#i just take plain colored paper and draw on them

[divorcedwife]

my jar of cranes

[mcrdvcks]

Congratulations on 2000 followers! Can I request something with logan? Just pure fluff and sweetness - maybe he’s dating a teacher and she takes him to class one day. The kids LOVE him and just treat him like their own personal jungle gym all day and he’s just grumpy but sweet and it makes reader fall even more in love with him. I was thinking worst Logan would be a good fit

i hope this is what you wanted! i rarely write for worst!logan, just because i rarely have any inspo for him, but this was really cute! (almost added a bonus scene as wade joining your class with logan, but wade was dressed up as santa.)

send an ask for my 2,000 followers celebration!

warnings/tags: teacher!reader, worst!logan, fluff

You were nothing like Wade’s other friends. You were sweet and kind, your apartment—which was across the hall from Wade—was well kept and homey.

Your guest bedroom was an office, were you kept many drawings from your past and current students.

Colorful crayon scribbles, notes in wobbly handwriting ("Miss Y/N is the best!!!"), and paper flowers covered the corkboard wall.

Wade made fun of it once, calling it “the Hall of Tiny Cult Worship,” but even he got a little quiet when he saw one that said “thank you for helping me feel safe.”

You’d been dating Logan for about seven months—quietly, sweetly, with a kind of unspoken understanding that neither of you had the energy for drama.

He wasn’t one for words, but he was always at your door when your car made weird sounds, and always remembered which days you had parent-teacher conferences (and brought you snacks).

He'd grumble when you kissed him on the cheek but never pulled away.

One Friday morning, you invited him to stop by your classroom before the long weekend. "Only for a bit," you said, knowing he’d hate being in the spotlight.

Logan muttered something about "not a damn babysitter"—but still showed up ten minutes early with coffee for you and a steel thermos of plain black for himself.

He hovered by the door at first, arms crossed, clearly hoping to avoid notice. That hope lasted about thirty seconds.

One kid spotted him and whisper-shouted across the room: “Miss Y/N, is that your dad?!”

Logan grunted. You laughed so hard you had to set down your coffee. “No, he’s my boyfriend,” you said gently, and half the class gasped like it was a scandal.

“But he looks so grumpy,” one kid offered.

“He is,” Logan replied, sipping his coffee. “Don’t let that stop you.”

You had planned a chill morning—reading groups, coloring, maybe a craft. Instead, Logan was immediately adopted like some kind of big, flannel-wrapped emotional support bear. Two of the smallest kids clung to either of his legs like barnacles. One was braiding yarn into his sideburn.

“You’re like a jungle gym!” one kid shouted, climbing onto his back without asking.

“He’s not a toy,” you started to say—

“S’okay,” Logan muttered, hands still in his pockets. “Seen worse.” He wound up sitting on the carpet, surrounded.

One kid sat in his lap showing him their drawing of a dinosaur. Another was explaining the entire plot of a made-up video game. A third just wanted to hold his hand. He didn’t say much—but he nodded at all the right parts. Let them keep talking. You caught him gently fixing a kid’s broken glasses. He didn’t make a big deal about it. Just muttered “hold still,” and adjusted the frame like it was second nature.

That same kid later whispered to you, “Miss Y/N, I think your boyfriend might be a superhero.”

You smiled and said, “I think so too.”

At snack time, a kid offered Logan a fruit snack with reverence usually reserved for royalty. He took it like it was a peace offering. “Cheers, bub,” he said, and the kid beamed.

You found a picture on your desk later: crayon drawing of you, Logan, and the class, with the words “Miss Y/N and Mr. Logan – Best Day Ever.” Logan saw it, grunted, then quietly slipped it into his jacket pocket.

When the day ended and the kids hugged his legs goodbye, Logan crouched down and muttered, “Be good for your teacher, alright?”

One of the kids said, “you’re soooo grumpy. I like you.” Logan actually smiled. Not a lot—but enough for you to feel it in your chest.

As you walked to the car, you slipped your hand into his. He didn’t pull away. Just gave it a light squeeze. “Thanks for coming,” you murmured.

“Could do worse,” he said gruffly. “You got a good class.” Then, after a pause: “You… you’re real good with ‘em.”

You looked up, heart warm, and whispered, “So are you.”

That night, he asked—very casually—if you needed help cutting out shapes for next week’s bulletin board.

You kissed him on the cheek and said, “only if you wanna.” He grumbled. But an hour later, he was at your kitchen table with scissors and a pile of cardstock.

[libraford]

Multi-paper junk mini journal tutorial (low spoons version)

Last night, I mentioned that I like my blank books to have a combination of different papers: colored paper for sketching, blank paper for writing, dotted paper for lists, graph paper for schematics and maps, but there arent many manufacturers that make this. So I just make them myself.

And yall wanna know how to do that.

GREAT!

Here's the easy version. This is for:

-I want this for me, NOW, and I don't care what it looks like because I'm gonna cover it in stickers, and it's only going to be a few pages long. If it lasts a week, I'm happy.

You will need:

- desired papers, 8.5x11 inch regular ass sizes

- a piece of card stock or a thicker paper.

- stapler

- washi tape (optional)

- probably scissors

STEP 1

Take a piece of paper. Fold it in half. Tear or cut the paper along the fold line so you have two half sheets of paper.

If you want a larger book, you can just fold it in half and the book will be 8.5×5 instead of 5x3.25.

STEP 2

Fold the half sheets in half and crease them. Repeat this for every sheet you intend on using for the inside of your journal.* Try not to do more than 8 papers because it'll put stress on the stapler. The papers should now fit inside of each other.

*you could, if pressed, fold them all together in one big group. This is faster, however- if you've ever had a handmade zine that doesn't close cleanly it's likely that they stapled it together without creasing. To each their own. I don't run your life.

If there is excess on the ends that makes the book uneven, feel free to chop it off at this point.

STEP 3

Repeat step 2, but with the thicker paper, which is now your book cover.

STEP 4

Find the centerfold- which is the middle piece of paper. Lay it flat and make sure all the papers and the cover line up.

TIME TO MAKE FRIENDS WITH STAPLER!

Ah, yes- the zine-stitch. Three staples to hold it all together, one in the center and 2 an inch from the top and bottom. If you are doing a larger size, you may need more staples.

You can staple from the inside or you can flip it over and staple it from the spine. Stapling from the spine will make it smoother on the outside so if you're carrying it in your pocket it won't catch threads.

But sometimes stapling from the inside is the only method that works. I've got a fix for you at the end.

Stapling is easy because it's a fast fix, but you may find yourself wasting staples because they don't go all the way through. This can be that the paper is too thick or that there's too many papers. I have a more complicated version of this that's suited to this situation, which I'll write later.

Other, more obvious solution: better staples, better stapler. But I don't have that.

You can call yourself done now, or...

OPTIONAL STEP 5

If you stapled from the centerfold or if you plain don't like the way your spine looks, we're gonna use some washi tape.**

Gently find an unstapled flap in the cover and separate it so you can get some washing tape to adhere to the inside.

Run it along the spine with the book flattened.

Adhere it to the inside of the cover at the bottom and then fold.

**an advanced technique for this when you don't have washi tape: cut a strip of contrasting paper at least 1 inch thick and 2 inches longer than the spine (so in this case it would be 1 inch by 7 inches.) Coat the back of this paper with glue and then use in the same way the washi is shown. This will require extra curing time and you will want to put something heavy on top as it dries. Washi is just easier.

Now slap a sticker on it.

Nice!

And now you've got a little journal. Does it look great? Who cares? You don't have to look all over for a piece of graph paper when you wanna draw a map of something while you're out doing stuff.

It took me longer to write the tutorial than it did to make the thing. The hardest part was getting the staples to behave.

I have a higher spoons version that I will write up later, but this is the punkass way of doing something for yourself.

UPDATE: The tutorial for the nicer version is available here!

[cardo-de-comer]

Currently in game dev as a student and I’ve been looking over your art and concepts for a little bit now—I’m FLOORED. I haven’t checked on your art in a while and had forgotten just how much it inspires me.

Your style holds so much identity, and your skill bleeds through every brushstroke! The way you do silhouettes, the insanely unique and beautiful choice of colors, the ferocity in some of the expressions, the quality of your brushwork, again the USE OF SILHOUETTE AND FORM OH MY GOODNESS!!!

You have SUCH a striking visual style and the way you incorporate similar themes to tie character designs together in your world is incredible! I was able to pick out what I believed to be symbolism and understand it a few seconds after asking the question (it may have been explained in the text and I missed it, but the fact that I was able to draw a conclusion that quickly says a lot about your skills as a designer and artist!).

Please forgive me if this has been asked before by the way, but what program do you use? I have a number of them and am trying to work out how you managed to get the line quality that you do on the brushstrokes (they’re like. Creamy looking??? Does that make sense? They blend together very nicely but don’t blend so much that it muddies the contrasting colors you put on top.)

Anyways as I was reading the game idea you have, I was actively trying to envision how it would look and was immediately feeling a 3D-2D mixed style, especially since your artwork has a very clear visual identity that would benefit from being the focus rather than something like plain or simplistic 3D models.

And then I immediately stumbled onto the low poly model you made and fell in love. I had already thought a Disco-Elysium inspired + low poly (less development time, plus requires less budget for an indie project) would look amazing especially considering how your brushwork means that high-poly models might not benefit nearly as much from it. And I think it might be the right call to continue with that!

What perspective (2D/platformer, 2D platformer with depth [Ex. “Paper Mario”] top down, isometric, 3rd person, 1st person, etc.) do you envision when you think of your game idea?

Personally I feel like it’d work as a 3rd person perspective 3D game, but using extremely low poly buildings and set pieces that let the textures do the work. But keeping in mind that if every character is 3D and rigged, it can and will still take monumentally more time to make.

I could also see it going the direction of having flat 2D characters in a 3D environment (Like “Smile For Me”) which would take less development time and save more energy to focus on good gameplay.

I’d love to hear more about your ideas, and think that you should definitely give more thought to making that game a reality!

Just as a word of advice though, start small. ;^^ Don’t begin with your dream project, make some goofy little games first to get your feet in the water, then dive in once you have that experience. And don’t get too wrapped up in it either, take breaks and divert from the project every so often to regather your creative energy. Like doing game jams for example!

o7

first of all thank you for such a LONG text oh my god T_T I cannot express in words how much this means to me and even if I knew English well, I still wouldn't be able to tell you... I use drawpile a lot for sketches and light stuff like doodles! And Photoshop for more complicated works and render. If you need brushes I have them in this post on my side acc. As for ynstbh, well... Here goes the rambling haha. I was thinking about it being either 2d platfomer /LISA was my main inspiration at the start/ or isometric 3D thing. Isometric still wins in my head because it gives some space for movement in different planes, if that makes sense, my favorite example of it being player is walking through the City and at some point you see a tower on a foreground plane just getting up and running off the screen to ambush you later haha (yes, the City is like that. nothing unusual here). When this game idea first appeared in my head, I also wanted it to have some kind of frame, medieval-inspired, around the gameplay, that would change drawings depending on the location. But now I think that's gonna be too much visual noise. And I would love to make cutscenes because I like my 3d models and I like to animate stuff, although it would take an abysmal about of time to make backgrounds.. Also ynstbh would probably have a lot of dialogues, since I really love to show characters through their interactions with each other. Notably the Devil, who loves to break the 4th wall and look right at the player in his portraits.

