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meruz · 3 years

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once again i am answering asks in a big compilation post. included is... gotham, patrick stump, tips about drawing backgrounds, tips about drawing in general, links to my faq, and infinity train

like.... the tv series? No... I’ve drawn dc comics fanart before, though. But it’s been years since I’ve been really into it. I like jumped ship like 10 years ago when the New 52 happened LOL.

AFJHDSLKGH I’m sorry I (probably) won’t do it again??

Actually full disclosure I have a truly cringe amount of p stump drawings/photo studies in my sketchbook right now LOL. He’s just fun to draw... hats, glasses, guitar, a good shape... but I don’t think I’ll rly post those until I can hide them in another big sketchbook pdf.. probably Jan 2022. Stay tuned........ (ominous)

(ominous preview)

These are all sort of related to backgrounds/painting so I grouped them together even though they’re pretty much entirely separate questions.... ANYWAYS

a) How is it working as a BG artist? Is it hard? What show are you drawing for?

I think you’re the first person to ever ask me about my job! Being a background artist is great. It’s definitely labor intensive but I think that could describe pretty much any art job (If something were rote or easy to automate, you wouldn’t hire an artist to do it) and I hesitate to say whether its harder or easier than any other role in the animation pipeline. Plus, so much of what truly makes a job difficult varies from one production to the next, schedule, working environment, co-workers etc. But I will say that I think while BGs are generally a lot of work on the upfront, I think they’re subject to less scrutiny/revisions than something like character/props/effects design and you don’t have to pitch them to a room like boards. So I guess it’s good if you don’t like to talk to people? LOL

A lot of my previous projects + the show I’ve worked on the longest aren’t public yet so I can’t talk about em (but I assure you if/when the news does break I won’t shut up about it). But I’m currently working on Archer Season 12 LOL. I’m like 90% sure I’m allowed to say that.

b) ~~~THANK YOU!! ~~~

c) What exactly do you like to draw most [in a background]?

@kaitomiury Lots of stuff! I really like to draw clutter! Because it’s a great opportunity for environmental storytelling and also you can be kind of messy with it because the sheer mass will supersede any details LOL.

I like to draw clouds... I like to draw grass but not trees lol,,, I like to draw anything that sells perspective really easily like tiled floors and ceilings, shelves, lamp posts on a street etc.

d) Do you have any tips on how to paint (observational)?

god there’s so much to say. painting is really a whole ass discipline like someone can paint their whole life and still discover new things about it. I guess if you’re really just starting out my best advice is that habit is more important than product. especially with traditional plein air painting, I find that the procedure of going outside and setting up your paints is almost harder than the actual painting. There’s a lot of artists who say “I want to do plein air sometime!!” and then never actually get around to doing it. A lot of people just end up working from google streetview or photos on their computer.

But going outside to paint is a really good challenge because it forces you to make and commit to lighting and composition decisions really quickly. And to work through your mistakes instead of against them via undo button.

My last tip is to check out James Gurney’s youtube channel because hes probably the best and most consistent resource on observational painting out there rn. There’s lots other artists doing the same thing (off the top of my head I know a lot of the Warrior Painters group has people regularly posting plein air stuff and lightbox expo had a Jesse Schmidt lecture abt it last year) but Gurney’s probably the most prolific poster and one of the best at explaining the more technical stuff - his books are great too.

e) Do you have tips for drawing cleanly on heavypaint?

@marigoldfool UMM LOL I LIKE ONLY USE THE FILL TOOL so maybe use the fill tool? Fill and rectangle are good for edge control as opposed to the rest of the heavy paint tools which can get sort of muddles. And also I use a stylus so maybe if you’re using your finger, find a stylus that works with your device instead. That’s all I’ve got, frankly I don’t think my drawings are particularly clean lol.

f) Tips on improving backgrounds/scenes making them more dynamic practicing etc?

Ive given some tips about backgrounds/scenes before so I’m not gonna re-tread those but here’s another thing that might be helpful...

I think a good way to approach backgrounds is to think of the specific story or even mood you want to convey with the background first. Thinking “I just need to put something behind this character” is going to lead you to drawing like... a green screen tourist photo backdrop. But if you think “I need this bg to make the characters feel small” or “I need this bg to make the world feel colorful” then it gives you requirements and cues to work off of.

If I know a character needs to feel overwhelmed and small, then I know I need to create environment elements that will cage them in and corner them. If a character needs to feel triumphant/on top of the world then I know I need to let the environment open up around them. etc. If I know my focal point/ where I want to draw attention, I can build the background around that.

Also, backgrounds like figure compositions will have focal points of their own and you can draw attention to it/ the relationship the characters have with the bg element via scale or directionality or color, any number of cues. I think of it almost as a second/third character in a scene.

Not every composition is gonna have something so obvious like this but it helps me to think about these because then the characters feel connected and integrated with the environment.

Some more general art questions

a) Do you have any process/tips to start drawing character/bodies/heads?

I tried to kind of draw something to answer this but honestly this is difficult for me to answer because I don’t think I’m that great at drawing characters LOL. Ok, I think I have two tips.

1) flip your canvas often. A lot about what makes human bodies look correct and believable is symmetry and balance. Even if someone has asymmetrical features, the body will often pull and push in a way to counterbalance it. we often have inherent biases to one side or another like dominant hands dominant eyes etc. you know how right-handed artists will often favor drawing characters facing 45 degrees facing (the artist’s) left? that’s part of it. so viewing your drawing flipped even just to evaluate it helps compensate for that bias and makes you more aware of balance.

2) draw the whole figure often. I feel like a lot of beginner artists (myself included for a long time) defer to just drawing headshots or busts because it’s easier, you dont have to think about posing limbs etc. But drawing a full body allows you to better gauge proportion, perspective, body language, everything that makes a character look believable and grounded.

Like if you (me) have that issue where you draw the head too big and then have to resize it to fit the proportions of the rest of the body, it’s probably because you (I) drew the head first and are treating the body as an afterthought/attachment. Sketching out the whole figure first or even just quick drawing guides for it will help you think of it more holistically. I learned this figure drawing in charcoal at art school LOL.

oh. third mini tip - try to draw people from life often! its the best study. if you can get into a figure drawing/nude drawing class EVEN BETTER and if you have a local college/art space/museum that hosts those for free TREASURE IT AND TAKE ADVANTAGE OF IT, that’s a huge boon that a lot of artists (me again) wish they had. though if youre not so lucky and youre sitting in a park trying to creeper draw people and they keep moving.. don’t let that stop you! that’s good practice because it’s forcing you to work fast to get the important stuff down LOL. its a challenge!

b) I’ve been pretty out of energy and have had no inspiration to draw but I have the desire to. Any advice?

Dude, take a walk or something.... Or a nap? Low energy is going to effect everything else so you gotta hit that problem at its source.

If you’re looking for inspiration though, I’d recommend stuff like watching a movie, reading a book, playing video games etc. Fill up your idea bank with content and then give yourself time/space to gestate it into new concepts. Sometimes looking at other art works but sometimes it can work against you because it’s too close.

Also something that helps me is remembering that art doesn’t always have to be groundbreaking... like it’s okay to make something shitty and stupid that you don’t post online and only show to your friend. That’s all part of the process imo. If you want to hit a home run you gotta warm up first, right? Sports.

I should probably compile everytime i give tips on stuff like this but that’s getting dangerously close to being a social media artist who makes stupid boiled down art tutorials for clout which is the last thing i want to be... the thing I want to stress is that art is a whole visual language and there are widely agreed upon rules and customs but they exist in large part to be broken. Like there's an infinite number of ways to reach an infinite number of solutions and that’s actually what makes it really cool and personal for both the artist and the viewer. So when you make work you like or you find someone else’s work you like, take a step back and ask yourself what about it speaks for you, what about it works for you, what makes it effective, how to recreate that effect and how to break that effect completely, etc. And have a good time with it or else what’s the point.

for the first 2, I direct you to my FAQ

For the last one, I don’t actually believe I’ve ever addressed artwork as insp for stories/rp but I’ll say here and now yeah go ahead! As long as you’re not making profit or taking credit for my work then I’m normally ok with it. Especially anything thats private and purely recreational, that’s generally 100% green light go. I only ask that if you post it anywhere public that you please credit me.

(and I reserve the right to ask you to take it down if I see it and don’t approve of it’s use but I think that case is pretty rare.)

a) @lemuelzero101 Thank you!!! I haven’t played Life is Strange but actually that series’ vis dev artist Edouard Caplain is one of my bigger art inspirations lately so that’s a really high compliment lol. And yeah I hope we get 5-8 too...!

b) Thank you for sticking around! I’ve been thinking about Digimon and Infinity Train in tandem lately, actually. They’re a little similar? Enter a dangerous alternate world and have wacky adventures with monsters/inanimate objects that have weird powers... there’s like weird engineers and mechanisms behind the scenes... also frontier literally starts with them getting on a train. Anyways if anyone else followed me for digimon... maybe you’d like Infinity Train? LOL

c) @king-wens-king I’M GLAD MY ART JUST HAS PINOY VIBES LOL I hope you are having a good day too :^)

a, b, c, d) yessss my Watch Infinity Train agenda is working....

e) aw thank you!! i think you should watch infinity train :)

#ask #trying this new thing where i tag people in the body of the post instead

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zulivaris · 3 years

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Art Block tips that helped me

I’ve recently experienced art block after 3 or so months of overcoming my last one. Thankfully this block only lasted a few days thanks to some things I’ve observed and noted down from the previous time. So I’m sharing these few tips in hopes that it might help someone get unstuck :D!

First and foremost if you’re tired, sad or anxious don’t be surprised that you can’t make art, go and take care of yourself by treating yourself with kindness and patience, the sketchbooks and canvases will wait for you :)

The tips are under here:

Separate art studies from the creative time: When you do art studies you’re there to focus on specific things, learn and understand how things work so you can apply them later in your art. Studies take a lot of energy and focus and are the opposite of the creative "flow” of making your own pieces. If you combine the two the results are either unfocused studies or stiff drawings. When you sit down at your desk ask yourself “Do I want to learn something new or do I want to create something of my own?”

When you have an idea don’t be afraid of being messy: Let’s say you want to make a picture of several cats kolo dancing in the moonlight. How do you go about doing this? Well since you came up with the idea you already have a vague image in your mind, sketch it out with simple shapes, stick figures, circle and spheres etc Don’t worry about cat anatomy, or the dancer’s moves, sketch out the essence of it. This method removes the need to be perfect or accurate.

Ok after the messy sketch then what? Well now that you have sketched out the essence of your idea (and hopefully had fun doing so) now you go on to look for references! You put the creative process on pause and you can do a few brief studies if you need to: anatomy, color schemes, values, poses. Pick out a few of your favorites but don't obsess over them, they are a guide, a tool.

You know much more than you think. You’ve probably been drawing for a few years now. You’ve probably done some studies and drawn more than one type of subject. Then you have already internalized some of that information. I used to be obsessed with capturing the minute detail of the subject, and not be able to draw ANYTHING without reference. Instead of a useful tool, references became another obstacle to my creativity. That’s perfectionism my friend, and that’s no good. Here is an exercise a good friend of mine offered: Draw a few characters, animals and objects from imagination. Make sure that the subjects have no personal value to you (no ocs for example) so that if you make a mistake you won’t feel bad about it. Make the process relaxed and comfortable, pour a nice cup of joe, listen to your favorite music ... You will notice that you do indeed know how to draw some things without reference, and it’ll help with your confidence.

