Okay, okay. That's fine.

But no time to mope about it, because...

OMT!Mina: Woah! Are these your drawings?

OMT!Tails: Oh, uh...

Yep. She's got her hands on the sketchbook.

SS!Amy: Heh, they look so good!

OMT!Mina: Wow, there's... so many of myself. Heh, I missed you too, Tails.

OMT!Tails: So, what are you two doing here? I mean, we've nothing major going on in this dimension, but-.

SS!Amy: Wanna have a dash around town?

OMT!Tails: Oh! Sure thing!

They headed outside and began their run around the island.

OMT!Tails: So, let me get this straight. There's an entire society with the multiverse's best heroes in it?

OMT!Mina: Yep! So, there's this lady, Tekno, she drives a motorbike...

OMT!Tails: A motorbike?

OMT!Mina: Oh my gosh! I've learned LOADS from her, Stella and AmRou!

OMT!Tails: Mhm! I've gotten even better at my game throughout our past few adventures together!

SS!Amy: Let's give it a shot, then. Thread the needle!

They did so, diving past a couple of trucks, with Tails barely avoiding a THIRD one. Cripes!

OMT!Tails: Heh, easy!

OMT!Mina: And the Sonic from the Errorverse? The whole thing was his idea! "LM" Sonic's been good staffing, too...

OMT!Tails: Huh? LM?

OMT!Mina: He's like a rough-and-tumble Sonic, but a good guy?

OMT!Tails: Like... a vampire hero? I'd pay good money to see that.

OMT!Mina and SS!Amy dinged a water tower, while OMT!Tails donged it. They were playing a super-speed game of H.O.R.S.E.

OMT!Tails: So how long ago did they invite you?

OMT!Mina: Well, before we met for the first time, in all honesty.

SS!Amy: And me? Just a couple of months ago after our last adventure.

OMT!Mina: Okay, this one counts for two!

The girls ran across two buildings and leapt over an antenna. And this time, OMT!Tails mimicked the combo flawlessly!

OMT!Mina: Woo! Look at you!

OMT!Tails: Heh! I'm getting even better at this!

They grab a couple of chilli dogs from a street vendor, dropping some rings off on the way as the fee.

OMT!Tails: Keep the change! (to the girls) So, about this club...

OMT!Mina: Oh, look at that dumb-dumb over there. Guy in the stripes, ten points!

She spotted a purse thief making a run for it, prompting the trio to quickly sort him out together.

OMT!Tails: ...What kinda stuff do you do there?

OMT!Mina: We're continuing to try and keep the entire multiverse safe from danger.

OMT!Tails: I mean, we did that three times already, heh.

OMT!Mina finished by webbing the crook to a lamppost for the S.I.G.U. to get later.

SS!Amy: Just last week, me and Trip were on a mission to some kind of popcorn factory themed around Sonic.

OMT!Mina: And yesterday, I had this mission at a Shakespeare dimension. And Pana and I are just like-.

OMT!Tails: Pana?

OMT!Mina: Oh my gosh, you'd love him! He's been letting me crash in his dimension in the past.

OMT!Tails: What does that mean? You stay at his dimension as your current home, or...?

But she flew off. So light and happy, it seemed... evasive? Like she's using her new friends to forget about her old life?

OMT!Tails: So, why'd you come here if you seem to be working for these guys now?

They were casually standing on the side of a moving subway, and Tails caught sight of a kid who wouldn't stop licking the window.

OMT!Tails: (grossed out) Don't- Don't do that. (to Mina) Hey, uh... Mina?

He found her and Amy a block or two away under the tracks as SS!Amy got into a ready position on the roof.

OMT!Tails: Oh, there you are! Whatcha doing?

OMT!Mina (playful): Waiting for you, hehe!

She led him away, leaving SS!Amy to get ready to deal with something on lower ground; a familiar hedgehog carrying some stuff towards an apartment block.

SS!Amy (through a communicator): Got the target in my sights now. I'll make it as quick as I can!

Back at the south end of the island, OMT!Tails and OMT!Mina finished over at a small forest close to Aquatic Ruin.

OMT!Mina: This is a cool thinking spot!

OMT!Tails: Right? I mean, who needs uneven bars when you have all these trees by Aquatic Ruin?

He sat down as they looked out at the view together.

OMT!Tails: So... You and Ash... You still hadn't talked things out?

