#i broke in a new pen @ work with this doodle

[morp]

[conflitdecanard]

Crepe in another t-shirt :’D 

Based on a comment I got on Twitter dezuhjded :>

[totheblood]

begging for rain. (three)

󠁐# THREE; the harder that it takes to undo

PAIRING: ex!ellie williams x nextdoorneighbor!reader

SUMMARY: moving to a new town can be tough, especially as you are trying to hold everything in your life together. after you meet ellie, your life completely changes, but for the better? well that's still up in the air

WARNINGS: mentions of death, grief, related subjects; cursing, mentions of drinking/drugs, mentions of s*x,

WORD COUNT: 4.6k

A/N : ok this was the longest chapter i've written to date so... please enjoy.... ONE AI AUDIOS IN THE FIC ! please please please like and reblog/reply/send asks, comments, the whole nine yards… it is so appreciated!

TWO YEARS AGO

It felt weird to be in Ellie’s house.

Ellie opened the door to a cozy living room with warm beige walls and wicker furniture that had been well-worn by time. An old acoustic guitar leaned against one wall and a record player sat atop an end table, surrounded by piles of vintage vinyl. The air was thick with the aroma of coffee and old books, creating a comforting ambiance. Family photos and posters dotted the walls, giving an insight into Ellie's life that made you feel like a intruder but also made you want to know more. 

"Nice place," you said, removing your shoes at the door.

"Thanks," Ellie smiled, leading you to the living room. "You can drop your stuff there. We'll study at the table."

You took a seat at the sturdy oak dining table and ran your fingers over its smooth surface before settling into it. Scattered papers littered the table, some lined with handwritten lyrics, others with doodles intertwined in colored ink. You opened up your English books and laid out your homework, feeling a sense of warmth emanating from the room. The aged furniture added an air of familiarity, like you were being invited into Ellie's private world. Ellie seemed to be working on physics homework, while you had an English essay on Shakespeare to tackle. The juxtaposition wasn't lost on you—Ellie with equations and you with Elizabethan English.

You both settled into your work, the atmosphere tinged with concentration. Occasionally, your eyes would drift towards Ellie, watching her brows furrow in thought or her lips move silently as she read through her notes. Each time, you'd catch yourself and refocus on your own work.

"So, how are you finding the essay?" she finally broke the silence.

"It's... okay, I guess. Mrs. Porter has a way of making Shakespeare sound like rocket science."

Ellie chuckled. "Ah, the age-old struggle. To be or not to be confused, that is the question."

You laughed, and for a moment, the tension of the day seemed to lift. "You're not so bad at this, you know," you said. "Maybe you should consider a career in stand-up."

"And give up my dream of becoming a rockstar physicist?" she feigned surprise. "Never."

You smiled at her enthusiasm. "A rockstar physicist, huh? That's a first."

"Well, what about you? Any grand plans?"

You hesitated, thinking about your dad for a moment. You blinked, looking down at the book in front of you before looking back up at Ellie.  "I'm not sure. I used to think I had it all figured out, but now... everything's so uncertain."

Ellie put down her pen and looked at you, her green eyes softening. "Uncertainty isn't always bad, you know. Sometimes it's just room for something new, something better."

You looked at her, really looked at her, and felt something shift inside you. "That's pretty wise for a 17-year-old."

She blushed a little, turning her attention back to her notebook. "Well, don't spread it around. I have a reputation to maintain. Plus, I’m almost 18."

The rest of the study session went smoothly. You’d occasionally sigh and drop your head in frustration, making Ellie stifle a giggle and demand you get back to work. You had only known her for a day and was already falling into a rhythm with her. You didn’t want to go home, but the sun was beginning to set and you wanted time to rest. Time to think about the day you had and try to make sense of it. When it was time to leave, Ellie walked you to the door.

"Thanks for coming over. It was fun," she said, her hands twisting together.

"Yeah, I had a good time too," you replied, feeling a strange mix of happiness and reluctance to leave.

As you stepped out into the cool evening air, Ellie's words echoed in your mind: "Uncertainty isn't always bad... it's just room for something new, something better." And as you walked back across the dirt path to your house, you couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, something new and better had already begun.

You walked into your room, shutting the door behind you as if to seal off the world outside. It was your sanctuary, a little haven where you could breathe, think, and just be. You tossed your backpack onto the bed and sank into your chair, letting out a sigh as you looked around. Your room was still a mix of unpacked boxes and half-arranged furniture—a physical representation of your current state of mind, unsettled yet hopeful.

Picking up your phone, you noticed you had an unread Instagram DM. Your heart skipped a beat; could it be Ellie? Unlocking your phone, you saw the message was from Ingrid. Curiosity piqued, you opened.

ingrid.xoxo: Hey there, newbie. How was your first day?

You felt strange reading her message. Like it was something you weren’t supposed to be doing. Was she just being friendly or was there something more? You quickly typed back.

y/nsworld: hey! It was a little overwhelming but good overall. how was your day? 

Almost instantly, she replied.

ingrid.xoxo: Same old, same old. But seeing a fresh face around made it more interesting. 😉

The winking emoji caught your attention. Was she flirting? A little flutter of excitement mixed with confusion settled in your stomach.

Before you could process it further, the front door opened and closed loudly. It was your mom, finally home from work. You heard her footsteps coming up the stairs, and a few seconds later, she knocked on your door.

"Come in," you called.

The door swung open and your mom stepped in, her face tired but lighting up when she saw you. "Hey, sweetheart. How was your first day at the new school?"

You looked at her and smiled. "It was good, Mom. Made some new friends, and Ellie from next door is really nice. I went there and studied after school."

"That's wonderful," she said, her eyes shining with relief. "I was so worried you'd have a hard time adjusting."

"I mean, it's still the first day, but so far, so good," you said, shrugging. The relief on your mom’s face made you uneasy. You wanted to make this transition easy for both of you, but there was a newfound pressure building inside of you. You had to make it work here, even if you were unhappy. There was no escaping this place, and you suddenly felt trapped. Before your mind could go any further, she was speaking again. 

"That's my brave girl," she said, coming over to give you a hug. "I'm so proud of you."

As she left the room and wished you a goodnight with a firm kiss pressed to the top of your head, you sat back and sighed. Your phone buzzed again. Another message from Ingrid.

ingrid.xoxo: So, got any plans for the weekend? Maybe you'd like a tour guide to show you around. 😊

There it was again, that undercurrent of something more than just friendliness. You found yourself smiling, both intrigued and uncertain. It was as if life, in its own whimsical way, was presenting new possibilities, each more complicated than the last.

You glanced back at the door, then at your phone, then at the unpacked boxes still sitting in your room. Everything felt like a question mark, and as Ellie had wisely noted, maybe that wasn't such a bad thing after all.

Lying back on your bed, you stared up at the ceiling, pondering your response to Ingrid, your new friendships, and the unpredictability of life itself. Uncertainty, as it turns out, could indeed be the room for something new, something better.

And so, with a mix of excitement and apprehension, you typed out your reply to Ingrid, hitting send before you could second-guess yourself.

y/nsworld: a tour guide sounds fun. i'm in. :) 

PRESENT DAY 

When Ellie's text popped up on your phone two days ago, you almost deleted it without reading it. The mere sight of her name on your screen was like a splinter you couldn't remove—small but persistently painful. She wrote that she missed your friendship, and though you wanted to scoff at her audacity, a part of you hesitated. Her words, "Can we at least talk? Just as friends?" echoed in your mind. Against your better judgment, a wave of nostalgia washed over you, and before you knew it, you found yourself typing, "Fine, but this doesn't mean anything." Now, as you stepped into the quaint coffee shop where so many of your past memories were brewed, you questioned that decision.

"You're early," Ellie remarked, her voice as flat as the expression on her face.

