#and maybe get a little tool to better shape the ‘water’

[angelface273]

I needed a glass bowl for something, and accidentally ordered a much bigger one than I needed.

Rather than return it though, I thought to try and make one of those mini landscape scenes instead.

I think it might’ve turned out a little clunky and cluttered, but overall I’m fond of the results, and I have enough pieces left over that I might try again at a later date.

[redflagshipwriter]

Hot Ghouls Chapter 10 1/2

Masterpost

At 8:00 pm, Danny scraped himself off the counter at his work-study position and gathered up his books. His replacement, Angelica, was already setting up by adjusting the height of the spinning chair in front of the best computer. She was a little older than him, a Junior maybe? She had been his training supervisor.

A patron came up while he was putting his notebooks in his bag. Angelica checked them out, soft beeps marking each book. He hung around a few moments until she finished and the student went out the door.

“Hey, Angie?” He asked. “I saw you're on closing Saturday. I'm on opening.” Danny fidgeted. “Would you be okay with a trade?” He was going to have to stay out late tonight, and there was no way he’d be able to catch up on missed sleep on Friday. He knew from experience that he’d be staggering all Saturday if he really had to be at the library by 8 am.

Angelica blinked and paused for a moment as she thought it over. “Tentatively, it's fine,” she decided. “I'll text you when I know for sure. I have to check with Birdie.”

Danny put his hands up. “Fair enough,” he said agreeably, “I owe you one either way for trying.”

“It's not a problem, I have to work the same hours either way.” Angelica opened up a browser and then started setting up whatever schoolwork she had to keep her occupied until midnight. “Have a good night, Danny. Take care out there. Stay away from banks.”

He promised that he would and then he slouched out onto the dim campus. It was pretty dead at the moment. People were mostly off campus, or in their dorms getting ready to go out for the night, Danny figured. He started the walk home on autopilot.

Danny hadn’t forgotten that he promised Jason he’d focus on their problem, and it didn’t matter that Jason had been kind of a creep about it. It was still high up his priority list.

But the more he thought about it, the more freaked out he was that Waters had managed to do it in the first place. It should have been impossible. There had to be a factor that they didn’t know about, but Danny wasn’t enough of an expert on piercing the veil between life and death to figure that out without tanking his grades. He hadn’t been able to get a hold of Vlad yet, either.

His tentative theories all seemed bonkers. Maybe Waters had gotten hold of some kind of magical focus, or gotten sponsored by someone with a lot of hocus pocus. Maybe Waters was a tool for someone else’s scheme, as opposed to just being a useless tool like usual. It was also possible that Jason was the weird factor. It seemed like a big coincidence, though, that Waters would stumble upon a sacrificial victim who actually was already eligible to reside in the Infinite Realms. Vlad had said it would be possible for a ghost on the living world side to get sent packing by Waters’ bullshit, but that possibility was outright silly. What ghost would A: be in the human world; and B: get caught by Jeremy friggin Waters or even sillier, C: want to get engaged to Danny?

It was a moot point. Jason gave Danny some weird feelings that he suspected might be like, puberty related, but he definitely wasn’t a ghost. Danny could tell that, at least. He was a flashy-dressing biker tough guy. He was probably a community theatre escapee, what with the cherry red helmet with weird face shape molding and his dramatic play to lounge around one of Danny’s regular study spots, but come on. He was just some dude. Kind of a dorky dude, even.

‘Massively hot, though,’ Danny had to acknowledge. He could never let Jazz know. Or Sam. Or Tucker. Or-

He shuddered at the thought of his parents meeting his accidental fiance.

Just, no. The only person he could probably trust around Jason was, idk… Wulf?

“I need better friends,” Danny muttered. He jogged down the final set of concrete stairs that led off campus and into the city itself.

It was debatable as to whether there was any point in going back to his apartment. The backpack on his shoulders wasn’t that heavy. If he went there, he’d basically dump his luggage and change and then have to go…

Danny made a face and fished out his phone. He optimistically changed directions before he could finish typing his request to crash at Jazz’s place for the night. On the one hand, she would know firsthand how little sleep he was going to get. On the other hand, this would shave hours off of his travel.

He was nearly to his sister’s apartment near the main Gotham U campus when she sent back a message.

:( I’m not home tonight, but my roommate is! If you can ghost in without her knowing, go for it! But she really can’t know, I can’t have guests when I’m not there to supervise.

Danny typed up a message with a little emoji robber accusing her of criminal actions before he remembered he shouldn’t bite the hand that let him crash.

You’re saving my entire afterlife, he sent instead.

[cyten0]

A Symphony in Crimson

The Prelude

You awaken. Where are you?... Who are you?

You can't remember. You.. You try and think. But you're too hungry. Your stomach hurts. You can't think.

You need to eat. You need to eat.

Movement. An animal. You crawl, a thousand limbs speeding you towards their delicious scent. But you have to be quiet. Don't let them flee you.

Trees. Move up. Climb. Look down. Deer. Wait. Wait.

Now.

You drop, and grapple it to the ground. You open your mouth and rip into it. The taste of flesh fills your mouth, savory and delicious. The metallic taste of it's blood is so invigorating. It twitches as it tries to escape, but it's too weak. You dive into it's organs, so many textures and tastes, all in such sharp detail. You crunch through its bones, leaving nothing but the bloody stain on the ground.

Better. You're still hungry. But now. You can think.

...You know this isn't your home. You can't remember what your home was.

But your name. Your name. What... The only word that comes to mind is Siffrin.

But you know that's not your name. You think. You remember it as if it was. But other memories aren't. Which ones are which? You can't tell.

But... You... You think. What you just did. Feels familiar. But. Humans.

No. You don't like that. You hate that. But. It feels like it was real. Did. Is Siffrin. Someone you did it to?

You're crying. You... Don't want to hurt. But you did. And it felt good. It shouldn't feel good! You don't want to have been that monster. You don't...

You need to see yourself. There's a pool of water. You look.

A pair of glowing red eyes look back at you, surrounded by tendrils and teeth in a vaguely human shape, a red and white star in it's chest.

It's not human. Why. You can't stand looking at it. It's wrong. It's wrong it's wrong it's wrong it's wrong

You begin clawing at your body. Carving it into shape, even as it hurts. You feel it growing back, but you keep molding it. You grow skin, morph bone matter to cling to, and prune it into the right form.

Still wrong, you can feel it underneath, those memories don't have that, you don't want the monster ones! You want the human ones!! You want Siffrin's!!!

You look again. Not quite right, looks off. You keep going. It's starting to look right. The face at least. The rest still looks off. Blind it, you can't remember what the rest should look like!!!!

...But it's better. You're just. A little more Siffrin. It's enough for now.

You need to find out where you are. You vaguely remember being near the shore earlier. You listen for the ocean. That way.

You trace your steps back. You see a wrecked ship. And your tracks from it.

You see... A cloak? and a hat. You grab them. You can hide your body until you can get it right. As you put them on, you feel things in it's pockets. A dagger, a toolkit, and a device with a screen. You turn it on, and images and sounds play from it that hurt your head. You turn it back off. You hold the dagger. It feels familiar in your hands. So do the tools...

You guess a monster wouldn't need these, so maybe they're Siffrin's? You aren't sure though. You do think Siffrin wore white, but the fabric feels different.

...If so, these are all that's left of them. That, and these fragmented memories. You. You don't want him to be gone.

No. He's not gone. He's in you, right? Just let him be the one in charge, focus on those memories. And he can live. And the monster will go.

You leave the wreckage. You have a new life to live, Siffrin.

[writingforfishes]

Otto and Atticus Part 9-extended: The Antique's Store 1/4, 2/4 (reblogged), 3/4 (reblogged)

This is a continuation of Atticus' Birthday story found here: https://www.tumblr.com/writingforfishes/756206256931405824/otto-and-atticus-part-9-atticus-birthday?source=share

The story above is much more sexual in nature.

These next stories follow Atticus and Otto through the Antique's Store where Otto is taking his spouse for their birthday and back home. They will, as far as I have planned, be much tamer and won't require a filter.

CW

Mentions of alcoholism and sobriety.

Fast but short-lived hiccups.

Generational gaps in understanding gender nonconformity.

Accidental misgendering of off-stage minor character.

Hiccups triggered by food.

Mentions of arousal/teasing.

Mentions of anxiety arising from being taken to a new place.

Mentions of anxiety/over-stimulation in being in a new place that is quite large and populated.

Mentions of soft bellies and body shapes.

Manual driving? I dunno, maybe someone out there has a trauma response to manual driving?

I use ellipses here to denote trailing off or uncertainty in dialogue. They do not mean anything nefarious. Just in case. I dunno. I'm 41. Please don't hate me.

Mild discomfort while hiccuping.

Disparaging Korean made clock movements.

Minors, do not interact.

Part 1: Soup

They had been driving away from town for a while now. Atticus looked out the window as they watched exit sign after exit sign pass. The writer was excited, but antsy. Classical music was playing from one of Otto’s playlists. It was helping to quell the anxiety somewhat, but their mind still swam as miles of road kept going by.

“You’re gonna love this place,” Otto said, noticing the nervous thrum of his partner’s fingers on their knees.

“Yeah?” Atticus asked, using Otto’s voice to ground them.

“Yeah. It’s in this big warehouse. There’s a food market there, too. We’ll get some lunch while we’re there,” he said. He took a moment to sip some water from the tumbler he’d brought.

Atticus sipped some from theirs as well, using his action as a cue. The water felt good and soothed more of their anxiety.

“Lots of clocks?” Atticus asked with a smile.

“So many,” Otto confirmed with a smirk in return. “And a whole slew of other things. It’s got old books, hats, belt buckles. Lots of old art, too. And there’s a lot of space, y’know? The aisles are wide. Super accessible. A couple started it back a few years ago. They had their own antique’s store, but when they started inviting other vendors to open booths in the first storefront it got so big they went in with the people that ran a small food market in the same strip mall and got this place. It’s a bit out of the way, but worth it for the quality of things you can find there.”

Otto drummed his fingers on the steering wheel a little and shifted as the speed of traffic changed. One day Atticus thought they might try to learn how to drive manual. Otto liked it because it kept his hands busy. He was naturally a high energy person and having something to do with his hands for long stretches of time was a plus. He also liked manual because he understood how it worked better than something like a CVT transmission. He had more faith that he could fix, if need be, his transmission than a newer car that depended more on electricity to accelerate and change gears.

“They sell tools too!” he continued. And Atticus smiled, enjoying the excitement in Otto’s voice. “I mean, they have the vintage tools like manual screwdrivers, but they have specialty tools they order new. They started ordering bulk from Timesavers sometime last year because so many of their vendors have clocks in their booths and some of them have missing parts and keys. So they sell a lot of clock and watch tools and parts. Really convenient. That’s how I first heard of it. One of my customers who’s a hobbyist told me about them. And the people who rent out their booths that I’ve talked to are just—they have some phenomenal stuff, man. Super nice people, too. The ones that I’ve met. Most actually know what they have and what it’s worth. They don’t up-charge from Google searches. They actually research it. Very few resellers, too. You know, people that order lots of cheap things from other countries and sell it for profit?

“Helped a few of them service a couple of clocks to sell or help them decide whether it would be worth the repair or not. Korean movements? Not really worth it, you know? Really cool atmosphere, though. It’s kinda like family even though it’s in this great big place. Everyone takes care of each other and has each other’s backs. They even buy stuff from each other’s booths!” Otto said and took another sip of water.

He downshifted as they finally turned on an exit Atticus wasn’t familiar with.

“Kind of like an...antique commune?” they asked.

“Yeah, kinda!” he agreed.

Atticus stretched with a yawn suddenly rubbing their belly, still accessibly soft with the heavy breakfast this morning.

“Think you’ll-um-get them again?” they asked shyly rubbing at the stubble on their face and neck. For all of the anxiety of being somewhere they’d never been, Otto’s hiccups were definitely causing some of the energy their body was interpreting into anxiety. They were full of anticipatory excitement at the possibility.