OMT!Mina: What exactly would we talk about? "Hey, Ash! How've the last couple of years been? You still think I murdered my best friends?"

OMT!Tails: I mean, I don't know... Maybe if I discussed more about things to the wider world-?

OMT!Mina: Don't. Trust me on that.

OMT!Tails: Well... maybe some of these things are supposed to be just for us.

OMT!Mina: Yeah, that's a nice way to think about it.

She sat down, thankful that the branch was very strong.

OMT!Tails: I'm just a really emotionally intelligent kid. Beyond my years!

Mina laughed softly. Those two had each other's number!

OMT!Mina: It's always so great when I'm talking to you.

OMT!Tails: Yeah?

OMT!Mina: Yeah. I mean, how many people can you talk to about this stuff?

They both feel it. Something between attraction and kinship. She wanted to say something, but wasn't sure she could.

OMT!Tails: You okay, Mina?

OMT!Mina: Yeah. You're one of the very few friends I've truly made since my Sonic and Tails's deaths.

OMT!Tails (playful): Aside from the Blur Gang and Pana, right?

OMT!Mina: That's different.

OMT!Tails: Yeah? How's that?

OMT!Mina: Well, I don't know... You and me, it's...

OMT!Tails: We're the same. In the important ways, y'know?

He nailed it. It was something more than attraction, and there was an inevitability to them both. They could feel it.

OMT!Mina: In a few other universes, Mina Mongoose falls for Sonic or Tails. And in those same universes, it doesn't end well...

OMT!Tails: Well... there's a first time for everything, right?

She brightened up. Around him, everything seemed possible. She leaned against his shoulder with a smile, and they lingered where they were for a bit, a good view of the island from where they were at. Who would ever want a moment like this to end?

[myliobatis]

Why Did This Fic Involve So Much Math: Behind The Scenes Of A Really Long Chapter

I kept threatening to do this and here it is: the planning materials (scribbles) that kept me organized enough to finish chapter two of far to the west and worlds away, aka the ensemble-cast-repentance-in-avallónë fic that ate my life. I am not constitutionally suited to writing longfic (and a 10k chapter is LONG for me, I usually hover in the 1k or less range), so this was an extremely necessary part of the process. Let’s get into it!

where it all began: early shape-of the-world thoughts in the back of a work notebook. it also contains first drafts of several scenes, but those are not pictured because they have Actual Confidential Work Materials mixed in.

from there, it developed into this bullet-point conceptualisation of the “deal with the death”, which has lived in the bottom of the continually-growing gdoc ever since. almost none of this rationale made it into the text, even though it underpinned everything.

here are the notes I took during my silm and UT reread these past few months. I made a conscious effort to compare the text to fanon, because I hadn’t reread since my first time in the fandom eight years (!) ago. the areas marked with the red inkstick are notes I found particularly useful for this project (vs. generally interesting).

within that notebook, there are some pages specific to planning this series. this one was an early stab at working out the order in which the characters would return. you can also tell that I ran through multiple pens during this process!

working out relative ages at the time of the crossing to Beleriand, which was part of a larger effort to contextualize character relationships.

an early attempt to plan the order of scenes and break up the chapters, including a couple of concepts I later removed. I wrote myself into a corner with the publishing order at the start of the series and here was desperately trying to fix it (only partially successfully!)

another stab at the sequence of returnees, in which you can tell I was having trouble remembering the year of tyelpë’s death…!

questions I asked myself to flesh out the worldbuilding of returnee-aman. in the end I chose to go with less self-actualisation, because. well. drama

working out what exactly this in-universe project entailed; only some of which made it into the finished version. never could work in the random Teleri shipbreaker.

a page of painful math, using this timeline, to figure out when a reasonable date to start the returns was. I did so so much math and then remembered like two weeks later that the numenorean invasion happened and had to recalibrate all over again!!

finally, this large-format sketchbook sheet I wrote out at around 75% finished the fic, to finalize the order, mark down issues to resolve, and make sure the characters were getting roughly equivalent screen time (the dots are tracking focus scenes).

Not pictured: hours and hours and HOURS of thinking about scenes and mentally editing while running, walking, doing laundry, etc. It was weird to put my entire brain into this post, but fun!

[excelsi-or]

summoned (pt. 6)

BIPOC recs: A couple songs I've been obsessed with lately: Love Me In Chapters - Chrissi MAPA - SB19 Heaven - Nola Adé

pairing: woozi x fem!reader/fem!OC

w.c. 2.3k

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

Seokmin glances at the time when Jihoon drops him off. "I'll be back around 9. We'll deal with this in the morning."