"I had nothing better to do," you responded, matching her tone as you stepped into the coffee shop. It was almost empty, the aroma of freshly ground coffee mingling with the subtle tension that had settled between you two.

"Of course, you didn't," Ellie sighed, sliding a cup of coffee your way across the wooden table. On it was marked with your order, two pumps of hazelnut, two pumps of vanilla, and one pump of almond, extra cream. 

You looked at the cup, then back at Ellie. "You remembered how I like my coffee."

"I'm not completely useless."

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip while simultaneously biting your tongue. You had every right to tell her she was useless, but you refrained. It was perfect, just the way you liked it. "What do you want, Ellie?"

Ellie sighed, looking uncomfortable for a moment before speaking, "I wanted to talk. About us."

You almost snorted into your coffee. "Us? There is no 'us'. Not anymore."

"I know I messed up, okay? But can't we at least—"

"Messed up?" you cut her off, feeling the familiar surge of anger rise within you. "You didn't just 'mess up', Ellie. You broke something. Something that can't be fixed."

Ellie flinched as if you had slapped her. The look on her face almost making you feel guilty. But she didn’t have that right anymore, and you weren’t about to let her back in.

 "I know. And I'll regret that for the rest of my life. But can't we at least try to be civil? For the sake of our friends, if not for us?"

You looked at her, really looked at her, and for a moment you were back in her living room, struggling with physics homework and discussing the uncertainties of life. Back when things were simpler, easier. But that was a different time, a different you, and most importantly, a different Ellie.

"Being civil is a far cry from what you're suggesting," you said finally, breaking the silence.

Ellie sighed. "I know I don't deserve a second chance. Hell, I don't even deserve your friendship. But can't we at least try to be... something?"

You stared at her, pondering her words. The Ellie sitting in front of you now seemed so different from the girl you had fallen for. And yet, there were moments, fleeting seconds, when you could almost see traces of the old Ellie—the one who made you laugh, who made you think, who made you feel like you were the only person in the world.

But those traces were just that—fleeting and insubstantial. The real Ellie, the one sitting in front of you, was a reminder of a chapter you had painfully closed.

"We can try," you said finally, "but I can't promise anything."

Ellie nodded, a mixture of relief and regret flashing across her face. "I guess that's all I can ask for."

As you both sipped your coffee in silence, the weight of what was left unsaid hung heavy in the air. And yet, for the first time in a long time, it felt like you could both breathe a little easier.

But as Ellie's eyes met yours, you couldn't help but wonder: in the quest for something new, something better, had you both lost something irreplaceable? There was something substantially broken between the two of you now, innocence on both parts lost. 

TWO YEARS AGO

You found yourself standing in front of your bathroom mirror, staring at your reflection as you pondered what to wear for this so-called 'tour' with Ingrid. You wondered if you should aim for casual or if Ingrid, with her meticulous style, would expect something more. After rummaging through your wardrobe, you settled on a simple pair of jeans and a loose-fitting white shirt. Casual, yet presentable. You threw on a light jacket, considering the morning chill, and took one last look in the mirror. Satisfied but not entirely confident, you grabbed your phone and headed downstairs. Your mom was sitting at the dining room table, bowl of cereal in front of her with her spoon in one hand and phone in the other.

"Going out?" Your mom looked up from her phone, her eyes scanning your outfit.

"Yeah, a girl from school is showing me around town."

"Ah, great. Text me if you need anything." Her eyes returned to her phone, but not before you caught the fleeting look of relief. There the pressure was again, and in turn your sinking stomach. 

"See you later, Mom," you said, heading for the door.

"Have fun, sweetheart!" she called out as you closed the door behind you.

As you approached Ingrid's car, you noticed her already leaning against it. She was wearing what could only be described as the epitome of 'casual chic'—ripped jeans, a designer top, and a pair of sunglasses perched effortlessly on her head. She looked up from her phone and greeted you with a broad, almost rehearsed, smile.

"Ready for your grand tour?" Ingrid inquired, her eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than you were comfortable with.

"Ready as I'll ever be," you replied, cautiously optimistic about the day ahead.

The interior of Ingrid's car was as meticulously maintained as her appearance. The leather seats were pristine, and the air was scented with something floral, bordering on overpowering. She started the engine, and you were off.

The first few minutes were filled with awkward silence. You sensed that Ingrid was waiting for you to initiate conversation, but you were too wrapped up in your thoughts to open your mouth to speak. Finally, she broke the ice.

"So, first stop, the infamous Longview Park. You'll love it—it's where everyone hangs out," she said, her voice tinged with enthusiasm that sounded slightly rehearsed.

"That sounds fun," you responded, forcing a smile.

As you drove through the town, Ingrid began to pepper you with questions. They started off harmless enough—questions about your old town, your interests, your favorite movies. But as the drive continued, the questions began to probe deeper.

"So, why did you move here? If you don't mind me asking," she added hastily, as though realizing she might be venturing into sensitive territory.

"My dad passed away. We couldn’t afford to live there anymore, so we had to move," you replied, trying to maintain composure. You had rehearsed this response, but it still felt like you were ripping off a Band-Aid every time you said it.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Ingrid responded, her voice softening for the first time that morning. But before you could reply, she was off again. "Are you seeing anyone?"

The abrupt switch in topic caught you off-guard. "Uh, no, not right now," you stammered.

"Really? Someone as hot as you? I find that hard to believe," she said, her eyes briefly meeting yours before returning to the road.

"Um, thanks," you muttered, not entirely sure how to interpret the compliment.

Ingrid seemed to take your discomfort as a cue to change the subject. "We're almost at Longview Park. It's truly the heart of our community," she declared, as if rehearsed.

As you pulled into the parking lot of Longview Park, you took a deep breath. It was time to see what this 'heart of the community' was all about.

he car rolled to a stop, and Ingrid switched off the engine, her eyes twinkling like she was unveiling a secret treasure. "And here we are—Longview Park. It's like the social hub of our high school world."

You opened the car door and stepped out, looking around. The park was sizable, dotted with large oaks and willows that offered generous shade. A playground occupied one corner, bustling with the laughter of children, while a pond shimmered peacefully in the mid-morning sun. People were everywhere—jogging, playing Frisbee, or simply lounging on the grass. It had a communal feel.

Ingrid led you along a gravel path, her steps confident and rehearsed as if she'd walked this path a thousand times before. "See that gazebo over there?" she pointed, "That's like the unofficial meet-up spot for parties and hangouts. And over there is the infamous 'Lovers' Lane' where couples go to... well, you know."

Her words were punctuated with a suggestive wink that made you feel slightly uncomfortable. You chuckled nervously, trying to dispel the awkwardness.

As you walked, you couldn't help but notice the way people looked at Ingrid—long enough to show interest but not too long to risk her noticing. She seemed to command attention effortlessly, and you couldn't tell if it was her charisma or if you were completely missing something

"Everyone loves to be here on weekends," Ingrid continued, her tone casual but her eyes scanning the area, as if looking for someone or something in particular. "It's a great place to catch up with friends or make new ones. Like we're doing right now."

She shot you a smile, the kind that was meant to be endearing but felt slightly off-mark. You returned it nonetheless. "It's a nice place. Very... lively," you said, choosing your words carefully.

As you neared the pond, you spotted a familiar face sitting on one of the benches—Cat. And next to her, unmistakably, was Ellie. They seemed engrossed in conversation, their faces inches apart. A pang of something—was it jealousy?—stabbed at you, but you quickly brushed it aside.

"Hey, look who it is!" Ingrid's voice brought you back to reality. She had followed your gaze and was now staring directly at Ellie and Cat. "Want to go say hi?"

You hesitated. The last thing you wanted was an awkward run-in, but before you could voice your concerns, Ingrid had already started walking toward them.

