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projectfiction · 3 years ago

Note

Yooooooo, i really love your writings for Watanabe and Kamui 😭❤ May i please ask for Chrome? :') it could be fluff, angst, whatever you have in mind honestly. Thank you and have a nice day/night!

Hello, anon! Thank you for the ask (and kind words)! I'm sorry it took so long to get to this; life's been a bit of a bitch lately (><)

Since you didn't request anything in particular, I thought it would be a good opportunity to explore something I've had in mind for a while.

This is about the concept of grief, the myriad aspects of it, and the ever-changing spectrum of ways it can be experienced. I explored each facet using a colour of the rainbow because I think it's interesting to link something usually associated with happiness to pain. It's an explorative and somewhat introspective piece, and perhaps a little weird, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Take heed, it's a long one (3.8k)!

P.S.: if you don't like it, please feel free to submit another ask! I'm aware I may have taken a bit too much creative liberty with this one haha.

TW: major character death, angst.

Chasing Fire // CHROME

There are colours to grief. Sorrow is red and blue and violet, and everything in between. You can wear it like clothes, watch as it draws the eye and shuts the mouth. You can look through it like glass and see the world unfold. You can paint with it, stories and songs cradled in the empty space between your ribs.

You can breathe it in, but you can’t breathe it out.

Once you invite it in, it never leaves.

R E D | c h a s i n g f i r e

You lay in his arms, a broken doll weeping red. Blood had soaked through your shirt, inking your skin with tattoos of violence. There was so much of it. So thick it was smothering. So dark it was almost black. Chrome bit his lip and put more pressure on your wound. He couldn’t bear to look at your face, to see the pallor of it and know that death was calling. To know that he was the one who’d failed you.

“Stay with me, Commandant,” he said, fighting to keep the panic from his voice. “Don’t fall asleep.”

“I’m not asleep,” you slurred. Bloodless lips curled into the ghost of a smile. “Just resting my eyes.” Your breaths were rapid and shallow, in time with a hummingbird pulse that grew fainter by the minute.

“Tell me a story,” he said urgently. “The last book you read?”

Your eyelids fluttered, but didn’t open. It took you several long beats to answer. “We don’t have to do this, Chrome.” Your fingers closed around his wrist. “I know.”

He bit back the lies that curled on his tongue. He wanted so much to deny, to look away from the unbearable truth, but he couldn’t lie to you. He never could. He reached out to caress your face, thumb brushing over the swell of your cheek. You exhaled softly. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head weakly. “Not your fault.”

“How can you say that? I promised them I’d bring you home. I was supposed to protect you and--”

You pressed a finger to his lips. Chrome could taste the blood on your skin. “Shhh,” you said with some effort. “It’s okay. You’ll be alright.”

“It’s not okay,” he insisted, holding your trembling hand between his own. “None of this is okay.”

“Well… I forgive you anyway.”

Those words shattered something inside him. Like a dam breaking, tears streamed down his face, drawn from some deep well of anguish without end. The pain inside him was a hunger that could not be satisfied, and would not be contained. There were so many things he wanted to say, but he couldn’t shape the words. Silent screams tore themselves from his throat, taking with them shattered pieces of his inhuman heart. Right then, he wasn’t a Construct; he was just a man with human hurts and human sorrows, mourning the loss of a human life. His grief called forth your own tears. They spilled down your cheeks in a bitter chain. Each staccato breath sent electric pain through your broken body, but you couldn’t stop. There was simply too much. Too much pain, too much regret. Too many things that needed to be said and not enough time to even begin. You could only cry and cry, and hope that Chrome understood.

“Please don’t leave me,” he begged, head bent against yours. His voice was ragged and raw. “Please stay.”

“I want to,” you breathed against his lips. There were no more tears left in you. No space for grief. Only a dull ache and a growing numbness. “I’m scared. I don’t want to die.”

Chrome could have screamed. He could have ripped the world apart over the injustice of it all. But none of that would save you. He couldn’t kiss you better or change fate or reverse the flow of time. He could only hold you as you slipped from this world, as helpless as sand before the tide.

“I would do anything to fix this,” he said, cradling your head between his hands. Your eyes were unfocused, the skin around them tight with pain. “I wish…” He blinked away the blurriness in his vision and tried again. “I wish I could have protected you.”

“What a… simple wish,” you rasped. “Lucky it already came true.”

“What?”

You smiled. Or tried to. It was hard to know what your body was doing anymore. “You protected my mind… My soul. That’s enough.” You swallowed thickly. It was getting harder to breathe. “Is it dark already? I’m so cold.”

Chrome gathered you to him gently. His arms around you were tight, but you hardly felt it. “I’m here,” he said in your ear, again and again. “I’ll always be here.”

Your head rolled back to rest on his shoulder. A chill was spreading through your body, as if ice had replaced the blood in your veins. It was uncomfortable, but you welcomed it. At least it didn’t hurt anymore. “Tell me something nice,” you said, letting your eyes drift shut. “A story… With a happy ending.”

A small sob escaped from Chrome. His breath quivered, dancing over your skin in small puffs of warmth. You wanted to wipe the tears from his face, to comfort him and be comforted in turn. But your body was no longer yours. It danced with death now, and you were simply a spectator in the stalls. You were so tired. You’d fought for so long. All you wanted was to sleep. Here, at the end of it all, you set down your burdens and let yourself rest. I’m listening, Chrome, you thought languidly, as the rhythms of your body slowed.

-----------

Chrome felt like he was breaking apart at the seams, losing the very essence of himself to an uncaring world. All of his fleeting happiness felt so far away, like the remnants of an impossible dream. There was only a brief moment in time that was free of pain, brilliant and blinding like sunlight on waves. A lonely memory of kinder times.

He returned to the landscape of his childhood, and began.

“Once upon a time, there was a prince who wanted for nothing. He had gold and gems and servants to fulfill his every wish. The world was at his fingertips, but he had no friends. He was lonely.” You gave a tiny hum. Chrome continued. “He searched high and low, but nobody cared for his formality and stiffness. They called him a robot, who didn’t know what it meant to be human. Then one day, he met a beautiful girl. She caught his attention immediately.” He pressed a kiss to your temple. “She treated the prince like any other person, without fear or judgement. And so she became his first and dearest friend.”

You mumbled something, though he couldn’t make out the words. “The two went on many adventures together, defeating great evils across the lands. Dark beasts and corrupt kings and disease. After their journey closed, the prince found that he’d fallen in love with her. He loved her beauty, her bravery, and her intellect. She was everything he wasn’t and more besides. Their marriage was celebrated across the kingdom. Together, they ruled fairly and--” His voice cracked, but he forced himself to continue. “And there was no more suffering in their lands. Everyone was happy, but none more so than the king and queen. The end.”

You were silent. Your tortured breaths had faded to pained little gasps like you were choking on air. Your body twitched in his arms, fighting enemies he couldn’t see. Chrome let out a broken sob. “Go then,” he said. “Go if it hurts. Go. I love you.”

That seemed to be the permission you needed. Your body stilled with a final exhale. You were slack and cold against his chest, a dead weight upon his soul. He struggled against the urge to scream. Chrome buried his face in your neck and breathed you in, lavender on blood mixed with a cloying sweetness. “Come back,” he whispered against your skin. “Please come back to me.”

His heart beat steadily in his breast, a perfectly inhuman thing that never wavered. But he could still feel it break.

He wept like his soul was being ripped apart.

Grief is red, roses and thorns all at once. Like chasing fire, I reach for the warmth of memory, but there is only the burn of flame. There is no comfort here, only endless paths of pain.

-----------

O R A N G E | b u r n i n g c o a l s

Hassen sighed. “I understand you’re distressed,” he said. “But I won’t accept your resignation.” He held up a hand before Chrome could object. “People who want to be Constructs are rare. Those who are compatible are even rarer. If you leave, there’s nobody to replace you as leader of Strike Hawk.”

“Kamui or Banji are more than capable,” Chrome countered adamantly. “They’re just as experienced.”

Hassen raised a brow. “Surely I don’t need to tell you experience isn’t the only measure of competence.”

Chrome fell silent. He knew Hassen was right, but he didn’t want to acknowledge it. His spirit was shattered. Picking up the broken pieces was a mountain he didn’t know how to climb. “I don’t know how to go on,” he said finally. “It’s too painful.”

“It’s painful now, but it’ll pass,” Hassen said. His breath hitched. “Trust me.”

Chrome didn’t think he could trust anyone ever again. Himself least of all. He nodded mutely. Hassen seemed satisfied with that. He turned to leave before pausing at the door. “You should attend the funeral,” he said after a moment. “It’ll help.”

Chrome felt like he’d been slapped. “No,” he said immediately. “I doubt Gray Raven wants to see the man who killed their Commandant.”

“They’ve had time to process. And grieve. I think they’ll want to see you.”

He said nothing. He could hardly look at the other man. Hassen sighed. “Just think about it.”

The doors hissed shut behind him.

-----------

He couldn’t go to the funeral. He’d thought about it like Hassen asked, but there would be too much of you there. Too many reminders that you were gone, not even bones left to hold. He didn’t want to hear others talking of your life and glorifying your death. He couldn’t bear to hear of your bravery when all he could see was the fear in your face and the regret in your eyes. He still remembered the tremble in your hands, the way you’d clung to him and wept. Your words rang in his mind. Those words that chased him from day to night, and haunted him in hollow dreams.

I’m scared. I don’t want to die.

Chrome buried his face in his hands. The tears swept over the plains of his soul, trying to ease an unquenchable hellfire. He clenched at the sheets. Tore at his hair. He slammed his fist into the ground until sparks flew from metallic joints.

But there was nothing that could heal the wound within.

Grief is orange. Burning coals simmering under the surface, stirred to flame by the gentlest of reminders. It hides and it sleeps, but it never dies.

-----------

Y E L L O W | s e t t i n g s u n

He stumbled, gasping for breath. His entire body hurt. Vital fluid leaked from a dozen places, but Chrome ignored it. Another swing, another slash. Corrupted hands reached for him like the groping hands of death. Something sharp dug into his shoulder. He grunted and swept his scythe in a blazing arc before yanking the blade from his body. His vision glitched. Warning signals flashed. Vital fluid loss. Stabilisation module damaged. Core processing unit under extreme strain. Chrome swept matted hair from his eyes. He didn’t need to be told his body was failing. He could feel it in the heaviness of his limbs, in the flaring pain that accompanied every movement. The world was dark around the edges.

Is this how you felt, Commandant? Did it hurt like this?

His legs buckled. The ground rose to meet him even as the bright edge of a blade descended on his right. Chrome closed his eyes.

“CAPTAIN!”

The clash of metal on metal was followed by the thunderous crash of something collapsing. Strong hands picked him up as his teammates slung his arms over their shoulders. “It’s not like you to be so reckless,” Kamui said with real fear. “It’s almost like you want to die.”

“I--” He broke off. Did he want to die? He hadn’t tried to defend himself at all. But he could have. He knew he could have.

“Not yet,” Banji said quietly from his other side. “We still need you, Captain.”

Chrome hung his head. Shame and regret warred in his fragile heart. He didn’t know how to feel, but one thing was clear:

It wasn’t yet time. He’d have to keep you waiting a little longer.

Grief is yellow. Soft and gentle, like the afterglow of a setting sun. Even when the flame has gone, it remains. It doesn’t burn anymore, but it haunts me all the same.

-----------

G R E E N | j a d e d e y e s

The days were getting easier. He still felt the loss of you like a missing limb, but your phantom hands no longer suffocated him. Your lips no longer kissed to kill. You’d turned from a vengeful spectre into something softer, a shade that kept him company in the dark. He breathed, it seemed, for the first time in a long time.

Yet his mind still caught at the smallest things. Lovers kissing in the dark. Two hands twined together. Laughter around the corner. He missed the warmth of your touch, soft and tender in a way only humans could truly be. He yearned for the press of your skin against his, intimate and secret in the lonely nights. He wanted to hear your voice and kiss your lips. More than anything, he wanted you beside him. Loving him as you could, the way he loved you.

But there was only a shadow by his side, clinging to him with invisible claws. It held your shape and stole your face, but Chrome knew it for the monster that it was.

“Congratulations,” he said politely, handing a beautifully wrapped present to the bride. “May your love be everlasting.”

The couple beamed at him, radiant in their happiness. Their gratitude was as real as his words were false.

He turned away.

Grief is green. Envious eyes, jealous heart. I thought I was healing, but perhaps I am healing wrong. Who is the man in the mirror?

-----------

B L U E | o c e a n d e p t h s

Chrome, you said. Remember to breathe.

I am breathing, he thought, suddenly aware of the rising bubbles all around him. Big and small, wild and free, running towards the light above. Am I breathing?

You laughed. I’m not sure. I can’t tell.

He purposefully took a large gulp. Air flooded into his lungs despite the sunlit ocean around him. He laughed. That’s strange. Have I turned into a fish?

You’re very much not a fish, you confirmed. He couldn’t see you, but your voice was clear. Everywhere and nowhere all at once, like you were the very water itself.

Where are you? He looked around, but there was only the endless sea. Crystalline waters vast and empty, and so beautifully blue.

You sounded sad. Not with you, though I wish I was.

Then come, Chrome said happily. I’ll pick you up. Just like always.

If only you could. But I think I’m a little too far away.

What do you mean?

You didn’t answer. The ocean was growing dark around him, black ink like oil rising from the depths. Smoky tendrils curled around his legs. He shuddered. Trying to kick them off only seemed to create more. He kicked towards the surface, but the sunlight was gone. The waters were ice against his skin, cold and unwelcoming. A black hand closed around his throat.

Chrome thrashed desperately, but there was no escape. The blackness was complete, like the hand of night had crushed the world in its palm. There was no beginning and no end, no up or down. Only a darkness so deep it consumed all else. Help! Don’t leave!

I can’t stay, you said. Your voice was already fading. Let me go, Chrome.

Wait! He inhaled a lungful of grease. Come back!

But you were gone.

The sea swallowed him whole.

-----------

Chrome woke with a start. The room was still grey; his alarm hadn’t gone off yet. He rubbed a hand over his face and stared at the sheets tangled around his feet. There was no black sea after all. Just twisted linen and hopeless dreams.

He rose and got dressed.

Grief is blue. Endless like the ocean and just as deep. Vaster than the sky and just as curious. Always it finds new shapes to take, and new ways to hurt me.

-----------

I N D I G O | s c a r t i s s u e

He’d taken to wearing your engagement ring on a chain around his neck. Always tucked away so nobody could see. Always there, warm against his artificial heart. He fingered the polished metal. It was a simple band. No diamonds or gold, not that there was any left to be had. But you’d smiled at him all the same, accepting his proposal with a giddy joy that had kindled his own.

Chrome had secretly recorded the moment, intending to play it at your wedding. That was a shattered dream now, but he couldn’t bring himself to delete the data. He watched the clip again, smiling softly at the happy grin on your face. You peppered his face with kisses, arms and legs wrapped around his body. There was no audio, but he could hear every word.

He flicked the video off. Things like this no longer bothered him. Distance and time had dulled the pain and stitched his wound closed. The knife’s edge of memory was almost a comfort now, barely a scratch when it used to be a stab. Still, though he no longer bled, the scars lingered. And they would never let him forget. They would never let him forgive.

No amount of time would ever wipe the stain of your blood from his soul.

Grief is indigo. It’s what emerges at the edge of night, when the heat of day has passed. It’s the scar tissue that remains when the wound has closed. Even when it no longer hurts, I’ll always carry the memory of that pain.

-----------

V I O L E T | u n s e e n s o u l

“If we attack from here, we can catch them in a pincer move,” Chrome said, pointing to the map. “Our chances of success will increase.”

“I agree,” she said, flashing a smile at him. Her hand rested close to his, so close he could feel the heat of her on his skin. “Looks like the majority agree with Chrome.” She nodded. “Great. That’s the plan then. Meeting adjourned.”

Chrome made to leave. “Wait, Captain.”

He turned. She smiled at him, clearing her throat awkwardly as she waited for the others to file out. Someone winked at him as the room emptied. His heart sank.

“So,” she started when it was just the two of them. “You really took charge of that meeting.”

“Just doing my job,” he said lightly. “Can I help you with something else?”

She hesitated before meeting his eyes. They were large and earnest, so like yours. And yet so very different. His heart squeezed painfully. “I was wondering if you’d like to catch up for lunch sometime?” she asked shyly. Her voice was small and uncertain, so different from the proud Commandant of minutes ago.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking away. “I’m unavailable.”

She deflated immediately. “Really? I thought… I was told that you didn’t have anyone at the moment. Is it just me then?”

“It’s not you. It’s...” He trailed off. There really was no way to say it. “I’m not looking for anything right now.”

“Is it… Is it your fiancee? I heard about what happened.”

Chrome said nothing. She studied him and sighed. “It’s been three years since then, hasn’t it? This could be the start of something new.”

He smiled ruefully. “It could,” he admitted, brushing his fingers across her cheek. “But it won’t. I’m sorry.”

-----------

Chrome returned to his room. Your ring gleamed on the table, scuffed and bent after all the battles it’d seen. You’d loved that thing like it wasn’t just a piece of scrap metal. It carried a piece of your soul and would always be beautiful for it. Because it wasn’t just a fragment of you, it was the part of you that had been given to him freely in love and acceptance. And now, it was the only thing left to him. A dead thing that had taken your place in his heart.

