#i love the background art where it's clearly been drawn with markers

[drawsmaddy]

[ID: A digital illustration of Orym from Critical Role. He is wearing a mint green cropped tank top, white shorts and green, white and blue sneakers. He also has a thin tail with a fluffy end. He's carrying a bag of groceries and drinking a small carton of orange juice. Behind him is a rectangular background of tall city buildings in front of a blue sky. Sparkles are doodled around Orym and the city background. End description.]

It's been hot as shit lately so here's a summer-y modern Orym ☀️

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Off Day: Fourteen

It had taken some convincing. And some bribery. And a promise that you could paint whatever you wanted as long as it looked cool and not too girly, but Nat had gotten you to agree to paint a wall of the clubhouse. An accent wall. A mural. Whatever but, you were doing it, even if you were still currently drawing out your designs.

Keeping busy was apparently your secret. Being busy and taking your medication which Bucky could respect. You’d politely declined therapy, stating that if you ever went to a therapist, they’d probably just throw you in the dumpster and inform your family to just start over. Still. You were steadily gaining back some healthy weight and had the energy to do things. It was a start.

A good start, Bucky reflected as he inspected the trail of love bites you’d left on his chest. He shook his head. You could be such a brat on your good days, pouty and mischevious. It made him itch to turn you over his knee and spank your bottom until it was the perfect shade of red to suit his mood. Still. He was happy that you were stable. That you were coping with things.

It didn’t mean there were no bad days, where all your depression and anxiety and pain were so loud that all you wanted to do was curl up in bed and cry yourself back to sleep. On those days, he was thankful for Salem. She’d stand on your back and scream until you got up to feed her. Or fill the water bowl she knocked over. You’d let yourself go without food or water but you’d never do that to your cat. He’d learned to let you get up and do it. Once you fed Salem, it was a shower. Once you showered, you got dressed. Once you dressed it was coffee, and by then, you felt alive enough to be on your feet. Routine helped, he realized. And having him there. He spent more time at your house than he did at his anymore. Not that he minded. Your bed was more comfortable.

Bucky changed his shirt and walked back out to the front. It was abnormally quiet. Nat had turned the Jukebox down and everyone appeared to be waiting for something. “Nat what-” he asked, looking to where Sam and Clint had subtly posted themselves near you as you worked, momentarily oblivious.

Nat shook her head and quietly indicated where Char and her Posse had rolled up, clearly intending to cause trouble. Char was still sore that her plot to Baby trap Bucky hadn’t worked. And more sore that the new rumor in town was that he moved in with you because he’d knocked you up and was going to help take care of the baby. The only explanation the biddies at the beauty shop could come up with for the sudden healthy flush in your face and a little bit of weight gained. “Jesus Christ,” Bucky groaned, “Nat, can’t you throw them out?”

“I could. But honestly, I don’t wanna miss the show,” Nat said smirking.

“Nat, Y/N’s never been in a fight.”

“Yeah she has,” Nat snorted, “Just because she doesn’t advertise it doesn’t mean she can’t fight... I mean Char runs her mouth all over town and hasn’t realized that if you break your hand throwing a punch you probably did it wrong.”

“Fuck me,” he sighed, starting over to you, “I can’t-” But he doesn’t get to finish that sentence. Char’s perfume clogs his nose and he has this sense of impending doom in the bit of his stomach, “Hey, Buckaroo,” she purred, “Looks like your pet psycho is out of the looney bin still, and it paints. How sweet.”

Bucky can’t even answer. Before he can blink you’re standing between them. You might have to look up a Char but there’s no doubting that you’re not intimidated. “Nat,” you ask, “Did you pull the string on her back? I didn’t know the new line of Prosti-tots came out.”

Char reared back to hit you, her girls whipping out phones in the background and Bucky can’t do anything. There isn’t time. She gets a hit in. A bad one. It misses because you turn your head to deflect it, reaching up while she’s angry. Distracted. And grabbing the back of her head. Faster than Bucky thought possible. You bounce her face a few times off the bar and shove her backward over the nearest table, “Any of you come near him again and I’ll show you psycho, you stupid cunt. He said no. That’s it. It’s over.”

One the floor, Char is mewling and screaming and her girls are struggling to get her off the floor. They yell a bunch of inarticulate things about you going to pay and you bing a bitch but you don’t speak as they’re escorted out. You don’t have to. You didn’t throw the first punch.

Nat wordlessly hands you a Shirley Temple and you take a sip, “Thanks.”

“Any time,” she snorted, “Just don’t fuck up my face.”

“Please. Her plastic surgeon fucked that up long before I got to it.”

Bucky looked from the makeup smeared on the bar back to you and pulls you against his chest, kissing you hard. You make a soft surprised noise against his lips and he pulls you closer with a soft growl, ignoring a chorus of whistles and people telling him to get a room. He doesn’t care. He needs to tell you how fucking hot that was. How fucking scared he’d been. A visceral, knee jerk reaction to someone that had actively tried to ruin his life to make him stay with her. Being with you. Someone who really loved him had made him realize how fucking abusive Char was. She didn’t feed him shots at the bar so he'd have a good time. She did it so she could control him. All her demands and mood swings and tantrums were meant to keep him on the line. Craving approval she’d never really give him. He’d assumed relationships were supposed to be that exhausting. 

Until now. Until you showed him what mutual affection and respect was supposed to look like. Even on your worst day. Even when you felt like dying. You made sure he had what he knew you loved him. You’d bring him a coffee or send him a picture of a cool ass bike you saw online. Smudge sleepy kisses against his lips when he tucked you into bed. Hell, doing the dishes after he made supper. 

