#i was going to answer with a drawing but sadly my drawing tablet is not cooperating

[niseag-arts]

I saw that WIP of Cal and was infested with this idea of a saved skit getting a crush lol :D

Silly little skit ^^

Omg silly skit. Cal will pat their head and tell them they're doing great. Also aaaaaaaa I love the drawing :D Skittles getting crushes on Cal has happened a few times in their actual backstory, too :P

[cursedcola]

TWST: The Hall Of Mirrors - Baby Update, January 24’

ART:

Guys I don’t think I’m going to be able to put art in the game because I lack a tablet. As much as I want to, it would require making *way* too many images.

So, I’m making the TW game a pure piece of interactive fanfiction as a text-based game only. I’ve poured so many hours into it and I think I would rather go extend the plot/add on details so you can visualize it rather than stress anymore about putting art in. I know I said previously that I was taking time off from it, but I actually spent a good chunk of my free time last month trying to get art to scan in. Twine does not like imagery. No, no it does not.

So I’m just going to take a wee bit more time and make the plot more detailed. I also really want to get back to writing more here >_<

PLOT:

Like I said, I’m taking more time to add in detail. Without art I feel that it needs more to make the visuals pop.

AUDIO:

I haven’t given up on this bit quite yet. Since this is a fan game that isn’t getting monetized or anything, I don’t feel the need to make original music. I’ll see if I can find anything I like enough to fit the vibes

~ On that note, this is the last written update I’m giving. I might post some pictures when I feel it's in a good place, or ask if anyone would like to test the game out (catch any technical errors or bugs)….but yeah, I’m pretty much done now? I think? Hard to believe I’ve slowly been writing this since July. It’ll be weird to not work on it anymore, but also nice since I want to write other things hehe. I will say that this is the biggest thing I have ever made for any fandom, and I hope it's something I can look back on fondly.

(Small rant below about the art because I’m me and my perfectionism demands I offer an explanation)

Like, I did the math and it just isn’t feasible to do with what I have sadly. The game was going to have 15cgs for each route’s climax. I also got a bit crazy and even did base sketches for 15 cga for the after endings without really thinking about how rough it was going to be. You can customize your Mc by their clothing, body size, eye color, hair length and color, and hair type. If I had a tablet then I could make a singular CG as the base, and then basically make a bunch of copies where I make small changes so that the proper combination will pop up depending on the choices you made. It would have took a long time but I could have done it - although using a quick combination showed that there were hundreds of different possible combinations.

I mean, there are 2 clothing options, 4 body types, 8 eye colors, 4 hair types, 4 hair lengths, and i think 6 hair colors if I remember right. I also put in customization features that have you answer Q’s that I can’t predict to edit the cg with. Regardless that’s 2X4X8X4X4X6 = 6,144 possible combinations for ONE cg. That’s kind of rough even with a tablet, so without one is just like…death. It would be 2x4x4x4 = 128 different iterations of the image (as things that are not just color changes that can be quickly altered). That’s 128 versions of 15 images. That’s 1,920 drawings. Even if they were going to be in a very simple artstyle, heck even a sketch, it’s not feasible.

I love Otomes and have always wanted to play one where your customized MC is featured in the cgs. Making a game like that is one of my life goals - but not for a fan game. If I’m doing that then it’s going to be an original work.

I’m sorry for hyping it up and making false promises. I really did want to make it happen for my mini fangame, but this is kinda just my little side project and stressing over it was zapping the fun away. So now we’re going back to plan A and just sticking to a text game >_<

[statueofeden]

Eras of L4D2!CATS Art (and Nellis Cats)

(CW: badly drawn blood, gore (its a zombie game haha), mental health briefly mentioned (minimal!).

Hello, I'm Eden. (They/them) I'm 22 years old and been playing L4D2 since it came out for xbox 360 in 2009 (I was 8 - going on 9). I started shipping Nellis when I was about 11. It was in fact my first ship ever.

I decided to make this lil thing because i've seen some interest in my recent post with my Nellis!cats :P.

In 2013, I hated my human art so I decided to design and make as cats so I could draw them easier. I use to use drawcast on my ipod touch.

I would finally get a more stable style and made more of my fav ship.

Later on that year, my mom gave me her old laptop and I got heavily into animation memes and computer digital art.

my first computer drawing:

My first animation:

I was hooked. A few months later, Little kid me decided to play around with an AU.

Heres more info about the AU before we move on:

(AU animation Playlist: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLsesYjlm_htaAxclwRcBg6uhhjtQEN3OY )

I dropped my first banger of the AU on Dec 14, 2013.

2014-2015:

I was obsessed with drawing Nick and Ellis as cats still. I had made many animations and drawings of them.

Before I was diagnose with BPD, I had an episode and created this gem it like to mention :

I had also dropped this banger way before that (important later, I promise)

I ended the year off with a remake of an old Nellis drawing I made in 2013.

^(2015)

^(2013)

2016 - 2017:

At the end of 2015, I got a graphics tablet for Christmas. Legit my second drawing was Ellis!cat.

Sadly in 2016-2017 I was going through alot and also developed a new hyperfixation on fallout 4. I kinda forgot about l4d2 otherthan a few mentions of it here and there. Honorable mentions of art:

2018-2019:

I was going through alot during this time in my life.

I would redesign my most of l4d2!cats completely. I highly preferred natural colors over the other designs.

L4D2!Cats:

L4D!cats:

Honorable mentions of animations:

2019 - now:

Im still making l4d2!cats content. I adore them still and still plan on drawing them until I cant draw no more.

2021 art:

2022 art:

2023 art:

Remember when I told you to keep the "get out alive" video in your mind. Well, Ive very recently have sketched out a remake of it. (Come see the improvement!)

^(2015)

^(2023)

Welp, I think that's all! I hope you've enjoyed this post! Any questions, feel free to ask! I may or may not have answers.

Some of you may know me, some of you may not. Either way, thanks for reading and sharing the love for left 4 dead with me! I hope to share more soon! <3

[cuervolyx]

🧡 for Hyeonsik. \(^^ )

🧡- Your Oc has retired. Do they talk about their experience or leave it behind perfusely?

(Note: My tablet is acting up again and got rid of my drawings. So, pencil sketches for now until I figure out what is going on with it)

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

Ring... Ring... Ring...

No response. Aera placed the telephone handset back onto the cradle. This is the third time this week she has tried to call Hyeonsik. The third time since that her calls have yet to be answered. It's been two months of silence. What was Hyeonsik doing that he could never answer her calls? I have to visit his house! I don't care how far away it is from the mountains! She stood up and walked into the new Deputy Chief's office to inform her of her absence in the future.

The southern parts of Nisara were an interesting part of the country. It goes from a Piedmont landform to a coastal plains landform. Aera had always wanted to visit the coastal plains, and she was a bit lucky that she would visit the area since Hyeonsik is from this part of the island or at least lives here. She could see the damage the war had done as she drove through the Southern region. Many villages were still burnt to the ground, and many families were still trying to salvage what was left of their homes. It broke her heart to see this. Sadly, it's the consequence of war. She passed some security checkpoints and entered a small village.

The village began rebuilding itself, but many parts were still damaged. Aera walked through the town and watched as many families walked around. Aera pursed her lips. Hyeonsik hates being around families. And for a good reason. Aera finally found a small house, and the address on the envelope matched the address. She knocked on the door. She was not expecting a response, but the door opened.

"Aera? What are you doing all the way down here?" Hyeonsik asked. He let his friend into his home. Aera smiled. Finally, after two months, she can see her dear friend. She gave him a quick hug.

"You haven't answered my calls! I've been calling for two months straight. And no, don't you try to tell me that your phone isn't working. I know it is!" Aera explained. Hyeonsik pursed his lips. Aera was like a mother, constantly nagging and cutting off any arguments he could make. Hyeonsik sighed.

"I-I just want to forget it all. My service meant nothing. It was worthless like me," Hyeonsik said quietly. Hyeonsik looked away from Aera. He knew Aera was going to be on him for this. "Just forget it. You've traveled from the mountains. Why don't I get you something to eat?"

"...Ok," Aera said. She knows more than anything that Hyeonsik hates being questioned. So, she will do her best to get him to open up again. The last time he opened up was the third year of their service in the military police, which was many years ago. So, it was rare for him to allow himself to be vulnerable.

Aera and Hyeonsik sat on the porch in silence. They watched as the ocean tide moved. It was honestly a refreshing day if you forget about the war and deaths. Aera quickly noticed that Hyeonsik had not grabbed anything to eat for himself. It made Aera feel awkward about eating. However, she can tell that Hyeonsik was waiting for her to eat. So, she did. Oh! I brought that stew from the mountain. I'm sure he'll eat that, at least! Aera grabbed her bag and pulled out the bowl.

"Y-You don't have to. I'm not hungry right now," Hyeonsik said as he saw the bowl. He really wasn't feeling hungry. Aera shook her head as she handed the bowl to him.

"You need to eat. I know you've always avoided eating back on base. But you're at home. You need to learn to eat more," Aera explained. She still remembers the day he had fainted due to a lack of nutrients. And she still remembers watching him avoid food at all costs. If she was honest with herself, she was scared watching him basically starve himself. Hyeonsik pursed his lips, but he finally took the bowl from her.

The stew was surprisingly still warm. However, the smell of it was too strong. Hyeonsik felt a bit sick from it. He didn't want to eat it but knew Aera would nag on him for not eating. He sighed. He might try to eat a little. With some hesitation, he finally placed the spoon in his mouth. He felt like he was going to throw up already. Hyeonsik had to cover his mouth to prevent spitting the food out. He chewed on one part of the vegetables as long as he could until he felt it was mushy. Hyeonsik pushed the harder, unchewed vegetables to the front of his mouth as he began to try to swallow the chewed vegetables. As he tried to swallow, he felt his throat constricting. He gagged and lurched forward as he pushed the chewed vegetables back to the front of his mouth. He couldn't do it. He can't swallow it! He'll choke if he tries again!

He felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked over to see Aera handing him a cup of water. He took it and drank it all. Luckily, it helped him swallow the food. The wind soon began to pick up. Neither of them noticed.

"You're still having trouble to eat? Have you thought of going to the doctor for that?" Aera asked. Hyeonsik shook his head. He hadn't tried because it didn't matter. "Hyeonsik! Why won't you go? This is so unhealthy! You'll get sick if this keeps up!" Aera already knew Hyeonsik was a bit sick, but at this rate, he may end up in the hospital or worse.

"Shut it. Why do you even care?" Hyeonsik hissed. Aera blinked, but Hyeonsik could tell she was mad.

"Because you're my friend! We've been through hell and back together! I won't lose you because you won't eat! Why can't you eat?" Aera shouted. Hyeonsik was taken aback by the shouting, but he wouldn't sit there and take it.

"Why should I? Huh? My family can't eat then how can-" He stopped. He didn't mean to bring that up. Aera knew everything that happened in his past, so she knew what he was going on about. He could feel his chest tighten. He began to shake. After all that work of getting rid of his emotions, why was he now losing control of his feelings?

"Hyeonsik..." Aera whispered. She wanted to tell him that it wasn't his fault. He wasn't to blame for his wife and child's death. But she wasn't there. She didn't even know him during that time. What could she say to comfort her friend? What could she do to help him? All she could do was stay silent.

"I just can't anymore. Ever since I left, I don't have anything to distract myself. I just keep reliving that moment. I keep dreaming about it. I can't even cook because I'm scared of the flames. Why can't I just forget it all! Why do I always have to be reminded?" Hyeonsik said. At this point, he didn't know what he was saying. He just spat out whatever words came into his thoughts.

"Hyeonsik, breathe! Please!"

Hyeonsik stopped talking. He took a deep breath. He looked up to see Aera confused but relieved. He gave a small smile.

"Thanks," he said. He didn't even notice that he was even breathing correctly. He keeps breathing in and out. He failed to notice Aera becoming even more confused. And he failed to see that the voice who shouted did not belong to her either.

"Thanks? I didn't do or say anything?" Aera said. Hyeonsik seemed too busy breathing to notice what she said. She wondered what he meant when she thanked her, but she decided to not question it. He was calming down, which was more important than getting an answer.

The two sat silently as the roaring wind settled into a gentle breeze. The flowers swayed, and the tides slowly pushed onto the shore and retreated. Yet, the sun began to be covered by the moving clouds. Was anything even accomplished today?

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

Thanks for the ask!

I hope this ask was responded to properly. I ended up writing so much that I am bit concerned for the length of it. My writing skills is not the best, but I loved responding to this ask (and hopefully it makes sense). This has to be my favorite response! Especially since I got the explore the relationship between Aera and Hyeonsik. Didn't expect myself to traumatize Hyeonsik to this extent...

