#ive never drawn this kind of angle)

[who-is-riley]

My Noveria squad had matching armour and I had to draw it

(Check the reblogs for progress!)

[weskin-time]

Theres Only One Bed...

Albert Wesker x GN!Reader

if you saw this post before no you didnt <3

Count- 3963 words

Summary- Youre a spy for STARS about to go on a mission, but this mission is also your yearly assessment where your captain tags along to judge your work on the field. Getting to the hotel was easy, but they only have one room open, and theres only one bed.

CW- GN reader so there is mention of 'Mx' being used for the reader

No description is used for the reader so have fun! This is the first fic ive posted on tumblr! reblogs and feedback is always nice thank you!

Undercover missions were always your favorite. Getting a new name, cover, identity, it was so fun in a weird way. Being able to melt yourself into a new persona at the drop of a hat was always a talent of yours, something your high school theater teacher highly praised. If there was information needed, you were the spy to be sent before the STARS team would swoop in and deal with the issues.

Currently you were on an assignment, an easy one, just a simple gaining intel then book it kind of ordeal. There was one downside to this assignment though, this was also your yearly work assessment, where your captain would tag along either in the shadows on coms or with you in person to see how you are on the field. You've never failed an assessment before but to have captain Wesker listen in, breathe down your neck, or just be near you when you were working, freaked you out a bit, what if you messed up and it costed you your job? It never did though, and any minor slip up you had would be easily fixed in a heartbeat by you. You were a professional hired onto STARS for this exact role, and you were proud of what you did.

Wesker was to meet you at your currently temporary base of operations, which was a semi small hotel not too far away from where you would be working tomorrow, so you weren’t surprised when you pulled your car into the parking lot to see a completely sleek black unmarked van in the parking lot with your captain, in regular civilian clothes, leaning against the van waiting for you.

It was weird to see him in every day wear, in fact it felt almost wrong, naked even. He was wearing a white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up at his elbows, black dress pants, a watch on his wrist, and a black belt with a silver buckle tying his outfit together. Even as the day starting to fade into dusk, he still adored his sunglasses, which you were thankful for, he was already in civilian clothes it would be alien for him to not have his glasses too.

You pull into the parking spot next to him on the side where he’s leaning making sure to leave some room for him and you to get out of the car. A thought crossed your mind that if you feel like it’s weird to see him out of his uniform maybe he had the same feeling about you, sometimes you did feel weird when you weren’t wearing your uniform honestly. Putting the car in park and turning the key, you got out of the car and closed the door behind you gently. Wesker glanced up at you when you exited, his arms crossed.

My gods he looked amazing like this. There’s no shame in thinking someone is attractive and Wesker was very attractive. You looked him up and down once, trying to be subtle and not draw attention to the fact you’re checking out your boss. Your eyes were mostly drawn to his arms, the way his shirt hugged his muscles, the way the watch rested on his wrist, even at the angle he crossed his arms you could still see the veins that rose on his skin. The watch was just a nice silver with a black leather strap, and my gods did it make his hands look attractive.

You dragged your eyes off him and looked him in his eyes from behind his glasses, nodded at him, “Captain Wesker.” you greeted.

He nodded back at you greeted you in return by calling your last name. Hard to take the military out of a man you guessed.

There was little small talk about the mission and you both grabbed your bags from your respective cars before heading into the hotel lobby.

The lobby was cold as you walked in, and you took a in a deep breath, man you loved the way hotels smelled. There was a lady at the front desk who looked up your way when the sliding doors opened, she looked tired. Dragging your suitcase behind you with Wesker carrying a duffel bag, the two of you walked over to her and politely smiled.

“Good evening!” she slightly bowed her head in a polite greeting, “How can I help you two?”

“Hello,” you stood your suitcase up next to you as you leaned on the counter. “We would like to book a room please.”

“You’re just in luck, we have one last room available.” She typed something on her keyboard before confirming one room was okay, that the stay would only be for two nights, you signed some papers with your fake name and paid in cash, she told you about the pool hours and breakfast times.

“Alrighty Mx. and Mr. Doe, your room is on the top floor, the elevators are to the left of you. Y’all have a great night!” She slid two keys on the desk to you.

You grabbed the keys before you even registered what she said. Instantly you were flustered, jaw dropped slightly like a fish, before you straightened yourself out and thanked her before grabbing your suitcase and turning away. Your brain was on fire and you felt heat rise from your chest to your neck enveloping your face, your cheeks felt warm but you had to swallow it down.

Passing your boss on your way to the elevators you noticed a small amused smirk on his face. “Yes, let’s go, dear.” He turned his attention to you and began to follow after you. Any notion of any training left your brain for a second, was he teasing you or was he helping solidify y’all’s cover? You wanted to rip that smirk off his face, it made your heart flutter and made your stomach feel like it was in your throat. It was a suffocating feeling that you never really liked all too much, but you had to stop your brain to be able to calm your nerves.

Dear. The way it fell off his lips. The gravel of his voice saying the word, directed at you, rather convincingly that you were his spouse was enough to make your head fuzzy. He called you dear. It made your skin turn to flame, if you thought just being mistaken for being married was bad enough this was the one thing to kill you. He said it like he’s called you by this pet name a thousand times, it fell so easily off his lips, like it was your second name. Wesker must have been good at having a fake identity because there was no way he could say such a simple little phrase and make it sound so earnest.

The way to the room was a blur to you honestly, you were so busy trying to not think of his damn smirk, how he called you dear, and the woman mistaking you for being married, that you didn’t really pay attention to your surroundings. The elevator ride up was short but suffocating. You wanted to just get into your room and lay on your bed and sleep. You wanted to lay in the uncomfortable mattress and sleep until your alarm goes off to get ready for the intel snag. You didn’t want to wake up in the morning and get dressed and ready to be spied on while you spied on some illegal activity. The hallway was long and kind of creepy, the silence between you and Wesker was not uncomfortable but also not completely comforting, just the feeling of being in the break room not wanting to talk to each other. You arrived at your door and unlocked it, pushing the door open and lugging your suitcase in, moving out of the way to let your boss walk through first into the room. He made his way past the bathroom and into the main bedroom area as you closed the door and stood your suitcase by the closet.

“Hey captain, did you by chance bring any fingerprint powder? I have a small bit left.” You spoke up for the first time, rummaging through the front pocket of your case looking for said powder. There was a pregnant pause, Wesker hadn’t said anything which caused you to look to him. He stood facing away from you at the end of the small hallway, the wall blocking you from seeing what he was looking at.

“Wesker?” You cocked your head.

He let out an amused scoff as if he was broken from a trance, “Well. She definitely did think we were a couple.”

Your heart sunk and you hoped what he implied wasn’t true, standing up you made your way on over to him to see what he was seeing, and to your embarrassment only one bed was in the room, no couch, no nothing. Just the bed. The one single bed. The one single king-sized bed neatly made up. Wesker turned to look down at you and you glanced up at him. That damn faint smirk was on his face again, you wanted to tear off his sunglasses so you could tell what he was thinking and feeling. You think you can see a slight pink color on his cheeks but you can’t tell complete in the dark room.

You snapped out of it, “I’m so sorry Wesker, I’ll go down there right now and ask for another room for you, normally they give me two beds, she didn’t even ask me if I wanted two beds. And then she thought we were married so she must have thought we wanted one bed. I’m so sorry captain I’ll go down and have this fixed right away.” you were rambling in your embarrassment under Wesker’s gaze. You felt like you were a rookie again handing in the wrong files of paper work for your first assignment, you had a fear in the back of your head that this would get you fired for this, even if you knew you weren’t.

“She said this was the last open room if i recall correctly.” He stopped you from your rambling. You were so confident and flustered that you forgot what she had said. There was no other room for you to get changed out for, this was the only room.

“You’re right, sorry sir. I must have forgotten what she said.” You straighten out and reach to turn on the lights in the room.

There was a sigh as Wesker moved to put his stuff down on one end of the room, “There is no need to be formal, your assessment doesn’t start until the morning.”

“What about sleeping situations?” It’s better to get the question out now before it eats at you.

He paused for a second, he was facing away from you again as he opened his bag looking for something, “hmm.” he pondered for a second. “Shifts. You sleep first, then I will wake you up, take turns.”

“No offense Wesker,” you took a quick glance at his ass in the tight pants he wore. “But I’m not about to have you tired and judge my performance on the field.”

He gave a single light breath of a chuckle, “Oh? Don’t want to get a low score?”

“I don’t want to get pay docked because you’ve ended up sleeping on the job.” you follow with a laugh. The tense air broke and you were back to how you normally were with Wesker. Banter was rare with him, but when the two do you were alone you did enjoy it from time to time.

“Alright then, what else do you have in mind? We can’t get another room and if you haven’t noticed, there is only one bed and two of us.” He turned to face you and asked.

Your confidence faltered, there was only one other way that you could think of and here he was wanting you to say it. The warmth returned to your face again as you looked away as he turned around to face you. He was setting you up to say it. He wanted you to say it as if he loved to see you flounder. You watched him as he took his sunglasses off and placed them on the desk in the room, his eyes never left your face as you looked away yet again not wanting to make eye contact with him.

“Well, I mean, if you don’t have a problem with it.” Your voice didn’t waver yet your mind did. It was freaking out and screaming. We’re you really about to suggest sleeping in the same bed as you really hot boss that already made your stomach flip just by your fingers touching as you handed him a coffee cup in the break room? It was the only solution, and honestly you weren’t too opposed on the idea. You took a deep breath and tried to make the next sentence you would say sound better than the jumbled flustered mess that your brain wanted to say.

“We could share the bed? It’s a king size so there’s more than enough room.” Instantly your face was hot. “We could even build a pillow barrier if you’re uncomfortable with the idea.” You added in a haze.

It was quiet for a moment. Wesker was thinking, you took a quick glance at him to see his eyes still on you, observing you. He was watching you squirm under his gaze at the mention of sleeping together. There was a glint in his eye that you didn’t know the emotion of but there was something there, almost as if he enjoyed dragging out the silence after your awkward question just to make you more embarrassed and uncomfortable. You locked eyes for a second before you glanced them down. It felt like a few minutes have passed of drowning in embarrassment, your heart mirroring a stampede in your chest. It felt forever but it was more like half a minute has passed before he took a breath in to respond.

“Hmm.” he mulled over it, as if trying to taste how his answer felt on his palate before answering. “It is our only option so it would seem.”

His answer didn’t really help your heart at all. The tension in your body both doubled and dissipated at the same time somehow. The question was asked and answered but now you had to actually sleep in the same bed as your boss. You wanted to escape the feeling. To be freed from the twisting feeling in your guts, but it wouldn’t end until you woke up the next morning, wake up to him in the morning. Your face was hot and your body was a flame, butterflies and moths made nests in your lungs and stomach as they flew around inside you, you felt like you were going to explode. So much for a being a seasoned spy who could change at the drop of a dime, it was easier when you were pretending to be someone else, but playing as yourself was a different story.

“Yeah, I’m sorry captain, I should have planned this out better.” you gave him no time to respond before you jumped topics, “I’m going to get my stuff ready for tomorrow and get in the shower before heading to bed for the night.” you explained as you moved to the hallway once more to grab your luggage to drag it into the bathroom with you.

He agreed and explained he would set up his post for tomorrow as well and head to sleep, you hoped he would be asleep before you got out of the shower. Setting up your costume and such wasn’t hard, just setting the outfit out along with a wig and some makeup, it was some work to be a new person but an easy set up the process wasn’t so much. The shower was also uneventful. Using all the provided soaps and such, thinking about the mission tomorrow, you tried your damndest to not think about the man outside the bathroom setting up for bed, what would he wear? What does captain Albert Wesker wear to bed? You mused yourself over the idea of him wearing a funny nightgown and cap like Scrooge wore even including the hand-held candle, funny white long johns, before your mind settled on him wearing just sweatpants. Sweatpants with his boxer band showing. Grey sweatpants. No shirt. You were going to melt in the shower and it wasn’t because of the hot water, you were now slowly killing yourself by imagining your boss in different outfits. Black tight spouse beater with grey sweatpants, a loose white tee with boxers; but your personal favorite to fantasize about was him shirtless with grey sweatpants, his watch still on his wrist as his hands were in his pockets, you imagined him to have a blonde happy trail on his stomach and that sent you to turn the hot water to cold. You almost screamed as it woke your body out of the trance it was in.

