#has the smallest image size and I still had to size her up to fit

[fitzs-space]

Got the three genders out here frfr

this was just an excuse to draw characters in hoodies and throw them in a colour void. Individuals below the cut

[igotanidea]

Hoodies and sneakers : Jason Todd x fem!reader

@mxtokko asked me to make part 2 of my ff Beneath (Jason Todd x fem! plus size reader). This is sth that may or may not be treated like this. @jasontoddsthickbabe - I take the liberty of tagging you since you were the one who requested previous part.

Summary: Y/N may (or not) have got through her size complex, but something new is creeping in. Something about her wearing tomboy-like clothes and not being feminine enough......

It was pretty rough day. Not because of work or the intensity, but because of late Y/N has been spending a lot of time inside her own head. Dealing with her thoughts and demons that seemed to feed of the smallest piece of insecurity and doubt. It was getting harder to deal with them and focusing on work was becoming impossible. How could she possibly concentrate when the world was going crazy before her eyes and she was slowly loosing grip of who she was and what was her place on Earth.

She was really better and sort of lighter before Jason confessed how he felt about her and they started building a relationship. Before that, she was fairly aware she was not an object of desire and therefore never focused on that. But now…. More often than not she was wondering whether she was the girl she was supposed to.

The problem was, Y/N was always the kind of girl who felt best in leggings, or even sweatpants, and hoodies. Messy hair, lack of makeup and domestic vibes were definitely her style. She was rocking sneakers, using bus instead of cab and never cared about the brand. This was fine, before Jason turned her world upside down. And now? Irony being that when she became the girlfriend the world started overflowing her with the images of hot girls in tiny dresses, feminine-like with perfect hair, painted nails etc. Real girlbosses. And that was only feeding her fears.

However, she was doing her own thing, not showing how she felt inside. It was working for a while, but after a few weeks she was getting more and more sad and frustrated and the time bomb was ticking in the stepped-up pace leading straight up to explosion.

Since Y/N was still working as a journalist in Gotham biggest newspaper and considering her part-time job as Wayne tech expert she was spending a lot of time working remotely, from the manor. Sometimes it was just too much dealing with the colleagues, but of course, from time to time she had to show in the office. For a debriefing for example. She never treated those differently than any other work day, so she was not prepared for what was coming for her.

“Wait. What do you mean photoshoot?” he eyes grew wide at the sight before her. All those professional photographers, cameras, lights and photography equipment got her head spinning

“Oh, Y/N. didn’t you get the e-mail? I sent you all notification a couple weeks ago….”

“E-mail. Right. Of course I did. I just….. forgot to open it.” In fact, when she saw a message entitled “Sitting” she just deleted it without opening. Grave mistake.

“Don’t worry about it, dear. I bet we can find some more appropriate clothes for you. The girls can borrow you something. You surely cannot show yourself in this.” Her boss pointed out towards her worn jeans and a simple, basic black T-shirt.

“I don’t think anything will fit me…..” now, the plus size complex started to creep in. Great. She felt sick. Again.

“Are you all right, y/n?” her work best friend came from behind and quickly realized what must have been happening inside her head.

“I’m fine….” She swallowed strenuously “I think I;m just gonna sit back and watch.”

“But….”

“It’s all right, I swear. I was never a fan of showing off after all. But by all means, you go ahead. It’s your time to shine.” She pushed her friends towards the other girls, who were just flawless. Showing off, smiling, teasing and flirting. High heels, office looks…. Y/N felt like a preschooler amongst the confident, beautiful women. She never get to feel like this. She never needed to be on the spotlight. So why the fuck did it hurt so much. Knowing that she would never look so hot and mature. Jason told her he loved her (yes, he finally used those words), but what if was just a toy? A way to kill time before he found someone better? Hotter? Sexier?

“Not again….” she whispered as her heart started beating rapidly due to all the projecting she was doing.

“Y/N? Are you familiar with the photo equipment?”  one of the snappers asked

“Yes! Yes I am. Do you need help?”

“Um…. I do. But are you sure you don’t want to pose with….?”

“NO! I mean, no, I’m good. I’d rather give you a hand……please…..”

“You sure….?” The guy was still hesitant. Why the hell did he ask her if he was withdrawing now. “You don’t want the attention?”

“I’m good behind the scene. Now, give me that.” She practically whipped the camera off his hands “what do you need me to do?”

So she spent the day acting all cool and goofy, assuring everyone she was fine. Even if all her coworkers knew that was a lie, no one found any words to convince her to join the session as a model, not a helper. All that situation left her with the bitter taste of not being worth the attention. How could she ever compare?  She could count the times she wore a dress on the fingers of one hands and even then she looked like a kid dressed up in her mother’s gown rather than a grown-up women she was. This was a disaster every time. So maybe she was not worth any attention?

With dark thoughts she came to the manor. Normally she would tell everyone to fuck off and leave her alone, but Dick was quite persistent, trying to bribe her with some new tech ideas Bruce came up with and with which he needed some help. So, despite her attitude she changed her plans of sitting in front of Netflix with some ice cream.

“Y/N!” Dick opened the door, beating anyone else in it and hugged her closely in welcome “you look sad. Is everything all right?

“Peachy” she muttered, looking like a storm cloud “where are those new gadgets?”

“Straight to the business, huh? How about we try to wipe that frown off your face first?”

“Listen to me very carefully now, boy wonder. If you don’t cut on your sunshine and rainbow attitude I swear I’m gonna shove your smile up your ass. See who will be wiping what then.” Dick’s eyes widened in surprise. Y/N was known for being fast talker and having harsh tongue, but this?

“Um…. All right, then…..” he muttered “let’s go to the cave. Guys are already there.”

“All of them?”

“Yes? Why? Does that bother you?”

“No. I’m actually glad. Plenty of people to pick up the fight with.”

“Y/N, are you sure you are ok?”

“I swear to god if one more person ask me this question today I will draw blood!” she exclaimed making Dick jump away and raise his hands in surrender. Shit, she was more angry than Jason when he first came out of the Pit. Grayson had a bit of experience with angered girls and knew well enough this was no joke. It was better to just keep his mouth shut. Perhaps, Jason or Tim would be able to calm her down, but he’d rather live some more. “Now, move Grayson! I don’t have all day!”

“What’s with the sad face?” Tim asked the second she walked through the entrance to the cave

“HOW ABOUT WE FOCUS ON THE TECH!?” Dick chimed in, before Y/N could answer meeting with a surprised (Tim), condescending (Damian) and amused (Jason) looks of his brothers. He exhaled deeply. “That’s why we are gathered here, right?”

“Damn it, Grayson. You sound like you were about to officiate a wedding. Should we know about something?” Damian smirked and looked at Jason and then at Y/N, who was now red like a tomato, clenching her fists. “Um…. Y/N?”

“Can. we. Just. Focus. On .The .Work” she hissed through clenched teeth moving towards the table where the tech was displayed, the boys moving out of her way. Even Jay, who usually had his ways of making her chill now just let her pass, his mouth agape. None of them has ever seen her this angry.

“What did you do to her, Dickhead?” he hissed towards his brother

“Nothing. She came here like this.” Dick tried to defend himself

“Can you two just shut the fuck up!?”

“Sorry Y/n.”

“Yeah, sorry, babe. But if you want to talk then……”

“SHUT UP JASON!”

“All right, all right, I’m gonna be quiet from now on…..” he mumbled, looking down, acting like a beaten dog. Normally the rest of the boys would laugh at him for being like this, but at this point even Damian knew better than to mess with the force of nature Y/N became.

There were silence for like five minutes, before Steph and Cass entered the cave, followed by Babs.

“Y/N!” Steph jumped forward and hugged her friend, causing boys to go through a little heart attack “Alfred told us you are here. It’s wonderful. We are going shopping. You need to join us. I saw this cute little outfit that would be just perfect for you. I bet Jay would like you in it and …..” oh, poor Steph did not get to finish

“AGH!” Y/N yelled at the top of her lungs. “I’M DONE! I’M OUT! JUST LEAVE THE FUCK ALONE!” the tears finally started to fall down her face, since she was not able to hold them back anymore “I just can’t…. I can’t …. I’m sorry guys….” Her voice broke and she rushed off the cave blindly, not caring about the gadgets, the scene she was making, the tears or anything else. She felt like she was suffocating when she run upstairs, towards the manor, further away from all the people.

“What…. what just happened?” Babs stuttered “what the hell did you do?” her accusatory gaze landed on each of the boys separately

“I did nothing!” Tim exclaimed “Ask you boyfriend, Oracle!”

“Dick?”

“Oh, come on. Why do you always suspect me? I had nothing to do with it. Jay is supposed to take care of her so….”

“Speaking of you, Jason. Why are you still here?!  Run after her, before she does something stupid!”

“Do you think she can…..?”

“Just go, you dumbass!”

“Oh, yeah, right.” He slowly threw his shock off “Oh, fuck! You’re right! Y/N! Y/N, wait!”

‘Did I say something wrong?” Steph gaze was fixed on the floor, her voice barely above the whisper “I did not mean to…..” Cass just took a step forward and put a hand on her shoulder reassuringly.

“You didn’t. I bet she just had a bad day or something like that…. She’s been nervous and stressed for a while now.”

“Guys” Babs was already searching through the web “I think I know what might have caused it.”

***

At the same time, Y/N was sitting in her favorite spot on the manor roof, slowly calming down. Legs bend and hugged to her chest, chin resting on the knees, hands hidden in the sleeves of her sweatshirt. She was a bit ashamed of the scene that she caused. Poor Steph was probably blaming herself now. Poor Dick who was verbally attacked by her. Poor Jason who….

“Safe to enter?” …. who was just slowly moving towards her, cautious of every step.

“Sure…” she muttered, not looking at him.

He plumped on the floor next to her, legs crossed, not saying a word, waiting for her to start speaking, But the second she opened her mouth to let it all out her phone chimed. The message she received contained the photos that were made barely a couple hours earlier.

“Well, that was fast…” she muttered rubbing her eyes, irritated from the crying.

“What happened? Who do I shoot?” Jay asked using the opportunity of her distraction and grabbing her hand in his.

“Possibly me.” she smirked “I did some stupid things today.”

“Really? Stupid?” he smirked “I bet no one noticed. You act so normal.”

“You’re an idiot” she cuffed his arm and chuckled which made her hiccup

“Then we match each other, right?”

“Don’t push it, Jaybird.” She warned moving closer and leaned her head on his shoulder, his arm automatically wrapped around her waist pulling her closer shielding her from the wind. It was cold and he did not want her to get sick.

“If I do I give you permission to push me off this roof.” He laughed kissing the top of her head “Tell me what happened. Seriously Y/N. As much as I love you with all that fire we need to put it out before it burns you.”

“It’s better now…..”

“No. Talk.”

“How about I show you?” she reached for her phone and presented the photos to him “you see that?”

“A photo of your work friends?”

“There was a photoshoot at the work today and…..”

“So where are you in this picture?” he frowned taking the phone from her hands and blowing the picture up. “what did you do?” the girl mumbled something inaudibly “Y/N? I can’t hear you. What. Did. You. Do?”

“I hid.”

“What?! Why?!”

“Oh, come on, Jay…..”

“Don’t tell me it’s because of your size, again. We’ve been through it.”

“It’s not about the size. “

“Then what.” he tightened his grip on her and she winced “I’m not letting you go until you confess.”

“I’m not hot, all right? I mean, look at them. They are all exceptional. And I’m wearing a hoodie, torn jeans and sneakers, Jay.”

“So what?”

“So what?  Are you serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious. What is the problem with your clothes?”

“I…..” she hesitated for a while, blinking in surprise “but …..” how was she supposed to put in into words “isn’t that what all the guys want?”

“Meaning?” he narrowed his head. This bastard knew exactly where her words were heading and yet did nothing to make it easier.

“A girl who captures attention? Don’t you want to brag about catching a babe? A chick? I don’t know…. Don’t you wish to have  a lady in the street and a freak in the sheets? I’m not like this.I am totally average. Vanilla. Boring. Ordinary. “

“Baby….”

“Look, I’m fully aware I’m not the person who catches attention, all right? Not… looking like this. Sometimes I even believe your family pities me. And you too. I mean, have you seen the girls that were lining up to talk to Dick and you at the latest gala? Isn’t that what you want?”

“Will you just shut up?” he leaned to her and cut her race of though with the most gentle and delicate kiss that got her melting on the spot “Come here.” He twisted positions slightly, pulling her on his lap, grabbing on her hips while her hands locked on his neck. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Is that a tricky question?”

“Obviously. Let me rephrase it then. You did lose your mind. Do think you are undesirable?”

“I….”

“Do you think I would toss you away because of a girl wearing mini skirt? The girl that I don’t know? Do you have so little faith in me?”

“In men, in general.” She bit on her lip and hissed when Jason pinched her side “Auch!”

“Well you deserved it for having such silly thoughts. You read too much fanfiction.”

“I don’t….” she objected turning red.

“Don’t deny it. I know you do. Look, all those stories? They are highly overdrawn. They make girls believe than guys only want them if they are skinny, flawless and wear nothing.” He shook his head ”I don’t mind lingerie, but that does not mean I don’t love in you in that damn hoodie you mentioned. Or a simple T-shirt. Preferably mine.” He smirked ”Look Y/N, I know you don’t feel comfortable in dresses or anything like that and I don’t mind. You are the hottest to me when you have that spark in your eyes, when your hair are tousled because your mind is racing. I love you in trainers, when you run the streets searching for a new story. I would never, never want you to wear mini or an revealing top if it’s uncomfortable. Did you think you can only capture my attention this way? With thong and lack of bra? That I would fall for an exposed body?”

“I…..” she started but realized something  “Wait. How do you know so much about fanfiction, Jay?” she grinned. Darn, she was so going to use that in the future.

“Did you? Yes or not?” he didn’t even stutter, keeping his cool.

“Yes.”

“Auch!” he gasped “Really?”

“I’m sorry. I just got insecure….”

“I know. And I forgive you. But only because I love you, you silly one. And because I know a lot about insecurities. First handed.” he kissed her nose gently “Now, promise me, this was the first and last time you doubted yourself.”

“I don’t like empty promises.”

“Well then you leave me no choice but to make you….” once again he captured her lips in his, ready to be convincing her for the rest of the day, evening and even the rest of his life if needed.

She was his one and only.   

@pinksirensong

[away-from-anthills]

prologue-

How did they do it?

Antstep mulled the question over as his eyes remained glued to the massive boulder that sat squarely between the four oaks. Four figures sat positioned at the top, their ears pricked as they listened to the groups of chattering cats around them. The smallest of them was exchanging pleasantries with a large blue-gray tom. The largest, a ragged yellow molly, looked away to the north. The sleek gray tom next to her twitched his tail with impatience.

“Those ShadowClan buggers are always late,” he grumbled, but just as he finished his sentence the big yellow molly besides him shoved his shoulder. A group of small, skinny cats entered the clearing, led by a rather handsome red tabby.

“Greetings,” announced the red tom. He effortlessly leapt onto the rock as the conversations died down. “Pardon us for being late. Our youngest queen was giving birth, and it was not an easy one.”

“It’s always something, isn’t it,” started the sleek gray tom, but before he could finish the thought the yellow molly draped her tail over his muzzle.

“Shall we begin?”

The others nodded, and so the smallest of the group, Tulipstar, cleared her throat to speak.

Antstep had always admired Tulipstar. She was impeccably small, about the size of an apprentice, despite RiverClan cats like her usually being large and girthy. Some say it was due to a birth defect- but others in the elders’ den opined that StarClan had made her so small because otherwise she would simply be too much of a force to be reckoned with.

“RiverClan has not been doing well as we would have wished it to,” she admitted. “Rogue groups have been on our borders. We have allotted them territory for the time being to shut them up- but come these next few moons, when our apprentices are ready for battle, we shall take our land back.” She dipped her head and awaited the next cat to come forward and speak.

“SkyClan, however, has been doing wonderfully,” started the sleek gray tom.

“It’s always wonderfully, ain’t it, Pigeonstar!” heckled some cat near the southern edge of the clearing behind Antstep.

Pigeonstar’s face furrowed, and then he continued. “Our most recent batch of apprentices became skilled warriors, and I am pleased to introduce them to you by their proper warrior names at this Gathering. Everyone welcome Birchtail, Nettlebark, and Stoneclaw!”

Pigeonstar doesn’t usually mention new warriors so fast, thought Antstep, and then he looked over in the direction Pigeonstar was gesturing to to see three gray tabbies identical to the SkyClan leader. Oh- Of course he’s introducing them so fast. They’re his kits.

“The greenleaf drought has been merciful to SkyClan this year, and we thank it for that. Besides the apprentice graduations, little else of note has happened in SkyClan since we last met.” He sat back down. The red tabby stepped up to speak.