When he finally pulls away, needing to breathe before he throws you over his shoulder and sets you on the nearest flat surface to fuck you stupid, you look up at him wide-eyed and breathless. “Thank you,” he murmurs, rubbing your kiss swollen lower lip with his thumb. 

“Anything for you, handsome,” you answer, kissing his thumb.

Bucky doesn’t have to explain. You know what abuse looks like. How it feels to long for approval and never get it. How it feels to be with someone you love and still feel alone. How easy it is to tolerate the abuse you believe you deserve, because how could You. You of all people ever deserve better. Your reaction to the look on his face had been instant. You’d heard him in the quiet. And Her. When you turned and saw the hunted, anxious look on his face at the corners of his eyes and in the shape of his mouth, you just couldn’t sit back and let Nat do it. He didn’t belong to Nat. He belonged to you. He was Yours and you’d be damned if that woman was ever going to touch him again.

“Come watch me work?” you ask, wanting his company but not wanting to keep him from his friends. 

“Can I heckle?” he teased kissing your nose.

“Only if you make it up to me later,” you tell him grinning.

“Deal.”

____________

“Buck,” Steve asked later, when you were sitting at the bar, very intently drawing on the arm he didn’t need to drink his beer, “What the fuck is she doing?”

“Designing a cover up for the bullshit tats you didn’t talk me out of.” he answers.

“Why?” he asked.

Bucky shrugged, trying to keep his arm still.

“Bucky stop moving,” you scold.

“It tickles right there,” he protested.

“Clients,” you grouse.

Steve walks around the stool to peer over your shoulder, “Hey, that’s not bad,” he said, “Y/N you do tats?”

You shrug sitting up to stretch your back and push your glasses up, “I did an apprenticeship but didn’t stay with it. The shop stole a shit load of my art. Then tattooed it. Badly.”

“Ever done any pin-ups?” Clint asked.

“I’ve drawn them,” you tell him, “I toyed with the idea of putting one over all the scarring on my thigh but couldn’t work out how to incorporate the scarring and make it look right.”

Clint nodded, “Would you do one on me?” he asked.

You shake your head, “Bucky bought me a new kit but it’s been a long time since I tattooed skin. I’d have to do some work on pig skin before I’d feel comfortable tattooing anyone.”

“Hell,” Nat said taking a pull of her beer, “That alone means you’re probably a better artist than the scratchers in this hell hole.”

You shrug, “Probably but, I’d just feel more comfortable with some time to practice before I mess with someone’s skin.”

“Where do you even buy pigskin?”

“Butchers,” you answer, inspecting your work on your boyfriend's arm and nodding to yourself, uncapping a green marker. 

Bucky makes a mental note to track some down somewhere, He’d love it if you’d put a tattoo on him. Even if it isn’t a big one. Maybe just a little something somewhere. Lip prints on that spot on his thigh that made him giggle when you brushed your lips across it. A morning-glory, your favorite flower on the inside of his wrist. Something to remind him he belonged to you, even when he didn’t feel good enough. Even if people stared at him when he took you out for dinner. The big scary biker that smelled vaguely of oil and gasoline no matter how hard he scrubbed. It clung to him. The calloused hands that were almost never clean enough to not make him feel like he was going to leave dirt on the table cloth. He felt awkward and out of place while you looked clean and fresh in a blouse and cute skirt. He’d like the morning glory idea. He’d have to have you draw one on him so he could get it tattooed properly. He liked having a reminder where he could see it. 

“Baby girl?” he murmured, “You got any room left to draw something for me?”

“A little,” you say, pushing your glasses up, “Got something you wanna take on a test drive?”

He smiles a little and kisses the end of your nose, “I just want a little flower,” he said, “A morning-glory.”

Your cheeks heat a little and you go through your bag of sharpies for the colors you need. “Where’d you want it? You don’t have much real estate for me to work with.”

“Right here,” he said pointing to a spot of bare skin on the inside of his wrist. You nod and start drawing. “You know this won’t stay on there right?” you remind him.

“I guess that just means you’ll have to keep drawing it on for me. Least til you actually want to bust out your kit.” he hums, leaning down to kiss your hair.

Clint made a noise suggestive of gagging and Nat smacked him in the back of the head, quietly trying not to giggle. This was possibly the cutest thing to ever happen in her bar and she was really, really thankful she got pictures. Your kids some day were gonna need to see their dad look at you like he was right now.

Tags: @lancsnerd @etherealwaifgoddess @thorfanficwriter @blameitonthecauseway @stevieang @wellfucksorrymum

[hrhowling]

save your loving arms for a rainy day - chapter 5

AO3 Link

MJ couldn’t spend every second of every day in the hospital with him. She slept on a pull-out couch in the hospital room for the first night, but a text from work in the morning sparked a heated, if one-sided debate. Peter wasn’t about to get in the way of his wife’s career, but in turn, MJ was adamant against leaving him alone in a hospital, where he was clearly freaking out.

“I’m not!” Peter wanted to say, but yet again, the words were minced on the way out and he was left frustrated and struggling not to start a tirade of grumbling.

At least MJ understood the words behind his rambling, even if it added more fuel to the fire. “You are absolutely freaking out, Peter Parker! I didn’t see you settle down all night last night, you are cagey around the nurses, I couldn’t even leave to go to the bathroom yesterday without you watching me leave like I’m going to… drop dead at any second.”