Getting out was the hard part. Knowing you had to face your boss in bed was worse than anything you’ve seen in your time on STARS, and you’ve seen some things. You took a deep breath while drying yourself off, focusing on keeping your heart down and your breathing calm as you dressed for bed. You gave yourself a little shake before you opened the door and turned off the light making your way to the main bedroom.

The room was dark, a dim light came from a lamp in the corner of the room on the desk but it did next to nothing to illuminate the bedroom. There was a microphone, a computer, and a few other things set up on the desk, you assumed the camera and ear piece were for you for your mission in the morning. You took a hesitant glance at the bed only to find your boss facing away from you sleeping on his side. The covers were pulled up to his waist and only revealed the black undershirt he wore. Honestly you were a little sad he wasn’t shirtless but you also know that you would die if you saw his back muscles and shoulder blades. A weight fell off your shoulders at knowing you didn’t have to converse with him before slipping into the bed, you could just do it right now. Making your way to the other side of the bed you glanced at the clock that read 9pm.

You tried your hardest to not move so much as you got under the covers, waking the sleeping captain next to you wasn’t something you wanted to do so you lay there stiff. You could feel him next to you, feel his heat, the way the bed dipped under his weight, it drove you a bit mad. Here you were, lying next to your very attractive boss in the same bed, he was lucky he could fall asleep in a situation like this, your mind just raced with thoughts, thoughts of him. You couldn’t even relax in this bed; it was calling for you to untense your muscles and let sleep take you but just being able to hear Wesker’s soft breathing next to you kept your eyes open and your body rigged. You could feel his warmth from under the covers that the two of you shared, you could hear his soft breathing, you could feel the slight rise and fall of the blanket, it was intoxicating.

You couldn’t sleep. Glancing at the clock you find about forty-five minutes have passed with you just lying there with your eyes open. You sigh and wiggle a bit to try and get comfy but you instantly regret it. Wesker let out a small yawn as he pulled the comforter off him to twist around to lay on his other side, to face you. It all happened so fast you didn’t even notice what was happening. You watch as the very much asleep Wesker reaches his arm and wraps it around your midsection to pull you close to him, meeting in the middle of the bed, he used his other arm to slide under your head and used his hand to cradle your head, pushing your face into his chest, instantly your arms fold in between the two of you, pressed up against his stomach and your chest.

He’s,,, He’s asleep, but here you are, the new teddy bear for Albert Wesker. Youre tense in his arms as you both still, your eyes wide and you try not to move to not wake him up. There’s a pause before he moves again, mixing his legs with yours, which somehow pulls you even more flush against him. Your red-hot face was smushed against his chest where you could hear him breathing and his heart beating. He held you in a loose yet vice grip, the arm around your waist felt like it was burning. The fire of your face came back but this time worse and it swarmed your entire body in a flush.

If you thought today was already enough to make you die instantly this was the kicker, the real nail in the coffin. Your boss was now cuddling with you, something you didn’t think he could do with his hard and stone cold deminer, but with the way his legs were intertwined with yours makes you think it’s a perfect fit. If you were a computer this was how you bluescreened. You were somehow stiffer in his arms than you ever have been in your entire life, your senses were overloading. You could smell the body wash and cologne he wore, it smelled of apple cider and pine, like a autumn mix with a hint of spring, it smelled expensive and warm and nothing like what Chris or Barry wore. It made your head spin in the best way. You could feel his skin pressed against yours, soft and warm, you wanted to drag your fingertips across it in gentle patterns. Your heart sounded like a stampede in your chest. You could hear his gentle breathing and heartbeat, slow, soothing, and comforting.

You focused on his breathing, and soon began to match it. If you were stuck in this situation you were going to take full advantage of it and deal with the repercussions of your actions later, right now you wanted to be a little selfish, you wanted to enjoy this accidental moment to the full extent. Your body began to slowly relax in his arms, the sound of his heart comforting in ways you never knew existed. Your eyelids soon began to burn and droop, they begged you to close them, to make friends with sleep, every time you blinked, they drooped lower and lower. You took a risk and shifted in his arms, snuggling closer to his chest you made yourself more comfortable, moving your head so it was just under his chin and resting on his chest. You complied with your body and closed your eyes, it wasn’t long before sleep came to take you, but as you were right at the cusp of unconsciousness you felt something soft press against your forehead. You could hear something being said but it was muffled and sounded like it was underwater, the only word you could make out was 'dear', at least you think that was what was said, but by the time you realized it you were already asleep in the arms of the man you have feelings for.

[daftpatience]

Hi, I used to draw a lot but I've not drawn/created for a long time now, any tips to get back into it?

Or rather the whole thing about making art for yourself, I used to get a lot of attention for being good at art from other ppl and I'm not sure how to connect it back to myself again

I'm also contending with the Autism "It needs to be done in this way" and the ADHD "I can't focus for shit"

Also please don't worry if you don't know what to say, I'm just trying to get a variety of opinions to try and untangle my brain

Thank you in advance 💕

i think a good way to get back into creating *for yourself* whether its to come out of a dry spell or just to get back to creating things that you like, is what i call 'backtracking' (bearing in mind that my particular methods may only work for me! im lucky ive never struggled with focus when it comes to drawing things, but maybe some of these things will help as my main goal when drawing is to entertain myself!)

also before i move on this i think is valuable: you gotta draw things that you aren't gonna post sometimes. it's fun and fulfilling to make art for an audience, and wanting attention is not shameful (ITS HUMAN!) but also we live in panopticon times and i think its good to train your "i am alone doing something for myself and no one has to see it" muscles.

backtracking is a couple different things:

look back to when you were really young. what kinds of drawings were the most fun to do? what did you spend time on or get really into? for me, this was a few things! tracing cartoons, drawing up elaborate scenes of lots of little creatures doing a thing, and designing little characters as paper dolls and making their houses and little furniture and accessories and such to cut out and play with. also getting paint all over my hands (i still paint my whole hand whenever im done doing something with acrylics before i wash up! its stimming)! backtracking here is when you try to take those things and make use of them now. try to find that old joy and use it in a way that makes you happy today, even if it's something small or silly or embarrassing. it can really help you rediscover what parts of art make YOU happy!

if you're regularly drawing and in a slump, backtracking for me is stepping back and doing either more exercises and practising the things you feel like you already know how to draw (ie. studying angles of the face or pulling up imgs of rooms on pinterest to see how normal people arrange furniture etc.), or simplifying your drawings to a level that feels more relaxing and less stressful. (ie. chibis instead of more detailed characters etc.) i find i kind of fall back to chibis when i feel lost, and then sort of rebuild from there. its fun to let my style change as i grow!

ALSO! im telling your autism this for your adhd's sake (this is useful for anyone i think): if there is a part of art that you do not enjoy doing or find boring but you feel it is an important or necessary step in the process? the secret is it isnt! art is made up. if you hate lining, dont do it! if youre a digital artist and get caught up picking a brush every time because you feel like you need the perfect one? switch to mspaint for a bit to get the nerves out. it can be really freeing!

art is for having fun and fulfilling our need to create. the rules are all made up and not real. perfectionism is the little death that something something i forget. yeah

[a-whispering-echo]

Doggy skelies

Fanart for this series:

soo, ive never drawn any kind of animal, and i took some creative liberties, for example, they have a blanket even though they wernt allowed clothes, because i could not draw that many bones at that angle and stay sane, so meh, but i absolutely adore this series, and needed to do something, so heres baby Dust and Killer, do enjoy :

[tutuandscoot]

While you may love VM the best, there are other great partnerships like this. Torvill & Dean, the Shibutanis, and Davis & White are just a few examples. All of these teams were made up of two people who had tremendous respect and care for one another, worked for years together, and supported each other through thick and thin. People obsess over VM because of the shipping angle, but when you get past that and just look at the pure partnership, there are in fact lots of teams like them. Belbin & Agosto is one of my favs. They kindness and respect they always showed one another made them a wonderful team to watch (even if their skating wasn’t the greatest).

Yes hi hello this is a VM blog when do i ever talk indepth about teams i hardly know anything about beyond their competitive performances and who i dont care about im not gonna waste my time, my love for VM and fascination with their partnership does not dispute anyone else’s good for those other teams 👍. Also i’m legit the last person in the world to ship them even beyond their own families maybe at one point i despise the conversation being so about the shippy stuff that’s never why ive been drawn to them and refuse to engage in the conversation.

[rainy-art]

another study! wanted to try rendering using only the HB pencil

(ref)

[fuckitharleyquinnblog]

i love birds of prey cause SO MUCH OF IT is just stuff thats completely out of my radar. live action, r rated violence, superhero action movie, i have never given a shit about any of that. all the other shit im really into is completely different but something about this movie just really captured me, probably much having to do with that ive been kinda meaning to get into harley quinn stuff for years and when i saw the cartoon came out i was like oh fuck yes and i watched it, although still being a more tentative fan for the less appealing aspects of it (i really dont like adult cartoons the adult jokes and offensive “humor” just get to be Too Much) and the only reason i even knew it was a thing in the first place was cause i watched a movie with my girlfriend (it was knives out) in the theater and one of the ad trailers was the birds of prey trailer and i instantly just went “lainey. we’re gonna watch that one.” and i saw a few posts saying a little about it (that it was good and had great women characters) and it snowballed from there. but its so different from everything i normally like and so much of what i normally dislike that im like ???? thank fuck i love it. im absolutely sure its because of the “less male gaze-ey” aspect of it and that men are not any of the focus of the movie (the jokers face was never shown in this movie. i LOVED IT not gonna lie a bit) fuck, batman wasnt even there. the whole focus was on these badass ladies fighting tooth and nail to protect young lady cassandra cane and they were allowed to be women they were allowed to be badass they were allowed to be imperfect heroines and its part of my little lesbian heart that That Will Always Be Far More Appealing To Me Than Any Male Centric Superhero Movie EVER will be. 

[bigskycastle]

do you just think up your poses yourself , or do you use references? any tips on how to create more dynamic poses?

hmm it depends on what i need for the piece tbh! ive found theres really no "one size fits all" solution. sometimes ill use 3d models, especially if the pose is weird and awkward to “organically” draw. sometimes i'll make the pose up entirely, often if i’m going for a more emotional or graceful feeling (you can see it in a lot of my madoka stuff lol). sometimes i closely look at a ref. sometimes i’ll reference only a tiny part of a model, like their head or leg or hand. sometimes i do a little of everything! i tend to avoid using 3d as much as possible tho, since ive found it tends to make my stuff look stiffer

for example- i used 3d for this zelink pic because ive never drawn the angle zelda's at before and all my organic attempts ended up pretty weird. it's still a little weird! but basing my sketch on the model helped a lot

by contrast, this mipha pic was entirely off the dome, no ref or model (it's literally a colored/painted sketch), meaning her proportions and gestures are much more highly stylised, and i think it shows w how flowy she looks

as for tips.. to get those dynamic poses, u need a good sense of gesture and anatomy, and for that you have to study! slow, careful studies of the muscle groups yes, but also do tons and tons of gesture/life drawing. my favorite subjects to draw are ballerinas, pole dancers, figure skaters, rhythmic gymnasts, etc. i pause vids of them and quickly sketch their gestures, keeping it loose, paying more attention to the motion of the body than the muscular structure (thats what the slow study is for! combine ur sense of gesture with your technical anatomical knowledge!).

doing actual “regular” life drawing with still/posed models is important too. live classes are good if they’re available to u, but there’s a fair few websites that offer it for free, and artstation has a shit ton of model packs you can get for either free or a small fee that are excellent. scott eaton’s “bodies in motion “ project is a subscription based one that gives you hi-res, frame-by-frame shots of some of those subjects i talked about too.

some other cool subjects are: - martial artists of pretty much any kind

- traditional dancers from most places! they also tend to wear very unique and pretty clothes. ballroom dancers too!

