#sketches where the anatomy nearly killed me

[nyssasorbit]

Got bored and tried to recreate that one scene with Lenalee and Allen, except with Ruth and Kanda ✨

[weeklyfangirl]

Frat Boy Pt. 21

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13 , part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19 , part 20

HI LOVIES. Please enjoy a Friday update on the Frat Boy universe. This one is a bit of a breather after the TUMULTUOUS ANGST of the last chappie. Shorter than my usual, but it’s all the chapter needed. Tons more y/n and Harry interaction on the way in the next! Have a safe and happy day loves xx

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Things I want:

Live a life that helps others

Financial freedom

Experience a great love

Visit the the Pincio Gardens in Italy

To have more dreams and fewer nightmares

Doodle more

Acquire a first edition book, either because an old  friendly man who owns an antique bookshop decides to give it to me in a bonding moment, or because I have accomplished #2 and I am celebrating being a Boss Bitch

To be happy

Please note: not necessarily in that order

 It was taped above my desk, waiting for me to bring it in to the next session. I hesitated to write number 6. It was a dream I hardly entertained after committing my scholarly life to pursue medicine. I used to love to doodle. All the time. Since elementary school. I doodled so much my mom dedicated a wall in the house to my illustrations. She hung a sign above it that affectionately said “Y/N’s Doodles.” Seriously, you couldn’t get me to stop. Even if it was gross sappy sketches of my crush Billy who I would NEVER show on the playground at recess.   

 My doodling stopped how these things normally do. Because life grew busier than anything else, and the sketchpad and easel my dad had bought for me at a garage sale became ignored, collecting dust in the corner of my room. At some point, it’d become a year since I’d drawn anything, and then it was two, and three, and by this point I’d realized I was the one who’d need to create her own stability in life and medicine was the more logical fit. It wasn’t that I didn’t see the value in drawing anymore, I just had other things take up my time. It became a comfort just knowing I used to draw. Paul had paved his way, and now I was on my way to do the same. At least with medicine, my soul felt fed. It was almost comfort enough. 

  “oH WE GOT A ROGUE ONE.” 

 A flying toenail hit my eye. 

 “WHAT THE-” I flailed my arms, as though there were a thousand more coming. Renny’s mouth opened in shock, her guilty body hunched over her bent leg. Clippers in hand.  

 “Sorry!!” Renny burst up laughing.

 “oH MY GOSH CAN YOU DO THAT OVER A TRASH CAN OR SOMETHING?!” 

 “IT HAD A MIND OF ITS OWN!!” she screamed back. 

 I blinked rapidly, my left eye watering up and spilling painless tears. “Well I’m going to have conjunctivitis at the studio later. Or I’ll be stumbling in blind.” I wiped it away.

 I heard another clip and she put up her hands with another giggle. 

 “All done. And you won’t stumble, I’m going to be there.” Renny extended her leg, her perfectly trimmed foot nearly touching the ceiling.

 “You’re just going to solicit Zayn to be his next subject.” 

 “Maybe,” her grin grew devious. “But also because I want to see if he captured the angelic beauty and complex nymph nuances of my best friend.” 

 I put a hand to my chest, still aching from uncertainty. “Honored.” 

 “Want to watch another episode until it’s time to go?” 

 This whole lazy morning had been an OC Housewives bingefest. She’d seen it on my homepage and had a complete spazz, twitching whilst proclaiming but i’ve been trying to get you to watch this show for YEARS!! When she saw the old season I was on, though, she didn’t have to question why her pestering had miraculously worked. She didn’t mention him aloud besides giving me a pointed look. And so, we watched it, even though I wasn’t really in the mood to see anything about Harry right now. It’d hurt more than I thought to walk away from him last night, and to see how sad he looked when I did. 

 After last night, he hadn’t posted anything to social media. He’d called, twice, but I knew he was drunk, or worse, and I was tired, and whatever he would say he could tell me in the morning. Even though I knew he wouldn’t. 

 And he didn’t. 

 And therein lay the problem. 

 It hurt to see his family on my little box of a computer screen, weird to see his life and get glimpses of his childhood. I felt like a hacker spying on home videos. But then I reminded myself that thousands of people had already done the same. At this point, it was just… morbid curiosity.

 “Nah, I don’t know if I can handle any more of that right now. Dr. Rhinecuff is going to yell at me if I don’t return these scanned copies to him by Monday.” 

 “Ew, he smells like meat.” 

 “RENNY!!” 

 “I’m just saying. That one time I went with you it smelled like pastrami in his office. He has a PhD, but isn’t with-it enough to buy air freshener.”

 “He likes pastrami sandwiches, let him live.” 

 She scrolled on her phone, not bothering to respond, and my gaze turned to the window. 

 “Hey Renny?” 

 “Hm.” 

 A bird flew close to the glass, halting just before it hit it, then zooming off in the opposite direction. “What’d you do when your parents were fighting?” 

 “Ummm…” I knew the question registered in her mind when she stopped scrolling, suddenly concerned. “Are your parents okay?”

 “Yeah. I mean, kind of.” I glossed over it, not caring to get into the bitter details. “I was just curious.” 

 “Uhh..” She plucked at the soft cotton of her cotton candy pajamas that were fraying at the knees. “I lost my virginity to Zach,” she half-laughed.   

 “Zach? Neighbor boy Zach?” 

 Renny nodded. She always sounded a little sad when she talked about him. Zach was the hot college boy who shared a backyard fence with Renny, the girl who may or may not have used her kitchen stool to peak over and see him workout on the grass every summer he came home. I’d known they’d slept together. I just didn’t think he was her first. 

 “I just tried to be out of the house as much as I could,” she said. “Found my true love Mary J.” 

 “Oh.” 

 “It was shitty, but I’m glad I got it over with.”

 “The divorce or your virginity.” 

 “Both,” she chortled. “Why what’s up? Are you sad or something? I have a j in my drawer.” 

 “No, no, I’m fine.” Mostly I was just wondering what it must be like to feel so sexually liberated. In my house sex wasn’t talked about. At all. The inevitable sex scene in every other movie would result in my dad blaring out “WHAT KIND OF MOVIE IS THIS!” in an attempt to make it less awwkard, but having it backfire and only make it horrendously more awkward. I wasn’t saving my virginity for anyone in particular, but after all those romance novels, I wanted it to be… something. I wanted to feel something towards the person where it would justify something I’ve kept to myself for so long. I wanted it to be intense. I wanted it to be like the books. Like a Frank Sinatra song that swept up your heart and transported you back to a time of gentlemen and cigars and women in long evening gowns with fur coats and martinis. 

 “I wish I could just get it over with,” I confessed. One half of me screamed YOU’RE IN YOUR TWENTIES HAVE ALL THE SEX while the other half said YOU’VE WAITED THIS LONG DAMN IT HOLD OUT A LITTLE LONGER. I didn’t know which part of me was compromising more. 

 Renny leaned in, quick. “Would you do it with Harry?” 

 Like the flip of a switch, I remembered the sensuous heat of his body against mine, wrapping me up and pressing me against him where we just fit. And I couldn’t imagine how much better it’d feel to be even more connected to him. 

 “Maybeeee…?” 

 But then there was last night. 

 I cringed. No matter how with me he’d seemed… he couldn’t have been present after mixing whatever the hell he took and a handle of alcohol. Did I really want someone like that? Someone who could only give a shell of themselves? 

 “No, I wouldn’t. Or- ugh, I don’t know. I don’t know if it could ever mean as much to him.” 

 Renny nodded. “I mean, don’t let him pressure you, obviously. If he does, I’ll kick his baby maker smack into his prostate. Prostate. See, anatomy. You taught me that.” 

 “Haha, no, he’s not like that.” My brows stitched. I was confused why he wasn’t more like that, actually. We’d known each other for several months now and he hadn’t even put a finger in me. When I thought about it, it actually frustrated me. Don’t pressure me to do anything, but I wanted to be pushed to do something. I was never the bold one in areas like this. 

 Not that I should be so willing to do anything with him anymore anyways. Something shifted in me when I’d seen him last night. It wasn’t a shift I could easily describe, but it’d set me a foot apart from my heart. A bit of me was shocked that it had happened so suddenly. 

 But this shift was new, and my heart still wanted what it wanted. I knew that if I watched any more OC Housewives with Harry’s toddler curls and surfer tan, I’d be sucked right back into speculating about what our future kids could look like. And if I saw him? 

 You were right, Harry. You are fucked. 

 I cringed again. That was harsh. That was very very harsh. 

 I didn’t know if I’d have the courage to apologize. What if my pheromones went berserk and magnetized me to his side??

 Renny was right.

 I needed therapy. 

 The clippers were tossed back on my desk.

 “Thanks,” she said. “Have you started on your DG Double P yet?” 

 DG Double P = Renny Speak for DG Pretty Please. 

 I groaned. “No. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, honestly. I have to-”

 “NO!!! Don’t tell me. We’re not supposed to tell each other.” Her hand extended in panic.

 “Fine. I can keep a secret.” 

 I was getting a little too good at that lately.

 She moved onto her belly, splaying her arms out in a dramatic fashion, face squished against the comforter. “Isn’t it just killing you inside.” She was dead serious. 

 “Yeah, more than you know.” 

 And I was serious, too. 

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

 I wasn’t expecting people to dress up as much as they did. Donned in my only pair of yoga pants and a chunky white sweater, I walked arm-in-arm with Renny past girls in cocktail dresses and guys in button-downs. 

 Something that sounded like a baby’s cry filled my ears, but it was gone as soon as we walked through the doors to the on-campus gallery.  . 

 “Woah did you hear that?” 

 Renny nodded, tossing her head back. “There’s a baby somewhere.” 

 It reminded me of the bodiless screams in my nightmare. In my chunky sweater, I shivered undetectably.

 The on-campus gallery rotated exhibits throughout the year, but this time, student sculptures were on pedestals, nightmarish portraits hung on the walls, and red and orange tapestries swooped down and across the ceiling in a cirque-du-soleil moment as if to secure us beneath fire. Some students had separate booths, but other pieces of work trailed seamlessly into the next. 

 A tree made from photographs and newspaper took up the center of the space. Zayn had been so adamant about his muse having life, I wondered if that was the focus of this exhibit - to capture natural life. But I suppose all art did. 

 “It’s the circle of life exhibit,” Renny stated, as if reading my thoughts. 

 “How’d you know that?” 

 She held up a pamphlet she must’ve grabbed from the entrance. 

 I quickly scanned the room, hoping to find Zayn quickly so I could skip out just as quick. 

 Several of my professors were here, including Dr. Rhinecuff. When he saw me, I raised my hand, but he raised his cup of red wine awkwardly and looked away. 

 My hand wavered. 

 Odd. 

 Zayn was standing by the tree, speaking with an older woman. Her skin was a rich brown, short hair hidden beneath a chic scarf. The man beside her looked around the same age with graying facial hair, a pocket hanky, and beaded bracelets. Art professors. 

 I caught his gaze, and he gestured me over. 

 “Y/N, these are my instructors. David and Ebony.”   

 Their eyes lit up in recognition. “He did you a great justice,” David said, gray moustache twitching with the words.

 Ebony beamed. “Oh yes, a piece was already sold. He’s going to be the next big wig before he graduates,” she gushed. “Zayn, I’m sure you’ll be splitting the profits with the heart of the piece.”

 She gestured to me and his smile widened, but my stomach sank faster. 

 “I didn’t know these pieces were going to be sold.”

 Ebony sensed my concern. The wine in her glass swirled. “We thought allowing the pieces to be shown and auctioned was a good way to replicate what many of them should be doing once they graduate. The whole department gets involved, and these kids put in a lot of work, and the reputation of starving artists isn’t something we want to buy into here.”

 I nodded. “I mean, that’s great. That’s… really amazing.” 

 Zayn couldn’t meet my eyes. He knew. He could sense my hesitance, too. 

 “Now he can finally afford a nice dinner to take you out!” David proclaimed. 

 We were all quiet for a minute. “You know, for a thank you dinner,” David covered up. Zayn’s brows scrunched and he shook his head a bit, not knowing where David’s comment came from. 

 “Do you do this regularly?” Ebony asked, steering the conversation away from an awkward moment. 

 My ears pricked up when I realized she was looking at me. “Excuse me?” 

 “Well I was just thinking…” a light laugh lifted as if her idea would be outrageous. “Would you mind sitting in for one of my classes on Monday? Our model had a sudden death-” 

 “My God,” David proclaimed. 

 Ebony waved her hand. “-in his family. I haven’t called to replace him yet.”

 It quieted as they looked at me, waiting for a response. “Oh, I don’t… I don’t usually do this. At all. It was a chance thing.” 

 “Luck be the artist.” David raised his glass. 

 Ebony followed suit, looking at my empty hand. “You just going to let her stand there without a drink?”

 “Yeah, Zayn. What kind of treatment is this?” I teased. 

 He did a slight bow. “Apologies. We’ll walk to drinks, immediately.” He pulled us away, leading us further into the showroom as his head dipped low to my ear. “Renny just passed us to meet Felix and them. They’re through here.” 

 We stepped under an archway that led into a darker-lit room, but his hand stopped me beneath the nook. “Did yeh notice anything?”

 Yeah. I was noticing how close we were in this archway. He saw my eyes start to squint in thought and he turned me around to face the room we’d just left. 

 “Look closer.” 

 My eyes roamed the crowd, trying to find some sort of person, or pattern he could be referring to. With a brief seize of my heart, I expected to see somebody from the gang. 

 “Look at the artwork, Y/N.” His breath warmed my skin. 

 The paintings all seemed to be bright, though sticking to red, orange, blacks, and grays. Wait, forget a pallette pattern. The next painting had blue and purple, too. One sculpture looked like a writhing ghost, twisting and reaching for something above. Or maybe it was an unearthed tree root. Despite all the bold colors, there was something off-putting about how bright they all were. It wasn’t a soothing brightness. It was almost violent. The orange and red writhing tapestries warped the ceiling into something hot. 

 “Is it hell?” I chortled, but quickly quieted. I expected him to take offense, but his hand went lightly around my waist with a small smile.

 “Could be. See-” his arm extended out to scan the perimeter “-all this art is supposed to represent death, but challenge the notion of it through color.” 

 “How so?” 

 “Yeh know it’s usually your blacks, and your grays, s’depressing shit. But we’re born from death. Before life, there was nothing, but something. It’s bold and necessary and there, and no one really knows whatever comes before. Or after.” He looked at the room, taking a sip of wine. I watched as he swallowed, and I imagined the wine running down. “What is death but an uncertain existence.” He said the thought almost happily, looking at me with a slight smirk. “Could be anythin’.” 

 He took a deep breath, letting his hand touch the top of the archway. It was then that I noticed it wasn’t just plain drywall. A collage of photographs ran all along the inside. 

 He wasn’t as tall as Harry, but his hand still reached the top, scuffing across a picture of an African landscape taped over a toddler eating fruity pebbles. 

 “They’re pictures. Everyone donated one,” he said. 

 A strand of words were painted over the collage, running from one end of the archway to the other, and I tilted my head back to read it. “Things... that…. make... m..e …...feel alive.” 

 “Everyone was able to design their space in order to control, to some extent, how their art was perceived. Everyone was a part of the transition space.” 

 “Very nice,” I noted, slightly put-off. I hadn’t been expecting this art show to be so… professional. “Zayn, this is amazing. Like, really, truly, professional-grade stuff is happening. The presentation, the pieces, everything.”

 His smile grew wider, putting cool hands over my eyes. I flinched, but let him. 

 I felt him come closer. 

“Listen now,” he urged. 

 I listened, but I wasn’t sure for what. There was the familiar busy rumble of people mingling, parents visiting their kids, and professors droning on about the talent of their students. But it was chatter. I couldn’t make out one conversation over another. I shrugged up against his other hand that was atop my shoulder. 

 “Sometimes you need to change where you’re planted to understand.” 

 I hoped he could see my cross expression because I couldn’t tell if he was bullshitting me right now. It’d been a day. It’d been a night. And I wasn’t in the mood for more philosophical ramblings - especially about death. “I don’t know what you mean,” I sighed. 

 “Meaning I have to move you closer to the speakers.” He let out a breathy laugh. “Jus’ keep your eyes closed, okay?” 

 I nodded. His hand moved, tilting my head to its side. Eyes still closed, I became self-conscious imagining people trying to move past me, and here I was, planted, eyes closed in the middle of the archway. My cheeks heated. It was unnerving knowing people could see me when I couldn’t see them. And anyway, I must’ve looked ridiculous. 

 “What do you hear?” he urged. 

 “I hear a lot of people talking,” I griped. 

But right when I was about to open my eyes-  

 I heard a familiar chirping through the chatter. 

 “Birds?” I opened my eyes. 

 “Observance can be taught, sometimes.” Zayn leant back, looking mighty proud of himself. 

 “Why are there birds?” 

 “We’re entering life,” he smiled, backing into the space. I tipped my wine back, several long gulps lightening my step as I followed him. Immediately, I noticed much more natural, earthier tones. For being a room of life, it was surprisingly darker than the prior room.

 Renny, Felix, and Andre were huddled in the center where a makeshift wall-on-wheels covered in vines divided the room in half. 

 My eyes widened, trying to adjust to the dimness. “It’s a lot darker in here.” 

 “All intentional. They decided to play with light in here. People usually think of life being bright ‘n that, but it’s also when we experience varying degrees of darkness. There’s a balance to things and the trouble is finding it.” Understanding laced his voice as his dark eyes bore into mine, almost completely black. One look from Zayn and I was reminded of all the weight I’d been carrying. I fidgeted, uncomfortable seeing myself in his eyes. 

 “Y/N, get over here!” Renny called. My shoulders visibly relaxed. My saving grace. “You didn’t tell me you did this,” she said lowly as soon as I got close enough, shocked excitement barely contained. Her giddy smile gave it away though. “Miss sexy secret keeper over here.” 

 “What do you mean?” 