Peter winced. That… really stung…

MJ let out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, that was… that was low. I’m not mad at you, I just…” Another sigh, she was doing this a lot lately. “…Something’s stressing you out, and it’s stressing me out. I just want you to be okay.”

Now it was Peter’s turn to deflate. He couldn’t fault MJ for this.

“I can afford to miss a few rehearsals,” MJ continued. “It’s early days, everyone on the team understands.”

Everyone knows, were the words lurking about in Peter’s head. He felt the bed sink as MJ sat down next to him.

“What’s bothering you?” she asked softly. “You’ve been tense all night.”

“Mmnh,” Peter managed, not looking at her. How was he supposed to tell her? Even if he could speak straight, his mind was too fogged over to put together a coherent explanation. MJ put his hand in hers, but with what he wanted to say, they’d be there forever.

Instead, he reached round to fumble for the magazine lying on the bedside table, the one that Jonah had left him. Pain burned along his arm and back, but he managed to grab it and show MJ the front cover, which had his name and picture plastered obnoxiously over it. Through the thick covering of bandages on half his face, he gave her the most worried look he could manage.

MJ nodded, “I see what you’re on about.” Another sigh, “Dammit.”

“Mm?”

“Sorry, it’s just… we’ve been getting a lot of trouble from reporters since… you know… Nosy pricks won’t take no for an answer…”

“O…” Peter’s expression turned grim. He should’ve thought about that.

“It’s fine, they’re just… annoying.”

They resolved for MJ to stay for a few days, but then Peter insisted she get back to work. She had a life outside of worrying after him. MJ was reluctant, but agreed for Peter’s peace of mind.

A nurse came in to drop off breakfast for the two. Peter’s plate remained untouched by the time Aunt May poked her head through the door, a large bag in her hand.

“Peter,” she gasped, surging over and engulfing her nephew in a tight hug. “You’re okay.”

Whining softly, Peter returned the hug as best he could, a fresh pain blooming across his back.

“I can’t believe I missed seeing you wake up, and it was Jameson’s mug you woke up to. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

The ensuing laughter hurt like hell, forcing tears out of his eyes and searing through his chest, but it was worth it for the smile on his Aunt May’s face. A strained one, but a smile, nonetheless. “You gave us a real scare, honey,” she murmured, pressing a firm kiss against his forehead. “I am so glad you’re alright.”

Were his eyes meant to sting more after hearing that?

“I’m sorry,” he tried, but the attempt was futile, yet again and all that came out was a nonsensical mumble that made his aunt frown. “I’m sorry.”

“Is everything alright?” she asked.

“M-Mh…”

“There was some… damage,” MJ explained softly, and the frown deepened. “We’re going to sort out some speech therapy soon.”

“Oh, sweetheart. You’ve really been put through the wringer this time.”

Peter shook his head, nope. No, he was not going to cry in front of his already stressed-out family. Just smile; it’s not that bad. After all, you could be dead. It could be so… so much worse.

Gentle hands wiped at his eyes, and he flinched.

“Hhu…”

Aunt May’s frown had shifted in tone by the time he focused back on her. “Peter Benjamin Parker, if I catch you trying to pull the wool over my eyes again, it’ll be cheeseburgers from here on out.”

“Uuuoh!” Peter protested, and Aunt May chuckled.

“If you ever want to eat kosher junk food again, then you need to be honest with us. Capiche?”

Peter nodded eagerly. “Ngh.” Capiche.

“There you go. Also,” May held up a large shopping bag, “I got you some things. Figured you’d get bored here with just the stuffy old doctors.”

Peter perked up at that, and he swore the room looked just a little brighter.

Stuck in between the pages of one of his physics textbooks was a crumpled note. Peter didn’t notice until he opened it and the paper fluttered into his lap.

DON’T FORGET!!! for Peter:

Textbooks

Laptop

Glasses

Science mags

Card from Miles

From who?

Frowning, Peter searched around for any sign of the aforementioned card, under his sheets, in the drawer in the bedside table, going so far as to hang off the bed to try and look under it.

That turned out to be a mistake, and the next thing he knew, he was toppling off the side and onto the floor. Something started bleeping frantically, and he screamed out in the fresh agony that seared through his entire body. Legs, chest, back, all of it burned like he’d been dropped into hell.

“Sweet baby Jesus, what’s going on in here?”

Peter didn’t recognise the voice, but the sight of a seafoam green uniform and work shoes, blurred with tears, had his gut tying knots around his stomach.

“What the hell are you doing? Terry! Terry, I need some help here!”

Footsteps thundered in his head with the piercing bleep of whatever monitor Peter had set off. Strong arms lifted him up off the floor, and he tried kicking away from whoever was picking him up, to no avail. Next thing he knew, he was back on the bed and two nurses were crowding over him, one of them reattaching the heart monitor to his chest while the other ducked back under the bed.

“Kid,” the female nurse began sternly, and Peter was suddenly seeing his aunt in nurse’s scrubs, “I don’t know what happened, but you really need to keep your tush in that bed. You’re not Spider-Man in here.”

Meek and clutching his chest, Peter nodded in agreement.

The other nurse; a rather muscled-looking man who definitely worked out; reappeared from under the bed reappeared from under the bed holding an envelope, wonkily sealed in colourful tape.

“Were you after this?” he asked, holding up an envelope sealed with brightly coloured tape.

“Is this what you were after?” he asked.

Another nod, yes, and the nurse handed the envelope to him.

