#I’ve decided i hate rendering now

[pebbleaf]

My gaze has lingered on her for quite a while

They’re gay and in love (it’s canon trust me)

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

What remains of us, pt. 6

Summary: Worried what the future might bring, Wally and Y/N decide to delay what must be done for a while longer.

Warnings: death, angst, mentions of mental health issues, fluff, mentions of a SCHOOL SHOOTING, swearing

Word count: 2.2k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

They haven’t kissed since that fateful day.

Not once.

Wally hasn’t said a word about it, hasn’t pushed, hasn’t even so much as hinted that he wants more. But she knows. She feels it in the way his eyes linger a second too long, in the way his fingers twitch when they brush against hers. And the worst part?

She craves him just as much.

But every time she inches closer, something stops her. A nagging, relentless whisper in the back of her mind.

If Xavier hadn’t told her the truth, would Wally ever have shared it? Or would he have let the secret fester for decades to come?

No. He wouldn’t…Would he?

She watches him from across the field, chewing on her bottom lip. He’s been nothing but supportive since the first moment of her afterlife. He’s guided her, made her laugh when all she wanted to do was break. He’s done everything right…except that one thing.

And her heart, foolish and desperate, makes excuses for him a thousand times a day. But her mind? Her mind won’t let it go.

If he could hide something so big from her, would it be wise to put down her armor entirely?

Before she can slip too deep into her thoughts, Wally catches her staring.

He smirks.

Winking at her, Wally runs toward her. His smile is infectious, his hands possessively clinging to her hips as he towers over her, like he’s done it a thousand times before.

“You’ve been staring,” he teases, tilting his head. “Like what you see?”

She rolls her eyes but can’t fight the grin tugging at her lips. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she hums. “What’s there not to like?”

His gaze darkens, his lips curving into something far too smug. “I could say the same.”

Heat floods her cheeks, and she can’t help but wonder how is it possible to blush. How is it that her dead heart feels almost alive whenever he compliments her? What is it about him that makes it so hard to resist him?

It’s infuriating.

It’s intoxicating.

She’s tried so hard to set boundaries, to leave the kiss behind them and work on getting through their scars, but no matter how insistent her brain is on moving on, her heart fights to stay.

If Wally isn’t with her, what’s the point of moving on?

Could she ever truly move on without him?

“Stop tempting me, jock!”

She’s admitted to herself she’s fallen for him. For the first time in her existence, Y/N feels what love is. She can’t possibly abandon Wally now.

Chuckling, he shrugs. “I can’t help how hot I am!”

“Oh my God!” She hides her face against him, but she’s smiling and she knows he can feel it. His laughter vibrates against her skin, warm and familiar, filling the hollow spaces inside her. She could stay curious about passing on, but she could never forgo the way his laugh makes her feel.

Pulling away, just enough to look up at him through her lashes, Y/N stands on her tiptoes. Her lips brush his jaw – a whisper of a touch, yet it’s enough to render Wally speechless. Tilting his head, his lips capture hers instantly. Wasting no time, he pulls her into him, breathing her in as their kiss deepens.

A gasp slips past her as he pulls her flush against him, his fingers pressing into the small of her back. He kisses her like he’s making up for lost time, like he’s afraid this moment will slip through his fingers.

She lets him.

She lets herself.

The sharp, loud sound of a whistle startles them apart. Wally groans as he watches a group of football players flooding the field, ruining their moment.

“I don’t think I’ve ever hated football as much as I do right now.”

She smirks. “Not even when you died?”

Wally pretends to consider it. “Nope. This is worse.”

Laughing, she presses a quick kiss to his lips. “Guess it’s a good thing we have a forever to do this then.”

His expression softens, and he keeps his arm around her as they leave the field.. It felt good, really good to kiss Wally again.

It’s been almost a month since the last time they kissed, mostly because she spent the entire time trying to understand everything Wally filled her in on. Moving on. The scars. Practicing moving objects…it was a lot.

And Maddie.

Perhaps that was the most difficult one to hear.

“She had a chance to go back to her life and as much as I wished she’d stay, I couldn’t be so selfish with her. I gave her the push she needed and watched her come back to life. She couldn’t see me anymore, but I know she knew I’d be with her until her last day in this school.”

“Do you miss her?” She asked.

“I did. It’s been years, I’ve learned to let it go. To let her go.”

“I’m sorry,” she takes his hand in hers, their fingers intertwining. “You’ve been alone...just as I have. You’ll never be alone again.”

Wally stills, turning to her. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

“What is it like?” Y/N hesitantly asks. “Going into your scar?”

His face darkens. “It’s a hellish version of your own death, twisted with fears and anxieties you can’t escape. It’s…traumatizing…Painful.”

Swallowing hard, she continues. “Is that why you never made it through yourself?”

“Yes.” His voice is almost too quiet. “Everyone else eventually faced their fears. I tried,” he pauses. “I guess I’m too much of a coward to face mine.”

Cupping his cheek, she shakes her head lightly. “You’re not a coward, Wally. You’re human.”

He lets out a dry laugh. “Not anymore.”

 “You know what I mean.” She takes a deep breath, “It’s perfectly normal and…I understand why. I’m scared of even trying.”

“You want to?” He swallows thickly. “To try?”

“I think so.”

“Oh,” his eyebrows furrow. He shifts uncomfortably. “If that’s the case, I know what your key is.”

“My stethoscope,” she whispers.

His eyes widen. “How did you –“

“I saw it in your locker,” she admits. “I assumed you were keeping it there for me…For when I was ready to try and face it.”

He nods slowly. “Can I say something selfish?”

She arches a brow, silently telling him to continue.

“I’m scared,” he confesses, voice barely above a whisper. “That you’ll go into your scar and I’ll never see you again.”

A lump forms at the back of her throat. Ever since that night where she thought she lost him, it’s been a constant worry. “Me too.”

“Yeah?”

Nodding, she allows him to pull her closer, into his lap. “I don’t want to leave you. If anything ever happens of the sort, know it wasn’t my intention. I’d never –“

“Same,” he cuts in, his voice thick with emotion. “I’d never leave you if I have any choice in it.”

“But we’re going to have to try.” Her voice cracks, and she leans her forehead against his. “All we can do is promise each other to tough it out and move on together…Because I refuse to believe we won’t find each other in the afterlife.”

His nose brushes against hers, his lips quivering. She can tell he’s holding back tears.

“Maybe not today,” she whispers.

“Or tomorrow,” he adds, hopeful.

A weak chuckle escapes her, and he can’t help but smile.

“Not yet,” she agrees, refusing to set a date. They need more time together and if this is all they have, she can’t waste a single moment.

“Let’s have a date,” she blurts out.

His entire face lights up. “God, yes! A date sounds perfect!”

Laughing the tension away, she captures his lips again. There’s nothing better than the heaven she tastes upon his kiss.

Y/N isn’t sure what she expected when she walked down the hallway toward their meeting spot, but it sure as hell wasn’tthis.

Wally stands at the end of the hall, next to the staircase, waiting for her, looking like he just stepped out of a vintage romance film. A black suit clings to his lean frame, fitted to perfection, the crisp white shirt underneath stark against his dark hair. And his hair, oh God, his hair, usually a tousled mess, has been styled to perfection and all she can think about is how she’s going to run her fingers though it and make it a mess once more.

He’s holding a bouquet of wildflowers, a mess of soft blues and whites, petals trembling slightly from how tightly he grips the stems.

And then there’s his face.

He’s staring at her like she’s a dream he’s scared to wake up from. No one’s ever looked at her the way he does.

Y/N steps closer slowly, the hem of her gown skimming the floor. It’s ridiculous, getting dressed up when they’re both, dead, but when she had suggested a real date, one where they actually tried, neither could say no. So she scoured the school’s forgotten wardrobes and found a dress that made her feel like someone worth being adored. Midnight blue, flowing like water, hugging in all the right places. The way Wally’s jaw clenches tells her she made the right choice.

She stops in front of him, arching a brow. “You clean up nice.”

Wally exhales sharply, like he’s only just remembered how to breathe. “Holy shit.”

Her lips twitch. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” he breathes. Then, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts, he thrusts the bouquet toward her. “These are for you.”

She takes them gently, brushing her fingers over the petals. “Where did you even find these?”

“I may or may not have haunted the school greenhouse.” He shrugs, flashing her that boyish grin. “The gardening club doesn’t seem to mind when their plants go missing.”

She smirks. He went through the effort of making sure they won’t reset. “And here I thought ghosts weren’t supposed to steal.”

“This one does. You know, for the most beautiful girl in Split River High.”

Her breath catches.

Damn him.

He knows exactly what he’s doing.

Before she can come up with a witty retort, Wally shifts, suddenly unfastening the thin chain around his neck. He holds it out to her, a simple silver chain with a small, worn-out football charm dangling at the center.

Her brows knit together. “Wally?”

“If I lose you,” he says softly, slipping the necklace around her throat, “at least I know you’ll have this. A part of me, with you forever.”

She exhales, brushing her fingers over the charm.

“God, you’re such a movie cliché.”

Wally grins, though it’s weaker than usual, like he’s hoping she can see just how much this means to him. “Yeah, but I got you to fall for me, didn’t I?”

She huffs a laugh, shaking her head. “You do realize confessions like that are usually reserved for the end of a date, not the beginning.”

Wally smirks. “So you’re confessing you did fall for me?”