 She playfully poked my sides, but Andre and Felix avoided my gaze. Something wasn’t right. And it stirred my stomach, my body already knowing, somehow. 

 I turned in slow motion, the charcoal drawings in my peripherals stopping me in place. Framed amidst the vines, my face was etched onto paper, scrunching and twisting in various expressions. But my body was attached and twisting, too. And it was bare, bent over, spread out, laying down… My eyes scanned over them a dozen times in a second. 

 I was naked. 

 In all of them. 

 One was titled “21st Century Love.” In this one, I faced the viewer, but looked past them, sorrowful eyes, brows furrowed, breasts I’d never shown on full display. A hickey or two on my neck. A painful sting gripped my chest. I looked sad. I looked so sad.  

 Tunnel vision, a blurred Renny rushed down to the floor, and a distant part of me registered something wet splatter on my feet. 

 The wine had dropped.

 I’d dropped it. 

 I was trapped in a shell. My body was numb. 

 “Babes, you okay?” Renny asked, her voice somewhere far away. Somewhere outside the shell, her voice drowned in the busy rumbling, with the birds, with the watchers. People were watching me now. I was being watched. “Felix, grab some towels!” she barked. 

 I looked horrified, towards Zayn, but changed my mind just as fast. I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t even breathe. 

 He didn’t know me at all. He could stare at me for a thousand sessions and paint every crevice, sunspot, blemish, and mole and still not see me. How was an artist this blind? How could he not know that this was the last thing I could ever want? How could he picture me so… intimately?

 The paintings seemed to swirl into one before bouncing back out into their separate exposees. 

 Because that’s what it was. 

 An exposure. 

 A stranger could pay to have me in their home. 

 The floor spun, vision spotting. 

 My lungs tightened, tearing me away from Renny, from Felix, from Andre. From Zayn, the artist who painted a confused girl so unashamed. So honestly. Savagely and Unabashedly. 

 “I didn’t want this.” 

 And it was when I was halfway out the door that I realized the voice had come from me, a mantra pushing my shell all the way home. 

part 22

[florenceandthemachine]

talk stackson to me about stiles getting a piercing (or piercings) of your choice while they’re in college and them driving jackson out of his fucking mind. bonus points if jackson goes with him to get his next one and they end up getting matching tattoos instead.

So, here's the thing. Jackson doesn’t even notice the first piercing that Stiles gets for like, a week. 

After suffering through what feels like a month of insomnia and developing what feels like a crippling tolerance of NyQuil, Stiles finally breaks down and looks to alternative sources of sleep aids. He tries acupuncture, he tries massage, he tries aromatherapy. Nothing works. 

He reads about the benefits of a daith piercing online, and while he has learned to take everything on the internet with a grain of salt, he’s beyond the point of desperate. He googles the nearest tattoo and piercing shop, grabs his keys, and walks in about twenty minutes before there set to close.

He looks a mess. He has rings under his eyes, his clothes are crumpled, but the artist in the shop doesn’t even bat an eye when he says he needs a “daith piercing, like, yesterday.”

He’s in and out in less than ten minutes. Apparently, after a few days without sleep, Stiles no longer has an aversion to needles. Not when the needles come with the sweet promise of getting knocked the fuck out. 

He gets home after grabbing one of Kira’s cards (because she seems like a cool person in general), takes off his pants, flops onto the couch...

...and sleeps for thirty nine hours. 

(Jackson, bless him, comes home from work, sees Stiles sleeping, and silently cheers. He’s two years into his pre-med program at this point, so he knows how dangerous insomnia can be—he just takes Stiles vitals every six hours and lets him sleep.)

So, no. Jackson doesn’t notice Stiles first piercing right away, and when he does, it’s with hardly a second thought (if it helps Stiles sleep, why would he be mad about it?). It’s a tiny, barely there hoop of surgical steel, almost buried in his ear—why the hell would he notice it immediately?

Stiles second piercing, though, that Jackson notices. Partially because Stiles calls Jackson drunk and crying about it. 

Stiles has just finished one of the most grueling midterm seasons of his life, and he demands a party. Scott, the eternal bro that he is, agrees immediately. Stiles sends out a mass text to everyone in his phone, kisses Jackson good luck on his last midterm, and immediately heads to the liquor store.

Jackson finishes his anatomy and physiology midterm (at seven PM on a Friday, because his instructor is a sadist) in less than two hours, and takes no small comfort in the warmth radiating through his body when he turns on his phone and sees supportive text message pouring in from Stiles, even as they progressively get less coherent as Stiles undoubtedly gets more imbibed.

He’s about to call the idiot love of his life when his phone goes off, Stiles having beat him to the punch. He’s still grinning as he puts the phone to his ear. 

“Hey baby, I just finished up. I can be there in fifteen—”

“JACKSON! I LOVE YOU.”

Jackson beams.

“JACKSON KIRA BROKE MY FACE.”

Jackson... beams significantly less. He has to tell himself that of course it isn’t anything even remotely close to real danger, but he has never quite been okay with the idea of any part of Stiles being remotely hurt, or as drunk Stiles would call it, “broken”.

“Stilinski, I’ll be there in ten minutes. You’d better be with all of your pieces or I’m going to kill Scott.”

Stiles gasps and must drop his phone, because his voice is higher pitched but further away as he wails. 

“OH NO HE CALLED ME STILINSKI I’M GONNA BE IN TROUBLEEEEE—”

The line cuts off, and Jackson makes it to Scotts apartment in eight minutes. 

When he gets there, the party is in full swing; apparently the mass text that Stiles sent out included Kira, his one-time piercing compatriot, who now had a line of people wrapped around the hallway to get a needle stuck through some part of their body. Kira was taking payment in shots. This did not bode well. 

Stiles found him before he could even make sense of the situation—seriously, how did Scott and Stiles even know this many people?—and their earlier phone call must have been forgotten, because Stiles all but jumped into Jackson’s arms, somehow stumbling over himself while managing to avoid spilling a drop of his drink (which honestly smelled like gasoline. Stiles never was one to waste time mixing drinks).

“Hi baby! You look so good in your scrubs! How was your exam! Did you dish—dith—disvvhh... take apart any bodies?” he fires, speech slurred, but Jackson is too busy making sure that he’s okay to take stock of Stiles mental state. He... appears fine, which is all the more concerning. 

“Stiles.”

“You’re so smart, you know that? I can’t wait for you to be some big shot doctor—”

“Stiles.”

“—and you’ll have an office! And you’ll help so many people! And—”

“Stiles, what the fuck happened with Kira?”

Jackson gets all the answer he needs as Stiles mouth snaps shut, his eyes wide and fearful, and Jackson has to bite down on his own tongue to curb his temper as he reaches to hold Stiles’ face.

“You promise you won’t be mad?”

Jackson absolutely cannot fucking promise that, not if Kira hurt Stiles, not if—

“Kira is a kitsune.”

Jackson’s mind stumbled, doing mental gymnastics trying to catch up with the turn that the conversation had taken.

“And she has magic powers. And I think Scott likes her. And she knows I love you. And... she gave me a present."

Jackson is more lost than ever before, and he pretends not to be shocked stiff when Stiles tilts his head, pulling Jackson’s thumb between his lips, lavishing the digit with his tongue, and—

and Jackson feels something... new, something that definitely wasn’t there before, and any anger, irritation, or doubt he felt in his stomach was banished when Stiles released the digit. His tongue followed soon after, and sure enough, there was a smooth, narrow bar placed dead center in Stiles pretty pink tongue. 

Jackson is stunned silent, his eyes following the metal as it retreated behind Stiles’ teeth. 

Stiles, who seemed a whole lot more sober as he smirked, licking his lips, giving Jackson just the slightest flash of the bar once more. 

“She even healed it up for me, right away, once she replied I knew about her being... you know. I’ve been thinking about it for a while. But really, this is a gift for you.” he murmurs, and Jackson’s belly pools with lust. He was going to have to thank Kira later—but for now, he just slung Stiles over his shoulder, caveman style, and hauls him home.

—

When they first started dating, Stiles spent... a painful amount of time discovering Jackson’s erogenous zones, and repeats the process with the bar in his tongue over the next year. Jackson loves it, of course, but what he really loves it he look on Stiles face when they discover something new together—Stiles lights up like a kid on Christmas morning. 

Kira becomes a staple in their friend group, inevitable once she and Scott start dating, so it becomes a regular thing that they hang out at her shop.

Which, Stiles is impressed to learn, is her shop—as in she owns it, not just works there. 

They swing by late one evening, after a wonderful anniversary dinner, and really, where had five years gone? Stiles insists that he has something for Kira before they go home, and Jackson is in no hurry—they had started talking serious things over the past few months, and Stiles had left no doubt to be found about the fact that he intended to spend the rest of his life with Jackson. 

He was loved, he was happy, and he would do anything for Stiles. Even if it meant waiting for what he knew would be some mind-blowing, commitment laced, anniversary sex. 

Scott is there, surprising no one, and Stiles hovers around, watching in morbid curiosity as Malia, one of the artists, wipes clean the last in a series of corset piercings on one of their female customers, her hands fast but gentle as she laces the last piercing up. 

Jackson, on the other hand, is drawn almost immediately to Kira. Or, more precisely, what Kira is sketching. She had a set of designs open on her tablet, two nearly identical looking rectangles detailing some of the most ornate scenes he had ever seen. He often found himself entranced in what Kira drew, on skin or on screen, and this was no exception. 

They’re both monochromatic, and they look like they belong together—one with a wide forestscape, trees and earth and ark sky blending together, the other with a wolf, tall and proud. They could be standalone pieces, Jackson thought, but they looked almost cyclical, like they could be arm bands.

Well, no, not arm bands—they were too small for that, they were more like—

“Rings.” Stiles says, behind him, a small smile on his face as Kira hits Print. “They’re going to be rings, Jackson.”

Jackson turns back and tilts his head as Kira shows them the transposed stencil printouts—he can kind of see it, they’re definitely small enough to wrap around a finger, and Kira is amazing enough with her detail work that she can probably make it fit, impeccably, to fit halfway between someones hand and their first knuckle. 

“I know you’re not really into the material things, and lets be honest, I would lose a ring.” Stiles starts, and Jackson turns, still clueless, but definitely picking up on Stiles nerves, picking up that there’s something that he’s missing. “But, I figured that this was a good compromise... I mean, I know I want to have something that reminds me of you always, so... what do you say, Jacks?”

He takes one of the stencils—the one of the forest—and peels it from the paper gently, getting down on one knee as he takes Jackson’s left hand, wrapping the stencil around the lowest portion of his ring finger. It’s almost a perfect fit. 

“Will you marry me?”

—

By the time they tie the knot, they both have several more additions to their body. Stiles has a pair of studs in each of his ears and a second hole in his tongue, placed near the tip, so he can fit a ring through it. 

Jackson had quickly discovered a love of ink—he had a thin snake, coiled around his neck, low enough to be covered by his scrub top at work (Stiles had called him macabre), a Rod of Asclepius over his heart (he was so tired of explaining the difference between it and the Staff of Caduceus), and a triskele on his shoulder blade (Derek had cried, literally cried, when Jackson showed him, their pack bond thrumming stronger than ever).

(He also might have had a wedding present for Stiles done that morning, a shining Prince Albert, courtesy of Malia [who blessedly didn’t ask questions while stabbing Jackson’s junk with a needle] and an instant heal courtesy of Kira [who really, really didn’t want to know].)

His favorite, though, by far, was the band on his finger—and as the Justice of the Peace declared them married and he dipped his husband into a filthy kiss, cheered on by all of their friends and family, he couldn’t help but admire the two bands together. They were different, but they still fit together. Beautiful. Complimentary. Permanent. 

And Jackson wouldn’t have had it any other way. 

[aliypop]

Amongst The Roses

Word Count:3,165

Character count: 17,430

Warning: ususal Hannibal Stuff 

A/N: This is part 5 I hope you guys enjoy it

“Mammina, mammina!” Shanel nearly shouted from inside the manor autumn leaves present in her hair,  " Mio dolce bambino invernale,“ Rose shook her head. Displeased with the appearance of her daughter, she was adventurous wild, even some would agree to a girl who couldn’t be tamed. “You are 16 going on 6 Shanel..” her mother grumbled, watching the way her daughter reacted. “Forse I want happiness… ” she sighed, grabbing her foil from off the side of the wall, Miles who was a butler walked towards the duo, when he wasn’t up to his duties, however, he was usually teaching Shanel something new, whether her mother liked it, however, wasn’t his issue,  

Sitting in Hannibal’s office like usual was Shanel. This time a bit more relaxed then she had been in the past few months that they had started. “What more do you remember that was good from your childhood..” he asked writing every word that she had mentioned down, “Well, there.. was the time where I used to play piano with Milo,  I did everything with him, singing lessons, dance, you name it.” she smiled for a moment as a thought then popped into her head.

“What about you, any good memories?”  she asked him, now that therapy for the two of them felt more like an allotment for a date. “There were some,” he smiled,

“Want to tell me about it?” she asked.

“If you must know, I suppose..” he gave her a playful sigh as his mind traveled back to a semi-simple time.

Winters in Paris were different than in Lithuania, they weren’t as harsh, but they were dreary and colder. Hannibal, who had been sketching once more, had stopped when he heard the sound of distant singing from his door. Poking his head out to listen, he had caught a glimpse of something beautiful. Walking by was a girl with dark brown curly hair and vibrant brown eyes. Who seemed to be carrying around a big stack of books in her arms, she had to be one of the prettiest girls he had ever seen, even though they did share quite a few classes he never bothered to say hello to her. Something about never really finding her interesting was what got him to stay to himself. Besides, he had his internship to worry about rather than the womanly ways of a songbird.

“Aren’t you the one who interns at the hospital..” her accent thicker than his,

“šitai.,” he mumbled under his breath, looking at the girl who seemed close to his age, “Who’s asking.”  

“Just a girl who wants to learn about anatomy ..” she stared at his vibrant eyes, “Spiacente..” she began walking away. Her bow flopping behind her as he tapped her on the shoulder,

“I suppose I could let you join in..” he smirked, “But no touching anything..” he looked at her. She nodded,

“Maybe we could talk this over during how do you say..pranzo.”

“Lunch,” he winked, kissing her hand, “ I would be delighted  to.”  

“Sometimes I wonder where she is,” Hannibal sighed, shaking his head. As he looked back at Shanel, it had him confused as to why she was laughing at him, almost like a maniac escaping bedlam asylum. She couldn’t help but hide her excitement as to why he. Had felt familiar to her, “Well, I could tell you, but you wouldn’t believe me..” she nearly cheesed, a bit worse than Franklyn, who he had an appointment within a few moments. “I think I could get around to it,” he replied, nearly hating the anticipation, he wanted her to spit it out to say something, “We’ll see about that..” she smiled, watching as he began growing impatient on the answer.  

“Well, tell me ?”

“You’re looking at her..” she smiled, watching the utter shock on his face, “And my times up, I should get going..”   She walked towards her office, someone sneaking up behind her as everything around her surroundings went black.  Franklyn sat down tears in his eyes, a bit heavier than usual. Hannibal, who usually knew the drill had already set the tissues out for him.

“ He ignores my.. calls, and .. lately he’s been very annoyed with me, I think he’s hurting people,”  he said in one breath as Hannibal tried to speed up his writing,

“What makes you say this, Franklyn.,” he asked him, knowing that earlier that da Will had called him about the brutally slaughtered opera singer,  "Today he said he was going to kill someone..“ crying harder as Hannibal passed him the garbage can to discard his used tissues in,

Hannibal smiled to himself, knowing exactly where Tobias was, but not exactly who he was trying to kill.  Franklyn continued to cry, and Hannibal kept supplying him with tissues. Shanel woke up with a funny taste in her mouth, which was violin string polishing oil, and if her thoughts were correct, she was next to be a violin.  Shanell looked around in the basement of what seemed to be his shop surrounded by the smell of human guts turned into violin strings. A sigh then left her mouth, hearing footsteps pitter-patter on the hardwood floor she could tell that whoever was the killer wasn’t exactly good at being discreet their steps made so much noise they could alert the police in seconds.

"I see you’re up.. ”  her vision a bit foggy from whatever else he mixed in the polish. She could smell the scent of Tobias sweat, depression, and Franklyn? She had questioned her thoughts. Still, non-the-less Shanel sat there tied up like the Bride of Frankenstein, and Tobias was the doctor.  "What else would I be..“ she laughed, seeing double, "Dead..” her sarcastic wit always got her into trouble when she was younger, but that was just who Shanel was and who was she to change it now. Taking a look at her neck, he loved everything that he saw. He could tell she was a singer, her cords were healthy and just the perfect type he needed for his instrumental experiment.

“Your friend and I are just alike..” he smirked, getting a few surgical tools. Shanel gave out a small laugh, if, he was comparing himself to Hannibal, then he was dead wrong.

“Hannibal would find you sloppy, which by him is just about everyone who tries to be like he is, creating a new God in his head.”  she turned to look at the darker-skinned man watching him become angered by her remarks.

“And what do you think of me?” he smirked.

“ Pitchy, and Bitchy..” she smirked, “I know women who are far better than you are at killing..”  she looked at him rather boldly, “ And if you see Hannibal..”

“Yes..” he smirked, trying to hide his anger.

“Give him this!” she gave him an uppercut blow to the jaw knocking him out cold for a while, crawling up the steps to find Will Graham standing there like a deer in headlights.  

“And where were you..” she growled, seeing Jack by his side.

“The concert Hall,” he said, as the two heard a car leave from the back, Shanel sighed trying to sturdy up her strength to get up. Jack, who helped her up, looked at her he was suspicious as to why she wasn’t so deep in hysterics but instead calm. Hannibal, who was now sitting with Tobias, was enjoying a nice glass of wine something, that he didn’t often do with all of his patients.  Their conversation had lead them in quite a turn of events.

“ I could use a friend, someone who could understand me, who thinks as I do, who can see the world and people in it the way I did.” Tobias smiled as Hannibal nodded along with him, looking at the bruise on his jaw.

