#i need to work on making my sketches actually look good without relying on colour to make sense of what's what

[shadeswift99]

Will ye stand for the crown, or fall for the blade?

(It's about time I drew a Red King Ren! :D Reblogs appreciated.)

[rumblelibrary]

Hello, it's me again, your friendly neighborhood... Hungarian?!...👀❤️

Can I request a Sebastian Zöllner fic, where he is a coworker of Reader, and there's an obvious sexual tension, attraction in the office, they sit opposite each other, legs touching sometimes, hands touching... Idunno... Things like this 👀🔥 but nothing happened... Yet...🔥🔥

Never an Enemy [Sebastian Zöllner x Fem!Reader]

Word count: 5k

Warnings: A bad mouthed journalist with strong opinions about art and performance that might offend

Author’s note: Did I let this idea simmer in me for ages? Yes. Did I ever stopped thinking about it? NO.

You hummed softly while the music blasted in your headphones as you made your way up the stairs to the headquarters of the Art Tribune, the art focused magazine you worked for since over a year.

You liked the job even if to deal with artists was hard and the pay check could really deserve an improvement, it was stimulating and surely kept you on the edge. That morning in particular you needed to revise some background stories and just loads of reading to do to work on a new article for an upcoming exhibition. Just the usual fact checking, but you just couldn’t do it at home the day before so you decided to come early and enjoy some peace and quiet at the office.

You arrived at the top of the stairs of the fourth floor with a groan, you told yourself you had to do the stairs because you spent 70% of your life sitting in front of a computer, kind of self care, but brutal. You groaned lightly going straight toward the little kitchen installed for the team when you noticed something in the empty shared room full of desks. It was actually a really nice place with big industrial style windows that let lots of light inside, a very smart environment to work in, with areas where you could relax, free Wifi and loads of facilities. Usually people were put in big desks together, facing each other, trying to push a sort of ‘community feeling’.

Inevitably most of the people created barricades with books, and pictures of their dogs or even empty coffee cups. Yes, all cute and artistic, but do not talk to me.

That’s what also the attitude of the man you shared your desk with on your first day. He whined like a child for twenty minutes, complained he was happy to work alone, followed the assistant of the editor around the office and created a barricade of catalogues between the two of you so thick that you wondered if it was also bulletproof, only to rest his elbows over it half an hour asking if you had the change for the vending machine. Yes, that random man was you colleague and friend, Sebastian Zöllner.

The same that you are witnessing now asleep on the desk, head resting on his crossed arms while a stand of saliva went down on his shirt, wild hair and shoes taken off.

He could be considered an attractive man if he wasn’t a bloody nightmare of a person. You actually worked a lot with him and enjoyed his presence most of the days, your characters folded nicely and you would bounce off his attitude. He was strong on biographies and annoying the shit out of others, so he was always nagging at someone, you included.

You smirked slowly tracing his hair with your fingers, he never looked so innocent and you were always surprised to learn how those messy hair were so soft. It wasn’t the first time you did that gesture, sometimes he did lean his head like this only to be touched like an annoying mewling cat that needs attentions. “Kaffee” He mumbled making you chuckle, such a an annoying brat and he didn’t even open his eyes.

You carried on walking to the little kitchen room to prepare some coffee for you and your desk partner. You shook your head aimlessly as you started wondering why the man is here at this hour and if it was really a good idea to wake him up. To have him awake means to be able to do little to zero.

You watched the coffee get ready, the comforting tune of your morning playlist getting you still on the good side of your mood as you poured the coffee in your mug.

Then you saw it, an arm sneaking in front of you and taking the mug from your hand, you jump scared in a second almost pouring the rest of the coffee on the whole kitchen counter only to encounter Sebastian sleepy figure behind you bringing the mug close to his nose and inhaling deeply the aroma before having a gulp, you stared at him as his jaw clenched, his eyes got a bit teary. “Fucking hot” he whined making you chuckle, he deserved it for stealing it, luckily you were already doing some more for him so he stole your favourite mug but you had some coffee for you left.

You pulled off your headphones leaning them on your neck “No idea you’d be sleeping at the office, weren’t you off on some interview ?”

He shrugged “yeah, well me neither, but interviewing sculptors is always annoying as shit and those are always supersensitive” he said opening the freezer and pulling out some ice cubes from their box and putting them in the coffee mug. “Scheiße!” He cursed as the ice cube landing in the mug caused the coffee to spill onto his white shirt. You pressed your lips tight against each other not to laugh into his face, but he was already pissed off and it wasn’t even proper work time. You watched him lean over the sink trying to wash it off somehow without even bothering to take it off, just adding chaos on chaos.

“Y/N! Do not laugh and try to help me! Beside, the heck are you doing here at this hour?” You rolled your eyes at that comment, but you didn’t indulge him in that request.

“I was just looking for silence”

He nodded like he didn’t believe a single word of it, he was just an asshole and you had to deal with it like it or not. You almost hated how he was so freaking good at writing and that’s probably why many people indulged him. Even you knew his pieces on the magazine and didn’t expect to find out he was so…so Sebastian.

You let out a breathy chuckle taking your mug and making your way to your joined desk letting him wrestle his balance over the kitchen sink trying to get the stain wet and not shower himself in the meanwhile.

You sat down at your spot leaning the mug on side, hands covering your face trying to keep a clear mind letting out a big breath “okay, let’s do this”

You turned on the lamplight on your desk pulling out your laptop from your backpack. As the computer was ‘waking up’ you stared at Sebastian side of the desk compared to yours.

You had like a little citadel of books around you, but it was pretty neat, a little succulent gifted by your friend for your first day at work with the name tag ‘Danny’ on it sitting beside the lamp, lots of pencils and pens of different colours and notebooks to no end. If you had something in common with that beast of a man was that you both still relied on paper for sketching ideas and write down impressions in the moment, then onto the typing.

His side, however, was like a contemporary artwork in itself. Half empty cigarettes packages everywhere, the ashtray filled up, paper inside books and books filled with more papers. Notes everywhere, the damn king of neon yellow post-its, stains of coffee and crumbles of food invert corner, his red laptop showing off like a punch in the eye and his satchel bag always hang or thrown around.

You often wondered if the cleaning stuff just gave up on him. Your lucky guess was that he would probably throw a fit if anything was moved, so everyone just played the blind eye.

He was good at throwing fits.

You watched him come back sitting in front of you, half of his shirt soaked in the attempt to clean it up, he licked his lips picking one empty package of cigarettes looking in it and throwing it away until he found one with still something in it and he lighted his cigarette as he turned on his laptop. You sighed opening the window to let the fresh air not getting you intoxicated.

You went back to sip your coffee and stare at the screen quietly, every now and then your eyes falling onto the little cloud of smoke in front of you.

Sebastian was an attractive man, that was undeniable and you were sure that made him also a successful interviewer even though he was so random and chaotic, when he was silent and collected in thoughts he was indeed a sight to be seen. The dark hair framing his face like he was some cherub, his deep eyes staring into the void of his own words as he typed. He had a sort of decadent look on him.

Slowly the office begun to get filled, people coming here and there to tease Seb about coming early and he just waving his cigarette around asking for silence.

“Zöllner””

The chief editor shouted getting into his office without even turning around. Seb rolled his eyes looking at you as he pushed the cigarette in the ashtray waving his hand around to dissipate the smoke around him before standing up.

“I wonder how he managed to survive few days without shouting my name” he smirked.

You looked at him and mimicked his smirk.

What a chaotic man.

You had finished your reading by then and started to make a first draft of the article you were meant to work on.

“Y/N!!!” Sebastian voice rang through the office making you jump on your seat and he gestured at you to go with him with a big wave of his arm.

You looked at your screen with an helpless sigh, it seems like you will not write that article anytime soon, you’d better just have slept an hour more.

You stood up following that incessant wave as Seb put his hand on your back to get you in a bit quicker.

“Good morning”

You said as the chief editor nodded quietly “Look Y/N, it is a big favour I have to ask you” he begun frankly as you were beginning to get worried “you did your time with silly articles, so I thought it could be interesting to pair you up with Sebastian to go to tonight’s exhibition of Evita Schnecke”

Your eyes went wide as you looked at Sebastian shrug his shoulders.

“I need somebody to keep the horse with tight rains” Mr Megelbach continued gesturing with his pen at Sebastian and then at you “and you will dip your toes in those big time artists environment, but we really need to make sure Sebastian won’t hurt anyone’s sensibility, her interview has been obtained with lots of hard work”

“Yeah, we all know that hard work” Sebastian whispered in your ear earning a glare from Mr Megelbach who handed you a couple of catalogues from that artist and the invitation.

“So, put on hold your current article for today, make a plan with this train wreck and please make sure he doesn’t show up dressed like that”

“That was unneeded”

“All precautions are always needed with you, and now get out of my office the both of you”

You nodded moving out of the office, you were a bit anxious. Those artists were unpredictable just as Sebastian.

You made your way back to your desk with him as you sat down looking at the invitation. “So, it begins at 9 pm” you said almost understanding why Sebastian shouldn’t be allowed to go unescorted because the invitation on the dress code had: Wear something that talks about your soul. Only that could bring Sebastian to have an aneurism.

“I hate that bitch”

“Seb, that’s not a good start for an article”

He smirked as you said so but shrugged

“I mean it, this woman was born into privilege, she portrayed herself to be this underground rebel, but her simple black dress was a Chanel and her everyday boot Balenciaga, so I don’t trust her for a reason”

You smirked as you could agree with that and showed him the two catalogues the boss gave you

“Choose your fighter”

He groaned so loud he could have stabbed his toe and he leaned over his side of the desk picking one from your hand giving a light pinch on your side “teacher’s pet”. You chuckled softly as he always said that.

“Tell me if you read something that it is not about the performer’s way of life” he mumbled opening it in front of him.

You begun your reading and it was indeed the hell pit of a vey spoiled kid who was told to be the greatest since the first day of life, you picked your notebook and opened it taking notes on things that you could ask about.

Sebastian in the meanwhile lighted up another cigarette rolling it between his fingers mindlessly, his eyes looking above the paper at you every now and then among the little curses in German about the stupid things written there.

After some time it was becoming really a torture to read and you leaned your back on your chair stretching your legs forward for Seb to catch one of them among his.

You smirked as you often joked to him he was like some bear trap with those legs always catching yours.

He put his hand under the table bringing your leg up onto his thigh as you shifted even lower on your seat, his hand touching your ankle mindlessly as he had a talent for little massages like that. He did it the first time a while aback, a summer day where it was so hot and humid that you couldn’t feel your own legs.

So it became a little ritual among the two of you. You had many of those rituals, it was like an unspoken collection of attentions. Like you making the coffee in the morning because he was a grumpy ass. Or him always buying you some chewing gum or little treat when he went to buy cigarettes.

“I guess I am not the only one that needs a restyle”

He said bringing you away by the tenderness those little actions brought to you when he pushed his finger in your Vans shoe deepening a hole that you were trying to ignore from months.

“Seb, don’t do it, I wanted to make them last another season”

“Another season? These can’t last the end of the month, no doubt why your sex life is a train wreck”

You frowned at him taking your ankle off his hand to push on his chair making him roll back thanks to the little wheels underneath it, but he held on the desk and pulled himself closer again.

“What do you even know about it”

He looked at you, eyebrows raising up on his forehead

“Y/N, if I was your boyfriend I wouldn’t allow you to leave the bed that early in the morning to go to the office and that’s a fact”

“Oh, and how on heaven could you detain my passion for this job?” “Well, I can write you a list about it, you can consider it a to do list on your next date” His smirk was so wide, he enjoyed to tease you like that, the bastard, he knew to be an hottie and he always acted like half of the world was up to fuck with him.

“Oh please, do it, I want to see”

You teased him and he leaned in elbows on the table staring at you.

Oh the sexual tension with him was too much, you always went down on this hurricane of remarks, always him mentioning how you need more orgasms or implying it, or even implying how good he is at giving them.

“But be careful, because any act should be performed and not only lived”

You said quoting the artist you were reading about and he whined so hard like you really stomped your foot on his balls.

“Horrid witch”

“Me?” “No, that one”

He huffed and puffed picking another cigarette. Sometimes cigarettes just died on his fingers as he forgot to actually enjoy them more than waving them around.

The artist herself wasn’t remarkable, she used themes seen over and over before, she had a background as performer/dancer and she added painting to that, but more than talent she had an amazing marketing squad. You read her story and her commentaries about living like in a poem, which always sounds pretty easy with a big bank account.

You did all you could to stay neutral even if Seb was going down to massacre the woman, you two shared a bundle of two sandwiches (or better say, your brought a package of two and he was skipping his lunch so you just handed it to him) until you decided to get parted and go get ready at home.

That evening you were waiting for him in front of your apartment, when a taxi stopped in front of you and his figure appeared waving at you to come in on the back. His eyes widened in surprise “Well, well, well, look who got all fancy here”

He smirked as his eyes travelled on you shamelessly, the dress was actually one of those you brought ages ago and never used, also to wear heels felt like new, last time you went to a fancy event almost hard to recollect.

“Just move and let me in”

You said chuckling as you looked at him being so elegant when you noticed it, the price tag on his shirt.

“Seb, did you just buy this shirt?”

“Yes, and I am going to take it back tomorrow”

You looked at him puzzled

“What?” He groaned “I suck at ironing stuff”

You looked at him as a little laugh escaped your lips as he told you not to, but it was too late for that, you shifted closer to him anyway helping him to hide that price tag better behind his neck. Nevertheless the white shirt was really fancy and fitted him perfectly.

As you arrived in front of the gallery you sighed and made your way inside.

The place wasn’t crowded but few eyes turned as you got in.

“Would you like some champagne?” A waiter asked and Seb picked two flutes immediately downing one in a gulp on his own as the other was still in his other hand, he put the empty glass on the tray and then picked a third one handing it to you.

“Drink Y/N or you won’t make it to the end of the evening”

You smirked as he was always over dramatic, but indeed the evening seemed to be made for posh people to show off how cool they are.

You spotted the artist pretty quickly wearing a Valentino bright red dress, she surely had the dancer figure and gestures which gave her some kind of an edge.

"She is all yours"

You looked at Sebastian already half way through his drink, giving you that cheshire cat smirk.

"Are you sure?"

"You know I will insult her in a second if she names her dancing background one more time, I saw the videos, she looked like a three ready to collapse on the ground" he chuckled as you smirked shaking your head at his metaphor, but he is probably right, he is too much biased.

"I didn't notice the open back before" he said referring to your dress as he caressed over your skin with his fingertips making goosebumps raise up your spine.

"What? Am I too sexy for your own good?"

"Probably" he commented not losing a beat to answer you. You were taken aback from a moment, his eyes still down on his hand touching your back before raising up to find yours.

Then he took his hand away and pressed the cold champagne glass against it making you hiss "Now go, I'll check this bourgeois art"

You frowned but you just moved away from him. He always did it, he teased you and then made it a joke. You gave it back to him too, it was your relationship, that's how you balanced it.

"Good evening " you said to her with a smile holding your glass in your left hand before offering your right hand to her "I am Y/N, from the Art Tribune"

She went from neutral to smiling in a second

"Oh, I was waiting to meet you" she said leaning to kiss your cheek, surely she was a woman with charm, with a degree of boldness that made her charming and also, you noticed, extremely touchy-feely with everyone.

"We can define this a sort of retrospective of your previous works, I liked to see the evolution of it" you lied, because you just saw the catalogue.

But that was fair enough to have her go on about her, guess what? Past as a dancer, about how she needed to express herself, how she was her own muse and all the stuff you already read.

"What is next for you then?"

"I want to follow my dream, I have always wanted to found a space with my name where people could rent the rooms to perform dances and arts"

You stared at her. For real? Like there weren't other hundreds in the whole city?

"What will keep you apart from all the others that did this before you?"

"Nobody is me" she smirked like it was clear and obvious.

You asked few more questions, but you were sad to admit Sebastian was right. There wasn't art there, there was just profit, selling a name, a brand.

This saddened you because you met many artists that had less than a chance to make it but double the talent of Miss Valentino Dress.

"Y/N" Sebastian warm hand was on your back as you were downing the last bit of champagne "Come, come ,come quick" he said pushing you away as the artist clearly recognised him but he dismissed her with some insult or whatever he just mumbled.

"Seb, I was working, what the hell?"

"Elke is here"

You still didn't understand, you were puzzled as the reason of that anxiety was still unknown to you.

"Like your girlfriend Elke?"

"Put an ex in front of it" he said looking around frantically

"Oh, I am sorry, I didn't know"

"No, me neither, I thought she was just bashing around, she always did" his arm sneaked around your waist pulling you closer "please, act sexy for once"

You were one second from hitting his guts with your elbow when Elke herself approached.

"Oh, I didn't expect to see you here" she said waving her glass around

"Yeah, well I work for an important Art journal if you remember"

"How could I forget?" she groaned looking at you then as Sebastian's hand rested onto your hip. Really? Was he acting like you were his date?

"Hi, I am Y/N"

You said politely to her and she chuckled "Run when you can, this man is a leech and you don't even know it"

She mentioned it almost casually, but you could feel all the poison implied on your skin, Sebastian's hand giving you a soft squeeze, you had never seen him like this before. He looked like a dog that just got kicked, his back hunched over you lightly both trying to protect you and for protection.

"Well, thank you for your advice, I must be a real torment too because we actually have lot of fun together, I like his unpredictability"

You said it from your heart, you didn't want to insult her or anything, but you felt bad for him. Even if he probably deserved it, to be humiliated like this must be hard in any circumstance, in particular in a place where he is supposed to work and being known.

He looked at you a bit surprised, he leaned slowly pressing a kiss on your temple and you smiled because of that gesture so enveloped in that feeling of tenderness.

"Your shot" Elke said clearly a bit annoyed that you as she just moved along followed by a man that must be her date.

"Lets go out"

You suggested as Seb nodded and just followed for once, he held your hand as you guided him and for once he wasn't talking or commenting anything.

As you went out he sat down on the sidewalk pulling out his package of cigarettes taking out one immediately.

"Hey stand up" you said to him as he looked up at you and you snatched that cigarette off his lips "let's go away"

"Where? Don't we have to stay until she gets naked to dance?"

You smirked "No, we have all the material we need"

You took his cigarette away offering him your hand as he picked it and you guided him.

He was silent, which is rare, when he was silent it meant he was upset in some way, he always had a nice comeback line for everything usually.

His head leaned on side like a scolded child as he slowly laced your fingers together.

You walked across few streets, your heels clicking on the cement until you made it to your final location pulling him inside.

"Constatinopole?"

Seb asked looking at the sign, it was a kebab place, your favourite by the way.

"I am hungry" you just said making him lower his head and smile like a kid with cue breathy chuckles.

You ordered for the two of you as he went to sat down putting another cigarette between his lips when the man behind the counter glared at him and he just put it back in the package.

He sat down slouching as you did some small talks with the guys there, you clearly knew them. The soft music from the radio holding the place into a sort of magical aura as his eyes travelled over your naked back once more, the need for a cigarette becoming even more urgent.