[sylvidoptera]

The tiny fae sat atop the neck of the ancient snapper, holding on to his bag of parchment and writing instruments. He let his mind drift for the walk, knowing that the habit of countless years would take the larger dragon's feet exactly where they needed to go. Muscle memory was a wonderful thing.

The mental memory, however, was slippery and you always took it for granted until it was gone.

As they reached the tablet in the middle of the clearing, Scribbles could feel his great-great-grandmother perk up. The sight of the polished rocks she'd called her desk for ages would always draw her out of the slightly disconnected place she spent the majority of her time these days. His own spirits brightened instantly and he grinned with anticipation.

While Tomo puttered around her desk setting up everything just so, Scribbles fluttered to the two sides of the path that came through the trees. Most of the locals knew that the famous researcher was now struggling with dementia and would treat her accordingly; but sometimes strangers would come through and laugh at "the daft old lady" who handed out coins for simple answers over and over.

As the fae put the second sign up, its block letters reading "PLEASE BE KIND", he heard himself called back. "Scribbles! Everything is ready! You need to be in place if you're to get any work done with me today!" Tomo's voice was affectionate and filled with the same eagerness that had driven her to learn everything she could when she was younger.

"Yes, Grandmother! I was just putting up the 'open' signs for our sources."

"Good boy! Hopefully we'll get someone who knows what they're talking about today. I swear, some people just are woefully ignorant. But that's alright! We can teach. Everyone likes to learn, right?"

Smiling a little bit sadly, Scribbles nodded. "Of course." He set up his parchment, inkwell, and quills and prepared for what the day might bring. "We can only hope that everyone today will learn something valuable."

As the day wore on, Tomo never lost her enthusiasm. Whether the answers were wrong or right, she learned something (again) or the dragon who gave the wrong answer was able to have a new fact to take home. Every silly little drawing, recipe, or imaginary prose Scribbles wrote down was met with a gently amused patience and joy that her grandson was so talented and creative.

Those who were in the know would quietly drop their coins back into the basket hidden in the bushes next to the tablet. Tomo was endlessly generous, because she didn't remember that she no longer was a highly-paid scholar. Everyone in the area was so proud and so fond, they would simply make sure that she would never run out of coins… for Tomo insisted on paying for correct answers. Her pride and generosity would allow nothing else.

At the end of the day, Scribbles packed up his equipment and looked at the slowly fading light in his beloved grandmother's eyes. "The sun is going down, Tomo. Time to head home. After all, brains need rest to be able to process all this information."

"Right you are! You're such a good apprentice. If you're lucky, my desk may be yours someday. But not for a long time. There's still so much left to learn." Tomo looked over the clearing one last time before Scribbles climbed up on her back. With a deep sigh that was full of contentment - and a hint of unconscious sadness - the ancient dragon let her mind slip into the twilight she'd been fighting as her body carried her home.

Scribbles looked down at the head that held the most beautiful mind he'd ever known. No matter how many times the fog took her away, he would work hard to bring her out into the light. If that meant spending every day like today, so be it.

Wiping away a tear and sitting up straighter, Scribbles smiled as Tomo started gently rambling a story from her childhood. It was one of his favorites. The little dragon pushed away any shadows from his thoughts and enjoyed the rhythm of the familiar words.

Tomorrow was another day… and there were always questions to ask and answers to give. For what was life without learning and love?

[thegeminisage]

ASK MEME

i got tagged by @runawaymarbles, tyvm i lov doing these

What book are you currently reading?

no books atm but i'm actually getting through the entire tag of a rarepair from ff13...only 41 fics :(

What’s your favorite movie you saw in theatres this year?

did i go to a theater this year...? surely at least once. OH YEAH i went to see sonic 2. since that's the only movie i saw in theaters this year that'll be my favorite one

What do you usually wear?

comfy-at-home clothes: tank top, shorts, no-show socks, hair fork, & bandana. out & about clothes: bandana & hair fork if i'm working or my hair needs washing, otherwise i keep it loose. a lot of black pants/shorts and bright glittery monochrome or tye-dye tank tops w/ black or rainbow choker, rainbow earrings, pride bracelet, smiley face ring, rainbow ring, ace ring, and sometimes my triforce necklace. if it's cold i will also wear rainbow arm warmers/socks and fingerless gloves with the pink peace symbols on them. if i'm REALLY dressing up i will wear rainbow tights under a long shirt or short dress. wow sorry this is the longest answer so far i just really love bright fashion!!! i can't believe god nerfed me by making plus sized clothes fucking suck so bad

How tall are you?

5’1 :/

What’s your Star Sign? Do you share a birthday with a celebrity or a historical event?

i think i'm actually a cancer LMFAO. and stuck with this username...idk about any celebrities but my birthday IS on the summer solstice which is absolutely bitchin' in my professional opinion. i could not possibly have asked for a better date although i do wish it didn't have to fall on father's day sometimes

Do you go by your name or a nick-name?

i go by liz which is not my legal first name. technically my legal middle name isn't liz either it's like elizabeth obviously but my first name is cringefail and nobody can spell it OR say it so i just don't tell most people what it is lol. i started going by liz when i was in 8th grade and sometimes my mom STILL messes it up...

Did you grow up to become what you wanted to be when you were a child?

no BUT as a kid i really really really really REALLY wanted pink hair. as an adult no one can stop me. kid me would be so jealous of adult me's look in EVERY way

What’s something you’re good at vs. something you’re bad at?

good at: dreaming. you know how in the 40s-60s most people dreamed in black and white because that was how tv looked? apparently if you play enough video games you'll get so good at controlling a simulated environment you can simply wake up on command. i never completely mastered lucid dreaming but it's a neat trick anyway. bad at: sleeping. exhibit a: i am answering this meme at 2:30 in the fucking morning, and i have not had 6 hours of uninterrupted sleep since december 10. that's like 28 days!

Dogs or cats?

CATS!!!!!!! i like dogs too tho

What’s something you would like to create stuff for?

i would love to draw some zelda art. i just need a new tablet sadly none of the old ones work with my pc

If you draw/write, or create in any way, what’s your favourite picture/favourite line/favourite etc. from something you created this year?

UGH i can't post it, it's in the undisclosed project

What’s something you’re currently obsessed with?

so a very long time ago when we were teenagers my brother showed me minecraft. i played half an hour of it and then gave the controller back and told him i couldn't keep going because i would quite literally never put it down if i did. unfortunately i did NOT show that same level of foresight and self-restraint when downloading the demo of SLIME RANCHER. in my defense i was utterly unprepared for its sheer potency. i played exactly four minutes of the demo before i caved and bought it - $5 was a steal - without realizing how absolutely lethal it is to combine adhd with a farming sim especially during seasonal depression months. this thing has been churning out dopamine so fast my stupid little rat brain can't keep up. i'm frying every last pleasure receptor i ever had as thoroughly as i possibly can. i am begging one of you to physically come to my house and uninstall it from my pc.

What’s something you were excited about that turned out to be disappointing this year?

andor 🙏 sorry to all andor enjoyers but it fucking sucked (except for the prison break)

What’s a hidden talent of yours?

i'm freakishly good at packing things. items into boxes, boxes into vehicles, organizing drawers and closets, etc. at my house we call it "tetrising" since i guess that's a pro gamer move that translates to the real world..................

Are you religious?

no i am disqualified for being gay <3

What’s something you wish to have at this moment?

a completed copy of this photo album i'm supposed to be making. i got behind bc i was playing slime rancher :(

ok im tagging @slaygentford @maulthots @brownbicon @machidielontheway @paty-ofarrell @ozymandiasdirge @moogleterra @marcelgerard @elsa12tmnt @smellslikebot @youngbenkenobi and anyone else who wants to do it, do it & say i tagged you!!

[gogysvisa]

no I've never sent an anon to blair nor do I plan to all my interactions with her were semi pleasant till they weren't and she went off the deep end

Forget anything else, this has me curious. What unpleasant interactions did you have with Blair?

Uh, lets see

tldr; just said some batshit insane stuff about dream and George which isn't bad because I enjoy that stuff, but it just got weirder and weirder until it got DEEPLY concerning, and it felt like I was looking at a young teenagers mental spiral through dream and George puppets? and it didn't help that the adults around her goaded her and fed into it to degrees that made me personally uncomfortable Ill post most of the stuff under a readmore because I've been sitting on it for a while, this isn't a critique of blair because she's already been critiqued to hell and back but mostly just my POV about how dangerous and batshit internet cults can be

I think I was around since almost the start right after she posted the dream and George chart analysis, I wasn't particularly in her inner group or anything, but like I said I enjoy batshit, she is actually quiet knowledgeable about astrology at such a young age and I was impressed and interested so I kept an eye out astrology wasn't where her interests in esotericism ended she was pretty much a standard internet young esoteric, enjoyed tarot and pendulums and of course if you followed her you'd know all about this mystical "rock" that her friend owned that she got answers from, I am still not certain if it was a pendulum or just a very strong LSD tablet so she'd use all these avenues along with all the other people in her server to divine certain futures for DNF basically, au's that they -me included- treated as reality because why not, its fun exploring stupid scenarios -vis a vis dream gay- but a lot of these scenarios were stupid and not really based on anything in reality or analysis just literally someone draws a card and suddenly everyone is mourning DNF's death or whatever, which, upon asking some of my friends who are into divining and tarot is not how this should be done anyways so I guess they just enjoyed projecting their shitty feelings and having people mourn with them just as a start to this paragraph, she was 16 at this point, with every coincidence she got right people went insane over her, I still vividly remember in 404cord where she put out a couple of dates based on transits that were interesting and she said something will happen in one of this dates, and one of those dates happened to be the Quiz Night and suddenly everyone was holding on to EVERY word she will ever say from that point, a huge sizable chunk of her cult basically came from 404cord. I don't use the word cult lightly btw, seeing how people interacted with her, the only correct word is her word, every other divination that Blair didn't agree with was cast aside even if people were once agreeing with it, the people around her either were mocking her or hooked onto every word hook line and sinker and some of the AU's she explored as if they were reality were very concerning starting with, the suicide fic, which she co wrote with an adult friend of hers, I sadly don't have an archive of it specifically but I do have screenshots of the day she started going insane about it

I am not critiquing the weirdness of this so much so as the ENVIROMENT that birthed the fact that they were talking about dream committing suicide as if it were a reality and blair was encouraged to continue? so much so to fully write it out?

the outline of the fic goes something along the lines of, dream compulsive straight, george is in love with him, they aren't together, dream gets married and has kids, kills himself because of straight pressures and george has to raise the kids which is hilarious out of context but concerning seeing it being treated as a feasible very possible alternate reality. She tends to hide behind "its not real" as a defense, and likes to illustrate they are "just talking as if its real" but that's just a common tactic in communities like these ones to try and appear more normal, trust me I am very sure she along with the people closest to her truly believed, genuinely, that there was an alternate universe where this is possible

they'd say shit like this all the time, and call themselves delusional and crazy, but just like people in this fandom tend to go "haha dnf dating haha im so crazy and delusional" yet still 100% believe it? these guys were the same, its partially why I stopped calling myself delusional, because I was faced with true delusion. they explored multiple scenarios like the suicide fic one but this one was the one that made me go Oh No... next up! all the insane adults around in her inner circle! messiah, van and iceglade come to mind immediately but I remember a couple others including obaba the 40 year old nice lady in the fandom, obaba I think genuinely thought they knew it was all fanfic so I don't think Ill go too hard on her and I have a feeling she felt bad for blair because of all the bullying she got from the fandom but the other adults were as insane as blair or even more blair would explore multiple nsfw scenarios with them and start hinting at them in the server, she would never say any of that stuff in the server because you know...16 year old... talking to 18,23,21 year olds about nsfw scenarios and then coming to this server which is mostly adults to also hint at that crazy shit

nothing was more surreal than seeing all these grown ass people literally believe the words of a 16yr old kid when she tells them that dream and george are into scat the whole adult thing was the biggest ick to me, seeing how she interacted with her inner circle and how they like, took advantage of her popularity to talk insane sexual scenarios about dnf with her was just....ew on so many levels I sadly don't have an archive of this because blair made sure to delete the nsfw stuff she said precisely for this reason, she'd also censor herself and such and I am personally not going to moral panic pander over a 16yr old being horny because who wasn't, at that age, but I am going to harshly judge all the adults around her who take advantage of that this thing is already long by itself, and honestly a lot of this stand alone big picture isn't the worse thing there is out on the internet or in this fandom, I know a lot of these people have moved on from the fandom or such but seeing all that in front of me an experiencing it just made me go "oh god I feel like I'm in a wild zoo documentary" and I wanted to share my POV/documentation of that wild ride because I am also a certain level of mentally ill

edited: removed the screenshots

[ahiddenpath]

What tools do you use for your art?