“I see you’ve encountered Shanel..” he made a gesture to his thigh and his face, “A feisty woman… I don’t see why you don’t kill her.” Tobias laughed, having yet another drink as Hannibal stared blankly at him. Tallying him for every rude thing he could think of, “So did you do it?”  he asked, trying to change the subject. Tobias had already known that Hannibal was the Chesapeake Ripper, but as friends, no one else needed to know that,  

“Do you have to ask..” he laughed, confirming that he did it, “You and I aren’t so different..” he smirked, laughing as Shanel walked into their little session, throwing her razor at Tobias as he ducked striking Hannibal with a few violin strings,

“And to think I was going to kill him first..”  he looked at Shanel as he got back up, knocking Hannibal down. Shanel, who had sprung into action, took Tobias by chance, her other razor in hand as she bobbed and weaved, waiting for the right moment to strike. To her, this was just like fencing, and she was merely using a short foil. “ En garde..” she whispered to herself, going for his legs, “Hannibal, he’s all yours!”  she growled tossing him over to the library ladder, she watched as Hannibal tricked Tobias to punch him through the ladder, in her many years of fighting experience that was the first time the woman saw a ladder as a weapon,

Hannibal took Tobias by the arm as he broke it, leaving him quite crippled to try to fight back, still swinging his strings in the other hand he was no match for what was behind him, Shanel who took a left hook blow to the face gave him a right hook jab her eyes still watering. She blinked away the tears as he tried to strike her, but her kick to the ankle made him fall over, “NOW!” Shanel shouted, watching as Hannibal took the stag sculpture as he bludgeoned him to death with it right in the adam’s apple.  Will Graham came in through the door, Looking tired like the most days he’d come to visit. The rest of the FBI came to check on what would have been considered the crime scene.  

“Will you’re okay,” Hannibal said, a bloody gash on his nose and lip.

“Did he attack you?” Will asked, watching as Hannibal nodded, Shanel who had seen Jack from across the room, she only sighed as the FBI questioned her and tended to her wounds.

“So, you killed him..”  Jack stared at Hannibal,

“It was self-defense, he, did kill Franklyn, my patient, he snapped his neck..”  Jack walked away, keeping his eye on Hannibal and watching at Shanels reactions, she seemed to be in a type of shock that he had never seen before.  Calm, although he couldn’t tell who, he knew that someone was lying and they were doing it quite well.  Shanel looked at Will, who only gave her a nod as he exited out the office, a signal of he’d talk to her later. Night had fallen, and Hannibal had been prepping for the return of his dinner parties. Shanel, on the other hand, had already started getting herself to get ready, besides she wanted it to be a surprise to everyone who was coming if she were to be playing the lie of Hannibal’s fiance then why not make an entrance.

Guests began to appear one by one in the humble home of Lecter, some not knowing that it could be their last time. Plates of beautifully garnished victims danced around the table as everyone oohed and ahhed over it, although the food was a crowd-pleaser they had been waiting for the morbid Jay Gatsby, Hannibal Lecter who had worn his best suit for the occasion that he would be returning to his pompous social circle gathering parties, everyone around him sounded almost like a chattering lamb nearly screaming for his attention,

But there was only one woman who held it, promenading down the stairs was Shanel in a deep red mermaid gown that graced her figure beautifully and had the finest golden trim jewels around it. In her hair were diamonds that accented every curl in her updo. All eyes were on her, but she only cared about one set, Hannibals. Walking gracefully down to him, she took him by the hand escorted to the dining room where everyone was breathless of her.  "Sorry, I’m late everyone, do forgive me..“ she gave them a small chuckle of a laugh something from charm school that she kept with her.  Standing there was the grace of her mother and the fire to succeed in his little test.  "Shall we begin our fest?” she looked at Hannibal as he gave her nod.

“Though I must warn you, nothing here is  Vegetarian .”  a curl to his lips as he kissed Shanel on the hand.  The night had seemed to last almost an eternity. She had never felt so drained around people in her life, but when you get asked the same several questions, repeatedly, it could most certainly wear you thin. Sitting on the edge of his bed, she noticed just how much she was changing to the person she had wanted to be.

“What you said back there,  did you mean it?” She asked wiping, the last bits of makeup off her face.

“Every word of it.” he kissed her forehead, unzipping her dress for her, “You, my dear make me smile.” he took in her scent.  She turned towards him laughing,

“Just weeks ago, the lamb and the lion hated each other, and now the lion loves the lamb.”  she kissed him softly grabbing him by the side of his face, moonlight shining above them from the window, she had it bad for Hannibal, and there wasn’t a thing she wouldn’t do for him, nothing at all.  

“Ms. Mahone..” Crawford said, looking over at the shorter woman who had seemed a bit pissed at him, reason being was Bloom had called her at precisely 1 in the morning to tell her that Jack had not only brought in Abigal to identify the body of someone who he had presumed she killed, but he had questioned her without the sight of her lawyer,

“Crawford..”  she snarled, “You asked my client, a minor who is also facing trauma to identify a body..” she sighed her hand on her temple, “And on top of that questioned her!”

“An attorney doesn’t have to be present for either of those.” he smirked, “Or did they not teach that Ms. Mahone,” his eyebrow raised, looking at her. Most people were intimidated by Jack but not Shanel,

“No, but as her represented voice, it would be best not to push me, Crawford, I am something not to reckon with.”  Shanel took the pencil, stabbing it right into his desk, “That’s not a tone you want to carry with me, Mahone.” he jerked back, watching the smile on her face, “Then don’t ever question me.” getting up from his desk walking towards the morgue.

She had passed a classroom with gruesome pictures displayed on the projector screen listening in on what was said. “Now The Hunter is a difficult one to catch there’s, never a trace of footsteps barely any DNA left from the victims, but we know one thing he has a vendetta .. a cry in the murders,” Will said, looking over his shoulders only to find that no one was there.  Shanel, who had a pleasant grin on her face, had always loved the sheer fact that the FBI could never trace the fact a woman was behind the murders, and it pleased her. Walking down to the morgue had become a relaxing pastime of hers the more times that she had begun to do it.

“Morning, Brian morning Jimmy.” she winked, sitting her briefcase down. Grabbing a pair of goggles and gloves Shanel, couldn’t believe her eyes as to what she was seeing.

“Morning Shanel,” Brian smiled, “Wanna see something interesting,?” he asked as she nodded, walking over to him she could see the rope burns the discoloration but not exactly how long they had been dead. Taking her finger and pressing it on the forehead and then to her tongue, she nearly heaved.

“Well we found-”

“1977..” she looked at Brian, then Jimmy.

“What?”

“This ones been dead since 1977..” She looked at the state of the others, “Where did you find them? ”

“On a beach,  pieced like a totem pole,” Beverly said, ushering her towards the pictures, Shanel stopped and stared at them remembering Will talking about something to the extent of this crime in Hannibal’s office but, she didn’t remember too much or if all that he had said, looking at the pictures she was generally impressed with what she had seen, everything had seemed to mostly be done in post mortem,

“Doesn’t look too bad?” Shanel smirked, looking at the disembodied jigsaw puzzle, “But if I were your third opinion … I would say the killer doesn’t have a motive .” she then looked at the three examiners,

“Gotcha.,” Beverly smirked, finding a bit of DNA attached to the fighting dead body, “Well, I should get going..” Shanel smiled, walking away back to her car. Opening the door in the early morning fog, she felt hands grab her waist. Shanel then bent over as she leaned to the side, breaking away from grasp stabbing him right in the eyes as she then slit his throat open, tossing him in the trunk, another present for Hannibal as she liked to put it.

“Hannibal I’m home and I-” Shanel paused, walking into the kitchen as her eyes had gazed upon Alana Bloom drinking an ice-cold beer, the two giggling and carrying on about psychology as they both cooked.  She could feel something in the pit of her stomach boil and a bad taste in her mouth form. “You ?” Hannibal looked up, waiting for her to finish her sentence, “I’ll tell you later it’s great to see you, Doctor Bloom..”  she nodded, walking up the stairs.

“Would you like to join us for dinner?” Alana asked a slight smirk on her face.

“I wouldn’t want to interrupt a teacher and his student.”  She laughed, walking back upstairs, a bit upset about everything she had just seen, and right after she had trusted someone confided into someone, there would be nothing left but the slow ache from her heart. She would convince herself that nothing was going on between them, but it would have been fine if they didn’t look so in love with each other.  Sitting the tub, she could hear them laughing and talking about the good days when he was a professor and how everything he taught her she used. For Shanel, it made her practically sick to her stomach.  

“I don’t think I can love you anymore..” Shanel said, looking in the mirror, rolling her hair.

“I wish every day to hold you.” he held her by the waist.

“Let go of me, You don’t love me like I love you.”

[seasinkarnadine]

Do you think u can write about how bow and glimmer reacted to adora being pregnant with the kitras and Them being like "BUT HOW?" btw I kitras are adorable :)

warning: the following contains graphic details of pregnancy and mentions of child abuse.

It takes a while before anyone realizes what’s going on.“Where’s adora?” Glimmer asks one morning. They’re supposed to be having a meeting regarding supply lines to the front in Thaymor.“Puking her guts out.” Catra responds, sliding into her seat.“And you’re not helping her?”“She wouldn’t open the door.” Catra shrugs. Glimmer won’t claim to understand their dynamic, but she loves Adora enough to tolerate the surly cat woman. Just barely.“She says we should get started without her.” “…fine.”

–It’s near midnight.“Hey…is everything alright?” She’s taken to knocking on the door instead of teleporting directly in after catching the two in flagrante delicto …more than once.“She’s sick.” Catra replies through the crack in the door. Her eyes are remarkably alert considering it’s the dead of night.“Again?” Glimmer asks, trying to see past Catra into their room. She can’t see Adora. But she can certainly hear her.Catra shrugs. “Guess it’s a bug or something.” “Is there anything I can do…?“The sound of renewed retching reaches their ears and they both wince.“No, thanks. I’ll take care of her.” With that Catra closes the door.

—

Catra takes off for a few weeks to help Scorpia out with some bandit problems in the crimson waste. Adora is something of a mess without her.Adora still behaves like she has a cold. Perfuma gives her a powder to mix with her drink to help with the nausea.

“Ugh. I’m crashing. I gotta take a nap.”

“Again?” Glimmer reaches over to place a hand on Adora’s elbow.

 "You’ve been taking a lot of naps.“

"yeah. I don’t know. it’s nice to be able to, though. Naps weren’t exactly allowed in the Horde.” Glimmer reaches up to feel Adora’s forehead. 

“Why are you doing that…?”

“To see if you have a fever… hm. you’re not warm.”

“You can tell just by touching?” Adora reaches up to touch her own forehead in awe. 

“Well, yeah…how do you know in the Horde?”

“They don’t check unless you’re really, really bad. And when they do they put this stick in your mouth called a thermometer." 

"You’ve been sick for like, three or four weeks now, haven’t you?”

“Yeah.” Adora blushes. She has this thing about getting sick. Catra, too. Like it’s some indication of personal weakness.

“Maybe we should ask Perfuma about it?”

“No, no! I’m sure it’s fine. she’s already done more than enough for me.” Glimmer narrows her eyes but decides not to push further

.—

Catra is still absent. Glimmer and Adora are visiting Mystacor for a celebration that Castaspella INSISTED they attend. Adora tried to wear the same one she had for the Princess Prom but just couldn’t fit into it.

“Weird. normally when I get sick I LOSE weight.” She gripes, turning around in the mirror. 

“You have been sleeping a lot. Maybe it’s a different way for your body to fight off whatever it is?” Glimmer suggests, eyeing Adora’s waist as she turns. They couldn’t get the dress over her hips or belly.

“Yeah. Maybe.” 

—

They find something that fits. Adora stands near a pillar and watches the other guests as they mingle.

“Here you are milady,” Glimmer chirps as she hands off a drink to Adora.

“You’re a saint.” She downs the fizzy drink in one go. 

“Do…they have any more?”Glimmer can’t help but laugh.

“Adora you’re gonna clear them out of house and home.”

“They’re sorcerers,” she reponds somewhat defensively, “they can make more, right?”

“You don’t have to be a sorcerer to make juice, Adora.”

“But it helps, right?”

“Well…there are probably juice sorcerers out there somewhere in the world.”Speaking of, one of the sorcerers (a woman in an elegant blue dress) approaches them.

“Hello, Mistress Glimmer, Mistress She-Ra. Please excuse my interruption. I wanted to stop by to offer a thousand congratulations to you and your partner. Your children will surely grow to be as beautiful and strong as their mother.”

Adora looks behind her and Glimmer nearly does, too. 

“I–I’m sorry, ma’am, I believe that you’re mistaken,” Glimmer says hurriedly. 

“Adora–She Ra, isn’t pregnant.”

“Oh!” The woman holds a hand against her chest as if the words have caused her heart to jump. “How embarrassing! I am ever so sorry! Please accept my most sincere apologies.” She sketches a half bow and then beats a hasty retreat.

“Uhh.” Adora look to Glimmer. 

“What was all of that about?”

“No idea. She probably had too much wine is all.” But the way that she said it with such confidence…

—

She forgets about it.

Until the middle of the night when she wakes to the sound of Adora hurling her half digested dinner into the toilet. 

“Oh, Adora.” She says softly, kneeling down beside her on the tile to pull back her hair.

“No–no, Glimmer, I–” She gets cut off as another wave of nausea forces her head back towards the porcelain bowl. 

“Where is Catra?” Adora murmurs when she next resurfaces. “I–I want Catra.” Her voice is so small. Broken. 

“Oh hun, I’m sorry, she’s not here.” Glimmer reaches over to brush sweaty strands of hair out of Adora’s face. 

“Do you want me to go?” She doesn’t understand Adora’s thing with wanting to hide when she’s sick, but she will respect it.

“I…” Eventually she shakes her head ‘no’.

“Okay. How about we get you into some clean pajamas, huh?” Her current ones are absolutely drenched in sweat.

 “Yeah.” Adora nods. It’s not easy, but with her help Glimmer manages to peel off the soft sleep shirt she was wearing (it’s one of Catra’s. Across the front in huge letters it says ‘ANARCHY’). She isn’t wearing anything underneath. It’s strange. Adora loathes to be seen while she is sick or injured, but has absolutely no problem stripping out of her clothes. And Catra’s more likely to kill Glimmer for having the audacity to hold Adora’s hair back for her than for seeing her topless now.Unlike in the Rebellion, where it’s kinda awkward. But Adora is Glimmer’s friend and right now she needs her. So she determinedly looks anywhere BUT Adora’s chest as she runs a wash cloth over her heated skin. And…there’s definitely a bit of a bump around Adora’s stomach. She noticed it before, when they were trying on dresses, but had attributed it to the weight gain. But now… They manage to get her into a clean shirt (it’s another one of Catra’s, this one just a plain red but covered in little orange strands of fur). Adora guzzles down a glass of water.

“Hey Adora?”She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.“Yeah?”“Have you…ever had sex with anyone besides Catra?”

Adora starts coughing immediately, and for a moment Glimmer’s worried she’s choking. Finally she manages a strangled,“WHAT?”

“Have you ever…had sex with a man?”

“No!”“And…you’re sure?”

“I think I would remember if I had!” She doesn’t sound angry at Glimmer, more…perplexed.

 “Okay, I believe you…only ever with Catra, right? And Catra…doesn’t have …a dick.”

“I’ve only ever been with Catra. And no she does not have a dick.” Adora looks just as confused as ever.

“Okay.” Glimmer breathes deeply to steel herself. “You remember the woman from earlier? The one who thought you were pregnant?”

Yeah?”

“Well…I am starting to think…maybe she was right.”

“How could she have been right? I thought–YOU told me that the only way a woman could get pregnant was sex with someone who has a dick. And I have not done that.”

“That’s what I thought, too. But let’s face it–all of your symptoms are remarkably similar to a pregnancy.”

“They are?” 

Right. Horde sexual education was pretty much nonexistent. Of course Adora wouldn’t know.

“Yeah. And…you say you’re gaining weight? That…could be a baby.”

“A…baby.” Adora’s face is blank.

“Yeah. Uh…when was the last time you had your monthly blood?”

“My period? Gosh. It’s been a while. Three months ago?”

“Three MONTHS AGO ADORA?”

“What? Why? What?”

“That’s–That’s not normal!”

“I mean it’s happened before?”

“IT’S HAPPENED BEFORE?!”

“Yeah! There was one time in the Horde when Catra and I were in huge trouble and as punishment we had to fast–”

“THEY FORCED YOU TO FAST?”

“Yes?? I? I mean it was only supposed to be a really serious punishment but–”

“How old were you?

”“Fourteen?”

“THEY FORCED FOURTEEN YEAR OLDS TO FAST?!”

“Okay now you’re starting to hurt my ears.”

“Sorry. Sorry. Okay.”

“They forced us to fast and my period stopped for two months. Which I guess…I’m eating MORE, not less, so that doesn’t really make sense, but what else could it possibly be? I’m just sick.”

“Hun, I do not think you’re sick. How long ago did all of this start? The nausea and food cravings?”

“Uh…th…three months…ago?”This is bizarre.

“And you’ve only ever had sex with Catra. Do Magicats have some sort of…weird anatomy…that could…I don’t know. Result in her getting you pregnant?”

“No. Nothing weird.” Adora pulls her legs up to her chest and hugs them. “I’ve never…I don’t…” her eyes go wide. “Could someone have …have done something to me, and then wiped my mind?” 

Oh. Right. That’s a thing that Shadow Weaver can do, isn’t it? Shit.

“I– I mean. You’ve been at Bright Moon castle. Shadow Weaver’s on Beast Island. I don’t think it’s likely…” but not outside the realm of possibility, is what she doesn’t say.

“I want Catra to come home.” Adora says in a small voice and Glimmer feels her heart ache. 

“How about…how about we go to sleep for now. In the morning we can talk to Casta, maybe she can connect us with the sorceress who thought you were pregnant and we can find out more details. She can also help us send a message to the Crimson Waste to get Catra over here. How’s that sound?”Adora closes her eyes and nods her head slowly.