You two dressed so elegantly really were so noticeable in the bright lightend place, he smiled to himself thinking it could be a nice painting by Hopper.

You came back offering him his kebab with a soft drink, very thoughtful because he was indeed already a bit high on champagne.

You ate quietly together, it wasn't uncomfortable, your silences were happening often at work and always filled with a sense of common understanding, you leaned your leg up like you always did at the office and rested it on his thigh as you sat sideways beside him. His hand flying naturally on your ankle to give his usual massage, his thumb tracing your skin with imaginary patterns as his other hand held the kebab close to his mouth.

The speaker at the radio announcing next song as Rocket Man by Elton John filled the room with a melancholic vibe. You couldn't help but think the song suited perfectly Sebastian, his being out of this word, out of control.

"Thank you" he said at some point as he tried his best not to ruin his shirt, you looked up at him as he was staring, his eyes telling you something on their own "You have been the best girlfriend I have ever had"

He added with a bitter smile diverting once more his gaze, you smiled back at him, he looked so resigned. Maybe it was the alcohol, but you have never seen him so fragile before.

"I could be"

His eyes darted up to you, his surprise evident as he put down the kebab, the soothing voice of the British singer still giving a dream edge to the moment as he moved closer. You slowly shifted your leg to give him room of movement as his right arm sneaked to rest on the back of your chair closing the space between the two of you.

His lips tasted still a bit of champagne as he pressed them against yours, you kissed him back slowly as his left hand travelled on your thigh pulling you closer to him probably staining your dress because of his greasy hand.

He pulled back almost immediately before leaning onto you again titling his head on the other side. This second time the kiss was more deep, more intense. Your hands slowly cradling his face before pulling back yourself.

He smiled against your lips and you smiled back.

Maybe tomorrow you will regret it like Elke said, maybe not.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief@thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved@fictionlandslanddreams@charistory @greeneyedblondie44@apparrio @hb8301@whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme  @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl@obsidianlaszlo@alindeluce@zemosimp05 @baronesszemo-blackwood @nocapesdahlingLet me know if you want to get tagged to my publications too <3

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Shielded. Chapter Four

Happy Sunday all, back to the usually scheduling this week. I hope you enjoy the next week of lockdown with Jamie and Claire <3 Mod MBD.

Anonymous said to imagineclaireandjamie: 

It does not matter what you bear, but how you bear it. [Seneca]

CHAPTER FOUR: WEEK TWO - Home and Away.

As Monday rolled around again, the weekend having passed by in a blur, Claire sat at the breakfast table with a fresh cup of coffee in her hands. Having ventured down during the day on both Saturday and Sunday, she had hoped to bump into Jamie and pass on her thanks to his generosity but he had been out before sunrise each day and she had been asleep before he’d returned home.

Resolute, however, she chose to spend her day downstairs and hopefully get something on for dinner before he came back so she could at least start the week off right.

Fate, however, wasn’t on her side. By 10pm, with the lasagne tucked away, wrapped in foil, in the fridge, she covered her mouth with a yawn and pulled herself up the stairs to bed.

The crash and smashing of a glass bought her out of her sleep as the clock beside her bed clicked over to 3am. Pulling herself from beneath the sheets, she crept downstairs, eager not to scare him as she approached the kitchen.

“Couldn’t sleep?” She asked, knowing full well he had only just returned home.

He was stood by the sink, cold lasagna on the countertop and his mucky boots still on his feet. With the fork held to his mouth, he smiled as he took another bite of the pasta, chewed and then shook his head. “I havena ever been the best sleeper but it’s lambing season, aye? One of them got into bother and I couldna leave her until I knew she was safe.”

“And she made it?”

“Aye. I was luckier tonight than I was at the weekend.”

“Oh, dear...that doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s the job, I’m afraid. If I didna lose at least a handful a year I’d be shocked.”

It was the first real (and longest) conversation they’d had since she’d arrived and she was suddenly grateful for the company. He was calm, grounded and relaxed in the way a lot of city dwellers weren’t. She could tell in the slump of his shoulders that it didn’t matter how long and awkward his day was, how messy or how little sleep he had gotten the night before, he was still weightless almost, free of the constraint modern living brought to most.

“I wanted to say thank you,” she broke in, remembering the reason she’d half-blindly stumbled down in the middle of the night, “you’ve been so amazing - to get me materials for a garden, that’s...above and beyond the call of duty.”

“Ach,” shaking his head, he finished the last of his supper, balled the tin foil up and placed it in the bin, “dinna fash yersel’ about that. It’s no’ a problem.”

He was embarrassed, she could tell. Abashed, his accent had become incredibly thick and almost impossible to understand. But it was quiet enough here that there was no background noise to blot out his sentence and luckily she didn’t have to ask him to repeat himself.

“Well, nonetheless,” ignoring the slight reddening of his cheeks she continued, “I am very grateful to you. For everything.”

With nothing more to say between them, she waved, smiled and backed off, feeling strangely pleased with herself for breaking the silence between them. Hopefully, she thought as she climbed the stairs back to her room, there would be some evenings in the future when they could eat together and she could show her appreciation by making him something warm and fresh.

-- --

By mid-week, she had yet to see Jamie again. His work was intense, and yet, despite that, he had still managed to begin construction of her tiny garden.

In her haste she had forgotten that she wasn’t allowed outside the house and, as she’d watched the greenhouse foundations being laid, she had become almost inconsolable about the fact that she probably wouldn’t get the chance to tend to any of the produce grown in it.

She knew, however, that safety was more important than new hobbies and she chose, instead, to make detailed lists of the daily needs of each of the seeds and plants Jamie had procured for her.

She started with the tomatoes and grapes, which needed to be contained within the glass walls in order to collect enough light and heat to survive. She noted water levels, soil PH and balance and daily rituals which would need to be abided by in order for the best crop to be formed. It filled most of her days and when the sun went down, she’d swap her notepad for the computer as she researched all the differences she might see in her fruit and veg determined all by the way they were treated as they grew.

Though she had never been an artist, she started to search for youtube videos on how botanical art could be created. Having no coloured pencil crayons or watercolours, she stuck to pencil sketches and began to leave more post-it’s, this time with future predictions on what the garden might produce for the household.

Once again Jamie enjoyed coming home. There had only been a few days lapse in her communications but when he didn’t see her for days, it was the one thing he could rely on to buoy his spirits.

They were different, in so many ways, but on a subconscious level, he pondered to himself at night as he held the drawing of some rare cabbage in his hands, Jamie felt as if they had very many similar quirks. He’d been pleased that his idea to leave her be for as long as she needed had been a success and was grateful she felt at home enough to reform her life around his. Her asking for the garden made him realise how easy it might be for someone else to fit into his own life without causing him much grief.

It was only a small thing, but to him it had made a huge difference. Having lived alone for so long, he had almost forgotten how malleable people could be. Though, he thought as he rifled around in the fridge for more pre-made meals, he had probably just gotten lucky with Claire.

The thought also occurred to him that she had been inadvertently raised more suited to this life than her old one, but he didn’t know enough about her to advance on the notion.

It wasn’t until late on Thursday when they came face to face together. After another heavy day and late night, Jamie finally toe-ed off his work boots at nearly midnight and made his way, quietly, through to the kitchen.

He had not expected to nearly bump straight into Claire has she dished up what looked like a very tasty stir fry.

“I thought you might be sick of reheating pasta dishes, so I thought I’d try and wait for you this time.”

“Ye didna have to, it’s very late.” He scratched the back of his neck bashfully, even she couldn;t find the truth in his words and she smiled as she placed a fresh bottle of soy sauce in the centre of the table. “But this does smell delicious.”

“It’s taken me a few attempts to hone it, but I’ve been practicing most evenings this week to try and get it perfect, flavour as well as how long I need to cook the veg for.”

“What’s the meat?” He asked, watching as his stomach rumbled audibly.”

“I used the duck, I hope you don’t mind. I used chicken earlier in the week but I couldn’t seem to get it as tender as I wanted it and a few forums online suggested that duck might be a better substitute if I wanted meat with a bit more moisture.”

“Perfect. Use any meat you want from the freeze, for anything. Honestly, I forget most of the time what I’ve got in there.”

Placing several bowls filled with various meats, vegetables and sides, she went back to the sink to wash the remaining stickiness of her hands before beckoning him to start without her. “I had hoped you weren’t saving anything for a special occasion.”

“Ach, I think the virus has put pay to anything like that for a while,” he began, filling his plate with noodles, duck and beansprouts, “my sister - she lives in Canada now - had planned a summer visit, but we’re no’ sure of anything at the moment.”

“Is she the one in the photo,” Claire enquired, taking a mouthful of her own concoction and swallowing back the relief when it tasted nice - a mixture of sweet and savory that wasn’t as overpowering or as dry as it had been earlier on in the day when she’d made the first of the final tests. “The one with brown hair?”

“Aye, she is. Her partner, Ian, got a job out there a few years ago and they emigrated. We talk as often as we can on Skype and FaceTime but it’s become sporadic recently wi’ my erratic work hours. She’s a nurse, ya see, and works odd shift patterns too. But we try and keep in touch at least once a month.”

“Do you miss her?”

“I didna really think about it, we were close....until we werena. Then they moved away and I fell into a new routine.”

He had begun to speak without thinking, filling up the silence with answers to her questions as they ate in between conversation. He had, though, had the forethought to stop before giving too much away. The thought hurt his heart and he had to inhale between a bite of his dinner to gather himself back up. He knew, given time, that he would be alright with sharing his past (as he hoped she would be with hers) but tonight wasn’t the night for revelations.

Sensing his reluctance to continue, she moved on, understanding that she herself wasn’t in a place to open up about her own family life.

“I can imagine Skype is about the only way most are communicating at the moment.” Sighing, she started to collect the empty dishes and load the dishwasher. “I’m quite grateful, actually, that I don’t have anyone to keep in touch with. It’s all...quite scary.”

It was the first time Jamie had consciously thought about the pandemic, being cut off from the outside world had its benefits and he felt relieved that he could separate himself from the constant barrage of news that he supposed others would be exposed to. He realised that both he and Claire were unique now, part of a smaller section of society where being remote was almost a blessing rather than a curse.

“If you ever need to talk, lass,” standing, he helped to clean up the remaining mess from dinner, his hand almost brushing against hers as he wiped the countertop down, breaking only to hover for a second before returning to his job, “ye know where I am. Please dinna think you have nobody...if yer concerned, aye?”

“Thank you Jamie.” Pulling her fleece cardigan across her chest she walked slowly to the kitchen door, pausing for a second in the doorway just to make sure she’d left nothing out to go cold and mouldy overnight. “The same to you. I’m a good listener, I promise, if you ever need to talk, or if you need any help.”

She’d been thinking about his life on the farm for a few days now, watching the rolling hills out of her window, seeing the sheep and cattle on the horizon and -very occasionally- seeing the silhouette of him roaming his land. There was little she could do from indoors, she knew, but there had been chores around the house that she could potentially complete. Putting herself to task, she had learned new basic kitchen skills but only this morning she’d noticed the beginnings of a hole on the seam of his trousers as they dried on the rail in the courtyard and she thought it might be something she could tend to...should he be alright with it.

Leaving with the quiet settling calmly between them, she noted the relaxing of the muscles in his face as he smiled and nodded as she turned and carried herself to bed.

Resting against the faux-marble worktop, Jamie closed his eyes as he waited for the soft slam of her bedroom door before he followed her up. She just might, he thought to himself as he undressed himself, taking a towel from his radiator and making his way to the shower, be better equipped for this life than I am.

[vanquishedvaliant]

The sidedish is scrolling your blog and not finding you talking about new anime

I must not be hip enough to recognize precisely what you’re getting at by ‘sidedish’, but I just don’t usually post it much on tumblr unprompted anymore because writeups are a pain, they don’t usually get much traction, and I’m more than satisfied talking about it in discord with people that are actually going to listen and respond.

I DO have thoughts on new anime I can serve if it’s that in demand, though. 

Here’s what I’m watching this season with some initial reaction ratings based on the first couple episodes

New this season;

Wonder Egg Priority 10/10

UraSekai Picnic 10/10

Kumo desu ga, nani ka 8/10

Kemono Jihen 9/10

Hortensia Saga 7/10

Soukou Musume Senki 7/10

Gekidol 6/10

Sequels;

Cells at Work 9/10

Cells at Work: Black! 9/10

Uma Musume Pretty Derby 10/10

Tensei Shitara Slime Datta Ken 8/10

Log Horizon 8/10

Dr Stone 10/10

Continuing from last season;

Higurashi ... Gou 10/10

Hanyou no Yashahime 6/10

Jujutsu Kaisen 10/10

I’m also watching the original Higurashi in between off days to catch up to where Gou is, since I’d never seen it before and it’s clear I’m not getting the full story in Gou anymore without it.

Deeper thoughts under the cut.

Wonder Egg Priority and Urasekai Picnic are the clear AOTS contenders. Both are at once extremely superficially similar but very different in practice, and both bring something unique and charming to the table.

Urasekai is extremely notable at being a well executed supernatural adventure anime that is also a yuri; as much as I love pure romances like Bloom into You or Adachi and Shimamura, it’s very rare that we get anime with lesbian main characters or WLW romance where the romance itself isn’t the focus, that includes a serious, intriguing plot alongside the elements of romance. You know, like straight people get without a question every single story ever.

It’s got this very classic cryptid / SCP / otherworld adventure feel and has the right comedic and tension beats to be quite good, though its long term impact will be determined by what kind of further message it has.

Wonder Egg Priority immediately comes off with extremely powerful vibes in the vein of things like Flip Flappers, which I mean in the highest compliment. A surreal, metaphor-filled story of dreams and desires and well laid subtext, with colourful, exotic action and a snappy pace. This one’s extremely interesting to me, and its first episode was masterfully efficient in setting up its premise both aesthetically and thematically.

The real test for Wonder Egg will come with time; this is a story that trades heavily in meaning; so it’ll have to run longer and come to a conclusion to really test what kind of impact it’ll have. For now, I’m VERY interested and cautiously optimistic.

Spider Isekai is a charming twist on the typical flood of fantasy game / isekai stories placing our protagonist at the extreme low end of the power curve, and quite UNLIKE Slime Isekai or most others on the market like last season’s Kuma Bear, this one seems intent on keeping her there rather than immediately granting her insane godlike powers and thrusting her back above the curve.

The parts of the show that focus on the spider herself are lovely; there’s a real tension and sense of stakes in her struggle to adapt, slowly getting used to her new body and gaining levels and abilities, making even simple conflicts against frogs or lizards seem life threatening and serious, giving us a real reason to root for her.

On the other hand, the show frequently switches focus to... the entire other classroom of isekai’d children which is by far less interesting. There’s potential in there somewhere for a story about mass isekai’d kids adapting, but other than some details like one girl being gender swapped, and another being the class pet, there’s just really not much interesting about them at the moment and these sections just feel like a waste of time while waiting for the Spider to come back.

I don’t doubt that they’ll eventually meet up and have their stories intertwine... but at the moment, I don’t think I actually want that to happen. We’ll see where this one goes.

Kemono Jihen took me by surprise, and I wasn’t planning to watch this one unti l saw some screencaps. But the first two episodes have been outstanding, giving us a fantastic supernatural mystery detective agency plot and characters with real emotions, eye catching action scenes, and a compelling mystery.

Definitely looking forward to more of this one.

Hortensia Saga seems like a fairly typical fantasy war chronicle RPG story. It feels very in the vein of early to mid era fire emblems, and I happen to like anime like this that are solidly executed, like Grancrest Senki a while back. It’s doing a good enough job so far to keep my interest. Nothing game changing here, but a decent offering.

Soukou Musume Senki; this one also comes across in the standard seasonal fare of superpowered teenagers fighting aliens, this time with power armor and mild isekai elements. The monster designs are good this time, and the second episode brought us some nice moral / political dialogue showcasing some level of self awareness and depth. It’s fun so far.

Gekidol this show wants really badly to be compared favourably to Shoujo Kageki Starlight Revue. They’re hamming up the theatre tropes, putting out specials, sliding in secret background lore. First episode was fairly interesting, but the second seriously dropped the ball with its half assed Idol episode, and incredibly tone deaf play at a heartwarming moment.

I’m gonna keep watching this one for now, but it really needs to prove to me it has some meat and isn’t going to just keep borrowing tropes from other shows to lend it superficial “deep” merits.

For sequels,

Cells at Work is as cute, wholesome, and info-taining as ever. I think the OP this time is missing a little oomph, but the show itself is still going strong.

Cells at Work: Black! is offering a new take on it with a slightly darker and mature setting with a stressed out alcholic smoker at risk of contracting STDS, with a little bleaker tone and harsher stakes. It relies on the background of the original Cells at Work to work both tonally and narratively, but with that support it provides something quite interesting and unique.

The usual Cells at Work metaphors and humanization of bodily processes are just as excellent as always, and I’m giving special credit to the sketch about alcholic liver damage being compared to drunken abuse of host club employees, displaying a perhaps obvious if natural juxtaposition of the physical and emotional damage the substance abuse is causing to both the body itself and others around them.

Uma Musume; Horse girls! Racing! Just as surprisingly excellent as last season, giving us a fantastic sports story anime with charming characters and balanced stakes, with a good helping of humour. Easy recommend.

Slime Isekai: This one’s still going strong but has diverged from it’s original premise quite seriously. There’s nothing intriguing about this being an isekai  about being reincarnated as a slime anymore; and he’s way too overpowered for any of the combat to have any stakes. What it DOES have however is a fascinating look at the birth of a fantasy nation of monsters, politics, science, and social development of a varied and multicultural monster nation. And THAT I’m still in for.

I will seriously never forgive them for making Bobcut Lizardgirl into a regular ass human though. It has a serious problem with de-monsterizing its character designs and seriously reducing their appeal.

Log Horizon the true king of MMO isekai is back after 7 long, long years, and it’s jumping STRAIGHT into the depth of its political intrigue and deep understanding and development of the socio political issues inherent to its setting. Somewhat dry as ever, but truly fascinating for those looking at a more serious exploration of what the concept of living in a game actually means.

Dr Stone: I don’t have to hype this up, do I? Mad science speedrunning the development of human culture from the stone age up! This time they’re going to war! They made cell phones and cup ramen out of rocks! It’s heartwarming, emotionally rich, entertaining and informative, and funny as all hell. A classic for sure.

Higurashi. Everyone knows higurashi. Thing is, I just never watched it. We thought Gou was going to be a remake, but then it ended up being Rebuild of Evangelion, so I stopped at episode 12 or so and went back to watch the original. Classic horror mystery.

Yashahime. Yikes. This one’s... well. I don’t have any especial nostalgia or affection for Inuyasha like many people, but Yashahime is clearly a very middling approximation of it. There’s things to like here, the main trio of characters are all great designs, Moroha standing even head and shoulders above them as a truly endearing goblin child, and it really does feel in ways like 90s toonami fare. But there’s some lack of depth going on here, and I just don’t even know what to say about the Sesshoumaru pedophilia thing. Extremely questionable plotting.

