#To be completely honest I fear that I may decide to set down my pencil altogether and leave art behind

[verso-n-vidalia]

Okay, I literally cannot focus on my project because of these THOUGHTS so I hope blurting everything out here helps me get things off my mind (this happens every time I want to do a thing in real life).

To be fair I have focused on some characters more than others in relation to a possible Welcome Home X Splatoon AU so not all characters will be covered here and now. Things may be further expanded on in the future as I stew on these AU ideas a little more and I may even have art to showcase in relation to it (most likely one-off doodles but who knows)

Wally Darling-An Octoling draftsperson, engineer, and musician once dedicated to the Shogun's cause, when exposed to a heavenly melody only a year ago he awoke to the reality of his society and wanted an out. When presented with a once-in-a-lifetime chance to escape, he took it along with an unlikely friend in H.O.M.E. despite the countless dangers and difficulties the two would face from abandoning their old way of life. With the help of a kind Cuttling, Julie, he is working to slowly integrate himself into the society he was not only taught to hate but also constantly worked to sabotage. Wally is experienced with all forms of turf-war weapons (or at least their Octarian counterparts) but has a special love for the Brushes class with his favorites being the classic Inkbrush and Octobrush.

Home-Former great octo weapon from the Great Turf War, the H.O.M.E. device is a living breathing fortress of Octarian technology meant to move with battalions and provide them all necessities on the battlefield, most notably a fully stocked medical ward and M.A.S.H. unit. Having seen so much pointless death and destruction in his long lifetime, when presented the opportunity to escape Octo Valley in search of new beginnings, H.O.M.E. did not hesitate in fleeing with Wally despite the dangers and difficulties this presented for the both of them. Home does not use a turf-war weapon as he is the weapon itself

Julie Joyful- This Cuttleling isn't just an up-and-coming idol and newscaster, but the secret Agent 4 of her local Squidbeak Splatoon. Far more soft-hearted than her sisters, this translator of the Splatoon had a chance encounter with an unlikely friend and upon finding not everything she thought was as it was, took it upon herself to help this little Octoling learn and join Inkling Society. Of course, balancing her little pet-project, idol work, news casting, and secret identity with a growing relationship was not something she intended to take on but life wouldn't be as fun if it were not a challenge to be won. Julie has some experience with all manner of turf war weapons but she far prefers the fast-paced action of the slosher class and wiper class.

Sally Starlet-Rising star of her local neighborhood, this Inkling has big dreams, bigger plans, and even bigger potential. When she isn't co-hosting on her local news station, recording music and music videos for her risings career, and choreographing dances for both her and Julie's future releases this Cepholokid is showcasing her talent in the ranked modes of Rainmaker and Clam Blitz. While Sally showcases quite the talented actress she is also talented in spotting the acts of others--though she knows her co-anchor is not being entirely forthcoming about why she is always too busy to throw in some rounds of terf or consistently make it to practice on time she always manages to loose track of the Cuttlekid when trying to investigate. Compared to Julie's interest in the wiper class, Sally prefers to stick with the short-mid range shooters not only to make the ordinary extraordinary in her use but also to cover her closest friend when in the midst of battle.

Howdy Pillar-Manager of all the shops, this abnormally large sea slug is a member of the Sacoproteus species. Knowledgeable of all things fresh, this busy bee of a business owner cares deeply for his community and employees, always ensuring they are not overworked and are properly rested. Whenever he feels his employees need a break he can be found manning the shop for a few days or weeks and occasionally helping those less fresh learn the skills of climbing the ranks and finding their style. He has a special spot in his heart for those especially naive in the subject from his own experience teaching his many, many siblings how they too could become as fresh as him in his youth.

Barnaby B Beagle-How does a dogfish and an inkling find a common interest enough to raise a child? Barnaby couldn't say but his parents sure could (not that he knows them well enough to ask them). An odd find in his home city, Barnaby is the one and only Sharkling noted for miles around for his great humor and greater appetite. Originally born in a smaller town, his adoptive mother moved to their new home later in life to protect their son from those who were frightened by him. The city was far more accepting, and through his sense of humor he was able to nail down a job working for Howdy allowing him to not only help his mother fund their move but also get to know the area better. Barnaby is the first of the town Wally meets other than Julie and the two are quick to bond. Not very interested in Turf War or Ranked Modes when there is so much else to do as a non-squid kid, Barnaby does not have a preference for any turf weapon but is skilled when it comes to using rollers and splatlings.

I would have drawn all of this out, but firstly I am in the midst of project Ash Wednesday (the potential name of my future furby child) and secondly, I am struggling with just wanting to draw/like what I draw. With how consumed my brain has been about this I really hope I can get over my drawing hang-up soon so I actually can illustrate all my little thoughts in a cohesive way and maybe tell a story with this (I've always wanted to do that but have never been able to figure out how to do comics or draw things in relation to them)

[a-la-la-llama]

The One Where Marinette Gets Fetched #10

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8   Part 9   Part 11

  Titus had been restless ever since his first escape. The poor thing had been itching to get out again. He even stopped wanting to take walks around the estate. It made Damian upset to see his beloved dog so unhappy. The problem was he didn’t trust anyone outside the grounds to treat Titus like he should be. To be honest, no one in his family could except Alfred. His father and adopted siblings were incompetent as they were in practically everything. Damian was reluctant but eventually caved in the end.

  So he pulled on his most inconspicuous clothes that an average person would wear, or at least what he thought average people wore and led Titus out the door with a leash. Alfred had suggested he didn’t go to the private secluded parks near the area and one more in the city. It was like a walled area for muggers to catch high paying victims once they left. The city parks had more people and made it easier to blend in. It was also where Titus seemed to prefer to go. As soon as they passed the gates, the dog practically dragged him. Damian could have reeled him back in but the smile he swore was Titus’ face stopped him.

  Titus had conveniently brought a blue tennis ball with him while Damian held his leash and carried a satchel across his chest. The pair made their way to a secluded open field that provided enough room for the Great Dane to run around. A game of fetch ensued between the two. A throw too far set Titus on a chase. Something must have caught his eye because as soon as he got the ball he took off through a small grove of trees.

‘Must have seen a squirrel.’, sufessed Damian.

He sat down and took out his sketchbook and a few pencils. He preferred a monochrome look than a full-fledged colored drawing. Damian began to sketch his surroundings as he waited for Titus to tire himself out.

///~///~///~///~///~///~///

“Guardian, may we visit that tree Tikki had mentioned before? It has been a long time since I’ve been able to climb a real tree. Who knows how bad my climbing skills have gotten!”, Xuppa pleaded.

“Well, as long as you are able to stay hidden from all passersby I guess I can let you all roam around.”, declared Marinette.

“That’s why we want to go to the tree on the hill, silly Guardian. It’s a clearing surrounded by trees! It’s perfect!”, Daizzi teased with a small oink at the end.

“I guess you have a point. Okay, through these trees we shall go! Are my loyal and trustworthy Miri’s ready?”, joked Marinette.

“Of course, our fair Lady.”, Pollen continued.

“I’m always loyal to you, Guardian.”, said Barkk.

  The journey was long and treacherous for the group. Well, not really but it was fun to pretend they were on an adventure. Instead of a park, they were in an unexplored jungle. Having to avoid deadly obstacles such as couples and people reading peacefully under the trees. Then Marinette had been attacked by a poisonous tree root sticking out above ground. The root caused blindness temporarily which resulted in her tripping over it and falling. That led to the kwami’s having to lead her around with her eyes closed. It was like she was a little girl again playing with her- her-. Yeah, it was nice having fun with her Miri’s! They marched up the small hill with everyone following her like ducklings while they sang a Guardian-folk song.

“Alright! We have arrived at our destination. All Kwami exit the station as the Marinette train studies her sign language notes!”, she announced.

They all floated off into the tree as she sat under it and pulled out her journal. Reconnecting with the English language just to learn a new one based off of it. Then Damian had challenged her on who would do best on the ASL quiz next Friday. She couldn’t back down and was now forcing herself to study. Nooroo timidly floated out of the bag towards her. He had opted out of joining their song now that she thought about it.

“Master, I am sorry to bother you but are you certain it is all right for us to roam around?”, the butterfly mumbled.

The poor thing was greatly affected by their time in Paris. Duusuu could feed off the happy emotions of the others but Nooroo put the fault on himself. Gabriel had done a number on the poor kwami.

“You can call me Marinette or Guardian, Nooroo. Of course you can come out! Don’t worry so much, that's my job.”, she reassured. It got a small smile out of the kwami before he zipped off.

 She was going over her greetings when she saw the kwami go in and out of her bag. Everytime they would come out with their personal snacks.

“Did everybody pack something to eat and forget to tell me?”, she pouted.

“Sssssorry Mari. We forgot to tell you. We could alwayssss sssshare our ssssnackss.”, Sass hissed out.

“You should try some of my honey-covered croissants! They’re amazing!”, buzzed Pollen.

“No, eat my seeds!”

“My dried bananas are the best!”

“Carrots!”

“Biscuits!”

“I’m so happy. I love food!”

They all hurriedly shouted above each other trying to offer her their snacks.

“Calm down, Miri’s! I appreciate your generosity. Though camembert sounds delicious right now.”, she commented with a side glance at the certain kwami. The cheese glutton couldn’t do anything but drop his jaw at her request. He had been the only one to not say anything and the Guardian knew it.