The more you do studies the more you understand This seems evident but the more you understand your subject the freer you can be and the easier it’ll be to draw it from imagination in the future. If you really struggle with something to the point of frustration (as in you can’t get it right even with reference) It means you have to study it. Have a study list, for example: hands, perspective, color theory etc. And one of those days you want to study pick something from the list, and look for videos on youtube or useful sites like line of action etc. Only study one thing at the time. You can go from studying hands to studying arms since they’re more immediately connected, but you can’t study hands and then jump to learning perspective right after. Trust me you can learn perfectly fine with the resources online, and I’m sure you’re clever enough to do it :D

Mistakes don’t mean you “suck” I’ve noticed that the two most common causes for art block are perfectionism and lack of self-confidence. The two can often go in tandem which is worse :’D But let me remind you of something, you can fix your piece along the whole process. Use erasers, lasso tools, liquify , select, paint it all over etc If something looks off to you then you also know deep inside how to fix it. Useful ways to see what clunks: flip canvas horizontally (helps with placement, proportions), turn the image to grayscale (helps to check values and where your eye tends to look), look at your image in thumbnail size and ask yourself if it’s clear, see the pose’s silhouette and ask yourself if you can tell what the character is doing etc. Don’t fret, everything can always be fixed :)

Perfectionism, sometimes it stops you before you begin Perfectionism causes you to overwork a piece, it makes you draw less, it makes art stressful, it brings insecurity. Let’s remove it with a simple exercise. It can be combined with the “draw things from imagination” once you’ve drawn something you like: dont do line art, don’t shade it, keep it as simple and crude as possible and then...post it. Yes, post it. You’re not at your best? You’re only human, this will help you embrace that very human side of you. You make mistakes. So what? The more mistakes you make the more you know what you need to study and the better at art you become. Mistakes are there to show us what we need to learn. See them as another tool and not a sign of failure.

Make the process as enjoyable as possible: You like art. You love drawing. Never forget this. Otherwise why are you drawing if you don’t enjoy it? It’s easy to fall prey to the mentality of those relatable memes that “art= suffering” or “I can’t even draw the other eye”. No no no my friends, these messages are fueling your insecurities instead of overcoming them. Let me tell you what, art is fun. It is. Art is fun, because I decided to make it fun again. And you should decide on that too. Personally I adore lineart but my hand-eye coordination is lacking to do it digitally, so....I just skipped it. Yes. I skipped it. I do the sketch, I clean it up a bit and then jump onto color which I adore. It allowed me to draw more and more freely. When I draw I listen to music, make strokes with the rhythm, I take breaks often and I drink my favorite iced teas. If you don’t like coloring do it in grayscale, if you love lineart then do that etc It doesn’t mean you won’t learn your weak points in the future with studies and practice, but you won’t let your weaknesses prevent you from drawing at all. No no, you won’t let them. You draw because you want to, despite of them.

Don’t wait for inspiration, provoke it Inspiration is not a divine and capricious muse. You make inspiration. It’s easy just collect all the things you like, music, artists, objects, characters, animals, patterns, plants etc Make boards on pinterest or similar sites, combine things you like. You like suits? You like birds? You can draw a bird in a suit, or a bird-inspired suit design, there is frankly a lot of ideas that can spring up from little things like these.

When a project stops being enjoyable either pause it for now or move on to the next thing. Pieces aren’t precious. They’re not “the one time I got x right” they are one of many. This advice goes mainly to hobbyists who can afford the luxury of passing to a new project. I have a WIP of a character who is overly complicated (I enjoy a challenge from time to time) sitting for half a month. I sometimes come back to it and add something... but as soon as it starts to create discomfort and insecurity instead of enjoyment I move onto something else. In the meantime I created 3 or 4 new pieces. If I had waited on finishing that piece I would have been severely creatively and physically exhausted. The art comes from you, not inspiration. The more art you make the better you become.

That’s about it :D I know it’s long but I prefer to be thorough and cover all the possibilities. If you have read of this: Thank you so much I hope this helps you at least a bit, if it helps only 1 other person I’d still be very happy. Have a nice one, and kick art block’s butt!

#art block #art block tips #art block advice #art advice #art help #BloggityDiary #art reference #I hope this will help someone out #This will also help me remember my own advice sksksk

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decaffeinatedinternetanchor · 3 years

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Mein Sonnenschein (Ticci Toby × Reader)

summary: you have a headache and toby decides to just hug that away and somehow it works

yes this is a songfic, yes i know we agreed against this, no i dont care

you sighed, eyes falling shut as you pushed open the cabin door. to say your mission went poorly was an understatement; the target you were set on put up more of a fight than you were prepared for. you broke in expecting to knock some girl over the head, not for this 4'11 chick to pull a gun on you. you got off with a few scratches, yes, but fuck was it draining.

living with toby had it's benefits. he was very energetic, and lively, and while he had his moments he always seemed to know just how to make you grin. that being said, he was very energetic, and loud, and you had a migraine that could've killed that bitch before you did. you did not have the mental energy to deal with his shouting right now.

stepping into the small cabin was a relief. you were finally home where you could sleep and see your boy. footsteps thudded down the short hallway and a mess of browns and greys came bounding towards you in a hug.

"(Y/n)!! you're back!"

despite the rhythmic pounding in the right side of your skull and the sway from toby crashing into you, you smiled. curse him and his ability to cheer you up.

"yeah. hi toby."

"how was the mish-mission?"

he just had to ask, didn't he? well, you weren't exactly surprised – the two of you made it a habit to talk about the missions when you got home. mainly to make sure you weren't injured, and everything went well. normally, "went well" meant well enough that the target was dead.

"could've been better," you started with a groan, "the place was hard enough to break into as is, and then this bitch goes and pulls a gun on me!" at toby's look of concern for your safety you quickly continued, "she didn't shoot me, though- not to say she didn't try . multiple times. i got her good but fuck that took forever."

you rambled on about your petty issues with the girl and toby's hold on you didn't falter for a second. at some point he started lightly swaying the two of you from side to side. the rhythmic yet nauseating motion, occasionally jarred by a quick jerk of his left shoulder, pulling you into a much calmer state that only reminded you how much your head hurt, and how much you just wanted to sleep. you gently pressed your palm into your temple, groaning quietly at the contact.

"wuh-what's wrong? are you hurt?" and thus, your boy's concern continues.

"no, I'm not hurt – i just have a migraine. I'm gonna take a nap, or something." you explain, offering him a small smile.

toby doesn't let up on his hug, which you weren't complaining about. you were tired, and he was warm. a recipe for getting potentially carried to bed.

while he didn't carry you, he did pull you out of the small living room into the hallway. "Come on, then, we– he's sixteen! – we'll go take a nap!"

you smiled as he pulled you along the small hallway. his hands were covered by the gloves he alway wore, yet just as warm as if they weren't there at all. his hair was all thrown in his face, even messier in the back, and part of you wondered if he bothered to brush through it today. he momentarily let go of your hand once you were both in the doorway, letting you slip off your shoes and "uniform".

you weren't bloodied, per se, but wearing the same outfit you shot a girl in to cuddle your boyfriend in always rubbed you the wrong way. it felt like if you got the blood of one of your targets, whether physically there or not, on him you were tainting what was already tainted. it was a dumb thought, but one that somehow reasoned with your broken down head. you weren't good people. you and toby both knew that. you weren't good people and yet pulling on the (f/c) sweater he got you for your birthday had you thinking the opposite. the cloth itself was stolen and ripped at the sleeves but it still held that part of toby that left you smiling and giddy. the part of toby that proved he loved you, regardless of how much he verbally showed that day after day.

maybe for today, you could be normal. maybe today you can sleep off your headache with your boy in your arms like normal people do.

you let yourself be moved as toby took hold of your arm again, pulling you towards the bed. you slipped from his grasp before you hit the plush quilt toby already made himself comfortable on. laying down at your own pace, you sighed at the release of pressure from your skull. the pounding wasnt gone, no, but it was much more barrable now that you werent busy on your feet. toby pulled you into his arms the moment you laid down, nuzzling his face into your hair.

the two of you laid in silence for a bit, only broken by toby's occasional verbal tick.

he started humming once you began drifting off, and you recognized the tune as a lullaby. he hummed lullabies quite often, they were something that calmed him down. very rarely did he sing them, but when he did it was always in german.

you closed your eyes as toby started mumbling what you assumed to be the lyrics to the song.

"du bist mein Sonnenschein, mein einziger Sonnenschein,"

you shift closer to toby, letting your eyes fall shut. he hummed this one often, said lullabies reminded him of his mom. they reminded him of something safe.

"du macht mich glücklich, wenn der Himmel grau ist,"

"du wirst niemals wis-wissen, wie sehr ich dich liebe,"

you let yourself start to slip into unconsciousness as toby started to grow quieter. a soft smile pulled at your lips as he pulled you closer to him.

"Bitte nimm meinen Sonnenschein nicht weg."

tonight you could cuddle with your boy like normal couples do, regardless of if you just committed first degree murder.

tonight you could sleep away your headache and wake up to toby sketching out beetles in your notebook.

you fell asleep in your boy's arms, content and looking past the dull pounding in your skull.

tonight, you could be normal. as a treat.

#creepypasta #ticci toby #toby rogers #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby x you #ticci toby x y/n #reader insert #song fic

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dazaiapologism · 2 years

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do we know which definition of gravity chuuya manipulates. gravity is basically a force between two objects so, id assume it'd work on any two objects even if we put chuuya in space given that fact UNLESS it's specifically about the earth's gravity in which case earth is one of the two objects always which seems to be the case with how his powers work ? am i making sense

yes! you are right, gravity is a force between two objects and chuuya's ability seems to work a hell of a lot easier when dealing with the physical earth. There is definitely a reason for that and I was cursed by a wizard in my youth to constantly try to understand that reason as best I can and I’m still not very good at it I dont think but let me try to sketch out the parts I do understand here:

In classical physics, the more nuanced definition is that both objects always exert gravitational force on each other (newtons 1st law), and the magnitude of that force is directly dependent on the mass of the objects involved, while also inversely dependent on the squared distance between the two objects. in other words, the strength of natural gravity between two bodies is determined by the product of each of their masses, and that strength will drop off as the bodies get further apart (read about the inverse square law to learn more about that effect).

There is another constant, G, that we use to “quantify the relation between the geometry of spacetime and the stress-energy tensor”. Now I’m not going to pretend to be a physicist here I have an electrical engineering bs and I failed concepts of mathematics four times BUT! as I understand it: the stress-energy tensor is where the “information” about energy and momentum of a particular system (ie two bodies with gravitational attraction) is stored. You can use it to calculate things like gravitational flux, which is the derivative of gravitational force exerted on space-time.

Without getting too deep into relativity and frames of reference and multivariable calculus shit that honestly goes over my head too, I would say that we can think of this tensor as the magic sauce - it dictates the strength and direction of gravitational force based on fundamental mechanics of the universe that we are able to model without actually totally understanding what is “driving” it.

So I would also posit that this is what Chuuya’s ability is modifying. I think the strength of the change he is able to make is dependent on his emotional state and more specifically, I think his ability to distort it gets exponentially stronger relative to how pissed he is. That said, he’s not just able to freely push things in any random direction, it is much much easier to work with the natural flow of gravity than to craft brand new arcs of motion.

bsd gives us a lot of practical examples of this:

when he absorbs bullet impacts, he does not shoot them all back right along their path of motion, they float loosely around him for a moment before being repelled, rather than being perfectly reversed or anything like that. Note that bullets travel with a lot of stabilizing rotational momentum so it would actually be pretty difficult to just “send it back”. Repelling the relatively still bullets out in every direction is a much more intuitive manipulation of the force relationship between him and each bullet.

in fifteen, when someone shoots dead on at him, he diverts the path perpendicularly and then uses the force relationship between himself and the bullet to slingshot it back around his body along the trajectory it came from, which is very very different that stopping it and shooting it back

later, as an adult, we see that he IS now capable of firing bullets directly, though he’s doing it from a very high angle which suggests that he’s more just pushing the bullet past its usual terminal velocity on the way down and would still have to aim it manually before cutting it loose.

Finally, there’s the question of activation. Visually, we get the red aura cue to indicate something is “under his control”. Verbally, I think it’s described as him being able to manipulate the gravity of anything he’s in contact with and this is able to chain through various objects (layers of clothes, the dirt directly under his feet) to some degree. The chaining also seems to work better when he’s angrier, so he could for example pull up larger chunks of rock if he were pissed than he could if he were just showing off for fun.