She tilts her head, considering. Then, just when he expects her to dodge the question, she steps closer, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m hopelessly in love with you.”

His breath stutters.

For a moment, he’s completely still, as if his brain is short-circuiting.

Then—

“Holy shit.”

A laugh bursts out of her, full and warm, and it sends something electric through his veins.

Recovering quickly, Wally grabs her waist, pulling her closer. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been in love with you?”

She raises a brow. “Hmm, a week? Two?”

He groans. “Since the first moment I laid eyes on you.”

She stills.

“That’s why I was so distracted at first,” he admits, his thumb tracing absent circles over her waist. “I, God, I thought you were just… stunning. Like, so stupidly out of my league that I couldn’t even function properly.”

She snorts. “You mean you were too busy drooling to realize I was a ghost like you?”

“Exactly.” He grins. “And honestly? I never thought I’d have a chance.”

She pretends to think. “And yet, here we are. Mission accomplished.”

His grin widens. “Damn right.”

She laces their fingers together, her touch featherlight. “Come on. We have a date to start.”

He hums, eyes twinkling. “If I keep making you laugh like this, do I get a reward later?”

She leans in, her breath fanning against his ear. “Keep it up and you might just get an invitation for a midnight swim.”

Wally’s grip on her tightens. “You’re kidding.”

She smirks, adding. “And I don’t own a swimming suit.”

“You’re not kidding.”

“Nope.”

He lets out a dramatic groan. “This might actually kill me.”

She just laughs, tugging him forward. “Come on, lover boy. Let’s see if your cooking skills are as good as your flirting.”

PART 7

[jezabelle9299]

Fashion Show S.R x FEM! Reader

Overture- You try on a new dress for a night out, and Spencer is continuously surprised by how beautiful you are

CWs- Reader wears a dress and heels, Spencer walks in before she's zipped the dress up all the way (But he doesn't really see anything-- just the back of her bra), Penelope is one pushy matchmaker and we love her for it

A/N- Day 19, I did not in fact fall off the face of the Earth (Yet), and I will hopefully get caught up with everything by Thursday! But I can't make any promises. If you like it, let me know-- and if you hate it, then maybe don't tell me, please, thank you.

Finally having your first fancy professional job came with something you were not all that familiar with, disposable income. So when Penelope invited you for a shopping trip on your lunch break, you obliged. You walked around the mall with her, and ended the trip with three new outfits, and a new pair of shoes. Two were for work, since you spent most of your time there anyway; and the third, along with the shoes were for the occasional night out. Whether a date (Which were few and far between), or the rare occasion of the government paying for a nice hotel with a bar you felt the need to dress up for. 

The fitting rooms were closed for maintenance when you went, so Penelope convinced you to do a quick fashion show when you got back, just for her in her office. The bathroom was right next to her office, so no one would even see you on the walk while you tried to decide if you liked the things you got. 

You tried on the work outfits first, working your way up to the piece you were most nervous to try on. It was a somewhat short purple dress, with a lace trim to complete it. But of course, this was the one thing you could not zip yourself. You threw on a jacket for the ten foot walk, and made it into Penelope’s office without seeing anyone. But as soon as she ran over to you in her very high heels to help you zip up, someone knocked ‘shave and a haircut’ on her office door, before promptly walking in. 

You knew from the knock that it was Spencer, unfortunately Spencer had no idea you were in there, let alone what you were doing. 

“Hey Garcia—“ as soon as he caught a glimpse of you, right as Penelope started zipping you up, he froze. No recollection of why he came over here, barely even registering Penelope’s presence when you looked like that. 

As if his life was one cruel joke, his favorite person in the world was wearing his favorite color, in a dress that could have been engineered specifically to render him speechless. And in the workplace no less. And in one final twist of the knife, he wasn’t supposed to see you. And he knew it. As soon as his brain could get him to move even an inch, he was covering his eyes. Like a child during a scary movie, he fully covered his eyes with one hand placed sideways, only to double the other one over top of it. 

You couldn’t not laugh at him. Just a little bit. He was just so scandalized at seeing a little bit of your bra. 

He was just trying to figure out how to excuse himself without opening his eyes when he felt your hands over his wrists, gently tugging his hands from his eyes. 

“Spencer, it’s ok. I promise I’m fully dressed now.” 

“What did you need, boy wonder?” After shooting you a look declaring, once again, her support of you and Spencer becoming a couple– Penelope sat herself back in her desk chair, ready to do whatever Spencer needed. 

“I—uh.” He quickly readjusted his glasses, but it didn’t help. Functionally, he was a brick in a sportcoat. 

“The incomparable Dr.Reid speechless? This dress is better than I thought.” You made the joke to undercut the tension you were feeling, but it only made it worse for both of you. 

“Sorry, I—I’ve just never seen you this dressed up.”

“She bought it to go out, you should take her for a night out tonight!” Both of you looked at Penelope, you couldn’t believe she would do that to you. Setting you up for that kind of rejection? Even if he did say yes— would it be for the sole factor of you dressing in a form fitting outfit? Spencer had a similar line of thinking– Penelope knew he liked you, and he was deeply upset that she would force him to actually hear your rejection. 

“Oh–um. I’m sure you have plans, I mean– you look really nice, I’m sure you have someone in mind or somewhere specific you wanted to go.”

“She doesn’t have any plans tonight! You don’t either, so you two are hitting the town.”

“I don’t have any plans.”

“Me neither.”

“It’s a good thing we’re getting off work soon, and the chinese place down the street is open late anyway.”

You looked at each other, or in the general direction anyway. Neither of you wanted to make eye contact, and then when Spencer shot Penelope a betrayed look at her meddling, she just tilted her head to the side in a ‘go on’ motion.   

“Would you maybe like to go to the Chinese place with me after work? As a– I mean as a date?”

“You want to go out with me?” He was so surprised by your reaction, he ended up taking a full step back– his brow furrowing as he did. 

“Well yes– of course, but we don’t have to if you don’t want to.” By the end of his sentence his cheeks were starting to turn pink again. 

“I thought that you knew I liked you, is all. Of course I want to go out with you.”

“Oh– ok, can I pick you up at your desk after we’re done with paperwork?”

“That sounds nice, thank you Spencer.”

“Of course, and could you– maybe– keep the dress on? You just look really, really, great.”

“Sure Spencer, I’m glad you like it.” The teasing you endured from the rest of the team was worth it, because every time you looked at him, he was already looking at you– tossing you a shy smile that could only increase your excitement for tonight.  

[moomie-mooger]

Part 2 of sharing my writing <3 I drew you guys another image to go along with it :3c

This is where you get to see one of my many interpretations of Glisten because he’s infested my mind so badly.

Also sorry that my style is not consistent when I draw him LOL

Writing under the cut <3

[ Glisten was snapped out of his thoughts, his head raised quickly at the sound of the machine being completed. Suddenly a thick heavy liquid fell over his legs, the consistency feeling close to slime. “Ugh- not Finn!” He complained to himself as he struggled to pull his feet from the ground. The real Finn was already tiring to deal with, mostly from his constant pun making, but the Twisted one was significantly worse. Glisten hated the feeling of ichor pooling around his legs and rendering him near immobile for a while. Slowly parting from the machine he went off to find the next one, though before that he decided to look around the floor for some items since he had none on hand at the moment and figured this could leave him in a dangerous position if he ever finds himself in one. As he would have it luck would be on his side as he rounded a corner and spotted a white cased medkit sitting idly on the floor, pristine and practically calling his name. The mirror let out a delighted hum that sounded similar to a shimmer as he skipped over to the ultra rare item, bending down and picking it up, though not before taking a few quick seconds to see if anyone was looking.

‘I can already hear their voices.’ He thought to himself looking over the kit. ‘ “Glisten! You shouldn’t take the medkit for yourself, Cosmo needs them more!!” “Save heals for Cosmo!!” “Just let Cosmo heal you.” Cosmo this, Cosmo that— how about Cosmo gets better at evading Twisteds. Have they ever thought about that? It’s getting a little out of hand..’ I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at the thought, waving my hand to clear away the imaginative arguments in my head. ‘I’ve never really voiced it— mostly from being outnumbered— but I thought it was utterly ridiculous that ALL the healer Toons were entitled to EVERY healing item on the floor, how do they not see how crazy that is?? I understand they can heal us, I really do, but I feel as though other Toons can take a bandage or two if they really need it… that way Cosmo or Ginger wouldn’t have to waste one of their hearts on us!’ Glisten never got hurt much on runs anyway, something he made a point of doing himself. Surly taking just oooooone medkit couldn’t hurt… just this once..

Well he would have if it weren’t for the sudden tap on his shoulder. Glisten jolted where he stood and whipped his head around to see Rodger with the usual glint of curiosity in his eye.

“Rodger!-” He shouted before cringing at the loudness of his voice, the sound echoing off the warehouse walls.

“Greetings Gl-“

“You startled me! I thought you were a twisted, say something next time!” The mirror huffed before letting out a quiet ‘sheesh’ as Rodger tapped his chin. “My apologies, I just wanted to check up on you, keeping well I hope?”

“Cmon, I make this whole thing look easy!”

If you blinked you wouldn’t have noticed the subtle head tilt from Rodger as he took a brief moment to look over the mirror “…Right, you know I saw you almost walk into a wall earlier?”

“Tch.. You’re seeing things.”

“I have a keen eye, remember that Glisten.”

“Mhm… I’ve told you I’m alright.”