“Yeah.”

“Good?”

“Good.”

“Okay.” They turn off the lights in the bathroom and climb into their respective beds.

“Glimmer?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”She smiles.

“Don’t mention it.”

[missweber]

Lardo Week Day 2: accident

Here is my entry for day 2 of @lardo-week

Chapter 2 - happy accidents 

(chapter 1 can be found here)

One of Larissa's very first studio assignments at Samwell didn't actually take place in the studio. To fulfill the assignment, they had to go to a sports practice and fill a number of sketchbook pages with gesture drawings of athletes in motion.

As an assignment, it was a darned good one that she normally would have enjoyed. The only problem was that Boston was in the middle of a heat wave and even teams that had practice at ass-o-clock in the morning would be sweating through their jocks and/or sports bras in five seconds flat.

In short, yuck.

(Also, Lardo had already learned the hard way that charcoal and copious amounts of sweat were not mixy things.)

She skimmed through the athletic calendar looking for something like 'competitive air-conditioned yoga' but figured in the end that ice hockey—emphasis on the ice—was her best bet.

If it hadn't been for her phone's battery conking out in the middle of the night and killing her alarm, she would have gone to the women's practice at o' dark early. As it was, she got to Faber after the men's team had already taken to the ice.

She got a few curious glances from the players, but their captain (she assumed it was the captain) barked at them to pay attention to the ice, not the stands. One of the coaches nodded at her sketchbook and asked, "Professor Davila's life drawing class?" without expecting an answer. 

It wasn't until she actually started drawing that Larissa realized why she was the only member of her class who had taken advantage of the cool of the rink. Yes, she had heard of the hockey team's general loudness and obnoxiousness, but that wasn't the problem. The shouts and insults ('chirps,' she would later learn) were a comfortable part of the background along with the swish-swish-swish of the skates and the clatter of the sticks.

The problem was more fundamental than that, and brought with it an echo of her mother's protests of you need to focus on what's practical, sweetie. You need to set yourself up for a successful life.

Practical would mean staying at home and taking the T to school every day. Practical would mean constant, well-meaning, 'we just want the best for you' commentary on her choice of studies.

Well, fuck practical. And what did it mean to be successful, anyway?

A small, exhausted part of her said that successful people didn't have to work at one of the campus dining halls to make up for what her partial scholarship and college fund wouldn't cover.

And drawing hockey players wasn't the most practical way to succeed at this particular assignment. 

Larissa was debating whether or not she should just give up and join the majority of her class at the soccer fields when someone scraped to a halt right in front of where she was sitting.

Whoever it was had better not ask her to 'draw him like one of your French girls,' or he would need a gastroenterologist to remove his hockey stick from his ass. 

"What?" she snarled.

The player wasn't anyone Larissa had met before. She would have recognized that mustache for sure. His eyes were wide, and he held his stick in front of him in both hands like a talisman.

"Wow," mustache-guy said. "I was going to tell you to try to capture my left side, because that's the best angle if you want to do a portrait of me, but _damn _if that isn't the single scariest death glare I have seen in my life! Jack! C'mere! You gotta see this death glare!"

The captain skated over, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. "Leave the nice artist alone, Shits." He turned to Larissa. "I apologize. In advance. For everything."

He grabbed mustache-guy by the back of the jersey and skated off with him in tow. 

Mustache-guy flailed and squirmed, but not to the point of actual resistance. "Jaaaaaack! You need to stop and talk to the scary lady! That death glare! Put her on D, and we'll have Brown shaking in their skates!"

The captain (Jack?) mouthed a silent 'sorry!' at her before turning his attention back to practice.  

She had just made up her mind to go draw soccer players for the rest of her assignment when the practice finally ended. She flipped through her sketches and was pleasantly surprised to find that she had nearly two-thirds of what was required.

She was less pleasantly surprised when mustache-guy scraped to a stop in front of her again.

"Um, I know this is really fucking forward of me, and you are totally free to say no—and wow, it's kind of fucked up that I even have to say that, isn't it?—but anyway..."

Oh, god. He was going to ask her out, wasn't he?

"I absolutely get it if you don't want to, completely one-hundred-percent get it, but could I see what you've been drawing?"

Lardo could only stare for a moment. "It's just gesture drawings," she blurted out even as she shoved the sketchbook at him.

"Gesture drawings?" He pulled off one of his gloves with his teeth so he could turn the pages. She could see how he looked at each little sketch in turn, not just skimming, but looking.

"Yeah. We're supposed to focus on capturing how the human form looks in motion."

The figures were roughly blocked out, with the occasional thick and swooping line showing the curve of a spine or sweep of a leg.

"These are really neat," he said after a while. "I mean, they're kind of scribbly in parts, but you can really see what's happening. Hell, I can even tell who some of these guys are!"

'Jack' was a tall, solid figure with classical proportions. "You can see how this this fucker just moves with power! Ah! Adonis made manifest on earth! And that's Johnson if I ever saw him," he said, pointing at a mess of foreshortening.

That was the goalie, captured as he dropped to block a puck, practically folding himself into something out of an Escher drawing in the process.

"Rans and Holster," he said, pointing at a tangle of overlapping forms that were still two separate people even though they occupied the same space. 

He turned to look through the pictures again, which was more flattering than Larissa would ever admit to anyone, while most of the other players headed towards the locker room.

"Thanks," she said. "I'm glad to hear that they work. I was beginning to think that coming here was a mistake."

The betrayed look on his face would have been hilarious if it wasn't so heartbreaking. "Mistake? No! There are no mistakes! Only happy accidents!"

Larissa laughed. "Did you just quote Bob Ross at me?"

"Please don't tell me you're one of those snobby art students who–"

"Bob Ross is awesome the way Mr. Rogers is awesome," she said plainly. "I'm not into his actual paintings, but you gotta love the way he loves what he does."

"Amen," mustache-guy said, sounding more serious than she would have expected. He was looking at his captain—Jack—as he said it.

(It was only after Larissa became Lardo that she would understand even half of what was going on with that look and everything behind it.)

"So why were you worried coming here was a mistake? Please tell me that none of the guys were douchewaffles! I know we're loud, but it's like we're the lacrosse team!"

"Ha! No, Professor Davila warned us away from them. What threw me were the pads. They make it hard to see what's actually going on, anatomy-wise."

She almost regretted that the instant she said it, because she could imagine all of the lewd comments she had just set herself up for.

That didn't happen. All that happened was that Mustache-guy nodded solemnly and Captain Jack glanced over to make sure he didn't need to come over and apologize for something.

"I see. It must be like trying to draw the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man."

"Close enough." She didn't laugh, but she did let a hint of a smile show through the unimpressed look.

"By the way, you can call me Shitty. That's not my real name, but that's actually worse."

"Hey, Shits!" Jack called out. "Ask her if she's interested in the team manager job!"

"Team manager? Like managing your team? The hockey team?" she asked Shitty. Strangely, the name fit him, but not in a bad way.

Shitty nodded.

"I don't know how to skate!" she shouted at Jack.

Jack stared at her as if she had just sprouted two extra heads and a tail. 

Shitty cackled. 

Johnson, who had been hanging around doing not much of anything, muttered something about not being needed after all and left the rink.

Shitty wiped away teas of laughter. "Aw... I think you broke Jack's poor, Canadian brain. Anyhow, skating isn't needed for the job. Dealing with stinky hockey equipment, on the other hand, is."

She shrugged. "It can't be worse than what I smell like after working the deep-fryer all afternoon. What's the pay like?" she asked, because being practical did have its time and place.

The pay wasn't much, but it was better than what the dining hall offered. 

"Well, I'd say this was a successful drawing session," she said as they exchanged fist-bumps. 

"Yup. Here's to happy accidents!"

[brydigdraws]

Goblin Week Day 1

Another year, another Goblin Week! Unfortunately, this particular week will be very busy for me so I’m unsure if I can actually do all seven days.

For now, though, please enjoy this short snippet about my goblins Rzekamien’s (originally made for D&D 5e) and Loc’s (originally made for a modified version of WH40K: Rogue Trader) first meeting (you can find out more about them by checking their respective tags on this blog). Please bear in mind that I’m not really a writer, and that this is a first draft and thus contains a few placeholder names and such.

It was an ordinary day as far as Rzekamien was concerned. The sun was shining through the trees, the birds sang their songs, and the wind was but a pleasant breeze. He liked it that way.

He sat in his cottage, writing in detail about the anatomy of the Etruscan shrew, referencing a skull sitting in front of him on the desk. He wasn't a published author or anything of the sort, nor did he wish to be. And even if he so wished, books written in Goblin weren't exactly in demand (not that he couldn't write in other languages - he was, in fact, quite the polyglot, but he held a certain fondness for his mother tongue). He simply wrote for himself, present and future. He also had a knack for illustration, at least given a reference. The sketches were scattered all throughout the book, complimenting texts about various plants, animals and fungi. This was volume twenty. He had opened a window to appreciate the ambient sounds it let in. For now, the forest was calm.

It was decidedly not an ordinary day for Loc. He was travelling through the galaxy at several times the speed of light, desperate to shake off his pursuers. He hadn't done anything wrong, really. Scavenging wasn't technically illegal, and how could he possibly have known that the wreckage of the huge ship that hadn't given off a single sign of activity for hundreds of years still, some-fucking-how, had survivors on it? Really aggressive, possessive survivors. With fully functional mini ships to chase his poor ass for way longer than was reasonable. He really wasn't the one in the wrong here.

Loc was quite a skilled pilot, but his ship could only go so fast, despite its small size. As he performed some impressive void acrobatics to stall for time, he also checked the radar for any planet that may be safe to land on.

Gas, gas, too cold, too hot...

After a while he came upon one with not only a survivable temperature, but also solid ground and breathable air.

Jackpot!

He headed straight for it, but just as he was about to enter the atmosphere, one of his pursuers finally managed to hit him with a projectile. As the error messages filled up the monitor, he did his best to regain control of the brakes to cushion the inevitable crash.

As though someone had snapped their fingers, the calm of the forest had come to an abrupt stop. Rzekk jumped at the sudden sound of branches breaking and trees falling not far from his home, quickly followed by a deafening boom. It was no longer an ordinary day.

After calming himself down a bit, Rzekk looked out the window to try to see what possibly could have caused so much noise and destruction. All he was met with was a tower of smoke beyond the trees - at least he didn't smell fire. He contemplated whether he should go and take a proper look; someone might have been seriously hurt, and he was a healer after all (not by choice, mind you, just came with the whole druid schtick). Then he remembered all the times curiosity had nearly killed him, and decided it was none of his business. It was probably just a powerful spell an incompetent spell caster had tried their hands at, or something of the sort. That was their own fault, and they'd have to deal with the consequences themselves - that's part of becoming competent. He went back to studying the skull.

Loc groaned. It was a rough landing, to say the least. But he did seem to still have all his limbs intact, thanks to his airbag suit. It looked absolutely ridiculous when inflated, but had played a big part in the drastic reduction of the amount of spaceship accident-related deaths in the last 20 years.

He pressed a small button to deflate the suit, and examined himself in the rear view mirror. Just some bruising, it seemed. ... Maybe internal bleeding? Oh, and definitely a headache. His bones seemed whole, at least.

He stepped outside on wobbly legs, and groaned anew when he saw that his ship now looked more like a pile of scrap than something he had spent 20.000 zilcons on. He put a caring hand against the hull.

"Don't worry, baby, Daddy's gonna fix you right up! Just stay put." And so he was on his wobbly way, hoping to find an engineering guild. Maybe a pharmacy, for some painkillers. When he was some hundred meters away, the engine exploded.

"Goddamnit."

Rzekamien was once again interrupted, this time by a loud knock on the door. Visitors were very rare this deep in the woods, so it did surprise him. But more than that, it annoyed him. He had been in the zone, and that knock knocked him right out of it. He was just about to ignore his visitor and get back to work, when they knocked again. And again. And again and again and his ears hurt. He sighed and went to open the door.

Before him stood a... goblin? He thought so, at least. They were about a head taller than himself, with blue-tinted, green skin, and big ears. However, he had never seen a goblin with such a nose before - it reminded him more of a bat's. And those clothes, they were made of materials he had never seen. The goblin's hair was as pink as lyre flowers - no dye he knew of was capable of such a rich, bright colour. ... Where the fuck did this person come from?

"Hey! I'm Loc, from star system LX-933-B. Nice to meet you!" The stranger stretched out a hand in greeting. Rzekk looked at the hand, then back to their face, then back to the hand. He really didn't want to touch it, but still did so reluctantly, for a lack of better alternatives. He retracted his hand immediately upon feeling the stickiness of the stranger's palm, and let out a small croak of disgust.

"Oh, sorry, forgot to retract the hairs. ... So, what's your name?" Rzekk didn't answer, he just looked at his unwelcome visitor suspiciously. He couldn't see behind their extremely dark-tinted goggles, which actually helped him sell the illusion that he was looking them in the eyes.

"Not much of a talker, eh? That's okay. Anyway, I just, uh, happened to crash here, so I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of the nearest engineering guild? Oh, and do you have any pain killers? ... It wasn't a very pleasant landing, y'see." He laughed awkwardly. "Sorry, I'm asking for a lot here." (he really wasn't) "I could give you something for the trouble? Not sure what, though, I didn't have much on me to begin with, and I'm not sure how much is whole at this point." With every word, Rzekk grew more and more confused. He knew five languages, and had heard pretty much all others on the planet enough times that he could easily recognise them. But whatever this person was spewing? He didn't have a clue. Loc noticed the confusion in his eyes and came to a halt.

"Oh, don't tell me... Your planet's that backwards? You don't have translators? You know, those chips installed in your ears? You don't have those? Oh boy, have you even made contact with the rest of the outside universe yet? What about your technology? Do you even know what velcro is? What-" Loc got interrupted by a sudden coughing fit, which made Rzekamien jump backwards in surprise. It was so violent one could think his heart would jump out of his throat at any moment. When the coughing finally stopped, Loc noticed the blood on his hands, and felt it trickle down his chin. He wiped it off unceremoniously. Rzekamien just stared at him in disbelief.

"Ohh, shit. I'm worse off than I thought, huh? Hey, is it alright if I crash here? I'm not... I'm not feeling very well." And that's all he managed to say before he went limp and collapsed before Rzekamien's feet. After trying his best to process what had just played out in front of him, Rzekamien begrudgingly dragged his unconscious body inside (he was a healer, after all). Ordinary days as he knew them would never come again.

[dontshootmespence]

Broken Homes Fix Broken Hearts

Chapter 36

After Desiree and Sarah returned from visiting with their mother, Derek cautiously grabbed Juliet’s hand, glancing around and wondering if whoever had been on the phone was actively watching. He was going to do what the bastard said...for now. But he couldn’t do it before the two of them went to visit his mother. Fran and Juliet loved each other - Fran the mother Juliet never had, and Juliet the adopted daughter that fit in perfectly with her already wonderful family. He had to let them see each other before he did this.

How was he supposed to break her heart like this? What would even make sense enough for her to walk away? He had to think of something; the lives of everyone he loved depended on it.

As they walked into his mother’s room, he drew in a sharp breath. She looked so frail and weak - the complete opposite of the strong and beautiful woman he knew. However, she was nothing if not resilient. She would come out of this. He’d make sure they all would.

Fran looked up at them as they entered, coughing a little before a rasp escaped. “So, a horse walks up to the bar, and the bartender says...why the long face?”

Juliet felt tears prick her gaze as she shook her head in disbelief. She was telling a joke. A very bad joke. After nearly dying of cyanide poisoning. It was...astounding. The strength her soon to be mother in law had in that petite frame was the stuff of legends.

“Oh darling, don’t cry. Everything’s okay.” Fran murmured.

“Sorry-I’m sorry we’re supposed to be taking care of you and here I am blubbering like an idiot.”

“I don’t mind the blubbering. Now come sit. Both of you.” She insisted

Derek didn’t have to be told twice. This was one occasion where he wanted nothing more than to listen to his mother. He settled into the chair next to her bed and gently wrapped her hand in his, trying to breathe deeply and pull himself together.

She was incredible. And he didn’t tell her enough. Although to be honest, Derek didn’t know if it was even possible to say it as many times as she deserved. This woman had raised three children after losing the love of her life. She had been there every single time one of them had fallen down, ready to help them back up. She had accepted the love of Derek’s life into their family with open arms.

And now, because of him...she had been forced to survive attempted murder. And Derek hated himself for it almost as much as the son of a bitch who had orchestrated it. Because of him this incredible woman who could never be told too many times how incredible she was had nearly died.

“How are you feeling, Mama?” He asked, gently grasping her hand and rubbing it between his fingers.

Fran coughed slightly and attempted to move herself up, as she’d been slipping down from her position. Derek panicked at the thought of her moving and got up to hoist her up himself before sitting back down. “Besides being poisoned, I think I’m okay. A little groggy. My muscles feel a bit heavy. But the doctors say I can go home soon.”

“Okay, good,” Juliet said, as she wiped the tears from her eyes with the backs of her hands. “Because we need you, you know.”

Both his mother and his fiancee went back and forth like they’d known each other all their lives, while he could barely focus. With all his Bureau training, he was fairly sure that his anguish couldn’t be seen on his face, but it was all rolling around in his mind like laundry in a dryer. They looked so happy. And he had to end it to save them both.

As he flashed them both a soft smile, Derek promised himself that he would find the bastard that screwed with two of the women he loved most in the world and he would make him pay.

                                                              -----

After about 15 minutes, the nurses came in with some more medication for his mother, so Derek and Juliet took that as their cue to leave and let her get some rest. Though he was beyond grateful she was okay, Derek wanted nothing more than to stay in that moment. The second he stood up from his mother’s bedside, his heart started racing. He had to do this here and now or whoever this fucker was would hurt Juliet. He would never forgive himself if that happened.