“Minibug, you can’t be serious! My cheese smells bad. You won’t even like it. Trust me! You’re better off eating one of Sass’ boiled eggs.”, Plagg tried to redirect her taste and the other kwami’s glares.

“I’m teasing Plagg. I just had breakfast not too long ago.”, she said.

“Geez, Mari! Everyone looked on the verge to kill me.”, he huffed before stuffing the entire wheel in his mouth.

  Marinette and the kwami’s settled back down as she put in her earbuds and continued to study. Everything was nice and dandy for another forty-five minutes until she heard a faint shout from Tikki.

“Marinette look out!”

It was too late for the guardian however. By the time she knew it, Marinette was being dragged by the collar of her hoodie away from the tree. All of her stuff was left behind as her kidnapper ran at an alarming rate. She was pulled down hill, past the trees, dragged through a clearing for a while until she was dropped face first onto the grass. A dog started barking as soon as she was released.

“Titus! What is the meaning of this. You can’t just grab random- Marinette?”, the person said.

Marinette rubbed her head as she lifted herself up. This person knew her? She was met with the somewhat familiar face of Damian.

“H-Hey Damian, does this happen to be your dog or is there a better reason it just dragged me fifty yards to drop me here?”, she stuttered.

“No, it is not. I just happened to be able to read it’s name tag without moving. Of course it’s my dog, idiot!”, he sneered.

“Hey! How would you like it if you were suddenly getting yanked to gods know where by the collar and felt like you were choking?”, she retorted, rubbing her neck.

“What are you even doing here, Marinette?”, he questioned with narrowed eyes.

“First, this is a public park. I was studying some notes before your crazy- oh my kwami it’s taller than me!”, she gasped looking at the dog. She knew it wasn’t taller than her but her position of sitting on the floor made it tower over her. Marinette had met it before.

“Titus is a perfectly sized Great Dane. You’re the one with a pathetic stature. I suggest you change your diet to one suited to help with growth. Maybe incorporate beans, quinoa, or chicken if you're an inhumane meat-eater.”, he said.

“Yes, because I can totally fund a lifestyle change like that. Also, I’m average height. You’re the one that’s too tall!”, complained Marinette.

Titus wagged his tail back and forth as Marinette scratched his head in her lap.

“We had been playing with his tennis ball and I assumed he went to chase after an animal of some sort. Then he came back with you.”, Damian explained.

“So your dog basically fetched me.”, she summarized.

“You could put it that way.”, he commented.

“As adorable as Titus is, I have to go get my stuff before someone decides to take it. See you at school on Monday, I guess.”, Marinette said as she got up, much to the displeasure of Titus. Said dog barked in complaint as his attention giver left.

“Tt. I’m not sure what you have done to him but Titus should not be acting this way. He is supposed to be a feared guard dog, you have made him soft!”, he huffed.

“Feared like you with the rest of the student body at Gotham Academy? You still haven’t told me what got you to be dubbed an ‘Ice Prince’.”, Marinette said.

Damian only packed up his stuff and walked away.

Now, Marinette had to walk all the way back to the tree. The Miri’s were definitely going to lecture her.

I am sooooo soooo sorry for not posting this last week! I went out of town and it completely slipped my mind... sorry.

Tag list

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[notyourdayrdream]

Summer’s Almost Over (So Come Spend it with Me)

Day Twelve, Side A: Exacerbate

read it here on AO3!

Blaine Anderson’s never been lucky in love.

His first crush was in third grade on Jim Hawkins from Treasure Planet. Oh he’d almost burned the DVD out from watching it too much. His crush ended when his brother accidentally broke the disc and Blaine couldn’t watch the animated teen anymore. Plus, all of the other little boys were crushing on girls, ones that were real and not animated. Most importantly they were girls. So he put crushes on the backburner for a while.

His next crush was in seventh grade, on Joey Partmon. Joey was new from Texas, which may have well been a foreign country to him and the other private school kids Blaine went to school with. He was tanned under his school mandated uniform, with dark freckles and floppy red hair. Blaine loved his deep southern accent and the way he twirled his pencil around in his hand when he was bored. They weren’t close, Blaine wasn’t outgoing enough to say ‘hi,’ and Joey moved away that summer. But he did dream about kissing him on more than one occasion. That’s when he realized he was gay.

Freshman year’s candidate was Ryan Night.

He went to a public school then. He and Ryan were the only two boys in their choir, which already put a huge target on their backs, not to mention the fact they were both gay. Blaine still doesn’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse, but he was able to hide it. Ryan wasn’t as lucky. But it didn’t matter, they were friends, brought together by this horrible thing they had to deal with. The whole situation turned into something beautiful. So when Blaine asked Ryan to homecoming, he expected everything to go fine.

He’d be proved wrong, of course. So he took a break from crushing for a little while. In fact, he took a break on everything, for about a year.

Everything was different when he came to Dalton. The kids, the students, the zero tolerance bullying policy. It all kept him safe. So he joined the Warblers and became their leading man, not because he was gay or straight, but because he was good. They kind of idolized him, and he suddenly had this giant group of friends. That’s when he met Jeremiah.

Maybe it was because he was finally out and proud, but his crush on Jeremiah felt so different. It was almost like love. He was older and wiser than Blaine, and so so cute. And as the days ticked on and the boy was all he could think about, he decided he had to do something, and he had to do something big.

Safe to say that totally backfired. Blaine promised himself to never let a crush get that serious again, not until he was sure. And that plan had worked, until now. Because he met Kurt Hummel.

They actually met at NYADA, at a Midnight Madness competition.

Blaine had been dragged there by his friend Leslie, who wasn’t actually a singer but a dancer, she just liked drama. So he went, dressed in sweatpants and a Dalton hoodie, and sat in the back. The whole place was honestly just a giant fire hazard, and the heat from the candles was making him sweaty. They were waiting on someone apparently. Rachel Berry, the senior who had won last year. Blaine knew she had a reputation of being a diva, but good Lord she was taking forever. The crowd of theatre geeks was becoming antsy.

“Wait!” The door opened and shut in a swift motion, blowing out a few candles by the entrance. The young man’s chest heaved, like he had just run all this way. “Rachel’s out sick. But I’m here, I’ll do it in her place. The dim light blocked out most of his face, but Blaine could see the outline of him; slim and tall with a smile that lit up the room. Was it weird to be attracted to a shadow?

The moderator nodded. “That’s fine, Kurt, we just need someone to challenge you,” he said. Kurt stepped into the ring in the center of the room and took Blaine’s breath away.

It had to be illegal to look this good at twelve in the morning. Whereas everyone else was dressed in casual clothes and pajamas, Kurt wore tight jeans and a cream sweater so soft Blaine wanted to reach out and touch it. His pale skin was painted tan from the candlelight and his hair stood so high and perfectly coiffed on his head Blaine was sure it must have taken hours to fix.

“I’ll do it,” Blaine offered, cringing at himself when every pair of eyes turned to him. He could have smacked himself in the forehead. He didn’t come here to compete, he didn’t even come for the drama. He was going to horribly embarrass himself and be forced to switch careers. Slowly and on shaky legs, he made his way to the center of the room.

Kurt smirked and said, “You’re going down.” But his eyes were gleaming with mischief. Blaine almost smiled himself, but the moderator whispered that Kurt will go first and Blaine could sit back down. The song is announced, or whisper-yelled, to be “On My Own” from Les Mis.

The music started and Kurt took a moment to close his eyes, drinking in the silence before performing. And then he sings. He floated atop the song like a leaf across water, dipping in and swirling through the melody. He sounded like he might cry, and Blaine felt a tear threatening to slip out of his eye. That’s when he knew he wouldn't win. Emotional ballads had never been his thing. And when only fifteen people gathered on his side of the room and waved their hands in silent applause, he didn’t care.

“Hey, Blaine is it?” Kurt asked when Midnight Madness had ended and students poured out the doors and back home or to bars. Blaine’s eyes went wide. Leslie spotted his fear and left without him, blonde braids swishing behind her. He was going to kill here.

“Yeah,” he replied, breathily as he turned around and finally got a good look at Kurt’s eyes. Icy blue and gorgeous, Blaine felt stripped down under his gaze. “You were really amazing, I mean obviously since you won but…”

Kurt bit his lip to hide his smile, and Blaine guilty pocketed the moment for a later time. “Thanks, but you were great too. I couldn’t imagine being a freshman and being able to sing like that.”

“Ah, I’m actually in my third year,” Blaine said, rubbing at the back of his neck. It wasn’t his fault, he didn’t do too many extracurriculars at NYADA, not any he imagined Kurt would also be a part of.

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” Kurt apologized, face flushing pink. “Um, I was wondering if you wanted—”

“I should go,” Blaine interrupted, feeling more and more embarrassed as this whole ordeal went on. He honestly just wanted to go home and forget the whole thing even happened.

Kurt actually looked a bit upset for a brief second, but he caught himself quickly and went back to his bright smile. Props of being an actor. “Right, well, it was nice meeting you, Blaine.” He nodded and walked off and out of the glass double doors.

This time, Blaine did smack himself on the forehead. He was so stupid. Kurt was going to ask him out, wasn’t he? Or at least for coffee, everybody drinks coffee super late. He trudged out of the doors and down to the subway, trying his best to not think of himself as a total screw up when it came to love. But he did check Kurt’s Instagram on the ride home. Just to look.