He sighed and sat on the bed. His room was the same as ever. The same four walls, the same white sheets. The same desk and lights and air. Only you had changed, leaving your physical body behind for a ghost that haunted him. But even that was gone now. There was only your ring, and the ash of his memories.

Chrome thought back to the woman. He couldn’t deny that there was a part of him that was drawn to her, but there was a bigger part of him that couldn’t let you go. The Gray Ravens had gotten a new Commandant two years ago, one they treated with as much respect as they had you. Neither Kamui nor Banji had mentioned your name in years. The world had moved on while you slept.

If he joined them and looked to the future, if he allowed himself to forget… You really would disappear. Just another grave. Just another statistic. He couldn’t bear that. Even if the world forgot, he wouldn’t.

So long as he remembered, some piece of you would remain here, with him.

So long as he remembered, he could pretend that life was still worth living. Because deep down, Chrome knew that while his body still moved and his heart still beat, the pieces of him that made him whole had died with you.

And you would always be gone.

Grief is violet. I can’t always see it, but it’s always there. The hidden seventh, an unseen soul. My love, one day, we’ll meet again. And I’ll tell you a brand new story.

#pgr #punishing gray raven #战双帕弥什 #パニシンググレイレイヴン #pgr chrome #pgr chrome x reader #chrome x reader #pgr x reader #pgr chrome fic #pgr chrome fanfic #pgr reader insert #pgr fic #pgr fanfic #pgr request #anon asks #pgr angst

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omaano · 2 years ago

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HI OMAANO!!! here comes some questions for the ask game VvV 7. A medium of art you don't work in but appreciate - 4. Fav character/subject that's a bitch to draw - 21. Art styles nothing like your own but you like anyways THANK YOU FOR ALL THE WONDERFUL ART

HELLO OYSTER!! You are too sweet, thank you for the compliment and for asking these!! Q^Q ❤️❤️❤️❤️

7. A medium of art you don't work in but appreciate

All of them, probably? I am very easy to impress tbh. More seriously though sculpting honest to god blows my mind in general, but so does watercolour and oil painting. Like the layering, the planning that has to go into them even before the work and the ugly phases start - and the result of a colours at the end? Holy shit, that's amazing! Also tattooing. OMG that's awesome what some artists can create on skin!!

4. Fav character/subject that's a bitch to draw

COBB VANTH AND HIS STUPID PRETTY FACE

21. Art styles nothing like your own but you like anyways

As stated above I am very easy to impress, and on top of that my memory is the absolute worst when it comes to pulling up names of anything but I love pixel art; or messy pen/ink drawings, something that's real heavy on the black and line work; I also truly like those dark concept art styles with the moody opressive atmosphere you can find in art books for Dark Souls and the like. I'm such a sucker for those (while I draw very soft stuff nowadays lol)

More Weirdly Specific Artist Asks :)

#answers #dancinghannigram #alex rambles #you could say I have strong feelings regarding Cobb and his face XD #I've bemoaned it enough times that it should come as no surprise lol

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kalloway · 3 years ago

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I posted 87 times in 2021

73 posts created (84%)

14 posts reblogged (16%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 0.2 posts.

I added 208 tags in 2021

#delete later - 47 posts

#myart - 38 posts

#jjba - 23 posts

#sketch - 22 posts

#art - 14 posts

#doodle - 14 posts

#oc - 13 posts

#fanart - 13 posts

#jjba fanart - 13 posts

#dio brando - 11 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#will this mean i actually post something for a change???? ...since it’s au stuff and i can’t stop thinking ocs = content no one cares about

My Top Posts in 2021

Baddest Bitch in the Universe (sorry not sorry, Zinyak)

36 notes • Posted 2021-09-17 22:34:34 GMT

|| OBJECT OF AFFECTION ||

. . Decided to go back and finally finish this thing i started like a month back before big depression™️ hit lmao - p happy with it though! It was really pushing past getting his hands done that was the hardest part I left for myself hahaha . (( Heart’s a little too big to be human BUT i leave it open to interpretation 8D ))

42 notes • Posted 2021-03-27 01:26:25 GMT

“So madam, what you mean to say is... “I’ll offer my life to you, but please don’t touch my child”... is that correct?”

Hello not me posting this the same day Stone Ocean got announced or anything lmaooooo - i am queen of bad timing

49 notes • Posted 2021-04-04 19:41:01 GMT

oh shit whaddup, it’s Levi

Just wanted to change it up and draw him for the first time in a while! Since last december at least??? Anyway he’s kinda casual here but shhh - breaks are few and far in-between so im letting him have one cuz he deserves it lol

83 notes • Posted 2021-02-02 08:32:33 GMT

Did a manga panel redraw just for fun! Helped give me more practice inking traditionally, but I couldn’t help myself from slapping colour on it digitally too hahaha

Here’s the OG panel for comparison/reference (I didn’t try to stick 100% to it to save myself the stress):

If you wanna see this along with scans for the lineart and the sketch before I inked it, u can check it out over on Instagram!

156 notes • Posted 2021-01-16 17:50:20 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #long post #tfw my longest tag is just me having too much anxiety and not enough self-esteem about sharing OC stuff LMAO #the most used tag is hilarious tho cuz the othert day I was like... man maybe I should clean that out a bit #u know like remove it from stuff i'm def not removing now lolol #anyway I'm not planning on doing a 'art summary 2021' yet... might hold off until the year's over?#I'm havin mixed feelings BUT thought this tumblr review thing couldn't hurt #v happy an OC post made it onto the list... but an AoT fanart? in second???#(it's better than the Hol Horse doodle everyone and their dog loved on instagram I guess LOL)#I'm still really proud of that panel redraw tho - inking those lines was a lot of good practice I think ;u;#meanwhile I'm workin on a shitpost rn that has a v prominent panel redraw/spoof in it so what a coincidence hehe #anyway hope the holidays are treating u guys well! if u don't celebrate then I still wish for u to have good vibes!

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nayialovecat · 4 years ago

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SATIM Contest no 2 - RESULTS!

Time to announce the results!

Even though there was relatively little work coming in, choosing a winner was still quite difficult. In the end I decided to award the main prize to one entrant and also distinction award to two others. I probably should first say what distinction awards I gave - to build the tension and then announce the winner, but…pff.

First, however, a few words about what was assessed. As I said at the very beginning, I was counting on your creativity and ingenuity, but I still wanted the reality of SATIM to be preserved. I absolutely didn't judge the syntax and grammar (in the case of literary works) or such nonsense as "drawing workshop" (in the case of drawing works).

Therefore, the assessment covered: + creativity, + how well the author reflected the reality of SATIM, + how many emotions this work evoked in me, + and what were the emotions.

Let me remind you... the task of the participants was to imagine out what happened with Searcher from that "Gift from the Prophet" strip.

Well, not extending...

The main prize is awarded to... drums here...

Sur-un-fil (tumblr) for her short story "Karma is a bitch".

(Now sorry, but I'll make spoiler of the story a bit... if you want to read the Sun-un-fil's story yourself first, stop reading at this point or skip the next paragraph. The same will be for the other works.)

What was amazing about this work? Well, first of all, Searcher (hereafter named Fifteen) did indeed show ingenuity in avoiding being eaten. A very good description of the inner experiences and characters' dialogues. Perfect depiction of Sammy (he was so wonderfully haughty and stunned by the whole situation). Maybe Bendy's reaction towards the end was too... scared? I would have expected Bendy to be more "meh, this ain't worth the trouble," but still good. Apart from that, I don't have any remarks about the SATIM reality. This story is dynamic, witty and inventive, and the ending reminds me a bit of my own strip, or rather a bonus to this one from the second series called "Deal with Demon" (which is funny 'cause originally this strip was supposed to be in place, which now has the "Gift from Prophet" strip - you really can't fool fate, lol).

The first distinction award goes to...

SoberCupcake (deviantArt) for her drawing entitled "Fate of A Searcher".

Well, Searcher cannot be denied ingenuity - it's not easy in two minutes to come up with something that will make Bendy gag instead of salivate when he sees you. This drawing also reminds me a bit of the "Deal with Demon" strip - now I want to show it to you and put it in a sketch version, but no, I'll be strong... You can wait. We'll get to it the normal way... Anyway, the very well-preserved reality of SATIM. It made me laugh.

The second distinction award goes to...

YangireNeko (deviantArt) for her untitled short story (I have allowed myself to be tentatively titled "Hide and Seek").

I appreciate very much such little subtleties from SATIM, like Bendy's hiding the ink stains, but at times I felt some tension here. I mean, Searcher didn't know certain things that he literally should have known, and the rules of the game were changed a bit from the original strip. Nevertheless… as Sammy always says, the Searchers are useless drones, let's put it down to the hero's stupidity. But the end simply captivated me. I think I have some fetish, but I just love the scenes where Bendy eats someone. By the way, thank you for referring to the description under the original strip, I'm always happy when I see someone reading this.

So now I am waiting for my winners' descriptions, what do they want drawn as a prize ^ ^

Sur-un-fil receives the main prize and therefore a colour drawing. For distinction awards, I provide for cleansed linearts. Both type of rewards operate on the same principles, that is, let me remind you: + no 18+, + I do not draw characters that I don't know (what I know you can ask in any way: via e-mail, private message, chat, etc.), + if I have to draw your OC, please provide links to information/drawings with it or send these information/drawings via chat, e-mail or private message, + the background can be, but not complicated, + there can be more than one character, + and, of course, I don't wish any content that would offend anyone (for example: racism).

If your prize is to be a fanart, I undertake to draw it in my own style or original style (although then I don't guarantee 100% fidelity to the original).

I would like to thank everyone for their participation, I congratulate the winners on their greatful victories and I can't wait to start drawing your prizes!

#SATIM #contest #BATIM #Bendy and the Ink Machine #Sammy and the Ink Machine #results #congratulations to all winners!

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ashes-and-ashes · 5 years ago

Note

please write some angsty artist sirius

I will always love angsty artist Sirius.

The gashes on Sirius’ back burn as he manages to pull his battered body up the last step. He bends over for a moment, bruised forearms braced on the stone edge of the marble banister, fingers caught in a death-grip on the cool rock. He can see the trail he made whilst pulling himself up the staircase, the streaks of blood against the paleness of the marble.

He lets out a long breath through bloodied lips, the world swimming around him. How long had Sirius been on the floor in the kitchen, blood draining slowly as he waited for his mother to pass out in the living room next door? How long has he lain there, bated breath and pounding heart, the world spinning slowly around him as he fought not to let his eyes close?

He’s made that mistake too many times before, pulling himself up to his room before his mother had properly fallen asleep. She always beat him more for it.

Sirius grits his teeth, manages to push himself up from where he was half-slumped over the stairs. He forces himself down the hallway, trying not to trip on the carpet, the ornate golden thread woven through it all like glimmering rain.

The minute he’s inside his room Sirius shuts the door behind him, sliding to his knees in front of the bed. He curses - the room still smelt like art, drying paint and opened bottles of ink, the heavy feeling of charcoal dust in the air. He stares at an overturned watercolor pallete and winces - it had already stained the rug and that was definitely another beating when Walburga found out.

With a groan, Sirius manages to pull himself to his feet. He crosses over to the bed, bends down to pry the loose floorboard up. The movement makes his back ache but Sirius does it anyways, the wood moving aside just enough for him to reach down and grab the stack of books hidden there.

They all looked the same - black cover, spiral ends. His first one had been bound with leather, heavy paper fit for inks but his mother had thrown it into the fire once she caught him. She was always burning things - his supplies if she could find them, his paintings when she couldn’t. She never did approve his his love for art - though Sirius knew she didn’t approve of anything when it came from him.

It still hurts to move but Sirius manages to pull himself onto the bed anyways, the book on his lap. He flips through it carelessly; all broomsticks and trains and the vague outline of Gryffindor tower against silver mist, the sun right by the top and the lake stretching out below.

He remembers sitting with Remus whilst doing this sketch, the warmth of his body against Sirius’ skin as he rapidly sketched, matching the colour of the sun against the radiance of Remus’ eyes. Remus falling asleep on him as he worked, the weight of his head in Sirius’s lap as he brushed dust off his page and tried to keep himself from trembling.

Remus is all over these books - the gold of his pupils, the sharpness of his features, the lines of his scars. Sirius had spent hours on those scars, every jagged tear and brutal rip, a study of pain and agony and anger. He flips to the next page; a sketch of the curved arch of a back, Remus’ scars and Sirius’ scars intersecting in a vicious pattern of ripped skin.

He lets out a long breath and turns to slide the books into the space between the floorboards. 5 of them, in a neat and tidy stack, the weight of the paper heavy in his hands.

He’s missing one. He’s missing a book.

“Fuck,” Sirius breathes, letting the sketchbooks fall to the ground with a distinct thump. He scans his room frantically - his unmade bed, the desk covered in paper and canvas and paint.

There’s no other place it could be. Sirius forced himself onto his feet; pain lances through his spine but he swallows it down. He crosses the room to the door, wrenches it open -

He almost smacks into Regulus, almost his height and yet he would always appear smaller in Sirius’ mind, the frail wisp of a brother he had to protect. Sirius holds the door open and stares, his chest tight.

“Reg - “

“She hurt you again.”

Sirius cuts back a humorless laugh. “It’s Saturday night.”

Regulus’ eyes flicker behind him, to Sirius’ messy room. Sirius follows his gaze - there’s an unfinished landscape sitting on his desk. He had been trying to capture the Quidditch Pitch, the joy that came with flying, the way the whole world went shaded of bronze and copper and gold when one was high up enough in the air.

It’s still drying, the paint thick on the canvas. He had been working on it before his mother called him down.

“Do you like it?”

Regulus’ face closes off. “Mother hates it when you paint. You know that.”

Sirius fights down the brief tang of sorrow at his brother’s dismissal, shoves it down deep inside of him where the rest of his family’s criticism went. “Mother hates everything I do. I could fix global poverty and she’d still bitch about how I’m a disgrace to the family name and all that.”

Regulus nods, almost absently. He’s still looking over Sirius’ shoulder, at Sirius’ bed, the rumpled pillows and blankets and...

Terror strikes through Sirius.

“Give it back,” he says quietly.

Regulus looks away. “Sirius - “

He can’t breathe. Sirius almost collapses - he can hear his heart jackhammering in his chest, so hard it almost makes him sick. “Did you open it.”

Regulus’ face is defiant. “What does it - “

“Did you fucking open it.”

Sirius’ sketchbooks are his heart and right now his heart is Remus, every smile and every laugh, loose bits of hair and the curve of his neck, the sight of his scars against his naked back under the light of the moon and his fingers, long and delicate and careful. 5 years etched in ink and pencil, as carefully as the veins in his body and Sirius wants to vomit.

“Did you open it?”

Regulus swallows, his face pale. “She was going to find it. You left it opened on your desk.”

“Why were you in my - “

Regulus interrupts him. “It was him. The other boy. Remus, I mean. You were drawing him.”

Sirius remembers it, going over the sketch with the edge of his pencil, turning rough marks into smooth lines. He couldn’t get it right though - the radiance if Remus’ laugh, how he looked with his head thrown back and eyes half closed, the way his lips were so full. Sirius was an artist - he lived and breathed beauty and Remus was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Sirius whirls to Regulus, slumped against the door frame. “She didn’t see it.”

Regulus shakes his head. “I took it.” He pauses. “You love him.”

“Maybe,” Sirius says, and his voice is hoarse.

He holds the book back to Sirius, hand trembling just a little. Sirius reaches for it, his fingers brushing Reg’s and he notices the dark shadow of a bruise on his cheekbone.

“What’s this?” he whispers. Regulus flinches back.

“Mother isn’t the only tyrant in this house,” he breathes, and Sirius’ blood runs cold.

He’ll have to deal with that, with Orion and his cold, calculated rages, find some other way to move his father’s belt from Regulus’ back to his. He swallows, hard, closes his bloodied, bleeding fingers around his book and tries not to fall apart.

“Can I,” Regulus starts, and closes his eyes. “Can I come in?”

Sirius nods. “Of course,” he says, and closes the door behind them.

#wolfstar #wolfstar angst #sirius black #regulus black #remus lupin #sirius x remus #remus x sirius #wolfstar fanfic #wolfstar whump #harry potter #the black brothers #walburga black #orion black #tw: torture #tw: abuse

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prince-toffee · 4 years ago

Text

So, I don’t know if it’s worth showing, but this is Leviathan. She’s my Entrapdak kid. I know I’m bad at art, but shut up, I usually tell people around me it’s stylised and they leave me alone. Sorry if the image is blurry, my phone’s really shitty.

Anyway, here’s some of the though process behind this Frankenstein's monster. Leviathan is trans, that’s why her hair colour scheme is pinkish-purple, for Entrapta, and then blue and white, from Hordak, it just fit too well to pass up.

I love shadows and black ink, so there you go, it gives her sort of an ominous, and mysterious atmosphere. She doesn’t leave the Crypto Castle very much, she’s kind of Etheria’s own cryptid. A folktale to scare kids around the campfire. Tales which are true. She’s a bad bitch and she’s comin’ for the throne. Also if you squint the black might indicate the void of space with the light of stars peeking out.