“While we in ShadowClan are not doing as well as we had hoped we would, we are doing quite well. You may have heard about the fire that recently destroyed part of our territory. While we are lucky that most of us have emerged safe, three of our warriors- Turtlewing, Darkwhisker, and Stormfoot- unfortunately lost their lives to the blaze.”

A ripple of condolences echoed throughout the clearing. Currantstar eased his body slightly, leaving the clearing a moment to understand. Antstep noted burn scars at Currantstar’s feet- clearly, despite Currantstar’s young age, this was a cat who took up the mantle of leadership fully knowing what it would entail. He seemed… almost perfect. The fact he was quite a handsome thing- especially for a ShadowClanner- didn’t help.

“However, tonight we celebrate new life within ShadowClan. Just before we left, Nightwater gave birth to four healthy kits, all her spitting image: Ravenkit, Blackkit, Sharpkit, and Juniperkit!”

Another ripple, this time of celebration, echoed throughout the clearing. Pigeonstar seemed slightly disgruntled that his children’s warrior names had not received as much applause.

As soon as he had begun, Currantstar stepped back. A gaunt, blue-gray tom stepped up. His face was long and bony, and his pelt was crisscrossed with scars. His eyes were weary, and the bumps of his spine were visible from age.

Antstep felt his chest swell as he watched the tom open his mouth to speak. After all, this cat had been his leader, his mentor, the closest thing to a father Antstep had known.

Shalestar, the almighty leader of WindClan.

“WindClan has been faring well this past Greenleaf. Like our SkyClan friends, we are lucky to be treated kindly by the drought.”

Antstep looked around. Rainleap, the WindClan deputy, stood just below the great rock, a proud grin on his face as he studied every syllable that left Shalestar’s lips. It was generally accepted within WindClan that, as Shalestar was upon his final life, Rainleap would soon ascend as Rainstar- and everyone deeply anticipated the spotted tabby’s leadership. He was charismatic, he was courteous. He knew everyone and everything in WindClan like the back of his paw to the point that, if you brought him a leaf from any weeping willow within the territory, he could tell you not just what tree it was from but the exact bow and branch it had resided upon. Rainleap was to become a wonderful WindClan leader- even Pigeonstar, the grumpy sod, seemed to appreciate him.

“However, the last moon has not passed by without its troubles. An illness swept through our camp. Nearly all of us survived- unfortunately, our dear Palefeather passed from the illness.”

There was audible sadness from some cats near the northern end of the clearing.

“You may recall her as our former medicine cat, who served us many moons before she retired to the elder’s den last leaf-fall. She was a wonderful companion to me in the darkest hours of my leadership. She was an extraordinary teacher, she was an adamant follower to the stars above, a devotee to her kin, and a gifted healer for all of us in WindClan. We miss her terribly.”

The medicine cats, who were in their own little corner off to the side of the Great Rock, seemed heartbroken by the news. Whitetooth, the WindClan medicine cat and Palefeather’s apprentice, looked more alone than ever, despite the sympathies uttered to them.

“However, with the end of a time, another always begins. I am proud to introduce  our two newest apprentices- warrior apprentice Twigpaw and medicine cat apprentice Marblepaw!”

Twigpaw, who was directly behind Antstep with his mentor Molethroat, was lapping up the attention. Marblepaw, however, seemed alarmed. She leaned into Whitetooth’s side, and her mentor draped their tail around her.

“We also have a litter of kits to announce,” continued Shalestar. Molethroat couldn’t hold in his excitement. “Those are my kits!” he exclaimed to the mingling cats from other Clans. “They look just like my mate! I love them so much!”

Shalestar, however, was calm, even though there was a sliver of optimism in his voice. “We are proud to announce Cherrynose’s kits- Olivekit, Rosekit, Amberkit, Brindlekit, and Patchkit.”

“Oh, all of them are so wonderful,” continued Molethroat, his whiskers twitching with sheer joy. “Rosekit and Amberkit are so smart! They amaze me every day. And Brindlekit is so bold, and Olivekit is so thoughtful, and Patchkit is so kind… They sneak out of the nursery to wake me up from the warriors’ den nearly every morning. And my mate is so patient with them, I’m the luckiest cat in the world to have her. I tell you, I could go to StarClan tomorrow and I still would think I had the greatest life…”

Antstep looked around. WindClan was as peaceful as he had ever known it to be. Goldenpaw and Milkpaw, two WindClan apprentices, signed to each other, poking fun at the other leaders. Russetfoot, Rockscratch, and Emberheart, three WindClan warriors, were chatting to a trio of RiverClan cats. Even Sandwhisker- the sister of Palefeather, and the oldest WindClan warrior- looked content, despite the loss she had suffered the prior moon.

Antstep never knew if he would fully fit in WindClan. But this is a WindClan he was, for the most part, content living alongside.

A cold chill snapped Antstep out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see the largest cat take the stand as Shalestar stepped back.

Tatteredstar had been ThunderClan leader for a very, very long time. She had been one of the most formidable fighters ThunderClan ever knew- and the scars crisscrossing her pelt gave plenty to show for it. She could kill a rat just by looking at it from the right angle, they said. No leader dared to mess with her.

“ThunderClan has been doing pleasantly enough. Juncopaw, who you may recall from his introduction last Gathering, has elected to train as a medicine cat, and so he will be trained by Emberblaze. I expect her to pass down all she knows to him. We have many mollies due for kits within the next moon. We are all very excited about it- but it will undoubtedly mean ThunderClan has more mouths to feed.”

Without warning, she turned to Tulipstar. She was nearly thrice as large as the RiverClan leader, and she easily had dozens more scars. “I am making a request that RiverClan gives up Sunningrocks to us immediately. I understand this is sudden news- but RiverClan, if they know what is best for themselves, will back off of the territory.”

Many incensed RiverClan cats jumped up to speak- but most of them found their words lost when Tatteredstar shot them a pointed glare.

Tulipstar, however, stepped towards Tatteredstar, nothing breaking her green gaze as she stared upwards to the massive yellow molly. “RiverClan has fought for seasons to keep Sunningrocks. We, too, need the territory, for our own mouths to feed. I thought we had reached an agreement last leaf-fall that RiverClan could hold the territory until the leaf-fall after. We still have a season left on that agreement.”

“Old agreements mean nothing now.”

“If ThunderClan wants more mouths to feed, expand the territory elsewhere, Tatteredstar. We both know your warriors are capable. They will not be intruding on RiverClan’s hard-earned territory.”

The two mollies slowly inched towards each other, their noses wrinkled and their lips slightly curled. The tension between them was palpable, and no other leader dared to speak. This was Tulipstar and Tatteredstar’s score to settle and theirs alone. Their respective deputies, Trufflepelt and Eelwhisker, tried to shuffle towards them- not only to back them up but to pull them away from each other if claws were unleashed.

The clearing went dead silent.

Even though WindClan was in no way involved, Antstep felt fear coursing through his veins as he watched the two leaders stare at each other inches apart.

Then, Tatteredstar sheathed her claws into the matted fur that bunched at her feet. “You’ve got a nerve in you, runt,” she said, with hints of respect and perhaps even something resembling affection. “RiverClan can have Sunningrocks for now.”

The two backed away from each other, Trufflepelt and Eelwhisker eased, and the tension slipped away as the murmur of Clan cats returned.

“I suppose the Gathering is over, now,” Shalestar said. “Let us return to our camps in peace.”

As Rainleap began to organize WindClan, Antstep still felt adrenaline rush through him from the confrontation between Tulipstar and Tatteredstar- as well as a bit of awe. The way all the leaders composed themselves so well. The way Tulipstar didn’t back down, the way Tatteredstar knew when to call it quits. The charisma of Currantstar, the pride of Pigeonstar, the wisdom of Shalestar…

How did they do it? How did they all do it?

Antstep felt a kitlike wonder- and a kitlike envy. He turned to see Rainleap nod towards the journey home, the light of the moon shining in the WindClan deputy’s lime-green eyes. As Molethroat and Rockscratch chattered behind him, Antstep let himself get lost in his thoughts. Rainleap will make a wonderful leader- I wonder how his first gathering will go…  I wonder how I’d do. I mean, of course Rainleap will be the next leader. Everyone knows that. But it must feel nice to be up on that rock, to be there with the greats… To be loved by your Clan. I wouldn’t want the stress, of course, but… I would want that.

Wouldn’t anyone?

Little did Antstep know, his life was on the cusp of changing forever.

[kukukape]

Watch Dogs: SIRS (pt. 1)

Summary: SIRS' "Prodigal Son", Richard Malik, is given a new assignment: The supervision and mentorship of Cameron Leon, a RAF Captain and hero of war.

Author's Note: Just trying to get a feel for the characters here, so it's just a long introductory in a way. 😅 Hope you can still enjoy!

•••

"That's right. No, I will not accept anything less than that. We have standards over on this side of the water Mister Secretary, and I'm rather adamant about upholding them. Goodbye," Director Child cut the feed, letting out a tired sigh fitting of a woman who was still in the workforce long past passing retirement's threshold.

Her day became just a little brighter when there was a knock on her door, and after a gruff, "Come in," a familiar face showed.

"Richard. Good. I've been meaning to speak with you," Emma's mind shifted gears and she stepped behind her desk to grab a file.

Ever the image of militance, Richard stood a respectful distance away, hands folded behind his back. "I'm listening, ma'am," he said firmly.

Emma rolled her eyes as she rummaged through a filing cabinet. "At ease, Malik. You've been retired from the seas for nearly eight years, calm down," she jabbed.

Richard unfolded his hands, relaxing as much as someone like him could (hint: it wasn't much).

"If you called me here just to ridicule me, I think I'll head back to my office, Emma," Richard drawled, losing his formal tone a little more easily than his posture.

Emma smiled, never ceasing to be amused by Richard's words, that of which would've made anyone else shrink back and wince.

"I would never call you to my office just for that. I have a new assignment for you," she said, throwing the file on her desk. Richard's eyes glinted in newfound interest, and he took one long stride to Emma's desk, taking up the file. "We're getting a new officer. Transferring from the Air Force's military intelligence," she explained.

Richard scoffed once, a bemused smirk on his face. "The MI isn't necessarily renowned for the brilliant minds it produces," he pointed out.

"Perhaps the unit in itself has that reputation, but not her," she juts her chin at the file.

Richard adjusts his glasses, which had been sliding down while he was hunched over his computer, and skimmed over the file.

RAF Captain, combat pilot… stellar reports from superiors, Order of the British Empire…

"Rather accomplished."

"And only 28. So I expect some bullheadedness that I'd rather you stamp out before it becomes an issue."

Richard let out a small exhale in his nose, a miniscule smile on his face.

But it quickly disappeared as his eyes paused over the officer's callsign, and he squinted down at it…

Callsign: Pucelle.

"Cameron Leon is being transferred to SIRS?" He asked a little sharply.

"I had a feeling you might recognize her."

"I was present at her Victoria Cross reception, as the preceding recipient," Richard elaborated, flipping through the file with a bit more interest, "I see now…"

Richard couldn't recall interacting much with the captain at the ceremony, outside of a handshake and a congrats. But he did remember her smile seeming to widen a bit when they made eye contact, that of admiration and recognition of someone closer to her level in that chamber.

"She transferred from the air field to a desk job in intelligence earlier this year. But so it seems, she's dissatisfied with the state of military intelligence."

"Then we should get along just fine," Richard closed the file and tucked it under his arm to be stowed away in his briefcase for later.

"Good," Emma looked down at her watch, "Because her helicopter just touched down on the roof. Come with me."

---

Cameron chewed on the inside of her cheek as the copter gently landed, the wide expanse of SIRS HQ practically glowing beneath her. Her jaw shifted around pensively with her thoughts, before she turned her gaze to the back of the pilot's seat again.

"Another happy landing, Captain," the pilot said as the rotor blades slowed and they're pittering growling quieted.

"How boring," Cameron replied, perking a smile as the pilot laughed.

"You've had enough exciting landings for one career, haven't you ma'am?"

"Are you kidding me, lieutenant? Could never get enough of them," she grinned and then looked out the open door of the copter. "Though I guess there are more important places for me to be. Thank you for the ride, sir."

"Thank you for your service, ma'am," he said- as if she were done- as he saluted her.

Leaving no time for herself to ponder or for the officers outside to wait, Cameron dismounted. The copter's low growling started again.

And as her blazer's ends flew up and her hair blew around wildly, Cameron watched the copter fly away, with all other manner of things.

"Too in love with the skies or too prideful to take a taxi?"

A… nearly familiar voice. It was pompous. Cameron turned around, brow raised that she'd just landed and shit was apparently already about to go down-

Oh.

"…Lieutenant Malik."

"Captain."

Cameron recalled him being more friendly at the VC ceremony. But she supposed everyone was a bit meaner in their element.

"Careful Richard, before you accidentally authorize her pulling rank on you," Emma cut in, "Captain Leon. I'm glad to see you got here safely."

Cameron's eyes flicked to Malik, his hands folded behind his back and jaw set firmly.

"Thank you, ma'am," she took Emma's outstretched hand and shook it once.

"You're familiar with Officer Malik, I see."

"Familiar would be an exaggeration," Cameron replied. Richard let out the smallest exhale of a laugh from his nose.

"Good. Malik has been assigned to supervise you through your first season at SIRS," Emma directed, "I have a debriefing with the Home Secretary to get to. I leave you in capable hands. Officer." She nodded once at Cameron, gave Richard a pointed look, before stalking away.

The two former military officers turned to each other.

As she sized him up, Cameron made a mental note not to stand too close to him. Else the height difference would be way too obvious.

"Let's get to work, then," she filled the silence with her voice, stepping towards the stairs entrance.

"You never answered my question."

"I thought it was rhetorical."

"I don't waste words in such a manner," Richard drawled.

Cameron sighed. Now this was the fabled version of Richard Malik she'd heard about. Straight-faced, as arrogant as he was tall. Bit of a dick.

But even still, somehow, Cameron was sure he would turn out to be better company than the MI officers. And so she shot him a smile.

"We're gonna get along aren't we, Lieutenant?"

"That purely depends on how well you do your job," Richard replied plainly, slipping his hands into the pockets of his Brioni slacks. He stepped past Cameron, covering probably eight feet in two long strides and reaching past her to open the door.

He stepped back, holding the door open for his new subordinate, looking down at her with an impenetrable gaze.

"And you're an Officer now. Your days of being addressed militantly are behind you. As are mine."

Cameron nodded noncommitally. "Right…" she started to walk through the doorway.

"Leon."

"Sir?"

"'Pucelle'?"

Cameron grinned immediately. "You know, like La Pucelle, Joan of Arc. Because I'm a hero and whatnot," and then she started down the stairs. Richard smiled wryly.

How arrogant, he thought, This will be interesting, at the very least.

~end~

[monaownsmyass]

It’s Complicated/Uncomplicated - Part 1/2

Requested fic by @ineedskyecrandall (if you have any fic ideas or requests you’d like me to write, you can leave me an ask!)

Book: My Two First Loves, (after) Chapter 38

Pairing: Ava Lawrence x MC (Emma Price)

Genre: Fluff

Rating: G, none

Word count: 1,896

A/N: This takes place after Ava dropped MC off at her house after homecoming. Later, Ava asks MC out on a date. It’s technically a continuation of my previous Ava x MC fic (read here) but you don’t have to read it, all you have to know is that they share a kiss. Also, this wasn’t meant to be a two-parter but as I was writing I noticed how long it was gonna be lol so I split it up.

Tag list: @ineedskyecrandall @kamilahsayeet2063 @avalawrencefl @lovekamilahsayeed (lmk if anyone would like to be included or removed in my next fics.)

Part 2 here!

I watched as Ava's car drove away, sighing with a stupid grin on my face. God, I felt like I've been waiting for eternity for that to happen without even realising it. I quickly went to the bathroom to get changed and plopped myself onto the bed, sprawled out, that damn grin never leaving my face.

I stared at my bedroom ceiling, the fairy lights I had hung around my bedroom providing the only source of lustre. The soft glow dancing against my skin in a way that made me feel as if I were in another world. After that kiss, I'm pretty sure I was.

That kiss, it was all I was thinking about. How have I gone so long without kissing Ava? It felt as if I've always been craving to know the way her lips felt on mine. That made me think, have I always wanted this from her? Or was it a whim of the moment? So caught up in each other that kissing her was the only way I could express that intense feeling between us?

I thought back to all the times I've spent with Ava. I thought about how I accidentally tripped over myself while walking to class and Ava laughing at my clumsiness. Instead of scolding her, I was transfixed by the sound of her laugh, bright and dazzling. And that time she was comforting me as I cried into her shoulder, holding me and rubbing my back, reassuring me everything was going to be alright. I felt so safe and warm in her embrace.