There was a pause between the two before Rodger had shifted his gaze to the item the mirror held.

“Oh you found a medkit? That’s great! Cosmo could really use one actually. He’s been on one heart for a while now.” …Oh right.. Cosmo’s on one heart. He could feel his previous joy in finding the medkit sink as he looked down at him.

“Oh…! Right right of course! We wouldn’t want our primary healer to be felled down here!” Irritation flared in his chest again as his grip on the medkit tightened slightly, he really didn’t want to give it up but he knew better. If he didn’t he’d probably look bad and then cause some kind of scene trying to defend himself.. then everyone would know something is wrong which would only further sully Glisten’s already bad mood. “Where is that cake-roll anyway?” He asked innocently, swallowing any backhanded comments he may have thought of. “I believe he’s—“

-SHINK-

“… At the broken elevator.” In the far off distance a few screams and muffled -dings!- could be heard. Glisten cringed inwardly at the sound of someone taking damage, more reason why Cosmo would need it more than him. Before he knew it Rodger took the kit from him hands and pardoned himself as he hurried his way towards the endangered group. ]

[mintmint2]

Idk what to put here

Apologies in advance—I like vomiting out rants of every single thought I’ve ever had for the past 19 years so if you don’t wanna mentally narrate out this giant wall of text or if you’re just here for the small doodles of your characters, feel free to just skip down to the small tiny insignificant sketches I made! This is really just a giant newsletter of what I’ve been doing these past 3 months.

(Something I would like to add is pretty please don’t reblog this, I want this to be like only a small circle of people to see, if you have something to say you can leave a comment!!!)

My project. I’ve been working on my project for 3 months. 400 hours.🙂

Okay, so, for these past 3 months I’ve been aggressively relearning how to animate using the most basic animation app to exist. And what I mean by “relearning”, I mean diving headfirst into the animation studio with little to no prior knowledge of animation other than animation memes and some.. other.. stuff. And with that limited information, I managed to crank out a low-quality, crappy, mediocre 10+ minute prologue that I hate and it sucks and I hate I ha. I honestly had no idea what I was doing—I walked into animating with a giant lollipop and a propeller hat, and I came out as a 40 year old man with depression, but now armed with stacks of newfound knowledge about animating, so it wasn’t for nothing!! Seriously, drawing every day for 5+ hours is no joke; I genuinely thought this project would take like 1.5 or 2 months max with how simple I made it… but turns out drawing thousands of rendered individual frames with a bunch of other tiny prickly problems tripping you over is actually pretty time consuming even if it sucks😔.

But at least now that I’ve experienced the gruelling process of animating a several minute video first-hand, I was able to figure out my strengths/weaknesses in art and how I could exploit them, things that take a long time, things to avoid, and things to look out for. Even though I think my added skills in this department can be helpful in the future, it’s still super time consuming, which I think kinda ties nicely in my more major topic!???

I’m doing a MEGA art style change, I’ve rubbernecked at a lot of olden cartoons and decided I wanted to shift towards those art styles with no rendering and the characters are like kinda chibi in a way—you know, that kind of style. But this isn’t just me wanting to copy my favourite cartoon shows though; I looked into the pros and cons of a simpler art style and the pros outweigh the cons by a landslide

I obviously am not a good artist and I’ve struggled with things like consistency, pacing and proportions, if I can just break down all my characters into shapes and add rules to how to draw them + stylized anatomy, I think It’ll help with making characters NOT look like a grown 40 year old women in one scene, a child in the other, and a teenage drunken boy in the next.

I literally can’t imagine drawing fight scenes either with full body anatomy that isn’t simple shapes, drawing a running cycle or a character doing parkour that lasts literally only 2 seconds is hard enough for my skill set. Don’t make me have to draw them engaging in a full-blown battle with each other, it’ll be even worse if the characters start shrinking every frame but I don’t notice till it’s too late.

Plus, I pretty much grew up with cartoons too, so I also just feel more connected and motivated when it comes to characters that look like Steven Universe or chibi-styled in general, it makes me wanna draw them more and reduces burnout a lot. (Seriously though, I hate shading SO MUCH. I wanna draw the next frame already stop making me go back and fix this pixel of value that wasn’t added and somehow you can still see it a mile away💔 and wouldn’t you know it I’ve lost my sanity and begun racing through / deleting scenes to make it go by faster, which ruins the pacing and everything alongside it)

Do you want some concepts? No clothing folds and allat. Sorry I was too exhausted to make full drawings… actually a lot of my actual sketches for these people are all in my sketchbook, got like 19 pages worth of all y’all’s oc’s but it’s too awkward positioning my camera to snap a pic of it

I’m learning how to do fast paced figure drawing. (Trying), and the crew isn’t here because everybody in that crew is getting a redesign and sans is having a identity crisis too

Another thing is; I’m going to be taking a break after this 400 hour grind session, no I’m not being lazy and I really DO wanna go back to dragging my finger across the screen till it bleeds (because it’s an unhealthy addiction at this point) but I NEED planning and practice.

A lot of stuff has changed since I’ve started—plot, character designs, story… I also finally started tackling architecture, designing rooms and the houses based on both the characters logic and practical functionality, cause making a background with just one giant blob of equal paint is a bit… boring. And I’m practicing art too, my art has changed quite a lot ever since I started paying less attention to small details and instead on form and movement within the lines.

I’ve got so many ideas swimming in my head I need to test out and more. I don’t have a teacher and I’m too lazy to find tutorials so I’m doing this the trial and error way. Test literally everything, cancel out the ineffective and keep the best. I need time to figure out stuff and I think it’s working because not only has my entire art kinda improved in a way, I have been able to get a truck ton of plot down and how I want everything to end and everything.

The last thing I wanna add because it’s a problem I also need to fix… holy guacamole, I NEED to improve on my story boarding and pacing—I kinda blame that on myself for cutting out/rushing scenes to get it done but goodness does the plot fly by. Like how the chocolate did the lab/true-lab scene and waterfall scene all fit in 2 minutes?? I chose the opportunity to animate less over the writing and characters itself, literally feel so ashamed after that💔 insanity and mind rot of drawing for hours really does catch up to you eventually though. The results were cringy anyways so

Yeah okay I have like a TON more of stuff to write down here as problems I need to fix, but I’ve been writing for too long and this post is getting stuffed with too much words it’s gonna overflow and shatter. Basically I’ve learned a lot of stuff from this, I’m aiming to improve in every category, even if I don’t, I gotta make some sort of progress.

So uh… that’s it, I guess? I’ll update every once in a while… nah, watch me vanish for another twenty years. That doesn’t mean I’m not still here though, I’m watching every post you guys are making and documenting every fact and detail about your characters. 👀

Sorry for the length and weirdness of this rant

I forgot to mention—I made my very own/first persona. I call them MintMail cause they’re a mailman…I don’t… really know what to do with them.. uh, I’ll probably feed them sometime tomorrow

Ohhhh boy, time to tag the people I sketched. (Guys I promise I’m not tagging you just so you can read this)

Trickster belongs to @yourloveaton !

Nems belongs to @bloobluee !

Virux belongs to @bunrux !

Sanu is mine.

Magi is also mine.

Trans belongs to @ken-tfc / @fivebecomesnone and @youregonnahavetime !

Dionysus belongs to @javaxzun !

[ikemen-trifecta]

A Date With Death ~ Making Grim Blush

“I’m not gonna write fanfiction or headcanons about him,” I thought to myself last night before going to bed, my head absolutely brimming with ideas. Ahem. Anyway. I took inspiration from HuniCast shenanigans and the CGs from the game. If you’d like to see more of Grim, feel free to submit a request to our Tumblr with more scenarios (not taking NSFW)! Please refrain from using his real name in comments and reblogs, as it is a major spoiler. Thank you for reading! –Edi

Edit: Two and a Half Studios retweets spoilers; never mind.

⚪️🔴⚫️⚪️🔴⚫️⚪️🔴⚫️⚪️🔴⚫️⚪️🔴⚫️⚪️🔴⚫️⚪️🔴⚫️⚪️

🌻 The quickest way to make him blush is by resting your chin on his shoulder and murmuring “Oh, Grimmy~” 🌻 It’ll irritate him that you're not using his real name, but the close proximity will get him flustered regardless. 🌻 He’ll turn around and say “P-please stop doing that,” trying to obscure his face with the back of one hand.

🌻 Another way to make him blush quickly is to press your face into his chest (or make contact with his torso in any way). It's very sensitive, and he absolutely hates the fact that you use it against him. 🌻 You can run a finger down his back and render him a sputtering, red mess. 🌻 He tries to get you back by biting your neck (gently), but you are either very resistant to tickles or just don't care if you get flustered. It irritates him more.

🌻 Something more tame that you do that makes him blush is starting to grow a garden of sunflowers from the seeds of the bouquet he gave you. 🌻 He won’t say it, but he’ll be very touched that you decided to do that. 🌻 Every time he passes by the garden, his face will automatically become flushed at least a little thinking of you. It may even make him tear up a little.

🌻 Seeing you spend time with your pet will also make him blush. He won’t admit it, but you look very cute like that. When you aren’t talking, that is.

🌻 You also ordered your own axolotl plush to match his. He didn’t like sharing at first, but he couldn’t say anything when he found you in your apartment one night, all snuggled up in bed with Raphael. You had named the plushie after the angel of safe travels in preparation for the journey of your soul (Raphael is also seen as an angel of matchmaking and healing).