Either way yeah, I know about starting small. Right now I only have experience in drawing, 3d, just a little bit of code (I think I forgot everything actually lol) and I'm just really good at googling problems. I hope somewhere in the future I will have enough energy to start. My lore and characters became really important and dear to me so I really hope to make sth with them. :) If game doesn't work out, I'm thinking to give an animated short a chance, I need to put this world somewhere or I'll probably go insane. Once again thank you and good luck with your studies! thanks for letting me ramble about ynstbh haha <3

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Wrapping Paper - Mike Schmidt X Female Reader

Title: Wrapping Paper

Mike Schmidt X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Abby

WC: 2,449

Warnings: The incident at Freddy's mentioned, post FNAF movie, pining, Mike's nervous, sort of idiots in love, teasing, flirting?, ~hand holding~, mini angst, and fluff

It was Abby's birthday, and Mike still didn't have a present for her. For weeks he had been looking around craft stores when he could before heading to work or after - having found a well-paying job that he hadn't been fired from yet. But even after weeks of searching, he still had nothing to give her. Mike had probably been to the craft stores more than a dozen times at this point, checking the clearance items for anything that he thought Abby would like. But, the clearance section was a small rack at the back of the shop that had half-empty boxes of crayons from unruly children taking them in the store, scribbled on notebooks, and so on. This was all he was able to afford too, he'd go to great lengths for Abby, but it saddened him that he couldn't even afford brand-new supplies like the sixty-four pack of crayons or a nice big notebook for drawing. 

Tapping absentmindedly on the wheel of his car, Mike drove home yet again empty-handed. Pulling up to his house, Mike let out a sigh as he leaned back against the seat of his car, shutting his eyes briefly before raising his arm and reading his watch. Getting out of the car, he grabbed his backpack and headed inside. Dropping his back off into his room, Mike went to the kitchen to start making dinner before Abby came home from school. But just as he was putting the spaghetti noodles in the pot of water, there was a knock at the door. 

Shutting off the stove, Mike brushed his hands on his jeans before making his way to the front door. Opening the door, he was pleasantly surprised to see you standing before him. You had a smile on your face, and you were holding a large box wrapped in colorful paper.

"Hello, Mike," You greeted him, tilting your head to the side slightly as your grin became more of a nervous one, "I hope I'm not too early," Shuffling the present under your arm, you pulled out the folded invitation from the front pocket of your jeans. The plain piece of printer paper doodled with little pictures of what you had assumed were you, Mike, and Abby, along with the date and time of Abby’s little birthday celebration. "It says three, but I thought that maybe you might need help setting things up?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah, sure," Mike stumbled out, moving to the side to let you in. Mike watched as you placed the present on the table, dropping your bag beside it. 

You had been Mike's neighbor for the past year, recently moving in only a couple of weeks after the incident over at Freddy's. He remembered the day he met you vividly, watching Abby ride her bike up and down the sidewalk as your car pulled into the previous vacant house beside his. Stepping out of your Jeep Grand Cherokee, he watched as you opened the back of the car to begin carrying boxes into your new home. Gaining the courage after watching you struggle to unlock the front door with two cardboard boxes in your arms, Mike rushed over. 

Fumbling with your keys as you tried to unlock the door, shuffling the boxes to rest on your arm and propped-up knee as strands of your hair fell in front of your face. The way you smiled at him, grateful as he took the two boxes out of your straining arms, helping you move the rest of your boxes and furniture in. Breathily, you thanked him, offering to bake him cookies or something for him and his sister, and from then on, you, Mike, and Abby would spend a lot of time together.

You'd come over for dinner sometimes, Abby adored you, always asking about you and drawing pictures of you with her and her brother. You do the very same, inviting the two to come over for lunch or dinner, or to play board games, or to watch movies. 

Mike couldn't help but be attracted to you, ever since he watched you pull into your driveway. He didn't say anything though, pushing those rapidly growing feelings to the back of his mind, in fear of ruining the amazing friendship that you and him shared. Sometimes Mike would have to stop himself from staring at you across the table during dinners. His heart would race when he saw you spending time with Abby - seeing both of your smiling faces always brought warmth to his chest, and his breath would hitch slightly at the sound of your laugh. But he deeply cared about the friendship between you two, and wouldn't ruin the good relationship by doing anything stupid. So he held his tongue. And for the most part, you did the same thing.

Turning around to face Mike, he swiftly snapped out of the daze he had been in, meeting your eyes as you smiled at him, "So, what can I help you with? Do you need help with decorations or maybe a cake?"

Scratching his cheek, Mike shrugged a shoulder, looking around the room, "Uh, I don't have any decorations. I was about to start making the spaghetti when you arrived." He spoke, watching as you simply nodded, making your way into his kitchen. "I- I totally forgot about the cake… I’ve been so busy…" He finished, a bit embarrassed at his realization.

Noticing the pot of lukewarm water and the opened box of spaghetti noodles, you hummed to yourself before looking through the cupboards. Mike followed, leaning against the entrance of the kitchen, watching as you pulled out a small bag of flour, sugar, and a small circular pan. "Well," You huffed, a bit out of breath as you pulled out a large plastic bowl from the lower cupboards. "At least you still have some of the ingredients from our last bake day." As you began to start making the homemade cake, you glanced over at Mike, whose gaze was staring down at the floor at his feet. "You alright, Mikey?" You asked, gaining his attention.

Looking up, he let out a deep sigh, shaking his head as he pushed off the wall, "I haven't been able to find Abby a present. I've been looking for weeks but I still can't find anything for her."

You paused, pouring some flour into the bowl, looking over at the man as he began to pace the room slightly, "You couldn't find anything?" You asked, raising your eyebrows as Mike nodded his head.

"Nothing! I checked two craft stores every day after work for like three weeks." He explained, rubbing his hand over his forehead, "But I can't seem to find anything that isn't damaged or just something I think she'll like." Stopping his pacing, Mike's shoulders dropped as he let out a sigh, "I really am trying my best, y'know. It's frustrating." He admitted, glancing over at you as you turned around to look at him.

"You are doing your best, Mike," You spoke softly, slowly stirring the flour and other dry ingredients together, "And you know that Abby knows that and that she loves you." Pausing you glanced at him with a small reassuring smile, "I don't think Abby will care if you gave her a present or not, just you spending time with her, celebrating her birthday, is enough for her."

Mike nodded and walked over to stand next to you, watching you as you began to crack the eggs into a separate bowl, "You're right..."

"As always," You sang, unable to stop the grin on your face. Mike looked down at you, softly smiling to himself as you began to hum some song you liked or probably had stuck in your head. Looking up at him, your grin softened as you noticed Mike already looking at you, making your cheeks burn as you quickly looked back down at the dismantled cake ingredients in front of you. "Want to help me maybe, Mr. Schmidt?" You asked, using the remaining courage you had left to give him one last glance.

Nodding, Mike smiled lightly and picked up a whisk, beginning to help you with the mixing. He felt his heart flutter, and his mind wondered, but it faded as he began to focus on the task at hand.

It didn't take long though before the cake was finished, baked, and topped with vanilla icing and colorful candles; unlit and ready for the birthday girl. You and Mike were finishing up the spaghetti, you were working on the sauce while Mike made the meatballs. You bit your lip as you chuckled, watching as Mike almost lost his grip on the spatula he was using to roll the cooking meatballs around in the pan. Looking over at you, Mike felt his stomach twist, seeing the amused smile on your face, "What?" He questioned, glancing from you to the pan and back.

Smiling to yourself, you shook your head, "Nothing. Just enjoying my time with you, is all," Pouring the pasta sauce into a pot and putting on the lid, you leaned against the countertop to look at Mike. 

Biting the skin on the inside of his cheek, Mike turned off the stove, meeting your gaze, "Look, Y/N..." He hesitated, swallowing hard as he looked away. He was quiet for a moment before sighing and taking a step closer to you. "Thank you... For coming here today." He mumbled, his voice soft and gentle. That's not what he was meaning to say, though he did really appreciate you helping him. 

"Mikey, you don't have to thank me," You reached over to place your hand on top of his, "I'd do anything for you and Abby." You replied quietly, giving his hands a soft squeeze.

Slowly, Mike flipped over his hand, now palm to palm, he intertwined his fingers with yours, bringing your hands to his lips so he could place a light kiss on top of yours before returning your hand to the counter as the front door opened and slammed shut. 

"Mike! I'm home!" Abby called out, dropping her backpack on the ground near the door, immediately spying the brightly-colored wrapped present on the table; a smile lit up on her face. Exiting the kitchen, a warm sensation flowed throughout Mike's body as you pulled your hand away from his, greeting the young girl whose smile widened at the sight of you, "Y/N!" She cheered, rushing into your arms.

Chuckling softly, you returned the hug, pulling away after a few seconds, "Hey, Abs," Pulling away from each other, crouched down as you held her by her upper arms, "Look at you... How old are you now? Twenty-Five?" You joked, making the girl laugh as she shook her head.

"No! I'm eleven!" She told you while laughing, making you nod your head and stand back up.

"Of course, how silly of me." Turning back around to Mike, you paused, seeing that he was still standing there, watching you interact with Abby; a fondness evident in his eyes. Looking back down at the girl, you smiled at her, "So, are you hungry? We made spaghetti." She nodded her head eagerly, sitting down at the table, her eyes staring at the present in the middle of the table; her eyes sparkling. You smiled, walking back into the kitchen where Mike was already plating Abby's food. Pulling out two extra plates, you began plating yours and Mike's, peeking over at Mike who seemed to be becoming more and more nervous as he spooned spaghetti on the plate. Bumping your hip with his, you caught his eye, "You'll be fine. I have a plan." You whispered with a small grin, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his stubbly cheek before bringing yours and Mike's plate to the table. Mike blinked, slowly walking over to the table, his cheeks tinged pink as he sat beside you.

Soon enough, the both of you were singing 'Happy Birthday' to Abby as Mike sat the cake down on the table in front of her. The candles, lit and aflame, flickered before being blown out, applause erupting from you and Mike as Abby made her wish after her birthday song. Chuckling softly to himself, Mike leaned forward on his forearms, "What did you wish for, Abs?"

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head, "I can't tell you, silly."

Shaking his head in amusement, "Alright then. Cake or presents?" He then asked as you readied the cake knife and three small plates for the cake. 

"Presents!" Abby declared, beaming as Mike let out a small huff, smiling as he turned to you; you could see the nervousness in his eyes as he looked over at you.

Picking up the present, Mike moved the cake out of the way as you placed the present in its place, "Here you go, Abs," You spoke, gesturing for her to go ahead and open her gift. Mike watched beside you as Abby ripped the colorful wrapping paper off the cardboard box, pulling off the tape with amazing speed. He felt tense, hoping that she wouldn't hate him for not getting her a gift. Before his mind could run off anymore, he felt your hand cover his and he lifted his gaze to meet yours. Smiling at him, you squeezed his hand which made Mike's breath hitch as he felt an odd feeling well up inside his chest. Taking a deep breath, he gave you a small smile before turning back to Abby who gasped in shock.