So I should first say that I do not consider myself an artist. I'm not sure how good my advice is, but I'll answer beneath the cut :D

My workflow goes like this:

Paper sketch -> Take photo with cell phone -> Trace my sketch in Photoshop (I use a Wacom tablet) -> Flip my sketch horizontal and see the horrors I have rendered -> Fix mistakes using the transform tool as best I can (I like to put the hair line art and facial feature line art on separate layers, knowing I will 100% need to lasso and move/resize these features) -> color in PS

I sometimes line my sketches with Microns and color with Prismacolor colored pencils, Crayola colors of the world colored pencils for skin tones, and Copic markers. I've had my Prismacolor colored pencils and my Copics since high school, so I definitely recommend them as long lasting (some of these things have survived two decades of use, although you do need to refill your Copics as you use the ink).

Sadly, these days I am less satisfied with my traditional work, now that I can easily see the many problems with them digitally. These problems are waaaaay easier to tweak digitally than traditionally ;_; But! A lot of my art has a traditional version that I don't upload! So sometimes I do "sketchbook tour videos" to show these off.

Oh, if you use Copics, I highly recommend Bee Paper Company Pen Sketcher sketch books! These are the best I've found for markers! I usually do rough sketches and design work in an Illo sketchbook, however, and these are not meant to be long-lasting (they aren't archival) and they frankly don't take product as well. However, I used to feel sort of like... Everything I made had to be "final illustration quality," and that really paralyzed me, the same way believing your first draft is the final product paralyzed me as a writer. Now, I use the "cheaper/non-archival" sketchbook as a place to play and think tank. I draw much more, and also more happily, when I approach sketching with this exploratory attitude.

For reference, my go-to is the source material, followed by pose reference photos meant for artists. I also love looking at old photographs and period clothing (sometimes I think PdA is a thinly veiled excuse to do this).

If I'm honest, I often feel fairly... Embarrassed? Trepid? About art and drawing, even though I've been drawing ever since I could hold a pencil. It's so easy to compare yourself to people who are far better than you and think, "Wow, my stuff is so bad!" So... Thinking of them as fun lil doodly doos has helped a lot. It's not my livelihood; it's okay if they're just fun sketches that I tossed some color on in PS!

Thanks for the ask, have fun drawing!

[dapandapod]

Leave behind your heart 4/5

Hi darlings!! Two things;

firstly, I decided to pour water on my computer two days ago and I am a little scared to turn it on, so this update comes to you from my tablet! And i am feeling super hightech about it.

secondly, today is the year dat (year!! date!!) of when I published the first chapter, and I really meant for it to be finished by today, because fun? But uh. Water on computer, and when I tried to finish it up, I realized this one needs another chapter. So Hurray? Another chapter coming!

Please enjoy, and hopefully the last chapter will be the last and be here somewhat soon

Warnings: pining, almost sex, light-ish angst? Idiots, the both of them, i guess a little creepy with witchers sprouting flowers?

Part 1    Part 2    Part 3            Part 5  On ao3

Jaskier arrives late at night to Vizima. It's too late to strike a good deal for a room for the night, and he ends up having to play for his upkeep. Normally, that wouldn’t be a problem, but ever since he realized that he is in love with Geralt, it’s been getting worse. Now he can pinpoint the reason behind every petal, every leaf. And there are so many of them now, because he can’t stop thinking about Geralt.

Geralt and his gentle hands. Geralt and his peculiar way of showing he cares. Geralt and his crooked smile when Jaskier sends him a wink.

It is too much to bear. 

He can only hope Geralt never figures out what kills him, if Shani doesn’t find an answer. This is the one thing he won’t lay on Geralt, this burden of his feelings that neither of them can do anything about.

Geralt, because he can’t return them, and Jaskier because he can’t stop feeling them.

So when Jaskier finds himself in the corner of the inn this evening, slightly elevated on the small stage and everyone's eyes on him, Jaskier feels it coming.

The itching in the back of his throat when his eyes sweep over the corners of the room, searching in vain for a familiar face.

He  takes a deep breath and plucks on the lute anyway. Sleeping outside is not as fun without proper company.

 Jaskier sings, gently and achingly sweet. He doesn’t have it in him to pull out the bawdy tunes, doesn’t have the energy to jump around and flirt. When the applause comes, he discreetly coughs into his handkerchief. Closing it quickly and hiding it, not wanting to see the drops of blood that stain the small petals.

 Shani greets him warmly when Jaskier finds her in the temple the next day. She pulls him into a hug and kisses his cheeks. But when he doesn’t flirt as he usually does, she frowns and pulls him with her to somewhere more private.

 “What is wrong, Jaskier? This is not a pleasure visit, is it?” Shani asks, sitting them down on a bench, still holding his hands in hers. Jaskier smiles at her sadly.

“As happy as I am to see you, my sweet, it is not.”

“What’s wrong? Is it Geralt? Are you sick?”

 Jaskier draws in a breath, but breaks into a coughing fit instead. He doesn’t hold back now, bending forward, eyes tearing up from the force of it.

Shani's hand is on his back, gentle and reassuring, and not the one he longs for.

He catches the petals and the blood droplets in his handkerchief and doesn’t hide it from her.

This is why he is here after all.

 “Oh Jaskier,” Shani says quietly when she notices.

“I don’t know what to do,” Jaskier whispers. “I don’t want to die.”

 ~~ 

 Geralt pushes Roach hard. It is not fair to her, he knows, but he can’t help himself. A sense of urgency is driving him forward, wishing, hoping, wanting to fix this.

 When they rest by the road at night, Roach taken care of and a lonely fire going, Geralt thinks. He thinks about Jaskier touching his hand, how it made flowers bloom. He thinks of Jaskier's smile, so easy and bright like a ray of sun. He thinks of the churning feeling every time he sees Jaskier seduce someone else, and the unease of leaving him behind for Yennefer.

It is strange. It makes his heart ache.

In a sense he always knew, but presented with the pieces like this, it is crystal clear. The spot next to his bedroll is empty. The night is too quiet. No poetry or lyrics or limericks are being thrown his way.

Because Jaskier left him.

 That thought alone rocks his resolution. Jaskier is in love, and he left Geralt behind. Jaskier never said a word about love. Not since the countess, and not since Yennefer.

What could Geralt possibly say to make the flowers go away? I love you?

Just the thought of saying it makes something tighten inside of him. His arm stings, and when he pulls the sleeve up, he can see another flowerbud has broken through his skin.

There is barely any blood, but the skin is angry and red.

The flowerbud is beautiful. Cornflower blue. Like Jaskier's eyes, he realizes. 

He can feel the vine tightening its grip around his arm, flexing under his skin.

 He wonders who wouldn’t love Jaskier back. Who makes him cough flowers? Yennefer seems to think things will be resolved if only they talked but… what if it doesn’t? 

He left Jaskier first. Time and time again, he left Jaskier behind.

 But still, Geralt pushes towards Vizima. He clings to the selfish hope, the selfish need of seeing Jaskier again.

 He doesn’t want to die alone.

 ~~

 Shani sits quietly until Jaskier has gathered himself.

“So you are part elf?” she asks. 

“Yeah,” Jaskier says, wiping at his mouth. He doesn’t like that there is this much blood now.

 Another beat of silence.

 “And you finally figured out you love him.”

 Jaskier's heart clenches. It is hard to breathe. She doesn’t even ask who. Is it really that obvious?

 “Does he know?” 

“That I’m part elf? Doubt it.”

“Jaskier.”

“I can’t tell him. I’m dying, and I won’t lay that burden on him.” Jaskier leans back against the wall and Shani moves her hand to his leg.

 His hands are shaking, so he closes them into fists, clenching the handkerchief tight.

 “Even if he loves you back?”

“He doesn’t.”

“But what if?”

“Then I wouldn’t be dying, would I?”

 Shani shuts her mouth at that. She looks like she doesn’t believe him, but she says nothing.

 “Help me, Shani. There must be something I can do?”

“There is,” she says quietly. “But you won’t like it.”

“I won’t tell him.”

“Will you stop loving him then?” Shani snaps back. “Fall out of love? Because there are only three ends to Hanahaki.”

 Shani’s hand is heavy on his thigh, and Jaskier closes his eyes. When he breathes out, he can almost feel the petals fluttering in his lungs.

 “I…”  Can’t. Won’t. Don’t want to. Jaskier doesn’t know how to finish the sentence, but Shani reads it on him anyway.

“Just talk to him,” she whispers, pleads. “Just try. Heaven knows that man keeps more bottled up inside than anyone I ever met. Maybe he's hiding something in there for you.”

 They sit in silence for a few moments, listening to the bustling of the temple around them.

 “I don’t want you to die, Jaskier. Not like this.” Shani leans into his side, and he wraps an arm around her.

“But it would be rather poetic, wouldn’t it?” Jaskier replies, but fear and sorrow lies in him, shedding one petal at the time.

 ~

 Geralt is resting at a crossroad when the calm breaks. He knew there were people behind him, but he had expected them to be merchants or soldiers or just common travelers.

They were not.

The first arrow misses; Geralt hears the soft whistle through the air and shifts out of the way moments before he registers what it actually was. Next, a man with a giant axe is running towards him, howling his warcry. Fucking bandits.

Geralt shapes his left hand to form Aard, but his arm is stiff and unwilling. The vines stiffen around his muscles, his skin too tight. It almost feels like it will rip. 

The man with the axe is closer now, and another arrow shoots through the air.

Geralt dodges to the side, but that places him in striking range of a man behind the first, armed with a sword and dagger. Geralt throws his sword up just in time, the blow making his arm shake from the force of it, and he has to jump back from the dagger aiming for his ribs.

Behind him, he can hear Roach startle. She has seen many battles before, and she knows when it’s time to run. The last thing he wants is to have her get hit by a stray slash or an arrow.

 Again, Geralt tries to raise his arm, this time for a Quen. It doesn’t take as big a movement, but something is wrong. He can feel it building in the tips of his fingers, but then his glove feels tighter, and only a vague glow appears around him.

Fuck.

 The fight after that is messy. Geralt has to rely on his swordsmanship, which is excellent, but his body is fighting him. He thought the vines and flowers were limited to his left arm, but now he feels something tightening over the right side of his ribs. He swears colorfully, and with a big swipe finishes the man with the axe.

Geralt pants heavily, his left arm close to his body, and stares the swordsman down. He looks young, still untouched by the violence around him.

 “Run,” Geralt says, stepping over the body of the axeman. He hears another arrow whistle past, and he just bends out of its way, never taking his eyes off the young swordsman.

“Run, or I will kill you too.”

 It works. The youngster tucks his tail between his legs and runs off, the bowman swearing protests from where he hides.

 Geralt can hear them flee, and he sags in relief. There is no saying how much more he could have taken. The blades barely touched him, but he can feel blood warm on the inside of his shirt arm where the skin broke from the exertion. 

 He walks towards the crossroad sign, sits down and leans back against it. Why the fuck didn’t his signs work?

Geralt pulls off his glove, wanting to glare his hand into submission. But on the back of his hand, the little flower bud has bloomed. It’s bigger than before, and there is a soft, flickering gold shimmer around it. It absorbed his Quen. Grew from it.

So that’s how it works.

 Geralt leans his head back, closing his eyes.

This is not good.

 ~

 Shani offers to let Jaskier stay with her in the temple, but Jaskier declines. At least for now. He has to think, feel. Write. Probably prepare for what he knows is about to happen.

Jaskier hides his coughing as best he can. He orders food to his room, not wanting to be around other people. Somehow it makes him feel more alone, and that is something he doesn’t want for himself.

 Jaskier lights the candles as the sun sets, and in the flickering shadows he writes.

He knows he cannot write of what is killing him, or who rather, because Geralt is bound to find it eventually. But he can write about other things. Of his friends many deeds. Of Yennefer, of Ciri, of the hidden things meant only for them.

  ~

 The town of Vizima is alive with motion and sounds and smells. Geralt likes and dislikes it. It is easier to hide in the masses, not standing out like a sore thumb at all times, just being a no one.

But it is also so much. All impressions, the indifference to each other's suffering, the stench of so many lives squeezed into one place. Yennefer likes to drag him between towns. Or liked. He isn’t sure she will anymore. But she flourishes in places like this, enjoying the play of power. 

 Walking down the street draws more stares than usual. More flowers have punched through his skin, buds and petals in different sizes forcing themselves into the open. Some of them shimmer with the strength of his signs, flowers vibrating with color and power. Some of them are hidden painfully underneath his armor, but the one growing at his temple is hard to hide.

He is still limping from the fight with the bandits, still bruised and aching.

 Passing through the city gates, he wonders where to start. Yennefer mentioned Shani. Maybe he can find her practice. Maybe she knows something. Anything.

