#but I want it to be as easy as using a sketchpad.

[kcdodger]

Artfight Attack on @kalivasquezart!

As it turns out, I can be somewhat airheaded, and as such, I wholly, completely forgot to post my art here on tumblr. Admittedly, I'm not used to actually... putting, anything on the platform. It'll take time. Twitter did a number on me that way.

[pervcoded]

DOG-EARED AND DOUBTFUL starring yuuji itadori. part iii.

──☆*:・ﾟcontent warning: amab!reader (referred to as a boy), canon divergent, college au (18+ characters) inside of the hybridverse. artist!reader, sukuna is related to yuuji. awkward meet-cute, but yuuji is implied to be (and is) slightly unhinged. reader is human and yuuji is a doberman hybrid. fluffy, safe for work-ish. nude modelling. bashful , sorta pushover reader. reader has a stutter. invasion of privacy (yuuji goes through your sketchpad and gets comfortable fast). british use of trousers (pants) and pants (underwear). scent stuff going on, yuuji has a good nose. yuuji is sorta feral and reader's not in a position to (nor does he quite want to) argue. mdni! reblogs and comments appreciated!

wc: 4.2 words.

It’s beautiful, truly. Yuuji is admittedly philistine in his artistic taste, never had a muse for it; but he finds himself wholly appreciative of the opportunity to become yours- even if it’s only for the evening. He can’t control the way his tail wags, heart pattering quicker in his chest as the excitement overrides his previously projected aloofness, his hands moving faster than his mind in that moment. One more page wouldn’t hurt.

You’re just like any other boy in class, really. Maybe the round ears and lack of fur are a bit of a weird look, but Yuuji wasn’t popular when he first transferred to the university either - and some change is always good, he thinks.

“And your tongue—is it really that small?” Someone had asked on your first day in, your classmates ogling your skin, analyzing its novel texture. You’re good at acting nonchalant when you’re placed on the spot. Tone even, eyes level, posture loose and relaxed as you fold your arm over the back of your chair. You’re smarter than they’d ever give you credit for—laughed along with their jibes so they wouldn’t see how gently you swayed. Trembled. The claws of some touchy Wolverine mutt glancing at your collarbones, and you laughed it off, never once minding the sweat cascading down the apex of your temple.

But your scent is disloyal to you. He never thought to mention it. The sour notes of tangerine, key lime, crescendo in the spot where you stand, a heady cocktail of anxiety and embarrassment and horror. 

You’re quite popular for a human, however. Maybe that was your conventional appeal. Or rather stood next to them you stick out like a sore thumb, and that makes you far more interesting—purely by virtue of your association. But Yuuji likes to think you have your own redeeming qualities too. You’re an artsy type. Try and spend a lot of time by yourself if you can manage, but your peers seem intent on laywaying your silence; coveting your time like shiny trinkets in a magpie’s nest.

Still, you’re nice to him. 

You remember his name. Say “Itadori, hi,” and give him a solemn nod before going on your way. You give him your leftovers you don’t want if your class schedules happen to line up that day. You share your notes from Anthropology, and sketch him in the margins of your notebook on the days you can’t focus.

The patience of hybrids doesn’t often extend to their own kind, and Yuuji’s felt terribly lonely since his grandfather passed - what with his uncle not being much in the way of making conversation. But you’re easy to talk to.

“Ah, Itadori, can you come here?”  His tail wags a little at the acknowledgement, but if you notice you failed to comment. “Uh, yeah? What’d you want? I’m a little busy right now, so,” He smiles half-heartedly, suddenly a little uncomfortable to be seen with you like this. You move your stuff away from where you want him to sit at the table, and his eyes are acutely drawn to each movement of your hands. Gathering up runaway pencils, stacking textbooks. “You can call me Yuuji, by the way. I don’t mind.”

Your face lights up at that, and you tell him your name in kind. He tries it. Once for his pleasure. Again to make sure he got it right. He looks back down at the now emptied table, though he doesn’t go to take a seat.

Your lunch is sparse. Two pieces of bread with peanut butter and something else sandwiched in the middle. A browning apple eaten to the core. He thinks about mimicking the impressions of your teeth.

“Ah, well, I know we don’t talk and um - I’m still kinda new here and - please, you can sit,” Your hand fans out to gesture at the chair in front of you, and Yuuji settles into it uneasily. He can smell you’re afraid of something.

“Yuuji…” You tap your pencil on something he can’t see, draped over your thigh. “I.. wanted to draw you.” Yuuji tilts his head, finger absently reaching towards his chin. “Me?” “Yeah. It’s for an art assignment. We’re practicing portraits.” Your smile is disarmingly charming. “If it was okay with you, I wanted to see if… we could find some time to—y’know. Have you model for me.” Yuuji doesn’t let himself get excited so quickly, the hair on his forearm bristling a bit as he digs his nails into his thigh. Keep it from bouncing. “Okay. Yeah. Sure - that’s fine. I’d love to.” Yuuji sounds like he’s speaking through grit teeth, but his expression doesn’t expose anything other than slight apprehension. You sigh, a weight seemingly lifted off your shoulders. “Oh! Okay!” You try not to sound too happy about it, but a smile keeps weaseling onto your face. “Okay so, we’d have to book one of the art rooms, but that shouldn’t be too hard—nobody really lingers around after class. Lucky us, right?” You’re fishing your phone out of your pocket, and Yuuji nearly forgets to grab it with his unbloodied hand.

“Here. Add your number, take a photo if you’d like.” You’re teasing, but Yuuji never was good with sarcasm. He smiles big and wide for it, pointed teeth all in the front row. 

He saves his name as ‘Yuuji 😎’, and hands your tech back to you. You send a quick ‘hey’ to make sure you got the right number. When his pocket rumbles he’s off no later, barely waving goodbye as he leaves you to your own devices.  

You text out the details later. Tomorrow, at 7:00. 

He gets there at 6:56 on the dot. Campus has been largely deserted this time of day, and the few stragglers left, student and faculty, each flock to their club space or the odd, afterhour meeting. You’re all set up by the time he’s there. You’re well-prepared, graphites and eraser shavings finding a home on the floor around you. Sticks of pastels lie short and chipped on the easels mantle, your fingertips already blackened by charcoal. This wing is new to him, but the hallways look just like this rooms walls. Student made murals scaling taller than him, ferals unfurling across the unorthodox canvas; a magnificent sky. Ceramic busts settle atop storage cabinets; baked and glazed vases filled with paper flowers, tucked into empty corners. Paintings hung to dry. Thick ink stains as he sidesteps a rolling chalkboard, gently pushing it to the side.

You glanced up when the door opened, but it was more reflexive than comprehending. You saw him, then looked back at the canvas, focused. Only when he nearly stumbles do you look back up again, and you’re smiling really wide. You wave excitedly. “Hey Yuuji!” His ear twitches near imperceptably, tail high and wagging. “Hey.” He’s decent at acting, if you think he’s faking casual you don’t mention it, just gesture to the seat beside you. The chair you saved for him has tall legs and a strong, straight back; perfect for a model.

“Well, you can take this chair when you’re ready,” he’s taking a peak at the easel sat in front of you, identical setups matching yours haphazardly set up around a squat stage in the center of the room.

Your sketchpage: marked with vague gestures and dancing, people-like shapes. You’ve been practicing. You absently tug at your collar at the lack of distance between you two (forgot you were using charcoal, so you quickly stop) and a strange aura radiates from you, the smell of frayed nerves stinging his nose. His tail lulls in its movement, a tad disappointed you weren’t as comfortable with him as he thought you were.

“For a portrait, you being closer is ideal, so we don’t h..have to use the stage. I’ll just do my thing over here and… Oh! I brought some water and um, snacks.” You tilt your head in a familiar, curious motion, ”You like shrimp chips?” 

He shrugs at you and smiles. “They’re okay.” He’s flattered you considered him, mostly. He really did like that about you humans, such soft and compassionate creatures; moreso than any of the hybrids he knew. Where they-mournfully, himself included-took a unique pleasure in watching another squirm, your kind wasn’t like that at all, were they? Perhaps an underdeveloped survival mechanism. A tail to tuck in the presence of a predator’s bared fangs. Regardless, your grin crinkles the corners of your eyes and makes his heart soar, your anxiety easing out as you stand from your seat, revealing your true smell. Heat and sweet and pastry-light; a creme bruele after the top has been carefully cracked open. Tickles his cheeks pink.

“So, how long you been doing this art stuff for anyway?” You seem startled by the ask and pause before you answer, probably not used to being asked about your interests by the other hybrids. “Years now. E..ever since I was a kid I always liked art, drawing-” You curse as something rolls out of your bag and say sorry to nothing and no one. “Drawing, traditional, digitally. I was thinking about going into graphic design! - I’m still technically undecided, but I love art… It just calls to me, you know?” Oh, he has no fucking clue what you’re talking about. But he hums in the affirmative and reckons now’s a good a time as any to check. Take a peek through your lens and see the shape of your artisan mind. An artist’s sketchpad to him seemed the appropriate equivalent to their soul; so he takes the opportunity to flip through the pages on your drawing pad. 

He’s admittedly expecting something grander. Maybe the inside of an old world colosseum or perhaps something abstract and profound, the kind of things disheartened schoolchildren write essays about; A Great Wave or Thinking Man, befitting of the brand of mystery he’d superimposed on you. Nothing suitably miraculous happens. The task merely becomes more intimate by virtue of your artistic repertoire. Surely, not the fault of his plain nosiness.

All flesh upon the paper is laid entirely bare. Inscriptions of bodies wrap around the canvas from the top to the very bottom like the prayers in a holy book. Any free tarp is not spared, a bared torso and breast here, the sole of a foot en point over there. Largely unfinished yet tangible, beginnings and inbetweens and many more ends; scores of tails, teeth, tongue and claws. “Oh, wow.” You’re still digging through your bag so you don’t mind him, preoccupied second guessing kneaded erasers and rags to wipe your creativity off on.

To describe your work as a product of mere fascination would be a woefully inaccurate assessment. Not a proper acknowledgement of your time, effort, sweat, (more than a few smudges in the graphite, a whiff of salt that sticks out above the rest) and conviction. 

There’s quick notes scribbled between poses and observations, some names - none of which he immediately recognizes, but makes his head fog with some vague posessiveness regardless. Jealousy maybe. He doesn’t linger on it, instead flipping to the next page. Bodies more and more bodies, some without heads; long torsos; hips; thighs and legs and asses,

Lips, mouth wide open, teeth and tongue presenting. There’s a notable lack of vulgarity to the images. A seemingly clinical observation of how the parts move, some independent of the others; but when it all comes together…

It’s beautiful, truly. Yuuji is admittedly philistine in his artistic taste, never had a muse for it; but he finds himself wholly appreciative of the opportunity to become yours- even if it’s only for the evening. He can’t control the way his tail wags, heart pattering quicker in his chest as the excitement overrides his previously projected aloofness, his hands moving faster than his mind in that moment.

One more page wouldn’t hurt. (It’s just admiration he’d say, when the real reason he’s so riled up is because he’d been hoping for this moment; all his anxieties of pursuing you assuaged by your apparent obsession for him- er- hybrids like him—can’t get ahead of himself just yet—) His fingers move with deft purpose. 

You come back with a whole bag of stuff; chips, ramune, what smells like pocky, but he’s not looking towards you as you return. Surely, you think, a blank page can’t be that interesting, and you’re right; that’s not what he’s staring at. 

He’s found your page.

Your life drawing class encourages you to practice still lifes in your free time. There aren’t many hybrids tripping over themselves to be ogled by a human - some models even abject to posing in the room while you’re there - so when the opportunity presented itself to observe something more than a picture, someone else, removed from your wheedling peers, obviously you lept for it. 

You’d grown tired of drawing yourself.

“Ah, Yuuji-” Your inhale quick and sudden, the sharp clatter of a glass bottle twitching him out of his stupor. You stiffen up when he looks back at you despite his brevity (because he is just fascinated with your canvas all the sudden), your hands flapping anxiously as you step close, you’d collapse in on yourself if you had the option. “Um wait, please! That’s private!”

You are deeply gifted. He doesn’t have to stare it like he did the other ones cause he recognizes it as you so immediately. (Letting his eyes wander all those times seems to have payed off). Recognizes the arch and swell of your muscles, the slope of your back and the softness of the dimples in your hips, the gentle curve of your -

A hand darts over the artistic nudity before he can fully commit it to memory, and you shout: “Yuuji! I got the snacks, okay? Just- we can get started now,” He can’t read the expression on your face as you reset your canvas and flip to a blank page. He desperately tries to meet your eye; but your gaze is leagues away. An inkling of some base, carnal attraction blooms in his chest; your unwitting submission appealing to some feral hindbrain before he recalls your humanity, disappointingly gentle emotions and sensibilities. 

He feels sad for you after though it only lasts a moment, his tail drooping pathetically and eyes sagging similarly as the compunction grapples him; and in a frenzied moment of attempting to sooth your shame (smells dull and salty like wood grain) he gets a good idea. According to his standard, anyway. He smiles at you and pants a little. His finger is digging into his collar at an angle, tugging up; in demonstration.

“If you want me to get naked, I really wouldn’t mind!” His whip tail thud-thuds into your easel. “Excuse me?” You initially abject, dumbfounded. Your face feels warm and your skin tingles, the blood in your cheeks stinging it darker, body tensing up. “W-why would you..? I..I wouldn’t, you really shouldn’t. I-it’s a, well - Portraits are mostly sup..supposed to be your face, so, getting naked? Really not necessary,” 

He’s already taking his sweater off. “Yuuji, please.” His tail wags a little when you whimper and he has a mind to admonish himself for taking pleasure in such a thing.

“It’s fine, really!” Sounds so easy for him to say, when you’re on the verge of an aneurysm. “I was reading a little about it-” (and hardly did he ever read), “-and apparently, portraits can be half, or full bodies. Well, you’d probably know that better than me anyway.” His voice is dampened by the fabric, but you’re too dazed to notice he said anything. Everything is happening too fast.