- parkour artists/freerunners, for more acrobatic stuff

- ..and like actual acrobats. look for cirque du soleil videos to immediately fall down a very bendy rabbit hole

hope this helps ^_^

[dysaniadisorder]

talk then lovely! ill listen! i want to hear !

TYSM... im putting it all under a cut because it got reeeally long. <3

[ID: A sketchbook drawing of redesigns of each girl from Danganronpa 2, minus Mahiru. Theyre all standing next to each other and shown from the waist up. end ID]

Mikan Tsumiki -

I've spent an... amount of time in hospitals mostly interacting (or trying not to interact) with nurses and im confident saying Mikans presence is. Not comforting.

Nothing can really fix this, but nurses with long hair often wear their hair up while working (even guy nurses) and while she would, I imagine a high up hairstyle would be uncomfortable for her or feel like it draws attention.. so she has a low ponytail & some bobby pins and various hair clips to help keep it settled (have you seen her fuckin hair it does NOT cooperate.)

Fuck whatevers going on with her canon outfit I'm giving her some normal nurse scrubs (they're blank this is just what nurses wear ive noticed. kid & teen dentists and stuff will wear cute designs and shit but I have never seen a nurse do so, i'm sure it'd feel kind of insensitive in situations) but the apron adds any element of character design. It's looser & a bit blanker, & has pockets & places to hold things on the lower part and belt. Nurses gotta hold a lot of shit, why I am also giving her a medical bag she keeps on her (mostly for herself lets be honest). She keeps her various bandages, and I gave her some bracelets. One is a beaded bracelet with a needle charm on it WHY does she love needles so much its weird. She's definitely the type of person who tells you you have nice veins while you're just going about your day. To be honest i'm not sure why but I gave her a medical alert bracelet... maybe it's for herself which could be reasonable if she goes into crisis mode or has a panic attack or passes out, or maybe its a blank one to have on hand. That doesn't make sense. Ignore me

Also! It's down in the drawing but she has a surgical mask. This is a nurse thing, an i'm-being-bullied-and-someone-told-me-my-face-was-ugly thing, and a social anxiety thing. But her wearing a mask all the time makes sense.

[ID: A notebook doodle of Mikan Tsumiki, drawn as described above. She looks tired and a bit distressed. /end]

Hiyoko Saionji -

Oh the curse of being short that she makes up for in being an asshole. "This is your badness level. It's unusually high for someone your size."

Anyways, this was a doodle, and I didn't do as much research into kimonos & traditional dance hairstyles as I would've liked. But, she has a bun because that's what I've seen most often, along with the sticks in her hair & the flower hairpiece. The bangs & bun are a bit of a mess but she'd clean up her hair if she was actually performing. And if she was really casual, she enjoys putting her hair into pigtails.

Her kimono has a thicker ribbon on the waist piece just because, and she carries a fan tucked into it. She has a pair of shorts on underneath because come on, this is what she's fucking wearing around school. I hate this game

On top of all this she's probably wearing socks and sandals like a weirdo.

I relate to her in being dogshit at tying things though... she probably gets annoyed at the angle and keeping track of all the cloth. That said she probably has a modified one to wear around that's elastic or slip on or easier to tie maybe.

Stares at her backstory. Also probably has some scars around that are from her... murder attempts or harassments, but keeps hidden with makeup.

She has candy stored somewhere in that kimono sash (hey lookit me finally remembering what its called!) but she pulls it out of nowhere you never have any idea where she got it from. For a more casual outfit she probably wears shorts or pants (shes ecstatic about having so much free movement) and big shirts or sweaters, they're comfy. That and pigtails. They're not as big as they are in canon though because what the fuck. And post growth spurt I've always hated that she supposedly got taller but like she wasn't even as tall as Mahiru. Shut up. She has a height that rivals Nekomaru

[ID: a notebook doodle of Hiyoko Saionji as described above. She's baring her teeth, annoyed, and flipping off the camera while looking away. /end]

Ibuki Mioda - (she/he/ze)

THIS DRAWING IS A MESS LOWKEY IGNORE IT. But I do have plenty of ideas for zim.

I made the weird hair things be a bit more obvious of a headband, though I didn't make them look like devil horns on purpose. She probably has several with different types of horns. Zir hair is shorter & just as messy and weirdly dyed, plus he has pink & blue (or maybe pink and green) raccoon tails. Obsessed w his ear & lip piercings so they're staying, but I also gave zim a nose piercing (realistically she'd probably have a septum but I didn't think that out). Sharp teeth and refuses to tell anyone if they're fake or not. Drippy emo makeup that I didn't really like, and the dark demon eyes are not intentional I just don't know how to draw.

I love the weird barbed wire necklace but he needs a bigger weirder choker with all those annoying danglies. It jingles when he walks or moves at all. It's hard to see because she's behind everyone and a mess, but here I drew zim with a dark tanktop with a large bow over a huge sweater. She has shit fashion taste that only appeals to a small audience (emo & scene kids aka her aka me) and it's so bad it's good. Definitely the type to wear a bunch of bracelets and weird pins everywhere, and stick safety pins wherever he can. I like the one worn up arm warmer & spiky bracelet on the other hand, though ze has far more bracelets and annoying jewelry than just that. Far too many belts, too. The drawing was partially supposed to be a height lineup, Mikan & Peko are the tallest, but often Ibuki is up there with them too because she usually wears platforms. I reaaaally love the skeleton socks he has in dr3, and i can't decide between bit pants like tripp pants or a weird skirt, so either is good, I don't think ze could decide either.

I'll definitely redraw this, over and over. Until i am fucking satisfied but I think it'd be better if he had like a fishnet undershirt with a different kinda sweater or tanktop or something... or maybe just a t shirt with an annoying design on it. Either way, I love Ibuki a whole fucking lot. Nothing about zir outfit is practical or normal looking and she loves it that way. He's sick of wearing pop-star type outfits in a girl band he's going all out babey he's full scenemo now

[ID: A notebook doodle of Ibuki Mioda, drawn as described above. He's winking and sticking his tongue out, while giving Chiaki next to her bunny ears. /end]

Chiaki Nanami - (she/he/they)

One of the designs I actually did a bit beforehand... that said she is very cluttered but I don't really regret that. As I, too, am chronically sleepy half her energy in the morning is put into putting on all her bullshit because it makes them happy, and then regretting it because like why the fuck am i wearing all this bullshit.

Look. They're a teenage gamer. He bathes and take care of himself she's not a heathen though it is skipped more than it should be because exhaustion (I can relate). Her hair is shorter & always messy because she simply likes the way it looks, and hates the feeling of comb teeth & brush bristles (autism).

Acne, because she is a teenager and I gave them some more moles than just the singular one on their boob. I'm in love with the hair clip I could never devoid her of that, and then she has pixelated heart and item bag earrings, along with ear piercings up her right ear (they just wanted to do something new for a moment.) Constant eyebags, constantly sleepy, but they dislike the taste of coffee. Unfortunately this often means energy drinks & soda. Not sure of popular japanese energy drinks but I like to think he has one of those entire half walls of monster energy cans on his bedroom wall.

Now to my atrocious outfit. Let's see here there's a spaghetti strap type romper over a hoodie with bunny ears (im obsessed with the bunny motif) and on top of that is a chunky cardigan and an animal backpack. Im also obsessed with the animal backpack). Why so many layers? I don't know I'm gonna make up excuses. They are often cold. They're allergic to sunlight. Comfy & easy to sleep in anywhere. Have you ever worn that many layers its fucking magic its like you're a walking pillow and you can never get punched or hurt. Look if all these designs were based on the fact that they're on a tropical island they'd all be VERY different.

The romper is semi short & comfy because having ur legs out is healing (also body hair. she's a teenager). fuzzy socks, and they are not immune to cutesy impractical shoes. (Socks are one white and one pink with red stitching, u know, monomi foreshadowing and all that.)

I don't know enough english & american video games for this, let alone japanese ones. Forgive me for being basic with them. (though its a bit easy when alot of popular games are just translated from japanese...) So. The earrings are 3/4 undertale reference and like 1/4 animal crossing reference. Pacman pin (classic) triforce pin (less classic but still) & a pokemon necklace with a ribbon choker. They are not immune to cutesy things. There's patches on the cardigan elbows, & they have an ace ring. It's subtle. I drew him with pride pins but realistically I doubt she'd have them, partially of just not having figured things out yet. He'd maybe have a trans or progress flag pin though for at least a sign of allyship. They absolutely know firsthand how online gaming spaces are & they are a very sweet person.

Anyways um. The moral here is im in love with chiaki and wish to give him a big hug & a kiss.

[ID: Two notebook doodles of Chiaki Nanami, drawn as described above. In both they're tiredly staring into the camera with a neutral expression. /end]

Peko Pekoyama -

What the fuck is she wearing. No.

I decided to give her a proper kendo outfit because I mean like, come the fuck on. I kept her weird little symbol because her outfit was looking bland without it, and a necklace just because. She likes it, okay?

She has a tight black shirt underneath that reach her hands and have thumb holes. It's about the subtle gothness. The sash on her outfit has a kuzuruyu clan logo, but by request she ties it so it isn't visible. She has thoguh shoes though & still black tights because I love those.

Her hair is slightly shorter and braided against her head so they don't get in the way. (She could cut it, and some other people in the clan probably recommended she did, but when she asked fuyuhiko he just told her 'do whatever you want' and, welll. She likes longer hair.) The ribbons are just for show they come out easily & she has regular hair ties in.

[ID: Several notebook doodles of Peko Pekoyama, drawn as described above. In the first and last she is shown staring blankly into the camera. The middle one is a doodle redraw of one of her sprites, showing off her full outfit, and talking skepitcally. /end]

Sonia Nevermind -

I like Sonias design but it's a little bland & exactly what you'd expect. She's (at least implied to be) slavic, so I wanted to give her a bit less super western type fancy clothes and closer to. you know. Slavic designs, moreso east Slavic designs (I found lots of photography and art by russian & belarusian peopl). She's not full ancient royalty and I couldn't resist giving her a suit vest with decorative pins that match her brooch pin. Her shirt has a fancy lacy collar & I literally couldn't resist all the clothing patterns & designs. I'm aware that a lot of her outfit is faaar more fancy and special-occasion than usual, but she's pretty fancy and anything but casual.

I gave her a sheen golden little decorative scarf thing with a star design, just because it looks pretty & adds to the fanciness. Doing this again i'd probably want to give her more slavic type jewelry, and maybe some sort of scarf or better headpiece. But I love her bow, so I added some crown-adjacent gems & designs on top of it plus some flowers attached to it. I put her hair completely down her but I imagine she's stupid good & fast at tying braids and would do so if she needed it out of her way or to look more professional or fancy. She has a stud earring and one dangling eye earring, and to be honest I don't know why. I thought it looked cool on her and she'd probably wear something just a little weird like that.

[ID: A notebook doodle of Sonia Nevermind, drawn as described above. She's smiling and standing up perfectly straight. /end]

Akane Owari -

Good gosh. Someone help her

I'm definitely not against her having big boobs, some people just yaknow. have that & gotta work around it. But she desperately needs some support for them.

She has a vest thing that works as support & cover, because under that is a black gymnastics leotard. Plus I wanted to throw a medal on there for emphasis. I love Akane so much... I tried making her both more muscular but still a little thin, looks at her backstory. I wanted to keep the button up but it'd feel like too much if she was wearing it regular so it's around her waist, along with shorts because have you seen what leotards look like. She needs shorts. Also those like, sweat wristbands on her arms as well.