Juliet grabbed his hand and swung it gently in between them, leading him out of her room and toward one of the exit doors. “It was a little hot in there. I just need a few minutes to breathe and then we can go find Desiree and Sarah.”

Now or never.

Derek leaned up against the wall and rubbed his temples. He should look relieved right now, but all Juliet could see was tension and anger and sadness. “She’s going to be okay, Derek. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay!” He snapped, bringing his hands behind his head. “None of this is okay. I can’t…” The words damned up in his mouth. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Juliet flinched, as if the words had struck her across the face. The fury in his voice….it was like nothing she’d ever heard before. At least, not directed at her. “What the hell does that mean?” She asked quietly, trying to keep the rush of emotions threatening to flood her system at bay. Maybe she had misheard him. Maybe he hadn’t meant it like that. Maybe-

“It means we’re finished. That this is over between us.”

“No.” She refused. This wasn’t happening. He didn’t get to do this. “No it’s not. You got down on one knee and asked me to spend the rest of your life with you. That isn’t finished.”

“It is.” Every word was a piece of shrapnel being slowly torn out of his chest. Unimaginable pain after unimaginable pain. “My mama….she-she almost died today. And in that room she looked at me like I was the best man she had ever known. Like my father. But I’m not. Not if I keep lying and lying and lying like this.”

The words came out even though she didn’t want to say them. “What did you lie about, Derek?”

His eyes welled up with tears as he prepared to say the words that would rip her to shreds. He was going to be the cause of her pain. “I fucked up,” he said. He couldn’t even get the words out. He had to walk around it; the look of sheer despair on her features twisted the knives already lodged underneath his skin. “I fucked up, Juliet. And you don’t deserve that. I can’t go on living like this - like this golden boy my mama thinks I am while I string you along.”

Juliet felt her heart lurch in her throat. No. This couldn’t be real. He was overwhelmed by his mother. That had to be it. “String me along where, Derek? Say what you want to say.”

“I...I cheated. Juliet, I cheated. You deserve more than that, and I can’t keep it in anymore.” Every single word was a lie and a dagger in his own chest as well as hers. He only hoped she’d buy it and walk away for her own safety. “It was a few months back. On a case. We went out to a bar after wrapping up and the next morning…”

Derek buried his face in his hands and leaned against the wall. “You deserve more than the man I am. I’m so sorry.”

“No…” She breathed, shaking her head like an etch-a-sketch, trying to shake away the fucked up picture in front of her and start anew. That’s what this had to be. A glitch in the matrix of her life. It couldn’t be real. “You wouldn’t do that to me, Derek. I-”

She knew him through and through, but he couldn’t let her reason this out. “I was drunk! I was drunk and I slept with someone else. You deserve the world, Juliet. And I...I can’t give it to you.”

Juliet’s eyes welled up with tears. She balled her fists up and pushed him backward. “Fuck you, Derek Morgan. Fuck you.”

As she turned to go to her car, turning her back to him, he went back inside and punched the wall, watching as it crumbled underneath his fist like the foundation of his life.

                                                             -----

It was a miracle she made it home in one piece. But as soon as she stepped inside, everything reminded her of Derek. And that killed her all over again. So Juliet did the only thing people could do in such a screwed up situation: she drank.

At some point, the sun rose and found her curled up on the couch with her head pounding. Fucking alcohol.

But it wasn’t the only thing making her head hurt. Even in the midst of trying to forget everything last night, Juliet’s mind had still being trying to make all the puzzle pieces fit together. Because at the moment, they didn’t.

She’d heard what he’d said. That he’d cheated on her. Betrayed her trust. Lied to her. But...she just couldn’t believe him. It wasn’t just love or faith talking. Juliet knew it in her bones like she knew the sun rose in the sky every morning. It was more than fact, more than instinct. It was truth. The undeniable truth that Derek Morgan loved her with every fiber of his being.

And it was a truth not even he could hope to ever obscure.

@virgoswlw​​ @crimeshowtrash​ @literallyprentissstwin​ @jazz91121 @tommyhollandd​ @spencer-puppies-and-stuff​ @fl0werb0nes18​ @stunudo​ @spencerthepipecleaner​ @theofficeofsupremegenius​ @ultrarebelheart​ @lookwhatyoumademequeue​ @lukeassmanalvez​ @mentallydatingspencerreid​ @nobravery​ @criminal-anatomy @matthew-gray-reidler​ @remember-me-forever-silent-angel​ @original-criminal-fanfics​ @lovelukealvez @stories-you-wont-hear @speedreiding @marvelfanlife @butsomeofusarelookingatthestars​ @wonderboygenius​ @naturallytom​ @imagines-for-criminal-minds​ @acespence​ @sweater-vest-reid​ @criminalmindskeepsmealive @spenncerreiid​ @sam-carter-in-training​ @parker-hopper @spencerwreid​ @ssahotchner​ @profiler-in-training​ @were-skye​ @trollitis​ @heyboywonder​ @ficrecswithcassie​ @janiedreams88 @gingeraleandcontemplation @cynbx @fortheloveofspencerreid​ @tippy06​ @cleocc @bestillmystuckyheart​ @ssaunitchief​ @xxm3xxj​ @xocriminal-minds-imaginesxo​

[elderredraccoon]

Righty!

So this is my first sketch in a long time...holy balls what is the sitch with human anatomy!

This is my Knight Character Arí, based in the Merlin (BBC) universe.

This lovely lady has spent most of her time being a Knight Errant due to the fact that only male nobility (lords and such) can be knights apparently. Hence the physique she has. She’s already tall for a lady, and often gets mistaken for a guy, but she tends to not give a rat’s tail about it.

While out on travels she began learning how to make the weapons she used as well, and has become a proficiant weapons and armour blacksmith, and is often found toiling over some new work she’s been commisioned for.

She never knew her mother and father, having been adopted into a small peasant family when she was just a babe. In part, that lead her down the road she has taken, becoming stong and able bodied to be able to help her family in the farms and learn how to protect her village. She loved her adoptive family with her everything, and would spend any free time she had, when younger, rough-housing with all the boys, and occasionally hanging around the girls to stop other bullying them.

She eventually left the village to learn how to be a knight, and has been on many adventures and built a small name for herself for being a gentle giant. However, word spread amongst bandits and other lowlifes to fear her, as she was terrifying on the battlefield. she was merciless and clinical in the slaughtering of criminals she had been sent to deal with, and thought of as a demon. She is suseptable to bloodlust stemming from an inherant rage that she does her best to control; but sometimes looses her grasp over. She would take on horrible jobs that would lead to too much death, needing to feed her monster the blood it craved. It eventually got to a point where she was putting herself in near constant danger and was at risk of loosing herself and potentially getting herself killed.

That is why she began learning how to become a Smith, to go down a less violent route, and vent her inner demons with fire and metal. In the final job shetook before stopping, she had taken on a group of bandits too large for her to handle and was stabbed through the gut and nearly died. The only reason she lived was because of a certain blue-eyed warlock finding her on his travels for herbs.

He managed to help her to safety and healed her, abd long story short, he had told her about camelot and his knight friends there, and how he knew a traveling knight by the name of Lancelot. They chatted long into the night, trading stories as the warlock used magic to help heal her wounds and found both of them laughing quietly. He suggested maybe that she went there to maybe find a place to stay and work, that she could accompany him there and he’d help her get settled.

She simply looked at the warlock, looking him up and down before mutely nodding, feeling the strings of fate tugging somewhere.

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

I got inspiration from @dyemelikeasunset ‘s Aseri (who is friggin amazing!) As i loved their body type for this character that has been sitting quietly in my head for an age now (I did use one of Aseri’s poses for reference just to help with the musculature so i could get an idea of what she looked like under her armour and clothes). Just quickly gonna say now, Dye, that i’ve been a long time follower of you and @beedalee, and i LOVE both of your work and you both have helped with a lot of personal issues with me, and with my art in terms of body type and physicallity. both of your are amazing, and i wish you all the luck and good vibes i’m capable of giving~

[ezairick]

Unpopular opinions about NCIS

When NCIS first began, I loved the show. It had interesting characters and cases, and there was more focus on the interaction of the characters than with the other relatively new show, CSI. This didn’t mean I was blind to problems with the show, but they were relatively minor compared to the show just a few seasons later. The small problems became big problems and though the show can still be entertaining, though I must admit that I haven’t watched any of the newer episodes after Tony left, so can’t speak to anything after that.

The cases themselves changed. For the first two seasons, while they certainly dealt with terrorism, the cases of the first two season were mainly crimes committed by ordinary people because of grief, love, envy, money, stupidity and so on. However, ever since Ziva joined the team, it felt like every case was about terrorism. I know that is not entirely true, but it seemed like every episode started with a bomb going off, and then instead of an interesting episode of guessing who could have done the murder, and why, now you instead wondered which terrorist group was going to get mentioned this time, and for what ideology. And honestly, it got boring real fast.

Which brings me to the characters of the show.

Gibbs is probably the most iconic character on the show, but let’s be honest, if NCIS was real he would have been fired years ago. Comparing Gibbs of season 1 and 2 to the rest of the show, it is easy to see that Gibbs was changed, and not just because of the amnesia. He was always a bastard but in the first two seasons, he had more principles, he didn’t break the law, he certainly bent it but he didn’t break it, and he didn’t commit crimes or let others get away with it. The whole plot surrounding his Shannon and Kelly, and murdering the guy who killed them, was not thought up, before the change in the management, which happened between season 2 and 3.

There are many issues with Gibbs, some of which were there from the start. There is his behaviour towards his team. No one should be allowed to head slap a colleague, besides being abusive it shows disrespect. And I feel this is part of the reason that Kate, McGee, and Ziva did not take DiNozzo seriously. Another reason for this is that Gibbs set DiNozzo up for fail. Because he created a flat structure, McGee and Ziva saw themselves equal to DiNozzo in terms of rank, even though he was the Senior Field Agent. And as the SFA he was supposed to be in charge when Gibbs wasn’t there but because Gibbs didn’t respect the position, and treated all three as if they were of equal rank, DiNozzo was often undermined by the others, and therefore incapable of doing part of his job.

Though Gibbs took pride in being a bastard, he should never have been allowed to run his team, like that, nor should he have been allowed to keep them at work for so many hours as he did. After all agents who haven’t slept nor eaten are far more likely to commit serious mistakes. Another difference between the first two seasons and later is that in the first two seasons we often see Gibbs, helping with the collection of evidence, sketching, and taking photos, but now he just mainly stand around asking, Ducky for a time of death, and drink coffee.

Further, just why is it Gibbs is treated like a god at NCIS? The directors of NCIS, except for Tom Morrow, who kept Gibbs at his proper place as the team leader of MCRT, though if truly proper place he should just have fired him, Jenny and Vance seem to treat Gibbs as if he can do nothing wrong, even when he is causing more problems. Gibbs completely run over them and acts like he is the director of NCIS and everything must go his way, and what is worse the directors let him. He is constantly given access to things he should not, and make decisions way above his pay grade. He is treated more like a co-director than anything else. And this is the same guy, who killed the man who killed his family, way to start your law enforcement career, who helped Mike Franks smuggle in immigrants, again not necessarily bad but he works for a law enforcement agency, allowed Mike Franks to not only get away with assaulting his agent, DiNozzo, but also allowed him to get away with murder, seriously the only way you can tell Gibbs is supposed to be the good guy, is that he has a badge.

Gibbs also constantly live by the rule – Do as I say not as I do – and as seen requiem it nearly let to the death of himself and a civilian, but he didn’t seem to have learned anything from that.

The team might have the highest closing rates, because of Gibbs, but it will naturally also have the lowest conviction rates of any teams at NCIS. I know we don’t get to see the aftermath of a case after Gibbs have gotten his confession, but if we did it would be of a flustered prosecutor, trying to convince the jury that the guy at trial is a bad guy, because Gibbs said he is. And that would be what the prosecutor had to work with, when trying to get a conviction. Gibbs often don’t have the time to get a warrant, even seems to think he is above such things, but that means that everything they find in the houses or other privately owned places they enter without warrants Is inadmissible in court and so is everything else found based on those finds. And the same applies with McGee’s and Abby’s hacking. Further the confession can be tossed because of Gibbs threatening behaviour in the interrogation room.

Gibbs is mostly known for being a bastard and seems to take pride in it, but how can he be such a role model, and why don’t the show realise that there is something wrong with having a team leader, who treats his team with disrespect, especially DiNozzo, who has serious issues with control, as in throwing tantrums when not the person in control of things, a person who is willing to actively sabotage other people’s cases just so he can close his case, and a person who seems incapable of handling any form of competition, and always have to be the best, in his own definition of the word.

For Tony DiNozzo I would like to give a huge shout out to Michael Weatherly, who managed to make Tony a comprehensive and cohesive character despite his character either being a complete moron only there as the comic relief, or an extremely competent investigator, lightyears ahead of the others, depending on who wrote the script for that week, so props to that. Tony is my favourite character on the show, but that doesn’t mean I don’t understand when people see him as annoying. He can be. He is constantly going through people’s things, and he wants to know everything he can about them and what they are doing. He also plays various pranks on his team mates, however he is not abusing nor bullying the others. Those descriptions fit Abby, Ziva, and McGee better.

Starting in season 3 DiNozzo has been dumbed down to, I suspect, make the other characters look that much more impressive. Despite this DiNozzo is still the best at investigating, also when you look at their educations. Phys. Ed. Isn’t just about sports, they are also required to know anatomy and psychology, add to that his many years in law enforcement as a detective. On the other hand, Ziva and McGee, who both had a few seasons where they seemed to think that they are so much better than DiNozzo, and were more suited to be the SFA, are actually less prepared to be investigators. McGee is a better fit for the Cyber Crime Unit as that is all his education qualifies him for, and though Ziva was trained by the Mossad, they are not an investigation agency, they do espionage. That is like saying because I ride horses, and horses are often on grass fields, I must be exceptional at golf, because it also takes place on grass. Besides as a liaison officer assigned to NCIS she would never have been made SFA, nor should she ever have been allowed on the team. I sort of like Ziva, but every time I start really liking her, the writers pulled a new stunt, that just worked against her. And unlike McGee and Abby we didn’t have those seasons and episodes to help us like her more.

I talked before about how Abby, McGee, and Ziva were bullies without explaining how. Now as before I stated that DiNozzo could be annoying and I can certainly see that and understand how that can be frustrating having to work with him, but DiNozzo has never questioned the qualifications of his fellow colleagues, which those three have done repeatedly, or said that the only reason they had the position they had was because of how long they had been there and not because they were qualified and competent, nor has he ever considered them incompetent and incapable of doing their jobs, Abby and her training stickers amongst general statements made by the others. He has never second guessed them in front of witnesses or argued with them about his work in front of other colleagues or witnesses. He has never pulled a gun on them and threatened to shoot them, and he has never ever left them without backup and then treated that significant breach in trust as a joke. If I had to choose I would rather work with someone who could be annoying than work with people who routinely questioned my ability to do my job and my position on the team.

I actually like Bishop, it took a while to settle her character, but she is not as antagonistic as Ziva and Kate, which makes for a nice change, and she seems to respect the chain of command. The show has settled down some between Tony, McGee, Ellie, as there aren’t as much in fighting and backstabbing as there was before with Ziva, and to some respect Kate, on the team. It’s nice that the team can be seen more like friends instead of colleagues who hate each other. 

Ziva and McGee broke the fundamental rule of law enforcement, you don’t leave your partner without backup, which they did in the episode Dead Air, and for the rest of the episode it was treated like the greatest joke ever, after all, leaving your partner unable to call for help should he need it, when looking for a terrorist who has already killed three people and are saying that more are to come, is just do damn funny. I will say I have read some fanfiction dealing with this episode, and though for the most part I like them, one thing that puzzles me about it, is that the authors of these stories often put the majority of the blame on Ziva and then redeem McGee. I think the reason for that is that as I stated before that we have episodes of naïve baby McGee who listened to Tony to fall back on, while Ziva started out as the sister of Ari, who killed Kate, and a short time later, was the new colleague who thought it a good idea to invite every person of the extended team except Tony, and then the woman who refused to give vital information to Tony, and instead decided that she would only tell Gibbs about Rivkin, and then as the grieving woman who pulled a gun on Tony, to the woman who paid Tony back for saving her from Somalia by leaving him without backup. Unless you’re a Ziva or Tiva fan it is easy to see why she gets the punishment while McGee who is just as guilty is given redemption.

Which brings me to the bane of NCIS: Tiva. I get it, both Tony and Ziva are played by attractive people, and the writers certainly ended up pushing it down our throats. Or at least for us who don’t like Tiva. Normally I get that people have different tastes and therefore ship different pairings, and I am fine with that. I am not the shipping police, but let’s be honest when it comes to Tiva, it’s just plain wrong. If Ziva was played by someone not attractive or it was Tony who had pulled all that shit on Ziva instead of the other way around, people would have been busy shouting about the obvious abusive relationship, but it is not so and instead the relationship seem to be a fan favourite.

I have never understood that and especially after Dead Air. How can you possible justify a loving and respectful relationship between them when Ziva was very much willing to let Tony die, when she left him without backup. How can there be a relationship between them, a good healthy and respectful relationship, when it is obvious from just watching a few episodes that Ziva does not in any way respect Tony nor respect his position on the team? If you are unable to respect your partner at work, then how can you possibly respect them at home? And why would they even be together? Why would Ziva be with Tony when she doesn’t respect Tony at work, and routinely disrespect him and questions his competence and orders? And why would Tony like someone who doesn’t respect him, has pulled a gun on him, have actually shot him, although by mistake, and someone who left him without backup and then laughed about it?

There are many more things that are bugging me about NCIS, but this is the end of this rant. Sorry for the ramblings.