“I will definitely get them again,” Otto said with an amused sigh. “I can sort of feel it? In my chest and throat? It’s weird. On hiccupy days like this it’s like they’re just lying in wait. I do want to eat something before we start looking around, though.”

“Ooh, yeah. I could go for something to eat,” Atticus agreed.

From the outside the antique’s mall/food market didn’t look terribly impressive. But Atticus noticed how full the parking lot was as they stepped out of the passenger seat.

No sooner had Otto stood from the car than a man in a polo shirt exiting the front door called to him.

“Otto, man! You gonna buy some more clocks today?” he asked coming over to them. He seemed older, perhaps in his late 50’s early 60’s. He had a stout body-type, stomach hanging a little over his belted khaki pants. His beard was nearly all white. He seemed to have a lot of energy but his mannerisms implied an ability to be patient as well when he stopped and acknowledged first Otto with a pat to his shoulder and nodded to Atticus, clasping his hands in front of his belly while in conversation.

Atticus took a moment to consider why Otto was buying clocks. They hadn’t noticed any new clocks in the house. They tried to catch his eye but Otto flitted his gaze away as soon as they had locked eyes questioningly.

“Hey Gar! Yeah, man, we’ll see if we find anything. This is my partner, Atticus. It’s their birthday today,” Otto said with emphasis causing the other man to pull a quick face of recognition and then nodded, making a motion of closing his lips. “Atticus, this is Gary. He’s one of the owners of the antique’s gallery along with his wife Rose.”

“Hey, Atticus, Otto’s told me a lot about you! It’s really nice to meet you,” Gary said, holding out a hand.

“Uh, good to meet you, too,” Atty said. They subconsciously shifted their voice down. Talking to cis men gave them a desire to puff out their chest and make their mannerisms more guy-coded. They added a quick nod as they shook the man’s hand. “Hopefully he hasn’t told you too much!”

“Nah, only the good stuff! That you’re a writer and that you’ve been there for him through a lot. I’ve not known this guy for long, but glad he has someone like you on his side. Him and me, think we’ve been through some of the same struggles. We’ve talked a little about that. Anyway. I’ve also got a daught—sorry. Shit, I always flub that up. I’ve got a kid. They came out to me earlier this year that...uh...they’re non-binary,” Gary said.

“Yeah, it’s one of the first conversations we had, I think,” Otto interjected, having leaned a hip against the car in realization that this was going to take a second. He was used to Gary’s tendency to babble. Another quality, the clock maker mused, both of them shared.

“I think it was! But yeah, Otto told me about you and, I dunno, it made me a little less nervous for he-them,” Gary sputtered. “Sorry, I still mess it up a lot. I’m working on it.”

“It’s okay to mess up,” Atticus said. They’d made their way to stand beside Otto and their husband laid a soft hand around their shoulders. “As long as you correct yourself. It shows you’re trying. That means a lot.”

“I definitely am. Anyway, knowing there’s, you know, an adult out there that’s-uh-that’s non-binary and stuff. I was scared for them, y’know? How were they going to grow up? I mean, it’s not like there’s a path or...I dunno...I don’t know what to tell them or how to...help? But Otto told me about you and that you’re a writer and that you’ve sold your books and it’s just,” he sighed, seeming frustrated in his inability to articulate what he meant. “It gives me hope that they’re gonna be okay. If that makes sense.”

Gary laughed nervously.

“It does,” Atticus said with an encouraging smile. “They’ve got a dad that loves them so...I feel like they’re off to a pretty good start.”

“Yeah...yeah, damn. I’m sorry for talking your ears off! You know how I am, Otto. I gotta get going. The Mrs sent me on an errand and she is going to bite my head off if I get distracted! Anyway, good to see you again, Otto!” Gary reached in and Otto accepted a little hug from him. “Really nice to meet you, Atticus. I hope you have a good birthday. Cause this guy got you...well…”

Gary waggled his finger teasingly at Otto and the clock maker’s eyes widened and then narrowed as he batted the hand away.

“Dude!” he warned at Gary’s hint of what Otto’s plans were.

“I have had a pretty good birthday so far,” Atticus said, looking between the two suspiciously. “I feel like it might be a theme…”

“Get out of here, Gary! Stop talking!” Otto exclaimed, thwapping the older man on the back good naturedly as he finally started to leave.

“Report back!” Gary yelled.

“Shh!” Otto spat out as Gary went out of sight. “Jeez...can we just ignore that bit? Also, I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable. He really is a good guy…”

“No, I can tell,” Atticus reassured him. “Really bad at keeping a secret, though.”

“The absolute worst. I dunno how his wife deals with him…”

“Well, you deal with me, so…” Atty said.

“Hm, true,” Otto responded smartly as he led his partner into the front door. He felt a pinch on his side and jerked. “Ow!”

“Oops,” Atticus responded curtly.

The inside of the warehouse was completely different from the out. There was a huge open space in the lobby with a secondary set of double doors leading to the antique mall portion but down a hall were various food market vendors and following that hall was the other half of the warehouse, more food vendors, and a large sitting area along with a secondary access to the antique’s mall space.

While the venue was bustling with business the open space made it seem much less crowded.

Decision paralysis and overwhelm kicked in as soon as Otto asked them what they were in the mood to eat and Atticus let Otto pick where to go as they followed taking in all of the visuals, smells, and sounds around them as they tried to adapt to the environment and space.

Otto ended up ordering a tomato basil bisque with a grilled cheese and Atticus waffled a little until they decided on a salad with grilled chicken, something to balance out the heaviness of the breakfast they’d eaten that morning.

Atty didn’t even really know what food vendor they’d ordered from or what had been available alternatively as they were so overwhelmed by exploring the atmosphere and people who walked by.

“I thought you said it was a small food market that partnered with...um...Gary and Rose?” Atticus asked as they took their food to the table Otto was walking toward. Otto being so tall offered a great guide to Atty as they often got lost in places like this.

“Yeah. Oh yeah, initially it was just that. Then they put the word out about the space and food vendors started opening shop. Lots of start-ups took advantage that wouldn’t have had the money to buy a store front otherwise. Rose comes from a lot of old money, apparently. Though you didn’t hear that from me. She put a lot into making sure everyone got an opportunity to take advantage of this spot since she knew the mall wouldn’t take up half the space of it,” Otto explained.

“Gary really does have no concept of secrecy, does he?” Atty noted.

“Not really, no. I think he spent a lot of his life trying to run away from connecting to people. Best way to do that is through alcohol, honestly. Even while you’re partying with hundreds of people you’re not really ‘there’, y’know? But yeah. He’s got some stories. Things that sort of shocked me. When he learned I was sober, I think he knew he could trust me and that I’d get it. I think he’s trying to make up for that lost time, now. He loves his wife and kid more than anyone I know. Guy’s got a damn big heart. And a really fucked up liver,” Otto added mirthfully.

Atticus snorted and then caught themselves, “Shit, should I laugh at that?”

“Yeah,” Otto said with a smirk. “He would.”

They finally sad down and Otto unpacked the soup. The smell was comforting and he found himself quite hungry despite still being a little bloated from last night’s antics and this morning’s food fare. Perhaps he was just as excited as Atticus seemed and that translated to wanting to eat? And he was excited. He really couldn’t wait to see his partner’s face at the surprise they had planned.

Otto swallowed the first spoonful of soup. It was very warm, slightly spiced, and he could feel the warmth go down his throat and immediately his diaphragm reacted to the change in temperature. He felt his body convulse involuntarily causing him to jump a little. Amazingly, Atticus was busy on their salad and hadn’t noticed.

He waited a second for any other hiccups, but none followed. Cautiously he took another spoonful, let it savor in his mouth and swallowed. The warm liquid triggered another spasm. He grunted softly. That hiccupy feeling in his throat intensified and he knew he was only a few more spoonfuls away from a full attack. That second spasm was more forceful, too. He wondered if he cold hold it off until he at least finished the meal. He paused, considering.

Atty caught him, body still and waiting, with same hand holding the spoon pressed against his mouth in a loose fist, spoon dangling from the tips of his fingers as he focused on something inwardly, eyebrows pinched a little.

“You okay?” they asked. The writer had been enjoying their salad more than they thought they would. They’d also been watching people pass by and taking in the social scenery. Otto being motionless caught their attention more than anything.

“Yeah,” Otto said tentatively, eyebrows pulling together all the more. “Every time I take a sip of soup I hiccup. They’re right here.” Otto tapped the base of his neck above his collar bone.

Atticus stopped chewing their salad to hone their eyes in on that place.

“Oh,” they said. “Um...you don’t feel sick, do you?”

“No-no,” Otto said, reassuring them quickly. “Just wondering if this is gonna turn into a full case...guess we’ll find out, hm?” There was a glint in his eyes. Of course there was always going to be a possibility of this becoming a day of hiccups, but part of him was delighted that it was actually happening. There would, of course, be consequences to his purposeful induction, but it was worth the adorable flush that came across his partner’s neck and wideness of their eyes.

Atticus swallowed their salad a little too eagerly and took a drink of water. They were extremely disappointed they’d missed the previous hiccups but, eyes trained on him now, they were determined not to miss anymore.

“Excited?” he teased, smiling knowingly.

“A little,” they admitted. “Not to an...actionable level.” They kept the statement diplomatic. Atticus really had no need to take care of their arousal again. But their body was going to react and they were going to be interested no matter what.

Otto chuckled at the terminology and jumped a little with another spasm.

“Hm,” Atticus said, feigning casualness.

Otto grinned a little and rolled his eyes in mild exasperation. Even though he’d only had the hiccups one time that day it was a strong and fast enough case that he knew any additional cases would be a little more exhausting than normal. But that excitement at seeing Atticus’ excitement was enough to be ready for the possible onslaught.

His hiccups persisted as he continued to eat his soup. His diaphragm reacted with each gulp and sometimes without the trigger of swallowing. They weren’t very strong, but he did still have to time his eating around them when they started to go off script of being triggered.

They got a bit more forceful when he started on the grilled cheese. Bread was the ‘enemy’ on his hiccup-sensitive days. He should’ve known that. Perhaps part of him had known that and wanted to give Atticus another show. Or perhaps it was just his absent mindedness forgetting what his triggers were on days like this. Regardless, the bready sandwich certainly encouraged the hiccup fit to strengthen. They became more audible, though still easily muffled.

Atticus continued to eat their salad, but they hardly tasted it as they watched Otto’s suppressed hiccups as he continued to eat despite them. His head and chest would jerk up and he’d have to pause for that half-second before taking another mouthful. As he began to muffle the sounds they started to make the writer pulled their legs together subconsciously. They were also getting faster and the adorableness of Otto trying to navigate the fit paired with the mild arousal they felt was almost too much. But it was an almost too much they could handle as they felt safe experiencing it.

A couple of times he was hit with a cluster of hiccups which he would let out a small grunt or sigh after before resuming eating. He probably didn’t even realize he was making the small sounds, but Atticus soaked up every movement and sound watching Otto in adoration. His hiccups and reactions were endearing to watch and their body let them know that it was paying attention, but Atty never felt the need to give into their arousal in the way they had this morning.

When he started in on his sandwich he jerked so powerfully and quickly that Atticus startled in how closely they’d been paying attention and the break in pattern of his hiccups. They heard a little thump in the back of Otto’s throat at that hiccup. The case also increased in speed and it was obvious Otto noticed as he chewed carefully and timed his swallowing.

A ‘hik’p!’ slipped out and Otto muttered, “Oh man…” He was no longer able to keep them all quiet or muffled with how hard they’d suddenly become. He could feel his stomach jiggling from under the table, how it jerked in and out. His neck movements caused his head to jerk hard as well, having to time eating even more carefully to line up the food with his mouth.

“Higgup! You just gonna-higgulp!-just gonna watch hilp!-watch me ea-hugguck!-eat this whole time?” he asked, amused.