He kicks off his shoes and drops trou in your choked silence, your hands tremble as dread wars in your mind and you remain uncertain of where to put them. Nevermind your eyes. The thought of trying to stop him warrs with the concept that having to touch him, see him, will surely kill you. “You seem to draw a lot of hybrids- so I assume you’re already used to seeing us naked? Though I didn’t see a lot of dogs in there…”

The room kicks up a few degrees and your blood simmers beneath your skin, your boundaries bent and bowed as you struggle to figure what happens next. Your shirt feels too, too tight. His is starting to come off. The slow drag of cotton across his body is amplified by the emptiness of the space, at a pace entirely too casual for an impromptu strip tease. “But there’s nothing wrong with trying something new every once in a while, y’know?”  He stumbles a little when it’s past his shoulders, self consciously fixing his hair after he’s gotten it slung over his arm. 

As if he has anything to be nervous about. He looks at you triumphantly when he’s finished (pants regretfully still on), and he wishes you couldn’t meet his eyes this time; get a good eyeful of how excited he is for you. In what must be respectful to you, you catch his gaze this time, with these big round prey eyes that makes the fur on the back of his arms bristle in the studio’s cool air. A vein in his throat jumps and his pupils dilate, but (too) soon you turn away.

You’ve seated yourself back on your chair and fixed up the workspace, though he has a hard time gauging this new expression on your face. Maybe apprehensive, again? Bashful? You chew your lip with this insistence, bruising the delicate skin there. Your hands move with opposed intention; flattening out the canvas and arming yourself with graphite.  “O-kay. Y..you can.. Make yourself comfortable I guess..” He can still smell you, too.

This scent is new. Near cloying and knitting to the inside of his nose as it pours off of you, slight, topping off that twinge of orange peel and grapefruit. 

“Okay!” He brusquely shoves past your apprehensions; looking mighty pleased with himself-the dog-the muse’s chair dragging agonizingly against the floor as he goes to set it in place. You do nothing at first. He is seated within seconds and after your hand suddenly is no longer your own, flexed potential in every muscle put to pause in the air, your brows furrowing in newfound frustration.

You don’t look at him, still. Yuuji’s triumph of domination having past, he finds the selfish desire to be observed and admired comes gnawing back to him. He doesn’t want to push you (so he says while shoving you) but he really is going all out. He’d like some of that signature human hospitality back, pretty please? He leans closer. 

You get infinitely stiffer and he whimpers. An honest to god beaten doggy whine, and your shock is what finally gets you to look up. He’s far more relaxed than you at present, pouting expression at odds with his slouched posture and occasional pant. His floppy ears tilt open and he momentarily mirrors your wide-eyed wonder. “Finally,” he chirps. ”I was starting to think we weren’t actually friends!” You scoff, still staring saucer-eyed. Your eyebrows go up and down and up, your forehead wrinkles. “You ge-get naked for all your f..friends?” The incredulous twang to your voice wants to read to him like jealousy, but projection is a fickle thing.

Yuuji  genuinely thinks about your question, further astounding you. “Well. I guess only for the ones I really like.” The statement is made sincerely, the smile accompanying it darling, and could have perhaps romanticized the situation had you not been a sane-minded human man. The warmth in your face has turned to fire hot heat and you sputter on your words. “I’m fl..flattered. But humans? Don’t do t..this,” you attempt to gesture to the entire situation, “With their friends! This is, frankly, too, too-” You stutter into nothing, the thought dying on your tongue. “Too what? I mean, you don’t smell like you hate it,” he sniffs. “My nose is pretty good! If you-” you dislike the way he stresses the syllable, like you’re special some how, “-were scared, I’d smell that miles away. You have a very strong scent you know? It’s not a bad thing though, don’t worry! At least, it isn’t for me anyway. It makes you feel more.. Genuine.” He hums matter-of-factly, your pencil beginning to tremble above the page. “But aren..aren’t you cold? Or-or something? It’s always freezing-freezing in here!” Yuuji shrugs, ”Aw, it’s no worries really. I sorta run hot, so,”

You knew a lot of things about hybrids. About their keen noses, most gifted with perceptive capabilities beyond that of your kind. Still it feels no better to hear that for despite your subtlety, you never had a chance to evade their prying eyes. You sigh with a shake of your shoulders, and Yuuji takes your silence as an excuse to move closer. “Hey, don’t worry. What’d I say about new things?” You don’t feel terribly reassured, but you nod along for your own sake. “You got an assignment due, don’t you? Just focus on that. Forget Yuuji, focus on capturing..” “The form.” You finish. Yuuji would have said ‘these guns’, but shrugs. “Yeah, that.”

You look at him again, but only now do you truly perceive him, resigned yourself to capturing his image and replacing the blankness on your canvas. Your gaze is sharp and surgical, your pencil connecting with the paper as you change focus between him and it. Him, his infuriatingly cheeky grin and easy-going eyes and loose limbs. This body worthy of envy. Laid bare for you to wrangle and tame, reduce to your second dimension.

You begin to draw.

Yuuji sits in a silence punctuated by the sounds of your scribbles. Upwards stroke, down again; quick curving motions. Stare right at him, into the depths of his soul. Turn away, and sketch some more.

It’s a lot more boring than he’d imagined it. He is very excited you have your eyes on him; don’t get him wrong, but your stare doesn’t possess any of the fullbodied fascination, like he has for you. He almost wished he could give you his nose just so you could smell his pheremones, or his eyes, so you could catch every little jump of his muscles or twitch of the tail. He’d refrain for a few selfish reasons; Your changes in mood. The straightening of your spine and the twitching of your eye after you got a rhythm going. You ditch the graphite, go for the charcoal, and make some bigger shapes, Strikes some fine lines. Stillness comes simply to him, studying you as intently as you are him. 

Your movements slow to an inevitable stop after a time, “Okay…” You stare stonily at your canvas. Briefly compare in silence. “I… think I’m finished.” You don’t move away, seemingly taken by your own creation.

He shoots up from his seat and moves close. “You’re no..not gonna put your c..clothes back on?” He looks down at you with his head at an angle, suddenly peered over your shoulder. “You want me to?” Your silence is loud. “Okay then.” He smiles, finally taking a look at your drawing.

The expression you gave him is burrowing and severe. An intense glower that catches even him off guard. An unbidden hunger beneath his eyes accentuated by whisps of charcoal, a pinprick of yellow nestled into his irises. He is in both awe of it and horrified that is how you saw him. How he truly was. You define the slant of his collarbones after the fact, rounding out the muscle of his pecs. You sketch and erase, sketch and erase under his curious eye, sketch. Your palette grows. Swirled into colorless grey by your finger, pencil replaced by your finger. You draw without a model, so he no longer sees the point in teasing you with his nudity. Forgive him for expecting something more dramatic- he’s been reading too much manga, surely…

He gets dressed slow and gets as close as possible to your face whenever he has a question. 

“Is art always this boring?” He whispers close to your ear and you shiver. “M..maybe if you’re not the one…the one drawing. This.. I-I’m having fun, actually.” He tuts at you, “You need to teach me how to draw then. Next time when we do this, I can take a crack at drawing you!” His clawed finger crawls down your shoulder, you sweat a little under his attentions. 

“Y..yeah,” you swallow. “Maybe..” He smiles cooly as he eases back into the seat opposite you. “I just don’t think it’s fair you get to have the fun all to yourself, y’know?” You shoot him a look, lip pursed. “A-a lot more people would be more … excited about getting a free portrait.”

“Well, a lot more people would be more excited about getting to see me half naked.” Practically naked, to be a precise as possible. Your exasperation beats out your nervousness and you’re no longer afraid to set your brows with attitude, scoffing in irritation. Like he knows how you feel. The sheer restraint you’re exercising. How adamantly you will not allow this to get out of hand; you will not allow yourself to do something you'll regret- “G..get them to draw you, then!”

“Nah.” He drags his chair closer, but it’s not casual like before. Now the oxygen feels stuffier. Hotness that makes the air thicken and drag you down, a heat that blazes too close to your ears and seemingly makes the air tremble before you. You look toward him, not knowing what to expect (but twitching, aching for it). 

His tongue runs over his canines in a raw, animalistic fashion, the deep pools of his amber eyes threatening to drown you beneath their surface. “I don’t like them nearly as much.”

all content written by me @pervcoded is owned by me, and you are not allowed to repost or translate my works. don't put my shit into ai generators, don't steal my shit and put it on wattpad. thank you.

[kkanabel]

caffeine addiction - chapter 11

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader / Coffee Shop! + Fashion? AU

directory/m.list

⇦ previous chapter - next chapter ⇨

words: ~2.8k

One espresso shot at a time turned into three shots of espresso at a time, but it was all being downed by you. Both you and Bakugou were currently in the back room of the Kindeki store next door for your daily work after your shift at the coffee shop, which Bakugou had to hire more employees for. The coffee shop was currently bustling– next door was loud and filled with chatter of something along the lines of “When will they be back?”

The cork boards on the walls were covered from top to bottom in a spread of photos of Gothic Architecture– rib vaults, flying buttresses, and elaborate tracery all framing stained glass windows. Papers with designs, patterns, and sketches were sprawled all over the mahogany desks. A couple of these papers had coffee stains on them. Bakugou leaned back in his chair with a sigh, flinching when the pencil tucked behind his ear fell behind him onto the polished marble ground with a thunk. You drank the last of your iced espresso shot before picking up the fallen pencil and placing your sketchpad onto Bakugou’s brown corduroy-clad lap. 

Bakugou in his zone was truly something to admire. He wore blue light glasses when researching online to reduce strain in his eyes, but did they suit him well. It was a blessing to see him in these moments– all focused while sketching up a storm– pencil lead all over his fingers from blending the graphite onto the paper. “Dramatic, but not overwhelming…” He’d mutter while taking a picture from the cork board and using it as a reference for a pair of pants. Each stroke of his pencil was so easy and well-practiced, making it look easy. He could transform something from his mind onto paper and then fabric like it was made for him– and it was. Red eyes narrowed in on a small imperfection on the paper, and it would disappear like it never existed. 

The entire day was filled with espresso shot after the other– and after that were your brainstorming sessions with Bakugou. Deep plums and jewel tones paired with blacks and grays offset with metallics filled the room along with intricate lace that you spent days designing yourself. The room was filled with a litany of different cloths and fabrics– some stiff and some flowy. Combining luxurious, draping fabrics with strong silhouettes that emphasize shoulders, cinched waists, and long, flowing elements reminiscent of Gothic cathedrals’ towering height with intricate embroidery mimicking Gothic rose windows and lace patterns that resemble wrought-iron gates.

You work on embroidery that mimics the stained glass windows of 12th century cathedrals, ensuring symmetry in the embroidery and a touch of asymmetry in the silhouette to imitate the cathedral as a whole. You’re planning on putting actual pieces of glass onto the dress’ corset later.

You take a step back and stand over the desk, arms crossed, eyeing the latest design Bakugou just sketched out. The jacket’s sharp, angular lines mimic the Gothic arches you’ve been obsessing over for weeks, but something feels off. “It’s too… aggressive,” you say, tilting your head. “We’re going for structured, but this feels like it’s about to stab someone.” “Tch. It’s Gothic. It’s supposed to look like it could stab someone,” Bakugou retorts, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. “You said ‘sharp,’ and that’s what you’re getting.” Rolling your eyes, you grab the pencil from his hand and start redrawing the shoulder lines, softening the angles just slightly. “I meant sharp in a stylish way. Not like... this is going to start a fight in the conference room.” Bakugou snorts, watching you make adjustments. “Isn’t that the whole point of fashion? Making people talk, starting shit?”

You pause for a moment, considering his words. “Okay, maybe. But I want them to talk about how good it looks, not how dangerous it is to wear.” “Some people like danger,” he quips, raising an eyebrow at you with a dangerous smirk playing on his lips. “Maybe you’re just scared to take risks.” “Risks?” You turn to him with a raised brow. “I’m the one embroidering literal stained glass into a dress. If anything, you’re the one playing it safe.” Bakugou leans in a little, his red eyes glinting with amusement. “Oh, yeah? I’d say I’m taking a pretty big risk working with someone who can’t even keep up with me.” You backup a little and scoff, ignoring the way your heart clenches at his teasing tone. “Please. I’m doing the hard part here. You just scribble a couple lines and call it a day.” His toothy grin widens, and he nudges the sketchpad toward you. “If it’s so easy, why don’t you do the pants, too?”

“Because I’m not trying to show off like you,” you say, pushing the pad back at him. “But if you need my help, just say the word.” Bakugou chuckles lowly. “Help? You wish. You just wanna see me sweat.” His eyes flit down to your lower face for a split second. You blink, not catching the double meaning in his words. “What? No, I just… ugh, whatever. Just finish the damn pants.” You check a nearby mirror to make sure you don’t have anything in your teeth– why was he looking there? He leans back, folding his arms behind his head, watching as you turn back to your embroidery. “You’re cute when you get all flustered.” “Flustered?” you mutter, not really paying attention. “I’m not flustered. I’m just trying to fix your mess.”

Bakugou chuckles again, the sound low and teasing. “Whatever you say, princess.” You pause but brush it off, assuming he’s just being his usual cocky self. “Just focus, Bakugou. I don’t want to be stuck here all night.” He smirks to himself, watching you concentrate on the embroidery, completely oblivious to the small ways he’s been trying to get under your skin. “Yeah, yeah. But don’t worry—you’re not getting rid of me that easily.” Rolling your eyes, you get back to work at your station. Your fingers glide over luxurious fabric, testing the weight, the drape. The wool you chose for the structured blazer clings to your fingertips, sturdy yet pliant under your touch. "It's still missing something," you mumble, tracing a pattern you’ve yet to commit to paper. Beside you, Bakugou furrows his brow, lost in his sketchbook, muttering half-formed ideas. The soft scratch of his pencil across the page fills the air, almost rhythmic, like a second heartbeat in the room. “Do you think we need a stronger contrast here?” you ask, holding up a swatch of deep plum silk next to the black jacquard fabric that’s been frustrating you all day.

He glances up, blue light glasses sliding down his nose. “It’ll look washed out. Try a metallics to bring out the color,” he suggests, eyes flicking back down to his sketch without waiting for a response. It’s so casual, so assured. He doesn’t doubt himself—not for a second—and the way his hands move from sketch to reference, it’s infuriating how easily his mind works through these problems.

Meanwhile, your sketchbook is a mess of crossed-out lines and question marks, drafts discarded before they even make it to the final page. You flip through your notes, eyeing the reference photos pinned to the corkboard. Flying buttresses and towering arches loom in the background, begging to be translated into the clean lines of a suit or a dress.

