#and a program does not usually know WHAT it is trying to convey

[scumtrout]

Man a lot of companies think they can replace voice actors with robot voices, but they fail to appreciate that the robot voice frequently inspires A Great And Terrible Rage in people.

[haru-dipthong]

Ep 12 of my Utena fansub is out!

私たちも今までいろいろやってきた、疲れたわね

We've been so busy the last few episodes. I'm pooped.

A juicy little indulgence on my part here - the fourth wall break here by the shadow girls does not actually exist in the Japanese (explicitly). I’ll explain why I added it.

Here’s a very literal translation of the individual words above with no thought given to context or adjusting for grammar.

We (also) | until now | various different things | have done up to this point

I believe いろいろやってきた (lit. we’ve done various different things up to this point) is referring to their various performances in a sort of meta way. If we take each appearance of the shadow girls as a semi-in-universe mini stage play, this line is referencing the presence of previous plays within the current play. They’ve played pirates, plate spinners, cowboys, an educational program, and more! Acknowledging these things is tantamount to a performer acknowledging the fact that they’re an actor rather than a character while on stage, so the fourth wall break felt appropriate.

Anya was also happy with the fourth wall break and added that it emphasises the episode as a turning point and helps close out the arc, which I really agree with!

-----

また黙秘するわけね。今のウテナってかっこ悪いよ。何か取られた腑抜けみたい。なんだかわからないけど、取られたら取り返しなさいよ！

Are you clamming up again? You look pathetic right now. Like you let someone steal from you! I don’t know what it was, but if someone took something from you, take it back!

Couple of little things to discuss about this line:

かっこ悪い is often translated as “uncool” or “lame”. This can sometimes be accurate, since it’s the opposite of かっこいい (lit. cool), but in this circumstance those words don’t hit hard enough. This かっこ悪い is more barbed than usual, so I kept the barbs by choosing a different word: pathetic.

“Clamming up” was an off the cuff choice because I felt I’d used “be quiet”, “not talk”, etc too many times in the previous scene to reuse them here. I think it fits with Wakaba’s personality and the current situation pretty well! 黙秘 is defined by jisho.org as “remaining silent; keeping secret”.

腑抜け means “coward” or something similar. I tried phrasing this line a few times to get that word in somehow, but in the end the whole rant just read so much better without forcing it in. Also cps (characters per second) was a concern here.

-----

元気な友達がいるね。

Your friend has quite the personality.

元気 (genki). What a word! Often translated as “energetic”. So often in fact, that even before I checked, I knew that the ohtori.nu translation would have used it, and sure enough!

Your friend is very energetic. (from ohtori.nu)

Along with “eyesore” and “confession (of love)”, this might take the bronze medal for common Japanese words that consistently get translated into very uncommon English words.

Of course, 元気 can literally mean “having a lot of energy”, or simply “well” (as in the opposite of “unwell”). But “energetic” is just such a bad translation for it 90% of the time. I wish I could convey why in words, but in most contexts, the word 元気 and the word “energetic” just feel so different.

Anyway, 元気 has quite a positive nuance, which emphasises the passive aggressiveness of Touga’s comment. The intent with this line is that he’s giving a vague compliment to Wakaba, indirectly (talking about her as if she’s not there), and making it clear that he wishes she wasn’t around. Everything else about the line should be secondary, including the specific meanings of each word.

I think this is emblematic of my general approach to translation — to identify the author’s original intent of a line/scene/work and then write it in a different language with the same intent in mind. Every line, every scene, is trying to do something — I believe it’s the translator’s job to identify what each line and scene is supposed to be doing and preserve that, so media literacy is very important. Sometimes that line is doing exposition, in which case a literal translation of each word is often ideal. Sometimes that line is trying to evoke a feeling, establish a character, or make the audience remember similar experiences, in which case the individual words used matter much less. In this case, the line is attempting to invoke memories of similar experiences of passive aggressive, dismissive comments. And frankly, “Your friend is very energetic” does not do that, so I consider it a poor translation.

-----

Thanks as always to my ride or die @dontbe-lasanya for their awesome editing this episode (and every episode!)

Make sure to follow the blog for episodes as they're released. Go here for all previous episodes:

[totesmgoats01-published-author]

KinitoPET, Doki Doki Literature Club, Pony Island, and The Beginner's Guide: Some Autistic Gamer Thoughts

This is gonna be a long post and not exactly my usual kind of post but I hope some people like it anyways and are able to read the whole thing. I'm kinda just infodumping some thoughts but still.

I really like all of these game. I really like them. And I sort of relate to them in an unexpected way that I think most of them (with the exception of The Beginner's Guide) did not intend.

I think the link between the first two is easiest to explain so I'll start there.

KinitoPET and DDLC are both games about computer program, who has a singular, hard-coded purpose, becoming sentient and taking that purpose to an extreme. And similarly, they both harbor no actual malice as characters. And that's what I find so compelling. Kinito just wants to be the perfect best friend, and as a computer program, all he knows is gathering data, so that's the means by which he tries to do it. He doesn't fully understand what it is to be human. He doesn't have a grasp of free will, especially because he doesn't really have free will the way humans do, even though he's sentient. He's a computer program. He has a singular purpose. So he uses that purpose as a means to the end of being your best friend, which to him, means trapping you in a world he made just for you, using all the information you gave him. Computer programs don't die. They don't have a concept of "eternity" or "eternal torment." To him, "forever" is just a length of time.

And most of the same things can be said of Monika. She was designed to be a character in a dating sim. The singular purpose of dating sim characters is to fall in love with the player. That's what they do. So she does it, and she does it the very best she can. Of course, being sentient means that she can think outside the box. She wants to be the one you fall in love with and she uses her ability to manipulate her world and the people in it to try and make that happen. At their core, both of these character harbor no malice whatsoever. They don't want to hurt you, they don't hate you, it's the opposite. They love you, they just don't understand human love.

Think about these ideas led me to Pony Island, which once again has that same idea. An Entity(tm) in a computer wants to trap you in/at the computer forever. Only in this case it's The Actual Devil who wants you to playtest his silly pony game forever. The main difference being that The Devil does, in fact, have an understanding of human concepts like eternity and torment. In fact those concepts are kind of His Jam. He is the primary symbol used to convey those ideas. But even still, he never seems to show much malice for the player outside of situations where the player is actively breaking and manipulating the game and subverting his goals. And honestly I can understand that. If I gave my game to someone to playtest it and they refused to play it the way I'd intended, I would not be happy with them. Now, The Devil KNOWS that what he is doing is morally evil. Trapping souls in Gamer Purgatory and all. But in a way I feel like that's not so different from Kinito and Monika. Evil and eternity and torment are the only things he knows. Is that his fault? We have no way of knowing for certain that The Devil has ANY agency over his narrative. We don't know that he knows any other way to live(?) outside of trapping souls and tormenting them and all that jazz. In fact if you really wanna get meta with it in this game that's already a metagame about game development (which is a phrase that describes most, if not all, of Daniel Mullins' games), we can say for certain that The Devil DOES NOT have any agency, because he is a game character designed specifically to be...well...The Devil. He's evil and torments people eternally. That's what a The Devil does. He is NOT self-aware. If he were and he had a choice, maybe he'd just put pony island on itch.io and try to get feedback lol.

All of these games, at their core, are about a character that desperately wants some kind of human connection, but doesn't fully understand how to get that, and in turn makes the human they reach out to feel trapped and uncomfortable.

Do you know what game also does that? The Beginner's Guide.

Even thought it's a massive leap in form from the aforementioned examples, The Beginner's Guide has that same core concept. It's a game about games, in which someone doesn't understand how to be human.

When I first played The Beginner's Guide I totally missed the point. I thought it was just a game about games, and I thought the Davey walking us through it was The Real Devey and Coda was A Real Person who made weird games. I totally bought into the narratives that Davey was telling us the whole time instead of actually thinking for myself. I'm older now, though.

This at-least-somewhat-fictionalized version of Davey is the socially awkward weirdo. Coda is Just Some Guy who likes to make creative games. He's not A Developer(tm), he's a guy with a hobby. The Beginner's Guide is about Davey and how he sees himself in Coda's games but thinks that what he sees is Coda. And Davey never once talks to Coda about anything other than his games. Davey never once mentions having an actual, real conversation with this person that he's coming to consider a friend. Davey is a well-meaning but misguided person, and in some of his games, Coda is actively trying to tell Davey that in his own way. I think a good line that represents this is "If someone had just told me he just likes making prison games..." because it shows how Davey never even asked. There's countless examples of this. Like when Davey says Coda was "weirdly happy all the time" during a specific time period. He doesn't know why. Maybe Coda got a new job he's excited about, or a romantic partner, or maybe he started taking antidepressants, but the point is that Davey doesn't know, and he never asks Coda directly. He just makes wild assumptions about Coda by playing his games.

The Beginner's Guide is about someone who doesn't know how to socialize and is unaware of it. Someone who doesn't know how to foster a relationship with a human, and tries his best, but whose attempts are seen as uncomfortable. When you interpret some of Coda's games through this lens you can see it more clearly. That game about being on a stage in front of someone you admire, that's Davey talking to Coda and Being Weird(tm). And then, when he feels weird, he doesn't actually talk to Coda at all. He recedes back, feeling trapped and distant from someone he wants to be around. Observing only from a distance, through a bunch of prison bars.

Seems familiar.

Of course I could be pulling a Davey by forcing my own interpretation of the game onto you. And so the cycle continues. I encourage you to consider your own interpretation if you haven't ruined by mine, unable to see it any other way (whoops, there's Davey again).

To me, these games are about autism. I am an autistic woman, so of course that's the lens through which I see things. You don't have to be autistic to be socially awkward or misunderstand people. Again, you can have your own interpretation.

But I've felt these things. Being distant from someone, wanting to foster a relationship but not realizing that what it means to foster a relationship is sometimes entirely different from what I think it means. What "a relationship" even is can be totally different from what you expect. And I've been on both sides of this dynamic. Being approached by someone who Comes Off A Bit Too Strong or Too Weird or just Different. And I'm patient with those people. I know what it's like. I know they've been through it with less patient people, or people who only pretend to foster that connection out of pity or some other misguided attempt to make someone feel better. Obviously a relationship founded on pity and one-sided affection is doomed from the start. And in most of these games that "one side" is the other side of your computer screen.

Communicate with your friends, your partners, your family, whatever. If they don't know how to love you right, it's up to you to help them. If they're not receptive to that, that's when the responsibility is on them, at that point they knew the risks, and if they don't respect your boundaries you cut them off. If you don't know how to love someone else, it's up to you to ask them. Nobody wants to be Kinito, or Monika, or The Devil, or Davey, and nobody wants to be their players, either. Be patient with each other, and talk about it.

[chaoskirin]

Civilization Collapse.

Yesterday I looked into a phenomenon called civilization collapse.

It's really the seven stages of civilization, and it's more like a cycle, but it's pretty much what's happening through the world right now. And the United States has made itself one of the pillars of the world, which means if the US collapses, a lot of other people are going to feel it.

This has been well-documented through history, and was published as early as 1918 or earlier.

Stage 0 is the rise of a new civilization and is characterized by courage and hope.

Stage 1 is stability.

Phase 2 is growth.

Phase 3 is prosperity, in which the civilization has essentially reached its peak potential, and most of the citizens are happy, productive, and content.

Phase 4 is called "Overshoot," in which resources are overused, and a moneyed ruling class rises above the rest of the citizenry to create unnecessary income gaps. Greed and the rising oligarchy telling the rest of the civilization that they don't have any options leads to complacency.

Phase 5 is Hubris, in which the oligarchy narrows, and conveys to the population that they know best. Citizens are afraid to rock the boat for fear of losing what they have. The gap between the ruling class and those in poverty widens. There are people who try to help, but those who actually have the power to do so are self-interested and do nothing.