Then there was that other time when we were at the beach together. I pushed her into the water and ran to shore as fast as possible while laughing. I remember my giggling stopped dead in it's track when I saw her resurfacing from the water, walking towards me like an avenging goddess. I felt nervous but at that time I thought it was because I was scared she was going to get her revenge on me. She did, by the way. Being much stronger than me, she dragged me towards the ocean and ultimately ended up lifting me and tossing me into the water.

I also thought back to the first time we had a sleepover. Both of us awkwardly trying to fit together on my single bed at that time. I've upgraded to a queen size since then because Ava started sleeping over a lot more frequently after that but at that time, we had to squeeze onto my bed that was definitely not made for two. I remember feeling anxious but excited and thinking it was because I've never been this close to anyone before, physically and emotionally.

Right before the kiss, I had recollections, moments with Ava flashing before me, passing by too quickly to process but long enough to know what I felt. However, looking deeper into them right now, I realised that that kiss wasn't because it felt right in that instance. It wasn't because we were caught up in the moment. No, it was because I have liked Ava for a while now.

My eyes widen in comprehension at my epiphany. I knew I liked her after kissing her but looking back now, it hit me that I've liked her for a long time, I just couldn't tell if it was just purely platonic or also romantic.

I’ve always liked Ava Lawrence, my best friend.

Just the thought alone made shivers run through my body. It all finally made sense now, all those unexplainable feelings I would just brush off as close friendship. I've never had a friend like her before. I mean sure, Mason and I had been friends since we were kids but I've never had this kind of connection with him or with anyone else. Except for Ava. So I'd just assume that's what inseparable friendships were like, but maybe not.

Okay, definitely not.

Still staring at my ceiling, I bit my lip as memories ran through my mind. The more I thought about it, the more I began to wonder how on earth I've never figured out sooner that I liked women in general. Subconsciously, my hand slapped down against my face at my oblivion.

"Ow!"

I probably shouldn't have done that.

I won't deny that Ava was the main girl that I always thought about but there were times where I would see a pretty girl and catch myself getting flustered or blushing or even acting shy. Well, I guess I know why now.

I rolled onto my side and looked at my phone. Noah and Mason had been blowing up my phone and I didn't even notice. I just continued to stare at the screen lighting up when a message would come in. I didn't feel like talking to either of them right now but that didn't stop my mind from spiraling once again.

Noah and Mason. My first two loves. I definitely had feelings for them, heck, I definitely loved both of them. But was I in love with either them? I cared for them both and I definitely found them incredibly attractive. But then there's also Ava, the girl that was always on my mind. Wow, this crap was confusing. But one thing wasn't, not anymore.

"I'm... bi?" I whispered into the dimly lit room.

As soon as I spoke it, it was like a flip switched in my brain. It felt right. This was who I am, this is me. I'm bisexual and it felt.. great. That dumb smile that I had as I watched Ava drive away found it's way back onto my face. Relief washed over me, incredibly comforted by the idea that I figured one part of the puzzle that was my life.

My phone lit up and buzzed again, the different ringtone catching my attention. It was Ava's personal ringtone. During our first sleepover, she insisted that we set special ringtones for ourselves on each other's phone. Reason being that even if we were near our phones but weren't on it, we could tell that the other was thinking of us, wanting to talk to us. The idea back then made me blush and it still worked it's wonders now. Years later, we still haven't changed it.

I immediately grabbed my phone off the nightstand and opened the message.

‘Hey, nerd, you still up?’ the message read.

Seeing the term of endearment made me let out an involuntary grin. I knew she meant it lovingly because I do the same to her.

‘Yeah, I was just thinking,’ I replied.

‘About?’

I paused. Should I admit that I was thinking about her? Screw it!

‘You.’

I saw her typing a reply and then stopping. I began worrying if I shouldn't have been so upfront before a message popped up.

‘I was thinking about you too. About that kiss.’

My heart leapt from my chest, the smile on my face grew wider as I read the message over and over again.

‘I miss you,’ I wrote back.

‘I just saw you, loser.’ I could almost hear and see her giggling at my text. The image caused butterflies to dance in my tummy. ‘But yeah, I miss you too...’

‘I wish you were here,’ I responded and I didn't realise how true that was until I typed it out. It suddenly felt much colder in my room, much too big despite having the smallest room in the house.

‘Me too,’ her text read back. I rested my phone against my chest and let out a deep exhale. I just wanted to hold onto her again like I did after our kiss. The idea made my heartbeat increase rapidly.

I lifted my phone and saw her typing again. ‘Not to ruin the mood or whatever, but I have to know, what do Mason and Noah mean to you? What do I mean to you?’

Funny how my heart went from pumping like crazy to almost stopping entirely. In fact, it sank down to my stomach. How was I gonna answer her when I didn't even know myself?

‘Ava... I care about them but I care about you too, and you know that. And I definitely see you as more than my best friend if that’s what you want to hear.’

‘More like what? Sisters?’

I scrunched up my nose. ‘Eww, that's so gross! I don't kiss my sister on the lips!’

Once again, I could hear her unadulterated laugh, a laugh that could brighten anyone's day. ‘Lol then be more specific.’

Of course she'd make me spell it out for her, she has always been so demanding and persistent. I admired that about her. ‘Fine, I see you as someone I could be with, romantically. As someone I could date. I can imagine us together in the long run. You by my side, as my other half. I can see you as my girlfriend.’ I hesitated before sending the next text. ‘But my feelings are complicated... ‘cuz I don't think you're the only one I feel that way about, and I don't know who's the right one for me.’

After I hit send, it occurred to me that maybe I shouldn't have done that, that I may have blown my chance at being with Ava. But then it hit me. I knew Ava wasn't gonna stop being my friend and I had two great guys as alternatives. So why did I care so much if she takes it the wrong way and stops pursuing me?

I saw the screen of my phone light up with another notification from Ava.

‘Let me help you uncomplicate your feelings then. Can I take you out tomorrow evening? On a date?’

A sense of relief washed over me, thrilled by the prospect that she still wanted me. I knew what she meant, but I just wanted to make sure. ‘We've been on many dates before.’

‘I know but I mean it this time. A proper date, not a friend date.’

My heart started beating so fast I was sure I was going to go into cardiac arrest.

‘I'd love that!’ I quickly shot back. I was elated that she didn't back down from wanting something more out of our friendship.

‘Oh, thank god.’

I giggled to myself, happy to be reassured that she was just as nervous as I felt.

‘I really want to hear your voice,’ I confessed.

‘Me too,’ she replied. ‘But it's getting pretty late, you should sleep.’

‘Ava :(’

‘Haha, sorry beautiful, but we have a big day planned ahead of us tomorrow so you should rest.’

‘You’ve already planned what we’re gonna do tomorrow?’

‘Let’s just say I’ve thought about it. Now go to bed.’

‘Alright, fine, good night I guess :(’ I typed back sulkily even though I was smiling so hard.

‘Sweet dreams, Emma<3.’

I send her back a heart in reply and finally put my phone down on the nightstand again. Once more, I found myself staring at the ceiling, wondering how the heck I was supposed to go to sleep now when my heart felt like a roller coaster and when butterflies were invading my tummy.

Eventually, after hours or tossing and turning, I finally drifted off the sleep with a small smile on my lips and Ava on my mind.

(More fics!)

[extremelyblackandwhite]

timeless - 02

PAIRING: medieval!james “bucky” barnes x reader

WARNINGS: none

A/N: i watched little women and my heart cannot with all these feelings. it’s been a very chaotic feeling filled week xx

NEXT CHAPTER

Y/N sat on the ground in front of her mother, eyes focused on her resting hands as the woman brushed her hair. The soft bristles ran through her hair strands while her mother hummed a tune and normally the lady would be much too entranced by the melody to have any other thoughts, however, this time, Y/N was more interested in the image of the Duke’s eyes. They seemed almost lifeless as if his very soul had been removed from them a very long time ago, yet, unlike lifeless eyes which were dull and dry, his seemed to shine like the sea during full moon, almost as if they reflected a sort of hope which seemed to have never exactly settled within him.

The talk with her mother was the same, the same talk about how high up men only wanted one thing and one thing only - to use and discard. Y/N knew it, she had seen it and it wasn’t like she was looking to have her own little affair, she was just glad she was somewhere rather than inside the four small walls of the small cottage in the smallest corner of Arendelle. For the very first time she was somewhere else, somewhere where she could roam various walls and see other things than the clothing she had to watch and the books she had read several times. Thankfully for her, mid speech, her mother had been interrupted by Odette’s return and her proposition of doing something that reminded her of home. However, much to Y/N’s disappointment, that something was an activity she wasn’t very found of, archery.

For centuries, Arendelle proudly held the title of producing the best archers in the whole world yet Y/N seemingly seemed to be out of that stereotype as she wasn’t any good at making an arrow go in any direction. In all honesty, she considered herself lucky if she could manage to shoot the arrow from the bow. Yet, it was Odette’s favourite sport and as her lady in waiting she had to be outside watching it. She stood a bit behind her princess, hands laying in front of her full skirt with a rather big hat covering her face from the sunlight of the golden hour. 

As the arrow hit the circle line a bit left to the bullseye, the ladies accompanying her clapping except for Y/N who was much too busy trying to adjust her hat which, despite its size, seemed to keep allowing the last rays of sun to hit her eyes. Frustrated, she kept moving her hat in all the ways she could manage until suddenly shade was cast upon her. She looked up, wondering if a cloud had set itself in front of the sun but instead of a cloud, she came to look at a lace parasol being held over her head by a leathered black glove. 

     - Grand Duke. - she greeted, eyes set in the horizon in front of her. 

     - Milady. - his voice was laced with a childlike hidden laughter, a little smirk settling on his lips. - Such big hat can’t keep the sun away? 

     - You’d expect so but yet again for someone so close to the King you seem to have a lot of free time. 

     - I must ensure your Princess is a right fit for the Prince. Unlike your ladies, this is part of my job, not leisure. 

     - What makes you think I’m not studying the Prince too? - she looked at him from under her white straw white. The noble man nodded his head, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. - After all marriage is an economic proposition. Arendelle has the male primogeniture law which means my Princess will only secure a safe and comfortable position if she marries well. She can’t make her own money and would only inherit the throne if her siblings were to pass away. Even with a wedding band on her finger she would still need to provide the kingdom with a male heir might not she lose her head. Affection is desirable but money and offsprings ... those are absolutely indispensable.

    - Do you actually believe all royal alliances are economic plays? No affection?

    - The King has five publicly known mistresses yet is married to Queen Bridgette who came from the country which is the greatest threat to Genoa. Even if there’s affection in the beginning, it doesn’t last. I’m yet to see an example of an actual loving couple with a title. 

    - Well, I loved my wife. - he looked down at her, his gaze making her feel rather uncomfortable, her heart seemingly stopping to beat. - I still love my wife in a way I could never and will never love another woman so I would argue you’re wrong, Lady Y/N. 

    - Oh ... Milord, I ... I didn’t mean to offend ...

    - Y/N! - Odette spoke over her, waving at her with that infectious smile that made any person want to keep her. - Come and shot some arrows. 

    - I’m coming. - she waved at her. - I’m so sorry Milord, I never meant to offend you.

He opened his mouth to say something but she was already running off towards Odette, her hand on top of her hat to prevent it from falling. The princess handed her the bow which the lady in waiting took very unwillingly. James merely closed the parasol, a curious look on his face. 

Y/N took a deep breathe, her finger steadily holding the rope which kept the arrow from springing into the target before she let go of it watching as it hit the grass almost straight away. She could hear whispering from the ladies telling her better luck next time as she handed them the bow, eyes blissfully moving unawarely towards the spot she was standing to see that the Duke was gone. She swallowed in vain, smiling an empty smile as the ladies continued their hand at archery. Soon the golden hour led way to the crystal moon which lit the old outside walls of the castle. If it were up to Y/N, she would’ve stayed outside watching the moon’s reflection on the small stream, imagining its course towards the sea. Oh the sea, how Y/N longed to see the sea, the big mirror of the sky. Yet, for now, the streams and rivers would have to suffice. Nevertheless, the other ladies and the princess were much more interested in getting some dinner and after her argument with her mother, Y/N decided it was enough adventure to her.

She sat at the dinner table, a personal dinner table as Odette wished to dine in the company of her ladies, her eyes glossing over the beautifully plated dinners and much too into her head and thoughts, specially how she had offended the Duke. Y/N believed herself to be right, after all she was a woman part of a world where several kingdoms if not all of them had a male only primogenitary law meaning ladies of high birth required equally high birth marriages as they could not inherit a throne, land owned by the family or the titles unless they’re supported by a male with wealth. Even worse is it for women outside the royal walls whose salary was much too low if jobs were available and since men are the ones with jobs providing enough for affording a house, love and marriage become even more of an economic proposition. In a world where affairs become the norm rather than the exception, it was much more easy for Y/N to believe marriage wasn’t the “sacred union” priests spoke about. However, the way his eyes seemed to return to life at the mere speaking of his wife made her even more conflicted about him and the rumours surrounding him. Surely someone so in love wouldn’t kill their spouse yet he was still to deny it to her.

The dinner continued until late hours of the night and once it was finished all she wanted was to return to her chambers. Once back in then, she unlaced the strings keeping her dress in place, allowing it to fall swiftly onto the floor leaving her standing in her white lace slip in front of the floor length mirror. Her hand came to touch her neck, almost feeling the tenderness of the dream hickeys that didn’t exist ... a ghost feeling. Flashes came through her and she wondered if she should remember a dream that long. She could still see it very lively, his bright blue eyes as his lips caressed her skin, his fingers skilfully grabbing her and taking yet also giving her pleasure. She would have remained in this depraved state had it not been for his last words coming back into her mind “I still love my wife in a way I could never and will never love another woman”. Even if it wasn’t for that, he was a man suspected of taking someone’s life and she just shouldn’t be thinking that.

Y/N scolded herself mentally, turning around, deciding to just lay on her bed and store away today’s thoughts yet one thing stopped her. A single white rose laying on top of her pillow.

tag list: @lookiamtrying​​ @kmuir1​​ @anxiousdreamersworld​​ @tinymalscoffee​​ @navegandoaciegas​ @cinnabanuxoxo 

[addercharmer]

The mall is busier today, it makes Izumi nervous, but she hides it as best she can. 

"Rosefinch needs clothes, preening supplies, curtains, a desk chair, hygiene products, and anything else that catches his attention." Izumi tells her friends so hopefully as a group they won't forget anything. 

Keigo is in her arms when the enter the first store, it's a specialty store for people with animal quirks, everything is separated by species. 

Once they are in the bird section Shōta looks at her with a raised brow. 

"Uh, feather oil, a preening brush or five, anything else that looks like it will keep feathers as healthy as possible." She answers his silent question, he nods and heads over to the bottles of product. 

Hizashi is already looking at the different kinds of combs, his face is serious as he reads over the different kinds of bristles and teeth. 

"Kei-chan has the wings of a predator, so best to look at the eagle, falcon, and hawk combs." Izumi feels Keigo's flinch when she says 'hawks', it makes her worried but she sets it aside to talk about later. 

Hizashi puts back over half the brushes and combs he had been looking at, he's left with eight choices and Izumi looks them over. 

"Take all eight, it will let us see which ones Kei-chan likes the most." She decides as Shōta comes back over with a small armful of bottles. 

"Conditioner and oil, I got the three scents that were most appealing and neutral." Izumi nods once before looking at Keigo. 

"Do you want to smell them now? Or are you okay with letting Shōta pick?" Izumi asks, Keigo holds up two fingers and Izumi takes that as trusting Shōta's nose for now. 

 Nothing else in the store catches Izumi's attention so they are quick to pay and make their way to the home store they were at the day before to get curtains and a desk chair. 

The home store doesn't take them long at all, Izumi had asked the two teen boys to go get some dark green and pastel green curtains as she and Keigo went to look at chairs. 

They found a chair that Keigo was comfortable sitting in, it was a simple swivel chair that had a low enough backrest that he could put his wings on the outside, but it was high enough that he still had support. 

They paid for the purchase as well as delivery on the chair quickly, Izumi was pretty happy that they were getting things done fairly quickly, it had only been half an hour that they had been at the mall. 

The problem was that Izumi was starting to flag, she may be strong, but holding a boy that weighed the same as she did and was only a foot shorter was starting to really make her struggle. 

"I'm sorry Rosefinch, but I can't carry you any more." Izumi pants once they are halfway to the next store for hygiene products. 

Izumi leans down a little and waits for Keigo to be stable on his own feet before she stands properly again, she lists to the side a little without Keigo's weight. 

Hizashi quickly places his hands on her ribs to give her support until she has her equilibrium back. Keigo watches her a little worried before he nods and turns to Shōta. 

"Will Shō-nii carry me?" The blond boy asks, his gold eyes wide and pleading. Shōta huffs in exasperation shoving the bag he was holding onto Hizashi's hands and lifting Keigo to settle on his hip. 