We can clear up a lot of ambiguity around what actually constitutes touching by defining contact as exchange of force between two bodies. This actually solves problems like why can he pull up dirt but not like, make projectiles out of bundles of atmosphere or something. Dirt is a solid, meaning that although he is only directly in contact with the uppermost layer of dirt molecules, that upper layer is also distributing that force downwards deeper into the earth. Therefore, through chaining, he is able to pull up large chunks of the earth, centered around where he was standing. Liquid also has strong enough intermolecular bonds to behave roughly like a solid would: think of how water behaves in space. This does not work the same way as gaseous air - in a gas, molecules are constantly bouncing off each other, sharing and distributing force wildly. Some of those molecules would bounce off him, which does technically count as an activating condition, but they’re gone again just as quickly so he could not really do anything meaningful with it. In the end, if he were able to chain to surrounding atmosphere, it would be wisping away like smoke before he could do anything interesting with it.

Defining contact as exchange of force also solves another neat trick - exploding the laser sight guns. Light behaves like a particle - which is to say it travels through space-time and exerts and experiences force when it encounters other bodies. This force is very weak and generally not something we experience as tactile sense, but it is definitely there and is the driving principle behind solar sails (japan successfully launched a spacecraft called IKAROS that traveled at least 110 million km using this technology!). We also know that gravity is very much capable of distorting the path of light (as this is what creates that reddish halo we see around real black holes).

Therefore, a red dot sight trained on Chuuya would indeed count as contact and he would be able to invert the direction of the gravitational attraction between him and the dense stream of light particles. Now, lasers use optical feedback loops to focus and amplify light emission, which means that the current output of the system is used to calculate the future state of output. Operating normally, optical gain will stabilize the beam and light will be emitted from the laser. I don’t know enough about optics to say what would happen if one were to reverse the direction of the laser output, but it would certainly cause something fucking weird to happen and not out of the realm of plausibility to say it would generate a lot of heat. Now the last thing you want on an automated turret stacked with high powered explosives is a sudden heat source - you know how gunpowder works. Gun get hot, powder go boom.

And I am at 1.2k words here so I’m going to shut the fuck up now. But please feel free to ask further questions or poke holes in this, as it is quite literally my single favorite thought experiment to roll around in my brain. I hope you were able to learn something about Chuuya physics from it and if not, thank you for reading all my shit anyways. Let me know if theres anything that needs further explaining.

#chuuya physics

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lloydskywalkers · 4 years

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any port in a storm

Pixal and Lloyd and the evolving nature of friendship, as highlighted by the regular burning down of your city.

(desperately trying to break through writer’s block and classes again, this was supposed to be under 2k and it is...very much not hdfjkgh but! i’ve been meaning to write for Pixal and Lloyd for a while so here are a whole bunch of feelings about the two of them and s8)

Pixal meets — truly meets — Lloyd Garmadon shortly after his brother’s been blown to pieces.

She says truly, because if you ask her, Pixal will tell you she met Lloyd Garmadon at exactly 8:48 in the evening outside his father’s monastery, moments before a horde of nindroids led there by Pixal herself descended upon them.

But Lloyd argues that since they said about two words total to each other, it doesn’t really count as meeting, and by the time Pixal’s spending the better part of her day with him running high and low around Ninjago City, she’s learned that it’s easier not to press the point.

Lloyd can be stubborn, like that.

She’d first learned that when she’d met him, just after they’d lost Zane. That loss hadn’t lasted long, especially for Pixal, but the immediate aftermath of it had been devastating. She’d watched with blank eyes as the team had fractured, splitting at the seams as they all fled their separate ways, too heartsore and dizzy with grief to do much otherwise.

All of them had fled, save Lloyd. She hadn’t paid him much attention before that point, the surprisingly small bearer of the Golden Power. Of course, he wasn’t the bearer of that power anymore, but his eyes alone had shown the experience of it. There’d been a brief, lost look that had crossed his face as the others had mentioned leaving, before it had been swept under a mask of stubborn, determined blankness. He wouldn’t be leaving. Someone had to stay behind and watch out for things, he’d claimed, even as the loss had bled through his voice.

Pixal hadn’t quite grasped the concept of empathy at that point, but she’d felt something dangerously close to it.

At any rate, the only interaction they’d had alone was brief. In fact, the only one Pixal can truly remember — and her memory never fails — is the quick exchange they’d had in the hospital lobby directly after the battle. The hospital was for Mr. Borg, and for the ninja’s minor injuries.

There was nothing any hospital on earth could do for Zane.

Pixal had found herself next to Lloyd in the waiting room, trying to distract herself from those thoughts while Lloyd stared at the stark white tiling with dull eyes.

“They never mentioned what your power was,” she’d asked him, almost absently. Collecting data, processing information — anything she could do to distract from the crushing grief.

“Oh.” Lloyd had blinked, startling back into awareness. He’d suddenly looked painfully young. “It’s, ah, I guess it’s just green, now.”

It had been Pixal’s turn to blink. “Green.”

“Yeah.” Lloyd had bit his lip, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly, two habits he’ll never quite lose. “I mean — it’s more than that, but it’s like — energy, I guess, is the best way to put it?”

“Interesting,” Pixal had remarked.

“Yeah.”

They’d stared at each other in silence after that, before they’d both been called off to other errands — and then they were having Zane’s funeral and then Pixal was making realizations she never got to tell anyone, and that had been that in her early introductions to Lloyd Garmadon. Quiet, awkward, and possessing an incredible power he hardly even knew the name of.

Looking back, Pixal figures her introduction hadn’t gone much better.

They’d continued as passing acquaintances as time went on, separated by danger and the confines of Zane’s head, and Pixal had figured that’s all they’d ever be. But then their Sensei goes missing and, despite Pixal’s increasing disappearances on Zane as she rebuilds her own body, she’s been given the role of watching out for Ninjago city along with Lloyd.

She quickly learns that quiet is not a term fit for Lloyd Garmadon when you’re trapped alone with him.

************

“How is there not a single station playing actual music?” Lloyd seethes, flicking through the channels almost manically. “It’s two am, who’s gonna be listening to your stupid commercial for toothpaste now, are you kidding me?”

“Statistically speaking, this is the prime time for long-distance driving near Ninjago City,” Pixal supplies, her voice a hint scratchy where it comes through the his car’s radio speakers. “Or, if you factor in the construction in the east district, there could still be traffic from late-night bars.”

Lloyd groans, thunking his head against the steering wheel as another ad screeches through the small space. “Wonderful.”

“Your vocal tones suggest you find it otherwise.”

“Dont trust ‘em, my vocal tones are traitors.” As if to solidify his point, Lloyd’s voice cracks in the middle of his sentence, shooting up an octave higher. Lloyd goes bright red, and thunks his head against the steering wheel again.

Taking pity on him, Pixal aims for reassurance. “It is normal for your voice to break, Lloyd. It shouldn’t last too long.” She pauses, momentarily scanning through another article. “On second thought, this one suggests it could also take two to three years for your voice to stabilize.”

Lloyd gives a strangled moan. “End me.”

“Unfortunately, that would defeat the purpose of why I’m here in the first place.”

Lloyd tilts his head, cracking an eye open as he glances at the camera feed he knows she’s watching him from. “Unfortunately, huh,” he muses. “So you’re saying if Zane hadn’t made you promise to look out for me, you would end me?”

“That — no, that is not — of course I wouldn’t end you,” Pixal backtracks. An odd feeling flickers through her, almost as if she’s lost her place, floundering.

Or embarrassed might be more accurate, she thinks wryly. She briefly considers projecting a a glaring face at Lloyd from the monitor. This is his fault. She rarely stuttered before Lloyd started teasing her at all hours of the morning.

“I mean, you wouldn’t be the first,” Lloyd continues, conversationally. “And if we’re being honest, I’d definitely rather you be the one to off me, instead of like, random bad guy number eighty-five—”

“I know you think you are funny,” Pixal cuts over him. “But casually planning for your death is something Kai listed I was not to let you do. Also, it is not nearly as funny as you think it is.”

“Ouch,” Lloyd mutters, though he looks chastised. “Never mind, you just took me out in one sentence.”

Chastised might be the wrong term.

Pixal studies him through the monitor, then sighs. “I am, however, honored you think highly enough of me to offer the right to murder you,” she gives in.

She’s rewarded as Lloyd breaks into a bright grin.

He still looks painfully young these days, but it’s less obvious. His voice is pitching lower and he wears his hair different, and he’s gained a whip-like tendency to quip at people, as Pixal’s experienced firsthand. Kai calls it sass in grumbling but fond tones, and Nya calls it snark somewhere between the fourth book series she’s sent for Pixal to try.

The ninja have been kind like that, sharing the interests they have in an attempt to make her feel…well, more human, she supposes. Less confined to a voice in a computer. Of course, Pixal isn’t confined to a voice in a computer anymore, but they don’t know that yet. She’ll tell them someday soon, she promises herself. Any day now.

In the meantime, it’s easy enough to keep up with Lloyd by lurking in his car radio, as he spends half his time in there anyways.

************

“You’d think we’d have found their hideout by now,” Lloyd notes, as they wait in a darkened alleyway again. It gives them an excellent view of the major highways, so if the rumored biker gang does show up, they won’t miss it.

If they show up being the key point.

“Whoever their leader is, they certainly know how to keep a low profile,” Pixal answers, closing out another dead end police report in frustration.

“It’s weird,” Lloyd says, propping the notebook he’s sketching in on his knee as he squints at the paper. “Normally the boss types aren’t this quiet. They like to show off, y’know? Make a big scene, dramatic speeches and all.”

“Are you referring to the villains, or yourselves?”

“Touché,” Lloyd snorts. “But still, you gotta admit it’s weird they haven’t even made any demands. What’s their end game here, elaborate advertising for motorcycle design?”

“I would hope not,” Pixal says. “Their color coordination is lacking.”

Lloyd fights back a smile, his pencil scratching as he shifts his notebook again. “I don’t know, I kinda like the punk look.”

“I noticed that, when you tried to redecorate the car.”

“Hey, skulls are cool.”

“They are also conspicuous, especially when they come in acid green colors.”

“Everyone’s a critic,” Lloyd sighs, making a face as he scrubs the eraser across the paper. Pixal tries to tilt the camera further, to see what he’s drawing tonight, but the angle he’s holding it at remains just out of sight.

She could probably guess what he’s drawing, if she tried. The notebook is one they’ve been steadily working their way through on these late-night patrols, the pages filled with little hangman games and Lloyd’s sketches of animals and his teammates. He’s drawn her a few times from memory, and she’s been tempted to ask him to draw her in the new Samurai X armor more than once.

Soon, she tells herself.

“What are you drawing?” she finally asks, curiosity getting the better of her.

Lloyd’s cheeks tinge pink, and he quickly plasters the notebook to his chest, hiding it entirely from view. “Nothing.”

Pixal waits, letting the silence fill with her judgement. “Lloyd, I have seen your drawings before.”

He doesn’t reply, and Pixal tries again. “It gets boring, being stuck with the car monitors for eyes.”

“I know you can hack other cameras,” Lloyd mutters, but he sighs, relenting as he turns the notebook over. Pixal’s eyes rake over the detailed sketch — it’s a comical little thing of her and Lloyd, jammed together on a tiny lifeboat in the middle of a darkening ocean. She can spot the smudges where he’s redrawn her head several times, and the numerous attempts he’s made at his own hair. Pixal studies Lloyd’s portrayal of himself, which is noticeably lacking in facial features. While Lloyd draws the others plenty, it’s a rare occasion that he draws himself, and she can’t help but be curious.

“I thought you were drawing the others again,” she admits.

“They’re on the ship,” Lloyd says, absently. “I’ll draw them when they remember to pull us back in.”

There’s nothing bitter in his tone to suggest it has any bearing on their actual lives, but the lost expressions Lloyd ends up giving their tiny caricatures feel familiar nonetheless.