"Hey Cat, Ellie!" she called out, her voice unnaturally high. Both heads turned in your direction, and the range of emotions that crossed their faces in that brief moment was unsettling—surprise, confusion, and something else you couldn't quite put your finger on.

"Hey Ingrid," Ellie finally spoke, her eyes meeting yours for a fleeting second before returning to Ingrid. "What brings you here?"

"Just giving our new resident a grand tour of Longview Park," Ingrid replied, her arm casually draping over your shoulder. You felt a shiver run down your spine but chose to ignore it.

"That's nice of you," Cat chimed in, her eyes narrowing slightly as they settled on you. You couldn't tell if she was being sincere or just sizing you up.

"Yeah, it's been fun," you said, forcing a smile. But your eyes met Ellie's once more, and the unspoken words hung heavily in the air between you.

"Well, we won't keep you," Ingrid said abruptly, as if sensing the tension. "Lots more to see. Come on," she tugged at your arm lightly, and you followed her back to the path, leaving Ellie and Cat behind.

As you walked away, you felt Ellie's gaze burning into your back. You wanted to look back, to catch one last glimpse of her, but you resisted. Whatever was or wasn't happening between you and Ellie would have to wait. Right now, you were on Ingrid's turf, and you couldn't help but feel like a pawn in a much larger game.

"Shall we continue?" Ingrid asked, breaking the silence.

"Sure," you replied, but your thoughts were already miles away.

The door clicked shut as you slid into the passenger seat, your thoughts still reeling from the encounter at the park. Ingrid revved up the engine and pulled away, humming softly to the beat of the song playing on the radio. You looked over at her, everything about her seemed staged. 

"How did you like the park?" she asked, casting a quick glance in your direction.

"It was... interesting," you said cautiously. "It's a nice place, very lively. Lots of history, I imagine."

Ingrid chuckled. "Oh, you have no idea. It's like the theater of high school drama. Anything and everything happens there."

Her words hung in the air, and you couldn't help but feel like there was a deeper meaning behind them. But before you could ponder it further, your phone buzzed. Glancing down, you saw Ellie's name flash on the screen.

Ellie: hey. can we talk later?

You felt a mixed bag of emotions, but you were mostly nervous. You hadn’t taken the group's warning and hung out with Ingrid anyays. It wasn’t like she was two fingers deep inside of you, but with the way Cat and Ellie looked, it seemed that way.  You were about to type a response when you noticed Ingrid's eyes flicking toward your phone screen, then back to the road.

"Who's that?" she asked, her tone casual but her eyes betraying a hint of curiosity.

"Just a friend," you said, choosing your words carefully. "We're supposed to catch up later."

"Oh," she responded, but you could sense a change in her demeanor, a tightening around her eyes. "Well, I hope I'm not keeping you from anything important."

"No, not at all," you reassured her, quickly typing a response to Ellie. "Sure, let's talk. Text me when you're free."

As you pressed send, you couldn't help but wonder about the timing. Why did Ellie want to talk now? And what was it about? Your thoughts were interrupted by Ingrid turning up the volume on the radio, her fingers drumming rhythmically on the steering wheel.

"So," she began, breaking the momentary silence, "we've covered quite a bit today. Any highlights?"

You pondered the question. "Well, the park was a highlight, I guess. It's always good to know where people hang out. Makes me feel less like an outsider."

Ingrid smiled, but there was something about it that made you uneasy. "You're not an outsider, you know. You're just new, and new can be exciting."

"Thanks," you said, your phone buzzing again. This time it was a text from your mom asking about your day.

Feeling the need to switch gears, you asked, "So, how long have you been living here? You seem to know everyone and everything."

"Born and raised," she declared proudly. "It has its pros and cons, but I like it. And yes, I do know a lot of people, but it's not hard when you grow up here. Everyone kind of knows everyone."

"That must be nice," you said, though a part of you wondered what it would be like to have that much history in one place—so many connections, but also so many ties that could bind you.

"Yeah," she paused, her expression turning serious. "But it can also be a bit suffocating, you know? Sometimes you just want to break free, start fresh somewhere new. Like you."

You looked at her, intrigued by this sudden glimpse into her thoughts. "Well, starting fresh isn't as glamorous as it seems. It has its own ups and downs."

"True," she conceded. "But at least it's a blank slate."

Before you could respond, your phone buzzed again. Another text from Ellie.

Ellie: i really need to talk to you. it's important.

This time, you couldn't ignore the urgency in her message. Something was up, something significant. You looked up to find Ingrid watching you, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, but her tone suggested she already knew the answer.

You hesitated, weighing your options. "Actually, I might need to cut our day short. Something's come up at home."

Ingrid's eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw something flicker in them—disappointment, perhaps, or maybe something else.

"Of course," she said, finally breaking eye contact. "Life happens. Let's get you home."

You stepped out of Ingrid's car, waving goodbye as she drove off. Your phone buzzed as you approached your front door, another text from Ellie.

Ellie: can you meet me at the grind? it’s about two blocks away from our house. i can drive us back. 

 You texted back a quick "on my way" and made your way over.

Ten minutes later, you walked into The Grind, the local coffee shop where the whole town seemed to be at this moment. As you scanned the room, your eyes met Ellie's. She was seated at a corner table, her phone face down and her fingers nervously tapping a rhythm against her coffee mug.

"Hey," you greeted as you approached, pulling out the chair across from her.

"Hey," Ellie replied, her eyes meeting yours briefly before averting. "Thanks for coming."

"No problem. Sounded like it was urgent. What's up?"

"I saw you today," she began cautiously, "with Ingrid."

A knot formed in your stomach. "Yeah, she was showing me around. Why?"

Ellie hesitated, looking down at her mug, and tapping the handle. She closed her eyes for a moment, choosing her words carefully. "Be careful with her. She's not what she seems."

"I mean I heard what you guys said about her at lunc but," you replied, taking a sip of your coffee. "She seems harmless."

She sighed, running her fingers through her hair. Cut right above her shoulders, the choppy layers suited her face. "Ingrid has a way of getting close to people, and it's not always for the right reasons. I just don't want you to get hurt."

Your eyes met, and you felt a strange warmth spread through you. Ellie was concerned for you. But why? She had only known you a day. You searched her face for an answer, for anything, but you came up short.

"Do you have something against her?" you asked, not hiding your skepticism.

"No," Ellie was quick to respond, "it's not like that. I've just seen her ruin friendships, relationships. She's manipulative."

"You seem serious," you remarked, detecting a tinge of something in her voice—was it jealousy?

Ellie looked down at her mug, her fingers ceasing their tapping. "I just don't want history to repeat itself, okay?"

"History?" you questioned, leaning forward. "What happened?"

She looked up again, her eyes meeting yours again, but this time they were vulnerable, exposed. "Ingrid and I had a thing once. And it felt more serious than her ‘things’ with Cat and Dina. And let's just say it didn't end well."

Now it made sense. The hints, the caution—it was personal for Ellie.

She held your gaze, her eyes searching yours for something you couldn't name. "Also," she paused, as if weighing whether to continue, "You’re my friend now. I care about you. And I don't want to see you get hurt."

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air was thick with unspoken words.

You finally broke the silence. "Thank you for telling me, Ellie. I appreciate it."

She nodded, her eyes never leaving yours. "Yeah, yeah. Of course"

As you left The Grind, your thoughts were a swirl of confusion and clarity. Ellie's concern had added another layer to the already complicated dynamic of your new life. But through it all, one thing became clear—Ellie cared about you, maybe more than she was willing to admit.

And as you replayed the conversation in your mind, you couldn't shake the feeling that Ellie wasn't just warning you about Ingrid. She was also staking her claim, marking her territory in a landscape that was becoming increasingly complicated.