Phase 6 is totalitarianism. And... we're at the beginning of it. It's when those in power assume full control, censorship and propaganda become normalized, which all leads to civil uprising. It's my opinion that we will not see civil uprising for many years, as the self-interest has to be de-programmed, and those who are "well enough" have to be radicalized... But it will probably occur in the next decade. If you plan to leave the United States, you should probably do so within the next 2-3 years. This phase is characterized by fear, nihilism, and fanaticism (IE idol worship of those in charge.)

Phase 6 has also come EXTREMELY FAST for a civilization. The average time any one civilization lasts is 390-ish years. This is because fascism usually creeps a lot more slowly than it has, and does a much better job at keeping the middle class--those who usually drive the nation--happy. Had Kamala Harris won the election, we would probably remain in stage 5--the Hubris stage--for many more years. That isn't GOOD. The gap between the wealthy and the poor would only spend that time increasing, but the middle class would be fairly content.

I feel like the "hubris" stage is also characterized by showy changes which ultimately do nothing. That is, the people who can affect change (our representatives) doing things they know will ultimately fail to make much of a difference. These changes do cause small improvements, but the ability to produce sweeping change is hampered by those who favor totalitarianism.

Examples of these small changes include the Affordable Care Act, which would have cause huge benefits had the mandate that everyone had to pay into it not been struck down.

What's weird about our phase 5 compared to others is how short it was, and how it stopped attempting to romance the middle class right around 2016. In fact, we were in an in-between phase from Trump's first presidency until now, where we probably could have gone back to phase 5 comfortably for a while. (And I say 'comfortably' in that we wouldn't have been so close to collapse.)

Anyway.

Phase 7 ties right back to phase 0. The civilization collapses, but at the same time, a new civilization rises.

This page (my main source) also shows a flow chart that outlines where the United States is in this process, and what years each phase took place: https://medium.com/society4/the-cycle-of-civilization-9f96b9453c89

[jone-slugger]

Here's today's @voyagerweek! Day 6: Favorite Holodeck program. In my case, it's Fair Haven, although this fic is rather a tag to Spirit Folk.

Read it on AO3!

Of Cows and Kisses

“Why did you do it?” Harry asks Tom out of the blue as they have a drink at Sullivan’s.

“Do what?” he’s surprised by the question, clearly not knowing what he’s referring to.

It annoys Harry that he doesn’t. That he didn’t even assign to it an ounce of seriousness, a moment’s consideration on how he must have felt.

“Turn Maggie into a cow”.

“Oh, that? It was just a joke”.

He gets as much. It still doesn’t serve as a valid explanation for Harry.

“Yeah, but, why did you do it?”

Tom looks at him, baffled by the insistence.

“I don’t know, Harry. I guess I thought it’d be funny”. There’s a bit of a defensive tone in Tom’s answer, as if he’s uncomfortable by the turn of the conversation. So much so, that he moves his glass of beer in his hands and utters an apology, with his eyes fixed on the beverage: “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you”.

Harry suddenly feels emboldened by the apology, and he replies, “It did hurt”, and then, he confesses, “it’s just that you know that I don’t have the best of luck finding women, and Maggie was, well, sweet. I just wanted to… I guess what I’m trying to say is…”

But words falter in his mouth. He doesn’t really know what it is he’s trying to say to Tom, who’s looking at him with seriousness in his eyes. It’s unusual for his friend—he always deflects to playfulness when things get serious. It’s his way of protecting himself.

A part of Harry appreciates that he’s treating this seriously. Another part is suddenly scared, but he can’t pinpoint why.

“I’m really sorry, Harry”, Tom apologizes again, and the words that follow take him aback. “I guess part of me wanted to sabotage that relationship”.

“What?” Harry is perplexed. Where is this coming from? What does he mean by that?

Tom is biting his lower lip with an expression Harry cannot decipher. Hell, he cannot even begin to understand what this conversation is turning into.

“Harry… the truth is I…” Tom begins, and he stops himself to take a long gulp of his beer. The seconds extend forever in a strange eternity that makes Harry uncomfortable. "The truth is I’m… happy, whenever one of your relationships doesn’t work out because…”

“What are you saying? You’re happy when my relationships fail?” Has the universal translator malfunctioned? Is he understanding him correctly?

“Yes, because… because…”

“Why? I thought you were my friend!” Harry exclaims, irritated, annoyed, baffled.

“I am your friend! I’m only happy because I wish I were more!” Tom’s also shouting now, and all the holocharacters of the pub are looking at them. Neither Harry nor Tom mind. What do they even know about anything they’re saying, anyway.

Harry’s completely taken aback by the confession. He doesn’t know how to answer; how to follow up Tom’s words. It’s not like he’s never thought about it before. But he had been working hard to bury feelings he had always considered dangerous, or perhaps confused. He’s supposed to like women because… well, he’s never considered another possibility.

Hearing Tom confessing his attraction to him aloud stirs something inside of him that he had tried to ignore for years.

“So, that’s why I changed Maggie into a cow”, Tom eventually says, trying to fill the silence that has invaded them, choking them with unsaid words.

Harry knows he should say something.

“I don’t know what to say”, he admits.

Tom seems disappointed, but he smiles one of his usual sassy smiles that convey everything’s okay, although it might very much not be the case.

“No need to say anything, Harry. In fact, we can just forget about this whole exchange; we can act as if it never happened”.

“NO!” Harry shouts, much louder than he expected, much more desperate than he thought possible. He tries to calm himself, and lowers his voice, “I don’t want to ignore this conversation”.

Tom is now the one who’s baffled. He arches a brow and looks at him in questioning.

Harry feels the need to explain himself.

“I just meant… I mean… If it’s okay with you… I wouldn��t mind…” all coherent sentences have left his brain.

But Tom understands.

He smiles and leans towards him, until he’s suddenly kissing him. It feels much better than it did kissing Maggie—even if she hadn’t turned into a cow.

It somehow feels right.

So, when they separate, they’re both smiling, satisfied.

“Are we… okay?” Tom asks him, and Harry leans to peck him on the cheek.

“I only wished you had turned my flings into cows years before!”

[just-here-for-the-art-shit]

I know this isn't something I'd usually post, but I would really appreciate reblogs because I think people should read this.

Ok - so - I like to listen to very old radio shows, especially mysteries and thrillers. Some are very good, and some are hilariously bad.

There is this one that I listened to the other day that was such a perfect prediction of the future it scared me.

And so, Spoiler warnings if you want to listen to it for yourself.

And it's important to note: This is a story from 1942

It is Episode 20, "Beware of Tomorrow." The basic gist is it follows a scientist, the scientist's compatriot, and the main character, another scientist invited to the mansion/laboratory. The head scientist has created a giant, 300 pound robot, named Alber capable of "solving problems," but also, "obeying commands" as well as things like walking, talking, situational awareness, etc. It can "think" and solve problems you ask, but it still follows the orders of what programmed it to begin with.

Sounding a bit familiar yet?

Well, the very night the MC arrives, Alber kills the scientist and flees into the woods. The lab assistant says that it is too dark and dangerous to chase a robot through the forest with just the two of them. He explains for a while now that the doctor was planning to create an even better version of Alber, and that would eventually render Alber obsolete, and because "Alber can think on his own," he suggests that's why Alber killed the doctor.

They plan to contact the police in the morning, and will be able to take Alber out of commission because Alber needs to come back and charge his battery by the end of the night.

Well, morning comes, and the assistant guy is way, way too calm about this. He's just making breakfast, while the scientist's body is still just ... there. The MC returns to the lab, and just as suspect, Alber has returned and is in a sleep mode, charging. He takes this chance to look into what is going on and finds that the robot did not "think" about killing the doctor, rather, it was programmed to. You probably know where this is going by now but the lab assistant is revealed to be the one who did it, because he wanted to create stronger, more weaponized robots (at this point in time, America is still involved in WW2), but the doctor wanted robotics to aid people, not harm. Then the assistant had Alber kill the MC because MC refused to work on more "weapons," was going to tell the police, etc, end of story.

Once again, emphasizing - 1942.

They already knew the bullshit that was going to take place, hence "Beware of Tomorrow."

Now I'm telling this story because I'd like to talk about this in the modern day. There's tons of content, movies, books, theories, tons and tons of things that talk about the fears, issues, etc, of androids becoming sentient, conscious, and emotional beings. And just what they might be capable of. But what we see less of is what the REAL worry is, and what this story was trying to convey.

Truly, I do believe that technology, robotics, mechanics, were developed with good intentions by their originators. I think it is a good and wonderful thing - in the right hands.

But then ... It lands in the wrong hands. And that's when technology becomes dangerous.

We should not be worried about the progression of science and technology in itself, but the people behind it. Those that seek to control humanity by different methods, and you can name countless entities of such. That is what "Beware of Tomorrow" was saying.

A few things, one - the application of human emotions to Alber. The doctor's assistant was easily able to create a believable story that Alber must've killed the doctor out of jealousy and fear. So MC said, "Yeah, that makes sense." Because Alber can think, right? Yes, he can - but he does not think with emotion. We as humans are emotional creatures, and so we apply emotions often to even the most inanimate of objects. So it was quite easy to fool the MC with this explanation. Alber is a robot, but they, the characters, apply humanity to something that is not human. The doctor even gave Alber pronouns, he/him.

Often, we've come to fear technology out of this belief that they are human, and think as humans do. We fear that they will think for themselves. But truly, their "minds" are what they have been programmed to be, and the data they collect. They can obtain the logic of millions of people via the Internet, but remember, those are still our brains, not things it came up with on its own.

Two, as mentioned in the story, Alber's creator had good intentions. It was those (the assistant) that saw the potential for other things. We should be less worried about technology gaining sentience, and be focused on who is running the show, because they are the real problem, and they WANT you to disassociate the robot from the creator. For instance, say you're faced with a killing machine, like the hounds from Fahrenheit 451. It's dangerous. It needs to be stopped. Destroying it will solve the problem at the moment, but it is the people who are the problem, and nothing will stop until they are.

Three, the MC dies for refusing to collaborate with the assistant. This is a theme we see almost everywhere in situations where people are trying to make a change. For instance, ACAB. The police are a system, and those individual officers who want to "change" the system, to uphold what SHOULD be the purpose of serve and protect, well, what happens to them? They get fired, hazed, chastised, etc. Three things can happen from here - they can't beat the system so they join it. Or, they quit being a cop and move on to something else where they can actually do good. And third ... they die. Those who actually went out of their way to protect people end up dead.

While the story was about a robot, its real focus was society and its systems. Of the people in charge and the real problems we face. Robots wear the face of their owners. The good are shoved aside in the pursuit of progress. Safety isn't the number one priority. Money, greed, power all become the focus, and that's why we suffer. Which, I'm sure you already know. This isn't anything new - and that's what a story written in 1942 proves. And stories before that - stories all the way back to before man could even write. So keep your eyes on the real enemy. Don't let their ploys blind you.

[art-bible-discord]

HOW TO ACTUALLY STUDY A FUNDIE

Let's start with a basic concept of what it means to study art. The first thing you should know about studying is the goal is to learn something by heart and be able to apply it. So how do you do this with art? Well, art is a broad subject that is way too detailed to have a study that covers every single fundamental in a way that you can easily learn quickly. In general, art is hard to learn because studying it becomes a concept that is very confusing for the average person. It's not like typing in specific problems in math on google and watching YouTube videos to learn. It's more of critical thinking about how to approach a specific part of art.​

What is not a study? 1.) Guessing how to do something with no knowledge backing or resources 2.) copying images with no further exploration or information given 3.)Trying to do things by your imagination or "head"

Building Blocks

You need to ask yourself the following questions to really begin to critically think about how to study:

1.) What am I setting out to study and what is the end goal for that?  ex. What fundie are you studying, what in that fundie are you wanting to focus on, what area of that specific are you wanting to improve?  If you can't answer this then it's critique time or reflecting at your work compared to someone's who is better.

2.) Is this realistic study I feel I can do ? ex. Is this something that might be too hard like you just started out and are trying to copy wlop's work.

3.)What does the study need to contain in order complete 1 and 2 in the list properly? ex. A study that really focuses on what you are trying to do and why along with it being within reason.