“That was kind of the plan,” Atticus teased.

“Damn bre-herp!-bread made them wo-erp!-worse! Hickulp!” he said.

Even though, he used the last bit of that sandwich to sop up the last dregs of his soup, all the while jerking as his diaphragm and glottis continued to argue loudly over when to breath and when to not.

Eating that last bite definitely didn’t help. He took a few large straw-fulls of water but continued what seemed to have developed into a pretty powerful hiccuping fit. Otto was thankful for the food court being boisterous with activity as he’d yet to see anyone looking over his way despite how more audible they’d become.

But as much as he was enjoying the way Atticus was looking at him his neck had started to hurt again. It hurt in the back right where it met his shoulders. He couldn’t even suppress the motions on this case. Every hiccup came as a surprise to him. Usually, when he had them, he had the feeling he would hiccup a little bit before the next one, but as this case got worse he lost the ability to feel when the next one was going to hit. It was a bit unusual to not be able to predict them like he normally was. As a result his body was at their mercy even more.

Otto’s hand pressed against his chest and Atty noticed that his face had lost some of the mirth it had when his hiccups had begun. He didn’t look distressed, necessarily, but he didn’t really look like he was wholly unbothered, either.

“Oh man HUCKULK-man! These are hu-ULK!-are hard. ULK!Huck!-ugh! I can’t-ulk!-can’t tell when the-h’mlk!-their coming next ei-ulp!-either. Damn,” he finally admitted. He rubbed the back of his neck trying to take a measured breath through the onslaught. It was interrupted by more sharp hiccups and he winced, eyes closing for a moment at a particularly fast cluster. “HULK!HU-CULK!ULK!H’MUCK!mmk!”

A small hand slapped three packets in front of him so loudly he jumped a little (before he jumped with another hiccup). When he looked down Atticus’ hand lifted to reveal a packet of Real Cane Sugar, a white paper packet from a fast food restaurant marked ‘Salt’, and a plastic packet with yellow writing on it that said ‘Pure Lemon Juice’. Otto looked up to his partner’s smug face (as much as he could give them a steady gaze with how much he was jerking) and they grinned, lips pushing up the sides of their mustache into the apples of their cheeks.

“Never leave home without them,” they said a little haughtily.

“Do you HUCK-UCK!-always keep-HUCK!-alw-ulk!-ways keep these wi-UCK!-ith you? Huck!-HUCK’M!” he asked, grunting out another sigh as he started opening the sugar packet.

“Only when my extremely sweet husband decides to indulge in me for my birthday in a way that could bite him in the ass later on,” Atticus said.

“I think-HUCK!-there was-hulkUCK!-a compli-ulk-ment in-hulk!-in there-HUCK’L! some-uck!-somewhere Huck’l!HUCK!-uh!”Otto said.

“Otto,” Atty implored. “Sugar.”

“Yes hon-HUCKAH!-honey? Huck!HUCK!HUCK!Ow...” Otto exclaimed with a scowl at his interrupted joke. He wordlessly (though not soundlessly) opened the sugar packet and dumped it in his mouth.

The cure did the trick. For a few seconds he sat after he’d downed the lemon juice with some deep breaths, still holding his chest.

“You good?” Atticus asked. For some reason their hand had found his and was holding it as if giving him comfort. It seemed silly to do so for someone having something as seemingly harmless as hiccups, but those sounded and looked incredibly uncomfortable. And all of Atty’s research on hiccups led them to believe that hiccups could potentially cause great discomfort; they never wanted that inflicted in their husband.

He took another deep breath.

“Whew. Yeah. Sorry about that. They kind of got out of hand,” he said sheepishly. “Um, how was your salad?”

“I honestly have no idea...” they admitted looking down at their empty container.

“You got a little turned on, right?” he asked, voice low.

“Right up until the end, yes,” they said.

“Still…” Otto waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“You’re just a little self-destructive, you know that?” they said.

“Listen, you’re the one who married an alcoholic.”

Atticus reached across the table and put either hand on the side of Otto’s face rubbing his short beard with their thumbs before squeezing his cheeks gently between their palms.

“I married a beautiful, intelligent, compassionate man who is also an alcoholic,” they said, amending the statement. “And it’s my birthday so I’m right and you can’t argue with me.”

“I don’t think that’s how that works,” Otto said, diction affected by his lips being squished between the hands on his face.

“It is,” Atticus assured him. They finally released his face and Otto grinned back.

“And it’s your birthday so…” he said, trailing off.

“Exactly!”

Cleaning up their trash and putting the reusable trays in a marked spot above the trash cans they both finally made their way into the antique’s mall area.

[professionalscrublord]

The Black Marauder IIC

Turnaround:

WIPs:

The "Black Marauder" is a horror story of a cursed mech. Over the years urban legend has built it up into some kind of extradimensional beast, a living machine that moves of its own volition, consumes the souls of its victims and strikes fear in all that come close to it. It emerges from mist and shadows to kill efficiently and mercilessly before disappearing once more.

So I know the story says it looks like an inner sphere MAD-3R, but the way it's described as looking "Off-proportioned" and "Too smooth, almost organic-looking" makes me think it's a IIC. That and it having "Teeth", which the IIC's array of chin-lasers could be mistaken for. It also has a tendency to oneshot mechs with PPCs to the cockpit, which only Clan PPCs have the damage to do reliably. It performs unusually well in smoke/fog (advanced clan sensors perhaps?). Maybe the pirates didn't recognize what they were looking at given they lived on the opposite side of IS space from the Clan invasion front. It's also black with bits of red, the paint scheme of a certain Wolf's Dragoons "mercenary company" (read: Clan spies roaming IS space) which would explain the lack of factory markings/serial numbers. The stories mention weird behavior and unidentifiable mechanical issues so it could've been left behind since it was a liability, stripped of insignia and left on a forsaken airless asteroid in some random uninhabited system to conceal the trail. That's just my pet theory, anyway.

Pictured: Teefies (and bloody claws)

This one was difficult for a different reason, not painting this time but being my first time working with greenstuff and sculpting/modifying a miniature.

The paint job itself was fairly quick because of the almost uniform coloration despite the number of steps: -Primed with matte black -basecoated with Night Scales metallic black (It barely shows up, there is a faint glitter in some spots but mostly it looks like a slightly lighter black.) -Heavily drybrushed with Rough Iron, a dark rust color metallic -Lighter drybrush with Gunmetal, grayish/silver metallic. at this point I thought it was too light/shiny so I went over some panels with matte black paint, keeping away from the edges I'd drybrushed. -Mars Red in the eyeholes. White on the lasers/cockpit later covered with Red/Green/Blue speedpaint. -Blood Red speedpaint over the "monstrous" bits. It disappeared into the black, until: -Gloss varnish over the speedpaint brought the red back out again. I wanted everything to be black but still have the monster bits to stand out texturally, the gloss makes them glisten nicely. -Anti-shine matte varnish on the rest. That still looks pretty shiny to me but what can you do (Vantablack miniature paint, anyone??) -The label says MAD-BLK in the Standard Galactic Alphabet. At some point I knew how to read/write it after it featured in Minecraft enchantments, though by now I lost that and had to look it up.

The sculpting was interesting. -Green stuff is tacky and sticks to my fingers when fresh, hard to apply to the model in a careful manner, but is pretty easily workable on the model, once it's on. At some points I used metal sculpting tools almost like chopsticks to avoid touching it with my hands. I twisted a pointed tool like a little drill bit to get the eyeholes in. -Getting closer to the 1hr mark it stiffens up and becomes the opposite. Easier to apply and get off my fingers but harder to work into the shapes I want and fit in the crevices for a good hold. -The claws are superglued given they're sticking out a fair bit. Roughed up the plastic surface before applying glue for a better bond. The other greenstuff I trusted to stay on since they were molded into the surfaces pretty closely. -The blood was red ink Speedpaint mixed with good old AK water medium.

I'll have to do more modding in future, truly customize my mechs.

Last Lance of Cardinal Sins featured a Zeus, only too late did I have the idea of modding a ZEU-X with the wing-like cooling vanes. Fortunately I have a King Crab waiting for me (my favorite mech!) to make a prototype KGC-010 with. It has flush-mounted dual PPCs with spiky cooling vanes sticking out the back. Should be fun.

[frozenjokes]

Mumbomaid (she is writing fanfic) <- could refer to me or mumbo equally

snippet wip below (mumbo uses they/them unless I forget then it’s he/they lmao. Grian is an ‘it’ like god intended)

***

Mumbo had never seen a human before, but this one didn’t look particularly dangerous. Well. They’d keep an eye on it.

Mumbo hissed for good measure, then kept digging through the human’s tools. There was all sorts of great stuff in its dumb, impossible to open bag; shiny sharp things and funny lures (cute!) and what must have been human food (tasted weird, why did they wrap their food in shiny gross stuff?) and bottled water (weird) and there was this awesome floaty thing that Mumbo got a little distracted playing with and other boring stuff like nets and weights and stakes Mumbo had seen thousands of times. But that didn’t mean they weren’t going to take all of this stuff back home with them.

The human was vocally quite unhappy when Mumbo started to take its stuff into the water, scrambling closer to the shore line as Mumbo got farther away. It had been near silent up until this point, but now Mumbo was very aware that humans were some of the noisiest, most annoying animals on the planet. They didn’t pay it much mind, fighting to keep the bag under the water as it seemed determined to float no matter what they did, but the human never stopped yelling, wading in until the water was up to its chest. Mumbo was shocked, turning around and seeing that. Did it even realize how much danger it was in?

Mumbo just couldn’t help himself; letting the bag go meant some of the stuff inside would float out, but he could always just collect it later. He swiveled around and the human finally realized it was in danger, flailing uselessly as it bumbled through the water, but it didn’t get anywhere before Mumbo cut off its escape, his tail curling around its back to keep it from swimming further out.

They swiveled around, the human finally realizing it was in danger at the same moment, but there was nothing it could hope to do before Mumbo blocked its escape, splashing and panicking be damned.

It stilled as Mumbo’s tail touched its back, keeping it gently in place before it tried to swim further out. Its dark eyes were wide and afraid and its breathing was fast and uneven, though it never stopped babbling, only quieter now, as if trying to convince Mumbo it was a good human, that it would stop yelling and being noisy and dumb and would make a very bad meal. Reasonable, all things considered. Mumbo was very much thinking about eating it. It would probably be so loud though, all screaming and panicking and making them feel bad; there was a reason Mumbo didn’t eat much land prey.

They took a moment to look instead, to really take it in. The human was more haggard looking than Mumbo had imagined them to be, with scraggly hair on its head and face as well as its clothes being stained and battered. It also looked a lot less like them than they had expected given how much mers compared the species. Humans were so small and round! Its shoulders were wide and it was so fleshy and pink! Nothing like Mumbo’s own grayer, rougher skin at all. It didn’t even have fins? Land animals didn’t typically, but with all the comparisons being thrown around, Mumbo had expected something! They had similar arms maybe, but only in shape, and honestly, Mumbo’s digits were far longer. And the hair- it wasn’t stiff! It flopped right down when it was wet- what was even the point! With a couple of whistles and clicks, Mumbo attempted to tell the human it should consider having sharper, stiffer hair, because as things were, it clearly had zero natural defenses, but it didn’t seem to understand. Oh well. As much as Mumbo kind of wanted to taste it, they were pretty sure they’d already ruined its day enough. Might as well just let this one go. Maybe now it would know better than to wade into large bodies of water.

(It did not.)

[prolix-yuy]

Taut

Pairing: Dave York x F! Nanny (from the Appreciation series by @pedropascalsx)

Summary: Even though you know better, you still hope for a Valentine's Day gift.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, infidelity, spanking, pussy slapping, rough sex, PiV sex, unprotected sex (don't be a fool, wrap your tool), creampie, Dave is a warning all his own.