[parasolemn]

doodle of Authority? it is my fav skill...

ehe. whoopsies! sorry anon it's been. A Month. and no end in sight

anyways images for you

you can probably already tell some of these are. Older. but yea. there was a lot of "well it's just a doodle I don't need to go super hard on these" and then "this is awful we need to start over" so. there's. a lot of images. most I've drawn this freak ever actually

deserved though. big thanks to my New Buddy who made me see the light like two months ago. he [LONG RAMBLE I DELETED] 🤨 UUGHHH I can't go off on a ramble about authority rn I'm unnormal about him sadly but I have so many words in my brain about him and all the other skills ue ue ue

i should post images...

i did some doodles in my book too when i was working but. eeeh? wasn't really sure if this was what you were after either... also I always take an opportunity to draw encyclopedia hi ency hi. i love throwing ency at the other skills i love thinking about skill interactions

don't mind the date on the last image I accidentally dated it 1st jan instead of 1st feb and couldn't be fucked to fix it. as I said, Old (can i even say stuff is old if it's a month old. uhm. wll i changed my art style so it counts)

parcark: nobody else is autistic about DE skills like you are they won't want to see them blorbified in an ooc but funny way. also parcark:

this was not worth a month's wait. oops.

COUGHCOUGH BY THE WAY . volition design is from @tubrasko (this wasnt the image i asked you abt btw i'm doing a larger one than this RN!!!! grins) suggestion design is from @vesli1 sorry for butchering your boy a bit I only had a pen my pencil broke 💔 empathyyy i stole from @trialofasphodel waves at you Hi ! i know both of u have seen these imgs b4 btw srry for re @ ing you the auth and drama designs are froommmm spilledkaleidoscope I won't @ that's scary.cough

love him. ok bye anon !! i hope you don't mind i know these aren't the best quality o7

[diamondphantom-art]

Was going to be just a quick doodle but then I broke out the markers lol

ALSO my new tablet pen came in so I’ll be working on some more art soon! ;w;

[kukez]

100% digital doodle and an epiphany.

For the past three years, since I finished the Voro trilogy, I've been really struggling to get back into drawing comics. I've been writing a new script for a while now and was pretty excited to start drawing, but no matter what I tried, everything "finished" looked like absolute garbage to me. After more than a year of trying, I grew so frustrated I was just about to call it quits for good.

Then came along a random job offer to work as a prop artist in an animation project. I was pretty hesitant as everything had to be done on pen displays and my digital drawing skills were even more abysmal than traditional ones. But I was almost broke and needed the money, so after a decent panic attack, I accepted the job.

After couple of weeks of some rough times, I finally got the hang of it and as an absolute shock, I found myself actually enjoying drawing again. So much so infact, that I've decided to switch to completely digital medium for my future endeavours.

I've still got a lot to learn in technical aspects, but the fundamentals remain unchanged. It's just a pen and an empty canvas. Have fun with it.

[void-botanist]

🖊 🖊 🖊 🖊 !!!!!!!!!

Hello Ren!!! You get several paragraphs about Fay and Lou's terrible divorce :D

They're like the inverse of Sorian and Avis, because it was less clear-cut what exactly made everything fall apart. There were first the general resentments of Fay being mostly a stay-at-home mom while Lou sunk way too much of his time in the bakery - simultaneously a moneymaker, a status symbol, and the target of Fay's ire. But this was a simmer of a conflict. Things didn't start escalating until Isabel came out as trans when she was 11. Neither Fay nor Lou had any trouble with this, at least until Lou made it all about him. He would never ask Isabel to be someone she wasn't, no, but now he was left high and dry with no son to inherit his bakery, to carry on the patrilineal tradition he'd singlehandedly revived. All that time he spent there was a waste without an heir, you know?

Fay took this as proof that he did care about the bakery more than his family, and they started to fight more and more. In his deepening unhappiness Lou accidentally found a new love interest (along the lines of "she happened to help me with bakery taxes" or something) and realized that oh, maybe he really didn't need to be in this miserable marriage anymore. I think it's actually more interesting if they were "good" and never banged prior to the divorce, because that was immaterial as soon as Lou told Fay that he'd found a new partner so maybe it was time they broke up. This was the moment when Fay's poorly attached hinges flew off and she began throwing everything of his in a pile at the bottom of the stairs, followed by screaming at him to leave so loudly that the neighbors could hear.

After that the divorce should have been quick but they argued about the bakery revenues and the house and custody of Rodney and Isabel (who were 10 and 13 when the whole debacle started and pretty clearly sided with Fay, because at least she'd always been there) and whether they could get a fault divorce (honestly I'm not sure but Fay wanted one) and finally, a year and a half later, the divorce was finalized. Lou let Fay offload the house onto him and she, Isabel, and Rodney left for Antarac. He got remarried to his new partner, Annette, who he's still married to, and they later adopted a kid, Hatt, who's the middle sibling age-wise between them, Rodney, and Isabel. I have yet to work out a lot of Hatt's background but between them and Annette, Lou has learned quite a lot about how not to be transphobic and also how not to be weird by adding a "Be My Heir" letter into the mix of yearly birthday cards to your son (just don't do that). Hatt is all too happy to be the heir to the bakery but had the advantage of being adopted as a teenager and therefore not raised with Expectations like Isabel and Rodney (I suspect they were like Annette's nibling or cousin to begin with). Annette ends up low-key being Isabel's hero because she had a double mastectomy for cancer reasons and therefore also has a flat chest.

I'm indisposed for doodles/picrews atm but I want to make some of them later and get their designs a little more nailed down.

🖊️ send me a pen and get some cool OC facts 🖊️

Nicea taglist: @kahvilahuhut @malloen8c @outpost51 @writernopal @athenswrites

[haunted-headset]

Take My Hand Chp. 1 Get Me Out of Here

tags: @vibestillaxxx@joviepog@ax-y10@themonsterunderurmom @wilburstan@smolsleepykitten@funnyreally2009@crows-death@dykepunz@aresriiots@0miamor0 @cathers-world@defonotval@chipch0p@mazzistar16@unmellowyellowfellow@justalittlebitofchaos@thosecolorfulsheets@vopix@taylors-version-from-the-vault@aine-lasagna@merianakross@veeislost@urfav-sapphic-siren@shazbaz58-blog @wifiatthetrainstation@mcr-pr-fob@shd454@universe-friday@rqvii@idioticion@m0thza (let me know if u don't or do wanna be tagged!!) ☆ 𝒜𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒾𝒹'𝓈 𝒫𝒪𝒱 ☆

6 months ago...

Astrid sat down in the cafeteria & placed her lunch tray on the table. She was waiting for her friend Keane. She looked around at the cafeteria; the popular boys were starting a food fight amongst their friends, the sporty kids were cheering Chloe Hofstader & Jason Brown on as they arm wrestled, the art kids were happily chatting about their new projects, & the popular girls were creating new rumors to spread around. It was amusing to Astrid how easily the popular girls could make rumors about people that they'd never met.

"Astrid," Keane's Irish accent snapped her out of her thoughts. "You're spacing out again."

She looked over at Keane. "When did you get here?"

"About 30 seconds ago," he replied, taking a bite of his sandwich. "Were you thinking about Brighton again?"

She rolled her eyes with a smile. "No. Not this time."

Ever since Astrid visited Brighton with her Uncle Patrick when she was nine, she fell in love with the beachside town. She'd often daydream about living there; waking up to the smell of saltwater every day, being able to take walks on the beach, & having a higher chance of going to concerts she wanted to go to...it was the ideal village for her.

Keane chuckled. "I doubt that." He took another bite of his sandwich. He looked at Astrid's lunch tray & asked, "Are you going to eat anything?"

"No," she replied, pulling a pen out of her pocket to doodle on her hand.

"Have you eaten anything today?" he asked.