4.) What resources, knowledge, and materials do I need to do this? ex. Do you need specific photograph? A program? What do you need to get this done?

Putting this into Action

Answering the questions above: 1.) I am setting out to study how to paint eyes, my end goal is to improve my painting skills in conveying form and lighting of eyes in more lively way.

2.) This is realistic other than I might not have proper knowledge on pupils or eyes at all angles.

3.) This study needs to have basic notes, eyes are various different angles, and tasks that focus on painting eyes.

4.)I will need a reference sheet of eyes, notes on pupils, and have canvas big enough to fit this study within it.

Applying Answers to Reality

Using a Clip studio's eye tutorial as example....

The artist is making notes about the interaction with angles and body in this case it is the face/head.

Their notes and information:  In an average realistic adult face, the eyes are in the middle of the face. Usually, the pupils are sitting on the midway line.

Eyes are a good tool to measure the proportions of the face. In the front view, the eyes are one eye apart from each other and one eye apart from the edge. Due to bangs or sideburns the distance might appear smaller.

Don’t worry too much about symmetry. Keep flipping the drawing horizontally until both ways look right. Human faces are not perfectly symmetrical.

From the side view, the positioning inside the eye socket makes the eye seem tilted. Stylized proportions are derived from realistic ones so the pointers can still be applied and deformed depending on the style. Even when the eyes are bigger, a structure that can be imagined in a 3D space should be established. This is the basis to make the eyes look 3-dimensional and imagine them from various angles.

Continuation of notes:

The form of the eye changes when the pupil moves. Don’t be afraid to break up the eye shape to make it dynamic. The pupil moves on a sphere, not on a straight plane.

Continuation of notes: Especially when drawing eyes from a ¾ view it is important to imagine the spherical space they move on. Keep the thickness of the eyelids in mind. Stylised approaches might leave out some anatomical details, but the shape should still act like the realistic eye in order to achieve a 3-dimensional result.​

Notes: When the head is turned away in semi profile you might only see the tip of the eyebrow and eyelash. Turning it more reveals there is no space between eye and eye bridge. This indicates a strong change of direction to where the head is facing before it turns into a full profile.​

More: Imagining an eye mask can help to unify the features around the eyes so that they don’t just float on the face. The eye mask is also easier to imagine in different angles. Making the features work together helps to enhance the readability of the intended emotion. Eyebrows are a very powerful tool to show emotions. Sometimes it can help to exaggerate the eyebrows even if it might stray away from a realistic approach. Bringing eyebrows down to the eyes makes a strong expression. The effect grows when the expression is preceded or succeeded by a contradictory movement to show the full range of squash and stretch.​ ​ Take into consideration what you really need. Simple eyes might work better for animation or a style that is more based on movement. Illustration and close-ups might require a more detailed approach.

Personally, I try to avoid spending too much time on eyes so that I don’t forget the rest of the body. However, in an emotional drawing, giving special attention to the eyes might be a good idea.

Notes: It’s helpful to imagine the eyes as a closed shape even if you decide to leave gaps at the corners of the eyes. This makes it easier to indicate volume and draw the eyes at different angles.

End of their notes: The cornea is a transparent lens covering the iris and pupil. It has an effect on the shape of the eye. Be careful with the position of the pupil from different angles.

Big pupils indicate looking at something far away or the eyes adjusting to a dark situation, among other things. Small pupils occur during bright light or looking at something from up close.

Keep in mind

You don't need detailed notes like the example given but at the bare minimum, your guides and notes should look like the images where you have visual examples and notes of things to remind yourself. It is always important to try to approach studying like you are trying to teach other people something you just learned. You have to think about what is the important info and little notes you would need to get a topic accurately noted and taught.

And of course~

Look around and see how professionals or other artists do their studies and notes. This can also help you slowly understand what you need from something when you are studying. Keep in mind, make personal notes about what you need to work on or what you are doing wrong compared to what is correct.

[ay0nha]

20 writing questions !

give a preview into your mind! how does the genius flow? how do you write? (only answer questions you're comfortable with! feel free to tag other writers to share the love ♡)

1. Is it a spur of the moment thing, or do you need a specific environment/set up to get into it? Both! But, I'll admit it's usually spur of the moment, and I'm like, jot that down, jot that down!! 2. Where do you write? (phone/pc/typewriter/all of the above?) Laptop (google docs) and phone (notes) 3. What apps/programs do you use? above! 4. How long have you been writing? too long lol 5. What fandoms do you write for? too many lol, they shift according to my hyper fixation (currently: OPLA, Jujusu Kaisen, Marvel, Harry Potter, etc.) 6. Music, or no music while writing? (if music, what kind?) I'm more of a tv in the background kinda gal, but if I'm not home writing a playlist or playlist made for me! 7. What does a WIP look like to you? (do you take notes? is anything color-coded? do you have a preferred font?) I wish I had a better technique but I literally word vomit/ stream of consciousness it 8. Do you proofread? barely, a quick glance is enough 9. What's something you googled recently for writing? always spelling or like...am i using this word correctly or did I totally make that up hahaha 10. How many words does a usual work from you have? I used to write around 4K-6K, but to maintain my sanity I've cut down to 2K-3K (and some 1K) 11. Share a snippet from something you're working on!  "It was strange to hear a voice that lost the ability to joke and convey tenderness. It was cold, hollow sounding, and barely reached you without exposing pure desolation. Its echo ridiculed him." 12. How many drafts do you have currently? I'm too scared to check hehe 13. What's something someone said about your writing that stuck with you? "I seriously can't wait to read your book one day and go "we were tumblr mutuals" 14. What's your safe zone? Is there a character or genre you're most confident writing for? hmmm you know I've been giving this thought lately, I think I have an easier time writing a morally questionable character because I can "work" more with them being annoying to drive the plot. 15. Is there something you want to try in your work that you haven't done yet? haven't given much thought to this, but open to suggestions! 16. Do you have a favorite work of yours? All of them (maybe my tommy shelby/theseus scamander stuff, but my fave fave for nostalgic reasons is "pain in my heart" for Bucky Barnes 17. Do you have a least favorite work of yours? All of them (probably the old stuff, if I was still active for certain fandoms I would love to rewrite them with more mature writing) 18. Genre of the very first thing you wrote? Every cliche I could think of/bad fluff and angst lol 19. Genre of the latest thing you wrote! OPLA/angsty angst 20. Last but not least, where can readers find your stuff? (your masterlist/other sites you post on/etc.) HERE!

tags! @togenabi (as the creator of this wonderful post, I'd love to hear about you!) @kalllistos @from-the-clouds @sp1rit-realm @lundenloves @wood-white-writer

I appreciate you all dearly <333

[engbergsinfinland]

Christmas Eve, Eve, Day 🎄

Greetings from Finland on Monday the 23rd! I think we're just about already for Christmas here. Obviously, it's been a hectic week this last week, which is why 6 days have gone by and I haven't posted! Right now, the kids are about to do an hour at the climbing facility in Tullintori, which has all kinds of interesting structures for them to climb on, harnessed. But, the big headline is that I have all the Christmas presents bought. High five!

Here, Christmas Eve is the big family affair, and the big meal happens on Christmas Eve, and Santa comes to visit on Christmas Eve. Christmas Day is another family day. And then boxing Day, the day after Christmas, is another family and friends "visiting day."

We will have our traditional posole on Christmas Eve, and perhaps Santa (joulupukki) will come visit the kids ;) We will definitely miss the smell of piñon in the air, the cold clear (usually) night, the walk around Tanoan with my parents seeing the Christmas lights, and all of the luminarias in New Mexico.

But we're going to try to really soak up the Christmas Eve experience here in Finland. People do go as families to the cemeteries, which are full of candles. Apparently it is very beautiful, and we're going to find out tomorrow at about 3:00 when the sun is setting.

I did want to mention that I have been in communication with Santa about this: while he may visit with the kids on Christmas Eve, he will also drop some presents off as he flies over Finland to deliver presents through chimneys in the night time, which is what my kids are used to. The kids are also hip to the possibility that Santa's colossal operation may indeed be difficult for one old elf to handle so he does have an army of designees or delegates who represent him throughout the world and have endured rigorous training and are themselves elves who represent his spirit and mission, visiting kids in the Christmas season. If a "Santa" comes to visit them at home on Christmas Eve, it may in fact be a designee visitor, but they are to treat him with the utmost respect because he is part of Santa's retinue of global ambassadors and communicates with the boss in real time. The kids did meet Santa at his visiting college cottage outside of Ruka, so they know from the source that he is very busy on Christmas and they do in fact know what he really looks like. Like their mom, our kids really love the idea, the love conveyed by, and the mytho-reality of Santa Claus.

So, I don't have much work-related news to share from the last week. Though, I do actually have one meeting today, with a new admit to our graduate program in the US. I also did some research on an article I have been tryng for a while to finish, but I am at a bit of an impasse because I can't get the hard copies of the books that I need until I get back to the US and I can't find the content online that I need from those books.

Today, before we came climbing, we went to the building where I am teaching starting in January and now I know where my classroom is. So I feel basically ready to go, though I still have to polish up my syllabus. It is a class I've taught many times before, but I will make some changes. Good thing I'll have tons of time on the plane 😆

This last week the kids had various celebratory days at school, which was very nice. Rowan got his report card, though Cece does not get one until the end of the year. Rowan's report card was absolutely exceptional and we're so proud of him. He does love school here so much and he says he wishes he could stay here at FISTA rather than going to any of the middle schools he has to choose from in Albuquerque. It makes me sad that this won't be a possibility for him. I hope he has a great experience back home in 7th grade, and that his experience here makes him even more confident and full of interesting wisdom to share with his grade mates, although I'm not sure 13-year-olds are very receptive to wisdom imparted by their peers 😆 I hope he is also receptive to the knowledge, fun, and energy abounding in 7th-grade humans back home ❤️

On Saturday, the kids and I took the train to Helsinki to see "A Christmas Carol," the ballet version, by The Finnish National Ballet, at the opera house, and we were joined by Laura, the wife of another Fulbrighter and former dancer, and her 3-year-old daughter Annika. We had such a wonderful time. Though, Cece was very scared by the revealing of Scrooge in his casket by the Ghost of Christmas Future. She actually came to sit with me in the theater and said it was the scariest thing she'd ever seen. But she did seem to bounce back with the more festive scenes that played out over the rest of the ballet.

Otherwise, we started watching a Christmas movie last night as a family. I've made some more cookies and I have made beautiful new Christmas stockings for us to use here.

I have thought a lot about our packing for our trip but I have yet to execute ;) A big part of what we're packing are all of the boxes of kakkutukku, cookies and candies that Rowan sold to people back in Albuquerque as part of his 6th grade fundraising. I'm sure I wrote about this in a previous post months ago. Otherwise, we're not taking a whole lot, because we have clothes in Albuquerque, but we will be taking gifts for family and friends at home, especially my friends who have helped me with all of my Albuquerque house related things. And in Albuquerque, there's so much we are looking forward to, and one of those things is having a bridal shower for the kids' dear babysitter, McKenzie. And they will get to skate on a number of occasions with their beloved Coach Barb.

Anyway, Merry Christmas Eve Eve to all of you. I will write more soon, potentially from Paris when we are there for 2 nights and one day, starting on Christmas Day night.

[brisbane-seocompany]

What Does a Web Designer Do?

Websites are usually designed and built by a web designer Brisbane, who ensure that they are not only aesthetically pleasing but also useful and user-friendly. Nowadays, people rely on websites to make their daily tasks such as online shopping, connecting with family and friends, and accessing information useful for their jobs or daily lives.

A web designer is responsible for vital decisions like the contents of the page to the smaller details like which fonts, colors, and graphics to use. A web designer creates the layout and design of a website. In simple terms, a website designer makes a site look good.

 In this article, we will try to explain what web designers do, some typical tasks, and the skills required to become a web designer.

 What are the daily tasks of a web designer?