“Next time something falls under your bed, ask someone else to help,” the lady nurse grumbled as she pulled the blanket over him. Her hair was greying and there was a firm steel in her eyes, but that was where the similarities with Aunt May ended.

Peter nodded, “Mm.”

“Good. My name’s Edith, and this is Terry. We work this ward most days, so if you need anything, just give us a shout.”

Peter gave them a thumbs up, and the two nurses seemed satisfied with that. Edith left, Terry lingered a little, staring, before following. Once Peter was certain that they were gone, he set his sights on the decent-sized envelope that he gingerly held in his hands. His name, Peter Parker, was written on it in bright markers and looked like it whoever had written it had copy-pasted a piece of street art onto it.

Peter frowned. Who was Miles? He didn’t know anyone called Miles.

But his Aunt May had seen this letter as important, enough so that she brought it to him, out of all the letters and gifts she had said were piling up on the front door. What else was there to do besides open it?

Inside was one of those blank cards that you could add your own design to, and drawn on it was a bright, stylised portrait of himself on a webbed background of red and blue, “Thank You” written in swooping letters. Opening the card revealed another drawing, this time of vibrant figures swooping through skyscrapers. One of them looked like him, then another was in white, two wore black, there was a robot, and… was that a pig?

Blinking away the confusion, he looked over the message on the other side.

To Peter Parker

You don’t really know me, but I’m that kid you saved at the collider. Thank you for that.

I took care of Fisk and the collider for you, with some help from a few friends. I wish you’d gotten to meet them, but I guess pictures will have to do.

A lot happened after you were hurt, and I don’t think I could explain it in a card, but you should ask your Aunt May for the whole story.

You’ve been an inspiration to me, and I hope you get better soon.

Sincerely,

Miles Morales

Peter frowned. Miles Morales? He didn’t know anyone with that name, did he? And… there had been kid at the collider? His memories of the event were fuzzy at best, but… at least the kid was okay, but what was he doing fighting violent multi-billionaires? Even with help, that was dangerous.

This Miles seemed to know Aunt May, he’d have to ask her about this.

At the moment, though, his bones felt heavy and his eyes ached. He set the card on the bedside table and went to sleep.

He woke up to a buzzing in his skull. Persistent, alien, familiar.

Then it was gone, and he felt… empty. Alone in the ocean.

He went back to sleep.

@keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars, enjoy!

[realmonstersrp]

❛ want to feel alive outside but i can’t fight my fear.

INTRODUCING AHN SUNGJIN, OUR NEWEST STUDENT WITH THE POWER OF PSIONIC ENERGY MANIPULATION.

WELCOME TO GUMI INTERNATIONAL SCHOOL FOR THE POWERED.

WHO ARE THEY?

PERSONALITY

(+) kind, loyal, quick-witted (–) distant, low self-esteem, late

BACKGROUND

tw: abuse, death, hints of bullying, suicide

on the first page of a black, well-loved journal:

“to innie”

“if found, please immediately return to ahn sungjin”

//below is some of the important excerpts of said journal

mirror;

remember the monsters you were scared of innie? the monsters you swore lived inside our closet?

well, my eyes caught a glimpse of the reflection of a monster today.

a monster who was colored in hues of blues and purples, a monster who screeched in a deafening cry for help yet no sound was heard, a monster who was starting to fall apart in its seams beyond tired to try and put itself back together.

i wish you were here innie. who’s going to stop the punches dad throws? who’s going to tend to the cuts and bruises? who was going to put hyung back together now?

i’m scared innie. i’m scared because the more i look in the mirror, the more tell myself, the more i ask myself –

i’m not me, who are you?

hellevator;

have you seen mom innie? is she proud of me, just as much as you were of me?

i guess not, especially if she saw you. knowing what i’ve done to you.

i wish i could be with you guys instead, it would probably be much better there with both of you than here. at least there, may be i’d be met with laughter, hugs, and kisses – here it’s all just been curses, punches, and aches.

i don’t blame dad though, i deserve it. i deserve it all, all the stabbing words, all the fists thrown, all the pain that fills me up.

now that you’re gone

there’s nothing for me, nobody really cares about me.

m.i.a;

i miss you innie. i miss you so much.

i dreamt of you again, no, not a dream, it wasn’t a dream, it was a nightmare – a nightmare of that day.

dad thinks of you fondly, aloud even. he tells me you were smart, you were good-looking, you were his true heir – you were just great in everything you did innie. he tells me that he loved you so much, tells me that you were his favorite, tells me that it should’ve been me instead.

i couldn’t agree more innie, i’m sorry for what i did, it was my fault it should’ve been the bad seed, it should have been the disappointment, it should’ve been me instead.

you had so much ahead of you but because of me that was all cut short.

ah i’m crying again, but really when have i not?

i miss the little squeak in your voice when you get excited, i miss your hugs that keep me warm when i couldn’t sleep, i miss you telling me:

“take it easy and try not to think of the useless stuff.”

insomnia;

i can’t seem to fall asleep, no matter how hard i tried. this will be one of those nights were i sneak into your bed innie. you’d open your arms immediately to hold me, without hesitation and any hint of anger for waking you up, then you’d sing me to sleep. those nights were just the best nights of sleep i ever could have.

funny how i’m 7 minutes older yet i am the baby between us haha should i start calling you hyung, innie?

i’m trying to sing that song now as i hug myself to sleep tonight but it’s not the same.

when the dark night makes everyone sleep, when the fall asleep i can’t sleep because of so many thoughts.

voices;

innie i’m starting to believe them.

what have i done?

i should just end it all, give in, just as they say i should.

i’m starting to believe that i really did that to you. that i’m a killer, that i’m a murderer, that i’m a monster. i’m starting to believe everyone around me. there’s so many voices, i promise i’ve been trying to shut them out. tonight, however, it’s not working.

i can’t hear your voice any more innie, your voice that tells me to break free from the others inside my head. these voices, they’re just so many…

at some point, i only started to hear these nagging sounds.