 Geralt sets out, heading towards the temples. If he is familiar with anything in Vizima, it is with the healers. It’s been a while, but things have stayed roughly the same. The same old cobbled street and coughing beggars, the same old frauds trying to sell their 'miracle' remedies, curing impotency and smallpox and your neighbours cat’s itching.

 He finds Shani’s in Melitele’s temple, tending to a dwarf with a broken elbow. When she notices Geralt, her eyes widen and her mouth falls open, fastening the splint a little too tight so the dwarf makes a complaining sound.

 “Sorry,” she mumbles, waving to one of the priestesses to take over, and then she hurries to Geralt’s side.

“I didn’t know you were in town,” Shani says, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. She puts her hand on Geralt’s arm, right on top of one of the new buds, and he winces and pulls back.

“You alright?” she says, smile faltering, looking at him closer, noticing the flower at his temple. “Why are you wearing a-... Oh.”

“Yeah,” Geralt grumbles, grabbing her hand reaching out to touch it, and pulling it back down. “Please don’t. It’s tender. Can we talk?”

 Shani looks troubled but nods.

 She leads them off to a secluded little rose garden, its smell so sweet it is almost overpowering. Geralt can’t join her on the little stone bench. His body itches with the need to move, to do something, even though he is exhausted. 

 “Will you tell me about it?” Shani asks carefully, indicating the flowers that are sprouting from him. Geralt hums, he really doesn’t know where to begin.

“Yennefer said it’s a form of hanahaki,” he ventures, and Shani’s jaw drops.

“You… hanahaki?”

“It’s what the flowers are. Yennefer said magic wielders can get it too, but instead of coughing them up, we grow them in our bodies.”

“Geralt that’s…” Shani looks terrified and fascinated at the same time. “How long?”

 Since Jaskier left. Since their fight. Yennefer is right, these aren’t for her, but he can’t make himself say it.

 “I don’t know,” he mumbles instead, and Shani gives him a look that tells him just how little she believes it. He sits down on the stone bench next to her, and she stands up to examine the flower by his temple better, nudging herself between his knees for better access. 

 Her fingers are gentle, but his skin is angry red and hurting. Geralt tries not to wince when she touches the stem of the flower, but she notices anyway.

 “Hurts?” she asks, instead angling his head so she can study it better.

“Yes,” he confirms, and her breath hits his face as she sighs.

“Are there more? Can I see them?”

 Geralt leans back a little and she lets go of him, but stays where she is, warm and familiar and soothing. What they had all those years ago lingers between them. He trusts her, she will not withhold truths or blunt her words.

Taking off his glove, he hisses again. The flower shimmers in the light, a second bud now joining the first. Shani gasps when she sees it, carefully grabbing his hands in hers to inspect it closer.

 “It has an aura around it,” she mumbles, turning his hand this way and that.

“I had to use Quen, but it didn’t work. I think the flower fed on it.”

“Love can be cruel and hungry,” she says, and they are silent for a beat.

“There are more flowers, aren’t there?”

“And vines.”

 Shani’s eyes widen in shock.

 “Geralt, you know exactly how long this has been going on. This is dangerous. Have you at least tried to tell Yennefer how you feel?”

“She laughed at me,” Shani’s eyes darken with rage, so Geralt hurries to correct her. “Not like that. She said these are not for her, she knows what I feel for her.”

“Do you?” Shani says, no less angry.

“I… I thought I did,” Geralt says, carefully. “I know how rare this is, and how slim the chance is to survive. But I’m not here for me, I know my odds.”

“You idiot.” Shani sighs. “You stubborn, self sacrificing idiot. Who are you here for, my dear, dumb witcher?”

 She pulls him into a half hug, his head resting against her collarbone. 

 “If you will stop insulting me for a second, I could tell you,” Geralt says, and Shani huffs goodnaturedly.

“I will, if you actually try to talk to the person of your affections about it. Do I know her?”

 “I don’t know,” Geralt admits. He thinks Shani and Jaskier know each other. Didn’t they go to school together? “You might? They talk too much, never thinks ahead, never listens to me, we always get in trouble because of them.”

 If Shani picks up on how he used ‘they’ instead, she doesn’t say, but she snorts at the description.

 “You are right, it doesn't sound like Yennefer at all.”

“I… I need to see him. If I am going to die, I want to see him just once more. I won’t lay my end on him, but I need to know he is alright.”

“Why wouldn't he be?”

“I saw Jaskier cough petals. Just before we parted. I know you can’t cure feelings, but… is there any way to help him?”

 Shani leans back to look at him, her eyes sad and serious.

 “You either love, forget, or die, Geralt. Talk to him. Maybe you can help him.”

 Fuck, that hurts. Help Jaskier find love or help him forget.  

 “Have you seen him? Yennefer thinks he is in town.”

“I have. He should probably be here soon. Please just talk to him. Be honest.”

 Geralt smiles, but he knows he can’t be.

[purple-dahlias]

“What’s the point?” for recovering!au?

thank you for the request! sorry this has taken such a long time to get out,  but it’s here now! 

trigger warning for eating disorders, relapse and hospitals  

“You heading for the OR?” Connor asks, falling into step beside Ava as they exit the lifts together.

“Yep,” confirms Ava. “Got another CABG scheduled. Been almost practically back to back all afternoon. How about you?”

“Surprisingly, I’m free now. Patient cancellation.”

“Lucky you,” Ava grins as her phone pings in her pocket.

Taking it out, her eyes scan the notification, smile dying on her lips.

“Ava?” Connor asks, concern filling his voice as he eyes the expression on Ava’s face.

“It’s Sarah,” she manages, the words heavy in her mouth. “She collapsed in the ED.”

“Again?” Connor remembers the last time this happened, a little over four months ago.

Ava nods, knowing exactly what Connor is thinking. “I have to go,” she says finally. “Could you—“

Connor doesn’t let her finish her sentence.

“Go,” he says, placing a hand over her shoulder. “I’ll take your surgery.”

“Thank you,” Ava whispers, gratitude in her eyes as Connor waves her thanks away, nudging her gently back in the direction of the lifts.

“Let me know how she’s doing, yeah?” She hears him call as she steps into the lift, anxiety filling every inch of her.

The last three or so weeks had been insanely busy, for both Ava and Sarah, what with the way their shifts had worked out. It had meant in the end the two had always ended up missing each other, with one leaving as the other arrived, or one returning when the other was preparing to go. And with that, there had been little communication, other than perhaps a passing hello in the corridor, a kiss goodbye, or a hug before having to get out of bed at some ungodly hour. So having this knowledge, and with what she had just learnt, Ava knew this was a red flag. She knows almost exactly why Sarah had collapsed, and it’s hard for her not to blame herself.

Maybe, she thinks, if she had made more of an effort to ask, had paid more attention, had passed over some of her surgeries or post-ops to Connor, anything so that she could have been there more, she might have seen the signs.

She hopes, oh how she hopes she is wrong, and that this is completely unrelated, and that she is blowing this out of proportion, that there is some other, alternative reason.

But she just can’t shake the sick feeling that pools in her stomach as she exits the lifts beyond the Emergency Department.

She’s wracking her brain, trying to think of any rhyme or reason why this could have happened, if indeed it is what she thinks it is: the thought she just can’t seem to rid her mind of, the one that she keeps coming back to.

“Where is she, Maggie?” Ava asks, on seeing the charge nurse.

“Treatment four,” she hears, and doesn’t stick around for any more, heading straight there, heart beating at what she knows is well beyond the normal rate.

Ava pulls back the curtain to find April adjusting an IV line, while Natalie scrolls through what must be Sarah’s test results on her iPad, concern written across her face.

But her eyes fall on Sarah, lying there, looking so small and frail in her hospital gown.

“What happened?” Ava demands, and April leads her outside, just beyond the curtain, with Natalie following.

“Natalie called her down for a consult. Things were okay until she collapsed right there in front of the patient. Scared us all half to death,” April informs her softly.

“You might want to see these,” Natalie says, and Ava doesn’t miss the sadness in her tone as Natalie hands her the tablet.

It’s just what she had thought they would show, and Ava shakes her head, blinking back tears as she sees how much damage had been done, how much progress had been reversed in just 3 short weeks.

“According to her charts it looks like she’s missed her last two appointments with Dr Richardson. Did you know things were bad with her?” Natalie asks, a hand to Ava’s shoulder, and Ava feels like the worst person in the world.

“No,” she hears herself say, though it doesn’t sound at all like her voice.

This is all your fault. If you had paid more attention, this wouldn’t have happened.

“Ava,” she hears Natalie, noting how the doctor had switched to the voice she often heard her use with paediatric patients. “None of this is your fault.”

It’s as though she can read her mind.

“But it is. Sarah is supposed to be my responsibility,” Ava hates the way her voice sounds, broken, as she runs a hand through her hair.

“Some things you can’t control,” April says beside her. Ava knows she means well, but it’s all just wrong and backwards. Because for Sarah, this was all about control. Ironic, really.

“For now,” Natalie begins, that coaxing voice back, “you should just be with her.”

Ava just nods, letting the curtain fall behind her as April and Natalie take their leave.

She takes a shuddering breath and drags the stool to Sarah’s bedside, where she sits, taking hold of the thin, limp hand of her girlfriend.

“Ava?” Comes a voice, weak beside her, and Ava swears that if she wasn’t a cardiothoracic surgeon, she would have thought her heart had stopped.

“I’m right here, Sarah,” Ava tells her, squeezing her hand gently.

“Where am I?” Sarah asks, a little groggily.

“In the ED. April said you fainted.”

“Oh,” returns Sarah, her voice small, panic filling her face as she notices the IV line in her hand.

“Hey, hey, relax,” Ava croons, taking hold of both Sarah’s hands when she sees how distressed she is. “It’s just some fluids to help give you your strength back. You need them, okay bokkie,” Ava continues, using the pet name.

“No, I don’t! What’s the point?” Sarah cries out, every word punctuated with an agony that pierces Ava’s very soul.

“Nothing I do will work and I’m just so tired. I’m a psychiatrist. I know this is bad! I shouldn’t be having this problem. Ava you know I try, but…” Sarah trails off, and Ava can’t help but notice the way Sarah runs a finger over her clavicle, a subconscious habit she had.

“Sarah, I can’t even begin to imagine how hard this must be for you,” Ava begins after a pause. “But—“

“Then don’t,” Sarah grits out, harshly, cutting Ava off. “Please, Ava, just go,” Sarah practically begs, bunching up the thin bed sheets and turning to face away from her.

Ava sits there, a few moments longer, until it becomes clear that this won’t be going anywhere, that Sarah isn’t ready to talk.

Twisting her hands, she lets out a sigh she hopes is mostly silent.

“Okay,” she says, willing the heaviness in her voice not to be too pronounced. Ava stands and moves to adjust Sarah’s pillow just how she likes it, the only way she can think of right now to give Sarah a little more comfort. “But Sarah,” Ava gently tells her, “I’m here for you, okay. No matter what. Please know that.”

There’s no response. Not even a shift in the bedsheets. And if the machine monitoring Sarah’s vitals wasn’t still beeping quietly in the background, well, Ava doesn’t want to give much rise to that particular thought.

With a final kiss to the top of Sarah’s head, a last attempt to let her know she is here, Ava turns to leave, drawing the curtains back around Sarah.

“Well?” Natalie asks her from her position at the nursing station, breaking away from a conversation with Maggie.

Ava just shakes her head. She doesn’t know quite what to say. What does one say? Besides, Ava really doesn’t wan to have to talk right now. With anyone. All she can think about is how much she had let Sarah down. How she should have been paying attention. And now she couldn’t even get Sarah to talk, much less get to the bottom of what triggered this.

-

It’s windy up on the balcony, and the evening is drawing in as Ava stares out onto the city of Chicago, a hundred thousand lights twinkling below. There’s still no more word from Sarah herself. Only that Ava can gather loud and clear she wants to be left alone. Which is especially hard to know.

“Hey,” a voice says beside her, making Ava jump. The fact she didn’t even hear him coming is a telltale sign something is wrong. Ava normally never misses anything.

“Your CABG went off without a hitch,” he begins lightly, trying to gauge Ava’s mood.

“Wish I could say the same about other things,” Ava deadpans, staring off into the distance, her focus on nothing in particular.

“How’s Sarah?” Connor frowns, leaning against the railing.

“Nat messaged to say she’s being transferred up to a bed to stay overnight for observation. She still doesn’t want to see me.” It comes out a little cold, detached. And honestly, Ava’s just feeling more than a little numb right now, so that assessment it’s about right.

“She’ll come ‘round,” Connor assures, putting an arm around Ava, who leans into him.

“Ooh my ears are burning,” comes a familiar voice from behind.

“Oh, hey Nat,” Ava manages a weak, sort of washed-out smile.

“How are you holding up?”

How was she? How did one answer that? How was someone dealing with all of this supposed to be?

Connor’s phone buzzes, breaking the silence.