"She doesn't wake until 11," Jihoon snorts as Seokmin gets out. "Come at 11."

Seokmin cocks an eyebrow but nods. "11 it is."

Jihoon speeds off and then winds up back at her apartment. He considers flopping on the couch, because sunrise is starting and he can't go anywhere. But something about the air in the apartment tips him off. "I know you're awake, human. You coming out to talk to me or what?"

A beat passes before he gets a response. "You come here."

Jihoon gets to his feet and changes into something casual before entering her room. She's under a blanket, a sketchbook in her lap with a book open next to her. Jihoon leans against the door jam.

"What do you want to know?" she asks him. Her eyes don't lift from whatever she's drawing.

Jihoon hates this. He says as much now.

She shrugs. "We could just not talk about, if you prefer." She looks over at him. "I'm honestly just as clueless as you are, so it really doesn't matter."

"First, what's your 'feeling' about?"

She closes both the books in front of her and sits up straighter. Jihoon takes another step into the room.

"You breathe a word about any of this and I'll find a way to make your life hard, Demon."

Jihoon lifts an eyebrow at her threat. He knows he doesn't have anything to fear; humans can't really hurt him. But coming from her, it does actually sound like a credible threat. "Let's hear it."

She gives him a once over before saying, "My mom's a demon, dad's an angel. They met, fell in love, had a baby, and went into hiding."

Jihoon's brow furrows. "Why are they hiding?"

"Well, they're not hiding anymore. They're human now."

"They're human?" He didn't know that was possible.

She shakes her head. "I never asked and they never shared."

"Well, how do you know?" He doesn't question her intelligence, but he does wonder if a demon and angel would tell their child the truth. If that ever happened. Which she is telling him has happened.

"Demons come to the house to meet with my mom and talk to her about... 'stuff'."

"Demons?"

"You guys have this creepy..." Her fingers wiggle in the air as she tries to come up with the best descriptor. "Smoke that follows you around. Easy to pick you out. And a lot of your guys' mannerisms are off. If you're going to come to the surface, at least keep up with the times." She waves her hand dismissively. "Anyway, yes, my parents an angel and demon turned human."

Jihoon turns this revelation over in his mind before deciding he needs to think on it more before pursuing it. "So, do you have any insights into what's currently going on?" 

She shakes her head.

He pulls her sketchbook out of the pocket of the sweatpants he'd changed into. After hanging around the other guys, he's got some new outfit ideas. Flipping through the sketchbook, he crosses the room. Then he presents one of the spreads near the end to her. "You're drawing possessed buildings."

"Those buildings are just interesting to look at."

Jihoon holds her gaze. She doesn't crack right away, just blinks a few more times when his eyes change. "Seriously."

"I've only been following them a while," she finally says.

"Define 'a while', human. You know that's why I'm here."

She frowns.

It dawns on Jihoon now that her mother, if what this human is saying is true, likely told her all the threats that a demon can and will act upon. He wonders where along that scale she thinks he falls.

Rather than threaten her, he decides to take the silent approach.

"A while, as in a few months."

"Months."

"I only started noticing them a few months ago." She disentangles her body from the blanket and crawls to the edge of the bed, picking up something from the bedside table. 

Jihoon takes this as an invitation to come closer.

She flips open another sketchbook (how many does this woman keep in her home?), flipping through pages and pages of buildings that would make Jihoon's stomach churn if it worked properly. Each one gives off the same aura with varying levels of intensity.

"I need you to take me to them."

"And what are we going to do about it?" she asks. "The energy isn't as strong in these as they are in those ones." She nods her head towards the sketchbook in his pocket. "And you don't even know what the demons are trying to do."

Jihoon opens his mouth to argue, but she cuts him off. "If you did, you wouldn't ask me to take you to see them. You'd have a plan already."

Rarely does Jihoon need to control his temper. Very few things annoy him; and the things that do, he's able to blast away, kill, or dispose of. This human is an amazing mélange of annoying but untouchable. "Well, what are you proposing we do then? Sounds like you have a plan already."

"Talk to my mother," she states. She closes her sketchbook and hands that over to him too. "I haven't told her I know about this."

"But she knows?"

"If anyone is going to know about it, my mother would."