Notes: This is a Valentine's day gift for the lovely and talented Cristina! We were not-so-secret Valentines and for her, I take my first teensy foray into Dave York. These characters are pulled from her hot as hell Appreciation series, which I highly recommend! Not canon in her storyline (unless she wants it to be!).

He wasn’t going to get you anything. You knew this. He couldn’t. Carol would notice, the kids would notice. You couldn’t flaunt a necklace, or a bracelet, without at least a few questions. And what were you going to say? You had a new boyfriend?

Imagining Dave’s reaction - dark eyes, a tightening of his hand on the table, forced nonchalance - dries out your mouth. Maybe another time you’ll do that, just to get a rise out of him. But not when it’s Valentine’s Day. 

You understand, of course. This thing going on between you wasn’t meant for daylight, even when you ached at times for it to be just a little bit more. But you had to meet Dave where he is, and where he’s willing to come for you. 

So you won’t say anything.

And you’ll be fine.

“Did you get anything for the girls?”

Dave’s eyes drag up from his breakfast, sipping at his coffee as you clear away the remaining dishes. 

“For what?” 

“Valentine’s Day.” His face remains blank, but one eyebrow quirks briefly. “I think it’s sweet when dads get their daughters something.”

Dave smirks, pushing his eggs around on his plate. 

“I ordered it already. Should be here in time.”

You smile and begin washing up at the sink. It lets you turn away from him just enough to hide your face.

“And Carol?” you ask with as much innocence as possible. 

“A bag. One I know she’s had her eye on.”

You hum and nod, sloshing your hands in the soapy water to keep yourself grounded.

Don’t ask. You don’t get to ask this of him. 

The silence is heavy for a few minutes before Dave’s cell phone rings, and he takes the call in another room. A weight lifts briefly, then settles into a foolish melancholy.

There’s the proof. Stop wishing, silly girl.

But you still do.

The 14th comes with a little more pomp than a normal day. You make heart-shaped pancakes with strawberries, pink milk and red and white carnations in a vase. The girls’ eyes light up and squeals echo in the kitchen. There are tiny boxes placed in front of their plates, a larger gift bag by Carol’s seat. 

Nothing by yours. You didn’t expect it.

You still hoped.

The girls giggle over the heart lockets, specifically picked by Dave with small differences that they point out to each other. Your heart swells at his attentiveness, how well he sees his girls and how much he thinks about what makes them happy. Carol peers quickly into the gift bag, gives a curt nod, and begins eating breakfast. No comment on her Valentine’s Day gift.

You would have gushed over anything, waited until the girls were off at school to show him how much you liked it, over and over and over…

The rest of the morning is a whirlwind of backpacks and boxes of cards for the girls’ classmates, cupcakes for lunch carefully delivered to their classrooms, and the usual errands. Pulling back into the York’s driveway, you breathe in the car and scrub a hand over your face. Busyness helped keep your rushing mind silent, but now back here where all you had to look forward to was laundry it roars to the forefront.

He didn’t get you anything.

It doesn’t matter.

He couldn’t give you something.

It doesn’t matter.

You don’t care.

You don’t matter.

Taking in a deep breath and blowing it out forcefully, you finally gather as much of yourself as you can and head inside. You decide to change into something more comfortable and put on some trashy TV show during lunch. The chores can wait just a little longer. 

Padding into your room, a small black box on your bedside table catches your eye. It’s unassuming enough that anyone coming in would have missed it, except for you. 

Your heart skips three beats in one turn.

Sitting on the edge of the bed you take the box into your hand. It’s light, palm-sized. Your heart pounds against your ribs. A deep breath, then you open it.

Laying inside is a pale pink scrunchie. The material is silky under your fingers as you stroke the ruffled edge. Definitely not from the girls, you’ve seen these designer ones at outrageous prices. There’s only one person who would give you this.

Dave.

A smile spreads across your face as you slip the scrunchie onto your wrist. It’s perfectly unassuming, even stylish in a way Carol could write off. Slipping your finger under the elastic, you stretch it away before letting it snap back into place. The soft sting raises goosebumps on your skin. 

“You didn’t think I’d leave you out, did you?” a deep voice rumbles from your bedroom door. Your head shoots up - Dave is there, carefully unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling up the sleeves. The veining on his forearms stands out, his smile walking a thin line between coy and soft.

“I didn’t expect…” you say, slipping the fabric between your thumb and forefinger. 

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” he says airily, one hand on his hip and watching you with something closer to warmth now. “Everyone deserves a little something.” 

“Thank you,” you say, standing up and suddenly very aware that you’re very alone with Dave in your bedroom. When the realization hits you watch his smile darken as he kicks the door shut behind him.

“Not the only gift I have to give you,” he purrs, and heat pools in your cunt. He stalks closer, the anticipation freezing you on the spot. “Let’s try it out.”

Wordlessly you hold up your wrist, and he slips the scrunchie over his thicker fingers. With a gentle sweep he gathers your hair in one hand, the softness before the filth you know is to come trembling through your body. He wraps the scrunchie around your ponytail, brushing back any errant wisps. Your eyes are glued on his face, concentrating as he smooths the strands, satisfied. His hands drift to your face and you start to drop to your knees.

“Ah,” Dave chastises, pulling you back to standing as confusion paints your face. “That is a very good gift for me that I’ll definitely cash in later. But this is one for you, and I’ve only got so much time to give it. I’ve got a meeting at 1.” You shudder as he spins you to press his hardening cock against your ass, roaming fingers kneading at your breast, squeezing carefully around your neck. You melt back against him, rolling your hips over his cock as he lets out a groan in your ear.

“Bend over,” he commands, and you fold at the waist, planting your hands on the bedspread. He kicks your feet wider, back arching instinctively as he palms your ass. “Gonna give you a nice, fat load in this pretty pussy, my little love.”

The moan that drips out of you is obscene as Dave peels your jeans down your thighs, helping you step out of them before standing behind you. Silence, then the deafening crack of his hand on one of your asscheeks. You flinch, but rock back with a gasp when the thick head of his cock smears through your folds. 

“Tell me you want it,” he growls, tapping the head against your clit hard enough to jolt you.

“I want it, sir, please, please give it to…” You’re cut off by his achingly slow slide into your tight cunt, words strangling on your tongue and eking out as a high pitched whine. It’s overwhelming without his fingers preparing you, but a burn and a stretch you cry out for.

“Look at you taking me, my little love. So fucking tight. So fucking wet.” One hand leaves your hips and fingers dig into your scalp, your ponytail wrapping around his wrist. “Face down. I’m gonna fuck you into this mattress until you’re a drooling mess.” 

Your arms buckle, cheek crushing into the comforter as you flatten your chest into the bed. Ass still high and toes on the floor, you shake at the bend of your body against Dave’s unflinching grip. “Good girl,” he grits out before pressing between your shoulderblades with his other hand and snapping his hips.

You’re full and crushed and pulled taut as a bowstring and on the edge of something ferocious as he pounds into the wet heat of your cunt. Each thrust rocks you against the bed, the comforter scraping against your nipples as you gasp and keen. 

“Such a good girl, taking my big cock like this. Wish I had enough time to tease you until you’re crying for my cum, but this will have to do.” With that he pushes you up the bed, your shaking thighs aching once prone. He crawls up behind you, hands rough yanking your hips back and burying himself inside you in one fluid motion. Your hands scrabble on the bed but he gives you no time to adjust before slamming you over and over on his cock. You’ll scream if he keeps going at this pace, burying your face in a pillow to muffle how fucking good he feels bludgeoning his way inside you. Every slam to your g-spot makes you writhe, begging for him to make you cum, to give you his cum, please sir, you’ve been such a good girl, please.

With a mouthful of curses Dave spills deep inside, grinding himself into the mess between your legs as you beg for him to make you cum. Your whole body is tight, tingling on the edge of release as he pumps you full, and just when the tears threaten to start he slaps your clit three times in quick succession. It spasms you into a wracking orgasm, wailing into the sheets as Dave holds you tight against him, circling his hips and cooing at how fucked out you are, how messy and needy and fucked dumb he made you. Tears and drool smear across your face as you come down, body trembling with the ferocity of your orgasm. Once your heart stops pounding Dave slips from you, replacing his softening cock with his fingers. 

“Remember, it’s a gift, you keep it inside until I go,” he says, your numb nod enough to earn a smile. He leans down and presses an uncharacteristically sweet kiss to your temple. “Happy Valentine's Day, my little love.”

END

I hope you enjoyed it Cristina, and Happy Valentine's Day you gorgeous soul you!

[mithclearwell]

Just out of curiouse, do you have any tips for beginner artists? I would really appreciate one

Of course! ^-^ I'm more than happy to help!

Let's see...without the ability to have a conversation, I'm not sure where exactly you are in skill level, so I guess I'll start with some basic quality-of-life tips.

General:

You don't have to go to college to get good at art. I didn't go to art school!

Watch youtube videos from good artists, or those you admire!

What kind of art do you ultimately want to produce? This isn't an instance of "I can only pick one thing", it's more like...each type of art requires different skills, and if you know ahead of time what you want to do FIRST, you can narrow down what you have to learn.

learn proper sketching and use of circles and other shapes to build the figure, don't just jump in making the final lines right away! It's not a "cheat", it's proper technique. It's "caring about your work".

Same for references. Google up some images of what you want to draw and look at them while you draw your own picture. It's not only okay, it's what professionals do. You need to train your EYE as well as your hand.

It's okay to mimic styles you like! But be aware that each artist may stretch or squish or exaggerate proportions to fit what they personally like to see. This is why it's IMPERATIVE that you learn realism alongside any manga style you want to try. Once you learn where the eyes sit on the face, the different facial planes and what bones they relate to, and different sizes and builds for the face, you can then manga them up to any style you want!

For real paper:

Use a protector sheet, or wear a glove on your drawing hand. You want to make sure you don't get graphite or colored pencil on the side of your hand, and then smear it on your drawing. Placing a piece of paper under your hand will protect your work!

Don't touch your art with your fingertips. Fingertips have oil and gunk on them, and will smudge your drawing. (If you're working with charcoal, this could work to your advantage! But you're probably not using charcoal. It's messy and usually limited to college art students.)

Get the right tools! You can buy a small eraser set in the art section of Wal-Mart for like $3 -- it has a polymer eraser, a smaller white eraser, and the all-important KNEADED ERASER. This thing can be squished and torn apart and it'll pick up graphite like a champ! Do not bother with hard pink erasers, they're trash.

You don't need special paper to learn. I used to draw on the backs of my dad's extra math photocopy papers. Copy paper is smooth and not too fussy and I like it. "Sketch pads" usually have a rougher grain, and I hate the way the paper feels. Also there's a lot of ugly white spots when you try to shade or use colored pencils. Only use that if you're keeping a cute little book or using pastel crayons or something (or it's all you have). Don't fuss over it too much while you're learning. It won't make much difference until you're ready to specialize!

Blending stumps are cool and even pros use them.

Get a small electric pencil sharpener. They're less than $10 at places like Dollar General, and those stores are literally everywhere.

If you get a manual sharpener in an "art set", that's fine, too, but it hurts my hand to do it manually. I like the ones that have little covers.

It DOES matter what kind of ink pen you use. Gel pens will smear. Most markers are washable, and you better believe they will run at the first hint of moisture. India Ink also smears and runs with water. I recommend Sakura Micron pens, Zig Mangaka pens, or my favorite --- the Kuretaki Bimoji felt tip brush pen. You can get all that on Amazon, and it's like $6. I got the superfine tip.

LET YOUR INK DRY BEFORE YOU PUT MARKERS OR WATERCOLOR OR ANYTHING AT ALL OVER IT. It takes maybe 20 minutes.

If you don't plan to color it, you CAN draw with a ball point pen and it'll look just fine.

Do a tiny little water streak test with any markers you plan to use with watercolor. Just brush a tiny bit of water over the mark after it's dry to see if it bleeds. I use that bleed to my advantage sometimes, but you just gotta be aware of what's what.