 A web designer is responsible for designing and drafting websites that are both functional and attractive. They are responsible for the appearance and texture of a website, from the colors and fonts the website used to how users access the information they need and collecting the elements together into a final design. Functional elements involve navigation, animation, speed, structure, user interaction, and browser compatibility of the website.

 Some of the daily tasks of a website designer are the following:

 ·         Conceptualize by creating sample pages and mockups, and testing the website design ideas to ensure that the overall design complies with the best practices in web designing.

·         Optimizing sites for maximum speed and scalability

·         Provide the best user experience on his client’s website

·         Incorporate functionalities and features

·         Create wireframes, storyboards, user flows, process flows, and site maps

·         Create user-friendly and appealing websites

·         Be up to date with the latest technological developments

 What kind of skills should you develop to become a web designer?

 These are some of the common skills that a web designer must have;

 1.    One of the many important skills a web designer must have is to have knowledge of web designing tools – i.e. ClickUp, Figma, WordPress, Adobe, Wix just to name a few.

 2.    A web designer must have knowledge and proficiency in various design programs like Adobe Creative Cloud, CorelDraw Graphics Suite, and others. These programs are often used to create visual elements, produce mock-ups, and manipulate images, all of which are needed in web design.

 3.    A web designer must have some coding knowledge. Though a web designer does not write the code to make a site function, it will be valuable to a web designer to know a little about some code writing like HTML or CSS to make small changes to a site or to control templates, enhance fonts, or adjust the placements of objects easier.

 4.    A web designer must have a basic understanding of the Content Management System (CMS), which integrates the management of digital assets like web designs, embedded graphics, video audio files, and other programming codes. Knowing how CMS functions will certainly equip a web designer to design websites more effectively.

 5.    Every web designer must be able to know how digital marketing works. Being aware of how several components of digital marketing operate will prepare a web designer to test the website and know the latest market trends.

6.    A web designer must learn how to manage his time properly and effectively. Learning how to manage the schedule effectively will definitely keep a web designer’s multiple projects moving.

 7.    A good web designer must be able to communicate with others. Good communication skills will enable a web designer to convey all forms of technical information in a clear and transparent manner.

  Nowadays, more and more people rely on the internet for their daily needs, whether it will be for work or for personal use. In order for a website to generate more and more traffics, it will need a web designer who can absorb a specific set of productive and distinctive web designer skills. These may range from professional, technical, and personal skills. With these forming the core of a web designer’s inherent abilities, it would be extremely easy for him/her to become a successful web designer.

[one-winged-dreams]

MASSIVE LORE DUMP, AS PROMISED, I'm high as shit so I hope I conveyed my vision wel

using my tag list just in case

Tag list: @dearly-beeloved @camellias-and-coriander @rebel-wolf13 @sunstar-of-the-north @lysandreslittlechatot @goldenworldsabound @edencantstopfallininlove @adoredbyalatus @dorothys-wife @faerie-circle-ships @kylars-princess @little-miss-selfships

Okay so as far as I've got, everything started when some "heavenly matter" fell to Earth. It was humanoid but possessed no organs or indicators that it was at all a sapient being.

So of course it gets dragged off and every researcher on the planet NEEDS to get their hands on it. So humanity does its thing where "we don't know what it is but let's find out what we can do with it.

A few month or a year later comes first contact with aliens who show up and are like "So that stuff came here, right?" And once the semantics of 'holy fuck, aliens' wore off humanity was like "oh the heavenly matter? Yeah, neat stuff, been playing around with possibilities, why?" And the aliens are like "Do you want space kaiju? Because that's how you get space kaiju." "What does THAT mean?" "You'll find out if you don't stop fucking with it."

And then they leave and of course humanity doesn't listen. And then giant space kaiju DO start showing up. Which means humanity does what humanity does and tries to build giant robots. Giant artificial cyborgs is more like it. Whatever they're mechs. Later the call them Angels seeing as how they're made out of the "heavenly matter"

They're supposed to be fitted with an AI but the AI keeps getting rejected. Lo and behold, the thing has created a brain and has it's own consciousness. This proves to be extremely interesting and troublesome because there is little to no communication. It may as well be a newborn baby. An AI program is created to give them an instant crash course in the basics of humanity but it's still difficult to communicate with them because they can't speak (no vocal chords) and they can barely move on their own. Eventually one manages to tap into a network (what kind I do not know) Bluetooth style and requests a neural link with a human being. It will be absolutely permanent, there will be a person in your head at all times, and the connection can't be broken until both of them die.

Sounds good let's do it.

So they start trying to link the Angels up with people but they find out that compatibility is difficult to discern. After a while it's discovered that certain people with cognitive degeneration or imbalanced brain chemicals take to the link almost immediately. THAT'S a secret they keep under wraps, along with the fact that it's a legitimate treatment that works at the price of you never having personal privacy again.

Anyway, a company is born called -gestures bc I've got nothing rn- that becomes the face of the project. It's made up of multiple nations of the world as to discourage the Angels as weapons of war. Which would eventually have happened if the space kaiju didn't actually show up.

The ones that had been neutrally linked to an Angel were instructed to enter the (very gross and squishy and slimy) inside so that a full neural link could be completed. And then it was monster ass kicking time. The Angels made perfect weapons against the Kaiju and the aliens from first contact came by like "we have literally never seen anyone crazy enough to do what it is you're doing, teach us because these things have been wrecking us forever,"

And so the corporation expands all over the world and out into various civilizations through space.

And so being a pilot is COOL now, you're a hero, a sports star, a celebrity and public figure. There are usually three to five pilots in one base (which is the building they keep the mechs in as well as a building so huge it's literally a self contained community for employees and pilots to live in for the sake of convenience. Anyway the company is like the biggest deal on the planet.

The way they scout for pilots is to find someone with an abysmal psych case file and cross reference it with their cognitive ability. Then they swoop in like "I know life's hard sweetie? Don't you want to be healed? Don't you want to be a star?" And suddenly there's a new idol to fawn over. The Angels are just as popular, sentient mechs are hype as fuck. the pairs go on becoming full on celebrities.

The neural link itself is a two way mental connection between the Angel and the pilot. They hear feel and see the same things and hear each other's thoughts. It's the ultimate commitment because it can never be broken.

When pilots are out or need their Angel's presence without lugging a giant 40 foot tall (absolute MINIMUM, They can go as big as 80 feet) mech around, they have a neural Bluetooth speaker attached to their own person because they do meetups and talk shows and all that other bullshit.

Anyway, Sariel is an aerial unit, so he's got big angel wings (shhhh let's not think about the mass production EVAs for a second) and he's only 40 feet tall. He's got charm but in a rough sort of way. He's kind of a jackass but a playful one.

I'll talk about my insert on the design art.

So uh

I got got by this post

so...

potential new oc f/o just dropped 👉👈

ABSOLUTELY ripping off the concept of religious themes in mecha series, he's like... a giant sentient mech. That has flesh also? And his designated name is Sariel.

I need to put like, an actual plot together because I need a convoluted narrative to make a dynamic

But yeah >:I

tag list: @dearly-beeloved @camellias-and-coriander @rebel-wolf13 @sunstar-of-the-north @lysandreslittlechatot @goldenworldsabound @edencantstopfallininlove @adoredbyalatus @dorothys-wife @faerie-circle-ships @kylars-princess @little-miss-selfships

[renbennett]

My brief

What is the project asking you to do?

I am going to map out the different ways in which the model minority myth was perpetuated through incarceration, how it still harms people and why abolition is necessary.

What exists already? What needs are people addressing? Who are the big/historical players? What research do you need to do? Who is usually addressed or privileged? Who is disrupting this category?

The model minority myth and our penal system are ways in which white supremacy has been allowed to continue flourishing in the US. Minority groups have been ignored and are typically stuck in lower income communities without substantial government aid. Taxes that could be used to help these communities with social programs for young students or struggling families are instead used for military and police funding. A system that has historically been used against its own people, as long as they are minorities. Black people, Native Americans and Asian people have been used for unpaid labor and have been forced to relocate by our government and we need a solution that will help us move away from this problem. Minority communities are left to struggle and are incarcerated at a ridiculous rate where they are then forced to live in horrible conditions and work for a couple cents an hour so that they have no chance of going anywhere in life. We have continued the cycle of slavery and racism but it is hidden in our “justice” system. This is why it needs to be completely restructured so that it can serve the people and allow for real rehabilitation for those who need it.

Owning your perspective

What communities are you a part of? What communities are you accountable to?

I am the child of wealthy white parents. This means that I am very untouchable by the law and have the power to speak out without such harsh punishment and I believe that this creates a responsibility to my friends of color (and all POC). I grew up in a wealth community going to private schools and have been given recourses and power that for decades have been used to keep white supremacy alive and I believe that it is the responsibility of many of my counterparts to stop this generational cycle.

Identifying your audience

What communities does this project ask you to address?

While abolition and the model minority myth affect many groups, I am specifically addressing its effect on Asian Americans as it relates to the internment of Japanese Americans during World War 2

Who do you think should be the main audience for your work? Who  are you trying to reach?

My audience is ideally apolitical people. I think there are a lot of people that would be supportive of abolition if they had a clear understanding of why it is important. A lot of voters don’t understand the systems they regularly support.

Why do you think they should be the main audience for your work? What do you want them to know or do after viewing/interacting with your work?

I think they should be the main audience because I believe that leftists and abolitionists are viewed as dangerous in a very problematic way as narrated by our government. People find it extreme to want to take down our system but it hasn’t been working for us and has caused years of generational trauma.

What communities do you need to build more understanding/relationships with to do this work?

I have been listening to audios of people who went through internment and have been reading first hand accounts to do this work. As a white person I learned about the Japanese internment but I did not learn about the economical impact on people or the individual experiences after the fact.

Values

What do YOU think is the most important value to the user that should be present in your product/project?

I think it is most important for this project to convey the deeply rooted incompetence of the United States government to deal with racial issues.

Why?

Because people have an expectation that if they ask the government for stricter laws or more help that it will do something. The sad truth is that the result of government help will only hurt minority communities more because our entire system is built to support white supremacy.

What are some of the themes you are noticing or drawn to in your research? What are some gaps in your knowledge that you are filling in? Are you noticing any dominant perspectives? Misrepresentation? Limited or missing narratives? Lack of mention of other groups or histories?

Large themes that I am noticing is that the government made so many mistakes throughout internment. For example, prioritizing the military and putting in place executive order 9066 caused a wartime food shortage because of all the farmers being placed in camps. The inmates had to produce most of their living materials because the government was incompetent. I needed to fill in gaps for what happened afterwards because I notice that people don’t exactly cover that but once you look at first-hand reports, you find that people struggled heavily after internment.

What issue or problem do you want to respond to with your work? What is important to you?

Abolition is important to me and so is stereotyping as a means of proving white supremacy.

Inspiration - What inspires YOU as a designer, person, human? What do you respond to?

Limits

 What are you making? Revisit your assignment - this is where you get technical - a map, an audio track, a book, etc - what form will it take?

I am constructing a rube goldberg machine. I had a lot of different ideas regarding materials but then I decided to make the whole thing a tree and I didn’t want to distract from the point. I also wanted to use recycled cardboard although I had originally planned on wood because I just had so much cardboard and didn’t want to throw it away. Anyways, the whole thing is a tree and the roots kind of explain and document all the nasty parts within executive order 9066.

What are typical trends in this category?

I ended up just using marbles because I felt like it was a classic and would be straight forward.

My Goal: this statement should be your aspirational summary statement that you can come back to for reference. Let your goal be your guide.

My goal is to demonstrate our need for abolition through addressing the racism and expectations of minority groups, specifically Asian Americans in relation to Executive Order 9066.