“I’m going out! It’s my grandmother’s birthday and she misses me,” Leslie said even though Blaine already knew she was leaving. The red party dress he helped pick out popped against her dark skin.

He closed his journal and glanced at his roommate.“Tell her ‘happy birthday’ for me!” Leslie just kissed his cheek in response and shut the door behind her, leaving Blaine alone for another quiet evening.

It was finally summer, another year of college completed. Blaine had decided to stay in the city instead of going back home like a lot of students did. Not that he didn’t enjoy Ohio or his parents, he just didn’t feel like the cold small talk that would follow him the entire summer. The only thing he missed was the weather. It was a scorching summer this year in New York City, and Blaine had always preferred the cooler months. The whole city felt as though it had been placed in a boiling pot, and Blaine and Leslie spent most of their days inside at work or avoiding the heat. Their nights were spent partying on Leslie’s part, or curling up to watch a movie for Blaine.

If he were being honest with himself, he had no idea what he was going to do after college. Being a Broadway actor was no guarantee, if he would even make it there. He had heard of graduates from NYADA, bright eyed and filled with dreams, fizzle out like burning stars and end up in jobs that they didn’t even major in. Blaine couldn’t end up like that, he’d be proving his dad right.

So he had a moleskine journal filled with songs. The kind of music he sang in the shower. Poppy love ballads and short and brash breakup songs, even though he had never been broken up with before. The other people who had ever heard them were Leslie and Will, an ex-fling who he had mistakenly let get closer than he should have.

A set of sharp knocks at the door snapped him out of his thoughts.

“You have keys, Les!” Blaine yelled but got up anyway. She probably forgot her keys. The knocking didn’t stop until Blaine swung the door open, gaping at the sight.

“Hi,” Kurt gasped, looking just as surprised as Blaine probably did. His hair was dripping wet, and he had...shower shoes on?

“Are you okay?” Blaine asked. “How do you know where I live?” He ushered Kurt inside.

“I don’t, and I am,” Kurt said, running a hand through his hair. “I saw Leslie leave and asked if she could help me and she said her roommate was home? I didn’t know you two lived together…” He glanced around their living room.

“Oh, we’re not dating, I’m gay.” Kurt’s eyebrows knitted together, that wasn’t what he was asking at all. What was it about this guy that turned Blaine into a complete idiot?

“Um, what did you need help with?”

“My shower isn’t working, and I have a date in an hour,” Kurt groaned. Blaine tried to make his heart stop freaking out at the mention of a date. They hadn’t spoken beyond Midnight Madness, save a nod in the hallways on the off chance they passed each other. “Can I use yours, please?” He pouted and poked his lip out, as if Blaine wouldn’t have said yes before.

He gulped. “Yeah, yeah. Of course.” He squeaked despite his best efforts and led Kurt to his bathroom. At least he didn’t have to worry about it being dirty. Leslie was a bit flighty, but they both shared their germaphobe tendencies.

“You just turn the water on like this.” Blaine twisted the knob left then right until it clicked to get the water to the hottest setting. When he turned back around, Kurt had already taken his shirt off. Blaine’s mouth went dry. When his biceps flexed when he moved to unbutton his pants, Blaine covered his eyes and shut the door as fast as he could, not wanting to further exacerbate the situation.

He was almost at his room, ready to bury his head into his pillow and just scream, when Kurt knocked on the bathroom door and said, “Stay?” So soft and barely loud enough over the rushing water that Blane just had to stay.

“I’m here,” he smiled and slid down the other side of the door until he was sitting. “What’s up with your date?” he asked, trying not to sound so bitter.

Water splashes the ground and Kurt yells through the door, “Oh, some guy kept asking me out, for like months. And I eventually just said yes.” Blaine heard a groan from inside the bathroom, and ignored the way all the blood rushed to his face. And other places.

“Do you even want to go out with him?” He didn’t mean to be nosey, truly. But the way Kurt described him, the guy kind of sounded like a dick.

It was a moment before Kurt responded. “I guess. It’s been a while since I’ve been on a date, so…” There was a soft click and the water stopped pouring.

“I get that. I’ve actually never had a boyfriend before, so the only dates I’ve had are usually followed by a messy hookup,” Blaine said. He didn’t know what it was about the whole ordeal that made him want to spill all of his secrets out. His head eventually caught up to what he said though. “Sorry, that was inappropriate.”

“Come in here.”

Blaine shook his head from the narrow hallway. “No, no it’s, that’s–”

“Blaine. Come inside.” Kurt’s voice was deep and stern, but when the door opened, he was laughing softly. Blaine thanked God he was dressed, because he was totally prepared to faint if he wasn’t.

“I have a deal for you,” Kurt said, drying his hair with a towel. “If my date goes terrible, I’ll call you. If it goes well, I’ll still call you.” He grinned and handed Blaine his phone.

It was crazy how contagious his smile was. Blaine felt his lips tug upwards as he typed a smiley face next to his name. “What’s in it for you?”

Kurt rolled his eyes with that same smile on his face and took his phone back. “Getting to hear your voice, or course.” He squeezed past Blaine, who’s limbs had temporarily planted into the floor. “Thanks for the shower, Blaine.” He winked, freaking winked, and Blaine heard the door shut softly behind him.

He smiled alone to himself in his foggy bathroom and turned his ringer all the way up.

[andytfish]

FREELANCE GUiDANCE: A 10 Part Series - #3 Setting Up Work Parameters

One of the benefits of Freelancing is the FREEDOM but sometimes too much freedom leads to disorganization and chaos.  Possibly the biggest challenger a Freelancer faces is the ability to be his own boss-- with no one constantly over your shoulder, no fear of a walk thru by the uppity mucks there's plenty of opportunity to slack off, and that will kill your career.

1. ESTABLISH YOUR WORK HOURS - This should be a "general" guide because as I've already covered sometimes creativity cannot be caged. Sometimes that great idea or inspiration comes at 2 in the morning rather than at 9. Everyone is different and this is a find your way kind of rule. During a week of working freelance take occasion to jot down notes of the time and productivity-- you'll likely see a pattern emerge. In my own case I like to get an early start but seldom do. But after years of study I've discovered my peak productivity blocks in the day- 5am-8am and 2pm to 10pm. We'll get into this a bit further below.

2. ESTABLISH A WORK AREA - This is the BIGGEST key for me. I don't allow my work to spread out all over the house. I work ONLY in my studio space. The entire third floor of my house is my office area. It houses my computers, drawing tables, easels, supplies and reference material. I DON'T spend ANY time in there NOT working. You wouldn't drive to your corporate office job so you can search eBay would you? I treat my work area with the same respect.

3. KNOW WHEN A JOB IS NOT THE RIGHT FIT - It’s hard when you're just starting out to turn down a job, but sometimes (especially early on) things come along that are not right for you. I can't draw cute. I can't. Bunnies might start KIND OF cute but eventually they're going to look depraved. It's not in my makeup. Early in my career I would have taken that gig and kept at it killing myself and doing four times the work to make it right for the client. Now I know better. You turn down the WRONG job so you're available when the RIGHT job comes along.

4. DEADLINES TRUMP EVERYTHING - My kids from an early age knew the phrase "Dad's on a deadline" -- which meant I'm a phantom that might pop up out of my studio 2-3 times a week. The Deadline is the thing. I don't miss deadlines. This should not be your every week routine— you need to have a life, but those deadline crunch times are special circumstances.

5. SET UP PRODUCTIVITY - Da Vinci used a similar schedule and I've found this works; 45-90 minute working sessions with breaks in between makes me MUCH more productive.

LET'S GET A LITTLE FURTHER IN-DEPTH to my talking points

1- Establishing Your Work Hours-- I would suggest you even buy yourself an OPEN/CLOSED sign that you can put outside your workroom door.  It doesn't have to be a fancy neon one, it can be a simple cardboard one.  In my studio I use to blowmold ghosts that sit at the edge of my desk-- when they're on I'm working.  It not only lets other people know you're "at work" it gets yourself into the right frame of mind.

Share your working hours with significant others.  Let them know you're going to be struggling to "work from home" and you'll need their help.  They wouldn't walk into your office on Park Avenue with your co-workers all around and your boss down the hall clutching the light bill and saying we need to talk about that neon beer sign you must have on 24 hours a day-- they would wait until you're home from work, and just because work is now home there should be no difference.

They need to understand that work from home does NOT mean you don't work.  It does not mean every elderly relative can expect you to shuttle them around to doctor appointments, it doesn't mean you're instantly the chaperone at juniors Zoo trip.  YOU ARE STILL WORKING just AT HOME.

You’ll need to decide if you are going to follow a standard Monday-Friday work week or will you take Mondays and Tuesdays off?  Resist the urge to not take days off because money is coming in. I strongly advocate days off for your own mental health.   It's easy to swing the opposite direction in Freelance and work 24/7.

One of the first things I wanted when I went Freelance was weekends off.  After years of working in retail I never got to enjoy them.  In retail I had every Sunday and Wednesday off.  SPLIT days-- and I was looking forward to two together.  It seemed like a dream to me.

The downside to being off weekends is so is everyone else.  So those Wednesday trips to the bank or the post office I used to make were a breeze compared to trying to go on Saturday morning.