She didn't reply. She hated this question.

"Have you eaten anything today?" he repeated.

"...no," she mumbled.

"Why didn't you eat breakfast?" he sighed.

"I didn't have time to go to the bagel shop this morning," she said. "Dad got drunk this morning & he broke a vase that I had to superglue together."

"Oh," he said softly. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asked this every time the topic came up.

"No," was Astrid's reply every time he asked.

Astrid didn't have a very good family. Her dad was an alcoholic with no dreams of recovery, which meant that he would get drunk every day. Her mother was an unmedicated depressed schizophrenic, so she would lie in bed all day & sob & scream whenever the intrusive hallucinations came in. Some people in the neighborhood knew & didn't care enough to do anything about it, but they'd always ask how the family made money. The answer was that Astrid's sister, Abilene, worked as a lawyer & gave money to Astrid & her two other sisters, Rosalind & Hazel. Rosalind worked at a hair salon & got paid a fair amount & Hazel babysat, so they were able to get enough money for clothes & such.

"Well, maybe one day you'll be able to run away to Brighton," he said. He paused before saying, "Wait, that isn't your plan, is it?"

She sheepishly smiled. "It might be."

His eyes widened. "Astrid, are you fucking stupid?  That is beyond dangerous. You could die!"

"I probably won't," she lied.

"I never said it was a bad idea," he said. "I just said it's dangerous." He smiled. "& I like things that put my life at risk."

She returned the smile. "Is this your way of inviting yourself into my runaway night?"

He nodded. "Yup. I'm part of this now."

She laughed. His eyes widened in shock. She raised a brow. "What?"

He smiled again. "You hardly ever laugh anymore," he said softly. "It's nice to hear."

She laughed again, more softly this time. "Should we start planning?"

Present time...

Astrid quietly closed the front door behind her as she saw Keane in his car.

"Where the hell did you get the car from?" she asked, sitting in the passenger seat.

"My sister," he said, driving the car. "Okay, so what's the plan?"

"We drive to the gas station & change our appearances so that nobody will recognize us," she said. "We cut our hair, change our clothes, wear sunglasses, & wear masks."

He nodded.

"Then we drive to the airport & get on our plane to Brighton as quickly as we can," she said. "We don't buy any snacks to make sure nobody recognizes us."

He nodded again.

"Then, when we land in Brighton, we find the nearest hotel & spend the night," she said. "& the next morning, your friend Hilda will pick us up & drive us to her apartment."

"Correct," he smiled. "We've got this." He paused before asking, "Are you really sure about this?"

She nodded. "Get me out of here."

[datrb]

Dat, when you draw what device you normally use? Do you use a stylus? Finger drawing? Also, do you prefer traditional or digital art better?

dare i even ponder the preferred workplace?

For digital art i prefer to use a drawing tablet, as they have the best accuracy in terms of pressure sencitivity, and over the years it became one of if not the most important thing for me personally.

For the past, i think, 5 years i used an XP-Pen artist 12 tablet, but it broke on me around a month ago, due to incompatability with my new laptop. (which is one of the reasons i opened a boosty page. I need a new tablet)

Thankfully, my new laptop was bought with a thought of me having to constantly carry it around and make notes in college, so i specifically got myself a transformer laptop with a touch screen and stylus support, which is what i use for art right now. It's not as comfortable as a tablet, due to the lack of quick acess buttons and... less than perfect pressure sensitvity, not even talking about stylus often just lagging to the point of being unusable, but i make it work. Not that i have a lot of choice.

In terms of digital vs traditional... It depends on what we're talking about. If we talk character design, or quick doodles - i'll take traditional any day. But in terms of full finished works digital takes the cake. It's really a matter of what fits better for a specific art piece and what you want to see in the end.

Traditional art for me personally is grounds for experementation and character work. Throwing around ideas with quick 5 minute doodles. I feel a lot less pressure when i use pencil and paper. Also can't deny being a fan of how writing or drawing on paper feels.

But digital allows for a lot more control over the entire process due to having no restrictions in regards to the amount of errors and fixes you can make, and unlimited range of colour you can use for your art. Digital allows me to refine the smallest of details achieving works that feel polished to the best degree. Even if they tend to take anywhere from 5 to 40+ hours at a time.

Devices and tools i used throughout my life:

Drawing tablets and styluses:

Wacom Bamboo Pen&Touch

XP-Pen Star 06

XP-Pen Artist 12 1st gen

In future i want to buy XP-Pen Artist Pro 16 2nd gen

Lenovo Stylus (it doesn't really have a proper name as far as i know)

ASUS Pen 2.0

Laptops:

HP Pavilion dv6 (Got it when it was already 4 years in use, (ab)used it for 8 years and now my dad tries to make a use of it as well. It needed a few minor repairs and a hard drive replacement throuhgout the years, but it still goes strong to this day)

Lenovo IdeaPad Flex 5 (broke on me even before the warranty ran out and resulted in me loosing all of my data)

(Current one) ASUS Zenbook 14 Flip OLED. Specifically the UP3404V model (excluding occasional stylus lag, which is a given if you have an active stylus that works via bluetooth, this laptop haven't failed me once so far and is admittedly everything i wanted and more from a device that i use primarily for work with occasional light gaming)

About workplace... Well, for me personally there is no better workplace than my desk as i spent a ton of time optimizing it as best i can. But if we talk in general, i would always take a table of any kind over anything else. Even the type of chair doesn't matter it's more of having something to put what i work with on so it can sit at a reasonable level and i won't have to become a shrimp to just look at the screen. But i can also make any type of environment work, it's not that bit of a deal.

[callsignfangs]

Any basic Farah Headcannons you got?

Also, do you ship her with Alex? (Just curious, no prejudice on ur opinion OP)

Tysmm anon I love getting to rant abt my girl 😚😚

Honestly, I think faralex is pretty cute :] I don’t really go outta my way to ship it bc I feel like Farah deserves more attention just as a character outside of ships, but I def love seeing the cute art and fics of them!! (Daily alex keller is where i get like 99% of my faralex, alex and gazalex fix. We love daily ak in this blog. /lh)

Now for farah hcs 😇

• 100% overprotective of people she loves. She knows better than to actually physically fight someone, but, depending on how bad the situation was, she knows how to absolutely destroy someone socially and never get caught. Like, you pick on one of her brothers/sisters and suddenly the next day everyone thinks you cheated on your husband and egged someones house.

• Def does art. Not necessarily like stylised portraits or anything, just tends to carry around a pen and a scrap of paper on missions and doodle pretty sights or happy moments in her free time.

• Doesn’t actually braid her own hair. She tried to learn in the past, but it never really caught on for her. She usually gets one of her brothers or sisters to do it for her, otherwise just puts it into a quick bun when she needs to.

• Has an absolute bleeding heart for animals. Will totally go out of her way to give food to stray cats and dogs wherever she goes, and if she settles down, the local stray animal population 100% crowds at her door every morning for snacks.

• Probably tried to adopt wild animals as a kid. Gave her parents a heart attack when her little 5 yo self walked in with a baby brown bear staring silently at them.

• Has a lot of scars. Obviously a lot of them are from missions and work, but surprisingly most of them are from stupid childhood stuff. Like, you could leave her alone in a padded room for a whole five seconds and you come back to at least three broken objects, something inedible in her mouth and a massive scrape across both of her arms. She wasn’t a stupid kid, just way too curious for her own good with absolutely no survival instinct.

• The master of gifts. Like, for birthdays and holidays, everyone just eagerly awaits her gifts because she somehow nails exactly what they want, even if they don’t ask her or suggest anything.

• Unintentional queen of gossip. She encourages people to come to her with info because she trusts herself to compile it and store anything important, but 99% of the time she only has drama being told to her. Like, sure, she could tell you the exact details of enemy movements to the centimetre, but she could also tell you about why Fatima broke up with her third boyfriend and how it was definitely his fault.