“Zane has assured me they will be back as soon as they can,” Pixal speaks ups quietly.

Lloyd finally looks up fully, and flashes the monitor a smile. “I know,” he says. “So we better have this thing busted by the time they do, or they’ll never let us run a city on our own again.”

“If only we were truly running the city,” Pixal grumbles. “I could do a better job in two days than the current leaders could do in a year.”

“I’d vote for you,” Lloyd says, sincerely.

It’s a sweet gesture, but Pixal is unable to resist. “You don’t know how to vote.”

“Yes I do, it’s not hard!”

“Really? Then why are you not currently registered in the Ninjago voting system?”

Lloyd makes a strangled noise. “That’s a thing?”

She’s unable to keep the smugness from her voice. “I make my point.” Lloyd scowls, and scribbles a mustache on his drawing of her in revenge.

Pixal thinks it looks nice nonetheless.

************

She can’t really hold it against Lloyd for talking as much as he does, considering she does the same. It gets dull, sitting on patrol for hours on end, and there are only so many hours of light reading they can do before the silence begins to drive them both insane.

Pixal finds herself talking about more useless things with Lloyd than she has in her existence, pointless conversations in circles with each other. She also finds she doesn’t entirely mind. She’s become quite good at quipping back and forth with him, at least. It’s different than the kind of talk she has with Zane, lacking in the depth of feeling with the love they share. Her exchanges with Lloyd are lighter, though that’s not to say they’re less sincere.

For example, Zane hasn’t tried to teach her how to redesign a gi in poor lighting in the early hours of the morning because he’s bored out of his mind, that’s for sure.

“I’m teaching you how to sew,” Lloyd corrects, wincing as he accidentally stabs himself with the needle. “And I’m not redesigning the whole thing, I’m just adding some designs to spice it up.”

“I did not know you were allowed to wear colors other than green,” Pixal comments.

Lloyd pauses, squinting at the monitor. “You’re teasing me,” he finally says. “You’re making fun of how much green this gi has in it.”

“I would never,” Pixal replies, her tone flat and even. “The intricacies of your human humor evade me—”

“Human humor, nice—”

“—unlike the unusually bright shade of green you’ve chosen will fail to evade any eyes of your enemies.”

“I knew you were making fun of me!” Lloyd accuses, then flinches as he stabs his finger again trying to point at her. “And bright colors are our thing. Being subtle is, uh…not. Usually.”

Pixal is losing the battle to laugh at his expression by the minute. “I am shocked.”

Lloyd glares at the monitor, shifting his sewing to rest on his knees as he slouches in the car seat. “How’d you even get so good at sarcasm, anyways,” he mutters. “Zane still doesn’t get it half the time.”

“Perhaps it is part of my glowing personality,” Pixal says. Lloyd gives a huff of laughter, relenting.

“Fair enough,” he says, shifting in his seat again. “Fine, you win. The green is probably too bright, but that’s not the point. I’m gonna show you how to do a backstitch."

Pixal falls quiet, letting Lloyd gesture with the needle as he explains. There are a hundred, a thousand tutorials she could pull up online, digitized knowledge instantly learned on all the countless types of stitches she could use, sorted and categorized in neat columns of use and effectiveness. All of them more detailed, more easily understood than Lloyd’s absent rambling and unsteady hands as he struggles with the end of a knot.

Not one of them will care whether or not Pixal learns the odd way Zane likes to loop his stitches, or will quietly add which stitches knit skin back together quickest.

So Pixal ignores her programming, and does her best to follow Lloyd’s rambling instructions, watching as his scarred fingers tug another thread of dull gold through the green mess of fabric, the city quiet around them.

“You never did tell me where you learned how to sew,” Pixal says, as Lloyd starts up a new thread of black on the other side of the gi. “Was that something the others taught you in training?”

“They’d have to know how to be able to teach it,” Lloyd snickers. “And, uh, no. I taught myself to back at Darkley’s.”

“Oh,” Pixal falters. She’s heard about Darkley’s, both from Zane and the legal reports she’s read online. Neither gave a positive impression of the place. Her mind is suddenly filled with images of a younger Lloyd trying to give himself stitches, and her heart twists.

Lloyd starts, seemingly having picked up on her train of thought. “I mean, I did it for fun, mostly. I like sewing,” he explains. “It’s useful. You can pull things back together, and fix ‘em.”

Pixal is quiet, but she hopes Lloyd takes her silence as agreement with his motive. She likes to think he knows her well enough for that, by now.

************

Pixal finds, somewhere during their fourth month alone, that she’s glad the team elected to stick her and Lloyd together. Not because she doesn’t want to be with Zane — there’s never a moment she doesn’t miss him, and with every day that passes her resolve to keep her secret from him grows weaker, as the longing for actual connection grows stronger.

But there are conversations she can have with Lloyd that she can never have with Zane, and the dangerous thing about spending time with Lloyd, Pixal finds, is that they’re more similar than she’s realized.

“Sometimes I think I’m jealous,” Lloyd whispers to her one night. It’s one of the bad ones, the ones where their enemies struck too sudden to stop, and the mission ends in the hospital. “I think I’m jealous of Zane, and I hate myself for it.”

Pixal is quiet, trying to pick apart the tone of his voice in the words he’s just spoken, and factors in the victims they’ve just left behind at the hospital. She finds herself no closer to an answer.

“Is it the metal skin part?” she finally asks, though she knows that’s wrong. “The, what was it, technical immortality?”

“No,” Lloyd shakes his head. “I’m not afraid of dying,” he says emphatically, his fingers fluttering at over the steering wheel, tapping incessantly with unspent energy. “I don’t want to, but that’s — it’s not what I’m scared of. I’m more scared of how I go out.”

He swallows, and his fingers move to dance over the woven bracelet on his wrist instead, twisting at the tiny beads and tracing senseless designs in constant, steady movement. It’s a motion he does often, and it had puzzled Pixal at first. She’d decided to write it off as an odd tick, a way to spend excess energy.

Now, she recognizes the desperate kind of reassurance that movement gives. She understands too well the need to remind yourself that you can move — that your body will obey you and you alone.

Pixal thinks back to the other factors in tonight’s accident, of the way the drugged man’s eyes had cleared when they’d finally turned him over to the police, the way he’d sworn he’d never do such a thing in his right mind. She thinks of the way the first victim had thrown themselves over their companion.

That victim hadn’t made it to the hospital.

“Ah,” Pixal says, quietly.

She’s silent again, and she thinks back to when she’d met him, the very first time. She recalls the way her programming had rebelled against her in favor of the Overlord, corrupting her body and forcing it against her, twisting everything she was and wanted to be into something different.

She thinks back again, to the searing-hot anger, the terror, the despair as she was torn apart, piece by piece like a machine, burning out at the whims of another. Her end purposeless, her demise belonging to someone else, just like every other part of her.

She thinks of the last glimpse she’d caught of Zane, bright and beautiful as a supernova. Burning with the terrible brilliance of his own, determined choice. Terrible, because the death of something always is. Beautiful, because it was his own. Zane died, not a machine, not a weapon, not a tool of anyone or anything, but as himself. Zane died to save the ones he loves. Pixal could’ve died for spare parts.

Never again, she promises herself. If she goes out, she goes out on her own terms. This time, they choose the end of their own destiny themselves.

In hindsight, it’s the kind of promise they’re both too young to make, but neither of them have ever seen themselves as such, and promises like that are easy.

“Love can be terrible, sometimes,” Lloyd murmurs. Pixal watches him scrub at the blood on his uniform, and thinks how ironically well-timed it is that he finished the stitching on his new gi this morning. “Sometimes I forget how ugly it can be.”

************

The end of their nighttime stakeouts begins with a break-in at Mr. Borg’s tower. Lloyd argues that she should get to call it her father’s tower, if she wants, but the ninja aren’t the only ones Pixal’s hiding herself from.

And then Lloyd gets very tense at the thought of fathers very fast, and they never finish the conversation.

They stay at the edge of the bridge long after the parachute, emblazoned with the unmistakable visage of Lloyd’s father, disappears from sight. Pixal wonders if it’s burned into Lloyd’s eyes, like the way she’s read black spots linger in humans’ vision after they’ve looked at something too bright. The way Lloyd stares at the river, his shoulders tense and his teeth worrying at his lip, she thinks she might be right.

They’re waiting on the report from the commissioner —they’re waiting for anything, anyone who can offer them any explanation of what’s going on. Pixal’s reminded of how much she loathes this kind of waiting.

“It could be—” Lloyd begins, then breaks off, his voice wavering. He swallows, and Pixal can see the way his fists clench tightly from the cameras they’ve put in his car. There’s a fierce part of her that longs to reveal herself, to meet his eyes herself and offer some semblance of comfort. But there’s a time and place for things, and Pixal isn’t ready.

“It could be anything,” Lloyd finally continues, his voice small. “It could — it doesn’t mean anything. It could mean nothing, right?”

Pixal is silent, her mind racing. She’s run the calculations over and over in her head already, scouring the internet for anything related to the bikers. She’s been foolish, she realizes — they both have. Letting the gang go unnamed for so long, thinking nothing of it. Now, with the name flashing vibrant across Pixal’s vision, a part of her wants to let them go nameless just a bit longer.

Before she can answer, Lloyds phone goes off with a sharp ping, just as Pixal’s sensors alert her to the message from the commissioner. Lloyd snatches for his phone like it’s on fire, and Pixal’s already scanning the message frantically, as if she can salvage this if she’s fast enough, save Lloyd from this one pain.

Lloyd’s gotten much better at reading quickly though, these days.

She can pinpoint the moment he reaches the last paragraph, because his breath hitches. There’s a long, pressing pause of silence, Lloyd’s hands trembling as they clutch weakly at his phone. Then it’s punctured by a reedy, wheezing gasp, and Pixal’s suddenly wishing she’d revealed herself after all.

Instead, all she has is her voice as Lloyd crumples, crouching over in visible distress. Pixal’s mind races, recalling everything Zane’s ever told her about his team, the way their panic manifests in different shades. Lloyd’s is quiet but desperate, rapid breathes that stutter as his eyes slide more and more into a frightening kind of blankness.

“Lloyd, please, listen to my voice,” she begs, trying to reach him in the only way she can. “Please, you have to breathe—”

“He’s gone,” Lloyd rasps, unhearing of her words. “He’s s’posed to be gone, it’s supposed to be over, I’m supposed to be done—”

Pixal fights back the sense of overwhelming helplessness. She knows loss. She knows how to finish his sentence. He’s supposed to be done grieving, done mourning, done clinging to false scraps of hope that his father isn’t lost forever only to be met with heartbreak.

And now, to be met with the possibility of something so much worse.

“We’ll stop them,” she tells him, unflinching. “We won’t let it happen.”

Lloyd’s eyes are a vivid green where they stare at her through the monitor, almost ghostly in the misting light reflecting from the river.

He’s silent, but Pixal is, too.

Pixal remembers the way her head had spun when she’d first picked up the traces of Zane in the system, how the world had rushed then steadied, flooding with color as she’d realized he might not be lost after all. She remembers the surging, overwhelming flood of joy, that someone she’d thought she lost might live after all. She remembers being so happy, at even the smallest chance to get him back, because the voice was Zane’s, without a doubt.

She watches the color seep from Lloyd’s expression as his shoulders shudder, the words from the commissioner’s message almost echoing through the air. Watches the terror as the both of them fill the silence.

Will we?

The radio scratches, as if echoing Pixal’s anxiety. Love can be terrible, sometimes. She’s underestimated how it also be so cruel.

************

She’s also, apparently, underestimated how the universe on the whole could be so cruel.

She should’ve revealed herself to them from day one. That way, when Harumi’s corrupted programming suddenly ravages through her like an electric shock, she could be reassured they’d at least be familiar with the person they were fighting.

Instead, she doesn’t even get to scream. Pixal’s only able to force out a desperate, broken warning before she’s lost again, drowning in her own body as she’s forced under. Furious panic grips her as she screams without lungs, bashing herself against the overwhelming helplessness that’s taken over her.