She has running shoes but inside she has loose beam shoes on that she can tighten when she needs to. Because beam shoes are horrible for like, regular walking around let alone fighting & exercise but she'd probably keep them on her somewhere.

Her hair is shorter but I love the wild look, it matches her. Having it shorter makes it a bit harder when she has to tie it back for competitions/performances but she hated doing that anyway, to the point she considered shaving it all off at some point. She still might.

Bandaids, both on herself and stored in her pockets. Let alone how much she needs them she also has a bunch of rowdy little siblings and she definitely keeps at LEAST bandaids on hand in case they ever get hurt. She probably does this so messily it'd make Mikan faint (cut back to the scene where Akane says she can just rub a little spit into a head wound and she'll be fine) but hey it works, who cares.

Still staring at her backstory. She's not fucking dumb i stg. She IS in a vastly different social situation than she's accustomed to though she probably doesn't feel quite as out of place as she would around other professional gymnasts.

[ID: A notebook doodle of Akane Owari, drawn as described above. She has a bandaid on her cheek and one hand on her hip, looking to the side with a confused expression. /end]

Mahiru Koizumi -

She's simple and theres nothing wrong with that. My problem is that she is not butch enough

Her proper redesign is the one with the ponytail (the rest is me messing around w how she'd dress comfortably & how she really wants to). The thing is she's butch but she is also a teenager and has parents. Though she gave herself an undercut in secret and wears a ponytail to show it off at school & the island. Stud earrings because she got her ears pierced when she was little & doesn't want them to close up. She has more freckles just cause that makes sense.

I like this design but i do admit it's pretty basic, just turning her cute overall skirt thing into a romper. But it fits her nicely. A tie & button being kept obviously, & she has shorter black socks & docs.

She still always has her camera on her though it's in a small bag that easily flips open to let her take photos (I have one of those for my polaroid & my aunt has one for her digital camera) but she can still take it out and hold in her hand to take photos. Has a carabiner & some keyrings to keep ahold of her shit, and probably has a useless but fun keychain or two on it as well. Shoves it in her pocket if the situation requires being quiet to take a photo (like taking a photo of an animal) but usually she likes how it jingles when she walks. I drew her with I think like one pride pin, and maybe it'd be the lesbian flag or maybe just a rainbow but either way I think she'd just want people to subtly know know if she didn't make it obvious enough.

There's a scar on her leg from... something. I can just imagine that being an ultimate photographer can be dangerous at times (being in the wild, capturing political or historical events, ect.) and that I'm sure she's been called upon plenty of times for journalist jobs and the like.

[ID: Several notebook doodles of Mahir Koizumi, drawn as described above. The first two show her design, one is a full body doodle of her with her hands on her hips, looking a bit annoyed. The second is a bust doodle, showing her looking disgruntled and tired. She has a wire choker on. The other three are her in alternate outfits, all with shorter hair. In the first she has a baggy shirt, baggy shorts and dog tags, and stands with on hand holding her camera at her side and the other in her pocket. She's smiling. The second shows her sitting in pants and a loose black tanktop with very messy hair. The last is a bust doodle of her holding a camera and wearing a blazer. end ID]

[bluwails]

Ive been real inspired by @chipper-smol 's au. I find myself snickering at Ghost/feral's antic mainly because I have young siblings and in my home there is never a dull moment. Child antics are literally my life rn and I cant help but relate.

So while on a nostalgic trip i was struck with this poorly written fic. And I hope you enjoy.

No edits because we die like men!

The time for rest had asserted its hold over Hallownest again as bugs wound down from the days toils. The servants and knights had quietly excused themselves to their personal quarters and the kingsmoulds that marched dutifully down each hall had slowed to a silent pace.

The white Lady had taken in the idea to walk the palace before retiring to her personal quarters for the evening. Dryya, her most respected and loyal guard, walked quietly behind her as she stiffled a yawn much to the white lady's amusement. She had dismissed her hours ago to rest but she stubbornly stuck to her and insisted on being around to protect her on her leisurely stroll.

" Your majesty, you need not worry for me. I will-" Dryya gaped stiffling another sign of encroaching sleepiness," -be with you until you retire to your bedroom."

She still felt fascination bubble under the surface as she observed her; a warm aura seeping off of her.

As a higher being they will never need these things like rest or daily meals. But they merely adopted the actions to blend more with the society around them. Just like her dear wyrm, Things like sleep were never on the forefront of their mind. They could spend decades awake and unbothered by the need. But they made resting a habit to demonstrate that one should rest after work.

Shuffling down the halls toward her favorite veranda befor she heard an unfamiliar scuffling. It was hurried but small. Most likely a small bug.

"Behind me your majesty." Dryya hissed pulling her nail from her side her alert instantly raised. As late as it was not many would be awake, much less in the halls working so fervently.

As they turned the corner they spotted two familiar horns working quickly with a brush and bottles of ink.

It was the feral vessel.

" You cheeky Sqwib! " she screamed shocking the little vessel. Their small hand dropping the brush they'd use to vandalize the walls. "You are at it again!" Dryya huffed indignant at the vessel as she marched over, sheathing her nail, and quickly bonking them between the horns.

" Do you know how you terrified the Queen?" She growled seizing their ink colored hands. " and to top that, you dare vandalize the white palace yet again!"

"Dear knight, there is no reason to be so harsh. " the white Lady softly appealed. "The walls can be cleaned and the ink replaced but the trust from a child cannot." She calmly lectured using a branch to pet the vessel.

"You are to lenient with them my lady." She huffed releasing them. Dryya was no fan of the feral vessel. Time and time again they'd watch and suffer their pranks. Many a time her nail was stolen only for it to be returned muddy or, miraculously, bent at the tip.

She was not the only one of the five knights to have their belongings weaseled from them and returned in less then favorable conditions.

"They are just being a child Dryya." WL cooed as she slowly squatted in front of them. "Soften your heart towards them. If only for me."

The knight reluctantly huffed again as she faced away. "Praise the Queen's endless patience, you little tyrant, you are saved for now. "

The white Lady smiled warmly as she looked the small vessel over. At this time they were meant to be tucked away in bed. The schedule their father made, though strict was optimize for their healthy growth. She suspected in full that the pure vessel had curled themselves into bed without a second thought, while their sibling ran through the halls causing their daily commotion.

In all honesty, she found their outbursts charming. Each trick, prank and shenanigan they pulled continuously showed her how lively they truly were. When they'd arrived from the abyss with their sibling, she lamented at their sight. Seeing them as nothing more than walking corpses until she heard of what would honestly sound like a farce. They'd barely stepped foot into the white palace before they entered a meeting between the dreamers, with no command or reason, and unleashed the most ungodly revolting smell. Shocking and disgusting the entire gathering forcing them to vacate the room entirely.

When her wyrm ranted about them that evening on how they indignantly, stomping their tiny grub feet and blantly ignoring him, forced them to clean the entire room alongside the retainers as punishment she could not help but laugh in an odd mix of relief and joy releasing a knot in her chest she did not know she held.

Looking again to the picture on the wall it was of clearly her dear wyrm. Her giggle chimming like bells as she observed it further. It was simple and childish as but it was an accurate representation of her wyrm. His elegant crown like horns now simple zigzags, their fangs drawn large and silly, with their tongue poked out in a not very gentlemen manner. (She suspects this is how they saw their father when they ranted at them.) It was crude, hurriedly painted, and was encompassed by tiny hand marks and had all the makings of a goofy Caricature and she wished she could save it.

"I see the throws of art beckoned you from your deep sleep small one." knowing full well they did it to mess with the king again. "maybe we should have Lurien tutor you to bring out your talents?" She questioned aloud watching the vessel furiously shake their head from the corner of their eye.

"Then what brings you from bed?"

The child twisted at their fingers looking down as they snuck peeks at her face.

They signed quickly keeping their ink covered hands slightly in sight. But It obvious it was something else. It was no news to her that they held many things back from them. And the curiosity of what it could be danced in the back of her mind, but she refused to force them anymore than they'd allow.

"You know you require rest in order to grow." She purred gently as she angled her small one's mask toward her.

Their mask tilted in a way that mimicked a pouty huff. Her heart swelling at how cute they were. She could not help but poke a small amount of fun.

"So you do not wish to grow anymore?" She questioned exaggeratedly tilting her head and placing a branch to her cheek.

They seemed to freeze at the and mull the thought around in their head. To her, this was the sweetest gesture. She'd remembered when the two vessels first molted and got their bearings. Though they thought no one was watching, she caught them do a small jig in celebration of their new body. Wiggling their newly formed fingers, touching their more angled faces and observing their budding wings.

" I'd say you'd want to." She whispered calmly retrieving her handkerchief to clean them.

"How can one so small hold such large secrets?" She hummed wiping the pink ink from them.

The vessel signed, a cheeky air to them as they flexed their arms nearly rupturing her heart from cuteness alone.

"Dryya please get someone to assist in cleaning up. " with a bow Dryya reluctantly left grumbling to herself.

"Now as much as I would love for you and to stay up and get into all kinds of mischief. I would say its time for bed. " She cooed admiring their clean face.

The vessel gestured again with more emphasis.

"I see." She hmmed making a show of thinking of what to do. In reality she had an idea of what to do. Somewhere deep in her memory was a song that. She could not remember the face that sang it to her but she remembers it working nearly every time. Ushering her to sleep. "Then would you care to accompany me on the veranda?" She asked pointing to the large glass door not far behind them.

Nodding they streched their arms up towards her. Obligating the gesture she swept them up in her branches as she walked slowly to the door.

she allowed small blooms to bloom on her creating a pleasant perfume before sitting on her stool already set up outside.

The vessel signed again gesturing at themselves.

Chuckling she squeezed them close to her. "Not essentially. You are of two pale beings and void." She murred quietly; her light warming them as they sunk into her lap. "You don't really need sleep. But its good because it helps you grow." She hummed wrapping her branches around them.

They gestured wildly again wiggling their fingers above their head causing her to erupted in laughter.

"Yes." She snickered "maybe if my wyrm slept and rested more they would grow as well I will be sure to suggest it to them later." Feeling the small ones shoulders shake in signs of laughter she hugged them.

" you remind me much of him in his younger years." She thought aloud as the vessel shook their head furiously. " well the both of you refuse to sleep on time so I imagine you two are similar in that sense." She mused as the small threw a small tantrum.

"Very well, shall I sing you something to assist you to sleep?" They nodded sinking back into her lap, placing their head on her chest.

As they sat, staring out into the lush garden and flickering lumaflies below she hummed a quiet tone shutting her eyes calling upon the memory.

Her branch rubbing small circles into their child's back as her voice trilled lyrics long thought lost to her:

Lay down your head and I'll sing you a lullaby

Back to the years of loo-li lai-lay

And I'll sing you to sleep and I'll sing you tomorrow

Bless you with love for the road that you go

May you sail far to the far fields of fortune

With diamonds and pearls at your head and your feet

And may you need never to banish misfortune

May you find kindness in all that you meet

May there always be angels to watch over you

To guide you each step of the way

To guard you and keep you safe from all harm

Loo-li, loo-li, lai-lay

May you bring love and may you bring happiness

Be loved in return to the end of your days

Now fall off to sleep, I'm not meaning to keep you

I'll just sit for a while and sing loo-li, lai-lay

May there always be angels to watch over you

To guide you each step of the way

To guard you and keep you safe from all harm

Loo-li, loo-li, lai-lay, loo-li, loo-li, lai-lay

Loo-li, loo-li, loo-li, lai-lay

Loo-li, loo-li, loo-li lai-lay

Loo-li, loo-li, loo-li lai-lay

Loo-li, loo-li, loo-li lai-lay

Loo-li, lai-lay

Only the soft breathing and the feeling their body relax and their shoulders ease indicated they drifted off.