• Loves customising her appearance in little ways. She’ll have new nail designs and cute little hair bobbles and stuff like that pretty much daily. Def wants to dye her hair or do intricate makeup, but it’s just not practical or safe with her work.

• Hates ladders when they’re stood up by themself. She’s completely fine when they’re leaning on a steady surface, but otherwise put her anywhere above the second step and she’s shaking like a dog on a cat tower.

• Loves sleeping w people platonically. Just enjoys the safety of not being alone and trusts herself to look after the other person while they’re so vulnerable.

• Always doing something with her hands, from fidgeting with her hair, clothes, ect to just constant gestures while talking. Probably knows how to sew, knit, crochet, crack her fingers loud enough to wake the whole base, the lot.

• Is the kinda person who almost never get sick to the point where their immune system is a myth to their friends/family - until they get absolutely knocked out by the most vicious virus you’ve seen (and then bounce back after a few weeks somehow completely fine, like nothing happened).

• Just outright refuses to sleep with a blanket. Will tolerate a quilt, but absolutely refuses blankets. She loves to cuddle up in one while hanging out in the day or just unwinding, but literally can’t sleep at all with one.

• Can’t sit normally for the life of her. Put her on a chair and after maybe five minutes, her legs are each laid over a different end of the chair and she’s hanging from it upside down. /j

• Loves lego sets, just never gets to have them. Imagine that joke of giving guys that lego star wars falcon or sumt ship set and they’ll be completely distracted with it, just turn it up tenfold and add a little more rage.

• Has nightmares over the stupidest stuff. Like, there’s all that trauma nightmare material for her brain to feast on yet she wakes up in a cold sweat over a dream of serial killing cornflakes.

• Can’t massage for shit but is like the base’s personal chiropractor. You complain about your back aching? Five minutes later you’ve been folded perfectly over a table, each one of the joints in your body cracking with a decibel count similar to that of a volcanic eruption and your bones suddenly fresh as the day you were born.

• Holds really good game night kinda things. On an especially long stakeout, she’ll whip out a couple hoarded snacks and a deck of cards and it’s like a family game night all over.

• Surprisingly sentimental. She tries to avoid having too many, if any, personal objects just because she knows she’ll probably have to leave them behind eventually, even if her situation is stable at that moment. She totally has a favourite gun with a name that she treats like her firstborn child, though.

• Has no idea how to comfort people but is somehow absolutely amazing at it. You could be bawling your eyes out, experiencing literally the worst day of your life, whole world crumbling around you, and she’d just sit there in a too-long silence with a hesitant hand on your shoulder, awkwardly mumbling ‘there, there’, and it would inexplicably be the most comforting sensation you’d ever experienced. She just gives off a warm, cosy kinda energy.

• Gleeks on command. Just for funsies.

• Refuses to use any kind of non-manual toothbrushes (electric, sonic, ect). She just hates the feel of them in her mouth.

• Rages pretty easily but refuses to show that in front of her brothers & sisters. Likes to be a kind of role model to them so avoids being overly violent or rude like the plague (generally isn’t either of those without good cause, but esp not with them).

• Overanalyses things for fun. Partly as a bit of a military habit, but she also enjoys deep diving into the things she loves and explores loads of different ideas/meanings to them, and is really passionate about them. It also gives her a kinda fulfilled, safe feeling that honestly my girl deserves more of 😭 /lh

I might add more to this later when my brain kicks back in again 😇

Sorry if this isn’t exactly all hc material, I’m not too great with them, I usually stick to little scenarios and general stuff like that lol. I still enjoyed dumping these little ideas, tysm anon 😚🫂

[simonwimon]

idk if someone already asked but what program do u use to draw??? also i really love the way you do the lines!! what brush do u use??

no worries! i haven't answered this question in at Leeeaast a few years anyways :P nowadays i use clip studio paint, and almost all of the brushes i use are stuff i've grabbed off the asset store! (with edits, naturally). i'd put this under a readmore but every time i did tumblr broke the formatting orz

my absolute Favorite brush - something i'd recommend to Anyone regardless of what they're using it for - is this highlighter brush! i've been using it for almost 2 years now! whether it's sketches, outlines, or paintings - it adds a nice Chunky feeling with the square brush shape & a texture that i adore on top of that.

anything i post that has a Cleaner outline than normal is probably a result of this brush! i Love the sketchier feel of my other brushes, but when i need something well-defined and solid, this is my go-to brush. the weight & feel of it reminds me of the old bic pens i would doodle with in the margins of my homework back in highschool :P

the first brush from this set is one i use to compliment the brush i just listed - it's made by the same creator, so it has the same feel, but it's a LOT better at Suggesting things rather than Defining them, if that makes sense! i use it a lot when i'm drawing wrinkles, folds in clothing, blush lines, crosshatching - really, anything that should Be There, but isn't meant to be the center of attention. also good for loose sketches!

this brush is very new to me! total disclosure, you have to pay for this now, but i downloaded it when it was free. i mostly use this brush for sketching, but i think it also works REALLY well for painting! my usual approach to blending colors is to lay down a base, slap another color on top of it, and eyedrop the blend between them to go over the transition point with - and i think this brush lends Really well to that. reminds me of working with chalk pastels irl :P

then there's this one specific brush i've been OBSESSED with lately. you can see it in a good bit of my recent art, if you know how to look for it, and i think it's something i'm going to be using for a long time! it has a specific weight and Oomph to it that i just Loooove so much

when it comes to post-painting, i-need-to-add-more-Crunch-to-this-drawing, this noise set is where i go first! this isn't a situation where i can just say "yeah slap one of these down on overlay at 30%" or whatever - you have to experiment! every time i use one of these i end up spending 30 minutes going through The Whole List of blending modes to see which one works best & then spend Another 30 minutes fiddling with the opacity. and then spend Another 30 minutes fiddling with the luminosity & saturation of the layer. there's so many colors available that i can just drag & drop & delete until i find what color scheme works best!

honorable mention - this set also costs money, but it's one of my favorite ways to make a plain color background have More Flavor. LOVE that it has a clean version of the shape and then a second version where it's got a Chunky border! plus making this post made me realize the creator added more shapes since the last time i downloaded it yaaAAAYY

[unknownjpegs]

kraken

The window shatters with a crash that seems ear-splitting to the children in the field. They freeze in place for a brief second and then turn to the other in unison, two sets of worry widened eyes that have everything in common but color. 

Benji’s chubby fist clutches the remaining drumstick tighter, as if someone is about to march up and take it away. 

“Told you that it would go far,” his best friend says solemnly. He tries to whistle, but he hasn’t quite mastered the technique yet and the failed puff of air makes him pout.

“Saha showed you how like five whole times.”

“Well! Sometimes its okay to take a couple of tries to learn something —”

“Yeah,” Benji snorts. “Says your mum.” 

“Says your mum, too!” Maran whines, crossing his arms. “And she’s gonna say worse when I tell her you broke the window.” 

Benji lunges for him when he turns to run away, brown arms tight Maran’s kicking legs. They bounce off the ground and each other, kicking and snarling and eventually laughing, laughing, laughing as the tangled ball of limbs and bony joints flattens the field’s tall, dry grass. 

But, of course, their mums find out. And Benji’s frightened because it usually is amma who doles out punishment. Not because she enjoys it, or that it naturally falls to her shoulders, but appa has never been good at putting his foot down. Benji’s young, but he’s learned from an early age that a no from him means ask in a few minutes. That he really only has to tug on his trousers and stick his bottom lip out to avoid the corner. That one had never really worked either — Benji liked being alone with the quiet and his imagination, so it wasn’t quite punishment.