Not again, not again, not again—

Her limbs creak and jolt against her will, lashing out at the people she cares most about, and Pixal can’t even rage back in her own voice. She’s sworn, she’s promised herself she’d never let anyone do this to her again — she’s sworn she’d die before she let someone reach into her head and snatch control away, and yet here she is, frozen as her body’s used to target her friends.

If she could cry, she might.

There’s not much more to say than that. She breaks free, her body her own once again, but by then it’s too late.

************

If Pixal had the same gift of foresight that Zane did, maybe she would have seen it coming. Maybe she’d have remembered how similar her and Lloyd are, and that this kind of pained desperation always yields impulsiveness and mistakes.

She doesn’t, though. She barely even manages to do what she’s trying to, which is convincing Lloyd to join the others while they celebrate their victory. Their off-key singing is something he normally wouldn’t hesitate to join in on, she thinks, and she hates Harumi a little more.

Maybe she’ll try his mother next. The expression on Lloyd’s face screams unapproachable, and remains fixedly sullen.

Almost to her surprise, he meets her eyes as she draws near— it’s odd, being able to meet his back — and his own eyes are dark, from despair over Harumi or despair over his father, Pixal isn’t sure. She’s thinking it might be both, when his eyebrows crease, and a flicker of concern cuts through them instead.

“You good?”

It takes her a moment to realize why he’s asking, but the answer is obvious. Her head tilts downward, and she watches as her fingers curl and uncurl. Her movements, her choices. She lets out an even breath.

“As I can be,” she replies. Lloyd nods, and his eyes are understanding. His lips twist in a scowl.

“She shouldn’t have done that to you. That was a low blow.”

Pixal’s mouth curves into a humorless smile. “That it was. She’s rather good at those, isn’t she.”

Lloyd’s eyes shadow again, and he looks away, crossing his arms. “This isn’t supposed to be about me,” he mutters.

“Yes, it is,” Pixal counters. “It is why I came over here, in the first place. She hurt—”

“All of us, and who’s fault is that,” Lloyd snaps, his arms crossing tighter.

“I would hope you know it’s hers,” she says, holding firm.

Lloyd looks away again, biting his lip, and Pixal shifts anxiously, rolling her wrists. The sensation of control sliding away still haunts her, worse than it had the first time. She should be better than this, she tells herself hotly. She’s lived without a body long enough that losing it so briefly shouldn’t effect her this much.

Curse her programming, she thinks, tapping agitatedly at the banister. She knew she should have reinforce it sooner.

“Hey, um.” Lloyd is looking at her again, hesitant. He twists at his bracelet, and his eyes lose a fraction of that darkness. “Kai made this for me, after Morro,” he says. “I kept shredding the sleeves of my uniform, so he told me to mess with this instead, when I needed to remember that…that I was in control.”

He shrugs, hesitant. “We could make you one too, if you wanted. It helps, having something.”

Pixal lets out a steady breath, despite not actually needing to. The action is grounding, she’s found. “I would like that.”

Lloyd gives her a ghost of a smile in return. “Soon as this is over, then.”

There’s a heavy weight to his words, and Pixal’s eyes narrow.

“Lloyd,” she says. He looks at her, his eyes dark. “Don’t do anything foolish.”

He’s quiet, not meeting her eyes, and this is where Pixal should stop him. This is when she should see the end of the road they’ve been on since they started this, and force him to turn before it’s too late.

“I know what I’m doing.”

She doesn’t.

************

Lloyd is battered and bleeding by the time they drag him onto the ship, a gruesome portrait of cruelty. Pixal is frozen as she watches him writhe in Kai’s hold, his screams cracked and wet as he thrashes erratically like a broken thing.

Nya is already barking orders before they’ve even gotten Lloyd fully on the ship, and Zane is running scans with a horrified, wavering focus. Pixal follows Cole as he carries Lloyd to the medbay with a blank numbness, the rush of wind streaming past the Bounty sails thunderously loud in her ears.

This isn’t Lloyd, she thinks, staring at his crumpled form. Lloyd isn’t this battered, broken shell of a person. Lloyd isn’t hazy eyes that fail to recognize them and frantic murmuring through bloody lips. Lloyd is bright-eyed and gentle and would rather die before he screams the way he does when Cole moves him to the table.

Lloyd is her friend, and this is where that promise they made has led them. She knows why Lloyd set out for the prison, hot on the collapse of his own star. She also knows he wouldn’t have chosen to burn out like this.

Cole calls out for Zane, his voice ringing in panic as Lloyd screeches in pain again. Pixal thinks of quiet words in the safety of his car, and she feels sick. This is the ugliness of love, the terrible, hideous side of it.

And Lloyd would hate it, if he could see himself, if he were any semblance of lucid. He’d hate to know just how much better he was at breaking himself than Morro ever was.

Zane is gentle as he pushes past her, but Pixal can feel the tremble in his hands. He’s every bit as rattled as she is, if not more so — Zane’s heart is larger and softer than hers has ever been, and he cares about each and every one of them with a painful intensity. It’s a cruel thing, to have to pull those same people back together with your own hands.

Kai’s eyes are streaming as he clutches at Lloyd’s wrists, pinning him in place. Zane’s hands waver again over one of the jagged wounds near Lloyd’s ribcage, the green of his uniform already dyed dark in blood, soaking over the careful stitches Pixal watched him put in himself.

Pixal finally finds her footing, reminding herself of the solid wood beneath her feet. She recalls the steady, smooth stitch Lloyd’s scarred fingers traced out for her.

“Here.” She takes the needle from Zane’s hands, squeezing his briefly before letting go. “I can do it.”

She sets the needle against Lloyd’s skin and wonders what kind of stitch it’d take to pull your heart back together.

************

Pixal cannot cry. It’s one of the features Mr. Borg spent hours debating, weighing the pros and cons of giving her the ability before he was truly sure how rust-proof she was. He’d never gotten the chance to, as the Overlord had interrupted him, then Pixal had lost any body to give the ability to cry to, which had eliminated the need entirely.

She cannot cry, but she can hurt, and the rain that streams through her hair, dripping down her forehead spotting raindrops on her cheeks, could be tears if she pretended.

She doesn’t, though, because tears are a waste of water and overall useless in the grand scheme of things. She doubts they’d have helped her fare any better in the battle with Colossi, either.

Tears won’t bring anyone back.

Lloyd cries anyways. She can’t see him, but she can hear it in his voice, the way it wavers and breaks over the radio, nasally tones pronounced.

He’s barely able to gasp a few coordinates to her before he cuts the radio off abruptly. Pixal’s spent enough time with him to envision his scarred fingers snapping it off with a particular desperation, green sparking from his hands in distress.

She reminds herself those sparks are gone, now, bled away into nothing like the vivid green of Lloyd’s eyes had. The thought makes her sadder than she’d expected. She had a joke, about his eyes, she had wanted to make. Now that she has a body, and her own set of glowing green eyes, she’d — there was something he would’ve laughed at, she thought —

It doesn’t matter, now. Neither of them are likely to laugh anytime soon.

The coordinates blink brightly in her vision, and she’s almost surprised she managed to key them in. She’s running on autopilot, she supposes. It could be ironic — she’s been so desperate for control, it’s been so important that she’s the one feeling. Now, she’d give anything not to feel at all.

She lets out a shaky breath, dispelling the mist in her vision left from the rain. She leans forward, just over the edge of the building she’s crouched on, and her loose hair falls forward, silvery and synthetic and horribly tangled. Irritated, she reaches for another hair tie, and her hands falter around her wrist.

Lloyd had promised her a bracelet there. But he’d promised Kai would make the bracelet, hadn’t he, and Kai couldn’t make the bracelet if he was dead, could he.

Pixal blinks, her breath hitching. She’s been so numb to the pain of Zane’s loss, it hasn’t yet occurred to her that she’s losing Kai, too. And Jay, and Cole, and—

She sucks in the same shuddery kind of breath she’s seen Lloyd do, and carefully fists her hand in the area of her uniform above her chest. Her fingers dig in tightly, clutching in a hopeless attempt to feel some sort of comfort she knows she’ll never find.

But perhaps, for these few seconds, she can pretend the action is holding her together.

************

“It was inevitable,” Pixal tells Lloyd blankly, as he rasps out his third apology in the dark cover of their small hideout. “That one of us would fall, eventually. It had nothing to do with you.”

Lloyd swallows thickly. “It could’ve — it should’ve been—”

He doesn’t finish, but he doesn’t need to. Pixal’s hand shoots out, clamping tightly around his wrist, and there’s a beat of gratitude that she doesn’t need to rely on her voice alone anymore.

“Don’t.” Her voice is strung tighter than the tension in their shoulders. “You cannot change anything. You can’t, Lloyd, and you should not wish to — to change it that way.”

Lloyd jerks his hand free, wiping miserably at his eyes. He sets it back down within her reach, though, and if Pixal were any different, she’d take it.

But Pixal isn’t that different from Lloyd at all in the end, and neither of them reach for the other’s hand, no matter how desperately they crave the contact. Fear is more familiar, and it’s easier to give into it than it is the clawing need for comfort in your chest, after all.

“Still,” Lloyd finally whispers. “Still.”

Pixal swallows. She doesn’t disagree. If one of them had to fall, she knows she gladly would have taken it upon herself. She knows the others care for her, certainly, but she also knows her place in the grand scheme of things. They were six before she came along, and even now she’s kept far too many secrets to be fully counted among them.

She listens to Lloyd’s quiet, cracked voice, and she wonders if he’s thinking that they were five before he came along, younger than Pixal got to know him as.

Now they’re three, hollow and heartbroken. Though counting herself as one whole feels like cheating, right now.

Pixal squeezes her eyes shut, and wonders what it’s like to cry. Perhaps it helps, though Lloyd doesn’t look any less miserable.

************

“I was thinking,” Lloyd tells her, during one of the precious few quiet moments they have while trying to overthrow Garmadon and Harumi. Pixal’s turning the tiny tea flower he’d given her over in her hands, a part of her mind already marking articles about flower-pressing, another part wondering if it’s already too late to save the blossom. “About that promise we made, before all this.”

Pixal finally tucks the flower into the pocket of her uniform, pressed close to her chest. If anything, it can be a reminder of the lives that are safe — the life that’s coming back to her, if she has to drag him back from another realm herself. “And?”

Lloyd’s hands twist together. “Maybe we should focus more on staying alive.”

Pixal coughs out a laugh, breathless and startled. Lloyd wrinkles his nose at her, but his eyes are amused, even with their light lost. “I mean, the emphasis would be on keeping everyone else alive, but it’s kinda hard to do that if we’re dead, so…yeah. Priorities.”

“Staying alive should always be a priority,” Pixal corrects him, but she tugs the edge of his armor out of place with a smile.

“Why didn’t you teach me how to graffiti?” she nods at the designs on the green leather. “Or was this another Darkley’s tradition.”

“This is a refined art, called whatever I had on me that showed up on dark green,” Lloyd grumbles, fixing his armor. “I’ll teach it to you when we get out of this.”

“Another reason why staying alive would be a more productive focus,” Pixal points out. “I’ve heard teaching is easier when you’re alive.”

“And I’ve heard you’re a real riot,” Lloyd mutters. “It’s a promise, okay? I promise to teach you how to do cool armor design if you promise not to disappear into another realm on me.”

Pixal nods, adjusting her own armor tighter as screams ring out from a street nearby. “A promise, then.”

She keeps both the promise and the flower, the tiny blossom dried and faded by the time she’s escaped from the prison, heart racing with leftover adrenaline as Zane sweeps her into his arms. She clutches back every bit as tight, listening to his breathless laughter as cheers rise from the streets behind them, the smoke drifting across the early morning sky above them pale against the lightening blue. Pixal buries her face in his shoulder and breathes, tucking the moment away in her heart where it won’t fade. There’s a future stretching out before her, and she’s got the limbs to walk her path on her own, but all she wants right now is the steady ground beneath her feet and the bright laughter of what she’s managed to keep.