Digital:

You can buy a small, cheap tablet from HUION for less than $40. MAKE THE INVESTMENT. IT'S WORTH IT.

Clip Studio Paint is EXCELLENT. Well worth the $50-$60 price tag. I think you can try it before you buy it, too. It gives you access to the Asset Store -- which is the single greatest artistic sharing tool I have EVER seen, and I've used SAI for ...probably a decade... I've used dozens of custom brushes and even made my own, and I just can't even believe what is available with CSP. Do yourself a favor and get it.

"But I can't use a tablet! I can't look at a screen while I draw!" Yes you can. YES you can. Yes you can, if you'll just try it. "but I tried once and it didn't work" Well YEAH, if you only tried a handful of times, OF COURSE it didn't work. Do you know what practice is? HUION screen tablets are over $300!!!!! Do you have that kind of disposable income lyin around? (plz donate some to me if you do lololjk =u=; )

Start saving a folder full of refs.

Ask people to tell you what to draw. Let them request something for free. This makes you draw things you wouldn't normally draw, and there is INCREDIBLE value in stepping outside of your comfort zone. You will level up in no time.

Whew...that covers most of the basics, I think. If you have something specific you want me to go into more detail on, please let me know! I love helping ;w;

[earninganincomplete]

Venti Latte

Summary: You are out on a date with Venti, and her mood seems off, somehow.

Rating: G

Characters: Unnamed Builder, Venti

Pairing: Venti/you

A/N: For some reason I decided to do second person present tense.

Venti normally had plenty to say, but that night she only occasionally pipes up to share her thoughts. You don’t like to talk much, so it's slightly uncomfortable trying to lead the conversation.

At first, you assume she’s had an especially tiring day salvaging. Even with the best possible tools, it’s intense, physical work. She usually seems to draw energy from the garbage she sifts through, but tonight is an exception.

“Venti, are you all right?” Maybe she’s sick.

“Oh!” She immediately brightens, but there’s a plastic fakeness to it. “I’m great! Sorry. I don’t know where my head is!”

“If you’re tired, let’s just call it early.” It’s a shame, since you’re both so busy.

“No, no! Please don’t.” She reaches across the table and grips your arm. “I don’t want that. Can’t we just sit together? I’m sorry I’m not my usual chipper Venti self.”

You rest your hand on hers. “You don’t have to be. Just be yourself, okay? I was just worried you were coming down with something.”

“Peach, I hope not,” she says. “Nah, I’m just. I don’t know. Thinking. ‘Bout stuff maybe I shouldn’t.”

“And you don’t want to talk? That’s okay.”

She stares at your hand on hers, biting her lip.

You don’t know her as well as you want to. You’ve been dating for seasons, now, but you are both working so hard, it feels like you are still just a little better than acquaintances. You want everything, but all you have are scraps.

You wish life wasn’t so hectic, and that your work was just important, and not necessary like it is at the moment. Sandrock is bleeding out and you are part of the medical team struggling to keep its heart beating.

You need a vacation.

“I guess I’m just kind of worried,” Venti says, quiet.

With the way your thoughts are turning, you assume you know what she means. “About the water,” you say.

“No, I—” she breaks off, laughing. “Well, yeah! Pile that on too, I guess.” She sighs and retrieves her hand. “Can we go? Someplace quiet? I really want to see the stars right now. If that’s okay.”

You nod, and the two of you head out of the Blue Moon, hand in hand. She takes you to one of the higher points near your workshop, and you both lay down on the rocks and sandgrass.

The sky is clear; the stars bright. Sometimes dark shapes flutter across the moon. Clouds seem to race to escape the dry air of the desert. You can’t remember if it’s been two or three seasons since the last rain.

“I lied to you,” Venti says. “I just wanted to be close to you so bad, but…” she trails off.

“Is this about when we snuck in to the salvage yard? You know that didn’t bug me. I was just worried about you.”

“No, it’s not – well, maybe. Partially. I just – it’s so hard to explain what’s it’s like, you know? What everything was like for me, before Sandrock. I’m so happy here, but it all feels so fake, sometimes.”

“Does it?” You struggle to think what she means. You want to fix what’s making her miserable. You’ve always struggled with how some problems had to be “fixed” with sitting and listening, not by doing. If Venti needs a chair or a better axe to solve her problems, you’d help in a flash.

“I just had these dreams, you know? Getting to have a house someplace that’s not a dumpster. Having a job that pays good. Maybe running a business of my own. Meeting someone great and they’d be…” She covers her face with her hands. “Someone like you! And it is so great, better than I imagined. Even without the house and kids and a little cafe where I can stand behind the counter and wash mugs and talk to customers. I’m still happier now than I ever thought I would get to be.” She pulls her hands away from her face and smiles. Her eyes are wet. “I have such a big family, now! Pebbles calls me Auntie Venti and Krystal always wants to help me pick out clothes for when we go out, and, and – there’s you.”

She sniffs. You fumble to find a cloth, and eventually pull a scrap piece out of your pocket she can wipe her eyes on.

“I kind of love you,” she says. “And them. And all the people in town, even!” She blows her nose loudly on the cloth. “And the only reason I get to be here instead of someone else is ‘cause I’m a liar.”

“Maybe you’d feel better if you were honest with me about it, at least?” You’re still not sure what she’s talking about. “I can’t say I won’t be mad, but I can’t imagine ever hating you.”

“That’s what you say now.” She sighs. “But, okay.” She sits up and leans back on a rock outcropping.

A gust of wind sends sand scattering. You worry there will be a sandstorm soon, but right now it’s just pretty when the moonlight hits the particulates.

“I already told you how I got into school that one time, right? And then I used some weird stuff they said there to impress Rocky and get this job.”

“I don’t think he cares.” He had probably already guessed that Venti wasn’t a financial expert. “He knows you’re a hard worker. He told me himself you’re one of the best.”

“Did he? Aw! That’s sweet. I think if I don’t mess up again, my job will be okay. It’s actually...something else I’m trying to figure out how to talk about. I think I just want you to understand me. And like how everything good I have is ‘cause I’m a sneaky liar.”

“Everything I have right now is because my parents helped me at the start,” you say. “You didn’t have someone who could do that for you.”

“That’s what I always told myself, too! 'Venti, if you’re going to have anything, you have to take it!' Everything was free in the garbage dump. Because it was worthless. I didn’t want that. To be worthless forever. I can’t feel guilty about doing what I had to. To eat real food every day and sleep in an actual bed and not have to worry about clouds of noxious fumes from the garbage making me feel sick all the time. I can’t feel bad about it. Even if Rocky and everyone is so nice and so good to me now. I just can’t.”

“You shouldn’t. Do you?”

“Not as much as I should if I was a good person.” She flings her arms in the air and makes a frustrated noise. “I know I’m not making sense! I’m sorry.” She settles down. “That’s not even what I wanted to tell you. You know that already.”

You set your hand on her calf and squeeze. You’re still on your back. “Just say it.”

“I know.” She rubs her forehead. “I know! Okay. It’ll be fine, Venti.” She grits her teeth and braces against the rock. When she speaks again, it’s in a rush of words. “I don’t like yakmel milk!”

You think you misheard. “Pardon?”

“I don’t hate it! But it’s just kind of weird tasting and I don’t like it! I wish everyone would stop giving it to me. But I lied! I lied to you and everyone and said I liked it! That I loved it!”

“What? Why?”

“So you’d like me! Rocky likes milk; the other salvagers like it – all the real Sandrockers like it. I thought if I said I didn’t want any, everyone would stop wanting to hang out with me.” She’s tearing up again. “I just wanted to belong somewhere that wasn’t a trash bin. I didn’t want anyone to go, ‘oh, you want to invite Venti? She’s so boring and she never wants to get drinks with us.’”

“You could just drink something else, couldn’t you?” It strikes you that you’re trying to logic your way out of an emotional issue, again. You’re not even trying to fix the right problem. “I don’t think they’d be like that. I figured out you weren’t that into milk when I saw how you looked at me whenever I gave you some. I saw the difference when I got you coffee. Your face would just light up.” You finally sit up, too, so you can look at her properly. She’s beautiful. “I wanted to spend more time with you.”

Covered in dirt, tear tracks on her face, a wad of scrap cloth in her hand – you want to kiss her every time you see her. You think it’s the bright light in her eyes that makes her so beautiful. Even when she’s upset you can see it glimmering. That strong, indefatigable hope. She’d been born at the bottom of the world, seeing sky in cracks between mountains of garbage. The sky was open to her now. You never wanted to see that light go out.

“I know,” she says, quiet. “I know you want to...be with me, now. But I feel like I tricked you. Into this. Because I wanted to be like you, or with you, or...both?”

“I think I could’ve cared for you, even if you told me right away you didn’t like milk.”

She snorts. “I know it sounds stupid. I know that.”

“Even if you had to trick me to get to know you. I’m glad you did. I’d want you to do it again.”

“It’s not just the milk, though,” she admitted. “It’s everything. The milk’s just, like, the obvious thing. Sometimes I’m not that optimistic or cheerful about things. But I pretend I am. Because I can’t do anything else. I’m so...I’m so, so scared this crisis or the next one is going to ruin everything. Rocky will have to close shop and we’ll all move. I have a real job to put on my resume now, so I’m not worried about finding more work, anymore. But I love this place. These people. Even if they don’t know me or like me, I care about them. I don’t want this all to go away. It feels like home here.”

You sidle over so you can put your arm around her. “I’m scared, too.”

“Oh no! You too? You’re always so confident. And at least you can help do something about all these things that keep happening, unlike me.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I lie sometimes, too. This was just a contract job, but the longer I'm here, the more I want to live here the rest of my life.”

“Yeah. It’s really good, isn’t it? Like, good good.” She buries her head in her knees. “Everyone says it’s okay to be scared. It doesn’t feel okay.”

“Yeah.”

She sighs. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like you had to be confident around me all the time. Good job, Venti. I know you’re a person and not, like, just someone for me to look up to.”

You nod. “When I’m working, it’s easy to be confident. So I’m not constantly afraid. But I feel it too, that same fear you do. I think that fear is more what makes you a Sandrocker right now than what you drink.”

She rests her weight against you. “It’s that we care, right? Listen to me! Acting like I’m from here, or something.”

“If you were just worried about the future, I’d say you could come back and live with me and my parents until I signed another contract. I’m sure wherever I went next would have salvaging work.”

“You’d want me to go with you?”

“I know it’s pretty early for that, but, yes. I would.”

“That does make me feel better, actually.” She knocks against your shoulder. “I would miss Rocky and Krystal and little Pebbles and Fei and even Peck...oh! And Amirah and her brother at the shop and Owen is always so nice to me and everyone. I wish we could stay with everyone forever, right here.”

“It could work out,” you say.

“But it’s too much about luck, right? Who knows when a big disaster will be too big to come back from.”

“Hey. Maybe it’ll be good luck, next time.”

“Maybe. I must be worried because I’ve been feeling too lucky lately. I’m so happy right now.”

“Me too.”

“I’m sorry I lied. Even if I’m not sorry if it made you like me.”

“I’m sorry I lied,” you say. “Unless it was the only reason you wanted to be my friend.”

“It’s not,” she says. She laughs. “You’re real pretty, too.”

You smile at that. “We didn’t have to worry, did we? Not about being friends. Because we’re both so beautiful.”

“Beautiful people like us are always attracted to each other! We’re like magnets.”

You nod. After a brief silence, you continue, “Let’s be more honest from now on.”

“Well, I’ll do my best.”

“Me too,” you say. You found yourself less concerned about the current crisis. If this place ends up not being able to be home, maybe Venti can be one with you.

But you aren’t going to give up on this place, either.

She looks up at you, finally meeting your eyes. She takes a deep breath, grabs the sides of your face with the palms of her hands, and pulls you towards her, into a kiss. The wind picks up and the air is sharply cool against your bare skin. Her hands and lips are warm and all your anxiety and hope fades away into the moment.