"Oh my gosh!" She exclaimed, peering inside the box at the many goodies that were found within, looking up at you, she gave you a huge smile, "Thank you, Y/N!"

Mirroring her smile, you waved a hand, "Don't forget your brother, he helped pick out a couple of the items," Mike turned to look at you in surprise, causing you to chuckle under your breath.

Abby got out of her seat, rushing around to hug her brother tightly, "Thank you, Mike!" She thanked him, grinning widely at him.

"Anything for you, Abs," He said, patting her on the back. He turned to you as Abby went back to sit back down, digging around in the box; pulling out craft supplies, stuffed animals, and candy. Mike couldn't help but look at you with an awestruck expression on his face; this girl was too good to be true. "Thank you, Y/N."

Resting your cheek in your hand, you gave him your stunning smile, "Don't mention it."

Shaking his head slightly, Mike looked back at Abby who was already drawing with her new multi-colored markers in her brand-new notebook. 

[bluemoviegirl]

UNDER THE SAME SUN CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 1 HERE

joel miller x reader

tw: death (ah oh)

summary: maybe you didn’t hate Joel before, but you sure do now. And he hates you just as much.

wc: 5k

a/n: im really excited to turn this into a full story!! ive got so many ideas lined up. again, please do comment wether you liked it, what you liked etc. it makes my day!! also cant believe i got like 80 likes on chapter 1! i still have no idea how tumblr works lol

------------

Chapter 2.

It’s Thursday, two days since you went on that repair job with Joel Miller. You had thought about it a handful of times, thought about the sassier replies you could’ve given to his sassy answers, rolling your eyes every time you came up with something better.

You’re sitting on your bed with your sketchbook on your lap but your pencil is just hovering over it. Your mind is everywhere but the paper. Focus, just focus and draw something you like! Easy. Easy….. Nope. Nothing.

Instead, a different idea pops into your head. As you walk into your living room, you notice how bleak it really is. Even with the sun shining in on it, it’s just not you. At least not the you that you used to be. Maybe some paint will do it some good?  Your fingers start tracing along the walls. They’re so empty. Simple plain white walls, not even a single frame hanging on them.

As if the inspiration has taken over, you start sketching on the walls. They’re simple abstract lines and shapes, simple flowers making their way through it.

After a while, you step back and look. You seem satisfied as there’s a smile on your face you can’t seem to wipe off.

You need some fresh air, you’ve been cooped up in your apartment  and it’s now around 4pm.

After the sketching, the motivation to get it done tonight is too big to ignore. So you’re headed to the Workshop where they’d probably have some unused colors laying around. You put on your boots and coat and shut the door behind you.

The feel of the outside world is different from the stillness of your apartment. A sharp chill clings to your skin, slipping through the gaps in your coat. The cold air tugs at you, waking your senses, making you all too aware of the space around you.

By the time you leave the workshop, you’re lugging three paint cans—deep blue, light blue, and a pale yellow—and your arms are already burning. You jammed a couple of brushes into your coat pockets, their handles sticking out awkwardly. The buckets knock against your legs as you walk, heavier than you anticipated. Every few minutes, you have to stop and switch arms.

What the hell were you thinking?

“Y’need any help with that?” You hear a voice behind you. It takes you a moment to register that they’re talking to you. When you turn and see who it is, relief washes over you.

“Tommy,” you exhale, dropping the buckets onto the snow-covered ground. “Yes, please.”

He huffs a laugh and steps forward, easily scooping up two of the buckets. “Damn, you weren’t kidding. These things are heavy as hell.”

“Thank you, I was seriously about to just leave ‘m there.”  You chuckle as you pick up the last bucket. “To my place, please.” You say nudging your head. You were about a street away from your apartment.

“It’s no problem, couldn’t let you bust your ass like that.” The two of you start walking, the sound of crunching snow filling the silence. He gives you a sideways glance. “Not that it’s my business, but… what exactly are you doin’ with all this paint?”

“I’m going to paint my walls.” You say, kicking a ball of snow in front of you. “Like, a mural kind of. Not just paint the whole walls.” You sounded a bit unsure, you didn’t ask anyone for permission but you figured you didn’t have to right? Now talking to Tommy has you a bit nervous.

“Oh that’s cool! A mural.. I didn’t know ya were a painter.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “I mean, I wouldn’t call myself a painter. But I like drawing. Figured I’d try.” You smirk. “Worst case, I’ll just paint over it.”

Tommy chuckles. “Well, if it turns out bad, just tell people it’s modern art. Folks’ll eat that up.”

You snort. “Noted.”

“So, is it big? Like, a whole wall kinda thing?”

“Yeah, pretty much the entire side of the living room wall.” You tuck your hair behind your ear. “I already sketched it out. Hoping to get it done today.” A pause. “Wanna see?”

“Yeah, I’m real curious.”

“It’s nothing crazy, a toddler could probably draw it.” You say, you’ve always been nervous about showing your art to others, even if it was just a sketch.

“I’m sure it’s good.” Tommy replies.

As you both enter the apartment, Tommy sets the paint buckets down inside and you remove the paint brushes from your pockets.

“Well look at that, that looks great already.” Tommy immediately says, his eyes actually lighting up a bit. You tug at your earlobe, at the little hoop earring you had in. “Really? You’re just saying that.”

He turns at you as you say that and his brows pulled a bit together with a smile at his lips. “I’m serious!” He turns back to the wall. “With the paint n’ all, I can see it lookin’ real nice.”

You smiled a bit wider, his remark giving you a bit of a confidence boost. “Thanks Tommy. Oh, would you like something to drink?” You quickly say, having forgotten he’s a guest in your apartment and also someone who just helped you carry those paint buckets.

Tommy looks at the time and back at you. “Oh no I’m okay, needda get going. Thank you though.” He makes his way to the door and turns around one more time before shutting it. “It’s gonna look great!”

You chuckle to yourself as you watch him close the door. He was being very cheerful, which influenced the way you were feeling too.

Time to bring this wall to life.

Okay, it’s been three hours. You’re covered in paint and the wall isn’t even halfway done.. You look at the wall, you’re just one woman trying to paint the entire wall and having set the deadline for yourself to today. Come on, set some realistic expectations, you literally haven’t painted since forever.

You deserve a drink. You can’t even be bothered with a change of clothes, the paint stained clothes will have to do.

As you enter the bar, the familiar mix of voices and clinking sounds of glasses immediately puts you at ease. Like it’s a little approval of you wanting to relax. You take your usual spot at the bar and Knox makes his way over to you from behind the bar.

“You’ve been painting?” He asks you as he leans his palm on the wood, glancing at your clothes.

You look down at your clothes, already forgotten you wore these clothes. “Don’t even mention it, I’ve been painting my ass off for hours and it’s not even close to finished.” You sigh and smile to Knox. Knox laughs, wiping down the bar. "Sounds like the canvas put up a hell of a fight. Want me to pour one out for your sanity?"

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” You say as you look around as to who else is here. You hadn’t realized it but Tommy and Joel were there too, sitting in a booth across from the room. They hadn’t seen you and you felt a bit silly for being covered in paint now.

Knox slides over the drink to you and you two catch up about your current ‘paint project’. “Sounds like to me you just need another set of hands.” He states.

“Ugh yeah maybe. But I don’t really know if I want to saddle anyone with this task. I want to finish it tomorrow so I just have it done. Otherwise my heads just going to keep spinning on and on about it.” You bring the glass up to your lips as you watch Knox just chuckle back at you.

“Knox, a beer and a whiskey will ya?” You hear a gruff voice a couple feet from you. It’s a recognizable voice and you look over to see Joel standing at the bar.

You’re subtly (not as subtle as you think) staring him up and down, you knew many women around here thought he was a catch. You could understand why, he doesn’t speak much, but when he does, his voice is low and rough, his jaw is strong, lined with just enough scruff to make you wonder how it’d feel against your ski-

“You’re starin’.” Joel says, without even glancing your way. Not expecting that, you choke a bit on the sip of beer you had just taken, quickly swallowing down another cough and your face immediately reddens. “I was not.” You reply quickly. You notice the smallest glance to you before his eyes turn back to Knox, who has two drinks in his hands.

You focus back on your drink, immediately starting to daydream again, you could always get so caught up in that. Your mind was thinking about the wall, and what the finished result would look like. You could picture yourself bundled up on the couch and staring at the art you’ve made.

“Here ya go, Joel.” Knox says, handing over the drinks as Joel nods and is about to walk back to Tommy.

“Actually Joel-“ Knox says as Joel stops walking and turns his head to Knox.

Joel had barely taken a sip of his whiskey when Knox leaned on the counter, smirking like he had something planned.

“You busy tomorrow?” Knox asked, way too casual.

Joel gave him a look. “Why?”

Knox shrugged, wiping down the bar like he wasn’t watching for a reaction. “Just got someone lookin’ for an extra set of hands. Figured you might be free.”

Joel exhaled, already tired of whatever Knox was up to. “What kinda work?”

“Painting.”

Joel huffed. “Pass.”

Knox grinned like he expected that. “Didn’t think you were the type to turn down a favor.”

“That depends on who’s askin’.”

Knox only smiled at that, tapping his fingers against the counter. “Well, let’s just say it ain’t anyone you gotta worry about.” He slid Joel’s drink back toward him. “And if you’re feelin’ charitable, all you gotta do is show up tomorrow.”

Joel eyed him suspiciously, but Knox had already moved on, pouring a drink for someone else like he hadn’t just set him up.

Suddenly two hands shake Joel’s shoulders. “What’s taking so long?” Tommy says.

“Knox asked me a favor.” Joel turns to Tommy, nudging his hands off of his shoulders.

“What favor?” “To help someone paint.” Joel huffed again, as if it was so crazy for Joel to paint.

“Paint? Who needs help paintin-“ Tommy’s eyes shoot to you, you were completely oblivious as you had zoned out but Tommy obviously remembered helping you carry paint, and the fact you were currently covered in paint. He grins and you could almost see a lightbulb lighting up above his head.  “You should help Knox out. Come on!” Tommy says, taking the beer from Joel’s hand.

Joel’s brows knit together. “What?” “Come onnn, I know you’re free tomorrow.” All Tommy could think about was that this could finally be the opportunity for Joel and you to tolerate each other. This way Tommy wouldn’t need to find someone else for the repairs. Plus, Joel could use some womanly influence in his life.

“Hm.”

-----

The next morning, you’re up and ready to start painting again. You didn’t bother changing out of your sleep clothes—a big sweater you cut the neckline off, some sweats and a pair of fluffy socks.— You still remember the day you found these socks two years ago, buried in the back of some abandoned store. It had felt like a gift from heaven.

You grab a paintbrush, dipping it into the soft blue before bringing it to the wall—

Knock, knock.

You weren’t expecting anyone.

When you open the door, you’re even more surprised by who standing there. And by the looks of it, he’s… also surprised?

“Joel?” You say, the paintbrush still dangling between your fingers as the cold breeze from outside makes it way in.

The cold morning air seeps into your apartment, making you shiver. Joel blinks at you, eyes flicking from your oversized sweater to the paintbrush still dangling between your fingers.

“Wrong house,” he mutters, already turning to leave.