Now, I schedule days off (and to be honest A Day Off) the week I'm working.  It allows me to better balance projects.  And being completely honest, I LOVE working freelance, sometimes taking a day off is like punishment.  But even on the weeks I don't take a day off I take a morning off, or an afternoon, or an evening-- that works for me.  Starting out-- I'd give yourself at least one day off each week as you're figuring out what works for you.

How About Holidays?   That seems like a no-brainer until you're on that big project and it's due Dec 27th and using the Organizational skills I set up for you in Session 1 you realize you're behind.   Suddenly you have a virtual scale in front of you held by Santa Claus with family and friends on one side and the client on the other.

Deciding up front that it's a hard and fast rule that you won't work CERTAIN holidays is a concession I made right away.   I don't work on Christmas-- in fact I don't work two days BEFORE Christmas and I don't work the week FOLLOWING Christmas up through to Jan 2nd.  I don't.  Nope, not gonna do it.

Why?  I like Christmas and it's a holiday I look forward to.    I work extremely hard up to Dec 22nd but truth be told Christmas is VERY Slow in Freelance because most clients aren't thinking about projects either.  So a studio shut down is perfectly acceptable.

But the OTHER 99 holidays on the calendar?  They are all up for grabs.  I don't work the night of my wife's Birthday and I keep the schedule light during the day-- but other than Xmas, New Years and my Wife's Birthday I will work any other holiday even at the drop of a hat.

Knowing this helps me keep the stress level down.  My family knowing this keeps them from asking me why I'm not coming to the Memorial Day cookout, or the Patriots Day party. 

2. Establish a Work Area - My wife has her own studio on another floor of the house.  We meet daily for Breakfast and Lunch which is a nice break.  Her studio is very zen.  Very few things, a handful of books, some sparse furniture and warm inviting lights with some inspirational artwork hanging prominently around the room.  Mine is the polar opposite of Zen.  It's loaded like a High School locker.  There is not an inch of space on my walls or shelves that is not filled with comics, posters, original art, toys, action figures, vintage japanese vinyl toys, a lifesize Frankenstein, an Adam West Batman Cowl, a Nicholas Hammond Spider-Man Mask a Tony the Tiger display head, Darth Vader mask, more toys, more art more action figures and did I mention Books?  Libraries come to me to borrow things.  There are THOUSANDS of books.

I love the kinetic cluttered energy it gives off.  At Christmas time I decorate Frankenstein with colored lights.  The rest of  the year Halloween Lights hang in my studio.  It's my own personal Batcave-- all I'm missing is a British Butler walking in with coffee and scones every forty five minutes.

But that space works for me.  It gets me juiced up and ready to work.

That's how you need to set YOUR space.  When you're just starting out you may have to incorporate a drawing or work area in another room because of space restraints.  When I was first starting out in a one bedroom studio my bed was three feet from my drawing table.  It made for some tough nights sleeping because it was hard to "turn off" working mode in the same room.

Regardless of space, make some for yourself.  I have a good friend whose first studio space was a medium sized closet.  It was actually kind of cool-- you had to climb in like a race car but once you were encased in the environment like a man piloting a lunar shuttle to the moon you were ready to work.

The point is to make this space YOUR work inspiration-- so make it a place you WANT to spend time in.

3. Know when a Job is NOT the Right Fit - Easy to say when you're established.  You're going to take pretty much any job that comes along at first, and that's okay.  Sometimes you don't even know the job isn't right for you until you're doing it. When we get to PART 5: GETTING PAID SON we'll look at how to budget for these types of jobs so at least you're getting paid well for something that isn't a fit.

Let's assume that despite your portfolio of Goth Animals someone comes to you thinking you'd be perfect for that highly detailed photo accurate oil painting of Grandma.  That's not a good fit for you, you know it, they don't.  But the light bill is due and there's not a lot else coming in right now so you're thinking hard about taking it.   It's a fork in the road decision:

A. You take it and spend HOURS upon HOURS resisting the urge to give grandma dark undereyes and floppy ears. If you went with this option the biggest advice I can give you is do a lot of research and spend a LOT of time warming up. Look at portraits, look at Presidential Portraits and study the brush strokes. Grab your favorite sketchbook and some colored pencils and get to an art museum and do some sketching of the portraits in the collection. Get your head ready for the project and then give it your best shot.

B. Pass on it and recommend a friend you know who would be a better fit, earning Karma points from the friend and freeing yourself up for that job that WILL fit. Spend the downtime Marketing yourself (also coming up in the series) which is a better expenditure of your time and resources.

4. Deadlines Trump All - All my rules of work parameters combined with the skills I imparted in the ORGANIZATION session should lead you to a point where you don't have to work overtime, but in the real world we know that occasionally that IS going to happen.  If you find yourself CONSTANTLY working overtime on projects re-evaluate your working methods and see if you are actually being productive or if you're wasting a lot of time.

5. SetUp Productivity - The eight hour workday became the norm at the turn of the last century and pretty much has been the standard ever since.  This method goes back LONG before that to the days of Leonardo Da Vinci who often used this seemingly odd method to accomplish the amazing array of achievements he did over the course of his life. 

It's simple-- you work in 45-90 minute sessions with breaks in between.  During the session you do NOTHING but work.  You don't answer the phone if it rings (that's why Voicemail was created) you don't check your email.  You don't jump on IMDB to see who was the actor inside Darth Vader's suit (it was Dave Prowse, body builder and former Frankenstein actor).  YOU WORK.  Because SO much of our day is actually filled with distraction.  That's OK if you work for SNIDELY WHIPLASH INDUSTRIES who is paying you a fat check to work 30% of the time, as a Freelancer you only get paid for the hours you actually WORK.    Novel concept isn't it?  It's the price you pay for being your own boss.

This is best accomplished either by setting up a PLAYLIST running the allotted time, or by streaming an episode of a TV series or even setting an alarm clock.  Give it a try-- WORK for the allocated time and THEN take a break of 15-30 mins (also timed) to check your mail, return phone calls, do whatever-- you will be AMAZED at how this works if you can really be disciplined about it.

NEXT WEEK: LIVE WITHIN YOUR MEANS -- it's the difference between eating and not.

Andy Fish is a freelance artist and writer who has been living the lifestyle longer than there has been an iPhone on this planet.  The advice given has worked for him, it might work for you, he hopes it does.  But like all advice, take it with your own situation in mind.  If you want to contact him shoot him an email andy@andytfish.com

[fluffy-marshmallow-heart]

A Twist of Fate ch.21 -Family First

The Elementalist AU

Beckett x MC (Oriana)

Words: 2640

Warning: NSFW, anal penetration.

This AU is set after everyone graduates Penderghast, and Beckett and Oriana were never friends. Fate, however, may have a different plan for them.

   It was Oriana’s first day of her new job and she was bubbling in excitement as Beckett left for work. He kissed her gently on the cheek.

“I want to know everything, you’re going to do great. I love you, you’ve got this.”

  She smiled at him so wide he thought his heart might burst. When he got to work, his own smile was still evident in everything he did, whether it was talking or simply sitting at his computer. For the first time in his life, he was genuinely happy. He was madly in love with the woman of his dreams and even better, she was madly in love with him. During his lunch hour, he spoke with her on the phone and she told him all about her day, her new colleagues, her office, all of the ins and outs of what she would be doing. As she was talking, Beckett took out his keys and unlocked a drawer of his desk that he kept locked at almost all times. Anything of value he would put in there, except he didn’t really keep anything of value at work. If he was honest, he really just thought it was awesome that he could lock his desk.

He could hear the happiness in her voice, and it just made him smile even wider. When he pulled open his drawer, he immediately saw what he was looking for. There was a small, black, velvet box that currently he could not keep at home, for fear Oriana might find it before it was time. He opened it as he had every day since he bought it, looking at the sparkling ring inside. His heart fluttered as he pictured it on her finger. It may be early, but he went out and bought it right after their date the previous week, when he was able to bring her back from the brink of destruction. He’s ready to spend his whole life with her, and he hopes she feels the same. He thinks she does, but they haven’t discussed anything of their future together.

Eventually the day was coming to an end when Dave stopped in. “Hey, Beckett, I have a favor to ask.”

He glanced up from his computer. “Sure, what’s up?”

“Melissa’s not feeling well, and she’s begging me to come home but I still have some files to work through.”

Beckett grimaced. He really wanted to get home to Oriana and celebrate her first day of work, but Dave’s wife is pregnant and needs him.

“Can you possibly finish reorganizing them? It shouldn’t take too long, just update these files in the logs. I know you’ll have to stay late to do it and I’m really sorry, I know how important this day is to you but…” Dave trailed off.

Like I can say no to that.

“Sure. Go, I got this. Ori will understand, and it’s not like it will take all night.” Beckett gave a half-smile.

A look of relief washed over his friend and mentor. “Thank you, I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

Beckett chuckled. “Really, don’t worry about it. Make sure Melissa’s okay.”

Smiling gratefully at him, Dave ducked out and left. Beckett sighed, taking his phone out and sending a text to his girlfriend.

Beckett: I’m so sorry, Ori, I know we had plans tonight, but Dave’s wife isn’t feeling well, and he had to leave. There’s a few files I need to catalog for him, so I’m afraid I will be late tonight.

About fifteen minutes later, his phone buzzed.

Oriana: It’s okay. Family comes first, I get it.