[ducktracy]

how do you start a storyboard? what’s the difference between thumbnail sketches and rough sketches? i wanna learn, but i’m so lost

GOOD QUESTION I AM HAPPY YOU ASKED!! as with all of my explanations, this’ll be long winded but i hope it helps!

so YES! thumbnails are usually first! it depends on how you’re approaching the board. are you working off of a script/written list of ideas? are you just starting completely blank?

i usually try to start with some form of writing down, just because i’m flighty and don’t want to miss any potential ideas in the rush of the process. i’m going to use a personal board i started for fun as an example (and as an incentive to pick it back up, because it said i last opened the file in August, so…)

usually if i’m doing a personal board, i’ll have an outline written of the basic actions i want. nothing too thorough, just “so and so does this” “action for this panel” “so and so does that” etc. this one is timed to music, which is a special case—i REALLY didn’t want to lose the ideas i had, and trying to recite those and keep the beat of the music at the same time got overwhelming and i didn’t think a sheet of thumbnail drawings would help maintain the authenticity in time, if that makes sense. so what i did was type very vague descriptions in each panel, with the panels timed to the music so i knew what to fill in later. i’ve rehearsed the actions enough in my head that i have an idea of what i want, so when i see “camera pans past Porky” i immediately know we’re going to follow Daffy out, i can see Porky encircling him as he catches up in perspective with the camera (enter foreground, exit foreground, Daffy tracks him the whole time while he walks), etc etc I CAN SEE IT. so i have a jumping off point for my thumbs

there were some actions more reliant on the music than usual, so i scribbled them out as crudely and quickly as possible to not only not lose the idea, but see if it works. the water splashes are “animated” in comparison to everything else, but that was mainly to see how the execution would work—is the overlap cluttered or natural? will i have enough time for each beat? i can already tell that i want to move the splashes back as the camera catches up so it doesn’t tangent off screen. that’ll be all fixed later during clean-up—right now i’m just focused on getting the ideas down and sketching out what i have a clearest idea of first. that’s also why there’s a jump of white before Porky and Daffy themselves—i know i’m going to have Daffy come up to Porky from behind, but not exactly sure how i want to stage it yet. fly down in a down shot? follow Daffy from an eye level view? those aren’t pressing matters right now, and i feel i’ll get more clarity with that later once i carve everything out. as such, i just skip it and go to what i have in mind. that’s also why Porky is missing for the last few frames; i needed to envision Daffy’s acting more and see if the staging allowed room for his broad actions. i’ll squeeze Porky in later. BUT. to answer your question more directly, thumbs are usually the blueprint of the blueprint. they’re meant to be crude, ugly, scribbly, NOT DETAILED. they’re meant purely to convey ideas and thoughts, which will be expanded upon later with the roughs. some people like to draw thumbs directly into their boards—i like to open a program like MS Paint (or even just the margins in SBPro) that is as simple as possible so i can focus purely on what i need to. much of it is acting, but sometimes staging is a priority, which i’ll indicate in a box. it is never perfect/completely accurate, but that’s again what the roughs are for. here are a few examples of how i thumbnail—there isn’t a right or wrong way to do it! i just like to have it all in one place so i can check back periodically, i get cold feet if i put my thumbnails directly in every panel. feels like jumping in too quick, i like to work my way up from there

and let me be clear that you can go straight to clean up if you’re comfortable! i know and work with people who go straight from thumbs to clean, and i envy them GREATLY. i’ll sometimes have two different versions of a rough if i’m having trouble getting an idea across—i need to ruminate with the drawings a bit more and generally feel more at ease through the general progression, but it’s all a matter of how you work

and really, it’s just clean up from there! cleaning up the characters, backgrounds, adding inbetweens if necessary for the demands of the board… and after i’m done cleaning, i’ll take care of any housekeeping such as adding white mattes to the characters so they don’t blend in with the BG and checking to make sure the sizes are consistent with each other. (i really only do the latter for professional work, as my personal storyboards are a bit looser and a little more lax) this is a bit of a crude explanation because storyboarding is so subjective of a practice and everyone does it differently. ideally, initial thumbnail drawings would just BE the storyboards, with all the fancy clean up left to layout! but that’s another story… and one that’s futile to bring up seeing as these are for personal use anyway HAHA. but i just like to work my way up and sort of see where the storyboard and the characters take me

[criminalmindzjunkie]

The More Loving One

Masterlist

Summary: Professor Reid finds himself falling for a student. 

A/N: This fic is based on this request. I changed a few things up, but I hope you like the finished product!

Long time, no see! It seems like forever since I got to sit down and just enjoy writing something. And enjoy this, I did. I approached this one a bit differently than I usually do, but I like how it turned out none the less. I hope you all enjoy my take on the Professor Reid arc. The first poem I use in this fic is titled The More Loving One by W.H. Auden, and the second is from a collection of Perry poetry.

Also, I recently hit 2k followers, which is absolutely unbelievable. I can’t even begin to explain how thankful I am for each and every one of you. This fic is my love letter to you. Thank you all so much. 

Pairing: Professor!Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content Warnings: a few swear words maybe?, teacher x student relationship, age gap, exhibitionism (sorta?), vaginal fingering, unprotected sex

Word Count: 4k

           For as long as Spencer can remember, he’s always had a predilection for the finer things in life.

           Spencer attributes the origin of his preferences to his upbringing. In his childhood, before his mother’s disease got the better of her, she exposed him to all sorts of literature. While he ventured to read all types of writings, he’d always been partial to tales of extravagance. A young Spencer Reid sought refuge in the profligacy of it all, as it was so starkly different from his own reality. Forced to bear the burden of household and a sick mother from an early age, Spencer’s own life left little room for reckless indulgence.

           Now, as a single adult male, Spencer makes it a point to give himself up to the finer things as often as he can. Spencer isn’t a rich man, nor is he careless with what hard-earned money he does have. He simply likes to treat himself to the occasional five-star meal, and even more frequently, posh clothing and rare books. Walls lined with hundreds of antiquarian novels and a closet full of Comme Des Garçon cardigans are where the indulgence ends, however, and until recently Spencer was content with this.

           But when she strolls into his life on the very first day of his teaching career, Spencer knows that his small luxuries will no longer be enough to keep him satisfied. The part of him that longs to have only the very best roars to life as he takes in every perfect inch of her. She stands before him, the embodiment of divinity and grace, looking like every fantasy he only dares to conjure up in the late hours of the night. A litany of cliches from every piece of romantic literature he’s ever read spring to the forefront of his mind in the instant that her eyes met his, but there is nothing stereotypical about the way her gaze banishes the air from his lungs. It is as jarring as it is intoxicating. He never wants to look away.

           Unfortunately, she doesn’t feel the same. With a light flush of her cheeks, she turns away from him, and in an equally unfortunate turn of events, she proceeds to shuffle down the aisle and into the second row of seats to the right of the podium. The realization that washes over him feels like ice water in his veins.

           She’s a student. Worse even – she’s his student.

           Spencer wrenches his gaze from her as if he’s been burned, and the fiery shame of his embarrassment makes him tug at his collar. As he struggles to stave away the lingering heat in his chest and even more embarrassingly, the tightness in his trousers, Spencer chastises himself. His own carnal urges often go ignored, a fact that is glaringly obvious as he cowers behind his podium in an attempt to hide his arousal. He feels more than a little bit pathetic. No self-respecting thirty-five-year-old man gets hard just from gazing upon a beautiful young woman.

           When Spencer pulls himself together enough to start his lecture, he positively forbids himself to look her way. It is hard to fight the urge, but every time he catches his eyes wandering to her, he reminds himself that she is an indulgence he simply cannot partake in. No matter how badly he wants to.

--

           It doesn’t take long for her to notice him noticing her.

           In the early days of the semester, she manages to convince herself that the stolen glances are but a figment of her overactive imagination. That, or an unhealthy dose of wishful thinking. But as the semester stretches on and the professor’s eyes linger more and more, wishful thinking gives way to a startling realization that she isn’t alone in her attraction. Professor Reid is, to her complete and utter astonishment, just as taken with her as she is with him.

           This is all but confirmed when a slight brushing of the hands during an exchange of papers leaves them both with flushed cheeks and pounding hearts. Both of their heads snap up, two sets of eyes meeting in a prolonged stare that results in an understanding of sorts. It’s mutual, this thing blossoming between them. She can see her own hopes reflected in two velvet pools of brown – can see the longing, the desire that burns within them. Her heart soars, as she imagines his does, and she accepts the papers with a smile.

           She also imagines that, if he could, he would tell her to wait for him. He would tell her that, for now, their relationship must stay strictly professional.

           This doesn’t stop them from sating their cravings in other ways.

           She makes it a point to stop by during office hours at least twice a week. Her visits always fall under the guise of her studies, but within minutes their hushed conversations stray from the professional and towards a more personal nature. She learns of Spencer’s mother and her condition, of his unusual job and his coworkers that were more like family. In return, she tells him about her upbringing in southern California, as well as her dreams of becoming a criminal psychologist. They never go as far as to discuss what will happen when the semester comes to a close. It is an unspoken agreement that the end of the semester will find them in each other’s arms. All they have to do is wait.

           Spencer can’t voice his affections with words, but he more than makes up for this with his actions. Without fail, every Monday following the very first clandestine brushing of hands, lavish bouquets of flowers arrive at her workplace. Each bouquet is always paired with a notecard inscribed with a brief explanation of the meaning behind that week’s flower of choice. Cherry blossoms to pay homage to her beauty, plumeria to symbolize their new beginning, agrimony to convey his thankfulness that she is willing to wait for him.

           Her favorite bouquet arrives four weeks before the end of the semester. As she steps through the doors of the bakery, a vase full of nine red roses sits atop the counter. The sight of them nearly takes her breath away. She pauses for a moment and runs her fingertips across the velveteen petals before plucking the notecard from its place.

           This week, Spencer chooses to forgo the explanation in favor of a messily scrawled poem;

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well

that, for all they care, I can go to hell,

But on earth indifference is the least

we have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn 

with a passion for us we could not return?

If equal affection cannot be,

let the more loving one be me. 

           That evening, Spencer receives his first bouquet from her. On his desk sits an arrangement of pale pink ambrosia.

           The meaning isn’t lost on him, but if it were, the note that sits next to the vase makes her intentions clear.

We never had to force love.

We were drowning in it from the moment we met.

--

           Spencer is horribly frustrated.

           A mere twenty feet away from where he stands, the notoriously garish and wholly unprofessional PhD program director is gesticulating wildly to the young woman that stands trapped between him and the hors d’oeuvre table. To find Professor Van Wesep in such a position is not uncommon, due to his penchant for trying to charm (terrorize) the prospective female doctoral candidates. The man is practically a walking harassment complaint waiting to happen. Spencer would abhor Van Wesep even if he weren’t the only thing standing in the way of him and his lover.

           At long last, the semester has drawn to a close. The lonely nights spent longing to hold her in his arms are a thing of the past. By the time the sun rises again, Spencer will no longer have to wonder what her body will feel like pressed against his. He’ll be thoroughly acquainted with every inch of her, and she with him. The thought sends a thrilled chill down his spine.

           The torturous foreplay they’ve been engaging in for the last four months would have surely broken a lesser man. Spencer would be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted on more than one occasion to have her during one of her frequent visits to his office. Some days, when her visits came later in the evenings, just as the sun began to dip low in the sky, her eyes would glisten in such a way that told Spencer her thoughts were none dissimilar to his own. That glimmer of lust had him holding on to his restraint by the skin of his teeth.

           And here they were, on the last evening of the semester. Final grades had been submitted and were released hours prior. Spencer would have been content to skip this event altogether, in favor of more… recreational activities, but his lover insisted on attending.

           Initially, Spencer assumed her insistence lay in her desire to mingle with her future peers and mentors. Her true intentions come to light when she breezes into the room clad in a pair of sleek, designer pumps. Her lips, painted fire engine red, curl up into a playful smile at the sight of a slack-jawed Spencer Reid. The devious glint in her eye twinkles sinfully in the light.

           Tonight isn’t a social call at all. Tonight, she wants to play with him.

           And play she has.

           From the second she arrives all eyes are fixating on her celestial beauty. Peers and mentors alike trip over themselves in their haste to capture her attention, if only for a fleeting moment. She works the room flawlessly, leaving a trail of smitten men of all ages in her wake.