But then his eyes catch on the paintbrush again, and something clicks. He exhales sharply, rolling his eyes. “Son of a bitch.”

You frown. “What?”

“Knox and Tommy,” he grumbles. “Set me up.”

Your confusion deepens. “Set you up for what?”

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m here to help you paint.”

You blink. “To help me paint?”

“Yep.”

“I didn’t ask for help.”

“I know.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then Joel shakes his head, already stepping back. “I’ll see you Thursday.”

“Wait!” You’re not even sure why you stopped him. But something about the idea of having him here, working on this with you, doesn’t seem so bad. Maybe Joel wasn’t so terrible. And maybe—just maybe—this would make the upcoming job together more bearable.

“I could use the help,” you say quickly. “There’s… uh, some corners and edges I can’t reach.”

Bullshit, you’re tall and capable.

Joel sighs again, like he’s already regretting this, but after a moment, he steps inside and shrugs off his coat.

Now you’re standing in the middle of your living room, suddenly hyper-aware of how awkward this is.

Joel glances at the wall, then at the paint. “So?”

“Right, uhm.” You hand him some paintbrushes and point to the paint. “It’s simple, just paint over the lines.”  He nods.

"Let’s get this over with."

The room settles into silence as you both work. Minutes pass, the only sound being the soft scrape of bristles against the wall. You don’t mind the quiet, but it feels too heavy with Joel. Too thick.

So, instinctively, you start humming to yourself. Knockin’ on heavens door..

A few seconds later, Joel glances at you. “Bob Dylan?”

His voice startles you just slightly, and you glance over. “Yeah. Bob Dylan. You like him?”

He dips his brush into the paint again, nodding. “Mhm.”  After another moment of silence, Joel speaks up again. “You sketched all this?” His tone is unreadable.

“Yeah, ya like?” You smile, hoping for a tiny bit of approval.

He just grunts. “’S alright.”

“I mean, I’ll take it.”  Suddenly you feel kinda silly at the outfit you’re wearing. It’s as if he could read your mind cause he’s giving you a once-over before turning back to the wall.

You fiddle with your locket as you take a step back from the wall, checking out the way the paint is looking so far, but also quietly admiring how good Joel looks with a paint brush.

“What’s your favorite color?” You blurt out.

Joel thinks for a moment. “Green.” You both say at the same time, his eyes snapping to yours.

“I figured you’d be a green person.” You grin to yourself, feeling smart.

“What does that even mean?”

You shrug. “Nothing... Nothing at all.” You chuckle.

"You say somethin’ like that, you gotta explain it." He lowers the paintbrush, eyes meeting yours.

"Nope. You’ll just have to live with the mystery, Miller..”

"That’s ridiculous."

"Maybe." You chuckle as you continue painting. Why was this Joel Miller not that bad? It’s like his guard is let down just a little bit and he tolerated you just a bit more. And damn you enjoyed it. If it stayed like this, repair jobs would actually be fun.  

After a while, you guys are done. You can’t believe it, but you are. To your surprise the wall looks.. great. The shades of blue made a beautiful pattern across the wall, the flowers being accented with the yellow really pulling it together. This felt like it could actually be your home.

Maybe you guys hadn’t chatted a lot but it did feel like you booked some progress with this potential friendship.

You wipe your face, not realizing the blue paint you’re smearing across your cheek. “I can’t believe we finished it.” You say as you look at Joel, who’s put down the paintbrush.

“Don’t think I’ll pick up another paintbrush for a while after this.”  He says, his voice having a light huff to it. “Not exactly how I wanted to spend my morning.”

“You’ll live.” You reply, not bothered by his snarky comments.

You chuckle quietly, Joel having somewhat of a sense of humor made him come across more human instead of just the stoic guy he acted like. It was obvious to you that there was so much more behind the walls he put up, not that you would ever push him to talk about it. You barely knew the man.

Joel rubs his jaw as he turns to you. “I oughtta get goin’.”

“Oh yeah, of course.” You say as you follow him to the front door. He puts on his coat and walks onto the porch, turning to you again. You leaned against the doorframe. “…Thank you.. for today. Even though you were set up to coming here.” You grin as you look down to your feet before meeting his eyes again.

“Yeah well, had a free day. Don’t mention it.” He suddenly steps closer to you. Your breath hitches ever so slightly, which you quickly try to control again but are unable to when he raises his hand to your jaw.

His palm is warm, calloused, steady. His thumb swipes along your cheek, smearing away a streak of dried paint. It’s such a simple movement, but it knocks the breath right out of you. Your eyes widen just a little bit, Joel noticed, thinking he may have overstepped. He’s quick to retreat his hand and tuck it in his jean pocket.

“Some paint on your cheek.” He says, clearing his throat. You quickly nod.

“I’ll see you Thursday.” He says.

“Right, yeah. Thursday.” You manage to say before swallowing. Why did that just make you feel a bit flustered? Quit it, you’re desperate.

--

When Thursday finally rolls around, you find yourself lingering near the horses earlier than needed, arms crossed against the cold. Dread curls in your stomach at the thought of another trek into the woods, but—much to your own annoyance—the idea of spending the day with Joel Miller doesn’t seem quite as bad.

Which is probably why, for some unknown reason, you decided to put in extra effort today.

You had worn your hair down (something you never did when on the job). A nicer coat too, one that wasn’t as ripped, even though you’d changed four times before finally just going with it. Stupid. Dumb. And yet, here you were, tugging at the sleeves like it might somehow make a difference.

You scowl at yourself. It wasn’t for Joel. Not really. He didn’t even like you.

…Okay, maybe it was a little for Joel. But who could blame you? The world had already ended once—what harm was there in wanting to look a little nice for someone still standing in it? Even if that someone was someone who actually disliked you.

On the way to the outpost, everything was the same as last week. Not much for talking. Frankly, you didn’t know what to talk about. “The paint dried nicely.” You spoke. ‘The paint dried nicely.’ ??? Get a grip! You wanted to smack your forehead, but were able to resist. All Joel did was give you a little nod.

When you two finally arrived at the outpost, you tugged again at your sleeves. Sure, the coat looked nicer but it didn’t even fit well. It left your hands cold and you stupidly didn’t bring any gloves.

Again, as if Joel can read your mind, he throws some gloves at you.  

Your head snaps up at him and he’s just stood there, waiting for you to respond. “You don’t have to-“ You say, looking at his bare hands. “M’ fine.” Joel said before heading inside of the outpost. Your lips parted, as if searching for words, before closing again.

The repair went somewhat smoothly, now that the floorboards had been removed, it was time to put in some new planks. Joel would saw them and put them into the floor. Your duty was to hammer them down with the nails Tommy had brought by to you earlier that week.

You were doing a decent job, the nails going in smoothly. You could tell Joel was satisfied because no snarky remarks were being made.

You sat on the floor for a second, admiring your nail-skills. “Honestly, I’m doing amazing.” You say grinning. “Like, I could make this my thing. Nailing nails. The nailer.” You said, imaginging people coming to you to nail things down.

You chuckle at yourself.

Joel just rolled his eyes over to you and back to the wood. “Good luck with that. The nailer.” He mumbles as he shook his head at the fact you didn’t even realize what that sounded like.

“So what did you do before the world ended? Like, job-wise?” You say, finally wanting to start a conversation. He finishes his sawing before answering. “Contracting.”

“Contracting? No wonder Tommy wanted you for this job.” You say before ramming in another nail, completely missing it the first time as you were too busy looking at Joel. Oops.

Joel saw and just shook his head lightly. “You?”

“Oh, I was still in high school.” You felt a bit dumb saying that, like you were bringing attention to the ‘little’ age gap the two of you had. Not that it was relevant.

He scoffed and parted his lips to start another sentence before being interrupted by a noise coming from outside. His eyes snap to the door and he puts down the saw, immediately going for his rifle.

“An infected?” You whispered as you stood up, also grabbing your rifle. Ignore the fact that you’d shot a rifle maybe twice. He just brings a finger to his lips, telling you to be quiet. You quietly make your way next to him, your heart racing.

You guys step outside, the snow muffling your footsteps just a bit. The snow was falling down pretty heavily, making it harder to actually see anything.

But then Joel sees it, he holds up his hand, motioning for you to stop walking. There’s a man, just behind one of the trees, gripping a knife. He’s holding it up halfway, as if he’s unsure to surrender or not when we make eye-contact.

You and Joel both raise your rifle.

“Step out, now.” Joel raises his voice. “Now.”

The man steps out just a bit, slowly, bundled in layers of dirty clothing, fingers stiff with cold, face hollow with exhaustion. “D-don’t shoot, alright?!” The man says, his voice rough.

“You alone?” Joel’s voice was flat.

The man nodded quickly—too quickly. “Yes! I—I swear to God. I was just looking for shelter. It’s real cold!”

Joel’s rifle never wavered.

“Bullshit.”

The man’s breath hitched. “I—”

“I see your tracks,” Joel cut him off. “Heavy. Means you’ve been carrying.” He gestured his rifle toward the man’s feet. “Who were you with?”

“No one!” The man shook his head wildly, his voice rising, frantic. “I mean—I left them. They’re miles back—I swear.”

You look up at Joel as you’re not even really pointing your rifle at the man anymore. “Joel, he’s obviously alone.” You say to him.

He doesn’t reply, his eyes focused on the man.

“Joel?”  What is he going to do? The man just had a knife, he looked like he hadn’t eaten in days. He didn’t look like a threat. You furrowed your brows, Joel was ignoring you.

You inhaled sharply.

“Joel,” you repeated, quiet but firm. “He isn’t a threat.”  You plead.

He ignored you.

The man took a step forward, his eyes darting between you and Joel. “I just want some food man, a place to sleep-“ “Don’t move.” Joel said, firmly. His rifle stayed locked on the man’s chest.

You looked at Joel again and back at the man, your brows furrowing even more. Joel’s acting like you’re not even standing here.

And then—

The man shifted his weight.

Just barely.

Just enough for Joel to react.

The gunshot shattered the silence.

You flinched.

The man dropped his knife. His mouth parted—like he hadn’t fully registered it yet.

Then he collapsed, the red immediately soaking into the snow.

For a second, you couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Your eyes widening as it hit you. Joel just killed that man. Your voice had meant nothing to him.

You turn your head to Joel, your mouth hanging a bit open, eyes widened, brows fully furrowed. He’s just standing there, reloading his rifle as if this was the most casual case in the world.

Joel exhaled, lowering his rifle. He was already stepping toward the body, as if this was justanother chore.

Something in you just snapped.

“What the fuck is wrong with you! He was—he was dropping the knife!” You took a step closer, your breath coming hard and fast. “He was surrendering, Joel!”

Joel didn’t look at you. He crouched down near the body, reaching for the knife still clenched in the man’s lifeless fingers.

All you feel is rage. He just killed that man and now he’s taking the knife as if it’s nothing.  “What is wrong with you!” You yell again.

Joel just walked past you back into the outpost.

“He was going to surrender! It’s not like he stood a fucking chance if he would attack!” You yelled at him but he gave no reaction, just packing up his bag.

“I’m talking to you!” You’re about to shove him out of pure rage, but before doing so, he gets grip on your wrist, stopping you. His eyes finally meeting yours. Now he looked at you.