4419;

innie, i’m at the back of the bus we always ride to get home. we had so much memories on this bus, didn’t we? can you believe that after all this time, our names that we wrote with that cheap marker is still here crystal clear. i should really get one of those before the semester starts.

oh, you’re probably wondering where i’m off to huh?

remember that school? the school for people like me? you were so persistent that i go there once we graduate, so i could learn more about how to use my powers. i’m on my way there now to get settled. i didn’t really plan on it but then i was cleaning our room then i stumbled upon the application you neatly filled up for me – you’re really sneaky huh? well i sent them the application along with my portfolio. they seemed to like my work and i got accepted in their traditional arts program.

i’ve never seen dad so happy innie, that was a first ever since… ugh i shouldn’t be thinking about that…

anyway, dad was so happy innie ‘cause finally he can get rid of me. about time, he said. don’t worry innie, i’m not sad. i’ve long grown to live with it, just like you said “take it easy and try not to think of the useless stuff”.

so i am. i will be better, i promise to do my best for you innie. i promise with my whole heart, i will make you proud.

someday, again at the same place, i dream we will meet again.

WHAT CAN THEY DO?

psionic energy manipulation

sungjin is gifted with the ability to create, shape, and manipulate psionic energy produced by the mind with his hands. the boy being able to wield it in its most physical forms. sungjin’s powers manifest in a glowing red mist much like clouds of smoke.

applications:

psi-energy influence

by channeling and manipulating psi energy in any shape or form, he is able to gain influence and control over its physical form. some basic uses of it are psionic energy attacks in form of blasts, beams, bolts, and the like. also, not to forget his favorite, psychokinetic influence where he is able to shape psionic energy around matter and control its movement. this is where sungjin is most trained and experienced in.

psi-energy flyrogenesis

a defensive ability wherein he can generate a shield of psionic energy to protect him and others from external, physical harm.

psi-detect

everyone has their own personal psionic energy in them and sungjin has found that he is able to feel them – sometimes it’s a smell, sometimes it’s a color. they’re so individual, he, himself, can’t describe how they feel for certain, he just knows they’re there. weirdly however, he feels drawn to them, he feels attracted to them, like a shark smelling a hint of blood in the vast waters. when he knows the person very well and has been with them for long, he’ll be able to figure out who they are just by the feeling of their psionic energy.

psi-phoning

the boy is able to draw out psionic energy from his subject (as long as it is capable of thinking) and use it for his own. sungjin fears this ability and avoids using this ability the most because of the haunting memory he has of it. With the terror strung into it, his siphoning ability has wired itself to bring sungjin even more dread. more often than not, when he uses this ability it somehow transports him back to his nightmares so vividly, so clear that it would seem it was just happening inside his head. this realm is of his own making, his own personal hell – everything was in hues of red; dark, and grim.

psychic shield

due to the boy’s subconscious desires to be guarded and closed off from most, if not all people, his psionic energy was able to cocoon his mental self and become resistant to mental intrusion. this does not mean sungjin’s completely immune to intrusion of the mind, the intruder will just need to exert more effort than normal.

(before getting into gumi, sungjin had no knowledge of this ability whatsoever because he had not come in contact with anyone who had been gifted with powers, more so gifted on intruding the mental psyche. another interesting fact that the boy doesn’t know is that it is the first ability to ever manifest from his gift.)

WEAKNESSES

law of equivalent exchange

theorized by his brother (due to immense obsession with anime and immense smartass-ness), this is the most important limitation that circulates his ability. in his brother’s words, “to be given influence over psionic energy, something of equal value is sacrificed in return.”

at first sungjin had no idea what his brother meant, nor did he think it made any sense. however, as the boy’s understanding over his powers grew, he knew his brother was right.

basic examples:

compare him boosting a person of average weight up for 3 seconds and lifting the same for 10 seconds. he would certainly need to use more energy for the latter than the former.

barriers of smaller sizes are able to better to withstand forces acting upon them compared to a shield with a larger area.

to use other’s psionic energy for his own, the intensity of its use needs the same energy from its owner. if sungjin is not careful enough it could lead in leaving none left for the owner which could cause serious harm.

mental strength and mental state

sungjin’s powers greatly depends on his mental strength and mental state as well. if he pushes himself over the edge it could cause him physical and mental backlash (e.g. being knock back in result of impact, nose bleeds, headaches, and fainting). if the boy mental state isn’t in good condition he could easily lose control over it and not just harm himself but those around him as well.

peek-a-boo, i feel you

the psionic energies sungjin feels vary from person to person and not all the time linked to the owner. he can feel the color yellow but the owner may think nothing of it or could just correlate with how bright they are as a person. but for him to clearly be able to tell them a part he must know them well and/or have been with them for a significant amount of time. others just feel vague and unclear, sometimes he just senses that feeling of being drawn to them.

to hell with it

sungjin can only draw out psionic energy by letting his hand/s touch the subject or hover within a maximum distance of 5 inches, any farther and he won’t be able leech of off their psi-energy. though siphoning this type of energy empowers sungjin, he’s not able to hold on to it for long.  when latched too long onto psionic energy that is not of his own, his body rejects it and results in a very destructive backlash a psionic energy blast. the longer he tries to keep it in him, the more dangerous and destructive the backlash is to him and to those near him.