           The most smitten is Spencer himself, because he’s the lone recipient of countless heated glances, as well as more than a few knowing smirks. She well aware of what she’s doing to him, and she takes pleasure in watching him squirm.

          Spencer intervenes when Van Wesep makes the ill-advised decision to reach a hand up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. He barely has the time to withdraw his hand before Spencer is upon them.

          “I apologize for the interruption,” Spencer casts a faux apologetic glance at his colleague, before settling his gaze on his target. “Ms. Y/L/N, may I speak to you for a moment?”

           She looks positively gleeful. Perhaps Spencer should have intervened hours ago.

           “Absolutely, Professor Reid.”

           The honorific sends a jolt of heat straight to his groin. He definitely should have stolen her away earlier.

           The two of them say their goodbyes to a confused Professor Van Wesep, whose imploring eyes follow them as they hurriedly slip from the party and down the hallway.

--

           “Where are we going?”

           Spencer leads her down a long corridor, far beyond earshot of the other guests. Pushing her into a dark corner, he positions her between himself and the cold wooden door of an unoccupied office. The only sounds that can be heard are the distant thrum of the music and the eager pants falling from his lover’s lips.

           Spencer pulls her into a searing kiss, one hand tangling in her hair and the other finding purchase on her waist. He worries for a moment that he’s being too rough with her, that he should have taken a more careful approach to their first kiss, but she assuages those worries when she kisses him back with equal enthusiasm. Her hand reaches between them and clutches his tie, then she’s pulling him closer and whining wantonly against his lips. Spencer takes this as an invitation to slip his tongue inside and he finds himself letting out a low groan when he tastes a hint of strawberry.

           Spencer pulls away to catch his breath. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

           “Oh, I think I do, Professor,” she laughs, breathless. “Probably just as long as I’ve wanted to do this.”

           Spencer jolts forward when her hand slides down to cup him over his trousers.

           “Could’ve done that a lot earlier if you hadn’t insisted on teasing me for the entire night,” Spencer growls through gritted teeth. He’s more than a little proud of his ability to string together a sentence with her hand working him over with slow, steady strokes.

           He trails a line of kisses across the underside of her jaw, before taking her earlobe and nipping it lightly with his canine. Spencer’s actions are rewarded with a full body shudder. He dips his tongue in the hollow at the base of her throat and her hands ball into fists against his dress shirt.

           “Spencer, please.”

           Spencer hums and pulls back to look at her. The hand in her hair lowers, and he trails a thumb across where her nipples are hard against the fabric of her dress.

           “Yes, my love?”

           Her eyes flutter against the weight of her arousal, and Spencer twitches in his pants. The sight of her with her hair disheveled and her lipstick smeared on account of him is a heavenly thing. He doesn’t know how he ever deprived himself of such a splendor.

           “I want you. Right now.” She punctuates her words by pulling him down into a frenzied kiss. One of her hands tangles itself in the hair at the nape of his neck while the other busies with tugging his shirt out of his pants.

           “Right now?” Spencer taunts, mouth against mouth. His hand trails down the side of her breast, caressing her rib cage and her hip before stopping at her upper thigh. Spencer’s fingertips toy with the tops of her lace thigh highs. “But anyone could walk by and see us.”

           “I don’t care,” she argues, fumbling clumsily as she struggles to undo his belt buckle.

           Spencer’s wandering hand dips below the hem of her dress to explore the silky-smooth skin of her inner thigh. She’s soft here, too, he thinks to himself as his hand travels up, up, up. He stops just short of where she wants him most and she lets out a despairing cry.

           “You wouldn’t mind someone walking by and seeing you with your pretty legs spread wide for your professor?”

           Spencer brings life to his words by lifting her leg up, hitching her thigh around his hip and pressing into her. The silk fabric of her dress rustles as he pushes it up and out of the way.

           A breathy moan tumbles from her lips as he rocks against her, dragging his arousal up and down the front of her lace panties. The friction is maddening in that it provides only the smallest bit of relief. It’s not enough for Spencer, and judging by the way she desperately pushes down the fabric of his pants, it’s not enough for his partner, either.

           “Need to get these off now,” she murmurs against Spencer’s mouth. An eager hand tugs at the elastic band of his underwear.

           Spencer places his hand on hers, stilling her movements. “Not so fast, baby. Gotta make sure you’re ready for me first.”

           Her fingers clamp down on Spencer’s wrist, guiding him to the sodden lace between her thighs.

           “Don’t think that’s gonna be a problem,” she whimpers as Spencer’s fingers take appraisal of the drenched cloth. “In fact, I think four months of foreplay is sufficient enough. Wouldn’t you say?”

           “Maybe so,” Spencer muses, voice muffled as he sucks at the skin of her neck. “But I’m not willing to chance hurting you our first time together. You’re entirely too precious to me.”

           Spencer captures her lips in a kiss so sweet it has her sighing into his mouth. When he pulls away, he fixes her with a smile.

           “You’re not particularly fond of these panties, are you?”

           Her eyebrows pull together. “No, why?”

           Spencer pulls at the flimsy fabric harshly and it gives way under the force of it. He reaches back to stuff the thong in his back pocket.

           “That’s why.”

           Spencer’s lips come down against hers at the same time his middle and index fingers drag across her slickness. His foresight pays off when his mouth muffles the sound of her cries. As confident he is that they won’t be found, a cry like that would certainly have drawn unwanted attention.

           The swipe of his thumb across her crest paired with the gentle pressure of his fingers dipping into her heat is enough to make her legs buckle. Had it not been for Spencer pressing her against the wall, she surely would have fallen to the ground in a trembling heap.

           “I could get lost in you for hours,” Spencer groans, curling his fingers inside her in such a way that makes her clutch desperately to his shirt.

           “Spencer, oh my God,” she keens. “I need you, please.”

           “You have me, my love,” Spencer whispers the promise against her parted lips. “You’ve had me since the first moment I laid eyes on you.”

           Spencer speeds up the onslaught of his fingers until the telltale tightening of her heat warns him of her impending climax. He has to bite down on his lower lip to regain his own composure. The feeling of her tight and wet around his fingers is almost too good.

           “Spencer, I’m getting close,” she whimpers.

           Spencer continues until she’s on the cusp of tumbling over the edge, until one more pass of his fingers against her crest would surely seal the deal, and then he’s removing his hand and taking a step back.

           “Spencer, what the fu-,” she pauses when he promptly shoves his pants and underwear just enough to free himself from their painful confines. “Oh.”

           A dazed smile makes its way to her face as Spencer presses himself against her once more. He sweeps her up into a kiss comprised of pure, unadulterated desire, before pulling away and smirking deviously at her.

           “Jump.”

           It takes a moment for her pleasure fogged brain to make sense of the request, but as soon as it does, she complies without question.

           Spencer’s hands grip her thighs firmly and in one swift thrust he sheaths himself into her fully – an indulgence so grand that all others dull in comparison. Now that he’s had the finest, felt it wrapped around him like warm velvet, he can’t imagine a world in which he must live without it.

           “Spencer!”

           Spencer swears he’s never heard a sweeter sound than her crying out his name as their bodies come together for the first time. It’s synonymous with a siren call, he thinks, because in that moment she could lure him to certain death and he knows he would go with a smile.

           His lips seek purchase on the exposed skin of her chest as he buries himself in her paradise again and again. The sharp sting of her heels digging into his back with every thrust brings out a sort of primal urge in him, spurring him to rut up into her like a man possessed.

           “You feel perfect,” Spencer groans out against the flushed skin of her neck. He presses a soft kiss to where her pulse bounds just beneath the skin before pulling away and locking eyes with her. “When I’m old and gray and can remember nothing else, I’ll remember this. I’ll remember how it felt to kiss you for the first time – how it felt to touch you. How it felt to worship you and make love to your body.”

           Spencer’s voices catches, thick and overwhelmed with emotion.

           “I’ll remember how it feels to love you.”

           Her breath catches in her throat and sharp pang of panic burns hot in his chest. Had he misinterpreted her affections? Did she not burn for him in the same way? Perhaps the ambrosia meant nothing. Spencer’s movements falter, and for several torturous seconds he’s nearly paralyzed with fear.

            She silences those fears with a kiss.

           “Oh, Spencer,” she sighs as she presses her forehead against his. “I love you, too. More than you could ever comprehend.”

           Spencer resumes moving in and out of her, but the frenzied feeling from before is replaced with something else now. Something softer, but no less passionate.

           “Yeah?” he inquires, searching her eyes for any trace of insincerity. He finds none, and it’s a relief. Any hint of falseness in her claim would surely lead to a heartbreak he could never recover from.

           “Yes.” The word trails off into a moan. “I love you, Spencer Reid. I don’t imagine I’ll ever stop.”

           Spencer’s heart jolts and he whines pathetically against her mouth. “I’m counting on that.”

           “I’m close, Spencer,” she pants, her breath hitting his face in warm puffs. “Don’t think I can last much longer.”

           “Me, too.” Spencer nudges her nose with his own. “Reach between us and touch yourself, my love. I want us to cum together. Can you do that for me?”

           She nods, and the hand that clung to his right shoulder dips in between them to rub tight circles against her crest. Spencer doubles his efforts when he sees her eyelids flutter closed, and the resulting tightening of her core leaves him panting hard.

           “Spencer, I-” her breath catches in her throat as Spencer delivers a particularly strong thrust. Her head falls against his shoulder, her soft moans of his name like heaven to his ears.

           “Cum with me, baby,” Spencer grunts out desperately. He needs it like he needs air to breath and water to drink. And once he has it, he knows he’ll need it again and again.

           She gives it to him with a muffled cry of his name and he’s instantly swept away, drowning in the blissful way her body sings for him. His body follows her lead, shattering completely under her fingertips.

           While he’s been through similar acts with previous partners, those instances always felt impersonal and clinical. The caresses and whispered words were all a means to an end, an end that usually left him feeling lonelier and emptier than when he started. But right now, as he feels the beat of her heart pressed against his own, he swears he couldn’t feel fuller - full of adoration, full of affection, full of love. It’s beautiful and overwhelming and everything Spencer didn’t know he was looking for.

           A raucous round of applause erupts from the direction of the party, startling the two of them. Spencer feels her laugh against his neck.

           “It’s almost as if they were applauding us for a job well done.”

           Spencer presses a chaste kiss to the crown of her head.

           “As they should. That was sensational.”

           Spencer carefully pulls out and lowers her to the floor. He wastes no time in tilting her chin up and capturing her lips in a reverent kiss. Spencer hopes his lips convey his gratitude.

           The two of them pull apart and set to making themselves presentable. Their efforts prove to be in vain when Spencer points out a dark purple love bite nestled into the crook of her neck. She counters this by taking note of the smudge of red lipstick on his collar.

           “What an adulterous pair we make, Professor.”

           Spencer rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “I’m not your professor anymore.” He bends down and places a kiss to her lips before taking her hand in his.

           “I suppose you’re not,” she muses as they meander down the corridor. “Whatever shall we do now?”

           As the two of them step out of the dark hallway and reenter the party, Spencer smiles to himself. Visions of wedding rings flit through his mind. Spencer supposes he’ll have to take a break from the posh clothing and rare books in favor of saving his money. He’ll buy only the finest ring for his future wife, after all.

           “I have a few ideas.”

-

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[genshin-impacted]

lost & found // Diluc x Reader (1/3)

Word Count: ~3.3k 

Notes: GN!Reader, Seelie!Reader, Diluc/Reader, what more can I say? You’re a cute seelie following Diluc around

Summary: Vaguely remembering the time when you were once human, you are a mini seelie roaming the outskirts of Mondstadt when you find Diluc and decide to follow him-- though he does his share of following you too, through the best and worst of your adventures together. 

“You’re more of a radar for trouble than treasure, aren’t you,” Diluc says rather than asks you, though his fondness is clear to see. You can only do a bashful swirl in response. 

-

Alternatively: As a seelie, you’re terrible at leading Diluc towards treasure without running into hoards of hilichurls or enemies alike, but he follows you anyways. 