Beckett paused, eyes glancing down towards his drawer again. She set it up perfectly to make some sort of comment. He tapped his finger on his chair, deciding. Blushing furiously, he decided to go for it.

Beckett: Maybe someday I’ll get to leave early for ours.

He pressed send and waited, his heart thumping wildly. It was ballsy, they’d literally never talked about this before, and now he brought it up via text. At least she can’t see how red I am.

He stared at his phone and waited, but no response came through. He ran a trembling hand through his hair, realizing he may have just completely messed things up. Things were fine, why the hell did I do that? That was so stupid! I’m such a fool, I probably scared her away. Maybe I can stay here so late that she’ll already be asleep by the time I go home….

One by one, everyone else in the office left, Beckett giving them all a tiny smile as they passed his office. He was so embarrassed, so angry with himself. She still hadn’t responded, and it had been an hour. At 5:30 he got up from his desk and went to go lock the front door of the office. When he reached it, however, his eyes widened.

Striding through the parking lot was Oriana, wearing her white blouse and grey pencil skirt. Her legs were showcased by the dark heels she was wearing and for a moment he forgot how to breathe. She approached the door and raised an eyebrow. Feeling the blush on his neck, he quickly opened the door, letting her inside, then shut and locked it behind her.

“Ori…I…I wasn’t expecting you.” He could barely look her in the eye.

“You said you’d be late, so I brought dinner to you.” She announced.

For the first time he saw the bag she was carrying. “Chinese?” He asked

She smiled. “Of course. I know it wasn’t the whole cooking together scenario we were going to do but…”

“It’s amazing. You’re amazing.” He blurted out.

She bit her bottom lip, attempting to smother a laugh. “You’re alone here, right? Everyone’s gone? Since you were locking the door?”

He nodded.

“Great! Well. Lead the way then.”

“….the way? To…where?”

She rolled her eyes. “Your office. Where you have a desk, that you’re working at, so you can work while you eat.”

“I could take a break.” He suggested.

“I still want to see it.”

He swallowed hard before leading her towards his office. “It’s not that impressive…” He trailed off, as she looked around before setting the food down.

“Um, I can make space.” He hurriedly grabbed the spread-out papers around his desk and shoved them to one corner.

Oriana cocked her head to the side. “Are you okay?”

“Yes! Yes, of course! I’m fine! Great!” He waved his hands around dismissively, sure he was making a fool himself again.

She narrowed her eyes and walked around the desk to where he was. She ran her finger over the smooth wood before her eyes landed on a single framed photo. Her breath hitched, and Beckett froze as he realized what she was looking at.

“I, um…um…” He stammered as she picked up the picture.

“Beckett…” She said slowly. “When did you take this?”

His cheeks were burning. “I didn’t.”

She flicked her eyes up and met his. “I sent this to you.” She said softly. “You printed it and put it in a frame on your desk?”

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yes.”

“How long have you had it here?”

He was positive his entire body was bright red with her questions. “N…not long.”

A smirk spread across her features. “I thought this outfit distracted you.”

“It…I like it. A lot.” He confessed. It was one of the pictures she’d sent to him the day of her interview, wearing that very same pencil skirt she had on now.

She gently put the frame back on the desk, then went up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “You, sir, are the biggest sap I know.” She pressed her lips to his and he kissed her back softly, his heart still thumping loudly in his chest.

“Tell me, Beckett.” She murmured into his lips. “What about this outfit is distracting to you?”

“All of it.” He groaned as she ran her hand down his chest.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to be more specific.” She teased, running her hand dangerously low. He grunted in response, and she have him a crooked smile. “Have you gotten off to it before?”

“No.” He whispered.

“Have you thought about me being here before?”

“Yes.”

“What were we doing?” She cupped him through his pants and he moaned loudly. “Did you picture me in this?” She breathed into his ear.

“Yes.” He breathed back.

“When I sent you that picture, tell me what you thought of it. Your immediate reaction to this skin-tight skirt.”

He gulped. “Honestly, Ori…I wanted to take you right here.”

“How? Indulge me.” She requested.

He took a shaky breath…then gently turned her around so her back was pressed against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her waist and lightly ran them down her thighs. She made a light whimper of satisfaction and his dick jumped, pressing into her ass from under his pants. His hot breath tickled her ear.

“You were leaning over the desk.” He stepped them forward until she was touching the wooden surface. “Your skirt was bunched at your delicious hips, your bare ass in my full view.”

She gasped as he lifted her skirt briefly, before smoothing it back down.

“Was I wearing panties?” She whispered.

“No.”

She put her own hands up her skirt and slid her lacy thongs down her slim legs, kicking them away.  She leaned forward on the desk. “Like this?”

“Almost.” He replied, lifting her skirt back up and running his hands over the smooth skin bared to him. “That’s better.”

“Then what?”

“I fisted your hair…”

She removed her hair from the updo it was in, the light waves cascading down. “Grab it.”

He made quick work of his own pants, sliding them down, his aching cock springing out. I can’t believe this is happening…she’s really here, fulfilling my fantasy…god, she is so incredible.

“After that I wasn’t so gentle.” He warned.

“Show me.”

He lined himself up with her pussy with one hand while reaching for her hair with the other. She cried out as he pulled her hair towards him at the same time he thrust into her wetness.

“Christ, Beckett, you feel good!”

“You feel amazing.” He thrusted in and out of her, harder and faster, his balls slapping her clit, yanking her hair harder.

“Let go, Beck.”

He immediately dropped her hair from his hand.

She moaned. “No, keep pulling it. You’re holding yourself back, I can feel it. Let go.”

“I’m not ready to cum.”

“No! As in let go as in let yourself do what you want from your fantasy. I promise you won’t hurt me. I want to know everything you fantasized about.

Oh my god….

He began pounding into her, her cries of ecstasy ringing throughout the office, with no one’s ears but his own to listen.

“Shit, Beck, I’m going to cum!”

“Cum for me.” He ordered, trying to pick up his pace even more. She tensed around his hardness as she came, screaming out his name. He slowed down.

“You didn’t finish.” She panted.

“There was more to my fantasy.” He replied.

“Do tell.”

He bit his lip. “I…we…” He didn’t even know how to say it.

She laughed breathily. “Come on, out with it. What else do you want to do?”

“Anal.” The words began tumbling out of his mouth. “We don’t have to, I’ve just never done it and if there’s anyone I want to try it with, it’s you, but if you’re uncomfortable, or don’t want to, it’s completely fine, and we’ll do something…anything…else.”

He felt her stiffen beneath him. “Never mind, it’s dumb, it’s a dumb idea.”

She shook her head. “It’s not. It’s just…I’m pretty sure I’ve done it, but…I don’t completely…remember.” Her voice was small, and he frowned in realization.

Right. Chase’s friends. Plural.

“I’m sorry, Ori, forget I even said it, let’s just…”

“I want you to.” She interrupted.

“W-what?”

“If there is anyone in this world I trust like that, it’s you. And it’s part of your fantasy. I want to do this. I really do.”

“Ori…”

“Please.”

He nodded slightly, realigning himself with her anus, coating it in her juices. “I don’t know what this is like.” He whispered hoarsely. “If it hurts, you tell me. Don’t hesitate to tell me. Promise?”

“I promise.”

Taking a deep breath, he slowly began to push inside. She whimpered, and he paused. “You okay?”

“Yes. Keep going.”

He pushed more, as gently as he could, overwhelmed by the sensation. “It’s so…tight. So hot.” He stared as his cock slowly disappeared inside her ass, wanting desperately to fuck it. When he was all the way in, he went still, unsure how hard he can really be.

After a moment, he slowly withdrew, causing another moan to come from her mouth. He pushed back in. “Wow, Ori…”

“You like?” She teased, a smile evident in her tone.

“I love.” He groaned in response, feeling more confident in his actions. He began to thrust harder, faster, and she encouraged him along. After only a few, though, he felt the familiar tightening in his balls.

She is sooooo tight….I can’t hold on…I need to just….

He came with a loud, guttural growl as his warm fluid spilled from him inside of her. After every drop was gone, he gently pulled back out, bringing her body up with him so he could wrap his arms tightly around her.

“Thank you.” He murmured in her ear. “Are you okay?”

She nodded.

“I need to hear it, Oriana.”

She turned herself around in his arms and gazed into his eyes. “I’m more than okay, Beckett.”

He sighed in relief, and she laughed lightly.

“Let me clean up and then we can have dinner. Where’s the bathroom?”

He walked her to it and then went into the men’s room to wash up himself. They emerged at the same time and a small blush tinted his cheeks as he intertwined his fingers with hers and they walked back to his office. Grabbing the Chinese containers, they sat on the floor, picnic style.

“Tell me all about your day.” He told her.

She grinned. “It was a great day. But do you know what my favorite part was?”

He shook his head, and she nudged him lightly with her shoulder to get him to look into her eyes again.

“The best part of my day, Beck…was realizing that I had you to go home to. And since you weren’t home, I came here instead. You wanna know why?”

He chuckled lightly. “For the amazing sex?”

“No! I mean, yes, it was amazing!” She burst out laughing, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she finished her thought.

“Because family really does come first. You don’t have to hope to leave early for our family someday Beckett. You’re already my family. So whether you leave early or stay late…I’m yours.”

He inhaled sharply. I did not expect that. “You really mean that?” He couldn’t help but ask.