“I think I’ve got it.” You grab your sketchpad, pulling it back onto your lap. Sharp, structured lines—just like pointed arches—make their way onto the page. Your pencil flies, inspired. “This! Like pointed arches! Sharp, structured, but with curves!” you exclaim, waving the sketch in Bakugou’s direction.

He stops long enough to glance over. “Not bad,” he grunts, but his fingers twitch toward your sketchpad. “Let me fix the angle here. And you need a stronger taper at the waist.” Before you can protest, he’s taken your design and made a few deft adjustments that somehow elevate the whole thing.

You watch in begrudging admiration as he perfects it effortlessly. Each stroke of his pencil adds depth, structure—it's flawless, and somehow, irritatingly so. There’s no denying it: Bakugou was born to do this. 

You bite back the jealousy that nags at you, pushing yourself to sketch with renewed vigor. The stakes are high, and you’re not about to let him outshine you. Not when this collection—the fusion of Gothic splendor and cutting-edge business fashion—is yours just as much as his. 

Your hand flies across the pages, the scratches of the pencil against paper mixed with the trills of music sung in Middle English to truly encapsulate the feeling of the medieval architecture you were emulating on paper. 

Your hand cramps as you set the pencil down, finally satisfied with the latest design. The blazer dress, now meticulously sketched out with pointed arches forming elegant, sharp lapels, lies sprawled on the desk between the two of you. Bakugou leans back in his chair, one arm draped over the backrest, surveying his sketches with a critical eye.

“Looks like we’ve nailed the structure,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair, which has grown messy from hours of working in silence. You nod, rubbing at your temples, the espresso shots from earlier starting to wear off. Just as you’re about to suggest a break, Bakugou’s phone lights up on the desk, buzzing incessantly. At first, he ignores it—he's been too immersed in perfecting the collection to care about any distractions. But the buzzing doesn't stop.

He frowns, picking up the phone. You can tell from the sudden tension in his jaw that something’s up.

“What is it?” you ask, stretching your arms over your head.

“Tch. It’s my mom.” Bakugou’s expression shifts from mild annoyance to a mixture of confusion and disbelief as he scans through the string of notifications. He scrolls for a moment, and then his phone buzzes again, this time with a notification from the Masaki store’s account.

He glances up at you, his red eyes sharp. “Check your phone.”

A sense of unease curls in your stomach as you reach for your own device. The moment you unlock it, you see it—another flood of Instagram notifications, messages, and emails. All your social media apps are practically screaming for your attention. You swipe to your email, eyes widening as you scroll through the dozens—no, thousands—of pre-order confirmations. The Kindeki PR team has emailed you countless times– along with dozens of journalists asking for an interview.

“What the hell…” you whisper under your breath.

The notifications are relentless, and when you switch to Instagram, you finally understand. The Masaki Official account has posted the photo—the one from the café. The picture of you and Bakugou, mid-laugh, caught in a candid moment of camaraderie and partnership and… something else. The caption is simple but effective: “Fashion royalty at work. Coming soon: Masa x Kin x Deki collection.”

Your jaw drops as you read the comments beneath the photo.

“CUTEST COUPLE”

“fashion royalty fr… they a couple tho??”

“take all my money NOW.”

You scroll down further, but the app glitches momentarily, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of activity. Your phone buzzes again, but it’s Bakugou who breaks the silence first, reading from an email: “Sales are up by 65%. Pre-orders are through the roof.” You look up at him, wide-eyed, but he’s already dialing his mom. “Oi, what the hell did you post?” From behind you, another notification dings: Kindeki (aka your precious aunt) has just uploaded a behind-the-scenes video on the store’s Instagram. In the background, you hear a familiar cackle from Bakugou’s mom. You glance over at Bakugou, who catches your expression with an eye roll. “Looks like we’re not done yet.”

The clang of the last chair being stacked on the table echoed through the empty café, a quiet contrast to the buzzing streetlights outside. The Kindeki shop was already locked, but you followed Bakugou to his café to close. You yawned, rubbing your eyes as you pulled down the metal shutter halfway. The day had been long—filled with both customers and creativity. Bakugou was wiping down the counter, his movements deliberate, but you could see the tension in his shoulders. The quiet was almost comforting after the frenzy of the day. “I’ll lock up,” Bakugou grunted, grabbing the keys from the hook. You nodded, moving to flip off the last few lights when suddenly, the distinct murmur of voices outside the window grew louder. You froze, glancing toward the front of the café. You swore you saw a flash of light from outside the shop for a split second.

“Bakugou… what’s that?” you asked cautiously, squinting through the glass door. He moved past you, standing close enough for you to catch the heat radiating off him as he squinted out into the street. A low grunt rumbled in his throat, and you followed his gaze. Outside, you could see them—reporters, camera flashes lighting up the dusk, a couple of people holding phones up, trying to capture any glimpse of movement inside. The soft murmur had turned into a low buzz of voices and questions being thrown into the air. “Great,” you muttered, “exactly what we need.” “Tch, of course they’d show up now.” Bakugou rolled his eyes, glaring at the crowd. “Stupid vultures.” He crossed his arms, muscles tensing as he glanced over at you. “Stay behind me.” He moved toward the door, his hand clenching around the keyring in his palm, eyes narrowed like he was already considering breaking some cameras. “Are we seriously doing this?” you asked, following him but keeping a slight distance. The last thing you wanted was your face on a hundred Instagram stories and all over news articles.

Bakugou glanced over his shoulder, his lips curving into a smirk. “What, scared of a little attention? You’re the one who wanted to be in fashion, remember?” You rolled your eyes, biting back a retort as he unlocked the door just enough to speak through the crack. “Shop’s closed,” he barked at the crowd, voice low but sharp enough to cut through the noise. “Bakugou! Are you and her working on a new line together?” “What’s the inspiration for the upcoming season?” “Any truth to the rumors about your relationship?” You winced at the last question. Bakugou’s scowl deepened. “Back off,” he growled. “Get a damn life.” He slammed the door shut, locking it in one swift motion before turning to you. “We’re getting out of here.” You blinked. “And how, exactly, are we going to do that? They’re right outside.” His smirk widened, mischief dancing in his crimson eyes. “There’s two back exits, genius. You think I don’t plan for this kinda crap?”

Without waiting for a response, he grabbed your wrist and tugged you along. The café lights dimmed behind you as he led you through the narrow hallway toward the back door. The sound of your footsteps echoed softly, mingling with the faint buzz of reporters still stationed outside. Once outside, Bakugou paused, glancing around before pulling you along again. The back alley was empty, the cool night air brushing against your skin as the two of you hurried through the narrow path. The distant hum of the city faded slightly, replaced by the more familiar sounds of your breathing and Bakugou’s muttered complaints about the reporters. You exhaled in relief as you made it a few blocks away, the noise fading. “Guess we’re a hot topic now, huh?” Bakugou’s voice was teasing, but there was an undercurrent of pride in it. You shot him a look, shaking your head. “I didn’t sign up for this level of attention.” He shrugged, smirking as he crossed his arms. “Too late, princess. Fame comes with a price.” There was a glint of amusement in his eyes as he added, “You better get used to it.”

You were about to retort when you felt the heat of his gaze settle on you, a little too heavy, a little too intense. He took a step closer, just enough for you to notice the way his eyes lingered on yours, something unreadable in them. Before you could say anything, he dropped the teasing smirk and muttered, “I’ll protect you from those vultures. Grew up with it. But don’t expect me to be this nice all the time.” You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden softness in his voice. He turned and started walking ahead before you could respond, leaving you standing there, heart fluttering slightly as you tried to make sense of the tension in the air. “Come on,” he called over his shoulder, “we’ve got work to do tomorrow.” And just like that, the moment was gone, leaving you wondering how Bakugou could make your heart race with just a few words. As the two of you walked side by side, the city lights flickering above, you couldn’t help but glance at him, a small smile tugging at your lips.

a/n: we're back!

lol not beta read again please let me know if you see any typos or anything that's just like. wrong.

i had a looooot of trouble with writing this chapter bc describing clothing aint my best suit, but we're workin on it (thats why im writing this fic in the first place tbh) :> also, my taglist is open! thank you to @itztaki for being the first LOL-- just message me or comment on this if you'd like to be added!

thank you for reading & stay hydrated, y'all <3

directory/m.list

⇦ previous chapter - next chapter ⇨ Taglist: @itztaki

[mauesartetc]

Redrawing Shadiversity's AI Piece

For context, check out this post here. This is, uh... It's a doozy.

Let's start with the main character of the image. The girl's pose looks very awkward and unrealistic for what she's doing. Her feet are dragging in two different directions that don't indicate the direction she's jumping in, and it looks like her top half is getting blown back in a wind tunnel. According to one of the reblogs on the post that introduced me to this thing, the pose wasn't the generator's doing, but the artist's. "He drew the girl and photoshopped in a picture of a lizard and a picture of a church and had the image generator "refine" it."

I sincerely doubt he used any kind of photo reference for this drawing, as it'd be uncomfortable for anyone's spine to curve backward like that while they're leaping forward and swinging a heavy sword. That just looks painful.

Let's explore some ways we could make the pose look more believable.

I think I'll go with a pose that's close to the original but makes a bit more sense.

It obviously doesn't have the same level of... "polish" the AI version does (we'll get to that in a minute), but the tilt of the spine looks much more natural for the direction she's leaping in and the way she's holding the sword.

Now that we have that out of the way, let's analyze more of the image as a whole.

AI art handles detail in a way that looks good to the untrained eye, but falls apart in the eyes of experienced artists. These clothing folds, for example. There's no logic to the way they're shaped, and the shirt is randomly tight around the chest when it's loose everywhere else. Then there are the scales brought into sharp focus despite the rest of the dragon being blurred, the blood drips that look like stalactites, and so on and so forth. I'm sure there are things I missed, as well. If y'all find them, let me know in the comments!

Something to note about the sketches I made before the finished drawing: They kinda suck. And that's the point. The early stages of a drawing aren't meant to look pristine with perfect anatomy (not to say the finished product is anywhere near perfect, but still). What they are meant to have is energy. Purpose. Life. But AI bros are so afraid to make any "bad" drawings that they don't draw at all (or in cases like Shad's, they only draw the bare minimum).

I didn't make this post to dunk on AI prompters, but to encourage them to put in the necessary work that will improve their skills. And no, I'm sorry, typing words into a box won't make anyone a better artist. It might make them better at describing what they want when they commission an artist, but by and large it's like lifting a feather when you want to gain muscle instead of, y'know, lifting actual weights.

Obviously machine learning isn't going anywhere and it'd be nice to use as a tool to make different steps of the art process more efficient. It's good for silly memes, I guess. But we shouldn't treat the images it spits out as masterpieces, and, importantly, businesses shouldn't use it to replace real people.

Anyway, it's pretty easy to go to the store with five bucks and come back with a decent sketchpad and pens/pencils. Not to mention art programs like Krita and Blender are FREE, and there are plenty of tutorials on Youtube. Just sayin'.

Get drawing.

[odyssean-flower]

The Chief Justice and the Worst Painter in Fontaine Chapter 4 - The Chief Justice, the Painter, and the Lovely Picnic

Summary: It was supposed to be your time to relax and get in touch with your (extremely) buried creative side…but then your boss showed up. A/N: 4th and final chapter! tbh i feel like that title doesn't apply to the work that well, but i like the sound of it so i'm not changing it! Word count: 6.3k Masterpost here

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 (Bonus Scenes) || Chapter 4

The hot and sultry summer changed into a cool and crisp autumn. Unlike the seasons, your relationship with Neuvillette didn't change so drastically, but it did change.

For one thing, you two finally stopped apologizing to each other every other sentence. After your friendship was "officially" decided, the tense and polite formality between you two had dissipated. Of course, you weren't hugging him or anything like that, but you felt at ease enough to put your hand on his shoulder or touch his arm. Although, you noticed that he would only reciprocate if you touched him first.

And another thing-you two were conversing more. Well, it was mostly you talking and him listening. Neuvillette seemed to be the type who didn't mind staying silent for long periods of time until someone talked to him, and he was a good listener. You talked to him about trivial things like what you've been reading lately, or a new dessert you've tried. You tried to avoid talking about your personal life or work-related things. He was still your boss, after all, and your friendship with him was so delicate and fragile, like a glass orb, that sharing too much felt like it would strain it. 

With the cost of buying canvas and paints hurting your wallet, you decided to switch to a more affordable art-related hobby: sketching. Now you no longer had to lug around your easel and canvas. With just a sketchpad and pencil, you had more freedom to move around than before. You took to it like a fish in water, sketching little animals, flowers, and buildings. You didn't want to brag, but you felt like you were much better at this than at painting. Or maybe you improved your art skills in general through painting?

When he heard about your money troubles, Neuvillette offered to buy the supplies for you, but you adamantly refused. You didn't want him to spend money on you when he had already done so much, and painting was always just a means to an end anyway. 

Neuvillette still took you around to various scenic places. He would tell you about the historical events that occurred there like he had been there in person (though he never talked about his own past), and point out all the interesting but unseen things about them. But more than learning, you loved listening to him talk and watching his face as he did so. The elusive, nearly imperceptible curving of his lips or the way his eyes would soften whenever they landed on a water creature was fascinating to study. How can anyone think he's cold and unfeeling? You wondered.

But sometimes you felt a painful tug on your heart, though you didn't know why. You felt it when you looked at his tall, broad back as he walked in front of you, or in the silences that followed after you finished chattering about something. You had an inkling as to the source of these feelings, but the fear of exactly what you would find there made you deliberately not think about it.

However, it was easy to push such things to the back of your mind when you walked with Neuvillette under the warm sun or sketched something that caught your eye while he waited patiently for you. It was your secret, fervent wish that such golden days would last forever.

On a certain autumn day, you and Neuvillette were on the slopes of Mont Automnequi, admiring the changing colors of the leaves. From a distance, it looked as though the slopes were covered in flickering red and orange flames. You had brought colored pencils for the occasion and couldn't wait to use them.

The two of you settled down in a spot that had a good view of the trees but was also within a short distance of the water. It was almost an instinctual thing by now, how you two would always gravitate to the sea.

As you were getting out your sketchpad, a cool breeze suddenly blew through you, causing you to shiver. You were wearing a sweater, but it seemed that it wasn't thick enough. 

"You should be dressing warmer for the weather. You'd catch a terrible cold," Neuvillette scolded you. 

"Yeah," you agreed. "But it's fine. I don't get sick easily."

It was true. You could count on one hand the number of times you've ever gotten sick.