[hiroyasutsuri-twoone]

نّس بيك

Bitwannes beek / Cherishes your company

JULY 2022 Rabat, Marocco.

From 20/07/2022-31/07/2022 I visited The Magic city Rabat, The capital city of Morocco, where they hold rich cultures and a long history.

I was invited by jidar-streetart for the 7th edition of Jidar Street art Festival to create a public mural in the district of Yaagoub-el-Mansour.

In Early 2022. When Jidar Invited me to the project I asked if it’s ok for me to developed the idea, once I arrive to Rabat.

As I believe with this process, I can create more strong work that responds to the site’s architecture, history, culture and people.

I have been practicing this process from painting a number of abandoned place for it’s shapes and use of the space, and in last few years of public mural project that allowed me to do it.

so the process starts from collecting the inspirations.

22/07/2022

morning after my arrival to Rabat, I met Sarah the Director of the festival and and Jidar organised a Local Assistant Dounia, we went to see the location. and after seeing the location we went for walk around the neighbourhood of Yaagoub-el-Mansour.

behind the mural building (witch is a residencial apartment) there was bunch of flowers I never seen(or maybe not noticed) before, called Bougoinviller.

We walked a bit more around I noticed a lot of carpet/Tapestory was hanged out side of the house.

I took some photos and kept it in the mind later Dounia mentioned some of the designed are very particular to Rabat. after walking around the Yaagoub-el-Mansour, went to the old medina, and bought a hand made wooden chess set, and 5x Old cassette-tapes that had writing saying some musicians known in Morocco, including Warda, Hamid Zaher, Oum Keltoum, also bought some typical herbs to make tea, and fruits.

23/07/2022

more research walks in the morning.

in the evening stayed at hotel to make some idea sketches from what I saw, and learned in last 2 days.

inspired by the shape of the building, and seeing lot of building painted in red and white, I decided to take the tapestry as a main motif, I borough tapestry shape structure, and re-make my version of it by using the local flowers and herbs. I made some drawings of the local floras based on my photos I have been taking last 2 days. and I decided to use Bougoinviller as the central flora motif, I like the interesting leafy flower structure, and it’s blooming at the back of the building where I’m painting, and also I like the fact you see it everywhere in Rabat, also I chose herbs to make tea as a flaming flora. so I made bit more detailed drawing.

25.26.27/07/2022

I have painted off white coloured square little smaller than the wall surface, thats where my tapestry will be painted.

I used long poled generic painting roller extended to 4m, then I started to paint centre motif” Bougoinviller” with the air pumped sprayer filled with proximate 7:3/water:acrylic paint (usually used for gardening to water plants, and sometime spray chemicals.)

I have been using long extension poled rollers, and pumped sprayer when I get to paint large scale wall.

They are both tools that can’t have 100% control when used for painting compared to paint brush or spray paint(as they are not really made for it. but I like using them for number of reason.

1.It’s relatively easy to get anywhere in the world.

2.It has much longer reached comparison to say spray paint, or paint brush, also since they both hold much paint I get to make much longer marks with out refilling(dipping the brush in to the paint)

3.You gain better control by practicing, but still uncontrollableness remains.

I have been asked some times that How I enlarge the image when I paint the large mural.

there are lot of way to do this. and every artist does it differently.

I chose to the tool that has a longer reach, so I can take more distance from the wall, so I can see the bigger picture, with out using the grid, or projector, because for me art and painting was always something that associated with freedom and having fun, and this technic allow me to feel free and get to have fun.

also I like to keep the first strokes visible, because I believe that when it’s done well, it can hold strong energy, and that can be seen by people especially when they see the painting in person.

as I placed the centre flore, I paint the top to make it balanced with the centre one, with my sketch drawing I didn’t have clear image of the direction of the flora. so I picked one the ” Bougoinviller” from the side of the wall move them around in front of the wall to find good angle and take a photo with my phone. every time I’m playing with this process it reminds me of Ikebana(traditional Japanese flower arrangement study)

I have painted the flaming with all the herbal floras that they use in the tea in Rabat, Dounia supervised  me witch ones to pick up from the market near the wall.

The floras as subject, and the tools I use, compliment each other as the flora is such forgiven subject, meaning it does not need to be super athcurate to be looks good, and the tools makes rough but very organic marks by nature.

using the above process I worked for 2days and half to complete the tapestry.

now I just need to think and make a one final layer.    

28/07/2022

Now I have completed the tapestry painting with local flora, and herbs. -Bougoinviller,Sage / Selmia, Mint /  Na3 Na3, Wild Mint / Flio

I wanted to add one more layer probably some letters in the middle, but I didn’t know what to write yet. I wanted to find a phrase that suits to the painting. and something that represent my experience, and interaction with people there.we spoke about the idea for the phrase, I wanted to make some positive phrase, represent welcomeness, togetherness, kindness, sharing and about some sort of connection, because that’s how I experienced Rabat, I ate Tajine together made by one of the stuff on the painting spot. we all sit around the Tajine, and eat from it by hand, the neighbour come with the tea and sweets. people look at me with curios eyes, but as soon as greet them they greets back with big smile, and also the we talked that the tapestry in where family get together in the house also.

I was speaking with the assistant crew about the cassette tape I bought in the fist days. and Dounia mentioned one of the singer Warda Al-Jazairia, in Morocco known as Warda meaning Flower. and I thought that might be perfect to borrow some lines or title of her song for the painting, because I have been painting flower all the last days.

-Warda Al-Jazairia (22 July 1939 – 17 May 2012)was an Algerian singer. She was well known for her Egyptian Arabic songs and music. Her name was sometimes shortened to just Warda (Egyptian Arabic: [ˈwæɾdæ] meaning

she is not from Morocco but her music was widely known and loved by people in morocco.

Dounia told me that her mother used to listen to Warda, and she told me her mothers favourite songs, witch are

-Bitwannas beek / cherishes your company

-Fiyoum wail / in the day and night

-I dream that I love you

I listened to the songs, Her mother told us the “Bitwannas beek” is the most known song.

when we get back tothe painting location, we had Tajin together again with all the crew that Adlfman made on the spot. we talked about the Warda, and other musicians, and soungs, that they like.

We decided that “Bitwannas beek” is the good title. as It is Positive and sweet phrase.

I went up to the wall wrote the Phrase right to left and the mural was completed.

Through this process I learnt something about Rabat, Morocco’s histories, culture, nature, and people live there.

It was a very magical time I spend in Rabat.

Big Thank you to all the jider crew for ongoing hard works. and Dounia for great assistant, and sharing knowledge of her cultures.

I miss your Company Rabat, Morocco.

[gettingjiggly]

Doctor's Orders Pt 1

I had been seeing Dr. Sisemor for most of my adult life, in fact she has known me since I was in high school when I first started putting on weight. It's been years since then and I am still toying around with weight gain. Feeding and stuffing myself until I feel like I'm going to tear at the seams, even a few little stretch marks here and there. But I have also tried to keep it within reason. That all changed over the course of a few weeks.

You see, I had recently sprained my ankle in a soccer game when I stepped on the ball and my chubby little butt flew into the air and bounced down, everyone laughing. At first the embarrassment hurt a little, but later I found myself kinda turned on that everyone laughed at me. Anyways, I had to go to the clinic and get it checked out. Dr. Pheobe Sisemor looked as attractive as ever. She always knew how to keep it professional but still make your imagination go wild. And I never could figure out if she ever wore a bra. She had to be pushing 40 years old now but looked at least 10 years younger than that.

"Well, I haven't seen you in awhile." She smiled very friendly almost like she had been expecting me. "Let's take a look at that ankle. But first things first." She pointed me toward the scale and I stepped on, making a sudden loud 'Ka-Chunk' noise. "Looks like someone has been building some muscle mass," she continued smiling and sliding the large weights over, "and maybe more than that." She always liked teasing me whenever I put on a few extra pounds. "165. Let's get a few measurements, so we can get an accurate bmi reading." She pulled out a soft silky tailor's measuring tool and said, "Alright then, off with the shirt. Can't get a good measurement with that on!"

The feeling of the cool silky measuring tape going over the curves of my body tickled but felt so good. I couldn't help but think she was doing it on purpose. "Looks like you're getting a bit chubby. I thought last time you were here we agreed you would try to get in shape again?" We had agreed on that. And I had binged eaten my way two sizes larger since then. Somehow I felt like she knew that and could see right through my excuses.

"You know," she said as she locked the examination room door making sure we were completely alone. "If I had known you wanted to be fat, I wouldn't have wasted all this time giving you advice on how to lose weight." I could feel my face starting to blush. "If I had known you wanted to be a fat pig, then I would have given you these instead." She opened her purse and pulled out a bottle like prescription medicine but there was no label on it. "I don't want to ruin the surprise for you but trust me, if you enjoy putting pounds on, you'll love these."

I examined the bottle, 14 pills. "One a day, see me in two weeks. Oh and stay off that leg for awhile, the ankle needs time to heal." I limped out of the room and just as I walked out the door she gave me one last little pinch on my side as I walked by. It gave me goosebumps, and I turned to see her shoot me a fast wink right before leaving to the next patient.

I went home, took one of the pills and drank a glass of water. The medicine made the water taste really good. That was kind of a cool side effect I thought. I drank another glass, mmmm, and another glass. Finally I decided to pour myself a glass of milk and chugged it down. It was unlike anything I had ever tasted, but I was feeling very tired and decided to lay down for a nap.

I slept for 7 hours, and woke up at nearly midnight! I felt tired still and groggy but my first thought was, "oh no I slept through dinner. I better eat something before I fall back asleep." I opened the fridge and started tasting everything. It didn't matter what I took a bite of, it was so good! I headed back to bed after what felt like only a short while but as I flopped on the bed I saw the clock on the nightstand said 2am. "I must be really tired." I thought to myself, "I can't even keep track of time and my whole body feels lethargic."

I woke up a little after 11am the next day, still tired and very hungry. I walked to the bathroom and stepped on the scale, still rubbing the sleep from my eyes. "196.2." Huh? No way. I stepped off and stepped on again. "196.8." I looked up in the mirror and my face was huge, my arms and hands, the definition was gone and it was all covered in soft smooth squishy fat. What has she done to me? I called Dr. Sisemor's office and stood staring at myself in the mirror while I waited for her to pick up the phone.

"What are these things?" I blurted out as soon as I heard her voice. "Mmmhmm," she laughed "You like that don't you?"

I mean I didn't, not like it. But still what the hell.

"I tried to keep you in shape, but you couldn't help yourself. You're just a fat pig aren't you? You've always wanted to be a fat pig, so I just gave you something to help you along."

I don't know why but the words coming from her mouth were shocking and yet oh so arousing at the same time. I couldn't do anything I just stood there and listening to what she would say next.

"You need to finish up that bottle, like a good pig. 13 days left. Then and only then will I give you something to reverse the effect. I took the liberty of sending over a feeding nurse to help you so you won't have to get out of bed. Just keep those pills nearby and get plenty of rest."

After she hung up the phone I realized my ankle was extremely painful under the weight I had gained from last night. I laid down on the bed and fell asleep, not waking until I heard the doorbell.

I tried to jump up out of bed but I just sat halfway up and fell back against my pillow again. What the hell? I tried again, and fail. So I scooched to the edge of the bed, and painfully limped to the door, greeting a nice young nurse by the name of Celeste. She helped me get back to my bed and said, "Don't worry I'm on doctor's orders to bring you anything you want!"

[90sloverwithinsomnia]

Vol 1 - Battle of the Boy Bands - Chapter 7/23

This is one of many archived fanfics featuring 1st and 2nd generation K-pop acts that I've come across recently. It's all in good fun, and maybe a bit cringeworthy! Just to clarify, I don't post fanfics, so I hope to the people that post and read K-pop fanfics makes sense. Credits go out to the original creator (hgiel) Anrui, Kyorei, and Jacqui.