"Sweet dreams my small one."

Thanks so much for reading. In all honesty i have only played hollowknight for about a month and half and im already so invested in the fandom. (I'm still getting my butt handed to me by ogrim. Please dungy boi stop throwing sh!t at me long enough so i can hit you. You broke all my fragile charms alreday!-🥺😢) You guys are so creative and fluffy and have no problem hurting my tender sensibilities.

For those curious the song is called sleepsong by secret garden. I used to listen to it ages ago before bed.

[aturinfortheworse]

continuing in the trend of most of my creative projects - i am drafting a pattern for a kind of skirt that ive never seen before, probably because there's no good reason for it to exist. i have spuriously practical justifications for this but the real reason is that its fun.

all i know at the start is that the top has to fit around my waist and the bottom should be near my ankles.

thats it.

when i start trying to work out the pattern i do not even know the shape of the pieces.

maths, especially when applied to real world problems, has a kind of eldritch quality for me. it is alluring and mysterious and just beyond the reach of what my mortal brain can comprehend

but ive failed high school maths twice, which is often enough to have remembered some stuff. and i do know some other things about the skirt. I know that most skirts are bigger at one end than the other. I know that I want the seams to be straight lines. I know that I have a ruler. So I draw a trapezoid.

I spend a good (meaning here both entire and enjoyable) hour working out what length the bottom edge of the trapezoid should be. I can't measure it bc I haven't drawn it to scale - bc I don't know what the bottom edge should be.

I divide it into triangles and rectangles, bc those are the shapes I can work with.

I get enough information out of this monster to calculate the angles of the blue triangle, which tells me the angles of the GREEN triangle, which lets me calculate its edges which gives me the edges of the trapezoid.

The answer is 65!

I show this to a friend and he's like "The bottom of the triangle increases linearly with distance - so 58/110 = 5/y then x = 45 + 2y."

I, briefly, see a glimpse of the fundamental machinery of the universe. I'm looking through the eyes of an entity so vast and perfect that even this brief reflection of its sight makes me want to rearrange my life in pursuit of it.

Why the fuck am I making stuff? I have, at the outside, if medicine gets really good and my liver continues to hold the line, maybe ninety years left in which to do things. I have to dedicate every fucking second of it to learning about maths, I decide.

I realize I don't know how to turn that algebra into an answer. I definitely could work it out - I was almost okay at algebra! - but the clock is ticking on my one precious human life so I ask him for the answer.

It's 64.

Close enough! I know all the things! I can cut out the skirt!

It occurs to me to just quickly (one precious human life slipping through my fingers) just quickly check that hem length against an actual skirt. I realize that I'm actually pretty much just making a half circle skirt, albeit in two pieces.

The triangles are now irrelevant. The hem length is insane. I have invented the world's worst hobble skirt. Precious human life to live, skirt to make, maths degree to enroll in - I move on.

What I REALLY need, I tell myself, is half of a half-circle skirt.

Picture a flat circle of fabric. Cut a circle out of the center, the size of your waist. Put it on so the waist bit is on your waist. That's a circle skirt.

A half-circle skirt is the same thing, except that you have to cut a circle (your waist) out of a semi-circle (the skirt.) That complicates things a little, but there are calculators for whatever-fraction-of-a-circle skirts. You give them waist circumference and skirt length, they give you waist radius and fabric length.

But I want the measurements for a shape that is half of a half-circle. That might be the same as quarter circle skirt? I'm not a visual thinker and I'm having fun learning about maths, so I discard that possibility.

What do I need? I ask myself.

I don't know the answer, so I make a NEW diagram.

I realize that what I need is Y, which is X+110.

What I have is a quarter of a circle with a bit missing.

But quarter circles make right angles and that 40-cm-edge is basically a hypotenuse, right? What is a quarter-circle if not basically a triangle? If I find the other angles of the "triangle," I can find the other edge lengths.

How the fuck do you find the angle of a corner where a curve intersects a straight line? I ask myself. But that's coming at things backwards. Really the question is What can I do with the information I have?

I know that 213 is 1/4 the circumference of a circle. The 40-cm-curve is parallel to the circumference of that circle. Maybe the angles are the same for the curve as they are for the circle?

But I'm not convinced 213 is the right number, and that seems Very Important, so I go through my notes and make sure I've calculated the right circumference.

Waist measurement eighty, skirt length 110, half-circle skirt calculator, radius, circumference... wait, what was that first one again?

Forty and eighty and half all collide in my head and I finally realize that forty is half of the circumference of my waist. Because a curve that runs parallel to a circle is a fucking circle.

Well, that was a stupid mistake, I say. Maybe I shouldn't dedicate my life to uncovering the hidden mechanisms of the universe. I'll spend the rest of eternity distracted by the crankshaft of the infinite. And I still won't have a good winter skirt.

But I've got it all sorted out now. I just need the radius of my waist measurement. And my this is a quarter of a circle, so 40*4=160 cm circumference, chuck that in the calculator, radius of 25, all good!

The most complicated piece of math I actually needed to do was radius+110. Oh well, no harm done, no fabric cut. I'll take a break and tell tumblr about it.

And then I write the post and I realize that I found the radius of a 160cm circle which is still, notably, not my waist.

[davidmann95]

Thoughts (if any) on DC's April 2021 solicitations?

Let’s take ‘em in order! I should be able to muster up a comment on just about everything one way or another.

Green Lantern #1: Oh this is gonna be bad. Heard only the worst about Thorne’s Future State: Green Lantern, and I assume Jo Mullein’s DCU debut will be wasted here to either function as some kind of ridiculous ‘popularity contest’ with Teen Lantern for who gets the bigger push, or as a way to put TL over with a few “good work kid, you got a future” comments. Also, and granted I don’t know how Morrison will end or this will begin, is the New Guardians angle being immediately dropped?

Robin #1: Dope suit, art, and premise, but it’s Williamson so I don’t care.

Batman: The Dark Knight #1: I’ll read this and I expect to like it, but between this being Kubert’s first big Batman project since Master Race, the ‘old but not quite retirement age yet’ angle, and the title, I’m concerned the shock ending here is that it’s actually a stealth DKR prequel.

The Next Batman: Second Son #1: So they really are committing here, though weird that this kinda makes Ridley’s Future State book basically a longform teaser for this. And I’ll get it as it comes out since it turns out this won’t be in that John Ridley’s Batman collection after all - sorry Dustin Nguyen, I love your stuff but I won’t buy an entire trade of material I otherwise already own just for one new story by you.

The Batman & Scooby Doo Mysteries #1: I got that whole great-looking Scooby Doo Team-Up run by Fisch for free on Comixology, I should read that sometime and see if this’ll be worth getting too as well, because it sounds like a hoot.

Challenge of the Super Sons #1: Glad people who want it are getting it, I do not care.

RWBY/Justice League #1: WILL BE GETTING A POST ALL ITS OWN

Action Comics #1030: His powers waning definitely won’t help the standard pre-run fuming by a lot of Superman fandom, but it’s an interesting pairing with PKJ apparently doing mainly cosmic Superman adventures so I’m curious where he’ll go with it. That it’s particularly cited as being tied to Death Metal might validate my suspicion that the new ‘everyone remembers their entire mainstream publishing histories’ thing will play into Johnson’s description of Clark really feeling his age at the start of the run. And Janin on covers even before he gets in on the book proper! And that Midnighter description!

Superman #30: This sounds like where Johnson’s gonna start with that worldbuilding he touted, and I’m curious; definitely reads in this instance like him shoving Clark and Jon into some swords-and-sorcery-esque territory he’s familiar with.

American Vampire 1976 #7: Not reading, don’t care.

Batman #107: I assume ‘the events at Arkham Asylum’ are the ‘A-Day’ ominously brought up in Future State solicits. Tynion Batman, Jimenez as the regular artist now, whatever the Unsanity Collective is, all entirely my shit. More importantly than any of that though, GHOSTMAKER BACKUPS. And drawn by Ricardo Lopez Ortiz, artist on Steve Orlando’s excellent The Pull! Dope!

Batman: Black & White #5: Any other issue and ‘Jamal Campbell doing a life story of Nightwing’ would probably be the highlight, but in case you somehow hadn’t heard Gillen/McKelvie are making their DC debut on a Batman vs. Riddler story here, absolutely wild.

Batman: Urban Legends #2: Even more excited for this now that I’m onboard for the Grifter and Outsiders stuff given how much those features pleasantly surprised me in Future State.

Batman/Superman #17: Injecting it isn’t enough anymore, I need to be on some kind of constant IV drip with this book. I was wondering whether it’d take the premise to further generational riffs or follow a history of mass-media Supermen and Batmen, but instead it’s veering off in a direction I never could have guessed and I couldn’t be more excited.

Batman vs. Ra’s Al Ghul #6: NOTHING CAN STOP THE ADAMSVERSE. NONE MAY DARE TRY.

Batman/Catwoman #5: Wondering how this Harley involvement plays in - I don’t imagine it’s quite what it seems given how King’s written her before. And love that Joker by Mann on the cover, major Clown at Midnight vibes.

Catwoman #30: No reason to assume this run won’t continue to rule.

Crime Syndicate #2: Dammit, I don’t think this book is going to be good, but I’m kinda tempted.

Detective Comics #1035: Wouldn’t be psyched, but Dark Detective was another pleasant surprise so I’ll give this a chance.

The Dreaming: Waking Hours #9: Again, not reading.

Far Sector #11: Sucks a little knowing we’ll never see that little ‘Young Animal’ label in the corner again after this wraps. At least it’s going out on its highest note.

The Flash #769: In a vacuum this would sound dope but I have less than no faith in this, and goddamn that’s a terrible cover.

Harley Quinn #2: I’m sure it’ll be fine, no interest.

The Joker #2: I wanna believe Tynion will be able to make this work, he keeps talking like he has more freedom on this than he has some other books, but everything about this reads like the price he has to pay for relative post-Joker War freedom on Batman.

Justice League #60: It’s Bendis/Marquez on Justice League, lots of people will complain but I’ll mostly dig it. More interested in Ram V briefly getting to write the main crew in the JLD backup.

Man-Bat #3: I’d ask why this exists - and as a matter of fact I still do - but checking out some of DC’s digital-first output recently I see Dave Wielgosz has something on the ball, so maybe he’ll be able to make this work? Perhaps I’ll check it out in trade someday if worth-of-mouth is on its side.

Nightwing #79: I maintain, this is gonna be huge. And clever move to make for how to justify Nightwing keeping up his standard way of business after Bruce loses most of his money.

Rorschach #7: A comic I will purchase and let’s continue leaving it at that.

Scooby-Doo, Where Are You? #109: DC’s highest-numbered comic (that hasn’t gone through an interim renumbering), astonishing. Not getting it myself, but respect.

Sensational Wonder Woman #2: Can’t say this sounds like my thing.

Suicide Squad #2: I’ve been swayed into checking out the Future State debut, but that’d have to really blow me away for me to follow into the main book.

Superman: Red & Blue #2: Sadly if unsurprisingly DC’s clearly not stacking this with AAA attention-grabbing names in the same way as this latest version of Batman: Black & White, but there do seem to be some interesting names from outside the usual big two roster here. And the main and Bolland cover may disappoint but holy cow that David Choe variant.

The Swamp Thing #2: I have no doubt it’ll be incredible but time and again I learn I simply don’t have it in me to care about Swamp Thing regardless of the objective quality of the effort put into him.

Sweet Tooth: The Return #6: Another one I’m not interested in.

Titans Academy #2: Oh lord so this is where they stuck Billy Batson.

Truth & Justice #3: I continue to have no idea what if anything the unifying idea of this anthology is supposed to be.

Wonder Woman #771: Wonder Woman as troubleshooter for mythological mishaps isn’t a permanently sustainable or desirable status quo but I’m down for it for as long as it lasts if it’s any good (though that Immortal Wonder Woman preview...concerned me, in spite of Jen Bartel’s jaw-dropping art).