“It’s Latham,” he says, checking.

“You’d better go,” Ava tells him, grateful for the diversion.

“It’s gonna be okay, Aves. You’re gonna get through this. You both are.”

“Thanks,” Ava sniffs as Connor pulls her into a tight hug, wanting desperately to believe his every word.

And then he’s gone.

“How’s Sarah,” Ava asks, eyes trained on the spot Connor had just vacated. She’s almost afraid to hear the answer.

“Pretty much the same. I’ve paged Dr Charles though. I hope you don’t mind?”

Ava shakes her head sadly. “Maybe he’ll have better luck than me.”

“Oh, Ava,” Natalie hums, holding her close, up there on the balcony. She doesn’t even care that Nat is probably using some of the tactics she uses on kids down in the ED. Because all Ava wants to do is believe things will be okay.

“How about I drive you back to yours so we can grab some things for Sarah?” Natalie suggests, filling the silence, smoothing Ava’s hair.

Ava agrees with a small nod. That seems like a logical suggestion. And in any case, she’s not sure she should be driving herself anywhere right now.

“Great,” Natalie says softly, her arms still safely around Ava. “And Ava, I promise you: everything will work out. It may not seem like it right now, but it will.”

There’s a fierceness in her voice, and Ava just clings to her. She wants to believe her. Wants it to be true with her whole heart. Because it has to be.

[jjk-biased]

jungkook x reader

requested by @atulipandarose (oooh soulmate/jungkook/one shot!! it's been big missing jk hours over here)

genre: fluff, soulmate au

words: 2.5k of dumb jungkook pining

warnings: none >< cussing here and there, also my first time writing just fluff so please be kind. unedited!!!

synopsis: jungkook never loved the idea of soulmates because he liked you and he wanted only you.

masterlist | events masterlist

There it was, the panging he felt in his heart even if he wasn’t the person in pain. As his chest throbbed, it was emotional pain he supposed, the song began to play in his head. He gritted his teeth, upset to have been reminded once again of the world he lived in. 

The world had to be so stupid to believe in such nonsense. It was idiotic. They had to be so naive to rely on  this whole scam - to the point where they even revolve their lives around it. 

It isn’t true. It’s far-fetched. This whole soulmate system wasn’t reliable.

He lived in a world where the universe decided who each person’s other was. Soulmates existed. It was everywhere. And he didn’t like it one bit.

Whoever made the world like this had to be an utter idiot. Why would anyone allow something like this to take over people’s lives? This bullshit soulmate system gave people a false sense of hope that someone out of the millions and millions of people would be the only right person for you. That somehow, out of 7.5 billion people, someone would be the perfect yin to your yang. 

It shouldn’t exist. Soulmates shouldn’t exist. 

Come to think of it, how can the universe even be so sure that the person they have “destined” for him is the right one? And, honestly, who even gave the universe the right to choose for him?

Fuck the universe, Jeon Jungkook wanted to pick for himself.

He thought this whole sham was an inconvenience. Unlike almost every love-crazed and soulmate-addict person, he thought otherwise. Jungkook felt suffocated at the thought of being tied down to someone who he probably didn’t even like. He didn’t need whoever they had for him. He didn’t have to meet this so-called pre-destined love of his life to live happily.

Actually, he did. Or else he would forever be haunted by it. He’d go crazy.

People had different “soulmate indicators” -- basically something in their body that gave them a hint on whoever they were destined for. Namjoon, his writer friend, had a tattoo of his soulmate’s name on his collarbone. Jimin, the short friend, had a ring on his finger with the initials of his soulmate and would even change colors depending on the mood of his other. One part of Taehyung's hair is the same color as his soulmate’s, regardless if he tried to dye it along with his locks. 

To say the least, theirs were easy to find, to discover - much more convenient than what the universe had in store for dear Jeon Jungkook. His had to be the most vague indicator of this whole scam. 

A song.

The universe gave Jungkook one specific song that only he and his soulmate knew. Not a name, not a ring, not even a hair color. Just one fucking song. 

Jeon Jungkook didn’t want to believe in this obviously fraudulent scheme that the universe set up. Despite his woes and resentment towards the system, Jungkook couldn’t exactly ignore it. The song, somehow sung by both him and the soulmate, always played in his head whenever he or the other would feel down. Somehow, it only played when any of them were sad. Not when they’re happy. Not when they’re angry. Not when they’re bored. Only when one or the other wasn’t feeling well.

But hey, at least he knew when it would start. 

There would always be a pang in his chest before it began. It was akin to when the dog dies in the movie, or when someone relayed bad news, or when the character in a book had to leave. The weird feeling would be eased immediately as soon as the song played in their head. It would lull him to sleep, he guessed it held the same effect for whoever was on the other side, and would make him feel at home. 

But he did not like this soulmate bullshit. 

Not one bit.

Even if the song brought him great comfort. Even if it was the only thing he looked forward to when he had a bad day. Even if his soulmate’s honey-like voice blended well with his. 

Wait shit, he should be hating this nonsense. Why did he just think that his soulmate sang nicely?

Fuck it. Forget what he thought. It didn’t matter anyway. 

He had other things to think about anyway, especially how to gain the courage to ask his friend out. 

Jungkook is currently and sadly a college student, who, aside from drowning in student debt, studies fine arts. He hopes to become a renowned artist someday, and in pursuing so, had to disobey his typical Asian parents’ wish for him to be called Dr. or Atty. someday. 

Soulmate hatred aside, art had always been his passion. Despite growing into a family full of doctors, lawyers, and judges, he knew his heart belonged in fine arts. When his brother would play with the toy syringes and stethoscopes, he would be seen getting himself dirty with the washable markers. That love for coloring grew into something more, and so Jungkook decided he would become an artist in the future. 

It was always so freeing for him to dabble in the blues and greens and create whatever he visualized in his mind. The pencil in his hand could easily convey the emotions he had trouble vocalizing. All of his troubles would go away faster than you can say worldwide handsome Jin-hyung with the aid of his drawing tablet. Everything about art just intrigued him. Art was easy. Art was comforting. 

Art is where he felt free.

It wasn’t suffocating. Unlike his family that wanted him to be someone he couldn’t become and this soulmate shit that wanted to cuff him down to one specific person he doubts would even go well with him. 

He wanted the soulmate system gone. For reasons that seemed justified to him and only him. 

He could live without the incessant nagging of his very traditional family who wanted to sped things up. Jungkook would finally stop seeing some of his soulmate-less acquaintances miserable. He could finally go on with his sad day without the song that would automatically play in his head. 

Wait… that last thought made him feel sad. Perhaps he would miss the song after all. 

Anyway, and above all, he could finally court his cute friend without having to worry of the soulmate shabang. 

Jungkook didn’t want whoever the universe paired him with. He wanted his cute seatmate and friend, Y/N Y/L/N.

Y/N Y/L/N. Your name was perfect. 

The way your name rolled off his tongue felt just right. The way your nose would scrunch as you focused on sketching the naked dude who had to pose in front of everyone. The way you would tilt your head when the professor never made sense with his discussions. 

Everything about you was just so… perfect. 

You were kind-hearted, considerate, and intelligent. Your humor was unmatched and you were very enthusiastic when you conversed with Jungkook. From a small crush, his liking towards you grew into something he couldn’t exactly ignore. He liked you more than he liked to listen to the duet in his head.  

Okay… scratch that. Maybe he did like his significant other’s singing voice. It eased his worries after a troublesome day. Admittedly, he had found comfort in it.

If only the universe allowed him to converse with whoever was on the other side, then maybe he didn’t have to loathe this system so much. He could’ve gotten a friend out of it, not a soulmate… but a friend. 

Somehow, his thoughts wandered back to you. God, imagine if you were his soulmate. Jungkook would be more than happy if that happened. But he didn’t need the universe to act on his feelings for you. Jungkook will do something… He knew he had to do something about it. He just didn’t know when. 

All of his thinking made Jungkook revert to airplane mode, so it was only then that he noticed you concernedly waving your hand in front of his face for a sign of consciousness. He found your scrunched up face painstakingly cute but holy shit… why are you so close? Please don’t be so close. Jungkook would malfunction if you decreased the space between you two even more. 

“Are you okay, kook?” You luckily stepped back once he locked eyes with you. 

 Ah… that sweet voice of yours that could rival the comforting honey-like singing in his head.

“Y-yeah! Sorry, was spacing out,” Jungkook’s words were jumbled as he noticed he was staring at you like a gaping goldfish instead of answering like a normal person. 

Your giggles rang throughout the room at his predicament. He crookedly grinned then laughed along. This must be heaven. Your happiness was always contagious and he’d often mirror the smile on your face whenever you were happy. 

You made him feel giddy as much as he did on the days he finished his artworks. You made him complete. 

But that damn soulmate thing had to ruin it. 

How he wished you were his soulmate. 

“I thought something happened to you, kook! Mr. Kang dismissed us some time ago but you were still frozen in your seat when everyone left. I was so… worried,” You chuckled, though quite red and hesitant at the end. 

Well did that instigate the butterflies in Jungkook’s tummy. 

“Concerned for me?” Jungkook teased, it was his go-to response because he couldn’t exactly flirt in straight sentences. 

Your eyebrows furrowed but the pink hue became much more evident. Jungkook didn’t even mind the kick you gave him because he made you feel a bit flustered. Success :D

“Taehyungie’s been busy, hasn’t he?” You said, trying to change the subject so everyone could forget the embarrassment.

Taehyung, the theater kid and drama major, was friends with the both of you. He had been busy for the past month because their project was to create a series of plays to showcase to the school. Their show will be on Tuesday, days away from now. 

Right! He could invite you to the play.

“He is… Hey,” You tilted your head and hummed when Jungkook’s voice sounded a bit unsure. 

“Do you wanna go with me to the play?”

The red on your face and the shy nod you did made him swell in accomplishment. He can’t wait for Tuesday to come. 

Fuck.  He should’ve waited for Tuesday to come. Now it is Tuesday and he was too nervous to even stand in a five-meter radius near you. Slapping himself to forget the momentary faltering of his confidence, he shakily waited at the foot of your doorstep with an album in his hand. 

You two bonded on music and he knew you well enough to know you’d rather have the CD of your favorite artist than some flower that would wilt after awhile. He was right. The beam on your face when he handed over the gift made him so happy that all his nerves were washed away. You always had a way to ease him, even if you weren’t aware. 

“M’lady,” He jokingly tried to replicate a british accent as he offered his arm, waiting for you. And as you always would, you took his arm along with an accent-laced, “M’lord,”

Jungkook forgot his worries for a moment and it was always because of you. 

You two sat near the stage to support Taehyung with his play. You two remembered him sharing that their play was about a soulmate-driven world with much more darker consequences. It was about the fictional hanahaki disease, he said. 

And boy did it feel so sad. Taehyung acted so well, as if he was really losing his character’s best friend onstage. Jungkook peered at you for a moment and saw your eyes glisten as Taehyung’s cries grew louder and louder. 

The story was really heartbreaking.

To the point where Jungkook felt the familiar pang on his chest and the song began to play in his head. 

How peculiar. His soulmate was sad just as Taehyung’s scene played out. Perhaps they were in the same auditorium as well. But that was impossible. His soulmate was probably watching some soap opera. 

Not that he minded. Jungkook had other things to think about, especially how to comfort you as your tears flowed down from the actors’ amazing performance. As slick as he could, he draped an arm around you and let you rest your head on his shoulder. His heart was beating faster than he could comprehend. Even more so, when you scooted closer to him.

Fuck. You were cuddling. Oh my god. Jungkook is gonna die out of happiness. 

He had to play it cool though. Jungkook ignored the warmth in his chest and face as he rubbed your arm in consolation. He was surprised you reacted well. Nothing prepared him for what happened next. 

You were humming. 

You were humming his song. 

hOLY SHIT. HOLY SHIT YOU WERE HUMMING HIS SONG. 

You… were his soulmate.

Okay universe… Unfuck you, Jungkook guessed. Apparently the universe was on his side after all… All he had to do was somehow tell you…

Jungkook, his face now an uncontrollable red, nervously turned towards you and successfully got  your undivided attention. God, he could die then and there. Gathering courage from glob knows where, he smiled and sang the first line of the song. 

Universe might have been laughing at him for suddenly changing his views. Jungkook would’ve laughed at himself if he found out the double-back on his opinion. But this was you. 

You and your cute nose scrunch, you and your adorable head tilt, you and your witty comebacks.

This was you.

Everything about you was perfect, and he couldn’t believe that the universe liked him enough to grace him with you as his soulmate. 

何故 こんなにも 涙が溢れるの

[Naze, konna ni mo namida ga afureru no]

Your eyes widened as he sang the song that felt like home to the both of you. 