And you hated the look in his eyes.

Not cold. Not regretful.

Just unbothered.

“He was gonna lunge,” Joel muttered, standing. “You didn’t see it.”

“I saw enough, I was there!” she shot back.

Joel scoffed, shaking his head. “No. Youdidn’t.”

All you felt was anger taking you over. “You don’t fucking know that, Joel! He was alone! And you—you just fucking shot him.”

You sounded hysterical. But you didn’t care. It was wrong, Joel was wrong. How could everything escalate this quickly?

Joel’s jaw flexed. “And if I’d hesitated? If he was lying? You’d be the one bleeding out in the snow, not him.”

You let out a harsh, humorlesslaugh. “Jesus Christ—do you even hear yourself?” You gestured at the body still laying in the snow outside of the outpost, your hands shaking. “He was just a guy, Joel. He wasn’t some monster!”

“You’re naive.” Joel just replied. His hand still gripping your wrist tightly. It wasn’t the fact that he called you that, it was the way he said it. With some sort of disgust, contempt. Like he actually despised you for wanting another human being to live. “You don’t get it, you think ‘cause you’ve survived so far you actually know what it’s like out here? You don’t.”

“Fuck you.”  You spat, forcing your wrist out of his grip. He didn’t even know you.

“No, fuck you,” he growled. “You still think there’s a choice? That we can afford to wait, or talk, or hesitate?” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “That kinda thinkin’ gets people killed.”

He walked outside, packing his bag onto the horse. You followed after, you weren’t done with this conversation. The way he was giving you no emotion back whatsoever while you were here, losing it, enraged you.

“Does it even bother you?” Your voice rough. You don’t know why you’re as furious as you are. You’ve seen many people die, you’ve been the reason many people had died. Yet the way you were dismissed, the way he was so cold. It triggered your PTSD, reminding you of a man you had tried to have long forgotten.

You step closer, voice sharp: “Who was it?”

His brows pull together, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Who did you lose to make you like this?” you spit. “Your wife? Your kid? Who was it that died and turned you into a heartless asshole?” It wasn’t a long shot, everyone has lost someone in the apocalypse.

Joel goes still.

That’s when you know you hit something.

For the first time, you sees it—just a flicker, barely a second—but it’s real anger, the kind that simmers so deep it could boil over at any second.

He quickly steps closer. Too close. His voice is dangerously low. His hands fist onto your coat collar, pulling you forward.

“Watch your mouth.”

You should stop. You should back down. Reasonable you, non-triggered you, would’ve backed down.

But you don’t.

Instead, you scoff. “Guess I was right, huh?”

And that’s it.

Joel’s jaw clenches so hard you can see the muscle twitch.

“You don’t know a goddamn thing about me,” he growls. “Not a single goddamn thing.” He aggressively lets go of your collar, making you stumble back.

And then he walks off. Just leaves you standing there, the air thick with something neither of them can take back. You drag your hands across your face as you lean back against the wall, wiping away the anger-tears that fell over your cheeks.

God, you feel stupid. Stupid for thinking, even for a second, that this morning—when you stood in front of the mirror smoothing down your hair, buttoning up your nicer coat—meant something. Stupid for thinking maybe today wouldn’t be so bad.

You felt furious, furious that there was a dead man outside the outpost, furious that you had no control over the situation whatsoever. Furious that your words didn’t matter to Joel.

But mostly? You feel humiliated and awful. You know you overstepped. It was a low blow. Especially from you, knowing you’re not too different from Joel at all. But you were still furious, Joel acted in such a cold way, it had made your stomach turn.

And that’s all it took for you to really hate Joel Miller, and the feeling might just be mutual.

[maclediumzeyheri]

How I Draw: PART 2

I’m currently a poor college student battling through final exams — and as if that wasn’t enough, one evil professor is making us undergrads write a full research paper on top of it all. So yes, it’s been a rather painful time... which sadly means I haven’t been able to draw much lately. But! Once June is over, I’ll finally be free! I’m hoping to dive back into drawing a lot more then.

Anyway, thank you so much for all the love on my last art post. It’s honestly been years since I wrote a post like that, so it was a pretty fun experience for me too! Today, I thought I’d continue the series — this time diving into the highlights of my process: coloring and post-editing!

…So, in my last post, I covered everything up to laying down the base colors. Now, it’s time to add some shadows!

When adding shadows, I only use Multiply layers. I usually pick low-saturation colors for this step, pretty much the same way I do when laying down the base colors. If needed, I’ll also use a watercolor edge effect.

To be honest, there’s really nothing too special about my process. After all, I’m not someone who’s formally trained in art. So no fancy, elaborate techniques here when it comes to adding shadows! (As for considering the direction of light… well, I sometimes try to think about it when adjusting the overall colors later on. But most of the time, I don’t bother too much — and this particular piece is one of those cases.) I simply go by instinct and paint the areas where shadows feel right.

Anyway, that’s how I go about coloring the clothes as well.

There was a little something special when it came to coloring the gloves. To give them a slightly transparent look, I added a light layer of green.

Once I’m done adding all the shadows, I move on to adjusting the line colors. Well, anything looks better than plain black lines, after all.

So at this point, this is what the piece looks like. Now, let’s move on and make it even prettier.

Use Ctrl+A and Ctrl+C to copy the entire coloring layer. Then, paste it and apply a blur effect to the copied layer (this is a feature available in SAI 2).

Now, copy the blurred layer as well. Set Blurred Layer 1 to Multiply, and Blurred Layer 2 to Overlay.

Then, adjust the opacity of these layers to your liking. This creates an effect where the image looks slightly soft, yet the colors become more vivid at the same time. It’s a technique often used to give artwork a bit of a retro vibe.

Next, use the Multiply and Overlay layers to adjust the overall color tone. With Multiply, you can create a darker, moodier atmosphere across the whole piece. And with Overlay, you can tweak the color tones to get the look you want.

(That’s right — just changing the color on the Overlay layer can completely change the color tones of the piece.)

For the finer details, keep using Overlay, Multiply, and Screen layers to refine the look.

-If you want to brighten certain areas, use a Screen layer. -If you want to adjust colors or add light and atmosphere, go with an Overlay layer(The image above is an example of this). -And if you want to deepen the shadows, a Multiply layer is your friend.

After that, I do some additional color adjustments in PaintShop Pro(If you have Photoshop, that would actually be an even better tool for this step).

In my case, since I was planning to lower the saturation later on, I intentionally boosted the saturation a bit during this stage. And don’t forget — before moving on to the next step, it’s a good idea to add an overall paper texture to the piece(Of course, this is a built-in feature in SAI).

From here, I use Corel Painter’s Thick Paint feature to add visible brushstrokes. The process of picking colors with the pipette tool and painting over them takes quite a long time.

In my experience, if you carefully paint with the smallest brush size (1.0), it gives the piece a texture that feels almost like embroidery. On the other hand, if you use a slightly larger brush and paint more loosely, it ends up looking more like an oil painting.

And if you duplicate the layer where you used the Thick Paint brush, you can get some really fun effects during the editing process.

Then, it’s really a matter of lowering the saturation, adding layer effects where needed, and repeating this process until you’re happy with the result. As I always say — I don’t have any strict rules for this part. It’s all based on personal satisfaction. For this particular piece, I went through even more steps (and a lot more second-guessing!) than usual.

And that’s it — the piece is finished! Thank you so much for reading all the way through.

As I was writing this, I realized that a lot of my process is based on instinct, so this post might not have been all that helpful in a step-by-step sense. But if there’s any part you’d like me to explain in more detail, please feel free to ask anytime!

[hinata6uchiha]

Paper Rings & Broken Hearts (Writing Thoughts & Snippet Question)

I’ve already started working on the next chapter of Paper Rings, and just a little behind-the-scenes peek for those of you following me here, the upcoming chapter includes a scene from Sakura’s POV. 👀

She runs into Hinata and Sasuke, and we get to see everything unfold from her perspective, especially her take on the shift happening between SasuHina. That said, I’m still unsure about how the encounter plays out. Specifically, I’m not totally sold on the location where it happens.

Originally, I’d planned for them to bump into each other at a bar or somewhere a little more unexpected. But as it’s written now, it takes place right outside a grocery store. I’ll be sharing a little sneak peek of that scene below and would really love your thoughts!

Is the grocery store setting too plain? Should I go back to the original idea? Or does it work the way it is?

Let me know what you think! Are you curious to see how the full scene plays out? Do you have any suggestions or ideas for how it could go differently?

Snippet is below! 👇👇👇

Before Sakura could add another word, a familiar presence suddenly settled beside Hinata, drawing Sakura’s gaze instantly.

Sasuke stood there, a silent force, calm yet imposing as always. Her heart faltered, mouth suddenly dry. His eyes shifted briefly to her in mild confusion before focusing on Hinata.

“Everything okay?” he asked quietly, a subtle edge coloring his deep voice.

Hinata glanced up at him. “Yes, Sakura-san was just returning this,” she murmured, holding up his shirt. “It's yours.”

“My shirt?” Sasuke repeated, gaze narrowing slightly as he turned back toward Sakura.

Sakura avoided his penetrating gaze, dropping her eyes to the ground. Her pulse fluttered wildly, panic fluttering beneath her ribs. She couldn't meet his eyes. She wasn't ready yet. If she did, she knew that fragile closure she'd worked so hard to build would crumble instantly.

“You didn't need to bring it,” Sasuke remarked coolly, an edge of detachment returning to his tone. “You could've just thrown it away.”

Sakura nodded weakly, swallowing thickly as she forced herself to glance back at him, only to see his attention had already shifted back entirely to Hinata. A tenderness softened his typically stoic features as he looked at his wife, something Sakura had never fully seen before, not even at Kiba’s birthday. Something changed.

“Sorry I made you wait,” Sasuke murmured softly to Hinata. “We can go in now.”

Something shifted in Hinata’s eyes, a light Sakura couldn’t quite define, as Hinata reached out naturally and slipped her hand into Sasuke’s hand, entwining them gently. Her lips curled into a gentle smile as she glanced up at him before turning back to Sakura, offering only a polite nod, careful yet distant.

“We're going to start shopping now,” Hinata told her simply, without any pretense of extended courtesy, pulling Sasuke gently alongside her.

Sasuke scowled slightly, his cheeks flushed faintly red as he mumbled softly, “You don't need to pull.” He tugged her back gently, guiding her instead to his side, close enough to brush shoulders. Sakura’s heart twisted painfully at the sight.

As if sensing Sakura's gaze, Sasuke glanced briefly toward her, offering only a faint nod of farewell before immediately returning his focus back to Hinata. Everything moved slowly then, as if the entire world had stilled around the intimate, wordless exchange between them.

So…thoughts? 😅 Should I keep it as is or switch it up? I’m super curious to hear what you all think!