She smirked. “Of course, I do, Beck. Don’t you know by now how deeply I love you?”

He blinked. “You think of me as your family?”

“I literally just said that.”

“I know, I just wanted to hear it again.” He beamed at her, and she grinned right back.

“I just wanted to tell you in person. Sorry the wait made you freak out.” She apologized

“I most certainly did not freak out.” He countered.

“Yes, you did. I bet you freaked out that whole hour or whatever it was and were kicking yourself for mentioning it.”

He stared at her a moment, silent. She’s good.

She laughed again at his expression. “Told ya.”

 @annekebbphotography @gardeningourmet @zigortega4life @eileendannie @thequeenofcronuts @drakewalkerfantasy @friedherringclodthing @coffeebeandragon @drakewalker04 @jlpplays1 @alesana45 @mfackenthal

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@aworldoffandoms @endlessly-searching-for-you @nerdynstoned

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[msruchita]

In Lies: You Hide - The Moon

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Indian Reader

Words: 2.1k+

Warnings: None

Summary: From Tumblr Prompt @writing-prompt-s ‘When someone lies to you, you can feel the weight of how bad the lie is. little white lies are a barely there pressure while lying about murder feels like a truck is being balanced on your head. You’ve just asked your spouse how their weekend at their parents was, and the answer makes you feel like the entirety of the world is crushing you.’

(So after months, I’ve finally come to part 2. There’s a point that seriously, I have no idea what i’m writing anymore. I changed from Indian lawyer to Indian reader. If you want, you can always still imagine the reader as yourself, minus the skin tones and such. Let me know your thoughts about this. All mistakes are mine, and I really love feedback. Hope you enjoy this!)

Masterlist

Part 1

There was a thrum of energy as Judge Rogers leaned back against his chair listening to another fresh-faced associate struggle to explain how they had treated the case with bias due to the lawyer on the other side being Loki. Restraining the urge to grin like a shark especially when the smell of blood was so lovingly wafting over to him, he merely kept his smirk on.

The courtroom was Loki’s favourite place to be; the lies, the deceit, the sheer chaos of it all, was a wonderful cup of rose earl grey tea to him. He thrived on being a lawyer - embracing the slow coil of desire at the liberty it gave him, allowing him to twist and tease fact till it no longer held any shred of credibility - as his victim lay destroyed by another one of his lies. Such an incident would usually give him much satisfaction, however, his mind was preoccupied today.

His dear betrothed; a fierce spitfire compared to his ice, with her curves and butter soft skin, and he couldn’t help but chuckle soundlessly at the irony of opposites attract. They were meant to meet up today, together with their caterers for the cake and food testing, however, he had smoothly evaded her question of when he would arrive by answering that a case held more precedence.

He could very well leave by now, seeing how Rogers seemed to be pulling the last vestiges of his patience as the associate continued to blunder on till he help a hand up.

’Mr.Carter, if you don’t shut up, I will personally file a few lawsuits just so you will my chambers. Due to your personal bias, Mr.Loki’s client has been waiting for the past 8 months for this charade to come to an end. Your client has 2 hours to think about the plea deal, otherwise I’m taking this to trial. Now, leave, before I shoot you.’

Loki’s smirk slid off his face when the Judge turned to glare at him. He may be a shark, but Rogers was a mountain compared to him. Exceedingly brilliant as he was honest, he reminded Loki very much of you. He snapped out of his thoughts when he heard a low chuckle.

‘Counsellor, I don’t know if I should warn her or hug her. From what I heard, she’s more than capable off handling you. Anyways, get the fuck out. We all know this case is in the bag.’

Striding out of the office, Loki checked the watch on the wall in front of him. He just had enough time to meet you at the caterers, a small smile playing on his lips as he contemplated your reaction. He could have made another excuse but the thought of seeing your flustered look made him groan softly to himself. Finding his phone, he punched in a number heading towards the courtyard, ‘Niles, the caterers please.’

*

I struggled to keep a straight face as Loki moaned low, licking buttercream frosting off his finger as we both tasted the third cake. He had been attempting to seduce me the moment he slid out of a black BMW, lean and powerful, in a simple three piece suit. My jaw almost dropped when he reached down to squeeze my butt through the pencil skirt before sliding his hand up to the small of my back, ushering me inside. His low chuckle telling me he enjoyed my wariness and surprise.

The caterers were friends of Judge Rogers; Maria Hill and Pepper Potts together owned a small bakery that was just on the edge of town and it was only due to my love for long walks off to nowhere did I enjoy the seclusion it provided. I had managed to throw Loki off when I mentioned that our menu for the buffet had already been set.

Ignoring his look of surprise, we settled down to try the five different cakes I had selected to try. Loki dismissed the first cake the moment he laid eyes on it while I still chose to try a slice, closing my eyes the flavours of hazelnut chocolate and raspberry preserve hit my tongue. The second cake was called banana foster, a simple butter cake with a caramel and banana filling, that also included rum and cinnamon.

I wrinkled my nose at the slight scent of alcohol, shaking my head as I did not want to get drunk off a cake. Loki on the other hand, enjoyed it a little too wholeheartedly, his hand on my knee leaving no mystery to what he wanted. The third cake, was definitely a treat to my eyes and everything I had wanted for a wedding. Cherry blossom - half fruity, half floral, this cake was a unique dessert with a light, refreshing taste and an equally delicate flavour. Combining layers of strawberry and vanilla with rose ganache and cream cheese frosting on top, it was a girl’s dream come true.

Loki on the other hand, teased me by sucking buttercream frosting off his finger, quietly telling me how much he loved the soft pink and how good it would look on my skin in contrast. What a pleasure it would be to lick off this flavour off my clit, when I clamped a hand down on his thigh, squeezing hard.

*

‘Tell me, are your parents dead?’

Your voice washed over him like a cold slap of air. You didn’t care when you saw the flash of hurt in his eyes before he grimaced at the taste of the cake, pushing the plate away. Masking the surprise at your words, he attempted a nonchalant shrug, wondering how long had you known that he had been lying about his parents. Nobody knew the truth about his family and he chose to keep it that way - being the black sheep of the family would be of no surprise to anyone.

Slowly standing up, he pulled her chair away from the table, circling her, like a wolf stalking its trembling, paralysed prey. She was anything but terrified as he leaned towards her, growling in her face. She sat promptly, completely unaffected except for the frown still in place, her legs crossed. His eyes darkened to bottle green as the scent of cinnamon and chocolate tickled his nose. Even when he stopped behind her; puffs off his hot breath brushing against the skin of her neck, she didn’t move.

Her skirt slightly rode up as she leaned forward to reach for the next cake - the ever classic red velvet. His mouth watered at the sight of fabric stretching over that luscious, round ass, vivid images of her bending over his desk, his hand coming down to spank each globe filled his mind. The simple white blouse she wore accentuated her full breasts, and he wanted to tear off every button, watching them expose inch after inch of creamy brown skin as the fabric moved from each breath she took.

‘Your parents don’t approve of you, or your proclivities, do they?’ Pressing his lips to her shoulder, he stilled as she slowly turned to offer him a bite of cake from her fork. Sighing, she finished the slice and stood up to cut herself another slice willing her migraine to stop. It felt like a truck had decided to sit on her head and she wanted to head home and knock herself out with sleeping pills. Turning around, she leaned against the edge of the table. A foot shorter than him and yet she showed no fear, her gaze directly on him. ‘Were you planning on making them disappear? Is that why you lied about your weekend?’

He took a deep breath, shock lancing through him as her words hit their mark. How could she have possibly known the truth and his true intentions? Unless, he suddenly took in her demeanour, she wouldn’t stop scrunching her nose muttering about balms and sleeping pills, constantly sighing and turning away from the sun’s glare shining through the windows.

She was a open book; her honesty and goodness shining out of her every time she smiled. He wanted to preserve that smile on her face, not see her frowning in displeasure especially because of him. His lips thinned slightly as she huffed out in discomfort. The moment she looked him in the eye, every cell in his body screamed to dominate her. Her confidence in her abilities as well as her body was admirable - he could see the seams of her pencil skirt were about bursting.

Stepping into her space, he tugged her closer to him, his hand burning through the thin layer of her shirt at her back, trailing a long, cool finger down her cheek as she stared at him wide-eyed. Finally, a reaction worthy of his taste.

‘It’s alright, my darling. I will never hurt you, not you. Not here…’

The desperation to taste her, mark her was slowly driving him mad. How sweet it would feel, her soft moans as he stretched her arms over her head and her legs apart; wrists and ankles in his leather cuffs bound to the bed. His silk sheets gliding against her skin, as he would tease her with his fingers and lips; his skin tone a direct contrast to her beautiful bronze.

Picking her up, he gently set her down on the table, her head tipped back against his hand reached up to cradle it. Rummaging in her bag, he found the small bottle of sweet-minty smelling balm that she so coveted. He held it above her head when she reached for it, his voice slightly husky. ‘Let me, my dear. After all, it is my right as your husband to take care of your every need.’

Her eyes widened as the weight tripled, letting out a silent scream and she slipped into darkness.

*

He gently spread the balm in soothing circles on her forehead, the sudden urge to protect her, cherish her filling him. Even fast asleep, Y/N let out a small moan of relief that was music to his ears, his eyes glued to her body. Sinful thoughts ran through his head whenever she shifted, his shirt sliding across her hips. Every breath he took was carefully exhaled, perfectly planned as his eyes wandered up and down.