Lloyd meets them shortly after, his own promise kept as he tears his gaze from his father, handing him off to the authorities before sprinting for the others. Pixal barely snags a moment alone with him, and even then no one’s particularly keen on letting him out of their sights.

He meets her eyes as they pick their way through the wrecked streets, the city more alive around them than it’s been in weeks. In the dark of the early morning, Pixal’s eyes glow a bright green, reflecting oddly in the windows they pass. It’s always been her preferred color, in contrast to Zane’s bright blue. Lloyd glances at her, his own eerily green eyes glowing back. He bites his lip, but it’s to hold back real laughter this time.

“My eyes were green first,” she tells him.

“Sue me,” he shoots back, before Kai’s throwing an arm over his shoulders again, tucking Lloyd neatly in between him and Nya. Pixal smothers a laugh at the look on his face, and tightens her own arm further where it’s linked firmly in Zane’s.

It’s going to be an easy promise to keep, she thinks.

#lego ninjago #ninjago #lloyd garmadon #ninjago lloyd #pixal #there was a point to this but it got lost in pix and lloyd do arts and crafts #either way i'd die for both these characters #ninjago where is the pixal love i miss her #my fic

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kate-m-art · 3 years

Note

Any tips on motivating yourself to draw?

Oh hm! I'm definitely not an expert on this, there's so many nights I just sit staring at a blank canvas with no motivation or ideas 😅

There are some things that help me at times though!

Let's see, the thing that's motivated me most lately is talking to friends! Getting fresh ideas, perspectives and hype from other people about what I'm doing or planning often gets me super excited to get back to drawing!

Another thing that helps me is getting motivation by looking at others art! If I'm feeling stuck, then looking at art by people I admire helps me feel excited about drawing again. It's fun sometimes to break down the things you like in others work (to kinda try to figure out *why* it's some of your favorite stuff) and then make a plan for how you can start to incorporate those findings into your own work! One example I can think of off the top of my head is how much I adore Loish's line and rhythm, that's something I really want to get better at adding in my sketches and rendered pieces.

Then I would say for me (and this is still something I struggle with) it makes it easier to find motivation to draw if I remind myself it doesnt have to be perfect. Even though I want to continue to push myself, not every piece has to be my best work. It's okay to just sketch, or only do flat colors, or whatever else you can handle at the moment. I know for me right now I dont have time to work in something fully rendered every day, but working on a sketch or doodle of a face feels a lot nicer than doing nothing 😅 Sometimes, just doing is better than doing "perfect" or "complete"

Then last, remember it's okay to take breaks too! I don't think I know anyone who has the energy to draw every day without fail lol some days you wont be able to create stuff and that's okay, you're still wonderful and valid! If I can get sappy quick and borrow from some of LU Times thoughts: your accomplishments dont define you as a person. Just like being a "hero" doesnt define Link, being able to draw or create doesnt define you. You're still a worthy and wonderful person whether is a high productivity day or a low one ♡♡♡

Sorry this is rambly and more than I thought, but I hope it helps a bit ♡♡♡

#asks #kate rambles

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moons-and-stars-and-shit · 4 years

Note

hello!!! i'd like to request a piece of 🍰 please <3 apologies for incoming info dump about my Entire Life :| & thank u so much darling!

basic information — i use she/her and i'm bisexual, an infj, and a scorpio. a yachi kinnie :)

appearance — i'm a 5'0 asian girl with long black hair and dyed caramel tips! my body type is petit and skinny - lack of butt, unfortunately, but i got some tibby! overall im pretty tiny and always look younger than my age lol. i also wear glasses because i am Very Near Sighted, and my clothing style is a weird mix between cutesy-pastel-female-kpop-idol fits, indie teenage girl, and faux cottagecore.

personality — i'm a rather introverted person, but i'm trying my best to work on that. i have depression, anxiety, and adhd, but i'm always telling myself uplifting things and trying to work on my mindsets, so i'd like to say that i'm also sincere and compassionate! i'm also very adaptable and easily influenced by the behaviors of people around me. i think at first impression, i look standoffish and judgemental, but i think it's because i lack the confidence to say what i think and express my emotions, which i'm also working on! once i'm comfortable, i think i'm a very funny, intelligent, and caring person (i'm an extremely sensitive person and receptive to others' emotions — i cried a LOT watching karasuno v shiratorizawa 😐), but i can also tease and be a little sarcastic if the relationship calls for it. i get very affectionate and touchy with close friends too! long story short - i might seem awkward and quiet, but give me a moment— i'm trying, and i'll get there eventually, and i think that'll be worth waiting for. :)

hobbies — i like to do visual art things, like sketch pretty anime boys and also cross-stitch and make calligraphy! i'm a bullet-journaler :) i also love love LOVE learning languages and about different cultures, especially asian ones. i think i'm a pretty studious person when i get into it but i do procrastinate a lot T____T i'm also super into playing genshin impact, but i easily hop interests, so one day i'll be on this and the next, it's something else i'm rambling about. get ready to get ur ear talked off about wtv i love that week <3

likes + dislikes — i like anime, bts (!!), and otome games :> i also enjoy desserts, boba tea, flowers, and sudoku puzzles 🥺 i'm also a lover of learning, asian cultures, and dogs (also cats, but mostly dogs!) <3 i reallllyyyyyy want a pet snake one day too 🥺 family is also very important to me because i'm the youngest of 7 children! i dislike spiders snd working out (seriously the last person to want to do any type of fitness). all that "moving" jazz... volleyball is the only sport i'll probably ever even bother to learn the rules of LMAO but do not expect me to play i will eat the floor </3 my arms are sticks and i will simply embarrass myself

what i want/need in a relationship — i have a pretty idealistic idea of romance - i want someone perfect, but i know that's not realistic. at the very least, i want someone who loves me very much and is honest about that. they also need to let me be affectionate and clingy, and will be the same way back, even if it's just a little bit. i'm someone who needs love and affirmation rather consistently, like a freaking plant. i NEED someone who'll make sure i'm doing things and being productive, and someone who will actively encourage me to both be a better person mentally and physically get things done. they also should be able to take care of me (i'm a youngest child so i like being babied~) <3

this is very long, apologies! thank you so much for your wonderful matchups, they're so detailed and you work very hard on them, i can tell. thank you for your hard work!! kisses 4 u! <3

@mochiiswan ok I see you stealing my husband from me 🥲

Romantic Matchup

Bokuto Koutarou

How yall met

Girl you were just having a bad day

Nothing seemed to be going right

So you showed up for school in a rather gloomy mood

Bokuto didn't know you

But he still didn't like how sad you seemed

So he approached you

He basically just started making small talk to try to cheer you up

You dont know why but his energy did seem to be having a positive effect on you

Bokuto really liked talking to you

And he was glad he was able to cheer you up

The bell had rung signaling it was time to go to class

But bokuto didn't wanna leave you

So he asked if you wanted to come watch his volleyball practice after school

You agreed to go

You went to his practice and bokuto found himself trying to impress you

He didn't know why

Wait...

“AKAASHI I THINK I HAVE A CRUSH”

😳

Yeah he straight up yelled that…

While you were in there…

After a quick advice break from akaashi

He asked you out on a date :)))

What they love about you

He loves that you try to improve yourself

It's one thing to have issues

But to acknowledge those issues and to want to fix them truly makes a strong person

So he loves that you love yourself enough to improve on yourself

And he WILL help you in any way he can

Eek

He loves how sensitive you are

Bb boy is sensitive too

So he's glad he's found someone to cry with when a dog dies in a movie

(Also do any of you cry when a dog dies but doesn't when a human does? No? Just me?)

He loves how you value family

Im convinced bokuto is a family man

He loves his parents and his sisters more than anything

So he's glad he's found someone with the same values as him

HE LOVES HOW CLINGY YOU ARE

DO NOT EVEN HESITATE WITH THIS BOY

You can't tell me ocultos love language isn't physical touch

Come on now

LOOK AT HIM

You will get all the physical affection you could ever dream of

Favorite things to do together

Ok hear me out

He just likes going to the pound…

And looking at the animals with you

and/or

He likes volunteering at the animal shelter with you

You+cute animals=happy bokuto

Random HC

You drew him doing a spike once and he bout cried

Keeps the drawing in his phone case and pulls it out to brag

You take me as a hopeless romantic

And good news for you

Bokutos a hopeless romantic too :)

So your relationship is the closest to perfect relationships can get

He 100% keeps you on track

Mans is like a personal trainer istg

However don't expect to be productive with him around...

He did try to get you to play volleyball

And you did in fact eat the floor </3

Astrology

When Virgo and Scorpio join together in a love match, these Signs that are two apart in the Zodiac are brought together.

Their placement gives the relationship an intense karmic bond

The Virgo-Scorpio couple is loyal and deep, with very strong ties.

Virgo and Scorpio enjoy working together toward acquisition: Virgo wants order and Scorpio wants power.

Both of these Signs are about resources, including inheritances and property.

This couple is very service-oriented and known to be dependable.

They like to lend a hand to a friend or to the community.

Additionally, Virgo can be withdrawn — while Scorpio is more opaque and outgoing.

Because of the disparity, both Signs can learn from one another if they can agree to meet halfway.

Virgo is ruled by Mercury and Scorpio is ruled by Mars and Pluto.

This combination is very heated, thanks to Pluto’s influence.

The two Signs unite to form the basic foundation of human relationships — Mercury’s communication and Mars’s passion.

Mercury and Mars go well together; Mercury is about the conscious mind, and Mars is about the passion of romance.

Scorpio is rambunctious and intense, and Virgo is attracted to this energy.

In turn, Scorpio needs the loyalty and practicality inherent in Virgo.

Overall Aesthetic

Pastelcore

Songs-

Are you bored yet - wallows

Strawberry Mentos - Leanna Firestone

Hey Lover - Wabie

Mystery of Love - Sufjan Stevens

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu fandom #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu matchups #haikyuu x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto koutarou #bokuto x reader #bokuto x y/n #bokuto koutarou x y/n #bokuto #bokuto headcanons #bokuto hc

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shhh-no-ones-home · 4 years

Text

model citizen ricky horror x reader

+++++++++

college au

prompt: Character A sitting in a college 7am lecture and Character B sitting next to them pouring an energy drink into their coffee and says, "I'm going to die." (First interaction)

Song: pretty little distance by as it is

tag list: @musicsexandpizza69 @svintsandghosts @theoneandonlykymberlee @alilpunkrock @cynic-spirit @thisplace-ishaunted @lifeisabitchandsoareyou @xyours-eternallyx

+++++++++

i walked into the room and huffed as i took my seat, reaching into my bag for my notebook and a pen. i hated having a 9am again and missed being able to sleep-in like i did last semester. this was the first day though and i was hopeful my mind would change about it as the course went on. it probably wouldnt though. i sat there, catching a few more students walk in as i looked down at my phone.

nothing was too exciting yet and the teacher hadnt even shown up. i was more-so ready for the new art class though. it was my major after all and i was pretty well known by the professors at this point. as i sat there, a loud clatter grabbed my attention, making me look to my right. there was sat a shorter, skinny kid, with long inky black hair tucked under a beanie. my eyes went wide as he cracked the monster in his hand open, pouring it into his half=full trenta cup from Starbucks. he looked over at me and smiled.

"im going to die."

he said in the most sure-fire tone before putting the lid back on the cup and chugging it. i sat there in horror staring at him.

"are you okay?"

i asked and he shrugged, looking at me over the top of the cup. he had the bluest eyes i had ever seen, even in the low light of the art room. i was a little start struck for a second before shaking myself out of my daze, watching him put the cup down against the desk with a thud.

"if i pass out during class just push me out of the way and ill figure something out later."

he said, turning forward. i went to say something just as the teacher walked in.

"y/n! good to see you back. we missed you last semester."

professor crane said, looking to the student teacher as he ducked behind him and paced quickly to the front desk. his gaze followed him too before he shrugged and turned back to me with a smile.