[moonstruckme]

hey queen! i am humbly requesting some tasm!peter x plus sized!reader 🛐

maybe he was coming home from patrolling/being out as spidey and saw something in a window that reminded him of reader? like a knickknack or flowers or something like that? and he comes home and gives it to her and she’s all flustered and smitten 🤭

feel free to add your own spin to it or anything! i’m just in need of fluff and hugs from my boy 🫶🏻

Thanks for requesting lovely!

tasm!Peter Parker x plus size!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Peter knows he’s got other things he should be doing. He’s technically not done with the amount of time he likes to spend patrolling every day (plus there’s a serial burglar out there he should really be trying to catch), and if he’s not doing that he should be getting home to work on the research paper he’s got due tomorrow, and if he’s doing neither of those things Aunt May’s been begging him all week to dust the shelves she can’t reach. But when you open your door and he sees the look on your face, Peter knows he made the right decision neglecting all that shit. 

“Hi!” Your voice lilts through the syllable, happiness coating it like honey. 

“Hey,” Peter says back, immediately losing whatever advantage he had in the conversation. You’re surprised to see him, sure, but he’s surprised to see you like this. You’re still in your pajamas, evidently enjoying a day in, a large t-shirt and draw-string shorts that make you look all lazy and adorable and leave the delicate flesh of your thighs on display. Peter wants to bite them, but that wouldn’t be very gentlemanly. 

“Hey,” he says again, blinking to clear the haze from his brain. “I, uh, you said you like irises, right?” 

“Yeah…” There’s a hesitant sort of question in your voice. You eye the small bunch of flowers in his hand. “Are those for me?” 

Peter grins. “Who else, sweetheart?” He tacks on the endearment mostly to see you fluster. It’s a success; your arms come up to hug your torso as your cheeks dimple, smile half-suppressed. 

He passes you the flowers before he can fluster too. The plastic wrap crinkles under your careful touch, and you glance between him and them like you can’t decide which to admire first. 

“Thank you so much,” you say. “Did we…have something today?” 

“No,” he laughs, hooking his thumb in the strap of his backpack. “No, you’re good. I was just in the neighborhood, and they made me think of you.” 

Your eyes go all pretty-pleased at the comment, but you tilt your head curiously. “What do you have to do around here?” 

Ah, the question he’d hoped you’d be too happy to ask. The truth is, Peter’s almost never in this neighborhood if not for you. Spiderman gets around, but there’s not usually as much going on here as in the rest of the city. He’d spotted the flowers at a stand he’d webbed a catcaller to on the lower east side, and then came over to your end of town to bring them to you. It was only, like, a ten minute swing. Much more efficient than the subway. 

“Thrifting,” he says slowly. “I was, uh, just looking to update my closet a bit, and I know you’ve got a lot of good thrift stores around here.” 

“Nice.” You smile, taking a little sniff of your irises. Their bright color makes your already exquisite face look even lovelier, and it’s such a perfect image Peter wishes he had his camera on him. “Can I see your finds?” 

“No,” he replies. Too quickly, so he tries to look really put out to compensate for it. “No, I didn’t find anything. I’m…really picky about my clothes.” 

“Oh.” Your eyes drop to his plain gray t-shirt and jeans, but thankfully you’re too nice to say anything. 

“Right,” Peter blazes ahead, tugging on the straps of his backpack, “so I just wanted to bring you those, and I’ve actually got shelves to dust, so I’d better go…” 

“Okay, thanks for the flowers,” you say. “They’re really pretty.” 

“Yeah, I figured it must be hard being so pretty all by yourself,” he says, spinning around to walk backwards so he can see your reaction, “so I figured I’d get you a companion.” 

You press your lips together, flustering and tilting your head downwards as if to hide it. “Thanks,” you almost whisper. Peter grins hugely. 

You look up just as he’s turning back around, your focus narrowing on something behind him. 

“Hold on a second.” Peter halts unthinkingly, and you come outside, that t-shirt fluttering prettily around your hips. “Something’s falling out of your bag…” 

He remembers to be nervous just before you pull the red and blue mask from the unzipped pocket of his backpack. 

“What’s this?” 

“That…” Peter’s nodding but he doesn’t know why. It’s some sort of automatic response, like he turns into a bobblehead under pressure. His mouth is void of saliva. “That’s a costume.” 

Your eyebrows twitch together as one side of your mouth kicks up, like you’re not sure what to make of him. “You dress up as Spider-Man?” 

The nodding turns to shaking weirdly seamlessly. “No! No, of course not. I’m an adult. It’s—it’s not for me.” You look at him expectantly. “I’m making it…for my nephew.” 

“Oh.” You blink. “I didn’t know you had a nephew.” 

“Really?” Peter hears his voice pitching higher, but he’s powerless to stop it. “I didn’t mention him? We’re pretty close—well, not that close. He lives…away. In Connecticut. But he wants a Spider-Man costume, and obviously he wants me to make it, because…I’m the guy for that stuff.” 

You nod respectfully. “You are really good at sewing,” you say, and the look you’re giving him is so sweet it nearly takes his knees out from under him. “It’s nice of you to do that for him. You’re so thoughtful, Peter.” 

You say it all soft and considerate, like it’s a secret you’re letting him in on, and Peter’s honestly worried for his heart health. He’s not sure it can take the strain of all this. 

“Yeah, well, only for people I care about,” he says just as quietly. 

You drop your gaze, smiling to yourself, and start tucking the mask back inside his backpack. “Your nephew must be a cool kid. I’d love to meet him sometime.” 

“Yeah, maybe if he comes to town sometime.” Which will be, you know, never. But hopefully by the time it gets suspicious you’ll know enough that Peter can come clean with you about that. 

He hears the zipper close and turns before you can move away. Peter wants desperately to wrap his arms around you, feel the softness of your body pressed up against his, but he settles for taking your hand. At the look on your face when he smiles and gives it a squeeze, you would’ve died at the alternative. 

“Thanks, sweetheart.” 

Your lips part. “No problem,” you breathe. 

He gives your hand one more press for good measure, letting his fingers drag across yours as he steps away. “See you Friday, yeah? For dinner?” 

“Yeah.” You clear your throat. “I’ll see you then.” 

Peter shoots you one last grin over his shoulder, headed down the sidewalk. “Looking forward to it.” 

[mothergo0se]

It’s quiet again. That same suspicious quiet.

I set down the laundry basket and narrow my eyes. I know that silence. I know that stillness.

I warned them last time. Wiped every streak of marker off their legs, changed their soggy, scribbled-on diaper, and told them firmly: no more drawing on yourself. Paper only. Mommy even gave them a sticker for listening.

But as I turn the corner into the nursery, I feel my heart drop.

There they are.

Sitting on the carpet, half behind the rocking chair, surrounded by uncapped markers. Their fresh diaper—barely an hour old—is now streaked with bright orange swirls. A big, wobbly sun on one thigh. Two purple stars on their belly. A crooked smiley face drawn right above the waistband of their diaper.

They freeze when they see me.

Caught.

Again.

I don’t say a word at first. I just walk slowly into the room, arms crossed. Calm. Controlled. Mommy doesn’t yell. Mommy doesn’t stomp.

Mommy just stares.

And they squirm. Oh, they squirm so sweetly, already guilty, already knowing.

“M-Mommy…” they start, voice barely a squeak. “I was just gonna do a little one…”

I lift one eyebrow.

“A little what, exactly? A little disobedience?”

They open their mouth. Close it.

Then look down at their very colorful, very naughty tummy.

I sigh and kneel beside them, taking the marker from their hand. “We had an agreement, didn’t we?”

They nod. Very slowly. “Paper only…”

“That’s right. And what did Mommy say would happen if you broke the rules again?”

“…No crayons. And bare-bottom time.”

“And?” I prompt, leaning in.

Their cheeks turn pink.

“…And a spanking.”

I take their chin gently in my hand and tilt their face up to mine. “So you remembered all that, and still decided to draw on yourself anyway?”

They blink quickly, a little tear escaping.

“I—I didn’t mean to… it was just so quiet, and I was bored, and the diaper looked so white and I thought just a little—”

“No,” I interrupt gently, but firmly. “No more excuses, little one.”

I guide them over to the changing table. They don’t resist—just a few sniffles, a pouty lip, and the heavy sag of guilt in their shoulders.

I lay them back and begin cleaning off their latest ‘masterpiece’—wiping their skin with warm cloths, slow and quiet. The diaper, once cute and clean, is now damp and covered in doodles. I tear the tabs.

“I’m disappointed,” I murmur as I work. “Not angry. Just very, very disappointed.”

Their lip wobbles. “I’m sorry, Mommy…”

“I know, baby. But being sorry doesn’t mean we skip the consequences, does it?”

They shake their head, eyes shining.

I lift them off the table and place them over my lap, bare-bottomed and trembling slightly. I stroke their back gently.

“This is going to be short,” I whisper. “Because I love you. And because little ones must learn to listen.”

Then, three firm spanks. Not hard. Not cruel. But enough to sting. Enough to make a point. They let out a yelp, burying their face in my arm.

After the last smack, I lift them up and cradle them close.

Shushing. Rocking. Loving.

Their breath comes in hiccups now, tears soaking into my shirt.

“I’m still proud of your drawings,” I whisper. “But you don’t get to choose where they go. That’s Mommy’s job. Understand?”

They nod against my chest, clinging like a baby koala. “Y-Yes, Mommy…”

“Good.”

I carry them back to the table, diaper them nice and thick—extra snug—and slide a plain white onesie over their head.

Snap, snap, snap.

“No more marker time today,” I murmur. “Maybe tomorrow—maybe—if you show me you can behave.”

They nod again, meek and quiet, and I kiss their forehead.

“My silly little artist,” I whisper. “You’ll learn. Mommy always teaches you.”

[syneilesis]

I forgot I started a sub!Rafayel fic when the beta version of the game came out but never finished it because I got derailed by the darker and angrier facet of Rafayel in his Abysswalker era lol

Anyway, I'm posting it now in its first draft (un)glory. It's supposedly smut but I never got to that point lmao so this is still relatively sfw

Rafayel keeps making incessant and silly demands of you. You retaliate by putting him in his place.

Today is a weird day. It's also a busy day, but that's probably why today is a weird day.

You look down and Rafayel looks up at you, silk ties snaking around his wrists and on the bed frame, firm and tight. Redness begins to take over his cheeks and the rest of his face and ears. His eyebrows are drawn down, as are his lips, but his eyes flare with something you can't identify right now, hot and unyielding and it stirs your gut, the embers in his gaze.

“Apologize.”

Rafayel's nostrils flare in defiance and his head whips to the side, huffing despite his being in the disadvantaged position. “Why should I? I did nothing wrong.”

His clothed hips touch the inner sides of your thighs, bare, and they graze the hem of your skirt.

Above him you sigh in frustration, originally not planning to arrive at this compromising position but unwilling to back out nonetheless.

“You strongarmed me into becoming your plus-one for that high-profile art gala and I got mobbed by a group of reporters asking me whether I'm your girlfriend! There were cameras! Videos rolling! And when I turned you weren't there to help! You'd already sneaked out! I literally had to run away—like a coward!”

Rafayel isn't fazed in the slightest. “You could have told them off in the first place. Didn't you say yourself that you're strong, Miss Hunter?”

The urge to roll your eyes burns so bad. Sure, Rafayel has his moments—plenty of them, to be exact. Nearly all the time. He's a brat, whiny and self-assured, but he isn't malicious.