The skull likeness isn’t accidental, it connotes ‘evil’ and ‘monster’ as it should. I see her as the villain for the next generation of fankids. The white face, obviously inherited from Hordak is seen to only come out partly, Entrapta’s genes masking the clone ones. It was meant to have a vitiligo look to it. The dark blue and golden outlines are meant to further that look. The blue of course representing Hordak’s skin, and the gold represents Entrapta’s brownish skin ( I didn’t have a colour to match her skin colour, nor her hair, so apologise, again stylished argument).

I say she’s about 20, way older than the other kids. Her personality adjusts to what the situation requires. Not many people know her, but she does have to attend some gatherings with the Princess Alliance. She finds that when talking to the Alliance as a whole, or the softer members like Adora, Bow, Scorpia etc she falls back on her clumsy, silly, naïve, nerd/dork fake persona, inspired by her mother. Playing a parodied version of her mother, that’s what the Princesses expect. No one suspects anything, after all it’s just Entrapta’s kid, she’s silly and fun! Ho ho, so cute!

But the moment she turns around and walks out of that conference room her facial expression, her posture, her demeanour, it all changes. She’s quiet, serious, easily irritated, furious, that’s her real self, depicted in the drawing. The Entrapta nasal laugh and hyperactive jumping around cuts out. Now she is cold. She uses this demeanour rarely, Dryl needs to build bridges with other kingdoms to survive and thrive, but it did slip out one or twice with Glimmer or Mermista, when she was either denied something or heard her parents being insulted.

Entrapta and Hordak are dead in the present, nobody really now how they died, some say it was a malfunction in a ship they were building, some say Hordak died because of his defects and Entrapta simply couldn’t go on without him, but everyone’s most infamous theory is, of course, that Leviathan was the one who killed them...

And her favourite flavour of ice-cream is vanilla.

#feel free to ask me more #I had fun with this #entrapdak #entrapdak fankid #leviathan #hordak #entrapta

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skzrequests · 6 years ago

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Orange Juice - Seo Changbin

anonymous said : “My pace 24 w changbin? uwu im a sucker for the idea of tattoist bin lmao”

24 ➝ “Is that a tattoo ?”

➵ Pairings : changbin x reader

➵ Warnings : explicit language ; mentions of blood

➵ Genre : tattoo artist!au ; fluff

➵ Word count : 4.3k

➵ Note : me too, anon, me too :’) thank you for requesting this, I’m a sucker for tattooist bin too and for real, I think you just cured my writer’s block, so I can’t thank you enough ! I hope the fic is okay, don’t hesitate to tell me what you think :)

You turned on your heels, looking around for the soy sauce brand you usually bought. Finally finding it, the familiar red and green colours of the label catching your eye, you extended your arm to grab it before you carefully placed it in your cart. Pushing it out of the alley and into the next, you thought about what you had written down on your list of groceries that—of course—you had forgotten on top of the kitchen counter before going out.

What was missing ? You had eggs, milk, cookies, your favourite yogurt, your weekly stock of noodles, pretty much everything you needed.

Orange juice ! Of course, how could you forget ? No orange juice in the morning, no functional you.

Hitting your forehead with your palm at your own forgetfulness, you proceeded to turn around in the middle of the alley to go back to the juice section.

Stopping in front of the numerous orange juice bottles and packs that the store offered, your eyes once more scanned the section for the one you always took.

“Here” someone spoke next to you, but what you saw first was a hand extended to you, holding the bottle you had been looking for, with its childlike doodles of an orange in every colour of the rainbow.

Your eyes widened slightly, brows arching in surprise and thankfulness at the action of—judging by the voice—the man who had somehow found what you’d been looking for.

You looked up, surprised and wondering who it could be, although you did not expect it to be someone you knew.

You were wrong.

You almost didn’t recognise him. Not that his features had changed, he still had that same sharp jaw but soft curves on his face, but he gave off a totally different aura, to the point you weren’t even sure it was him anyway, no matter how much his face and soft smile left no place for doubt.

He was wearing a black leather jacket over a white t-shirt that he’d paired with black distressed jeans and monochrome black Converse. Something you’d never imagined seeing him wearing. But some things never change, and the black ringed cap pushed so far down that it almost completely covered his eyes—it made you wonder how he could see anything—convinced you of the man’s identity.

“Changbin ?!” you almost screamed in disbelief in the middle of the juice section, earning a few glares from the moms around, trying to shop peacefully, and some curious stares from their kids. You didn’t even notice though.

He broke into a smile, cocking his head in the direction of his still extended arm holding the bottle of juice.

“Your favourite, right ?” he asked and smirked when your mouth fell slightly open.

Anticipating your question, he didn’t give you the time to open your mouth again as he explained : “You drank it all the time, back in high school” he said and you felt heat slowly rise to your cheeks, “Can’t remember a day when you didn’t have a bottle in your backpack” he laughed lightly.

You didn’t know what to focus on : how he remembered your favourite brand of orange juice from high school, how much he had changed, how insanely good he looked ? It was way too much at once for your brain to process.

“I- uh” you stuttered, not knowing what to say or where to begin. If your internal alarms could stop blaring in your head, it would be nice. “What are you doing here ?” you finally managed to get out but immediately mentally facepalmed yourself. He’s chasing a tiger, obviously. Come on, this is the grocery store, what could he possibly be doing here, y/n ? you scolded yourself.

He chuckled again, the sound ringing in your ears and bringing you back to reality.

“Well, I guess I, too, need to eat sometimes” he joked and you forced a small laugh out of your throat. Nice job, y/n.

You then just stood there and stared at him, mind completely blank, as if your internal program had stopped working and the computer needed a reboot.

“So ?” Changbin inquired, making you widen your eyes at him again, brows arching, not understanding. “Are you gonna take it or not ?” He finished his sentence as he extended his arm even further.

“Oh, yeah, sorry” was all you could manage to get out as you finally took the orange juice from him, your fingers brushing over his hand in the process.

“It’s okay,” he laughed again, “I didn’t think you’d be that shocked to see me, though” he smirked once more.

You rolled your eyes as you put the bottle down in your cart, next to the soy sauce.

“It’s been years, Changbin, did you expect me to just go and have our super special handshake like that ?” you asked sarcastically.

“We had a handshake ?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

You looked at him with an annoyed expression. “No, we didn’t, idiot” you said and he just let out a small “phew”, resting his now free hand on his chest as if he had been worried about it. You and him were barely friends in high school, it was more like you had common friends so you were aware of each other’s existence. You’d only talked to him for school projects, seeing he was a rather quiet kid, unlike you.

“Oh thank god, I thought I'd forgotten it” he said. Oh, so he really was worried about it then.

You shook your head in disbelief.

“Anyway,” he said as he clasped his hands together, signalling a subject change, “how’s life going ?” he asked and you scoffed.

“I should be asking you that,” you said, “it was you who had no idea what you wanted to do”.

He shrugged. “I guess I found it now” he smiled. “But what about you ?” he asked again.

“Me ? I’m good, I guess,” you started, your face felt hotter than before and you were starting to wonder if it were going to explode at some point if it kept going, so you took off your scarf and turned around to put it in your cart with your groceries while you spoke : “I mean nothing really exciting but I have a job at least” you said, back facing him.

“Hold on,” Changbin stopped you and you whipped around, worried by the tone of his voice, “is that a tattoo ?” he asked as he took a step closer, pointing his finger to the back of your neck where the black curves of music notes peeked out of your shirt.

“Oh that ?” you asked back as he came closer and you turned again to let him see it, tugging your shirt down a little, “yeah it’s a tattoo, why ?” You asked again.

He looked at it for a few seconds without speaking before he stepped back, allowing you to face him again.

“I’m a tattoo artist now” he explained and your eyes grew bigger than they ever had in your life.

“No fucking way ?” You shouted, “That’s freaking awesome !” you exclaimed again and he smiled, fake dusting off his jacket as you laughed and pushed him lightly.

He laughed and spoke up again : “No, but for real, are you that surprised ?”.

You stopped and looked him in the eye.

“Not really. You were always really good at drawing, but I didn’t think you’d have the guts to do it, with the whole marking other people’s skin permanently, you know ?” you told him, “thought the responsibility might have been too much, but I guess I was wrong” you smiled.

You came to realisation that his whole body was covered by his clothes, but surely there was more to see under it all.

“Show me !” You exclaimed as your hands flew to his jacket and you tried to take it off him, “Show me the art !”

He brought his arms closer to his torso, trying to protect himself from your hands that were actually tickling him.

“Y/n !” he called between giggles, “If you want to see me without my clothes that much, you could wait until we’re somewhere a bit more private” he said with yet another smirk.

You instantly retracted your hands, only extending the right one again to hit his shoulder, earning a wince from him.

“Seriously,” he said, “let’s go pay for all that and get out of here” he told you, walking behind you to push your cart towards the check out.

“Oh wow, didn’t it hurt like a bitch ?” you asked as he showed you the intricate designs inked on his elbows, and you grimaced at the thought of the pain.

He grimaced too, as if remembering it perfectly, “Yup, thought I'd never use my arms again and that my bones had gotten pierced by the needle, but here I am” he answered as he sat back down, facing you again.

You nodded while still grimacing, imagining if you did it yourself. Elbows were one of the spots you never wanted to get tattooed for that very reason.

“Wow, I can’t believe you changed that much in just a few years” you confessed honestly, not looking him in the eye as you shook your head down.

“Hey, you changed a lot too,” he shot back, “and I never thought you’d ever get a tattoo but here you are” he said, gesturing his hand over at you.

“I have more than one, you know ?” you said, smiling lightly.

His eyes widened. “What ? More tha- and you didn’t tell me ?” he exclaimed and you laughed out loud, shushing him in the middle of the café—although you were just as noisy as him.

“Yeah, I have one on my thigh and one on my ribs” you said, smiling proudly.

“And you were saying elbows must have hurt when you got a tattoo on your ribs” he shook his head.

“Right” you said, “I must have been crazy to do it”.

“I’d love to see it” he smirked and you chuckled.

“Maybe I'll show you one day, who knows ?” you grinned.

“Oh, I’m sure I'll see it soon” he said and grinned back at you cockily as you blushed furiously and tried not to let it show, biting your inner cheek.

“A-Anyway,” you said, trying to seem unfazed, “I’d love to get a new one. What do you say ?” you asked, a little expectant. You had seen some of the things he had tattooed on himself, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love his style. It was just... so much like him. It was beautiful, mesmerising even, how he turned every simple thing into a piece of art.

Changbin’s eyes lit up and he cracked another smile at you.

“You’d want a tattoo from me ?” he asked, sounding genuinely surprised, but mostly flattered, coming from you.

You rolled your eyes. “Obviously, duh ? It’s amazing, and besides, you’re an old friend, so that’d mean something else too, right ?” you told him.

“What you got in mind ?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Surprise me”.

After that unexpected encounter with him in the supermarket, and after you’d gone to a café and talked for hours, you were now headed to the tattoo parlour Changbin worked at, a week and a half later, ready to get that new tattoo you wanted so much.

At this point, you were pretty much convinced of two things : one, this tattoo would definitely be your favourite out of all the ones you’d be getting ; and two, you were undeniably crushing on Changbin.

You felt annoyed about it, because you felt like a living cliché walking around, falling for a guy you’d never talked to that much in high school after miraculously meeting him years later, after puberty had finally done its job (right). But you brushed it off, maybe it wasn’t the right time for you to get into a relationship yet, and nothing told you he was interested in you anyway. You’d probably been staying awake at night for the past days for nothing.

Still, you wanted that tattoo, and you liked Changbin’s company, so at least, you wanted to become friends with him. Who knew ? Maybe one day, he’d even offer you a free tattoo.

Picking up your pace a little to escape the cold, you walked up to the front door of the shop and pushed it open, making your way inside. You sighed in relief when you felt the warmth on your cheeks, your whole body unfreezing little by little.

You turned to the counter and greeted the girl behind it warmly and she returned a smile.

“You’re here for Changbin, right ?” she asked and you blinked a few times, taken aback by the bluntness. “You’re y/n, right ?” she pushed further. You couldn’t do anything but nod. She smiled at you again, although it looked like a bit of a smirk, as she told you to follow her and walked to the back of the shop.

She stopped in front of a closed curtain and pushed it to the side, peeking her head inside.

“Y/n is here,” she said, “you ready ?” she asked him. There was no audible answer, but he must have said he was because she stepped back and pointed behind her with her thumb, indicating you to go in.

You thanked her and pushed the curtain again, curiously eyeing the inside of the room before stepping in.

Changbin was sitting in his work chair, smiling softly when he saw you enter. You smiled back, feeling your heartbeat pick up a little.

“Hey” you greeted him, somehow your voice managed to crack, no matter how short that was, and you hated yourself for it.

Changbin’s smile widened, “Hey” he said back. “Stressed ?” he asked and you shook your head in response.

“No, it’s not like it’s my first time anyway” you joked and he bit his lip, looking down and away from your eyes.

“Right” he commented, followed by a discreet chuckle.

You pursed your lips. Way to go, y/n. When would you stop making things uncomfortable ? Probably the day you died, because that was the only moment you’d finally shut up.

Brushing it off, you cleared your throat, making Changbin look up at you again from his sitting position.

“So, uh, what you got ?” you asked, feeling the heat from both the embarrassment and the fact Changbin looked like a god right in front of you in that very moment. It was hard to keep your gaze on him, and yet at the same time you couldn’t seem to take your eyes off of his figure.

“Uh ? Oh, yeah right” he came back to his senses and spun his chair around to his desk, pushing a pile of papers as he looked for his design.

You waited as patiently as you could, feeling your guts twist a little in anticipation while he kept making a mess before you.

“Ha !” he exclaimed as he picked a piece of paper and held it up, turning around with a proud smile on his face as he showed it to you.

Taking the paper, your eyes widened at the pleasant surprise you found drawn on it.

Pursing your lips again to try and contain your laugh, it was to no help as you burst out laughing, bending in half as you held your sides.

Changbin watched you, smirking proudly. He chuckled when he saw you wipe the corners of your eyes from how hard you’d been laughing.

“Changbin, oh my gosh...” you trailed as you tried to steady your breathing, holding the paper in front of you so you could take a good look at it once more.

“What ? You didn’t specify anything about the size.” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Changbin, that’s not it,” you said, not taking your eyes off of the drawing before your eyes.

“You don’t like it ?” he asked you, panic suddenly taking over him evident in his voice as he sat straight up.

That’s when you finally ripped your eyes off the sheet, eyes wide as you thought it was obvious that was not it.

“Are you kidding me ?” you said, not easing Changbin’s worries with the tone of your voice as he tensed up a bit more. “Changbin, I love it.” you stated and watched him slump back in his seat with a long sigh of relief.

“My heart is beating normally again” he said, resting his right hand on his chest over his heart.

“This is genius,” you continued, looking back at his drawing again. The carton of orange juice seemed to be looking back at you on the paper, although it had no eyes. There was even a small orange doodle on it, just like on the one you always bought. You chuckled lightly and Changbin smiled as he watched you. “I just... I never expected this but it’s perfect.” you spoke your mind and looked at him. He was a genius. That was the best thing he could have suggested. It was so much like him, so much like you, and it would mean so much more than anything else would have.

You handed him the sheet back and he set in on his desk, smile never fading as he spun around to put it down.

“Where do you want it ?” he asked as he spun around again to face you.

That, you had not thought of, since you didn’t know what to expect. You shrugged. “Where do you want to tattoo it ?” you asked back with a sly smile.

He pursed his lips, still looking you in the eye, as he thought.

“It’ll be your arm, then” he said and you smiled, nodding. “Get yourself ready” he motioned for you to take off your coat, “I’ll go get the stencil printed.” he instructed and left the room, leaving you alone as you removed your winter coat and scarf before hanging them. You sat down, looking around at the drawings adorning the walls of the room. You could see which ones were Changbin’s and which ones weren’t. He just had that thing, and it made everything he drew unique and easily recognisable.

You rolled up your sleeve over your right arm, looking one last time at your skin before it got inked.

Changbin stepped back in, startling you a little as you hadn’t heard him come back. He smiled at you again and showed you two stencils, two different sizes. Same drawing, though.

“Which one ?” he asked as he held up both stencils next to each other.

You thought for a second. “Maybe the smaller one ? It has to fit on my arm, after all” you said and he licked his lips, letting his hands fall down at his sides.

“Let’s go then” he said.

He told you to stand up and you obliged. Changbin took his sweet time to put on some gloves and pour some liquid on a compress.

He rolled his chair over to you and rubbed your shoulder and down your arm with it. The cold contact made you shiver a bit, although you knew it was mixed with anticipation. You’d never wanted a tattoo so bad.

“Ok, time for the stencil. You stay relaxed and remember to breathe or it’ll look weird” he instructed and you smiled.

“Yes sir, I know how tattoos work” you told him as your eyes shifted to your right to meet his annoyed ones.

“Let me do my job, will you ?” he said as he prepared the design. You smiled to yourself.

He applied the sticky drawing right under your shoulder, rubbing it lightly at the borders. He rolled back a little to look at it and gave you a thumbs up, satisfied.

You looked at the blue drawing on your arm. This was gonna look so good.

Changbin instructed you to sit down in his work chair as he turned to prepare the ink and needle. He rubbed your arm with another compress before taking his work tool in his hand and rolling back to your side, the noise the machine made making you bite your lip.

“Ready ?” he looked at you with raised eyebrows as he rolled your sleeve back up.