"whatever, im sure he missed you too. but either way its good to have you back in class and i look forward to seeing what you come up with for the showcase in march."

i nodded with a smile before he walked away to the front of the class, instructing everyone to take their seats.

"you come here often?"

i heard from the kid next to me, hearing him laugh to himself as he took another drink of his coffee/monster concoction.

"yes, actually. im an art major."

i said a little dumbfounded. he nodded.

"cool, im here for film."

i drew my brows.

"youre doing film?"

i asked and he winked at me, looking to Brian as he turned the projector on. i opened my mouth before closing it quickly, feeling a little more confused than before.

"alright, first things first. i only make a syllabus because administration says i have to. the schedule is shit and we will most likely be doing something completely different so i suggest you keep a planner or something to keep track of your assignments. secondly, i will get to it later but i want you to start thinking about your projects for the spring showcase in march. we have a few short months so after you learn the basics of form you will be instructed to sketch something in your own style and present it to the board."

my mind went in and out after that, trying to catch quick glances at the kid next to me without being suspicious. every time he moved i could feel my heart pulse, giving me anxiety that he could actually pass out or something.

"y/n, your partner for this project will be mr olson."

brian said, standing over me and looking between the two of us. i nodded with wide eyes as he moved to the two kids behind us.

"guess that means we have pretty high chances at getting an A."

he said, raising his cup in cheers. i looked down at the assignment sheet, grazing over it and groaning. we had to come up with a comic strip in different style parts; the first panel a base sketch, the second panel a hard sketch, the third panel color blocking, and so on. god this was gonna be a nightmare.

"you dont seem too enthused."

the kid said amused. i sent him a testing look.

"im not, ive done something similar before and you have to get every step just right or they take points off. and we have to prove what parts we did."

i said, rolling my eyes. i looked over to him, blinking as a camera flash went off. i drew my brows as he looked down at the screen on it.

"where did you even get that?"

i asked, trying to inspect him. he sent me a smile.

"i always keep it on me. im ricky by the way, and you look great."

he said amused and i breathed deeply.

"y/n."

i said, looking back to the paper.

"well y/n i think this is going to be a great partnership-"

"alright!"

brian called, cutting him off.

"you have your assignments. i have nothing else for you today so you are welcome to either stay here and work until class time is over or you can leave and work on it on your own time. i dont really care either way, just get it done."

i hummed to myself before stuffing my notebook and the assignment sheet into my bag and standing up. i caught a glimpse of ricky starting at me with wide eyes as i turned to leave.

"what are you doing?"

he asked and i looked between him and the door, pointing at it.

"leaving, its not due for another week."

i started off, hearing him shuffle around before chasing after me.

"hey wait! cant we like plan what we're doing or something?"

he asked and i shrugged, looking over to him as he tried to put his paper in his backpack and hold the camera and cup of coffee. i stopped, staring at him as he struggled. i rolled my eyes, taking the cup and the camera from him. he looked to me in shock and i raised my brows.

"get to it, i dont have all day."

i said and he finished what he was doing, zipping his bag up and slinging it over it shoulder. i handed him the cup and camera back and kept walking.

"so uh, what kind of thing did you have in mind for this project?"

he asked and i looked to the sky, squinting but trying to think as we made it outside.

"i dont know, maybe a ball of some kind?"

he raised a brow, shuffling his feet as he tried to keep up with my long strides.

"like masks and large dresses?"

he asked and i nodded, opening the door to dinging hall.

"something like that yeah."

he nodded as i led us to a table.

"that sounds cool, i could get behind that."

i sent him a knowing look.

"you seem like the kind of guy who would."

i said, pulling my sketchpad out. he raised a brow, sitting beside me.

"whats that supposed to mean?"

he asked and i sent him a look.

"im assuming you like vampires, and the Edwardian thing usually goes hand in hand with that."

he sent me a nervous smile.

"is it that obvious?"

he asked, rubbing his hands against his pants. i nodded.

"thats okay though, cause i like them too. so much so that i have costumes already, we can pose for each other. i think youd look great in this."

i said, sliding my phone across the table to show him the outfit i had for it. i just hoped it would fit him.

"you seem like youve been planning this for a while."

he said through a laugh and i shrugged.

"i just like to feel fancy, the projects on the other hand kind of fall into my lap."

i said, flipping through a few pages in my book. he placed his hand on one before taking it from me and looking over it.

"this looks insane."

he said and i looked around awkwardly.

"in a good way?"

i asked, finding his gaze.

"oh! yeah! of course in a good way. it looks super cool. i see why you wanted to do the ball thing now."

he commented, noting the sketch i had done already that was similar. it is what i was used to after all. he set the book back down in front of me and sent me a wide smile, picking his camera up and taking another picture of me.

"why do you do that?"

i asked and he laughed.

"i need models for my art and i think now that we've met you would be a great subject."

i set him a look, trying to hide the blush creeping its way up my neck.

"you really think so?"

i asked bashfully and he nodded.

"oh yeah, absolutely. and now that we're partners i think it will give me ample opportunity to find a new muse. you wanna be a subject for a music video?"

i sat back, a little taken aback.

"you want me to do what?"

i asked and he laughed, putting the camera on the table.

"in about a month my band is gonna need some girls for a video but its cool if not. i can live with us just being art project partners."

i cleared my throat, rubbing my hands together under the table.

"how about we get through this first and ill get back to you on that?"

he smiled knowingly at me, raising his coffee to me in cheers.

"sounds like a plan to me."

#wattpad #x reader #ricky olson #ricky horror #imagines #miw #one shots #288

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foryoumyheroes · 4 years

Note

hi! I dont know if you are still taking request, or even active but if you are, could you do a headcanon with todoroki having a s/o that loves drawing him ? they could be already on a relationship or not ur choice

Hi anon! If you're reading this I previously replied that I am sort of taking requests, but I was inactive until recent. In order to make that up to you I'll give you both a scenario fic and headcanons since I was struck by inspiration to write this! Hope you enjoy!! I kinda spiraled off topic asdfgh

Pls accept my word-vomit like I’m a cat giving you a dead rat.

The Campos

Todoroki x Artist!Reader

"How is it possible for anyone to be that handsome."

Even you were surprised by the words tumbling out of your own head, stopping your pencil in its place and as you froze like a still frame. It wasn’t long before you felt heat creep up your body, painting your cheeks all the way to your ears with a red like the sunset.

It was always like this.

There was nothing artistic from the way his image always flowed from your pencil in hurried lines and messy scribbles, and there was no beauty from how you always hunched over into the collar of your shirts whenever you felt the burning of your emotions. You wrote Todoroki [Name] and [Surname] Shouto in the margins of your notebook as if you had reverted back to primary school, doodled among little tiny hearts and sketches of his side profile.

Maybe your parents were right. You should’ve just gone to art school like they had said and fallen down the path of them and so many of your other relatives. But at fourteen you were just so caught up with wanting to be different. You had to be. You had to get off the beaten path and flow out of the frame you were confined in. You said that in this family you would never be the best artist, but you could become the best Hero that the [Surname]s had ever had. You were a Hero-in-training, but you knew that at heart you would always be an artist.

And now at sixteen you were at a loss. You were at a loss because whenever you looked over at the last window seat in 1-A, your talents always fell short. There was nothing you could draw that could bridge the distance you felt, to calm the foreign feelings in your body. Your drawing skills had not diminished while you practiced war, but you were backtracking now. Perhaps you really should’ve gone to art school instead.

Maybe then you would find a way to express how you truly felt.

Nothing you wrote or drew now could match up to the endless admiration you had for one Todoroki Shouto.

Everyone else was mere background noise to Todoroki when he set his gaze on you.

Although Bakugou and his group of friends were in the common room shouting and making a ruckus and Todoroki’s own friends were giggling at the back of him, tossing frosting, floating bowls of batter to Iida’s ire.

His eyes always sought you out.

It was difficult to explain why. Even now, with you in a baggy sweatshirt and loose jeans rolled at the ankles, Todoroki wondered why he was paying you so much attention. The world around you was spinning and you were at an impasse. You were only writing in your notebook, probably jotting down notes at a speed he couldn’t comprehend. Your head was always buried in that Campos notebook.

With a loud screech, Kirishima bumped his hip on the dining table, jostling both you and him from your standstill, pencils rolling across the wood. Your eyes immediately flashed up and met with his wide heterochromic ones. A deer in the headlights. The two of you turned away as quickly as it came, ignorant to the pink that bloomed on both of your cheeks while a spark flickered across his left cheek.

“Whatcha drawing there, [Name]?” Kirishima asked boisterously, pulling out the chair beside you while you heated up like a furnace, waving your arms around wildly and sputtered like a train engine. You couldn’t snatch it away fast enough and his dark eyes fell on your doodle-ridden pages with a soft, “Oh.” His lips formed a small O shape. His eyes carefully looked up at the hot-and-cold boy before dropping back down to your page. You carefully averted your eyes, fixing [e/c] orbs on some faraway wall until he carefully pulled your notebook toward him and quickly scribbling something down, pushing the pages back toward you.

When you snuck a peek at the drawing of a blond gremlin with spiky hair like a porcupine, and a crude drawing of a K and B underneath an umbrella, a loud laugh tumbled out of your mouth.

It was as if Todoroki didn’t exist anymore as you gave Kirishima your full attention, laughing to whatever jokes he made or witty one-liners.

He wasn’t a poet. He didn’t know the words.

Others could talk about how selfish he was for having his mother’s pretty face and his powerful Quirk; boys and girls have tried before, handing him letters in his locker and bouquets of flowers, but that never mattered to him. Only you have stayed on his mind. His attractive features and his Quirk only had stock to it if it helped him win over your affections.

In crowded places and busy gatherings, when he stood in solidarity, when his hands hung by his sides and his eyes were left with nothing to see, he wondered what primitive part of him was always acting out. How his hands wanted to cut off all connection with the logic in his brain and reach out to grab yours. How he always silently watched you from faraway, physically unable to tear your visage away from his eyes. His body always acted without reason — the heavy palpitations against his rib cage, the rose against his skin, the sweat on his palms, the dilation of his pupils.

He wondered how he was in Heaven just by being near you.

He wondered what it would take to get you to look at him for once.

But your eyes would just be deep within the confines of your Campos notebook, impervious to his lingering thoughts of you.

Surprisingly it was Todoroki who offered to clean up after his friends while they went into the showers to wash away the flour and frosting that coated their hair and skin. The night had already been long by the time they turned in, heavy and drowsy after making several tins of uneven, ugly cupcakes. He had to do something with all of this energy, he thought, scrubbing away at stubborn stripes of sugar that painted the counter tops.

The lights were off and only the streaks of moonlight filtered through the large windows of the dorm room. You had left with Bakugou’s group several hours earlier, accepting Kirishima’s invitation to go to the nearest konbini for ice cream with an open hand.

Now it was just him.

Tossing the rag in the wash bin, he was about to make his way back to his room when his eyes fell upon the dining table and he found your notebook.

How could he not know it was yours. He had seen it within your hands more times than he could count, more obsessively than Midoriya’s Hero Analysis for the Future No. 13. He wondered if that was why he was so interested in you. Your dedication to your studies were admirable. Nearly twenty-four-seven.

Carefully, he crept closer to it, as if it was a bomb going to detonate before he picked it up.

The pages curled and crinkled in his hands, and he debated opening it.

It was just a school notebook, right? You probably only had notes and worksheets hidden inside of it.

Maybe he could get an answer to your time. He could discover the subjects that you were struggling at, or even find one that you were better than him at. You were a couple ranks below him in the class grades. When he returned your Campos to you he could ask to study with you.

He flipped it open and his heart stopped at the sight.

Shit, shit, shit! you thought, running down the stairs, taking two at a time. It was late enough that the elevators were locked for curfew and you cursed Aizawa-sensei for putting your room at the very top of the building. After you had gotten back from the konbini with your friends, cheeks hurting from how hard you were laughing at Kaminari’s antics and Sero’s sarcasm, you had completely forgotten that you left your notebook on the kitchen table. You only remembered when you dug through your bag only to scramble around when nothing came up. If anyone like Hagakure or god forbid — Mineta, found it, you would never live it down. You were lucky enough that Kirishima was a good sport about it. He knew how to keep his mouth shut, but everyone else?

