#i still traced some parts of the actual painting but that was mostly posing and louhi!shredder's wings (along with background elements)

[mimjandoodlesstuff]

(Click for better quality)

This project has been something I've wanted to do for a while but only now got around to actually making it.

The real painting's name is The Defense of the Sampo in English (by Akseli Gallen-Kallela, 1896). Yes, the Sampo is golden pizzas in this "AU", because obviously! And the pike jaw kantele is April's video camera.

[rubykgrant]

As promised, I finally finished all my RVB pin-ups! (these are honestly pretty tame, mostly just cutesy poses and anatomy practice. I’m putting the full image under a cut below). I spent a couple of weeks drawing these, sometimes trying multiple poses until finally they looked right, and then I had to travel to scan the pictures... and the scanner was really wonky. It washed out certain colors, while over-saturating others. It was just really weird. So, the only solution was to try to edit and fix the scanned images on my computer, and since I only have MS Paint with no layers, this was a challenge. I basically had to add the colors, then go over my lines so they would be clear, and finally erase around the edges. It took another few days to fix them all, but I did it!

First up, is Leonard Church~

He gave me the most trouble... and why wouldn’t he? This CHURCH, after all. He lives to be difficult. I knew I wanted him to have the “mud-flap babe pose”, but I kept messing up his face, and didn’t realize how bad I messed up until after I inked and colored it in... at one point, I tried to re-draw the face and cut out the one that didn’t work, and paste the two pieces of paper together. It wasn’t worker, so I finally just traced over my own lines, did the face all over again, and he looked half-way decent. SO, I’m done with Church! Look at that smug expression, he knows he’s a jerk. Seriously though, I love how he turned out!

When it comes to his design, I have my whole RVB story-line with a scenario in which Church and Tex get to come back with synthetic human bodies (specifically, when the Epsilon AI was deconstructed, all of the data from his memories WENT somewhere; it was downloaded back into the original AI units, which weren’t “dead” after the EMP, just deactivated. revived by Epsilon’s data, all the AI were able to reactivate, including Alpha! now HE is the one who is carrying on with the memories another part of him left behind... whoops, that’s sad, but don’t worry! he now also has the chance to feel better~). His was based on the DNA of the Director, but he’s not a clone, exactly. There’s a similarity for sure, but they’d probably look more like brothers. Church is considerably shorter, and even when he was “fresh out of the oven”, he’s more chunky too. As time goes on and he’s able to eat REAL FOOD, Church gets nice and chubby. He also wanted to be strong enough to actually pick Tex up, so that was his whole motivation for muscles. He has fairly long hair at first, and later cuts and styles it to this (imagine it feels like a silky-soft hedgehog). He wound up with some face-fuzz, and wasn’t sure of he should keep it or not... he doesn’t want to seem like he intentionally looks like the Director, but also? If he tries to avoid looking like him on purpose, he’s still letting that dude influence his decisions. Church finally asked Carolina (only fair, because she has to look at him), and she said it kinda suits him, especially since he has a squared jaw. So, the face-fuzz stayed~

[genderhoax]

I used to want to be an artist but then i stopped drawing for like 7 years. I want to go back but i'm scared and dont know where to start. So yes, i am interested in those drawing videos can you post them if you dont mind? ^_^

Of course!! I am in the same situation as you actually. I used to draw a lot in middle school (2010-2012) but my depression worsened during high school and in college, I’d only draw as a distraction, never seeking to study or improve. I decided to get back this year, since I decided drawing was the only thing I could see myself doing professionally. I felt very lost, because how do you get back? How do you know what’s your actual, current, art skill? What are your weaknesses? Your strong points?

That’s how I learned to study the fundmentals of art. Because visual art is not a skill. It is a set of skills, if you are very good at anatomy but not really when coming to painting your art is going to look differently than someone who learned anatomy in how to draw manga books but paint like a pro. I am going to divide this post in categories, Also, all the videos I link I also recommend all the channels they are from! My favorites are The Drawing Database, Sycra and Ganev, Sycra and The Drawing Databse have a little of everything and are great at explaining. Ganev is a bit sarcastic but I like the way he teaches. I took some parts of the text of this post from here.

How do I begin? How do you even get back at art? What tips should you use? These are general tips videos, usually nice to draw along. /the fundmentals and how to get started/ /5 tips for better drawing/ /perfect pratice/  /beginner’s guide/ /5 tips for digital art/ /10 tips to improve/ /why your drawings are stiff/ /what level is your art/ /improve your art fast/ /drawing basics/ /how to hold and control your pencil/ /intuitive drawing method/ /iterative drawing/

The Fundamentals: Proportion & Placement Proportion is relationship between one element and another. In the visual arts proportion relates most importantly to the abstract quality of scale and placement. You know how stereotypically an artists puts a pencil to their eye when looking at an object? They’re mesuring the proportion of the object in question and how to represent it corectly in the drawing. /principles of proportion/ /ways to create illusion of space/ /drawing the human figure/ /how to draw proportions playlist/ /how to use proportion in character design/ /basic anatomy and proportions part one/ /part two/ /part three/ /part four/ /proportion basics/

Form & Construction The idea of form is how we see the 3D objects in or world and transform them into 2D in the paper/canvas. It’s understading that eveyrthing is made up of basic forms. /dynamic sketching part one/ /part two/ /how to draw forms/ /structure/ /building form/ /another how to draw forms/ /how to visualize 3D forms/ /form study process/

Perspective & Depth Perspective is knowing that as things move away from the viewer’s eye, things seem to get smaller. Get familiarized with terms like horizon line and vanishing point. This is the basic that must be understood to learn perspective. Here’s a good article about this. /an intro video on the subject/ /step by step tutorial/ /perspective basics part one/ /part two/ /part three/ /part four/ part five /part six/  /another basics video/ /20 perspective lessons/ /eye level tip/  /linear perspective/  /simple form perspective/ /drawing the figure in perspective/

Anatomy Anatomy is something I think it’s one the most crucials things to learn in order to make your drawing look good. Once you understand how joints work you’ll be able to see how bones and muscles move. And this goes for anything with a skeleton. It’s one of those things of you learn the rules before breaking them. I am linking different playlists, since linking different videos on various parts of anatomy would take forever. Just study a body part at time: head, eyes, nose, lips, ears, shoulders, neck, hairline, breats, torso, hands, feet etc. /how to do an anatomy tracing/  /playlist 1 /  /draw the head from any angle/  /anatomy for artists/ /draw facial features/ /how to draw and paint/ /playlist 2/ /draw 3/4 head with loomis method/ /playlist 3/ /drawing a head in 3 hours (this one is great to draw along with the artist)/ /how to draw a body/ draw a head with loomis method part 1/  /part 2/ /part 3/ /decipgering bridgman’s anatomy/ /anatomy quick tips/

Gesture Gesture drawing is a method of capturing figures in exaggerated poses, usually drawn quickly. It is important to undersand that the goal of all gesture is to study the figure and see how it moves. I like looking at poses and copying them. Here’s a good article. /how to draw gesture/  /how to draw any pose/ /draw interesting poses/ /a guide on gesture drawing/  /tips for expressive dynamic poses/  /figure drawing tips/

Composition The overall layout of a piece is very important. Artists often consider things like the rule of thirds or the infamous golden ratio. Neither truly defines a composition, but they can both go into your decision making. /composition in art/  /understanding composition/ /10 composition tips/ /beginner’s guide to composition/ /art fundamental: composition/

Value Studying value is very much the study of light and shadow. But there is a technical side of light that you’ll want to pay attention to if you’re going for technical rendering. /guide on rendering/  /seeing light and shadows in daily life/  /10 minutes to a better painting/ /understaing colors and values/ /shading basics/ /ambient occlusion/ /shadow colors/ /tips on how to shade/ /draw shadows on objects and people/ /lighting tutorial/

Color Theory Color theory is understanding which colors go good with eachother, and knowing the pyschology behind it. (what are cool colors? what colors make someone feel comfortable?) It is fundamental in art for you to understand the relationship between colors and what makes them look good. Best color theory books. A comprehensive guide to color theory. /hue value saturation in photoshop/ /color theory for noobs/ /understanding color/ /what you should know about colors/  /warm and cool colors/  /the basic elements/ /choose colors that work/

Traditional Media If you draw in traditional media, all videos above can be used easily. These are just videos for general tips in traditional media, there isn’t many since my focus is digtal ^^’ /watercolor tips/ /draw with colored pencils/ /blending colored pencils/ /4 how to draw lessons/ /Block in colors/ /holding the brush/ /

Digital Media Digital art is how everyone’s been doing art these days. It doesn’t matter if you’re doing with your phone or your computer. I don’t do art on my phone, I know the most used app is mediabang for android and procreate for apple, and I think anyone who is able to do art with their finger is very skilled. If you are like me and prefer doing art on your computer, you probably have your tablet. If not, well you should have. Not having a tablet is not an option if you want to get better at art ^^’ Best tablet for beginners in 2020. Or you can just buy an old used one, if it still works, and you are a beginner, a small intuos is all you need. When talking about softwares, the three big ones I see people using are: Photoshop, Clip Paint Studio and Paint Tool Sai. The best one is CPS, but I find Sai easier to navigate, but CPS is extremely complete and I hope to be able to master it someday. CPS Tutorials. I don’t have much to say about photoshop, people use it mostly because they’ve been using it forever lol I divide my digital painting process in steps: Sketch/Lineart/Color Blocking/Shading/Blending/Color correction. Sketch is the basics, draw your idea. Lineart is to clean your sketch. Color Blocking is to color your drawing one color, so it’s easier to work in it. Shading is to understand where the lighting sources are coming from and apply them. Blending is to blend the colors of your drawing with brushes. Color correction is when I use filters of hue/saturation and others to make the drawing more appealing. These require understadings of the software of your choice which I am not very good at the moment so I can’t give you more tips than that ^^’ Hopefully these videos can help. /perspective grid/ /clean line art/  /coloring process/ /make lineart interesting/ /best brushes for digital painting/ /skin shading tutorial/  /lineart vs painting/ /art in clip studio paint/ /hair tutorial/ /3 tips for improving/ /10 digital art mistakes/ /color block tutorial/ /shading skin/ /from lineart to painting/ /cleaner lineart/ /add texture to your art/ /improve your art with better shadows/ /the importance of brushes/ /use layer modes/ /improve your lines/ /how to blend colors/ /another blending tutorial/  /color blocking/

Exercises It’s no secret that to improve on art, you must pratice. Everyday, even if it’s just a little! A great way to pratice is make use of youtube picture in picture function to draw along in your software of choice. /pratice drawing forms/ /proportion exercises/ /perspective exercises/ /value studies/ /creative drawing exercises/  /simple drawing esercises/

Resources Senshi stocks, a deviantart page full of poses photos. Quick poses,  pictures of models, contains nudes. Character design references DesignDoll, create a personalized sketch doll and make it pose.

Phew!!! This took forever to make and is way more than you asked for, but I decided to go all in so I can have a masterpost for me too and for anyone else interested in art. As soon you can understand the fundamentals, you can do your own research and study, youtube is really great for this. I hope this helps, let’s get better at drawing together!!! Ganbarimashou (ง •̀_•́)ง

[spacebeyonce]

yeah okay wip wednesday time part 1

another 2k snippet from the sorikai prompt I got from @ride-the-bifrost. I have a feeling that this work is gonna be another long one, haha. maybe as long as assemble. anyway, under the cut - riku paying a visit to his mother, and other things.

“How have you been, sweetheart?”

Riku smiled at his mother as she sat next to him on the couch, the warm cocoa she made for him cradled in his hands. Another week had passed, and he decided to use one of his days off to pay a visit to his mother. She had called him earlier in the week, saying she wanted to talk to him, and welcomed his visit with open arms, brown skin creasing with a smile as she greeted him with hugs and kisses before ushering him into his childhood home.

“I’ve been alright.” He traces the rim of his mug with the tip of his finger. “I’ve been busy, mostly. Just working.”

His mother sighed. “Riku, baby, you always work! I don’t want you to wear yourself out, and I’m sure your grandmother doesn’t want that for you, either.”

“I know, mom. It’s – I’m not working all the time, promise! I actually, um. Went out? Last Saturday?”

The news made his mother brighten considerably, eyes widening slightly. “You did?? And you’re just now telling me?? Riku! Do you know how I’ve been worrying over you, hoping that you aren’t working too hard –”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry!”

He brought his mug to his lips, taking a long sip. “It was just – unexpected. That’s all.”

“Have I met them yet?”

“No, no…I only met them recently. Do you remember Synthesize? That place across the street from grandma’s shop –”

“Your shop, Riku. It’s yours now.”

“I – well. I met them while I was at work. They came in at different times for some stuff, and we just kinda…hit off from there.”

Riku ducked his head as his mother leaned in, trying to look into his eyes. “Did you have a good time?” She asked. “With your new friends?”

Riku silently considered his mother’s question. He did have a lot of fun with Sora and Kairi – more than he expected. It shocked him just how easy it was for them to click together, talking and laughing like they had been friends forever. The museum was fun; they took him to an art museum, and they played a little game where they took pictures of each other, trying to match the poses in some of the paintings. Lunch had been good, too, with Riku taking them to a café that he’s frequented since he was a teenager, and the movie they went to afterward was good. It was the first time in a long time Riku could remember coming home smiling.

“…I did.” He decided. “I had a really good time.”

His mother’s concern swiftly melted away into a smile, and she leaned back with a sigh. “Good.” She stressed. “I’m happy to hear that. You deserve to have a little more fun, baby.”

Riku peeked at her through his bangs. “Yeah, well…enough about me – how have you been, mom? You said you wanted to talk, right?”

He always worries about his mother; after his father died, he was extremely reluctant to return to his own place. He just couldn’t bear it – the thought of his mother, alone in the house his father built for her, a reminder of everything they lost. Riku didn’t want his mother to go to bed every night and be reminded that she slept in the same place where his father took his last breaths.

But his mother smiled at him, content – not a hint of the constant shadows of grief that used to hover in her eyes. “You don’t have to worry about me, sweetheart – and don’t lie to me, I know you are. I’m doing alright. It’s part of why I wanted to talk to you, actually. I –”

She hesitated suddenly, her smile dimming, and that made Riku’s nerves skyrocket.

“Mom?” He prodded. “It’s – it’s nothing serious, right? You’re okay?”

“Yes! Yes, I’m fine, I promise – it’s nothing…nothing bad. But I’m still worried that it might…upset you.”

Upset him? Was it really that bad? She said she was fine, she promised, but –

“I won’t get upset.” Riku promises, steeling himself in case it really is bad news. “I promise.”

His mother stared hard at him, and Riku waited, expectant. Eventually she sighed. “Alright. Well – Riku, I’ve…recently, I’ve been…seeing someone.”

…What?

It took a second for her words to sink in, and once they did, Riku was left blinking rapidly at her, watching the little nervous crinkle appear between her brows.

Oh.

He gets why she would be nervous; if she had said this a few years ago, he would’ve absolutely lost it. And he feels terrible at the thought. Riku doesn’t want – his mother shouldn’t have to worry about upsetting him because she – she’s seeing someone. That isn’t fair to her at all.

So…so he smiles. “Is that all?” He teases. “Jeez, mom, you made it sound like I should’ve been expecting some bad news.”

“Ah, you’re…not upset about it?”

Riku pressed his lips together, considering his words before deciding to just – be honest. “If this happened a few years ago, I would have been. But you don’t deserve that, mom. And besides – dad, he…he probably wants that for you. To be happy. So are you happy?”

“I –”

“Are you?”

His mother’s eyes shined with unshed tears, but she nodded slowly. “I…am, yes.”

“And the person you’re seeing – are they nice? Are they good to you?”

This nod was firmer, more confident. “Yes. She is.”

“Then that’s all I need to know. I’m happy for you, mom – I really, really am. And I –”

Riku hesitated, but he needed to say it. “I’m sorry.”

“Riku –”

“No, let me say it. I know I’ve apologized before, but I have to do it again, because – because you shouldn’t have had to worry about my reaction to you seeing someone new. I…I was horrible, after dad died. To you, to grandma – to everyone. And you didn’t deserve that at all. And no matter what I was feeling at the time, I never should’ve taken it out on you.”

Tears were clinging to his mother’s lashes, and Riku set his mug aside so he could reach over and hold her hands. “I’m sorry, mom. I’m gonna be better – I’ll always try to be better.”

“I know.” His mother sniffed. “I know you will, Riku. And I – I forgive you. I know you were hurting, then. But…it’s better now. Isn’t it?”

She squeezes his hands, and Riku rubs his thumbs over her knuckles. “I think a part of me will always hurt, forever.” He finally says, and she squeezes his hands once more. “But…”

He lowers his head. Thinks of his grandmother’s hand, pressed against his cheek, her turquoise eyes bright as she tells him how proud she is of his growth. He thinks of Sora and Kairi, their eagerness to reach out to him and their bright smiles.

Riku picks his head up and gives his mother a grin. “But…it is a little better.”

His mother’s face was wet with tears, but her smile was just as wide. “That’s good.” She says. “I’m glad. I’m so glad. We’re gonna be okay, baby. I promise.”

“Yeah. I know.” His smile gained a hint of mischief. “You have to introduce me to this person you’re seeing, anyway.”

She laughed, loud and unrestrained, and it was the best sound he’s ever heard.

-o-

After a few months of regularly hanging out with Sora and Kairi, Riku could say with some amount of confidence that he has…friends. Which places him much better off than he was a few years ago, in his opinion.

When they asked to spend time with him, a part of Riku was pretty sure it was a fluke – a weird, one off moment, where they realize just how boring he actually is and drop him. But…it never happens. Instead, they visit him at work more often; they don’t even try to act like they need to buy anything sometimes, just standing out of the way and chatting him up at the counter when they have the chance. On their off days, they spend time at each other’s apartments, or hang out somewhere around the islands. It’s…really nice.

In between becoming a more social person, Riku finally meets the person his mother is seeing – Nanami, a woman with platinum blonde hair and a smile as warm as her eyes. Once he met her, watching how she easily brings a smile to his mother’s face, Riku can relax. He’s been worrying for so long about his mother being lonely – despite her many promises and reassurance that she wasn’t. But with proof of his mother’s happiness before him, he felt a knot in his heart loosen. Slowly, so slowly, things were…getting better.

And Riku had no idea what to do with that.

“Hey, Riku?”

He looked up with a quiet hum of acknowledgment to find Sora staring at him, eyes contemplating something.

It was an off day for Sora, and Riku was hanging out with him at his and Kairi’s apartment. Kairi had work that day, a few appointments booked at Synthesize, and Sora had called him whining about not wanting to be by himself. They’ve mostly spent the day together quietly, one of the windows open and enjoying the warm spring breeze that came in while Riku read his book and Sora played a handheld game. But apparently Sora got bored of that when Riku wasn’t looking, because here he was, game entirely forgotten and just – staring at him.

“What is it?” He prodded. “Do I have something on my face, or what?”

“No.” Sora hummed. “I’m just thinking –”

His eyes wandered, and Riku realized that Sora was staring at his ear, at this curve of his neck, exposed by his hair being up in a ponytail. It was considering, that gaze, and it made an embarrassed heat spread across his face. “What?” He asked, self-conscious.

“Have you ever thought of piercing your ears?”

Of all the questions, he wasn’t expecting that one. Riku drew himself up, putting his book aside. “Seriously?”

“Seriously! I think it would look really good!”

“You’re only saying that ‘cause you want me to join you and Kairi’s little club.”

Sora grinned at him and tilted his head, the row of piercings he had lined along the shell of his ear glinting in the sunlight. “Would that be so bad? It’s a fun club! And it doesn’t have to be as many piercings as I have! Just one set!”

Riku turned to face Sora on the couch, folding his legs up. “What brought this on, huh?”