So that’s 19-23 out of 37 I’ll be getting - if DC’s standard for success with Infinite Frontier is the proportion of their line people will be checking out, I guess it’s winning with me.

[choccos-aaart]

Close enough to 10 mintues of “Ms Axel is a Goon”

Screw it. I'm posting it here, too. *NOTE: This is 100% fictitious and not going to happen*

Final Assignment Script Writing, Winter School 2021 ONE-PAGE PITCH

TITLE: Ms Axel is a Goon

GENRE: Action, comedy, sci-fi, family

LOGLINE: In the humid city of Dasmus, Mei Axel is a former goon who's just escaped captivity. Since her escape, she's been trying to better her life with her new found passion for music, but she quickly learns that the entire country wants to trade her name and face for a price.

FORMAT: Full-length animated film

MAJOR AND RECURRING CHARACTERS: Mei Axel – A wanted fugitive. Mid 20s. Despite her physical competence, she's mostly a foolish, plucky girl who steals a guitar one day.

Alicia Vonarb – CEO of a liquor company. Late 30s. The last boss to hire Axel to do her sneaky business work. Confident and vain, but does everything in spite of her mother. Wants to capture Axel because she doesn't want to get ratted out.

Kannie Orma – An old gadgeteer friend of Axel’s. Mid 50s. Also a “lame uncle” sort of figure to Axel. Their friendship must remain secret because his work is also involved with Vonarb.

O. Miho - Axel’s former coworker from when she was working for Vonarb. Early 30s. His current assignment is to capture Axel. Smug and thinks he's funny.

K. Claymont – Axel’s other former coworker. Late 20s. Works together with Miho. A kind man, but only most of the time.

SYNOPSIS: Mei Axel. She's a goon that's been caught and jailed. Eventually enough, she makes a successful escape and ventures outside. Not much happens afterwards other than stealing a guitar, and once discovering that she's got a passion for music, now she aims to live up that dream. But while attempting to live her new life, her face still reads as an incompetent menace to her former friends and foes, as well as to the majority of the country – they all seem to want to trade in her face for a cash reward. Now, aside from escaping the hands of everyone that wants to hand her over to the government, it is now up to Ms Axel to figure out how she is going to be able to pursue her new life goal that heavily conflicts with her current place among her people. This first follows the story of a wanted fugitive who sets off on a quest for redemption which, unfortunately, never works out. The story ends when Axel eventually escapes the country. She finally acknowledges that she can never truly change the way she's perceived, as well as never fully experience the life that she wants. However, she still performs under a low profile, happily living a drifter's lifestyle.

RATIONALE: This is a story about someone whose wrongdoings and nurture had shaped the way that others view them. Our protagonist is Mei Axel who had been built up to become a significantly infamous member of society, but once discovering a part of herself that showed her potential in a more respected position, being a musician, she starts wanting to better herself. A problem with this scenario is that her past actions prevent her from fully achieving that dream. She can relate to audiences who want to change aspects of their past, particularly their mistakes or the wrong ways they've been brought up, but can't.

MARKET: Children ranging from 11-16, particularly those that are interested in scenes that involve action-packed chases and fighting between individuals. The [film] will present itself through retro-futuristic aesthetics in its city setting. Rock is also a prevalent music genre for the soundtrack, which may interest audiences who particularly like the genre.

The Script

EXT. BUILDINGTOP – NIGHT

Axel checks out the guitar from every angle with a grin, having a feel of its neck, strings and body. She sits it on her lap as if to play it.

AXEL

Oh... I hope those lessons never went to waste...

She wobbly plays a C major scale while slightly wincing through every second. She runs over the same scale again, but this time it flows a bit more smoothly. She smiles a little.

MONTAGE OF AXEL PRACTISING GUITAR

- Axel goes over the same scale a couple of times and with every run, her playing gets smoother.

- She then moves on to a different key and practises that scale

- She then moves on to another key and practises that scale

- She plays some chords now, beginning with the I IV V I progression

MONTAGE END

Axel continues strumming. A light turns on from a nearby building.

DWELLER

Who is playing that garbage?!

Axel stops strumming. Silence.

AXEL

(Breathes in)

I'll get the hang of it.

She slings the guitar over her back and runs into the shadows. Eventually, she disappears into the dark.

EXT. MARKETPLACE – DAY

A view of a cranny on a roof between two walls. Axel sleeps there resting her guitar on her lap. Waking up, she yawns and then lazily sits up.

CUT TO:

A view of the market grounds. Axel smugly and excitedly, yet discreetly scurries out of an alley between a bakery and a liquor store, with a paper doughnut bag in one hand and a small bottle of liquor in the other.

She sits by a cafe playing some instrumental reggae rock music through a speaker. Axel hums along to the melody of the soundtrack while tipsily bouncing her finger to the beat. She then quickly strums a few chords for a brief moment, all which clash with the song's key signature, until right on the chorus, where she strums a chord that matches the root note of the song.

AXEL

Ooh, it's a G song. God, why do they always gotta be G songs? (Giggles)

She strums along with the music, landing every chord. Her smile grows and she gradually plays more confidently. She whistles the melody, then proceeds to hum. A TEENAGE BOY chucks a coin in front of her. Axel looks up and grins. She finger guns at him as he skids away to his friends, laughing. Axel stands up and plays more purposefully. The background starts dimming down.

DAYDREAM

Soon the marketplace around her blends into a stage. An abstractly drawn audience watches her perform and cheer her on. The chorus section of the song finishes.

AXEL

(Laughs)

I'm going to be known! I'll make myself the talk of the town! Everybody's gonna love me!

Axel starts strumming along to the background music again. Suddenly, a MAN with a large, muscular build grabs onto her shoulder.

END DAYDREAM

The stage fades back into the marketplace. Axel is still strumming.

MAN

You got that last part wrong.

AXEL

And who are you?

The man bats Axel with a club.

OVER BLACK.

SFX: Walking footsteps.

EXT. DESOLATE CITY AREA – DAY

In an alleyway, the man carries a bag containing Axel's body, also with Axel's guitar strapped around his back. After some time, Axel can be seen moving inside of the bag.

MAN

Huh? Hey. You keep still down there, would you?

Axel still moves inside of the bag.

MAN (CONT'D)

Look, this is goin'a be a long walk. That means you better cooperate with me, you hear that, Girlie? (Pause) You don't want to make me hurt you, now--

Axel falls out of a hole the bag with a shank in one hand and one of her boots on the other.

MAN

What the?!

The man looks behind himself while Axel stands up in front of him, holding her boot in both hands. She sends a finishing blow at the back of man's head and he falls to the floor. Axel cautiously looks at the man for a brief moment.

The man lies motionlessly on the ground. Axel drops her boot and fixes her shank back inside her pocket, then dusts off her hands before then squatting down next to him.

AXEL

Gosh, they really never hired me for nothing, huh... But I ain't into that stuff anymore. Say, can I have my guitar back?

The man does not respond. Axel lifts one of the man's eyelids and learns that he's out cold. Axel sighs with a slight chuckle. She lifts up the man and, with a struggle, unstraps the guitar from his body, before eventually slinging it over her own. Once fitting her boot back on, she then stands up and slowly walks over to the edge of the alley, whistling a chipper tune – the same melody she was playing earlier - on her way there. At the edge of the alleyway, her eyes look up. Then they widen.

INSERT – ELECTRONIC POSTER

containing Axel's mugshot and in large writing, "WANTED". Below is a list of details including Axel's height, approximate age, gender, race and the time and location of where she was last seen, “18:50, Southwest of Dasmus City”. There is also a cash prize.

INSERT – ELECTRONIC POSTER

containing the same contents as the previous poster, except the location which reads, “Southern markets of Dasmus City at 15:47, drunkenly playing a red Phenver brand guitar”.

A view of Axel between the alley's walls. All around are copies of the same two posters, both in electronic and printed forms. A mildly shocked expression crosses her face.

INT. TOILETS – DAY

A view of a row of toilet stalls. None of the stalls' doors are closed, except for the one in the centre. Axel's guitar leans on a nearby wall. Her feet can be seen in the gap between the bottom of the door and the floor. Axel kicks the wall.

AXEL

Damn it! I'm such an idiot! What was I thinking?! Me? A musician? That's just one way to draw attention!

VONARB (O.S)

Axel? Is that you?

AXEL (CONT'D)

I can't b-- (Pause) Ms Vonarb?

Axel immediately opens her stall's door and looks in the direction of ALICIA VONARB'S voice. Vonarb walks towards Axel.

VONARB

And to think I'd meet you here of all places?

AXEL

I never expected to see you here, either.

VONARB

Well, isn't this quite the reunion?

AXEL

Eh. Not really.

VONARB

I'm surprised you got clever enough to get yourself out of prison.

Axel exits her stall.

AXEL

So, is that to say you're impressed with me?

VONARB

Nope. How'd you think I found you here so easily?

AXEL

Easily? That was easy?

VONARB

Anyway... Don't think I came trying to find you for no reason, now.

AXEL

Oh yeah! Coincidentally, I'm a bit short on cash. You don't happen to want to hire me again, don't you?

VONARB

(Laughs)

What? After getting yourself thrown in jail?

AXEL

Oh... (Pause) What are you even here for, anyway?

VONARB

Well. First of all... (Clears throat) Whatever you do, please don't take this the wrong way.

AXEL

Huh?

Silence. The two stare at each other. Axel tilts her head in confusion. Eventually, O MIHO and K CLAYMONT enter the room. Miho holds a taser while Claymont holds a bag.

CLAYMONT

Now, I don't mean to spread any panic or alarm--

AXEL

(Gasps)

You gotta be kidding me!

VONARB

I just said to not take it the wrong way--

AXEL

I knew it! You are as easy to see through as a window! It's 'cause of my “WANTED” sign, isn't it, Vonarb?

VONARB

Wrong!

AXEL

Huh?

VONARB

You see, we're here to keep you away from those authorities. And knowing you, you're probably so incompetent that you'd just wind up stuck in prison again! So, since you're with us, you're going nowhere.

AXEL

What? Why?

VONARB

You're pretty infamous now. And I've got my business to worry about, too. So, if it didn't all add up in that brain of yours, let's just say, I don't want to risk you ratting me out.

AXEL

Yeah, I'm not doing that!

Grabbing her guitar, Axel jumps on the sinks and runs along them. Miho runs to tase her. Axel whacks him with her guitar and then heads right out the door. Claymont follows.

CLAYMONT (O.S)

I got it!

EXT. CITY STREETS – DAY

A view of the front of a pub. There is people scattered everywhere. Suddenly, the door swings right open and Axel sprints outside with her guitar now strapped over her back. She continues along the street. Claymont chases right after.

[fandomrouletteburrito]

Talking to the void about the MHA and TRC art im not like an artist whos studying art im kind of self taught and taken a few classes here and there...im kind of new to reading manga so im kind of just a semi experienced person talking

Really just me fangirling and gushing over art

Horikoshis art is amazing. We all know that right and agree right!?

So im just looking at art from old mangas like Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle and you can so clearly tell how hand drawn it is? Like you can sometimes see the small white gaps or breaks in lines and i love seeing that becuase it takes me out for a moment to appreciate!!! The art! That all of this is handrawn, if you know TRC you know its artstyle is very much almost done in a way to look very pretty and aestheticy sometimes. The long whips of clothing, long hair spreading out over panels, nature abundantly flowing, scabbards tie(? I dont know this im sorry but that kinda long string??? Im so sorry) etc. its a beautiful reminder of how much work has gone into this! I am absolutely NOT saying this is a bad thing that we can see small imperfections, Im trying to say i LOVE them so much because it reminds me how much love and effort has been poured into this art that i enjoy!!! And i love that! Because it feels like i get a tiny peak into the people who created this artpiece!