You wondered if it was too late to transfer schools.

Your feet landed harshly on the carpeted ground after the final step, head snapping back and forth for your notebook, but froze at what you saw.

Even in the dim light of the moon and past the hand clamped over his face, you could see the heavy pink on his cheeks.

Your heart dropped.

“I — “ His hand fell to his side and you were given a full view of the strong flush on his face. “That’s my notebook... Todoroki-kun.”

When the Campos dropped to the floor and he dashed across the common room, hand around your waist and his lips on yours, you found that you didn’t need flowery words or an arsenal of artistic techniques to express how you felt.

Your hands wrapped around his neck, locking him deeper in the embrace, fingers cording through his soft red and white hair.

The instinct to be closer to him would be all you need to overcome the division between a desire for him and the stillness of your body.

Headcanons:

After you two get together and it becomes more obvious that you’re drawing him, he’ll coax you out of doing it in secret.

He’ll ask to take pictures of the drawings on the margins of your notebook or if you’re drawing it on scrap paper, he’ll ask to have it after you’re done with it.

He keeps it in a box uwu and he has to upgrade every year because it keeps on getting full.

Even if you’re not drawing him, you ask him to pose for you so you can take references for your other drawings. He’s just so proportionate!!

It makes him so happy every time he sees it!! He nearly catches on fire every time.

The fact that you’re expressing your affections in this special way makes him so soft??

He once tried to draw you in return but he has like zero to none art experience. Even had no experience in his childhood because all he wanted to draw was All Might and Endeavor wouldn’t allow that.

Instead you offer to teach him the basics on how to draw and you two continue bonding that way!! You sit on his lap because that’s the best spot to be close enough to guide him and show him how to draw while you drone on and on about shadows, anatomy, perspective, and he’s just nodding along without a single word going to his brain because he’s just staring at you the entire time.

[“Shouto-chan, did you get that?”

“Yeah...boxes?”]

If you draw him complete pictures he keeps it on his wall, and eventually his dorm room looks like he’s about to string red yarn around it because it’s blanketed with paper all over like he’s uncovering a murder conspiracy.

A/N: The picture that I used for the page breaks is Anselm Feuerbach’s “Peonies” and I actually saw it in real life at the Neue Pinakothek!! It’s one of my favorites and I even got a mousepad of it bc I’m a dork asdfg

The Kirishima and [Name] scene is inspired by this comic by marbitss and I was inspired to write a lot of prose after reading Nicole Krauss’ The History of Love!

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mattzerella-sticks · 3 years

Text

So I had an idea for a DeanCas Pokemon AU that I never worked on because it was just too grand of a project, but after commissioning @gabester-sketch to draw this picture of Dean and a Sylveon (here) I’m thinking, even if I never get around to writing it, I still think it was great and am gonna share it.

So, basically, it would have been an AU set in the Kalos region (my favorite region), with Dean and Sam having grown up in Vaniville Town. When they were young, the town was beset by criminals and set aflame, the boys losing their mother in the fire. While Dean got Sam to safety in their neighbor Bobby’s arms, he then got seperated and ended up losing consciousness under a tree. He was mostly unharmed save for twin scars on his palms in the shape of ‘x’s (which he will hide with gloves), but because of the fire he ended up being traumatized of both fire and Pokemon. Fast forward many years, they have been raised by Bobby because, after the fire, John decided to recommit to being a Pokemon trainer and find the villains who set the fire. Sam wants to set out on his own journey, but has been held back by Dean’s worry longer than he should have - meaning all of his friends got to leave town when they were ten while Sam’s been there an extra 6+ years. Until one day, Sam leaves, telling Dean that he is going to start his journey and he hopes he forgives him.

Dean, naturally, chases after Sam - thinking he can catch him before he gets far.

Yet Dean, being Dean, gets lost quite easily in the surrounding grass and forest and his anxieties start rising. He gets cornered by some wild Pokemon and doesn’t know what to do, when suddenly an Espurr appears and battles away the Pokemon. A trainer arrives, too, with mussed dark hair and blue eyes hidden behind wide-rimmed frames, and he’s dressed dishevedly. He introduces himself as Cas and asks why Dean didn’t send out his own Pokemon. Dean says that he doesn’t have any. This begins a conversation that Dean quickly walks away from, stubborn, claiming that he doesn’t need any Pokemon.

He’s lost again, and mad that he didn’t ask Cas for directions. He’s sitting by a lake when he feels something brush up against his side, and it’s a little Eevee. Dean tries to make her go away, but she won’t, instead nestling into his lap. At first he’s so panicked, but the more Eevee cuddles and uses Baby-Doll Eyes at him, and as he pets her, Dean relaxes. Until some Team Flame members burst in, saying that they’re here for the Eevee. Dean doesn’t respond well and say that it’s not their Eevee. They battle, with Dean holding his own, but when it looks like they’re gonna be overpowered, Dean runs away with the Eevee and stumbles on Cas again, and together they send Team Flame running. Dean thanks Cas, while Cas observes that he’s seemed to have gotten himself a Pokemon. Gives Dean a Pokeball to catch the Eevee with. Together, they make it to the next town where Dean learns Sam’s already left for Lumiose. “Good thing you have a Pokemon,” Cas comments, “you’re gonna need her if you want to go to Lumiose.” Now Dean has been forced on his own Pokemon journey.

Along the way Dean will find his party growing, and he’ll be coming out of his shell with the more people he met. The Pokemon professor I had in mind was Chuck when I created this but I have changed my mind and it’s Missouri, with Charlie and Kevin as her assistants. Lumiouse City gym leader was Ash, little sister Jo and mom Ellen would also be introduced. The third gym leader would be Claire, who we also find out is Cas’s niece after Dean meets with Cas’s twin brother Jimmy - thinking he’s Cas. And the sixth gym leader was originally gonna be Jess, but because I am an Eileen-stan, Eileen would be the Fairy gym leader who also tells Dean she was very interested in his brother. And Dean’s party would grow to include a Togepi that he evolves into a Togekiss, a Feebas he helps grow into a Milotic, his Eevee evolves into a Sylveon, a Buneary bruiser that will evolve into a Lopunny, a Litleo that helps him overcome his fear of fire type Pokemon (saving her from a fire that Team Flare started in former Team Flare now Elite Four member Meg’s house) that will evolve into a Pyroar, and a Cubone who he keeps out of its Pokeball most the time (like Sylveon) that he picked up because we all know why.

And, during his journey, Dean becomes a great trainer in his own right, though he doesn’t battle for badges. He becomes great friends with his Pokemon. Pokemon have always naturally been drawn to him, which he’s now starting to see isn’t such a bad thing. He’s also meeting new friends, like Cas who he keeps running into and, you guessed it, develops a crush on him.

Finally Dean makes his way back to Lumiouse City for the Pokemon Tournament, and while out and about in the city finally runs into Sam. Sam is shocked to see Dean, especially Dean with Pokemon, while Dean just starts berating Sam for sneaking off like that. They mend fences pretty easily, Dean saying that if it weren’t for Sam leaving Dean might’ve been too afraid to leave home to go on his own journey. Sam would love to stay and chat, but he needs to register for the tournament. Dean lets him off, saying they should meet up for lunch (”a picnic”). Sam agrees. After running into Sam, Dean then runs into Cas, and Dean fills him in on the Sam stuff. He then invites Cas to their picnic. Cas agrees, but hasn’t shown up despite Dean and Sam and their Pokemon all already being there for half an hour. Cas does arrive, apologizing, being held up, and Dean is ready to tease him until he turns and sees Cas dressed much differently than before.

Cas is in a suit, his hair pushed back, no glasses, and wears a trench coat. Sam is agape, asking Dean why the Kalos Champion knows who he is.

That’s right! Cas is the Champion of Kalos! We finally meet his party, which includes a fully-evolved Meowstic.

It’s an enjoyable picnic and they’re all walking around the city when they see a Pokemon battle going on, check it out and - it’s John Winchester!

More reunions! John is proud of his sons for setting off on their journey, and asks to see their Pokemon. He approves of Sam’s but finds that Dean’s aren’t fit for battle. Dean is rubbed the wrong way by that but stays silent, but Sam goads them into a fight. Dean’s Sylveon vs. John’s Tyranitar. It’s a strong match-up, with both Pokemon getting good hits in. Sylveon falls, however. John, though, says that Dean trained her well and things are fixed there.

It’s time for the tournament and everyone is there. Including Chuck, the CEO of this corporation. Sam’s progressing well throughout the tournament, until he finally faces Nick, a mysterious competitor who’s been mowing down his challengers ruthlessly. Before the battle Dean, in a trance, rises from his seat. Sylveon worringly chases after him. Just as the battle is about to start, the stadium goes dark, and Team Flare make their reveal. They begin attacking, with those who are able to combatting this all. Sam is busy dealing with Nick, Cas tied up battling grunts but also worried about Dean. He goes to find him but only sees John, who explains Dean had to use the bathroom.

In actuallity, Dean is being kidnapped by Team Flare and their leader, Chuck. Cas and John make it to see Dean being squirreled away, Sylveon left behind.

Dean wakes up in the Team Flare headquarters, where it’s revealed Chuck wants to absorb the powers of life and death through their avatars - Xerneas and Yveltal. He’s already succeeded with Yveltal, but failed years ago during the Vaniville Assault. That’s right! Chuck caused the fire that killed Dean’s mom and scarred him. This is where we learn that Dean, while lost in the flames of the town and forest, stumbled upon Xerneas’s tree form. Dean died due to smoke inhalation, but was given new life through Xerneas’s interference. Because of this, his Pokemon’s fairy attacks were much stronger than normal, and it aided his charm. Bascially, Xerneas passed its energy into Dean, making him Xerneas. And Chuck wants to absorb it even if it kills Dean.

Cas, Sam, and John all decide to launch a rescue mission. They sneak into the underground compound and fight to free Dean. Meanwhile, Chuck moves to awaken Xerneas. He succeeds in doing this, Dean’s hair turning pink because of it. He doesn’t absorb Xerneas’s power, however, as the others cut in. Chuck disappears, deciding he’ll just go through with his plan without Xerneas then.

The group converge, freeing Dean. Except it isn’t Dean, it’s Xerneas. “I’ve always been Xerneas.” This doesn’t sit right with any of them, but before they can comment Xerneas teleports away, sensing Chuck. The others leave the compound, trying to get a sense of what’s going on.

Chuck’s real goal was to destroy the world by killing Zygarde, then start over using Xerneas’s power. Chuck has grown into a horrible amalgamation of man and Pokemon. Dean does the same to stop him, and they battle while the others go to wake Zygarde from his slumber. They succeed, and Zygarde comes and rips Yveltal free from Chuck, leaving him a regular man again.

Xerneas goes back to normal, Dean-sized again, and says that once he leaves Dean, Dean will surely die. Everyone starts to cry, including Dean’s Pokemon who all jump out of their balls to argue with the deer entity. Xerneas, troubled, searches their feelings, and understands. He converses with Zygarde and when Zygarde frees Xerneas, Dean is still able to wake up and is himself again (there was a way!) His hair is still pink, though. Everyone celebrates!

Epilogue - Sam wins the tournament and faces off against Cas, defeating him and becoming the new Kalos champion. Cas is glad, as he’s ready to retire and explore more that life has to offer. Dean asks what that might be, and Cas kisses him.

Back when I thought of this, I think around s9/s10, it was way out of my skill level. And now, I dont have the time lol. It seems like it’d be a 20+ chapter piece. But what a fic it would be...

#supernatural #spn #pokemon au #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #destiel #deancas #john winchester #destiel fanfic idea #this is probably as far as I'll be able to go with it #especially since most of my notes were lost in my dead computer lol

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