"You have brought a demon home," her mother states when they arrive at her parents' home later that morning. Her mother's eyes go over Seokmin and her voice goes steely. "And an angel."

She ignores her mother's tone. "They have questions I can't answer." As she enters her childhood home, she pecks her mother's cheek. "Is Dad at the bookstore?"

Her mother nods, closing the door behind them. "He had a meeting with Gabriel. His check-in was today."

"Gabriel's in the area?" Seokmin asks.

Her mother ignores him.

Jihoon chances a question. "How long have you been human?"

"Since I gave birth 27 years ago."

So, the demon only responds to demons.

Her mother makes tea as they take a seat in the kitchen. "But certainly that cannot be why you are—you're," she glances at her daughter, who nods with a smile, "here. You came unannounced, imp."

"I know." The two women bring tea, mugs, and biscuits to the table. "But I figured you wouldn't talk to them if I forewarned you that Seokmin was coming." Speaking to Seokmin, she says, "Mom's only okay with one angel, so bear with her."

Seokmin looks to Jihoon. The angel has learned very quickly why only Hansol and Seungkwan have visited.

"Call me Xero," her mother says to Jihoon as she sits. "I'm assuming you're the one," her eyes slide to Seokmin briefly, "here with questions."

Something akin to awe dawns on Jihoon's face. "That's your real name?"

"I agreed that I would be able to be located should the need arise."

"You don't have a soul," the angel states, accepting the tea offered. 

She's never heard Seokmin's voice so devoid of emotion before. So, she adds an extra biscuit to his plate.

"I gave up my soul when I fell in love and had a human child." Xero's tone matches Seokmin's. When she looks to Jihoon, she can only smirk. "We do not get full control over our soul, do we?"

"Mom, can we not discuss that right now?"

Xero reaches for her daughter's hand and gives it a squeeze. "You have me for a few years yet, imp. We can worry about that later."

With a shake of her head, not interested in this topic of conversation, she looks to Jihoon.

He gets the look, though he doesn't quite understand it. Producing the two sketchbooks from his pocket, he opens the more recent one to the two-page spread of buildings she'd scouted with Myungho. The older sketchbook is opened to the first page.

Xero stares at them as if in a trance. Her hands splay across the table as she leans closer to inspect them.

"Imp, these are stunning."

She chuckles despite herself. "Thanks, but," she studies her mother, "you know why we're showing them to you, yes?"

Xero nods. She pulls the more recent sketchbook towards her, tracing a few of the lines with her finger. "You have captured the energy well." Her eyes don't lift from the pages as she asks what exactly they want to know.

Jihoon doesn't beat around the bush. "Do you know what the plan is?"

"You know exactly what they are trying to do." Xero reaches for the other sketchbook to flip through the pages. She hums in pride at her daughter's skill. "What they are always trying to do. They were just trying not to get the angels' attention this time. It appears to be working." However, the mention of angels pulls Xero's attention away from the sketchbooks to glower at the angel at her dining table. "At least it was."

"We were waiting for something else," Seokmin agrees. "This isn't how we were anticipating your lot to do this."

Before the demons can jump across the table at Seokmin's phrasing, she steps in. "Have you been helping them?" It isn't lost on her that more demons have been slipping in and out of the house. She can feel it in the air.

"Does it matter?"

She takes the sketchbooks out from under her mother's nose. Whatever pull is in them works on her mother and not on Jihoon. She passes them to Seokmin to hold, who tucks them carefully into his bag.

Now that they're out of sight, her mother's gaze returns.

"Better?"

"Sorry. The power still gets me." Xero takes a steadying breath.

"You asked if it matters that you helped," she says carefully, watching her mother's expression. "It matters because I'm still human."

Xero gets to her feet, but not before pressing a kiss to the top of her daughter's head. "Yes, I have been helping them." She brings another box of biscuits, even though no one other than the two that had been on Seokmin's plate had been eaten. "I agreed to a few ground rules," she says as she sits again. "I can live my life with Tin, but my loyalties still lie with Him. That is not something that you can just walk away from. I live in a human body without a soul after all."

Jihoon doesn't have to look at the human to know she's frowning. Clearly, the topic of souls, specifically her parents' souls, is a touchy subject.

"So, yes. They have asked for my help. They have asked me to source bodies."

At that admission, the only human in the room walks out. Xero watches her daughter go, and the three listen to the front door shut. It's not slammed like Jihoon had been anticipating; but regardless, she's still gone.