Softly, he pushed aside her braid, letting the overside of his fingers slide down her collarbone that was exposed in his shirt. He didn’t understand the need for him to have to dress her in something with colour, but he dug in his wardrobe till he found an old yellow shirt, slightly worn from several washes. You shivered, whimpered softly as the anticipation of branding his mark over her creamy brown skin had him clenching his fist tightly.

Unable to help himself, he slid the blanket covering her lower half, exposing her to him as he slid a pale hand up her leg, tracing the thighs full of hickeys, and the finger shaped bruises on her hips where his fingers had bit into her when she rode him. He knew her breasts held the same marks, her throat lightly bruised from his chokehold.

He couldn’t believe it when she passed out from a simple lie; yet, instinctively he knew, she had figured out that he had made plans for her to disappear like his parents. Stealing a quick look at her, he lightly stroked a bruise on her thigh, lightly pressing eliciting a soft sigh from her.

Picking her up in his arms, he had told Maria they would take the last cake; Honey and lavender - vanilla cake soaked in honey-lavender-white wine with honey-goat cheese frosting, something that suited the both of them. He had Niles rush them back to his apartment, understanding that his lying was physically hurting her.

After applying the balm and changing her out of the confining clothes, he laid her down in his king sized bed with silk sheets that now just seemed too much. Sitting next to her, he had gotten the shock of his life when she suddenly sat up to straddle him, rubbing herself against him. ‘Loki, you have to help me. It’s too much, and I need relief. Need you in my wet pussy.’

Crude seduction had never worked on him before, he preferred women of class and stature but those words sent his cock springing to attention. The next few hours were a blur as she humped him until she came again and again, completely soaking his pants till he lost control, and buried his tongue in her pussy just so he could answer the question of how she tasted. The answer: divine and sweet. He stayed there for several minutes, alternating between biting the soft skin of her thighs and licking her clit as she dripped onto his tongue before collapsing still after the 9th orgasm.

Breathing hard, he stared at the small woman next to him. She was a match made for him.

In one week, they would be man and wife.

What would she do when he told her the truth?

Forever bae <3:

@dammn-dean @aniketadeptinmacabre

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[mysticsparklewings]

Arteza Watercolor Polaroids 

On a bit of a roll with the painting stuff lately, aren't I? I mentioned in my last piece that I had a specific piece coming up to talk about the supplies I used, and this is it! So let's talk about the 60 set of Arteza Watercolors, shall we? Boring stuff out of the way first: I purchased the set from Arteza's website while it was on sale for $35, and signed up for their email to get an additional 10% off discount code. I was too cheap to pay $4 for express shipping, but the paints arrived about 4 days later, so the wait wasn't so bad.    The set comes in a sturdy paper/cardboard box, and the paints are 6-tubes to a little plastic tray, five trays deep in two columns. I was a little confused at first because my assumption was that the paints would be laid out with the first ten in the first top two layers, but actually, you make your way down the column on the left for the first half of the paints, and then down the second column for the second half. It doesn't make much of a difference, it just took me a minute to figure out that's how they were arranged so that I could swatch them in the correct order.    The tubes are 12 ml each (which seems like a fairly standard size watercolor tube from my experience), and each one has a label around the top indicating the color, with the color name printed on it. Just a note that I did have one tube, my Ice Blue, that had a little bit of this sticker/label that had ripped off at some point--I assume while it was still at Arteza's factory since the missing piece was nowhere to be found in the box. This also isn't a huge deal, but I think it's worth mentioning since this combined with my experience with Arteza's colored pencils proves that they do have a few minor quality control issues that pop up from time to time. Here's where things get a little more interesting, as when I swatched the 60 colors out initially, I was also testing for something else beyond color selection. (Incoming tangent on the way paint dries, presented in small text so you can skip over it if you have no intention of letting the paints dry and then reactivating them or otherwise don't care.) The price for these is awesome--$30 or $40 (depending on where you buy from and sales & such) for 60 colors that have proper pigment and lightfast information is a great deal, considering some other brands of student quality paint can cost upwards of $30 for as few as 10 or 12 colors, and professional quality paints can cost over $10 for one 5 ml tube--However, I initially passed on buying these because when I first started looking at them (not long after I'd only just started getting into watercolors) I was big into the idea of converting the paints from tubes to pans in a travel palette, but a lot of the reviews on Amazon and from more experienced artists that I value the opinions of made it pretty clear that these paints don't seem to like doing that. They dried funny, or weird, or somehow "wrong," to make them into pans. And so I wondered, is that why they're so inexpensive? To swatch the paints, I squirted a teeny tiny drop of each color onto a piece of plastic I was just going to throw out anyway instead of mucking up a nicer plastic palette and having to clean it off if the paints did indeed dry in such a way that they were unusable. (I.E. couldn't be reactivated and used again like most watercolors.) I swatched twice; once on a piece of watercolor paper that I cut so it fits comfortably in the box with the paints, and again on a thicker piece of regular paper that went in my swatch book for quick color reference. I had a decent portion of each drop left, and so I sat the "palette" aside and let it dry overnight. Being the skeptic that I am after other art supply experiences, I just had to see what they would do.    The next day, sure enough, the dried paint looked pretty sad. The dots were exceptionally dry (even for dried watercolor), some looking like colorful desert rocks, and some had dried so much that when my faux-palette was bumped they completely detached from the thin plastic, either in one whole chunk or some in smaller pieces. I was thinking I was going to find what I'd heard to be quite true. Still, I had to try just to be sure. It was a little weird though; the first time I tried reactivating the paints, I made a little Artist Trading Card (more info on those here) with my usual black-tree-silhouette-sunset look, and at that point, I noticed it seemed like the darker a color was the more water it needed to reactivate and the less well it did when reactivated. Granted, I only used maybe five colors at most, and it was a pretty small piece. Then I went on to make my Mon Cher painting with paints fresh from the tube on a proper palette, deciding the little dots I had leftover wouldn't be enough or offer enough pigment/color coverage for what I had planned. Naturally, I had no issues there. But I chose not to clean off the paint from the palette right away. Just out of curiosity, I tried closing up the palette in a ziplock bag to see if that would slow or stop the drying, and even if it didn't, I still wanted to keep trying reactivating the paints because I wasn't satisfied with just the one test. The bag seemingly did nothing as the paints still fully dried, but that may have been that I needed a newer bag since this one I had used before for other things and could have very well had an airhole in it I didn't know about. I had already decided that I wanted to make some more art as my "review/first impressions" piece on the Arteza watercolors since I was so happy with how the Mon Cher piece turned out that I wanted to focus on the painting itself, rather than talking about the paints that made it, and so I ended up slicing up a large piece of Canson XL watercolor paper into Polaroid-sized pieces (yes, official Polaroid size! I looked up the dimensions and measured accordingly!) and figured I'd make however many I felt like out of the nine pieces I'd cut, and then upload them as a set and talk about the paints there. Which brings us to where we are now. For all four of these, I used whatever dried paint I had left; both from the not-palette and the remnants from the Mon Cher painting. No fresh paint squeezed out at all. This time, the results were noticeably better, except on the last one where I was starting to run low on some of the colors and I think I got a little carried away with the water since the piece wasn't turning out the way I'd pictured it in my head. My conclusion on the state of the dried paint alone is that while I don't think I'll be procuring a specific palette to convert these into pans, I can definitively say that they aren't totally useless once they've dried, and that was really all I wanted to know. And just as an aside, if you do want to convert these into pans, you can try added a couple of drops of Glycerin (which you can usually find with soap-making supplies in craft stores), or a little bit of honey (or both if you're feeling adventurous). Both are used in watercolor formulas to help the paints retain moisture; even some professional quality brands like M. Graham specifically use honey in their watercolor formula. I haven't ventured that far yet, but I may try some things in the future and if I do I'll let you guys know how it worked out! Now on to something about the paints besides how they dry in the palette I noticed right away in my swatching and on my Mon Cher painting that these watercolors lean on the more opaque side, which to some watercolorists may be a problem, but it usually isn't to me, as there are some effects and details I like to work with that instead of having to pull out other supplies. You can probably see this exhibited best in the first one, which I think almost looks like a gouache painting, rather than watercolor. You can also see this effect pretty good on the third one, especially since most of the black on that one is watercolor as well, unlike the first and fourth ones, where the black portions are either stamps or pen. This also means that the color spread pretty far without much paint with the more water you add to it. But they also water down pretty nicely, as seen in the Mon Cher piece and as you can see somewhat on the second one here. And likewise, they layer up pretty nicely too. I was also pretty surprised that these watercolors didn't seem to mind having other supplies put over top of them; My white gel pens and black pens didn't fight me really at all with them. And I did use a little pale yellow PanPastel around the moon on the second one since I was afraid I'd end up with a harsh water line if I tried to use yellow paint to glaze it. It wasn't all peaches and cream, though. On the fourth one (the one with the snowy evergreen trees), I'm not really sure how much of it was the paint and how much of it was the paper (as this Canson XL watercolor paper is lower quality than the Canson Heritage L'Aquarelle paper I did the Mon Cher painting on, and lower quality watercolor paper that isn't 100% cotton can have issues with certain techniques) and how much of it was just user-error. But as you can see, what was supposed to the Northern Lights did not turn out as pigmented or as nicely blended and arranged as I had envisioned in my mind. To be fair, I was starting to run low on the blues and the pink I wanted to use, so that may have contributed to me making personal errors in fear of completing running out and being stubborn in not wanting to put any more out for this one last small painting. I ended up trying to use my white gel pen to save that last one, and if I'm honest I'm still not sure how I feel about the final product. I feel like it is kinda pretty, but I think the reason it just doesn't work for me is that, as I said, it's almost nothing like what I had pictured in my head.  I'll have to try this look/technique again and try different paints, different paper, etc. and see if I can get closer to what I see in my mind's eye. I supposed I should also mention that on the second/pastel moon one I also had some trouble getting the clouds exactly how I wanted them, but that comes down more to A. me being very particular about the clouds and B. the ever-present unpredictably of watercolor. At the end of the day though, I really like how these Arteza watercolors handle, and I'm pretty eager to do more with them. And, I don't normally say one way or the other on my watercolor opinions, but this time around I feel comfortable saying that I think these would be a good choice for a beginner, even the smaller set options and not just the full 60 set like I got. And this is where I'll talk about the color selection: You can kind of tell when you swatch these out that the first 24 colors are probably the exact arrangement you'll find in the 24 set, as you've got a fairly basic color layout: White, a few yellows/ochres, orange, a few reds, a rose/magenta color, a couple of purples, a few blues, a couple of greens, a couple of browns, and a black. From there the color layout seems pretty randomized to me, including a Neon Pink kinda all by itself and some really pretty pastel colors, and some really nice muted pale earth tones too. I think this is one of the first times where I've felt like the color selection is really well-rounded and there aren't really any major switches I would make if given the choice. If anything, I can think of some colors I'd love to add on to the set (some more Neon colors since the pink is one of my favorite colors to work with so far, and I'd love to see some metallic/shimmer shades with the same formula), but as of right now I can't say I'd replace any of the existing choices with them. One more thing I will mention: The paints do have identifying number codes, much like the Arteza Expert colored pencils do. And while I figured not all of the colors would match/have colored pencil counterparts, I was surprised to find that seemingly none of them match up, even ones that have the same name. For example, in the colored pencils, "Noir" (black) is A012, but in the watercolors, it's A163; likewise, Apricot in the pencils is A034, while the watercolor is A212. I'm not really sure what's the deal there, and I don't have much else to say about it other than it was just kind of weird to me. (Then again, I don't know why that surprised me; Prismacolor has both alcohol markers and colored pencils, many of which are named the same and look pretty much the same, but the numbers for those don't match either. So I don't know why these should be any different.) Regardless, I do really like them and this honestly makes me want to try their 60 sets of Gouache and Acrylic paints a lot too, since these turned out so nice, I've been wanting to try gouache, and if you've been paying attention to me lately you'll know I've been dipping my toes into acrylics lately. I'm closer to getting the acrylics than the gouache partly because I have technically used those before and they're cheaper, and I do have my eye on another, cheaper set of gouache I think I'd rather have as my first set to see if the 60 set would even be worth the investment anyway. The point I'm trying to make: I like the Arteza tube watercolors, and as long as you don't mind dealing with the drying issues (in/on a palette; on paper they dry just fine ) that I mentioned at the beginning of the description in small text, then I think if you want to give them a try you're in for a bit of a treat. They may not technically be professional quality, but I'd say they make a pretty good stand-in if the idea of paying $10, $15, or more for one tiny tube of paint (or over $100 for a much more limited palette) is entirely too much for your wallet to even think about. Speaking which, there may or may not be another watercolor piece on the horizon made possible only by the magical power that is clearance stickers at the art supply shop, so stayed tuned for that. ____ Artwork © me, MysticSparkleWings ____ Where to find me & my artwork: My Website | Commission Info + Prices | Ko-Fi | dA Print Shop | RedBubble |   Twitter | Tumblr | Instagram