But Neuvillette didn't seem convinced. To your amazement, he took off his outer jacket-or rather, jackets, you didn't even know he was wearing two-and placed them over your shoulders. They were voluminous and heavy, practically drowning you in their fine fabrics.

"Y-You can't, sir!" you spluttered. Without his two coats, Neuvillette was only in his vest and white shirt. "What if you get cold?" 

"I am made of much sturdier stuff than that. There's no need to worry about me. Humans are such fragile creatures, you must take good care of yourself."

You tried to protest some more, but he wasn't having it. You eventually stopped as the warmth from his jackets seeped into you. They held a scent that inexplicably reminded you of clear waterfalls and the pavement after it rained. It was a pleasant, refreshing scent...wait...

Your face turned bright red when you realized what you were doing. Not only were you surrounding yourself with the Chief Justice's body heat, but you were smelling his clothes as well. 

Don't be weird, don't be weird... You chanted in your head. You snuck a peek at Neuvillette to see if he noticed how flustered you got and turned even redder.

Without his customary--dare you say, trademark--deep blue coats, Neuvillette almost looked like a completely different person. Less imposing and grand. You would even go so far as to say that he looked vulnerable, but he had a sturdy, virile build--

Stop thinking and start sketching, the tiny part of your brain that remained your voice of reason commanded. 

Your hands moved on their own, moving across the paper with the pencil. In order to distract yourself further, you spoke as you sketched.

"Monsieur Neuvillette, I heard that you're going to be presiding over an important case next weekend."

It was a complicated case of fraud that involved a great many people, so it was necessary to question them all. This wasn't the first time Neuvillette had to miss a weekend. You were surprised that it didn't happen more often.

"Yes. I truly regret that I can't come here with you again next week. That is when the leaves are at their most beautiful."

"Well, I think they look incredible right now. I wish I'd brought a picnic basket. It's the perfect weather for baked treats like pies and brownies."

"A picnic, huh..." Neuvillette stroked his chin. "A fine idea."

"We can have one after next week. What kind of foods do you enjoy eating, sir? I can try making them." Come to think of it, you had never seen Neuvillette eat. Sometimes, you would bring sandwiches and offer one to him, but he would always decline. Maybe he didn't need to eat?

"Hmm...I suppose I do enjoy bacon. Stews as well."

"Bacon?" That was unexpected. You thought it would be something fancier. Maybe you could make bacon sandwiches or something.

You switched your pencil for a colored one and started coloring idly. The red and yellow leaves fluttered this way and that, sometimes landing in the water. The contrast between the colors of the leaves and the water was very pretty. You should sketch that too...

You looked down at your drawing and choked back a gasp. There wasn't a single drawing of trees in sight. Instead, the paper held a sketch of Neuvillette's face. 

It was a surprisingly nice sketch. In fact, you would call it one of your best works yet. It was Neuvillette's head in profile, his eyes fixed on some distant point, his hair a waterfall down his back. You had been coloring the blue streaks in his hair. 

How did this happen! You wanted to scream. Luckily, Neuvillette wasn't facing you then, but he would want to see what you drew. You quickly tore the sketch out and stuffed it in your pocket. 

Neuvillette heard the tearing sound and turned around. "Was there something wrong with your drawing?"

"Um, y-yes! Something very wrong! It's not fit to be seen! At all!" you stammered. 

"I highly doubt that. Every one of your works is a treat for the eyes."

You laughed shakily. "You really do know how to encourage someone, sir. Have you considered coming around more to the Maison Gestion? I think just a few of your words will be able to boost the morale there for a whole week."

"Really? If you say so, then I shall try doing that."

"Oh, no, that was a joke--" Just then, a red leaf twirled and fluttered, landing in Neuvillette's hair. Reflexively, you leaned forward and picked it out. Your fingers brushed against the silky white strands. He was taller than you, so you had to stand on your tip toes and lean close to him in order to reach the leaf. Too close, in fact. Your noses were practically touching.

For a heartbeat, neither of you said anything. You saw yourself reflected in his eyes. Did he also see himself in yours? His throat bobbed. You were probably making him uncomfortable. You should step back now. The sun was beating down on you harshly. How strange. It was supposed to be cooler today. You really should move back--

Neuvillette made the first move and took a few steps back. The leaf spiraled down from your hand.

"T-There was a leaf in your hair, sir," you said weakly. 

He simply nodded. 

You turned away to hide your flushed face. Your heart was pounding wildly. What happened back there? Where were all these feelings coming from?

"[Name]," you heard him call out to you and turned around. "It may be presumptuous of me to ask this of you, but I would very much like for you to--"

There was the loud blaring of a ship's foghorn. It drowned out the rest of Neuvillette's sentence.

"What were you saying, sir? I couldn't hear you."

Neuvillette stared at you for a few seconds, then shook his head. "...No, it is nothing. Please forget about it."

You spend the rest of your time together in companionable, albeit somewhat tense, silence. When you got home, you reached into your pocket for the sketch of Neuvillette's face but discovered that it wasn't there. Where had it gone?

"Hey, do you want to go watch the trial tomorrow? They say that it's going to be a real spectacle."

Your roommate asked you on Friday night. She was referring to the fraud case. It was all over the newspapers and all that your coworkers were talking about this week. It was rumored that the tickets had sold out within ten minutes.

"How did you get tickets for that?"

"I have my ways," your roommate said mysteriously. "So, do you want to go?"

You thought about it for a moment. Normally, you would have said no. You had never really found trials entertaining, and ever since you became friends with Neuvillette, it felt even weirder to go to a trial. It felt like you were crossing some invisible line, even though you couldn't think of any reason why it would be inappropriate.

You won't lie, you were kind of interested in the outcome. And besides, it wasn't like you had anything to do tomorrow.

"Sure, I'll go," you nodded.

Your roommate raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Really? I thought you'd turn me down, considering how you're always out doing art stuff on the weekends."

"Well...it's good to change things up once in a while. Plus, it always rains after a trial, right?"

"Yeah. Although there hadn't been any trials scheduled on the weekend lately."

"Really?" You didn't pay attention to that kind of thing.

"Yep," your roommate gave you a sly look. "I heard that the Chief Justice himself specifically arranged things like that.

"Huh..." you said, trying your best to sound nonchalant. You were sure that you never gave anyone any hint of your relationship with Neuvillette.

Your roommate gave you another meaningful look. "Alright, then, let's get up early tomorrow so we can get there on time."

The trial was as dramatic and intense as you had expected, but you found that your mind wasn't focused on it, despite--or because of--how loud the whole performance was, you caught yourself longing for the clear air of the outdoors, the sounds of the waves and birds.

The one thing that did keep your attention was Neuvillette himself. Though this wasn't your first time seeing him presiding over a trial, you were struck by just how different he was at work. He questioned the witnesses thoroughly, and his reprimands for the rowdy audience descended like a towering wave crashing down into the seats. He was seated high above the audience's seats, but you could feel his apprising gaze distinctly.

If it weren't for the times you spent together, you would have never imagined him capable of speaking to anyone warmly with that voice. Or be a water connoisseur. Or compliment your amateurish paintings so sincerely that even you began to wonder if they weren't as bad as you thought.

You briefly wondered if he, like you, longed to be in the wilds of Fontaine. It was an impertinent thought. Neuvillette was a man who took his job with the utmost seriousness.

You were sitting near the back row, which was more elevated compared to the front rows, but you still had to crane your neck just to see that blue and white figure. You wondered if he could see you down here. Probably not. You were just one small speck among many. 

You felt that painful tug on your heart again. 

The trial eventually ended with the accused being pronounced guilty and sentenced to prison. As you got up from your seat to join the masses of people leaving the opera house, but your roommate tugged at your sleeve and said, "Hey, mind staying behind? I want to talk to you about something."

You blinked in confusion but shrugged and sat back down. However, she didn't speak right away. It seemed that she was waiting for everyone to leave. You had a bad feeling about this.

When the last stragglers finally left, your roommate took a deep breath and turned to you.

"Are you dating Monsieur Neuvillette?"

You stared at her. Her eyes were completely serious. "W-What? No, of course not! Why would you even think that?" you splutter. Stay calm, stay calm. It's the truth, I'm not d-dating him!

"Well, I don't have any concrete evidence," your roommate admitted. "But there are some things that don't add up. For instance, you know how I mentioned that the Chief Justice personally arranged his schedule so that he wouldn't have any trials on the weekends. Well, that all started happening around the time you took up your painting."

"So? It's just a coincidence."

"I also noticed that the weekends where you don't go outside the city match up with the weekends where there are trials."

"Because it rains on those days!"

"Hmm, makes sense," your roommate nodded to herself. "Oh, another thing. The Melusines have been getting really friendly with you lately."

It was more like the other way around. The Melusines you ran into the streets or at work would all run up to you and greet you happily. Some of them even offered to help you carry your bags or give you little gifts, like wildflowers. It was a bit embarrassing for you.

"Aren't they always like that with everyone?"

"Sure, but not to this extent. And like I mentioned before, it only started happening when you started painting."

"That doesn't mean anything! Maybe I just befriended them while I was out."

Your roommate sighed, like she was fed up. "[Name], I saw the note in your drawer. It mentioned Monsieur Neuvillette."

"...Huh?" What note? You retraced your memories until you finally remembered. The note you left in your drawer before you left to go underwater with Neuvillette. Looking back now, you were extremely paranoid. "Oh, that note!"

Yeah, you weren't explaining your way out of this one. "Okay, fine. Yes, Monsieur Neuvillette and I are...acquainted. He takes me around to different drawing spots on the weekends. But we're not dating each other! We're just f-friends!"

"Friends, huh... Okay, I won't pry into what you do on the weekends. But I just wish you told me about it."

"It's not something I can just tell someone."

"Is it?" your roommate raised her eyebrows. "Even though you're just friends? You know me, I'm not the kind of person who will sell you out to the tabloids or anything. I just...felt a bit sad. We haven't been hanging out together on the weekends lately."

"..." You looked down. You and your roommate both worked at the Palais Mermonia and came home pretty late at night, so you usually relaxed together on the weekends by going shopping together or going to cafes. You haven't done that at all recently, though. 

I'm such a terrible friend, you thought to yourself.

"Hey...I'm not blaming you. If I could spend alone time with the Chief Justice himself gazing at the beautiful scenery, I'd also ditch you in a heartbeat," your friend laughed, which only made you feel worse.

"I'm sorry...I swear I'll make it up to you! Next week!" you remembered the picnic. "No, the week after that!"

"Oh, not next week? You've got some special plans with Monsieur Neuvillette?" your friend teased. 

"No...not really..." you mumbled.

"Now that I know who you're hanging out with these days, it makes sense to me why you turned that person down when they asked to grab a coffee with you last Saturday, even though they've been your obsession ever since you started working at the Palais."

"Oh, them," Your friend was referring to a coworker who worked in a different department. You have had a huge crush on them, but strangely, you haven't been thinking about them at all recently. "I already had plans that day to go see the autumn leaves."

"And Monsieur Neuvillette, too, right?" your friend grinned. "Ah, I feel sorry for that guy. If only he knew who he was up against."

"I told you it's not like that!" you punched your friend's arm lightly, but your mood had considerably lightened. As you looked at your friend's laughing face, you made a promise to yourself that you would definitely spoil her the week after the next. 

The two of you finally decided to leave the opera house. However, as soon as you went outside, you were met with slate-gray skies and torrential rain. "Huh, that's weird," your friend muttered. "It hadn't rained like this in a while."

Neither of you noticed the flutter of stately blue robes, or the wearer of said robes gripping a piece of sketch paper in his hand.

The rain continued without ceasing that day, or the week after. 

People were getting worried, and some were even whispering that the prophecy was beginning in full force. The streets were grey and sloshing with water, and the sky was always covered in thick clouds. 

You must have been the only person in Fontaine who wished for the rain to continue on forever.

On the Monday after the trial, you received a note from a strangely desolate-looking Sedene.

You soon found out why she had that look on her face. 

"I am writing to inform you that we will no longer be meeting each other on the weekends as before. I sincerely apologize for any inconvenience I have caused you."

That was all that was written.

It felt like the world had crashed down around you. You read and reread the note over and over, wondering if you had read something wrong, or if you missed something. But the words didn't change. You even asked Sedene if Neuvillette had said anything, but she told you that he didn't. 

Neuvillette no longer wanted to see you.

You didn't really remember how you got through the day after that. It felt like a blur. The rest of the week went by in the same way. You spent the weekend in bed, crying.

The next week was no better, both in terms of the weather and your mood. It felt like something vital had been taken from you. All you could think was, Why? Was it because you went to the trial? Was it because you were taking up too much of his time? Yes, that must be it. Your roommate had said that he rearranged his schedule to make his weekends free. Everyone knew that the Chief Justice was swamped with work. You should consider it a miracle that he was able to spare so much time for you. And now everything was going back to how they were before. That was how it should be. 

Yeah, you knew that this couldn't last forever. 

Telling yourself that, you threw yourself into work. Just because your boss didn't want to see you anymore, it didn't mean that work was over. You couldn't quit, since you were no good at anything else. You even took on extra work, staying late at night in the office. Your worried coworkers and friends kept trying to get you to rest, but you brushed them off. It might seem counterintuitive to spend so much time in a place so closely linked to Neuvillette, but anything was better than being alone with your thoughts.

Your roommate, unable to just watch you work yourself to the bone anymore, forced you to take a day off. 

"You need to talk to him," she said after you told her what happened.

"...I can't do that," you mumbled. You were lying in bed. It was so warm and comfortable here. You wished you could stay under the covers forever and never go out. 

Your roommate sighed and put her hands on her hips. "Why?"

You looked at her incredulously. "Because he's the Chief Justice of Fontaine? I can't just barge into his office and demand answers from him!"

"I didn't say that. Although, I wouldn't blame you if you did. My point is, what does his being the Chief Justice have to do with this? You two are friends, aren't you? Friends are supposed to be equals. Yeah, you're in a lower position than him, but that doesn't mean you don't deserve respect!"

"But this is different..." you insisted feebly. "He'd done so much for me, and all I've done is take advantage of his kindness."

"From what you've told me, it doesn't sound like that's the case at all. He was the one who kept offering to take you to places, and he never asked for anything back, right? He never used his authority over you. You know what I think? I think you do mean something to him, or else he would have stopped bothering with you a long time ago. Something unexpected must have happened to cause him to break it off with you."