Xero shakes her head and addresses Jihoon. "Human emotions have always been difficult for me to understand. Every year was a new set of emotions that I did not know how to gauge."

Jihoon nods. This, he understands. "She does seem oddly calm though." The one human emotion he seems able to identify and understand completely is anger. Nearly anything triggers it. He supposes that that could be said of any human emotion, but it's one of the only ones he can gauge because of the yelling that tends to accompany it. 

And he thinks this situation would have warranted some yelling.

"She learned the truth about her father and me when a demon had come to visit." Xero looks to Jihoon, rolling her eyes. "Linnaeus is chatty, you know."

Jihoon pretends as if he's kept track of all the demons' names.

"Linnaeus told her all about who she was and where she had come from and Tin and me. Granted, neither her father or I wanted to tell her the truth, so maybe it was for the best that a stranger did it for us. Anyway, when she came to us asking questions, furious that we had omitted such information, we agreed that if anything were to happen that she did not agree with that she could deal with it any way she liked." Her dark eyes glance towards the door. "My daughter has decided walking out is the best way to deal with it. We do not stop her."

Irrelevant to why they're here, but more out of curiosity, Jihoon asks, "How many times has she walked out?"

"Three including today." Pride appears on Xero's face. "Not much fazes my daughter."

Something to ponder later. "You've been helping them source bodies. Where?"

"The hospital I work in."

"You, a demon, work in a hospital," Jihoon states.

"So many human bodies in varying states of life make it difficult to pick out a demon." She levels Seokmin with a stare. "Angels would pick me out too quickly in other liens of work. And I have a human daughter, so I care for human life." Xero's gaze shifts back to Jihoon. "As you seem to as well."

Jihoon doesn't confirm or deny.

"There are specific rules to how I pick these humans. Humans who are dying are to whom I always direct them."

Seokmin is about to demand to know what these rules are, but Jihoon stamps on the angel's foot as he asks his next question. "Do you know what happens to the bodies afterwards?"

Xero shakes her head. "I do not. I just send the names to Pil, and I refuse to know more. I do not ask for details."

"Do you have any idea how much traction they've gained doing it this way?" Jihoon asks.

Xero tips her head in a way that tells the angel and demon that she's never considered this question. "The air does seem heavier. Nothing like how it was 27 years ago."

part 7

[gritsandbrits]

Something i wrote in the heat of the night: A ttte x self insert drabble

This morning I'm getting ready for the day. The sketchbook I bought it out of walmart some time ago sits on my shelf begging for attention.

Growing up I loved to draw,but too many times I was made fun of for drawing. I didn't even make a B above art class I took in high school. My poses would be awkward and clumsy like a disney movie protagonist. My stuff barely got noted on all my socials. What was the point of making anything if it just gets overshadowed by better artists? Writing was a no go either. Who'd want to read any of my crappy fanfics? So I stopped posting.

I stop brushing, quickly grab my bag and leave the room. Hmph who cares if I don't draw anymore. At least I wouldn't get mad fun of or be forced to look at my own work.

As I walk by the train yards I hear a loud whistle, and see one of the Scottish Twins pull up beside me (separated by fences but fairly close to maintain a healthy volume).

"Oi! I want to speak to you for a second!" Donald shouts as he wheezed hot smoke in anger.

"Did I do something wrong?" I ask. This was the first time Donald was mad at me.

"What day is this?" Donald said.

"It's the twenty-eighth," I say.

"And how long is that from the ninth?"

I pause for a bit to calculate the time frame. That would've been nineteen days ago. What was so important about the ninth that had gotten Donald so upset?

"What number is September?"

"The ninth month. Why? Did I forget something?"

Donals coughs in irritation and waits for me to draw my own conclusions. After a minute I gasped as I realized what he meant.

"Crap! I forgot all about Nine-Nine!" I say. Nine-Nine was Donald Day. It was something the fandom did for all the engines numbered one through twelve: make content based on the month and matching date. I had mentioned on my blog that I would give him something. Mostly to make up for the other times I missed celebrating the other engines.

"Uhmm..."

"THREE WEEKS! And you haven't stopped by once, not even to say thank you!"

I flinched. "I'm sorry I busy with work and my appointments-"

"Ya say you REMEMBER to celebrate me Day, ya post bout how you will make somethin' for me yet ya still forgotten!" The engine huffed crossly.