“I’ve been waiting for this my whole life” you cracked a big smile.

Changbin cocked his head a little as he scoffed. “Let’s do this” he said.

He brought the needle down.

You winced a little, reminding yourself to keep breathing and stay relaxed as Changbin ran the needle on (more like in) your arm repeatedly.

It was almost over, and you knew it, but that was exactly why it hurt even more now. Your skin was on fire after getting pierced through for so long, and you’d been bleeding quite a lot. More than you and Changbin had expected. It was a surprise, because it was only the arm and it was just a small tattoo. Y/n, you weak bitch.

There were only a few minutes left to endure. It hadn’t taken long, since it was small, and you were glad because somehow, it hurt a lot more than you had expected. Not as bad as the ribs, but worse than you’d thought.

Changbin straightened up next to you, turning around to grab some paper towels and this unidentified refreshing liquid he poured on your arm before he rubbed it. You felt the pain ease, soothing you instantly.

He looked at you, eyes shining and smiling brightly : “All done !” he announced, beaming with pride.

You sighed in relief as you got up while he cleaned his tools next to you.

“There’s a mirror right there” he pointed at the back of the room, opposite his desk.

Seeing a small bit of tattoo flashing on your arm in your reflection as you moved closer to it, you couldn’t help the smile that stretched across your face, only growing bigger when you turned to see it completely.

It looked amazing. It was so simple, and yet so elaborate. You had no words for it. No words would do it justice, and no words could express how you felt at that very moment.

You turned back when Changbin called you to wrap your arm up. As he placed the transparent food wrap around your arm, he asked : “So, anything to say ?”

You looked up at him, blushing at the proximity. Gosh, he really was insanely handsome.

“I don’t know what to say, to be honest. I can’t find anything to say.” you told him truthfully. “Thank you, Changbin”.

He gave you a lopsided smile as he patted your arm after finishing.

“It’s my pleasure” he said.

You stayed there for a second, looking at him with a soft smile.

“How much do I owe you ?” you asked, walking to your coat to take your wallet out.

Changbin grabbed your forearm, careful not to touch you on your new tattoo. You turned around, quaking an eyebrow at him questioningly.

“You don’t owe me anything, let’s say it’s a high school reunion present” he said and flashed you an eye smile that melted your heart.

“No way, I can’t let you do that ! It’s too much” you shook your head, turning fully as he let go of your arm.

“It’s fine, really” he said as he got up to grab your coat and scarf before handing them to you and pushing you out, hand on the small of your back.

You made your way back to the front desk, carefully sliding your right arm into your coat’s sleeve as you put your clothes back on before stepping out, Changbin right behind you.

Flipping your scarf over your shoulder, you sighed.

“Okay, then I'll get going” you said. “Thank you again, and uh, I'll see you soon I guess ?” you told Changbin, the last part coming out as more of a question as you felt unsure about it.

He simply nodded and let out a small “Sure” and you awkwardly nodded back before you turned on your heels and stepped out, letting the cold wind hit your face with its blow.

You could always come back to get another tattoo from him anyway. Maybe you’d meet again at the grocery store. There was a chance you’d run into each other on the streets. Or maybe your high school would finally organise an alumni reunion and you’d get to see him again. Was it going to end just like this ? You couldn’t stand the thought of it.

You’d been walking a few metres only when you got interrupted in your train of thoughts by a voice calling your name. You turned back, curious.

Changbin jogged up to your level, wearing only a t-shirt, stopping right in front of you.

“Wait I-I uh,” he stuttered, scratching the back of his neck nervously, “I just realised uh, I don- I don’t have your number, so if you have any problems or-”

“Changbin,” you cut him off as he started fiddling with his fingers, “just kiss me already” you said bluntly.

He gaped at you and stuttered something you couldn’t quite make out, but he stepped closer to you and took your face in his hands nonetheless, crashing his lips on yours.

In the end, you were the one to be surprised.

He pulled away and looked in your eyes. He seemed shocked at what he’d just done, but showed no regret in doing it. Where had his confident flirty self gone, though ?

His eyes were as wide as yours, not believing what had just happened himself. Still, he asked you : “Wanna do that again ?”

You nodded quickly, “S-Sure, but let’s get back inside before you freeze to death” you told him and he cracked a smile before laughing lightly.

“I’ll go get my coat” he said as he turned around, “wanna go grab some orange juice at the grocery store ?” he shot at you.

You smiled. There it was.

———

~admin zia (@jinniesmeow)

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devilrising · 5 years ago

Text

Fallen Draco Pt. 1

This follows a prompt written by @mymindsmadness

Summary: AU where Draco is a fallen angel, and the way he gets his wings back is by guiding Harry in defeating Voldemort, but it all goes wrong when Draco starts falling in love with Harry.

Word Count: 3018

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mentions of abuse/torture (non-graphic)

***

2nd March, 1998

It’s hard. It’s really, really hard, to know what I know and do nothing. Every day I wake up screaming, nightmares plaguing me in my sleep. Each morning I look in the mirror, and watch as my wings start to fade. Going from purest white, to a darker shade of grey. I’m losing feathers too. There’s a jar by my bed, and a couple others in a drawer, filled with them.

The day they started drooping, I became terrified. I knew what had caused it, but I didn’t want to think about. Angels are rarely men. And when they are, they don’t usually survive for very long. My life up until now was, rather dangerous. I always thought that if the war hadn’t killed me, I would’ve eventually died from being an angel. I guess it’s both.

Voldemort is in the living room of Malfoy Manor, discussing what the next move will be. Father is listening intently, and I’ve been banished to my room, so it must be vital. Maybe there’s new information. Maybe they are planning another battle. I hope I’m not asked to participate. I never asked to be a part of this. I wish I wasn’t. Mother has grown increasingly concerned recently. She is the only confidant I have. The only person I can talk to. Her once beautiful hair has rapidly been turning grey and warn. The wrinkles riddling her skin are more pronounced than last year, and she is

growing frail. I’m terrified of losing her, because that’s where I feel we’re heading.

A knock draws me across the room and towards my door. The wood is dark and thick, keeping up the illusion of no light in the Manor. When I twist the handle and pull the door towards me, I jump. It’s Voldemort. What’s he doing here? He takes in the surprise on my face, and a beam shows itself. On anyone else, I would say that it ‘lit up their face’. With the Dark Lord, however, it’s much more of a wicked, cruel, and insane look. Like he wants to saw my head off in a public courtyard. I cringe at the thought.

“I’ve been wondering, Draco.” I shudder and pray that it isn’t visible. “How would you feel about being a crucial part of the next battle?” Like I have any choice. Like he wouldn’t kill me on the spot if he questioned my loyalty.

“Of course, my lord,” I say as I drop into a bow.

“Wonderful! Would you like to join the meeting in the drawing room, then?”

“That would be much gracious of you, my lord.”

I receive no reply, just a hand on my shoulder as I walk down the corridor and into the room my father is in.

“You’re here, Draco. Glad. Take a seat over there.” Father gestures to a black leather armchair, and I sit on the very edge of the cushion. Voldemort strides in after me, and takes a seat opposite my father. He begins informing me about the recent decision to crash the Ministry. But not just any part of the Ministry. No, no, we need to be more ambitious than that. That’s predictable even. No. We are crashing the Unspeakables’ department.

Horror drips down my spine, but I smile and nod at the half-man in front of me. I tell him that I think it’s a marvellous idea, and will really persuade people to join the correct side of this war. In my head, I’m screaming. It’s the worst idea imaginable. Who knows what’s in that department? If someone was to so much as knock something, we could all be dead. What if someone was to wear a certain metal that reacted with an object? I can’t see this going at all well, but I sit in silence, a fake smile on my face.

***

9th March, 1998

I’m in over my head. I’ve known the next ploy for a week exactly, and have come up with every possible way this mission could fail. We could burn alive. Explode. Drown. Rapidly age. Turn into objects. Have the air sucked out of our bodies. The list is so long I forget the first few I wrote down. I have no idea why Voldemort decided the Unspeakable department was a good plan. But then again, when has he ever had a good plan?

The wind roars around my ears, and I can’t hear anything other than my pulse and hammering heart. Mountains are beautiful to look at, but to hike them? That’s another story entirely. But I needed to get away. I couldn’t bear to be in the same house as my father and Voldemort. The two men are positively insane. They both need a mental asylum.

I sweep my eyes over the ground below, and marvel at the scene stretched before me. The view from Skiddaw mountain is astonishing. I feel tiny in comparison to everything else I can see. I feel like I’m insignificant. A welcome emotion for me recently. The sky above me is dull and cloudy, but there is no rain falling today. It’s Monday, and I should be at Hogwarts, but I’ve been pulled out for the remainder of Seventh Year. Potter isn’t there anyway, so I wouldn’t be doing much. Studies became quite boring Sixth Year, if I’m being honest.

Potter. Apparently he is off in the world somewhere, trying to locate and destroy Horcruxes. I applaud him for trying, but there is no way he’ll survive that. Voldemort told me himself how difficult they are to find, and that to actually get a hold of them is practically impossible. I’ve tried to imagine where they would be, what they would be, but have always come up dry. I don’t know of a single place so dangerous. Potter must be out of his mind. Potter, Granger, Weasley, and his precious Order.

Suddenly no longer interested in the scenery below me, I turn around and walk over to the tree where I’ve laid all my things out. I sit on the emerald picnic rug, and bite into one of the apples I brought. The pink skin matches what colour I know my cheeks must be, and I hum with the sweet taste filling my mouth. The branches above me sway in the gentle breeze, and I’m reminded of autumn days in Third Year. Before everything started going south rapidly.

That was the year with Black escaping from Azkaban. The year with the stupid hypogriff breaking my arm. The year Granger punched me, and Potter laughed at me. Thankfully, that didn’t happen very often. My thoughts start straying back to life at Hogwarts, before the world turned a head. Before my family started to repeatedly fulfill “tasks” and “assignments”. Before I had to seclude myself from my friends, the rest of Slytherin, and before I had to push myself to the extremes of my magical capabilities.

The Vanishing Cupboard, the Unbreakable Vow, Dumbleodre’s death, and the Sectumsempra incident. Last year was a bitch. I can’t see this year being any improvement however. The plans that I’ve overheard (due to unfold in May) haunt me in my sleep. I don’t know what to do about it. I have no one to talk to. To tell how scared I am.

The wind starts picking up, and the emerald rug beneath me lifts up in the breeze. Although it’s no longer a breeze. It’s more like a blustery wind than anything else. Regardless, I decide that it’s probably for the better to leave Skiddaw mountain and return to the Manor. I use my wand and a complex charm my father taught me in order to pack up all my things. I watch as everything floats above the rug, which starts folding itself into a square. The food I didn’t eat flies into the basket I brought, neatly organised and sorted. Then the rug shrinks, and enters into the basket. The basket then shrinks itself, so now I can fit it in the pocket of my black skinny jeans. Happy with the charm, I nod to myself and pick up my Nimbus 2001 from where it was resting against the tree.

Even though the wind is brutal, I would rather fly the 475-ish kilometres back to Wiltshire, than accidentally apparate into a meeting again. That didn’t work out so well for me last time.

***

11th March, 1998

Life is getting worse. It’s harder and harder each day to tell myself that it will be okay. Two days ago, I was beaten into unconsciousness for arriving after my curfew. The wind had made it nearly impossible to fly, and I struggled the whole way to the Manor. Being the stubborn prat that I am, I was confident that I would make it back before 11pm. I shouldn’t have taken the risk.

As an added punishment, I am grounded to my room. But my father and Voldemort don’t do things by half. No. They have come up with specially designed wards to let them in, but to keep everyone else out. Not to mention, I physically can’t leave. If I try, I’m electrocuted until I pass out. If that happens four times, I’m instantly killed. I am forced to stay in my tiny, dark, uncomforting room for a week. The only thing I’m allowed to do is write letters. But I have no way of sending them out to anyone or anywhere. With no owl to carry them, I’m doomed. They deliberately let me write for help, knowing that I’m not stupid enough to actually do it.

Instead, I write stories, I draw woodland animals (and other more, uh, explicit ones, but those are burned immediately after completion). It’s relaxing. With nothing but ink and parchment, I waste away the hours in front of the fire. The warmth very welcome in the cold month March is shaping up to be. Eventually tired with ink, I grab down a book on puzzles from my shelves. The cover is faded, deep purple, the title written in silver thread. I’ve read this so many times, solved each riddle, word puzzle, and math problem, but I open it anyway.

The first one is easy. “.--. ..- --.. --.. .-.. . ... - .... .-. --- ..- --. .... --. . -. . .-. .- - .. --- -. ...” The problem is written in Morse code, and it takes less than a minute to have it decoded. “Puzzles Through Generations” is the title of the book, and I find it rather humorous that it’s also the first problem. I smile to myself, before diving headfirst into the book.

***

Later that same evening, I start to grow restless. With nothing else in my room, I’ve resorted to lying on my bed, face buried in a pillow. I don’t know what I’m doing with myself. Why I allowed myself to get into this mess. Why I even bothered coming back to the Manor. I wonder, not for the first time, why I’m given so much freedom. Well, except for right now, of course. I’m generally permitted all through the Manor and it’s grounds. I’m given unlimited access to anywhere on the continent, so long as I can be traced.

I always come to the same conclusion though. The two terrible excuses for men know I won’t leave. They know that I know that if I was to desert them, they would track me. Voldemort would employ thousands of Death Eaters to find me, and to bring me back to him to die at his hands. Hours of torture would occur, worsened because of my father. I would be considered a ‘traitor’. I have nothing wrong with that last bit, of course. But I wouldn’t want to leave my mother. She would surely be punished for my actions, and I couldn’t let that happen. I wouldn’t ever forgive myself.

I stand up from the bed, pace over to the small bathroom joined to my bedroom, and stare at my reflection. I look ill. My hair is in shambles, strewn all over my face. It almost looks like Potter’s, except for the colours, which are starkly opposite. My eyes have sunken into my skin, dark rings under them. My complexion has become sickly pale, and I wonder when this happened. I’ve probably looked terrible for months, but been too busy with everything else (like surviving) to notice.

Trying desperately to salvage my appearance I cast a few simple charms. I straighten out my hair, making it fall neatly to my scalp. After struggling with my complexion for a while, I give up and move to my eyes. The bags are covered with a glamour that takes all of my energy. I’m so tired from the spells that I pad back to my bed and gladly fall asleep. In my dreams, I question why I was worn out so quickly, but pass it off as being trapped in a room with no sun, limited food and water, and lack of new oxygen.

***

15th March, 1998

I’m becoming desperate. I was let out of my room for an hour earlier this morning, and dragged outside into the sun and air. The sun was hidden behind the clouds, but it was better than nothing but artificial lights. Food was handed to me, and I greedily ate it, the first proper meal I’d had in six days. I didn’t think the occasional plate of unappetising gloop counted. After fifteen minutes, I was dragged back inside once again, and led into the drawing room where I first accepted the Dark Mark. I was then tortured for the remainder of the hour.

Legilimency was first. Voldemort did it himself. Digging through my memories to find any weakness he could find. He had eventually decided on one of Potter lunging at me, fury in his eyes. I was taunted with it for ages, before being placed under the Cruciatus Curse. It had been extreme pain, and I’m thankful it’s over now. Still, the sensation is fresh in my mind, and I’m being plagued by paranoia.

Desperation fills me just from the memory, and I silently panic at my desk. I need to get out of here. My wings are losing colour every day. Feathers have filled the jar next to my bed, and I’ve started a fourth. I need to get help immediately. I’m seriously starting to wonder how long I have left. As a male angel, I never should’ve lived this long. I should’ve died years ago. I stretch my fading wings out, and try to gently flutter them. No use. Instead, I watch as a single feather floats to the carpet beneath my feet.

Uncontrollable tears stream down my face, and it’s desperation that finally drives me to pick up a quill. It’s intense, urgent need that makes me pull a sheet of parchment from my stack. It’s in despair that I actually touch the inked quill to the parchment. I quickly pen a letter to the first person I can think of to save me. Shuddering, I use my wand to summon a muggle postage stamp from the hallway outside, slip it under the door, and stick it to the envelope I pulled from a drawer.

A shiver goes through me as I seal the letter in the envelope. I don’t know how to send it to him, until I remember about the bathroom. I cross the bedroom and turn the water on in the shower in order to cover any noise I might make. Then I drag a chair in from the bedroom, and place it directly beneath the air vent. Standing in the chair precariously, I unattach the grille from the ceiling and place it gently onto the white tiles. The gap is too small for anything but my hand to get through, and grin. There’s no way anyone will think I’ve used this air vent for anything. What’s the point after all?

Carefully, I place the letter into the vent opening and pull my wand from my pocket. Knowing I’ll be drained after this no matter what I do, I decide to use everything left in me to lurch the letter up. A shock of green particles shoot from my wand tip, and they push the letter up the vent. I watch as it disappears from view and into the kitchen vent. I start to track the letter with my mind. Following it as it flies through the deserted kitchen, and out of the window in the dining room. I know it’s made it out of the wards when the green barges into my wand again, knocking me of the chair I’m still standing on.

Now I can only hope that Potter replies. Or rather, that he doesn’t.