[custardcove]

Here’s a fifteen-questions meme I stole from my splat-blog! 

I’m not tagging fifteen people, but if you’re a mutual of mine that wants to take part, consider yourself tagged. 

1. Are you named after anyone? 

Pansy: A flower, if that counts! It’s a family tradition for the firstborn.

Ivan: Not exactly. I share a name with some video game character Alice liked the sound of.

Queenie: Sadly not. While I appreciate that my name stands out, sharing a name with one of my ancestors would’ve been a mark of pride.  

Taylor: Mmmnope. I like ‘Taylor’ enough because it starts with a T like Tomiichi, but I wasn’t named after anybody—though you know, as a point of interest, it was meant to rhyme with my brother’s name!

Neo: I was named after my grandmother.

-

2. When was the last time you cried? 

Pansy: Aw, man… I try to stay positive around Prim, but I do cry about silly stuff sometimes. Maybe a week ago? Sometimes the past just catches up to you.

Ivan: Longer than I can remember.

Queenie: What an invasive question! I don’t think that’s any of your business. I do not cry frequently.

Taylor: Now why’d you want to know a thing like that? I think I’ll keep it to myself!

Neo: Mind your own business.

-

3. Do you have kids?

Pansy: Have you met Primrose? That’s my daughter. She’s really sweet, but she’s also quite shy, so please keep that in mind.

Ivan: This is a difficult question to answer. I’d say no. I don’t think granting someone’s wish makes me a father.

Queenie: Not yet. I intend to.

Taylor: Woah, no! Do I look responsible enough to be a dad? Ahah…

Neo: No. I would rather not.

-

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot? 

Pansy: I try not to, er, I’m not so great at it. And it’s kinda mean.

Ivan: I get reprimanded for being sarcastic. It happens regularly.

Queenie: What do you think?

Taylor: There’s always room for some well-placed sarcasm!

Neo: Any time I make a joke.

-

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people? 

Pansy: I try to get a good read on folks—so, I guess their whole profile? That’s before I start looking at their individual features. If something sticks out to me from there, I’ll focus on that—but not in a mean way! Like, seeing someone’s smile, or if they’re carrying something, or their size, or claws. That’s what I mean.

Ivan: Their aura. It’s not difficult for me to discern a person’s moral alignment, and that’s important for my role.

Queenie: Their posture, how they walk, how they talk. It’s important for a first impression and can often be an indication of status. Or, perhaps more importantly, an indication of their intent…

Taylor: Their mood! I don’t want to step on the toes of anyone that’s angry, and happier people are more likely to give you the time of day, you know? Improving someone’s low mood is great too, but I have to gauge my limits.

Neo: I’m not known for noticing people. How social they are, I suppose.

-

6. What’s your eye colour? 

Pansy: Psychic pink! They do that thing where they get more vivid when I use my powers—just the psychic ones, though. And I don’t use those too much ‘cause I risk a headache… still, I like my eyes.

Ivan: Brown, orange.

Queenie: Smoky Quartz.

Taylor: Brown. You know, like coffee? If I were a coffee, I think I’d be a Caffe Latte. … But, yeah they’re darker than that.

Neo: …I don’t mind my eyes being green as much as my hair.

-

7. Scary movie or happy ending? 

Pansy: Don’t mind either one, but I’d prefer a happy ending, even in a scary movie. That said, there are scary movies I just won’t watch, so I guess happy endings win out.

Ivan: I don’t waste much time watching films unless I’m asked to, but I prefer a happy ending. A good story is the most important, though.

Queenie: Happy endings are far too sappy and saccharine, but I can’t say I receive much thrill from horror either. That’s not to say I don’t enjoy watching them … my favourite part of a movie is criticizing it.

Taylor: Happy endings, please! I can’t understand why anyone would want to scare themselves – unless it’s silly fun, but that’s different. Y’know, not that I scare easy or anything…

Neo: Scary movies tend to be more interesting, but… I don’t have anything against happy endings. Horror isn’t my genre, either, unless it’s psychological.

-

8. Any special talents? 

Pansy: I have a bit of a green thumb!

Ivan: That all depends on your perspective.

Queenie: I’m an excellent piano player.

Taylor: People tell me I’ve got a lot of charisma, and I consider that a talent!

Neo: I suppose converting myself into digital matter could be considered a talent.

-

9. Where were you born? 

Pansy: A town not so different from Erryton, actually! It’s not far.

Ivan: Great question.

Queenie: Enigma Island, not far from Thorn’s Peak.

Taylor: Would you believe me if I told you I couldn’t remember? Aha. I know we moved when I was really young.

Neo: Doesn’t matter.

-

10. What are your hobbies? 

Pansy: Well, like I mentioned, I quite like doing plant stuff. I used to sketch ‘em and make notes about ‘em too, but I stick more to the practical side these days. I also like to bake! Mainly pies, cakes and cookies.

Ivan: I play the flute and cithara. Next question.

Queenie: I have a wide array of hobbies. I enjoy painting, reading, and  playing the piano—as I have already mentioned. While I’m not … particularly adept at sewing, I practice cross-stitch on occasion. I also like to write poetry, and take a bit of interest in botany…

Taylor: Most of my hobbies have some aspect of music tied to them—I like playing the guitar, mixing tracks, and just listening to albums. But I also like playing videogames and taking apart machinery for fun. I can even help people fix things! Er, sometimes.

Neo: I read comics and watch movies, like most people. You wouldn’t be interested.

-

11. Do you have any pets?

Pansy: Not anymore, but I’ve had two cats – Mr Ravioli in my childhood home, and then Kiki later on. I’ve considered getting another, but I think I should wait until Primmy is a little older…

Ivan: No.

Queenie: Estelle! She’s a darling little kitty-cat and I love her so. <3

Taylor: One dog, a shibe—my father bred his, and I got a puppy. Tadashi!

Neo: My brother makes robots, and we have one of those roving floor cleaners. I would consider that a pet. We call him V.I.N.CENT.

-

12. What sports do you/have you played?

Pansy: I’m not really big on sports – I like magic fights? But I don’t do that a lot now.

Ivan: I may have taken part in some sport or another, but if I did, I did not commit it to memory.

Queenie: I like to swim, though I have not played any sports as such. I have also been horse riding—oh, and I’ve played badminton once or twice.

Taylor: Alice likes table tennis, and we play together sometimes. Apart from that, um… I’ve been asked to play football and baseball before?

Neo: I like to run. Parkour is fun too.

-

13. How tall are you? 

Pansy: Five foot seven, and I’m the shortest in my family…

Ivan: Depends.

Queenie: A reasonable five feet and ten inches without heels.

Taylor: Ahaha … let’s just skip this one, shall we? You don’t need to know that.

Neo: Taller than you.

-

14. Dream job? 

Pansy: I’ve pretty much got my dream job, all things considered! I guess I’d like it if I could get paid to do plant study, but I never really had the grades to do that as a job.

Ivan: I’m working on my rank.

Queenie: I have entertained the possibility of having a career before. Hotel management seems like an interesting prospect … or a jeweller, perhaps? Oho, I don’t know if I could be trusted to sell anything. Either way, I’m comfortable enough managing my home and finances.

Taylor: I’ve always wanted to be a big-name tv presenter—hell, even a small-name gameshow host! I’ve not given up on my dream yet, but being a radio show host is close enough. I can use it as a stepping stone. Yeah, a music quiz show would be great…

Neo: I don’t know. Even when it comes to things I like doing, I’m not sure I’d want to make a job out of it. Coding is just convenient.

-

15. Favourite subject in school? 

Pansy: Science! I also liked geography, ‘cause I was pretty decent at it.

Ivan: I have never attended school.

Queenie: I’ve both been to school and had private tutors, but my favourite subjects were history and literature. They rely on eachother, so were easy to write papers on.

Taylor: Apart from the obvious ‘music’, it was mathematics—and yes, I’m serious! I also liked science and IT.

Neo: From what I remember of school, I liked science and computing classes. The rest of what I learned was from online courses.

 That’s… that’s it? It just ends? Alright then.

[caiminnent]

not designed for the cynical [kylux with side phasma/rey, rated T]

PROMPTS: communication suddenly cut off (@badthingshappenbingo​, 8/25) & bed sharing - pet - delivery (@kyluxxoxo​)

SUMMARY:

Whenever Snoke calls upon only Ren’s service, Hux sends word to all his relevant contacts that he’s available. The job offer he accepts turns out to be far more than he's bargained for.

(This is a low-key Inception AU that requires little to no knowledge of the movie.)

FANDOM: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy

TAGS: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Sharing a Bed, Mutual Pining, Alternate Universe - Inception Fusion, except not really, Armitage Hux Has Feelings, Kylo Ren and Rey Are Related

NOTES: This was written mostly during commute and/or sleep-deprived within an inch of my life and edited under the same circumstances. As such, I don't have the faintest clue what this is, but I love it.

5K || ALSO ON AO3

Hux isn’t prone to worry.

He is prone to stress, and he’s got the blood pressure to prove it—but that’s a necessity of the life they lead. It’s got its uses. Worry, however, is for when you don’t have an alphabetised, colour-coded list of plans for every situation that may arise. Worry is for the under-prepared.

Worry is a waste of time.

Knowing this doesn’t stop the fist around his heart from squeezing tight every time he hits redial and finds Ren’s phone still switched off, however.

Then again, there’s no real reason to worry about it. It’s a perfectly Ren move to go off the radar for weeks on end and turn up three countries away from where he was supposed to be, shrugging off all reprimand like he can’t understand why they’re so angry about it. It’s just what he does—he disappears, then he shows up at your doorstep when you least expect it.

He will this time, too. He promised—he will be back by Hux’s birthday.

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

Contrary to the popular (re: Ren’s) belief, life doesn’t stop just because Ren is off doing what Ren does somewhere else.

Even with all the safe houses and personas they maintain all across the world, the unreasonable amounts of money Snoke throws at them to be at his beck and call is more than enough to keep them afloat. Ren would be fine with not taking another independent job ever again; but Hux knows better than to rely on Snoke alone. He’s been burned enough times by fickle employers; he’s not ready to bet on the wrong horse and have to build his reputation up from scratch yet again.

That’s part of why, whenever Snoke calls upon only Ren’s service, Hux sends word to all his relevant contacts that he’s available. It keeps him in the game, on the occasion he gets an offer worth considering—and if he doesn’t, he calls it getting a feel for the market and moves on.

Monday morning finds him curled on the sofa, going through the responses on his phone. Most offers he received are below his notice like he expected, some downright insulting—and then there’s the e-mail from Enric Pryde himself.

He sits up so fast he almost knocks over his empty cup.

Among the dreamshare community, the First Order is as revered as it is despised. They reach out to very few and pay three times what they should; but the cost of failure is equally severe, growing proportionately to the project’s worth. Which seems to be a lot, in this case. While he can’t tell from the sparse details in the e-mail whether this Project Starkiller is meant to be a moving city or some sort of weapon—perhaps both, knowing the First Order—he already estimates at least two layers, more likely three, and a special blend of stabiliser for the dreamer and the architect both, who cannot be the same person for this design.

Because they want him on board as the main architect and his dreams never hold steady after the first layer, special blend or no.

Whatever he was looking for as a quick job, this is not it. It’s far more involved and challenging than he could have imagined—and, he’s finding, everything he needed. He could do this for himself. He could work a job he enjoys, instead of running point to Ren or Phasma’s picks all the time to keep them from working with incompetent point men.

Ren and Phasma, who might be working with incompetent point men halfway across the world this very moment.

No. No, he’s not thinking that. His birthday is only three days away. Everything is fine.

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

He e-mails back to say he’s honoured and asks for one week to get his team together. Pryde gives him five days and a thinly-veiled warning that there are others who would jump at this opportunity.

Stomach at his feet, Hux throws his phone on the coffee table and gets up to make more tea.

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

As expected, research gives him little of substance about the First Order’s operations and nothing at all about the Starkiller, although he finds a low-quality close-up of Pryde to glare at as he sketches out some ideas. They will get binned once he gets his hands on the self-destructing dossiers or whatever ridiculous security protocols the First Order may work with; but it keeps him busy. Better than watching the hours tick by.

When the clock turns from 11:59 to midnight on what is now Thursday, he considers texting Rey to ask if she’s heard from Phasma recently—changes his mind before he even picks up the phone. Ren wouldn’t like it. Hux has been accused of being a control freak more times than he can count as it is; he doesn’t want to add clingy to the list of his unattractive qualities.

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

At two in the morning, the doorbell rings.

He is going to murder Ren.

The door had never felt so close or so far as he rushes to it, heart hammering in his chest. He’s going to let Ren in, he’s going to check him for injuries and he’s going to disembowel that infuriating, thoughtless, selfish piece of shite if he’s had Hux fret all this time for no reason—

“Hi,” Rey chirps, looking up at him with damp eyes and a brittle smile. She raises a bottle of whiskey—Phasma’s favourite. “Happy birthday?”

He opens the door wider.

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

Admittedly—not out loud; he would never hear the end of it, from her or her cousin—Rey scores high on the short list of people whose company he enjoys. The booze helps, too. They drink in front of the television Hux hasn’t switched off in days and talk about everything but the aching holes in their chests.

She falls asleep on the sofa. He puts a blanket over her and goes to bed.

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

In the morning—practically afternoon, if he’s being honest—he tells her about the Starkiller. The plan was to pitch it to Ren first, to see what he thinks before bringing in the others. As it is, Ren isn’t here and none of Hux’s messages has gone through since their interrupted conversation and Hux is going to bloody explode if he doesn’t tell someone.

“I’m not sure, Armie,” she says around a spoonful of breakfast cereal he certainly didn’t buy. “He will never agree to work for the First Order.”

“Why the hell not? He works for Snoke.” Rather happily, in fact. Ren never prepares more carefully for a job than one of Snoke’s plentiful errands, no matter how simple. “Why wouldn’t he work for Snoke’s own company?”

She considers him for a long moment, chewing slowly. “He hasn’t told you the story.”

The implication—accusation—stings deep. “What story?” he demands, pushing his tea away to lean closer. The words held the intonation of capital letters, which means missing information that could potentially blindside them down the line. His respect for Ren’s private business isn’t greater than his responsibilities.

“Not mine to tell,” she says sternly, pinching her lips in disappointment like he should be ashamed to have asked to begin with. “Ask him.”

He snorts. Ren is hardly the sharing type, especially where Hux is concerned. Everything he’s ever learned about Ren has come through other means—and vice versa, he imagines.

She frowns, a question rising behind her eyes. He tenses on instinct. “Anyway,” she continues, shaking her head—and he can breathe more easily again. “My point is, if we’re doing this, we’ll need another forger.”

We. He doesn’t suppress his smile, relief coating his insides. “I suspect we won’t need a forger for this one. A chemist, on the other hand…”

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

She doesn’t leave and he doesn’t ask her to. They polish off the whiskey and pretend not to check their phones every ten minutes while binge-watching Star Wars, including the newest releases even their resident space nerd couldn’t finish.

He visualises Ren’s horrified expression when Hux reveals how he and Rey bonded over their shared love for big guns and hot villains in Ren’s absence. Laughter gets stuck in his throat, forming a painful lump instead.

He bids her good night and slinks away into his bedroom to stare at the ceiling.

Barely ten minutes pass before the television switches off in the next room, soft footsteps echoing lightly in the corridor. He turns his back to the door and feigns sleep as it opens and closes—which is a coward’s way, but he’s never claimed to be a particularly brave man. If he were, he would have asked Ren to stop working for Snoke instead of stewing in his misery right now.

Compared to her cousin, Rey’s weight barely shifts the mattress as she climbs in, sliding under the covers without fanfare. He shuts his eyes tighter and allows himself to imagine, just for a moment, that Ren is back.

“I haven’t heard from Phasma in over a month.”

Over a month? Hells, no wonder she sought him out. “Ren and I talked two weeks ago,” he says—realises with a sinking feeling that it sounded like he was rubbing it in. “Closer to three, actually.”

“What did he say?”

“Not much that I could understand. The reception was horrible.” Bits and pieces through constant breaking: Hux, shit, in case, person and, inexplicably, home. “I didn’t get the impression they were in danger—just inconvenienced.” As is often the case with these missions. Snoke’s got a small army of trained private security under his command and he still sends Ren to the most out-of-the-way places.

That Snoke’s hired Phasma as well for this one is a little more concerning, but not overly so. Reckless as they both can be, Ren and Phasma are forces to be reckoned with on the field—Hux would be more inclined to feel sorry for their adversaries.

Rey sighs. “Hope you’re right, Armie.”

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

If Mitaka is surprised to see Rey strut about in Hux’s shortest joggers she still needed to fold at the ankles and an old shirt, he politely doesn’t mention it. He and Rey exchange banal pleasantries over coffee and day-old cake while Hux finishes typing up his notes, then they get to work.

Mitaka listens to the briefing with unwavering attention, his fingers stapled in front of him like a front-row student. Like everyone else in their extended team, Mitaka is an experienced, accomplished dreamer—and yet, Hux can’t help looking at him and seeing the fresh-faced cadet Phasma had dragged in ages ago, barely into his twenties and all the more naive for it.

They’ve gotten old—Hux most so.

Once Hux finishes, “If you both are building this time,” Mitaka starts, looking between the two. “Who will be taking point? The Captain?”

Next to him, Rey inhales sharply, her face mostly hidden behind the curtain of her hair. Shame crosses through Mitaka’s face at the realised misstep.

“She’s otherwise occupied,” Hux responds before Mitaka can break into apologies. No need to make this more painful or awkward than it needs to be. “I will be running point as usual, and Rey is here to help with the heavy-lifting.”

Mitaka nods, glancing at Rey with concern before turning to Hux fully. “Where do I sign?”

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

They sign a heavily-encrypted stack of documents digitally, sending them through the First Order’s own communication system. The next day, they receive a link to a private cloud service with a convoluted unlock sequence that can be accessed by one device at a time, read-only.

Hux alone works on three different devices.

On the bright side, the project they receive is well-worth the inconvenience. Their objective is to design and build a superweapon out of an extensively described ice planet in the dreamspace, which must be capable of hitting five targets simultaneously and obliterating all affected life forms on them without causing a single non-predetermined casualty. Controlled chaos, if you will. The First Order wants a catastrophe they can tame and leash.

Hux can make it happen.

Whether he can make it happen in eight weeks is a different question entirely.

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

Without Ren to drag him away from work, he’s free to divide his waking hours between his screens and the sitting room, which they repurposed into a workshop-slash-dream den. While Hux is a decent architect in a pinch, he could never build the way Rey does—the way she bends the dreamspace to her will and creates cities that feel alive around them. Between the two of them, they have the groundwork laid out within days, quickly moving on to revising the base design according to the specifications in the main file and the numbers Hux runs.

Instead of using pre-mixed batches, Mitaka mixes their Somnacin from scratch on the kitchen table, reworking the formula per the reactions. None he comes up with works to keep Hux’s dreams steady, although a couple seem to ground his control over the dreamspace. Most just turn the dreams into nightmares for everyone involved.