*Note: Nothing in their post will change (unless necessary), other than being posted here, and the (Link) will be provided to the page that i found it on.

Characters:

Choi Dongwook (Se7en), Wheesung, Moon Heejoon, Ahn Chilhyun (Kangta), Jae Joong, Yun Ho, Mickey, Max, Xia, Young One, Woo Hyun, UBin, Dong Hwa, Jumin

Chapter 7:

With a little walking, the teams were faced with two piles of wood.. Se7en handed them each a stack of papers.

"This is our next game!" Se7en said into the camera. "Each team will use the wood and these instructions to build something." He explained.

"Build what?" Xiah asked.

"You'll see when its done." Se7en said.

"When what's done?" Micky asked.

"WHAT YOU ARE BUILDING!"

"We're building something?" DongHwa asked.

"WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH YOU PEOPLE?!"

"I don't get it. We go from tug of war, to a cupcake eating contest, to a building contest?"

Se7en smiled. "The first game was to make you tired, the second was to make you bloated, and this last one is to watch you build things when you are tired and bloated."

"I am kinda bloated." Xiah admitted.

"I think I am too!" Ubin panicked. "Do I look fat?"

"No you like fine!" Xiah assured.

"Thanks! I like your hair!" Ubin complimented.

"Thanks!"

"SHUT UP!" Se7en yelled. "Holy Mother Mary you people are getting on my nerves. Just begin!!!"

Se7en sat down in a lawn chair to watch, and had seven glasses of lemonade next to him. Everyone just stood around looking at each other.

".........I said begin!" Se7en reiterated. "...........COME ON! This is for the better cabin!!!"

Everyone reluctantly started looking through their instructions and tools.

"What do you think it is?" Jumin asked, flipping through the instructions.

"Probably a house in the shape of a seven for his majesty." Young One said, glaring at Se7en.

"Ubin, you and Donghwa do this." Jumin said handing Ubin a few pages. "Woo Hyun, you do this, Young One, you get this. I'll take the rest."

"Alright." Woo Hyun said as he and Jumin started collecting their tools.

Young One set down his papers and pulled off his shirt.

"Geez, cant you ever stay dressed?!" Woo Hyun said angrily.

"Don't look at me then, fag!"

"Who's the fag?!" Woo Hyun said shoving Young One. Young One went to punch him when Jumin yelled.

"STOP! You two stop fighting! If either one of you starts anything, I'm putting this hammer so far up your asses you could file a rape charge!" He warned.

"Alright man." Young One said.

"Ya, calm down dude..." Woo Hyun added.

Hours had worn on and everyone was tired. Many of the band members on each team had vomited multi coloured vomit from heat stroke. Se7en had finally designated a special vomit zone so people would stop slipping in it. The "Vomit Zone" looked like a pretty rainbow if you were looking from far away.

"I'm tired...." Micky said, slumping down against a tree. "And I still cant tell what the hell this is...."

"We should be given the good cabin anyway! It was OUR cabin!" Max reminded them.

Hero stopped suddenly and Uknow looked at him worriedly.

"Hero? Are you okay?"

"He's going to vomit!" Xiah cried.

Uknow grabbed Hero and drug him to the vomit zone where they joined Woo Hyun who was throwing up miserably.

"This is ridiculous!" Uknow said. "We haven't even gotten any water and it must be a 100 degrees out here."

"I say we ring the lemonade out of Se7en." Woo Hyun suggested.

Suddenly Max ran over and joined Hero on the ground vomiting.

"That's it!" Uknow said, stroking Hero's hair. "He has to give us something to drink, or a break! Max look after him."

Uknow walked up to Se7en. "Listen! We're all going to die if you don't-" But he was cut off when Young One came up and punched Se7en in the mouth.

"GIVE US SOMETHING TO DRINK YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

Se7en jumped to his feet and held his bloody mouth. "You............YOU TRYING TO MAKE ME UGLY?!" He punched Young One back and kneed Uknow in the crotch. He tried to knee him seven times but after the 2nd one Hero jumped on him.

"DIE!!!!!!!!!!" He screamed biting into the back of Se7en's shoulder.

Se7en cried and tried to get away.

DBSG and K-Pop ran over to watch.

"GET OFF ME AND ILL GET YOU WATER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Se7en pleaded.

Uknow was about to call Hero off when Xiah grabbed his arm. "Hold out for bottled water."

"I only drink mineral water!" Ubin interjected.

"Fine!!!!!!!!! Mineral bottled water!!!!!!!! GET HIM OFF OF ME!!!!!!!"

The DBSG members dragged Hero off of Se7en.

"Kang Ta, Hee Jun, go get them water!" Se7en ordered.

Everyone looked around to see them but they were nowhere to be found....

"Do you think I'm fat?" Hee Jun asked as he and Kang Ta held hands and walked through the woods.

"No! There is just a lot of you to love! Do you think I'm a whore?"

Hee Jun paused a little too long and Kang Ta glared at him.

"N-No! You aren't a whore at all my dear!" Hee Jun said in a calming voice.

"Hey, what's that?" Kang Ta asked, pointing to an orange cord.

"Oh that must be the extension cord we have coming from Se7en's place to the good cabin. You hooked it up, right Kang Ta?" Hee Jun asked.

"No, a camera man hooked it up."

"Why did the camera man do it?"

"We were using the cabin before you came." And as soon as Kang Ta said it, he knew he shouldn't have.

Hee Jun dropped his hand and turned to face him. "WHAT WERE YOU DOING IN THE CABIN KANG TA?!" Hee Jun demanded.

"I.....HEY, WHO'S THAT DONGHWA YOU KISSED?!"

"I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THAT GIRL WAS TALKING ABOUT AND DON'T CHANGE THE SUBJECT!!!!!!!!! I CANT BELIEVE YOU! HOW OFTEN MUST YOU BREAK MY HEART?!"

"HOW DARE YOU ACCUSE ME OF THINGS, IM NOT TALKING TO YOU!"

"FINE."

"FINE."

And they stormed off in different directions.

The camera men were sent out to get water, and were now passing out bottles. One "camera man" was obviously the Woo Hyun fan girl in a drawn on moustache. Anyone with half a brain would realize that so either they were all very tired or didn't have half a brain. She was handing Woo Hyun a bottle when Young One grabbed it.

"Finally!" He said, opening the cap.

"NO THAT'S FOR WOO HYUN!" She said grabbing it back.

"Ya jackass, can't you wait?!" Woo Hyun asked as he took the bottle and went to drink deeply.

The girl leaned forward in anticipation.

"Stop!" Young One said, covering Woo Hyun's mouth, stopping him from drinking.

"Get a grip dude, you are such a baby!" Woo Hyun said, pushing him away.

"Dude, look!" Young One pointed to the bottle and a hand full of razor blades were floating around in it.

They both looked at the fan girl, and she took off running, but Young One grabbed her by the neck.

"LET ME GO!" She screamed. "RAPE!!!!!!!! RAPE!!!!!!!!"

Woo Hyun took his thumb and rubbed her moustache off. "Its that girl!"

A few minutes later Young One threw her tied up body down the hill.

"Dumb bitch." Woo Hyun spat as they watched her hit a tree and kept rolling. "Thanks man." He said humbly.

"Don't worry about it." Young One said, looking at him.

After a moment of looking at each other Young One coughed uncomfortably. "Fag." He added.

"You are!"

"Son of a bitch!"

"I'll kill you!"

Xiah, Ubin, and DongHwa laid on the grass happily. They looked up lazily into the tree leaves as the mineral water dried in their hair. Suddenly Micky and Jumin's faces came into view.

"Breaks over you two." Jumin said.

"Come on, back to work." Micky said to Xiah.

Noticing each other, Jumin and Micky glared back at one another. And without any words, they started fighting.

Paying them no mind, Ubin rolled on his side, cuddling DongHwa and Xiah started whistling "My Little Princess".

"DONE!" Uknow cried. "WE'RE DONE! WE WIN!!!!!!!!!!"

The K-Pop members cursed.

All the DBSG members, besides Max, jumped around happily and cheered. The sun was setting and the teams had been at work for hours. Each of them had constructed large....somethings, and with K-Pop close to finished, DBSG beat them.

"What?" Se7en said, standing up, with seven body guards around him. "Oh you did! Now K-Pop, you finish up and you can all go back to your cabins. DBSG to the good one."

"No way! Why should we finish when we lost?!" Young One demanded.

"BECAUSE YOU STARTED IT, NOW FINISH!"

"What the hell are these things anyway?!" Max asked.

"None of your business!" Se7en barked at him.

Jumin went over to Uknow and took his instructions and layouts and put them next to his. He and Uknow looked at them, and then at Se7en.

"You....." Uknow said through clenched teeth.

"HES HAVING US BUILD A SEVEN SHAPED POOL!!!!!!!!!!!" Jumin yelled.

"WHAT?!" Everyone yelled, except for DongHwa who hadn't noticed it was over and was still working.

"Hey! This is my show! Now finish!" Se7en ordered.

Everyone, except for DongHwa came at him with murder on their eyes.

"Hey...stop!....STOP!!! GUARDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Se7en screamed.

DBSG sat around in their nice cabin, nursing each other wounds, as Kang Ta paced, mumbling about a "fat jealous bastard".

"Those weren't guards!" Micky cried. "More like triad members! Who fights with lead pipes?!"

"I hurt so bad..." Xiah cried.

Hero picked flesh from his teeth.

"The prize better be better then 10 Daesang awards......." Max cursed, trying to bandage himself.

"HOW DARE HE!" Kang Ta broke in.

"How dare who? Se7en?" Uknow asked.

"No! Hee Jun!"

"Would you shut up about that?" Micky pleaded.

"How did you guys even get into a fight?" Uknow asked him.

"It all started when we found the extension cord from this cabin to Se7en's place."

"Wait...that's right..." Uknow said as Hero licked blood from his ear. "Se7en must have a pretty nice place right?"

Kang Ta nodded. "Ya, its huge."

"I'll be back..." Uknow said.

"I gave him the best years of my life..." Hee Jun said again.

"I'm going to kill that Se7en guy!" Young One said, punching a hole in the wall.

"Quit that, we hardly have walls as it is!" Jumin said.

Uknow's head popped up from the "door" in the floor. "I'm here to call a truce you guys." He said, coming in. "At least for the time being."

"What do you want?" Woo Hyun asked.

"Our place might be nice, but Ill bet you Se7en's is even better, and after what he did to us today...I think we should move in there. We can follow the extension cord from our cabin there."

"And then beat his ass." Young One added.

"We're in." Jumin said. "Ubin, get the bags."

"WHAT THE HELL! I'm not the maid!" Ubin said. "Hee Jun, get the bags!"

"You get them! Hairy girl!" Hee Jun said.

"IM NOT A GIRL!!!!!!!!!!" Ubin said lunging at him.

"We'll be there in a sec." Jumin told Uknow.

"1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7" Rang the doorbell of the huge home with seven shaped windows. Se7en opened the door and stood before the two groups in a seven covered robe and hair curlers. Young One stuck his foot in the door way so Se7en couldn't slam it, and he cracked his knuckles.

[fizzingwizard]

Had to go home today and see the ear doctor. Don't read on if squeamish haha

I'd been having some ear achey-ness in one ear for about a week, but since last night, it suddenly felt like a full blown ear infection, like I haven't had since I was a kid. But since I work with little kids, I tend to catch little kid colds and stuff more often than most adults. (I've built up immunity and don't get them as bad as I used to, but there's always something new and wonderful going around 9_9)

I had to go into work this morning, because I messed up last week due to a miscommunication. It was the same thing as when I had covid: my boss said "until Thursday" meaning I should come back to work on Friday, but to me "until Thursday" meant I should come in on Thursday. This time she told me something was due on the 31st, which I took to mean by the end of the day on the 31st. But she actually meant it was due before the 31st... From now on I'm gonna ask more questions whenever words like "until" or "by" are used

Anyway, I was able to get it done pretty quick, because my head was killing me and I couldn't hear much of anything out of the one ear. So I went home and went to the ear doctor. He took pics and my goodness. One ear was pristine. The other... soooo much wax build up. Not only was there a lot, but it was a weird color, and the texture was different - I usually have kind of dry, orangey wax, and this was dark and slimy. (see I told you don't read if squeamish!)