“Is amma gonna take away my drums?” He asks after dinner. He’s sat on his father’s knee, watching the doodles his pen fills into the crossword squares when it got too challenging to complete. Benji pokes at the golden ring on his finger.

“No,” he says. He pats Benji gently on the back. “And if she does, we’ll just do a mutiny, hey?” 

“Like pirates.” Benji whispers, eyes wide. 

“You’ll need something to fight the kraken,” appa continues thoughtfully. He taps the pen against his chin, not realizing its tip-side. Benji licks his thumb like amma does and wipes the blue mark away. 

“How big is it?” Too big is too scary, and in that case he’ll leave the monster-slaying to his father. 

“Oh, two floors at least.” He raises a brown hand above both their heads near the ceiling. “Nothing these can’t fix.” 

From the crevice between the wall and the armrest, he pulls a shiny foil package. Benji reaches for it and then drops his hands politely into his lap, waiting patiently for permission.

“You can’t go throwing these at Maran or anybody or at any windows, do you understand me?” His father tears the top of the package, tossing the packing slip aside with the foil in a pile he’ll forget exists for a few days. “They’re special.”

And they are — so much so that Benji keeps the drumsticks engraved with his initials displayed in his living room twenty years later. Gift frame on his sixteenth, a few months before he left for training. 

Break in case of kraken, says the golden plaque.

*

It isn’t that Benji has reason to be scared. He has, of course, heard stories from strangers and friends alike about how bad outting yourself can go. And he knows in comparison to some of the other shit he’s gotten in trouble for that this is barely anything. 

That’s what he’ll tell appa. It was barely anything. Never mind the massive, mottled bruise under his eye, or the series of them on his stomach, or the knee-shaped welt on the back of his thigh. He’d given it just as good. Better, really. Nastier. 

But still, sitting on the armrest of the ratty but cloud-like couch in their living room, he feels a lick of that anxiety. He’s fourteen, after all. This is new territory.  Not the fights, but…the context for this one is a bit different, isn’t it? But appa, he said something nasty about Mar, but appa, he said something nasty about Saha — and now he’s saying something about me.

“Tried to make it seem like he was asking for a smoke,” Benji explains. He’s sat on the armrest of the couch, knees tucked up so his chin can rest on them. When he’s home and not traveling for work, their father takes a nap from two to four on the dot. He never sets an alarm, either — just rises slowly awake the second the clock ticks over. It’s eerie but silly in that familial, habitual way that makes both kids descend into peels of insane laughter if they witness it. 

“Really sneaky about it. Nice like.”

It’s two-thirty, which means appa should be peacefully resting. Instead, he’d called Benji in to chat. Chat meant, why’d school call at work, Benji? Chat meant, you’ve gotten yourself in it, and now I’m obliged to talk you out of it so I can say with honesty that I let you hear it, even if I’m backing you up on this one. 

“Alright,” he says, arms crossed behind his head. His hair is styled in its usual professional sweep back, thick curls subdued by product that their mum has to remind him not to use too much of — makes him look crunchy, she teases. “So, you gave him a smoke then?” His thick brow furrows. “Why do you have cigarettes?” 

“I don’t, appa,” Benji lies. “Fucking hate the smell.”

Liar, his father’s glare returns. Also, language. “So?”

Benji sighs heavily, childish in his exasperation. “He wasn’t asking for one genuinely, yeah? He was just being clever about callin’ me a fag. Seeing if he could get away with it. If I let him.” 

Benji doesn’t move when his father sits up on the couch. He doesn’t rise calm and peaceful like he does waking up from a nap. 

“Well?”

Benji stares at him. “What?”

“Did you?” 

They regard each other for a long, silent moment. It’s a nice afternoon, so the sliding door to the garden’s propped open with a piece of wood. The only thing that fills that silence is the gentle rustle of wind in leaves, distant birdsong. Their neighbor’s got a pair of mourning doves nestling in their gutter, and they’re loud enough that their conversation carries into the living room. 

It’s nice, the afternoon. Benji sees why he likes to nap at this particular time, especially with the weather, the sun spilling onto the couch. When he’s off traveling for work again, Benji will start taking his two-to-four spot. 

“Did I…?” 

Appa lifts an arm from behind his head, waves a spindly wrist in the air. “Let him get away with it?” 

Benji pauses. He hadn’t tried to cover the bruise on his face. Hadn’t been hiding the red welts on his knuckles, how he kept rubbing at them to massage any soreness away. His father knows the answer to this question. He’s just waiting for Benji to confirm. If it’s a test, and it feels like one, Benji isn’t sure what the right answer would be.

So he’s honest instead. In a few years, he’ll be less and less honest with his father. For now, the truth trips easily off his tongue. 

“No.” Benji admits, flexing his hand. He could stop there, but: “Got him in the jaw.”

Appa’s mouth twists in a strange, thoughtful pucker. Then he nods and tucks his arm behind his head again. 

“You shouldn’t be fighting, son.” He tends to leave English behind for lectures. “It’ll only get you into trouble. Or worse. You have got to remember that sometimes all people see is the man who swings his fist. Not the reason. For people like you, that’s very dangerous.”

Benji understands what he means.

But he also keeps swinging.

*

It takes him the longest to see his father. Saha tells him that he speaks about him constantly, but constantly for their father tends to be an exaggeration. He’s a man of few words and even less reason to use them. Mum jokes that he only speaks once every five years because he’s indecisive; takes him that long to choose what exactly he’d like to say. 

“I have never in my life or yours lectured on non-violence.” Appa snaps it immediately. No hesitation. No pause to consider. And he keeps going. “If that’s all you got from those discussions, well —” he shrugs. “Maybe I didn’t do as good a job as I thought, hm?” 

“Maybe you didn’t,” Benji snaps back. “And maybe if you’d gone the non-violence route, things might have ended a bit different.” 

The icy, nasty swell of fricative energy in the room dissipates when his voice cracks.

His father regards him carefully and quietly. After a moment, he rises from the kitchen table in favor of the couch. He sits how they have a hundred times before. He seems, to Benji, much smaller a man now that the years have molded them in opposite directions. But he can’t be smaller. He’s in his favored nap position, ankles and arms crossed, eyes serenely closed. He looks the same. It’s so palpable and familiar a vision Benji is yanked nostalgically into the past. He smells blackthorn blossoms, hears doves, feels the touch of sunlight on his face even though the day is cloudy and chilled. 

Benji tucks his knees up to rest his chin there. He’s bigger, and it’s hard to balance on the armrest, but in that moment he’d rather drop fucking dead than not sit in his spot. 

“And how did things end?”  

Benji feels tears prick at his eyes, the film of them making him blink rapidly until a heavy bead balances at the corner of his lashes. 

“Bad,” he whispers, throat tight. “Really fucking bad, appa. I — and it’s not your fault. I didn’t mean that.” He swallows hard and sniffs. “I think it’s me. I really do. I think I’m doing all it to myself. Think I did this, anyway.” 

 There are grays in his father’s beard now. His curly hair is no longer thick enough to push back. But he hums in thoughtful acknowledgement, swipes a bony knuckled hand across his forehead and back in a habitual motion. Benji does the same thing. He will, he thinks, be happy to have that fidget for his own, to be able to explain where he got it from. 

“How so?” 

Sometimes Benji wishes he were like other parents. The overbearing, helicopter sort that told you how to think, how to feel, what to say, what to ask. But appa communicates so frequently in only questions. Makes them work for it, figure it out for themselves. 

How so?

Benji thinks of wet, frantic eyes and blood splattered across the forest floor, a pair of pale hands clutching his. He thinks of pain and the absence of it. Benji thinks about months and months, stretching between those visions like chewy candy pulled thin. 

“I met someone,” he admits. He hasn’t told either of his parents about any partner he’s had since school. Too much shame. “Before they discharged me.” 