Many of the nightmares are about Ren. Every time they manage to wake up from one of those, he looks at Rey to apologise. She never meets his eyes.

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

Unlike the two of them, Mitaka has family to return to and so he does when it gets late, leaving them to eat take-away and talk around the elephant in the room. On the rare occasion they do talk. Even though Hux gets the most shit for his workaholic tendencies, they all are guilty of it in different degrees; most nights are spent hunched over desks or tablets until they come close to shooting each other over the smallest noise or mistake, then they retire for the night.

The bedroom is where the worst fears come out.

“They might need our help,” she murmurs, lowly enough that the words could get lost among the howling wind outside. “They might be injured or—or lost, waiting for rescue. And we would be here arguing about heat transfer.”

“They aren’t.”

“But how do you know?”

He sighs loudly, turning to face Rey. Her eyes are big and eerily bright in the darkness, shining. “Look, Ren and I have been through this before. We’ve got contingencies in place for any kind of emergency—strategies to scarper and regroup as needed, fake identities with paper trail, codes to slip into lines of communication that will find their way to the other’s ear—all of which tied to systems that would alert us both if ever used. So far?” He gestures vaguely to his phones on the nightstand. “Complete radio silence.”

“Well it might be because he’s—”

His stomach lurching, “Don’t,” he bites out. He’s had enough nights contemplating that possibility himself, reasoning himself out of that line of thinking with more effort each time; he can’t handle someone else saying it.

Especially not Rey, whose unfailing optimism has seen them through many a dark spot.

“They will be back soon,” he says with conviction he forces himself to feel. They always do. This is just taking longer than expected.

Rey’s silence rings in the room.

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

At the end of the third week, Enric Pryde reaches out to him. His voice is as cold and serpent-like as he looks.

They talk for two and a half minutes—more accurately, Pryde relays his demands for two minutes and rebuffs Hux’s protests for the next half, then hangs up unceremoniously on him.

Fuming, Hux tries to glare a hole into his phone for about as long before going to wake Rey up.

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

“What do you mean, they are relocating us?”

Latching his fingers tight to keep from scraping at his already raw palms, “I mean exactly what I said,” Hux grinds out. “They want to move us into some safe house where they will provide us with everything we’ll need for the rest of the project. We don’t have the option to refuse their generosity.”

“They want to monitor us,” Mitaka says on the other end of the line, ever fond of pointing out the obvious. “Can they do that?”

“Would you like to be the one to tell them they can’t?” Hux shakes his head. They are not small fish; but the First Order is big enough to swallow them whole and not suffer for it. He knows to pick his fights. “If you’d like to drop off the face of the earth, now is the time.”

Rey snorts—as much of an answer as Mitaka’s bitter laughter.

“Well,” Rey says, scraping her chair back. “I should pack some clean underwear. When are they coming to get us?”

“As we speak.”

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

Before they leave, they make sure to sketch out First Order insignias on every available place. Just in case.

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

The safe house is, for all intents and purposes, a veritable villa in the middle of nowhere.

“A little excessive,” Mitaka comments as they tour the place, noting the bolted down furniture and darkened windows, locked conspicuously on the outside. The cupboards and the fridge are well-stocked enough to keep them fed for several months.

There is no mobile coverage.

In fact, there is no wireless connection of any sort. The multitude of devices strewn about in the house are all connected to the First Order’s own network and communications system, which provides access to every archive they might need for the project and nothing else.

The dread coiled in Hux’s guts grows heavier.

So much for his alert systems.

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

Progress is much faster with so much information at their fingertips.

Hux is envious of the berths of the First Order databases. Effective as his own methods of gathering intelligence are, his network couldn’t hope to have the same reach as a well-funded PMC—which he could have been a part of, had he not gone freelance instead of corporate after leaving the military.

The idea is tempting, still. He’s ruined for the civilian workforce—has been since childhood, with a father like General Brendol Hux was—but he seeks the structure and order that comes with being part of an organisation. Under different circumstances, he may have considered applying to the First Order after this project.

As their prisoner in everything but name, he wants little more than to be as far away from them as possible.

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

Everything they’ll need doesn’t involve a private chef or buffet, but it involves private delivery people who pick up whatever they want, no matter what they want, in a timely fashion. Because they are spiteful opportunists, they order the most extravagant and unreasonable meals they can think of. The food always arrives hot.

Hux marks the potential restaurants for each food item and how long it took to arrive on a small map every time. Just in case.

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

Sleeping in the same bed while Mitaka is in the next room feels too awkward, so they don’t. They don’t sleep much in general, either—not with the question of how to power a machine of the Starkiller’s scale without it overheating hanging heavy over their heads. Dreamshare mechanics are a lot more forgiving than their real-world counterparts; if they can’t pull it off down there, they sure as hell won’t make it work topside.

They have to make it work topside, they now know. The First Order wouldn’t have poured so much money and resources into what is merely Pryde’s pet design project.

“They probably have people looking into it,” Rey says, spinning her pen around her fingers with smugness dripping from her expression. He’s not petty enough to dare her to replicate it in the real world, but the thought is there. “Some super high-tech R&D division working on preventing a weapon of mass-destruction from exploding instead of, like, climate change.”

Watching her fingers like the secrets of the universe lie between them, “I don’t think so,” Mitaka responds. “It’s too much of a commitment. I bet they just wait for someone else to figure it out, then steal the designs from them.”

Something flares at the back of Hux’s mind like static, a connection he doesn’t want to make forcing itself into his awareness.

He shakes his head hard to clear it. Even with the dilation, he doesn’t have the time to dwell on things he’s got no control over.

“If you two are quite done gossiping,” he cuts in, smoothing over the blueprints in front of him for effect. “We’ve got work to do.”

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

We’re going to take something someone else worked very hard for, was all Ren had said the night before his departure—the only time Hux dared ask about his new job, once it became apparent Ren wasn’t going to say a word about it on his own. It’s such a non-answer that Hux couldn’t tell if Ren wanted to leave him space for plausible deniability or simply didn’t want to tell him.

He still can’t. As a matter of fact, he can’t say for sure Snoke’s job and this project are connected, either; all he’s got is a hunch.

A hunch he desperately wants to see proven wrong.

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

Mitaka’s newest blend is the most successful yet. They go down as far as the third level with only minor tremors under their feet—a huge leap of progress, after weeks of the ground swallowing them up whole.

Knowing better than to push their luck, they call it an early night and celebrate by ordering a feast they’ll have to take their time with. With the dinner table and every other horizontal space that could reasonably hold food covered in their work, they sprawl about the sofa set that hasn’t seen nearly enough use over their involuntary stay.

Once their food arrives and Rey realises what he ordered, a soft look crosses over her face. He ignores it. There’s only one place that serves Ren’s favourite food; it makes for a good reference point on his map. It’s not sentimental if it’s also practical.

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

He knew, from a logical standpoint, that having access to communication systems meant people could communicate with them and vice versa. On account of the fact that Pryde and the delivery people are the only ones to use it, he didn’t particularly care.

When the name Blysma pops up on the main screen, he realises what a gross oversight that was.

Heart at his throat, he accepts the request with shaking hands, grateful that no one is awake to see him like this. “Hux speaking.”

“Hello, Hux.”

Oh.

Oh, the ever-loving—

“Don’t say my name,” Ren adds quickly, as if he sensed that Hux was about to curse his name six ways to Sunday. “Or any other names. They don’t actively monitor your communications, but we’re pretty sure some keywords are flagged. Best not to take any chances.”

“We,” he repeats dumbly. So many questions are buzzing in his head that he doesn’t know which should take priority. “You and—ah, our mutual terrifying friend?”

Phasma’s melodic laughter rings through the other end of the line. Hux’s heart soars.

“Yeah,” Ren says, a little breathy. “Yes, we’re both here. And fine. The job ran late. Where the fuck are you?”

About that… “I don’t actually know,” he admits, the truth of it settling dark and deep into his gut. Trying to map out their location left him with more questions than answers. “Near the ocean. Far north of the city, I think; but we shouldn’t have crossed any borders.”

“That doesn’t narrow it down,” Ren says.

Irritation rising in him, “We were hardly given a tour guide for the road,” he snaps. You should have been there to take notes, is on the tip of his tongue—he swallows the words. Ren is here now, in a way. They’ve found Hux and the others. The insignias must have pointed them in the right direction; but figuring out how to contact Hux through the First Order’s own systems? That’s all their doing.

Taking a long breath to calm himself down, “How did you contact us anyway?” he asks.

“By calling in more favours than your sorry life is worth,” Phasma says, amusement lingering in her tone. He has never been happier to hear her mocking drawl. “So you had better give us something concrete to work with before we decide to leave you to rot there.”

Racking his brain, he takes a deep breath to ground himself. He’s got to focus. However Ren and Phasma managed to get into the First Order’s systems, they are unlikely to remain unnoticed for long. He needs to make the most of it.

The answer is so simple, he wants to smack himself upside the head.

“At noon, we will place an order for three servings of Bivoli tempari from the Hosnian. Track whoever is delivering it. They should lead you to us.”

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

He doesn’t tell the others about it. For one, he’s not fully sure his stress-addled brain didn’t make up the whole interaction—for another, they have a check-in with Pryde scheduled at 3, during which they’re going to disappoint him again with their lack of progress regarding the overheating issue. They are on thin ice as it is; he can’t take a gamble on the quality of the others’ poker faces and risk attracting Pryde’s suspicion.

At exactly noon, he contacts the delivery people and relays the order. In his periphery, Mitaka and Rey share a look.

Once he takes his seat again, “I thought the Hosnian was eat-in only,” Rey says.

Hux shrugs. “They said everything you’ll need.”

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

He orders something different from the Hosnian at the same time for the next four days, just in case. Mitaka is too polite to protest, despite the cuisine clearly not agreeing with him.

Rey eyes him suspiciously every time but says nothing, waiting for him to come to her instead of forcing an explanation out of him. He appreciates it more than he can put into words. He can only hope she understands.

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

Dying in an explosion ten times in a row tends to throw a wrench in group morale.

Unwilling to kill themselves just to wake up in the safe house, they wordlessly agree to wait out the timer. The burnout has settled deep onto their bones; Pryde’s implicit threats after every check-in don’t help their mental state, either. If Ren and Phasma hadn’t made contact, Hux might have considered taking his chances with a desperate escape attempt instead of sticking around to see what punishment the First Order would dole out for their inevitable failure. It might prove the better end, at any rate.

“I am going back to my children after this,” Mitaka says with more conviction than Hux has been able to muster up about anything in months. “I don’t care what happens. I don’t care if they kill me for it—I won’t die without seeing my family again.”

“We are not dying,” Hux reassures him. With three real-world seconds to the scheduled kick, he explains everything—Ren and Phasma making contact, the bare-bones of the plan and Blysma’s carefully vague progress update texts, the precautions they’re taking to keep Mitaka’s family safe should something go wrong.

Mitaka cries silent, happy tears at the news. Rey gives Mitaka a warm smile and pulls him close.

“That’s it,” she tells Hux, rubbing at Mitaka’s arm in sympathy. “I’m not letting her take a job without me ever again.”

Raising a brow, “You would be announcing to everyone in the community that she’s the best leverage against you,” he points out, not unkindly. He understands the sentiment—truly, he does—but it’s woefully impractical. Not to mention the kind of commitment it would take.

Her eyes gleam, smile turning secretive in that way he’s learned not to trust. Reaching into her pocket with her free hand, “I was already going to do that,” she says airily, taking out a small, velvet box.

Ah. Fair enough, then.

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

Hux is above lying to his employers.

Rather, he likes to think he is. Dreamshare, sophisticated as it may be at its heart, is an underground science—as such, it attracts a certain crowd. In a community where lying through one’s teeth is a survival skill, Hux knows to look someone in the eye and spin a tale truer than the truth as well as the next crook; he just prefers to tell the truth as long as it will leave his head connected to his body.

As it happens, this is the last scheduled check-in before the deadline. Giving Pryde bad news now would be signing their death warrant.

When Hux reports their success, Pryde smiles. The sight haunts Hux’s nightmares for days.

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

Blysma’s communication request comes the night before the grand plan, unscheduled.

His mind racing with possibilities, he grabs the tablet sitting on his nightstand before the notification wakes the others, accepting the request with, “Hux speaking.” As far as he’s concerned, there’s nothing left to talk about. Phasma has already laid out all she could of the plan without tipping off the First Order; a recap now would do more harm than good.

If this is about a last-minute change—well. Adaptability is another survival skill in their line of work.

“I missed your birthday.”

Hux blinks at the screen in his hands. “I—yes.” By a couple of months, at this stage. Where did that come from? Surely Ren didn’t realise it only now? “If you contacted me to wish me a happy belated birthday…”

“Of course not. I—uh, I called to hear your voice.” Hux’s lungs tighten, all too aware of his heartbeat. “Since we never finished our conversation.”

Their conversation. The handful of words Hux has been turning over in his head for months, to no apparent meaning or answer.

He’s bloody desperate to ask and finally, finally find out; but they’ve waited this long. They can be patient a little longer. “This is neither the time nor the place,” Hux says, as gently as he’s able, biting down on the instinctive Ren at the end. Now would be the absolute worst time for a slip-up. “Whatever it was, you can tell me tomorrow. In person.”

“That’s just it,” Ren mutters. “The last time I tried to tell you, we kept getting cut-off until signal completely went away and I thought, it’s fine. I’ll be back in a few days, I’ll just tell him then. In person.” He laughs, a breathy, bitter sound. “But then…”

But then Ren couldn’t get back until a few weeks after—and when he did, Hux wasn’t there anymore.

He clears his throat to get out the lump lodged there. “Then you’ll just have to be there this time,” he says firmly—his point man voice. “Because I will be, and I won’t accept any excuses.”

After a long beat, “Yes, sir,” Ren says, a smile in his voice. “See you on the other side.”

“Sleep well.”

[spacegaywritings]

The Wonders of Sleep - Chap 1/5  “Productive Night)

Summary: A bunch of oneshots on Virgil making sure the other sides sleep after long days of work and being busy. This time, Logan has worked until the next day and still refuses to sleep until a certain intervention stops him from getting more coffee.

Tw: trigger?? nO only SOFT RIGHTS, analogical, virgil, logan, nap, softness, domestic fluff. Fluff. Self care, trust, sleep, snuggles, cuddles, naps

 ao3 ! / next chapter .

Support me? KoFi.

Story under the cut! (1326 Words)

Loud typing filled the air of the commons. Tips and traps were emitted by the consistently pestered keyboard as Logan was writing away at a first draft of logical facts that would end up woven into the latest script of yet another episode of the Sanders Sides series Thomathy had created.

 His unoccupied hand reached for the cup of coffee, his fingers wrapping around its handle. It was cream white. A colour fitting into basically any setting. This is why Logan appreciated it. No matter what or where, a good cream colour fit any occasion or location.

It definitely aligned with the rest of furniture Patton had asked Roman to put into their common space.

 When he brought the cup up to his lips, eyes still fixed on the illuminating screen, he stilled down. It was empty. While a bit of remaining smell of dark, unsweetened and bitter coffee greeted him, there was no replenishing liquid left to clear up his senses.

Not to speak of his expanding on his capacity to stay awake further.

 “How unfortunate”, he mumbled to himself as he placed the mug back onto the table and retreated his hand to finish typing up his section.

Finally.

He was not fully done but at least a part of it was ready to be send over to Roman.

 He closed his laptop, glancing over the time in the bottom left corner of the screen.

2:49 am

This was not exactly the prime time of productivity but he had yet to write a frame of safety measurements and otherwise logistic concerns for Roman to consider. It was just a list of things he had to bring up in a meeting with the others in order to make these short videos Thomas made, as well.

To be fair, it just made him remember “vines”. To Logan, these compilations of short sketches were nothing but “vines”. They had to be put into quotations as they were not actual vines such as the plants.

 He got u-.

No, he did not.

Instead of raising to his feet, Logan got somewhat stuck in the process. His butt barely left the soft couch but did not get any further. A certain amount of weight pushed him back down to his seat.

 How odd.

 Logan looked down, mug in his hand and nothing but an empty grab into air with his unoccupied fingers.

Apparently Virgil had placed himself onto his lap while he was immersed in work - not literally, of course, just mentally. It was another of these metaphorical expressions he had picked up.

 “Virgil, what are you doing here?”

 There was no answer.

Huh, strange. Virgil was usually more than fast to shoot back any retort but there was really nothing but silence, not even a flinch.

Any movement and sound were cancelled out.

 Logan squinted, leaning a bit over Virgil to look at his face. It was mostly covered in his bangs. Other than that, he was facing away from Logan, more towards the table with the laptop on it. He had not even realised the weight of a whole head and a pair of shoulders nestling on his lap.

Now there was Virgil and he could not get up to the coffee machine and make himself more coffee.

 “Virgil, please, this is highly unproductive.”

 Maybe it was one of these practical jokes Virgil explained to him? It was worth a “shot” to try and appeal to Virgil from blocking him.

 “This is highly unproductive. It is almost 3am, please let me continue on with my work. Anxiety? Are you ignoring me?” He stared into the closed yes he could see with his back arching a bit further. Virgil looked peaceful.

 They had accepted him a while ago and it had become more and more usual for him to come around and hang out with them despite him having enough after even a few minutes. It must have been due to a lack of consistent social interaction, Logan assumed, for now Virgil was more likely to stay even when a lot of them were together and actively engaging.

It was nice to have a calm person around, especially when Roman and Patton had especially intense days of being... an extra “handful”. Logan did not even know how to phrase it.

 He blinked.

 Now that he thought about it, the weight was sort of nice, maybe hindering him from getting more coffee and postponing his sleep further, yet still somewhat comforting.

It sounded odd but apparently, people sleep better with extra weight since it reduces anxiety and gives the body a feeling of comfort.

 “Virgil?”

 He did not want to wake up the other but he still called for him. It was another illogical action he found himself indulge in more and more.

Sometimes it felt as if the interactions he had with the others made him somewhat dense to sensible actions. Why would he say Virgil’s name for no reason? The idea of risking his sleep was rather bad, to be frank. Virgil needed sleep, it was also 3 am - since when was Virgil on his lap?

 When did Logan get his last coffee? He only remembered sitting down to start on his work in the evening and now it was very early in the morning.

 Well, he did still have a lot of work left to finish . . . Thomathy relied on him.

 “Virgil, please, I have work to do. I really need to keep going.”

 He looked down at the unmoving body and sighed.

 Nothing, not even a single reaction.

If Virgil was secretly awake, he was being rather persistent albeit rather calm about it. Usually, even the slightest bit of stress had him react intensely - which made sense considering he was the metaphysical embodiment of anxiety.

 “I have to finish. Roman and Patton will be lost without me and it will cause you more work to deal with, Virgil.”

 He glanced over the laptop and opened again.

If Virgil did not move, then he would work until he would pass ou-

 Wait.

 Exhausting himself until late into the night and even further meant that Thomathy had to be awake still, had to be awake because of him.