***

22nd March, 1998

It’s been a week now, and I’ve heard nothing from him. I have been let out of my room though. My wings have lost all of the pure white, and are now as dark as a raven. It’s quite striking, the dark colour of the few feathers I have left, against my sickly pale skin and platinum hair. I always thought that if I lost my wings, there would be a skeleton left to haunt me of the sins I had committed. Instead, there is nothing. The feathers aren’t attached to anything but air. Maybe it’s because of the extremity of the darkness encompassing me.

I no longer feel much at all, just longing to be saved. Even if it’s by my previous enemy.

***

24th March, 1998

My wings are totally gone. Vanished from existence. I feel awful. The steady stream of food, sun, water, and air being spoon-fed to me isn’t enough. My mother is blaming herself, and I can’t stand seeing her beyond herself. I start praying to a god I don’t believe in for Potter to arrive.

***

26th March, 1998

I threw up today. It’s been 24 days since this whole thing started. Scars have made themselves a home between my shoulder blades, permanently tormenting me. I wish not for the first time that I’d done something sooner. Before I was in over my head. Potter had better get here soon.

***

A/N: Next part will be out same time next week! If you want to be tagged in the next uploads, please tell me so you don’t miss out! 🥰

Masterlist — Next Part

#devilrising #Fallen Draco #drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #cute #fanfiction #lol #draco lucius malfoy #draco/harry #draco x harry #harry x draco #h/d #fanfic #drarry fanfic #cute drarry

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loudsuitlover · 6 years ago

Text

Flirt

When you first applied for the job, you had never even imagined you were going to like it, much less that you were going to be so sad when it came the time for it to end. That was the thing about seasonal jobs- it was easy to say yes to them because you knew they were going to end but then it also left you with a bit of a broken hearted feeling underneath the satisfaction of a goal completed. At that point in your life you had already come to terms with your fear of commitment and you had actually learnt it was the reason you were always indecisive, borderline confused about what you wanted to do, about the decisions you had already taken; but now as you leaned your elbow on the bar and enjoyed playful conversation with Clare, there was not a single trace of regret in your mind.

“I can’t believe I’m about to agree to this.”

The memory of that day, right before you had finally walked down the street and inside the building where Harry Styles Live On Tour team was making the interviews for the new crew that was going to join Harry Styles on his first solo tour, crossed your mind as you saw Paula laughing hard with Harry Lambert from the corner of your eye. She had made fun of you all day at how indecisive you looked once again.

“It’s not like we’re going to rob a bank.” She had said. “You’re just deciding whether or not you want to join Harry Fucking Styles on tour and trust me, bitch, you want to.” She nodded her head, her dark eyebrows raised as she tried to convince you.

“Do I though?” You smiled. “I don’t know, Pau, I’ve worked my ass off in college these last few years maybe I wanna, you know, keep studying or like- at least try to get a job kind of related to my dreamed career.”

“Okay, first of all, who says your job at HSLOT can’t be related to your dreamed career?” She had challenged to which you had rolled your eyes and sighed.

“He surely has a professional photographer already, Pau. It’s not like he’s just going to hire whatever girl comes over with a Nikon on her neck.”

“You’re not whatever girl with a Nikon on her neck! You’re awesome! Come on, Y/N, I’ve seen your pictures and you could make a gorilla look pretty. Plus, I don’t know, there’s always time for that! I mean even if he does have a so called professional photographer already, think of this as a chance to get to meet them and like learn from them even!”

At that you had smiled and Paula couldn’t tell yet, but your feelings were starting to change towards that stupid job she wanted you to apply for. The corners of your mouth had curled upwards at the only thought of carefully listening to every little thing whatever photographer he had hired could say, something about the light or the angle, or the way to take a picture just when he was about to sing as if you could capture his voice on the shutter too and everyone could see how a voice looked like.

“Besides, have you seen how hot he is?” Paula had shut her eyes, her fingers had formed two identical clamps on the sides of her temples as if she was carefully holding the word hot right in front of her eyes. “I would work for him even if it was as the person who washes the floor right before he steps a foot into it.”

“I really hope there’s not such position.”

“He’d deserve it.” She defended.

“You do realize we probably wouldn’t even see him, right? I mean even if we did get the job- which we don’t know if we will- we’d probably get some job as the girl who brings the coffee to the girl who brings the coffee to everyone else.”

“No, that’s not it! They do a personalized interview with you and then they as a professional team in human resources give you a position that goes along with your personality and your abilities as a professional and as a person and I mean, given my history, I’ll probably work side by side with his stylist.”

And she wasn’t wrong. After her TED talk, you had walked inside the building and you had reciprocated every kind smile you got from every single person in the team and you remember you met his eyes just as you tucked a loose strand from your low messy bun behind your ear. Paula was already inside doing her own interview and you were standing right at the entrance of the hotel chatting to one of the other girls in the team when you noticed his green eyes staring at you from the other end of the hall. He was talking to a tall man and he was wearing a light camel colour shirt but the truth was, since he had spotted you at the door, his eyes hadn’t left your figure. You just had a beautiful smile, he had thought, and he had thought that for the rest of the days he had seen you on the arenas.

Treat People With Kidness Team, that was where you had been given a job which consisted of doing research of charity organizations in the area where the next concert was taking place, making contact with them, and letting people know they were going to help them with the purchase of the merch and the ticket concert itself. So yeah, it was not really related to photography, but if you could ask for a dream job, it would be that and the photography could be your forever hobby if it meant you got to help people in such a magnificent way. You probably fell in love with Harry the same night you read the project, which he had carefully thought with the aid of his lawyer, and you couldn’t contatin the giddy smile and the butterflies as you read the letter he had written to everyone in the team, not being able to believe how someone could put out so much kindness into the world.

As expected, you didn’t really see Harry much, except from moments before the concerts where everyone was really invited to hang out in the arena and the weekly meeting on Wednesday morning when your team would present their ideas and Harry would grin and thank you the entire time. Even if today was the last day of tour, you still remember the first, back in London before everyone packed their bags and left to the States when he walked straight towards you and introduced himself to you right before the first meeting with TPWKT was held.

“Hello, I don’t think I’ve had the chance to introduce myself to you before.” He smiled, letting you see his dimples as he offered his big, inked hand to you. “I’m Harry.”

“I know.” You grinned, nodding your head like a lunatic because you had literally just fallen in love with him the night before right after you binged read his charity project. “I mean not in a creepy way, you know, I just know because you’re famous and all that.” And that was when you started to ramble wildly. “I know you hate the word famous, Miranda told me that, I don’t know why I used it, I mean you’re very... Well-known, you know? And.... And kind and... young, not that old people aren’t kind. Actually, Miranda is super nice. I mean I’m not saying she’s old. Please stop me!”

He was laughing hard by the time you shut your eyes in a beg for mercy, resting your folder on the table and letting him properly see your tight skirt, the white blouse carefully stuck inside, and your hair once again in that low messy bun he had seen the first day. It took him just a few weeks to realize it was your professional hairdo, that an the low ponytail and he wanted to ask why you always wore them low instead of high or why you never braided your hair but he didn’t really think it was appropriate of him to ask you that and anyway he always got way too nervous when he had to talk to you and he always ended up making a fool of himself or not saying anything at all.

“Hey” He said one of the days you were getting coffee at the hotel with your coworkers and he had come over to talk to his manager Jeffrey first thing in the morning “I read your research about the charities here in Stockholm and I also think The Hunger Project will be a good choice.”

He smiled, enjoying the way your cheeks turned a light shade of pink as you tried to cover them with your plastic coffee cup. He had heard you and your friend Paula lightheartedly arguing the night before about your mild obsession with proper grammar for those essays about charity that nobody read anyways according to your friend and he had smiled as he walked passed your table at the hotel restaurant at the thought of how ridiculously adorable he found that. So he really read all of them and he’d have to admit he did that mostly because he knew you had written them but that morning he had walked over the catering table to pick a biscuit, even though he had aready had breakfast, just so he could chat to you a little and he had said that just so he could make sure you knew he had read it, that he read everything you wrote and for the first time he didn’t feel so awkward, because you were blushing and you had tucked your hair behind your ear, as you did when Miranda praised your ideas in the meetings, so he knew you liked that he was talking to you too.

“And I found a spelling error.” He teased, fighting his smirk so hard so you would fall for it when your eyes widened and you looked at him horrified, surely terribly embarrassed, and you waited for him to tell you where, where exactly as your mistake. “In the firs paragraph.” He lied. “It says new instead of knew once.”

“Oh, God, really? I read it like a thousand times. I can’t believe that slipped. Do you think a lot of people have read it? Maybe I can change it and print it again although that would be such a waste of paper which would hurt the enviroment and the-”

“I was kidding.” He smiled. “It was perfect, Y/N, as every other time.”

He remembers perfectly the way you smiled that day because your beautiful smile started drawing itself slowly as realization was hitting you that he was teasing you, maybe that he was even flirting, and he remembered he let his eyes fell to your mouth once, to kind of make himself clear that yes, he was flirting with you before he shook his head and followed Jeff to the elevator. You rested your hip against the catering table and giggled like a school girl before you grabbed a biscuit yourself, just because he had grabbed one, and you walked back to your desk, ignoring the way Adrian was smirking behind his laptop screen.

“What?” You demanded.

“Nothing.” He smiled. “He just never reads mine.”

And then after time had passed and he had found himself more and more attracted to you, he had finally confessed that to Clare who seemed to have gotten rather closed with you after a few days sightseeing around some European beauties like Copenhagen or Oslo, and ever since then it had been constant teasing of hers everytime she would catch him staring.

“Why don’t you just ask her out?” She had exasperated once back in his wardrobe.

“Because what if she says no? I’m like her boss and I’m sure her knowing I have a thing for her would be awkward.” He shrugged.

“Unless she has a thing for you too.” Clare wiggled her eyebrows.

“Sure but we don’t know that.”

“Yeah and you won’t let me ask her.”

“Of course you can’t ask her! What is this? Ninth grade? She would totally know I like her.”

“So you do like her?” Clare smiled.

“Clare, have you even listened to me this whole time? Of course I like her.”

“Well you had said you had a thing for her, not that you liked her as in you know wanting to date her! That’s a whole different thing!”

“You’re so in ninth grade.”

And with that he shook his head and walked away but as the days passed, he started realizing he surely did seem like he was in ninth grade himself with all the stealing glances your way, arriving unnecessarily early just so he could bump into you or even just hanging aroung the common areas in the hotels so he could possibly see you and maybe talk about something silly with you or gladly make a fool of himself so he could make you laugh and think that you had laughed a little because of him so your day had possibly been a little better.

And now four months later you were joking around with his bandmates and trying to keep your nerves at cool as you thought he was about to join you all. He had been staring at you the whole night, grinning blantly because now the flirting was strong enough for him to have no doubt you liked him too so now he just had to make the move and if the constant flattering of his heart was the way he was going to feel every time you were around then he only expected for you to never leave. It had all really started three months before when Clare had had the ninth grade idea of making a group chat, giving Harry and you the opportunity to text each other.

Clare Uchima created the group “Harry Styles’ Ego Affected Association”

Clare Uchima added you

Paula: Is this group chat so we can check Y/N’s grammar before she sends the essays to Miranda? lol

Y/N: Is this group chat so we can let Paula know she is not funny?

Clare: As the creator of this group chat, I declare it a hate-free zone. Please don’t get your panties in a twist on my watch, ladies.

Harry: How exactly does my ego affect the three of you alone?

Clare: See? You’re so full of yourself you think your ego also affect others. Not that important, Styles.

Paula: Yeah, probably half the tickets you sold were just so they could see what amazing shoes I chose for you that night.

Harry: I knew letting you choose my shoes would get into your head...

Paula: I think you should appreciate it more. It is extra hard to choose an specific type of Chelsea boots when your roommate is “reading” like this.

Harry still keeps the picture your friend sent that day because even though you weren’t looking at the camera, your hair was all messy around your face, having fallen from the bun you used to held back just with two bobby pins and you the light from the candle you had lighten up next to your laptop was illuminating your face in such an intimate way and you were biting your bottom lip, your hand tucked on the crook of your neck and he almost wanted to set that picture as his background because he thought you looked like a proper angel.

Harry: Is she working or advertising a yoga class?

Y/N: I’m working at such ungodly hour because my boss is such a bully...

Harry: hahahaha I’ve heard he’s really kind.... and young... not that old people aren’t kind ;)

Y/N: Hahaha I see you didn’t forget about that, despite the multiple head injuries you’ve shown us so far

Harry: Oi, how dare you? Maybe it’s Paula’s fault... After all, she does indeed choose my shoes

Paula: Now that was uncalled for. You know, Harry, I’m actually sorry for you. It must have been hard for you to live 24 years without knowing us...

Harry: You have no idea...

Paula: I can’t imagine how hard it must have been for you to live in a Paulaless world...

Y/N changed the subject to “Paula’s Ego Affected Association”

Harry: Thank you, Y/N x

Y/N: You’re welcome, Mr Styles X

Clare: Paula I think we are surplus here

And three months had been time enough for him to find the perfect excuse to text you privately and then your private text thread had started to grow and each time you sent more XXX and each time the talks were until later in the night and with that and a couple group parties he had lost the awkward fear of talking to you and you had grown close enough to run up to him to tell him things straight in person when you found a new exciting thing about whatever organization it was you were collaborating with at the time and he had grown more confident so he would wrap his arm around your shoulders and he would tease you almost every time you talked to him. “Careful with the wires, love, we all know how clumsy you can be.”

“So now are you finally going to tell her?” Jeff asked him because it was the last day of the tour and he could tell he hadn’t torn his eyes from you and Harry just blushed and chuckled, scratching the back of his neck as he looked at his feet.

“I think I have to tell her something because she goes on holidays in two days and I don’t want her to think I don’t want to see her again.”

“I don’t think she thinks that.” Jeff laughed. “You drool over her!”

Instead of denying it, for it was useless anyway, he just chuckled and shrugged, having a sip of his own drink as Jeffrey laughed at his friend.

“I think you did the best thing at keeping it professional while she worked here though, you know?”

“I just didn’t want her to feel like I was taking advantage of her in any way? I know she wouldn’t have but I think it’s best if we start things this way.”

“If you start things?” Jeff raised his eyebrows. “Sounds like you want things to last.” He smirked.

“Stop it, Jeffrey!” He feigned to panic making Jeff laugh as his kind eyes met yours.

“She’s been watching you all night too.” He smiled. “Just go with her already.”

With that he chuckled and made his way towards you, his green eyes never leaving yours until you had no doubt he was coming your way and then you looked ahead, pretending to ignore him as he got closer to the group.

“Oh, there he is!” Clare cheered him up as he made his way inside the group until he was standing right next to you, your left bare shoulder barely skimming his chest.

“Hi.” He whispered and even though you couldn’t see his face you knew he was smiling.

“See?” Paula almost yelled when the bartender looked back at you again “He just looked your way again! He clearly have the hots for you and you have to pass him down to me. You can’t have everybody!”

She frowned jokingly at you but you just smiled as you enjoyed the way Harry frowned and looked for the bartender, his chin moving right next to your temple until he spotted him.

“If you had taken any longer I might have started flirting with him.” You joked, raising your eyebrows as you tried not to smirk but failing once he spinned your stool around making you face him.

“What did you just say?” His green eyes lowered as he stared right into your own.

You just smiled at him, your eyes flicking to his lips and back to his eyes in a brief second, driving him crazy. His hands had stayed on the sides of the stool, trapping you between his muscular arms and making the desire of wrapping your arms around his neck almost unbearable.

“I’m just teasing.” You whispered.

“Well, don’t.” He whispered back, kissing your forehead as you smiled.

“Okay, no teasing then.” You smiled. “Do you wanna sit? I’ve been sitting long enough.”

“No, that’s okay. You stay-”

Except you had already stood up and were now looking at him with a teasing smirk, despite your previous promise. He chuckled as he sat down, ordering another drink to the waiter who couldn’t seem to stop looking at you and then his green eyes amusedly watched your figure walk away.

When you came back though, although Harry’s eyes were still on you, this time it was him who was smirking smugly as you narrowed your eyes slightly at the pretty girl that was now hanging next to him. You had seen her before, she was one of your coworkers except she worked selling merchandise at the concerts, but you had seen the way she flirted with him and the way she always laughed way too loud at his jokes, even at the bad ones. You decided on pretending you didn’t care though and chose to stand next to Adam instead, engaging in conversation with them as you tried your best to ignore Harry’s eyes on you.

You could hear his deep voice making conversation with the other girl and as hard as you tried you couldn’t help but to look at him from the corner of your eyes sometimes, only to draw stupid smug smirks on his face so he ended up winding you up and you turned to Paula, right next to the girl, and asked her to dance. For the first few songs you managed to stop making your entire world revolve around Harry but you still enjoyed the feeling of his eyes on you the entire time. Apparently, they were trying to play some game back in the bar but you could hear everyone scolding him for not paying attention which only encouraged you to sway your hips in wider movements.

“Do you want to dance?”

Despite the loud music, you still managed to hear her voice asking Harry and you started planning her murder the moment he said sure and followed her to the dance floor. Girls Like You by Maroon 5 started playing the moment they joined Paula and you and you rolled your eyes at Harry as he chuckled and started moving closer to you in a very dorky way every time Adam Levine sang yeah, yeah, yeah and you laughed but pushed him away.

“No, I don’t want to dance with you now.” You pestered.