Sora shrugged lightly, eyes drifting down as he absently traced the patterns of the tattoo on his arm. He finally got to prove himself, and Riku’s caught a glimpse of most of his tattoos. He told him the meanings for each one, and Riku knew that the one Sora was messing with was his favorite; a quarter sleeve on his forearm of the ocean’s waves swirling together – a tribute to Kairi. He knows Kairi has a special tattoo for Sora, too, but Riku hasn’t seen it yet. The paopu fruit is for her, too – they both have one, marked on their wrists, and it makes Riku ache some, the thought of being tied to someone so intimately.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while, that’s all.” Sora admitted, bashful. “I think it would suit you. It’d be very pretty.”

Riku’s heart skipped a little. Is – is Sora trying to say he thought he was pretty? That’s not possible; he’s obviously making something out of a throwaway comment because, one – Sora has a whole, entire girlfriend. And two – well. There is no two. Because even if it did make his heart flutter a little, it didn’t matter, because again – a whole, entire girlfriend.

“I’ve talked about it with Kairi, too, and she agrees with me! Don’t tell her that I told you, but –”

He leaned in a little, a sneaky smile on his face. “I’ve got it on good authority that it would only add to your prettiness, so I’m not bluffing when I say she agrees with me! But don’t tell her I said anything! She’ll get embarrassed.”

Pause. Hold on. Kairi, too?

Riku pressed a hand to his face, feeling the urge to hide. He pushed past it – stared hard at Sora, wondering what he was trying to pull. “You don’t have to make fun,” he started to say, but Sora quickly shook his head, cutting him off. “I’m not! Riku, I’m serious!”

He held out his hands, as thought being open will show just how earnest he was, and his eyes were so bright – Riku couldn’t detect a hint of mischief anywhere. So…he meant it. Okay. That’s…something.

Heat spread across his face, prickly and itchy. Riku pressed his lips together and tried not to look away. He was just asking about ear piercings – why was he so nervous?

Because he thinks you’re pretty. A part of him whispered. Because Kairi thinks you’re pretty – and you like that.

“I’ll –” he started. “Um. Think about it. I guess.”

“For real?? Awesome!!” Sora pumped his fists, victorious. “Hey, when you make a decision, let me know! If you do want the earrings, I’ll pierce your ears for you! Free of charge!”

“Free?! Sora, no, I’ll pay –”

“Rikuuuu.” Sora pouted a little as he drew out his name. There was no logical explanation for a grown man to be as – as cute as Sora is. “Come on – you’re my friend! It’s no big deal.”

His friend. Somehow, that little reminder helped – put things into perspective, and calmed the nervous beat of his heart. Why was he so nervous? He had no reason to be. Sora and Kairi, they were just – being nice. Being friends.

He needed to relax.

[stemmmm]

An Animation-Term and Keyword List For People Who Haven’t Studied Animation

I’ve decided it’s time to put my BFA in animation to use and share with you all about 40 terms I could get off the top of my head that I’ve seen confusion and misconceptions about.

If you know a term that was missed here, feel free to add a definition or ask for one! 

Animation (in this context) -- The act of taking a series of images and putting them in a sequence next to each other which is then viewed in rapid succession, thus giving the images the illusion of movement.

Anime -- The Japanese word for “animation”. This term is often used to refer to the style of drawing in the west, but it literally ONLY means “animation”. 

Animatic -- Unfinished visuals and audio cut together into a watchable video format. This is NOT another word for short animation. An animatic would use visuals from a storyboard rather than rough or finished animation

Anticipation -- A slower movement made by a character to lead into action. This is used to great effect in comedy animation and in games like Dark Souls. The posing and buildup makes you expect something is going to happen.

Cel -- A tool for animating. Traditionally, this is a sheet of clear plastic that a frame of animation is drawn on and painted color is applied to. These are set on top of background images and photographed so they can be used in the final animation. The term can also be applied to hand-drawn digital animation. Pre-digital nearly everything was animated in this fashion, like Bugs Bunny cartoons or classic Disney movies. Some Japanese animation is still done like this, but the move to digital has only recently begun there.

Claymation -- A branch of stop motion animation, it is when moldable clay is shaped, photographed, and reshaped in a manner that gives it the illusion of movement.

CGI -- Stands for Computer Graphics Imagery. Any image that is generated by a computer. This applies to all digital artwork, even 2D, but is most commonly used to refer to 3D images created by a computer.

2D -- Flat images such as those you would draw on paper. They have height and width but no depth.

3D -- Images with height, width, and depth. Computer generated images and physical sculptures fall under this category. 3D computer animation and stop-motion animation are 3D.

3D Computer Animation / 3D Animation -- Animation done on a computer specifically using 3D software to either give the image more depth or to make it look more lifelike. It is made by creating digital sculptures of characters which a “rig” is attached to which gives the animator the ability to move the sculpture like a puppet. If you say 3D animation, people will know you are referring to computer animation. Most American movies in the past decade are or include 3D animation.

Digital -- Any animation done on a computer. This applies to 3D animation, 2D graphic animation, and hand drawn animation done on a computer. Most animation has moved to digital formats because of computers ability to automatically in-between--thus saving large amounts of work. Computers also eliminate the need to physically store easily lost or damaged piles of paper and film, and they eliminate the need to manually photograph individual animation frames.

Flash -- Refers to the now mostly defunct Adobe Flash program which gave animators the ability to turn 2D drawings into puppets that could be animated. The similar Adobe equivalent is now called animate. It popularized a style of puppeted animation similar to paper cutouts in a digital format, but while it is known for that, it can be used for hand drawn animation as well. This puppet style of animation has improved dramatically since it’s beginning in Flash, and the same (or similar) technique is used by people who animate with programs like Toon Boom. Shows animated in flash include Johnny Test and My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic.

Frames -- A single image as part of the whole animation. A picture of a cel on a background would be one frame.

Frame rate/ Frames per second -- How quickly the frames are played back for the viewer. Film standard is 24 FPS, or 24 frames played in rapid succession for the duration of 1 second. Games often play at 30-60 FPS to aid reaction time.

1′s and 2′s -- To animate something on “1′s” means to create 24 distinct frames to play for a full second. 24:24, or, just 1. 2′s--also known as 12FPS--similarly means you do half that amount of work. 24:12. Most things are animated at 12FPS because it is less work and accomplishes approximately the same thing as animating on a full 24 frames. Animations at these rates are still played at 24FPS. Contrary to popular belief, classic Disney movies are mostly animated on 2′s.

3′s and 4′s and so on -- Like 1′s and 2′s, but less. 8 and 6 FPS respectively. These rates are used more commonly in television than movies, but even then rarely. 3′s and 4′s most often exist in conjunction with 1′s and 2′s to both save work and give the animation more expression. These are also always played at 24FPS. Studio Trigger most notably animates like this.

Hand-Drawn -- Animation that is fully drawn by hand and does not involve manipulating a puppet character. Traditional 2D animation is hand drawn, Flash animation isn’t.

Hold -- When a frame or pose lasts longer than normal. A hold can be completely still or have slight movement. They are used to break up action and very often used to create anticipation of an action. 

In-between -- Frames that connect the action happening between keyframes. They change something from a set of poses to actual animation.

Keyframe -- Important frames in the animation, often major poses in an action. These are sometimes taken from storyboards but not always.

Meaningful animation -- Or animation with intent. Parts of an animation that were specifically made to do a certain thing. This comes up in discussions about higher frame rates and whether or not they matter to a work. An action that could be expressed in 8 frames played at 24 FPS does not necessarily need 24 frames, because the additional frames provide too much visual input, could be drawn more poorly, or are a waste of time to do. A computer generated tween is not always meaningful because it was not always intended to exist by the animator. The frames generated when you take an animation at 24FPS and modify it to be 60FPS are not meaningful.

Mocap/ Motion Capture -- When a person wears a silly suit with little balls or other markings on it and acts around a stage, that is for motion capture and animation reference. Motion capture tracks a persons movement and can apply it to a 3D rig, but it is not perfect so animators are still needed to correct the movements and make it work in the final product. This is used in many live action movies that feature CGI and notoriously in The Polar Express.

Mograph/ Motion Graphics -- This is the animation style used in many commercials, how-to explainer videos, and animated company logos. This is the lovechild of graphic design and animation. It is most often 2D, sleek, and heavily design focused as opposed to character focused. Most often made in Adobe After Effects.

Paper cutout -- A form of stop motion animation where pieces of paper are placed on a flat surface and photographed from above. This can be done with light from the front to see the full detail of the paper, or back lighting to give it the effect of shadow-puppetry. The first animated film was done in this style.

Pre-production -- Work that is done before something is animated. Includes character designs, environment designs and layouts, scripting, storyboards, audio recording, and anything else necessary to have done before you begin the arduous process of animation.

Post-production -- Anything that needs to be added after all pre-production and animation is finished. It includes editing everything together, adding effects, and whatever else must be done before you can call something “finished”.

Procedurally Generated Animation -- This is animation made entirely in a computer through use of algorithms. Used more often in games than anything else. Animations are generated in real time to create more variety in the movement. It allows for things that can’t be done with pre-made animations like making characters feet land and/or slip on rocks or track their head and eyes to look at something.

Puppet Rig/ Rig -- A skeleton applied to any type of puppet you want to animate. 3D and puppeted stop motion animations both use this, though in stop motion it is more likely called an armature. 2D animations like Flash animations also use these

Onion Skin -- A 2D animation term. In traditional animation, a person works on paper over a light table which shines light through the paper and lets them see the frames they’re animating between. In digital animation, you press a button and the onion skin will display in either a lighter color or different hue the frames in front of or behind where you’re working to a point you can set and adjust. It’s called onion skin because peeled onions are transparent.

Reference -- Looking at something from life to base your work on. If you are animating a flying bird, you need to know how their wings move, so you need to watch birds or maybe film them and play it back slowly so you can see the small details. Animation since Snow White has used life action reference heavily, many old animated movies were fully acted out and recorded before they were animated. Movies today don’t do that much, but animators will record themselves acting out scenes they’re working on to capture body language and lip sync. Reference is not tracing or rotoscoping, but it can be.

Rotoscope -- Animation drawn directly over life action footage. This is reference to it’s extreme, because the drawings do not take inspiration from the movements so much as they are an exact recreation. It is often easily noticed for the higher framerate it often has and for having movement unnatural to animation. Unless the character is heavily stylized, rotoscoped animation often looks strongly like real people. 2D animation traced over 3D animation is not rotoscope. Motion capture is also not rotoscope. Many classic Fleischer films had rotoscoped sequences and Anastasia is known for it’s heavy use of the technique. 

Rough Animation -- Animation in it’s early stages, it may not be fully in betweened, but even if it is, it isn’t cleaned up or finished. Drawings in the rough stage are often messy and incomplete so it is easier to throw out frames and replace them.

Rough Cut -- The next step from an animatic. A rough cut contains all finished and unfinished work as a preview of what the final product can be. They can have any combination of animatic materials, rough animation, and finished work.

Stop motion -- Animation of physical objects on a set, photographed one frame at a time. Covers everything from claymation, to paper cut outs, to puppets, and more. More prominent in early film as visual effects before that became what it is known as today. The most popular form is puppet animations like those done by Laika studios.

Storyboard -- A sequence of rough drawings paired with script that dictate what will happen in an animation. These are not keyframes for animation, nor should they themselves be animated.

Timeline -- In digital animation, this is the bar that holds the individual frames in sequence so they can be played and viewed as you work. You can also stretch the frame length to last longer or shorter, hence “time”.

Traditional (Cel animation) -- Earliest form of 2D animation, the same as hand drawn animation only it’s done on physical paper. The terms are blurred together however, so when talking about traditional animation you may need to specify whether it’s on paper or digital.

Tweens -- Computer generated in-between frames. Applies to 3D animation, but most often refers to puppet rig 2D animation like flash animations. Often used as a derogatory phrase, as computer generated frames can lack the visual appeal of hand made ones. Tweens move extremely smoothly and evenly from pose to pose, which is the tell of a puppet rigged animation.

VFX -- Stands for visual effects. They are effects applied to a film in post-production that can be CGI or not, but are very often CGI. Includes aspects such as explosions, weather effects, background details, cleanup, etc. 

[sserpente]

A/N: Request from anon. I got these a while back and just had to write them at some point. James getting trapped in a cave with RC? Um, yes please. Here’s what I came up with! Enjoy, my lovelies! ;-)

Words: 2524 Warnings: smut

Hatred was a strong word. You hated hypocrisy and ignorance, intolerance too. But you probably hated nothing and no one more than James Conrad. You didn’t quite know what it was about him that you despised so much. Was it how honourable, righteous and brave he was, the fact he was just a little too perfect? Honestly—a former soldier, a handsome British decommissioned Captain… every woman would be envied if she shared a bed with him at night. But not you! Oh no… not you. You hated this man with a passion, if anything because you knew a man like him—so hunky and decent—would never date someone like you.

You had a past. A criminal past… multiple thefts had turned into assaults, illegal trading of stolen artefacts had resolved in getting involved with the Russian Mafia. The government had decided to give you another chance, in other words, send you on a pointless mission with James Conrad and a few other hopeless souls to do research for a couple of mad scientists instead of throwing you in prison. You were hardly a trustworthy and innocent young woman—something James made sure to remind you of whenever you spoke up and suggested different strategies.

Shock waves of pure electricity rippled through you whenever he impaled you with his stern blue gaze, an effect you hated he had on you. You knew you had screwed up, you knew you had done bad things. You knew you regularly imagined him bending you over his lap and spanking your backside until it was bright red whenever he looked at you like that… almost as if he was trying to read your thoughts. You sincerely hoped he couldn’t.

“If we hurry up, we can reach the top of the mountain by sunset,” he just explained, drawing a map into the sand with a dry branch. “We climb the front and set up camp near the forest. Someone will guard the fire, we don’t know what wild animals lurk in the shadows.”

You frowned at the dirt to your feet, a disgusted expression on your face. “How are we supposed to climb? Did you happen to have brought professional gear with you? All we have is a bit of rope.”

“One could have thought breaking into museums to steal paintings and jewellery gave you a bit of experience in that area.” James shot back, staring daggers at you. Swallowing thickly, you turned away again. Arsehole.

“Then let’s go. I’m hungry.” His name was Slivko. A very young man and a soldier—way too immature and childish for you but at least, he did not treat you like vermin.

James nodded, ignoring his unnecessary comment. Much more important than food was to reach the summit without falling to your deaths—and doing so before the sun would set. Standing up, he brushed the sand off his knees and shouldered his gun. You all followed suit, hoping for the best.

It took you a rough twenty minutes to reach said mountain. Twenty, silent minutes you spent attempting to kill James with but a single glare… if he noticed, he did not show.

“I say we split up. Slivko, take some of this rope and make sure you don’t slip.” James turned to you. “You stay with me.”

You smiled bitterly. “Aw… and there I was already building a raft to escape.”

Yet, he replied nothing when he approached you and tied the rope around your hips. You shivered involuntarily when his fingers brushed against your body ever so slightly. The other end, he tied around his own hips so you could both fall to your deaths. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“Let’s go.”

Slivko and his team went first, spreading out across the vertical surface of the rocky mountain. There were a few roots and thinner tree stubs to hold onto but mostly, it was solid stone you were dealing with. You could already feel the blisters and bruises you would be treating tonight.

James was right. You did have experience with climbing. You had once climbed the Louvre and avoided the security guards, not harming a fly. Still, there was a massive difference between a modern building and a crumbling mountain.

Reluctantly, you began to heave yourself up next to James, watching his every move before making your own. Any step could be your last the higher you climbed��especially on a deserted island. You couldn’t exactly say you were afraid of heights but when you looked down to where you had started, you felt a little sick. Usually, you climbed with professional gear. Security measures that would prevent you from dying in case you slipped and fell. Now, there was nothing.

The rocks were getting wobblier with every single metre. Little bits and pieces rained down on you both, coming from where Slivko and the other soldiers were climbing. A crunchy sound echoed through the air, earning him a strict “Watch it!” from James. Perhaps it was too late for that—for when you looked up with a shocked expression, the heavy rock, about twice as big as you, was already shaking. You all halted, holding your breaths. Then, the rock fell, causing an ear-piercing rock fall.

“Hold on tight!” You heard James screaming. Hold on tight? How? Your right hand slipped, leaving you holding on to the stone wall with your left hand only as one of the rocks as big as your head dashed past you. You were about to steady yourself when it was James who let go. No… he didn’t let go. The rocks he had been holding on to crumbled from the impact, ripping him into the depth beneath you. The rope between you stretched, the force of his body weight pulling you down with him and you were falling.

Panicking, you closed your eyes. This was not how you had wanted to die. Would you feel the collision with the ground? You might not be a decent person but you still had things to live for! You didn’t want to die, you didn’t want to… all of a sudden, all air was knocked from your lungs, causing you to gasp loudly. The rope cut into your skin, burning horribly. When you finally dared to open your eyes again, you were dangling from a cliff. Conrad was above you, his face distorted from exhaustion. He must have landed on the ledge!

“Climb the rope, (Y/N)!” He bellowed, his voice dripping with pain. He did not need to tell you twice. Quickly, you pulled yourself up until James could wrap his arms around your shoulders. Your whole body was shaking when you curled up on the dirty ground, adrenaline still cursing through your veins. Never before had you faced the Grim Reaper eye to eye.

“The… others?” You managed to choke out. James was still panting. He peeked over the edge, his expression darkening. He didn’t need to tell you what he saw. There must have been corpses at the bottom of the mountain.

“I can’t see them all. They might have survived.”

“So contact them.” You insisted, looking around yourself. The ledge you were sitting on formed the entrance to a dark cave. It appeared uninhabited and might just pose as a shelter for the night.

But James was already fondling his radio. “My bloody radio is broken, (Y/N).”

“So what the hell do we do? We need to get out of here.”

James turned, his blue gaze deadly as it bore into yours. Enraged, he pointed at the sun. “Do you see this? It will be dark any moment now. Attempting to climb now would be suicide. We try again tomorrow and see if we can find the other survivors.” He paused, waiting for you to react. When you only nodded, he went on. “Stay here. I will explore the cave, see if it’s safe.”

“Absolutely not. If you get shredded to pieces by a wolf or a bear, I’ll be on my own! And I really don’t want to eat your body parts to survive.”

Conrad only shook his head, clearly repulsed by the idea. “Stay where you are, (Y/N).”

Surprising yourself though, you actually stayed put, waiting for him to return and spending the time checking your body for any injuries. There was a huge, wet blood stain on your stomach. When you lifted your shirt you found a cut right above your navel. Nothing too deep, you figured. It stung a little but with the disinfection spray in your backpack and a band aid you should be fine.

James returned to you just when the sun began to set. “It seems fine to me. There are no traces of animals living in here.” He paused. “You’re bleeding.” And for the first time since you had first met, he did not sound condescending. James seemed to be downright concerned for you, if anything because you were still trembling. In the end, you were a woman alone in the wilderness and even though you were hardly helpless, in this very moment you needed him.

“It’s nothing. I’ll patch myself up.”

“I can help you. Go inside and lie down.” You swallowed. There was no point in refusing now, was there? So you obliged, taking off your shirt to let it dry, leaving you in your sports bra only. Behind you, James hissed.

“Here. Take my jacket and lie down. And give me your backpack.”

Sighing, you did as you were told, watching him intensely as he tended to your wound to ignore the pain. But once he was done, you were shaking even more. For a brief moment you wished his fingers would linger on your naked skin just for a bit longer.

“Sleep a little. I’m gonna try and repair the radio.” James’ hand brushed against your arm so gently and reassuringly he left you behind completely astounded. Wow. Just for a second you could, almost, believe that you didn’t quite hate him after all—and that he didn’t hate you either. Only then was it he seemed to realise his “mistake”. He withdrew as if he had burned himself, hurrying away.