I've never experienced this before in my life. The doctor started cleaning my ear with these long sticks, and using this suction thing like the dentist uses (though not quite as strong, thankfully). I don't know if I can say it was painful, but it sure was uncomfortable. And I don't know why, but it made me light-headed! I actually got nauseous. The doc asked what as wrong and I was too dizzy to think in Japanese, so instead of saying "I'm dizzy," I said "My head is light." Which isn't the most common way to express it here, but it got the point across, and they had me lie down on a cot with a funnel in my ear that dripped water in to loosen the wax x'D

After that fortunately the rest went pretty easily. The doctor was this twitchy, happy guy who couldn't stop talking. I liked him though. The nurse was also nice but seemed really anxious for some reason. But idk, she calmed down, or I guess maybe she didn't understand why I was acting weird until she took my blood pressure and realized it was low, and then focused on just not letting me fall over lol

(I don't know with the low blood pressure. Although my guess is I was dehydrated because I rushed around in the morning and didn't eat and only drank a little water. Plus it's really hot. But I do get light-headed like everytime the temperature changes x'D I have debated whether I should talk to a doctor about it. It doesn't really impede my life, but it has made it hard for me to get serious about hiking and stuff. I love hiking, but I tend to feel exhausted long before my muscles hurt, and it's really inconvenient to be nauseous on a mountain. ETA: I looked up about feeling faint when cleaning ears, and there was a mention that the suction tool can change the temperature inside the ear canal suddenly, which can result in dizziness and faintness. So that's that solved :P Woulda been nice if the doctor had warned me tho...)

I asked before I left what caused so much wax, because I really don't wanna do this again :P It wasn't painful, but it still sucked, ya know? They wouldn't really confirm, like usual, the doctors always just want you gone once you're fixed up... but hopefully that means it's not anything serious. I asked if I need to clean better, but I was confused why it only happened in one ear when I treat them both the same. But looking online, it sounds like that can happen if the inner ears are shaped differently, or if you sleep more on one side. I am a side sleeper but I'm not sure if I favor my right side. I don't think I do. Anyway... Idk, will just be more careful about cleaning my right ear from now on I guess XP

Eventful morning... At least I get to be home for the afternoon now. What's funny is last night I watched a video about Ouchi Hisashi, who was a victim of the criticality event in Tokaimura. What he endured was unimaginably horrific. Sitting there getting my ear cleaned, I hated it so much that I started reminding myself "Remember what Hisashi went through. This is nothing..." Yup I'm a wimp

[mengswe-blog]

Sketch to lineart!

So this is how I tend to start off a drawing. It's a hot mess on layer 1. I also REALLY exagerate anatomy. It's easy to trim it down, but it helps me see things. (Quick note, I’m using Krita and an XP pen digital drawing tab.)

Next is step 2, and it DOES look a lot like step 1, lol. I start a new layer and use a different color. Tidy anatomy, move some stuff around. But now I can kinda see what I'm going to want to change, where I want to move with this.

For instance, now I can see that I'm going to want to pull the chest up and out, which will give the spine more of a curve. There's nothing wrong with this, but that'll give the image more motion. Still thinking about that bottom hand. Probably I'll rotate it so its more side-on.

Oh, I didn't really address this, but I use a big, chonky brush for this so I don't get hung up on details. When I paint using my oils irl, I squint so I can only see big shapes of value at first. (If you’re dehydrated, this has the hilarious side effect that it deforms your eyeballs so you think maybe you need to go to the emergency room for a couple hours after you’re done squinting. Drink your water.)

So, this is steps 3 - ? because it's the wierd middle bit. I have enough anatomy down to start building outfits and details on, but doing that reveals more anatomy issues and frequently composition issues. So this wiggles back and forth a lot. Literally because this is where I start really flipping the canvas back and forth.

All the layers turned on for funsies.

Okay, so next I have lines, and they are mostly correct. You can see where I was like, "oooh, these are entirely correct" and started weighting them. Alas, there are still tweaks needed. Also, I made Wyn smaller so there would be room for magic. I always seem to draw things too big for the canvas, so I’m in love with that tool that lets you smoosh stuff down. This was, haha, a huge problem for me in art school when I was just using traditional media.

List of tweaks: The hair is wrong, and I think it's actually because the back of the skull is too big. I need to soften the facial featurs, and probably lift the mouth a bit. The biggest one is that I think the chest part of the chest armor needs to stretch down more.

Okay, so this next bit gets a little tricky to explain with just snips (why I'm excited to figure out the record function in either Krita or on my graphics card eventually). To make the above adjustments, I take the layer I want to tweak down to about 50% opacity, and on top of it, draw the changes. Ruducing the opacity of the below layer helps me “ignore” it a little, and drawing on top, of course, keeps the changes separate in case I have to revert. (Don’t mind my weirdo little notes about process and lore.)

Once I have some adjustments made, if I'm confident, I'll take the eraser brush at like, 30% opacity, and erase under the adjustment layer (blue here). It lets me see even better without destroying the work if I need to revert. The skull and chest plates show this. (The black arrow is pointing to an erased portion and the green is pointing to one where all I did was lower the opacity.)

Quick note about why Wyn is where he is. People like threes. So if you bust up a canvas into thirds vertically and horizontally, it's always good to put points of interest at the intersections. Wyn’s face, and his lower hand are about spot on. His upper hand isn’t, quite, but it’s close enough. I also want to leave enough “low value” space here for magic effects.

The last step before I have what I call finished line art is just so much fiddling with the lines. Make this one darker, make that one lighter, smooth this, make that pointier etc. Just a bunch of small adjustments. But at the end, ta-dah!

[rockheadcd]

@electrivolt​ said:  [ examine ] an old, battered sketchbook, somehow still held together. carefully flipping through the pages, you see various sketches, just barely put together with those poor supplies you found in the little hideout that were still holding on. Some sketches seem like nothing more than the surrounding area, others look more like maps... and there are a few that are clearly the byproduct of anger, of frustration and powerlessness building up in such a miserable excuse of a life so undeserved. What has the feline you brought back gone through? / examine. | closed.

You remember the worry on his face despite the insistence that nothing of his really mattered—you weren’t happy that he valued what few precious things he had so little, when it was the only few sources of solace in a cruel land laid waste by catastrophe after catastrophe. You knew would had to do something after plucking up that mangy cat and bringing him somewhere he’d never even heard of. It didn’t seem like he was at all expecting you to take him up on what was only a passing thought.

It didn’t sit right. Maybe that’s why you’re taking this more seriously behind the grin you often smiled with.

>> Browse the sketchbook. > Just go.

Despite the shoddy materials that Volkner had gotten by on, these sketches are actually pretty nice—at least, those that were of still life, small details, the intricate maps that labeled points of interest, points to avoid. And then some of them felt so.. you’re not sure if you should be looking at these. He never gave you permission, and he’s certainly in no condition to right now.

>> Look around. > Keep looking.

You decide with your better judgment and carefully stuff the tattered sketchbook into your utility bag, securing every single tool you could find that was mostly in the same spot, but in this abandoned room, things seemed to just fall out of place. You wonder for a moment just how many times Volkner had to leave this place in fear for his life, and for how long, even. You notice that despite the small machinery and the art, there’s a lack of anything else here in this messy place, with this sunken, dirty mattress, broken glass, scratched up floorboards, water damage—just.. everything. It made sense when you overheard the nurses surprised that he was still even alive with how dehydrated he was, how little there was left of him.

No wonder some of those pages just radiated some kind of anguish, and a frown gently crawls upon your lips. You take a look at the tinker projects left in varying stages of completion. You’re not sure what they’re supposed to be, but.. Volkner does. So, those are worth taking back to Rhodes, no? He was familiar with those, and in the end, that’s all that really mattered. Despite the understandable distrust, you know the staff will fit him with everything he needs to thrive, just as they did for you. Looking down for a moment makes you realize you’ve been rubbing your fingers over your own scales on your arms ( it’s cold in here.. ), and although the gloves temper the notion of touch, you’ve already memorized where all of the crystallization has sprouted ever since you developed oripathy.

You haven’t seen any signs on Volkner when you brought him in, and the doctors had cleared him despite what terrible condition he was in. 

>> Gather everything else that’s his.

You’ve got it stuck in your head that you have to do anything and everything you can for a cat that was in danger, now, huh? Didn’t your father worry that your kindness would get you killed someday? Maybe he’s going to be right, but until then, as long as you make it back alive, it’ll be worth it. This gives you the kind of information needed to get the process started for what environment Volkner would thrive in best—you’re certain this will work out. You’ll make sure he has a place to call home. When he’s in better shape, you want to ask him about everything. You want to know just about anything about this stray, and you’ll find a way to get there, huh.

[blazeenzalkin]

Story From the Archives

I'm woken up by a quiet whimpering from the room next door. I put on my shoes and feel my way down the hallway. I hear it again and carefully open the door. A lamp on the desk is the only light. I look around. It looked like some sort of workshop? Tools and little gadgets clutter every inch of the desk. I walk up to it and looked at them. I am so interested that I almost fall over when my foot hits a shape on the floor.  I hear the shape moan. My eyes widen, and I look down. At my feet is the wild boy. And a spot of dark blood on his shirt tells me he's hurt.  "Don't worry! I'll get help!" I say with confidence as I start to run from the room. "No!" the weak figure cries as he attempts to chase after me.  I stop and come back over to him. "But, Mr. Zalkin will help," Maybe he's just scared to be alone?   "N-no. He won't help me... please go and don't tell anyone." He whispers.  "But you need help," I reply. How on earth did he get such a bad injury anyway? I attempt to pull his once blue shirt away from his stomach to see how bad it is. A jagged cut is on his left side. Luckily the bleeding seems to have stopped. He must be very accident-prone, though. There are several other scars across his chest.  The boy doesn't move. "My Uncle... he... was mad at me,"  he whispers. My heart feels as if it has stopped. He doesn't mean... "Mr. Zalkin did this?"

The boy groggily looks away. 

 I take a deep breath. "Ok, if Mr. Zalkin won't help you, I will."  The boy shakes his head. "Y-you need to go,"  I frown. This boy does not get to boss me around. "No. I'm going to help you, and that's the end of it. Do you hear me?" I say sternly.  He opens his big brown eyes and looks at me. "Y-you're not going to hurt me?" he asks. Confusion fills his voice.   I kneel next to him and push his messy hair away from his eyes. "No, of course not."  I look at his shirt. "Should I clean it?" I ask.   The boy nods. "S-sorry." He says quietly. "I-I didn't know that it would scare you that much."  "Shh. Don't worry about that now." I whisper. "I need to get some water now. But I'll be right back. I grab a blanket off his bed and wrap it around him. Then, I sneak to the bathroom and fill a cup with water. I grab a washcloth and sneak back.

When I return, the boy is shivering slightly. I push aside the blanket and start cleaning his cut. "What's your name?" He asks as I wipe away the sticky blood.   I spot some gauze on the desk and carefully prop him up so I can wrap up his cut.  "Charleen, but I hate it," I answer with a frown.  He smiles as I lay him back down and rewrap the blanket around him. "C-can I call you Charlee?" He asks.  I think for a second. Well, It's much better than 'Charleen.' I nod.  "What's your name I ask the boy. If we're going to live together, I better at least know his name!  "Blaze." He says as he closes his eyes.  I sit with him until the first light trickles through his window, and then I sneak back to my room. Maybe this won't be as bad as I thought.

For the rest of the story, check out the Blaze Blog.