Izumi grins at the image the two make as she half listens to Hizashi complain that he isn't the one carrying her rosefinch. 

They stop at a superstore where they all march their way down to the hygiene products. Izumi is quick to pick out some neutral smelling body wash, shampoo and conditioner. She also picks up some for herself in her preferred cucumber melon scent. 

When she turns around she's lost the boys, but she can hear Hizashi yelp about some of the toothpaste Shōta is choosing is gross. 

She snorts and makes her way to them. 

"Nooooooooo, Izumi tell this monster that mint is the only way to go." 

Izumi's grin is sharp as she puts one finger to her chin. "I always liked berry or vanilla personally." She says as she reaches out and snatches her choices from the shelf, then she turns away and skips towards where they could find some books and other things for Keigo. 

At what was hopefully their second last stop for the day Izumi was disappointed at the small selection of clothes for winged children at the store that catered to physical mutations. 

She sighed deeply when she started pulling out clothes in something closer to her own size for Keigo to try on, she had tee-shirts, and sweaters  gathered quickly as the selection was so small that there were only four styles of each. 

With a sad shake of her head she headed back to where the males were waiting for her in the changing rooms. 

"Do you need help, Kei-chan?" Izumi asked as she placed the tops on the bench in the room. 

Keigo shook his head and closed the door after she had left the small room. 

"This one is too small." Keigo calls out as he throws a tee-shirt out from under the door. Izumi handed it to Hizashi to get a bigger size.

Two sweaters follow with the same explanation, Shōta takes them to find something larger. 

Hizashi comes back with a frown on his face and a few completely different shirts in his hands. 

"They had nothing bigger, I went to the adults section and got what I could in the smallest sizes." He explained to Izumi quietly enough that Keigo wouldn't hear, she took them from his hands and checked that nothing was overly offensive before she handed them under the door to Keigo. 

"Hizashi found some other cool stuff." Izumi explains at the boys sound of confusion. 

The other children's clothes are all passed under the door. "I like the new ones better." 

Shōta has much of the same expression when he comes back with a few sweaters and even a hoodie. "Adult sizes?" Izumi asks,she gets a nod in return before Shōta is shoving his arm under the door. 

"So, regular clothes next...would...would you two take him for underwear?" Izumi blushes deeply at the question,it's not like she has an issue with going, but she remembers being little and hating when her dad took her shopping for underwear. 

Hizashi laughs, he's doubled over holding his stomach, so Izumi does the least rational thing and kicks him in the shin. The thump from him falling over and the yelp of pain brings a satisfied smile to Izumi's lips. 

When the door to Keigo's changing room opens he's holding five tee-shirts and the hoodie. "Can I have more like this?" He asks as he holds the hoodie out for Izumi to take. 

With a nod Izumi looks at Shōta to lead the way, she quickly follows, Hizashi's steps not even three beets behind her, there is no sound of little feet which Izumi guesses that Hizashi is carrying all of their purchases and the little boy. 

Izumi snatches up all the colors that the hoodie is available in and then leads the way to the check out. 

Somehow between the specialty store and the regular clothes store all the bags shift to Shōta who is glarei g at Hizashi as the blonds chatter away with each other so quietly that Izumi can't hear them. 

She breaks off from them knowing that they will find her once underwear has been chosen to pick out some adults' extra small sweatpants and pajama sets that have sleeveless tops. She's making her way to the jeans and cargo pants when the others join her again. 

They pick out different styles and sizes for Keigo to try then shuffle him back into a changing room, the pants that don't fit but he likes are passed under the door along with the ones that do fit. 

When he's done and back in the awful scrubs Izumi asks. "Did you like any of the styles that didn't fit?"

Keigo nods his head and pulls out a pair of cargo pants that have more pockets than Izumi has ever seen on a pair of pants. 

Grabbing all of Keigo's choices and stopping to pick up the correct size in the cargo pants, Izumi then herds her companions to the checkouts. 

[drcrushers]

You wanted ficlet ideas? I obsess over you HT fics? Sounds like a good match to me!!! My prompt/idea is to do a Hades/Seph fix based on the recently posted HT track list and any of its’ songs.

aw, thank you!  i’m choosing ‘winter song’ from the track list of the holiday album. and full disclosure, i went super cheesy and endearing. they say that things just cannot grow beneath the winter snow, or so i have been told.

i still believe in summer days. the seasons always change and life will find a way. her whole hand can’t even wrap around his smallest finger. life so small seems impossible; he’s watched persephone bring to life the tiniest of flowers, barely the size of a button and yet this seems impossible, if only because hades himself had aided in giving life to this little one. the far too fragile infant that fits so easily just in the crook of his arm owes half her life to him and frankly, it’s a concept the god of the dead can hardly fathom. he’s had months to mull it over and it still floors him - but he isn’t one to question it too much in fear the fates might take the child away. after everything they’ve been through to get here, he’d rather strangle the fates with their threads than let them take this child from him.  his daughter - the word sounds strange, but not unwelcome. she’s perfect, a beautiful image of her mother mostly, but he can see somewhat what she’s gained from his genetics. the slope of her nose. those dark eyes, which he’s only had a brief glimpse of, as she’d fallen straight to sleep.  the shades he calls children may rely on him, but this - she - is proof that a god of dead can create life. a winter’s child, but one so very wanted who will know nothing but love. he is not his father. he will not be his father.  he brushes a finger against her cheek as she yawns, pink and rosy and looking far more beautiful than should be allowed. is he biased? oh, without a doubt. but he doesn’t give a damn. aphrodite can eat her heart out. even if his girl doesn’t have a name yet, she’s already got every inch of him wrapped around his finger. she makes a soft noise and for a moment he’s terrified she might launch into tears, but instead she just snuggles into the blanket she’s swaddled in and as such, sinks further into the crook of his arm.  “you gonna be up all night with her?” persephone’s voice lifts his gaze to their bed, where his beautiful, stunning wife is resting among pillows and blankets and still flushed with a glow he can only call godly. the goddess of life in her very element.  “probably.” he rumbles lowly, worried he might wake the infant. “just to - just to make sure.” he looks back down at their newborn, soft and squishy and probably the most fragile thing he’s ever held beyond his wife. she isn’t the hardness of gems or pickaxes, the sterility of contracts.  “she’s alright, hades.” persephone soothes quietly. “we made it. we made her. she’s here and safe and alive as anythin’.” “i know.” he murmurs. “i just . . . .” “i know.” she echoes, and pats the bed. “c’mon. bring our girl here. we’ll argue ‘bout names again.” “our girl.” he chuckles, but is careful as he crosses to the bed and sits on the edge. persephone shifts to lean against his side, staring at their daughter over his shoulder.  “our winter babe.” she hums the first few notes of a melody he knows by heart, a melody he has sworn never to forget. not again. he smiles to himself, listening to persephone hum their song.  her notes fade, and persephone kisses his cheek. he turns his head to grant her a proper one. “thank you.” she looks somewhat quizzical, brows furrowed.  “for what, lover?” “our winter song.”

[cartermarcian]

4Kids Korner - Season 2 - Episode 3

I'm a bit late this week because I got caught up with work and school-related dread, but now I'm back to bring you more 4Kids products! This week we have an epic trifepic: Winx Club Magazine Issue one - the castle, Kirby Right Back at Ya - Ice Kirby (DVDouble-Shot) and Kirby Right Back at Ya - Kirby Comes to Cappy Town!

Let's start by getting the smallest one out of the way. Here's Kirby Right Back at Ya - Ice Kirby (2005)

There's something I oddly like about DVDouble-Shot. Starting In 2005, the DVDouble-Shot line was introduced featuring two-Episode DVDs of 4Kids most profitable shows as a way of promoting 4Kids TV. As for the consumer, the main selling point is that you could buy them for a low price, collect and possibly trade them with your friends, kind of like Pokémon cards. I like the idea of one kid saying to the other on the playground, "hey, wanna trade your Ninja Turtles for my YuGiOh?" How successful they were, I have no idea, but they're fun and easy to review on this show. Given their small portion size, practically every DVDouble-Shot is the same. This one had the episodes "The Chill Factor" and "DeDeDe's Snow Job," in accordance with the ice theme of the disc. It also features assorted promos for then-current and upcoming 4Kids shows identical to those seen in the 4Kids TV September demo disc (which I will hopefully review some time in the future.) Before we move on, though there's one little thing I want to point out about the box art. You can't see it in the photos I've provided, but the ice monster on the cover is far more pixelated than Kirby, if you look closely at it, so it appears to me that they lifted it right out of the episode and placed it on the cover. I guess that's just what happens when no official art of a character exists for your graphic designers to use...

Now that we have that one out of the way, let's talk about the stars of today's episode, which actually turned out to have much more historical value than most of the other stuff in my collection. So say hello to the Winx Club Magazine Premiere Issue, The Castle (2005)

This is a very special addition to my collection not only because it's part of what I consider to be 4Kids' absolute peak year, but since the book was presumably printed in January of 2005, it means this was one of the first pieces of of merchandise to feature the now-famous 4Kids TV logo. Heck it might have even been printed before then. As for the book itself, it's quite cute as it features everything an 8-11 year old girl wanting to be a hip and trendy 2000s teenager could want, and contains surprisingly few ads for Winx Club merch. And even more adorable, is the publisher's attempts to fit that description using words like "slammin'" in sentences. I call it a magazine, but it's really more dedicated to the comic included, "The Castle," which I would have read, but I needed to get some sleep the day I read it, so I skimmed the book's numerous activities, instead. But for those still interested, the comic is a retelling of Bloom's enrollment in Alfea, with original art that's pretty accurate to the actual show. But the book's real allure is the activities. Like the free trading card you'll see in the photo above. It even comes with a full-page description of what a trading card game is, making reference to YuGiOh in the process, which I thought was funny since 4Kids owned that, and also because it heavily implies that only boys play YuGiOh when the show itself has many female duelists. After that, you have a faux interview with Bloom taken from the perspective of a fellow Alfea Student. What I remember most clearly about that, is that Bloom says she listens to top 40's, which made me think "man, she's got some trash music taste," even though I, myself have said on multiple occasions off of tumblr that I listen to basically everything. Also included on the magazine are a paper fortune-telling toy, a best friend diary which includes a "secret crush" slot to fill in, a page for writing down predictions about the reader's future, and even a personality test which assigns your traits to a type of flower, as suggested by Flora on the page. The funny thing about this is that one question asks for the reader's favorite kind of movie, and one of the options is "anime everything," which I thought was funny since anime was just starting to get big at that time in America, and the online anime community was just starting to grow. Finally, on the last page, probably the most creative of all, is a step-by-step slumber party plan by Musa, which details inviting everyone over, having them show up dressed as their favorite popstar (like Brittany Spears, for example) and bring their favorite CD from said popstar, then taking turns playing them and talking about them. It sounds quite fun, and it made me smile imagining all the little kids who tried this. That's exactly what I think is awesome about children's entertainment: it makes them happy and builds their imagination. So that's the Winx Club Magazine, a really good buy, but I must admit they used the same art of the girls more than once on a few occasions, and also wrote in a plot hole in the interview with Bloom, where she says she discovered her powers as a child, but in the show she unlocks them at her current age when saving Stella from the first monsters of the series. So it may have a couple flukes, but still quite enjoyable.

And last, but never least, it's time for Kirby Right Back at Ya: Kirby Comes to Dream Land (2002)

This one is also historically significant for two reasons. One is that it was the very first release of one of the more famous non-Pokémon/YuGiOh shows 4Kids had to offer, but it also played a part in promoting the very launch of the Fox Box, as you'll see on the box art. This disc may only have the first three episodes of the show, but it super makes up for it with a plethora of special features, more than any of the DVDs I currently own, and that they strangely enough don't tell you about on the box. And speaking of the box, though you might not see it, the episode descriptions on the back are written entirely in comic sans. Yeah, it's clear to see 4Kids wasn't quite as sharp as they would be in the next few years... and the DVD menus are also written entirely in this font. But that doesn't take away from the outstanding value. much like the Fright to the Finish DVD, this one's special features are split between two menus. For this one, there's "More Kirby" and "Added Attractions," which is the far superior one, but more on that in a minute. The More Kirby menu features a character gallary telling you about the main cast, set to music from the show. Then there's "Kirbyoke," which is there to teach the kids the words to the theme song. And finally, we have a preview for the next DVD in the series, which at that point hadn't a proper name, so Mike Pollock's voice just refers to it as "Kirby Right Back at Ya Volume 2." Then, in the "Added Attractions" menu, we have a promo for Cubix - Robots for Everyone's first DVD release, a short promo for the newly-launched FoxBox.TV website, and the star of this review by far, "What's Inside The Fox Box?!" This incredible 14 minute long promo (which you can find on Youtube, by the way,) previews every single show in the Fox Box's initial lineup as a way of hyping up the network for it's September 2002 launch. Well, kind of... You see, 4Kids made multi-minute promos for their own productions, complete with plot synopses by Mike Pollock and others and theme songs for the shows. Meanwhile, Stargate Infinity, a third-party show, only got a promo featuring still images of the main cast, a paper-thin explanation of the plot and no opening, all clocking in at under a minute. So, yeah, pretty lame move on 4Kids part, but at least we get to see HD footage of 4Kids lost Ultraman Tiga dub. Ultimately, it's a really fun promo from 4Kids' very beginnings as a dedicated children's entertainment company, even though it uses some uncut clips of guns in Fighting Foodons since the dub wasn't finished at that point. One last thing to point out: the promo for Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (which hadn't even started production at the time,) features an unused theme song demo for the series which also made it's way onto the illusive Fox Box CD. So there you have it, one of the DVDs that started it all. Thanks for reading about it, as well as my other items this week. I will be back with more next week, so hang in there, and I'll see you all next time. Take care!

[tinywordsblog]

Tiny Words is a creative nonfiction podcast, featuring my own writing and stories. In episode 1, I talk about my experiences with disordered eating, body image, and recovery. 

And, more than anything, this is an ode to little Amber, and the little legs that have carried her this far. (It’s also an ode to the White Rabbit Cafe’s vegan chocolate chip cookies).

Trigger Warning: This podcast episode discusses topics of disordered eating, weight, health, calories, and food. If these things are triggering to you, I would not recommend listening to this episode, but I appreciate you nonetheless. 

Transcript: 

The goal of the ‘Tiny Words’ blog has always been to highlight the small truths of life, those that make up our existence and have a larger impact than it might seem on the surface. For this podcast series, I’ll be featuring my own writing as an audio presentation. I’ll be telling my own stories (and perhaps those of others) through a format that is new to me as a creator. Throughout the past few months, I’ve reopened the world of creativity and writing--a realm that has long been boarded up and evacuated. I wanted to reopen that realm in this podcast episode by writing a story that many months of therapy has shown me is one of my own truths. With that said, I present “Just a Little Husky” to you. I hope you find something of myself in this. 

DISCLAIMER: I want to preface this story with a trigger warning. This episode discusses topics of disordered eating, weight, health, calories, and food. If these things are triggering to you, this episode might not be best for you. 

[introduction music fades into the story]

I was in elementary school when I discovered what a body was. I knew that we all had stomachs and arms and legs and chins. I was aware of those things only as they related to being a child. My legs carried me where I needed to go. My arms were used for holding and hugging and gesturing. My stomach was something to be fed and nurtured. But I never knew what those things were supposed to look like. Or that those things were “supposed” to look like anything at all. At that same age, my older sister’s friend--only 2 short years older than myself--lost a significant amount of weight. Our families rallied around her, remarked on her “dedication” and the clockwork-like Wii Fit exercises she was doing. For the first time in my life, thinness was celebrated. 

I became aware of the looks that those closest to me had given plus-size women before I knew what a plus size woman was. The side-eyed glances to a woman in a form-fitting shirt. Scoffs cast on young girls confidently wearing shorts when “they really shouldn’t be wearing shorts that short. Not with that body.” 

When my sister’s friend lost weight, and more importantly when she was celebrated for her weight loss, my innocence began to crack and shatter. A mirror had been turned on myself, and confidence became something you needed to shrink yourself down into. 

My sophomore year of high school, a pediatrician--one who considered himself “traditional” to be exact--told my mother and I that, “it wasn’t a problem yet. She’s not overweight. Just a little husky.” 

Just a little husky. Just a little husky. Just a little husky. 

Not a problem yet, but becoming one. Just a little husky.

He diagnosed me with the feelings of self-hatred that had cast their shadow on my reflection. “Just a little husky” and suddenly I became no more than a number. 

It wasn’t until a year ago, when my therapist furrowed her brows and asked, “He said what?” that I realized my pediatrician’s words were the wrong thing--not my body. Now, I see his comment as a lapse in his judgment. Back then, though, it was a death sentence.