You awoke around an hour later, ripped from sleep cruelly by an animalistic moan. Your eyes narrowed. Thinking at first the cave might be inhabited by animals after all, you flinched and listened again closely. Oh no, it was speaking. Cursing, to be precise. You rolled your eyes as you got up to join James only a few metres away from where you had rested, stepping closer quietly. Apparently, he was still trying to repair that radio. But…

“Fuck… ah…” He was panting. Holding your breath, you inched even closer to him, watching the muscles on his back flex with every movement. It was only then you realised what he was doing. This man had the audacity to masturbate in this godforsaken situation! Your jaw dropped. You could not see him but it was obvious enough now what was happening.

Your curiosity you could understand, not however, that you desperately wished to join him. You hated James for your very own reasons but that did not mean you had to find him repulsive, right? Quite on the contrary… he was incredibly hot. What would he look like, you wondered? How… long and thick would he be and Gods, what would it look like when he spurted his cum into his own fist?

“Fuck…” You heard him again. You bit your lower lip. “(Y/N)…” Yes… wait, what?! Had he just said your name?! Was he masturbating… to you? Your eyes widened when you remembered his flustered reaction when you took off your shirt to let the blood dry, wearing no more than your sports bra and now his jacket too to keep warm.

You couldn’t watch him finish… not without your help. A malicious smirk spread on your lips when you approached him, placing one of your hands on his back while the other sneaked around his waist to grab his hard cock, simply pushing his own hand away.

James tensed. You could tell he was glaring down at your fist grasping his aroused rut, feeling his thick shaft pulsing beneath your touch. Suppressing a moan, you said nothing as you began to jerk him off, finding just the right pace to drive him crazy soon enough.

“You’re awake…” He choked out, his chest heaving.

“You called me. You could have just asked, you know.” You teased him, grinning mischievously behind his back. You could practically feel him rolling his eyes only to moan the fraction of a second later, causing you to giggle at him.

Losing all of his self-control, his composure fell off of him like a heavy coat as he began to groan wildly and thrust into your fist for more friction. And oh sweet Gods, witnessing and feeling him cum felt even more enticing than you could have possibly imagined. James’ cock twitched in your hand, shooting his seed all over your fingers and onto the rock wall in front of you both. The urge to draw away and lick your digits clean was strong, yet you helped him ride out his orgasm, listening to his animalistic growls until he had calmed enough to turn around slowly, his member beginning to soften again.

For usually, his blue gaze was judging and condescending, it was now lustful and demanding. Like a predator, James towered above you, ready to devour you like prey. You knew there was a difference between love and lust and you certainly didn’t expect anything to change between you now… well, nothing but hot and dirty sex, maybe—the true definition of a quick and good hate fuck.

You were already half naked and you were more than ready to rip those trousers off your body and have him take you so thoroughly you would be unable to walk tomorrow.

“We both know this is a bad idea.” He purred darkly then, inching so close you could feel his warm breath on your lips. He was right, of course. You were not on the pill and first aid kits usually didn’t come with a stash of condoms.

“You could just… return the favour, you know.” Your voice was shaking. For Fuck’s sake, why was your voice shaking? Your arousal was pooling between your legs, robbing you of your senses. James was about to reply, a cheeky smile forming on his lips when suddenly, the radio began to rustle.

“Captain Conrad, Captain Conrad, please respond, Captain Conrad!”

Just like that, the heated moment was gone. Pulling his trousers back up again, James’ eyes widened as he hurried over to the little device and yelled clear and stern orders into it—you would meet the rest of the team, what was left of it, tomorrow, near the summit of the mountain, to finish this suicidal expedition and finally go home. Yet when his blue eyes locked with yours again, there was a carnal longing and desire sparkling in them; a silent promise that he was not quite done with you yet.

A/N: Part II coming soon! ;-)

If you enjoyed this story, I’d be flattered if you supported me on KoFi! kofi.com/sserpente (or hit the “Support me” button on my blog) ♥

[mysticsparklewings]

On The Edge

It feels like it's been quite some time since I sat down and got to work on a more involved mixed-media project. And in plenty of ways it has, but I have been working on other artsy projects behind the scenes, which I should be posting sometime soon, I hope. Anyway, this artwork had to be moved to the top of my priority list and also my upload schedule (some of those other projects are already finished, just back-logged) because this is my entry into the Arteza Awards hosted by, shocker, Arteza, and the deadline to enter was the 24th. I actually started working on this piece a week or two early, but me being me, I procrastinated and only just barely got it posted to Instagram with the appropriate tags (per the contest rules) with about 20 minutes to spare.  Then again, maybe that's a good thing because I've been known in the past to pull some of my better work out of thin air at the last minute. If that proves the case this time, it would certainly be to my advantage. Anyway. There was no set theme for the contest. The main rules were that you had to use Arteza supplies and they needed to be visible in the image posted to Instagram. I understand why, but I normally don't photograph my art with the supplies because I can usually get more accurate colors and proportions with a scan, and you can pretty much always see the details way better on a scan. But considering the prizes on offer, I wasn't about to let that stop me. I figured I'd just post the supply image first, then add the scan so you could swipe to see it. That way I could have my nice scanned version and still follow the rules. (Also, since they specify Instagram is the main platform for the contest, I'm assuming it doesn't matter if I don't post the supply picture everywhere else. If it does...whoops :P ) For reasons I don't think I should get into here, I knew I needed to go for something kind of high-impact when you first glance at it. But it also needed to not be too involved, lest I be working on it well after the entry window closed and my efforts become somewhat less valuable. I'm not exactly sure how, but this led me around to a concept I've had floating around in my head for a while: A girl (because I am one and know I can draw them better) standing on a mountain top, that looks as if she's one step from free-falling. Originally, I dreamed up this idea hoping to make it into an acrylic painting, but (aside from that fact that I didn't get around to executing the idea until now) I do not own Arteza'a acrylic paints (though I have wanted them for quite some time--It just hasn't happened yet) and also acrylics are not my strongest suit, so now did not seem like the time for an impulse-purchase that could compromise the integrity of my work and therefore my chances in the contest. Although for the day I do get my hands on their acrylics, I now have a solid idea to use to test them out.  ;) The Arteza supplies I do have at my disposal are their tube watercolors, woodless watercolor pencils, and 72 expert colored pencils. Which as I learned the last time entered a contest hosted by Arteza, is a fairly limited variety as to what I can actually do. The watercolors by far as the most versatile and my personal favorite of the three though, so they're what I used the most of here. Also, somewhere between deciding to run with my standing-on-the-edge idea and actually doing it, I also decided to add-in the wings in this constellation style I've used somewhere infrequently but am very fond of. As a result, the whole concept has a very similar feel to me as this artwork that I found here on dA years ago and fell so in love with that it spent a good few months as my desktop wallpaper. Obviously, the two images are very different, but to me the idea of the wings is similar: Their structural integrity to fly is questionable, as the wings in the original image appear to be made of glass. Maybe it matters, maybe not. Same thing here: Maybe the wings are really there and just look like a constellation, or maybe this girl just stood in exactly the right spot at exactly the right time. Is the girl even there? Is she real? Can she die? Does it matter if she falls? Would she choose to fly at all, whether the wings work or not? It's sort of a Schrodinger's Cat situation, and something about that is really intriguing to me. Anyway. I started out with a digital sketch this time, mostly to iron out the kinks with...well, everything. I knew getting the right pose would be difficult, and I actually had a pretty different one of her looking out over the edge, maybe clutching her chest or something, originally, but I just couldn't get it to work the way I wanted to and I really struggled to find references for it, so I went with the pose you see here, that I found references for by accident while looking for the other one. I have to admit, seeing the final product I think this pose might actually have been the better choice anyway. The mountain/cliff/whatever I was also having a hard time finding references for, at least for exactly what I wanted, so in the end I had to mostly wing it. I think it turned out okay, though. The wings were probably the most challenging part to plan because I wanted something between traditional butterfly/fairy wings and something that stretches out farther like bird or bat wings. I toyed with the lines for a long time until I got something I was happy with, and then I actually went in and did the constellation lines for both sides by hand instead of doing one side and making a flipped copy, because I wanted to make sure I kept the overall shape of the wing on the (our)right (her left), as after all the warping I did to get the original lines, I wasn't sure I could replicate the process again. I also drew 2 or 3 versions of a simple dress over the figure before giving up because I wasn't happy with how any of them were turning out and decided that I would instead preserve her modesty with magically misty cloud-things. Although, it's kind of a shame because that ended up mostly hiding the one piece of hair clinging over her left (our right) shoulder. :P But once the digital sketch was done so I had some idea of what I was doing, it was time to move on to the traditional, actual artwork. I cut a piece of my 100% cotton paper down to size (nice paper because I didn't want to be held back in that regard--go big or go home, as they say) and then held it up to me screen to trace my cliff lines into place, and some vague markers for the figure and her wings. My idea from the very beginning was to make the galaxy largely with watercolor in such a way that it gives the wings color and focus, without having to actually color all the individual segments. This means lighter colors towards the main area of the wings, and getting darker as I moved out/away from them. Now, because it has been a while since I was painting with watercolors regularly, I did set aside a smaller piece of the same paper and busted out a practice baby galaxy before diving into the final. I learned very quickly I was going to have to be extremely careful with my placement of this orangey color and black, less either of them ends up mixing with colors they weren't supposed to and leaving me with a big muddy mess. (The practice piece did survive though and I'll be posting it some other time.) Before I could get to the fun part [the galaxy] though, I painted the mountain with a mixture of black and blue, which actually went a lot smoother than I thought it would. It took several light layers of blending out the paint built up slowly, but ultimately I'm pretty happy with how the color for it turned out...Even if it's still kind of up for debate how much it looks like a "mountain" or "cliff-edge" or not.   With that out of the way, I cut some paper to act as a mask for that section and then spent far too long going back and forth, putting down layers of color and blending them out, dabbing color on and waiting for it to dry, rinse, repeat, trying to get the Galaxy portion just right. I was actually having a fair amount of trouble getting the right color balance, and as sometimes happens with these things, I was pretty worried about how it was looking before I went to bed that night. (I had procrastinated just long enough that I had 2 nights to do this is; the bulk of the painting took place on night 2) But the next day, once it was fully dry, it didn't look so bad. It did need just a few more touches before I went in and added the splatter/stars, though. So I broke out the colored pencils, which I really should have done sooner because they were much easier to blend out and had a bit more covering power over the watercolor than...more watercolor because watercolor is often transparent and there it can be hard to cover with it. Admittedly, I still had more worries about the "naked" galaxy, but then I went to splatter town with the white, added a few pointed stars, and as it usually does, that really brought everything together and made it look a lot better. Never underestimate the power of a good splatter-fest! ;)  I must say though, I underestimated the combination of the white watercolor and white colored pencil together when I moved on to the figure and wings. I was trying very hard to not use my white gel pen (because the rules for the contest didn't say if it was okay to use non-Arteza supplies in conjunction with Arteza supplies or not) and so I was sort of bending over backward to find another way with my limited resources. (Although I assumed using a lightbox to see the lines underneath the paint, as is a normal practice for me, wouldn't really matter because it's not like you can really tell from the final product anyway.) Still, even though a mixture of paint lifting, the white colored pencil, and the white watercolor were better than I expected, I still ended up having to punch the lines up a bit digitally to get them to pop the way I wanted them to. But oh well, at least it made a nice glowing effect and mostly worked for the cloud-mist covering. :P  Overall though, I do really like how it turned out. If it weren't a little on the small side I might actually consider using it as my new wallpaper/banner art everywhere. Maybe that's a conversion project of some kind for another day? Point being, I'm pleased. I probably won't place in the contest because I'm just too small of a fish in this pond, but I made some pretty art and it was mostly fun, so no harm done. :)  Actually, if this could maybe be the excuse my brain needs to get back into posting regularly, that would actually be really great. I miss it, despite what my most recent journal entry and my spotty activity levels might lead one to believe. If it is, I hope you guys don't mind seeing some crafty things thrown into the mix! :D  ____ Artwork © me, MysticSparkleWings 

____ Where to find me & my artwork: My Website | Commission Info + Prices | Ko-Fi | dA Print Shop | RedBubble |   Twitter | Tumblr | Instagram

[jamesmarlowe]

RADTASK002: A GIRL AND HER DOG

March was a month without a season. Couldn’t call it spring yet; most of the trees were still bare, their long, dark limbs scraping up against the sky. Temperatures hovered indecisively around the low-fifties, then plummeted steeply each night. But there was something stirring: a birth of new smells, a trace of green in the yellow grass. A feeling of change, or the very brink of it, which had possessed him like an infusion of fresh blood and driven him outdoors— despite his three-hour block of afternoon classes, despite all the half-finished projects waiting for him in the studio. Outside, clouds skimmed the blue sky and squirrels tightrope-walked the phone lines. Birds huddled on exposed branches, returned from their long winter vacations. There was a smell of mulch in the air, fertile and earthy. A warm wind was blowing— as he walked outside the art building, Marlowe could feel it blowing through him as if through an open window, airing out all the trapped gloom in his soul. 

Gloom could accumulate even in him, of all people. There was something elemental about his need for sun and fresh air and open space; it was a quality he shared with all the other wild creatures who, after several long months deprived of all these things, were now also emerging from their dens and burrows, hungry and restless, desperate to roam. 

Today he was wearing a paisley bandana fashioned around his head, Springsteen-style, and a silver hoop through his ear. Both of these accessories gave his appearance a swashbuckling, pirate-y effect. Marlowe seemed to embody the part as he cleared a railing one-handed like a rodeo clown, then took the rest of the stairs two-at-a-time to where a girl waited for him at the bottom, her blonde hair lifted by the breeze. She kept her head bowed over her hands, deeply engrossed in the cat’s cradle she was weaving. 

Spacey Kasey. She was a junior in the Comp-Sci program. Sometimes people reacted to this information with a slow raise of their brows, or an actual laugh— more out of surprise than anything else, but that didn’t make it any kinder. No one really knew what to make of her. She could write code like Mozart wrote symphonies, but might also ask you if you knew how pineapples got their name, since they looked nothing like apples? Marlowe had met her at a party where she’d wondered precisely that, out loud, before turning her wide eyes to him; she had a child’s inquisitive stare. Why not pinefruit? He’d been fascinated from that moment on. His love for her had been a product of that fascination; he’d sensed something dreamy and outcast in her, something rare, easily misunderstood. They’d coupled up in late September, lasted till early November, the days dwindling and the nights lengthening by the time his old restlessness caught up with him— not her fault or his, just the natural progression of these things. Now, their relationship had lapsed into something easy, casual. Friends, sometimes more. He still found her endlessly fascinating. It was just a matter of how many other things in this endlessly fascinating world were also competing for his attention.

At the sound of cowboy boots smacking the pavement, Kasey looked up. The thread between her fingers went slack and her blue eyes brightened the way they always did whenever she saw him coming. Marlowe could not prevent a smile in response. Blue, he’d once heard, was the true color of the sun.

He whistled a short, upwards swoop. “Kase the Ace! Right time, right place!”

She was wearing an outfit almost as egregious as his own, tie-dyed shirt in sorbet shades of pink, purple and blue with only a pair of Lycra bike shorts underneath, exposing legs pale and goosebumped. There was a face looking at him from the front of her shirt, sinister drippy eyes loaded with glamorous make-up. Kasey’s own face was bare, her fair eyelashes almost invisible. Her earrings were a pair of mismatched plastic dinosaurs— one a red triceratops, one green T-Rex. Marlowe watched with visible amusement as she struggled to untangle the knots around her fingers. 

“Jeez, I used to be so good at these! I once taught all the girls at my summer camp how to do a ten-step cradle and I was like, their guru.” 

Eventually the two of them set off for the trees that hemmed the edges of campus. He briefed her about the reason for today’s outing—  a hunt for materials, looking for found objects not yet found—  but knew it wasn’t necessary, because Kasey could always be counted on to show up when he invited her. She was always happy to tag along, if only he asked. The quad they passed looked soggy and matted down in parts, the streaming sunlight revealing all the bald patches of mud and first sprigs of dandelion shoots. Marlowe kept his gaze ahead, away from that wide expanse of grass, letting Kasey’s idle chatter filter pleasantly through one ear and out the other. His gait was lopey but brisk, hers uneven as she skipped ahead, long blonde hair streaming behind her like a scarf thrown to the wind. 

“So what are we looking for today?”

Marlowe angled his face up to the sky, watching a bird disappear into a cloudbank. “Y’know, the usual. Hidden treasure, lost artifacts. Ancient ruins. Maybe a secret Amazon warehouse deep in the woods, that’d be useful. Could steal a lifetime supply of bubble wrap.” Rarely did he embark on such expeditions with a specific item in mind; mostly he just wandered around, expecting unusual things to find him and reveal their significance. Maybe it’d be a loop of blue ribbon, snagged on a wire fence. Or a child’s plastic bucket abandoned by the side of the road, handle broken, too lost to find its way back to the nearest sandbox. He searched for these banal objects that existed somewhere between tenderness and neglect— overlooked by so many who passed them by without any idea what they might’ve been before, what they could be next.

Kasey had begun walking backwards. There was a white patch of vitiligo on her forehead. Combined with her skipping and prancing, she often reminded him of a painted palomino. “I brought granola bars! They’re a little stale, you’ll have to use your back teeth.”

Marlowe flashed her two-thirds of a grin, revealing teeth that were good and strong, if a little crooked. “What if I told you I don’t have any? Will you mash them into a pulp and spit ‘em in my mouth?” He mimed the open-mouthed, head-back position of a hungry fledgling.

Kasey made a retching sound, dissolving into a giggle.

Soon they were stepping off the paved campus sidewalk and crossing the marshy grass towards the surrounding woods. The trees were sparse, still just skinny bodies stripped in the cold, but slowly the forest became denser the deeper they went; thick-trunked oaks and dark beeches grew here, close together, their twigs sprouting tiny green buds and unfurling fists of leaves. Branches criss-crossed the sky. Marlowe led the way through the corridor between trunks, but Kasey immediately began crashing through the skeletal undergrowth off to the side. 

“How about this?” Marlowe looked to where she’d hiked her leg up onto a large boulder like a big-game hunter posing with a kill. The stone jutted out of the ground at an odd angle, making him think of a dislocated jawbone. Kasey looked down at it, her expression deeply pensive. She tapped the toe of her sneaker. “You could like, give it a face. Glue eyes on it!”

Marlowe imagined an oversized pet rock in the likeness of Rocky Balboa, Stallone’s heavy scowl painted on. Shaking his head, he rewarded her sincere effort with an equally sincere smile. “Babe, I’m flattered that you think of me as some kind of circus strongman, but I’d need like, triple my current muscle mass to carry that.”

They found other things. An empty gallon jug, the kind used to hold water or milk, split almost in half. A tattered piece of fabric too muddied to even tell the original color. And most interestingly, a thin sheet of metal with torn edges, sharp as shrapnel. It leaned against a tree like a large canvas; the patterns of corrosion on its surface— oxidized red, blue rings of mold— made it seem less like a raw material and more like an already-finished work. Marlowe stood back with one finger resting against his chin, head tipped to the side as he appraised it like an art collector at a gallery. But in the end, he decided not to carry it either. He wasn’t up-to-date with his tetanus shots. 

They began to follow their own trail, no map or compass, forging a path through the woodsy vegetation that grew close to the ground and left long, raking scratches on arms and legs, resisting intrusion. Kasey swept back the flexible branches of saplings and peered into rotted tree hollows. Marlowe was more inclined to follow a few steps behind her, no urgency in his loose-limbed stroll. He tilted his head back and admired how the naked branches looked like slats of a broken roof letting most of the sky in. By now, the chill on his face had turned itself inside out; he grew warm, renewed in some vital way. He wanted nothing more than to walk deeper and deeper through these woods and never turn around, never retrace his steps, never go back. If he had to, he could survive out here. He’d exist just like the wild birds and foxes, on a diet of small, hard berries and foraged mushrooms. 