🌻 Speaking of sharing, he’ll…eventually…let you touch his hair. You enjoy having him sit against your bed or resting his head on your lap in order to braid his precious locks. If you look into his eyes while you’re at it, he’ll blush and avert them slightly. 🌻 To top it all off, you’ll either make a flower crown out of the blooms from your garden or weave them into the braids. He really is the prettiest grim reaper you’ve ever seen.

🌻 You’ll sometimes correct his typos, to which he’ll mutter the same thing again and again: “I do not type correctly…” 🌻 You always try to phrase it gently, but he’s still hard on himself regardless. He’ll blush and ask you about the proper grammar before disconnecting the call.

🌻 He still blushes when you mention the nonsense that is soul babies. 🌻 “You’re on about that again?” he’ll say. You respond by pushing him onto your bed. 🌻 “You. Me. Soul baby.” 🌻 “E-excuse me?!” 🌻 He’ll barely get those words out before you playfully hug him. 🌻 “You’re so easy to tease, Grimmy.”

🌻 He’ll try various things and finally pin you to the wall as a last resort and growl in your ear. 🌻 “I’ve got you now, Sunshine.” 🌻 You just smirk before stunning him with a quick kiss. He doesn't even know what happened, poor soul. You take this opportunity to taunt him. 🌻 “I’m the one with the most ‘rizz,’ my little reaper.” This mention of his previous cringey word usage will snap him out of it. 🌻 “Cease.” 🌻 “I don't think I will,” you’d respond, giggling. 🌻 This makes him pout— not that he notices. You bury your face in his chest again. He lets out a surprised squeak before just giving up and hugging you. 🌻 …still blushing from his chin to the tips of his ears.

[marigold-hills]

Dunes & Waters, part 3

PART 1 • PREVIOUS PART • NEXT PART

They drink the tea. Remus sits at the small kitchen table, tries to fix the crossword. Sirius stays at the window, pointing out everything he sees and deems interesting. (That woman and her dog look identical. There’s a cat sitting on the boot of that car there, does it come every day? Think I could feed it some fish? I’ve heard there are a lot of strays in Egypt. Maybe if it’ll like me it will come inside.)

“I’ll need to go shopping today,” he says, finally, after having been ignored for the rest.

Remus has been given strict rules from the Ministry, and the first one is: don’t let the criminal out by himself. “Whatever for?” He asks because everything Black could possibly want is already in the apartment.

“Clothes.”

“You got clothes yesterday.”

“What, those things Shacklebolt had left? No way am I wearing those.”

There’s a scowl on his face, accentuating the sharpness of cheekbones.

“I’m not wasting money on your vanity, Black. Anyway, it seems like you managed to get yourself something,” he points to the white shirt, ignoring the way its sheerness offsets the tattoos.

“Like it?” Black hops off the windowsill, does a little shimmy. “I’ve transfigured the curtains.”

He must read the expression on Remus’ face correctly, because he adds, no remorse and full of mischief: “don’t worry, they’re the ones in my room. I prefer to have full access to morning light. And I have money, I’ll have you know. Don’t need you to buy me clothes.”

It’s a beautiful shirt. Looks delicate. Immaculately centred on Blacks collarbones and only showing the very outline of them. A tiny pattern of flowers on the cuffs.

“Fine,” Remus concedes, thinking he needs to get more cigarettes anyway. “We’ll get you more clothes before you rid us of all the soft furnishings.”

The smile Black gives him is both beautiful and so self-satisfied it renders the beauty frustrating. Remus wants to take back his acquiesce – he hates it, that he gave in. People like Black (beautiful, rich, connected) already get what they want too often. Remus vows, for his own sanity or for his own wicked amusement, to stand firm next time and say no. No to shopping, no to cigarettes, no to tea.

If time in jail didn’t teach Black not to take things for granted, then Remus will.

“Change that one back though. I’m not having the hotel bill the University just because you decided to play at a fashion designer.”

“You’re no fun, you know that?”

“I do, in fact. Lucky for me we’re not here for fun.”

“Right. This research you’re doing,” he says research so pointedly there is no need for quotation marks. Remus feels mocked. “Ever going to tell me what it is?”

“As Kingsley said: you’ll be told when you need to know.”

Black huffs, throws himself onto a chair opposite Remus. The way he moves is more than dignified: each careless turn is as fluent as water. Even with how thin he is now, and Remus imagines that’s the result of jail rather than a choice, Black is graceful. Fingers wrapped around a mug, ankles and long legs on display. Every delicate, breakable bone a sight people would pay to see.

NEXT PART

@tealeavesandtrash

@moon-girl88

@hoje--aqui

@cocoabutterandbooks

@onion-sliced-apples

@prancingpony42

(let me know if you do/don’t want to be tagged!)

[vivianthevirulent]

I FINALLY HAVE A DECENT DRAWING OF MY ARCANA OC!!!! It’s not done, but it’s going good!

I’ve been making this oc for a couple of months and I finally have a decent reference for her! She isn’t really the MC since she’s a courtier I guess, but she does help with the investigation. Her name is Demelza and she is assistant head physician! She came to Vesuvia to become a doctor, and Valdemar took her in. She was their apprentice for a while and then became a doctor (specifically a pathologist), and eventually during the plague she was promoted to their second in command. They were science bros but towards the end of the plague Demelza got really sick and ended up dying. Valdemar hated this and decided they would bring her back since she was the only living person they seemed to really care about. It worked, but soon after Demelza decided she didn’t want to take the chance of dying again, and made a deal to became a weird demon thing too. Now they’re science bros again!!! Her personality is kinda weird and morbid because that’s genuinely my personality and she’s like me.

I love Valdemar so much!!!!! I also drew them being silly. I have to finish rendering my sprite of her and then make more outfits oh boy. I want to make her look a little less human and maybe add a bit more to her outfit, but I don’t know how yet.

[forest-fury]

Ok even more question that I’ve been cooking up 🙏

- When the fanfic gets written and stuff, what’s the rating going to be for the fic? Unless it hasn’t been decided yet.

- Did Lukas originally have Dewey before the Sunshine Institute or after? Like, was he a gift from Romeo to Lukas? Did Lukas ask for a pet ocelot when he was there? Or did he just have Dewey before and Romeo was just like “Yeah you can keep him”.

- How exactly would you des ice Lukas and Romeo’s relationship? If spoilers, please don’t say 🤫

- Has anyone in the Sunshine Institute met others who are there too before? Like, did they know them, or have just seen them, before they went there?

- Continuing from the previous question… Have Jesse, or well specifically anyone in his friend group, seen Lukas around before Lukas got sent to the sunshine institute.

- Does Romeo ever pop in randomly to bother Lukas? Or just, ramble to him, or, whatever he does?

- Have Gorden and Lukas ever gotten into fights before?

- Did Jesse ever bring up the Order of The Stone around Lukas and mention how he’s part of the order now? How would Lukas react to that? (I mean, if Jesse IS part of the order if that didn’t change)

- You mentioned that Jesse was sneaking around a office late at night and Lukas caught him. Was it Lukas’s office or just a different one entirely?

- Does Lukas have a bedroom? Like, he isn’t just going to, sleep in the uncomfy chair (Which he probably 100% does either way). But like the prisoners were given beds, so it makes sense that Lukas has a bedroom…right? Which also includes Gordon?

- Do any of the regular guards also have bedrooms? Do they sleep in cells? (What’s the average percentage rate that of when the guards first got there didn’t know they had rooms and slept on the floor at some point?)

Ok also, I didn’t know if we could request renders or not for the AU. So if you do take requests…you mentioned on one the questions you answered that Lukas caught Jesse sneaking around the office. Could you make a render of that? Please it would be so funny. But, specifically like this one screenshot from TADC episode 4. (Btw I don’t know how the pictures work in the ‘ask question’ so just the picture I attached)

OKAY THAT’S ALL THANK YOU HOPE YOU HAVE A GOOD DAY. REMEMBER, REALITY IS AN ILLUSION! THE UNIVERSE IS A HOLOGRAMM! BUY GOLD, BYEEEE!!

God damn it tje app closed as I was halfway through answering this 😭🙏

Alright! Let’s do this again. So, if by general ratings you mean who would be the best audience to read it (like age rating type thing), general audiences! This may change, but I’m like 99% sure it’ll just stay the same. There’ll be some swearing and whatnot, and violence considering… Romeo is in tje AU to say the least lmao, but otherwise tjats about it! No crazy scenes and not super gory :D

Can’t say much cause of spoilers, there’s gonna (HOPEFULLY!!! Don’t take my word for it) be a chapter about how Lukas and Dewey ended up together, but they met before the institute! Romeo let him keep him, although he does really not like Dewey

I thinkkkk that says decide? I’m so sorry if it doesn’t 😭 Lukas just straight up HATES Romeo. Like he has no empathy or sympathy for him. Romeo doesn’t particularly care about Lukas’ feelings or anything (obviously), but he thinks he’s perfect to have around. He believes that Lukas is easily manipulated and he knows the prisoners don’t hate him like they do Gordon, so it’s much easier to have someone like him on the team. (Lukas isn’t easily manipulated but in an instance like this he has no choice but to go with what Romeo says, so tjis leads Romeo to believe that he acrually is)

Yes! He’s still in the Order of the Stone in this AU. He never acruallt brought it up himself. Petra mentioned it once and that was about it! Lukas has heard of the Order, but not a lot. He just knew they were important people, so there wasn’t much of a reaction at all ^_^

Lukas’ office! The one seen for the first time (where it’s decided if Jesse will become an associate) is Lukas’. Originally it was Gordon’s, but since Lukas is the one to do paperwork and stuff now, it’s just his!