it’s in your hands

a very significant physical flaw in his power is that sungjin’s hands play a huge role in directing the flow of psionic energy. if his hands were bounded or restrained in a way that prohibits him from moving them at all, renders the boy useless and unable to use his powers.

range

sungjin can direct psionic energy as long as it is in his clear line of sight. sungjin needs to focus and know where he plans on directing his powers. his offensive attacks however are more potent the closer the opponent is. around the 500 ft mark, his attacks could still pack quite a punch but more than that it would noticeably be weaker. the farther the attack travels the lower the clout.

variables to remember

there are no distinguishable limits for time, weight, and intensity as it purely depends on how the variables act upon one another.  sungjin can hold a full glass of water with ease for a long period of time as long as he focuses, however trying to lifting a car for a mere few seconds can definitely make him crack from strain.

DID YOU KNOW?

sungjin sets an alarm for almost everything and all the alarm tones are various recordings of him shouting at himself.

[the-auctors]

Trigger Warnings:  Mentions of death, blood, suicide, dark/depressing thoughts, toxic and disturbing environment, depression, unhealthy coping mechanisms, etc.

     Drip...

       Drip…

       Drip…

       Drip…

     Haruka sighed and immediately walked towards the bathroom, moving his arms awkwardly to avoid letting the copper-scented substance fall and stain the cream-colored carpet. His mother never liked how difficult it was to wash the wool and nylon fibers, but there was nothing that the Lady of the House could do. She couldn’t insert the blame on the blessing given to them by the higher beings. She, herself, has a soulmate tattoo inked in elegant calligraphy, which says ‘Hey, excuse me? Do you know where the nearby convenience store is?’

     Those were the unromantic words her husband first told her, which was almost the complete opposite of what she stated. ‘You have pretty eyes and a cute beauty mark…’ It wasn’t a lie... Although, she’s still pouty at the gesture she received.

     Haruka’s unidentified soulmate must have been going through several hardships; the mother can’t help but feel worried. Not only for the boy but also for his significant other.

     The brunette finished bandaging his wounds and stepped outside the bathroom and then his room. Peeking his head around the corner, where his approaching mother ushered him to the dining table to take a bite of their lunch, knowing that the teen will take his daily afternoon stroll in the park where...

     People often would openly show distaste at the sight of his covered arms and neck scar.

     Bystanders will either watch him in pity or gaze at him with strange looks in their eyes. Haruka wasn’t surprised. He grew up in a toxic and unhealthy society where the civilians are expected to have glorious and impressive jobs with exceptional educational backgrounds. His father told him how his uncle was once hospitalized due to overworking. Japanese citizens know that there is a problem with the system, but there is no one with enough courage to voice it. Unfortunately, leading it to bottle it all up to themselves and causing depression to conquer many people’s minds.

     No wonder Japan is one of the countries with high ratings of suicide.

     The young Kataoka sighed at the thought, not forgetting to pack the pens and papers while eating the rice ball offered to him by his mother. The brunette gazed at the bright-colored items and blank drawing pad with a dazed look. ‘She’s not ready yet…’ He reminded himself by the nth time this past two months. The lady hadn’t had the slightest idea of what her son is up to these days. All she knew was that he suddenly took an interest in arts and drawing.

     This was surprising since he gave up on it because of his lack of talent in that particular field. She could clearly remember the hand-drawn portrait he made of himself; his relatives almost died of laughter when his sneaky cousin used that item to embarrass him for the whole night. Haruka is still traumatized due to the incident.

     After practically smothering his lunch, almost giving his mother a heart attack, he pranced out of the house energetically. It was almost as if the blood loss from earlier did not affect him. It wasn’t long enough for him to be greeted with a breath-taking view of the gorgeous park flowers and the newly-trimmed green fields. Despite being in that place several times, the scenery never failed to amaze him.

     As well as she.

     Her bored eyes stared at the fish fountain as her figure sat down on the wooden bench. The peach-colored turtleneck expertly hid her scars and bandages; on the other hand, Kataoka wore a simple black shirt. Once noticing his appearance, Yuriko Umemoto grimaced at the white medical tape and gauze’s lack of concealment.

     Looking down at her sleeves, a wave of guilt washed down her entire being. Adding a mixture of salt and vinegar on the wound, she, again, lifted a knife to her wrists this morning. 

    It was hard…

    Their first meeting was not exactly the prettiest.

    Yuriko stumbled upon him in the supermarket while he was being lectured by the crappy lady from her neighborhood. Screeching like an annoying siren and reprimanding him about the injuries. It wouldn’t have been her business until she saw the exact scar on his pale neck… Obviously, caused by a rope, judging on how it coiled around his skin... The female didn’t know what had gotten into her when she pulled Haruka out of the building. Even today, she theorizes that it must have been the soulmate connection that drove her to protect him.

    One thing escalated to another. The pair told each other’s names and chatted briefly, the melancholic girl purposely left out the phone number details, in hopes of not being in his vicinity.

    After all, what would his parents, friends, and relatives think of her?

    She was an embarrassment—a humiliation to human existence.

    What kind of a fool would find escape in death and self-harming?

    She also caused him pain, despite trying his best to hide it from her. The way he flinches at small subtle movements as the blood began to seep from his white bandages.