It was often in these moments of complete distraction that discoveries happened. The trees stood back. A secret flagged him down from behind them, kept until today, confessed now in this partial glimpse. “Hey, I think I got somethin’,” he said out loud. He didn’t look to see if Kasey heard or noticed. Eyes fixed on the gap between trunks, Marlowe forced his way through a thicket of mulberries to get to the other side. 

In the clearing, there was a statue of a little girl. One arm outstretched, sunlight on the crown of her head. Her empty eyes grazed the sky. Some kind of moss crawled up her legs, giving her the appearance of wearing knee socks. There was a dog at her feet— a terrier with perked ears. 

“What did you find!” called Kasey, still wrestling her way through the brambles. The sound of snapping twigs and a soft ow! told him she was making slow progress of it.

“Something,” Marlowe replied. Unusual, he added only to himself. “Some kind of statue.”

The pose of the statue, he thought, must’ve been intended to look like the girl had just thrown a stick in a game of fetch, but there was something about the frozen gesture that told a different story. It was an open grasp, fingers straining; he almost turned around to see what she was reaching for.

“Woah.” Kasey exhaled the word in a single breath. She had finally spilled out into the clearing behind him, looking disheveled but no less enthused, tugging one checkered sock up around her ankle. “Who’s that?”

Marlowe was already crouched. He brushed dirt off the foot of the statue but there was no inscription; if there’d ever been one, time had worn it away. Now she was as nameless as the trees around her. Standing up, he slid hands into the front pockets of his jeans and rocked backwards, giving the girl the same look he’d given that piece of rusted sheet metal: eyes slant with a certain sharp curiosity, their color like a jar of dark honey with sunshine in it. “Don’t know. Maybe a memorial or something. Or,” He began to pace around the statue, boots leaving sunken footsteps in the loam. When his phone buzzed in his back pocket, he reached for it absently. “Maybe she got turned to stone by some wicked Baba Yaga ‘round these parts. Her, and her little dog, too.”

It was hard to read anything through the disaster of the cracked screen. His eyes scanned Syd’s incoming messages and when he got to the last two, Marlowe stopped walking. His heart stalled.

SYD: also ?? im at the studio and haven't seen my sculpture anywhere SYD: r u sure you dropped it off?

Of course she had noticed by now; of course she was looking for it.

“Who’re you texting?” Marlowe raised his eyes to find Kasey observing the standstill he’d come to; she was leaning down to give the little stone dog a scratch under his chin. “Syd,” he answered, simultaneously dropping his eyes back to his phone. “She named her cat Martin. I’m expressing my deep, deep disappointment with her lack of imagination.” I did, at the gallery, he texted back. forgot 2 text you but the eagle safely landed. 

The thing about lying was that it came so easily, so naturally, he usually felt no guilt doing it.

“Tell her I say hi!” Losing interest in the statue, Kasey had found a divining rod. She was sweeping it back and forth now with brisk efficiency, like a metal detector. “How ‘bout this? Look, it’s almost perfectly symmetrical,” she asked. 

Message sent, Marlowe let his hand drop back to his side. He used his laugh to distract them both. “Does that thing have a crude oil setting? Fuck making art, let’s start fracking. I’d rather be a Texas millionaire.” Kasey whipped around, face lit by a wide, genuine smile; but as another text from Syd arrived, his own smile barely skimmed the surface of his face, too distracted to really stick. He typed back another answer. 

i'm sure it's just misplaced syd don't sweat

worst comes to worst, we can case the frats and make sure no one stole it to be their new beer pong deity or whtever the fuck those guys do

Like any good liar, he prided himself on being truthful most of the time— which made it that much easier for a lie to slip through, unsuspected. A wolf in honesty’s clothing. No less convincing than everything else he said. And wasn’t it a little bit of a favor, in this case? Better that Syd think some hulking frat brothers had stolen into the art studio under the cover of night and carried off her sculpture for a ritual sacrifice, some dark summoning to help the university through its football championships. Better that than the truth. 

Marlowe glanced over his shoulder in the same direction as the statue’s outstretched fingertips. Clouds worked across the sky, ragged and white, and behind them there was only blue, but now he felt like he could see what wasn’t there; a new, bad darkness, descending fast out of the western sky. Like those sudden thunderstorms in Virginia that rolled over the mountains, pouring like smoke over the lip of a bowl. The knowledge of the storm’s inevitable arrival sank low in his chest: present, but not yet fully understood. 

Even if she asked him in person, he’d deny it. He’d lie again. He’d help her look for a sculpture that he knew was already unsalvageable, dissolving with each cold rain that swept over the campus, turning to paste beneath the soil.

“Hey, c’mere.” Eager for distraction, Marlowe lowered himself down to the base of the statue, where there was deep cold beneath the velvety moss. Obediently, Kasey trudged closer, still holding the forked branch; when he pulled her down, she fell giggling and side-saddle across his lap. She circled his neck with her arms. He wrapped his own loosely around her waist.

“Would you ever hate me if I did something, like, really bad?”

Kasey pulled back to look at him, the wrinkle in her brow implying that she didn’t understand. “Like what?” 

Marlowe shrugged beneath the weight of her arms. “I don’t know, I don’t have an example. But like… bad. Something that really hurt you.”

Thoughtfully, she thumbed the silver hoop in his ear. The light was full on her face— she wore no make-up, and her lips were chapped. She must’ve been chewing them before, because he could see the faint bitemarks. His heart twinged, suddenly protective.

“No,” she said. “I don’t think so.” Her expression went away for a moment. There was a soft vacancy in her eyes that he’d gotten used to in their time together. When she returned, the look she gave him was earnestly sweet. Whatever the imaginary hurt, she was looking at him like she’d already forgiven him for it. “Because I’d know you didn’t mean to.”

Because you wouldn’t mean it, Syd had said close to his ear that one night at Splatterhouse. He did things without thinking. Did them so often, it had become his defining trait. Marlowe knew he escaped accountability because of it; he was one of those people the world tended to forgive too easily, meaning he’d always be protected from himself, sheltered from the consequences of his actions, because there was no real intention to hurt behind them— and that alone absolved him. You couldn’t blame the tornado that destroyed your home, not when it was only doing what tornados did.

Marlowe kissed the stain on her forehead, where the skin was pinkish like a newborn’s. He kissed her between the eyebrows, then lower, just underneath the chin, on the pulse that beat like a hummingbird’s heart. Kasey pulled away to look at him again. Her hands had strayed to the back of his neck, toying with the hair curling up at the nape.

“Ew, Marlowe, in front of a little girl?” Her big eyes lifted up towards the statue. The shadow of that reaching arm fell over them both. 

“It’s spring,” he replied in a what-can-you-do tone, though it was still only the end of winter. It was only March. His eyes met hers, glinting with uncivilized suggestion. There was a faint smile tucked in the corner of his mouth. “And y’know, considering how long she’s been here, she’s ancient. A withered old crone, hundreds of years old. If anything it’s weirder to have a dead dog watching us.”

She frowned. “Why’s the dog dead?”

“Dogs don’t live for hundreds of years.”

She pouted at it. Poor thing. It didn’t seem to occur to her that humans didn’t live for hundreds of years either. Then she leaned back in, meeting him in his daring with another kiss, hands twining into hair, one bare leg swinging over to straddle him. And all around there was the sound of unseen birds, calling to each other from the trees: mimicking, teasing, pleading. A riotous awakening of spring. The next text from Syd would go unread for several hours, left without an answer. The Burger King meal she’d promised him would be forgotten. And the encroaching darkness would also recede, withdrawing to the far-back reaches of his mind— for now, the coming storm was only a dim, gauzey threat on the horizon, rumbling with the promise of distant thunder.

[langdvnshepherd]

Good For You (Duncan Shepherd x fem!reader)

Summary: You’re a broke ass college student whose one night stand with the infamous Duncan Shepherd leads to the development of a rather interesting relationship between the two of you. OR This is literally just the birth of sugar daddy!Duncan.

PART TWO ~ PART THREE

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: (pre??) sugar daddy!Duncan, fem! reader, plot heavy (sorry y’all I got carried away agAIN), mentions of alcohol, smut, fingering, daddy kink, choking, das it i think

A/N: Alright girls and gays someone asked for sugar daddy!Duncan and this probably isn’t exactly what they meant, but it’s what my two remaining brain cells could come up with. Also, this is the first time I’ve ever written smut so pls disregard and ignore if its bad lol. Honestly I’m not half mad at how it turned out plot wise, but that’s just meeee. I was going to split this in half, but I couldn’t find a good place to stop so I just left it as one. As always please lmk your thoughts I thrive off of feedback!

     School had been kicking your ass lately, which is how you’d wound up planted in a leather bar stool in the lounge of an upscale hotel. The hotel was always swarming with D.C.’s elite, one of which was bound to buy you a few drinks before inviting you up to their room before fucking you senseless. Hitting up the hotel for a quick fuck wasn’t something you did very often, only when you were particularly in need of some stress-relief. Sure, you could have went to the grimy pub down the block from your shitty apartment, but men your age never tickled your fancy. Plus, finessing rich, middle-aged white men out of their money was pretty entertaining. Today was definitely one of those days where you needed release, so you shimmied into your most expensive dress that you kept in the back of your closet and made your way downtown to the hotel.

     You scanned the room occasionally, hoping to find someone that would be worth your time. No one had caught your eye all night, which had you contemplating on throwing in the towel and jumping on the next train home. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. By this time, you were usually way past tipsy on another man’s dime while a mildly attractive, salt-and-pepper haired lobbyist would creep his hand up your thigh. All of the men in the lounge tonight were either preoccupied with kissing their dinner guest’s asses or far too old for your already mature taste. 

     Just as were about to ask the bartender to close your tab, he slid you another martini. Before you could even open your mouth to tell him you hadn’t ordered another drink, he signaled to the group of men with a tilt of his head. They were all in suits and from what you overheard from your seat, were loudly and disruptively chattering about some congressman’s most recent sex scandal. The one in question was already staring you down. He had honey brown hair that curled at the ends, delicious looking stubble, and the bluest eyes you had ever seen. He was noticeably younger than the men you usually encountered at the hotel, but his good looks and dominating demeanor made up for what his age lacked.

     Bingo. 

     You locked eyes with him for a moment before taking the glass in your hand and raising it to him. A smirk lingered on your lips as you held his gaze and took a sip from your glass. He watched you with a pleased yet strained expression, like he was holding back from throwing you on the counter top and taking you right there. Good. The man quickly tossed back the rest of the dark liquid in his glass before patting one of his buddies on the shoulder, presumably signaling his departure from the group. Making his way over to you, he called for the bartender to whip him up another drink. You shifted in your seat as he took the open space beside you as an invitation for his introduction.

     “You mind telling me how a beautiful woman such as yourself ends up at a hotel bar all alone on a Friday night?” He posed as he took the first swig from his new glass of whiskey. A cocky smile was painted on his face as he spoke.

     Deciding to test him, you retorted, “What makes you think something went wrong? What if I just really happen to enjoy hotel sushi and being suffocated by the testosterone of middle-aged republicans?” He snorted into his drink at your comment before responding.

     “For starters, I’d say you’re a liar. I’ve had the sushi before. It fucking sucks.” You playfully rolled your eyes at him whilst trying to suppress your laughter. At least he has a sense of humor.

     “What’s your name?” He asked as he sat his glass on the bar top and began tracing the rim with his finger.

     “Y/N. And you are?”

     “Duncan. Duncan Shepherd.” He proudly stated with a shit eating grin.

     “Well, Mr. Shepherd,” he shifted somewhat awkwardly in his seat at your use of his name. Maybe he didn’t like being called that? Or maybe he liked it a little too much. “What brings you here on a Friday night?”

     “The foundation that I’m in charge of held a conference in one of the ballrooms to discuss the app I’m developing.” You could tell he was proud of that one. As if you were supposed to know what the fuck that meant in any kind of capacity. “What do you do, Miss Y/N?”

     You hesitated before you answered. Not knowing whether or not to make up an elaborate story like you always did, you opted to mostly tell him the truth. You told him you were in school, and only hit up the bar every once in a while. Leaving out small details like the part about you only coming here to get dicked down by some grown man that was born with a trust fund. As you two conversed, you found yourself getting lost in the blue of his eyes, and the way his lips moved as he spoke. There was something about him that was encapsulating. The conversation flowed from one topic to another, and the two of you had breezed through numerous rounds of drinks before realizing most of the patrons had cleared out for the night and left the lounge nearly empty.

     Duncan chewed on his bottom lip as he sized you up for the millionth time that night and leaned over his seat to position his large hand over the part of your thigh that was exposed from where your dress had ridden up.

     Like fucking clockwork. It was almost comical the way every man you’d met at this hotel seemed to take the same course of action when pursuing you.  

     “You want to continue this conversation up in my room?” He seductively muttered into your ear as you felt his breath tickling your neck. Just as you’d expected. You knew exactly what was happening next.

     “Lead the way,” you replied as you slid your cell phone into your purse and shook the numbness from your legs. You really had been sitting there with him for quite some time. Let’s get this show on the fucking road.

     Guess the night wasn’t going to turn out so boring after all.

     As soon as the door to Duncan’s hotel room clicked shut, he had you pinned against the wall with a firm grip on your hips. You let out a shaky sigh as you suppressed a moan. The elevator ride up to his room had been hell. You could have cut the sexual tension in the air with a butter knife, and the old lady you had to share the elevator with did nothing to help the situation. You’d been pressing your thighs together since before you’d even left the bar with Duncan, aimlessly trying to ignore the wetness pooling in your panties. When the elevator doors slid open and the woman walked out in front of you two, you were practically stepping on the backs of Duncan’s heels as he led you to his room. 

     Duncan’s lips immediately collided with yours. He tasted like whiskey and the scent of his cologne was like something you knew you were too poor to even pronounce. Teeth clashing, noses rubbing against each other, tongues fighting for dominance as you both finally let yourselves go. It seemed like he was just as desperate for some action as you were, which only added to how fucking attractive he was. He gave your bottom lip a tug between his teeth before he latched his lips on to your neck. Your hands found purchase in his curls as he left hot, wet kisses from your jawline all the way down to the bottom of your collarbones. 

     Just as Duncan hit that sweet spot behind your ear with his tongue, your hips jutted forwards into him to gain some kind, any kind, of friction. As you moved, you felt the growing bulge in the front of his pants graze your core. He let out a deep, guttural moan and decided he was done taking his time. Before you could blink, he removed the vice grip he had on your hip bones and snaked his arms around your backside to grab a firm handful of your ass while simultaneously pushing the hem your dress up, exposing your panties to the cool air of the hotel room. You wrapped a leg around his waist, once again grinding against him as you reattached your lips to his. He was trying so hard to keep his cool, to not let you know that you were driving him fucking crazy. In his attempts, he slightly pushed you back against the wall and lifted your dress the rest of the way up over your head. Not caring where it landed, he tossed it behind him and prepared himself to fuck you into the mattress.

     “Jump.” Duncan mumbled against your lips. Bracing yourself, you pushed off the floor with the ball of your foot that wasn’t wrapped around his waist and he caught you by placing both of his hands on the undersides of your thighs. Duncan carefully made his way over to the bed whilst making sure he never broke the kiss. Lowering you down to just above the comforter, he loosened his grip on your thighs and let you fall the rest of the way down as he climbed on top of you.

     Taking in the scene of you underneath him, Duncan nearly came on the spot. Your hair splayed around in a halo on the pillow, lips swollen and glossy with his spit, eyes glazed over, purple bruises already forming in a line down your neck where had marked you with his teeth and tongue. He still didn’t have a clue why you were actually in the lounge earlier, your story seemed to have a couple holes in it but he didn’t care anymore. You looked like a fucking goddess and you were at his mercy.

     Slowly, his hand trailed down to your underwear and cupped your clothed cunt. He rubbed small circles over the wet spot that had soaked through with the ends of his fingers. “God,” Duncan quietly sighed to himself as he felt the dampness of your panties. All you could do was grind down on his palm and let out small breathy moans. He had barely touched you, and you were already a mess. He took one arm and hooked it around your waist so he could lift your hips from the bed and remove your underwear. Tossing them away from the bed to join your dress on the floor, he used his free hand to unclasp your bra. After making sure to give each of your bare breasts a few hard kneads with his palm, he then parted your thighs and was able to see just how wet you really were. It was kind of embarrassing.

     “You’re so fucking wet. Look at you. Soaking through your panties. And it’s all for me, yeah?” he asked. You swallowed hard at his words and simply nodded your head. It was becoming almost unbearable how badly you needed him inside of you. Finally, he brought his hand back to your core and ran his fingers through your folds, swirling your arousal around your pussy. Your eyes immediately rolled back into your head and you let out a low moan as he sunk his middle finger inside of you until he reached his knuckle. Fucking finally. He pumped his one finger in and out of you slowly at first, his other fingers softly brushed against your clit each time he filled you. After making sure you were absolutely dripping for him, he seamlessly added his ring finger into your cunt without straying from his initial rhythm. Your arm instinctively went to grip Duncan’s bicep at the feeling of being twice as full. He began to mercilessly scissor his fingers inside of you, with his thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit. You were surprised how quickly you were coming undone from this random man’s touch, but it wasn’t that surprising once you considered how turned on you’d been ever since you laid eyes on him. When Duncan started to curl his two fingers upwards into your cunt, you knew you weren’t going to last much longer.

     “Duncan, I think I’m gonna c-”

     With that, he immediately withdrew his fingers from inside of you. You whimpered at the sudden emptiness. He took the opportunity of having free hands to finally begin undressing, all the while still kissing your swollen lips. 

     Growing tired of waiting, you figured you’d help him get out of his clothes. Once you tugged his under-shirt off over his arms, you reached for his belt buckle. His hands shot down to swat your hands away from their position, making it clear that he was the one in charge. You retracted your hands from his waist and laid them patiently at your side. When he removed his pants and slid off his boxers, his rock hard cock sprang from its restraints and was already leaking with precum. You couldn’t help but stare at the beautiful man before you that you absolutely knew for certain was going to have you screaming in a matter of minutes.

     “See something you like?” Duncan asked as he began taking back his place of hovering over your naked body. Such a fucking smart ass. You huffed out a sigh, watching him with hazy eyes, waiting for him to do something. Anything. As he made his way back up to meet your face, he took both of your hands into his large one and pinned them above your head. Looking you up and down once more, truly savoring the sight of you powerless and naked beneath him, he trailed his free hand down the valley of your breasts before reaching down to stroke his cock. Thank fucking god. The teasing was over.

     His expression softened momentarily, silently asking for the go-ahead from you. You responded with a quick nod, biting down hard on your bottom lip. He took his cock and agonizingly ran it through your slick folds before slowly inserting the tip into your cunt. As he inched his way inside of you, your mouth hung open in a small ‘o’ shape as your shallow breaths left your chest heaving and breasts bouncing softly. 

     When he had filled you to the hilt, he drew himself almost completely out before slamming back into you. The moan that came from deep within your chest was the most pornographic sound you had ever heard. Not being able to grasp at anything with your wrists pinned above your head, you were writhing underneath him as he set his pace. Soon enough, the room was filled with the sounds of your sweaty bodies snapping into each other and the huffs and grunts coming from both of you. After a particularly hard thrust that hit your g-spot, you let out a strangled, “Holy shit.”

     “You like that?” Duncan seemed to move faster at your words. All you could muster up in response was a short nod of your head. “I’m sorry, what was that? I asked you a question.”

     Closing your eyes and swallowing hard, you let out the shakiest, “Yes,” of your life. You certainly weren’t in the position to be speaking given the fact that Duncan was pile-driving his dick into your pussy without remorse.