I was raised on diet culture and calorie counting apps and skinny teas and fat-free versions of your favorite snack foods. That day at the doctor’s office, I was prescribed a monster thinly-veiling itself as healthy living. It told me that to be healthy was to avoid. To shrink. To achieve the smallest possible number. 

And, really, the numbers were all I had. Scale in the morning, before breakfast to be the smallest possible weight. “Bare minimum” best describes it. I ate cereal in the morning, exactly one cup-sized measuring cup full of Special-K with no milk. I would eat a  sandwich for lunch, on bread that was strictly labeled “light,” spread with one exact tablespoon of peanut butter-- or perhaps two, on a cheat day. I ate snacks, but never more than 90-calories each. For dinner I would eat with my family, but I “portion controlled” and never took a second serving. I’d eat side salads as a main meal on a bad day, and dessert was a rarity. My pantry was full of green block text screaming “light,” “low-fat,” “diet soda,” “shrink yourself until there’s nothing left”, and wither away faster with this brand of pretzels for a lower rate than the competitor!

The patriarchy packaged up an eating disorder into a glittering pink parcel and sold it to me on a silver scale. Told me I was too fat to feel worthy of a crop top. I was commercialized into a fat kid with a complex about the clothes I wore and the way I sat, constantly aware of  the way my face morphed into a smile and how my body moved around me when I danced. I sewed my worth into the waistband of my pants. I practiced my smile and adjusted my posture. I wore only the size that I wanted to be, and if a store’s clothes ran smaller--forcing me into the next size up--I cried my way to another. I was “just a little husky,” and the diet was not enough to erase those words from the corners of my mind. 

I once heard a slam poem by Blythe Baird called ‘When the Fat Girl Gets Skinny’ that says, “If you develop an eating disorder when you are already thin to begin with, you go to the hospital. If you develop an eating disorder when you are not thin to begin with, you are a success story.” When I first heard Baird’s poem, I tried to pretend that I wasn’t listening to my own existence sung back to me from someone else’s mouth. But it was my own song. When you go from being fat to being skinny through means of an eating disorder, your mental illness becomes a physical celebration. I was fifteen years old being asked what my “secret” was by fully-grown aunts and uncles. I was told “You look great”, a compliment that I’ve learned translates to “You look smaller.” They applauded me even when I asked for no Easter candy, when I asked permission to eat my birthday cake “and even the ice cream, too?” 

To this day, I still ask for permission when eating a fear food, but now I’m able to answer my own question. When I was restricting myself, I thought of progress only in quantitative terms. I was a series of numbers, gradually getting smaller, hoping to never get bigger. Now, I can see my progress cast around my person like light falls through a window. The light does not pick and choose certain objects to illuminate just like my disordered eating did not pick and choose certain aspects to affect while leaving others untouched. When progress came, it could be seen shimmering on every surface. I see my progress in the way I slouch in chairs. In how I clothe myself in patterns that I love rather than vertical stripes because, to quote a dying fashion industry, “horizontal stripes make you look bigger.” In how I laugh without covering my mouth. In how I’m trying to learn to love my smile no matter how it stretches my face. In how I speak without fear of my voice “sounding fat,” though I’m still not sure how fifteen-year-old Amber thought a voice could sound that way. 

In how, even on my bad body days, I buy myself White Rabbit Cafe-sized vegan chocolate chip cookies. In how I sweeten my tea and spice my food. In how I’ve forgotten the number of calories in a single grape and couldn’t tell you the amount of carbs in a bowl of pasta. In how I love my stretch marks as if they were the perfect tattoos. 

My body certainly isn’t a temple, but I’m learning day-by-day to turn it into a warm bed on a rainy day. It’s becoming a place to take comfort, a thing to clothe in loving embraces and swaths of my favorite colors. Or, rather than making it a metaphor, maybe my body is just my body. My means of navigating the world. The vessel used to love and be loved. The thing I carry around with me always. 

Maybe I am “just a little bit husky,” and that’s a thing to be celebrated, too.

[unrelletable]

The first thing I do when I enter any kind of new environment is to check out if I am the skinniest girl in the room. If the answer to that question is yes, I then usually proceed to relax and enjoy whatever activity I am there to do. It happened while I was in school, when I volunteered for a local non-profit organization, when I worked as a waitress for two months. But also when I started my six months internship, when I looked for my current flat, and it still does when I go shopping for clothes or when I take my dog out for his daily walks. I am pretty sure that this is going to be the first thing I will make sure to be aware of when I enter the first class of the year in a couple of weeks. And I guess it is needless to say I am quite tired of it.

I have never become fully concious of this little trick my brain plays on me until one day I found out that I had gained weigth. And people around me started to make me aware of it. I am not talking about pounds and pounds, but since I had been extremely thin for almost ten years, every new kilo showed on me. Even a single one. People had been complimenting me for my shape, and I had always thanked out loud my fast metabolism for it. When actually years before I had lost a considerable amount of weight due to pretty heavy treatments I had to go through because of a bone cancer. So we were definitely not talking lucky genes back then. In order to gain that weight back - we are talking about around fifteen kilos: I was 163 cm high and right after my last treatment session my body did not weigh more than 37 kgs - it took me quite a few years. According to the medical tables, my weight was finally considered healhty for my height, age and sex two years ago. Which meant that it took me exactly eight years to go back to be in an average shape. 

But this is not what society and diet culture made me believe for the most part of those years - and still does. I can not recall how many times people had made amazed comments on how great I looked and how hard they wished their body could process food as fast as mine. I have always considered these affirmations as positive and never - even for a split second - questioned the fact that a visibly underweight body was considered the dream body by so many people. I was grateful for being so thin, and I have enjoyed fitting into the smallest pieces of clothing without the need of holding my breath or sucking my tummy in. Until I had to. 

As I said, my current weight is perfectly average. I am not either too skinny or chubby. My tummy shows little rolls when I sit, but looks flat when I stand. I still wear size 4 jeans and I have never had to buy something sized M yet. I guess I still fit into the thin category, so according to the society that glorifies thigh gaps and visible collarbones I should not worry. Just yet. Unfortunately though, the diet culture we live in began to pull its strings on me at the very moment when I realized I was no more the skinniest girl in the room. 

I do not know what came with the conciousness of being the girl who weighed less than any other. Probably the fact that I was succeeding at something, and that I would be noticed for it. I do not like being the centre of attention, but I literally loved when someone would point out how thin I was and started asking how I could manage to keep my body so fit. I have never explained the actual reason why I could wrap my fingers around my wrist and a twist them leaving out a considerable amount of space. Firstly, because I was not at a point in my life where I felt confident enough to speak about my cancer diagnosis, even though by that time I had completely healed; secondly, because I liked the fact that people thought that the shape of my body was something I had to take credit for. It made me feel as if I stood out in the crowd, not realizing that it was for a completely wrong reason. 

The actual moment of realization that I had some issues about the way my body looked came around a year and a half ago, but I would say that did not have much of an impact until the beginning of the new year. By then I had found a internship and even though I had planned to, I did not have much time to invest in working out. Everything changed with the coming of Covid and the following quarantine: having tons of free hours felt like an obligation to exercise. And so I did. 

Chloe Ting became my workout pal and the background music of her Five Weeks Shred Challenge’s videos my nightmare: I sweated for almost an hour every single day for more than a month and restricted my diet to the point where I would allow myself a treat only on Sunday. The very first weeks were the absolute worst: my tummy would groan constantly and I would feel hungry all the time. I would wake up hungry, be hungry after half an hour from breakfast, not feel satisfied at lunch and dinner, and I would literally go to bed with a hole in my stomach. The only snacks I had was fruit, and I did not eat any kind of carbohydrates apart from pasta at lunch. No bread, no biscuits, no crackers. For a good four months. Eventually my body got used to the lack of food, and started to burn calories from the inside. I lost a couple of kilos and my abs started to show, my legs became definitely more toned and I was almost completely cellulite-free. 

But all I would do, all the time, was thinking about food. I would count down the days that were left until Sunday every week, and when that day would come I binged like there was no tomorrow. Causing myself to feel extremely nauseous for the next couple of days. In case I would eat something prohibited during the weekdays, I would feel extremely disappointed with myself, as if a single teaspoon of chocolate cream would actually make a difference. I would weigh myself almost every morning and feel an ache of pain in case the scale would detect a couple of hundred grams of difference from the previous morning. My goal was to finally gain a body like the ones overcelebrated on Instagram, but luckily I did not.

Around the middle of August it finally struck me. I had listened to one episode of a podcast series - for my fellow Italians, I am talking about Palinsesto Femminista - that shed the light on the topic of body positivity and its actual mean. It took me a good couple of days to process all the amazing things I had heard on that hour long conversation involving one of the two founders of the Belle di Faccia association, but eventually it did. I was minding my own businesses trying to decide whether I was allowed a slice of bread with Nutella for breakfast and all of a sudden I found myself asking Being skinnier would make me actually happier? And the straight answer to that was no.

I would love to say that for the past month it has been a walk in the park and that I have not felt guilty eating while eating crisps or having cookies with my morning tea, but I have to reckon that there has been a change. When I work out, I do it because I like the sensation I get aftewards and not because it would get me a step closer to my dream body. Even though I still eventually think that I will go back to eat in the way I did during quarantine, I have decided that in that case I will not restrict myself like I used to. I have realized that I want to eat clean for my body to feel good, and not in order to avoid a couple of tiny rolls on my stomach. I had to brainwash myself out of the concept that what I see online is the actual reality and that it should be the norm. Every body should be valid, regardless of their weight or shape. No one should feel forced to starve themselves in order to comply with an aesthetic that is simply not realistic. I have to say that online accounts like the ones of @/namastehannah and @/danaemercer have had a great impact on my approach to exercise and reality in the past months, and in case you are struggling with the same kind of unrealistic expectations about the way your body should look like I highly recommed that you check them out. 

After six months of ups and downs in the relationship with my body image, I have come to the point that I definitely should try to worry less about the way I look. I went through something similar with the acceptance of my face, and back then not having to wear make up for half a year thanks to the fact that I had to look after to kids and knew no one in the neighbourhood kind of made me become more confident with showing my bare face. And since I had the chance to do it all over again thanks to self-isolation, I have learned to become familiar with the sleepy face I see everytime I wake up. And I have to admit that I actually started to like it. I am sure sure if I will brave enough not to put any kind of make up on when I go to classes, but we will just have to wait to find it out. Who knows.

Thus I am hoping that I will be able to go through the same process with my body as a whole as well. I am now concious of the fact that I do not have to necessarily love the shape I am in, but I simply need to accept it for what it is and all the things that it allows me to do on a daily basis. I now know that it can change a thousand times during my lifetime, or even a single day, and regardless of it, it will always be worth. Let’s be honest, most posts of flat tummies and toned booties are edited or posed anyway. So what I am going to try to do is to let go of these insanely unhealthy expectations and focus on what makes me feel good. Regardless of those around me or those who pop up on the explore page.

- body image issues and other stories

[writersmacchiato]

For The Better | Eugene ‘Doc’ Roe

Prompt: “I wish I didn’t have these feelings, but I do.”

Warnings: n/a

———

His eyes bore into you; a weight that almost has you buckling. A glance over would reveal the fire behind his blue eyes. Lighting them up darkly, lips twisted down.

The British medic continued to amble on, easily making smalltalk as you went over the inventory. It was a welcome relief when a supply had been dropped into town, the stock had been running dangerously low, and you were put in charge of organizing it with the help of Private Will Barkley, a medic for the British army.

He was friendly, a change of pace from the brooding that had become the norm, smiling easily as he introduced himself.

“I’ve already met Doc Roe over there.” He nods to the aforementioned man, turning his gaze back to you. “But, I have been wanting to meet Nurse Y/N.”

“Oh, really?”

“Best damn nurse in the company,” he grins, “so I heard.”

“I do my best.” you feel heat creep up your cheeks.

You feel Gene behind you, arms crossed. His throat clears quietly, and when you look back, his face is impassive.

“We should get started.” You motion to the crates and pallets, taking up over half the room.

“Right,” Barkley nods, blinking suddenly as if waking up from a trance. “Right...“

The day passed by, with a silent Roe and a chatty Barkley. It had been nice, at first, having someone to fill the empty air with. But, you soon felt a creeping prickle in the base of your head. Headache forming with every word that flew from the Private’s mouth. Working with Eugene...

He was quiet, shy even, not saying much if there wasn’t a need to. You almost thought he disliked you, replies short and glances icy. Until the day, much like this, when you were stuck doing inventory with him. He had melted, ironically, under the cold eaves of the tent.

The rumble of trucks could be heard, splashing water as they ambled by. It’s white noise against the flutter of papers and the scuffle of boxes.

Roe clears his throat, slipping past you to open the last remaining crate. His fingers are nimble, quick as he unpacks the morphine and bandages.

“Yes!” It’s a quiet cheer to himself.

Looking over, you spot a pair of shiny scissors glinting off the light. Your mouth stretches into a soft smile.

“About time we got some damn scissors.” You speak up, breaking the silence that had settled over the room.

His eyes meet yours, a warm brown that was normally darkened by concern and worry. Cheeks flushed as he looks down.

“My mom...” you continue, tired of the quiet. “She would say that one of a woman’s greatest weapon was her scissors and how she used them.”

“Sounds like a smart woman.” He smiles, a soft barely there grin, but it’s nice on him. You feel heat rise up to your cheeks.

“She is.”

“You like it back home?” He ventures hesitatingly, surprising you so much that you almost forget to answer.

“Home was...home.” You settle on. “It was the same thing day in, day out.”

He nods, mouth twisting. “I know how that feels.”

“What’s Louisiana like?” You toe the line. This is the most you’ve talked to the man at one time and you like the gentle lull of his voice.

He smiles again, bigger than before. “It’s home.” Mimicking your words from earlier. “It’s simple out there. My ma’... I miss her cooking the most.”

“Do you have siblings?”

“Four.”

Your eyebrows raise, “wow...”

“What about you?” He smiles at your expression.

“I have an older sister.”

His mouth opens but he never finishes his thought, Spina comes through the flap of the tent with a murmur of ‘fuck’.

“It’s raining something bad out there.” He mutters, shaking out his jacket and cap.

You peek through the flap, barely able to see the other pitched tents through the torrents of water.

Spina is already pulling out the spare cots in the room, “I’m not going back out there.”

Eugene — it seems odd to call him Roe now — shakes his head, the hint of a smile still there.

You smile to yourself at the memory.

“Well, I guess we’re done for the day.” Barkley says, nodding his affirmation as he rubs his hands together.

“Thanks for your help, private.” You smile.

He nods at you, then Eugene, with his cheeks flushed. It was flattering, you think, that men were still affected by you — you covered in dirt and grime, hair unwashed and uncombed.

Eugene lets out a huff when Barkley leaves, rubbing his face with the back of his hand.

“You okay, Genie?”

His eyes meet yours, expression void as he nods. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Your hand touches his shoulder, giving it a squeeze before you leave.

Unknown to you, the blush on his cheeks and eyes watching your retreat.

. . .

Private Barkley continues to... well, pester you. It was sweet, in a way, how the boy (“I’m eighteen, ma’am.” He blushed when you ask.) followed after you with metaphorical heart eyes. He wasn’t annoying, but he talked a lot — even George Luz could grow irate in his presence.

“And, you see, there I was—“ his story was dragging, you forgot what it was even about. He could ramble, get sidetracked, then go back to his original story like a fly buzzing around your head.

Your eyes flicker up to see Eugene smoking. His eyes are smoldering, looking at Barkley with a look that could disintegrate. The latter takes no notice, mouth running a marathon.

“Hey, Will,” he had practically begged for you to call him by his first name, his desperation having you comply out of embarrassment. “I gotta go.”

“Oh, okay.” He grins, “see you later.”

You watch him walk away, taking steps to Eugene.

“He’s like a puppy.” Gene mutters when you sit next to him, casting a sidelong look at you.

You slump against his shoulder. “I’m more of a cat person.”

His shoulders shake from a laugh, a low gentle sound that feels like water running over rocks. You watch the smoke from his exhale drift into the empty air, curling upwards until it’s swept away by the breeze.

“Think you’ll give Barkley a chance?” Eugene asks, the question leaving your head spinning at the idea.

“A chance at what?”

“He likes you, ‘s pretty obvious.”

“He’s just a boy.” You sigh. “Hasn’t see a woman in a while, sticks to the first one that comes along. Simple.”

He lets out a hum, dropping the rest of his cigarette on the ground with a crush of his boot. “Lovesick puppy.”

The drawl and over enunciation (‘Luvesicc pup-pa’) has you breaking out into a fit of laughter, grabbing his arm to keep from falling over. His hand settles over yours, keeping you in place.

When your chuckles subside, you take a look at him. He’s already staring at you, eyes warm with a look you’ve never seen on him before. A smile so rare directed at you.