    Yuriko was burdened and constantly being hovered by her parents’ non-stop pestering of entering a well-known university. Her awkward and detached personality didn’t help, for she was having a terrible time making friends in the first place, leaving her alone. But when Haruka Kataoka entered her life, it brought change. Before leaving, the male gave her a hug and told her he could always find her in the local park.

    Yuriko could swear that her legs moved on their own the next day. She sat down on the bench with eager eyes as she looked for her other half.

    He never forced her to open her thoughts and problems, only waiting patiently for her to be more comfortable with him. To which she shockingly did after weeks together as friends.

    Haruka also did not mention much about their soulmate bond. 

    “Hey, you’re spacing out again, dummy.” The teen suddenly stated, sitting down on the excess space of the park bench. The white plastic crinkling made the girl quirk a brow at the object; he pulled out a bunch of pens and markers, along with a pristine white pad.

    Playfully rolling her eyes at his statement, she rested her back against the wood and hummed, unconsciously fidgeting with the fabric of her white jeans. “What are we going to draw today, Haru?” She inquired, receiving a boyish grin in return. “I dunno, something that gets your eye, perhaps. But before that--” He reached over and gently took Yuriko’s hands, making her forearms face upwards even if it was hidden underneath the cloth.

    Seeing what he was inspecting, her eyes somberly watched the ground below. She heard him sigh and caress her limbs, “Yuriko…” He called for her attention. 

    The said-female slowly averted her gaze from the dirt to her soulmate/friend, who was watching her forlornly. He raised her arms and gave a small peck on each appendage. Was it platonic? Or was it romantic? She doesn’t know, but the amount of love and care delivered to her was enough to make her feel that she wasn’t alone, nor she will ever be.

    Somehow, earlier that morning, dark thoughts invaded her mind and attacked her like a plague. She didn’t know whether to be grateful to have Haruka, but she would have been happier if those disgusting marks wouldn’t taint his being. ‘If only the soulmate system didn’t exist.’ Unknowingly, she clenched her fists and dug her against her palms, leaving crescent-shaped dents when the male tenderly pried her fists open.

    He gave a warm smile, “So, instead of drawing in a paper, I actually thought of doing something different.” Haruka started.

    Grabbing the blush-colored marker and placing it on her palms, Kataoka smiled fondly at the smaller girl and took an annoyingly-bright yellow pen. Uncapping the item and he planted the tip to the patch of unbandaged-skin between his wrist and knuckles. His dominant hand moved around, successfully inking the smooth surface with a star design.

    A proud grin entered his features as he showed off the ‘art’ on his hand. Yuriko snorted at his enthusiasm, “That’s a pretty-ugly star.” His face fell as he took offense to her comment. Quickly pinching her by the side of her knee, resulting in a stomp in the foot later on. Haruka sighed and gazed at the sky, “I’ve been looking for a professional to help you, so this random idea could somehow help… I’m not an expert on these kinds of things, so if I’m doing it wrong… Punch me in the gut as you please.”

    Realization crashed down to her. 

    She looked at her covered-forearms and to the pen. A small smile crawled on her lips, finally knowing what Haruka’s intentions were. 

    “It’s just… Ughhh… So hard to explain... “

    She ignored him as she drew.

    “I’m hoping that it can help you… Although if a therapist might suggest a better way, but for the meantime…”

    And drew.

    “If the urge or temptation… Oh god, those are weird wordings…”

    And drew.

    “Arghh! In short! I wish that instead of coping with pain, I have the suggestion of painting yourself with beautiful colors!... Hey, Yu! You’re not listening--!” He stopped in his words, his eyes widened at the pretty cherry blossom flower on her skin, an equally-elegant smile gracing her lips.

    “Hey, Haru?” She mumbled. The Kataoka gulped and straightened his back, leaning closer to his companion. “Yes, Yu?” Was his reply.

    Raising her hand towards the sky, admiring her adorable masterpiece, Yuriko hummed. How was it that with such a simple action, he managed to pierce her tough exterior? It was almost ridiculous how soft she had gotten for him. Within the 2 months of knowing each other, the ice and iron shackles in her heart were melted and torn down. Was it because of the soulmate bond? Or his genuine love and care?

    She also doesn’t know.

    “Once… My forearms are healed… I should try drawing a whole cherry blossom branch, what do you think?” She wondered almost inaudibly. 

    He gleamed, “I think that’s pretty cool! Here, you can try it with my hand!” Haruka offered his other hand, enthusiastically. She cradled his larger hand and drew a mini-cherry blossom tree. Her eyes began to fill with warmth as she suddenly realized the meaning of the said-flower. “Hey, Haru? You know what Cherry Blossoms symbolizes, right?” Her other-half nodded and gave a loving smile.

    She continued, “What a great coincidence, don’t you think? Knowing our situation.” A breathy chuckle escaped from his throat. Haruka raised a free-hand and fixed a stray hair on the female’s head.

    “Indeed, it is.” He softly agreed.

Cherry Blossoms, also referred to as Sakura, is known in Japan as the flower of spring, beauty, and the time of renewal.

[go-teach]

Properties of Shapes & Op Art

Tessa Maguire

Tales from Outside the Classroom

Using art to develop students’ understanding of shape properties.

My first graders came to me with a lot of background knowledge on shapes and their properties.  I was impressed with the amount of information they retained from kindergarten and from other learning experiences.  Because we didn’t need to spend a ton of time on 2-D shapes it was the perfect opportunity to integrate art into our unit to help students continue to develop their understanding of shape properties and to demonstrate content mastery. Working at an arts integration school, it’s important that we not only integrate the arts into our units, but also teach about the style of art we’re working on and artists that could give us inspiration.  I’m still relatively new at integrating the arts into our units, instead of just doing crafts and other random projects without a lot of intention, and have a long way to go to make the integration as authentic as it can and should be.  In the meantime, though, students are learning about the arts, artists, as well as demonstrating their content knowledge through the arts as often and as meaningful as I can.