Yeah they both have a room although it’s shared and jsut really shitty cots. Nkt even the wardens get good beds. Lukas finds sleeping on the floor more comfortable than those fucking cots 😭 he RARELY sleeps in that room anyway.

I have honestly no idea how many guards there are in the game, but for the AU I’d say there’s like 6 (may change once the fic is started). They all share a room with bunk beds! Those are like slightly better than the cots but not by much. Also I’d like to mention these rooms are just pure cement and they smell like mould constantly💔 aaaand alll of them knew! Romeo (or Gordon but probably romeo in most cases) told them. Romeo doesn’t really give a crap about anyone, but he knew it was too risky to let them sleep where the prisoners could hurt them

Yes render requests are super appreciated!!! I take requests even if it isn’t related to the AU as well 👀 I can definitely do that! I’ll try to see how similar I can do it to the picture you attached! I think sometime around mid next week woild be the latest that it’s posted. I’m a huge procrastinator so it can either take forever or I’ll get it done in a day… we’ll have to see, I suppose

HAHA TJANK YOU FOR THE QUESTIONS AND CONTINUED SUPPORT!! They’re so fun to answer and I love seeing what people come up with. Some questions that have been answered werent even acruallt decided until they were asked, so there’s moments where I plan the au through asks :P

[breakerwhiskey]

173 - ONE HUNDRED SEVENTY THREE

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey.

Transcript under the cut. For more episodes, click here.

[click, static]

Okay, I am officially concerned. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before, but the truck was’t in the drive like usual so I just assumed…

I should have checked the whole house. But I’m so used to never coming into the garage because I know how much you hate your studio being disturbed but when I woke up this morning and you still weren’t home, well, I went in anyway and the truck is still here. In the garage.

It’s running fine—that’s where I’m broadcasting from right now, though obviously I turned the engine off. And I have to say, I’m impressed that you were actually listening when I told you to bring it inside for the winter if you weren’t going to be driving it much. But if you’re not out there driving this truck on a supply run, where are you?

I—I took the other car. Which, I’m sorry to say, is now somewhere in California, having been put out to pasture. But unless you finally decided to take an interest in car mechanics after all this time, I don’t know how else you’d be getting around. I know you love your walks—or, you did, eventually, once you got past the worst of the paranoia, but…you never went on a walk this long.

If you’re—if you’re dead in a ditch somewhere, I’m going to be fucking furious, Harry.

[click, static]

It’s…weird. Being in here. It feels like being inside your head somehow. It’s a goddamn mess, which I didn’t really expect. I’m sure you’ve got your own system—though who the hell knows—but I definitely can’t make sense of it. I’m glad to see you pulled the radio in here though. Maybe you did hear some of my transmissions after all.

Is that why you’re not here? Because you heard me say I was coming and you didn’t want to see me? You’ve enjoyed your life without me so much that you couldn’t bear to have your peace shattered.

Except…you’ve been thinking about me. I know you have. And maybe this is why you never wanted me to be in your studio in the first place.

There’s…a lot of me in here. Paintings, sketches…not all of my face always but you must have known that I’d recognize the curve of my own ear, the shape of my hands.

Have—have you been doing this all along? Or just since I left? Were you always coming in here and spending hours perfecting the color of my hair when some days you wouldn’t even speak to me—

[click, static]

Is this why you asked for the stories behind all my scars? So you could render them in perfect detail, knowing exactly what made them and when? I thought you wanted to know more about me, but maybe it was just an avenue for your art, one of the few subjects that you had access to, too tired of painting birds or trees or images from your own mind.

Or did you ask because you wanted to know? You talked once, about how painting helped you understand the world, or yourself; how that was one of the things you loved about it, one of the reasons you started painting in the first place. Because when nothing else made sense, charcoal and oil and your own hands were able to bring shape to the world.

Were you trying to understand me? Or were you trying to understand what you felt about me? Or was guilt swallowing it all up that you couldn’t uncover anything else.

I just…I need you to come back and explain what this is all about. Because in a room full of canvases and color and stray sketch pages, I keep turning and seeing my own face. I’m everywhere.

[click, static]

There’s a lot of other art too, of course. And it’s all…it’s fucking beautiful. Your art has always been so beautiful.

I…I’ve added to your collection. I picked up a painting when I was in Santa Fe, something that I thought was pretty and that I thought you might—

Well, I’ve left it in here. In case you want to do anything with it. It’s yours.

There are also—well. I wrote you some postcards. But I obviously had no way of sending them to you so I just…held onto them. But you might as well have them now.

I don’t know why I’m saying all of this on the radio like I can’t say it to you face to face. You’ll be back and you’ll probably be annoyed that I left stuff in your studio without asking. There’s no need for me to leave anything for you, not when I can just hand it to you.

But I just have this feeling…

I’m going to look for you tomorrow. Drive to the usual spots, take a walk in the woods behind the house. And because I’m fucking considerate, I’m going to leave a note.

[click, static]

[storeecbrcod]

Through the Rubble (Pt 2)

Ghost x Reader fic (TW: Death, crushing injury, mild body horror, night terrors)

It’s been months since you were deemed KIA. Months since Soap heard Ghost’s agonised screams in the distance over the crackling of fires and tumbling of walls. Months since Soap had to call in back up to pry Ghost from your still body, and force him to leave the area just so a recovery crew could render your fractured body irrecoverable.

Ghost hadn’t been the same since. He turned colder, meaner, more sour. Presumably, it would make him stronger; he’d been through so much, this was surely not his worst experience.

His days spent in his bed on base begged to differ. He could barely get up anymore. He was used to your soft touch to rouse him, small kisses to his shoulders to get his muscles to work for him. But he didn’t have you now. He wasted away in his room for hours, trying to build up an ounce of strength to face himself and do something.

He hated how weak he felt. How he couldn’t even open his eyes without being painfully aware of the bed springs laying untouched next to him. He hated how he had to drag himself from the sheets, huffing and groaning, just to force himself to get dressed let alone leave his room and continue his life.

The team noticed, watching Ghost move sullenly around base. If you didn’t know what to look for, you’d probably think Ghost was just angrier than usual, but still Ghost. Him moving deliberately and with cold eyes wasn’t uncommon, after all.

But the team saw how he’d become hesitant. He wouldn’t answer their questions with unwavering certainty, he’d always think about it for a moment. He’d pause before picking up his plate from the mess hall. He’d look around a room before entering it. No matter what he did, he never walked straight into anything anymore.

They all thought it was anxiety, flashbacks of some sort. They all assumed he was thinking about how his decisions somehow got you killed, how he didn’t want to eat from grief, how he was searching for danger in every room.

But, in reality, he was thinking of you.

He was trying to decide how his answer might affect you as if you were there. He hated that he was grabbing a plate, not two for a quiet lunch in his office with you like you always used to. He searched for you, hoping against hope that your eyes would meet him and beckon him over to you.

You were never there, though.

It was another night laid in bed, sleepless and overwhelmed. He tried to close his eyes so many times, but all that he got in return was recurring images of your body, lifeless under the rubble through his tear-soaked lashes as he held your hand. Over and over again, all he saw was blood seeping from your crushed body, pink bubbles at the corner of your mouth as you spoke to him.

“Go, Ghost. Go while you can. I’m done.”

How his pleads spilled from his mouth, begging you to push against the weight on your chest.

“I love you, Si.”

He opened his eyes, sighing as he tried to push the thoughts away. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. He invited the person on the other side in, Soap opening the door.

“Morning, LT,” he said cheerfully. It made Ghost’s head hurt.

“Morning, Johnny. What is it?” he asked bluntly. Soap smiled a bit wider. “I’ve got a surprise, mate,” Soap replied. Ghost got up slowly, walking to Soap and following him through the halls.

“What is it, Sergeant?” Ghost grumbled, not appreciating the wake up call despite the sunlight and the crows calling outside.

Soap didn’t reply, just leading him through the halls in a blur. He wasn’t paying attention as he felt his heart flutter in anticipation. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he felt excited, hopeful.

He picked up pace with Soap, exiting the barracks and being led straight to the aircraft pad. He saw a crowd around a helicopter that had landed, their backs to them as they approached. He felt his heart pick up speed again as he plunged through the crowd, forcing them aside without care.

Body after body he had to push past, not bothering with apologies as hope continued to grip his body. I need to know. It has to be. Who else would it be coming home? Coming home to me?

A flicker of hair was seen, and he recognised it immediately, choking him up as he barreled past the last few people. He felt tears prick his eyes in relief, in joy, knowing his intuition was right.

It was never wrong with you.

He burst through the crowd, only to see you standing there. Your eyes pierced his, your smile putting one of his own on his disbelieving face. He just stared for a moment, a mountain of emotions crashing down on him; relief, joy, happiness, disbelief. You were uninjured. You were safe.

You were alive.

“[Name]?” was all he could muster. In response, you lifted your arms to invite him into a hug, and he rushed forward with a strangled choke.

His arms wrapped around you as he cried into your shoulder. So small, my love. I’ve missed you so much, I couldn’t even remember what it felt like to hold you.

There was nothing but comfort for a moment as he held you, his silent tears racing down your skin, staining your shirt.