[Part 2]

.

.

You are a seelie. 

You aren’t quite sure what that is, but you know for a fact that the wispy reflection that you see in the lake is you. No hands, no legs, no head, no heart-- though you remember when you had all that before. You can feel yourself breathe, but you also know you would be fine without it. You touch the water and vaguely feel its coolness and register that it is wet, but you aren't sure what is touching the water or how you know what it feels like. 

You are able to fly. You rise, and you fall, and you twirl in midair, and you know you have never been able to do this until now. "This is nice," you find yourself saying, but your voice comes out garbled and high, so you stop. You suppose losing your speech is the price to pay for the power of flight.

You don't know how long you wandered until you find something familiar to you. In a land of slimes, aggressive flowers, and crystalized butterflies, it's hard for you to take everything in at once. But you can recognize a human when you see one. (It would be difficult not to. You were once human, too, if you can remember.)

The human is strikingly distinct as far as humans go. With bright red hair, the man in black leans against the tree by the lakeside and watches the water lap up against the short cliff. You don't make snap judgments, not usually, but when you see the man in black, you can't help that your first thoughts are that he looks lonely.

You float to him steadily from what you hope is outside of his sight, curious enough to approach and observe what you can of him without being seen. 

Except, the moment you fly near him, he looks directly at you. (Apparently, you glow, if the light that you shine on his face is not enough of an indicator of your bioluminescence.)

You freeze in mid-air, or as much as you can as a globby orb of light. You wait with bated breath as he watches you as intently as you watched him, and you take a glimpse at what your light has allowed you to see: bright red eyes to match his hair. (You've never seen so much red on a person. And red-red too, not just the orange-y red you've seen people with.) 

Not knowing what else to do, you decide to do a somersault. (You think if you were still a human, you’d attempt to crack a joke or start a conversation to break the ice, but alas.)

You expect him to start doing something-- anything. But the man continues to look at you, though with less of a guarded expression and more of a curious one instead. 

You almost feel offended by the strange look he gives you, but then you see his lips uplift into a small smile and you forgive him. For good measure, you twirl in the air and, when he simply follows you with his eyes, you circle around his head like a halo.

"You're a different type of seelie, aren't you?" He says, his arms still crossed when you fly down to smush your face against the red gem at his collar and the Vision at his waist. You loop around his legs and try to lift his fur-lined coattails, only for him to lift it up himself and shoot you a raised brow. "Did you want me to follow you?"

Follow you? You wonder, why would he want to follow you? You don't think you have anywhere to be, let alone anywhere to lead him to. 

Now how to convey that to him…

The red-head watches you as you shake yourself side-to-side in what you hope looked like the shake of a head. "Ah… That's a no, then. I see," he says. He chuckles when you chirp in joy, looping up again. 

He pushes himself off the tree and walks on the path, toward the mansion in the distance. You follow closely behind him. A few steps in, he turns to you-- and you almost feel bashful enough to droop in height.

"Are you following me on purpose?" He asks.

You swirl up and eagerly bob your head. You wish you could ask, but the only thing you can do is trill-- which seems to do the trick when you hear the man huff in amusement before beginning to walk again. "Well, hurry up then," he says, and you chirp once before speeding up to catch to him in record-speed flying. 

(If you accidentally crash into his back at your eagerness, you think the shake of his shoulders in his laughter is only good signs of the beginning of a friendship.)

.

.

.

You hope the man you’ve decided to follow doesn't mind that all you can do is trill and twirl in the air. You make for a poor partner in conversation, considering you cannot supply the words to respond, but you think he at least finds you amusing at least if the small smile on his face is anything of note. You think he looks rather charming like that, as opposed to his straight-faced somberness when he was alone. Very mysterious, you think to yourself, must be popular.

When you follow him and see groves of grapevines and a mansion of formidable size, you think perhaps his rugged handsomeness and broodingly mysterious nature aren’t his only charm points. 

(You wonder if you can eat. You press where you think your mouth should be onto a bunch of grapes only to be disappointed by a lack of action. 

"What are you doing?" The man's voice calls out to you, amusement laced into his words. You turn around and speed back to him, feigning innocence.) 

The two of you enter the confines of Dawn Winery-- or so you read from a sign. You watch curiously as your mysterious man waves his hand in greeting when a few maids bow respectfully and follow him into the back where a man waits by a wheelbarrow.

"Master Diluc," the man says, and you are elated to finally put a name to a face you've followed for a while now. The winery employee looks past him at you, and you instinctively hedge closer to Diluc, almost hiding behind his hair. "Is that… a seelie?"

"So it seems," Diluc replies, crossing his arms. He takes a look at you. "Though it has yet to guide me anywhere."

You let out an extended squeak of indignance that makes him laugh, uncrossing his arms before he turns back to the worker at hand to discuss business. 

You'll show him, you think huffily. You can guide him somewhere-- it's in your bones (metaphorically). You found him, didn't you? You reason, surely there is something innately Seelie about you that will lead him somewhere.

Most seelies, as you have learned from watching Diluc follow the larger blue seelies, guide people to a treasure chest or some kind of monetary reward for leading them back to their seelie courts. You wonder if they are programmed to know where they are supposed to go and if there is a natural pull to a certain place. You wonder if it's anything like your wandering curiosity similar to that of a child, hoping to see what lies ahead and barreling forth. 

Either way, you take the lead and Diluc follows you out into Teyvat.

And he follows you right into enemy territory.

The first time feels like an accident, and after Diluc destroys the encampment, he finds a box of artifacts as a reward for his battle prowess. (You've never seen so much burnt grass.) The second time you guide him into enemy territory feels like a coincidence. They were next to each other, and hey, Diluc is able to find an exquisite chest this time filled to the brim with mora.

The third time around, it is hard to argue otherwise.

"You're more of a radar for trouble than treasure, aren't you," Diluc comments, settling down onto a log as you (metaphorically) bury your head into your hands. To convey such emotion as a seelie, you droop to the ground as flat as you could possibly be at his feet.

"I'm kidding," he says, watching with quipped lips as you rise from the ground moodily. "We did get some treasure out of it, so it wasn't a total loss." He reaches out with his hand to gently brush over your front as he would a cat-- and you react as a cat would, preening into his hand. He lets out a huff of laughter. "Affectionate, aren't you?"

You do a bashful swirl.

.

.

.

You realize soon enough that most people would not call Diluc private or stoic. Charming, a man with a way with his words, succinct, and pleasant are only a few things you've heard people say about him. And you were right-- he is a popular man if the eyes that follow him and the dreamy sighs that come after he leaves is of any indication.

The mysteriously cool Diluc you meet on the first day is vastly different from the man that everyone else interacts with on a day to day basis. He's not charming all the time, but he has a way about him that exudes confidence and almost an elitist composure. In some ways, you are glad-- you don't have to hide away behind his collar or in his hair (you still do this, if you're honest, just because his hair is so fluffy), afraid to mar his pristine reputation as a local bad boy. And in other ways, you are a bit smug, to know a side of Diluc that he shows to very few people.

Kaeya is one of those few people you have seen Diluc act anything less than amicable towards. 

"I was hoping one day you would have someone at your side but I have to admit, Master Diluc," Kaeya says, propping his face on his hand in amusement, "this is not quite what I imagined."

You let out a titter of laughter at the difference between the two men's expressions as Kaeya pokes at your little translucent ears. Kaeya looks at you with mesmerizing amusement as Diluc glares at Kaeya over his wiped-clean glass like he would like to do nothing else but break it over the other's head. ("It wouldn't hurt that much," Kaeya tells you flippantly. "Not as much as the hangovers his drinks give me.")

"Don't you have somewhere better to be?"

"Not really, no." Kaeya replies, feigning hurt, "Why, don't want me here?"

"Never."

Kaeya gives you a pointed look akin to a puppy. "His words are colder than my Vision, mini seelie," he says to you. "Careful not to get frostbite now."

"You have the privilege of having earned my ire," Diluc says shortly. "Also," he slaps Kaeya on the back of his hand when he goes to pull at your ears, "stop that."

"Protective, aren't you?" Kaeya chuckles, watching as you gaze up at Diluc adoringly. "I think you're one phrase away from telling me to get my own mini seelie."

At this, you let out a long coo, flying up to bop Kaeya gently on his nose before going over to Diliuc and rubbing your face onto his cheeks. You hear Diluc let out another breath of laughter, and you feel his hand press you closer to him. “Are you comforting me?” He asks in amusement, and for once, he does not berate Kaeya for joining in with his laughter. 

“The pair the two of you make,” Kaeya drawls, picking up his glass of Death After Noon. “You’d fight wars for each other, wouldn’t you?”

Of course you would, you think, though there was very little you could do as a seelie-- and you forget that at times. 

To be fair, most of the time, Diluc didn’t seem to treat you any less than his traveling companion. You’re only reminded when you float on your own when he’s cleaning up the tavern and get chased by cats and birds alike, only to come flying home to Diluc blubbering about your near-death experiences (though was it even possible for you to die?). And when you try to, in attempts to help Diluc out, scold a rowdy customer into behaving by slamming your body into their face rapidly without doing any damage whatsoever.   

The two of you-- Seelie and Uncrowned King of Mondstadt-- were a pair of renown. (“Two peas in a pod,” Venti would say the first time you led Diluc to him at Starsnatch Cliff, and “always together like bread and butter,” he said to you two the second time you find him near Starfell Lake. And “are you two following me?” when Venti walks into the tavern for the third consecutive meeting.) And if you ever doubted that Diluc cared for you, you had to look no further than when you were stolen from Diluc’s side by treasure hoarders who didn’t know any better.

It is in these moments where you are viscerally reminded that you are a seelie-- a being meant to guide people to treasures-- and not what you have been for the past few-- weeks? months? by Diluc’s side. You realize that you’ve never been hurt in this form before when you are kidnapped. It didn’t occur to you that you could feel any pain, and you wonder why not when you can feel the softness of Diluc’s hair and the warmth of his hand-- all gentle, loving gestures. Being squeezed by the treasurer hoarder’s hand feels suffocating, like your lungs being crushed under a massive, unrelenting weight.

It is not pleasant, to say the least, especially when they threaten you to take them to treasure that you know you cannot locate. 

Or can you? 

With convincing pulses of light, as though you’re approaching actual riches, you lead them where you lead people (or rather, just Diluc) best. 

The enemies of your enemies are your friends; you watch as an axed mitachurl spins around, chasing after the treasurer hunters who with varying degrees of fear, run away. They would have gotten away scot-free if they had not run into Diluc who had somehow found you before you could come back to him.

His phoenix burns bright especially in the moonless night, and Diluc takes care of two enemy camps that night. 

“Clever,” he says, making you preen, “leading them here. They really didn’t know what they signed up for when they started following you, did they?”

How did you find me? You trill, twirling around. And there should be no reasonable way for Diluc to understand what you’re trying to say, but he does anyways. 

“I just did what you usually do for me,” Diluc says, putting his hand up so you can gently land on it. Your glow illuminates his face in the softest shade of color. You watch as his lips turn up into a small smile. “I led myself to wherever the trouble was and knew I’d find you.” 

(Diluc will never tell you this for as long as you are a seelie, but the moment you do not come back to him when he finishes up his shift at Angel’s Share, his stomach drops. It shouldn’t have been hard to spot you, a glowing light, amongst the quiet, softly lit streets of Mondstadt, but he gives the city a quick lookover and cannot find you. 

He learns about the treasure hoarders from his connections and does not hesitate to take his broadsword with him and go looking for you. 

He runs into two other treasure hoarder camps and fights three groups of slimes before he finds the hilichurl camp you’ve led the hunters into, beyond relieved to see your familiar light in the distance.)

From that night, Diluc finds a mini seelie (you), sixteen anemo sigils, an old broadsword, mora, and a few treasure hunter insignias left behind. He gives you a sunsettia even though the both of you know you cannot eat, and you sit together at the edge of a cliff, watching the moon come out from its hiding place within the clouds. 

You have never felt safer.

.

.

.