ねぇ 側にいて そして笑ってよ

[Nee, soba ni ite soshite waratte yo]

You joined in on the singing and everything just made sense. None of the leaving people in the auditorium mattered at the moment. 

君のいない未来は 色のない世界

[Kimi no inai mirai wa iro no nai sekai]

Jungkook was so happy. It seemed like the world was brighter than before.

モノクロで冷たい

[Monokuro de tsumetai]

He shouldn’t have doubted the universe’s plan. Everything was better with you. 

見つめてる 暗闇さえも so beautiful

[Mitsumeteru kurayami sae mo so beautiful]

You smiled shyly as your soft honey-like voice harmonized with him. 

僕を信じてほしい

[Boku wo shinjite hoshii]

Jungkook’s smile grew wider, encasing your delicate hand in his.

まっすぐに君だけを見て

[Massugu ni kimi dake wo mite]

For once in his life, he was happy and it was better because he was happy with you.

どこにも行かないように

[Doko ni mo ikanai you ni]

You two shared a kiss that afternoon, on a Tuesday, at the university’s auditorium.

permanent taglist: @luvinseokjinnie @97faerie @amoreguk @bbyjoonies @borednia @tanumiki @taescake

[Extra]

Jungkook: Hey Taehyung! Congrats, that play was amazing

Taehyung: ...yeah… but why did you two make out when I died onstage?

You: ahahaha bye.

[wulfies-kpop-fanfics]

One Photo → Mark Lee [2]

↳  Pairing: Mark Lee/Reader

↳  AU: Soulmate!AU - The first touch of two soulmates permanently scars their bodies.

↳  Word count: 2,610

↳  Chapters: Prelude | 1 | You Are Here! | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

⁙ Summary: For an end of the year photography project, you’re tasked with taking a photograph for your favourite group, NCT127, and coincidentally, discover your soulmate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TUESDAY - 2

The next day you get up to your alarm, a little groggy and on autopilot. You mumble a greeting to Rhiannon who is already in the kitchen, eating a bowl of cereal. It's not uncommon for you to be undressed in front of her, so she barely reacts for a few moments when you reach into your clean clothes hamper in the living room and begin to change right there. 

However, in the midst of putting on your bra, Rhiannon squeals in excitement, nearly making you pee yourself.

“What the hell?!” You exclaim, now convinced that you're fully awake. 

“You-your front! Your entire torso! Look!” Rhiannon stands from the little dining table and approaches you, poking your stomach. You nearly let out a scream yourself when you see it.

Your entire torso, from collarbone to hip is completely covered with scar tissue, as well as the underside of your arms and the palms of your hands. “Rhiannon, I-” 

“Turn around.” She spoke quickly, and you obey her. She is silent for a little while, which is freaking you out even more than you already were. When she traces an outline over your right shoulder blade, your skin twitches in response. “(Y/N), this is the largest soulmate scar I've ever seen,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. 

“I-” You're barely able to stutter out any words. You stand there, half-naked as your best friend examines you.

“Does it hurt?” Rhiannon pokes and prods on the newly formed scar tissue, primarily focusing on your shoulders.

“N-no, not at all.” You purse your lips. You feel like normal if not a bit overwhelmed. 

“This has got to be from a hug,” she concludes, nudging you to turn you back around. “There are perfect handprint scars on your back, too. You hugged Mark yesterday, right?” 

“He, uh, hugged me three times,” you confirm. “Johnny and Jaehyun hugged me twice.” 

“Then it's one of them!” Rhiannon is squealing with delight. “That is so exciting!” 

Your face fell a little, finishing putting on your bra and shirt you picked out for the day. “Yeah,” you say softly.

“What's wrong?” Rhiannon is beginning to look concerned, ghosting a hand over your shoulder.

“It's Mark,” you state, “I can feel it, but…”

“But what?” 

“If that's true, everything changes. When he leaves, am I going to be able to handle it?” you finish getting dressed and stop to look at your hands. “I… I already know I won't be able to handle the depression and separation anxiety, I won't be able to handle being constantly sick… I was never taught about any of this and I never even thought it would happen to me.” 

“(Y/N)...”

“I need to go. I have class.” 

~

You took in a deep breath as you gripped your tablet pen. You had been spending the last month's worth of photoshop labs on drawing a picture of Iron Man for your digital rendering final, and you had been doing well enough until today. Now that your hands had part of your scar, they gripped your pen differently and you were slowly growing more and more frustrated. 

It's not that you were angry that you had found your soulmate, and you were definitely happy it was Mark- but everything was happening so quickly. What were you going to say to him? Would his scar ruin his career? Were you ready for any of this? You looked up to your computer screen, seeing your reflection in the black screensaver. Seems like you had been overthinking long enough for the monitor to go to sleep.

You can see the buds of forming tears in your reflection. They were totally uncalled for and you knew it. Finding a soulmate was a happy time. In a world where all of this was completely normalized, you had no idea why you suddenly started feeling like a freak. On your way to class, you had already started to feel eyes on you. Most scars were small, dainty and cute, like a handshake or a poke to the shoulder- not a giant one that covered your entire chest, the inside of your arms and the palms of your hands. Scars larger than an apple were extremely rare, and ones like yours were the rarest of all.

What a wonderful scar, you heard your teacher say when you walked into class that morning. They say that if your scar is big, you're meant to be together for more than one lifetime. 

Maybe that was true, and it felt like a big responsibility you weren't ready for. You jumped in your seat when your phone vibrated in your pocket. 

Mark: Are you in class?

You: Yeah, but it's almost done

Mark: What is your classroom number? I'd like to pick you up if that's okay

You: Are you sure? 

Mark: Yeah! I wanted to spend more time with you today, I feel like it wasn't enough yesterday 

You: You're cheesy 

You: My classroom is 103A in M building 

Mark: You know it

Mark: See you soon 

You found yourself smiling at his texts. Talking to him eased some of your anxiety, but it still lingered in the back of your head. You put your phone down and shake your mouse so the screen comes back to life. Iron Man stares back at you, and you almost close the program. Your thoughts were irrational, and the only thing your scars were stopping you from doing was finishing the touch-ups of the last few pixels of this piece. 

Your hands will get used to it, you scold yourself, this is a good thing, (Y/N). You're not your parents.

You're snapped out of your thoughts again as your classmates begin to pack up, the quiet rustle of backpacks filling the room. You look back at your piece, over a month's work put into it and all you needed was maybe five minutes more of touch-ups and it would be perfect. 

The next time this classroom was going to be used was later tonight for the college's dungeons and dragons party, so you didn't think anyone would mind you staying to finish up.

The five minutes of touch-ups turned into 20 minutes of improving mistakes you've noticed, and 20 minutes of improving mistakes turned into an hour of being completely absorbed in your work. You had been so focused on everything that you barely even perk up when you hear one of the computer chairs rolling closer to you.

“I thought you went home, Moose,” you say casually, sticking your tongue out and swiping a line of light reflection onto a strip of red plating. 

“You have a friend named Moose?” The voice replies, and you nearly jump out of your seat, the pen swiping across the tablet and drawing a large white streak across Iron Man's face.

“Mark,” you sigh, placing a hand on your chest and trying to take in a deep breath. “You scared me.” 

Mark smiled sheepishly. “Sorry…” he looks at your computer screen. “I didn't mean to ruin your piece.” 

You smile gently, hitting ctrl z on your keyboard. The streak disappears, you save the piece and turn off the computer. “It's okay. I'm just lucky I don't have autosave turned on.” 

Mark sighed with relief. “You kinda scared me,” he starts, looking you in the eye. “You didn't come out of the classroom for so long that I thought you might have forgotten. I probably would have left if your teacher didn't recognize me and say it was okay for me to come inside.” 

Your frown at him and avoid his eye contact, deciding to focus on zipping up your backpack. “I'm sorry,” you say dejectedly. “I was dumb, but I would just be a downright moron if I stood you up on purpose.” 

Mark laughed softly, watching you pack up. “What did you want to do today?” he asked, voice softer. 

“I don't know,” you say, standing and slinging your backpack over your shoulders. “I would like to drop this off at my dorm, though. It's kinda heavy.” 

“Okay,” Mark nods. “We can start with that and go from there.”

While you travelled back to your dorm, nearly all of your anxiety about your scars disappeared. You talked about anything but the scar that was easily noticeable through your summery outfit. The more people looked at you, the more you wonder if Mark was keeping quiet out of courtesy for your aversion to his first question on the subject. 

Mark was sweet, complimenting your outfit and keeping up a strong conversation about marvel movies.

“Have you seen Endgame yet?” you asked him once you got back to the subject of Iron Man, and Mark laughed sadly.

“To my disappointment, no,” he answered, letting you board the subway first, pulling up his face mask. “Haven't had the time.” he stood close enough to you on the busy subway car that you could still hear him properly.

“Well, if you want we could see it,” you offer quickly, blushing and looking away as you saw his smile through his eyes.

“Are you asking me out, (Y/N)?” he asks, nudging you gently with his elbow. 

“N-no,” you respond, swearing up and down mentally that you were as red as a tomato. 

“I would graciously accept, but how about we wait until tomorrow? I want to catch up a little bit, I haven't watched any of the films in a while, I've been so busy preparing for the tour.” Mark smiled when you turned back to look at him again.

“Okay, well, I have all the films at my dorm,” you say, biting your lip.

“Would your roommate be okay if we stayed in?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, she would be more than okay,” you tell him, which causes both of you to start laughing. “She will probably faint if she sees you again.”

“I think I've had my lifetime fair share of people fainting in front of me,” he says humorously. 

“I wouldn't worry. She is working on her finals today and probably won't be back until after you leave,” you say. “We will have the place to ourselves.” 

“Okay, that sounds good. I'm looking forward to catching up. Do you have popcorn?” he asks sheepishly. 

“Yeah, we-” the subway comes to an abrupt stop at your station, and you nearly lose your balance. Mark catches you before your face ploughs directly into his chest. He’s holding your arm gently as you exit the subway car, and it is then you truly notice that Mark's scars are clearly visible, from his palms to the edge of his t-shirt, just like you.

When you get back to your dorm room, you place your bag and your shoes in the hallway, leading Mark inside. He pulls down his mask and sighs happily, joining you in removing his shoes and placing them on the shoe rack.

“I remember when my dorm was about this size,” he says wistfully, looking around. You frown a little. 

“You mean everyone in NCT used to live in a place like this?” you ask, walking into the kitchen to prepare a pack of popcorn.

“Not exactly, the different subgroups all had their own dorms, but they were all tiny, for more than 3 guys to live in at once.” Mark wanders over to you in the kitchen, leaning back on the counter and crossing his ankles.

“I'm sorry,” you say. “I hope it's different for you now.” 

“Yeah,” he replies, watching you put the popcorn in the microwave and press the appropriate numbers. “We all live pretty comfortably now.”

You smile at him. “Good, I'm happy. You deserve to live in a place where you're comfortable.”

Mark is silent for a moment. The microwave finishes and he moves out of your way as you grab a large mixing bowl to put your snack in. He’s watching you diligently, and you feel that too familiar pinch in your chest. It's more intense than you've ever felt from just watching internet content of him on your laptop.

“What film did you want to start with?” you ask, leading him to the living room as you pull a tote bag out from under your coffee table that contains your Marvel movie collection. “We can just watch Infinity War if you want, or we can watch them in story order if you're feeling a little daring.” 

“You know the order to watch them chronologically?” he asks, sitting down with the popcorn bowl in his lap. 

“Yeah. Rhiannon and I watched them all in order up to the release of Endgame.” 

“Wow, I'm impressed,” Mark comments, popping a couple of pieces of the snack into his mouth. “What's the order of the last three films?” 

“Let me see… it's Thor Ragnarok, Ant-Man and the Wasp and Infinity War,” you answer. “Wanna watch those?” 

“Yeah. Let's do that.” 

A few hours later you both are now watching Infinity War, about halfway through the film. A blanket had made its way over your laps and the popcorn bowl has been long empty, sitting on the coffee table in front of you. 

You can tell Mark is nervous. You're sitting close, your legs nearly touching, and you wonder if you should say something. You hoped you didn't scare him away from saying anything when the topic was brought up the night before. You didn’t want your bitterness to ruin it all.

Once you spare one glance from the movie to look over at him, you notice Mark has already beat you to it. His gaze pierces right through you, and somehow you feel as if Mark is seeing your soul.

“I don't want to make you uncomfortable,” he says, half-smiling at you. “I don't want to repeat yesterday's mistake.”

“It's okay,” You say softly, “you didn't know.” 

“But I should have.” He sounds serious and definitely looks the part, too.

You lick your lips as you watch him. There's something that hits you, like a wave of anxiety that is different from your own. 

“Mark,” you have to pause to gather your words. “You've known me for two days. Mistakes are bound to happen, and I… I don't actually hate the premise.” 