"Well I was busy! I just forgot about it, I'm sorry."

"This aint the first time either lass! Ya say you'll do something for Duck on his day, then didn' show up. You made nothing for Toby and Percy on their days - poor Percy's still peeved about it by the way," he added.

"But I did something for James," I reply quickly. "I let him speak on my blog!"

"Only for what a couple of hours then went right back to posting the regular as if nothing's happen. You didn't give him anything physical much less meaningful!" Donald exclaimed.

I try to say something but he cuts in. "You do this every time. You say you'll celebrate whatever engines day then forget all about it! It's almost like you do it on purpose!"

His words struck bolts into my hearts. The pain finally sunk in, and I lower my head in shame. "I'm sorry," I whisper.

"Lassie we don't expect grand gestures or even a trophy. What we want is your acknowledgement but it seems you don't do that."

It takes me a minute to find my voice. I try to look inward for answers but my soul produces a static noise.

"I don't know I guess I don't.. Draw a lot. My art isn't good," I say. Donald sniffed at my pathetic tone of voice

"Really? You have artists who use - what that program? MS Paint. Yeah MS Paint! Or whatever they can get on hand and create a lot of things. You mean you don't make anything because you're afraid? Not even a doodle?"

"You are so wrapped up in ya own self, ya don't let anyone else in. Why is that?"

Donald stares at me for long minutes. The weight of his words settles in, as if he expects me to be crushed by the weight of my actions. I don't blame him. I promised him and the others and broke those promises. There was no defending that.

Finally after long damning minutes Donald wheezed a sigh of satisfied relent.

"Look Grits everyone is busy look at me! But that's not an excuse to ignore everyone! It's not even a good excuse to deny your own self."

I stood quietly taking it all in. He was right. I've been holding off my own skills and myself and using work to justify pushing everyone away. No excuses.

"All we are asking is for you to draw just ONE thing. Anything it don't have to be Picasso or some renaissance paintin'. Just one scribble of us would be fine," pleaded Donald.

"I'll try," I uttered meekly. Donald smiled.

"You're a great kid, but there's more to life than being afraid all the time.. If you don't take any risks or let anyone else in, then it wouldn't BE a life would it?"

I shook my head in agreement. "No it really wouldn't. Thank you Don. I needed that drag."

Donald starts to back up. "Remember grits just one doodle! I'm keeping track on it you hear?!"

"I will!" I shout back as I wave him goodbye.

After seeing go I think about his speech then decide to go back to my house. Perhaps I need that sketchbook more than it needs me.

[raeharmonia]

Alone in my living room

Author's note: hello, im back with a quick drabble. Im having a terrible month and what better way to express my emotions than to write an Amaranthe drabble of it MSKKSMS

I was listening to Sleeping at Last's Space for Sleep album while writing this (i love Sleeping at Last one of my comfort artists fr) Also this was intended to be a Lymaranthe hurt/comfort fic but i ditched the idea lol it just doesn't sit right for me. This might be the reason why the first half is a bit weird sorryy qwq

Word count: 698, semi-proofread Tags: angst, very venty, brief Lyney appearance lol, weird attempt of writing an accurate description of making tea (tried my best), mention of a want to disappear, self-deprecation

The sounds of the bustling city overwhelms Amaranthe's senses, the people's overlapping chatter makes her head feel dizzy. Lately, she felt even more emotionally and physically drained than usual, constant voices of insecurities flooding her mind ever since.

She tried doodling something on her sketchbook in an attempt to comfort her troubled soul but to no avail. Erasing the unfinished lines as soon as it shows signs of failure, leaving Amaranthe to stare at the leftover marks of graphite on her paper with frustration.

Unfortunately, the walk that was supposed to drive those feelings away only drained her even more. The bright rays of the sunlight and the overwhelmingly loud sounds of the streets amplified her stress levels.

Her hand found its way at the nearest streetlight, leaning against the metal pole in an attempt to calm herself down. She needs something that will ground herself back to reality, desperately.

"My lady, are you okay?"

A voice nearby called, it was filled with worry rather than his usual flamboyant tone.

His voice sounds gentle and warm, she thought.

"Oh im alright, Mr. Lyney. Thank you for your concern." Amaranthe managed to force a small smile, its so painful that its chipping away her remaining energy.

But she has no choice, she can't let him know that she's in such a state.

"But your eyes tells me otherwise. The eyes are the window to someone soul is it no—"

"I said im fine! Can you please shut up for once?!"