You were alive. He couldn’t believe it, it didn’t feel real. But all he knew was you were there with him now, hugging him like he had hoped you would for months.

“Ghost.” It was all it took to break the moment. A shiver crawled up his spine, dragging fingers up his vertebrae as the warmth turned cold in an instant. He stilled, holding you in his arms.

Something isn’t right.

He pulled back a bit to see your face. It was sad, but a smile stuck onto it as he looked into your eyes. Streaks ran down your face, as if you had been crying.

“Why?”

His heart sank instantly, his stomach being thrown into unrest as he recognised your tone. His face dropped into a confusion.

“What?” he whispered.

“Why, Ghost? I’m done.”

Your ragged words sent electricity through him, jolting him. As he held you, he felt himself start to shake. He tried to hold you tighter, but felt himself gag as your chest gave way to his squeeze, feeling each of your bones scrape against their fractures in the movement. It was cold, horrifying, but he didn’t dare let you go.

“Go, Ghost. Go while you can, I’m done.” He blinked, and was suddenly assaulted by the smell of burning rubbish, dirt caking his lungs as he looked down at you, now laying on the ground as he kneeled next to you.

No, please. Not again. I can’t.

“No, no, no, [Name], please. Not again,” he whispered, an arm holding your battered body up as his other hand searched you, trying to find the source of your injuries as if he could somehow fix them with his touch, soothe you back to breath.

“For fuck’s sake, not again! Please!” he bellowed. He was growing desperate again, panic forming tight bonds around his heart as it hammered against his chest. He felt your stuttered breaths as your heart fluttered under his grasp, soft and almost gone.

“Don’t you fucking say it, [Name]. I don’t want to hear it,” he growled. He knew what came next, the words that left him broken and clutching his chest in the mornings. The pain that was so unbearable to him.

“I love you, Si.”

He sat up with a scream, booming and piercing. He looked around frantically, eyes wide as his hands shook with the memory of your last breath, the slip of your blood between his fingers. He didn’t speak, he couldn’t over his laboured gasps for air. How cruel.

He looked down to his palms, his mind not comprehending the lack of dirt and blood. Your blood. The blood of his love.

He tried to force air into his lungs, knowing that if he didn’t he’d spiral further. He dare not close his eyes, knowing all he’ll be met with is your face going from a smile to a limp look of distress and loss.

It took time, but he eventually settled, being left with taught features and a tired heart. His pulse felt slow as if he was pumping mud through his veins.

He always tried to avoid using the words heavy or crushing to describe how he felt, feeling like it mocked you, but he was losing words to aptly communicate how much his grief wrapped around him.

He felt as if no one could understand the jarring pain of holding your love while you shared their last breath, so close you could kiss them, willing yourself to believe your lips on theirs would somehow pass life back into their frozen body.

He felt as if no one would understand how he had taken on some of your breathlessness, needing big gulps of air every once in a while to push against the rubble in his chest.

He felt as if the weight on his heart could only mirror that of which your chest had stilled beneath.

But no matter how he felt, he knew this weight would never lift. A pillar of grief on his body, a reminder of his love gone.

Grief.

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 (Final)

[rutzozeth]

(Select to see the full post to see me write about my thoughts in these styles and the behind of me making them and why I made them)

So this is gonna be me rambling and yapping about this subject, but I realized I wanted to have more than one art style when I was finding inspiration in the artists I like the most and who I inspire myself the most to find what I want my art to look like, and I realized there were many things I wanted in my art I didn’t know how to implement in one single art style. I wanted some cartoony features, some anime-like features and some realistic features, so I decided to make 3 art styles based on what I wanted to see in my art depending on what I wanted to draw.

Like I said, maybe I’ll change my mind, maybe I’ll settle for one style or find one that mixes all the features I want perfectly, but I like all these art styles I made, and plan on drawing in these styles and keep up improving them, so I’m still (and always will) be open to constructive criticism in any of this styles.

In the realistic one I don’t want to be full realism, I still want it to be stylized in some way, but it’s the most detailed one and the one I want to learn to make full renders.

In the anime-like is how I’ve been drawing these past 2 years, and I really like it, looking back at my old drawings there were mistakes, sure, but with what I made most recently I realized I don’t hate this style and want to keep using it. It’s a mixture between my other styles, and even if I still don’t know if I should cell shade it or full render it, I grew very fond of this style, and I want to keep improving it.

Now the cartoony one is the most chill, it looks for the most simple and easy anatomy, and is the cutest and most simple of all of them, but that doesn’t mean is bad. I usually draw like this when I want to make something funny, goofy and chill. I don’t usually draw like this most of the time, but when I made this art style, I liked it, and plan on drawing more like this.

Now this is for drawing style, not really coloring or rendering, that’s its own can of worms I’ll tackle when the time comes, but as of now, I’ve been practicing a lot of anatomy, perspective and more, color theory will come later (although it should come soon, but I’ll see), but I also have my thoughts and inspiration of them too, so maybe when I find a coloring/rendering style I like, I’ll make another post like this.

[sburbian-sage]

do YOU KNOW WHAT i think? i think YOU ARE THE MOST ARROGANT PERSON i’ve ever MET, EVEN MORE SO THAN MY BROTHER.

i’m cruel TO YOU BECAUSE OF THE REASON i outlined IN MY FIRST MESSAGE: YOU HAVE RUINED MULTIPLE SESSIONS FOR ME, BECAUSE YOU INVOLVED YOURSELF IN A SITUATION YOU DIDN’T UNDERSTAND.

i don’t BOTHER TO EXPLAIN MYSELF WHEN i mention THINGS LIKE FAMILIAR THEORY, BECAUSE i was ONCE A witch. my WORD ON THE TOPIC SHOULD COUNT FOR SOMETHING INHERENTLY.

in THAT SAME VEIN, YOU ONLY SAY THE THINGS YOU DO BECAUSE OF TWO REASONS: YOU THINK THE GAME CANNOT BE ESCAPED, AND YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND HOW CHERUBS WORK.

you CAN’T UNDERSTAND HOW THIS FEELS. i’ve spent MY ENTIRE LIFE AS PART OF THIS FOOL. i know EVERYTHING THERE IS TO KNOW ABOUT HIM, AND HAVE DECIDED THAT i despise ALL OF IT. this IS HOW IT ALWAYS IS FOR CHERUBS, AND HE IS SIMPLY LYING WHEN HE SAYS ANYTHING ELSE.

the REASON HE WANTS TO “WORK TOGETHER”, IS BECAUSE IT WILL WEAKEN ME. when A CHERUB REACHES MATURITY AND PREDOMINATES OVER THEIR OTHER HALF, IT COMES DOWN TO FORCE OF PERSONALITY.

if i let UP ON HIM, THEN WHEN i finally ESCAPE, HE WILL PREDOMINATE OVER ME, AND i will DIE PERMANENTLY. i cannot RELAX. i cannot “MATURE”. i cannot ALLOW HIM TO GET A LEG UP ON ME.

the most i could DO IS PLAY ALONG, PRETENDING TO AGREE WITH HIM. not ONLY IS THE THOUGHT OF SUCH DISHONESTY AND SUBMISSIVENESS ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTING, BUT IT WOULD ALSO LEAVE ME OPEN TO FURTHER MANIPULATION.

not BECAUSE OF HIS rage POWERS (he doesn’t fucking have them, he’s an heir of doom this session, pay attention to the things i say you ignoramus!!! and WHILE I’M AT IT, i don’t KNOW WHERE YOU GOT 3-4 YEARS FROM, i said OUR FIRST SESSION ONLY ENDED A YEAR AGO, THEY’VE BEEN SHORT), BUT BECAUSE IT’S WHAT HE HAS always DONE.

we DIDN’T SPEND OUR ENTIRE LIVES IN THIS GAME. he’s ALWAYS BEEN ANGLING TO WEAKEN ME, TO GET ME TO MAKE COMPROMISES, BECAUSE THAT WAS WHAT HE HAD TO DO TO SURVIVE. and BECAUSE WE WILL ONE DAY ESCAPE, NOTHING HAS TRULY CHANGED. i will NOT GIVE UP MY ADULTHOOD, MY INDEPENDENCE, THAT i have FOUGHT SO HARD MY ENTIRE LIFE TO ACHIEVE.

you ARE ASKING ME TO EXTEND TRUST TO SOMEONE WHO WAS BORN TO KILL ME.

i just WANT TO rest. i want to sleep knowing my body does not move without my consent. i want TO KNOW THAT WHEN i wake UP, THE FRIENDSHIPS i have BUILT WILL NOT BE destroyed! i want MY COPLAYERS TO TAKE MY SIDE, BECAUSE THEY LIKE ME MORE, BECAUSE i deserve TO BE LIKED BECAUSE i’m upfront ABOUT MY INTENTIONS AND WILL PROTECT EVERYONE IN MY TERRITORY WITH MY LIFE WHEN I’M AN ADULT AND BECAUSE AND BECAUSE i try SO HARD TO CARE FOR THEM AND i deserve TO HAVE BEEN BOR N AS SOMETHING ELSE AND i hate YOU i hatre HATE hat hea t hjate hate hate hate hate you i hate you i hate you i

*cacologyCataphasis’s computer ceased functioning. This message was sent automatically to prevent loss of data, but may be incomplete. This can be disabled on their end in the advanced Nemesis browser settings.*

Oops, looks like someone's browser had a stupid setting that rendered their use of the anonymous function redundant. For what it's worth though, I do want to make it clear up-front that if I discover any of my followers start doing weird harass-y shit with your handle, I am going to turn my Ringship around, drive directly into their session, and take them and their entire house with me.