[dvwolfbane-blog]

No Title yet

(Hello all! A little backstory: I have written a few web novels under different pen names, however, its always been half baked and i rarely finished any. This story, is one that I felt truly had some potential and has motivated me to give it my all. I wanted to share with as many people as I possibly could. Right now i'm still in the development process of it however i want to make a spin on how web novels are made. I want to post Chapters as I write them. Not like traditional ones that release volumes at a time with multiple chapters. I still don't have a tittle for the Web novel however I am very open for suggestions. Right now I have the Prologue and It is what I am going to be sharing here. I really hope you enjoy my small world i'm creating. )

Everything changed

Everything changed after the great hero died. He didn’t die from battle, he survived and lived a long life. While the hero was alive, life was good, the battle was won, our country received winners benefits for years to come and crime in the city was non existent. Petty thieves here and there but no real crime at least. The king was benevolent and gave all of the citizens their fair share of the spoils of war, took in refugees from the other countries, treated them how he treats his citizens with kindness and sympathy. A great king with the wisdom that could surpass the gods and the leadership that could unite all of the world one day.

“...Acceptable..take..a .. seat…”

The voice came from the magical circle next to the black board on the wall. I sat back down after answering the guidance question. We were 20 in the room plus ten guards. The walls were all grey with nothing to adorn them. All of the studentswere sat down neatly organized in four lines, everyone was sitting the same way. Back straight, head held high, legs closed and both arms resting on the desk, everyone’s expressions were blank whenever we came into this room. Our arm position was important today, in the top right corner of the black board were the words “Blunt” above a sketch of the human anatomy with a circle on the right forearm.

One more hour until we can leave this room.

I always kept the track of how long we’ve been in the room, there are no clocks to tell the time but with practice you can tell how long it has been. Just as I was finishing my guess the door opened. The guards shifted slightly to let whoever opened the door in. If this creature were to show its face to the general public it would cause mass panic and create unrest within the people. This creature was reptilian, its hind legs were slightly larger than his arms however you couldn’t tell because its muscles were very defined. While it walked on four legs its stature was that of a 3 foot child. The reptile was wearing a black shirt and a jacket without sleeves that had frills on the collars. At the front of the students, there was a large desk, nothing was adorning this desk however, the top had many scratches, dents and dried blood.

Once the reptile arrived in front of the desk the guards closed the door. Everyone’s expression was still blank and our gazes were looking forward at all times. The reptile stood up, its head was almost reaching the ceiling. The reptiles eyes shifted from left to right scanning all of the students. The reptile had a piercing gaze that would nearly petrify even the most veteran of warriors in the kingdom.

“Ahem, the next question is for Sato Ryoga.”

Thank the gods its not me.

The boy that stood up had short spiked blonde hair, he looks are average and his body looks very frail like a porcelain doll. I’ve known him for a few weeks, he used to talk a lot about his pet he had before becoming an orphan. Now a days he doesn’t talk much.

“ What state of a battle is more dangerous for the morale of its troops?

“ The death of its front lines!”

Completely wrong you Idiot.

The reptile squinted its eyes as it stared at Sato. The answer was so wrong that you could feel the murderous intent of the mammoth of a reptile that stood in front of us. The reptile stood still as the blue magic circle glowed. It was as if the reptile was waiting for the circle to speak before he took any action or moved on to another question.

“Un..Acceptable… take.. a...seat..”

Sato’s expression was still blank, however we could feel an aura of fear and panic. The reptile looked at one of the guards and gave him a quick nod. We all were still staring forward but we knew that the guard was smiling from ear to ear. He took a few steps forward and made his way to Sato’s seat. He stopped to Sato’s right side and took his baton out, normal batons were preferable, this baton looked twice as girthy and significantly more durable.

I hate this part

Crack.

The sound the baton made when it struck Sato’s right forearm was deafening, you could tell he didn’t hold back, they never do. Sato’s scream followed shortly. His forearm was crushed with the massive force that the guard swung at this young child’s arm. His fingers curled up the bone was clearly broken, his radial bone was sticking out slightly his deathly thin arms left nothing up for the imagination of what happened inside of his body.

The pain must have been too great for him.

The guard was smiling so much he started foaming at the mouth slightly, if you listened close enough you could probably hear him chuckling as he towered over what he had just done. Our expressions were still blank staring forward trying our best to ignore the shriek of pain that Sato was expressing. Luckly, my seat was two seats diagonally in front of him so I couldn’t see what happened to his forearm first hand.

The reptile was still staring at Sato as he was writhing in pain in his seat. “SILENCE”. Sato immediately suppressed his screaming however, his heavy breathing was still very audiable.

“Although the answer may have been correct under certain circumstances, there are more dangerous states on which a battle can affect the morale of its troops. Shizume! What is the answer?”

She stood up, her hair was beautifully black, her eyes were a gorgeous emerald color giving contrast to her face. I have known her for a few months, she was one of the few remaining survivors from the batch that arrived with her.

It’s like she was pulled off from the greatest piece of art in the world.

Everytime I had the chance to steal a glance at her I would. Without delay she answered, I was deathly afraid of her answer. I bet that we all felt the same way.

“ Although, there are many factors that affect the battlefield. The most dangerous stage for troops morale is nearing the final stage of a deciding battle when the commander’s life is in danger.”

We all felt like holding our breath for the mysterious voice to acknowledge her answer. The reptile’s eyes did not show any signs of her answer being wrong in its eyes. However, you could never know if the circle would accept it. There’s been many instances where his expressions did not match whether the answer was right or wrong. A few minutes went by, not a single sound was made the whole time. The loudest sound could be made if you drop a pin needle at the ground. The circle suddenly lit up, glowing as it always has before it gave a verdict.

“Acceptable..take..a...seat…”

Shizume bowed her head and sat back down. A barely audible tsk! Could have been heard coming from the direction of the rear guards. Relief would be the correct term that we students were thinking at the time. This feeling was fleeting as the reptile scanned us again. His tail fiercely struck the ground. We never could figure out what that meant, maybe he also felt relief, maybe he was also annoyed like the guard that the circle approved of her answer.

“ Next question, hmm.. Hime, At what point would a person or animal be considered dead?”

That’s a trick question.

Specimens as they call us, don’t get to kill until after the second week after we survive the constant testing and deprogram our personalities, the kill is what solidifies the deprograming on how we value life. The unfortunate souls that get murdered by children like us are usually criminals on death row, low lives or as rarely as I can count on my own two hands bystanders that got kidnapped. Our first kills are usually in a safe space where the victims are chained to the wall hands held high above their heads and blindfolded. The room was eerily white for the amount of killing that it has seen, my first time was one of the few that bystanders were used. She was a middle aged woman, you could tell she lived a fulfilling life and had wisdom by the way she spoke. Once I stepped into the room she guessed how many people were in the room by the sound of our steps. The guards stood by the door as I approached her. She was obviously scared given that her feet were shaking but her voice never waivered. She must have thought that I was a high ranking official when she asked for her daughter.

There was a table a few feet away from the woman, there were carefully sculpted details on the legs of the table, although I couldn’t make out what they were exactly. Anyone could tell that whoever made this was very experienced in his craft. On top of the table there were different objects. A sword, a mace, a knife, a wooden stick, a piece of wire, a wood cutting axe and a short bow with a single arrow on top. All of the weapons were in pristine conditions, not a single notch or thread out of place. The other thing that stuck out to me was the fact that none of the weapons had any distinguishing features that stood out.

I chose the knife, in my mind I wanted to make this as quick and painless as I possibly could. I had no choice, the guidance states “Once you enter the room the specimen must kill the insect that is chained on the wall, failure to do so will result in both participants to perish”.

I wish I could talk to this person

As I approached the woman with knife in hand, she seemingly turned to me.

“ Would you mind speaking to me? I heard you pick up something, it’s not hard to tell when you move stuff around since the other two haven’t moved a single muscle.”

I was surprised. The fact that she could tell all of this and remain calm and composed.

“I’m not quite sure what’s going on. Why am I being tied up? Who are you? What’s going to happen? Where is my daughter? Is she alright?”

My hands moved on their own, I grabbed her blindfold and ripped it off of her face. The sheer terror that she expressed gave me goosebumps. In front of this woman was a child no older than eight years old, deathly thin, hollowed blue eyes, cuts and bruises throughout his body, holding a knife while two guards were standing by the door. At that point in time she realized that was the end of her life. Again, my hands moved before my brain could react and her throat split in two.

“Acceptable”.

“The moment that a person or animal could be considered dead is the moment their bodies stop moving”

Wrong.

She gave her answer as quick as my own flashback came to my mind. Hime’s looks could be condensed to one word, Tomboy. Her hair was cut short and flipped to the sides a little, her eyes are usually always playful when we’re outside of this room.

The reptile looked at the rear guard and gave him the nod before the circle gave its verdict. We all knew what was going to happen but still we waited. A few minutes went by what seemed like hours. The circle lit up, we all knew what was going to happen from here on.

“Un...acceptable.. take..a..seat”

The guard that stepped next to Hime was fairly tall and bulky. His face was grinning from ear to ear. The guard didn’t pull out a baton, the guard raised his fist and slammed it down on her right forearm.

Crack.

Her screams filled the room with the same violence that Sato’s was. The guard used a brass knuckle. The reptiles tail slammed on the ground again “SILENCE”. Although it gave a command Hime was still writhing in pain yelping here and there. Anger filled the reptile that a specimen was not immediately following commands.

“Silence her”

The reptile looked at the guard again and nodded. The same guard walked back to the side of her. The same grin was on his face as the last time he stood by her side.

Crack.

And with another punch she was knocked out cold. Both blows were fierce and relentless in strength. We all sat quietly as the room became silent once more.

“Vitals”

The guard placed his fingers on her neck.

“Normal”

“Brain activity”

A magic circle appeared right on top of Hime it glowed a faint green color.

“No damage”

The guard walked back to his position still smiling from ear to ear. Hime’s body slumped over the desk, her arms dangled at her side, the guard struck her hard enough to leave his brass knuckles imprinted on her face and forearm. The reptile slammed his tail against the floor again. His eyes were scanning for his next specimen.

“Kugo, the answer”

Shit

As I stood up, I could feel everyone’s hopes of me getting this answer correctly. I’ve answered all of the questions today correctly and this week I have been on a hot streak avoiding getting beaten. I also felt the anger of all the guards, how they wish I get this question wrong so they could obliterate my forearm.

“ The death of a being could be surmised to the body seizing all movements. However, on certifying a death heart pulse must be zero and brain activity must cease. Furthermore, the victims eyes become glossy and… misty would be the best I could describe it”

The reptiles eyes were bloodshot, it was wearing its rage on its sleeves. It was unhappy at my answer. A few minutes went by and the circle glowed. I was holding my breath once it lit up.

Please

“Acceptable..take..a...seat”

Relief. It’s tail slammed the ground again, slightly stronger this time. I think the reptile wanted me to get hurt, since I haven’t had anything happen to me in a week. As I sat back down the murderous intent of the guards grew. The most noticeable one was the one guard that always struck me in class. His rage was like the reptile’s, he was wearing it on his sleeve. Normally, before you get released into this phase the guards had the option to strike the specimens whenever they pleased due to deprogramming. However, once the specimen passes, they no longer can strike without just cause.

As the reptile opened its mouth to speak the circle lit up again.

It’s time

“Today’s class phase is over, specimens that have damage report to the medical ward for healing. Specimens not harmed may leave for the recreation area. Specimens that are unable to move due to injury or special instructions may stay seated until agents arrive”

We all got up and bowed to the reptile as it made its exit. The guards shifted slightly to let its massive body pass through the door. The first guard to leave was the one that emitted the most rage when I answered correctly, he must have had something special in mind today. The guards remaining stood still watching over us as we got up to leave. More than half of the specimens had their forearms broken and needed to be taken to the healing ward. The rest of us were guided over to the recreation area where we were instructed to study for the classes next day.

[treelightcitystory]

Sketching a Story

Thought about making an Au based on this:

You’re an Art student and I’m an English major and you keep stealing the papers for my assignment to doodle and I would kill you but you’re really cute and hey that’s actually a really nice sketch

warning: may contain language, violence.

He had been rummaging for his notes for minutes on end before he had to go to class, and so far, he found none of them. 

“Where in the bloody hell are my notes?” He mumbled. “Josh, what did you do with my notes?!” 

A boy with shaggy brown hair and a bagel in his mouth walked out of his bedroom while putting his backpack behind him.

“I didn’t do anything with your stuff,” Josh replied. “I’m gonna be late for my class. I don’t think I have time to help you out. See you later, man.” 

As soon as the door closed behind him, Cody started searching through his English notebook again. It had been nearly thirty minutes and no such luck in sight. He really wanted to be a musician when he started college, but now he’s here, trapped in a major he never wanted, thanks to his parents’ disapproval of music and their pressure of finding something much more useful, like literature.

“Aw, dammit,” he said to himself. “I don’t have time to deal with this shit. Now I’m gonna have to copy from someone else.” 

He then picked up his bag and headed to his class.

“Everything okay, man?” Matt asked him silently, sitting beside him. 

The teacher continued the lecture without giving a thought of the silent conversation between him and Cody, who is still focused on his missing notes.

“I’m fine. I’m just really pissed off about whoever keeps taking my notes, and not giving it back. Josh said he didn’t take them, though I really wanted not to believe him.”

“What if you can take pics of my notes? That way, you have to worry about remembering and writing it all down again.”

“I appreciate it, Matt. Thanks.” 

The curly blonde took out his phone, and after checking it if it is on silent mode, he took pictures of his friend’s notes, with the teacher not noticing luckily. By the time she was halfway done, Cody had already taken the pics for the notes.

“Thanks, Matt. Wanna grab coffee next time? It’s on me.”

“No problem. Love to have one after weeks of studying.”

“Sanders, Todds! No talking during the lecture!” Mrs. Hill had heard the discussion between the two and eyed them both suspiciously. 

Few of the students turned their heads towards them, while others giggled about them getting caught. They quickly gazed at their notebooks, trying to avoid her glare.

“Sorry, ma’am,” they both said in unison. 

She continued the lecture, while the boys started taking notes again.

In the library, Cody looked through the notes he took pics of from Matt, and the new notes he has handwritten himself. But he was fixed on whoever took his notes for a given assignment. He didn’t notice someone sitting next to him until he heard a chair being pulled and looked up to see a familiar face.

“What’d you got for today, Josh?” He asked him.

“Not a whole lot. Just some papers due next month, a couple of notes from a cute girl-Sam, I think-and a really big craving for a burger right now. What about you? Any luck on finding the note thief yet?”

“Not yet. I’m getting close, though. I don’t know why they keep taking my notes and not giving it back to me. I’m starting to get pissed off about it.”

“Have you asked anyone about it? If they have seen your notes maybe?”

“No, I haven’t-” He stopped for a second to see the papers that were missing on top of his new ones. 

Shocked and bewildered, he checked through them to see random doodles of figures, scenes of sunsets and one of them which is a mermaid. He didn't understand. They weren’t there when he was chatting with Josh. 

“What the fuck?”

“What’s wrong, man?” His friend asked, curious about the sudden change of his behavior.

“My notes are here.”

“The ones that are missing from before?”

“Yeah. I don’t get it. I lost them yesterday, now they’re back on my notebook, only with doodles. Someone’s been messing with my stuff!”

“Who?” Josh asked as they exited the library back to the dorm.

“I have no damn idea! But I’m gonna find who is messing with my stuff! They’re messing with the wrong guy!”

He would’ve pummeled the person who stole his papers from yesterday, but he never got a chance to, because this person is actually--she.

“Oh, c’mon. Not again.” Cody searched through his notebook for the notes from yesterday. 

First, he had his papers with the doodles back, now he lost his other ones for the assignments. “Why does this happen to me all the time?”

“Lost them again?” Matt looked over his head, with a cup of coffee in his hand.

“Definitely, and trust me, someday, I’m gonna make him regret it.”

“Well, I did see a certain someone take a few of your papers and head down to the library. Maybe you’ll find your thief there.” A smile appeared on Matt’s face as if he knew something is about to happen. 

Cody didn't notice since he got up quickly and shoved his notebook in his bag.

“Thanks, Matt. I needed that intel.”

He stormed over angrily to the library, the location he had been told where the thief would be. He was finally going to find out who took his papers for the assignment he expected to get for the term. 

As he approached the place, he can see a head of auburn-brown curls through the glass doors, over at the far right of the room. He opened the doors quietly, because of Ms. Carla, the librarian, who is at her desk checking books, and made his way to where the thief is. 

However, when he was halfway to the table, he stopped suddenly, and his mouth dropped open at the sight.

Her head finally looked up to reveal a female, about 22 to 23 years, with soft-round cheeks, now showing half of her brownish-red bangs covering her face. But what mainly caught him off-guard are her sky-blue eyes staring up at the ceiling of the library, as if she is thinking about what to do next on the papers that Cody had been currently looking for. 

He really wanted to chew her out-no, he can’t. She just looks too beautiful and sweet to be yelled at, even though she had been stealing his papers to doodle. 

As he processed about what to say to her properly, she lifted her head to see Cody, whose freckled face suddenly turned red, standing there frozen in place. 

She only smiled and waved a little bit at him, and continued doodling on the notes. The blonde boy stayed where he is until Ms. Carla noticed him and walked over to him, concerned.

“Everything okay, Sanders?” She asked him, and he quickly snapped out of the trance.

“Wha-huh, what? Uh, yeah. ‘M fine. Sorry, I-uh... just couldn’t... I, uh, was told by a friend of mine that she had my notes and, uh, I was going to ask her if I can have them back.” He gestured to the girl at the table doodling away. Ms. Carle looked at her before nodding slightly.

“Oh, yeah, that’s Aaliyah Reely, she’s one of my friend’s daughter.”

“Huh.”

“She and her sister were both pretty young when she and her husband got killed in a car accident, so they were given to me to be my kids.”

“You never told me about it.”

“I didn’t want them to live in an orphanage, so I decided to raise them. And sometimes,” her smile faltered a bit. “Alli reminds me a lot of her mother. Stubborn, brave, kind. Karol was like that when we were their age.”

“That must have been hurt badly.” Cody could imagine a poor, little girl left out in the open with no one else, besides her older sister, and watching their parents fade away, all because of a drunk driver, or a hit-and-run.