“You have a nice smile.” You say absentmindedly, watching as the smile in question grows in size.

He looks away, a blush crawling up his cheeks. He clears his throat, mumbling a quiet, ‘thank you’.

You grab his hand, smiling to yourself when he gives it a gentle squeeze.

. . .

“And, so there I was—all by myself, mind you, and I still can’t find my shoes!” Barkley laughs, but it fades into a frown when you don’t follow suit. “Y/N? Are you okay?”

Your eyes snap to him, everything filtering back in place. “Hm?”

“Did you hear anything I just said?” He looks hurt, every bit of a kicked puppy.

“I’m sorry...I’m just feeling out of it.”

The miffed look shifts to concern, the back of his hand touching your forehead. You flinch at the contact, his hand drawing away.

“S-sorry.”

“Will—“

He gets up to walk away, muttering an apology.

Your stomach twists into knots, knowing the image of his hurt face would be something thought about often. While it was obvious he might have a crush on you, you liked him in a purely platonic way. Telling him that he was like your younger brother would only crush him further.

Gene watches from where he’s sitting, feeling only the smallest of satisfaction at Barkley’s dismal demeanor. It washes away at your guilty expression.

“Hey.”

You look up, quickly smiling to hide your frown. “Hey, Genie.”

“Everything okay with puppy over there?” Gene shouldn’t ask you that question, shouldn’t care as much as he does at the answer.

“No, I don’t think so.” You lean your head against Gene’s shoulder. “You were right, about him being—“ you put quotation marks around ‘lovesick’ “—lovesick. I just wish I didn’t have to let him down. This war is ugly enough as it is without heartbreak added to the mix.”

“If getting his heart broken by you is the worst thing that happens to him during the war, I reckon he’ll be just fine.” Gene finds himself saying, trying not to resonate with the words.

Your fingers tangle in Gene’s, a half thought as you ponder his statement. Gene squeezes your hand, a gentle touch before he’s slipping away. There and gone in a blink of an eye, what he did best.

“It would be honor to have my heart broken by you.” Gene doesn’t turn to look back at you, can’t muster the courage, but wondering what the hell possessed him to say that. His feelings for you weren’t ones of comrades, or even friends, he longed for you in a way that was dangerous. For him, and for you.

“Eugene.” You followed him, hand clasping the sleeve of his jacket, right below his medic band. “I—“

What could you say? How could you convey the feeling that sprung up with every gentle touch, soft gaze, smile that Gene gave you? You couldn’t. And yet, you kiss him. Softly, barely touching him but feeling more alive than you had in months since this damned war began. He leans in, hands cradling your face so gently, deepening the kiss in a way that has you curling into him. When you pull away he looks at you with wonder, stroking his thumb along your lip. His face crumbles as he moves away, dropping his hands, you immediately miss the warmth of him.

“I wish I didn’t have these feelings, but I do.” Gene says.

“It’s for the best.” You say, smiling to hide how it feels like someone had just clenched your heart in their hand. “Genie...I—“

“Don’t say it.” Gene shakes his head, looking pained as he steps away. “It’s for the better.”

He believes it, you can see that. Nothing can change his mind. There is just you, watching his back as he walks away, under the weight of a returned love that couldn’t begin.

———

BoB taglist: @kneesocksapollo @croatianbagudna @gottapenny @wexhappyxfew @medievalfangirl @liebthots @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @hbostolemysoul @bandofmarvels @dustyjjumpwings @characterobsessed @curraheev

[centralparkpawsblog]

The 9 Best End Table Dog Crates & Furniture-Style Kennels

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Top Pick: Crown Pet Products Wood End Table Dog Crate

Made from sustainable rubberwood, this end table dog kennel by Crown Pet Products is good for the environment, your dog, and your wallet.

Plus, it’s available in both Espresso and Mahogany!

Check Price

I love sharing my home with my dogs.

However, I have always tried to keep my house looking like the dogs haven’t completely taken it over.

Sometimes I succeed, and sometimes I fail.

There have been numerous occasions over the years that I have had to set up a crate in the house, and quite honestly, I hate the look of them.

Usually, I will use a crate cover to soften the appearance, but at the end of the day, we still have a giant wire box sitting in our room. 

My dogs love resting in crates; it’s their safe place[1].

So, when I take down the unneeded kennel, my dogs are generally disappointed.

My solution to the problem was to invest in three end table crates. Though this was a fair investment, it met my needs of being functional and looking good.

Most people don’t even realize the tables are crates until they look closer at them. 

Because my dogs have free run of the house, we took the doors off of two of the crates.

We left one door on for Ginger as she has some behavioral issues that require her to take some time to self soothe, but that’s a long story for a different article.

Also, if you are wondering why I have a gate across the staircase rungs, it’s because Sophie likes to eat cat food and is wonderfully tenacious about getting what she wants.

I know it detracts from the décor, but as I said earlier, sometimes I fail.

What are End Table Dog Crates?

The best invention in the dog crate world!

Simply put, they are dog crates that are also functional furniture.

They make having a dog crate in any living space far more bearable and aesthetically pleasing. 

There is a fair variety of furniture-style dog crates to choose from, ranging in style, size, and color.

Dog crate furniture can be an investment, but when you combine the costs of an end table and crate, it’s usually the better deal.

Why You Should Buy an End Table Dog Crate

Furniture style dog crates are the perfect solution for having a dog crate and retaining the décor of any room.

I recommend this style table to all my friends and family that crate their dogs.

They blend well into any home and meet the needs of the dogs.

They say (please don’t ask me who they are) a picture is worth a thousand words. Below is visual proof of why you should buy an end table crate:

Unfortunately, we do have the big wire crate set up in the living room.

It is far more bearable than the X-Pen we had up before.

We are currently using this wire crate as a temporary training tool for Miss Ginger (I can’t wait to tear it down and put my end table crate back in its place!).

Looking for a soft-sided crate for temporary or travel use? Click here for the best!

What to Look for when Buying a Furniture Style Dog Crate

Like with all buying situations, different factors need to be taken into consideration.

For the end table crate, here’s a pretty comprehensive list to ponder:

Color/Style

There is a multitude of colors and styles to choose from.

Since you’re making this investment, you will want to find one that matches your room perfectly.

Material

These crates come in a variety of materials from different wood types to recycled polymers

You want to choose one that will both match your interior decorating preferences as well as the wear and tear from your dog.

Ease of Use

Depending on the space you plan on putting the crate, you will want to be sure the door is oriented to open easily.

Some crates have multiple entrances.

Size

This comes down to two factors: the size of your dog and the size of the space.

Be sure to consider height when looking for a crate as you don’t want it to sit too high or low.

Another item of note is there are two sets of measurements: One set is for the inside of the crate, and the other is for the overall table size.

For example, my crate has a 4-inch difference in the length and depth of the crate interior versus table exterior.

Sturdiness

The sturdiness of a crate is vital.

You don’t want the table collapsing on your dog, and you don’t want a flimsy crate your dog can easily escape.

As much as I love furniture crates, the reality is if you have a dog with separation anxiety or barrier anxiety, these crates won’t hold up against a dog that desperately wants out.

Price

These furniture style crates range in price from a little under $100 to over $1000!

The price usually depends on the material and size of the crate.

The Best Furniture-Style Dog Crates

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ModelMaterialColorsRatingPrice Crown Pet Products Wood End Table Dog CrateSustainable RubberwoodEspresso, Mahogany4.5$$$ Check Price Casual Home Dog Crate End TableSustainable WoodBlack, Espresso, Taupe, White4.0$$ Check Price Omlet Fido Studio Luxury Dog Crate with WardrobeWood and WireWalnutN/A$$$ Check Price Boomer and George Wooden Dog Crate End TableEngineered Wood & MetalEspresso3.9$$$ Check Price Zoovilla Dog Crate End TableMDFBlack, White3.6$$ Check Price Polar Bear's Pet Shop Double Door Extra Large CrateWood & MDFEspressoN/A$$$ Check Price Pinnacle Woodcraft Amish Dog Crate Entertainment CenterMaple & OakNatural or Stained4.7$$$$ Check Price Merry Products Dog Crate and TableWood VeneerBlack, White4.0$$$ Check Price Southern Crafted Furniture Custom Indoor KennelWalnut & MetalCustomN/A$$$$$ Check Price

Top Pick

Crown Pet Products Wood End Table Dog Crate

Click the image for more info

Why It’s the Best Choice

The overall style of Crown Pet Products’ Wood End Table Dog Crate is nonintrusive and would easily match most homes’ décor.

The Crown Pet Table is a solid wood crate that comes in two colors and two sizes. 

Also, the door to the crate can swing in or out, making it easy to keep the door out of the way when not being used.

Another excellent feature on this crate is the base

It is made of waterproof melamine, making it a breeze to clean in the case of an accident.

The overall crate allows for excellent airflow, to better keep your pup comfortable.

Pros

Made from rubberwood, a hardwood from rubber plantations[2]

Waterproof floor

Swing through door

Cons

Only comes in two sizes

Only comes in two colors

Price

Check Price

Read Reviews

Budget Pick

Casual Home Dog Crate End Table

Click the image for more info

Why It’s the Best Choice

What first caught my eye was the conservative style of Casual Home’s Dog Crate End Table.

This mission-style crate would fit in with a variety of interior decorating styles. 

The second thing I noticed was that this crate comes in five different sizes and four different colors.

The smallest crate will fit dogs under 25 pounds, and the largest can hold dogs up to 90 pounds.

The color options available vary on crate sizes.

Pros

Open slats on all four sides, allowing for sufficient airflow to keep your pup comfortable

Made from sustainably-sourced solid wood 

Moderately priced

Cons

It is not made for chewers, so if your dog chews on wood or their crate, this will not be the right choice

It is not scratch-resistant

Check Price

Read Reviews

Upgrade Pick

Omlet Fido Studio Luxury Dog Crate with Wardrobe

Click the image for more info

Why It’s the Best Choice

Omlet’s Fido Studio crate comes in a walnut color, giving any room a warmer feel.

What makes this crate unique is that it comes with a wardrobe to keep all of your pup’s stuff neatly tucked away.

The crate features two doors allowing for easier access to get your dog in and out.

While the wires aren’t disguised, this crate may be a better choice for dogs who like to chew on their crate.

Pros

Multiple entries

Wardrobe 

Easy wipe down finish

Cons

It isn’t made from solid wood

The wire sides don’t disguise the overall appearance

Limited sizes

Check Price

Read Reviews

Best End Table Crate for Small Dogs

Boomer and George Wooden Dog Crate End Table

Click the image for more info

Why It’s the Best Choice

The Boomer and George crate has a dark espresso finish and metal accents, giving the crate a luxurious look.

The overall design would fit great in most homes and would easily tuck in nicely next to a sofa.

The metal bars give it a sturdier feel, and though it’s far from indestructible, it would hold up well against mild chewers.

The crate sits well off the floor, allowing airflow around the entire crate, ensuring the greatest amount of comfort for your dog. 

The wood veneer makes it easy to wipe down and keep clean.

Pros

Unique design

Well vented for natural airflow

Easy wipe down finish

Cons

Made from wood veneer

Limited size and color

Check Price

Read Reviews

Best End Table Crate for Medium Dogs

Click the image for more info

 Zoovilla Dog Crate End Table

Why It’s the Best Choice

The Zoovilla dog kennel is a nicely sized medium crate.

It has a beautiful design that is aesthetically pleasing and easy to fit in any home.

This crate has a couple of unique features:

First is that this is a multi-door crate; it opens from the end and the side.

The second feature is the removable tray to make cleaning a lot easier.

This crate comes in multiple sizes and colors.

Unlike many of the crate end tables, this one comes in white or black instead of natural wood.

Pros

Stylish design

Multiple entries

Removable bottom tray

Cons

Made from MDF, which has certain disadvantages compared with solid wood[3]

The latch is not as sturdy as other models

Check Price

Read Reviews

Best End Table Crate for Big Dogs

Polar Bear’s Pet Shop Double Door Extra Large Crate

Click the image for more info

Why It’s the Best Choice

This espresso colored crate by Polar Bear’s Pet Shop is quite spacious and would comfortably fit most large dogs.

This crate is solid wood and features a double door front to allow even the chonkiest doggers to get into the crate.

The wide-set slats allow for airflow and light to keep the crate cozy.

Pros

Double door front

Exceptionally wide and deep

Classic rich design

Cons

Only available in one color

Not sturdy enough to use for crate training

Price

Check Price

Read Reviews

Best Nightstand Dog Crate

Pinnacle Woodcraft Amish Dog Crate Entertainment Center

Click the image for more info

Why It’s the Best Choice

The Amish dog crate entertainment center by Pinnacle Woodcraft is perfect for any bedroom.

It stands slightly taller than most crates.

This nightstand is solidly built from hardwood.

Additionally, this crate has the option of a flip-up top allowing for a storage area under the tabletop.

Pros

Can be customized

Chew and scratch-resistant

Multiple color options

Solid wood

Cons

Only one size

Price

Check Price

Read Reviews

Best Coffee Table Dog Crate

Merry Products Dog Crate and Table

Click the image for more info

Why It’s the Best Choice

Though the Merry Products dog crate would make a slightly taller than classic coffee table, it would still easily work.

It has a slide away door, so it won’t be in the way when the door is open.

This table comes in two different colors and has a classic clean line style, allowing it to blend well in most rooms.

Pros

Slide away door

Moderately priced

The tabletop crate can hold up to 300 lbs

Durable

Cons

Made with solid wood veneer

Comes in only one size

Check Price

Read Reviews

Best Multi-Dog Crate

Southern Crafted Furniture Custom Indoor Kennel

Click the image for more info

Why It’s the Best Choice

This rustic handmade crate can also double as a side or sofa table.

Southern Crafted Furniture’s indoor kennel is custom made and can hold two medium-sized dogs. 

There is an option to have a divider in the middle to keep your pups separate, or it can be left open so they can mingle.

Pros

Handmade pine crate side table

Can be customized in size and color

Allows for multiple dogs

Durable

Cons

Price

Check Price

Read Reviews

Conclusion

If you are ready to ditch the metal or plastic crate for something more useful and aesthetically pleasing, then choosing a furniture style crate is your best bet.

Just because you share your home with dogs doesn’t mean you have to live in a dog house.

The dog crate furniture is an excellent compromise between pleasant décor and functionality.

I have had my crate end tables for a few years; they have held up magnificently and work perfectly.

I love the way these crates look and blend into the main room. My dogs love them and spend hours snoozing away in their crates.

In truth, the only thing negative I can say about these is that they are not made as durable as traditional crates, so wouldn’t be the best choice for dogs who are not fully crate trained.

 Resources

https://sarahwilsondogexpert.com/creating-safe-place/

https://www.wood-database.com/rubberwood/

https://www.paradeofhomes.org/blog/mdf-solid-wood-furniture-advantages-disadvantages/

The post The 9 Best End Table Dog Crates & Furniture-Style Kennels appeared first on Central Park Paws.

from https://www.centralparkpaws.net/dog-crates/best-end-table-dog-crates/

[tyrantisterror]

Anecdotes from Neosaur Park: Regina’s Family

Another one of these?  Another one of these.  I guess it’s now a thing since I named it.  It’s significantly longer than the last one, so I’m putting a cut here to save people’s dashboards.

I said Tyrannosaurus wasn’t the most dangerous animal in the park.  That doesn’t mean she never caused trouble.

Back when this whole thing started out - when it was just an experiment, before we made it a zoo - we bent over backwards trying to account for every possible problem we might face.  And yes, it was because of that damn movie.  So many people thought this was doomed to fail from the outset, all because some hundred year old piece of media made such a large and lasting impression on the populace.

The One Specimen rule was particularly well enforced.  Despite all the strides paleontology has made, we still can’t learn most of a creature’s behaviors and biological needs until after they’re created.  To keep things from getting out of hand, we would only clone one specimen of a given species, spend at least five years to study its biology, and then and ONLY then would we think about creating more.  We thought we were being smart, and in some ways we were - there were some early hiccups in the project that definitely would have been worse if we had made more clones at the time.  On the other hand, there were some problems we faced later that could have been avoided if we had thought of these animals as social creatures from the outset.

Of course, we couldn’t have known this at the time.  We were working with what science could tell us.  The average dinosaur’s brain is more like a crocodile’s than a bird’s.  Therefore it was a safe assumption that most dinosaurs would be fine as solitary animals - that whatever social instincts they had would be rudimentary, and that they could easily adjust to life without company.  This felt like a particularly safe assumption in the case of the Tyrannosaurus.