“Would you be okay with, um, talking about it?” The movie is playing in the background, the flashing images reflecting different lights onto Mark's face.

“There is not much to talk about, is there?” you asked, holding up your scarred hand. “It's here, on both of us, and I'm happy. Scared, but happy.” 

“You're not upset about it?” he asked, and it was almost like he was bracing for rejection. 

You took his hand, lacing your fingers with his. “No. You said you wanted to know someone so well that you didn't have to think about it, right?”

“Yeah, I did.” Mark returned the grip, his eyes glancing between your eyes and your hand. “You're right, we don't have to think about it.” Mark smiles softly at you, freeing his hand from yours so he can wrap his arm around your shoulder, guiding you to lean into his side.

It's maybe two hours later when you're stirred ever so slightly by the jiggling of the lock to your front door. You don't open your eyes, trying to ignore the sound and continue to cuddle into the warm body squished against you on the couch. 

Soft voices are muffled through your ears, and in your half slumber you can't exactly make any words out. Fatigue eventually grips you once again, returning to the vivid dream you were engrossed in just moments ago. 

[blastoisemonster]

Pokèmon World Magazine: Porygon Net (Various Issues)

We’ve had a very long streak of Photoset posts lately, didn’t we? Let’s have a little break from anime and tie-in games and let’s go back to oldschool Pokèmon and my favourite childhood magazine, Pokèmon World!

This summer I'm working on my own portfolio site: it's getting built from scratch and, due to the kind of art it's going to showcase, I'm designing its layout to look like one of those old personal pages a lot of Internet users used to have back in the first 2000s. This choice was also influenced by one of my childhood dreams, which was, infact, owning a corner of the Net all for myself; without the right equipment or spare money to purchase a domain, though, the idea of having my page online was only hypotetical, so all I could do was designing some cute layouts on Microsoft Frontpage and admiring what others were doing. Of course, as Pokèmon was my main interest at the time, I found the Porygon Net section of Pokèmon World mag to be extra inspirational.

Porygon Net was a very small section with just a double page: every month, the magazine's staff would choose and review an italian site dedicated to everyone's favourite monsters. These online corners were, most of the times, built by fellow readers and fans who sometimes even wrote back either by mailing the staff or boasting about it on their site's news section, thanking for the feature and the subsequent wave of new visitors. As these places were built by teens or even kids (I may have seen some online pages managed by 10 year olds at the time o.o), their quality varied greatly depending on their web-making skills: some were very simplistic, other more orderly and neat, and some... showed potential, but needed more work. Pokèmon World's staff, though, never mocked these attempts, and instead also published suggestions to make certain parts of the site more functional and pleasing to the eye. I found this very encouraging, and I wonder if many of these people have continued with a career in the online world.

I went and browsed among my mag issues to find some sites to showcase: I mostly picked the ones that stuck in my mind since reading about them, or that I actually used to visit back in the day. Wayback Machine may have not been kind to the italian community, and I fear the majority of these sites are now lost; however, I'll post links if, surprisingly, I find them still alive!

Issue 4: Pokemon Mania

The pictures have been displayed in chronological order, but I still would've chosen to display this site first as I used to actually visit it before it was featured on Pokèmon World. Due to its easy and straightforward name, Pokèmon Mania was one of the first fansites to show up on the search engine if you ever looked for more Pokèmon content. It was managed by a guy with the alias of Professor Kao, and the whole feeling of the site was that of a Pokemon lab at the start of your monster journey. Though it wasn't exactly a marvel in terms of layout esthetic, the site aimed to amaze with content: it had simple browser fangames, a section dedicated to drawing tutorials (with pictures taken from japanese sources- which at the time were very scarce and hard to get!), many sections dedicated to the Cardgame (apparently, the main focus of Kao's Pokèmon interests) and its live tournaments, and one centered on the monsters' trivia. One very interactive section even proposed quizzes given by the webmaster himself that visitors could answer via mail: Kao would then contact winners and even send out special official merch like Pokèmon Center plushies or other branded toys. Generous! This site has been preserved in the Wayback Machine with a lot of snapshots, though unfortunately without many graphics. We can still navigate and read most of the sections!

Issue 20: Pokemon Museum

My second site of choice striked me with its very homely layout: even looking at the snapshot in its article feels like I'm viewing a cozy corner of the Net, in which the webmaster poured its personal thoughts and passions more than providing a service like PokèmonMania did. The issue is number 20 and quite some months have passed: online trends regarding these kind of pages had changed a bit and now people preferred to offer their own content instead of copy-pasting what Nintendo produced. Pokèmon Museum's graphics have all been drawn by the owner, Kabutops: the background texture, banner, and a lot of the graphics all around the sections! Kudos for being to prolific and precise during a period in which digital art still hadn't reached its peak popularity, and drawing tablets were only restricted to professionals. Going past the many sections dedicated to the anime, games and lore, one interesting aspect was the beginning of affiliates: fellow webmasters were starting communicating with eachother and sharing their visits by dedicating a little button to other sites. I loved the affiliates section because, once finished looking through a site, I could click on the cute little rectangle banners and find myself in another home without passing from Google searches! But webmasters wouldn't affiliate with everyone, and for the purpose of only interacting with other best Pokèsites, awards had become popular as well: graphics that people would exchange after rating a site and feeling impressed with their content, presentation, or popularity. Pokèmon Museum's magazine review focused on its affiliates and the awards, inviting fellow readers to have their site reviewed by Kabutops. Unfortunately, the site is not present on Wayback Machine. I'll never know if Kabutops came back updating its museum after summer vacations :(

Issue 35: TBPS

Let's have another jump of several months; issue 35 featured a page under the bigger domain Pokevalley and named itself The Best Pokèmon Page, rather narcissistic! This was one of those rare times Pokèmon World featured an english-speaking site. The layout doesn't impress me too much, yet the fact that the header reads "Crystal Water Version" conveys that the webmaster(s) used to periodically change aspect and palette of their site, an activity that proved to be very prolific for many page owners at the time: sites were often in construction, and people were experimenting with different colours or HTML code tricks to impress viewers and reviewers, have as many affiliates as possible and collect positive awards from other sites. Such was popularity, back in the day! The site has a long menu with many sections dedicated to the main games and movies; although, none of those pages were catching anyone’s attention anymore as everyone had the same copypasted guides and info; instead, what’s interesting is the hefty section dedicated to browser games, the big menu with pages concerning the site and staff themselves, and the oekaki board! Oekakis were very popular in that period, as it allowed fellow aspiring artists to meet eachother and show off their own skills by drawing live! If a site hosted one, they could quickly become a melting pot of creativity. Wayback Machine, sadly, doesn’t have anything concerning this site as well.

Issue 36: Arcywof

We’re back on italian sites with a page that definitely impressed even Pokèmon World’s staff for its pleasing graphics. When I first saw this among the magazine’s pages... my eyes lit up! I can’t hide that after seeing its beautiful palette, checkered background and condensed menu, teen me adopted Arcy & The Fire Pkmn as design guru: many of my subsequent mockup pages had exactly this layout, or variations of it. It’s too bad, though, that aside from the beautiful presentation, the site’s contents aren’t exactly interesting: the Pokèmon images are ripped straight from Nintendo’s official archives, and most sections are concerning the anime’s characters, episode plots, and broadcasting dates. However, Arcywof also offers a forum and a live chat, which definitely helped the staff build an interactive and affectionate community around it. Among all reviewed here, I’m most bitter that Wayback Machine hasn’t archived this site, because seriously, it’s a little jewel ;w; its pastel colours and checkered texture remind me of candy shops!

Issue 38: Pokemon Super Site

I wanted to finish this little jump in the past with a positive note and show at least one more saved address from Wayback Machine. Although not in its updated version originally featured in Pokèmon World Issue 38, Pokèmon Super Site has been archived and it’s more or less complete to explore. It’s too bad a lot of the graphics haven’t survived but hey it’s something! It’s 2003, and the trend has changed once again: forums are as popular as ever and considered one of the most successful ways to build a solid audience for one’s own page, which are now treated more like portals or an extension to the forum itself. Super Site’s sections are centered on game guides, nothing too special, but I do love the grey and white grid background on menus and header, as if we’re viewing a notebook page; reminds me of school days. I also really like the gifs section as featured in the review, all those old graphics bring back so much memories of scouting the net to save them all on hard drive!

If you stumble upon one of these sites in Wayback Machine, chances are the ever present affiliates buttons will still be working, allowing you to visit even more fansites. It’s a true trip to the past, and a never ending source of inspiration for me!

[awhitehead17]

Whumptober 2020: Day 15 - Into the unknown

Prompt: Possession 

Summary: When Kon comes to the Tower for the weekend, they instantly know something isn’t right with him. After checking up on him, they soon find that the situation is worse than they imagined 

A/N: As a warning there is a bit of violence in this story. This consists of strangulation and head bashing, nothing too graphic however, I just want to warn people in case!

Enjoy! :D

By some coincidence they had all gathered into the media room over the course of the afternoon. It was only the start of the weekend but not everyone had actually arrived at the Tower yet.

Tim had been the first one to arrive from Gotham, while he could have easily spent time in his room he choose to chill in the media room instead and did some work on his laptop to pass the time. 

Cassie had joined him an hour later, followed by Bart not long after. Tim had continued on with his work while the other two watched a film. It wasn’t until Kon comes strolling into the room that he finally breaks away from his computer.

The half Kryptonian enters the room with his face scrunched up in pain and a hand on his head. He walks over and flops down onto the opposite end of the couch with a groan.

“What’s up Kon?” Bart asks eyeing him up with a frown.

Kon groans again. “My heads killing me, has been all day. No matter what pain killers I take the headache won’t shift.”

Tim shares a concerned look with the other two. He glances at Kon, “Have you had enough sleep recently? Enough food and water? Been up against any freaky crop plants in Smallville this week?”

Kon shakes his head in denial. “I’ve been fine all week until this morning. School was hell to get through today.”

“Well dinner is soon, once you’ve eaten perhaps call it an early night. You might feel better tomorrow morning after some rest.”

The Kryptonian sighs and shrugs, “Perhaps, yeah? We’ll see.”

Dinner comes by half an hour later and they all migrate to the kitchen to eat. Despite how lovely the food was, Kon had barely made a dent in his food which results in everyone giving him concerned looks.

Once the meal was over, Kon retires to his room while Tim, Cassie and Bart clear up.

“Something’s not right with him.” Cassie stats putting the plates away.

“Do you think he’s been attacked in the week and isn’t telling us?” Bart guesses as he dries off the pans.

Tim hums from his position at the sink. “I have no idea. Once we’re done here I’ll go and check on him, he may talk when it’s just one of us with him.”

As Tim said he would, he goes to Kon’s bedroom after finishing up in the kitchen. He taps on the door lightly and lets himself inside the room.

“Hey Kon, I’ve come to check on you….” Tim’s sentence trails off when he stumbles onto a scene he hadn’t been expecting.

Kon was in his room, on the floor curled up with his hands clenched in his hair. His whole posture was shaking and he was muttering something underneath his breath.

“Kon?” Tim whispers with uncertainty. While he desperately wanted to go comfort his best friend something else felt off which stopped Tim rushing to his side. “Conner?”

In that moment he’s glad he hadn’t gone ahead rushed to Kon’s side because the moment the meta looked up, it was clear that nothing was right. Kon’s head snaps up to look at him and Tim instantly sees the bright red glow of his eyes.

Tim barely gets an “oh shit” out before he was being body slammed by his best friend. The force carries him backwards and out into the hallway, Tim’s back slams against the far wall and he crumples to the ground hissing in pain. He had no armour on, meaning there was nothing to help soften the impact of the concrete wall when he slammed into it.

He didn’t have time to recover however because Kon’s suddenly standing before him and clamping a hand around his neck, lifting him up off the ground. Tim scrambles at the hold, trying to push it off him because it was hard to breathe, he knows if Kon applies anymore pressure then his windpipe will break.

“Kon… please… snap… snap out of it…” he wheezes out. His best friend wasn’t there though, only whatever was now possessing him. His eyes were still burning bright red and Tim wonders if Kon (not-Kon) will kill him by heat vision.

Black spots were now dancing in his vision and Tim was seriously struggling to breathe. He weakly pushes at Kon’s unrelenting grip, trying to get free.

“Conner!”

The scream startles him and then suddenly Kon’s hand disappeared from his neck. Tim falls to the ground and sucks in precious air through his abused neck. He wildly looks around to find Cassie and Kon engaged in some kind of spar. The two meta’s and their super-strength going against one another in the tiny alcove of the corridor. They bounce off the walls, the floor and even the ceiling when their flight abilities kick in.

While Cassie handles Kon he scrambles up to his feet and starts rushing down the corridor. Kryptonite. He has Kryptonite stored in his bedroom. While he loathes the idea of using it on Kon, it’s the only thing that’ll weaken him enough for them to get the upper hand so they could work out what’s going on.