"..." You turned over.

You heard a sigh. "Listen, [Name]. I've seen your face when you get back from painting. You looked happier than I had ever seen you. Do you really want to give all that up without a fight? Or even just closure?"

The sound of footsteps exiting your room eventually faded, but your friend's words remained in your mind.

The second offensive was far more blunt and overt. 

"I'm being mobbed," you said to no one in particular. 

You were surrounded by a gaggle of Melusines. Their heads only reached up to your thigh, so you could probably get out if you tried, but it was their tear-filled eyes that stopped you.

"Please make up with Monsieur Neuvillette!" they cried out in unison.

"...Huh?"

"He's miserable without you, can't you see?" one of the Melusines, Everallin, said, gesturing at the sky. You looked up. It was raining as always.

"See what?" you said, confused.

The Melusines looked at each other for a moment, then said, "Never mind." 

Another Melusine named Menthe spoke up. "Anyways, please go talk to him!"

"But...he was the one who told me not to see him anymore!" And besides, you heard that he hadn't been in his office for the past two weeks.

"Our Father isn't the best at expressing himself to humans," a third Melusine, Liath, piped up. "Especially the ones he really likes."

"Wait," you suddenly felt dizzy. "He likes me?"

"Yeah," Everallin nodded. "You always talk to him, and you treat him like a normal person! He always asks us for advice on how to act around you. He's so busy all the time, so you're like...his sanctuary!"

You didn't really know how to deal with this information. "He talks about me to you all?"

The Melusines looked at each other again. "Uh, Everallin, you weren't supposed to tell them that," Menthe whispered.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, you felt like laughing. Maybe, just maybe, your roommate was right. "Okay, everyone. I'll try."

The crimson leaves had mostly turned brown and rotted off of the branches, leaving them bare. The ground was somewhat damp, although you brought a thick blanket with you that blocked the moisture from seeping through. It was no scenery for a picnic, but there was nothing you could do about it. 

At least it wasn't raining anymore. However, the sky was still overcast, still threatening to rain at any moment. 

You put down your picnic basket and sat down, gazing off into the distance. Today, you would find out once and for all if your relationship with Neuvillette was truly over. 

After the meeting with the Melusines, you decided to confront Neuvillette once and for all, if only to put your own mind at ease. 

First, you wrote a note for Neuvillette. It read as follows:

Monsieur Neuvillette,

I hope this finds you well. I have received your previous note, and I respect your decision. However, I would very much like to have that picnic with you, one last time. Though I can't possibly imagine your thoughts and reasons, I do know one thing for certain: our relationship deserves to end on a good note. 

I will be waiting for you at the spot where we viewed the autumn leaves together. Please feel free to come or disregard this note entirely. I am fine with either choice and wish you the best.

You entrusted it to Sedene, who eagerly assured you that she would get it to Neuvillette no matter what. Did all the Melusines in the city know about you two? 

Next, you and your roommate worked together to make the picnic. You also asked the Melusines for advice on what to make, and they were only too happy to help. You made a promise to yourself that no matter what happened (and the big dent it would make in your savings), you would treat your roommate and the Melusines to a big meal in the future. 

You had been hesitant about the picnic at first since it felt foolish to do all that work without even knowing if Neuvillette would show up. But your friend reasoned that "at least you'll have a nice meal to comfort yourself with," and you agreed.

And now the day had arrived. 

You weren't sure where you should be looking. You didn't think you could handle looking at him approaching you directly, but you had no idea which direction he would be coming from. You adjusted your seated position several times. Should you sit cross-legged or with your legs stretched out for a more casual, nonchalant feel? Your stomach was making little flips, and your palms were clammy despite the cool temperature. You tried not to think about anything, especially the possibility that he wouldn't show up. 

The clouds threatened to rain at any moment. They loomed so closely that it felt like you could practically touch them. 

Inexplicably, you recalled that old legend of the hydro dragon and how it rained when it cried. You wondered what it was so sad about these days.

"Hey, hydro dragon!" you shout up at the sky, mostly to relieve your own tension. "I'm going to need you to hold back those tears for today! Or else I'll never forgive you!" Man, yelling does feel really good.

You glare at the clouds, which, to your astonishment, parted a little before your eyes. Oh Archons...is the hydro dragon listening to me?

"The hydro dragon would not deserve your forgiveness," a familiar and, as you realized now, dearly missed voice sounded from behind you.

Why does he keep showing up at the worst times? You resisted the urge to jump into the sea and turned around. 

Neuvillette looked as stately and elegant as he always did, but you thought that his eyes held a hint of melancholy that wasn't there before. 

"Monsieur Neuvillette!" your voice cracked, and you cleared your throat. "You really came! I'm so happy to see you...haha..."

Neuvillette didn't say anything but simply stared at you. He was probably thinking he made a huge mistake coming here. You decided that you would simply barrel on without thinking about anything. That could all come later.

"Sit, sir!" you patted the blanket. "Now, I know that you said that you no longer want to see me, but I think it's a shame to end things on such an abrupt note. Even though the weather isn't cooperating with us right now, I do want to enjoy this lovely picnic with you. It's made by me, my roommate, and the Melusines."

You smiled with what you hoped was a reassuring smile, but it seemed to backfire once again, as Neuvillette seemed to clench his jaw and step back. Maybe he thought you poisoned the food. 

You opened the basket and took out the food to show him that it was completely safe. "See, I've got bacon and mushroom sandwiches, apple pie, Poissonchant pie, and a nice warm carrot stew made from the purest waters in Fontaine. Oh, and I also have bottles of that water if you prefer that. The Melusines helped me get it from the mountains up north." 

Neuvillette was still standing, looking down at you with an indescribable expression. Act cool, [Name], you told yourself and bit into a sandwich. It really was good. You tried your best to act unbothered and nonchalant.

Finally, Neuvillette sat down and reached for one of the bottles of water. He brought it to his mouth and drank it, then slowly closed his eyes. Success! But now you suddenly realized how small this blanket was. Your knees were practically touching his. You turned your head to the side to avoid staring at him but felt a gaze on the back of your head as you did so.

The two of you ate and drank in silence. It was awkward, to say the least. You kept thinking about how to bring up the main topic. Should you subtly lead up to it or ask him outright? The picnic was diminishing; soon it would be finished, and he would have no reason to stay here any longer. You imagined him his tall back walking away from you. Maybe that would be the last you'd ever see of it. Your heart clenched. You didn't want that to happen, not while you still had the power to stop it.

"Um..." you ventured, but before you could say anything, Neuvillette spoke first.

"...You shouldn't have wasted your time and efforts on me. I'm unworthy of it after how I treated you." His voice was quiet, so much so that you had to lean closer to hear him.

"Well, it was a pretty cold move to suddenly tell someone you're not going to see them anymore through a note, without even giving them a reason," you admitted. A raindrop landed on your nose. "But I don't think we're past the point of no return yet. After all, I decided to do this, and you agreed to meet with me."

Neuvillette didn't say anything. You decided to take this as a good sign.

"So...why did you send me that note? Was it something I did?" 

"No, of course not. You've never been anything less than delightful," the speed with which he said that was surprising. "The fault lies with me. I completely forgot my position in regard to you."

You tilted your head, not understanding.

There was a brief pause before he continued. "I was very pleased when you agreed to join me on the second weekend, and the subsequent weekends after. I believed that you...enjoyed my company, just as much as I did yours. I wanted to take you to as many places as I could, just so I could see your reactions to them. And yet, I failed to consider the fact that you might not want to go on these trips, or that you might have felt an obligation to accompany me because I am your superior. And then I learned that because of me, your personal life has been affected negatively."

"Huh? What do you mean by my personal life?"

Neuvillette's expression didn't really change, but you thought that he looked a bit embarrassed. "...I overheard your conversation with your friend in the opera house. Because of my willfulness, you have been neglecting your friends and...unable to pursue romantic relationships."

Your mind was whirling with all this new information. "Wait, wait, hold on. You overheard that conversation? Does that mean you saw me in the audience that day?"

"Yes."

"Oh...if you were close enough to hear us, does that mean...you wanted to talk to me after the trial?"

"Yes. I wanted to compliment you on your sketch."

"Sketch?" At your quizzical look, Neuvillette slowly pulled out a well-thumbed piece of paper from his pocket. It looked like it had been opened and closed many times. He handed it to you, and you opened it. 

It was the sketch of Neuvillette you had unconsciously done all those weeks ago. It felt like an eternity had passed since then.

You looked up to see him staring at you intently, his eyes filled with naked hope and self-loathing. It was like you were looking at yourself in the mirror.

You were also somewhat reminded of those otters you saw underwater, but you weren't about to tell him that.

Laughter bubbled up within you. Your roommate was right. When you got right down to it, the two of you were the same.

You carefully placed the sketch back in his hand and closed his fingers over it. Then, you looked right into his eyes. "Monsieur Neuvillette...you are a great fool."

He blinked, then nodded. "Yes."

"At first, it might have been as you said. I went to the places you told me to be because I was so scared of offending you. But as I got to know you more, I learned that you were nothing like what I was expecting, and I began to look forward to our time together eagerly every week. Because of you, I saw and learned things that I would have never encountered. I chose to spend time with you because I like you," Realizing that could cause misunderstandings, you added, somewhat weakly, "As a very, very dear friend to me. If anything, I'm the one who should be feeling guilty for forcing you to rearrange your schedule just to make time for me or making you feel obliged to take me to places."

"It's no great matter. I can simply make up that work during the week. And thinking of places to invite you to has never been a chore."

"Don't overwork yourself," you couldn't help but scold. "So, you see, we're both chronic worriers who constantly overthink everything, not realizing that everything can be solved by just talking to each other."

Neuvillette smiled. It was a small smile, but your breath caught. "Yes, I suppose we are."

"Next time, I'll be the one inviting you somewhere. I actually know some pretty niche spots in the city. Oh, but you might already know them, though."

"Please don't worry about that. I'll be happy to follow you to wherever you may take me."

"So, that means there will be a next time, then?" you said.

"But of course. We need to make up for lost time, after all."

"Great! Oh, maybe we can invite my friend or the Melusines on some outings, too?"

"As long as it makes you happy, I will never say no to it."

You turned red. Sometimes, Neuvillette would say the strangest things that made your heart beat faster and your legs feel restless.

"But, there is one thing I want to ask of you," Neuvillette said. He sounded serious.

"What is it?"

"As we are friends...I believe it is improper for only one party to address the other with their title, so..." he trailed off. Was Neuvillette nervous?"

"Oh!" You got what he wanted to say. "Do you want me to call you by just your name?"

"Yes, very much so."

"Okay...Neuvillette."

The sun broke through the clouds at that moment. You saw slivers of blue sky for the first time in weeks. It looked like this bad weather was finally ending.

"Wow, look at that," you breathe. "Do you think the hydro dragon is happy now?"

You could hear Neuvillette's smile in his voice as he said, "Yes, I think he is."

[itzynabi]

that’s so evie episode 38

posted: 15 dec 2023

word count: 1.5k

warnings: mention of crimes, kind of swearing, anger management, discussion of mental health

an: another episode out RAHHHH. insta post found here. words in [] are captions. feedback and reblogs are much appreciated 💐

eve’s masterlist // that’s so evie

“Hello and welcome to That’s So Evie,” Eve greeted from inside the studio. “Today’s guest is an ahjumma,” she said, Taeyeon’s laugh being heard off camera.

“She’s the First Ahjumma. Like, you know the First Lady? She’s the First Ahjumma,” she explained.

“Cut it out!” Taeyeon complained from offscreen.

Eve nodded. “Okay, okay. Please come in!”

[Veteran idol with unrivalled vocals, Taeyeon!]

[Coming back November 27 with a new mini-album, To. X]

Taeyeon walked into frame as the staff cheered, bowing as she approached Eve. She sat down on the left of Eve, crossing her legs. “Hello, everyone! I’m Taeyeon,” she introduced herself.

“Can you introduce your album now?” Eve asked. “Our activity for today relates to it.”

“Okay. I’m making a comeback with the mini-album To. X with the title track of the same name,” Taeyeon said. “The song is about the aftermath of a relationship after realising the other person was controlling and manipulative. Please give it a lot of love.” She waved at the camera.

“In front of us here, we have writing equipment–” she pointed at the sketch pads, markers, pens, and highlighters– “and we will be using them to write a letter To. X,” she revealed, Taeyeon gasping.

She brushed her hand against Eve’s arm. “Do you have an ex?” She asked, her lips jutting out in a pout.

Eve shook her head. “No, no. We won’t be writing to an ex, necessarily, but instead to somebody who has wronged us. You’ll write a letter to someone that wronged you and I’ll write one to someone that wronged me.”

“This will be easy for you because you don’t forget anything.”

“Nabi’s very forgiving, though,” Taewoo, one of the camera directors, said.

“Nabi?” Taeyeon looked at Eve, who was trying her hardest not to smile. “You’ve done a good job at fooling everyone,” she teased the younger girl before looking at the camera again. “I don’t know of anybody that she’s forgiven. She doesn’t even talk to them anymore.”

“But,” Eve started, “just because you forgive someone, doesn’t mean that you have to invite them into your life again. I can forgive someone and never talk to them for the rest of my life and there wouldn’t be anything wrong with that. The reason people are hesitant to forgive is because they think that they have to speak to whoever hurt them and be friends with them again, but they don’t. Nobody is entitled to be in anyone’s life.”

“That’s very wise,” Taeyeon agreed, nodding her head. “With that being said, have you ever forgiven someone?” She asked, pointing at Eve.

Eve cleared her throat, feeling cornered by her friend. “Let’s get started on our letters,” she said. She gave Taeyeon one of the notebooks — ignoring her laughter at Eve’s behaviour —, taking the other one for herself. “You can write a letter to any person you want to. You don’t have to read it out or show it to me, you can keep it to yourself and do whatever you want with it.”

“So it’s like journaling,” Taeyeon commented, opening her sketchpad.

Eve snapped her fingers in agreement. “It’s exactly like journaling.” She opened her sketchpad and reached for one of the markers. She took the lid off, getting ready to write.

“You already know who you’re writing about?” Taeyeon gasped, reaching for a pen. “I’m still thinking about it.”

Eve sighed. “It’s not my fault the most annoying people keep getting sent my way. There’s literally nothing I can do about it.”