+++++

Rafayel is sitting on the floor, leaning against the wooden ladder, hands above his head just pressed into the third step, bound by a silk tie with a knot that is firm and tight but doesn't bruise his paint-stained wrists. Bright crimson spills across his cheeks, his nose, his ears—his whole face as if overbaked by the sun, almost matching the color of his expensive formal jacket. It makes you want to tease him, tell him that he's no different from a lobster, but you hold back, because this isn't the time to say such cheeky words, not when things are only beginning.

His two-toned eyes follow your movements, his brows tugged downward, as are his lips. Every minute shift from him draws attention to his exposed collarbones and his chest, the first three buttons of his shirt opened and splayed like a recently bloomed hibiscus flower. Barefoot and seemingly helpless, Rafayel is a dash of paint against the plain white of the studio—striking like a lightning bolt.

“What did I do to deserve this?” He tugs his hands a little, and the ladder shakes behind him.

“Careful,” you warn, “you don't want the ladder to topple on you, yeah?”

“I can get out of this easily, you know,” he says, and you can hear the pout in his defiant voice. It's true, though. Despite his slender build, Rafayel is a competent fighter. In this kind of situation, his Evol is also an appropriate means to escape—and destroy.

“I know. But you're not going to do that.”

“And what makes you so sure?”

You step towards him, careful of the discarded papers on the floor, and stop when your feet cage his squirming legs. He freezes at the contact, craning his neck to meet your amused gaze.

“Because,” you answer, singsong, bending down to trace a finger along the dip of his collarbone, then further to his chest, tapping the mole on his left pec. He gulps at the touch, and you almost miss his shudder. If anything, he reddens more. “You want to know where this is going. You're curious, but you also don't want to admit it.”

[pluralthey]

As far as I remember, or like years ago, you’ve used sai right? Sai or sai2(man the brush engines better and Binary brushes feel smoother..) but I also saw you used procreate at some point for that one Jessie draw- which digital programs have you used that you enjoy the most for different things, or which kind of traditional medium for example also, is interesting and/or satisfying? Have been doing lots of ref and tutorial searching and looking at art inspiration for the direction I wanna take my stuff and I was curious about your preferred setup; I just like to hear people’s workflow and what they use to create what they do. I think it’s neat. Also if this is too long sorry 😅

I use sai 2. I switched to sai once oekaki became more and more inoperable. The binary style aspect ended up sticking. Oekaki has limited layer capabilities and this rewarded a simpler pixel style that was more easily edited. I still miss the ease of using pixelated screen tones in oekaki. There are other programs that can make them, but not how oekaki did. But I prefer sai 2 most now.

I use clip studio for larger scale images like print pages for its more versatile and expensive selection of brushes. It has unique settings that still allow me to turn these brushes into pixelated work without anti-aliasing artifacts. There is a setting for level of anti-aliasing, but this is often not enough for more complex brushes using spraying patterns. Using the "replace alpha" blending mode forces many brushes into a binary color mode because drawn on top of a solid color the brush's color can only be 100% opaque. The binary layer color mode also allows you to do this. Both of the latter options often only let you do this with black and white. I usually do this to be able to transfer it back to sai 2 where it's more comfortable to work in. I also use it for its ability to produce text in multiple sizes without anti-aliasing. Sai 2's text tool is fairly primitive.

I use Aseprite for animating. It is mostly for pixel art. It reminds me of an animation program I used to use a long time ago called easytoon due to its simplicity though...

For traditional I prefer paint pens (I mostly use poscas). Gel pens are okay but very small and cheaply made. I really wish someone would make paint pen versions of gel pens. I also had a big black and white plain ink and hatching phase a long time ago. Generally I gravitate towards opaque materials that make the process feel straightforward. The ability to "erase" or white out mistakes for correction is one of the most important qualities in a medium to me.

Less opaque, more time-consuming layered media yield more textured and nuanced results, but I hate few things as much as ruining a piece of art irrecoverably over a relatively small mistake be that accidentally pilling the paper or drawing a line wrong or splashing watercolor the wrong way. Mixed media was fun, but I just prefer having more purpose to what I'm doing. When I'm too preoccupied with the aesthetics I waste a ton of time on useless tweaking or experimenting that never goes anywhere.

[littlerequiem]

— enchanted ˚⁎⁺ levi ackerman x gn!reader

CONTENT — A Howl's Moving Castle inspired one-shot featuring Wizard Levi and a Violin Maker Reader. No real warnings, just some fluff about first encounters, Levi's POV (wc: 1.1k)

The rhythmic sound of coins being deposited into the till ceases.

Levi looks up as you finish recording the transaction of his payment in a notebook, a magical quill transcribing your thoughts directly onto the paper. Despite the help, you remain concentrated on your task, creases forming between your brows. 

Levi studies you.

You are as he last remembers, but different.

Your essence is the same, but your strength is yet to be discovered. 

And you are more modest than he remembers. You wear a simple straw hat, which doesn't have any woven details nor ribbons to adorn it. 

All things considered, it is a rather plain hat. But perhaps its most offensive transgression is the fact that it is worn by someone as special as you.

Oh yes, Levi wasn’t sure when he spotted you in the crowds in the bustling town of Market Chipping, but now, he is certain of it.

It’s you.  

And someone of your caliber? 

You deserve the finest silk hats. 

You deserve to be far away from a step-sister who mistreats you and takes advantage of your skills as an artisan. 

You deserve to open your own shop, in a town you choose for yourself.  

You just deserve more. 

“I hope you enjoy your violin, Sir,” you say to him, tearing him out of his observations. Your voice is low and collected, as though you are afraid to draw attention to yourself.

You hand him a package—the violin he just bought—wrapped carefully in a leather-bound box. It is one of the finest instruments Levi has ever seen, but that you're the one who crafted it makes it priceless. 

Levi says nothing as he takes his new purchase in his two hands. He tucks it under one arm and continues to stare at you. 

Behind the counter, trinkets float around the different violins on display, jewels of all colors gleaming and reflecting a myriad of colors on your skin. It is a beautiful and delicate sight, and Levi secretly wonders how you would look surrounded by more colors.  

At Levi’s silence, you follow his gaze and catch what he is staring at. 

“Oh, those?” you let out, a timid smile creeping up on your lips. You reach out into the air, and various gems hover around your fingertips, like metal attracted to a magnet. “These are enchanted gemstones. We sell them to musicians looking for a muse. Our local Witch has charmed them to float around like this. Catchy, isn’t it?”  

As you finish explaining your story, you pluck one stone that’s swirling above you. You turn and offer it to him, opening your palm.

It’s a pink stone, etched with sharp corners and glistening surfaces.  

“It is said that each stone brings a different kind of luck to its owner,” you explain, a gleam of light reflecting onto your cheeks as you twirl the stone around. “This one’s a rose quartz. It’s meant to promise long lasting love.”

Levi's lips twitch at the sight of the stone.

Long lasting love, huh?

Of course, Levi recognizes the pink gem—he recognized it the moment he walked into the shop. It is the same stone that you wore as a necklace in his past when you first saved him.

Despite this, he still finds himself asking you:  “Why hand me this one?” 

Levi still doesn’t retrieve the gem from your hand, allowing you to finish your sales pitch. 

You blink, your eyes flickering to him. Your expression is riddled with uncertainty, as if you didn’t expect Levi would be interested in what you had to say. 

You swallow a heavy breath, your hand faltering.

“D’you know what? I don’t understand it myself. It just… felt right. Isn’t that strange?” You bite your bottom lip nervously. “Here, you keep it—it’s on the house.” 

You bring your hand closer to his own, offering him the stone. 

But Levi waves a hand in the air to refuse.

“No,” Levi answers coolly. “This isn’t a charity.”

He sees you frown, appearing taken aback.

Levi gestures to the stone still in your hand. “But I would like to buy it.” 

A victorious grin creeps on your lips, as though you didn’t believe your speech might lead to this turn of events. You nod, looking oddly satisfied with yourself. 

“Alright then,” you hum. You tell him the price of the stone and he hands you the change. Before handing him his new possession, you give him a curious stare. “What name should I put on both receipts?”

He stills.

“Levi Ackerman,” he answers, studying you carefully to gauge your reaction.

You look up at him. Recognition flashes on your face and you appear startled. Afraid, perhaps.

“Oh.” There’s a tremor to your voice that wasn’t there before. “Are you… the Levi Ackerman? Humanity’s Strongest Wizard?” 

Levi crosses his arms over his chest. The term Humanity Strongest was first coined many years ago, when he was still an apprentice and his mastery of magic was deemed extraordinary.

He hates the title. 

“Fucking pretentious, isn’t it?” Levi comments, the muscles on his face tensing. 

You seem to relax upon hearing Levi's response, the same smile ghosting your face. “Well, it is a bit much. Couldn’t settle for a title with less… flair?”  

“Believe me, I would have loved to,” Levi mutters. 

The corner of your mouth lift upwards. “I suppose Humanity’s Okay-est Wizard doesn’t quite have the same ring to it, huh?”

Levi shrugs. “I think I would settle for just Levi, if I could,” he confesses.

Levi wants to say that he’d settle for you calling him like that, but he refrains himself. That would be way too forward of him and way too creepy of a thing to hear from someone you don’t even know.

But Levi knows you.

(He’s known you for many years.) 

For him, to hear his name on your lips would be as natural as the wind blowing through the valley of this town.

There’s a gleam in your eyes now, the beginning of a fire Levi recognizes. “Alright, just Levi. Tell me, do you believe in the properties of stones?”

Levi clicks his tongue in a way that it hisses through his teeth, amusement and disbelief blending on his face.

“Not really.” Levi gazes at you thoughtfully. “But maybe one day.” 

You give him a curious look and place the gem into his palm. The contact of your fingertips against his skin sizzles. 

Levi pockets the stone, burning the memory of you in his mind. He’ll gift you the necklace one day, and you'll both see that the properties of the stone are true.

But before that, your own story has to start.

See you soon, Violin Maker.

— Masterlist

[granulesofsand]

Hi, I was wondering if you have resources or examples of what system mapping is/looks like? My therapist mentioned it and I don't really understand what that ... looks like. And also can't find any real resources on it

System mapping refers to a lot of record keeping, more so than most people think of when they hear about it. The most common route for this exercise is a visual aid, often done on blank printer paper or with a computer application that allows for shapes with text in them.

Some goals for system mapping can be seeing how system members

are related (who knows who, how they interact with one another, how they define their connections)

came into the system (who split from who, when they showed up, what happened to get them)

fit into the collective (who’s similar or different, how roles make sense, where triggers chain together)

exist in space (how close to one another they are, where things are in the internal world, how visualized barriers come into play)

are themselves (which labels they use, which things they like and dislike, how they exist as one being and a member of a group)

Here are some examples of maps for each of these things

I did these taking only a few minutes each, and they’re simplified versions of real maps we’ve done in the past. Maps should be thought-provoking, a dumped box of ideas you connect on the page. Sometimes it takes hours (or days, but that’s usually an avoidance problem).

We’re working on one right now that shows when different color codes came into play for us. Our system is huge, so this is a broader project that doesn’t address individual members or subgroups. We took a poster paper and some colorful pens, made some notes at the top, and are drawing a garden with a central tree and some flowers for pieces that don’t make sense as a branching out. We worked on it several hours straight, redid it twice, and it’s still not done.