“It does. Do you want me to introduce you to her?” 

The last part struck him hard. No, he didn’t plan for this, he wasn’t here to see her personally. He was only here for his papers, not to chat with the person who took them, let alone a beautiful girl.

“Actually, I’m o-okay for right now. I’m just gonna head out-”

“Oh, come on. She’d be very happy to meet you, Cody. Let’s go.” Ms. Carla took him by the arm. 

He can instantly feel his face glow red as he was being pulled closer and closer towards the girl who took his notes. 

He was staring at her beauty, and not listening to the older woman chat with Alli, the blue-eyed girl until he snapped out of his fantasy when Ms. Carla said, “I’ll leave you both to it.”

“No, no, wait-” he never got enough time before she disappeared back to her desk. 

‘Oh, great,’ he thought to himself. 

There he is, a love-struck college sophomore, in the library with a beautiful note thief/girl, who took his notes for doodling. This is just great, my lucky day, he thought sarcastically.

“Uh, h-hi,” he stammered to the girl, now known as Alli. 

He is definitely in love with her.

“Hi, you’re Cody, right?” She spoke finally. 

God, she is beautiful.

“Uh, yeah. I’m new around here, came here about a year ago. What about you?” The blushing never left his face as he stuttered.

“Well, my dad made that place a long time ago, so... he wanted me and Nabel to come here on his will.”

He didn’t know what happened next, but he suddenly got trapped in a conversation with the note thief/miss, aka Alli, which he didn’t know lasted until the library was about to close. They exchanged numbers as they were about to head back to their dorms.

“Oh, by the way, I almost forgot.” Alli pulled out her notebook from her bag and gave Cody his notes. “I didn’t know these were yours before you came for them. So sorry about that.”

“N-no, that’s fine. No offense, but don’t you have paper for you to draw on?”

“I wish I do, but apparently they don’t allow blank note-size papers to be used as drawing paper. But I’ll try and use other papers if I have to.”

“Well, I’ve got to admit, your sketches are... incredible. You’re pretty good at this.” Cody studied the drawings she had made on his notes, still blushing from his first encounter. 

Not only is she beautiful, but she is also talented. Anatomies and different flowers are put on the side as if she made those so he can still see his notes.

“Thanks. Anyway, I’ve got to get going. I’ll see you tomorrow then.” She waved from behind and headed back to where her dorm is, as he watched her leave. 

As soon as she is out of sight, Cody headed to his as well. By the time he came back, he can’t get those blue eyes out of his head. The blushing on his face never disappeared either, even though she isn’t here at the moment. 

As he laid on his bed, thinking about what happened today, he neglected to notice Josh entering and telling a girl, probably Josh’s girl, about where the bathroom is.

“Hey, Cods,” he said as he entered his friend’s room. “Listen, Sam is gonna spend the night here, since her roommates are out, and she kinda doesn’t feel safe at her dorm. Is it all right with you, if you don’t mind?”

“Yeah, she can stay as long as she wants,” Cody answered softly, a smile on his lips. 

As he studied his face, Josh picked up the notes on his bedside and slowly skimmed through them.

“Wow, Cody. These are actually pretty good. You didn't make them, did you?”

“Nah, was someone else.”

“Really? Was it that note thief of yours? You didn’t find ‘em yet, did you?”

“I did, and I think I’m in love.”

And he remembered that as he kept on seeing Alli in the library day after day to study for future exams. He never minded her doodling on his notes after the first time he met her. They help him remember what he needed to know during tests. And he was taken back by how beautiful and kind she was about his story. But her own left him shocked and amazed.

Aaliyah Reely was loved since birth by her parents and sister, Nabel, who looked after her even after their mother and father died in a crash caused by their father’s greedy and jealous brother when they were four and one; their uncle fell for Karolina years ago, but Halbert was the first one to get to her. After his brother’s demise, he was found trying to hide from police and placed in jail for the remainder of his life, never to contact his nieces in any way. 

While they were placed in Carla's care, Nabel took care of Alli and became both sister and mother to her. Carla even became more like a mother to them as well as they grew older. However, when the girls first hit high school, Michael James first noticed Alli in a very comfortable way at first, but a week after they made the relationship official, Nabel warned her about the way he is acting. 

The younger sister had wished she never waved off her concerns. 

Michael became possessive and controlling, then he turned to physical violence. He never got that far after he hit Alli the first time. She instantly broke off with him the moment she looked over his personal blog and found out he was only with her for her family’s fortune. With the help from her sister and Carla, she was able to block his number and break off contact with him.

“Has he ever tried to contact you again, recently?” Cody had asked her one day as he was walking her to her class.

“Well, he did, in a very threatening way, but I reported him and they are looking out for him, so I should be alright,” she replied after she had noticed his worried expression when she mentioned about it. “As long as he is not around me on the campus, I wouldn’t have to call the cops.”

Cody decided to check up on her the day she had told him about her ex. With whatever chance he got, he would visit her in her dorm room and ask if Michael had been bothering her recently.

“No, he hasn’t,” she would reply, brushing off a strand of auburn hair from her face. “Thanks for worrying about me, though. You don’t have to visit me every day.”

He was more than worried when her older sister answered the door instead of Alli one night after one of his classes.

“No, I haven’t seen her for a while,” Nabel said when he asked her if she is home. “In fact, I don’t think she is home at the moment. The last time I contacted her, she said that she is heading back an hour ago.”

“I’ll go look for her. I have a car, it won’t be any trouble.” 

As he drove around the campus looking for her, he heard a ding from his phone, and his eyes grew in horror when he saw it was Alli.

“I’m at a gas station, not too far from where the campus is. Someone’s been following me. Pick me up, please.” The message sounded like she was scared, and had no idea how far she could make it back to the campus.

“I’m on my way, hang tight.” He responded to the message quickly and headed to where Alli could be. 

By the time he picked her up from the gas station, she was running towards him and crying. He held on to her for as long as he needed to and took her back to her and Nabel’s dorm. 

Then she managed to speak out the story. She was at a bar with some of her friends when someone tried to flirt with her. But the more she rejected him, the more agitated he became. When he accidentally mentioned Michael, her ex, coming for her, she feared the worse and headed to the gas station and dreading that the same guy might be stalking her until Cody picked her up.

“I’m really glad you came for me,” she said finally after she had finished her story and wiped her eyes. “I don’t know what would have happened if you didn't.”

“It’s no big deal, really,” he responded, relieved that she is safe. “I’m just looking out for you. Is there anything you need?” 

Alli hesitated for a second before she faced him, her face slightly red.

“Can you stay with me?” She softly asked. “Just for tonight?” 

Cody seemed taken aback by her request, but since he knew that it is a weekend, he accepted. He stayed by her side for the rest of the night as they are sitting on the couch, her head nestled on his shoulder and her hand holding on to his shirt. Just as he was about to sleep as well, he couldn’t stop looking at the way she looked when she was resting.

“Even at night, she is angelic,” he thought before his heavy eyelids closed.

It had been three months since that night, and he never wasted any time staying by her side whenever they have free time from their classes. They still continued to hang out at the library and study for winter finals, even him watching Alli doodle for inspiration of the Snow Art Show. By the end of the day, courtesy of Cody, she came up with a woman holding a mixture of ice and fire heart that is connected to her loved one.

As the weeks progressed, they became closer than they ever thought. Cody would intertwine his hands with her own, or wrap his arm around her shoulder or waist, while Alli would move a bit closer as if she needed protection from a winter storm.

It wasn’t until after they had finished their winter finals that they became official. Matt, Sam, and Josh approved of Alli when they first met her as the five hung out at a nearby restaurant as a celebration for their hard work. Nabel had even thanked Cody that night for being there for her and welcomed him to come by whenever he wished. 

On some days, they would walk in the park or hang out at the mall that is closest to the campus. On other days, they would hang out at one of their dorms and hold each other close. Even though he knew he would be there to protect her, he was afraid of her ex-boyfriend coming back and try to win her back by force.

His fears are confirmed one day when he saw a different car parked on the sisters’ driveway. He knew right away that this is Michael’s car; Alli had told him every detail about it on one of their study days. 

In an instant, he ran straight to where the girls’ room is, and stopped suddenly to see the door broken open. An ear-piercing scream reached his ears, and Cody suddenly jumped over the broken door and sped straight to her room. 

The sight in front of him sent his blood instantly boiling.

Michael had her, the girl Cody loved since the first day he met her, by her curly hair, while violently screaming at her and sometimes striking her, which prompted her to cry out some more. “You just broke up with me and left me for some fuckin’ sophomore?! How could you be so stupid, bitch?! You deserve to be with me!”

“Michael, please stop!” 

A severe slap from her ex-boyfriend made her scream out in distress. 

Unbeknownst to Michael, it also arranged Cody to abruptly rush at him in a fit of rage. The other guy didn’t have time to react, for his grip suddenly loosened on Alli and he was sent flying against the wall. The blonde was lucky that he was drunk because of his slow movements and that he was unable to fight back easily.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, you bastard?! You think you’re so tough when you pick on someone, let alone an innocent woman?!” Cody shouted at him as he held the intoxicated man by the front of his shirt.

“She’s my girl, I’ll treat her however I please!” He slurred.

“I’m not your girl anymore, Michael!” Alli furiously yelled at her ex-boyfriend. 

Michael tried to come after her, but Cody held him back sternly.

“Alli, call the police, tell them what’s going on. Then I need you to stay out there for a bit. I’ll deal with this sick bastard here.”

“Cody, I can’t-”

“Just do it, Alli. Please. I’ll let you know when I’m done.” 

She hesitated for a second, before nodding and running to the living room. He didn’t want her to see what he had in store for this drunken jerk of an ex. 

He repeatedly punched him in the face and stomach a few times before throwing him on the ground and punching him over and over again, but not too much to kill him. By the time he was finished, Michael was groaning and crying in agony. He picked the intoxicated man by the collar once more and held him firmly close to his face.

“She told me what you have done to her. Stalking her, threatening her on social media, even using her for yourself, that’s just sick shit, man. No guy ever does that to their girlfriends.”

“Well, what about you? I bet you treat her better than I did.”

“Trust me. I love her too much to hurt her like you ever did years ago. She’s an amazing, beautiful woman and I cherish her for who she is. She never hesitates to help people when they need it the most and she puts others before themselves. And you just took advantage of that.” 

He pulled him close so he can snarl savagely in his ear. “And let me warn you, motherfucker. If I ever see or hear you come anywhere less than five fuckin’ yards of her again, I will make sure you bleed all over the goddamn place. Understand?” 

That made Micahel nod and whimper response. After Cody made sure he got the message, he let him go and walked away, leaving him on the floor.

Alli could barely hold back her horror when Cody walked out of the room after having dealt with her psychotic ex. His face was a bit bruised and his shirt was messed up. 

But he didn’t care. He was glad she was safe. 

She instantly rushed over to hug him, only gently because of his figure sore from the struggle. He wrapped his arms around her slowly for the same reason, her head resting on his shoulder.

“Did he hurt you badly?” She asked, her voice muffled on the shoulder.

“Nah, not too bad. He was wasted enough for his moves to be slow. Are you okay?” 

In response to the question, she abruptly pressed her lips against his own, which caught him off-guard at first, but he kissed her as well. 

Over the sounds of police sirens outside the house, he can hear her say to him, “Thank you, Cody. I love you, too.”

Even though it had been a couple years since the attack, and the two still never got over it, despite healing from it. 

Nabel and Carla were the first to arrive at the hospital as soon as they had heard about the attack and Alli being placed in there. They repeatedly thanked Cody many times for saving her life, and Nabel had commented that she would’ve been killed or worse if he hadn’t come by on time. Matt, Sam, Josh, even Alli’s classmates, and her best friend, Jameson managed to drop by to visit her and meet Cody. 

When Alli had asked about Michael, he replied that he was charged with aggravated break-in and domestic violence, and will be placed in prison for some time. The two both got discharged from the hospital a few hours later. 

As time passed, they started discussing their future while studying collectively a few times. They talked about having a family one day, when they decided to have their own home, anything they can think of. 

Cody knew he didn’t need to talk to Carla about asking for Alli’s hand in marriage. She already adored him the moment the girl introduced him to her. His family had also welcomed her with open back in Christmas when they first became official. So he had decided to plan it. 

On the day of graduation, Cody took the stage and asked for Alli to come up. Mixed but excited, she walked up to the steps as the audience gasped and murmured about what is about to happen. Cody took her hands softly and looked at her in her eyes. 

“Alli Reely, when I first met you, I never thought that I would meet a talented woman doodling away in my notes like you. And I never thought that searching for them would lead me to you. I’ve made your life happy and you’ve done the same for me.” 

As he knelt down on one of his knees, some people started cheering, others gasped in joy and few are already recording the moment. He pulled out a box and opened it to reveal a diamond ring. Alli clasped her hand over her mouth, a few tears escaping from her eyes. 

“Aaliyah Reely, will you do the honor of stealing my heart like you stole my notes for the rest of my life?”

She nodded in response and the audience swore they saw her say “Yes.” 

With the ring on her finger, the two kissed, resulting in roaring cheers from the people in the gym. 

It was a great, special day for Cody Sanders, for him to meet the girl who stole his heart like she had his papers for drawing every day. 

[dadmilkman]

i never really post on here personally because i migrated to twitter a few years ago and the appeal of tumblr left me shortly after but ive talked about this topic ive had on my mind on twitter a lot already and ive bugged my friends in their dm’s too much but i still need to get it off my chest so im gonna talk about it some more anyway

in november this past year i messaged an artist hosting a secret santa event pledging to participate, and the next day they sent me back saying, no, i cant participate, because my art looks “too traced”

i dont post my art on this blog much anymore since i started posting it on my sideblog but i do draw fairly often and for years, for YEARS, one of the things that has contributed to my horrible, horrible depression (besides like, everything else) is my very bad habit of comparing myself to literally everyone and everything else. its taken me a long time to start trying to break this habit and not feel bad about my own abilities or skills in comparison to other people, and to this day im still struggling with it. art has been a personal battle for me, as it is for anyone who creates things regardless of what it is, and ive given up, sometimes for months or years at a time, only to eventually come back and start drawing again and then hate how far behind i felt because of all the time i spent not improving any at all.

so fast forward from 2012 where i “seriously’ start drawing to the start of last year, after going through maybe 3 hiatuses where i didnt draw for over 6 months, to where i finally bought my own tablet (after borrowing off my girlfriend or just drawing with pencil) in april and started actually seriously drawing again, all summer and during school even i was just drawing out the ass, all the time, i was putting more shit down than i had for a long long time and it was bad but i was real proud of it because i was creating things! and thats what ive always wanted to do, is just put stuff out in the world. to make things with any sort of permanence. so all last year i was really pleased with my progress and i was even getting better at drawing faces and coloring so i was real pleased.

so i get into a few new hobbies during the year and start following a bunch of artists on tumblr, or blogs that promote other artists, because id gotten to enough of a point where seeing other people accomplished at art didnt make me feel quite so bad about myself as it used to - i was able to look at other peoples success with pride on their behalf and not anger or jealousy. and at this point id start liking a little bit of my own attention, so i make a separate art blog dedicated to my art and my characters. and theres this one artist i really admired. they draw nothing but their oc’s, which is also nothing but what i draw too, and they were popular and everyone liked their characters and they had lots of artists friends they could talk with and do trades with and it was and is everything i wanted to be. i wanted to be that sociable and liked and known, even if it was just among a small group of friends in a small part of a niche interest, i wanted to participate in something.

so i see this secret santa i really want to join, hosted by none other than this artist i look up to, quite a lot. id sent them a few anons before with various questions on things and felt comfortable enough to message them and ask about joining the secret santa. i was finally comfortable enough in my artistic abilities to want to join, too, which was huge for me. so i message them, and wait for them to message me back.

and they do , the next day, and its to immediately tell me that my art looks too traced and that i should “stay away” from their art trade. as any aspiring artist will tell you, tracing photos is good. it helps you get muscle memory and learn perspective, anatomy, blah blah. as long as you dont do anything with it or pass it off as your own.

but tracing photos or god forbid other  peoples art and then posting it online and saying “look at this thing i drew all by myself arent you proud!?” is entirely different, and obviously isnt something ive ever fucking done, but its what they wanted to accuse me of, saying i was being deceitful and that other people in the trade would be mad if they knew. so, no, ive never done that. i never said ive never traced photographs before, i do it all the time to practice poses and anatomy and then i send them to my friend and say “ha i drew my characters doing this thing” and like, thats the only light of day it sees.

but apparently this artist was and still is under the impression that everything ive ever drawn was traced, as if i never put any work into anything. i do. i dont even know how to express that statement enough. i do . i do put hard work into the stuff i make. i practice and i draw and i sketch and no, im not fucking great at art, but it makes me happy and i can draw my ocs and thats really all i want to be able to do, so when someone comes to me , someone i looked up to and admired , and accuses me of being a liar and a fake, it hurt.

and of course i tried to explain i dont trace my art? i used photo references, a lot. sometimes ill take a photograph of myself to use as a reference too. i have a bunch of pvc pipes in my room i use when i need a ref of someone holding a staff or sword so i can make the angles better. i have a reference blog i use heavily and most of the time the outfits i draw are from stuff i see models wearing and want to put my ocs in. but i dont trace it, and that accusation hurt. the only thing i ever “trace” when i draw figures is a stick figure on a pose, IF im having trouble, like this 

and then the rest of the drawing, the lines, the hair the clothes the face, whatever, i draw that free hand, its not like i sit there and trace a whole photo or drawing? and if i did im not gonna...post it online and pretend i did all this hard work? and this is all the same thing i said to this person, i admitted to doing this stick figure technique, and that i sometimes trace photographs but i use it as a mechanic to help me improve anatomy accuracy and not as a cop-out for doing my own work and ive never passed off someone else’s skills as my own like they were insinuating. i mean, is this tracing? ive seen self taught and professional artists (and artists/photographers like senshistock, where i get a lot of refs) use this or a similar stick man figure approach when trying to draw people. i never thought i was doing something deceitful , and not to mention i dont even do this with every thing i ever draw. just stuff with weird angles or if theres a specific pose i want to capture correctly. i cant tell if this criticism reminds me too much of the argument circa a few years ago that using references or photos of any sort at all was cheating, or if this is genuine criticism and its a practice i shouldnt use anymore. which i havent been doing anymore anyway.

it was so infuriating to be confronted with this and have the whole argument portrayed like i was a sham and i was duping people on purpose. “stay away from the art trade” was their exact words. it hurt a lot and it still does, and its still killing my confidence every day. ive been trying to move on from the whole thing but when someone you admire shoots you down like that, i just dont know how to keep going knowing them and other people they apparently talked to about this are looking at my work thinking im a cheat. this has been on my mind nearly every day for 3 months and its killing me.