Taeyeon laughed. “Okay, okay. Why don’t I have anyone that annoys me?” She muttered. Eve wrote the title of her letter, Taeyeon peeking over her shoulder to look at it. “Omo sesange!” She exclaimed. “Is she allowed to write things like that?”

“What did she write?” Jiho, one of the lighting staff, asked.

“The title of her letter is–”

[This is a family program]

“The title comes from my heart,” Eve said, not looking up when everyone gasped.

Taeyeon cackled, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. “Which part of your heart does this come from?”

“The bitter part. Stop laughing and write your letter,” she lightly scolded.

Taeyeon hit her thigh as she finished laughing. “I’ve thought of someone, so I’ll start writing mine now.” She uncapped her pen, writing a title. “At least my title is fine,” she childishly bragged.

Eve peeked at Taeyeon’s paper. “What’s fine about–”

[This is a family program]

“Yah, at least it’s better than–”

[This is a family program]

The next scene showed them both focusing on their letters, signifying that some clips had been edited out. They weren’t speaking as they wrote their letters.

“Nabi,” Taeyeon called out. “How do you deal with your anger? Because I know you’re a very angry person.”

“Uh, I don’t really do anything with my anger. I don’t act on anger or anything like that, I just… ignore it.”

“How do you ignore it?”

Eve frowned cutely, looking up at Taeyeon, who was still focused on her letter. “Let’s say my phone is taking a long time to load a website, I’ll feel a murderous rage and see a vision of me throwing my phone violently against the wall or out of the window. But if I act on my impulse, I’ll have to fix my phone or buy a new one, but most importantly, I’ll have to explain why I did what I did.”

“Explaining why you did something makes you realise how trivial the reasoning was?”

“Yes.” Eve nodded. “If I could do things without having to explain myself, I’d be unstoppable.”

“Normally, I tell people to express their anger and not to keep it in, but you should keep it in,” Taeyeon said, chuckling lightly. “Because if you expressed your anger, you’d be arrested.”

“What do you think I’d be arrested for?”

“Arson or aggravated assault,” she answered without missing a beat.

At that point, they had forgotten about their letters, instead just talking to each other.

“Do you remember?” Taeyeon suddenly asked. “At one of the award shows in… 2015, all of my hair accessories were from you.”

Eve stared at Taeyeon blankly for a few seconds before gasping. “I remember. Taeyeonie called me and asked me to bring all of my hair accessories to the SM building, so I got into a taxi and helped style her.”

“It was because my hair stylist was suddenly sick and all of the other hair stylists at the company were busy,” Taeyeon explained. “I had to get my hair done, but there wasn’t anyone there to help me, so I thought to myself, ‘Who do I know that has hair accessories and can do hair?’ and I thought of you. You did my hair for me that day.”

“I should add that to my resumé,” Eve joked. “One time hairstylist of Kim Taeyeon.”

“You did a really good job,” Taeyeon praised Eve. “I really liked it.”

“That’s good.”

“And I remember, when you were preparing for your audition for JYP Entertainment, I asked you why you didn’t join SM. Do you remember what you said?”

Eve shook her head, struggling to remember.

“You were like, ‘Well, the thing with SM is… there’s always something going on at that company. I don’t know how many times I’d be willing to do damage control.’ That’s what you said!” Taeyeon said, dissolving into a fit of laughter.

Eve clapped her hands as she also laughed. “I was truly onto something back then,” she said. “I was right, wasn’t I? There is always something happening at SM?”

“You foresaw the future,” Taeyeon agreed, comedically shaking her head. “How did you know?”

Eve leaned back, placing her arms behind her to lean on them. “I didn’t choose this life, this life chose me.” She momentarily zoned out before snapping out of it. “We’re supposed to be writing our hatred letters,” she suddenly remembered, picking up her marker again.

“Oh, right,” Taeyeon muttered, uncapping her pen again. They continued writing their letters, talking every so often. They talked about Taeyeon’s trainee days, Eve’s workload and both of their mental healths.

“I’m being so, so, so, so serious when I say this,” Eve said, waving her marker around as she spoke, “the main people that help me with my mental health — other than my therapist, of course — are Taeyeonie, Jonghyunie and Kibumie. I have old letters that they’ve given me and I read them and they give me strength, they’ve given me lots of advice and words of wisdom… They’re fun people.”

“Thank you.” Taeyeon bowed her head slightly, staring at her letter. “We’re going through similar things, so it’s nice talking to each other about it and exchanging different coping mechanisms,” she added. “Since we understand what the other is going through, we’re able to personalise it and try help each other.”

“Right, right,” Eve agreed, finishing off her letter. She looked to her left at Taeyeon, seeing how far along the older woman was. Within five minutes, Taeyeon had also finished. “Okay, everyone, we’re done. I’m not going to show my letter because… Well, I don’t think it can be broadcasted. As I was writing, I could feel all of my anger transfer to the paper.”

“I’m also not going to show my letter,” Taeyeon said.

“Thank you for watching another episode of That’s So Evie. Please check out To. X. I love you!”

reactions

tagging: @seolboba // @ateezivy // @ateezjuliet // @cafemilk-tea // @smh-anon // @alixnsuperstxr // @cosmicwintr // @girlzwfun // @txt-yaomi // @moongrlz

©️ kim nabi

[phantomwritezstuff077]

The Runt - Billy the Kid

Warnings for thic chapter: hints of PTSD?, slight violence, mention of blood, kind of sad Laurie at the end

Chapter Four

(Sentences written in italics are when the characters are speaking in Spanish)

The next morning, Laurie was gently shaken awake by Billy and she instinctively shot up, quickly getting to her feet. She had been classically conditioned to be up and at ‘em the second somebody wakes her up. Just another fucked up thing she was used to after living with Jesse and the gang for three stupid years. Laurie knew that Jesse must’ve figured out she had left, maybe he sent a search party out for her to bring her back? However she knew better than to think that. Jesse didn’t care about her enough to do that, he wouldn’t waste that man-power on someone like her.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Billy reassured, raising his hands in surrender. “Take it easy, kid.” He was shocked to have gained such a wild reaction from her just for waking her up. Once he’d seen that Laurie calmed down he spoke again. “We need to get moving.”

The traveling was long, but the duo made do. The rides were usually quiet, the two just enjoying each other's company and every so often pointing out wildlife that they thought was interesting. Laurie would get especially excited whenever they would run into deer. 

After a good few days of riding Billy and Laurie finally made it to the city of Chihuahua. An old man sat on the tall hill that Billy and Laurie were riding on and the two decided to approach and see if they had made it to the right place. Artax nickered, snorting as he tossed his head. 

“This Chihuahua?,” Billy asked as he pulled his horse, Brandy, to a stop as Laurie did the same with Artax beside him. The young red-head strained her neck, trying to get a better look at the old man that Billy was trying to speak to. However, there was no answer. Billy and Laurie exchanged looks before the younger girl shrugged and coaxed Artax into a lope, heading for the city.

The two of them did eventually find out that they were in the right place, checking into an inn and going up into their room. Laurie sat on the small chair in their room, drawing in her sketchpad while Billy looked out of the window. Both of their heads turned to the door when a little boy appeared, he looked to be about 9 or 10 years old.

“Do you two want me to clean your boots?,” the little boy asked in Spanish. Laurie got up, opening the cracked door fully with a soft smile.

“I just cleaned mine, but I’m sure my friend here would appreciate it,” Laurie replied, also using Spanish, her small smile faltered slightly when she noticed the boy was on a crutch but she quickly countered her reaction as Billy also handed the boy his boots before taking out a silver coin and giving it to him. 

“This is upfront,” Billy said, “You’ll get the rest when you bring our boots back later. We need them in an hour. You understand?”

“I understand, thank you, señor, señorita,” the boy said before hobbling away on his crutch, holding the boots in his hand tightly. 

An hour later, Billy opened the door to see if the kid who had taken his boots had left them by the door. And much to the outlaw’s dismay, they weren’t. And Laurie couldn’t help but crack up when Billy cussed under his breath and stormed downstairs to buy those shitty second-hand boots. Laurie followed, still hunching over a little bit as she giggled. She found it amusing that he had fallen for a scam, even though she too had been fooled by the boy. It was much funnier to laugh at the actual victim in this situation.

Billy and Laurie stepped outside, by now, the little red-head had calmed down from her laughing fit as she looked around the unfamiliar city. Hoping to find the familiar face of her mama, but to no avail. The city was very much alive, full of people smiling and laughing with each other, trading or buying items and other goods such as food that Laurie could have never even dreamed of having back at Jesse’s ranch. A grin spread across her face as she and Billy walked through the city.

She could definitely get used to this life.

Laurie went over to a fruit stall, taking an apple and handing the vendor some coins, smiling widely as she took a bite out of the fruit and raced back to Billy, basically dancing in excitement as her hands waved around a little bit. The apple was sweet as she took another bite into it. The fruit back at the ranch wasn’t very good, so Laurie never ate the fruit back there despite having a strange love for apples. So the girl was thrilled to find an apple that was actually good and that she could eat. Billy couldn’t help but chuckle at the girl’s excitement, he was a bit perplexed by the way she expressed her excitement but he didn’t stop her because it wasn’t hurting anyone.

However, when he caught sight of the little kid who had stolen his shoes now trying to pick-pocket another kid, he immediately ran after him, calling him a ‘little thief’ in Spanish. Leaving poor, confused Laurie alone with her apple before she ran after Billy, yelling at him to stop. The chase didn’t last long, just as Billy and Laurie ran into a laundry line circle, the two were ambushed. 

Laurie was socked in the face while Billy was being manhandled by a couple of other guys, he tried to grab his gun but that was quickly kicked away. Laurie was being pinned to the wall of a house as she struggled but to no avail. She wasn’t much of a fighter, given her size and how scrawny she was. And whoever had her pinned was using that to his advantage as he quickly pulled the scrunched up cash and compass from her pocket. He then pulled her away from the wall, throwing her to the ground. Laurie kicked him in the shin with a yell. 

A loud gunshot rang out, causing the group of muggers to scatter like rabbits, stealing Billy’s gun as they booked it. Laurie heaved, she could feel the blood drip from her mouth and run down her chin before dripping into the dirt. Billy saw this and stumbled to his feet, rushing over and helping her up, visibly concerned for the young teenager. The man who had helped them noticed that Billy was still struggling and he sighed, taking him and slinging his arm over his shoulder.

“You’re a tough kid. I could use someone like you. That kid with you could also be useful if we put some more meat on her bones,” the man said to Billy as he helped him walk. 

Laurie followed next to them and pretended like she didn’t basically just get called the runt again. It wasn’t anything new to her, but it hurt even worse coming from a stranger. 

But little did young Laurie know that this meet and greet would be the start of something much bigger than she was.

Literally and figuratively. 

A/N:

Shorter chapter because I'm tired, comicon was a lotta fun tho

Again, constructive criticism is appreciated <3

Billy and Laurie are my loves

Tag:

@slutforsnow

[blueguitar]

“WHAT'S OPERA, DOC?

          You are ten years old.  It is Saturday morning, 7 AM.  “The Bugs Bunny Show” is on the TV.  Elmer Fudd sings, “Oh, Bwunhiwda... you're so wovewy!”  Bugs returns, “Yes, I know it – I can't help it.”  The sound is very low, so as not to wake your parents.  This is the only time of the day that belongs to you completely.

     You lie on the living room floor, drawing in your sketchpad.  You are using a nib pen and India ink – laying thick black lines over the faint pencil sketch you had already drawn.  You are proud of your work – it's coming together very well.  You haven't smudged the drawing anywhere.

     You are drawing a picture of Bugs Bunny as Brunhilde.  You know Bugs is a boy bunny, but you've noticed he often wears dresses.  This fascinates you.  Not just the dresses, all of his costumes – doctor, cowboy, gangster, policeman.  The secret hidden message is that with the right clothes, you can be whatever you want to be.  You try to imagine yourself all grown up with a closet full of costumes for every occasion.  You suspect, however, real life would never be so easy.  (You know what an imposter is.)

     As you dip your pen in the ink, you accidentally tip it over.  A large black stain spreads on the carpet.  You immediately think of your mother only days before yelling at you, “What do you think you're doing?  Don't draw there!  You'll spill ink on the rug.”  You had completely forgotten her saying that until this very moment and now, it is true.  How does she do that?

     You jump up, run to the kitchen, and get a large wad of Brawny paper towels.  You sop up the excess ink, but a large black stain remains.  It looks a bit like a map of South America.  This will not do.

     Back to the kitchen, you grab a bottle of Palmolive dishwashing liquid and soak a sponge in the kitchen sink.  You work on the stain, but the soapy water only spreads the ink.  The stain is now a large dark spot the size of a pancake.  You imagine the stain spreading across the carpet to every corner of the room.  You think this might not be so bad, but you have never seen black carpeting in anybody's living room.

     You are running out of options.  As a last effort, you decide to move your father's Lay-Z Boy recliner to cover the spot.  It's heavy – it takes all your might to slide the chair, inch by inch, the three feet it takes to cover the stain and it does cover things up, but it's all wrong.  The living room seems somehow unbalanced.  The recliner is too close to the TV which is “bad for your eyes”.

     With her unerring timing, your mother walks into the living room, Tying her housecoat around her waist as she does.  You want to shout out with false cheer, “Look, Mom!  Look where I moved the chair!  Doesn't it look good here?” but instead, you start crying – hot tears streaming down your face.

     As you grow older, the incident fades in your memory.  You forget spilling the ink, the tears.  You forget the punishment – a spanking and two weeks restriction.  Your life goes on, like it will – other things happen.  The memory is eclipsed by new problems, other successes and defeats.  As an adult, it becomes the vaguest of memories.  You wonder if it even happened to you or to someone else.  It seems like anyone's childhood memory: the stain on the living room rug – ink, Kool-Aid, poster board paint, chocolate syrup.

     In your mind, all that remains is the stain.  A stain like an emblem of every secret you tried to keep, but couldn't.

[griffinsstories]

Stories behind the Images

Ema sat across from Vivienne on the plush carpet of her bedroom, her back against the bedframe and her arms outstretched, her sketchpad with the groups latest painting fraud partially drawn on the page abandoned on the side as Vivienne traced her fingertips over Ema's tattoos, studying each one with a deep fascination. Ema watched as Vivienne's eyes sparkled with a mixture of awe and admiration.

"This one is my favourite," Vivienne said, tracing over the intricate design of a raven with outstretched wings on Ema's left bicep. "How did you come up with this?"