     “Yes, what?” Oh. That’s what he wanted. It wasn’t surprising. Most of the big wigs you’d fucked in this very hotel were into the same kind of dirty talk, guess he wasn’t any different.

     “Yes, daddy.” You responded as seductively as you could, placing extra emphasis on the word you knew he was yearning to hear.

      Your words successfully triggered something within Duncan, because he abruptly grabbed the back your thigh and pressed it forwards into your shoulder so he could fuck you harder and deeper. His actions quickly flooded your stomach with a warm pooling sensation, and you felt the coil inside of you being pushed to its limit. “Fuck, I’m close.” you told him. He took it upon himself to speed up the process, dropping his head down to take one of your breasts into his mouth and running his tongue over your nipple. Your legs began to shake and your body was arching backwards so intensely that you thought your shoulders might pop out of place from where they were locked above your head by Duncan’s grip. Duncan himself began to falter as his head moved from your breast back into the crook of your neck, unable to pay attention to anything other than the way your cunt pulsed around his cock. You could feel his heavy breaths tickling the dip of your collarbones. He wasn’t going to last much longer either.

     “Let go of my arms,” you demanded, needing to be as close to him as you possibly could before you came undone. Based on how Duncan’s face shifted from one of absolute pleasure to something that resembled annoyance, you could tell he really didn’t want to. But he did it anyway, still keeping his ruthless pace of rocking into you. You immediately wrapped your arms around his chest and pulled him closer until he laid flush against you, raking your nails down his back. Duncan seemed to be caught off guard by your actions as he let out another deep groan.

     “Are you gonna cum inside me, daddy?” you egged him on as he placed one of his hands at the base of your throat to use as leverage while he moved even closer towards his release. You wrapped your hand around his and squeezed, forcing him to apply more pressure to your throat. Duncan’s eyes turned almost black at the sight of you blissed out from being choked by him.

     “Is that what you want? You want daddy to cum inside of you?” This time, you really couldn’t answer him with words. A nod of your head was going to have to be enough for him. The feeling of Duncan’s fingers closing in on your throat and his cock felt like it was damn near hitting your cervix was overbearing.

     It only took Duncan rubbing a few small circles against your clit for you to come crashing down around his cock. You let out something like a mix between a moan and a scream as your orgasm ripped through you. Duncan came immediately after you, the way your cunt convulsed around his cock sent him directly over the edge. You felt his cum paint your walls and seep out onto the inside of your thighs and drip down onto the comforter. 

     Duncan softened and removed himself from inside of you a he collapsed on the empty space next to you. You both stared at the ceiling as you caught your breath and regained your composure. It must have been some sight: both of you covered in beads of sweat, hair wet and matted against your forehead, limbs still shaking. Glancing over to look at the clock on the nightstand you realized how late it was.

     “Ah fuck. I’ve gotta go,” you said to yourself as you jumped out of bed and began feeling around the floor for your clothes.

     “Geez. Was it that bad?” he attempted to joke with you, not knowing what you were really talking about. He scratched at the back of his neck as he watched you redress.

     You let you a brief chuckle before answering him. “It’s not that. The last train for the night comes in 20 minutes. I’ve got to get to the station in time or else I won’t be able to make it home.”

     “Uhh, why are you taking the train?” he asked almost in disgust. You’d forgotten that the boy had probably never been inside of a public transportation station in his life given how much he bragged about his successful family business the whole night at the bar.

     “I pay for my tuition out-of-pocket and work at an over-priced coffee shop part time. Do you really think I can afford a $50 cab ride home when I have to eat instant ramen 4 times a week out of necessity?” You didn’t even mean to say it, but you did. It came out pretty condescending and you felt pretty bad considering this man had just given you one of the best orgasms of your life. Duncan didn’t say anything in response, just looked at you with a somewhat sympathetic look in his eyes. 

    As you pulled your dress back down over your thighs and slipped your feet back into your heels, you turned to face him for the last time and say your goodbyes. Leaving was always awkward, you never really knew what to say. Thanks for the dick? See ya later? Yeah, no thanks. You both stared at each other for a brief moment before you broke the silence. “Well, I’m gonna go.” You began to slowly creep towards the door.

     Duncan took in your body one last time before pressing his lips into a straight line and nodding. “Have fun catching the train. Be safe.”

     You decided he deserved a proper send off, so you smiled kindly at him before responding, “Yeah, I will. Good night, Duncan.” Turning on your heels, you walked out of his room and towards the elevator.

     Mission accomplished.

~

     A few weeks later, you were attending a university social with your fellow classmates. You weren’t really sure what the point of it was, to be honest. You heard that it was open bar, so you figured you could sit through however many boring sponsorship speeches if it meant you could get plastered for free while doing so. It took place at none other than the glorious hotel in which you had spent many restless evenings. You laughed to yourself as you walked through the revolving doors and into the lobby. If your classmates only knew how well-acquainted you really were with this place.

     You leaned against one of the table tops in the ballroom as you mindlessly chatted with your best friend and roommate about how boring the night was going to be, joking that it was going to take about 4 more drinks before you were ready to listen to old people drag on about how important higher education is for an entire evening. Just as you looked up to inspect the crowd, your eyes caught a pair of familiar icy blue ones. Propped against a table identical to yours, only on the opposite side of the room was Duncan fucking Shepherd. The same cocky grin appeared on his lips when he pinpointed the exact moment you realized who he was. Damn, he looked good.

     “Oh fuck.” you loudly whispered before craning your neck down to get him out of your line of vision. What the fuck was he even doing here anyway?

     “What?” asked your friend. Should you tell her? Or would she go off and run her big mouth if she knew? She’s practically your best friend, so you might as well let her in on it.

     “That guy...across from us at the table...in the turtleneck and jacket. I fucked him a couple weeks ago.” Not even bothering to be secretive about it, she whipped her head around to see Duncan for herself.

     “Well shit, he’s pretty hot. Do we have class with him or something?”

     “No, I just met him when I was out one night.” She knew of your taste for rich, mature men, so she put the pieces together quickly; only slightly confused by the fact that he wasn’t as old as your usual hookups.

     “Well, I hope it was good because he’s coming this way.” She gave you a pat on the back as she took his approach as her cue to leave you alone with him. Duncan didn’t face you as he spoke, he replicated your position of facing the crowd to keep his facial expressions hidden from you.

     “Y/N.” he greeted you as he placed his glass down on the table beside you.

     “Duncan,” you mimicked whilst also looking ahead of you, “What are you doing here?” You really wished he’d just go away. You didn’t want to have to deal with this awkward encounter.

     “Don’t you pay attention in class? The Shepherd Foundation is one of the top sponsors of your university. My mother is speaking here on our behalf tonight.”

     “Nice,” you huffed uncomfortably. Of-fucking-course they were. You had never casually ran into one of your one night stands before, so you were at a loss for words. Not to mention you had recently decided Duncan was officially the most attractive man you’d been with, so being in his presence again was sending sparks straight to your core.

     “Have you eaten yet?” he started.

     You chuckled once before answering. “What are you? My dad?” There you go again, talking out of your ass. You couldn’t see them, but his eyes darkened a shade as the words left your mouth.

     “Well, based on what I can recall from the other night, you didn’t seem to mind the idea of that. I actually think you loved it, even.” You tried to casually cross one leg in front of the other to clench your thigh together at his words, hoping to relieve the burning feeling in your cunt. “I asked, because I have a room here again tonight. I was thinking you could join me for dinner and we could spend some proper time together. I can pay for your cab home so you can stay longer.” You didn’t say anything as he shuffled around in his pockets and slid a white card across the table towards you. Looking down, you realized it was his room key. “I don’t need an answer right now. If you want to, I’m in room 721 when you make up your mind.” With that, he grabbed his drink and sauntered off into the sea of people.

     You spent the entirety of the evening too preoccupied with your encounter with Duncan to listen to anything the speakers had to say. His room key felt like it was made of lead where it sat in your clutch wallet. Sure, you would love nothing more than to feel him inside of you again. But was it a good idea? He offered to pay for your cab, which meant he must really want to fuck you again, too. Then again, a hefty cab fee to you was chump change to him. Maybe he just wanted someone quick and easy. Or maybe, he didn’t.

     At the end of the night, everyone began clearing out. It was time to make to choose. Go home to your bed, or go up to Duncan’s room. Your roommate approached you, asking if you wanted to carpool with some classmates or take the train home. Fiddling with the room key in your hand, you made the impulsive decision to tell her not to wait up for you, you’d find your own way home. You slid out the rear doors of the ballroom and made your way into the elevator, anxiously pressing the button that would lead you to Duncan.

~

     You woke up that next Friday with a fluttering feeling in your stomach. You were meeting up with Duncan for the third time tonight. The night you saw Duncan at your university social, he had coerced you into meeting up with him again. Apparently he loved your pussy just as much as you loved his cock. Which wasn’t any problem for you. The man really knows precisely which angles to hit that make you scream. Making your way to the kitchen for some breakfast, you were greeted by a few loud knocks at your door. “Coming!” you chimed.

     Whoever had knocked didn’t stick around for you to answer. You unlatched the chain lock only to be confronted by an empty door way. You almost closed the door back when something bright red on the ground caught your eye. It was a massive bouquet of roses placed next to a large white gift box. You scanned the hallway of your apartment building, looking for any clue as to who might have dropped off the package. Not wanting to let the freezing winter air into your apartment, you quickly grabbed the roses and accompanying box and sat them on your kitchen island.

     After inspecting the gift box, you decided it wasn’t a bomb or of any threat to you. You had no fucking clue who would be sending you flowers and gifts. If anyone, it had to be Duncan, but he didn’t even have your phone number let alone know where you lived. 

     You were snapped out of your state of thinking as your roommate entered the kitchen. “Jesus Christ, who in the fuck is sending you flowers this early in the morning?” Your face was beet red, it was time to explain. You told her about what happened the last time as well as your plans to see him tonight, which is what prompted the delivery in the first place. “Well, what’s in the box?” she asked.

     “Let’s find out,” you answered anxiously. Lifting the lid to the giftbox, you were first greeted by an envelope with a card inside. With shaky hands, you slid the card out and read what was written inside.

    Looking forward to seeing you tonight. I’ll send a car to pick you up at 8. Enjoy the gifts. Hope everything fits. And please, for the love of god, buy some real food and stop eating so much ramen. Stop taking the train, too. Ramen is terrible for you, and the metro is filled with creeps.

xx Duncan 

     Attached to the inside of the card was a check made out in your name for an ungodly amount of money that wouldn’t just cover your groceries, but more like your groceries + your whole month’s rent for several consecutive months.

     “Uhhh, what the fuck?!” Your roommate finally broke the silence as she peered over your shoulder to read the note and the amount written on the check. Yeah, ‘what the fuck’ was exactly right. Duncan never seemed that into you. As far as you were concerned, he was only into fucking you. Never anything more. Which is why you were so confused as to why he would do something like this.

     Inside of the box was a collection of some of the most expensive things you’d ever seen at one time. A baby pink, lacy Agent Provocateur lingerie set, nude Louboutin pumps, Cartier tear-drop shaped diamond earrings with a matching necklace, Chanel perfume. Again, what. the. fuck.

     “Wait, is this some kind of sugar baby shit?” your roommate questioned.

     “What are you talking about? That’s not what this is.” No, it obviously wasn’t. You two hadn’t spoken much about anything other than random topics on the night you first met. There was no way that that’s what these gifts insinuated. Duncan was not your sugar daddy and you were not his sugar baby. He’s so young, could he even technically be a sugar daddy if he wasn’t much older than 30?

     Your roommate continued. “Okay, well I’m gonna be honest it kinda seems like it. First, he made you call him daddy. That kinda says all you need to know right there. Second, he offered to pay for your cab ride home after he fucked you without you even asking? THEN, you wake up to thousands of dollars of lingerie and jewelry at your door along with a check big enough to pay for a full semester of school? All because you fucked him a couple times? I might be a dumb bitch, but I know some freaky shit when I see it. I think you’ve found yourself a sugar daddy, Y/N.”

     She was right. It did kind of make sense, but you needed to be sure. You weren’t going to accept his gifts or his money if there was some kind of gross catch to all of this. After talking to her a bit longer, you decided you’d meet with him tonight as planned and confront him about it. You needed some clarity. With that, you slipped away to your room with the gift box in tow to get ready for what the night might bring you.

~

     You resituated the waist tie of your coat as you stepped out of the fancy, black car Duncan had sent for you. Making your way into the same goddamn hotel that was beginning to feel like a second home, you pressed the ‘up’ arrow on the wall next to the elevator. Your mind was racing a mile a minute as you nervously twirled the diamond earrings Duncan had sent you this morning around your ear. If this was some kind of sugar daddy shit, would it be wrong to go along with it? Duncan seemed like a nice guy. Definitely still a rich, republican asshole, but he never seems like he means any harm. Would his conditions really be all that harsh? You’d have to blow him or do something extra kinky for him every now and then, and he’d hopefully keep those checks coming, right? That didn’t seem so bad to you at all. You could use some actual fruit and vegetables in your kitchen, and Duncan was right. The metro is definitely filled with creeps.

     Before you knew it, the elevator dinged, indicating you had reached Duncan’s floor. Your new heels clicked down the hallway as you stopped right in front of Duncan’s room. Once again fiddling with the room key he had left you, you were filled with nerves. You needed some answers and would hopefully get them without tainting the relationship between the two of you. The door unlocked with a click as you slid the card into the slot and pushed down on the handle.

     Duncan was perched in one of the arm chairs across from the bed with a glass in his hand. He perked up as he saw you slowly come out from the darkness of the entryway leading into the room. “You’re here.”

     “Yeah, I am.” you rocked back and forth on your heels as you wrapped your arms around your chest in attempt to sooth yourself.

     “I see you got my gifts. I’m assuming everything fit well?”

     “About that. I need to ask you a few questions about that.” You took a few steps closer to him and pressed your back against the dresser that was close to where he was sitting.

     “Did you not like them? You can take it back and get something else if you like.” He was acting as if this was a normal conversation between the two of you, and it made you kind of angry.

     “Duncan, stop. Cut the shit. What is all of this? First, you offer to pay for my ride home. Next, you’re inviting me over again and sending me thousands of dollars worth of gifts to my apartment. For Christ’s sake, how did you even get my address?”

     He didn’t respond at first, only looked you up and down with that look that you’d become quite familiar with. And it sent that same fuzzy feeling straight to your core. He stood from his seat and made his way over to stand directly in front of you. Placing his hands behind his back, he finally started talking.

     “Y/N,” he began. “My family is one of the most powerful and influential families in D.C. next to the president. I have my ways of finding out where you live, or anyone for that matter. But if you must know, it was easier to just get it from the university’s admissions office. Might I remind you that the Shepherds have quite the influence over there given how much money we donate to them each year. And about the gifts. If you really don’t want them, just return them. Keep the money. God knows you need it. But, they do suit you quite well if I must say so myself. I can’t wait to see what’s under your coat.” He spoke very calmly and matter-of-factly as he stuck his hand out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and further inspect the earrings and necklace he had picked out for you.

     “I just... don’t get it. What do you want from me? You wouldn’t do all of this if you didn’t want something out of it.” You asked him with shaky breaths. You couldn’t tell if you were nervous, scared, turned on, or all three.

     “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Just show up when I ask. Mostly, I just need this from you,” he closed the space between the both of you and pressed himself against your front. Your noses were practically touching as he continued. “Let me know what you need, and I’ll take care of you. If you thought my gifts from this morning were too much, you should see what I’m really capable of giving you. I want to take care of you, if you're willing to do the same for me.”

     Breathing in his scent, you closed your eyes as you braced your arms on his shoulders. So many thoughts were running rampant in your mind. Your roommate was right. She always was. Duncan wanted to be your sugar daddy, and you were about to let him. You were worried that this would get you into some kind of trouble eventually, but you also didn’t give a fuck at the same time. There had always been something about him that was different. Different than all of the guys you had slept around with. You had tried ignoring it, but it was always in the back of your brain. He was being genuine, he wanted to take care of you. Maybe this was a bad idea, but who cares? Worst case scenario, things end badly with Duncan and you get a few months of free rent out of it.

     Finally embracing the situation for what it was, you pushed on Duncan’s shoulders where your hands were resting and walked him back to sit on the bed. You didn’t say anything, you just reached for the tie on your coat, untied the knot, and let the fabric pool at your feet. Duncan hissed at the sight of you in the lingerie he had sent you. The brassiere hugged your breasts in every possibly correct way, and the high waisted suspenders complimented your ass perfectly. You knew you looked good, and judging by the growing bulge in Duncan’s pants, so did he.

     You leaned forward while keeping your feet planted in front of him, resting your palms against his thighs and sticking your ass out. Your thumbs wrapped around his legs and dug in dangerously close to his cock, making sure to stare directly into his crystal blue eyes as you did so. His breath hitched in his throat the feeling. Just as he went to close the gap between you two and bring his lips to yours, you slowly lowered yourself onto your knees. Reaching for his belt buckle, he stopped your hands in their path just as he had done the first night you met. “What are you doing?” he asked through gritted teeth, clearly flustered.

     Taking a moment to reach up and press a few light kisses against Duncan’s jaw, your hands went back to unbuckling his belt with one hand and palming his throbbing cock through his pants with the other. His eyelashes fluttered at your touches, pleasure fully taking over him as he realized you were literally on your knees for him. You locked eyes with him from your crude position on the ground as you finally parted your lips to speak.

     “I’m gonna to take care of you. Is that alright, daddy?”

PART TWO ~ PART THREE

~

I know no one asked, but I’m gonna tag some ppl that I love that I think might mayyyyyy be interested in reading this?? Please tell me if I’m annoying you cuz I will cut the shit immediately lmao

@omg-hellgirl @langdonsoceaneyes @wroteclassicaly @ccodyfern @langdonsinferno @thedeviltohisangel

[polar-stars]

(Lea’s) Shokugeki Next Gen - Masterpost Version 2

I’m bored and achieved nothing today, I need to do at least one productive thing

A quick run-down of my Next Gen kids, because why not? If anyone asks me about them I can point to it ;w; It won’t be the most informative post ever but it’s really just a simple introduction. In case it sparks your interest, feel free to inquire about these kids.

I also have a tag on my blog that’s dedicated to them -> https://polar-stars.tumblr.com/tagged/Shokugeki-no-Kimiko-Stuffz

As well as an entire fanfic, which is still in the starters (It will be long. Be very afraid honestly, because I, for the most part, have no idea what I am doing) -> https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11912834/1/Shokugeki-no-Kimiko

Also: There might be some unusual ships in here. I’m sorry if your fave ship doesn’t happen to be included. It really comes down to personal preference ovo;; But please be respecting! I am as well. 

Anyways, let’s get into this:

115th Generation (the Prime-Focus)

Kimiko Yukihira

DoB: 27th of June I Daughter of Soma Yukihira and Erina Nakiri | Loves Playing Cards & Grocery Shopping | Dislikes Materialism & Being Called “Kimiko-Sama”

An friendly and optimistic young aspiring chef entering Totsuki as a transfer student in her first year of highschool. Was taught the so-called Yukihira-Style and is therefore known for her creativity. Greatest aim is to create a dish in which her mom can find no fault in. 

Hiroshi Aldini-Tadokoro

DoB: 25th of May I Son of Isami Aldini and Megumi Tadokoro | Loves Plushies & Fishing | Dislikes Cigarette Smoke & Dark Humor

A shy but practically angelic guy from Tohoku. Looks out for others a lot, which also shows in his cooking. Very well-versed in both Japanese cooking as well as Italian cooking. Often falls into the shadow of his much bolder cousin, but doesn’t make any attempts to get out of said shadow.