“Why not? I wasn’t-”

You shook your head and gave a few steps back as Call Out My Name by The Weeknd started playing and for the first minute you just flexed your knees the slightest bit until he sang the first chorus and you started moving as seductively as you could manage, your eyes set on Harry’s as he just looked at you with his lips parted, his green eyes burning your skin.

“Y/N.” He whispered, trying to get your attention but you just smiled and kept on dancing swaying your hips slowly, caressing your body with one hand as the other tangled in your hair. “Y/N.” He tried again.

You bent your knees, lowering your buttom slowly until it almost touched the floor, your legs opened before you stood up and kept on dancing; you could feel yourself getting wet at the way he was staring at you and you bit your bottom lip when your eyes fell to the now prominent bulge on his pants.

“Y/N.” This time he was almost begging you to stop but his desperation only encouraged you to go on.

“What, Harry? You don’t dance?”

“You’re kind of distracting me.” He complaint.

“I am? How?” You played down, looking at him with big innocent eyes as he nodded his head, his eyes roaming your body up and down.

“You know how.”

“Dance with me then.” You smiled. “Come closer.”

“You come closer.” He challenged. “You’re the one playing with me.”

“Just teasing, H.”

You smiled, walking closer and almost moaning at the way his hands grabbed your hips and pulled your body against his. His ragged breath hit the skin of your face.

“I thought we agreed no teasing.”

You chuckled, unable to contain your belly from flipping as you stared into his green eyes, both his hands resting on your hips as he held you close to him. Paula and the girl you wanted to kill were still dancing next to you both and you smiled at her, enjoying the fact that she was watching Harry’s hands on you and not on her.

“Heard you had trouble focusing on the game too... Maybe you’re just naturally distracted...”

“I think it has something to do with a girl.”

“Oh, does it?” You raised your eyebrows, resting your arms on his shoulders as he nodded.

“Yeah, you didn’t see the hot girl next to me? I wish you would have seen the way her thighs look in that skirt...” He bit his bottom lip and you frowned, your eyes falling to the skinny bitch’s thighs before you pouted at him.

“Are you serious?” You were pretty sure he was teasing before but now you weren’t so sure.

“Yeah.” He laughed. “You’re not mad... are you?”

Was he being disrespectful? Talking about your thighs like that? He had chosen the word thighs instead of ass precisely to avoid being rude but maybe he had crossed a line nonetheless? You shook your head but removed your hands from his shoulders walking down the hall towards the lobby so you could reach the elevator to the rooms in the hotel.

“Y/N, wait!” He grasped your wrist, turning you around as you wait for the elevator but his frowned turned into a smug smirk the moment he catches up with your behaviour. “I can’t believe you’re jealous of Sylvia.”

“I’m not jealous of her.” You lied as you made your way inside the elevator, him following suit right before the doors closed.

“Yes, you are.” He smirked smugly as he cornered you against the wall right after you pressed the bottom of your floor. “But you don’t have to be, love.” He whispered.

“I am not jealous of anyone.”

You challeged, your faces so close he could feel your breath against his skin. He rested one of his hands on the side of your head and with the other caressed your bare arm from your shoulder to your hand until he curled his pinky finger with yours and enjoyed the way your body seemed to react to him. He could see the goosebumps in your skin and he could tell the way your chest was going up and down now more visibly than before. He smirked before he licked his lips and pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, holding your hip with the hand that had been playing with your fingers.

“Admit that you’re jealous.” He whispered against your mouth as if you needed to say that if you wanted a real kiss.

You could the anticipation abrading your chest, your belly doing somersault at the thought of his lips against your own.

“Fine,” you admitted making him grin “but only because she’s been flirting with you forever and now you’re saying she’s hot.”

“You are so silly.” He chuckled, pecking your lips innocently just once.

“Excuse you?” You scowled looking up at him as he squeezed your hip.

“Do you think I would look at any other girl when you are there? Especially if you’re dancing like that? In this fucking skirt?” His hand on your waist moved down to caress your thigh and you swallowed a breath. “I was talking about you.” He whispered.

“Well she was still flirting with you.”

“So what?” The hand that was resting next to your head now cupped your cheek, tilting your head so you had no other choice but to look into his eyes. “I’m crazy about you.” He breathed inches away from your mouth. “How can you not see what you do to me?”

You swallowed the anticipation as he held your hand and lead him down to his jeans. You barely skimmed his warm erection but that gesture, and the feeling of his rock hard excitement on your hand, was the hottest thing you had ever seen. A small gasp got trapped in your throat as he pressed your hand against the cold elevator wall and he hissed at the sound.

“This is what you do to me.”

With that he shifted his hips so his erection was pressing against your belly and that was all it took for you to really moaned, crunching your eyebrows and pouting your bottom lip out, making it impossible for him not to to lean down and captured it between his lips, sucking on it as his hands hungrily moved down your back, only managing to pull you closer to him before the lift stopped and the doors opened on your floor.

“Fuck.” Harry cursed as his mouth pulled apart from yours making you laugh.

“You wanna come into my room?” You asked, your eyes big and innocent, all of a sudden full of insecurities as you stared into his own.

If he rejects you you’d fly out of the country and change your name and make a new life in Argentina. But he nodded, intertwining his fingers with yours as you walked towards your room. You feel a fire burning deep within your body, starting at the bottom of your belly but climbing up to your throat, setting your entire ribcage on fire and you’re afraid he might notice because you’re sure your skin must be as read as his lips are from all the sucking.

“You are so beautiful.” He whispered in your ear as you opened the door, his hands failing at his attempt of keeping them to himself at least until the door was closed behind you and you were both alone in the intimacy of your room.

The moment you closed the door, you rested your back against it, burning your wild eyes into Harry’s and drawing him in like a magnet. He almost wanted to start crying but instead he grunted as he crashed his lips against yours. How was it possible that every day you got more beautiful?

“Harry” You gasped, your tongue hungrily sliding inside his mouth and across his.

“Y/N, wait, wait.”

He pulled apart and you felt the most intense embarrassment you had ever felt overflowing your entire body, so you looked at the floor, unable to look into his eyes until he lifted your chin with his fingers forcing the eye contact so he could read your expression.

“I want you.” He whispered, as if trying to calm your second thoughts down. “But I also want to do this right. I really like you, Y/N,” he chuckled, embarrassed at his confession but the way you smiled calmed his nerves down “so.. I mean I just don’t want this to be like your way of saying goodbye, you know?” He chuckled.

“I really like you too. I’ve liked you since the first week I’ve worked here.”

He laughed, relishing the way your cheeks heated up under his hands,

“That’s good. So... Do you want to give it a try?”

“To give what a try?” You just wanted to hear him say it really so he rolled his eyes playfully because he knew.

“Me!” He chuckled, blushing himself. “Us, I guess. I can take you out and you can see whether you want to be with me or-”

Your lips had crushed against his before he could keep on rambling and now the two of you were smiling against each other mouths, your hands pulling him closer from the back of his neck as he grabbed your thighs until he had picked you up. He sat you down on the couch on your room carefully before he grabbed a blanket and sat down next to you with a big grin but you frowned, grabbed the blanket for him and drop it on the floor, climbing on his lap as you had dreamt of doing so many other times and threaded your fingers through his head, leaving soft kisses along his jaw.

“What are you doing?” He shivered, his hands gripping your hips on top of him.

“You said you wanted me.” You whispered against his mouth pressing your hips down on his earning a deep growl from him. “And you showed me what I do to you, don’t you want to see what you do to me?”

“Fuck, baby.”

He felt the oxygen being knocked out of her lungs as his mind clouded. You shifted on top of him, pushing your hips down against his creating the friction he desperatedly wanted. It drove him crazy and gripped your arms forcefully, pulling you impossibly closer to him, as he got scared at the realization that he had never wanted anyone the way he wanted you then. Sure he had fucked other girls but it had never been about getting them closer and closer but rather about satisfying his own needs but now that you were sitting on top of him, it was as if nothing was close enough.

He gasped when you eagerly threw your crop top over your head exposing your lilac lace bra to him and your fingers pulled from his hair as he kissed and sucked the skin just below the cup of your bra. One of his hand squeezed your butt cheek under your skirt while the other tucked your bra under your breast, wrapping his pink lips around your nipple and gently sucking on it, bringing more and more wetness to your entrance and driving you crazy for him.

“Oh, Harry.”

He groaned and grabbed your bum harder when you moaned his name and gave the same loving attention to your other breast as you started moving your hips against his jeans, trying to find some release from the friction with the crease on his pants, his hard on pressing agonizingly against your soaked panties. His moans were muffled with your skin on his mouth until the sounds were replaced with the pop sound of his mouth releasing your breast when he touched the dripping wetness on your panties as he thought of offering you some relief by rubbing your clit.

“Fucking hell, love. You’re soaked.”

“I want you, Harry, please, I can’t wait.” You pouted, making him groan and want you more.

He lifted your body from his and placed you on the empty space next to him on the couch, taking of his shirt, pants and boxers and telling you to lay down on your back in a whisper as he rolled the condom down his shaft and his eyes went wild when he saw you sliding your skirt off your legs. He had never seen anything sexier in his entire life but that was only until you stood up from the couch and slid your panties down your legs until they drop to the floor around your ankles and, fully naked now, you climbed back on his lap giving him a perfect view of your body as his hands caressed the soft skin of your waist and thighs. The juicier thighs he had ever seen he could swear.... Oh, how would he like to bury his head between them...

He embraced the surprising position and pulled you closer to him, tangling his long fingers in your hair and attaching his hungry mouth with yours. Accomplishing your pleas, he lowered you onto him, swallowing your cries as he as well moaned into your mouth. He started moving slowly, enjoying the way you cried out loud every time he hit that soft spot inside you, gripping your hips and your waist and every part of skin he could reach as he slammed agonizingly slow into you, letting you feel every inch of him. He thought he could cum right then when your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he fastened the rythmn.

“You’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, Y/N.”

“Fuck, Harry, you’re so big.” You cried, getting him impossibly harder by the second. “I can feel you everywhere.”

“I’m deep, ain’t I, baby? Bet you can feel me all the way in your belly, can you?”

“Fuck!”

His arms immediately wrapped around your back to pull you even closer to him until your chests were touching and he could feel every inch of you. He growled, biting onto your shoulder when you started circling your hips so that his hips would lift and slam into you just as you slowly circled around him, changing the angle every second. He couldn’t describe how he was feeling if he tried and then it all started being about you and about the way you sounded and the way you felt and the way your lip sounded when it hit your mouth back after he had pulled from it with his teeth. And he felt as if he could never have this with anyone else, his heart beating so fast and so strong and this feeling of total bliss as he drove himself into you and you whimpered and shivered and he knew this was something only you and him would ever share and that no one would ever compare to you and nothing would ever compare to this.

“Harry” You gasped, biting your bottom lip to calm yoursef down at the verge of tears as if you had heard his thoughts, turning him on even more than he already was.

“You feel so good, Y/N.”

The pressure started to build in his stomach when he sees your niples getting impossibly harder, your entire skin covered in goosebumps as you arched your back and he knew you were close so he circled your clit with his thumb and bit his own lip before he watched you come undone trembling right after your body had stiffened for a few seconds and then moaning and clenching around him until he came himself, squeezing your hips and taking your grateful kisses as long, thick spurts of cum filled the condom.

He chuckled at your tired smile before you yawned and scrubbed your eyes like a little girl and he kissed your lips a few times until he could control himself.

“I’ve wanted you since the first moment I saw you.” He confessed. “But I never thought you would feel this good.”

“I hope you haven’t had enough.” You smiled lazily, your eyes already closing as he chuckled and took you to the bed.

“Of course not.” He laughed.

“Good. You’ll stay, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

735 notes · View notes

turquoisemagpie · 6 years ago

Text

Truce.

(OCs story.)

(chapter one: When Peny Met Salli)

A tiny bottle. Like a liquid galaxy of blue and pink. Don’t take it’s cap off. Watch out for the man in black. Peny had repeated this list in their mind for so long it was starting to pulse to the beat of their footsteps like a bad rap song. They couldn’t believe how easy this mission was turning out to be; considering how many devils they had met had warned them of interloping with the notorious ‘man in black’, it was a surprise that they hadn’t been properly sneaking through his abode this whole time. Then again, they hadn’t technically started the mission yet. Once they got the bottle they needed, that was when they predicted the really fun would start. They began to wonder why the devil who asked this favour was too scared to retrieve this stolen bottle themself. And if this notorious man in black was such a thieving tyrant, why hadn’t the whole community of them decided to gang up and take him down themselves? And if he was that formidable, why the hell did they think a layabout intrusive ink demon would be more successful in returning what was taken from them? Peny guessed it was probably their own ‘personal reasons’; that dress looked too lavish to get covered in dirt when undertaking ‘such a monumental task’. Peny smilingly shook their head in concluding that since the Fraudulentus started actually using humans’ property, the devils suddenly became less ‘devilish’ in their ways. Peny then chuckled as they imagined a cult of humans, all darkened and serious in their satanic ways, summoning one of those devils; how gobsmacked the cult leaders would be as a devil in a beautiful dress sashays out of the flaming pentagram like a scene from Swan Lake. Humans expect devils to be the children of evil? They would probably see an eviller creature looking in a mirror. Peny shook their head as their thoughts went off topic, just in time to avoid tripping over another snaking length of wires. ‘All wires lead to a necessity.’, they reminded themself, ‘A tiny bottle. Like a liquid galaxy of blue and pink. Don’t take it’s cap off. Watch out for the man in black’. They decided to follow it down the maze of slim corridors in this old forgotten place.

The corridors didn’t have ceilings themselves but Peny could just about make out the roof of the place, very high above, and curved like the ceiling of a large cathedral. And from the high ceiling were a number of large rocky stalactites, and from the tips of them flowed thousands of cables that spread out to the mazes of rooms and hallways below like a huge spider’s web. They noticed how some of the wires collected into a cacophony of twisted branches that led to certain corners of the whole place. Where those branches hit the floor was probably where Peny needed to be. So they followed the wires as it grew to a larger serpent of snaking cables through the maze. Finally they reached a wide room. The cables and wires they had follower split off to crawl and slink onto randomly scattered roundtables that held messy piles of towered TV screens and thick large books. Some opened book looked as if they had many pages ripped out that had been either crumpled up into balls or left to float to the floor. Passing by them, Peny caught glimpses of what some pages read. There were diagrams of anatomies, of human, animal, hybrid and demon. There were instruction and blueprints from everything, from how to wire a computer motherboard, to how to hold a forbidden demonic ritual, to how to cook a great apple pie, to a scout’s guide in how to start a fire when lost in the woods. This man in black was clearly a man with a love of collecting information, that would probably explain why he steals from devils, and probably other demons too. But what was it all for? Peny headed for a table that was stacked with boxes of all sizes and shapes, some of them stuffed with files, some of them decaying and only holding moss and mould, and some of them closed up tightly as something within them was glowing out of the seams of their corners. Peny picked up one of the glowing boxes and began to tear them open. “A tiny bottle.” They muttered to themself, “Like a liquid galaxy of blue and pink. Don’t take it’s cap off.” They looked inside the box to find it full of rocks of different bright colours and cuts; they were sure some of them were diamonds and gold, and some of them could even be wyverns’ blood. The whole contents of the box alone would make a seller very wealthy indeed. They closed the box and pushed it aside, stuffing a few nuggets of emeralds and fools gold into their pocket. They were going to steal something anyway; may as well take advantage of the situation and get useful supplies. They opened another box. Luckier this time; bottles. They shuffled through them careful not to break any of them. “A tiny bottle.” They picked up the larger bottles and put them aside so only the smaller ones remained. “Like a liquid galaxy of blue and pink.” They found said bottle; a stubby circular-bodied vial of a gluey liquid that slowly swirled in a spinning disk of blue and pink glittery dust. Peny smiled on seeing it and picked it up carefully. “Don’t take it’s cap off.” They wrapped a short bandage around its top to keep the cap on when it would bounce around in their pocket. They began putting all the bottles away back in their box when the sound of a deep rumble stopped them. They looked above them as uneven rings of electrical light started swelling faster and faster from the tip of one of the wired-up stalactites. Before properly thinking Peny hid under the table, just as there was a flash of light and a soundwave of a fractured lighting strike and the wires that connected to the stalactite lit up like neon bars of every blinding colour possible. A surge of sparks flowed through the cables that led to the grounds of the room of tables, and there was a crash of thunder and lightning as a dark figure appeared in the centre of the room. Peny pulled the wires hanging off the table above them over like a makeshift curtain. “…And watch out for the man in black.” They finally whispered, as the dark hooded figure stepped out of the small light show of electricity.

As the man in black strolled towards one table to empty his pockets, Peny took out a shard of a white and red glowing crystal, and as quickly and quietly as possible, began to draw out circles and symbols on the floor around them, glancing up only to make sure the man in black hadn’t heard the random screeches of the crystal on the stone floor. The man in black merely took a few books from a pile on his table and began to flick through them. He clicked his fingers and the TV screen in front of him turned on instantly, showing only black and white flashes of static. He ripped out a page of a book and held it again the TV screen. After staring for a moment at the illuminated page his grip on it tightened to a fist as he crumpled the page up and threw it out of his way, growling in frustration as he did. He ripped out another page and did the same. This time he spun the page upside down and turned the dials at the side of the TV screen; the white static changed colours to a purple hue. The man in black then reached inside his pocket and took out his phone and took a quick picture of the page against the screen. As he slipped it back in his pocket he froze for a second. Then he turned and stormed toward the table Peny was hiding under. Peny quickly scribbled in the last of the symbols needed, the markings began to glow brighter and brighter on the ground. Just as the man in black reached under the table and flipped it out of the way, sending the boxes upon it flying through the air, the ground beneath Peny suddenly opened up to a beam of light and they fell through. “Adios bitch!” Peny called, their voice thankfully faded away as they fell.