 Logan shoved his glasses up and rubbed his closed eyes. They were so warm.

He cleared his throat and opened up his mouth to speak to nobody in particular.

 “I.. I consider this a good time to catch up on my lost weeks of sleep as there is nothing better to do. Seeing as Virgil has fallen asleep on me”, he declared. Maybe he was addressing Virgil. He certainly was shutting down his idea laptop and putting it back into its respective bag.

 “Well, then. I will succumb to temporary nonsense for now - but only for as long as my mind needs to rest."

 His fingers pushed away the packed up laptop which nudged the empty coffee mug. Another hand wrapped around Virgil in the now completely dark room.

With the light of the laptop gone, only the faint lights in the kitchen (a sort of night light Patton had insisted on) illuminated the living-room a bit.

 Logan adjusted a bit and managed to eventually bring his legs around Virgil’s body and pull the other close to his chest before he buried them in a big blanket.

Props to Patton for keeping blankets in about any space this house knew. A freezing Morality was an inventive side, Logan noted down in appreciation.

 As he cuddled into the couch cushion, he wrapped his arms around Virgil, glasses abandoned on the coffee table.

  “Thanks for the reminder, Virgil. I really forgot how late it had gotten.”

 The logical side allowed himself to fall asleep to the regular rhythm of Virgil’s calm breathing. He could not see the curled up side smile but he knew for a fact that the other was less asleep than he pretended to be.

 One side down.

[missholoska]

Have you ever considered making a YouTube channel? I would love to see the process of making your art!

I do think it’d be nice to make speedpaints but I currently don’t have any kind of video recording or editing programs with which to make them, ahah… also I can’t imagine anyone wanting to watch a speedpaint without some music on said video, and there is the small issue of youtube and copyright and all the songs I like presumably being Very Copyrighted

so it’s not a possibility I’d write off forever, but I don’t know how I’d make it happen right now :’>

but if it’s my art process you’re interested in, I can at least go through that step-by-step with some screenshots!

step 1: draft! usually either a very tiny chibi or barely more than a stick figure, my art always starts like this so I can figure out the pose without spending like an hour on a full-sized sketch that doesn’t even work in the end

this then gets resized to whatever size I want the final picture to be:

drawing at that size usually means the anatomy is pretty wonky though, and the lines are too thick and blurry to be much help for the actual lineart. if a background is vital to the whole piece it’ll get drafted here too, but with space backgrounds like in this I can just fit it in around the characters. (that’s generally terrible art advice though, please do not do as I do :’D)

step 2: sketch! still very rough, but a lot easier to work with later. I do anatomy sketches as I go but there’s rarely any need to keep those layers

I don’t usually “colour” sketches like this but knowing I’d be sharing this I wanted to make it more readable, since this is still what I would consider an unpresentable mess not worth posting uvu;;

(also if I’m doodling, this part sorta gets skipped in favour of just letting the lines be a bit sketchier and rougher than usual)

step 3: lineart! literally the worst part always.

it’s worth it in the end, but… yeah this isn’t ever the point where I’m like “yes this is a Good Picture that I Will Be Happy With :)”

(I do lineart with SAI’s default pencil brush at a size of 3 to 5, opacity around 75%, if that’s of any interest)

step 4: flat colours! I have probably the slowest possible way of doing this, but after how tiring lineart is I find it pretty relaxing taking my time filling each colour in under the lines. every individual colour gets its own layer so they can all be shaded individually too

if I’ve drawn the same character in that same outfit before this is also where I’ll do the line colours, but those rely on being darker than the shading of each colour, so for a character or outfit I’ve not drawn before that can’t be done until after the shading. fortunately not the case here!

generally shading would be next, but there also comes a point where I have deal with the background now or I’ll be even more frustrated by it later, so - step ???: background! whether I do it lined or lineless pretty much just depends on if there’s any straight lines involved

…backgrounds are kinda too individual to explain in general, but for this specific one all the starry details are luminosity layers. stars are done with this brush but I do quite a bit of erasing and hand-drawing stars too, and I use SAI’s default brush set to spread for galaxies

step 5: shading! aka the best part, the point where I go “oh hey this looks decent actually. when did that happen”

my usual shading style is every colour gets 2 darker shades and 1 lighter shade, each shade getting its own clipping layer attached to each colour. this was more obvious when I used to cel shade but soft shading makes my art look so much better ahah

step 6: layer effects! multiply and luminosity layers have been my go-to for the past 4 years, but I can’t believe I only realised how good overlay layers are in the last year and a half. they’re so good

here’s the specific effects being used here:

aaand step 7: final touches! usually consists of any glowy outlines, text or things that need blurring in photoshop, a final luminosity layer at around 10 to 20% opacity for extra highlights (especially needed for dark scenes like this, those darker layer effects tend to make the regular highlights from the shading less vibrant), slap a watermark on there and call it done

and then you’re ready for step 8: spend an hour staring at every pixel for mistakes, before spending another hour fighting the anxiety about posting it

bonus: even though I can’t make a speedpaint I can throw all those screenshots into a poor quality gif for you to watch, at least!

one final thing I can mention: not including the draft and sketch layers or all the parts of the advent calendar windows, just the finished art itself - this is made up of 102 layers. and that’s with me merging a lot of layers because SAI has a layer limit and takes an eternity to save if there are too many. people who can draw a whole piece on a single layer confuse and frighten me

[brooklynislandgirl]

five times kissed {in boots or not}

Sweeter than Wine || Not Accepting

I. The darkness breathes around them and there are no moons to shine down in the vaulted space between their sleeping mats and the impossible ceiling above their heads. There is not really silence either with the breath of twenty younglings scattered about as she creeps her way on hand and knee, dragging pillow and blanket along behind her. She cannot see where she is going and relies on a rudimentary grasp on the Force to offer her a compass point. The fits and starts of his breath help. The distress is palpable. It feels like a burning stone in the middle of her chest. Feels like the way the sky looks just before a sudden squall.

It takes an eternity for her to finally get to where she intends to go, and it is there she hesitates. She knows instinctively were someone to touch her in the dark when she can’t see what is coming, she would lash out in fear and terror. And while the Masters say that one must control one’s fear because it is not a good thing. Bad things should be eli...elem...should be done away with. She doesn’t want to do away with the boy with sun coloured hear and lakes for eyes. Her boy.

She curls up around him. Forming a cocoon of flesh and blood, sharing warmth as she settles her pillow beside his and draws her thin, scratchy blanket across them both. Like her fathers would do, she rubs small circles against his back and leans in close to kiss his cheek. In a voice that is more Force than whisper, she says, “A long time ago, in a galaxy far away there was a beautiful world. And on this world there was a boy and a girl and an enormous garden...” ~*~

II. Her lungs burn. Her muscles threaten to seize. She doubles over. Hands on her knees, gulping in breath after breath, wincing at the sudden stitch in her side. Sweat pours down her back. She doesn’t have half the length of his legs and it’s so unfair! Only a standard cycle ago she’d been taller than him, faster. But now he’s out matched her, even if he’s paid for that growth in pain from bones, from muscle, stretching to new heights. He can now take the stairs two at a time, sometimes three when he’s daring, and all she can do is to try and catch up at a far slower pace. To add insult to injury, he doubles back. Cloak flapping behind him and robes threatening to wrap around his boots. He’ll need a new pair soon. She can tell, being so close to them in the moment, trying her best to not look like some mottled green, sweat coated disaster of a near-human. She is about as successful at that as she has been in keeping up with him.

“You almost had me until the stairs.” Oh yes, he’s just so helpful, isn’t he?  “I know.”

“You’re mad.” Thank you, Captain Obvious. “I know.”

“There’s something you don’t know,” he says, and there’s an edge to his voice. She’s hurt his feelings, unable to keep her internal comments to herself. She risks straightening, determined to meet his gaze when she apologises. That doesn’t happen because as soon as she can meet him eye to eye, she catches the thoughtful look on his face. Eyes too bright, pink in his cheeks, lower lip caught between his teeth. And the next thing that happens is he steals a quick but unmistakable kiss to her forehead. “You just-” “I know.” And with that he’s gone again, only the echo of his laugh teasing her to catch up. ~*~ III. Even apart there’s always something extra, something indefinable that others take note of even if it’s only at the edges of their animal brain, the senses enhanced by their training in the Force. A feeling like neither one is entirely in the physical space they occupy. It is like gravitational pull, perhaps. Something that extends out into space in all directions, for an infinite distance.

On Naboo, Anakin walks in a garden, the grass bending softly beneath his boots, the sun dappling his face as he turns it upwards toward the sky, eyes closed in something very similar to meditation were he not so aware of his surroundings. On Coruscant, Melakeni runs her fingers over a work bench, feeling the cold metal along the edges of her arm as she turns her gaze downward at half-sketched designs. Pod racers, strange ships, a new hand. A moment later, she picks up a neatly folded shirt and holds it up to her face.

She breathes the scent of him in. He feels the breeze waft across throat.  They reach for each other across the vast distance because they both know what it is like to be surrounded by people and be very alone. Some time later, he arrives in the common room and is greeted by the familiar faces that have always been there like stonework or stars ~hazy but really indistinct. They all have names, he even remembers a few of them. It isn’t long after that she arrives. A thousand new suns are born in the clash of blue and green, even if not a single word is spoken, if the only thing that happens is that look.

One person whispers, “Wasn’t he sitting by the window?” Another nods. “Wasn’t she reaching for a book on the shelf?”

And so it goes until the others filter out to get something to eat, called to another part of the Temple, or simply to not be HERE right now.  He gestures and her page turns. She hands him a new stylus.

Only a hand-span separates them.

Lips do not have to touch for a kiss to be so profound. ~*~

IV. She lies motionless in his arms as he carries her solemnly to her resting place. A single petal drifts down from her hair to land at his feet and he will mourn that just as much as the any other part of that except that at least the petal he can keep secreted in a pocket, where fluttering and twitching fingers can close around it, careful not to crush it. It will leave its scent on his skin no matter how often he washes that hand, because it will always and only be the one made of flesh, never the other.

It is both boon and bane that she still looks alive. 

He lays her gently amongst the pillows. With the utmost exquisite care, he strokes her hair. Her still warm cheek. Brushes the pad of his thumb along the curve of her lip. There is no political statement to be made now. No other thought but that in her demise she looks tranquil. As death, tender in its enactment, should be...or so she’d said once. His chest is tight and it’s so hard to breath when hers neither rises nor falls. Pressure builds behind his eyes as he tries to stand still, gazing down at her. His throat dry. Because he’s done this, hasn’t he? It’s all his fault. One moment she was laughing, and the next...

Her eye cracks open.

“Only way this works is if...you know... you can come down here for my dramatic turn to undeath and I savagely tear your throat out in a gush of hot, pulsing blood.”

This Impending Doom comes too close to the real thing for a moment before what she says actually registers somewhere between the layers that he so often exists between.

“And how am I supposed to be horrified at the punishment for my crimes if you keep talking. You’re supposed to be dead at least until I’ve eu-logised you.”  The word is not one he normally uses, and there’s a catch in his pronunciation of it that sets butterflies adrift in her belly, and suddenly their game...isn’t one. Before she realises it, she’s scrambled up to her knees on the impossibly thin mattress. Her hands become steel fists in the seams of his under-tunic. The tip of her nose caresses the underside of his jaw as her lips press into his throat. The desire is there to sink into his flesh. To drink down his freely given essence. But she doesn’t. Even when she can feel him pressing even closer into the kiss. Can savour the shudder that passes through him both in body and in Presence, more radiant than anything she’s seen, all heat and light when her lips part and she traces lines around cartilage there. Can feel the weight of one arm that wraps instinctively around her waist, the other becoming lost in her hair. Every single ounce of her writes into his skin; I love you, I love you, IloveyouIloveonlyyou.

~*~

V. He bolts upright. Sweat sticks to him like a second, clammy skin. His heartbeat sounds like thousands of troops marching at a pace that can never be achieved or sustained even by the most extraordinary means. The breathes he takes are far too quick and far too shallow for her liking. This has happened to Anakin throughout his life, from the first time he slept into the Temple, to now, in the aftermath of all that has happened. They would tell him that it was only nightmare. They would tell him to control himself better, that the dreams have no power over him that he does not give.

And she knows just what a load of bantha dung that is.

It’s been a while since he’s had a nightmare that powerful, that has ruined and will continue to ruin his sleep for days. She keeps a hypo in the drawer on her nightstand, but she’s not wont to use it, hasn’t before. Forcing him to sleep is just as horrific, if not more so than telling him it’s all in his head and to simply let it go. She shifts under the covers that he’s thrown off, and doesn’t take offence when his body stiffens at her touch. She waits for him to become acclimatised to the feel of her. Because nothing is as important in moments like this than for Anakin to feel safe, that he has the power to consent or decline as he wishes, even when all he might want to do is give himself over to her so he doesn’t have to make himself think. So that he can just be, which is often taxing enough without adding anything else to it. When she feels him relax even slightly, she curls an arm around his waist. Leans into his back and presses small, soothing kisses against his shoulder, against his back. With them comes a kind of clarity, not exactly of mind, but of body. She lets go only long enough to allow him to rise. At times like these he has a biological imperative to move. To stop him is to hurt him in an unforgivable way. He chooses pacing and that’s fine.  “Do you want to talk about it, Za’lali?”

“No.” He sounds so young and yet so terribly old. Eventually, he walks himself into exhaustion and comes back to bed, where she’s waited patiently. His head cushioned in her lap as he curls up as tight and small as his body will allow. She never really knows what it is he sees in his dreams. What they show him, what they warn of, but one thing she’s learned, is that they must be listened to. And he will tell her in his own time. In bits and pieces as he’s able to, and she will stitch them together into whole cloth.

She contorts at an odd angle to brush another kiss, this time to his hair. “A long time ago...”

[cardandpixel]

RocketBook Flip - a rare review and it’s not a game!

Before I go any further, I feel I must point out that I don’t have any financial connection to RocketBook whatsoever – this isn’t a piece that was requested or courted by RocketBook or affiliates and I’m not receiving any reward or sponsorship either in product or direct payment for this article. I just like the damn thing and love it when an innovative piece of tech (in this case quite low key) just works. Hi I’m Paul, and I have a bit of a problem with notebooks – A4 lined, sketch, reporters, Black & Reds (ohhhh the sheer number of B&Rs), goofy ones, serious work ones, battered ones, pristine ‘for best only’ ones – and they all fill at an alarming rate. I make notes on everything. Working as a sound engineer and designer, there’s always mix notes, soundscape plots, ideas, VO notes and scripts, SFX ideas etc etc. At home it’s a very different story – it’s much worse. Game notes; blog notes; hurriedly scribbled quiz questions spurred by watching another episode of Mental Floss’ 500 facts about cheese; RPG notes and story ideas; my own script writing; world building; sketches; other creative ideas; song/music notes and ideas; and that’s before we get to to-do lists; and the dreaded ‘things I must remember’. So my journal life is many, varied and plenty. The usual issue is… ‘what frakking journal did I put that amazing idea in????’, and that’s way before we get to the utter horror that is possibly losing a whole journal or forgetting to bring one home from work. I’m 53, I forget more than I recall, and journals help bring some semblance of order to a massively chaotic and fertile brain. What I’ve needed for a long time is some way of organising all this info or centralising it in some way. Sure I’ve looked at apps – I used Things, Evernote, Notes, and One Note for years, and they are really, really good, but they relied on either having a charged device exactly when I need it (yeah – me too) or net access, which for a new-ish theatre, is surprisingly a bit of an issue at work. And the most important part – I actually enjoy the physical act of handwriting long-hand. I still write actual physical letters to people, it’s adorable and a bit creepy in this age, but I call it charming and leave it at that. Handwriting, for me, allows me time to think and process in a way that typing just doesn’t. Handwriting is slower, I rarely cross anything out, and so I always have the whole of the thought. So what I’ve ideally wanted for years, was a reliable way of organising all my notes and storing them electronically so I have access even without the actual journal, with OCR so they’re editable, and still being a tactile handwritten experience. I’m naturally a sceptic (I actually subscribe to Fortean Times – yeah – I card carry!) and so online ads and particularly FaceAche ads are a field day for critical thinking triggers. I don’t think I’ve ever received from Wish, exactly what I ordered from Wish. And so when an ad from RocketBook constantly kept popping up on my timeline a few weeks ago, I was naturally “it’ll never work” But their website looked legit enough – they had a dedicated UK shop, it was relatively steep to buy in but not so wild that if it didn’t work I wouldn’t be crying too much about the money wasted, and at the end of the day it was a 10th the price of a ReMarkable 2 which is actually what I thought would solve my problem. I’m furloughed at the mo and though I could argue the case for £300+ notebook (test me, I could), I just couldn’t justify it now. And RocketBook had a good summer intro offer. I ordered on the Wednesday, and the impressively glitzy and graphic-design-playbook poly package was dropped on my doorstep just 2 days later by my cheery postie who yelled up the drive “Package for ya, looks very exciting!!!!” I like that our postal service is still invested in the hopes and dreams of their customers. It was exciting. All the instructions for getting started with my new Teal RocketBook A4 Flip were right there before you even open it. The main body houses the pad and a cleaning cloth, and a clever little side pocket houses the supplied Pilot Frixion pen.

RocketBooks come in several models, all configured slightly differently. I have the Flip which is a top spiral-bound softback pad with 21 double sided ‘pages’ giving 42 pages in total. The Flip has lined paper one side, and dot paper on the reverse (great for D&D maps, impromptu tables, mixer channel plots etc)

DELIVERY & FIRST IMPRESSIONS The pads are nicely made, with sturdy covers (available in some really nice colours too) and a solid, thick plastic ring binding. Initially, The RocketBook does feel a bit odd. Its ‘pages’ are actually a synthetic polyester blend and feel quite shiny to the touch. The sort of surface you just instantly feel is not going to be great for ink! Each page is edge-to-edge lined or dotted with a heavy black border. At the bottom is a prominent QR code used for scanning and some very feint icons. These 7 icons are the key to the ease of use of the RocketBook series. But more later.

THE APP

The pads work with a companion app, that is absolutely free and available for Apple & Android. In fact, RB even do downloadable printable pages so you can try the whole system absolutely free before you buy – I didn’t, I just bought one, y’know. The app allows you to set up your destination locations, your preferences and does the actual scanning. Just one quick note, I have the app on both my phone and iPad and had to set-up the app the same for both, there appears to be no way of swapping preference settings between devices, though I can see why this may be intentional.

Currently, the RocketBook allows you to choose from the following locations to send files to: GoogleDrive, box, EverNote, DropBox, slack, OneNote, iCloud, OneDrive as well as simply to an email (or multiple) addresses and iMessage. Impressively, these are not fixed either, so you could choose your 7 destinations to be 7 email addresses of team members. These 7 locations are the icons at the bottom of each page. To select a destination for your file, you just make a mark in that icon box (tick, circle, something unsavoury) and that page will be sent to whichever you select. This makes the system very flexible indeed as not every page is necessarily sent to every destination. You always decide every time you fill a page. Change your mind on a second revision? No problem, add or change icons at any time and re-upload.