I began by introducing the work of M.C, Escher.  The North Carolina Museum of Art has a great Escher slideshow that I used to have students explore and discuss his work.  We spent a lot of time talking about the precision needed to create his art pieces and the symmetry that is used to create optical illusions.  I also did a Google image search on Escher and showed students some of his most well known op art (optical art) pieces.  While Escher is well known for tesselations, I thought this project would be a bit easier on my first graders, especially if completed in colors. I introduced students to the 6-inch ruler we’d be using to draw our shapes.  I started by drawing a 3 inch line and then explaining to students that we were going to use it to draw a square then asking what size lines we’d need to use to finish the square.

In order to create the optical illusion more clearly, I recommend not using vertical lines, but more slanted ones in order to create the intended visual effect. (Some of my pictures show vertical lines, but right as I started coloring, I realized my mistake, and we started over.)  I then continued with a 1″x4″ rectangle and then a 2 inch triangle.  Because students hadn’t ever used a ruler before (our standards in first grade do not include measuring with standard units) and had never used it to draw a shape with a specific length, this set of directions took longer and required more on the fly reteaching with students than I had initially anticipated.  If you’re doing this project with firsties too, I’d recommend going slower and more sequentially than you might think at first.

Creating the circle was a challenge, but it was a shape we had been covering so I wanted to use it in our project.  So, we used our rulers to help.  First, we made dots at 0, 1, and 2 inches.  Then we made a perpendicular set of dots while keeping the 1 in the same location.  We then talked about fractions as we spun our ruler around each quadrant to draw more dots, all while keeping the center dot on the 1.  What resulted was a set of dots we could use to help us draw a circle.

And then connect the dots!

We used a square, circle, triangle, and rectangle as these were the focus of most of our shape discussions.  However, you can use any shape you’d like.  I even had a student recreate the project by tracing pattern blocks.  There’s no wrong way.

Once the shapes were drawn lightly using pencils, we went over the lines using a black Sharpie Fine Point Marker.   I wanted my students to clearly see the defined line between the inside and outside of the shapes, but in the future, I’d use a black Sharpie Ultra Fine Point Marker as I think that thinner black line would help the illusion stand out more.

The next step was to place the paper landscape and then measure out every inch using a 12-inch ruler.  We placed very small and light dots towards the top of the page and then slid the ruler down to do it again near the bottom of the page.  The students’ dots were not always lined up as precisely as possible, but that’s part of working with and using a ruler and older students would probably be more precise.  Then, the page was turned portrait and students used the ruler to connect the dots and draw lines across the page.  The two sets of dots helped students ensure that they were not only drawing lines, but lines that were straight and perpendicular to the page rather than slanted.

Once our piece was drawn, it was time to add color!  Even though M.C. Escher created most of his pieces just using black and white, color is needed to make this optical illusion (and makes it easier for students to complete). We discussed complementary colors and chose colors opposite each other on the color wheel.  I found a color wheel online and displayed it for my kids as they chose their color.  One of my kids did not understand this direction and used analogous colors, which resulted in a different feel in her piece.  I used red violet and lime Mr. Sketch Gel Crayons.

This was my first time working with the Mr. Sketch Gel Crayons, though the markers are my absolute favorite!  I immediately fell in love!  While the scent is not as strong as I’m used to with the marker, the smoothness of the color was awesome.  They produce such a strong, rich color and glide across the paper.  The Mr. Sketch Gel Crayons gave the visual look of waxy crayons, but it did not leave the paper feeling waxy or with a residue like waxy crayons often do. They’re large and round so they’re not great for coloring precisely, which means they probably were not the best choice for this particular art project, but the bright, rich colors outweighed that for me.  With that said, the color didn’t match the tube as much as I would have liked, especially with the purple I chose.  But, knowing that, and often not needing a very specific color, it won’t be an issue very often. To help students complete the needed color effect, I directed students to only color outside of the shapes at first.  We again discussed precision and the need for working slowly and deliberately.

Once the background pattern is complete, the shapes really stand out!

In order to make sure students really understood what they needed to do to invert the colors, I met with each student individually and demonstrated on their paper to guide them.  I was really impressed with the focus and perseverance my students demonstrated as they colored.

To display, I placed the final pieces onto black construction paper.  The black background really helps the image stand out, especially since they weren’t placed onto a bulletin board, but rather a wall.  I used a silver Sharpie Metallic Marker to write each student’s name on the back of the black construction paper.  These are the only thing I’ve found that really stand out on the black.

Did you know that makes repositionable glue?  Well, they do!  The Elmer’s Re-Stick glue stick is respositionable for 5 minutes so it’s perfect when you’re trying to place something and will maybe need to adjust it.

I did find that the paper didn’t stick as well as I’m used to, so I used extra glue.  I wouldn’t recommend this particular glue on a project where the students are going to be using it often (in an interactive notebook for example) but for something that is glued once and done it’s great to have as an option. The optical illusion really stands out when the page is looked at on the side.

My students loved working on the project and really loved looking at their own and others’ finished projects!  The students who chose complementary colors and have rich, deliberate coloring had the best outcomes.

Read more about Tessa and her classroom hacks at Tales From Outside the Classroom!