“Tim watch out!”

He barely gets a second to comprehend the warning before something collides with his back. He falls to the ground with a grunt and cries out when a heavy pressure lands on his back. Tim knows without looking that it’s Kon. He tries to buck the meta off but fails miserably as he couldn’t barely move an inch with Kon on his back.

A fist full of his hair was grabbed and his head is yanked up. He hisses with the movement and then screams when his face is smacked into the ground. Pain explodes throughout his head it becomes difficult to think. As his head is lifted up again Tim’s able to form some words that he desperately needed to share before he couldn’t.

“My room!” He shouts, hoping one of his teammates are listening. “My desk draw! In there is krypton-“

He’s cut off when his face is slammed against the floor a second time. Pain once again explodes through his head and he cries out. He’s mildly aware of a random harsh breeze of air rushing by him as his head is lifted up yet again.

It happens a third time and Tim knows he won’t be awake for much longer. The next one will either knock him unconscious, leave him extremely concussed or it’ll simply kill him.

When Kon goes to smash his head against the floor for a fourth time, Tim barely notices the room beginning to glow green. Before he could make sense of what was happening, his head collides against the ground and everything goes dark.

-----

As Tim comes to, the brightness of the room hurts his eyes, he has an extremely bad headache and his throat is sore to hell. It takes a lot longer than what it should have but he soon realises that he’s in the medical bay in the Tower.

He also eventually notices Cassie’s frowning face above him. Tim closes his eyes and groans, “What happened?”  

Tim winces when he hears himself speak and the way his throat itches. That’s some damage done to his neck alright. Before Cassie could answer, Tim remembers everything and bolts straight up into a sitting position. He looks at her frantically. “Where’s Kon? What happened to him? Did you guys work it out?”

Cassie instantly pushes him back down onto the bed and keeps her hand on his shoulder. She gives him a stern look. “Don’t talk. You’re only going to hurt yourself.” Her gaze softens then. “He’s fine Tim, or will be fine at least.”

Doing the best he could to ignore the throbbing going on in his head, Tim stares at her, encouraging her to elaborate on what had happened once he was unconscious.

Cassie sighs and glances to the side, Tim follows her gaze and sees an unconscious Kon laid upon another bed. Bart was there too, he was currently looking at something on a tablet in his hands.

“Bart managed to get the kryptonite from your room and together we were able to knock Kon out. We’re still analysing things but we’re pretty sure it’s Luthor. Luthor had somehow mind controlled and possessed Kon into attacking us and considering it’s happened before it’s not a shock.” She tells him sullenly.

Tim frowns staring at his best friend’s unconscious body. Kon’s going to hate himself after this, he’s going to feel so guilty and they’re going to have to do a lot of convincing to stop Kon from isolating himself again like he did the first time.

Tim glances at Cassie with a raised eyebrow, hopefully she gets what he’s trying to convey without talking.

Finally letting him go, she runs a hand through her hair. “It’s getting looked into, various of league members are aware of what happened and the plan is keeping Kon sedated until some results appear because its unpredictable on how he’ll wake up. It’s not the best solution but it’s all we’ve got for now. He’ll be okay Tim and then we’ll be there to help him through it.”

Tim smiles sadly and reaches out to take her hand, giving it a squeeze in support. They’ll make sure Kon is okay no matter what.

[fantasticstoryteller]

New Dynasty Chapter 25

Peter gently (after a long day of fighting he tended to use too much strength) closed the door of the SUV that Pepper had loaned him. He didn’t know where she’d gotten an SUV that had a car seat in the back (and smelled vaguely of stale cheese crackers), and he wasn’t going to ask. He had a feeling the answer wasn’t something he wanted to know.

He went to the desk of the facility to ask where Aunt May currently was, and the woman frowned at him. “I thought the other guy was her nephew,” the woman grumbled.

Peter grinned. “The other guy,” he told her, “is my husband.” The woman looked at him and he laughed. “We were supposed to come together today to tell her the good news—but there was a problem at work.” Peter grimaced thinking of that horrible residue those blobs left on everything—it had taken him almost an hour to get it off, and the suit was still dirty.

“You didn’t invite her to the wedding?” demanded the woman, looking scandalized.

“She broke her foot stomping to the song ‘We Will Rock You’,” Peter reminded her. “We were afraid something would happen, and she won’t let us set her up with a video chat.”

The woman’s hands flew over the keyboard in front of her. “Yeah, she’s a stubborn one,” the woman agreed. “Probably for the best—room 342 in the Addams wing.”

“Thank you,” Peter said with a slight bow before heading up. When he reached the door he could hear Wade and Aunt May talking—not loudly enough he could hear individual words, but loud enough that he could tell conversation was taking place. He knocked.

“Come in!” called Aunt May’s voice. Peter grinned as he opened the door. The girl was on the floor with a sketchbook in front of her, colored pencils to her side, drawing something as she lazily swung her feet into the air. She looked like a little fairy.

Wade was sitting on the couch next to Aunt May and looking at a depressingly familiar binder. “Aunt May,” Peter said as he came in, “you didn’t really pull out the photo albums, did you?” He gave Wade a kiss on the cheek and did the same for Aunt May.

“Of course not, the child got them for me,” Aunt May said.

Peter turned to see said child, standing behind him and looking at him with wide amber eyes. “May I have one too?” she asked. He was startled, but pleased that she was speaking without prompting. He leaned down and gave her a kiss on the cheek. The cheek that, just a few short hours ago, had been cut and now didn’t have so much as a scratch on it. She grinned at him. “Thank you,” she said as she went back to the sketchbook.

“Such a smart girl,” approved Aunt May. “Have you decided on your name yet, child?” she asked. The girl looked up and shook her head. “Well, no rush. Peter, you will tell me when she decides.”

Peter grinned at his aunt. “Of course,” he said.

“How was work?” asked Wade.

Wade knew that Peter didn’t like going over the details of work as Spiderman at the facility, because he was fairly certain that there was audio security in the apartment. It was necessary, in case Aunt May broke something while her caregiver was gone, but he still had to be careful.

Peter sighed. “I finished inputting the last of the data from the samples we were working with before Tony shunted us to another project.” His eyes strayed to the girl, who was once again drawing and back to Wade. “Then we had a lock down drill that erased all the data I input so I had to go back into the computer and do it all over again.” He noticed a partially eaten plate of apple slices and peanut butter and helped himself to one.

“Goodness,” Aunt May said. “That sounds like quite the day.” The door to the little apartment opened and a sour-faced woman came in. “And that’s my cue to start getting ready for bed,” Aunt May said sadly.

“Don’t worry May,” Wade said pecking her on the cheek, “we’ll come visit soon.”

Aunt May chuckled, although she didn’t try to get up. Peter could tell that she was in a lot of pain—but it was nothing he could fix. The girl put her stuff in a reusable grocery bag (that Aunt May had probably given her, stood up and kissed Aunt May on the cheek. “Thank you, Dear,” Aunt May said as she gently hugged the child. The girl wrapped her arms around the old woman so gently she didn’t even dent the clothes. Peter approved.

“Now,” Aunt May said looking at the child, “I’m going to tell you how to tell if your shoes are on the right feet, since your fathers’ certainly can’t.” A quick glance showed Peter that the woman was right—her shoes were on the wrong feet. He hadn’t noticed. Aunt May quickly pointed out that the Velcro straps were supposed to point away from each other and the girl quickly fixed her shoes, got another hug and walked over to Wade as Peter got his own hug from his Aunt. “Be careful, Peter,” she warned. “There are strange things going on and I don’t want any of you to get hurt.”

“I’ll do my best,” Peter said.

His aunt smiled. “You always do,” she said sadly.

Actually strapping the child into the car seat as a logistical nightmare. It wasn’t that the girl didn’t cooperate—she did, by holding as still as possible—but there were seven different straps and it seemed as though all seven had their own buckles. Not to mention an arm that came down (like the stabilizing arms on roller coasters) to give the kid a sort of desk-like space.

The girl was amazingly patient. Peter was slightly surprised that she didn’t panic at being strapped in, given her history, but he was grateful about it. After lowering the arm he handed her back the tote bag and she slid one skinny arm through it. Then she smiled, pulled out the sketchbook, and a colored pencil (red, he noticed) and went back to drawing whatever it was she was drawing. He’d wait to see what it was until she told him.

After the three of them were on the road back home (well, to the Tower where they could drop the SUV off) Peter brought up something that was niggling at him. “I noticed,” he said as casually as possible, “that your cheek healed quickly.”

The girl stopped what she was doing and looked at Peter. “Is that bad?” she asked worriedly.

“Oh, no,” Peter hurriedly replied. “I just noticed.”

“It was bad,” the girl said as she bent back to her book. “Because if I didn’t heal as fast they didn’t hurt me as much.”

The worst was the way she said it—casually, like she was reporting something that happened at the store.

Peter pulled the car over and turned to face her in the car seat. Wade did the same thing. “Honey,” he said firmly, “you know that neither of us would ever do anything to hurt you, right?”

She looked at him, eyes narrowed in what he recognized as her thinking look. “I know,” she said after a moment. “And, I know, because you haven’t.” She went back to what she was doing. The two men were more shaken up than she was.

Peter grimly realized that the girl now had near perfect control of her healing factor. “Is there anything you want to talk about?” he asked as he pulled back into traffic.

“Not really. I like it better here,” the girl calmly said. The rest of the trip back was silent except for the scratches of pencil against paper.

Peter delivered the car keys to Pepper and went home. The Tower was quieter than it had been earlier, because most of the children had already been sent on to Xavier’s school. Only three were left, and Peter was grateful for the quiet as he headed out.

When he got home he grinned at the sight of Wade in a frilly apron and the almost trademark unicorn slippers. The two hugged for a moment and he took in the feel of the other man. They were interrupted by the girl. “What is it?” Peter asked.

The girl, silently staring at them, held up the tablet and tapped a name. “Arachne. Meaning: spider.”

[detectivethinman]

Description, Rules, & Blog Details

Description:

This blog was inspired from a theory made by Tericho, a horror game player that has been recently into Little Nightmares.  Going into his theory a little bit, he stated that the Thin Mans’ possible true (and original) identity was indeed a detective of some sort due to how in the concept art (of which he brinks up) has a “detective” office, but also an interrogation room.  Tericho explains the theory a bit better in his video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3oQ1Mn4vpWw&t=1s

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DO RULES:

Feel free to ask the Thin Man & the “Pale City Forces” anything that is on your mind (especially if it is more than one thing)!

OC’s and characters from the Little Nightmares universe are more than welcome to be here, ask questions/comments/concerns/etc., and get involved with the “Pale City Forces” & the Thin Man

Send in requests!  If you want the Thin Man and/or the “Pale City Forces” to have a reaction to a meme, video, etc, ask away!

Once in a while there might be a “special” guest appearance if the Thin Man is not around (example: he is not in for the day due to being sick)

If you want to ask the artist, go right on a head! :3

Please feel free to re-blog the drawing on here (Tumblr)

And lastly... HAVE FUN! (*^▽^*)

 ———————————————————————- DON’T RULES:

NO N**W (s**ual) is allowed in this ask blog.

Please do not steal my artwork from this channel (or the ones I post on down below). If you want to repost it, please ask for permission & give credit!  My other accounts are @mykalarosestar   &     @mykalarosestar13-gallery-art

Harassment, homophobia, bullying, use of any kind of slur (example: racial slurs), threats (towards the audience & artist with intention to harm) and more are NOT allowed.  If you do any of that, you will be block & reported.

If a person does start to spam the same question (example: 20 - 30 times over a single day), I will block.  Spamming does no good to blogs and will not get your question answered.

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 Blog Details About the Artist:

• I am in college/university full time so if I am delayed on going a drawing out to you all, I will make sure to set aside time within the next few days to do so or on the weekend.

• Still getting used to drawing people so if one day the Thin Man doesn’t look okay, but another day it does that is the reason why!  This ask blog was also created to help me draw people better XD

• I normally do my art in color if it is backgrounds while the people are in black & white, but if you want color for your question, please ask for it!

My mediums for art:

o   Pen & Ink

o   Pencil & Shaders

o   Digital (Phone -IbispaintX)

o   Digital (Drawing tablet – no screen)

• I do not do commissions, sadly, though I plan on figuring it out in the future if this ask blog gets more people!

• I have been drawing for about 4 years (1 & 1/2 for the drawing tablet) so if some of my artwork looks “beginner” like, that is one of the reasons why.

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 Version 0.0.6 (3/11/2021)

Ask Blog Began (3/7/2021)

This Ask Blog is being done by a single artist by the name of Mykala.  Their pronouns are She/They.  Panromantic, Demisexual & Asexual.