Btw highly recommend Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles esp for the art!

Anyway in the case for MHA i feel like i often FORGET that its also hand drawn? There is a person!!! Drawing the buildings??? Im not patient enough to draw perfect buildings the way Horikoshi and his assisstants can do! Ifs so impressive!! The destruction!!! The characters support gear!!! IMAGINE DRAWING BAKUGOS GAUNTLETS EVERY PANEL!(i could never)!! And Its done in such good quality! You rarely see any like hints or flaws?! Ive always been so impressed by MHA’s art which is very different style from Tsubasa’s and a very different take on manga art from it, and how in different ways their artists shine!!! Think horikoshi even said in a comment in some volume(?) that theres more detail in Stains scarf than what was finally seen in the print version bcuz printing can only get so much detail? Like THINK ABOUT THAT? The art is already so impressive and when you learn theres ACTUALLY even more?! MHAs art does a different thing where its so meticulous in its designe in EVERY SINGLE CHAPTER its incredible!!!

Drawing backgrounds i feel is very difficult because of how delicate it is. Windows need to be the same size, the skys reflection in the windows has to be perfect, you have to think about different angles and views and MHA is set in a city! So the drawings are so full of all the things i personally find extremely tedious (im just not very patient) so its all the more impressive to me.

Interesting to note is TRC was late 90s early 2000s I think, so it didnt have as much of access to digital art to make things easier and MHA does and its a very cool different to see how time has progressed to allow artists to try and aim for different results?

Anyway, i just wanted to talk about art 👉👈

Excuse typos

[xteenwolfwritingsx]

You Know Better - Part 36 - Recover

-gif source unkown-

Story Description: Peter and the reader develop a slow relationship.

Part Description: You wake up in the hospital.

Warnings/Labels: Medical mumbo jumbo. Tooth-decaying sweetness.  

Approx. Word Count:  

A/N: Final part before the epilogue (which I plan to have out this month!!) Again, not a medical professional. I know nothing of medical mumbo-jumbo and the only “research” I’ve done is watch House and Grey’s Anatomy. So bear with me.

Story Masterpost

Everything is hazy and bright when your eyes blink open. You’re staring at very bright, white lights covering an entire ceiling and laying on a firm, unforgiving mattress. The sheets are scratchy. Your throat is dry and there’s something shoved inside of it. You cough, trying to get it out, but it doesn’t work.

You start to panic, unable to breathe with this thing blocking your airway. You keep trying to cough, to breathe, as machines start beeping around you. You lift your hands to pull at whatever is in your mouth, but you find your wrists encased in restraints, only able to lift them a few inches. Tears fill your eyes at the fear and the sensation of having something scratching inside of your throat.

“She’s awake!” a man yells. “Someone get Melissa!” There’s a hand on your arm and your vision clears enough to see Derek leaning over you. “It’s okay. Calm down,” he tries to soothe. There’s a worry in his eyes that he tries to hide that only makes you panic even more in your haze.  

You ball your hands into fists and pull at your restraints as hard as your weakened body allows. They don’t budge though and every sound you attempt to make; words, screams, anything, is blocked by the tube in your mouth. Derek’s hand wraps around yours and squeezes.

Melissa runs in, hands immediately coming to your mouth. She unclips the device and starts to pull. The tube down your throat comes out too slowly for your liking and you cough violently, trying to simultaneously expel it and ease the scratchiness it leaves behind.

You’re still coughing, trying to catch your breath when Peter runs into the room, clear panic across his face. Derek releases your hand reluctantly and steps back, allowing Peter to sweep in, taking his place. His hands instantly go to work on the restraint around one of your wrists.

“Peter,” Melissa warns, pausing her motions of adjusting the machines next to your bed to make the frantic beeping stop. He gives her a short glare.

“She’s coherent this time,” he scolds, continuing to release the straps. Once finished, he takes hold of your hand in both of his and you find yourself clinging to him. “And I’ve got her.” His words are as firm as his grip and you finally start to feel yourself relax, let your heartrate come down. His eyes meet yours and they soften. His thumb strokes the back of your hand, warming the cold skin. “I’ve got her,” he repeats quietly, the words meant for you this time.  

“What,” you try to speak, but your voice croaks and your throat burns in pain. Derek’s already handing Peter a cup of water with a straw for you to drink from. Melissa presses a button on the bed and the head of it starts to rise, slowly sitting you up. When you’re at a fairly upright angle, Peter holds the cup in front of you.

The water tastes good, but feels both soothing and painful as you swallow it. It’s very clearly the first liquid you’ve had in days. Which means you’ve been knocked out for at least that long. As you drink, you look closely at everyone. Derek’s stubble has grown out a little. There’s three long, faded scratches along Melissa’s right cheek. Peter looks tired and his clothes look crumpled, worn. You rub your legs together and judging by their scratchiness, it’s been at least a week since you shaved last.

“You’re going to be a little weak,” Melissa tells you gently as she works on the restraints on your other wrist. “Just go slow.” You clear your throat just to test your voice and it still hurts, but not enough to stop you.

“What happened?” It’s hoarse and low, but understandable.

“You’ve been out for almost twelve days,” Melissa says. “The poison really did a number on you. You’ve been on a ventilator for a couple of days now.”

“You woke up last week,” Derek tells you, coming to stand at the foot of the bed so that he can see you clearly. “But you weren’t exactly…” he pauses and his eyes involuntarily dart to Melissa’s face. She looks down, allowing her hair to curtain over her cheek and the scratches.

“Did I do that?” Guilt floods you, but she smiles gently and gives your hand a friendly squeeze.

“It’s okay. You weren’t lucid.” Her voice is kind and honest, holds no trace of blame. The woman was too damn nice. You squeeze her hand back and are about to apologize anyways when Peter speaks.

“You’ve got one hell of a right hook too.” His voice is more jovial, even if it is a little forced. “Wonder who taught you that.” You never thought in a hundred years that his condescending smirk would bring you such comfort, but by god it does. He rubs his jaw in mock pain and throws you a subtle wink. “Think I can still feel the bruise.” You let go of him and smack the back of your hand against his stomach. The motion takes more energy than you expected, but everyone gives a little smile.

“You probably deserved it,” you tease, hating how scratchy your voice sounds. You clear your throat and readjust yourself on the bed, incidentally tugging at your IV and various life-monitoring devices that make you look like a puppet with all their wires. You give up with a sigh and contend to being uncomfortable.  

“We can go over all the details later, but you’re going to be okay.” Melissa moves some of wires for you and lifts your bed up a little more.  

“Everyone else?” Anyone not in this room could be dead, after all.  

“Everyone is okay.” Derek calms your fears quickly, easily seeing the worry rise up in your face. “Kayla is dead and we got the Cerberus back where it belongs.”  

“And how exactly would you know if everyone’s alright?” Melissa quips, a smile on her face. She turns her eyes to you. “Neither of them have left this hospital since they brought you in here. The entire world could be devolved into chaos and they wouldn’t have a clue.” Both Hales shoot her half-hearted glares.

“Someone would have called,” Peter joke dryly. You bite back a smile of your own and reach for his hand again, redirecting his attention to you. It felt good to touch him.

“Well why don’t you go find out?” She puts her hands on the bed railing and straightens out, shifting strictly into Mom/Nurse-Taking-No-Shit mode. “She needs her rest and we’re going to need to run some tests just to be safe. So out you go.” She nods towards the door, but as expected, neither of them move without looking to you first.

“It’s okay,” you assure them, shooing them with one of your hands. “Go take showers. You both stink,” you tease. You can tell they’re still reluctant, but Derek nods his head and files out first. Peter pauses, reaching out to gently stroke his hand along your jaw before leaning down and placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

“I’ll see you soon,” he promises.  

After Peter leaves, Melissa turns to you, having previously turned away to give you some semblance of privacy. She smiles sweetly, but there’s a teasing glint in her eye. You raise your eyebrows at her, silently asking what it was.

“You know,” she starts slowly, jotting down some notes on your chart. “I went on a date with him once. Sort of.” Suddenly you feel a little embarrassed.

“I…forgot about that,” you admit. She laughs a little bit.

“Most people do. Even I forget sometimes.” Grabbing a blood pressure cuff off the wall, she motions for your arm. “He had this gentleman air around him. Like he was the type of guy to always get the door for you and ask permission before he kisses you.” You scoff a little and she gives you a knowing look. “That was all a façade obviously. He’s not that kind of guy at all.” The inherently negativity of the statement brings the instinct to defend his character onto the tip on your tongue, but she continues without giving you the chance. “He is, however, the kind of guy to carry a bloody, barely breathing woman into the hospital and sit in the waiting room, also bloody, for 32 hours before he can see her again. He’s the kind of guy to stay with said women at all hours of the day and hold her hand and talk to her, plead with her to be okay because he needs her, when he thinks no one can hear.” Her eyes are trained on the blood pressure gauge as the cuff squeezes your arm uncomfortably, but you’re sure she can still notice the blush that comes to your pale face. “May not be the chivalrous gentleman he pretended to be, but it’s pretty clear that man would do anything for someone he loves.” You’re very grateful it’s just your blood pressure she’s checking and not your pulse because the way your heart just skipped around in your chest would certainly raise some red medical flags.

“Oh I don’t think… I mean he’s just being…” you fumble for words, but nothing sounds right. The smile she gives you is endearing and she gives you a small wink as she un-velcros the cuff.

“It must be a Hale thing,” she teases. “Derek also happened to be staining a chair with blood in our waiting room for quite a while.”  

“They better pay for those chairs,” you tell her, causing her to laugh.

“Don’t worry about it.” She closes up your chart and gives your hand a pat. “I’ll have someone in to draw some blood in a minute, but after that, you should get some rest.” You had to admit, your body feels weak and your eyes want to do nothing more than close for a while.

“Thank you,” you tell her just before she leaves the room.

---

When your eyes blink open, you can tell it’s nighttime. All the lights are dimmed down in your room. The blinds over the windows you hadn’t noticed before are drawn, but it’s obvious there’s no sunlight trying to filter in behind them. Your bed is slightly reclined back, but all it takes is a lift of your head to see Peter sitting in a chair across the room, an open book in his hands. He’s got new clothes on, much less rumbled than before.

“Reading in the dark is bad for your eyes,” you manage to croak out. He looks up swiftly and smiles at you.

“So I’ve been told.” He snaps the book closed and leaves it on the chair behind him when he gets up, coming to stand next to you. He grabs the water off the table besides you and once again, holds it up for you to drink from the straw resting on the lip. “How are you feeling?” he asks gently after you manage to contain a sputter of a cough.  

“Sore. Groggy. Weak. But better than when I first woke up.” An honest answer. Lying wouldn’t do you any good with him.  

“You had us worried for a while there.” His hand comes to the top of your head, thumb stroking gently along your forehead. It’s comforting and almost makes you want to go back to sleep.

“You should have told me about the poison.” You can’t resist the urge to scold him lightly. “Locking me up with Argent of all people?” A look of regret briefly breaks through his features.

“I know.” The words surprise you. You hadn’t expected him to actually agree with you. “I didn’t have a better plan though and I just…” He sighs heavily, eyes looking away from you. “I was afraid,” he admits slowly. He doesn’t like saying it, even rolls his shoulders uncomfortably. “I didn’t want to… I couldn’t…”

“Come here,” you whisper, cutting him off and drawing his eyes back to you. You reach your hand out towards him and he only hesitates for a moment before leaning down close to you. You bring your hand to his cheek, his jawline prickling the bottom of your palm with too-long stubble. Your hold on his face is gentle and timid, but he leans into it, almost like he craved your touch. You brush your thumb over his cheekbone and he closes his eyes. “I can’t lose you either.”  

He doesn’t need to say it. You don’t expect him to. Words are an unneeded obligation after everything that’s happened. Romance. Connection. Love. People will call it, label it, whatever they see fit, but you don’t need to. In this moment, it’s clear you and Peter both know you’re on the same page, whatever that might be. That’s all that matters.