Our largest system map is a wall of post-its hanging on for dear life, with different color notes and ink for different purposes. We have a whole legend of symbols and would probably be using pins and yarn if we had a cork board. That one is everything; people and places, subgroups and relationships, programming and trauma, all of it.

If you(&)’re looking for resources, I have like two links I know I can find right now. Mostly this is a community topic, and you can watch people make maps on video sites like YouTube or TikTok. You’re less likely to find academic material about system mapping unless you’re looking for discussion about treatment or plain case studies, and I dislike contextualizing the exercise like they do.

I like the first link because they’re creative with it, which is great for visual aids. They also remind you that mapping isn’t for everymany/body, and that it’s okay not to do it or not include everyone.

The second isn’t specific to mapping, but has a bullet list I liked from another site that was more commercial.

A third one I thought about including but didn’t had some good reasons for mapping for integration (helping each other notice they’re connected, that there are reasons the system works like it does), but was more clinical.

Actually, I feel bad explaining it and not showing it, so you(&) choose if that sounds okay to you.

There are many larger articles which include aspects of system mapping, but reading them requires a lot of sifting and determining what is real to you(&) before you can make use of most of what’s written. It can help form opinions, and it will also send some cascading. If you look into the academic side, remember to look into the community side, too. You need both, just maybe not as early as mapping the system for the first time.

Poster paper is system mapping. Sand trays are system mapping. Roll calls are system mapping. Community meetings are system mapping. System mapping is getting to know your(&) system. You can’t really do it wrong, but I hope you got some ideas of where to start.

[exuvianen]

misc. stationery hcs [housewardens]

short stationery + penmanship hcs with the housewardens!

cw: n/a

notes: another old piece... just some silly hc's don't take them too seriously. i tried writing the same amount for everyone but it’s kinda clear who i’m biased towards… feel free to drop an ask or to add on! likes + rbs are appreciated <3

wc: ~1100 words?? wow. that's more than i expected.

riddle rosehearts ; housewarden of heartslabyul

has everything you need for school. pencils, pens, erasers, notebooks, binders, glue, tape, scissors,  you name it, riddle has it.

sorts each subject by color, and color codes all his notes/subjects. do NOT mess up his order! 

has extremely neat handwriting - it’s a bit on the smaller side, but it’s easy to read.

riddle shares his notes with others when they ask him for help, so he makes sure it’s legible and easy on the eyes.

as for stationery in general, he probably doesn’t go too wild. standard neon highlighters, blue and black pens, plain covered notebooks, etc. it’s simple, but it’s good enough for riddle.

overall pretty good taste, a little basic, but everything is of good quality.

leona kingscholar ; housewarden of savanaclaw

literally does not care about stationery. he’s the idgaf king.

he’s that kid who never brings a pencil or pen to class. he barely remembers to bring his notebook too. and he only has one (1) notebook that he uses for everything (he probs doesn’t even take notes in class, he alr knows everything lol).

constantly borrows stuff from ruggie or sends him to buy stuff from sam’s shop. he’s lucky he has ruggie.

has a fancy pen from farena that he never uses, but keeps at the bottom of his drawer. 

does the bare minimum, probably “borrows” other people’s pens/pencils when he loses his. has borrowed at least 20 pens, but was too lazy to give it back. they sit on top of his desk. 

he literally doesn't care about aesthetics, he just gets random stationery to get the job done. has the most mismatched items.

azul ashengrotto ; housewarden of octavinelle

definitely invests in some quality paper and pens. also a stationery nerd who has everything in his office.

probably has those notebooks/folders with the corny motivational quotes like “the grind never stops” or “no pain no gain”. kinda cringe but he likes them b/c they motivate him.

he’s the type to take notes in class, then rewrite them later. he sells the rewritten notes to other students for a steep price.

jots down ideas or gossip he hears in the margins of his notebooks. he rarely doodles, but sometimes he might draw things from the coral sea if he’s feeling particularly homesick.

color codes all his notes, but uses more neutral colors as opposed to the standard bright/neons. he also has sea-themed folders or notebooks. 

he's fascinated by what land-dwellers use, as paper/ink typically doesn't last in the sea. he really tries a variety of products and enjoys it a lot! and takes notes for his future businesses

kalim al-asim ; housewarden of scarabia

the guy who has an excessive amount of stationery. probably buys 20 of the same pen because he likes it so much.

he gets those notebooks/folders that have cute animals or wild patterns on them. i feel like he’d also get a lot of stuff with floral designs.

doesn’t care much about the quality/brand of the things he’s buying - rather, he’s more interested in how cool or fun the item looks. 

def owns funky-colored pens, erasers that smell like food, and sticky notes shaped like animals. probs decorates everything with stickers (he loves scratch-n-sniff ones).

the margins of kalim’s notebooks are filled with doodles. some things he draws often are his favorite dishes and animals, and his family members. he probably uses his notebook to plan parties/parades instead of taking notes. jamil has a stroke

his handwriting is very expressive. it's loopy and wide when he's excited, small and sloppy when he's dozing off, and extremely messy when he's scribbling frantically.

vil schoenheit ; housewarden of pomefiore

owns sets of matching stationery. coordinates his pencil case with his notebooks and folders. probably a fan of minimalism and deep, rich colors. 

has high-quality pens and uses fancy highlighters to annotate his notes (i’m thinking those midliner highlighters and muji pens). he spares no expense for his tools.

color codes all his notes/different subjects, and has a specific color scheme for each subject. he is VERY particular about his color sorting. do NOT mess his categories up.

his handwriting is elegant and beautiful. he probably practiced and experimented with his handwriting a lot due to his fame (he signs autographs and he wants his penmanship to look pretty for his fans!)

he has pinterest worthy notes. he posts them on his magicam stories occasionally to show them off, and to encourage his fans to study hard too.

his fashionista side bleeds into his stationery choices, so he only buys items that are 1) of the best quality and 2) suited for his image. he does NOT cut corners.

idia shroud ; housewarden of ignihyde. 

does not use stationery LOL (or avoids it. technology is just more convenient for him).

everything is done on digitally, on his computer, tablet, or phone. he’d decorate his laptop or tablet with stickers though, like of his fave idol group “premo” and such. 

if he does own stationery, they are game or anime themed. also limited edition. he def collects merch, like pins and badges as well. i feel like he’d make itabags and stuff but he’d never go out in public with them. he’s too socially awkward just like me fr

he has those cool multifunctional pens, the ones with like 10 different colors, and can also double as a screwdriver or some kind of tool. 

he’d also have a lot of cute cat-themed items. they're just too cute, and he can't resist buying them! he's rich so it's fine...

he's probably designed super multifunctional pens before. he definitely has the brains and resources to do so.

malleus draconia ; housewarden of diasomnia

archaic stationery. still dips his pen in ink and writes with a feather /hj

he’s fine with the basics though. he just rolls with pen, paper, and ink. it’s good enough for him. 

has beautiful, fancy cursive handwriting, but it’s hard for people to read, especially for his schoolmates b/c the younger generation doesn’t really learn cursive anymore. think like... the penmanship of historical treaties or declarations. it's charming and still legible, but you just need a bit of time to be able to read it. 

probably owns and uses enchanted quills passed down from his family. it reminds him of home and he treasures them greatly. when he’s homesick he’ll twirl them between his fingers. 

he used to break a lot of pencils/pens with his sheer magical fae grip. he’s learned how to control his strength a lot better now, but he still prefers his enchanted writing tools. 

he's not used to modern technology, so he gets a kick out of trying novel stationary items as well. this pencil is also a pen, a highlighter, and a flashlight? wowie!

[poojalate]

Stationery Set Essentials for Creative Professionals

Let’s be honest—there’s something incredibly satisfying about opening up a fresh notebook or clicking your favorite pen into place. In a world full of screens and apps, many of us still find comfort (and clarity!) in using simple tools like pens, pencils, and paper.

That’s where a good stationery set comes in. Whether you’re sketching, writing, planning, or brainstorming, the right tools can help you stay focused and bring your best ideas to life.

Why You Still Need a Stationery Set

Even if you do most of your work on a computer, having a stationery set nearby makes a difference. Here’s why:

You can catch ideas before they slip away.

Ever had an idea pop into your head at the worst time? That’s why keeping a notebook and pen handy is so helpful. A quick sketch or scribble in your stationery set could become your next big thing.

It keeps you grounded.

Writing or sketching by hand slows your brain down—in a good way. It helps you focus, remember more, and connect better with your work. Plus, ticking off a to-do list with an actual pen? So satisfying.

Your space feels more “you.”

Having your favorite pens, sticky notes, or that one perfect sketchpad makes your workspace feel personal—and more inspiring. A customized stationery set brings both function and a little joy to your day.

What Should Be in Your Stationery Set?

Here’s a simple breakdown of what to include—no overthinking required.

1. Pens and pencils you actually like using

Stock up on:

A smooth ball pen for everyday writing

A gel pen for clean, neat lines

A mechanical pencil for sketching or details

You don’t need a hundred different tools—just a few that you love using.

2. Notebooks and sketchpads

Different notebooks for different needs can keep your ideas organized.

A lined notebook for notes and journaling

A plain or dotted sketchpad for drawing or mind-mapping

A mini notepad for those “middle of the night” thoughts

Use what feels right for how you think and create.

3. The unsung heroes: ruler, eraser, sharpener

They may seem basic, but they’re super handy.

A ruler for straight lines and layout work

A soft eraser to fix mistakes cleanly

A compact sharpener (because nothing kills the mood like a dull pencil)

4. Color adds life

Add some fun to your set:

Highlighters for focus

Markers or colored pens for visual notes or sketches

A few sticky notes for reminders or quick thoughts

Color makes things easier to understand—and a lot more fun to look at.

5. Keep it all together

Use folders, trays, or a pouch to hold your tools. This way, everything’s easy to grab and nothing gets lost in a drawer.

Making Your Stationery Set Work for You

Your stationery set doesn’t have to be fancy. It just has to feel like you.

Start small. Begin with the basics and add tools as you need them.

Think about what you do often. Do you write a lot? Sketch ideas? Highlight reading materials? Build your set around those habits.

Make it a little eco-friendly. If you can, go for recycled paper or refillable pens. Small changes make a difference.

Conclusion

There’s something really grounding about picking up a pen and letting your thoughts flow. It’s not just about having the right tools—it’s about creating space for ideas, focus, and creativity.

So whether you’re at your desk, at a café, or on the move, having a well-packed stationery set can help you do your best work—your way.

FAQs – Your Stationery Set Questions Answered

Q1: How do I start building a stationery set?

Begin with a pen you love, a notebook that fits your style, and a few extras like a pencil, eraser, and sticky notes. You can always add more as you go.

Q2: How do I keep my stationery organized?

Use a small box, drawer organizer, or pouch to keep your tools in one place. Group similar items together—pens with pens, notebooks with notebooks.

Q3: What should I take if I want a portable stationery set?

Pack light: one pen, one pencil, a small notepad, sticky notes, and a highlighter. Keep it all in a compact case or zip pouch.

Q4: How do I know which tools are right for me?

Try a few and notice what you reach for most. If something helps you think, plan, or create better—it belongs in your stationery set.