Kaori Hayama

DoB: 17th of February I Daughter of Akira Hayama and Hisako Arato | Loves Gardening & Pastel Colors | Dislikes Mess & Snails

The current valedictorian of the 115th Generation, who more than often gets a sort of nobility attributed to her by the rest of the students. Known as the “Gatekeeper to the Fountain of Eternal Youth” or “Youth Preserver” for short, as her medicinal cooking is famous for energizing it’s customers. Has her goal firmly set on the top of Totsuki and has no interest in socializing whatsoever.

Mika Aldini

DoB: 9th of August I Daughter of Takumi Aldini and Ikumi Mito | Loves Dancing & Romance Movies | Dislikes Rain & Gardening

A fiery, bold girl from Tuscany, who appeared in Totsuki as a transfer student in her second year of middle school. Specialised in Italian Food as well as the usage of Meat. Up to any kind off challenge thrown her way.

Lola Nakiri

DoB: 17th of November I Daughter of Ryo Kurokiba and Alice Nakiri | Loves  Limousines & Heavy Metal | Dislikes The Color Pink & Being Bored

The daughter of the headmistress who’s certain she can do whatever she wants. Well-versed in the usage of Seafood and utilization of Molecular Gastronomy, but known for putting more focus on the Seafood-aspect of her dishes. Teases everyone and anyone with no mercy.

Mona Nakiri

DoB: 17th of November I Daughter of Ryo Kurokiba and Alice Nakiri | Loves  Techno Music & RomComs | Dislikes Hot Weather & Rap/HipHop

The other daughter of the headmistress who’s much more quieter and reserved than her twin-sister. Known for making use of seafood fairly well, but her true passion lies in Molecular Gastronomy. Just wants friends but is actually very socially awkward.

Takayuki Hojo

DoB: 6th of September I Son of Terunori Kuga and Miyoko Hojo | Loves Fireworks & Pudding | Dislikes Operas & Complete Silence

The grouchy, easy-to-trigger little brother of the president of the Chinese RS. Being part of the RS himself, Takayuki also specializes in Chinese cuisine mainly having his focus on Sichuan Food. Absolutely hates commentary on his shortness. 

Kazuo Mimasaka

DoB: 9th of March I Son of Subaru Mimasaka and Nao Sadatsuka | Loves Every Romance Cliche Out There & His Camera  | Dislikes Mika’s Fanclub & Aggressive Dogs Barking

A very eccentric member of the 115th Generation who easily scares people with his mere presence. Truth be told, he’s completely harmless. Traces other people’s work but adds his personal spin on it by working in foul-smelling ingredients. Has a massive crush on Mika Aldini and is a hopeless romantic. 

Yasu Ibusaki

DoB: 2nd of March I Son of Shun Ibusaki and Ryoko Sakaki | Loves Forest Walks & Adzuki Bean Paste | Dislikes Gossiping & Tight Clothes

A peaceful and friendly young man, whose gentleness often gives off a big-brother-vibe to many. Knows a lot about Fermenting and produces his own Sake, I mean Rice Juice. His true passion is in the art of smoking however. Much more competitive than he lets on. 

Chieko Marui

DoB: 5th of December I Daughter of Zenji Marui and Yuki Yoshino | Loves  Chess & Matcha | Dislikes Metal Music & Irresponsibility

A highly intelligent girl and the ace of the Enomoto-Seminar that focuses on literacy-research about cooking. Incorporates said research excellently into her dishes while additionally having a talent for Wild Game, even taking interest in breeding. Known fairly well for loud complains and long rants, usually referring to her dormmates. 

Hideyoshi Kawashima

DoB: 19th of August I Son of Shoji Sato and Urara Kawashima | Loves Himself & Parties (in Chieko’s room)  | Dislikes Broken Mirrors & Studying

The overly arrogant emcee who’s known to host a bunch of events on Totsuki. Through and through an attention-whore who does has a fair share of admires though, being honest. Spends all of this time where he is not loudly praising himself with bickering either with Daisuke or Chieko.

Daisuke Aoki

DoB: 26th of October I Son of Daigo Aoki and Yua Sasaki | Loves Retro Stuff (mostly 70s and 80s) & His Guitar  | Dislikes Horror Movies & Dangerous Animals

A soft-spoken and shy emcee who hosts Shokugekis and other sort off events on Totsuki. Much more friendly than his childhood-friend Hideyoshi, but overlooked regardless most of the time. Bickers a ton with Hideyoshi.

Emi Kusunoki

DoB: 25th of July I Daughter of Rentaro Kusunoki & Mea Yanai | Loves Saunas & The Smell of Gasoline  | Dislikes Still Being Without a Boyfriend & Libraries

An often brash young girl who’s also known as the major Gossip Girl on Totsuki, that loves to hear and share all kinds of rumors around. Specializes in Heating. Wishes for a boyfriend with a motorcycle.

Itsuki Kumai

DoB: 10th of March I Son of Shigemichi Kumai and Rui Kofuru | Loves Self-Deprecative Humor & Edgy Rock Bands  | Dislikes Colorful Clothes & Phone Ringing

Very silent but also awfully pessimistic. Itsuki has a large talents with vegetables and herbs, as he tries to cook as vegetarian as Totsuki’s tasks allow him to. Additionally he has large knowledge around the cuisine of North-Africa. Forgot how to smile long ago. 

114th Generation (The 2nd Years who constantly argue for the most part)

Hiraku Yukihira

DoB: 13th of April I Son of Soma Yukihira and Erina Nakiri | Loves All Thing Decadent & Squid | Dislikes Laundry & Elite 10 Paperwork

Ever since entering Totsuki as a transfer student a year ago, Hiraku quickly worked himself upwards as one of the most, if not the most, admired chef of the school. His sensitive sense of taste, the so-called “Tongue Blessed by Angels” or “Holy Tongue” for short gives him a great advantage at cooking. He’s awfully unorganized however and much of a dense airhead.

Akio Hayama

DoB: 26th of February I Son of Akira Hayama and Hisako Arato | Loves Clipboards & Traveling to the Middle East  | Dislikes Stains & Organizing Hiraku’s Fanmail

Hiraku’s loyal and diligent secretary, who does not seem to mind just how chaotic Hiraku can be sometimes. Inherited his father’s sense of smell and is therefore outstandingly talented in the usage of spices and creating fragrant dishes. Very friendly but also easily nervous. 

Suzume Hojo

DoB: 11th of April I Daughter of Terunori Kuga and Miyoko Hojo | Loves  Memes & Fans | Dislikes Sitting Still & Sexism

The bouncy, energetic president of the Chinese RS. Therefore of course specializes in Chinese Cuisine. Much of a laid-back jokester but does look out for the younger students and takes certain matters fairly serious. Shouldn’t be underestimated. 

Shigeo Eizan

DoB: 29th of November I Son of Etsuya Eizan and Nene Kinokuni | Loves His Smartphone & Jazz Music | Dislikes Slow or No Internet & Suzume’s Jokes

A materialistic, cold-hearted young man who’s already involved in consulting-work despite the young age. His cooking relies on his intensive knowledge on the chemical components in his ingredients and how to utilize them. Is incredibly intelligent and fairly good at tricking people into trusting him. 

Ai Kabutoyama

DoB: 25th of January | Daughter of Tetsuji Kabutoyama | Loves Violin Music & Butterflies | Dislikes Loud Noises & Movies Without A Happy Ending

A very silent and distant young girl, who barely ever talks to anyone but wears an almost constant miserable expression. Specialized in utilizing Skewers. Friendly but insanely Short-Cut whenever she does speak.

Beatrice Shiratsu 

DoB: 9th of July I Daughter of Julio Shiratsu | Loves Posing & Making Lists | Dislikes Video Games & Bad DJs

A girl that can often be rather extravagant but all-things-considered she’s very open and rather sweet. Specializes in Italian Cuisine. Loves partying and is very occupied with savoring the life of a teenager as long as she can.

113th Generation (The Third Years, where most of the classmates have been removed already)

Noboru Shinomiya

DoB: 29th of April I Son of Kojiro Shinomiya and Hinako Inui | Loves Painting Landscapes & Autumn | Dislikes Unreliableness & Getting Bothered on his Day-Offs

Noboru is a serious young man who values organization, structure and a good environment. Gets easily annoyed when such things are not provided. Shows great talent in both Japanese cuisine and French cuisine and feels greatly torn between the two. Wants relaxation. 

Kiyoko Saito

DoB: 21st of February I Daughter of Somei Saito and Momo Akanegakubo | Loves Shopping & Kimonos | Dislikes Untidiness & Disrespect from younger Students

Kiyoko is a proper but spoiled young lady who’s friendly as long as she receives the respect she thinks she deserves. She’s specialized in Japanese Sweets, but does know how to make Western desserts as well plus Sushi of course. Very fashionable and has a booming Instagram. 

Masashi Eizan

DoB: 13th of May I Son of Etsuya Eizan and Nene Kinokuni | Loves Classical Japanese Music & Kiyoko’s Daifuku | Dislikes Everything He Considers Indecent & Being told to rely too much on his Father and his little Brother Shigeo

Masashi is overly serious and strongly values rules and customs. Considers himself superior than practically everyone on Totsuki, save for Noboru and Kiyoko. Specializes in Traditional Japanese Cuisine and is known for an extraordinary talent with Soba. Has a very short temper. 

Ran Mimasaka

DoB: 1st of June I Daughter of Subaru Mimasaka | Loves Her Motorcycle & Her Laptop | Dislikes Bullying & Not Being Active For Too Long

Ran is a calm, friendly girl but also slightly witty young woman. She utilizes foul-smelling ingredients for her dishes. Ran is also often perceived to be the “most normal” one of the Mimasaka-sibling. In actuality, she’s excellent at fishing and gaining information and is incredibly informed about basically every person walking Totsuki. 

116th (The 3rd Years of Middle School)

Moe Saito

DoB: 20th of December I Daughter of Somei Saito and Momo Akanegakubo | Loves Balletts & Bears (primarily Pandas) | Dislikes People She Doesn't Know Touching Her Ribbon & Ripped Jeans

Moe is very stoic and barely ever truly emotes. Should she ever actually smile, its a sign of her being beyond happy. She’s a Sushi-Chef whose main gimmick it is to make the Sushi as cute as possible. Also has a great talent for Bentos and while it’s not her main focus, she does know how to make desserts. Speaks dryly but also very bluntly. 

118th (The 1st Years of Middle School)

Kei Eizan

DoB: 5th of July I Son of Etsuya Eizan & Nene Kinokuni | Loves Video Games & Tigers | Dislikes Ties & The Scent of Coffee 

Kei often has troubles with making a good first impressions as he’s rather grouchy or even aggressive at points and also makes usage of a very foul language. Not to mention the reputation attached to his surname. He does have a good heart however and an actual sense for justice, which shows in his friendship with the frequently bullied Ayano Mimasaka who he befriends and would protect at all costs. 

Ayano Mimasaka

DoB: 30th of October I Daughter of Subaru Mimasaka & Nao Sadatsuka | Loves Lewis Carroll’s “Alice In Wonderland” & Sewing | Dislikes People Pulling her Braids & Physics Class

Ayano is a fairly eccentric but innocent, little girl who just happens to have a number of a bit more outlandish interests as well as a creepy laugh and the tendency to pop out of nowhere. She got heavily bullied in her life already just because many consider her weird and scary. 

Not on Totsuki (because they’re too young yet)

Nino and Maja Aldini-Tadokoro (Twin-children of Isami and Megumi, little siblings of Hiroshi, Future part of the 119th Generation)

Takahiro Marui (Son of Zenji and Yuki, little brother of Chieko, Future part of the 119th Generation)

Kasumi Ibusaki (Daughter of Shun and Ryoko, little sister of Yasu, Future part of the 120th Generation)

Yoshiko Saito (Daughter of Somei and Momo, little sister of Kiyoko and Moe, Future part of the 120th Generation)

Not on Totsuki (for reasons I can’t get into now because it would be Spoilers for the Fanfic)

Yuu Tsukasa (left), Shouhei Tsukasa (right) and Tsubame Tsukasa (middle) - Children of Eishi Tsukasa and Rindou Kobayashi

-

Thank you for listening ;w; !

It’s still not complete...haha but we’re getting somewhere

[alrightinbed-betterwithapen]

Clever Little Things — Part Four — D. Dobrik x Reader

A/N: hey y’all I’ve been working with @poisxnyouth to finish this part up. She is my lovely ⁉️ anon and really fucking killed this part. I ABSOLUTELY couldn’t have done it without her. She is the official co-writer of CLT now and I adore her!!! This is def the best piece I’ve ever put out and its thanks to her. I hope you guys enjoy it as much as we did churning it out! Give her a follow too!! @poisxnyouth @poisxnyouth @poisxnyouth ♥️♥️♥️

Masterlist

Warnings: cussing, super Smut, rough blowjob, just the smuttiest thing I’ve ever written and it’s unholy in the best way!

Summary: You and David come to terms with your fucked up relationship and set some boundaries.

——

David becomes so much more aggressive than he has any right to the following day. You’re all finally heading out to Chicago and when he’s not ignoring you, David is shooting you sour looks as you speak, interrupting and ending any conversation you’re in, just being an all around dick. But, what’s new?

You deal like always and thank god that David does actually ignore you during the travel part of the day. You can sleep on the plane and pretend you’re not obsessed with the bruise covered by your hoodie around your wrist from the night before. You think maybe that’s it. Maybe he won’t talk to you about it until he’s initiating your next late night rendezvous. Maybe you’ll just get the asshole you’re expecting. 

You’re right and you’re wrong.

——

David trudges his ass to your hotel room at one in the morning, banging entirely too loud for not knowing whether or not you’re sleeping. Luckily, you’re finishing up Trish’s vlog and only slightly roll your eyes as you hear him bellow through the door, “Hurry up and let me in. What the fuck? You can’t be doing anything that important!”    

You let the man in, but not before scolding him, “You know, a text would be nice. I’m not even working on Jason’s vlog right now. You don’t need to be here to edit. I know you don’t want any of Trish’s footage this week, it’s boring shit.”

“Yeah, you’re right. So, get started on Jay’s now,” he’s idly telling you as he plops down on the arm chair near the windows of your room, pulling open his laptop. You wonder when this man will stop surprising you with his arrogance, you think that day will never come. He’s constantly one upping himself.

“It’s done, I’ll pull it up in Final Cut. Tell me if you want me to change anything,” you say, taking the other armchair and pulling on only one of your head phones as you dive back into Trisha’s edit. It doesn’t take long though, you’re done within half an hour and start going through some business emails you’ve been putting off. David breaks the silence, out of the blue.

“So… how many other guys are you hate fucking in your spare time to need birth control?” You see red instantaneously. Like burning fire in your soul angry, red. There’s silence so you can compose yourself and not lunge across the small table at him.

“What?” he continues in your livid stillness, “I want to watch you text them you’re getting better dick now.” And the asshole doesn’t even look up from editing or pause the noise from the clips. He acts like he’s asking you for a time stamp of something, casual as shit. But, he gives himself away and you realize the game he’s playing, looking down at his screen but foot tapping nervously on the hotel’s bland carpet. You take back control of the situation.

“Oh Dave, I can’t believe you think that’s how this works,” you say, slowing your speech like he’s stupid. You settle back and brush off your anger to a low hum in the back of your mind. He tenses in his seat. He wants to play games with you? Well, he can try. 

An even longer silence is cast into the room than before, and you briefly think you might have won, you might have caused the man to lose his nerve and back down from whatever he’s playing at, but he doesn’t. David never backs down.

“Why didn’t you suck my dick last night?" And that genuinely makes you chuckle, but you don’t tear your eyes away from what you’re doing.

"What makes you think you deserved it?” You answer back, shrugging a shoulder, no real interest in your voice for where he’s taking this conversation. (Your voice is a fucking liar.)  

He dodges your question though, continuing on like you hadn’t even spoke, "It’s a shame really, I wanted to fuck the shit out of your throat.“ 

That makes your breath hitch slightly and you swallow silently before continuing to type away at an email, maintaining composure. His words would bring the picture to mind, vividly. The image is tantalizing, but you mostly think about the noises he’d make. Would he make the same low groans he expelled as he came in you, curse through gritted teeth, or perhaps dirty talk the whole experience, narrating above you? All three, maybe? Hopefully.

"You talk a big game, but you come like a teenager.” You’re taunting, nonchalant about it, playing the same game he is. You’re still just typing out emails, acting like they are the most interesting thing on the planet. He’s so angry, you can feel it radiate off of him. It makes you smirk. 

“Shut the fuck up! My ex would never let me do the shit I wanted to. It’s been ages since I’ve fucked anybody like that. God, I fucking hate you. So judgmental all the goddamn time,” he snaps, lip snarled and frustration evident on him now.  You look at him, meet his eyes and watch them flicker up and down your body. You scowl and go back to your computer. He’s so gross and shallow. How can you be hurt but, also eye fuck someone? 

“What about my body language says I want to fuck you again?” You ask, no sympathy in your voice for his last statement. The night is just full of 180′s when it comes to both your moods, because then he’s trying and failing to stifle a laugh.

“You’re too obvious, (Y/N). ‘Oh, David! Don’t stop, don’t stop, pleeeease,’” he mocks, delight alive on his features as he mimics you from the night prior, “I could tell you were surprised with how quick you came too. And I’m not blind. Whenever you look at me, you look at my lips. You’re so fucking thirsty." 

The only comeback you can think to blurt out is, "Yeah, well, you came as soon as I fucking scratched you. Pussy." 

"We can try to extend that, if you want." 

"Who’s thirsty now?" 

"Fucking me. At least I’m not in denial about it,” he’s griping, as you roll your eyes. 

“I’m not in denial. You just don’t deserve the satisfaction,” This time, he’s the one to roll his eyes, breathing out a puff of air that lifts his dark locks off his forehead slightly.

“Why the hell do you hate me so much? I’m literally telling you that I want to see you come!”

“Pretty sure we’ve already had this conversation. You’re an asshole,” you clarify, hands still posed on your keyboard, but attention on the man across from you.

“Well, you’re a bitch. But that doesn’t change the fact that the thought of having you come all over my fingers while I’m between your legs turns me on,” he’s saying, face flushing just a bit. You don’t know if it’s from arousal or irritation.

“You really are a teenager,” you’re replying, smirk painted on your lips.

David scoffs and goes silent. He looks like he can’t believe whats going on around him. He is trying to compliment you, but it’s not working. He doesn’t say anything else. He’s fuming. He wants you so badly, but his pride is getting in the way. 

He slams his laptop shut and stands.

“Get up,” he orders. He’s not even done with the video but he can’t bring himself to focus on it, anyway. You give him a look, but obey. It makes him feel good, like he’s proud of himself that you listened.

“What the fuck, David?” you ask, no real exasperation in your tone. He moves to stand in front of you, jerking your head up by the chin, forcing you to make eye contact with him. He tilts his head down to put his lips by your ear.

“I’m not going to let other men fuck you, if you can even call what they do fucking. Are they good?” 

You nod with his hand still gripping your face. It tightens when he barks at you, “Speak!” 

You’re not a dog, you think vehemently, but you obey again anyway.

“Yes, they are,” you admit, his fingers seeming to tighten with each syllable of your answer, until the pain spikes and makes you shiver. 

“Wrong answer. Let me rephrase: Are they good compared to me? Be honest.” He looks like a pompous king when you squeak out a tiny, No, David. His laugh is hot on your face and you can’t help the moan that comes out when he traces the bottom of your earlobe with his lips, as he finishes, “There it is.”

(The sound from you inflates his ego by a million. And it seems like he could get used to this, a sultry look of power on his face when he pulls back.)

“Take out your phone,” he orders. You fumble out of his touch, searching for it on the bed. When you find it, he gives you a look, holding out his palm.

“Oh, fuck you! I’m not giving you my phone.” He manhandles you, thoughtlessly jerking you towards him by the hips. David grips them tightly, nails digging in through your t-shirt. It makes you squirm.