He leans down enough to press his lips to yours in a soft, sweet kiss. It’s not out of passion or lust, but of a need to be touching you, to be intimate on a deeper level and to feel you solidly, real and alive. You cling to him, one hand on his cheek and the other fisting the torso of his shirt. It lasts longer than it probably should and when he finally pulls away, you’re blinking away tears.  

Everything is okay.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “For coming back for me.”  

“I’ll always come back for you,” he says softly, pulling away a little further. You wonder briefly, if the heart skipping thing will ever stop around him. His eyes brighten a little and his face lightens. “Don’t want to waste a good student.” You bite your lip to hold back a soft laugh while letting your hands come down from him, allowing him to straighten back up with a grin. “You should get your rest,” he tells you, offering you the water once more. “I’ll be here if you need me.”  

He gives your hand a squeeze before returning to his chair and opening up his book. You watch him for just a few moments, admiring everything about him and being simply amazed at how things have turned out. Your eyes drift shut and you slip into sleep with the lightest smile on your face.  

Everything is perfect.

[ill-skillsgard]

Blue and Yellow - Part 1 - Axel Cluney

Title: Blue and Yellow

Characters: Axel Cluney x female OC

Warning: 18+ sex/mature themes/medical themes/mentions of blood+injuries/hospitals/violence/drug and alcohol use

Description: A new nurse finds herself entangled in the complicated life of an underground boxer with a slew of problems she cannot fix.

Note: I've wanted to write Axel as a boxer for a while now and finally came up with a storyline I could put him into. I hope you enjoy it and please consider leaving a comment and/or reblogging! Patreon subscribers got to read this last week as part of the early access benefit.

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A nurse stood outside room 2817, reading over the tattooed man’s chart. He had come in—unconscious—and woke up in a bloody daze. She remembered seeing his swollen head and thinking there wasn’t a chance he hadn’t sustained a brain injury, but the man was alert and became responsive not long after. That was several hours ago when she began her third shift ever at Featherfall General.

The man with the black and blue face was awake and sitting up in his hospital bed. At the request of others, they pulled over the curtains to shield eyes from prodding at the swollen knot of an eyeball enclosed beneath a grotesque protrusion. His bottom lip had swelled to twice the size, and he couldn’t move any facial muscles without pain shooting up his nostrils. His nose stopped bleeding an hour ago and hadn’t sustained any injury beyond an unsightly bruise.

When she shifted the curtain aside, one squinting eye looked her over while the other remained concealed in a mountain of raw skin and broken blood vessels. She hadn’t seen anyone come in with a face like that yet. It made her stomach flip.

He couldn’t smile, but he wanted to. The nurse stood at the foot of his bed, her large brown eyes landing on every object in the room before taking a skittish scan of his face. The navy blue bubble of his closed eye ballooned to his temple and bled down to his cheekbone like an oil spill. It made the contusions on his shoulders and arms look like faded pinches. The bridge of his nose raised an inch off his face, puffy and tender. 

“You turning me loose, Saberrah?” He rasped, angling a look at the badge on a clip hanging out of her scrubs pocket.

“We will keep you a few more hours, on account of your concussion. The doctor will come to go over your CT scan. Would you like another ice pack?”

“Yes, ma’am, ‘ppreciate it.”

“All right, Mr. Cluney. You hang tight and try not to move around. Lie back and rest.”

“Can’t lie down,” he muttered. “Can’t sit up either.”

“That’d be your cracked rib,” she informed him. “Looks like you took a bad beating.”

He squirmed, wincing from the pain shooting through his lung. “Is it a good time to say ‘you should’ve seen the other guy’?”

She took his humour with a small smile. “I don’t want to know what kind of trouble you found for yourself. I just hope it doesn’t happen again. A concussion is a serious thing, Mr. Cluney.”

“Axel, please. You make me feel old,” he said.

“Says here you’re twenty-nine. Not old yet. But dirty thirty is coming up. You might not heal up as quick as you used to when you were a younger trouble-maker.”

Axel grimaced through a weak chuckle. “Dirty thirty. I like that.”

“Hopefully, you live to see them.”

“And what makes you say I’m the trouble-maker? Maybe I was minding my own business.”

She acknowledged him with a nod and a muted smirk. “I’m sure you were, Mr. Cluney.”

“Axel,” he corrected her again.

The voice slipping out of swollen lips was warm, but to look at his face still made her heart twinge. By anyone’s assumption, the man with the beaten face, a broken rib and tattoos was a sucker in a deal gone wrong. Featherfall was no cottage town with walking bridges and newly paved streets. Despite the pleasant melody of its name, it was no more a city than it was a village, but something in-between. It was big enough to get lost in, yet everyone seemed to know each other. It had its fair share of drug problems, and Axel Cluney was the fourth guy she saw that raised more than an eyebrow or two.

Her trained eyes fell to his arms, seeking any inflamed injection sights along his arms or puffy purple fingers. She found nothing out of the ordinary but scraped knuckles and tattoos to make a mother mourn.

“Hello, Sabi,” a voice greeted her from behind.

She turned to a man in standard indigo scrubs. It was the doctor charged with the late evening rounds, a man named Rufus Farber. Sabi relinquished the clipboard to the young doctor and stepped back.

“We meet again, Axel,” Dr. Farber spoke through a tight smile. The shadow in his eyes told of little sleep and too many occupied beds for a Wednesday morning. Though he was fresh out of med school, he had the tired look about him of a man twice his age. 

“Good to see you. Well... What I can of you,” the patient’s words flubbed out of fat lips.

Sabi left to find a cold pack and came back to them laughing like old pals. Dr. Farber was wrapping up and taking inch steps away while scribbling on a prescription pad.

“Your rib should heal up fine if you can keep still for a while. I suggest telling Eugene to take you off the night shift for a couple of weeks,” the doctor said with a wink.

“I reckon I’ll take some of that advice,” Axel replied. “I could use a little vacation.”

The injured man swung a slow gaze at Sabi, then saw the cold pack in her hand. She handed it to him, and he nodded a silent thanks.

The doctor signed the bottom of the note with a flourish of his pen. “Get yourself some painkillers, my man. Check-in at the pharmacy across the street.”

“Thanks, Doc. And thank you, Sabi.”

Sabi flinched at the sound of the patient using her nickname, but not so much that he noticed her reaction. “You take care of yourself, Mr. Cluney. We’ll come to get you in a couple more hours. Do you have somebody who can give you a ride home?”

“Sure do,” Axel replied.

“All right. You take care now.”

~*~

Featherfall General wasn’t the most state-of-the-art facility Sabi had ever worked. The rooms—often packed with patients — overflowed into the corridors. There were entire wings lined with beds, and everyone ran around like headless chickens in a crowded coop. It cut her work out for her, and a dull moment never sat right. There was always somebody screaming, children crying, women giving birth, blood to be mopped, and disruptions in the waiting rooms. 

Outside of the hospital—on the sidewalk and no closer—was where Sabi found a minute of rest. She could smoke a cigarette and forget that a patient had vomited blood on her. Sabi wasn’t alone on the sidewalk—far from it. Patients permitted leaving their rooms lined the walkway, smoking as many cigarettes they could fit into a ten-minute window. Some still hooked to their IV stands. One man with cracked red skin and starch white hospital sheets plastered to his arms and legs took puffs from a rancid gold-band cigarette that his companion held up to his chattering lips.

Sabi looked across the street at the pharmacy and the adjoining pediatrician’s offices. The building was a squat, rectangular structure next to a multi-level parking lot, of which she always heard the family members of patients complaining. The most frequent complaint was the seven-dollar parking fee. People who had dying relatives shouldn’t be expected to pay such a steep price to avoid getting a ticket.

New as she was, Sabi didn’t want to get on wrong sides by taking long breaks, and she chose the perfect moment to return as an ambulance flew into the emergency bay. Strapped to a stretcher, they hauled a tiny woman out of the back and rushed her into the hospital, followed by a tall man in blue jeans and a black tank top. Sabi only saw his side profile before he was halfway down the hall, following the EMTs and the female doctor who had intercepted them.

“It’s another overdose.”

“Fourth one tonight.”

“Third time for her. Can you hear me, Mrs. Cluney?”

They disappeared around a corner and left Sabi blinking in the corridor while others tried to catch glimpses. Most of the folks waiting in the lobby had nothing better to do than gawk at the people with real problems; broken legs, failing hearts, deep gashes, bright yellow skin, and when somebody came in with a worse ailment than them, a chorus of scoffs warbled in the room. They drowned out the only television tuned to the local news and grimaced at each other.

“‘Scuse me? When can we see a doctor? My kid’s sick!”

The triage nurse glared through the glass window. 

“I’ve been here for three hours!”

“Do we have to hack our limbs off to get some attention in this place?”

Sabi ducked out of the waiting room and went to where she was needed most, but she couldn’t be in half a dozen places at once. She tried her best.

It was a long, hectic night, and the sickness she saw didn’t end until the early morning. She dragged her feet and tired eyes into the hospital cafeteria and made for the coffee machine for a cup that might get her home. If she had to get into her car and drive, she would need the caffeine to keep her eyelids drawn; otherwise, she’d be another person getting rushed through the doors and into intensive care.

An old couple sat in a corner, and the same tall man that came in at the end of her first cigarette break occupied a table in the centre. She squinted at him and realized that she knew his face from somewhere. He turned, and a faded crescent moon of bruising arced from his brow to his cheekbone. It was the man with the black and blue face, more yellow and green now that the swelling disappeared. Two large hands dwarfed a paper cup of coffee as he stared off into outer space. 

Before he snapped out of his deep thoughts, Sabi made her way to the table and gave her best comforting smile. Without the swollen balloon of a head, she could make out his facial features. He had sharp cheekbones and two eyes that reminded her of the foggy marshes on her grandparents’ land. He looked up at her and his placid face glimmered with a hint of welcome.

“Oh, hi,” he said, lifting the paper cup to his lips.

“Hello again, Axel. How’s the head? And the rib?” She asked.

He knocked on his temple, tossing out an amused laugh. “All’s well.”

“I saw you come in earlier. I hope everything is okay.”

Axel sighed, a hopeless air leaving his broad shoulders deflated. It was odd to see him dressed in civilian clothes with nothing but a faded bruise on his face. His knuckles still bore scrapes, and dark bags of exhaustion hung beneath his marshy eyes, but he looked healthy. Sabi’s eyes coasted up and down his tattooed arms, habitually looking for signs of drug use and found nothing but vulgar symbols.

“It’s my ma. She’s in a coma, I guess.”

“Oh, jeez. That’s terrible. I’m sorry. I hope she comes out of it soon.”

He shrugged and sipped his coffee again. “Might be the best thing for her. She did it to herself.”

“Oh?”

“I guess that’s what happens when you mix Percs and alcohol for three days straight.”

Sabi gave an understanding nod. It no longer surprised her to learn the extent of drug abuse inside the walls of Featherfall General. Axel looked off into the unknown again, absently drinking his coffee until the cup was empty.

“Are you doing okay?” Sabi asked, unsure if the stranger would take offence to her questions.

“I’ll be all right. My hopes are that she’s okay.”

“I hope so, too.”

Axel raised his empty cup, slid his chair out, and stood up. Sabi’s eyes followed his, and soon she was looking up. He seemed much taller than when he had been a crumpled thing lying in a hospital bed. 

“Well, I should head out. I’m done for the night. Or morning, I guess. Sorry to hear about your mom, and I hope I won’t be seeing you in here again soon.”

“I know, I’m a sight for sore eyes.” Axel pointed at the cloudy bruising around his eye.

“That’s not what I meant,” said Sabi, shaking her head with a smile. “I mean... I hope you don’t find another reason to come back here.”

“If I don’t, how will I ever see you again, Saberrah?”