There’s a really handy table on the inside front cover for you to note what icon sends what where. This is also wipeable, so can be changed anytime.

I have mine set by default to:

Rocket > main email address (either as PDF, JPG, OCR embedded or as separate txt file)

Diamond > GoogleDrive (you can specify exactly what folder too)

Apple > iMessage

Bell > OneNote

That actually still leaves me 3 spare: shamrock; star; and horseshoe.

The app took me maybe 20mins to set-up, that included decision time for destinations and setting up a few target folders. It also included a few ‘test firings’. I didn’t get everything right first time and a few things didn’t send, but crucially, a tiny bit of digging revealed very simple troubleshooting (including the aforementioned issue with no sync’ing of phone and iPad), and all in I was finding the files in all the right destinations within about 30 mins. The website, FAQs and community are immensely helpful with any other issues as well. I had a tiny issue with OneNote seeming to take ages to sync, but I think that’s an issue with my OneNote settings, everything else was almost instantaneous. You can also handily set the app to auto-send as soon as it scans, or allow for manual review.

CLEAN UP ON AISLE ROCKETPAD The main reason I wanted to look at the RocketBook was the issue of reusability. My journal shenanigans are by no means the biggest ecological disaster on the planet, but if we are to believe Tesco (who probably issue as many receipts at our local Tesco Express in a day as journals I’ve ever used), every little helps. If I could find an ecologically better solution, I should at least take a look. The RocketPads work by partnering with Pilot pens called Frixion. The really clever bit is RB’s paper technology and how it works with the Frixion ink. At present, the pads only work with the Frixion pens – except the RB Colour which works with Crayola’s dry-erase crayons. When you write on the ‘paper’ with a Frixion pen, it remains wet for a few seconds and then dries pretty quickly. There’s no smudging whatsoever in transit, which is pretty cool. From then on, it may as well be permanent, until you have transmitted your page and decide you don’t want the text anymore.  To wipe the page clean, you can dampen the supplied cloth and just wipe the surface clean, it’s weird but it works! But then damp cloth in your bag? So I use kitchen roll to dampen, then wipe dry with theirs. Others even have an adorably kitsch spray bottle in their kit. RB reckon if you are not going to use the pad for a few months, to clean the pages as the ink can get trickier to shift after a long time, but for day-to-day use, I’ve tried writing and wiping well over 20x and the page hasn’t become discoloured or tarnished at all. The only pad different in the range is the Wave which cleans by microwaving! Do NOT do this with any of the others, bad things will happen. The ink doesn’t take scrubbing or any time to come up, I clean my pages in about 10-15s. The page can feel a little tacky when it’s damp, but leave a minute or so and the page will be back to normal. RB do say that odd things can happen if the book is left near a heatsource or in a hot car, vis-à-vis, the ink can completely disappear horrifyingly enough. They say that putting the pen or the pad in the freezer for a little while will actually restore the ink, but I’ve not tried it yet so can’t confirm or deny how that goes. Handy for spies in hot countries though, so there’s another target market. If you are always going to send your pages to the same places, then don’t erase the marked icons, and the page is ready for new notes straight away, otherwise, scrub them too.

I CAN’T READ YOUR WRITING – ARE YOU A DOCTOR? Initially, the RB pads send their files as scans of the pages in high contrast monochrome (colour is available) when you snap the page in the app (which auto-frames for you and takes maybe 10s to capture). The formats are either as images or PDF. If that had been it, I would have been quite happy, but the RB pads have another trick up their sleeve. Firstly, they have a function called ‘Smart Titles’ which allows you to name your files directly from the page by writing a filename between double hashtags ie ## this is my scrawl 24/8/20 ## and the file will pop up in your destinations with the filename “this is my scrawl 24/08/20” – this is insanely handy – there’s no protocol except your own and the hashtags, and it makes your files super easy to search. You can even send groups of pages as a single PDF. But the notebooks go even further. They actually offer full searchable OCR which the app can be set to send embedded in the PDF or image, or more usefully, as a companion separate .txt file. Now, my handwriting isn’t the neatest, but it’s not bad so I was prepared for some editing to be necessary, but impressively again, the OCR was about 90-95% accurate. In a page of text it missed maybe 3 or 4 words and even those not badly. This is all considering their full OCR is still only in beta! It gets confused with diagrams on the page, but that’s to be expected.

Text Generated by OCR: ## Blog post och test Aug 2020 ## This is a little demonstration of the OCR capabilities of the Rocket Book pads and app. I've told the lovely people that the hit rate is about 90-95% so please dant let me down here flip pad. Hopefully the file name will also prove another point further up in the section and not make me look like some charlatan or snake-oil salesman.Hope you enjoyed this demonstrahen, now go away and leave me to write the next great novella.Bye!

HOW MUCH? On average, I pay anywhere from £4-8 for a decent A4 notebook/journal, so at £30-37 (dependent on model), the RocketBook pads are not a whim purchase. That said, I get through a lot of journals in a year, and given that I would expect to easily get 2-3 years out of a RocketBook pad, then I’ve saved money. Will it replace all my notebooks? No. You need to be thinking of carrying this round as a kit: pad, Frixion pen (at least 2), and cloth.  RB do a series of portfolio sleeves for the pads but it does push the price up a bit still, but for a rep, engineer or salesperson, this still makes sense. They’re less bulky than a normal A4 pad too. What I would say is Tesco and Sainsbury’s currently stock Frixion pens and at much better prices than buying them from RB directly, I just paid £3 for 3 pens on offer at Tesco compared to £10 from RB. You get one pen with the pad, but you’re going to want more soon, so stock up next time you’re shopping for truffle oil crisps. If you use whiteboards a lot, RB also have you covered. Instead of the pad, £16 will get you a 4 pack of ‘beacons’ – little self-adhesive triangles that effectively do the same thing as the QR code in the pad. You don’t have the icon options obviously, but if you’re looking to distribute quick meeting or group notes, this would be a boon. CONCLUSION Considering this was a fairly speculative purchase on my part, my early experiences with the RocketBook Flip have been really impressive. The flexibility, the ability to store every page in a different location if you really wanted to make it fantastic for organising my notes, which can save me hours of finding the right ^^$&^$&$ notebook in the first place, then scouring that for the one paragraph I was looking for etc etc. The searchable text facility, in-app history for re-sending etc and last but no way least, functional handwriting OCR, makes the RocketBook not only novel, but actually useable! Would I buy another? As a second notebook – yes. I look forward to seeing what the actual longevity of the product is once I come off furlough and start cramming my day bag with all my junk and a notepad again, but yes, I’d probably just have one at home, and one for work, but make the last 5 mins of each day, scanning and sending work notes so I have them with me wherever. Impressively, the RocketBook Flip just works and it works well. ‘Er Across The Table has already sold several folk at her work on the idea and she doesn’t even have one herself yet! I love it. It’s taking a little adjusting to, but it’s all good. The most important thing though is the writing experience, and I have to say, the combination of the Frixion pen/ink and the polymer technology of the Flip, again, just works. It’s smooth, doesn’t skip or smudge for me (I know some right to left users and left handers have reported some issues) and feels great to write on. If anything I have to slow down a bit as the contact is so smooth that your writing can get a bit ahead of you! RocketBook have produced a cracker of a product. It might not seem like much, but if practical working journals are your thing (ie not create and keep things) then I can highly recommend the RocketBook series.

[the-new-executive-assistant]

How to Keep an Effective Diary

This is the diary system I have polished over the years. You may find some or all of these tips helpful.

Overall, the idea is to get organised for the year, before it actually begins.  I like to do this in November, while the current year is drawing to a close, but before the office shuts down for Christmas.

The funny thing about being an EA is that you’re always looking ahead and you’re never really “in the moment”. It’s just the nature of the job.

Creating the System

Master List: On my computer I have created a master list of all the items, both in my personal and work life, that pop up at around the same time each year. I keep the work and personal lists separate, so that if I happen to switch jobs, the work list and the personal list aren’t jumbled together.

Here are a few items on the work list:

Board Meetings

Book the Board room

Place catering order for Board Meeting

Issue Board Papers

Book quarterly satellite office meeting

Remind CEO to issue brief for the staff they want to speak at the senior staff meeting (three weeks prior to the meeting)

And here are a few items on the personal list:

Birthdays, and a reminder two weeks prior

Book in pest (spider) spray company each year

School holidays

Arrange care for kids for the school holidays (two weeks prior)

Doctor, Dentist etc reminders to book my annual checkups

As you can see, for a lot of these items, not only have I got the actual item, I have all the pre-reminders set up as well so I can start planning for the event/item before it occurs. 

Big Picture: The list may seem excessive, but truly, if you have a huge week at work, or you have a family emergency at home, and you need to delegate the urgent items, it is very helpful to be able to open your diary and look at all of it in front of you without having to rely on your memory.

As always, do what works for you, but this is what works for me, and I have been doing this for almost two decades now.

Significant Dates: Meet with your CEO before you plot anything significant (Are there any dates they want to avoid having a Board Meeting or other large staff meeting.  When do they want to see the budget from the Finance Manager before it goes to the Board etc).

Put the significant items in twice.  As an item for yourself, CEO and Finance Manager as a reminder two weeks prior, and then the actual event). These items will be date dependant depending on your organisation. Usually items such as the budget, need to go to the last Board Meeting before the end of the financial year as they need to be approved. This may differ from organisation to organisation.

Holidays:  Pro Tip: Plot your annual leave and your CEO’s annual leave in before everything else. Then you can book the rest of the items around that, and you and your CEO get to take annual leave when you want to rather than having to squeeze it in 😊

The Calendar: I prefer a paper notebook plus the computer on my PC.

I use a two-page spread to a week (with the dates written in the top left-hand corner). I list all the things that need to get done that week on the left-side page and use the right-side page for scribble such as writing down the name of someone I called on the phone, and what they said etc.

If an item is date dependant, I just write the date eg 6/7: Board Meeting.  I write it in red so it stands out. The other items I just list down the page.

Colours: I like to colour code my entries to make it easy to see which ones are work related, which need to stand out and which are personal.

Blue: Work related Red: Appointments and very important meetings Green: Personal Pink: Related to second job, or side project etc

For me, it’s not about making the diary “pretty” (but if that’s your style, go for it. Just be mindful that if your diary looks like an artwork with a lot of colour, fancy headings and sketches etc, your CEO may wonder how you have the time to decorate it and may also wonder why you’re doing that instead of getting your work done).

Getting it all down: Use your master list and put everything in; including the larger staff meetings (do your computer calendar invitations for everyone as well and book your meeting rooms while you’re at it. Booking early means you are more likely to get the room you want). If using a calendar on the computer, you can colour code those entries too. Just be mindful of the ICT rules at your workplace if you are putting personal reminders on a work computer (if you are allowed, you might like to mark them “private” which means you’re the only one who can see the contents).

It will take time (and you’ll be sick of writing before you’re finished), but once it’s done, it will be all there ready to go and you will feel organised and ready to take on the new year.

Using the Diary System 

Each morning, I write down the things that need to get done that day. I’m mindful of when I feel more alert (good time to do the items that require a lot of focus, like booking flights), and the days where I may have a big meeting in the middle of the day (so I don’t pick a huge task for that day, because I won’t get it finished). Then, I put my diary to the side, and only focus on what is on the post-it. As I complete tasks, I run a highlighter through them.

If I am feeling particularly busy or stressed, I’ll look at the post-it and prioritise the items 1, 2, 3, or even write out a little day plan and time-block my day. Eg 10am – 12noon – typing Board Minutes. 12 noon – 12.30pm - Lunch 12.30pm – 1.30pm – Making phone calls to obtain quotes for x project.

I have a short huddle meeting with my CEO each morning, where we share what we have on our plates for the day. I find a paper diary handy for this as I can carry it to their office, but you could do the same with a laptop.

Any time my CEO asks me into their office I bring my diary with me, so I can jot down any instructions (I have learnt the hard way that if I don’t jot it down straight away I forget details of instructions, and then have to go back and clarify which is a pain to both of us).

I bring my diary to meetings and I use it when speaking to someone on the phone so I can jot down who I spoke with and what they said. There have been so many times I have flicked back through it to find some information.

Conclusion

I hope these suggestions help you. They work well for me to stay organised, and also allow me to just focus on what needs to be done that day, rather than feeling overwhelmed at the mountain of tasks for the month.

Yes, perhaps you do have a bucketload of things to accomplish this week, but on this day, you just have ten items to complete; so just focus on those and smash them and just keeping doing that each day.

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

The New Prosthetic

@evilwriter37

Summary: HICCUP WHUMP! Post-RttE, Pre-Httyd 2! Hiccup built himself a new prosthetic leg and he wanted to try it out. Naturally, new creations are bound to have some kinks.

Rating: Teen and up

Words: 3 585

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: Dislocated Joint

Author’s Notes: Here it is! My very first prompt from my @badthingshappenbingo card!

I actually handled this one a little bit differently than my other fics. Instead of checking the spelling and posting it immediately after finishing it, I let it rest for almost a week before checking for errors. I feel like that helped me a lot with this one.

Constructive criticism is highly appreciated.

Enjoy!

Hiccup felt the tiny flutters of butterflies in his stomach.

Inventing always made him feel like a kid all over again. The initial idea, sketching each design, planning them out, working with his own two hands in the forge... Whenever he smelled the charcoal of his pencils or the metal and smoke of the forge, his heart usually skipped a beat. Everyday stenches that others might find unappealing, but which brought him a sense of familiarity, joy, even comfort on a bad day.

Especially whenever he finished something new, that was when he felt the most thrilled. When a project finally came into fruition and his hard work had ultimately paid off after hours, days, sometimes even weeks of work.

It was an exhilarating kind of feeling that he never tired of and his latest work was special to him.

He made a new prosthetic for himself. A metal leg that could double as a multi-functional tool. Complete with a regular foot that allowed running, a lockpick, a foot for more difficult terrain and one that connected to Toothless' saddle.

It helped him to lay flatter and still be able to correctly manoeuvre the artificial tailfin. This, in turn, enabled them to fly even faster, it made Hiccup a smaller target, let him move his foot out of the stirrup effortlessly, moving gracefully in the sky as one simply became so much easier.

And if this new prosthetic worked, perhaps he could invent something for Gobber as well.

He wasn't too opposed to seeing more Hiccup-y devices pop up in the forge now and again.

But before Hiccup could begin on a new arm or leg for his mentor blacksmithing, he needed to test out his own metal limb first.

And that is why Hiccup had left the house so early in the morning.

Before his dad awoke, the sun was up, the local baker baked his first loaves for the market, Hiccup and Toothless were already up and out the door.

The Night Fury sniffed the new prosthetic Hiccup wore on his stump. Though unfamiliar, it smelled of his Rider and it looked like one of his contraptions as well. He knew Hiccup's handiwork by now.

"So, what do you think, Bud?" Hiccup asked, standing up from the rock he had been sitting on in order to pull it on and showed it off.

Toothless crooned, giving him a reply as he kept his gaze on it. He was impressed, amazed even! Hiccup with his genius and his dexterous hands never ceased to surprise him. Every single time the young man managed to surpass his previous creations and this was no different.

They were in the cove, the place where their friendship first started, and he remembered Hiccup having trouble climbing in and out of their little spot without his help. One of the new "feet", as they were called apparently, was supposed to help him with terrain he used to have a difficult time traversing. Snow and hidden patches of ice were especially troublesome for him.

Toothless was excited to see it work. Much like his Rider, he was always thrilled as well.

"You know, I think this might be my best work yet. And in time, I might actually be able to add on even more! Like a dagger! Gobber really enjoyed the pegleg with the hidden dagger that I gave him for his birthday." Hiccup was no stranger to insecurites, having many of them himself, but at least his ability to invent and create was something he was proud of and relied on quite often.

Toothless had heard enough. Moving, he pushed Hiccup's side with the flat top of his head and then his back, rumbling and crooning as he urged him to walk. He wanted to see this new leg in action already.

"Okay, Bud, okay! I'm going!" Hiccup chuckled and walked away.

He didn't go too far before turning around and coming back, pacing as he stared down at his feet. He wanted to truly feel the soft padding inside, see if there were already any noticeable kinks he should work on, he hoped it felt different from his previous metal leg.

And it did. Gobber had made him a wonderful leg four years ago, but this one, with the rounded off tip, allowed Hiccup to walk easier. It didn't quite work like a real heel, but he noticed he didn't walk as stiff anymore. This would do well to improve his gait.

Toothless crooned excitedly, approaching, circling and headbutting the human's shoulder. He already noticed the difference. Hiccup didn't limp quite as much as he did before either. He still limped, he was always going to, but he also managed to take note of the rounded tip's usefullness.

"So I guess you approve?" Hiccup asked him, judging by the Night Fury's reaction, his newest creation was a success so far.

Toothless purred, giving an almost human-like "yes", and licked him full on in the face.

"N-" While Hiccup was left to sputter and spit as he tried to use his red tunic to wipe his face, his armour had been left home for today, Toothless left his side. Half of that got in his mouth and it wasn't the most pleasant of tastes. Or smells for that matter.

The Night Fury wandered towards that rock Hiccup had been sitting on and gestured towards the saddle lying beside it.

It had been modified as well.

Significantly less wet, but hair still hopelessly matted to his forehead, Hiccup approached.

"Now, I guess it's time for me to show you why I took the saddle, huh, Bud?" He questioned and Toothless gave an impatient groan.

It has been days since their last flight. His Rider had told him then that he wanted to modify it and Toothless hadn't been too opposed, but now he was dying to be back up in the air again. He knew the other felt the same way.

Grabbing the saddle, Hiccup helped his dragon pull it on again.

"Bud, stay still, please? I can't put it on you if you move that much." He chuckled. It was hard for both of them to keep from moving, excited as they were.

As Hiccup pulled on the last buckle, Toothless noticed that the stirrup on his left wasn't quite the same as it once was.

It wasn't a stirrup at all anymore, there was nothing for Hiccup's metal foot to attach itself too.

His Rider noticed the dragon's confusion, Toothless crooned and gestured with his snout to the lack of a stirrup, lifting up his left foreleg. Tapping his shoulder, Hiccup drew his attention again.

"Watch this, Bud." He sat back down again, placed a hand on the wooden cup of his prosthetic and gave it a twist. The new metallic foot disappeared and in its place came a different kind of creation, something that looked like it could attach itself to the saddle and then the lack of a regular stirrup made sense to Toothless.

Gurgling happily, Toothless urged Hiccup to stand and get in the saddle already. It was time to test the new leg up in the sky.

Hiccup didn't need to think twice before climbing up, Toothless practically bumped him onto his back with his snout nudging his Rider's rear.

Once seated and secure, Hiccup clicked his leg into the new stirrup, enjoying the satisfying 'click' it made, and grabbed hold of the handles. The two braced themselves and with a big flap of the dragon's wings and a jump, they were up.

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After spending the past few days stuck on the ground, the sky was a wonderful place to be in again. A welcoming place. Though it did make Hiccup wonder how he managed to live the first fifteen years of his life without Toothless and their ability to fly together as one.