Lyney's eyes widened at her reaction, shocked to witness Amaranthe's sudden outburst.

Her tone is firm and cold, as cold as a snowstorm. And her sharp gaze lacked it's usual shine, devoid of color and light.

"I- im sorry i didn't mean to... I need to be alone."

The smell of rainbow roses surrounded the living room as she opened the door of her home. Her stress dwindled as she takes in the comforting atmosphere that her home can only provide.

Amaranthe then boiled some hot water for tea and takes out a box of tea bags out of the kitchen cupboard. Once the water finishes boiling, she poured it into a cup and dunked two tea bags in it.

She grabs a couple of brownies from a paper bag that Charlotte left for her 3 days ago and placed them on a small plate. She brings her teacup and plate towards the living and placed them on the coffee table.

After some time, she brings the teacup near to her lips and blew on the her tea before taking a sip. The sweet and sour flavors of the drink soothes her mind quite a bit. She takes a bite of the brownie, the sweet chocolate flavor made a small smile creep up her lips.

The only things that are accompanying her silence are the soft winds of the outdoors and the soft ticks of her clock.

She looked up at the clock to check the time. Its 2pm. Usually at that time she would be drawing, but the fear of failure hesitated her from picking up her art supplies.

As much as she likes the moments of solitude, she cant help but feel a bit lonely. Without the sounds of companionship filling up the room to distract her, negative thoughts and insecurities began clouding her mind.

Do people really like her? Do they really mean whenever they say that she's amazing and talented? Or are they just pretending and lying to her face? People clearly like someone else who also does the same thing as her better and are only spending time with her out of pity.

She's not amazing. Far from that. She'll always besomeone who is boring and make nothing but horrendous art. Why would anyone like someone like her?

Sometimes, she just wants to disappear altogether.

"Liars." she muttered.

A tear fell down from her eye, landing on her tea which caused it to ripple in the cup.

She places her cup on her table as more tears falls down her face.

She lied down against the soft cushions of her sofa and began crying softly.

This was the 4th time she cried this week.

[gemsandr0ses]

First post of 2024!

silly drawing time

digital version of something I drew in my sketchbook (chubby oodle anybody?/very pos)

sketchbook doodles from a couple months ago

this one was some doodles of oodle from a Girl Scout meeting a while back

now the new years crap I made

[sabrinatvband]

Fat Evil Women devlog 1

I'm working on a new comic and I thought it would be good to share some notes on its production. I think this will be the only devlog I share publically for this comic; I'll probably include a start-to-finish log with all of the concept art and layout roughs as a tier bonus when I sell this on itch.io later. But, here's a very generous taste.

This comic is eventually going to be sold as a CBR file on itch, but I'm also doing to try printing it on A3 paper [which will be folded] and making a small batch of physical copies to give away. It will probably be 32 pages long. It's going to be an anthology [with one particularly long story]. In other words, it's going to be a complete comic, like one you might buy in a comic shop, rather than something more "informal" in shape. In the future, I plan on making enough of these to collect them in trade paperback form, perhaps as a print on demand book?

So far I've done a couple of layouts and compiled a ton of notes. Work on this project began with a simple two-page layout for a bimbo sequence.

I did all the pencilling, inking, and coloring in between two and four hours I think. The first panel on the second page uses an old drawing of the bimbo character I'd drawn several months ago.

I then made a sequence using a Goblin Queen character I'd created around a year ago. Here's the sequence and the original illustration I'd done. The second incomplete panel is from an old drawing I started but never finished.

Yes, the Goblin Queen who looks nothing like a goblin is meant to be a reference of sorts to the Goblin King from Labyrinth, if you were wondering. Except my Goblin Queen mostly hangs out with dark elves.

These sequences are only meant to be rough guides for the final drawings, but I put way more efforts into my layouts than I actually need to. After making these two page sequences, I decided to do something a little more ambitious.

I illustrated a woman wearing a shiny black dress, and she reminded me of an old indie porno producer character I'd created a while ago named Demonia [please ignore how terrible the old three part sequence looks; I didn't know how to draw fat women yet].

When I started plotting this sequence out in my notebook, it was only four pages long. But I added a bunch of extra panels in later and brought it up to six pages [The numbers are original panels, and the letters are ones I added in after making the first complete rough layout.]