In any case, you're tragically dense, and it seems it's purposeful. I could point out how I obviously meant 3-4 *session* losing streak, and and now getting ragged on for a typo (or for assuming that a session takes roughly a year to complete, which is average from what I can tell). Or how I obviously was asking if you thought he sent me a Rage-encoded ask, *while he was a Rage player*. Or the fact that you yelling yourself into a computer crash about how you can't let yourself mature is an act beyond parody. But the biggest misconception here is that you can escape the game or become an adult.

You're communicating to me on the replayernet. Please think about the implications for a minute, or what reason your coplayers could have for always looking like they're teenagers despite having been at the game for years. I'll even let you know, some sessions have lasted so long that people who began playing at 16 reached their 20s, but no session lasts forever, and once they step through the door they're back to puberty. I've done my research on Cherubs when I had the downtime, and even putting aside the constant resets to your body, do you really think you can fly away to a distant star when the entire Incipisphere is surrounded by Others that grab and eat players like breakfast? Unless you intend to fight through an entire galaxy of Others, until you eventually find... The only thing out there is other sessions, and that's where I'm hopefully drifting towards, ever slowly.

I said it before, but give it up. You couldn't persuade your way out of a paper bag. You've failed to substantiate your brother being worse than you outside of variations on "trust me you idiot". You'll never have a body of your own because your (physical) maturation is stunted by the game, and you're too worried about what it'll do to you if you kill him in his dreamsleep. Your behavior not only doesn't endear you towards your coplayers (nice job handing your brother ammo btw), but you accidentally leaked your handle online and now everybody can trace this unreasonable behavior back to your account, letting them side against you before they ever meet you. And it seems your main strategy is "stop playing the game that you have to play forever".

I'm not advocating a total surrender. They say the first death is in the heart, and I consider losing all hope of ever surviving SBURB to be a metaphorical death, in that you're just a walking corpse. There are communities online dedicated to finding a way to fix the door, or escape the game in some other manner, if you've invested in that I heartily recommend you join them. I also don't advocate that you "will yourself to die" and leave your body to your brother or whatever. I can't imagine what it's like to be sharing a body with someone else (or the biological implications of the fact that your body seemingly never really sleeps), but if it makes you feel better, consider it a sort of disability and learn to live with it like the couple hundred disabled players out here do. If you'd like to chat with someone who might know what that does in fact feel like, leave a note nearby when you go to sleep, or however it is you communicate with him. And for god's sake, read the Etiquette FAQ.

For your own sake, I will not be responding to or publishing any more asks you send me. This might change if I'm allowed some correspondence with your brother, or if you calm down, or if my judgement becomes impaired in the near future. If this seems similar to how the coplayers you've met keep freezing you out, consider it a test of sorts. "What would I say to get someone who doesn't want to talk to me, to talk to me". Your brother ended up figuring this one out, and I unintentionally kneecapped him by not reccomending him the Etiquette FAQ, hint hint.

[irishk0rn]

Guilty

I don’t actually hate Cenarius, I just don’t particularly care for him or his character. He just happened to be the target of my negative projection as I project onto Illidan.

Trans Illidan fic.

//

Illidan was tired. He was tired of hiding who he was; hiding behind a name that wasn’t his, hiding inside of a body that didn’t belong to him. And his brother knew; at least his brother knew. He was proud of him, actually. That was a bit of reassurance — Hell, Malfurion even helped him pick a name. And it didn’t have any correlation to his assigned name. The beginning letters or sounds weren’t even the same.

He supposed the easiest course of action after telling his brother and his close friend, Tyrande (who also happened to be transgender? who knew!) was to tell his teacher, his mentor, Cenarius.

His brother had advised him to do so; his hunch was that Cenarius would understand and maybe teach him a more masculine themed program. The night elves, sadly, had really harshly engrained gender roles. Illidan knew that it certainly wasn’t easy for Tyrande to be herself — not even with the help of him and his brother. But she was a great woman. He loved her bravery…

Illidan felt alone, despite Malfurion being right behind him, telling him encouraging words. He couldn’t really hear them — he wasn’t tuning him out on purpose, but this looming sensation of fear and coldness weighted like chains upon his already torn heart.

“It’ll be alright, brother,” Malfurion said. It ran a good chill down Illidan’s spine to be called brother. It was one of the first steps Malfurion took for him. “I think Cenarius will understand…”

“... I can only hope,” Illidan muttered, continuing on his terrifying path to speak to his teacher.

Cenarius was reading a book in between teaching druids when Illidan approached him. Malfurion decided this moment was for them, so he stayed a small distance away. But he was close enough where his brother could see him and know he was there to support him. The dark haired sin’dorei took a deep inhale, swallowing his pride and nerves. The nerves cut his throat like a blade and when he tapped Cenarius on the shoulder, he was unable to speak for a moment, the sharp unforgiveness of his pride rendering him unable to do so.

Cenarius tore his gaze away from his book. “Yes, Zar’lyne, what is it?”

Illidan tensed at the use of his deadname. “I’m, um, I’ve something to tell you, teacher…”

He could barely speak. Cenarius closed his book and turned his full attention to Illidan, which made Illidan even more nervous; and he began to sweat — when he looked at his hands, bringing them up to fidget, they were trembling. Cenarius tilted his horned head. “What is it, my student?”

Illidan took in another exhale. “My name is Illidan and I— I am a man. No longer a Stormrage sister — but a Stormrage brother.”

Cenarius frowned, and it struck a wave of fear through his student’s body. Oh Gods, he thought, he’s disappointed.

“Oh,” his teacher uttered. “I see.”

The dark haired kal’dorei frowned at him and awaited more. More than a disappointed “oh” before Cenarius went back to his book. And for a few moments, nothing more came. He almost took it as a cue to walk away before his teacher spoke again.

“Well, Zar’lyne,” Cenarius said. His deadname was used deliberately this time, “think of this: what would Elune think?”

Illidan frowned. “Elune? I…”

“Consider the question, my student. What would she think of your pretending?”

The caster was now more confused than anything. Did Cenarius really some up what he had just confided as pretending?

He reached out to pat Illidan’s head, like a parent consoles a child, but Illidan leaned out of his reach. “No, don’t — why do you think—”

Cenarius got closer and leaned down to his level. “I know you want to be like your brother, little one. But this is not the way to go. I can’t help you if you continue this charade and Elune won’t be able to, either.

“You’re not him, and you can’t ever be. So he Zar’lyne, not… what was the alias? Illidan? Don’t be that.”

And, because he was in shock, Illidan just nodded before taking his leave. As he walked by his brother, Malfurion put a hand on his shoulder, midway through asking how it went, before Illidan shoved him off. He did it so hard that Malfurion even fell in the grass. He got up quickly, changing into his travel form to catch up with his brother.

—

Illidan was throwing things in his room now, and Malfurion was trying to calm him down. He was angry now.

“Brother, please, calm yourself — stop throwing your things!”

In defiance, Illidan threw a wooden bowl at Malfurion’s head. The other elf ducked and it smashed against the wall, breaking into pieces. Had it hit him, because it was thrown so hard, it could have knocked him unconscious.

“I hate Elune. I hope she falls from grace painfully!”

Illidan began to cuss in Darnassian, and Malfurion matched the languages. How could you say that? Malfurion asked him, ducking again when Illidan threw something else, but just at the wall. She must forsake me!

His brother frowned. Why would you say that? He was concerned of the cursing Illidan was doing of whom they worshipped, afraid he would suffer consequences for his rage driven words.

“She must!” Illidan now responded in common, “She must forsake me! She made me in the wrong body, and made me your sister!”

Malfurion blinked. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means, brother! I will never be on your level — I will always be in your shadow! I will always be known as your less talented sister before I fade into nothingness. I could save all of Azeroth and I will still only be remembered as ‘Malfurion’s sister’!”

His twin went over to him and put his hands on his shoulders. “Por’wyeun,” he said. It meant brother in Darnassian. Illidan swatted his hands away. “No. I can’t talk. Get out. Get out right now.”

Malfurion frowned, but obliged, and listened to the slam and lock of the door. Then he heard even more smashing and punching of the wall before his brother let out a rageful scream that would have shaken Elune herself. And it hurt his heart for his brother. Twins were connected to some degree, and could feel each other — feel their hurt. The pain was so strong in Illidan’s heart that it made Malfurion’s own chest ache with pain, so badly that he didn’t attend his class that evening.

His family was in pain and he didn’t understand how to help him. Should he stop showing his excellation just so Illidan could feel he had a chance? Should he give up in the name of his brother? Should he let Illidan earn it? He didn’t know.

All he knew is Illidan was hurting and he didn’t know how to help.

[mediaevalmusereads]

Perfume: The Story of a Murderer. By Patrick Süskind (trans. John E. Woods). Penguin, 1985.

Rating: 4.5/5 stars

Genre: historical fiction

Part of a Series? No

Summary: In the slums of eighteenth-century France, the infant Jean-Baptiste Grenouille is born with one sublime gift—an absolute sense of smell. As a boy, he lives to decipher the odors of Paris, and apprentices himself to a prominent perfumer who teaches him the ancient art of mixing precious oils and herbs. But Grenouille's genius is such that he is not satisfied to stop there, and he becomes obsessed with capturing the smells of objects such as brass doorknobs and fresh-cut wood. Then one day he catches a hint of a scent that will drive him on an ever-more-terrifying quest to create the "ultimate perfume"—the scent of a beautiful young virgin.