Hiccup inhaled deeply and then breathed out again, the always present scent of the salty sea down below filling his nostrils. The wind combed through his hair and his clothes billowed. Toothless did the same thing, savouring the soft carressing of his scales and the near weightlessness of his body so high up in the air.

It felt good to be here. An unseen weight seemed to lift off their shoulders, like they were free again.

There were other dragons up there with them. Nightmares and Nadders who had also made Berk their home these past couple of years. It felt good to be more amongst them too. Off the ground and into the air, where they both belonged.

Hiccup adjusted his prosthetic slightly, approving of how it held up so far. Toothless raised a foreleg as he took a look, he purred.

"Yeah, it's holding up great so far!" Hiccup answered, feeling confident in his newest creation. This new method to connect his metal leg and the saddle together, it was to further improve their manoeuvrability. So far it wasn't too difficult to steer Toothless' artificial tailfin with it.

But they needed to really test it. Now that they knew it could hold up in a normal flight, it was time to find some way to experiment and truly see where its limits lie.

And Hiccup found just the thing.

"Hey Bud, look up there!" Toothless looked up and saw what his Rider was talking about.

A bunch of young Nadders, adolescents, playing in the sky. They were chasing each other.

"Should we ask them if we can join in?" Hiccup knew these Nadders and they knew them. He had watched them grow up this past year.

Toothless roared to draw their attention and flew higher, the small group of six halted momentarily to watch the two familiar Dragon Riders approach.

Nadders were born with lighter colours than they usually have as adults. They were slowly shedding their pastel scales for a more vibrant hide.

"Hey guys, mind if we join?" Hiccup wasn't so sure he'd have had the guts to just go up to a group of friends and ask this in the past, before Toothless. But not only had he grown more confident, these were also a group of dragons. A people he felt more at home with.

And like he and Toothless had hoped, the six adolescent Nadders chirped eagerly in agreement. One did a roll in the sky and off they were, chattering of teasings and taunts as they dared the two to chase them. It was a game of tag apparently.

"Come on, Bud." Hiccup adjusted himself in the saddle, excitement swelling up in his chest. A deep and eager rumble vibrated from within the Night Fury, Hiccup could feel it from his position on his back.

Though the young dragons flew far and fast, it wasn't hard for them to catch up.

This game of tag, while also commonly played by Viking children, was a little bit different than from what Hiccup used to play as a very young boy.

High up in the air, dragons couldn't physically touch one another without the risk of downing each other. The slowest of the dragons would be caught and roared at, making them the one who was "it". No actual tagging, just roaring as one dragon passed the other by.

It wasn't hard for Hiccup and Toothless to catch up to the Nadders and relieve themselves of the role of "it". Though they were fast, a Night Fury was faster. One half of this Dragon Rider duo being this exact species could almost be called cheating.

It was virtually impossible to catch Hiccup and Toothless with how in-tune the two were with each other. They sped up, slowed down, dived and swerved, but adolescent dragons liked a challenge. The young Nadders knew before accepting their request to join the game that they would be difficult to catch.

A roar of laughter left Hiccup as he and Toothless barrel rolled in the sky and it was like music to the latter's ears. Their hearts soared together. Those days spend stuck on the ground, even if it was for one of his projects, had been much too long.

Though the world was spinning, Hiccup looked towards where the Nadder youngster had been left behind and noticed there was already quite a bit of distance between them. Dizziness or nausea, he felt neither of them.

"Okay, Bud, time to turn back." Toothless could hear his Rider even through the loud rush of the wind. The barrel rolls gradually ceased up high in the air and the two started a freefall.

The way down was a long one, but it was over all too soon. Falling with the wind tossing them around, they never felt more in control.

As the ground rapidly approached down below, Hiccup gave his Bud a warning pat on his neck to even out.

That is when their game came to an abrupt end.

Toothless spread his wide wings, Hiccup put the tailfin in the right position and with the sudden stop in velocity, the shock made a tear in the leather straps keeping the saddle in place.

With a yelp, Hiccup was thrown forwards and the tailfin shut itself. The two were in a freefall once more, the adolescent Nadders aware of the trouble, but too far away to be of much help.

The ground was much too close.

"Tooth-" Hiccup never felt the impact. The moment they crashed, it became dark before his eyes.

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He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but Hiccup was pretty sure he couldn't have been out for more than a couple of minutes.

Lying in the grass, sore and bruised all over, he could hear his Night Fury's crooning as he drifted back to the world of the conscious after having left it for just a moment. Toothless' voice helped lead him back.

"Hmm, Tooth?" He slurred, moving just a tad to roll onto his back. He had been lying on his side and he wanted to open his eyes, face his Bud.

Toothless gave a quick warning growl and that was when a sharp pain abruptly and agonizingly ran through him, starting at his leg and moving up through his hip.

A strangled cry left him, his face contorted in pain and he ended up on his back anyway, breathing deeply as tears sprung to his eyes.

He opened them and the first thing he saw was Toothless staring back at him, his nose twitching as it did four years earlier when he woke up after the battle with the Red Death.

Toothless crooned and pressed his snout into his Rider's freckled cheek before bringing it down to sniff his body to seek out any hidden injuries. His attention consistently on just one part of Hiccup's body.

Hiccup lifted his head up to look down at himself to see what his dragon was staring at and cringed.

His left leg was not supposed to be at that angle.

His new prosthetic, the clasp that kept it attached to the saddle was supposed to have come loose during a fall, allowing Toothless to grab hold of him safely and saving them both from a possibly very fatal blow. That had been the biggest problem with his previous replacement, a problem he had attempted to fix with this new one.

Failing its purpose, Hiccup found that his leg and Toothless' saddle were still connected. As a result, his left knee, the weaker one of the two, had been painfully dislocated.

Hiccup continued to take deep breaths, both in and out. The pain didn't lessen one bit. He could only imagine what it looked like without his leather leggings.

It had already been there when he woke up, but it hadn't been as severe as it was now after he's moved. Toothless was lying next to him, remaining still because he'd realized the state of his Rider's leg while he was out and didn't want to make it any worse.

Lifting his head up for another look at their situation, still attempting to calm his laboured pants, Hiccup wondered just how they were going to get out of this one. Every little move made hurt so much.

But he found the reason for their crash. A strap on the saddle, the stitching worn by strain and weather had torn and come loose. He had been meaning to replace them.

"Gods..." He moaned and put his head back down. This was such a mess they were in now.

Toothless prodded his cheek with his snout. He wanted to provide comfort, but instead the movement made, though it was so little, hurt so bad.

"Toothless!" Hiccup cried out, but jumping at the pain only made the pain even worse. This was becoming an awful cycle.

Mumbling an apology, Toothless put his head down, deciding to try even harder to stay still. Humans didn't have as high a pain tolerance as dragons did and this was a particularly nasty injury.

Hiccup needed a moment. Closing his eyes, he tried breathing through the agony. So long as neither of them moved, it was bearable.

The two Dragon Riders than heard the chirping of worried dragons and looked up to see the young Nadders approaching.

The group of six landed and much like humans surrounded them in concern. Hiccup could've sworn he saw them cringe in their own way upon seeing the state he was in. Even they knew a human's leg wasn't supposed to bend that way.

Though he didn't want an audience, Hiccup supposed they might be able to help in some way. They chattered amongst themselves and Toothless, seemingly discussing what to do next.

"Hey-hey!" Hiccup moaned, moving carefully to lean on his elbows and trying his best not to look at his knee.

He could ask them to get help, to find the other Riders. He knew Astrid and Snotlout had patrol today.

But the adolescent Nadders apparently already had some ideas of their own. Chittering and screeching, hissing and flexing their dangerous spines, they appeared to be arguing. Hiccup's call for their attention fell on deaf ears.

Hiccup often found himself wishing he could understand what dragons were saying and this was one such time. What could they possibly be having such a heated discussion about?

By the time Hiccup realized one of them bend down and reached for his leg, it was already too late for both him and Toothless to stop them when a green Nadder took his prosthetic and pulled it loose. That had been their master plan to get the Dragon and Rider untangled from each other.

All six of the Deadly Nadders jumped back when a pained scream tore out from Hiccup's lungs. It appeared they hoped pulling on the fake part of the leg wouldn't hurt as much.

Now lying flat on his back again, Hiccup covered both of his eyes and clenched his teeth down on one another.

It hurt. That was all he could think about, how much that hurt.

Removing one hand, he peered at the Nadders through his blurred vision.

"I'm... I'm okay." He was lying and choking up, but he didn't want them to feel guilty. It helped the green Nadder feel better again as it had shrunken back after hearing him scream.

Now free, Toothless moved, standing up and sniffing his Rider's face, but Hiccup covered it again, breathing in and out deeply in the hopes of coping with the burning and throbbing sensation left in his knee.

The Night Fury gazed at the limb. Although the angle wasn't quite as ugly anymore, he knew that didn't lessen the pain in any way.

He faced the young Nadders and with a roar angrily chased them away, they had done more than enough already. The youngsters, not willing to argue with this dragon in particular, left in a hurry, nearly tripping over each other as they flapped their wings and made way for the skies.

"You didn't have to chase them away like that, they just wanted to help." Toothless could hear Hiccup mutter, but ignored his words. His Rider couldn't have heard it, but he had warned the six that it was a terrible idea.

Looking up into the sky, Toothless charged a plasma blast and send it flying. Its purpose was to call for help. With all the dragons and Berkians around, somebody was bound to see it. Hopefully, one of the other Riders was already nearby.

Knowing that it couldn't even be minutes before help would arrive, Toothless decided to settle by Hiccup's side again.

Though somewhat recovered, there was still very little Hiccup could do besides lying there and scratching his Night Fury's chin. It was something he did for his own comfort as well.

Help couldn't be far.

Holding his breath, Hiccup managed to sit up and Toothless lied down behind him, allowing his Viking to lean back against him.

Looking up, they noticed that one Snotlout Jorgenson on top of a Hookfang Monstrous Nightmare were already headed their way.

Hiccup could only sigh. The sooner they got his leg taken care off, the better.

His dad and Astrid would chastise him and Gothi would probably advice him to stay at home or risk a whack of her staff, but Hiccup could only think of one thing, improve his prosthetic.

Next time they test it out, he'd make sure to put it through more thorough tests before taking to the sky once again.

[thefun41]

Next up is Lesbian!Maya This one was definitely a challenge! I’ve drawn Maya a few times but I think this one is the best so far!

I’ll be blabing under the cut but in the meantime look forward to Gay!Klavier (hopefully) on Wednesday!

Edit: I have been informed that this is not the flag currently used. :/ I was wondering why kept seeing a pink one, just not where I was looking.

(Warning : rage and bitching below)

*deep breath* OH BOY! OH GOLLY AHH JEEZ Like DAMN was this a challenge. This took me an entire week!!! Other then Sebastian (because of that jacket) all of the pride requeswts have taken 3 days or less. During those 3 days I research an outfit, make a sketch, normally have a goofy side image to post before it because my brain is hyperactive, obsess over how to pose them and make the final image. Not this time!!! Even though this was an incredible struggle there was a lot that was learned by this… experience. 

So let’s break it down. 

Struggle #1 : Which flag are we using again? On the Ace Attorney Amino, the requester requested a Lesbian Maya. Here is the issue, in my research I have found a lot of lesbian pride flags and narrowed it down to 2. The lesbian pride flag which is  purple one with the black triangle and the battle axe (which was used) and lipstick lesbian, which is this pink one (see above). Now this bodes the question : What’s the difference? Well as far as I can tell, The purple one came first and is generally an umbrella flag for lesbians, while the pink one was made spicifically for a lesbian subculture : lipstick lesbians. There is a stereotype that lesbians are “masculine”, lipstick lesbians are very comfortable with their femininity, in fact very “girly” and seemed to be underrepresented sooooooo they have their own flag and subculture, kinda like the opposite of gay bear that we covered last time.  It seems like the Pink flag overtook the purple one in popularity OR whoever made the pink one was just better at marketing, who knows. Now the requested went with “a regular lesbian” so battle ax flag it is. Also battle axes are cool, so there’s that.  

Lesson learned : the LGBTQ+ community is waaaaaaay bigger then I thought with subcultures and whatnot. Knowlage is half the battle! 

Struggle #2 : Fashion is hard guys.  Picking the outfit took at least 2 days, and then I changed it at least a half dozen times. there are 3 issues I had (lists within lists, listception) : Maya’s limited style,  using the colour pallette with my messed up, self-restricted viewpoint, and Maya’s age. First Item, off the top of my head, I believe Maya is only seen in 5 outfits, her usual outfit, iris outfit for a moment, a waitress outfit for an hour, a red dress in that one promotional image where the case is super fancy, a white suit outfit thing for soundtrack stuff and a conductor uniform??? Out of the ones I can rememer, mostof thesse are dresses. When debating on weather or not I should put her in a dress I decided no because (as far as I can remember) she’s always ion a dress. and then my brain went nuts with questions.

Why is she always in a dress? is that sexist? It is a problem? What’s wrong with with her always being in a dress? Why do I want to really get her out of a dress? Am I sexist? why do only women were dresses? Is it the hips? Why don”t men wear dresses? Can they? They don’t really have hips so they can’t really wear skirts. Wait a minute men do kinda wear dresses, I mean kilts and kimono’s exist. would the bulge be an issue? Would men emphasize their bulge like women emphasize their breasts? Can men look good in dresses? Can any man look good in a dress? Can I put Edgeworth in a dress and make him look good? I’ve seen a ton of Phoenix in dresses but why not Edgey? … So yeah a lot of useless questions taking up my time for no reason. The point is I purposely designed an outfit with pants … this obviously did not happen. I had this idea of a cozy look in a cute sweater but this leads to the next issue. The issue with this cozy look? It’s too simple.Yes that look is cute but it’s not for me, it’s for the person who requested it. Any it’s entirely possible that this person may have seen the other works from this pride project and the outfits I made for them and then they just get Maya in a sweater? It’s a cute sweater but it didn’t seem fair. A similar issue happened with Phoenix but the solution to that was just to open his shirt and BOOM, extra layers and thus a more complex look. Now maybe the the OG requester wouldn’t mind but I just couldn’t do it, I feel like I needed to give her an outfit with more effort into it. And thuys Maya went back into skirt, now this lead to the third issue : Maya’s age. I found a lot of nice outfits, outfits that would look great on Maya! … When she was a teenager. Now maya is most definitely a full grown women and not a child. Now weather or not I pulled off the 28 year old Maya will be discussed later but nonetheless, all of those cute outfits I found? Out the window. I was so indecisive that I just asked my brother to pick one. Honestly? I really liked what he picked, and I confirmed with my dad that, yes, you can put this outfit on a almost 30 year old. The scarf ended up being omitted in favour of her magatama, otherwise we ended up with the same problem as before, it’s too simple. this time with a few days of work under our belt so there was no way I was going to start over. The solution to this was a nice floral pattern based on a cherry blossom. this makes it more visually simple. I think it looks pretty! After all that work I do like the end result. 

Lesson learned : Stop. Over. Thinking. Things. And for the love of god sketch it out. Just looking on google and imagining on the character  sometimes will not cut it. If I don’t get it relatively quickly, doodle, draw and scribble some more.  

Struggle #3 : Why can’t I draw women?? I am one?!?! Like seriously, why, it makes no sense. Well actually it does make sense because I am fairly sure I can count the amount of women I’ve drawn with one hand. It’s a simple measure of practice. I was foolish to think that simply drawing human’s would be enough. sadly that is not the case. Men and women are built differently and of course I failed to accommodate… many many times. The amount of times I have modified maya and changed her proportions is unreal. One thing I do all the time is make the abdomen too long and I have no idea why this is. Her face! I have no cluw what went wrong the first dozen times but it just didn’t work! I wish I could explain why but it just didn’t look right. you”ll notice that she doesn’t have lips even though she does in her new design, It’s because I have never been able to draw lips. Ever. Not once. Does she even look like an adult? I can’t even tell anymore. She is a little thicker then her concept art but making her look thinner just didn’t work out. Her arms, I had to hid them since the preportions were all off, the hands were held together in front of her checkl and they were too lanky and there was nothing I could do to make it look good and don’t get me started on her hands please don’t. If I didn’t cut off her legs I would have issues with that too. Her breasts, how on earth do you shade those??? Does not compute. DOES NOT COMPUTE!!!  So yeah the struggle is real. The solution? Trial and error. Just keep trying until it looks good. Play with your strengths. A friend of mine told me that she reminder her of Tina from Bob’s Burgers… ok? Sure. So after all that while I do like the end result I also see what can be improved, and sadly we have reached the limits of my skill at this time. 

Lessons learned : Practice practice practice. I don’t draw enough women, I need to draw more women. I can’t quite comprehend how cloths fall on the chest area and obviously looking the mirror is not a solution. What is the solution? Drawing naked people. … No seriously. Once I learn proper anatomy and human proportions and how muscles distribute over the body not only will I have a lot easier time drawing these characters I will also be able to figure out how clothing would fall on their bodies and i’ll have a easier time shading. Right now I’m drawing and shading clothing without knowing WHY it’s folding like that or why the light is hitting this area. Of course I’ll be doing this for both men and women because as started before, they are built differently. do you know what I also can’t draw? Children. I am NOT applying this to the kiddies. That’s weird and gross. The kids will have t deal with being freaks. I’m cool with that.

Struggle #04 :  Life How did we break 3 fuses at my house while I was at work? Why did it effect half my room upstairs, the computer setup that is downstairs and the WiFi on the main floor when the thing used to blow the fuse was in an upstairs room across the hall. why did no one fix it until the next day? Why just leave it like that? Why did I sleep in until 1 when I’ve been consistently waking up at 9? I had things to do what gives? Why did I accept a split shift the next day when I’m exhausted? Why do I get super stressed out when I set an alarm that I can’t sleep? Why am I spending 3 hours writing this when I never bothered to put this much effort in school work? How have I not punched someone yet?

Lessons learned : Don’t rely on anyone but yourself. Do what you can with the time allowed. Pat yourself on the back for not resorting to violence. How to change fuses. Writing this is very therapeutic.  Did you last this long? Who knows! All I do know is that yes this was a struggle but I plan on learning from this. Next up is Gay!Klaver and I’m REALLY looking forward to it!

[shamelessly4shameless-blog]

Kitty Cartoons.

Part of the ‘Here Kitty, Kitty’ challenge over on AO3 a Gallavich story involving a cat. Fun and fluffy and set in season 1. Thanks for reading :) xx

The street was fairly quiet. Summer had one of two effects on the residents of Chicago’s South Side, it either made them loud and raucous, like a mob on the verge of total mayhem with parties raging into the small hours and out the other side, undiminished in their ferocity. Or, on days like today, people were slow and quiet, subdued by the heat and the light which managed to creep and stray into every crevice.

Only the most diligent people would work today and Debbie Gallagher was nothing if not diligent. She had dragged her deck chair out to the front of the house, poured herself a pitcher of water and set up her rickety easel on the cracked paving slabs. She set out her example pieces and hung up her price list.