They fell for, what Peny considered, a worryingly long time. The thick mist of static that flew past them didn’t seem to be on their side. Usually by now large blocks of light, meaning doorways, would show up in the spaces ahead of whatever direction Peny was traveling to. If not that at least the static would thicken to form some kind of solid ground. But this time the ink demon seemed to be falling for infinity. Something must have gone wrong in the Crosspoint markings they drew; the haste of the moment probably caused them to add an extra line in a ruin or miss a symbol entirely. They screwed up somehow and they could end up paying dearly for it; the looming silhouettes of the Keepers were getting closer and closer. Peny had to get out fast, they’d take any escape at this point. They began to glide further to the outskirts of the static mist to find crack and crude doors. Often demons would try to get into the astrum realm without the Keepers knowing; they’d all fail, obviously, but the results of their breakthroughs would always remain. Peny put a hand out to brush the surface of a wall of static, and suddenly jerked to a halt as their hand grabbed the edge of a crack in the astrum. As the Keepers’ monstrous winged figures grew close enough to hear their howls of a million whispers, Peny quickly crawled through the crack and pulled themself into a more real world. They rolled onto the dusty floor of wherever they were and caught their breath as they stared at the large decaying cracks in the ceiling above them. They felt about their pockets and sighed in relief as the small bottle was still safe and sound; the risk really was worth it. They laughed the regret off as they sat up and stood themself up, taking a good look around the place as they brushed down their coat. It looked like they ended up in a house of the human realm, but it was in no way a house for the living. Everything turned grey in thick layers of dust, the walls were peeling, and the creaking wooden floor was litter with peeled plaster from the dampened ceilings. The perfect place for a horror movie. A perfect place for a demon to take a rest. They took the bottle out to properly check it hadn’t cracked; the bandage used to cover the top had gone, but apart from that, nothing drastic had happened to it. Slipping the bottle back to safety, Peny tucked their hand in their pockets and took a stroll.

The house creaked and moaned as light breezes flowed through the broken windows and cracks in the walls. Peny found it a wonder that the house hadn’t been complete blown away in the storms of the past. As the slow steps of their heavy boots echoed along the decaying walls, Peny wondered what demon could possibly want from this place. The only reason why a door to this place was in the astrum fields would be that a demon regularly travels here. A demon that, like Peny, is very nimble in dodging the Keepers. Probably small, and quick, and very good at hiding. If that be the case, then Peny needed to be cautious treading on their territory and they kept an ear out for something following them. Peny reached inside their coat and pulled out a large golden framed lens, that looked like it once belonged on the end of a camera lens, and held it to their eye like a monocle. They looked around the place, in the shadows of corners, on the edges of doorways, on the broken lamps hanging from the ceiling. They sighed in disappointment as they saw nothing and put the lens away in their coat pocket.

They froze as the sound of sniffling became apparent.

Listening closer they realised there were soft whimpers and weak hiccups within the sniffles. Someone was crying. They sounded very young, and very small. The bandages around Peny’s boots slithered to wrap around the entire soles of their shoes, to soften Peny’s steps as they quietly snuck towards the corner were the weeping was coming from. They peeked their head around the corner. They saw the back of a young girl, sitting in the middle of the hallway floor, hunched over with her shoulders twitching with every small sob. Peny’s eyes widened. ‘Well,’ they thought to themself, ‘if I know any good horror movie, now would be a good time to take a 180 and just walk away from the scary girl in an old abandoned house.’ They shuffled back and turned to leave but paused as they thought further. ‘Although… the only reason people run away in those films is because they don’t want to die… That’s already out of the question for me… so what’s the worst that could happen?’ They turned back to take another peek at the girl. ‘If it’s a demon, I can reason with her. If it’s a human… I’ll probably end up scaring her out of this dangerous place. It’s a win-win situation.’ They quietly turned the corner and slowly strolled towards the girl. As they got closer, they could make out more of her, and wondered if this was some kind of set up. This child looked too ‘ghost-girl’ horror-movie cliché to be real. Long flowing black hair that most certainly would be covering her face, wearing a dress that was probably once white but became a dusty grey over time, and as Peny got closer to see over her shoulders, they noticed her hands were blackened with thick scars, almost like burns, and they held the remnants of a broken wooden toy. The wooden boards creaked as Peny took another step. The girl’s head perked up and suddenly the girl dived forward into the darkness of the hallway beyond her, completely disappearing. The girl left behind a piece of the toy she was holding and Peny carefully picked it up. It looked like an arm, the wooden arm of a string puppet.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” Peny called out into the darkness, “You were crying. I was wondering if you were lost or hurt.” The was no response. “If it’s any consolation, I’m lost too. I’m not sure where I am. Do you know the way out of here?” Silence. Peny looked down at the doll’s arm and placed it back on the floor and took a few steps back. “You left this behind. You can take it.” Something shuffled behind Peny causing them to spin around in fright. Around the corner Peny had come from something small shuffled back to hide behind the wall. The fingers of a small scarred hand remained edging around the corner of the wall. “Is that you again?” Peny asked, wondering how she managed to get behind them without any notice. At no response Peny took more steps away from her, stepping over the doll’s arm so she could get it. Slowly the girl’s head peeked around the corner, her long hair hiding her face in utter darkness, except for the light reflecting off her eyes… or was it light glowing from her eyes? “I really don’t mean any harm.” Peny said calmly and honestly, putting their hands out to show no weapons of any obvious kind. The girl’s head tilted slightly, and in her cold bare feet she took a step out into the hallway. She took a few hesitant steps closer, her hands fidgeting the ends of her hair that flowed over her shoulders. As she got closer into the light Peny noticed how pale she was, almost like a corpse, and as the light hit her face Peny’s shoulders relaxed as they knew what they were dealing with. “You’re a demon, aren’t you?” Peny asked the girl. The girl stopped in her track, her blackened eyes looked at her in sudden fear. “It’s ok.” Peny said with a smile. They held up their hand and let a tickling flow of ink dribble from under their bandaged fingers, where the ink collected and morphed into the symbol of the demon realm in the palm of their hands. “I’m a demon too.” After a small pause, the girl took more confident steps towards Peny and stopped as soon she was standing over the doll’s arm. Her expression changed from shy fear to curious amazement. As the girl kneeled down to pick up the doll’s arm, she asked in a voice as humanly-childish as could be, “What kind of demon are you?”

“I’m a poison demon.” Peny answered, letting more ink gather in their hands until it formed a sluggish blob that they let weave around their fingers, “My poison is ink, so I’m an ink demon.” “I’ve not seen a demon like you before.” The girl said, “Where are you from?” Peny raised an eyebrow. “Do you mean, what realm am I from?” The girl nodded in response. Peny shrugged their shoulders. “Poison demons don’t have a realm. We just mooch about the place.” The girl giggled, probably at the silliness of the word ‘mooch’. She glanced up and down Peny’s body in admiration, not many demons look like Peny; this Peny knew as a fact, not really caring if it’s a compliment or an insult. Salli asked, “How did you get here? Not many people come here.” “I got lost.” Peny admitted, “I was crossing through from one dimension to another, and I must have made a wrong turn.” “Dimensions?” The girl asked quizzically. Her face lit up as she gasped and asked quickly, “Are you a spaceman?” Peny huffed a small laugh but stopped themself before they seemed dismissive toward the girl’s notion. They replied, “Sort of. I travel through a space. I travel through the space that no humans have travelled before.” “I’ve only seen space on TV!” The girl announced before asking eagerly, “What’s it like? Do you get to touch the stars?” Uncertainly Peny shook their head. “Not the space I travel through, unfortunately. I know of some friends who have travelled through the space you’re thinking of. I’ll be sure to ask them next time, and I could tell you what they say.” They smiled. The girl gave a small giggle. There was a moment of silence as the conversation came to a halt. Peny had never dealt with kids before, not even when they were alive, and only knew awkward silences as a cue to leave. They clasped their hand together, forgot the ink slug was still in their hand, apologised to it as it grumpily reform from the splatter marks, and finally told Salli, “I’m sorry if I’m intruding on your place. I can leave if you want this place to yourself.” Peny turned slightly in the motion of walking away. “No.” Salli said suddenly, stopping Peny in their tracks, “Don’t go. You don’t have to go… Not many people come here. Well… Sometimes humans come here, but I’m scared of them.” The girl nervously rubbed her hand along the rough surface of her arm. She looked to Peny and smiled. “But you seem nice. So you can stay.” Peny gave a small nod of affirmation. “Why, thank you.” Staying where they were, Peny couched down to her level. They let the ink slug drop onto the floor, where it flattened to a puddle and nestled into the gaps of the floorboards. Peny then hovered their hand over the floorboard where the ink suddenly ‘dribbled’ upwards back into the centre of Peny’s hand. With the ink back into a slug in their hand, they repeated this process. The demon girl watched in awe. During this the ink demon said, “My name is Peny. What’s your name?” The girl prized her eyes off Peny’s magic trick and answered, “Salli.” “That’s a cool name.” Peny said, smiling on seeing her smile proudly on telling her name. They looked down at the doll’s arm Salli was holding. “I heard you crying earlier. Was it because of your toy?” Salli looked down at the doll’s arm. Her smile fell. She then reached into the pocket of the side of her dress and pulled out the rest of the doll, which consisted of only a torso and a leg. As she stared at the broken doll, her lips quivered as she began to quietly sob again. Peny felt their dead heart sink on seeing how upset Salli had become. “Oh no. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make you cry.” Peny wanted to reach out an arm to comfort her, but thought that was a bad idea; they didn’t know if the girl wanted comfort. “Do you know how it was broken?” Salli sniffled and rubbed the tears from her eyes; her tears were blackened and stained her arm as she tried to rub them away before they could trickle onto the broken doll. She stuttered. “He was… He was broken… I fell. And he broke. I tried to get him back… I tried to get all his pieces back but…” She coughed out the last few words as her crying got more intense, “Something took his pieces away.” She buried her head in her arm and wept. Peny blinked a few times realising they were close to crying too. They took a deep breath and asked steadily, “When you say ‘something’, can you remember what it was? What it looked like?” Salli shook her head as it was still buried in her arm. “No.” She sniffed, “I couldn’t see them.” She pulled her head away from her arm, her tears stained her cheek. “I think… I think it wasn’t just one of it. I think it was a more than one. But I couldn’t see them. They were see-through.” Peny’s eyebrows raised. “Invisible?” they said with a dynamic bounce to their voice. They looked around the place, at the hallway behind them and at the ceiling above them. “Was he broken here?” they asked Salli, pointing to the floor underneath them. Salli shook her head and pointed to the darkness behind the ink demon. “No. I fell over there. At the stairs.” Peny looked to wear she was pointing and could barely make out a dip in the floor where stairs led downward. They turned back, to ask if they could check it out, but found the girl had vanished without a sound. They scanned the area she once stood, looking for footprint in the dusty floor, but saw nothing to suggest she ran. “Just here.” The girl’s voice called from the hallways behind Peny. Peny stood up and walked into the darkness toward Salli, wondering how she was able to get past them so quietly without them noticing. They reached the stairs and stared for a while at where Salli pointed. They looked up to see the house split into multiple doorways and corridors; whatever things took Salli’s doll had scattered to other areas of the house. They walked down the stairs and stood in the central cross-section of where the corridors split off.

“I think I might know what took your doll’s pieces.” Peny told Salli as the girl followed them, “It could be something else, though. You never know with things that dwell in abandoned houses.” They reached into the coat pocket and pulled out the golden framed lens again, the sight of it impressed Salli. Holding the lens in the air and looking through it through one open eye Peny finished, “But we can check to see what one culprit could be.” “What’s that thing?” Salli asked, reaching to the lens. Peny showed it to her, turning it in their hand so Salli could see all angles of it. “It’s called an Ambi lens.” Peny explained. “It’s so you can find creatures called Ambulans Caligo. Or Walking Mist as they’re know to few.” Peny held up the lens to Salli’s eye and the girl eagerly held it to gaze at the house through it. “They look like little people made of mist. They’re very light and move very quickly through the air, fading away as they do. You can only really see them when they are standing still, which they usually do in dark corners.” As Salli held the lens more confidently, Peny let go of it, but let a tendril of their bandage tie itself through the loop in the frame so it wouldn’t hit the floor if it fell; it was a very important device that Peny couldn’t afford for it to be broken. Then again Peny couldn’t afford it in the first place, they did steal it after all. Salli held the lens to her eye and used it like a monocle, the act of doing so made her pucker he lips slightly and hum deep mumbles; something a child would think a posh monocle-wearing gentleman would do. She giggled after doing so. She looked at the frame of it, letting her blackened scarred thumb rub over the delicate engravings of Celtic symbols in the gold. She looked up at Peny and asked, “What were they called again?” “Walking Mist.” Peny replied. “Do Walking Mist like dolls?” Salli asked. Peny shook their head and said, “Not usually. But they like small objects, objects they can carry. They like inspecting them for a while before moving on from them. They must have liked the look of your doll and wanted to inspect his pieces.” Peny looked into the rooms surrounding them. “If they are the ones who took your doll, we’ll find them hiding in the corners of these rooms. Let’s go and find them, shall we?” Salli nodded excitedly and unexpectedly took Peny’s hand in her, shocking Peny still for a moment. Salli led Peny towards the first few rooms as their investigation began.

The man in black stared at the crosspoint markings on the floor and kicked the powder of the symbols away into dust. He noticed one of the boxes had been opened as broken bottles had scattered everywhere. Whoever that was had taken something from him. Something he hadn’t used yet. Something he needed. Something he would get back before the thief has the chance to use it. As he coached down to take a closer look at the powdered crystal of the markings, a strip of ink-stained cloth blew onto his shoe. He picked it up and felt it in his hands, lightly flinching as he noticed the ink coming off into his fingertips. He knew who this was. He knew how to find them. And when he’d find them, he knew he’d enjoy making them pay.

#magpie writings #ocs #Peny #glitch demons #Truce

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plasticbattleaxe · 6 years ago

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A BASIC GUIDE TO DIGITAL ART ON PROCREATE

okay so i joined the digital art scene about a year or so ago and it has been a total whirl! there’s so much stuff that’s so confusing and hard to understand at first. And that’s okay! A stupid amount of what constitutes as “good” or “complex” art is to do with layers, patience and experience.

and because literally every tutorial on here is for Paint Tool Sai i thought it might be useful for those of us using Procreate! because i don’t have sai and i have a relatively shit laptop by comparison to my Ipad.

so without further ado - here is how to make a KICKASS piece of art on procreate

1. REFERENCE + SKETCH

the first thing you're gonna wanna do is collect any references you need for thing youre tryna make. you can collect references by finding stock images, using other artists work (i use these mostly for colour refs cause i SUCK at finding good colours). however when i make art nowdays i usually just snap a selfie and use that. for this work i did the last option (see below)

after grabbing my reference i decide on the style i wanna use. for beginer artists what i suggest doing is just pasting the image onto your canvas, opening layers and adjust the opacity to around 20% by clicking on the little N on your layer with the photo. then once thats done add a new layer by clicking the + and work over that

for more experienced artists experimenting with style just stick that bad bitch reference in the corner, then open a new layer and sketch in your own style.

when it comes to sketching i usually do little flicky lines. i do this with a mid grey (like 50% white 50% black) i recommend the “Narinder pencil” which you can find by clicking the little brush at the top, selecting sketching and then selecting that bad boy. you can adjust size and opacity using the sliders to the side of the screen.

when sketching you just wanna get a rough idea of where you’re gonna do your eventual lines - don’t worry about it being smooth or anything just get down where everything goes

once you’re done you might have something like this:

this brings us too...

2. LINE ART

for beginners - lineart is just a sexy word that means a clean drawing with hard lines so you can colour it easier and it looks prettier. you want to do this on a new layer so you can delete the sketch one later.

your goal with lineart is to make it three things: 1) its gotta be seamless so you can select the insides, don’t leave little gaps between lines 2) its gotta be smooth! jagged lineart isn’t NEARLY as sexy as smooth curvy lines 3) this one is more of a tip - but lineart generally looks better if you do thinner lines inside your shape with a slightly thicker border line. again this isn’t essential but i find it looks cuter

the way i get my lineart all cute is by using the monoline brush (found in calligraphy). sometimes i use my own modified version of the Technical Pen (found in Inking) but mostly monoline is pretty neat. You can use whatever brush you want but mostly you just wanna ensure that its nice and smoooooth. you can do this by selecting the brush and then clicking it again. this will bring up a popup menu like this:

most of these brush settings are complicated and stupid and i’ll do a big post about it later. the only one that really matters here is streamline. if you wanna use a different brush for lineart just wack that slider up between 80-100% and you’re set.

once your lineart is finished on a seperate layer go to your layer menu and unselect the little tick on your sketch layer. you should be left with something like this.