“Give it,” he demands, voice leaving no room for argument. You’re chest to chest now, looking up at him through your eyelashes. Reluctantly, you slide it in his shirt pocket, not looking up at his gaze now.

“Password?” he asks, removing his hands from your body and taking it out.

“Fuck off. That’s my business.” He sighs, slapping the phone on the palm of his hand. He holds it out, like he’s giving it back to you. David almost seems disappointed, but there has to be a catch.

“Fine. I’m gonna leave.” 

You gawk at him.

“I’m serious. I don’t fuck with that multiple fuckbuddy shit. If you still want to do that, fine, but I know I fucked you good and I know it’ll only get better. I can walk out of here, let you fuck someone you meet on the street, and they’ll be like a virgin compared to me. I’m not doing that shit. We can both do better.” 

What a smug little bitch. He was right, though, and you hated it.

“And,” he added, “if I walk out that door, I can guaran-fucking-tee you’ll be calling me back here in an hour, begging to have my cock shoved down your throat. You put on this front of being a strong-willed bitch, which you are, and I do respect that about you, but it’s so fucking obvious you’re just begging to have someone tear you apart,” he’s slowly backing you against the nearest wall, deft hands sliding your phone into your front pocket as he rants at you. 

Your back hits the flat surface and his weight goes to rest on the arm not holding your chin as he brackets you in and makes intense eye contact, meaning every word he says, “You want someone who can be possessive with you, you want to belong to someone and cum for someone. So… Why. Would. You. Turn. Me. Down. When. All. I. Want. Is. To. Supply. That. For. You?” His voice is softer and slower now, almost a whisper, and he has a dumb, smug smile plastered on his face. He mockingly strokes your jaw with the side of his index finger, his eyes piercing into yours. 

“You want to pay attention to me, (Y/N). In fact, it’s the only thing you’ve been doing this whole trip. I’m not saying I haven’t been doing the same. All of that is fine, but at least fucking own up to it.” With his last sentence, his voice goes stern. It turns you on, but you don’t want to think about that. Part of you wants to kick him out just to be a bitch, but you know that’s what he’s expecting of you. You stay where you are.

“You don’t even know me,” you half heartedly accuse.

He scoffs at that with an amused edge to his voice.

“Maybe not, but do I have to?” the words oddly sting a little, “I can already see you sneaking glances at me and poking at the marks I left. You crave it, (Y/N) and it’s like, painstakingly obvious. Every time I touch you, you fucking lean into it,” and as he says this, he moves his free hand from your jaw to your throat. 

You want him so badly to wrap his fingers around it and squeeze, but he opts for hair-raising strokes down the column of your throat. His smile is smug as you take his hand in yours, guiding his fingers to wrap around. He doesn’t squeeze. He already knows you too well, and he’s pretty proud about it. He becomes cockier and continues his tangent, “You want this. I know you do. You want it just as badly as me, maybe even more than I do.”

You keep your eyes level with his, watching him glance back and forth between your lips, your throat, and your eyes. He has a smile playing on his lips, eyebrow cocked and briefly, you think it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. You find your voice after mentally composing yourself. 

“Fine, just don’t leave. But I’ll text them. You can watch.”

He sits next to you on the bed when you drag him over, his hand attempting to snake under your shirt to wrap his arm around your waist. You give him a nasty look but don’t say anything. He keeps it still the entire time as you both realize what this means for you two. He can’t wait to fucking claim you.

(You can’t fucking wait to be claimed.)

You see him eye your password and file it away in his memory. You notice, and let him. You don’t care enough to hide anything from him.

He’s studying your phone as you go through your apps and message the people you’ve been hooking up with casually. You’re only sending messages to those you have upcoming plans with, but it seems to be enough for him. Even if he has a snide comment about each individual.

“Wow, you really like to hook up, huh?” he’s teasing, no malice in his voice.

“I like to have sex. I’m fucking human. Don’t slut shame me, Dobrik,” you joke back to the man, still typing away.

“You use condoms with them?” David’s asking, which causes you to pause and turn in his hold, eyeing him wearingly. He holds his hands up in defense and too quickly explains,

“Ireallydon’tmeanthatinaDICKway, I just wanna be able to come in you all the time.”

“Yeah, I do. I don’t want a fucking kid OR a transmitted disease,” you tell him, smirking at his shouted explanation.

He’s resounding smile is charming in the moment as he realizes something, singsonging, “So you truuuust me?”

“I trust you don’t get laid much,” you retort, as he leans in to bury his head in your neck. You laugh when you hear and feel him grumble against your skin. There’s a light hearted feel to this interaction, the first you’ve ever felt with him. It’s nice, but you wanted more already. You’re hitting send one last time on a message and close the phone, throwing in next to and behind you on the bed. He’s pulled back when you turn around and he has this look on his face that you can’t read.

“Good, now you can pay attention to me.”

That makes you almost giggle as he leans in and pulls you into a heated kiss. Leaving no room for negotiation with his hand gripped against the back of your head, he pulls you where he wants to have full access. Your knees feel weak and it makes you glad the bed is there to hold you. His chapped lips know exactly what they’re doing, leaving you breathless after an embarrassingly short amount of time.

You can’t help pushing up to climb onto his lap, legs falling to either sides of his hips, rustling his shirt up slightly. The moan he lets out when you start biting lightly on his bottom lip is fucking ridiculous, it makes you move against his body, grinding on him. He pulls away to rock you together a couple times before starting to push you back and down.

“Didn’t I say something about fucking your mouth?” His strained voice asks, making you nod obediently and follow his hands with ease to kneel between his parted legs. Your hands go straight for his waistband and he groans as his head flys back slightly, “God, you’re such a slut. So good for me. You just wanna taste me, don’t you?”

And you do, you want that like burning. You’re speeding up your fingers to get his pants and boxer briefs down and off. One thigh is still healing from your scratch the night before, red lines swollen and noticeable. You decide to make sure he has matching marks by the end of the night.

He’s already hard, his dick slapping against his stomach when freed from the confines of his pants. His hands start running through your hair, collecting the strands into a messy ponytail that he can easily grip. You look up to him with the biggest doe eyes you can muster while he does this, licking your lips wet so they shine for him. The one long exhale of breath he lets out while meeting your eyes is your reward and makes you even wetter between your legs. You know exactly how to put him on edge and it makes something in you preen.

“Look at you, so fucking eager. Fuck me. You’re my little slut, huh?” He asking with no expectation of a response when he pulls you forward and onto his dick. The hand leading you is surprisingly gentle, but you don’t really want that. Not after what he promised.

You swallow him whole, gagging when he hits the back of your throat. But you persevere and don’t pull up even though his hold on you is light enough that you could. David’s bigger than anyone you’ve ever blown, but you don’t shy away from a challenge when it’s presented. You just keep swallowing around him and when your gagging cause spit to cascade down and around him, you pull up and back down to slick the way.

It’s messy and you feel wetness on your cheeks and chin, everywhere, but you don’t care. Your only focus is making it good for him and hopefully looking wrecked in the process. You’re succeeding as his labored breath grows louder in the room with each flick of your tongue around the head of his cock.

You only gasp a little when he yanks your head back and off him, moving you back so that he can stand at full height. You look up from his hold and see the exasperation across his face, scrunched forehead and tongue peeking out to lick at his dry lips. You know where this is going and unhinge your jaw, dropping your mouth open for him to fuck. It makes David mutter a small fuck me to himself and jerk you back onto him.

He isn’t languid with his hold this time, no he’s taking complete control and fucking into your mouth with force. Every third time or so you gag, more drool coming out around your lips. You just look up to him with watery eyes when it happens and moan around him.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby girl. Just fucking take it. Do I taste good? You wanna swallow me up, huh?” he’s rambling, never stopping the rough pace at which his hips were snapping against your face. You attempt to nod in his hold with little success and relent to just groaning around him in hopes that the vibrations would be your answer. Then you’re flexing your throat, trying your best to undulate the muscle around him; it works.

“Fuck! Fuck, yeah, move your throat around me like that baby,” he’s crooning, speed picking up slightly. The look on his face is pained and his eyes are scrunched closed. You take the moment, raising your limp and unused hand to his unharmed thigh. You feel a little malicious, but it only makes you leak through your underwear.

As you begin clawing your way down the leg, harder than the night before, he makes the same empty grunt the last time he came. You snap your head back hard, pushing the hand gripping your hair back with your movement. David’s eyes shoot open and stare down at you in awe. Your nails aren’t done marring him as you pull away from him only a couple inches and open you mouth, tongue hanging out.

It’s like a lightbulb switches in his head, you’re giving him someplace to come. His hand leaves your hair and starts rapidly stroking himself. You’re still not done scratching him, fingers moving down painstakingly slow. David’s mouth is hung open to match yours as he starts to come, your face moving forward so that your tongue is barely touching the underside of his cockhead, collecting the first few spurts.

You’re leaning forward to seal your mouth around him when he jerks back a few inches and continues to come, but now all over the bottom half of your face. Your hand slips down to push on your cunt through your jeans without your permission as you moan wantonly into the room and just stare at the man in wonder. (You didn’t realize that was a kink, but it is apparently.)

He’s shivering and moaning out tiny oh fuck’s as he recovers from his orgasm and falls back into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. You don’t move, you just stare at him, face shining with his cum as it dribbles from your lips to your jaw and hangs on your cheeks.

The two of your eyes meet for a moment too long. He’s breathing is harsh and he’s looking at you like an anomaly, utterly confused and wrecked. Then you lick the come off your lips and make a show of swallowing what’s in your mouth for him.

You don’t stop him when he reaches back on the bed for your phone, opening it and snapping a picture of you, debauched and covered in come on your knees in front of him. You don’t stop him when he sends it to himself.

You don’t stop him at all as he leans forwards to collect the mess off your chin and push it into your still open mouth; you don’t stop him, no, you actively begin sucking it off his fingers. Which pulls a long moan from the man, and has him pushing against your tongue and trying to rub the taste into it.

“See how well I treat you when you pay attention to me?” He’s smirking, fingers still massaging your tongue. You just nod, hand rubbing against your damp mound and still sucking on his fingers. You go to swallow again, but he stops that, tutting out eh, and removing his fingers from your mouth to your chin, pulling you up into a open mouthed kiss. He laps at his own come while massaging your tongue with his and it makes you whimper against his lips pathetically.

Yeah, you can definitely put away some time to pay attention to him if this is what it results in.

(You’re so fucked.)

——

[des-shinta]

So As I’ve been in a state of burnout for a significant sect of the year, I’ve been picking up number of Bandai models to relieve my stress, since building things I find a relaxing endeavor, and they’ve been making me feel better.

(no, most of these were not built this year.  Only 7 of them in the first picture were ‘new’.  The rest are bits and pieces of my older collection I’ve happily been able to unbox and display for the first time in years.  Also: Hi Zoids models that didn’t get enough love during their release tenure!) I’ve actually been building models and Figures for years and years--I started out Heavily as A Lego kid--and since Gundam Wing Aired on Toonami in the late 90′s I’ve infrequently bought bandai’s various models as well, but most of the ones I built back then were...well, demolished by my younger step-brother.   My first ones were low-grade 1/144′s ToysRUs’ Got back in that boom, and they weren’t sturdy at all, thus had no chance to survive.

They’ve since been replaced with all MG’s from that series. Well, except for that 1/100 scale HG Altron that was first released in 1996.  that P-Bandai one is stupid expensive, and Altron’s Endless waltz Redesign is the only one of them I OUTRIGHT hate. It was around 2005-ish when I got into it again, when my parents got me for Christmas the 1/60 perfect Grade RX-78-2.  It took me about Eight hours to build and I did it all in one sitting...but it wasn’t sturdy at all.  It couldn’t even lift its arm if the rifle was in it, it wouldn’t stay up.   All I had it do was just stand there...Menacingly.

So from there on out--with the rare exception--I started to intermittently find and get as Gifts ones from the 1/100 Master Grade line.  THOSE--for the most part depending on what types of hands the figure uses and how well they even hold weapons--have been more my jam despite their 50~ish dollar price point.  Large enough they’re not easily smashed, small enough that they’re pose-able and easy to display, and with enough Complexity in their construction with the various implemented gimmicks to give me an immense feeling of satisfaction to see them done and on Display.  Yeah, there’s a LOT more variety and accessories to be found in the 1/144′s these days--in part thanks to the Gundam Build Fighters series making customization even easier than ever between that scale’s market--but I just don’t get the same thing out of them, despite only about 6 or less MG kits being made a year, with some of them being Shunted off now to Premium Bandai’s services to become stupidly overpriced for what they are and what’s supplied...even though I DO have a few P-bandai ones as well.  Stupid obsession with the Astrays, Tallgeese III, and Form/Equipment change gimmicks...

Hell, I’ve even experimented from time to time with custom Color palletes, with one of the first to get that treatment being the sword Impulse that desperately needed more contrasting colors (also thank aura that bandai’s finally releasing the Blast Impulse MG...even if it IS P-bandai so the display isn’t oddly missing a mech).  I’ve got the MG of the Sengoku Astray still in its box (with a bunch of other Gundam seed Mechs I haven’t build yet ‘cause I adore Gundam Seed’s mecha design and will be using those to unwind between overtime shifts this December)  and when I build it, I’m going to repaint all its red parts yellow to Give the Gundam that kind of resembles Kamen Rider Gaim’s Kachidoki arms the full Kachidoki color treatment.  Think I have Enough spare pieces from wrecked stuff to try building it a Custom Tanigashima “DJ Gun” Rifle to go with it as well.

Also the Gunpla hobby led me to doing the papercrafting thing for cheap-to-make Figurines or accessories or even scale props like the scaled-to-figure Gurren Lagann Giga drill pictured above, which I’ve moved onto doing custom templates for on occasion--

--case in point, the 1:1 scale pepakura Pandora Box--

--And my Gate of Ouroboros Broadsword which was a papercraft template I mapped onto Foam to get it near-damn-perfect...after I made a MK 2 of the original ‘cause the original ended up way too heavy.  I can basically trace a lot of my fun crafting stuff to being inspired by the creativity that goes into this kind of thing, and the work of other crafters and cosplayers, and then seeking to try applying that myself from all my learned habits.

But outside of the expected Gunpla you can find in Hobby stores and...for some reason Barnes and Nobles, which has retained a market throughout that time despite Bandai of America’s Idiocy thanks to bluefin Distributions, I’ve started tracking down some of bandai’s other model offerings.  Specifically, the Figurise standard and Minipla lines.

For those not in the know, Super Minipla’s are basically model kit versions of previously released mecha toys, only with a far smaller scaling from their DX Counterparts which you then build yourself.  They seek to retain all of the originals play gimmicks where possible, but come off a LOT more pose-able by their end than the DX toy bricks. Featured above is the Minipla of the Super Galaxy Mega (Astro Delta Megazord) From Denji Sentai Megaranger/Power Rangers in Space.  and this thing is *PERFECT*.  Despite it being half the size of the DX toy, it retains *EVERY* single play feature the original had (transformation, combination, weapon accessories, the works), but has fully pose-able limbs in every single part of it.  The freaking thing cost me $80 when back in 1998 the DX toy versions cost a total of $60, and yet factor for inflation and the impossibility of re-aquiring the 20-year-old vintage toys and this thing was *SO* worth it to get back my second-favorite sentai/PR Mech.

Hell, it’s not just the DX toys they compete against.  On the Right is the Super Robot Chogokin Gaogaigar with Goldion Hammer, and on the left is the Minipla figure of the same mech and weapon.  Both actually retailed for around the same price points on release, but there’s a more distinct compare and contrast between them. The SRC one has better paint apps, is constructed on a metal frame and has metal parts all over it, has distinct limb joints and proper articulation with a screen-accurate scale structure to it and has some weight to it so isn’t likely to topple over easily.  Frankly of the two...it just looks better in person.  Whereas the super minipla, while not perfectly in scale and doesn’t have the brilliance of the colorization to help it, Retains the transformation and combination gimmicks of the original toys which give it a lot more value to collectors that can’t afford the Full DX figures which bear the same.  Its Joints are also a LOT Tighter so the feet and arms aren’t likely to slip, and while not as good as the SRC, the screen-accuracy is far better than the original Takara-based DX toys or even the later Bandai remakes of them after Bandai bought the rights from Takara.  And with the right hand and hammer being a hell of a lot lighter, when I get this thing on a display stand it’ll be able to do more than just stand with the hammer planted on the ground.

The Figurise standard line instead is a model kit version of an anime/live series action Figure--Mostly limited to Dragonball and Kamen Rider figures right now But Digimon ones for the line are coming soon-- with them ending up in competition with Bandai’s SH Figuarts High-quality-Figure line, albeit with a lower Pricepoint than the SHF since you make it yourself and some of the paint apps are replaced with stickers, and their ease of mass production makes them more available than the SHF’s by comparison. Sorry I don’t have the best picture of the figure on hand, but for those not familiar with the character, it’s the Pink/Neon green/black-colored character that’s surrounded by Gundams (the pic was taken in the midst of a bedbug crisis where we were packing everything up in our apartment so it wouldn’t end up damaged)  The Character is Kamen Rider Ex-aid action gamer Level 2, and up close it’s near indistinguishable from the SHF for the character. And yet...I kind of felt like I got more out of the FRS figure than the sole SHF I have, simply because I put my time into putting it all together.  Yeah, the markings are stickers instead of painted on, but if those fade or start peeling?  I can paint-app it myself.  It has all the details I want, it moves how I want it to, and it came with a great stand for it to be placed in a fantastic jumping pose.    I actually want to find more of those for Kamen Rider Figures from the series I like, as I think it’d be better than dealing with the SHF’s which...well, depending on the figure?  Are notorious for production line issues.  while some models can have loose joints or frail pieces (which can be fixed with an easy application of super glue.  And any other scratches, chips and imperfections?  Yeah, those will be my fault, and won’t result in me feeling as if I got gyped in the purchase.

Sadly though, these figures aren’t exactly created equal.  On a limb I picked up the super minipla Shin getter robo set After My Roommate showed by GR Armageddon and we loved it; and...Eeeehh.  They’re not terrible, but they’re lacking for the expectation I had with the Minipla’s.  I think Kaiyodo’s Revoltech Figure line did better with these guys--out of print as may of those figures are now.  Black Getter 1 (Left) actually does look great with the Ragged cape and gun and razor arm...but the ball joints It, Getter Dragon (center) and Shin getter 1 (right) are constructed with do NOT like to stay together.  I can’t pose them at all without risking them toppling over or falling apart.  I think the Revoltech ones are bigger as well, making for better display pieces than these guys who’d be beaten out by 1/144′s.

hell, this mazinger Z Model was a 1/144, and it’s in scale with the Master grades. ...Mazinger mechs be big. But that brings us to a more recent addition via Tsuburaya and Studio Trigger.

One of the newer Additions to the minipla Line has been the Gridman figures, thanks to the anime series SSSS Gridman putting that franchise back on people’s Radar.  I had Gridman’s toys (when the series was imported and adapted into the series Superhuman samurai Syber Squad) when I was a kid and adored them...

..and sure enough, when I built the Thunder Gridman one, it was like popping back to a little piece of my childhood.  Same play gimmicks to them, and while the scaling is not the same, the engineering is all there to invoke the proper good pieces of nostalgia. To the point it resulted in the best thing about these guys, and It almost didn’t happen. When SSSS Gridman was airing, I ended up enjoying myself so much by its end I jumped at the chance to preorder the DX mecha figures that Good Smile company was releasing.  Unfortunately, the seller turned out to be a con-artist, and never shipped me the figure...though i did get my money back thanks to buyer protection.  I saw vid’s on it, and it looked pretty good...but it was completely out of scale and reasonable relation with the old Gridman Toys.  So when I heard about the Minipla’s going out for a lot less than the DX’s original and jacked-up price points?  I put in an order with someone I knew who was reliable for these...and really, I should’ve done so from the start.