I mean, what’s the pop culture image of the creature tell you?  The Tyrant Lizard King.  King.  Tyrant.  A king is the sole ruler of a land,  A tyrant even moreso.  We have always considered Tyrannosaurus to be a loner, a solitary hunter.  I mean, the creature was so goddamned huge - it would take miles upon miles of territory to sustain a beast that size!  Sure, there were herds of similarly sized Triceratopses - herds that numbered in the thousands, mind you - and hadrosaurs and other prey animals, but still, this is a seven ton carnivore we’re talking about!

Now, you have to understand that none of our creatures are 100% authentic.  Dinosaurs lived in a vastly different environment than our current world, even in the wake of the 21st century’s climate change disaster.  It was a lot hotter, and there was a lot more oxygen.  Disease back then and disease today had millions of years worth of evolutionary differences.  The technology that allowed us to recreate these animals is the same technology that allowed us to restore biodiversity during the climate change disaster - to properly bring these creatures back, we had to alter them in a few key ways so they could adapt to this climate.  It’s why we call it Neosaur Park, rather than Dinosaur Park.  They’re not quite the beasts their ancestors were.

But, as far as I’ve been told - I’m not a genetic engineer, mind you - we did not intentionally set out to modify their behaviors, and especially not their intelligence.  All we changed was some of their biochemistry, adapting them to a cooler, less oxygen-rich earth.  Maybe that had a ripple effect we haven’t realized yet - maybe their hormones are off, who knows.  This is still a developing science - we’ve only been at it a few decades, there’s a lot of new ground still to break.

We didn’t choose Tyrannosaurus as our first specimen out of popularity, as some have claimed.  We chose it because the DNA samples were plentiful.  Tyrannosaurus has a remarkable presence in the fossil record, and as a result we have a wide variety of T.rex genes to choose from.  Since our Neosaur would be genetically altered, we had to give it a new scientific name: Tyrannosaurus regina.  And, being sentimental, that’s what we named the first successful hatchling: Regina.

Everyone was as nervous as they were excited when she was born.  This was one of the most terrifying predators ever to walk the earth, a creature with enough bite force to rend steel, the end product of an evolutionary arms race that produced some of the most heavily armored herbivores of all time just to counter it.  It was the villain of hundreds of stories, the ultimate predator.

And she was as timid as a creature could get.

Regina was a fretful baby.  The smallest things could spook her - she once jumped a full foot into the air at the sound of a snapping twig.  More than anything, though, she was afraid of being alone.  While she had one preferred handler - the one whose face she saw first after hatching - she was fine so long as at least one of us was within sight at all times.  If she lost sight of us, though, she’d begin calling out with this strange, gurgling, peeping sound.  You couldn’t leave her for even a few seconds without her panicking, and for the first few years we literally had her under a twenty four hour watch.

Eventually she grew out of that, exploring her paddock as a gangly adolescent.  But she didn’t become as independent as we expected.  Again, we were thinking this would be like a crocodile - that once she started out on her own, she’d lose the bond she had with her “parents” and begin treating us more coldly, if not outright viewing us as prey.  Instead, she would routinely interact with us - greeting us with a hissing bellow, following us around for a bit, even leading keepers to her food trough and, upon seeing us stand there looking at it, taking a few slow, deliberate bites as if to show us that the meat was edible.  It had us all puzzled - this wasn’t the Tyrant Lizard we were expecting.

It was when she hit her late teens that the puzzle became a problem.  Tyrannosaurs take roughly twenty years to reach their full size, but like a lot of birds and reptiles, they’re sexually mature a bit earlier than that.  At sixteen, Regina began to do something new.  She’d walk around the edges of her paddock, sniff the air, look around, and then release this horrible bellow - some deep, booming hiss from the bottom of her gut.  It was so loud and such a low pitch that it actually made the leaves of the trees shake.  And she would do it for hours, traveling round and round the perimeter of her paddock while making this bone rattling noise.  We had been open to the public for about four years at this point, and Regina was already a bit of a celebrity - everyone wanted to see the Tyrannosaurus, even if she was far from the hyper-vicious predator they expected.

This behavior went on for three months, and then she went back to normal.  Till the next year, when she came back with a vengeance.  The searching was more frantic.  Regina was too big to run at this point - when she was younger and smaller, her legs were proportionally longer, and she could get one hell of a sprint.  At seventeen she was far bulkier, and the best she could do was a sort of power walk.  If that gives you a sort of comic mental image, well, you’re about on the mark - a frantic Tyrannosaurus power-walking as fast as she can does look pretty silly, at least until she heads for the paddock gate.

We weren’t dumb.  Every inch of her paddock’s perimeter was surrounded by insurmountable natural barriers - steep pits filled with sharp rocks that stretched down eighty feet deep and were sixty feet wide.  Most of the entrances to the paddock that crossed these pits were human sized.  There was only one gate she could fit through, and that was only by necessity - there had been occasions where we needed to transport her to a sterile environment for medical assistance.  This gate was thick, heavy steel, and a guard was always posted to it.  By this point, we had doubted we needed one there - in seventeen years, Regina had never once tried to escape.  As far as we could tell, she liked it here.

This would be the exception.  Now a five ton carnivore, Regina trotted up the gate and released that bone-chilling howl.  Her mammoth head peer over the walls.  Her nostrils flared as she smelled the air.  She released the bellow again, then watched.  The gate guard was spooked, but this had happened the year before, too.  Eventually Regina would move on to another part of the fence.

But she didn’t.  She looked at the gate, snorted, stepped back, and rammed it with her head.  The big carnivore reeled back, howled for a bit in pain, and then looked at her handiwork.  The thick, heavy steel had dented.  She snorted and rammed it again.  The guard started radioing for help, but he was too late.  With a third strike the gate gave way, and Regina was loose in the park.

The crowd panicked as they saw her stalking freely among them.  Many thought that the inevitable had come to pass - that our experiment had finally gotten out of hand, and our man-made monsters were finally biting the hand that resurrected them.  Most news outlets certainly painted this as such, and the bad publicity alone almost shut us down.

But, as I told you, Regina wasn’t a man-eater.  She really wasn’t much of a predator at all.  Whatever chase instinct she might have had was thoroughly smothered by her pampered upbringing.  Regina ignored the patrons running from her, ignored the paddocks containing other prehistoric fauna - many of whom were her ancestor’s natural prey items, I might add - and instead kept issuing that deep, unsettling bellow while slowly wandering the park grounds.

Though the death toll was nonexistent and the property damage minimal, we still had a hell of a time figuring out how to get her back.  A couple of solutions were offered - she was still traumatized from her brush with the struthiomimids a couple years back, so we could always try to scare her off by playing a recording of their shrieks.  That seemed unnecessarily cruel, though.  Tranquilizing her was on the table, but at her current size that could take a long while, especially given how thick her skin was getting.

One person saved the day: Regina’s preferred handler.  Even after all these years, there was still a bond between those two.  In a ballsy move, she called out to the tyrannosaur and slowly led her back to the paddock.  All in all, it was the best possible end we could hope for, given this was one of our nightmare scenarios.

We eventually realized that Regina’s bellow was a mating call, and that her panic had stemmed from the fact that there were no other Tyrannosaurs in the area, and hadn’t been since, well, since long before she was born.  We assumed she would be fine with that, but apparently not.

Luckily, we had long since prepared genomes for the next few Tyrannosaurs - again, we had an abundant supply to choose from, and the, well, let’s say “quirky” nature of Regina made our genetic engineers decide the try different profiles.  We still thought she might be “off” - an anomaly, far too friendly to be the real thing, perhaps even a little “slow.”  At the time we also thought that twenty years was the maximum Tyrannosaurus lifespan, so it was likely we would have to replace her soon anyway.  Two different gene profiles were selected, and the next generation was born a bit earlier than planned.

We waited a few weeks before introducing the babies to Regina.  Again, we didn’t know much about how Tyrannosaurs interact with their young.  It was assumed that, like their close relatives, they would take care of their offspring, but these young Tyrannosaurs weren’t ACTUALLY hers.  For all we knew, she might try to eat them.  To be safe, we took them in a jeep, along with a good handful of keepers armed with tranq rifles.

Regina came to us within seconds.  I think she could smell them before she could see them, as the big gal immediately headed for the jeep.  She didn’t bully her way through, though, stopping about a yard off to give a loud bellow.  When we felt confident the Tyrannosaur wasn’t going to get uncharacteristically violent, her preferred handler made the official introduction by carrying the male hatchling out of the jeep.  Regina’s eyes went wide, and soon the baby made the same gurgling, peeping noise that she had made seventeen years ago.

The bond was immediate, and it was all we could have hoped for.  Regina doted on the hatchlings, nuzzling them with her snout and watching over their every move.  When they cried out for food, she led them to her trough.  And when we tried to take them back, she followed us, soon developing the desperate panic we had seen before.  We ended up leaving the hatchlings with her, and they’ve been with her since.

By my count, the young ones should be about thirteen now.  Regina’s ten years older than we thought she’d live, and doesn’t show signs of slowing down - every year she puts on a few more pounds and grows another inch or so in length and height, and we’re beginning to think that Tyrannosaur lifespans may be akin to their crocodillian relatives.  As for whether her behavior is natural or a result of her strange upbringing, well, we can’t quite say.  The young tyrannosaurs both have their own personalities in contrast with their adoptive mother.  The male, who we ended up calling Machiavelli, is a bit of a shit starter, to be truthful.  He likes to start fights with his sister, though they’ve never gotten very serious - play fighting, as far as we can tell.  He also chases the zookeepers from time to time, though he’s never actually tried to catch one of us, and Regina generally gives him a gruff talking to for it.   The female is a bit colder - she doesn’t antagonize, but she can get oddly territorial, and is prone to sullen moods where she strikes off on her own, only to rejoin the other two a few hours later.  

Both of the young ones seem a great deal bolder than their mother - perhaps because they grew up knowing the giants they would one day be, rather than thinking that a bunch of hairless apes were their parents.  They’re still pretty easy to manage, but who knows.  Maybe a few generations down the line we’ll actually get that Tyrant Lizard we’re all expecting.  For now, though, we’re content with Regina and her kids.

[ofaurcra]

TASK #001: EXTRA, EXTRA, READ ALL ABOUT IT.

GENERAL INFO

full name: CHIURA AZAMI nickname(s): AZA, MIMI, AMI gender & pronouns: SHE/HER sexual & romantic orientation: BISEXUAL & BIROMANTIC age & dob: 22, 9TH NOVEMBER 1996 birthplace/hometown: YOKOHAMA, JAPAN parents/siblings: CHIURA AKEMI (MOTHER) & CHIURA TATSUYA (FATHER), AZA ALSO HAS A SIMILARLY AGED BROTHER. pet(s): TONKINESE CAT (KIMURA) (X) & SINGAPURA KITTEN (ROMI) (X) astrological sign: SCORPIO dominant hand: LEFT handwriting style: neat, small & cursive (very pronounced swirls joining letters or flicking them off) language(s) known/spoken: JAPANESE, KOREAN, ENGLISH, FRENCH religion: AGNOSTIC current living arrangements: OWNS HER OWN UPTOWN STUDIO APARTMENT occupation/major: FASHION DESIGN AND FLOWER SHOP MANAGER

PHYSICAL

picture reference: (X) blood type: AB+ nationality: japanese skin tone/color: honeyed glow birthmarks & scars: birthmark on her neck and one behind her ear, they’re usually a very pale beige and she has a scar located on her pelvis from being shoved into a brick wall when younger and scraping across the skin. height: 5′4 build: petite but athletically toned allowing for surprising strength hair color: platinum blonde currently, silvery tonage hair length: (X), (X) her hair is currently this length and style eye color: naturally rich chocolate brown but she’s taken to wearing jade hued contacts more recently. diet: healthy and balanced but she isn’t overly worried over it, she quite likes her salads and all her fruits anyway and will happily choose them over sugary snacks. the only time she really binge eats is on her patisserie visits, if she has people over for breakfast (cause she goes all out she is an extra bitch) or if she’s having a movie night with friends. exercise & level of fitness: she tends to swim and run a lot but is more prone to relaxing exercises which help the mind and body like yoga and meditation, she’s very flexible and used to do gymnastics too. but in general she gets the recommended amount of aerobic activity recommended for healthy adults. how’s their posture ( or lack thereof )?: she usually stands very upright, with her chin in the air so her posture is really good and she often has her arms crossed if she’s being all ‘business workaholic’ aza but if she’s being more relaxed and casual she tends to slant one leg out more and jut the knee with a hand usually resting on her right hip. typical style of dress: (x), (x), (x), (x), (x),(x) body modifications: (x) - this tattoo can be located on aza’s index finger, (x) - this tattoo is located on aza’s back lying just above where her bra strap would sit, (x) (x) - the first image references the design of this tattoo and the second shows the location being just beneath the breast and across the ribcage, it is a tiny tattoo that she shares with ( @sunsbloom) signifying her bond with ivy and referencing the shared zodiac of scorpio between them. (x) - this tattoo can be located behind aza’s left ear. (x) (x) - both these finger tattoos can be located in the places on the images. (x) - this tattoo is dedicated to her brother and can be found on her inner thigh but it is incredibly tiny. (x), (x), (x), (x) - these ones are located in the same places as they are on the images. what can be noticed is that aza has a surprising amount of tattoo’s yes but all are tiny designs and usually incorporate floral elements because she feels such an affliction for flowers, she also prefers to use white ink or red where she can if it works stylistically. finally, she’s hoping to get these (x) with america squad ( @hijinae, @ofdaeseong) as a tribute to their friendship.

MANNERISMS

how does your muse walk?: it’s a bit of a sashay when she’s in the mindframe of getting things done with a lot of hip swinging and fast pace, its not an intentional boss bitch walk but it happens naturally when she’s in a rush. if she isn’t stressed or busy then her walk becomes more of a peaceful and slow paced saunter where she appears to admire or take in her surroundings a little more and get a little zoned out. how does your muse talk?: aza has a delicate and gentle voice, it’s soft and comforting but it’s not quiet at all, she talks clearly and with confidence and when in a position of leadership she can project it without issue. it tends to sound like she’s drawling out words when she’s with those she is comfortable with in a somewhat unintentionally seductive way. she just has a sexy voice asfhfh what can u do.  what does their laugh sound like?: twinkly, it comes out in quiet and soft peels and is more akin to a giggle, it kind of lingers in the room long after she’s finished because her laughter is usually short when its genuine as well. how does your muse typically smell?: she favors fruity perfumes which aren’t overpowering but strong enough to catch on the breeze when she moves her hair or embraces someone so scents like patchouli, musk, white amber, grapefruit, wild berries, caramel, praline, jasmine, freesia, peony and pomegranate are some of her favorites. what kind of air do they carry?: somewhat regal, a don’t fuck with me vibe like she’s always sizing you up and knows your next move before even you do to strangers. to friends she’s like a strict but overly affectionate mom. do they have a(ny) catchphrase(s)?: as the legend ariana once said ain’t you ever seen a princess be a bad bitch. what are their nervous ticks?: she runs her hands through her hair a lot, like frequently in a matter of seconds or minutes and pushes it back a lot haphazardly, she also bites her lip or chews things more when stressed.

PSYCHOLOGY

what makes your muse happiest?: spending time with the america squad or ivy since those are her bestest friends, in the past phone calls with her brother really lifted her spirits when she was struggling but its been a while since she’s had one, going out for coffee or picnics in the summer. what upsets them the most?: liars and hypocrites, in general but especially in family dynamics she cannot stand parents who have children and then don’t love them unconditionally as a parent is expected to. she’ll flare up if her friends have family issues and she sees their parents talking down to them automatically because she knows what that feels like and most of the time in her experience with rich upbringing the parents aren’t so perfect either. what are their hobbies? how frequent do/can they do them?: she likes to sketch when designing her fashion and she’s pretty good at painting, likes exploring fashion or art museums and exhibits, likes finding new cafes and quiet restaurants or patisseries for hangout spots, loves spending time in botanical gardens and at the library reading. she’s a bit of an adventurer by nature she just loves to be going places but more quiet hobbies are things like baking, journalism and a bit of blogging. do they have any guilty pleasures?: other than food not really but aza does occasionally enjoy to socially smoke if she goes out partying. she’ll also deny it to all hell and back because sorbet is healthier but she could eat five tubs of ice cream in one evening. is your muse an extrovert or an introvert? neither?: she funnily enough is sort of both, i would say she is more extroverted now because circumstances have definitely forced her to be so if she isn’t working one of her many diverse jobs she is going out and exploring but she used to be a huge introvert. and if there is one sign of rain find her under a duvet with hot cocoa sleeping the day away and marathoning on netflix. do they have high or low self-esteem? what about confidence?: she loves herself what more can i say. she doesn’t believe in vanity she thinks its important to be in love with yourself and i would say her self love comes from a place where it is well earned because she definitely struggled with low self esteem and confidence issues in the past being so silenced and controlled by her father.  are they easily stressed and how do they normally respond to it?: definitely, if you worked the way aza does you would be as well. it doesn’t help she’s prone to anxiety attacks from stress so she doesn’t respond very well. if its a minimal amount she can be alright, she tends to just walk away and take a break until her head is clear but sometimes if she is overwhelmed she’ll just break down and cry over the smallest things and shut down on herself, going quiet and unresponsive, she tends to get shaky and her breathing worsens. what is your muses worst fear?: following in her parents footsteps and one day being a neglectful parent, she hates the idea of letting anyone down especially her own potential family.  what is your muses biggest dream?: making it as a fashion designer i suppose, she doesn’t want fame especially after seeing how it made her family act with people due to their empire and riches but she wants to live comfortably and be able to show her talents and fresh perspective off more. is your muse a morning person or a night dragon?: definitely a night dragon but she tries to go to bed and get up at the same time when she can because its supposedly healthier to have a routine. how intelligent is your muse? do they acknowledge it?: aza is very cultured and i would say she has a philosophical and extremely open mind. her intelligence is one of the kinds where it is more of wisdom than it is scientific and factual or academic alone. though she did incredibly well with her grades academically she’s still god awful at maths and will not engage with it. describe their sense of humor: dry witted, sarcastic, sometimes dark, crude.

RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES

are they currently in any sexual or romantic relationships?: there aren’t any plotted out for aza yet (but like pls do come love her down) but knowing her anyway i’m just going to say she probably is in sexual relationships because aza is prone to having flings. what is their experience with relationships?: OOF its not great, mostly negative since her life has became more stable in daegu she’s slowly starting to feel and receive and learn how to allow herself for healthy ones but in the past she had a lot of fucked up ones due to miscommunication and her fear of commitment primarily.  how does your muse view the idea of friends with benefits? have they ever had one? would they ever?: yes yes and yes. BUT aza is way more cautious about it because she’s very aware that usually its a one sided kind of fun where one person ends up falling harder than the other and being hurt. how important is sex to your muse?: i want to say she isn’t that shallow and it isn’t important but... it is, i think for aza its a way to feel things and immerse herself in those emotions without having to feel vulnerable at all but at the same time that only applies to good sexual partners. if not aza thinks sex is just...average at best, its not bad and its not mindblowingly good its just kind of nice for a while and then its done. what are their biggest turn on and turn offs?: OH LAWD, okay well turn on’s: neck biting, choking, broad physique, a lil bit of manhandling like yes slam her against the door and yes pin her down to the table and yes you can lift her and push her on the counter. turn offs: anything too weird like foot fetishes or watersports or something and doNT for the love of god pls don’t ever spank her, she will freak out, spankings are triggers for her big time. does your muse find it easy to make friends?: yeah i mean azami is pretty agreeable, she gets along with basically everyone. its hard for her to have enemies although she may have healthy rivals and frenemies there is never truly really any bad blood between azami and others. she likes to work through the kinks in relationships and she’s stubborn so she won’t give up on people without one hell of a fight. she even tends to stay friends with her ex’s because in her eyes they should be adult and able to wish each other well in their lives and be happy for one another without tension or awkwardness.  how important is friendship to them?: considering that for aza her friends have been like her found and chosen family and her only real soulmate connection that runs truly deep in this world is ivy emotionally speaking i think friendship is the most important thing in the world to azami.  quantity or quality of friends?: 100% quality of friends how important is family?: suprisingly although azami’s family are trash and can rot she does find them important and she always will love them and she always will wish that her dad was proud of her. also even though she hates that her brother kind of shadows her and makes bad choices bc of it and she shoulders the blame a lot of the time he is the center of her world and she would do anything for him. she hates the fact she couldn’t be there for him the way she wanted growing up and protect him as much as she’d have liked are they close to their family? why or why not ?: hnhh i mean this one is obvious but no she isn’t close to her family. she did not fit the mold of prim and perfect princess who does as daddy says and knows her place without question even if its wrong. her mother simply shut her out as a way to cope with the fact aza wouldn’t pretend like she would. its also to do with the fact that she had aza far too young and didn’t get a chance to live her own life as she constantly made sacrifices for her and to keep the family together but aza doesn’t know so much about all of that. 

FAVORITES

activity: reading animal: cats and she likes chinchilla’s beverage: strawberry smoothies and vanilla and honey milkshakes book: milk and honey by rupi kaur color: pastel pink and mustard yellow designer: ralph laurent food: coq au vin and churro’s flower: wisteria  gem: garnet holiday: valentines mode of transportation: car or cycling movie: burlesque musical artist: lana del rey quote / saying: l'avoir c'est avoir les étoiles scenery: starry nights in flower covered fields, bright days in quiet secluded peach orchards and strawberry farms. scent: jasmine weather: sunny but with a light breeze vacation destination: bali

ATTITUDES

greatest dream: fashion designer of haut couture dresses greatest fear: letting down her family and loved ones most at ease when: in a quiet cafe getting work done, having a movie night cuddled up with jinae,dae and the cats, shopping and spending time with ivy doing anything really, looking at art or reading poetry in the sunshine. least as ease when: facing unwanted advances, having phone calls with her family, facing a tight deadline with a heavy workload. worst possible thing that could happen: losing the opportunity to be a parent because she’s too afraid of messing her kids up the way she was and losing the chance to be happily married and living alone forever because she can’t open up to someone on that level of vulnerability.  biggest achievement: modelling for some lesser known brands and being included in photography shootings for freelance friends. opening up her flower shop and balancing two other jobs as well as her education. being invited to attend some fashion shows by having some designer connections biggest secret: azami doesn’t really like to keep secrets so there isn’t anything scandalous other than the fact that at one point when she was younger she had a slight crush on dae and if anything that’s just laughable to them now so she doesn’t really give it much thought. top priorities: work, coming up with new innovative and fresh ideas for all of her work and not only dedicating herself to her study of and love of fashion, making time for her friends no matter how busy she gets, remembering to go easy on herself and allow herself to take breaks and vacations. 

[katzirrart]

Art Growth Compilation

I really enjoy doing posts about improvement in art.

It makes me feel better about my work, especially with how busy I am these days.

I wanted to compile all the comparisons I’ve made over the years and kinda discuss the posts, for myself or others.

I thought it’d be funny to start with comparing how I first drew on a tablet, using dodge and burn tools, to how I do now which is using layers and actually painting. It’s funny to look back on that, you know?

I linked the post I made, compiling all the month to month memes from 2003-2017 that I try and do yearly. And everything else is under a cut ;w;’‘/

Most artists have done a drawing of themselves and a few Pokemon, or their team. I did that in 2010, and was dissatisfied with my work...

I took a crack again in 2013 after I’d learned to draw more animals and not be so Edgy(tm) I really liked the results. I still didn’t use references though, because I was lazy. I just didn’t want to. I still was on that boat feeling like I was CHEATING. I wasn’t being CREATIVE if I looked at references.

Artists get stuck on using reference and it’s AWFUL. USE THEM. USE TWENTY. LEARN!! It’s so HELPFUL, I wish I had started sooner.

In 2014 though -

I tried again.

I had gotten better at anatomy, but most of all, I started to work off references more. I started to really focus on not stylizing so much, but to work on actually making things look like things. I started to work on caring about COMPARISON sizes. Composition!!

While Pokemon reference sizes are -wiggle hands- and while my team changed up, I was satisfied that I could draw Arbok ACTUALLY like a cobra now, Meowth is easy given it’s just a noseless cat so to speak, Haunter is literally a triangle cloud - I was satisfied having drawn that team.

My secondary team in the new games? I was excited to draw them. It was fresh and new and FUN and it turned out PRECIOUS.

I learned better how to proportion things in an image for layout, and just... making characters feel COHESIVE in the same space.

It was a nice thing to keep visiting. I have a sketch in the works for an update even hopefully.

These pieces are kind of interesting to me too, because they’re towards the end of my era of THIN lineart?

My lineart has gone from this, and THIS,  to this.

Literally I use to not believe in line weight, I can still do thin work of course, but I’m not a fan of trying to FORCE it like I use to? Even the second link, I went from the SMALLEST brush in Sai, to using a marker brush that had barely ANY give, to a custom brush on Sai that acts like a Paint Chat brush I use to use with friends online!

That’s what I mean about style too, like you may reserve yourself about things - like not coloring black in and outlining with white, or certain ways you do things. But the growth and changing and figuring FUN ways to color that black etc is where the fun of art comes in, to me??

Learn. EXPERIMENT. PUSH!

A few months ago, I did my first redraw. Of this piece from 2012.

Six years difference.

This was interesting for a number of reasons. There’s aspects I like more in the old one, but not many. I really like the pose a bit better, but I like the casual closeness that I did in the new one because that’s more my Shepard.

But technically speaking, it’s worlds better because I took time. I paid attention to details. I did fun things instead of rushing. I took time with my coloring and didn’t SMEAR it around. I had a friend who use to complain I drew so fast and they felt so SLOW, but I love what that taught me. I started taking more time on my art, and enjoying it more since I caught more mistakes and vastly improved. By leaps and bounds.

It’s amazing what a difference six years makes in not only style, which is often a FOCUS of these things? My style has come awkwardly and naturally to me over the years of critically picking certain things apart? but I really love where it’s gotten.

I have things I want to get back to, but I love... where it is, and CAN be?

But it’s wild to me how much change happens in technical handling? It’s a hand in hand thing, you can’t focus on one or the other only, or the other suffers.

Honestly this has been my favorite improvement to notice though?

Kisame was a character I felt I should be able to draw EASILY? Not so much. Itachi? ALSO EASY. Not so much??

Kisame has weird eyes to grasp how to draw? Thus focusing on them kept making them wonky to me!! On top of that, he’s everything I’ve been use to drawing for AGES because he has a muscular body, with a smaller waist? ... that was something I was use to drawing? I still was awkward getting back into the swing of that... Drawing HIS HAIR though? NOT SO EASY....

But like, Itachi should have been easy, but I have a thing about him appearing too feminine as he gets drawn because his eyelashes, and I’ve really found a nice... medium at this point?

But even still like my face styles and eye styles are finally to a comfortable point for me? I have stopped focusing on some weird things with Itachi’s hair and just... DO IT? But even still like...

The improvement here is literally just if I don’t know how to do something, or I’m not satisfied with how I do it? I just keep at it.

It’s a theme of this post honestly... repetition, persistence.

Keep drawing it. Keep trying to figure out what it is that’s catching you off about how you do it. Don’t like how you do eyes or how they fit on the face? Look at facial structures and references and figure it out. Draw them separate and figure out how to apply them to what you are.

Remember there’s a skull in there. I draw the holes in the skull like the eye sockets, and the nose area to help my proportions for SURE.

I’ve also gotten to a nice marriage in my lineart? The piece before the recent one, those lines feel HARDER or HEAVIER? The newest piece seems...softer? Like I’m lighter handed again?

I really like critiquing my own growth on what is good or working better for me? Older pieces it looks like I’m putting lineweight for SAKE of it versus where it goes now?

INTERESTING.

Like this lineup -

My style shifts so RAPIDLY, it still is noticeably MY style to people, but parts shift so VIOLENTLY because I’m constantly picking at what I don’t LIKE.

It’s funny too in the case of Kisame and Itachi because consistently I’m drawing the SAME character over and over - can make you REALIZE how you’re doing something wrong?

Like, here’s a difference of eight years, and it’s all the brush I use now, and it REALLY shows how my style has changed - in the aspect of one point of reference?

I have a childhood favorite character too, of Daisuke, and I use to be bad at drawing boys, and I use to be SUPER bad at drawing fluffy hair?

It was something I specifically started to learn to do? And I started to draw Daisuke every few months or years for a while. Especially when I started to first REALIZE I didn’t like my style that much?

But the middle one was July 2009, top left is less than 6 months later, and the last one is about a year later. DRASTIC DIFFERENCE. But next -

This one was in 2012, when I started to do more with teeth, or first dipping my toes into anatomy. I started to focus more on HANDS too, I was super bad at them. Overall I started to focus more on making my art have...ages? Like a boy versus a man. Facial features being DIFFERENT.

I can look at this boring little bust and see that he comes off more of a teenage boy to me now. I need to work more on figuring how to draw asian features especially the eyes. Sometimes I hit the mark, other times I don’t.

but between this and 2012? Not too much has changed. I do hair fluffier now, and I angle the eyes better. The teeth not being outlined doesn’t give that weird effect where I might give him TOO MANY TEETH....

People do that and it’s easy but whoof.

So there’s still learning and adapting to do in QUICK drawings, you know? but I can still see there’s good things. That took me like 5 minutes to draw? Not bad honestly.

In it’s own bracket is original characters though too?? But also divergent of STYLE shifts because like...

OKAY. Nightmare Syndicate’s story.. started for me in 7th or 8th grade, that was when I was...14? 15? I’ve been fleshing it out for like 13 years, that’s wild haha!! I love my kids and all.

But okay so SIALI. She’s still fairly similar but I restructured her face for SURE. She’s gotten less edgy, she’s.... a teenage girl.

FELIX?? CHRIST. He’s been such a long journey!! More on that later?

Rot and even Cor?? Rot and Cor are a shorter span of development, but Rot started in Highschool so almost 10 years ago, and Cor has been fairly solid - but even just DRAWING him over three years? Go look at how much he changes.. I’m not married to concepts easily. haha!

People act like making a character you’re STUCK with it. Like Oh boy, I better make this character good, from the get go!!

I only worry about that with small potatoes like my Pillar(Gods) designs I just made for the comic?? Even still, small things will change with them I’m sure.

But not only has Felix and Siali changed, but they’ve GROWN with my style and DEFINED it even. I’ve had to adjust my style to support Felix’s look honestly a LOT. Bend my rules. Break my anatomy stickler attitude - and honestly, that’s the thing.

You have to learn the rules and anatomy BEFORE you can break them. A style built upon broken anatomy will fail you down the road if you just excuse everything with style.

Learn to draw the hands. Learn to draw the feet. Figure out the face. Bones exist. You can break the FUCK out of it once you learn how to do it, you know? Like I’ve seen so many styles I LOVE who are cartoony and BROKEN AS FUCK, but there’s still some STRUCTURE to it. Most of those people can still structure a face just fine, and the reason exaggeration works so well is because there’s like unwritten rules for what works and doesn’t based on that?

Idk.

Felix has a very elongated torso, he’s like 7′ or 8′ tall so I mean?? He’s... broken anatomy, but he’s... lanky - but his muscle is LITHE and stretched. It makes contextual sense. That’s the important part.

But even designs, it’s important to understand designs YOU make, or like... to understand they’ll CHANGE and that’s growth within your art too?

Like okay, example. Felix has a millipede inspired monster form. But with designing that? I still have to know how millipedes and SNAKES work because there's bones and vertebrae in there??

But there’s also the difference of like... CONCEPT, versus execution. You can design a fucking badass character, but understanding your own concept is SOMETHING.

I had no idea how this would play out, until I was mapping out his ‘midsection’ spikes? and man. MY STYLE WAS MADE FOR THIS CHALLENGE NOW. Which is so interesting how smooth my style has always been? Felix has defined ANGLES in it, and it’s hilarious tbh?

But even too, I’ve had to work with Felix’s monster form FACE, to break the rules to make it WORK the way I need it too?

On the anatomy subject too, like when I first got into Marvel comics 6 years ago or so? I had no idea how to do muscle structures?? I was so BAD at it.

I can look at this left image and CRINGE so badly at how NONE of those are muscles?? THOSE ARE THINGS I PERCEIVE AS MUSCLES. Like...

A course I took taught me to draw what I see, not what I know. That’s the whole point of that post that goes around about drawing a shrimp. Look it up. It’s hilarious and cute.

But it’s like, asking an artist to draw a bike, you can tell who uses reference and who WINGS it. It’s funny, but like it’s what you know versus what you see.

I started to study anatomy like crazy and was seeing improvements days at a time. The right image was done like... a month later? already I can see the muscles under the pectorals? those look normal now. the abs aren’t dough lumps under the skin in a perfect 6 pack, they’re the actual plane shapes.

I was trying to find a good reference for myself of learning to make men ‘thicker’ too in terms of the waist etc since the left is really...thin.... but...

A bit better, but even still, comparing these two - they’re 2 months apart? and I can see understanding more about arms and how they connect to the body, where the planes ACTUALLY lay for the chest and obliques and such?

I can see improvements from July 2012 up there, to - WHOOPS. I FORGOT TO CHANGE THE YEAR LMAO... TO FEBRUARY 2013...omg

I mean, I could go on and on about improvements I see, when I go through my art though? Gosh.

Like I’m seeing so SO many bad hands and feet in my old stuff, and just CRINGING because tricks I learned for myself by now?

I give so many pointers and streams and screenshares on discord still to help people with art and it cracks me up?? Like...

I dunno. I’m pretty mediocre tbh, but god damn.