[brittreadsandwrites]

22/01/17

an honest introduction

Before I begin journaling on a regular basis, I thought we might sit down and have a little chat. (I told you I was a textbook rambler didn’t I?) When you are reading through somebody’s thoughts and opinions, whether they be positive, negative or neutral, I think it is important to first understand their perspective and to engage with an open mind.

If you don’t mind, I’d like to tell you about myself and how I ended up here. But where do we begin? How do you find the beginning that matters, when the beginning, middle and end are all so tangled? Have you ever tried to untangle spaghetti? No, neither have I…

I have always been a creative person, talkative and hands on. As a child, I was often found holding a pencil, either drawing a picture, writing a story, or creating both. Because who tells a child that they can only do one or the other, heck I was going do both or so help me…

It wasn’t until I reached grade nine, and was struggling in my social circle that I picked up my first novel. Little did I know, that book and every book that would follow it, would become one of my best memories and most loved hobbies. I continued to make art and read books through my teen years, both for my education and for my sanity. But when grade eleven hit, I began to think about my future and where my true talents may actually lay. I grew sick under stress and spent little under a week in hospital – It was this week I realized what I could and could not live without. English was brought to the front of my mind art was placed as a plan B.

By the time I reached grade twelve and my final year of high school, I was flying through English close to the top of my class, writing short stories in my spare time and working on ideas for a future novella. I applied for a Bachelor of English Literature at one of the finest Universities in my state and waited anxiously after graduation for my results.

I sat at my laptop like all fresh graduates do, and refreshed my browser every three seconds until our acceptance letters were posted. I was in! I had received the exact OP that I had needed to be accepted, and I was in. This, I know was a work of God.

But then reality set in, like the Death Star blowing up Alderaan, my outrageous dreams of working in a New York publishing firm were destroyed. In order for me to pursue English, I would have had to move and hour away from my family. Which, of course, now I realize is not very far at all, but I had just freshly turned seventeen and had never been on my own before.

I deliberated with myself, with God and with my family – but still, I had come to no rightful conclusion. I waited until the very last moments, right down to the wire before I responded to my college offer.

I declined it.

Following this decision, I went the very next week to my plan b option. I enrolled in a Visual Arts degree at my local university and started studying the following month. I made it through one semester of art before I bailed. I applied for deferral, desperate to be free and was allowed to take this break off to work instead.

Fast forward. Twenty-one months later, I decided to return and complete another semester of this degree. I went, I struggled and I loathed every minute of it. My intention was obtaining enough college credits, that I could exit this bachelor with a lesser degree and walk away for good.

Following this semester, both myself and my family were proud that I had given studying another go, and we were all on board with the idea of my pursuing another degree.  At the beginning of this year, I made that move out on my own, and began studying in the city – Art Therapy. This at the time, seemed like a great idea. If you know anything about art therapy, then you know it is a powerful tool in helping children, seniors and troubled youth deal with their loss and insecurities. I believe in this degree – what I don’t believe is that it’s meant for me. Half way through the year, I moved back in with my parents in a fresh place, and stopped attending my classes. I have now deferred that degree also, with the intention of withdrawing from it completely.

There we are – We’ve finally caught up with time. For the past few months, I have done nothing but immerse myself in great storytelling. This comes in forms of books, television shows, movies, and ‘story time with Mish’ (I’m afraid you have to be there for that one). All of these activities have made one thing abundantly clear – my love for stories didn’t die when I chose art over English, they were simply lost in the temporal zone. It is as if, my mind, through festive reflection, has travelled through time and recovered those feelings.

Christmas is a week away, and the new year is just around the corner. I don’t know if it is just me, but the festive season always leaves me in a state of reflection.

Do you ever look back at your life and it feels like dream? Like perhaps it wasn’t actually you, but a drone who looked like you? I am beginning to feel like I’ve been asleep for years.

Where is the little girl who wanted to write her own story and illustrate it too? Where did her ferocity go?

I think I drew a lot of pictures as a child and people told me constantly that I should become an artist – So I attached myself to those comments and I’ve been chasing after that idea ever since.

Now I am not blaming anybody for the choices that I have made. I made them and I made them alone. But I have spent (and wasted) four years of my life pursuing a dream that wasn’t even mine to begin with. I let my fear stamp out my own fire. I favored choosing what felt comfortable, or what felt like the right thing to do at the time.

I think we are all faced with a moment sooner or later, where we are sitting at a crossroads and we aren’t sure which way to turn. Do we turn back? Flee to the safety and comfort that home will always offer? Or do we close our eyes, take a breath and step over the town line?

I spoke with my sister about this topic recently, and she told me that as you grow up and mature, you realize that certain things, though you liked them when you were young, aren’t necessarily your strong points. I think in growing up you naturally realize and learn things about yourself that you really couldn’t have known at the time. She also imparted one last spec of wisdom, and said “Don’t continue to make a particular mistake just because you’ve spent a long time making it – Just because you have spent a long time creating something, doesn’t mean you can’t walk away or choose something else for your life/time.” This was just the statement that I needed to hear from my big sister. It let me know that she wasn’t disappointed in me, and that It’s not wrong to believe in a change of a plans.

Lastly, and I know I’ve said a lot – If you’re still with me I’m impressed and you deserve a pat on the back. Somebody else I spoke to this week, said something to me, and I found it quite profound. He said, “What you want to do when you are young is more accurate, because it hasn’t been filtered by life’s disappointments.”

So that is what has brought me here. I am putting my past mistakes and misadventures to bed and I am going to use this blog to find and reignite the embers of my writer’s dream.

~ B M. B