I made some concept art for characters I'd mentioned in the script that didn't have designs yet, as well as a few locations. I then compiled all of that into a CBR file I can refer to while working on the final art [the blacked out bits in the thumbnails are photo references].

I then started work on another sequence that quickly grew beyond the six pages I was initially planning on doing.

A few years ago, when I first started using my Wacom, I illustrated an androgynous spider creature. Much more recently, I started moving overseas and started designing new characters in my sketchbook that I was planning on making digital pieces with later, and I revisited my spider concept. If you overlay the rough spider drawing from the sketchbook page with the digital WIP below, you'll notice I did a whole bunch of warping and stuff to the individual limbs to make it look better.

This WIP will appear in finished form in the spider comic somewhere; look out for it.

Anyways, I decided this spider would be perfect for a weight gain sequence, and so I started making concept art.

This is just a fraction of the concept art I created. I've done at least 15 pages of work for this comic, and a lot of it is exploratory work. In the beginning, I had basically no idea what the plot of the sequence would be, and designing new characters and illustrating scenarios gave shape to the story.

After making maybe three or four pages of sketches, and writing a list of elements I wanted to be in the story in my notebook, I made this rough synopsis of the plot. I then started working on a CBR file for the spider sequence that includes photo references, sketches, old designs I want to repurpose, scans of my notebook, etc.

Work was slowing down in my notebook, and so eventually I made a text document and started writing down panel-by-panel bullet points. Of course this all needs to be adapted into rough visuals, but I covered a lot of ground with this after building my foundation.

You might be wondering what the point of all this pre-production work is. The problem with comics as a medium is that it's extremely time intensive, and so you have to get all of the iterative stuff done long before you put pencil to bristol board for the first time [assuming you only use bristol board during the very last stage of your process].

[Old comic artists were sometimes drawing upwards of 40 pages a month, and they didn't have time to think things out so thoroughly. But for people who aren't drawing multiple books a month, it's been common to do multiple waves of layouts for decades, and this pre-production stuff has only gotten more common. Which is good; quality > quantity. The video on layouts below is a great overview.]

While I was doing layouts in my notebook for this spider sequence, I started working out a page that ended up not hitting all of the notes it needed to. If I'd been drawing by the seat of my pants, it would've been a big problem, but when you're doing layouts with illustrations only two or three steps above stick figure drawings, re-doing a page is not a hassle.

You might be wondering what my actual workflow is for producing finished art. Once I got very used to the feeling of using an Intuos Wacom, I told myself I was going to draw comics entirely digitally. It made a lot of sense; I could use layers, perspective work is a lot easier digitally, and I can fix mistakes and/or warp things a lot more easily.

Over time, I realized I hated doing everything digitally. There are many things that are better digital, like coloring. I prefer drawing pin-ups digitally. But I really don't like drawing an entire page digitally, and I realized my previous serious comic attempts had all petered out when it was time to start doing the final work in the computer, after the layouts and stuff had already been completed.

Of course, I'd tried making professional quality work without computers before. But it's nearly impossible to do that inside of a sketchbook [although I'd drawn many joke comics in highschool using a sketchbook], and using only bristol board I had problems with things like perspective; I have a lot of respect for older artists who couldn't use any digital tools.

So, I've resolved to buy a scanner and printer. I'm going to make final layouts in my art programs that have skeletons laid out where I want them, perspective grids, panel layouts, etc, and then I'll print them onto bristol board using light blue ink [which doesn't get picked up by a scanner]. I'll then do the final pencilling and inking on bristol board, scan those pages, and do any touch-ups and coloring in the computer.

I forgot to mention that none of these comics have words. Perhaps future issues of Fat Evil Women will have dialogue and stuff, but as a conceptual thing this first issue is basically completely silent. When I was making panel grids digitally to start working on some final layouts, I noticed that, when you don't have any speech bubbles, a traditional six panel grid looks way too square and vertical. So, I've decided to make my spider sequence on a four-tier grid, which shouldn't be a massive change. The entire story uses uniform rows, and so it just means moving stuff back. There are no dramatic page-turn moments that will be compromised by this change.

I might have to alter the Demonia sequence as well, but probably not. Since the height of the panels in the two page sequences are variable, I think I'll leave them exactly as they are.

I was planning on including a giantess sequence in this first issue as well, but if I reach 32 pages without it then I'll have to push it to a later issue. But since I'm moving to four-tier layouts, I might end up with a lot fewer pages than expected.