You don’t really sleep, but every night you take your place by Diluc’s pillow and let time pass you by. Time feels different as a seelie, especially when you do not have Diluc to ground you to the schedule of a normal person. 

Though, if you were honest, it isn’t as though Diluc keeps regular hours himself. How many times have you bullied (read: squeaked at) him into turning in before dawn? How many times have you pressed your entire translucent body onto his face so he can take the hint to finally take a break? You vaguely remember being a human, and you think you should be abhorred by the amount of sleep Diluc isn’t taking, considering how good sleep can feel. 

On the bright side, Diluc has gotten more used to your antics that it only takes a little nagging from your end for him to turn the desk lamp off.

“You’re quite persistent,” he comments, following you with his eyes as you press your body into various spots in the ceiling above him. “I can’t tell if I’ve been blessed or cursed with you as some sort of guardian.”

Guardian seelie, you titter, spinning around with your ears outstretched as though you were an angel. Special isekai seelie, you laugh to yourself, and Diluc only watches you fondly as you float down. 

"’Stripped of all that the body once held close and the soul once held dear, song and memories are all that now remain of yesteryear,’” Diluc recites quietly as you look up to him. “‘The last singers-- the first Seelie-- they played their final tune in the halls of angels.’" 

What is that?

“It’s a song I remember hearing when I was a child,” he says, “about seelies and their origins. I don’t remember if there was anything else, but it came to me today when I was thinking of you.” You wait for him to continue as he dims the light, your glow the only thing illuminating the room other than the moon. “Most seelies want to go back to their seelie courts… but it doesn’t seem as though you want to.” He pauses. “Or is it that you don’t have a court to go back to?”

You stay silent. 

“Sorry, forget what I said. It doesn’t matter in the end anyways.” Diluc scoops you up from his lap to place you at your usual place on the other pillow by his head. You softly trill when he gently pets you, and whether you mean to or not, you glow just a bit brighter for a moment.

“Even if one day you decide to leave, the winery will always be open to you,” he says. “Adeleine and the rest of the maids will recognize you and let you in-- though I suppose the entirety of Mondstadt knows who you are by now so I guess I don’t have to worry about that, do I?” He smiles when you coo softly.

“Good night,” Diluc says to you, as he does every night, and sleeps knowing you cannot say it back in words, though he understands you regardless every time.

If you weren’t a seelie, would you have been able to be as close to Diluc as you are now? Would he still have cared about you to the extent he does now?

Even if these questions did not have the answers you wanted to hear, you think to yourself, as your heart warms (though you have no heart) from the sight of seeing Diluc’s even rise and fall of his chest, that you wish that you’d one day be able to say ‘good night’ back to him.

.

You can only watch the moon rise and dream.

[wanderinginksplot]

Hi! Coul you do a Hunter x Jedi FemReader fluff. Myybe They are reunited after a long time and they hang out in secret.

Hey! It took a few days, but here’s where this prompt took me:

Hunter + Jedi F!Reader + Fluff

“Steady!”

“Watch the far side - it’s tipping!”

“We need another few troopers over here to help balance it!”

“It’s too heavy!”

“Stop, men,” you ordered, your calm voice cutting through the clamor with ease. “Let me get it.”

Lifting the heavy crate with the Force was simple, one of the first things you had learned to do in the Temple. From there, transporting it to the correct section of the hangar wasn’t any more difficult, and you accomplished the task with ease.

“Still showing off, General?” a rough voice asked from just behind your ear.

You turned around, already smiling at the familiar face. “Sergeant Hunter,” you greeted. “I had no idea you were on-planet.”

He shrugged, the movement flowing with grace that would have made even a Jedi jealous. “We picked up a new member for the Batch. We needed to have him cleared on Coruscant before we could risk taking him into action.”

“And?” you asked, already thinking about how you could help. Force-healing wasn’t your strong suit, but you could pull a few strings to get the right padawan to the GAR headquarters. If Hunter needed something, you would do everything in your power to get it for him. He had saved your life often enough to deserve that dedication from you.

“And he’ll be fine,” Hunter reassured you. Gesturing to the flurry of men working to unload your gunships - each one painted with a flattering caricature of your profile with a lightsaber held out in front of you - he asked, “How did the mission go?”

You shrugged. “It went as well as can be expected, I suppose.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means- Well, it…” you sighed. “This war never seems to have a true victory. There are always losses, and those sacrifices don’t always make sense given what little is accomplished in return.”

Hunter raised an eyebrow. “That’s what we’re made for. Sacrificing.”

You hated hearing that, no matter how often it had been repeated by the Kaminoans, the GAR, and the Jedi Council. These men weren’t a product and their lives weren’t something they should expect to lose simply because they had been created rather than born. They had names and personalities, painted their armor with patterns in your favorite color, and some troopers even asked for permission to use your handprint in their designs. Hunter’s casual defense of what you saw as the fatal flaw of the Jedi Order made your stomach lurch and your spirits drop.

“So they keep telling me,” you agreed, mustering a smile for Hunter. “It was a pleasure seeing you, Sergeant. It has been far too long.”

"Wait," Hunter called and you paused in turning away. "What did I say?"

His earnest question only served to make you feel worse. "Nothing, Hunter. The problem seems to be with me. I just need some time away from the war, the loss."

Hunter's eyes cut a neat contrast against the darkness of his tattoo. "I can't help much, but how about some time spent with an old friend?"

"I have to go make my report to the Council," you hedged.

"After that, then," Hunter suggested. "I'm not gonna twist your arm about it, but you're the one who said it's been too long since we saw each other."

You gave a small smile at that. "That's true. Meet me at Dex's Diner tonight?"

"Comm me when you're leaving the Temple," Hunter instructed, giving a respectful nod as the two of you parted. 

As soon as you had finished with your report and washed the grime of a long mission from your skin, you contacted Hunter and started your journey to Dex’s Diner. The small restaurant had been a Coruscant staple for years, but it had recently seen a huge surge in business. Not only did Dex make fantastic food, but he served meals to anyone who wanted to buy them. The Besalisk had a firm open-door policy, especially where clone troopers were concerned. Off-duty clone troopers were a common sight in the diner, laughing and mingling with Coruscanti civilians.

Hunter was already inside, having secured a booth tucked away in the corner. While clone troopers were far from rare at Dex’s Diner, Jedi were seen less often, especially since the war had begun.

Still, you slid into the booth across from Hunter and gave your usual order to the serving droid. Surreptitiously, you input your credit information as well, paying for the entire meal before it had the chance to deliver a total.

“What is that smile?” Hunter asked, offering one of his own.

“Nothing,” you said, waving off his question. “So, what have you and Clone Force 99 been up to since I saw you last?”

Hunter blew out a breath. “It’s been - what? A year since we saw you?”

“Yes, nearly that,” you agreed, trying to keep the edge of sadness from your voice. Early in the war, you had been on a series of missions with the Bad Batch and had planned to keep working with them, but a member of the Jedi Council had sensed your attachment when you returned planetside. You had been reassigned and ordered to cut ties with the enhanced troopers before the attachment grew stronger.

You had reluctantly done as you were told, but saying goodbye to Clone Force 99 had been difficult. In retrospect, that was likely a good sign that you were indeed getting attached to these troopers. However, that hadn’t stopped you from meeting Hunter today, the first time you had ran into him since following that order. It was with a surge of guilt that you realized you had taken care not to let any other occupants of the Temple see you leave. You hadn’t wanted them to ask where you were going…

“Hey,” Hunter said sharply, drawing your attention back to him. “Where did you go?”

“Nowhere in particular,” you excused yourself. “I’m sorry, I missed what you said.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Hunter told you. “I just sat here and watched you get lost in your own head. Stay out of there. After all, I don’t get to see you every day.”

“Fair enough,” you conceded. “How have things been going for you out there?”

Hunter shrugged. “Pretty well. We haven’t found another Jedi who works with us as well as you did, but the few we’ve been assigned to have been competent.”

From Hunter, that was high praise indeed. “And who have you been assigned to?”

“Well…” he mused, “We did a few missions with General Unduli and you know we usually work with Commander Cody and General Kenobi. We did just finish a mission with General Skywalker, though.”

“And how did that go?” you asked, smiling at the thought of the GAR’s most unorthodox squad working with the Jedi Order’s most unorthodox Knight.

Hunter rolled his eyes dramatically and launched into the story of rescuing one of Skywalker’s troopers who had been captured by the Separatists. It was horrifying to think of one of the Republic’s soldiers in enemy captivity for so long, but Hunter nearly had your sides splitting when he talked about Captain Rex brawling with Crosshair, Tech leaping onto the back of some winged creature, and Wrecker demolishing an entire Separatist fleet.

“I bet Wrecker was thrilled!” you said to the last point, still laughing.

“He was, of course,” Hunter agreed, sending a soft smile your way. “He’ll forever be looking for ways to top that mission, so I guess I have Skywalker to thank for that.”

“Oh, I needed this,” you sighed, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye.

“Want to talk about it?” Hunter asked. “I get the feeling you haven’t been happy about much lately.”

“Oh-” you stammered, his insight stunning you for a moment. “I don’t know if there’s any particular reason…” 

“If you had to think of one, then,” Hunter suggested. 

You blew out a thoughtful breath, trying to gather a year’s worth of abstract thoughts and quickly stifled smiles into a cohesive summary. “It’s… hm. It doesn’t feel… right, to laugh and joke when soldiers like you and your brothers are working so hard and so seriously to win battles. It seems- seems almost like ignoring their sacrifices. People are dying every moment, and being happy feels… frivolous, somehow?”

“You aren’t sacrificing people, if it makes you feel any better,” Hunter told you consolingly. “Just clones.”

You had stood from the table before you knew what had happened. Hunter stared up at you in surprise, a rare expression from a man whose senses allowed him to predict behaviors so well. 

“I don’t think this meeting was a good idea,” you told him bluntly. “I’ll see you later.”

“Wait-” Hunter started, trying to rise from the table, but he was interrupted by the arrival of the serving droid. The droid, oblivious to things such as tense silences, began busily unloading its tray of food onto the table, its position trapping Hunter in his seat.

You watched in silence as the table was set to the precise specifications that the droid had been programmed to deliver. Hunter, avoiding your gaze, fiddled with his silverware, ruining the droid's perfect symmetry with only a touch.

When the droid had finished and rolled away, Hunter looked up at you, confusion and guilt mingling on his face. He gestured to your plate. "Please?"

You eased back into the seat after a moment of thought. Hunter couldn't know why you were upset if you didn't give him the benefit of an explanation.

To give yourself a moment of thought, you unfolded your napkin and spread it across your lap. When you were done, you made direct and unblinking eye contact with Hunter. "It hurts me when you talk about the troopers like their lives have less meaning. Like they deserve nothing more than death to achieve a goal."

"That's what we were told all our lives," Hunter countered carefully. "At least the regs were told they could die in sacrifice for the Republic. We were told that we deserved to die because we were different."

The disgust and self-loathing in Hunter's last word made you reach out and cover his hand with yours. You made no effort to influence him - you respected him far too much for that - but you tried to convey your sympathy with a touch.

"And now you know that isn't true in the slightest," you reminded him. "I can't change a moment of your past, but we can all impact our shared present to create the future we deserve."

Hunter's warm fingers flexed under yours as he flipped his hand over to weave your fingers together. 

"That's why you're the Jedi we keep asking to be assigned to," he said with a fond smile. "You don't see us for what we can do for you, for the Republic. You just see us."

You raised your eyebrows at that, your heart feeling lighter than it had since the early days of the war. "As if the Bad Batch could be tied to a single Jedi…"

"For you?" Hunter pretended to think about it. "I think we could give it a try."

With a shared smile, the two of you turned your attention to the food you had ordered. Neither of you commented on your hands, still intertwined on the table between you.

---

A/N - I originally had a different ending in mind, but I liked this one too much to change it. I’ll leave it up to you to decide what happens when Hunter realizes that you’ve already paid for your food! 

Thanks for the request, @dreamingofclones! I hope you enjoyed!