She did better trade when the adults of the neighbourhood had been drinking, they were more likely to egg each other on and commission several pieces at once. Still, she persisted and worked on her tan during the long wait between customers … well … not really worked on it, more like worked on trying not to burn too much. She applied sun-cream every hour and set her egg timer to make sure she didn’t forget. It was as she was reapplying cream to the back of her legs that a shadow fell over her and Debbie glanced up startled.

“What the fuck is this?”

Debbie blinked up at the trio of teenage boys and swallowed heavily. She hadn’t heard them coming but rumour was that when the Milkovich’s meant business, you never did. All three were wearing grubby shorts and tank tops, but the steel toes of their boots were just as formidable in the sun as in snow.

“This is my new professional venture, it operates on Friday, Saturday – that’s today…”

Debbie tried a smile but did not receive one in return. The shortest Milkovich drew heavily on the last dregs of a cigarette before flicking the butt over his shoulder in a shower of sparks. Debbie cleared her throat nervously and pressed on.

“…and, um, Wednesday.”

The two bigger boys looked bored of her already but the other one who had asked the question, whose name she thought might be Ricky or Mitch, or something like that, was looking at her with something close to amusement.

“Professional venture, huh? You sellin’ lemonade?”

“Not today. That is available Monday, Tuesday, and most Sundays.”

Debbie bit the inside of her cheeks as one of the older brother’s reached past her to pick up one of the samples.

“Um … if you are interested, my business is called ‘Kitty Cartoons’ I can draw anyone as a kitty… a cat.”

Debbie amended hastily as the boy holding the drawing frowned.

“Mickey, this is bullshit. It’s our turf. This fuckin’ kid is making it look like a playground.”

“It’s public property!”

Debbie shot back and then took a step backwards as the huge mountain of unwashed teen-boy lowered the picture and glared at her directly.

“So?”

“So I can trade here too.”

Mickey discretely placed himself between Joey and the little redhead. He had no problem with telling the Gallagher kid to fuck off, maybe even tipping the stand over if it seemed appropriate, but there was no need to scare her. Joey always went straight to physical intimidation; it was, in Mickey’s opinion, why he couldn’t get shit done properly. Smack heads, drunks, or women beaters – sure. You get up in those guys faces straight away and show ‘em who’s boss. But other people required more subtlety. Besides it wasn’t like they were actually going to rough up a kid, especially a girl.

“Ay! I ain’t decided if you can trade here or not, little orphan Annie.”

“Original.”

Debbie dead-panned and Mickey decided he liked at least two Gallagher’s. He smirked at her and glanced at the house, licking his lip absently

“Your brother’s home?”

“Yes. My Dad too …”

Mickey looked back down at Debbie and his smile took her by surprise

“Frank’s a useless shit, kid. Better off learning to use your own fists than ever relying on him.”

Debbie let out the breath she had been holding and squared her shoulders.

“I don’t need to! Your reputation would suffer if people knew you beat up a little girl in the street for selling cartoons. Hmm?”

Mickey’s smile, already prettier than Debbie had expected, blossomed into a beautiful grin and despite her heart pounding in her chest, she smiled back at him. It was impossible not to. Mickey was about to say something when the front door flew open and Lip and Ian burst onto the front porch. Lip was holding the bat at his shoulder and he took the steps in one jump, though when he spoke, his voice was cheerful enough

“Hey Mickey! Joey, Tony. How’s it going?”

“Pretty good. Too hot though.”

Lip nodded as if the small talk was all in neighbourly fun.

“Yeah, yeah. So what’s up?”

Mickey shrugged, his gaze flicking between Lip and Ian, lingering on Ian for just as long as he dared. He was shirtless and his hair was damp, like he’d just got out of the shower. Mickey took a deep breath and flexed his biceps a little, drawing himself up to his full height, so that he was just a smidge taller than Ian.

“Nothin’. Just explaining to … what’s your name?”

“Debbie.”

“Right, Debbie, that this is our turf. As a rule we don’t like other businesses on it.”

“It’s a cartoon stand run by a little kid, Mickey.”

Ian said, frowning as he stepped up beside Lip, though his hand came to rest on the bat, urging it down and well away from Mickey’s face.

“Yeah and I see that, but my Dad sent us over to have a look cause he heard it was somethin’ else.”

“It’s not.”

Ian retorted flatly and Mickey licked his lip again, squinting down the street as if looking for something on the horizon. He didn’t understand why, and maybe it was just because Gallagher made his balls fizz like a crazy fucked up cola can, but he didn’t like the thought of displeasing Ian. It was the only reason he had bothered to get out of bed and traipse the few blocks over to the Gallagher house with Tony and Joey. The whole thing really shouldn’t have been his problem but he didn’t want shit going down that didn’t have to because a fall out with the Gallagher clan would mean a fall out with Ian and Mickey liked what they had going on. Whatever the fuck it was.

“I could do you a free drawing?”

“What?”

Mickey had pretty much forgotten Debbie was there and he looked down now with a scowl.

“I have black and blue pencils so your hair and eyes will be fine and I could do your tattoos on the kitty’s paws so it’s more tailored to your unique style.”

Joey snorted and Tony made a noise that could have been a sign of amusement or a phlegmy throat but it was Ian who Mickey found himself looking at again. His eyes had taken on that particular shine they got when he was hoping things would play out a certain way… normally Mickey only saw that look when he stomped into the Kash’n’Grab and Ian looked up eagerly, like Mickey was actually important or some shit. It was like a blend of excitement and hope that Mickey was there for him, which he always fuckin’ was, and seeing that look was one of the best parts of Mickey’s day.

Despite the fact that he was on a job for his dad.

Despite the fact that his brother’s and that asshole, Lip were stood there.

Despite the fact that it was the middle of the day in the middle of the street, Mickey felt himself softening and suddenly the thought of a little girl drawing a kitty version of him as payment for setting up on Milkovich turf seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

“Fine. But it better look badass.”

Debbie grabbed her pad and colouring pencils and pointed to the deck chair.

“Sit, please.”

Mickey lowered himself down, tongue firmly set in his cheek and Debbie held up a pencil and squinted through one eye at him.

“What would you say a cat’s best qualities are?”

“What?”

Mickey’s brows knitted together and he spread his hands in an exasperated gesture

“I don’t know. They’re sneaky and shit. They can see in the dark, which is cool I guess.”

“Actually, that’s a myth, although their vision is ...”

Lip trailed off as blue eyes narrowed in his direction, then rolled lazily in the direction of the older Milkovich’s, who both moved ever so slightly closer. Lip shoved a smoke between his lips and stayed quiet about the attributes and capabilities of cats.

His point proven, Mickey turned his attention back to Debbie who was carefully sketching an outline

“How much do you sell these for?”

“A dollar.”

“How much you made so far?”

“Thirty three dollars.”

Mickey nodded and rubbed a finger down the bridge of his nose.

“Fine, that don’t seem to be much of a problem to me. You done?”

“I need to do the paws…”

“Well hurry it up, I got shit to do.”

“Hey!”

Ian cocked his head to the side and gave Mickey a sharp look which Mickey mostly ignored but when Debbie presented him with the drawing, he gave Ian a cursory side-eye after thanking her to be sure his appreciation had been sincere enough. A small smile and a nod confirmed that it had been.

The cartoon was actually pretty good. Cat-Mickey was lean, scrappy looking thing, scowling from large blue eyes, a cigarette poking out between neat little fangs and distinct lettering across its white paws.

Joey and Tony realised that whatever promise of a fight had hung in the air when the Gallagher boys came out had disappeared into the hazy heat of the day, along with any chance of trashing the kids stall. If Mickey was satisfied, and the chaos was cancelled, they were going home.

“We’re leaving.”

Joey grunted and Mickey waved him off without looking up.

“You good?”

Lip had been observing the play by play of events and whatever was going on between Ian and Mickey Milkovich was clearly nothing he wanted any part of. Weirdly his little brother seemed to be the one in control of the situation and although it was disappointing not to be able to crack Mickey with the bat; it was also probably for the best.

“Yeah, thanks. Debs, you want to take a break? I’ll call you if you get a customer.”

Ian ruffled his sister’s hair as she bounded past him, following Lip up the steps into their home.

“See ya, Mickey!”

Debbie called and disappeared inside, leaving Mickey and Ian on opposite sides of the thin mesh fence. Mickey turned the cartoon so Ian could see it and grinned at the redheads smiling reaction.

“You’d make a good cat.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’d pet you.”

“Fuck off.”

Mickey smeared away the goofy smile with the pad of his thumb and folded the picture, stuffing it in his shorts pocket.

“Am I seeing you later?”

He asked, hoping that there was no desperation in his voice.

“Sure. Three? Usual place?”

“Yep. See ya.”

Mickey turned on his heel and began to walk down the street when Ian called after him. Ordinarily he would have kept walking and let Gallagher wear his throat out yelling or come running if he had something to say. But Mickey was never too sure about what sort of stupid shit might come out of Gallagher’s mouth so he turned around and walked back.

“What?”

Ian knew better than to lay hands on Mickey, but he fixed him with a look that blew the older boys pupils wide in an expression that Ian knew all too well but disregarded for the moment.

“Mickey, you ever come after my little sister again, I’ll kick your ass.”

Whatever he had been expecting it wasn’t a threat and Mickey shifted his feet uneasily as his body stirred.

“Bitch, you wish!”

He managed once the blood began to flow back toward his brain, but it was a feeble quip and had no real heat to it. A drunk lady swayed around the corner, her arm around a friend who was equally intoxicated.

“See you at three, Mickey.”

Ian let the expression on his face soften and gave Mickey a lopsided grin, before turning and hurrying up the steps to get Debbie.

[mollzflipsidefmp]

Project evaluation

My flipside theme was changeable/constant, and I am interested in it, because I love to explore how decisions you make without even thinking impact your life. I like to link this to games because I like to see life as one massive gamble. Choices in day to day life we don’t even think about could impact something that happens or would have happened if we chose something else.

For my project, three main artists who influenced my art were Jamie Hewlett, as  he helped me to come to terms with how to draw cartoonish but still in my own style. His work really pushed my motivation as well as allowing me to enjoy his own work whilst researching. Here are some examples of his work:

The second artist who mainly influenced my work was the actual d&d official character designer artists. There are more than one but they all work together under their official title to make the official faces for the critical role and official d&d games and podcasts. Their work really influenced me with the species accurate cultural attire as well as common features and colour pallets/ personalities to be shown off in their pieces. Some examples of their work:

   My final main artist inspiration for my artwork in the project is the artist @/catneylang on Instagram. Their an independent graphic designer and their  art concentrates on very detailed fan art of one of my favourite shows of all time (Jojos bizarre adventure) as well as other independent works. Their art was an inspiration to me through the project, mainly because they helped me figure out light and dark colour theory and where the highlights should be on the clothing etc. Here are some of the examples of their work;

                                                 Wider world research I took from a well-known d&d podcast named Critical Role. They are basically a bunch of famous voice actors who voiced their own campaign and uploaded it and all the episodes to YouTube for free for people like me to listen in/ watch to enjoy. The campaigns have been going on every week for about three years so it is a nice thing to listen into every week especially when doing independent work. I also used this to listen to when completing my FMP especially the practice work. This counts as wider world research, because I got to look into the legislation they had to use for YouTube as well as how they used their own voices depending on what the character was doing and their mood to pull off and correctly push forward how they were feeling in the situation. I also used C.R to research what goes into the podcast making and found out it takes at least ten hours per episode to film, edit and upload with effects every week to YouTube.

My concept for my FMP is making character and monster art / mock ups for a podcast game of d&d. I picked to revolve my changeable/constant theme around the game because it relies on dice play and sleight of hand so just like I explained with how I see life being changeable/constant it is a massive gamble of a game.

At the start of the project, I was just experimenting with turning traditional drawings into Photoshop stamps and making digital art based on changeable/constant. I mainly used pen, pencil and then my drawing app Krita on my laptop throughout this project. Right at the start I learned how to make a lot of mixed media boards outside of my FMP however it did help me to push me to where I wanted to be to start my character design. I didn’t exactly learn anything new in this project apart from how to make Photoshop brushes/ stamps.

Examples of my stamp / brush experiments ^

 This outcome feels the most successful to me, because it has all of my characters in it and I was really happy with the lighting and composition of all the characters. Before this piece, I was really dodgy with lighting and colour contrasts with in my works but after this I am feeling much more educated on how to do it and also a lot more relieved.  If I could change one thing now looking back on that one piece it would be the title more central as it bugs me that it’s a tad off due to Cunnuroz’s shining staff. Other than that I am sincerely happy with it.

For my end of year show if we had one, I was going to present my outcomes as A3, a4 and 1800px by 1800px size papers in 3 large A1 frames. I uploaded the mock up above to show how I would present them. I am very pleased with my outcomes, and from my initial idea sketches of my characters to their refined painting I am very pleased and have learned to trust the process that it will all look good in the end so not to rush.  Below is an initial sketch and coloured sketch sheet for one of my first characters that I made and even these I am proud of for trusting my instincts especially for the colours.

If I was to display my work anywhere in the world, I would like it to get displayed on billboards in London or around Camden Market. I would like them to get displayed here, because I feel like they would get a lot of attention for being so different and bold. To describe my outcomes I would use bold, bright, colourful, creative, digital, dedicated, detailed, cherished, proficient and in depth. 

If I needed a soundtrack or song to go with my artwork I would use the song; Fall of the Magister. I would use this song because it is a common beautiful tavern song and I can imagine it getting played in a local tavern in game.

Per week I reckon I spent at least 30 hours on my outcomes averaging about 3-4 hours per piece. At home I work in my room at my desk.

  1)                       Initial idea generations à 2) initial character sketches à 3) character concept arts à 4) group outcomes.

[checanty]

What artists do you like/ draw inspiration from? And how did you develop your own style? At what point in learning art did you feel comfortable with your style?

Yes. let me talk about style.

uuuuh style. I think I might have a take on that which slightly diverges from the common view of simply being patient and letting it happen. Nobody ostracize me please.So when I started drawing in earnest, which was back in school, it was comics. My friends were into manga, so I was into manga, so that was kind of what I drew. I did read more French comics, though, most notably Sillage (Buchet/Morvan), but also Yiu and others I only know the German titles of. A mangaka I discovered in my teens and liked a lot was Hiroki Endo who did EDEN. Lots of SciFi things. So when I started to do original comics more for myself than to fit in that started to bleed through more and more. That style also comes to light if you see me sketching people without reference! I don’t draw that way anymore for finished work, but I can’t seem to wholly get rid of it, ha. Anyways, when I started studying illustration I had several people tell me that me having drawn comics for such a long time could have ‘ruined’ me and I might have trouble to try out something knew. Look, this is not a case of people trying to keep me from drawing comics because they thought of them as lesser (maybe they did, but I don't think though. I think it was more about being an autodidact with an already recognizable style.) That was a case of ‘We think you already found your style and it will be hard for you to learn something new’.  And I wanted to learn new things! Making it in comics is super hard. And comics are so much work! I didn’t know who I was as an illustrator yet and I wanted to find out. And people telling me they didn’t think I could do a thing made me throw myself into it even harder! The first two semesters of art school I started into every assignment with no pre-concept of what I was going to do and tried out everything, no questions asked. I wanted to be a blank page and make something new.Well, when I started art school I thought the only reasonable job options would lie in the concept art field, or at least I’d have to learn to do polished digital paintings. But I ended up with a drawing teacher (He’s on Tumblr actually and he’s very, very good. I’ve learned a ton. @jensmariaweber) preaching the power of drawing and discovered so much more new art on the internet and rediscovered some of the books I used to marvel about as a child (illustrated magical creature books. Froud. Alan Lee. Tony DiTerlizzi) and people like @rovinacai just made the transition from digital painting to drawings and found success, so I felt like it would be okay if I focused on what I was actually good at, which was drawing, instead of trying to learn this thing I wasn’t really all that into. So I was doing all this different stuff for art school. And I worked on personal work at the side, which was influenced by my interests in fantasy art. And they were all in different media and had little similarities in style.At some point somebody on DeviantArt mentioned that while the artworks all looked different, my gallery had a constant atmosphere that held everything together. Which was a moment of clarity for me! I learned about the difference between ‘style’ and ‘voice’ later on. Oh and at the beginning of art school my drawing teacher also told us about how you don’t have a style when you start drawing, but then you develop one based on habits and the ways you learn to solve problems comfortably (I’ve read another artist say something in a similar vein about how style ist really just the accumulation of mistakes you make and are okay with.) and the next step is basically when you become so good that you can create anything and it looks like you did it because you have gained full understanding of everything and have transcended into a higher consciousness. I’m kidding. But it’s something like: You can’t do art. You can fool people into thinking you can do art. YOU BECOME ART. I’m kidding again. I should have asked for a handy quote.Anyways. So. I continued to learn, not worrying about style for a time, but I was already (this is ridiculous. 1,5 years are nothing.) in my third semester and half through my studies and suddenly worrying about the future! All the info I learned from art directors and helpful blogs on the internet told me I needed at least one consistent style I could sell to clients, so they would know what I was all about! And that most art students were all over place because they were still learning. But I wanted to do this as my job and my portfolio at the time *was* all over the place. Cue identity crisis! What to dooo? I had no go to medium, no style, no nothing, just some atmosphere and a little skill.I had to develop a marketable style until I finished art school. Not as in ‘people pleasing’, but I had to develop something I could present to potential clients. A way for me to work in that I felt secure enough in to know it would get me through jobs. Think of it less as style and more as a commodity. I stumbled upon the concept of a dream portfolio (a collection of artworks by other people you wish you had made yourself.) on the Tumblr of @jmfenner91 and looked through my inspiration folder until I had narrowed it down to about 11 images. What I did next was to analyze them and take notes on what I liked about them. (Surprise! It was mostly lighting, mood, shapes and all kinds of contrast.) Then I made sure to keep those things in mind when doing my own work. In the meantime I found that working in pencil and doing colour digitally worked quite well for me, so I started to solve me assignments that way and also sneaking in more and more of my interests and visual preferences, so they could serve as actual portfolio pieces. Then I added the painterly aspect with the acrylics to have a greater range of textures and solidified that way of working with my seven ravens project. So this is how I got my ‘style’. I’m starting to get bored with it, so I’m doing more different work and continue to try out ways to develop it further and learn more on the side, but I have these one or two styles I can rely on to get me occasional work and to solve problems well. At the core of it I tried to figure out what I liked, what I was good at and then stuck to that for long enough for me to be able to reliably reproduce it. Of course I didn’t build it on nothing, but I also didn’t just wait for it to fall into my lap. (But Jana, are you not confusing style and MEDIUM? Because those are different things. Yes and no??? Maybe I am. But sticking to a limited amount of media helped. I think sticking to a hand full of unifying elements in my picture making helped more, though. And medium is important. My linework is an essential part of my ‘style’ and some media force me to lose them and it definitely impacts the style, even if the voice remains. So I think medium is something that to a certain part can dictate your ‘style’ and is part of the whole.)