Ema smiled. "I've always been drawn to birds. Ravens especially being my favourite as it also represents prophecy and insight. Ravens in stories often act as psychopomps, connecting the material world with the world of spirits."

Vivienne nodded, her fingers trailing down to the next tattoo. This one was a quote, etched in delicate cursive on the inside of Ema's wrist. "What does this one mean?"

"It's from my favourite book," Ema explained. "It's about finding beauty in the world, even in the darkest of places."

As Vivienne continued to trace over Ema's tattoos, the two of them fell into an easy rhythm of conversation one that wasn’t present until they became more open to one another, oh sure she’d seen them when they were intimate but now…she wanted to know the stories behind the paintings on her skin that were as stunning as the ones she created for the Poppy.

Vivienne's fingers would pause over a tattoo, and she would ask Ema about its significance. Eventually, Vivienne's fingers found their way to the back of Ema's neck, where a small, intricate design was hidden from view. "I've never seen this one before," she said, her voice low and curious.

Ema's cheeks flushed as she explained. "It's a tribute to my aunt…she was the only one of my family who accepted me for my sexuality when the rest of them wouldn’t…she passed away from breast cancer a year or so before I joined the Poppy”

Vivienne's hand came to rest on the back of Ema's neck, her touch gentle and reassuring. "I'm sorry," she said softly.

Ema smiled, grateful for Vivienne's understanding. "It's okay. She's always with me, in some way or another."

The room fell into a comfortable silence, and Ema closed her eyes, savouring the warmth of Vivienne's touch. It was then that Vivienne spoke up, her voice almost hesitant. "You know," she said, her fingers still tracing over the tattoo on Ema's neck. "I've been thinking about getting a tattoo myself."

Ema opened her eyes, intrigued. "Really? What would you get?" Vivienne hummed unsure before she shrugged. "I'm not sure. Something that represents me, I guess. But...maybe something that represents us, too."

Ema's heart skipped a beat at the suggestion. "Us?"

Vivienne met Ema's gaze, her eyes shining with a quiet intensity. "Yeah. Us. I don't know exactly what it would be, but...something that reminds me of you. Something that reminds me of this moment."Ema felt a warmth spreading through her chest, and she leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to Vivienne's lips. "I think that's the most romantic thing I've ever heard," she murmured.

Vivienne smiled, her fingers still tracing over Ema's tattoos. "I mean it," she said. "I want something that reminds me of you, always." Ema's heart swelled with love as she leaned back against the bedframe, Vivienne's hand still resting on the back of her neck. They stayed like that for a long time, lost in each other's company and the promise of something beautiful and permanent on the horizon.

[multiplicity-positivity]

hi! not really sure if this is the place to ask but i'll give it a shot. do you have any tips on helping alters who dont speak to communicate better? at the moment theyre only communicating using emotions/feelings if that makes sense? but when they front it gets a bit tricky since they feel uncomfortable using words at all, including writing. we have another alter cofront with them to help "translate" but we dont really want to be doing this long-term since we want them to be able to do things for themselves too

Hi! We have a few alters in our system who are nonspeaking or who experience speech loss. Some of these alters are still struggling to express themselves, but we can share the tools we’ve been using to make it easier, and others we’ve heard about!

1) AAC

We use a combination of SoundingBoard and Visuals2Go, both downloaded from the iPhone AppStore! They’re free and easy to use, but they have a limited vocabulary. We’d suggest maybe getting some free apps for your headmates to try out, and keeping what works! If they like using AAC, it may be worth it to buy a paid app that has better options and a more user-friendly UI.

With AAC, you can string together words (with pictures) to form sentences, that your device will then speak aloud. No writing required, and reading isn’t essential for many of the available words and phrases! We’ve heard there is AAC that you can use to write and make posts as well, but we don’t know the name of any programs like this - sorry!

2) Communication Cards

We’re at work now or else I would include a picture of our communication cards. We have a bunch of index cards we’ve written words and statements on and grouped them together for easy access.

One group has common starter statements. “I want…” “Let’s go…” “Can I…” “Where is…” “How many…” “I can’t…” “I can…” “I don’t want…” and all sorts of little phrases. Another has verbs like “eat” “drink” “talk” “play” “sleep” “leave” “call” “walk” “sit” “stay” “look” and “go”. There is one with nouns, sorted by category (places, people, items, foods, weather, pronouns, and animals). And one with names of different alters, our POSIC hoarde, and our support team! It’s taken us a while to put it together, but we have one alter in particular who really benefits from using the cards to communicate.

3) Sign Language

None of our alters have learned any sign language, but if it sounds like it could help your headmates, perhaps your system could attempt learning some basic signs. This way you can help them sign to answer questions and express themself!

4) Drawing

If words and language in general is difficult, maybe getting them a little sketchpad or white board and encouraging them to draw out what they’re thinking may help! They don’t have to be great artists in order to express simple ideas, and this can allow them to connect with others even if both reading and writing are challenging.

5) Accessories

It may be a good idea to get some bracelets, rings, or other accessories that can express a few basic, essential ideas. We have three bracelets that we keep on us. The green one means “I’m happy and feeling comfortable!” the yellow means, “I’m okay but I’m a bit anxious and need some space.” and the red means “I am having a meltdown/doing poorly. I need to get somewhere calm and safe.” Maybe your system can get some sort of accessories and determine beforehand what sort of messages they convey. This way, your headmates will be able to express some basic or essential ideas quickly and effectively.

We hope that one of these options can help your headmates learn to communicate and express themselves better. Be sure to use ideas in your own way to make sure your accessibility tools will be useful for your headmates in particular! Thanks for reaching out, and take care!

Followers, if you have any ideas about communication tools or how to help alters/headmates express themselves, feel free to share!

🌸 Margo and 💫 Parker

[onceuponmyanime]

Obey Me Devildom

*I've always wanted to write about little Fluffy segments on the side about how MC felt in a new place like the Devildom with all these people she should be afraid of but finds an odd sense of belonging.

So this is just my small take on it.*

The Hardcore Otaku Third Born...

"Henry, I talked to a human stranger today..."

During Art class I found myself staying behind during lunch time, stenciling an outline of my favourite Anime character in my sketchpad.

I gave up trying to make friends with anyone.

Usually, I tended to stick with Simeon and Luke. But the Angels were with Solomon discussing the upcoming festival with Barbatos.

I roughly tried to draw the eyes of my character and decided they could be better before I rubbed it out.

 " You're really good at that."

I could say I was getting used to being frightened, but no normal human being would ever be used to that kind of thing here.

I looked up to see Leviathan standing over me, his hands buried in his pockets as he grudgingly admired the progress of my picture so far.

"Thanks, I still can't get the hands right though and it's annoying the hell out of me."

He only smirked a little.

"Maybe you should try using tutorials. They're easy enough to look up on your D.D.D."

I'd thought about doing that. But some things were still too hard to attempt even with tutorials.

"Do you have a favorite Anime character you love?"

There was a snort that escaped him, making a small blush steal across his face.

"Her name is Ruri Chan, she is my one and only." I could see that he was obsessed with her, the twinkle in his eyes was a dead giveaway. "I buy everything with her on it, demon or human form."

Huh?

"What's it about?"

He gasped as if not knowing about this particular anime was a war crime.

"She's a Demon wandering around in the human world, just so she could learn about it. The problem is she loses her powers when she goes to the mortal world, turning in to a human while she's there. But when she returns to the Devildom, she takes her physical demon form."

"That sounds fascinating." And I knew once I had the chance, I was going to look it up. "I do believe I have something new to binge watch."

His face was thoughtful as he gazed at me, making me feel as if something was on my face.

"If you want, you can borrow mine." Then he stuttered as an after thought. "As long as as you remember to return them. I'll give them to you when we get back to the House of Lamentation."

Realising what he had just done, he quickly shuffled his feet. "Anyway, I gotta go, I'll see you later." Then he quickly hurried out the door.

Making me think that maybe things are getting a bit better here in the Devildom.

[flamebearrel]

since you're doing an osc ask game, do I ask a number to you? if so, let's go with number 14

14 - What do you care about most in an object show?

While both are important, loveable characters will always stand out over perfect writing to me! I always like it when they focus on what makes the characters unique, between their interactions with each other and how they take on the challenges or even normal situations. I mean, they’re literally objects

BFDI does a really good job with both aspects in and out of the focus of the competition! They use each others' physical quirks (magnetism, flight, machinery, etc.) and personality quirks ("Needy", DPA's pact) to progress all the time; otherwise you also have IDFB + the shorts to fill in the gaps where they can just hang out.

While ONE only occasionally references their limits as objects, it's used at very careful times to remind you of that link between worlds. In terms of personality though, the little conversations about their home lives and just. Interactions with them helping each other up, studying the world around them, etc etc. help flesh out (most of) the characters a lot and make them that much more human to the audience. You particularly get eps 8 and 16 dedicated to "hang out" time, albeit... twisted.

(Little bit of negativity/general critique towards The Nightly Manor under the cut)

Out of the other shows I’ve watched so far (II s1-2, BFC, and TNM) I honestly found TNM the weakest. Why? Because only half of the main cast feel like they have any character. Sketchpad is definitely fun, and Spraypaint and Mouse are interesting, but besides that???

It wants me to root for Top Hat and GPS but like, barely shows me anything of those two actually connecting before the latter dies? They have like one short conversation before getting split up and Top Hat spends the rest of the time grieving. The only other hinted interaction is that offhanded comment of GPS teaching him how to drive, which is easy to gloss over since they aren't named.

Maybe it's because the first half went by so fast, but since they just revealed at least one more episode is in the works hopefully these dynamics will get expanded on

[talesfromsiteredacted]

Drawn Together, or Would You Kindly Pass Me The Pencil Sharpener?

After a good rest and a lot of fussing by my dearest, I'm almost back to my old self. While I'm happy I'm feeling better, I must admit... doing nothing is hard for me. I don't want to keep my beloved from his work, I also need to go feed Liam. I start to head out, after I try telling my sweetheart what I'm doing. He's engrossed in his notes, I'm sure he didn't hear me. I leave a note, and go.

I get back to my place, only to find a note on my door. It's in Iris's hand, and I laugh.

"Sorry, Sis. I catnapped Liam for a night, we're hanging out with 053 and 999. He'll be back tomorrow, possibly overfed. Figured it's the bare minimum I can do. Also, Cain's covering your reports. Now, for 343's sake, take it easy. Hugs, Iris." Okay, one less worry. I go in, and grab my lazy pajamas. They're nothing fancy, literally an old game tee and matching lounge pants. I also grab my sketch stuff, as per Doctor's orders. I head back, get changed, get my stuff set up, and start drawing. I have an idea of what I'm doing, but anatomical drawing isn't my best style. I think I need reference material, so I find a copy of 'Grey's Anatomy', and flip through for a jumping off point for my final piece. Not sure why I chose a heart, but when I draw I'm rarely my own boss. Ah... perfect. Now, on to it.

I'm so engrossed with my work I'm sure the Chaos Insurgency, Marshall, Carter, & Dark, the GOC, the Church of the Broken God, and the Children of the Scarlet King could all be throwing the kegger of all keggers behind me and I'd never know. Naturally I almost lept off my chair when I felt a familiar hand on my shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Angeline. I did not mean to startle you."

"It's okay, I tend to get blinders when I draw. Like everything else fades away." I squeeze his hand. "Seems I'm not the only one, you never noticed I ran out for my art supplies. Or me getting into my pajamas."

"That is true. May I see what you're working on?"

"Anatomical sketch of a human heart. Any pointers? I'm not great with this style."

"Nonsense, it's nearly perfect. A bit smaller than the source, but rather good." He taps the page with a slender fingertip. "You have a remarkable eye for detail, it's a very realistic depiction. Except... wait... Angeline, why is my name written across the left ventricle?"

"It's my heart, and I'm giving it to you. I know, it's a special SCP brand of corny, but it feels to me like I should do this."

"Oh my. I'm touched, my dearest. And, inspired. I'll be right back." He returns a moment later, with his own sketchpad. It's a terribly quaint scene, us seated side by side, just being creative, happy, and in love. After we finish our pieces, we exchange.

"For a doctor, your calligraphy is better than mine. And I was forced to take lessons by a very old school teacher. I love it, in fact... I'm framing it for my desk."

"I will place yours on my wall, above my desk, so I may look upon it and marvel on my excellent fortune to have you in my life."

"Hey, I thought I was the lucky one. No matter. I'm just happy we met."

[acosmicotaku]

Ta mo chroi istigh ionat: A One Act Play

Saoirse: A woman with long hair tied in a ponytail, in a casual skirt and Mary Janes. She is in love with Castaspella, but believes her same-sex attraction to be disordered.

Castaspella: A programmer with a bobcut in plain clothes, but no shoes, somewhat haphazardly put together.

Atsuko: A woman with long hair tied into a bun behind her head, pajamas and socks.

                                                                           Scene A kitchen and living room, connected by large open window to easy allow communication between the two rooms. The living room contains two couches, but no TV.

                                                                           Time Midafternoon.

                                                                           SCENE 1 (Castaspella enters the stage carrying a sketchpad. Saoirse and Atsuko sitting cross legged around a table, eating out of glass bowls while there is a pot of food with a single extended handle in the middle of the table but with a towel underneath. There is a large open space in the wall separating the kitchen from the living room, in which there are two couches but no TV.)

                                                                           SAOIRSE No, I’m not going to tell her!                                                                            ATSUKO If you don’t I will.

                                                                           SAOIRSE You wouldn’t dare!

                                                                           CASTASPELLA (Enters kitchen from garage in search of food)

                                                                           SAOIRSE Are you done coding for today?

                                                                           CASTASPELLA No. I’m just stepping away from the computer for a bit. What are you eating?

                                                                           SAOIRSE Ramen with eggs and ham.

(Picks up the cooking pot by the handle to draw Castaspella’s attention)

Try some, you’d like it.

(Castaspella makes her way to the couch and sits down, placing a sketchpad down onto the table, as Saoirse places the pot back onto the towel.)

                                                                           CASTASPELLA I appreciate the offer, but I can’t eat ramen.

(Castaspella proceeds to draw something in her sketchpad)

                                                                           ATSUKO Ramen has gluten in it, Saoirse.

                                                                           SAOIRSE What’s wrong Cassie?

                                                                           CASTASPELLA Trying to get these two systems to interact in a way which doesn’t break the game is harder than I thought.