Appa cracks an eye open. “Does your mother like him?”

Benji unsuccessfully swallows a ragged, sobbing laugh. “I think she would have.”

Using the past tense hurts more than he expected. He scrubs a hand through his hair, freezes at the familiarity of the gesture, and then falls into a proper, hitching cry. 

Appa sits up and collects him like a child, frail arms around his shoulders. He’s careful to avoid the spot on Benji’s ribs that is mostly healed, but vulnerable enough to weep sticky red if aggravated.

“Tell me.” His father says. It isn’t a question, so Benji does. He only spares what he absolutely has to, the treason and worst of the violence and the things in general not meant for a parent’s ears. But he doesn’t lie. He doesn’t skirt around the truth, even if it is ugly enough to bring tears to his father’s eyes as the story’s thread pulls and weaves.

“I’m sorry.” He says, for once lacking a joke or affirmation or assurance aside an apology. Benji can’t offer anything more, either. His voice is gone, shot-through with the roughness of grief and everything brought to the surface. 

Appa doesn’t smoke and he hates that Benji does, but he sits with him in the back garden while he goes through one, two, three. The blackthorn tree isn’t blossoming, and it’s missing a dead branch that Benji used to swing from, challenge Maran to pull-up contests on. And it’s cloudy. And the doves are silent, or moved on, or — or dead. And Benji hasn’t prayed in a long time, but he lets his father take his hand once the last cigarette is gone and they do that together, too. 

It’s not an admission of guilt or a nap in the sunlight or a broken window or a brave battle with a kraken, but it’s good. It’s enough for now — it has to be.

[keefwho]

January 28 - 2024

10:54pm

5/10

I haven't journaled this weekend because each night I was intoxicated and having too much fun/too tired to do it. But it's been a very average weekend. A lot of watching stuff/ working on stuff. Today I made stew with ramen noodle and invented something new to experiment with. I also had ideas about how I could start recycling. I watched more Band of Brothers and then drew something for Daisy which took exactly 1 hour. Then I worked on my project some more before lunch. I took a very light hit of my pen. Lunch was a little pizza I put together with my own toppings. I watched some Bojack. In the afternoon I chilled watching XQC on the side while I worked on my project some more. I decided to redo a big part of it again but it was worth it and I think I actually have what Im going to stick with now. This whole process could have used more planning from the start. When Daisy was free she told me how she broke her mom's very expensive coffee maker and was upset about it. I felt bad and always wish I could help in some way but straight up giving money is not really fair to me or welcome in general so I thought up that she could do YCH doodles that I finish and we split the profit for a tiny bit of income. We watched an episode of Bojack and She Ra which was fun, then got in VR and played Wii Tennis for a little bit. D2 joined and some stranger. We got off so she could play Zelda but we didn't find Gorons like we are looking for. In bed I continued Kingdom Hearts after a few day hiatus.

The weekend was very average which I'd consider to be a good thing since weekends for the past while have been something I dread. I still need to figure out how to have fun by myself or get out of my comfort zone a bit. I spent a good chunk of the weekend stressing out over this project of mine and it's all I wanted to work on so I could stop thinking about it. I think I put too much effort into trying to make it perfect from the start, I really think it should have been done by now and without so many issues. But I learned about refining my process.

Ive also been realizing how samey my life is, I really don't leave this room or my desk. Mostly because of a lack of things to do outside. My parents have to take me everywhere and they are dreadful to work with. I really am banking on my friend Jared coming home so I can get out in a way that is actually nice for once.

[stayathomesurveys]

175.

Have you stayed up past 3 in the morning this week? No.

What was on the last sandwich you had? Mayo, dijon mustard, honey ham, swiss cheese, american cheese, and pickles.

What does the soap you use smell like? Floral.

Do you prefer to wrap gifts or use gift bags? I like both, but it depends on the gift and how much time I have.

The last person you spoke to, do you know their eye color? Yeah, green/hazel.

Does anyone you know have their hair bleached? Me.

When you’re on the phone, do you doodle? Not really.

Is there anyone you know by the name of Frank? Not personally, no.

Do you own a trenchcoat? Not anymore :/

Have you ever written with a pen that had pink ink? Yup.

Do you remember the last thing you took a picture of? Yeah, my cats.

From where you’re sitting, can you turn the lights off? Yeah.

When was the last time you accidentally slept in? Idk.

The last argument you had, who started it? I dunno.

Do you wear a ring on your left hand middle finger? Sometimes.

Can you remember the title of the song you last sang aloud? It was the theme song for The Nanny.

If a stranger smiles at you, do you smile back? Yup.

Tell me the current time? 10:46 PM.

Are you currently listening to music through earphones? No. I'm watching the new season of Love is Blind on Netflix.

What color shirt are you wearing? Is it your favorite color? Teal.

Do you own a pair of rubber boots? Yeah.

Have you ever owned a tire swing? I think.

Does anyone you know own a bird that can talk? No.

What make-up are you wearing currently, if any? None.

Name one thing you are glad you accomplished today? Working out.

Name one thing you wished you accomplished today but didn’t? I wish that I would have worked out more. I did hit my step goal, calories burned goal, and exercise goal for the day though.

Have you ever been afraid to call someone, even if you knew them well? Yes.

Do you ever not speak to someone because you’re afraid you’ll annoy them? Yes.

Is there any drama going on in your circle of friends? I have absolutely no friends. So, no.

Have you ever known a guy who caused a lot of drama? Yeah.

Is there anyone you know who wears their hair in pigtails regularly? Yeah.

Personally, do you think you have a nice smile? No, I’m extremely self-conscious about my smile actually.

Do you have a nervous twitch? No.

Does the idea of snowpeaked mountains and a large lake sound appealing? Yes!

Pick any number that has personal significance to you? None.

Have you ever lost your luggage at an airport? Yeah but we found it.

Have you ever been on a rollercoaster that actually scared you? Yes.

Do you know anyone who can fluently speak more than two languages? Yeah.

How many windows are open on your computer right now? One window, two tabs.

Do you have a fairly fast or slow internet connection? Fast.

Have you ever gone in a sauna? Yes.

Out of these colors, which appeals most to you: orange, blue, or green? Blue.

Have you celebrated your birthday yet this year? Nope.

Is there anything you’re saving up for? Yeah.

Are you taller than most of your friends? No friends.

Know anyone with a really annoying laugh? No.

Have you ever punched someone and broke their nose? No, but I've accidentally broken noses in other ways.

What is the longest time you have gone without sleep? Idk, days.

Have you ever been someplace tropical? No.

If given the opportunity, would you act in a commercial? Sure.

You see an ant on the ground, do you squish it? No.

Have you ever baked a pie? No.

What is your favorite social networking site? Twitter.

Who was the last person to call you? Nik.

Does anyone in your family tell funny stories? Sure.

Is there a war memorial where you live? Yeah.

Has anyone in your family fought in any of the wars? Yes.

Would you make any changes to your current bedroom? Yes.

Has a stray dog ever tried to bite you? No.

When riding a bus, do you prefer to sit up front, down back or the middle? Front.

Have you ever been on a cross-country train ride? No.

Are you normally a person to tell people off? No.

Name an object that most would consider odd that’s special to you? Idk.

Do you currently have any bugbites? Yes :/ Mosquito bites.

Is where you live on a boulevard, road, street, or avenue? Circle.

Is there currently any caffeine in your system? Yeah.

Look around, are things organized? Sure.

Know what you’re planning to do after this? Idk.

[showrunnerihardlyknowher]

You will never touch on the characters or universe again after getting everyone invested? Oh jail, jail for Mr biggie smalls for 100 years

don't believe anything i say ever because i'm a dirty fucking liar

[mitchievousness]

someone teach me how to draw on photoshop bc im about to mcfucking lose it