***Full review below.***

Content Warnings: animal death, racism (including the g-slur), torture, reference to incest

Overview: I’ve known about this book for some time, but for some reason, I only now just decided to pick it up. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t to fall in love with the prose and devour this novel in 2 days. As soon as I started reading, I had a hard time putting the book down, and much of it has to do with the absolute masterful way Süskind tells his story. While this book might not be for everyone, in my opinion, it is a mesmerizing, seductive, dark tale that quickly became a favorite. 

Writing: This novel was originally written in German, and since my German is awful, I can’t evaluate the faithfulness of the translation. I will say, however, that Woods (the translator) did an excellent job of rendering the novel into, for lack of a better word, a work of capital-A Art. I loved the way settings and characters were brought to life in vivid detail, with Süskind/Woods deploying visceral word choices that evoked disgust and horror at various smells, sights, and sounds. I also adored the meditations on scent, the passages on hate and love, all of which felt meaningful yet not so heavy and philosophical as to weigh down the narrative. Everything felt perfectly in balance, including the pace, which was neither too fast nor too slow. In short, this was a masterfully-crafted book, and a stunning example of a writer who knows their stuff.

Plot: The plot of this book follows Jean-Baptiste Grenouille - an 18th century urchin with a superhuman sense of smell - as he attempts to make a perfume so enchanting that it will make humanity love him. The narrative follows Grenouille from birth to death, detailing the experiences that shape him into a murdering monster. In addition to being rejected by his caregivers at an early age, Grenouille also learns the art of perfumery from various artisans, and eventually, his obsession with scent leads him to start murdering young women. The reason, the book states, is that he wishes to capture their aromatic essence - the scent that makes people fawn over them and want to do anything to protect them.

Despite this plot centering on a murderer, the actual murders don’t occupy a large percentage of the book (so lovers of true crime might want to look elsewhere). Most of the focus is on Grenouille‘s acquisition of perfumery skills as well as the detailed world of his olfactory sense, so it’s a very character-driven story that builds suspense through the way it portrays the different phases of Grenouille’s life. Personally, the lack of focus on murder didn’t bother me because I was so captivated by Grenouille as a character, and even when he started killing people, I was curious to see whether his theories about the “ultimate perfume” would work. I also very much appreciated that I wasn’t subjected to long, detailed descriptions of violence and gore, and though their was some weird gender stuff going on with all of the victims being virgin women, it only made the implications of the novel that much more interesting.

Characters: Grenouille, our protagonist, is incredibly interesting and compelling not only because of his superhuman sense of smell, but because of the way he contemplates the interplay of love and hate. Grenouille grows up without receiving an ounce of affection, and most of his time is spent capturing and contemplating complex scents. As a result, he builds a rich, sensuous, fantastical otherworld in his mind’s eye (or, rather, mind’s nose?) that contrasts with the outside world, and the novel uses the olfactory world to play with the idea of Grenouille being born bad while also longing for (and simultaneously rejecting) love. Because of the complexity of the olfactory world and the relationship Grenouille had with humanity, I found him endlessly fascinating and enjoyed watching him learn and grow (even if that growing was ultimately horrifying).

Supporting characters were perhaps just as fascinating as the protagonist. All of them felt complex and were motivated by somewhat selfish interests, but it was hard to dislike any of them because they were somewhat whimsical and had unique quirks. Giuseppe Baldini, Grenouille’s first perfume instructor, struggles to revive his failing business and wishes to be the most famous perfumer in the world (despite not being very good at his job). I was amused by his reflections on the changes in fashions and his anger at one of his rivals. Marquis de La Taillade-Espinasse, a lord who finds Grenouille after the latter’s 7 year solitude, is amusing for his belief in "fluidal theory." Antoine Richis, the father of Grenouille’s last victim, wishes to establish himself as both a rich man and as part of important families, and his devotion to his daughter is both admirable yet off-putting.

If I had any criticism, I would say that a lot of the female characters - especially the murder victims - didn’t seem to have as much (or any) complexity as the male counterparts. It’s kind of a shame, because the narrative almost treats them as objects in much the same way Grenouille does - objects to be used, not people to be mourned. I kind of understand the rationale, as making them all full characters would shift the tone to something more dark than it already is, but still, I think it’s worth mentioning because some readers might be disappointed.

TL;DR: Perfume: The Story of a Murderer is a well-crafted, character-driven story that will enchant readers from the first page to the last. By building complex, sensuous worlds and following a protagonist that is simultaneously compelling and revolting, Süskind creates a modern classic that is sure to mesmerize readers with an appreciation for descriptive, visceral prose.

[talesfromasnarkylisa]

Lacey: Chapter 26

James: September 10, 2023

It was an ordinary Sunday in September for me. This meant studying, talking to my friends, and checking my social media profiles.

Speaking of social media profiles, I had recently discovered how long Lacey had really been into me. She revealed in one of our voice conversations that she had an on and off parasocial crush on me ever since she was 12 and I was 15. That’s right, when she was in middle school and I was a sophomore with only a presence on Medium. To make matters more extreme, she first knew of me the day before she turned 11.

Did any of this new information change my plans? No. Lacey never did comment on any of my videos or posts until she was 18 - when she finally worked up the courage to DM me. I didn’t feel like anything was morally wrong with what I had cooked up for her in the past few days, much of which she had unfortunately not fallen for. 

But I absolutely did feel like there was a much larger power imbalance between the two of us than before. It definitely wasn’t the type which I’d like to brag about, so there was no taking advantage of this newfound information.

Anyhow, I decided to call Inez while waiting for a video of mine to upload. She was busy waiting in line with Gabriela for some drinks. 

“Hey James!” Inez greeted me.

“Hello,” I greeted back. “How’s it going?”

“Well,” Inez answered, “I’m doing great. Gabriela and I are gonna get some liquor for ourselves.”

I checked the video upload tab. It was still rendering.

“What kind?” I asked Inez.

“I’m getting rum,” Inez responded. “And Gabriela loves the taste of gin, so I think she’s getting that. Right, Gabby?”

“You know me too well!” Gabriela barely audibly exclaimed.

While Inez went to pay for the alcohol, I checked my computer. The video had finished rendering, so I went to look through my emails. There were the notifications for the typical hate comments about my past actions - which I still hadn’t been able to prevent from completely impacting my recent subscriber and follower loss - when all of a sudden, I got an email from Music Refined. I couldn’t possibly process this while in the middle of a call with Inez.

“You should come here sometime with me,” Inez told me. 

“Heh,” I hesitated. “I might be old enough to drink, but I’m not a really big fan of alcohol. Besides, I wouldn’t want to know how Darian would react if he found out I went alone with you.”

“Aw,” Inez asserted, “he’s over that. He and I are acquaintances now. Alcohol’s also not the only thing here. The snacks are so fucking good.”

I sighed while muting myself. I then unmuted.

“Okay,” I responded, “I’ll consider it. But I have to go now. Got some stuff to do.”

“Alright then!” Inez beckoned. “Bye!”

“Goodbye,” I said.

My video finished uploading to the cloud, so all I had to do now was add the details and publish. I was just about to publish when all of a sudden, I got a text from Darian.

Darian Stewart (Sun, Sep 10, 4:56 PM): Bro, you gotta check the latest article from Music Refined.

James Hill (Sun, Sep 10, 4:57 PM): What’s going on?

Darian Stewart (Sun, Sep 10, 4:58 PM): https://medium.com/ajqjiqiqiqiqiiq 

It’s about the new editor promotions. They are going to promote two people - and one of them will be you.

I checked the article Darian sent me. There were two people mentioned for promotions: a girl named Kiara (public relations) and me (editor). Shocked, I still couldn’t entirely believe it.

Maybe they just mixed me up with someone else, I thought. I’ve hardly been at Music Refined, after all.

Finally having the time to go through my emails, I checked the one that I got from Music Refined during my call with Inez. Turned out, Micah promoted me from a simple beta reader to a straight up editor like him. 

To be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about this. On the one hand, I definitely had more publicity. If I managed my new position well, I’d finally stop getting bombarded with a constant barrage of relationship gossip about Augusta and I all the damn time. Besides, it felt nice to have some power over Lacey after she and I were technically equals position-wise at Music Refined for a while.

On the other hand, this development also meant that I could no longer use the prospect of romance to entice Lacey into catering to my every whim. Doing so would be a fast ticket to destroying my online reputation just about everywhere. While I had newfound power at my disposal thanks to my promotion, Lacey also had the option to leave the publication if she ever so wanted. I’d have to be careful not to piss her off too soon.

I decided to text Corianna about my new promotion. But before I could give her the news first, she had already gotten to me first.

Artsy Carolina (09/10/23, 5:05 PM): https://medium.com/ajqjiqiqiqiqiiq

Congrats on the promotion, dude! : )

Archer J (09/10/23, 5:07 PM): Thanks. 

She then vented to me in a call about how university studying managed to make it harder for her to successfully juggle offline life, running an online publication with writers increasingly getting frustrated in spite of Betty’s help, and keeping her own personal content updated. 

On a lighter note, I found out about Corianna’s 13 year old younger brother’s obsession with an angry cartoon reviewer. Go figure.

(Wattpad version: https://www.wattpad.com/1520172409-lacey-chapter-26)