                                                                           ATSUKO You’re not going to go on about math, again, are you?

                                                                           SAOIRSE I like hearing her talk about maths and logics…

(Puts her own bowl of food down and walks off to the kitchen)

But in the meantime, let me make you something you can eat. We don’t want you to go hungry… or to the hospital again, and don’t touch my food, Atsuko!

                                                                           ATSUKO (Feigning disbelief)

You wound me!

                                                                           CASTASPELLA No thanks, I already ate.

                                                                           ATSUKO Really? You haven’t left your room all day?

                                                                           CASTASPELLA I have a microwave and a minifridge in my room. I don’t have to leave my room.

                                                                           SAOIRSE Don’t you ever get tired of programming?

                                                                           CASTASPELLA No one enjoys programming, Saoirse. I do it because it makes money, and we like what results from the process.

                                                                           ATSUKO (Tries to sneak her fork into Saoirse’s bowl.)

                                                                           SAOIRSE (Throws a towel in Atsuko’s face through the hole in the wall.)

What did I just say!

                                                                           CASTASPELLA (Gathering her things and heading off back into her room.)

Break’s done. I’ve got to get back to my project.

                                                                           ATSUKO Already? But we hardly see you anymore?

                                                                           SAOIRSE Yeah, can’t you stay for just thirty minutes?

                                                                           CASTASPELLA (Opening the door and exiting stage.)

Can’t. Project’s due in seven days.

(Closes and locks doors.)

                                                                           SAOIRSE (Standing outside the door.)

Do you need anything from the store at least?

(Momentary pause before returning to her food.)

She promised that we’d hang out more…

(Proceeds to comfort eat.)

                                                                           ATSUKO Saoirse. You’ve known Castaspella longer than any of us. You understand she…

                                                                           CASTASPELLA (From off stage.)

No! No, no, no, no, no!

                                                                           ATSUKO Looks like that God of yours took pity on you.

                                                                           SAOIRSE Can we not do this, now, Rand?

                                                                           CASTASPELLA (Enters stage only to pace around anxiously)

                                                                           SAOIRSE What happened?

                                                                           CASTASPELLA I spilled tea on my laptop.

                                                                           ATSUKO How?

                                                                           CASTASPELLA I’d rather not say.

                                                                           SAOIRSE What about your pc?

(Ignores nudging by Atsuko.)

                                                                           CASTASPELLA It’s currently installing updates. It’s gonna be-

                                                                           ATSUKO So, you’re free now?

                                                                           CASTASPELLA Yes?

                                                                           ATSUKO (Gathers her things and begins to leave.)

Well, my stream starts in two hours, so I must get my pens ready.

                                                                           SAOIRSE Wait. You…

                                                                           ATSUKO Remember what I said.

(Exit stage.)

                                                                           ATSUKO (From off stage.)

I better not see you in my comments section, Saoirse!

                                                                           CASTASPELLA What did she tell you?

                                                                           SAOIRSE Nothing… why don’t you ask to borrow one of our roommate’s computers?

                                                                           CASTASPELLA I use Linux, everyone else here uses Windows or Mac. Even if they did have a Linux computer, they still wouldn’t have the programs needed to read and compile the code I am working on… And on the off chance they had both of those I would need to be sure that their machines were clean of malware. I might as well wait for the PC to finish updating.

                                                                           SAOIRSE So, what do you want to do in the meantime?

                                                                           CASTASPELLA Well, it’s not like we can go anywhere. Even if we could find a place that was open without violating quarantine, we couldn’t get there because of the snow. And it’s going to be a few hours before I can get back to work.

                                                                           SAOIRSE Then why don’t we cook?

                                                                           CASTASPELLA Huh?

                                                                           SAOIRSE (Going into the kitchen.)

Well, you can’t work right now, and I know you haven’t eaten, despite what you said, so let me make you something.

                                                                           CASTASPELLA That’s sweet, let me…

                                                                           SAOIRSE You just sit down and let me do this. Think of this like a lunch break.

                                                                           CASTASPELLA Really, I can…

                                                                           SAOIRSE I mean, if you want to you can, but I was kinda hoping I could do this for you.

                                                                           CASTASPELLA I’m just concerned that you don’t know what has gluten in it. I can’t risk going to the hospital again.

                                                                           SAOIRSE I’ve never sent you to the hospital.

                                                                           CASTASPELLA Regardless, I’d still like to be a part of this, just to be safe.

                                                                           SAOIRSE (Gathering equipment from the kitchen drawers.)

That’s fair. Alright, what are we making? Curry? Calabaza?

                                                                           CASTASPELLA Curry sounds good if we have the ingredients.

                                                                           SAOIRSE Well, it’s more art than science.

(Cellphone rings in the living room.)

                                                                           CASTASPELLA I’ll get it.

(Enters back into the living room to get the phone. Castaspella becomes confused.)

So, what did Atsuko want you to tell me?

                                                                           SAOIRSE (Plate breaks in her hand)

Wait… Did Atsuko tell you?

                                                                           CASTASPELLA N-

                                                                           SAOIRSE That witch!

                                                                           CASTASPELLA Saoirse calm down!

(Attempting to hold back Saoirse, to no merit. Castaspella shows her the phone.)

Whatever it was, she didn’t tell me… It was meant for you…

                                                                           SAOIRSE (Momentary pause.)

(Falls to the ground.)

I’m sorry…

                                                                           CASTASPELLA (Joining her on the ground.)

So… You wanna talk about it? You were always there when I needed help, let me return the favor. The food can wait.

                                                                           SAOIRSE Yes, and no…

                                                                           CASTASPELLA C’mon, there’s no reason to be cryptic about it.

                                                                           SAOIRSE Yes, there is. Once I tell you, I can’t take that action back.

                                                                           CASTASPELLA I never thought you trusted Atsuko more than me.

                                                                           SAOIRSE I don’t. She figured it out on her own… and she’s threatened to tell you herself, if I don’t… but once you know it, our relationship will fundamentally be changed, and I like it the way it is.

                                                                           CASTASPELLA Hey, I’ll tell you a secret if you tell me one, okay?

                                                                           SAOIRSE Okay… You go first.

                                                                           CASTASPELLA I’m constantly worried. About the project, you, how my life keeps finding ways to crumble apart,

(Nudges Saoirse’s arm)

But despite all your magical and romantic thinking, you still manage to be there for me, Atsuko, and Violet.

(Standing up and helping Saoirse to her feet.)

You wouldn’t let me give up when my last project went under, so I’m not going to let you give up. As God is my witness, I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to tell me, and I’ll have a talk with Atsuko about personal boundaries.

                                                                           SAOIRSE God, huh? No, as malicious as this might seem, she really is only interested in what is best for me. Even if she thinks it might cost her our friendship.

                                                                           CASTASPELLA What are you getting at?

                                                                           SAOIRSE (Nervously fidgets with her hands in momentary silence.)

Tá mo chroí istigh ionat…

                                                                           CASTASPELLA What is that, Gaelic? You know I don’t speak that.

                                                                           SAOIRSE (Fumbles around with flustered ramblings.)

                                                                           CASTASPELLA Woah, calm down Saoirse, you don’t have to…

                                                                           SAOIRSE I love you!

(Castaspella is taken aback.)

You’re beautiful, cute, and I love you… Not in the way of a friend, but as lovers do…

                                                                           CASTASPELLA Wait, you mean…

                                                                           SAOIRSE I know my feelings are disordered, but that’s why I wanted to hang out more… I decided a long time ago that I would never tell you how I felt, but then Atsuko had to happen.

(Pause)

Why couldn’t she have minded her own fucking business? I never wanted to put you in this situation, and now that I have, I desperately want to take it back… but I can’t undo my wrongs…

(Collapses)

I see them every day, in the mirror. Every lesion, burn, bruise, that no one else can see. I just need to say it in my heart, and I see me as God does… broken and irreparable.

                                                                           Castaspella (Swoop down into a hug)

I can’t return the love you feel for me. I am just not like that, but that doesn’t mean I am going to leave you. We’ve known each other since we were children, and while I cannot offer you the love you feel for me, I can offer you a different kind of love: without condition or predicate.

                                                                           SAOIRSE (Bawls in Castaspella’s arms)

But why? Why would you still stay with *me*? Why would you still *love* me?

                                                                           CASTASPELLA Because, as much as you hate yourself, I see all the *good* things in you *with* the bad, and so does Atsuko and the rest of us.

                                                                           SAOIRSE

(Continues bawling in Castaspella’s arms)

                                                                           (BLACKOUT)

[aregnier21]

Gaining Inspiration

Inspiration can be hard to come by at times, but don't let that discourage you from creating amazing art.

Finding inspiration can be as easy as googling "famous artist" or "famous artworks" and scrolling through the images that pop up. Doing this can remind you of artists and artwork that you may have heard of in the past. It can also bring attention to artists and artwork that are unfamiliar but fascinating to you. Learning about new styles, techniques, and influencers can help rid the dreaded creative block that every artist fears.

Critique. Hear me out, I know what a lot of you are thinking, or at least feeling. Critique is hard, scary, and mean, except it's really not. It can be very beneficial to gain the incite of another person or multiple people on a piece that you are working on. Sometimes it is easy to get sucked into a piece, and this can make it hard to see it from multiple perspectives. It's similar to the idea of "taking a step back" from a piece to see how its developed. The people who are critiquing your work might suggest that you add a bit more color in one area or remove some linework in another. At first it might feel embarrassing that you didn't think of these changes earlier, or maybe you think the advice is just bad. However, that doesn't need to be the case. After reflecting on what has been suggested, it might lead to a breakthrough that amplifies your artwork to push it to the "finished" product you were looking for. In the end, just remember that the artwork is yours and no one else's, and you don't have to do anything that you don't want to.

Your working space can be the make or break of your creative inspiration and ambition. It is important that you surround yourself in a space that you feel comfortable in and influences creativity. This doesn't mean that you have to rent out a studio next to your local bakery in order to create this space for yourself. Find a space in your living area that you can devote something as small as a hard surface and wall space. You can hang artwork, doodles, and even random objects on the wall to give it a creative flow. Try to accumulate your most used art materials in this space such as a couple charcoal pencils, graphite pencils, an eraser or two, a sketchpad etc. This can vary based on your preferred medium. Don't make it too overwhelming by trying to fit all of your art supplies into this area, utilize storage containers, shoe boxes, bags etc. for the things that you don't find yourself using often. Having this space can help put yourself into a creative mindset and it may present itself in the art you create.

Tip of the Post

I know how hard creative block can be so I am here to try and help alleviate it a little with a drawing method that I have been using for years. The idea behind it is to get rid of the blank paper that can often be overwhelming. What you're going to do is slap some scribbles onto the blank sheet of paper.

Now that the blank page is gone, I will kind of look at the scribbles and see if I can envision anything in the scribbles. If this feels overwhelming you can erase some lines or add more. Depending on the person, it may also help to think of a general idea of what you want to draw and draw the scribbles in the general shape of what you are thinking of. Doing this can inspire characters and scenery that you might not have thought of when trying to create a new artwork. You can also use markers instead of scribbles. I found that it is easier to use markers that are a little dry so that the ink isn't too dark and can be drawn over easily.

Creative Block

Don't let creative block win! There are many simple steps that can be taken to overcome this block. You don't have to do every single step that I showed here either. Pick and choose what fits for you, and what works for one person might not work for another. The possibilities for creativity are endless if you simply open yourself up to receiving them.

[jaderimehardt]

Uhm, hello, hi, good evening? night? morning? early morning? It's 2:17am... So, my hours are royally borked... I guess being sick will do that to you... 🫠

I've been doodling a lot the past few days and looking up a lot of Youtube videos. When I say a lot, I mean a LOT.

A lot for me is already massive, so imagine multiplying that even further. That's... well... 🤯

At first I was looking for a way to put this pose I was trying to do in a better perspective. And then I was like y'know what, I know how to do that, it's just not coming out how I want it for some reason- so let me brush up on the pose method I typically do-

-And then I couldn't find the pose method I typically do.

... as if that method fell off the face of the planet. 🌍😵

Like, what?

So I went on a massive search for "my method" and in that search I found the official method for how I draw heads- which I didn't know was a method. I guess I've been doing it a lazy way all this time? So, now I can do a more structured version of that- holy wow. A method to the madness! (or I can continue being lazy, lol 🙃)

Before I continue and ramble on, let's start with the head method. It's called the Loomis Method. There's a ton of videos out there on Youtube and stuff but here's a good one:

His is 25 mins, and I understand not everyone has that much time to watch vids but it's worth it if you you're trying to learn something new and absorb info.

Here's another one teaching the same method in 9:30 mins. It's shorter and not as "refined" (with perfect circles. Who freehands perfect circles anyways? not me~ 🫠) but has more information packed into it about the method.

Honestly watching both wouldn't hurt as each of them bring something different to the table.

After finding that, I resumed my search for my pose method and came across something called Gesture Drawing. This isn't my method but it's pretty darn close to it, and it caught my attention.

I was looking up vid after vid- wow this is cool. The techniques used here have so much potential... but I'm on a mission here and I'm trying to get a thing done by Valentine's day.

I do think if someone is interested in getting into Gesture Drawing though, this is a good video:

Having watched so many vids, and of the dozens I DID watch, this felt the most complete and explanatory and thorough and easy to follow, etc 👍🏻

Finally in the late evening, I found what I was searching for. And it was in the Gesture Drawing category. The title of the video is called "Quick Pose Gesture Sketching" so to me it sounds like it's a mesh of Gesture and Sketching, but this is basically how I learned to sketch posing and I've been doing it this way for a long time. Its worked for me all this time and I've never felt a need to change my ways.

Or at least until this past week when I couldn't get a perspective on this one specific pose to work for me. It could just be that I haven't drawn in a very long time and everything is feeling off. I just need to tinker around in my art program and not on a sketchpad (because I was drawing with a pencil and paper for a change - which could be it too. I haven't done that for a few years now).

I guess I get to do that "tinkering" thing tomorrow because it's way too late....... this morning? *looks at the time* [3:05am] 👀 oof. I just wanted to share a handful of great helpful videos I found.

Remember a post ago, or a couple posts ago (I forget already) I posted my color palettes of my colored pencils? One of the artists I've been sharing vids of made a new video for working with small colored pencil sets and making a color wheel- essentially making your own colored sheet. It's handy if you're not too familiar with color theory;