[groundramon]

16 and 18!

“16. Is there a character of yours who’s a real struggle to write/draw? Why do you think that is?”

Drawing-wise, hands down it has to be Mich/Fuzzdramon - although honorable mention to Sarah and all my other bird characters because birds are had to draw.  But Fuzzdramon is /incredibly/ hard to draw; to not get even more pissed off at myself while drawing vent art, I had to simplify my sona’s anatomy, and even then it’s still hard to draw.  Mich’s anatomy is even worse than my sona’s so…kill me lmfao.  I’ve always struggled with Fuzzdramon because his anatomy is all fucked up because idk how bipedal animals work.

I’m not sure if that’d be the same for writing, though.  Mich can be hard to write for because his personality doesn’t come nearly as easily as other characters’ (he’s got little to no traits based on me, and my secret is just giving my characters aspects of my ever-changing personality, so)  I think the hardest character to write for is, or at least was, Devin.  I could never get Devin’s personality pinned down as a real personality for a very long time.  I had no idea what his motivations were, what his hobbies and interests were, how he would react to the events in the story, ect.  I knew he was shy and extremely quiet, but I didn’t know where to go from there.  But I’ve finally managed to find explanations for the reasons why he acts the ways he does, and although externally he might not’ve changed much, internally he’s a far better character than he was before.  Since I’ve developed his personality more now, he’s not as hard to write for, but he’s still definitely one of the harder ones.

“18. Is there anything you really wish you could do, character-design-wise, that you feel is outside your current skillset? A concept that you wish you could pull off but are uncertain about?”

I’d say the biggest one is probably wanting to be able to draw humans??  Because like…Oneiromon stars humans, and yet I’ve never drawn any of them in their human forms before lmfao (well I’ve tried to draw Mich, but it came out too awful to even finish sketching, much less color and post lmao.  And one of the humans I dont even have a general idea of what they look like, let alone a design for them

Thanks for the asks!!

[allenvooreef]

Year three of daily drawing - my experiences

Read about my first year HERE and my second year HERE

Wow! Three full years of daily drawing, all done. When I started out I didn’t even think I’d make it past the first week. I’m still baffled, to be honest. Time to look back on this third year, and on the challenge as a whole. I have a LOT of thoughts, let’s see if I can make some sense of them under the cut.

What was the plan? At the end of last year, I said this about my plans for 2018:

Do more studies, for real this time. I’ll be keeping a tally in my bullet journal of value, anatomy, landscape, portrait and material studies and aim to do at least twenty of each this year. Aside from that, I’m actually pretty happy with how my developement has been going this past year so I aim to just keep that up. I want to do at least one more year of dailies, because I just really like the number three and it means I’ll have over a thousand total. 

And how did that work out? Well, I made my study goal! 100 total, and 20 in each listed category. Though, as expected, I ended up making the bulk of them in the last two months to catch up. I think I learned a lot from doing those, but looking back, I feel like I only scratched the surface. See the way studies work is you copy first, then try to reproduce it without reference, then implement the techniques in an original artwork. I stopped at copying, meaning I learned about a third of what I could have if I had taken a bit more time. 

Something else I wanted to work on in 2018 was to stop letting these dailies cut into my sleep time. I set a timer on my phone for 8pm everyday to remind me to start drawing, and used my bullet journal to keep track of all the days I was in bed before midnight. While it definitely didn’t work *all* the time, I do feel like it made a significant difference. The feeling I got everytime I was in a late train home from band rehearsal and I realized I’d already made my daily earlier that day was priceless.

Time to quit? I already predicted I’d probably want to stop after my third year. Turns out that once I’d formed that thought in my mind, I suddenly started to *really* feel like quitting. I mean, I wasn’t about to quit before I’d reached the three year mark, I’m way too stubborn for that, but I did notice a significant drop in my motivation around April. I had an increasingly hard time coming up with things to draw, often lacked the mental energy for more ‘finished’ looking sketches, and overall started to feel like it was a chore instead of something I enjoyed. Near the end of the year I often spent over an hour just hovering my pen over my tablet before actually drawing anything. A sure sign that this challenge was no longer serving its purpose and it was time to stop.

Besides that, this year also brought along some pretty big life events for me, meaning I had little to no brain space and energy to spare for art for a while. Though forcing myself to draw through that exhaustion wasn’t fun, I’m relieved to notice that it didn’t kill my love for creating. If anything, it fueled my longing to make more elaborate artworks, to spend more than just an hour on something, to allow myself to let something sit for a few days before returning to it. 

An unexpected obstacle was a sudden bug in Photoshop, or my tablet, or both, that messed with my pen pressure. Meaning that for every 10 pen strokes I did, about 8 or 9 would come out as gross hard-angled black blobs. I have no idea what triggered this, and still no idea how to fix it (I use a pirated version of Photoshop so I can’t update it), so it meant that every drawing took at least twice the effort since I now spent over half my time ctrl+z ing until I could draw the line I intended. Seeing as my motivation was already dwindling, this certainly didn’t help in keeping these dailies fun to make.

Am I happy with the things I drew? Looking back on the things I drew in 2018, I think I’ve further solidified my workflow, having a clear preferred method of sketching and coloring. I sometimes tried turning off the line layers to see if it could work without, which was fun to see, but overall I think I stayed inside my comfort zone a lot (except for the studies). I don’t think I mind, though. Now that I know how I like to work, I can do it much more efficiently than I could before, and that’s a valuable time saver. I also focused on making my drawings look a bit less flat, approaching it as three-dimensional shapes rather than lines. There’s still a lot more work to be done in this department, but I’m happy with the steps I’ve taken so far!

What did I set out to learn, and did I? For 2018 specifically, it was ‘to make great strides in my mastery of anatomy, value, materials, portraits and landscapes’. As stated above, I feel like I haven’t nearly learned enough from the studies I did. Making these studies did give me more experience in a painterly workflow, and I noticed my eye for value and color getting sharper over time, but to really make the kind of progress I’d been looking for I’ll have to go the extra mile. Maybe I’ll get around to that now that I don’t feel obligated to post it all. 

What did I learn that I didn’t expect to? That even when I’d made a habit out of daily drawing, I can’t and shouldn’t go on forever. I thought the reason I’d quit eventually would be because I’d simply be bored with it. I don’t think I expected to have as much trouble finding the energy to keep it up, nor did I realize the time spent on these dailies meant less time spent on larger artworks. 

Looking back on the challenge as a whole:

What did I set out to learn, and did I?

1. To get over my fear of creating bad art I obviously didn’t 100% shake that feeling, but then again I’m starting to feel like I shouldn’t aim for that. As long as it’s not holding me back anymore, that bit of frustration when something doesn’t work as well as I hoped it would is the thing that’s going to drive me to keep improving. And looking back on how utterly stuck I was before starting this challenge, I’d say this goal has definitely been achieved. Now, I know creating something imperfect is always better than creating nothing at all, and I’ve also experienced that a lot of the time things work out better than I’d feared. 

2. To make better art Oh that definitely happened. I’ve improved way more in these past three years than in the three years before that. Some of the dailies I made in an hour are better than the artworks I’d spend multiple days on back then. As intended, the sheer amount of practice resulted in a better eye for cohesive proportions, and it allowed me to finally get comfortable with a certain style. Even though in hindsight I could have done way more to improve through this challenge, I’m very happy with the skill upgrade it did bring.

What did I learn that I didn’t expect to?

1. That I can actually do this It sounds silly, but trust me when I say I never *ever* actually believed I was going to last for longer than a week. I always thought I wasn’t the type of person who could keep up with resolutions. What I learned is that apparently I *am* stubborn enough to keep up with challenges, as long as I feel like I have something to prove to myself. And as long as I’m the one who set the rules. That way I can’t complain about them, after all! ;) 

2. To be self-indulgent There was a clear shift somewhere halfway through the challenge where I realized I had been holding off on drawing too much of the same thing, because I felt like my followers would be fed up with it. I felt like I wasn’t ‘legit’ when I was only drawing fan art. I realized that was holding me back, because now I was spending time and energy on figuring out the proper subject for my dailies before even putting pen to paper! The moment I let go of those expectations, and allowed myself to be as self-indulgent with my drawings as I’d like, my art improved. As did my love for art, and the response I got from you! 

Plans for 2019

I figured it was best for me not to jump right into a new challenge after this, so I’ve been spending my time just recharging. As I write this, it’s been 13 days since my last daily, and I haven’t felt the need to draw since. I’m taking it slow, getting a feel for where I stand now and what I’d like to learn next. I treated myself to a Schoolism subscription during their Winter Sale, meaning I have access to amazing course material all year, and I can’t wait to see how that will help me grow. 

I look forward to making sketches without ‘having to’ post them. Meaning I can copy art by other artists to learn from them without plagiarizing. Meaning I can decide to continue a sketch the next day, with fresh eyes. 

One thing I will still consistently do, is make a monthly Patreon illustration. I’ve rearranged the reward tiers to make the most out of the time I have, and I look forward to keep creating and improving with the help of my lovely Patrons.

I’m making a booklet with all the dailies in it, as well as some more in-depth reflection and tips & tricks. Partly because some of you expressed interest, and partly because I feel like it’s important for me to have a physical thing to show for all my efforts. I’ll let you know as soon as pre-orders open!

Right, I think that was about it! If you’re considering a daily drawing challenge and are wondering if it’s for you, feel free to message me if you have questions! If you decide to do daily drawings because of me (which is just... wow), I’d love it if you tagged me in one so I can check them out! 

I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for sticking with me through this challenge! Your enthusiasm encouraged me to keep going, and seeing your tags and comments in the mornings was one of the highlights of my day.

I’ll leave you with some links:

Check out every single daily in my daily drawing tag

If you’d like, you can support and be involved in my art journey through my Patreon

If this information was in any way useful to you, or you’d just like to make my day, you can buy me a coffee

Find me on twitter and instagram too!

[fashiontrendin-blog]

Phoebe Waller-Bridge on the *must-watch* fierce and fearless feminist drama, 'Killing Eve'

http://fashion-trendin.com/phoebe-waller-bridge-on-the-must-watch-fierce-and-fearless-feminist-drama-killing-eve/

Phoebe Waller-Bridge on the *must-watch* fierce and fearless feminist drama, 'Killing Eve'

The term ‘girl crush’ is thrown around so liberally but there seems to be no other phrase that sums up Phoebe Waller-Bridge so perfectly. Sat alongside me on the chicest of couches in the most Haute Hotel, I found her to be the funniest and most real celebrity this side of Clapham.

Whilst she animatedly attacks our interview with full force, I find myself imagining Phoebe slotting nicely into my life: as the perfect WhatsApp warrior when a f**k boy has done me over, my shots sister for knocking back Jaeger Bombs to get over said lad and the ultimate sounding board for debating the deep and meaningful topics of our time (more on that later!).

What makes Waller-Bridge so god damn amazing? Phoebe’s ability to encapsulate all of us with one surprising move after another – even when playing a droid in Han Solo: A Star Wars Story.

Talking about the moment she realised the gal who pitched a show to BBC3 on a shoestring budget was going to star in a Star Wars sanctified film, she says, “it only really hit me two weeks after we wrapped the film. I was just on a bus home and it hit, ‘OMG I was just on a Star Wars film, I was just in a Star Wars film for the last few months!’ I called my sister and said, ‘I’ve just been in Star Wars!’ and she was like, ‘yeah mate… we know!’”

You can always rely on a sibling for a reality check, accessorised with an eye roll, and for a bus journey to produce the ultimate epiphany. A best friend’s loo can equally be a grounding space, apparently: “I was in my friend’s loo when I found out I had the part. I got the call and then walked in really slowly, with a really red face. Shocked, she said, ‘WHAT happened in there?!’” See, I told you; Phoebe is a red-faced piece of us, just humbly making her way through Hollywood.

In a world, practically another galaxy away from her pal’s lav, the corridors that surround her normality are, for today, currently the stomping ground for her co-stars, Donald Glover, Emilia Clarke and the army of publicists that come along for the Star Wars ride. Phoebe, in stark contrast to the circus that encircles her, is the definition of #grounded with the Oyster card to prove it.

Discussing her first meeting with Chewbacca, she said: “you feel so safe in his arms. You’re also slightly frightened and a bit aroused.” It’s her friendship with said co-stars that will last well into the future.

I personally spent the grand total of 1.2 seconds in the company of Donald Glover and nearly fainted, so one can only imagine the effects filming with the chap for months on end would have: “I mean, THERE’S the force. The force is trying to prevent people falling at Donald’s feet – he’s incredible. He’s so cool, funny and he’s such a big thinker. He’s got a really cool perspective on the world. I think he’s going to be king of the world!” A forceful statement but indeed, true.

“He will talk about unbelievable high concept things in the space of ten seconds in a completely unpretentious and fun way. Then he will just leave, and you are like, ‘what’s happened?’ A friend of mine called him, ‘a Philosopher King,’ after meeting him, which is so cute!”

However, the Princess to her Leia, Emilia Clarke, became the person she sought advice from, explaining: “it’s like talking to THE Google, when you are talking to Donald about philosophical conversations, so I would go to Emilia for advice on how to interpret those intense chats!”

The bond between these two ladies – who come in at wildly different comedic heights, “I am four times the size of her,” Phoebe comedically comments – doesn’t stop at the philosophical. “It was my birthday during filming and I spent weeks telling everyone. When it came to the day, no one gave me any attention and then I walked into my trailer where Emilia had this enormous cake baked especially for me. It was the most incredible thing I had ever seen, it was piled so high, it was bigger than my robot head! She’s just a giver of love and I’d like to keep her!” Now that is a pairing that is out of this world.

Imagining Phoebe, “clumping around on set,” with her aforementioned over-sized robot head is something which could easily be lifted from her comedy sketch show, Flea Bag. The image alone could garner enough comedy gold for another BAFTA win, “I wore a really flattering skin-tight lime green body sock topped off with a full heavy droid head with two tiny little eye holes and a little tiny straw hole that they would occasionally feed me peanuts through. On top of that, they’d attach metal arms and legs – basically what you see in the film, I had on me at all times!”

At least joining Star Wars means you get paid to weightlift and you can pie your gym membership, then? “I was like, ‘maybe if you just give me a trainer and then I just become really, really hot.’ I had images of becoming this hot droid. Instead, the producers said, ‘no, no, no the kind of awkward, weird, ridiculous walk you do naturally suits L-3 perfectly.” Phoebe’s comedic charm goes right to her very wires.

By this point we are both collapsed into each other, laughing away as if we have been on the Jaegers for hours but it’s only 10am when the young queen of British Comedy hits me with the punchline: “I had to have a special seat to fit my droid ass in because it was so wide!” You can take the girl out of Flea Bag, but you can’t take Flea Bag out of the girl.

If you haven’t watched the show, which peppers this piece and forged Phoebe’s golden path to Star Wars, you are seriously missing out. Every beat of Flea Bag’s narrative – which stars PWB and is written by her – strikes a cutting chord with anyone who’s mumbled through an awkward chat with a chap you have been salivating over since last summer. Ultimately, the show tackles female sexuality through the canon of comedy and presents it on a very relatable platter. It’s worthwhile noting that IRL, Phoebe is actually happily married.

But in a post-#metoo world, I am intrigued to know if there is room for freely making jokes about female sexuality in TV series. Phoebe, ever the educated one woman-wonder, pauses to find the exact words, “I feel like it was a different conversation when it (Fleabag) came out. I think the tension and the pressure-cooker feeling of needing to talk about the complexities of female sexuality and the feelings around it was at a different stage then.”

Artfully articulated in the most approachable way, she continues, “being able to talk about female sexuality openly with a sense of humour outside of the political shift that happened afterwards with the ‘Me Too’ movementand all those horrible exposés was the relief at the beginning. But now the conversation is rightfully serious and there isn’t so much room for that. I think there’s always room for humour, but we were all in such shock, especially about the Harvey allegations and everything that was exposed about the pay gaps all across the industries. It suddenly stopped being funny and I felt like I couldn’t write jokes as easily around the topic of female sexuality.”

Ultimately, Phoebe professes, “you don’t want to risk sounding like you are taking the p*ss out of something that could really be an agent for change and all these conversations could really be changing things.” Word.

Rest assured, Phoebe isn’t totally put off from tackling tricky subject matters as her latest writing project, Killing Eve, starring Jodie Comer as an security operative hunting down a badass assassin played by Grey’s Anatomy‘s Sandra Oh, is set to hit the BBC this summer. Doing her best QVC pitch for the show, Phoebe in full endearing saleswoman mode, exclaims, “I was so excited about the performances and I was so excited by the fearlessness of those two lead performances and how well they orbit each other because they are so well-balanced and FIERCE!”

Just like the droid she plays in Han Solo – who the actress says, “starts a rebellion by mistake and goes, ‘oh look I smashed that!’” – Phoebe may have accidently started a revolution in the way television deals with female sexuality, redefining our galaxy from within.

This is the feminist revolution and this your captain, Phoebe Waller-Bridge, speaking. Over and out.

‘Han Solo: A Star Wars Story’ is released on 24th May 2018.