3. ADDITIONAL DETAIL LINEART + MONOCHROME BASES.

once your focus lineart is done you can add detailed lineart by repeating the same process with sketching and lineart i described above. i like to do details separate because if i dont like it i can just delete the whole layer without destroying my focus.

what i find important in these now is using my favourite fuckin tool in this whole program. you can find it here:

Only start using this once youre 100% done with your lineart. once thats done - make sure youre on the lineart layer and click that weird little s at the top of the screen. go to the bottom and click automatic. then select somewhere INSIDE your lineart. it should do something like this:

don’t freak out! what that blue stuff means is that you've just selected the inside bit of your lineart. continue selecting until your subject is 100% coloured in.

MAKE SURE THE BACKGROUND/STUFF OUTSIDE YOUR LINEART ISN’T SELECTED. ALSO MAKE SURE YOU’VE SELECTED THE LINES THEMSELVES. THEY WILL TURN WHITE ONCE THEYRE SELECTED. if u fuck up and select something by accident that’s all g, theres a little undo button on the bottom. if you click on the paint brush or another tool and you cant add stuff to your selection you can reload the mask by holding down on the weird s and the selection will reload. If there are certain bits of your work that you’re struggling to select with automatic selection that’s also not an issue. just click the “freehand” setting next to the automatic setting on the bottom and you can now use your stylus to draw around what you want to select.

once you’ve selected your foreground in its entirety - THEN click the layer button. insert a new layer underneath your lineart layer. Using literally any brush (works best if you get one from the painting section) colour EVERYTHING white. just get round brush and colour all of it. you wanna keep your line art layer separate over the top.

once all of it is coloured hold down on the weird s tool until it reloads the selection. then look along the bottom of the screen and click the little button that looks like 2 arrows pointing at each other. THIS INVERTS YOUR SELECTION. Open a new layer and make this entire thing a grey. THIS IS WHOLE STEP IS OPTIONAL BUT ITS SUPER USEFUL AND THE SELECTION TOOL IS SUPER HELPFUL FOR GOOD ART. DOING THIS WILL BE SUPER USEFUL WHEN YOU COLOUR STUFF LATER.

once you’re done it should look something like this:

4. BASE COLOURS

okay so this is where shit starts to get real. The goal of putting down base colours is to make is easier to add eventual shading to your piece and decide your colour scheme. This is where the white layer you just used is gonna become your BITCH.

you wanna start by duplicating your white layer you just made. You do that by opening your layer menu and swiping that thot to the left. this is what should happen:

click duplicate. Select the top duplicate you just made and select our favourite weird s tool. click inside your shape and the whole white shape should go blue (become selected). next, open a new layer on top of the white layer. colour in your base colours and now none of it can go outside the lines. you didn’t even have to do a billion selections. you just select inside the white blob on the layer we made the step before, opened a new layer and started colouring. fucking superb. so much time saved. DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I USED TO SUFFER BEFORE I THOUGHT OF THIS. HOW LONG I SPENT SELECTING AND RESELECTING I CANNOT

A TIP FOR PEEPS NEW TO THIS PROGRAM - if you use your finger and hold down on a colour you’ve just used it acts like an eyedropper tool so you can pick up any colour you want. like this:

once you got your base colours done you can either: 1) go to your grey layer you made in the last step and select the tick next to it. once you’ve done that scroll to the bottom of your layers and select background. it will open a colour wheel. pick your background colour. 2) you can use my second favourite tool from this program! go to your grey layer you made in the previous step. click on it, then click on it again. (not the little n just click the whole layer) this menu should pop up:

oh MAN okay so. “alpha lock” pretty much means that it locks whatever is on the layer. when you get another brush and go over a layer with alpha lock turned on you can only paint over what you have previously put on the layer before turning on alpha lock. Its like automatically selecting everything on the layer. its fucking brilliant. anyway. scribble over your grey layer (once alpha lock is on) and boom you have a base for your background.

NOW YOU KNOW ABOUT ALPHA LOCK YOU GO BACK TO YOUR LINEART LAYER. SELECT ALPHA LOCK. COLOUR IN YOUR LINES ROUGHLY 2 OR SO ISH SHADES DEEPER THEN YOUR BASE COLOURS

(minus eyes i like to keep the lines around them black.) this will make your art like 100000000 times nicer (majority of the time)

once you’re done you should get something like this:

this brings up to...

5. SHADING!!!!!!! this is my favourite step tbh.

what you wanna do is chuck on a new layer over the top of your base colours. and go into your brushes. pick up your basic bitch “round brush.” this is (in my opinion) the best painting brush in the program. Its the thing you can do the most with. so what you wanna do it get a slightly deeper colour from your colour wheel by yeeting your colour selection slightly more saturated and slightly more dark. dont just make it blacker move your colour selector on a diagonal to get a nicer colour. (i’ll eventually do a colour theory ref but today is NOT that day.)

i like to do colouring in short, light strokes. DON’T PRESS TOO HARD. you wanna get that cute little gradient.

A THING FOR BABY ARTISTS: on every art program i have ever used, the blending tool SUCKS. it makes paintings UGLY AF. (wow another tutorial i have to do at some point. i HATE the blending tool. SO HERE IS HOW I COLOUR MY ART TO MAKE IT LOOK, YKNOW, GOOD:

Unless you’re drawing something SUPER freaking smooth like a bubble or some shit. when you wanna blend colours what you gotta do is: 1) put in your darker colour. 2) use your finger to bring up the eyedropper tool to select a mid colour of the colours your blending together - a mix between your lighter and darker colour. (remember that tool? it looks like this)

3) Paint the colour you just made in the middle of your lighter and darker shades. REPEAT THIS PROCESS ON EITHER SIDE OF THE COLOUR YOU JUST PUT DOWN TILL IT LOOKS GOOD. The result is an WAY sexier piece of art.

once you’ve put in all your shadows repeat the same process with highlights.

FUN TIP: if you decide you dislike a colour or want to change the colour you already did all the shading for you can change the colour without any major drama. You can do this by select ing the colour on your colour wheel you would like to change your already shaded work too. (make sure you’re on the right layer.) then hold down on the colour dot on the top bar (next to your layer settings) and drag it to whatever you want recoloured. let go of the dot and it should recolour your work (including all the shading you’ve done granted that its on the same layer) like this:

once you’ve got all your shading done it should look something like this:

6. background and pretty bits

so! youve got this kickass work but nothing surrounding it. lets fix that.

In procreate there is SO MUCH you can use to spice up a work. a SCARY amount even. this is when layer settings are gonna start to come in handy.

ill do a masterpost on procreate brushes for backgrounds later, but for this piece what im gonna do it head over to the Luminescence section and pick up a “nebula brush”. this makes a complex galaxy kinda design in a randomised stamping pattern that is frankly SEXY AS ALL HELL. Select a layer below your base colours but above your background colour. IMPORTANT NOTE: this brush’s blend mode is autimatically set to “add” (ILL DO ANOTHER POST ON THAT LATER)which means if you go over the same spot heaps of times it will eventually go a bright white. This can be nice, but its not really what i want cause its kinda intense. to make this thing go glowy but not ~too~ glowy im gonna lower the brush opacity (the bottom slider) to around half way. i set my colour to a light yellow and a darkish pink and put in some nebulas!!!! once that was done I wantd to add some more colour variation so i popped open a new layer - selected the lightleak tool and lowered the brush opacity using the slider to around 20% just to spice some shit up

you can kinda do whatever you want for your background. sometimes its nicer just to go into artistic, select a random brush and draw a square underneath what you were doing. backgrounds can be super detailed or super easy it doesn’t really matter to be 100% honest.

THE PART 2 OF THIS STEP WILL ADD HEAPS OF DIMENSION TO YOUR WORK AND MAKE IT SUPER PRETTY: adding light effects over the TOP of your main subject often creates a more realistic sense of depth. In simple terms it just makes the thing look more 3D and nice. to do this, get a random brush with a nice (preferably light) colour. i picked up a “bokeh brush” from the Luminescence section. make this pretty big. sprinkle your brush across the page on a NEW LAYER above all of your work so far, including line art! Then open your layer menu and click that little n in the corner again. Remember this one:

click the little n. then go down to the bottom and select a layer setting from either of the 2 groups circled (i normally like overlay for this type of thing) you can mess around with layer settings and opacity till you find something that looks super nice. My piece now looks like this:

pretty cool right. now we’re gonna make it EVEN COOLER.

7. LIGHT FILTERS

this is something i picked up from artists like softmushie and cryptidw00rm. (not gonna @ them here cause they probs dont wanna get tagged in my shitty tutorial thing but yeah i owe so much to those two especially)

for those unsure of what im talking about: light filters are layers you add over work to make the lighting on it seem more natural and pretty. you do this by colouring over your natural highlights and shadows with different colours and then messing with the layer settings to make it seem like its being hit by sunlight. these layers go BELOW your foreground stuff (the bokeh lights from step 6) but ABOVE your lineart.

start by opening a new layer. select a colour similar to where the green outlines are here:

now on this layer paint over anywhere where the sun or other light source would be normally hitting (like cheekbones hair etc.) this can be kind of like shading. dont worry if it looks shit at first we’re gonna change it.

open a new layer beneath the one you just made. Using a colour similar to one circled in purple above colour over all the shadows in a piece. it should now look like this:

now open your layer settings on the purple/darker layer by selecting the N like we did with the foreground layer before. you can play around from here by setting the layer mode to anything from the “darken” or “contrast” menu. For this work i chose overlay. I then lowered the opacity until it looked nice.

Repeat the step above with the lighter highlight layer. when adjusting this one make sure you set the layer mode to anything from the “lighten” or “contrast” menu. For this work i did hard light.

your peice should now look kind of like this:

AND YOU’RE DONE!!!!!!!!

look at that sexy thing you just did. Congrats on creating an awesome peice of art!!!!!!

if you guys are interested in more tutorials like these or have any reqs for similar stuff send me a question or a dm to my blog @plasticbattleaxe

if you create anything by following tutorial that you want me to see don’t hesitate to tag me or submit it to my blog!!! i love seeing y’all make art

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asteriaways · 6 years ago

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Hogwarts AU Part 2!

Hiya my darlings! Tis me, your beloved writer, yet again.

I’m back with the second chapter of my Hogwarts AU!

I am so SHOCKED and GRATEFUL at all the support that the first chapter got! I had no idea that people would like it so much! I am truly honoured! I love writing this so much, it is so fluffy and gorgeous and overall just happy.

Also: The ending is shitty. I couldn’t figure out a way to end it without going into the plan I have for Chapter 3- yes, this is going to be a multi-chapter fanfic. Soooo… Forgive me. Please?

Also- Rose is based off my bestie @avilliansdream

I LOVE YOU BITCH (I’m sorry I made your character shitty)

Also: This is set in a sort of in-between era, where Dumbledore is still around and everyone is alive and happy but we don’t see Harry and crew bc… They are too angsty for this story and I want this to be happy and cheering and god that doesn’t make sense.

Warnings: Swearing. Tired Brian. Sass level 100%. No-fucks-given by Freddie. Basically just fluff!

Word count: 1266 words

Enjoy, my darlings! Please like, reblog, and send me feedback

Let me know if you want to be on my taglist!

Brian sighed, resting his chin on his hand as he stared at the looming blackboard, sporting numerous sums across its black finish. He felt his eyes flutter shut, the hours of sleep he had lost catching up with him. He had stayed up late that night, accompanied by his endless Astronomy textbooks and the silence of the common room, disturbed only by the flickering of the firelight and Melody’s soft snores from where she had dropped off 15 minutes before. He had debated telling her about John’s crush on her during their late night talks, but had decided against it.

‘Brian! Brian! Brian May!’ A voice called, pulling him back to reality.

‘Hmm? Yes?’ he asked, looking up through sleep-riddled eyes, dazed.

‘Sleeping in class, Mr May?’ McGonagall huffed, her eyes scanning his tired face from behind her glasses.

His eyes widened as he realised the gravity of his situation.

‘Um, no, miss!’ He spluttered. He looked next to him, seeing Roger trying to stifle a laugh- and failing. Melody shot him a pitying look, mouthing ‘Sorry!’ from her seat at the back of the room.

‘Is there something you want to add, Mr Taylor?’ the teacher snapped at Roger, who immediately shut up.

‘Detention, Mr May!’ she said, scowling.

‘But, miss!’ he feebly protested.

‘As I was saying, in this spell you must be careful….’ She said, walking back to the front of the classroom. Brian let his forehead slam onto the wooden desk, groaning loudly. How could he get a detention? He never got detentions!

‘Sorry, mate.’ Roger whispered, dipping his quill into the inkwell. ‘Maybe you should try and get some sleep. You’re overwhelming yourself, man.’

‘Shuddup, Rog.’ Brian mumbled from behind his curtain of curls. Roger shrugged, sultrily winking at a girl across the room. He reluctantly sat up, yanking his paper away from Roger.

‘Stop flirting and pay attention, Rog.’

‘I’m not flirting, I’m wooing. Besides, how can I help the fact that girls love me?’

Brian rolled his eyes, blowing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes.

Detention. What fun.

‘Detention, darling? That’s a new one.’ Freddie remarked as he leant against the stone wall in the sunny courtyard, unbuttoning his Slytherin tie and wrapping it around his wrist. Brian rolled his eyes, exchanging pointed glances with John, who was sitting on the stone bench, his robes discarded and his shirt slightly unbuttoned, soaking up the sunshine. John shrugged, letting his head fall back.

‘I’m just saying, darling, you need to loosen up. Maybe detention will do you some good.’

‘No, no it won’t, Fred!’

‘I disagree.’

‘Are you sure that’s the dress code, Fred?’ John interjected, gesturing to Freddie’s outfit- a complete mismatch of his Hogwarts uniform.

He’d ditched the sweater, leaving his chest only covered by his mostly unbuttoned white shirt. He’d wrapped his tie around his pants, deciding that if it was on his wrist it looked ‘too emo’. He’d also rolled up his pants, adorning them with colourful safety pins.

‘Course not, Deaky. But they can’t stop me, can they?’

‘They actually can, Fred.’ Deaky deadpanned.

‘Don’t kill the vibe, darling.’

‘Anyway! We were discussing poor Bri’s predicament.’ Roger interrupted from where he was lying in the sunlight, shirt open to expose his torso, drawing many looks and giggles from nearby girls- much to his amusement.

‘Just do the detention, Bri. They’ll just make you write lines or something. No biggie.’ Deaky kindly reassured.

‘Speaking from experience, Deaks?’ Roger asked, laughing.

‘Oh, is our Deaky actually a bad boy?’ Freddie giggled, adjusting his makeshift ‘belt’.

Deaky, in fact, had had multiple detentions, mainly for saying things that ‘should never even cross your mind’ to the people he hated. He was known as ‘Silvertongue’ to many students and teachers. If there was one thing you didn’t want to be, it was on John Deacon’s bad side.

‘Guys! Helllllloooooo!’ someone called, bouncing up to them.

‘Rose! Darling, it’s been too long!’ Freddie cheered, running to embrace the crazy girl who had just strutted in.

‘Freddie, you saw me an hour ago!’ she chided.

He ruffled her midnight-black hair, shorn into a spiky pixie cut. She huffed, puffing her lips and cheeks out dramatically.

‘Freddie! Must say, love the outfit.’

‘HA! See, Deaks, it IS good!’

‘I never said it wasn’t good, Fred. I just said it wouldn’t ring well with the teachers.’ John sighed, resisting the urge to slam his head into a brick wall.

‘Well, fuck them. Don’t you like it, darling?’ He asked Rose, twirling around.

‘I love it! It’s extravagant, daring…..’ Rose paused to think. ‘It just needs a bit of Mercury.’

‘Mercury?’

‘Mercury.’ She confirmed, raising an eyebrow.

‘Mercury?’ Roger asked, baffled.

‘Mercury, Rog.’ She confirmed, pulling a tube of eyeliner out of the pocket of her Gryffindor robe.

She grabbed Freddie’s face in her hands, commanding him to ‘stay still’. She quickly swiped the ink-black wand across his eyelids, conjuring an air of mystery about him. She popped the tube back in her pocket, clapping her hands gleefully.

‘Boom! Mercury!’ she declared, her brown eyes glinting under a coat of thick mascara.

‘Mercury, my dear!’ he laughed, spinning around.

Brian grinned at the sight of his best friend spinning around the courtyard, his robes flying out behind him like a cape, sunshine radiating like a crown above his head.

Rose collapsed on the ground next to Roger, giggling hysterically. Roger started laughing too, and soon Brian and Deaky joined in, the pure, unbridled happiness rippling through the air.

Brian smiled, feeling his cheek muscles hurt from laughing too much. Rose looked up and stuck her tongue out at him, crossing her eyes and puffing her cheeks out. That sent John into hysterics, snorting as his chest heaved with laughter, the oh-so-contagious laughter that sounded like the chime of a thousand different melodies all rolled into one.

Freddie kept on dancing, ignoring the stares from the other students as he glided across the sun-baked bricks, a silhouette against the blinding rays of light.

Brian flicked his hair out of his face, exchanging a gleeful smile with Deaky.

It was times like these when he was reminded of how lucky he was. Sitting here, in the sunlight with his best friends (and one added human) he was full.

This was what paradise felt like.

@onceuponadetectivedemigod @shesadramaqueen @ceruleanrainblues @sophieeelol @avilliansdream @yllwtaxi

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