The super Minipla Gridman Figures...are all perfectly in scale with each-other, and share all the same connection ports. I can put the SSSS Gridman Figures into the older Gridman armors.  That’s Primal Fighter Gridman wearing the Thunder Gridman armor (right).  Hell, I can swap the arms of the Gridman figures so the effect components can be put in the older ones as well as they use common components across the board in their construction.  I think in the future I’m going to put PFGridman in the king armor (left) as well, as the SSSS-Gridman figure has slightly Longer legs which would make the King Gridman armor scale better.  Because of this, I ended up a lot happier with these guys that I would likely have been trying in vain to get another decently-priced DX one, or even the Actbuilder release of the SSSSG Stuff that did scale with the minipla’s. So Bottom line?  I really like models, they help me relax, and I’ve been discovering some cool stuff this year that Bandai’s done which I wouldn’t have if I weren’t trying to find a way to vent stress.  Thank you disposable $16+ an hour Income for making such possible.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Wan High Weeping (Part 35)

So my computer is still having issues. It basically nuked itself and so I lost a good portion of my outline for this fic and the entire document that helped me keep track of certain details (such as what professor taught which classes) and what event happened when. Basically I'm going in somewhat blind now. Like I'm relying solely on memory and mine isn't the best. So advanced apologies for any continuity errors, because I lost the documents that helped me prevent those. :/

Katara woke up feeling groggy and weak. She couldn't seem to recall how she had made it into her bed. She was at a party, wasn’t she? She was mad at Sokka, she faintly recalled. She tried to sit up, a wave of dizziness overwhelmed her. It occurred to her that she wasn’t in her bed at all. Everything was white from the walls to the bedspread to the gown she was wearing.

The gown!

She was in a hospital gown.

She closed her eyes, trying to recollect how she had gotten there. She remembered the party. She remembered the irritation. She remembered calling out to Aang and hanging out with TyLee. But it was all so distant.

She looked around the room for anyone who could help explain things to her. Finding no one, she reached for her phone. She checked her texts, all of them were panicked and desperate. Most of them had been sent to Sokka and Suki and then a few to Aang and one to TyLee.

She lifted a hand to her head, it hurt so badly. She wished that she knew how long she had been out for. Scrolling through the messages a picture began painting itself in her head, growing in clarity with each message. Jet had been following her the whole time and at some point she had begun to feel faint.

The rest was a black spot in her mind.

A black spot she could easily fill.

He had done it, he had gotten her.

She didn’t need the memories to push her to tears, the implication was enough. With trembling hands she checked to see if her social media pages had been tampered with, she could see Jet toying with those. But her accounts hadn’t been touched. So she looked at her photo collection.

A decision she grew to regret with a great depth.  

He had used her camera very generously. It was hard to conceptualize what she was seeing. Hard to believe that she was really seeing pictures of her own body strewn out with her shirt pulled up to reveal her bra and a skirt that was pulled just unsettlingly lower.

He had posed her.

He had taken the time to capture her in many different angles.

She didn’t want to know anymore so she set the phone aside and wept. He had done it, he’d gotten her. She was soiled and violated. She gasped out another sob. Why had she gone to that stupid party. She had known that it was a dreadful idea. How could she have let Sokka talk her into it? Why had he tried to do so in the first place?

How could he and Suki have just left her alone when they knew…

She didn’t understand and it was destroying her.

He hadn’t meant her any harm, but lord did he tarnish his reputation as the smart, role model older brother.

It occurred to her that he wasn’t even there.

She needed him so badly and he wasn’t even there.

She wanted to send him a text but the thought of unlocking her phone to see herself so exposed…

She couldn’t stomach the thought of it, let alone actually doing it. She’d have to ask someone else to go through and delete them. But, until she talked to the police, they’d have to remain on her phone.

She curled herself into a ball and sobbed harder.

There was a knock on her door and she heard someone speak. The words never quite computed. She didn’t want company that much. But she found it anyways in the form of Aang and Toph.

For a moment she could forget. “Toph!” She threw her arms around the girl. “Where have you been?”

“Well, I can’t exactly go to school.” Toph muttered. “I guess that’s okay though, because Wan High is basically a mental institution disguised as a high school and from what I’ve heard it’s been nothing but a mess.”

Toph wormed her way out of the embrace and Katara caught sight of her eyes. They had a foggy film over them.

“What happened?”

“So it was pretty crazy, right? I was in my room and suddenly I see this bright beam of light. Next thing I know, I’m lying on a surgical table and these aliens are looming over me. They told me that they were going to give me night vision. I didn’t realize that they meant that I’d only see darkness like it’s always night time.”

Katara sighed, but she was happy to let the tall tale take her away from a brutal reality.

“Anyways, because aliens do unethical things, I am now blind so I’ve been in and out of the hospital a lot. It doesn’t leave much time for school. Actually, I requested the room next to you.”

“Will you be able to see again?”

Toph’s face fell some. “They’re trying, but they’re also starting to suggest some school that work with blind kids. I’m learning to read braille and I might be getting a dog!”

“A dog?”

“I helped her pick him.” Aang remarked. “His name is Appa! He’s really big and I think that he’d be a good match for Toph.”

“I have a feeling that he wasn’t describing any of the other dogs very accurately. But I can’t see for myself, so I have to take Twinkle Toes’ word for it.”

“That sounds really exciting Toph! The dog part, I mean. You said you wanted a dog, right?”

Toph nodded, “I guess that’s one good thing.”

The door opened a second time. Katara expected to see Sokka and Suki standing in the doorway, mirror images of concern. Instead her parents walk in. Her mother’s eyes looked as swollen and red as her own. She hugged her tightly. “Oh God.” She whispered to no one in particular. “I knew that I shouldn’t have let you go to that party! You’re brother, he’s so irresponsible.” She was rubbing her head, looking wholly exhausted. She reminded Katara so much of herself.

“Mom, where is Sokka?”

“Your brother got himself arrested.” Hakoda replied. She couldn’t assess anything from his tone.

“F-for what?” Katara half-whispered.

“For beating up an underage boy.”

“That wasn’t a boy, that was a monster.” Kya grumbled.

“As far as the law sees, he’s an underage boy.” Hakoda replied firmly.

And Katara was teary eyed all over again. “This is all my fault.”

“Oh no. No, no, don’t say that honey.” Her mother’s arms were around her again, this time even tighter.

“But he was defending me.”

“And that’s what you’re going to tell the police when they take you in for questioning.” Hakoda replied.

“I can’t! Not today.” Katara winced.

“No, not today, they’re going to give you some time.” Kya replied.

“But the sooner, the better.”

.oOo.

Sunday was a dream in comparison to the mishap that was Monday. Sunday she got to see Aang and finally got to hear from Toph--good news no less! They hadn’t left her side until their respective families had ushered them home.

Monday showed her no friendly faces. She was faced with a few final tests, mostly concerning what affects the drugs had on her and then she was ushered away for the questioning that had been promised.

The officer, who introduced himself to her as officer Yu-Ron opened up their session with an offering of coffee. To which she shook her head, she wasn’t a big fan of the stuff. That had always been Suki’s thing. She watched him set the cup aside. “Shall we get right into this then?”

Katara nodded, she supposed that it was better to get things over with. The sooner she did, the sooner she could work to put it out of her mind entirely.

“Your friend, TyLee Boyang, she had given me a video of the incident. Do you have any evidence of your own. The video alone is very sturdy, but every bit helps.”

Katara nodded and handed him her phone. “Please delete them after you send them to yourself, I don’t want to have to look at them again.”

He nodded. “Understandable.” He took the phone from her. “Would you mind telling me what you remember of Halloween night?”

“A lot of it is really...fuzzy.” Katara replied. “I think he, Jet, drugged me. I saw him watching me throughout the whole party. Everytime I looked he was there. And then one time I looked, and he wasn’t. And that scared me. After that I started feeling, I don’t know...weird. Or maybe it was a little before that, I really can’t remember.”

“The hospital did find traces of Rohypnol in your system. That would account for the blackout and the memory loss.”

Katara found an ounce of comfort in that Yu-Ron seemed to think things were all adding up. At the very least, her story sounded as real as it was.

“I’m going to ask a favor of you. You do not have to do this if you don’t want to.”

Her tummy knotted.

“Are you willing to watch the video handed to me by Ms. Boyang?”

Katara swallowed. “If it will help get Jet locked up, I-I guess I can.”

“Very well. If you would like to stop at any time, let me know and you don’t have to finish watching it.”

Katara clutched the edge of her chair as he began playing the video. The voice that came through was muffled by static and fuzz, she couldn’t make out what he was saying but his intentions were clear enough. She watched him climb atop her. She could feel herself growing almost numb. The video played on and she watched him tug her shirt off. Somehow it was like watching a movie, it was too surreal. That couldn’t possibly have been her. She swallowed as a tear slipped down her cheek.

“Do you want me to turn it off?”

But the video was almost done, so she let the entire clip roll.

“He got me.” She spoke quietly. “He got what he wanted...he…”

“He didn’t get as far as you think. If it is any comfort, your brother got to him before he could do anything but take your shirt off.”

A weight lifted off of her chest and a lightness settled in. “He didn’t...uh...he didn’t you know…?”

Yu-Ron smiled reassuringly. “No, not quite. But this is still enough to get the boy locked up for a while.”

“What about my brother? He was just trying to help me.”

“I am aware.” Yu-Ron nodded. “We are building a case for that. Ms. Boyang mentioned that a Mr. Chan Haga was present too and that he did a good number on Mr. Akunin.”

It took her a moment to recall that Jet’s last name was Akunin. He had always been Jet to her.

“So you can get Sokka out of jail?”

“I can very well try.”

.oOo.

She still wasn’t up for school the next morning. She wasn’t up for seeing Suki at lunch. Suki who didn’t even bother visiting her at the hospital. She tried to give a little leeway; the father of her baby was in jail. She had to visit him. But, surely, she could have sent a text.

No, Suki was completely silent.

She knew Suki well enough to gauge that the girl knew that Katara was already mad at her. She knew Suki well enough to know that she was trying to give her some space. But this wasn’t a ‘give space’ kind of situation. This was a confrontation kind of situation. No, it was a situation where she very well would have let Suki’s mistake slid, so long as she lent her support.

As well as Suki meant, she was only digging herself in deeper.

As much as she longed for someone to talk to and confide in, she wanted to be angry at Suki. At the perfect person to seek comfort in. But Katara had self-respect. She wasn’t crawling back to Suki without an apology for abandoning her twice over when she needed her the most.

It looked like she would be powering through school alone.

Again.

It chilled her through and through as she dizzily packed her supplies. It didn’t feel right heading off to school as though it were another normal day. It didn’t feel right at all it was jarring and disorienting and she had a feeling her mom would have to listen to her weep the whole way to school.

She knew that, for the first time in their relationship, Kya did not know how to console her.

She didn’t know how to console herself.

She wished she could text Toph. She ended up settling on Aang. It was a shame that those two were not in her lunch hour. She wondered if she would be sitting alone and that doubled her rate of tear fall. God, she was an emotional wreck.

She felt like something half-alive dragging herself to class. She heard the late bell and braced herself for a jolly good time with June. But even she seemed to take pity on Katara’s soul, letting her pass by without a word. She dropped into her seat.

She refused to look up from her paper, it had been an outrage enough to see Chan sitting in the seat behind her unfilled one while Sokka was in jail. She had looked up only once, to catch sight of a very bedraggled Azula. Her hair obscured much of her face, but Katara could swear that she saw some bruising. She ran her fingers through her own decently messy, and dreadfully unwashed hair, she had to be imagining things.

The bell rang and she hustled out before Chan or Chu-Leng could catch her.

.oOo.

She slid into her usual lunch seat, dreading the moment when Suki would plop down next to her and pretend like nothing was wrong. Just when she was beginning to think that Suki wasn’t going to show up, she heard a lunch tray clamor on the table.

Katara made a point of not looking up.

“Hey, Kat.” Suki greeted.

Katara put an extra effort into enjoying her lunch meat.

“I’m gonna sit down, okay?”

She dug around in her lunchbox and fished out a star shaped sandwich and a note from her mother. If she read that, then she wouldn’t have to think about the girl who sat down next to her.

“Are you doing okay?”

Her mother’s note was longer than usual, reminding her that she was brave and strong and that she would get through this one. That the whole family would and that they would come out stronger still. Of course she sprinkled in more mundane commentary about having a nice day at school. She folded the note up and slipped it back into her pocket. Her elbow brushed against Suki. “I wish you stuck this close to me at the party.”

An audible glup let Katara know that Suki was well aware that she was in deep.

Katara almost caved.

“I didn’t mean to…”

“You knew that I needed your help. The only reason I came to that party was to hang out with you and Sokka!” She snapped. “I was wondering why you didn’t just want to hang out at home instead. It’s harder to sneak away from your friend to have sex when it’s just the three of you.”  So maybe it wasn’t the only reason, Aang was a pretty good part of it, but that wouldn’t help guilt Suki.

Suki’s head dipped. “I know, it was stupid.”

“Stupid, yeah. Funny how I got to pay the price for your stupidity this time around.” Katara flinched, she didn’t know where any of that had come from. She had never been this angry before. Not with a friend. She had never said anything like that to a friend before. She knew that she should apologize.

Instead she let an oppressive awkward silence befall them.

One that filled the entirety of the lunch hour.

.oOo.

Her second day back at school was no charmer either. June still didn’t interrogate her for her tardiness, but that didn’t alleviate the red that Chan’s presence put in her vision. His voice roused her temper more, even if his insults weren’t aimed at her.

"That's true, it's a gift that keeps on giving. Honestly, I don't think I've ever seen anyone eat like that! I don't know how you can eat so much at once."

 She couldn’t say why it bothered her so much to hear him say those words, really, Azula would have laughed if he were saying something like that to her. But still, his laughter drove her nearly mad. Perhaps it was because she could imagine him laughing like that knowing that Sokka was being punished for a crime he had a hand in. Katara lingered in the doorway as he added "There's something wrong with you."

 She could see that Azula had murmured something back as she seated herself.

 "Careful, you're going to break it!" Chan remarked, earning himself a high five. Azula mumbled something else and the laughter died away. Maybe it was finally occuring to him that he was an awful excuse of a boy. Katara took her own seat, rubbing at eyes that were so red they might as well be bleeding. She really needed to stop crying. But, lord, was it hard not to. Frankly, she just longged to go home.

She glanced at Azula.

Perhaps she should say something. Despite it all, she was beginning to feel awful for her. The stage of Azula so closely resembled her own, she couldn’t possibly be doing well. She almost did, but she lost her nerve. She didn’t want to risk one more bad thing.

.oOo.

She resigned herself to another lonely lunch. One that would leave her mind wandering. Aang was too much of a teacher’s pet to text in class, not that she wasn’t right there with him on that, but she really could use the conversation.  Toph couldn’t text and TyLee had just sent a text asking for luck with another round of questions with Yu-Ron. The poor girl must be exhausted. Katara knew that she was. The in depth interrogation she was subjected to after school yesterday had been an unpleasant surprise. But, apparently, their talk with Jet led them to question her again.

With Suki sitting at the other end of the table the questions repeated in her mind. She couldn’t even count on her fingers the number of ways they had phrased the same questions. She had an even slimmer ability to count how many different officers and lawyers she was introduced to. It was so completely overwhelming.

She practically begged the universe to slap her with some sort of distraction.

And a cruel genie the universe was.

"I heard about the party." "Heard about it?” Katara couldn’t keep the spite out of her voice. “You were there." "I left early…" Just like that, empathy hit her all over again. She recalled Chan’s remarks, she could see it in Azula’s posture, that they were getting to her. So she tried to sound less cold. "Right." A complete failure. "If it's any solace, he tried feeling me up." Katara didn’t know how to respond so she just let Azula continue. “I was just laying there."

She found herself twice as empathetic. But at the same time she couldn’t help but be a tad jealous. "I wish that, that was all he did to me." "He didn't actually…?" "No, TyLee stopped him." She really didn’t want to talk about this. Especially not with Azula. The girl who had probably the second biggest hand in spreading around the whore rumors. She caught Azula nod. "TyLee can fight when it matters." Katara smirked to herself at the opportunity, Azula had just granted her."Unlike some people." She uttered it just loud enough to coxa a reaction from Suki. She hated the involuntary stab of guilt that came with having said it, so she engages Azula some more.  "Why do you care?" "I don't think that you're a slut." The confession made her want to weep. Out of joy, relief, or something else, she couldn’t quite grasp. But she had to know. She needed an answer to a question that had been on her mind for so long. "Then why did you say it? Over and over again." Really, that one ought to be good.” "I don't know." Azula was speaking much too quietly, it sparked something in Katara. Maybe she should let up a little, the other girl was already having a hard time. But that small voice within reminded her that Azula wouldn’t have cared. A year back she probably would have still been harassing her even knowing her predicament.  "I guess I'm just a bad person." Azula finished. Katara's sighed, how was it that Azula was making it this hard to stay angry with her? Maybe it was simply Katara herself, who was being too forgiving for her own good. Regardless she replied, "you're not a bad person…" She didn’t know if she believed her own words, but she supposed that if Azula was taking the time to give her own version of an apology it had to count for something. She sighed again, she supposed that after everything, it would be hard for the other girl to not change. Before she could address the matter further, Azula diverted the conversation. “I liked your costume, it suited you." To be honest, it was a refreshing subject, one that led her to think about lighter aspects of her life. "thanks, my mom made if for me." A dash of dread crept in. Her costume was just about as kiddish as her silly mermaid backpack. And the fact that her mother had made it for her?

She waited for the mockery. "Is she a seamstress or something?” The question was innocent enough. She shook her head, "no, but Gram Gram was. Sewing is just a hobby." If only she had sewn the threads a little tighter. Maybe added some more straps... Mercifully, Azula cut into her thoughts. "That's one hell of a hobby." "Yeah! It's fun too, sometimes we do some sewing together.” Her gratitude for the interruption comes in the form of a more joyful tone. She hoped that maybe it would comfort Azula some to know that she was cheering Katara up at least a little.  “and mom teaches me about different traditional patterns!" Azula’s own expression seemed to turn, something that looked like it could be relief. Maybe acceptance. There was nothing vicious behind it, but something was intangibly unsettling Katara about it. The sudden shift wasn’t boarding well with her. But she couldn’t say why so instead she carried on the conversation. "Have you ever done any sewing before?" Azula shook her head. She was being much too meek. Much too soft-spoken. She considered that Azula could use something to look forward to. "Maybe, if you want, I can show you how. I could use a distraction." She was almost certain that Azula could take her mind away from Jet. But her reply wasn’t as enthusiastic as Katara had anticipated. "Maybe…" "Uh…yeah…" Katara trailed off. That was kind of a conversation ender. Had the idea really been that unappealing. "I am going to talk to Teo." "Oh, yeah, okay." Katara replied. Something needed addressing but she couldn’t place it. She was torn between asking Azula if she wanted to bring Teo to her table and asking her just what had compelled her to start a conversation anyways. Had this been something she’d planned for awhile and finally had the guts or the motivation to do so?

She didn’t realize that she had actually really hoped for Azula to say yes, until the girl had walk away.

The ominous feeling stuck with her. She chewed her sandwich, this one in the shape of a heart. She had trouble swallowing it, her stomach was doing flip flops. There was something so wrong. She took out her mom’s note. ‘Be strong today. Lots of love. Make me proud.’ It was just the sort of simple thing her mom would say.

She watched Azula walk out of the cafeteria.

Lots of love.

Azula didn’t seem to get much of that.

She drummed her fingers on the table nervously. She wanted to follow Azula out, but the thought of hall monitors made her skin crawl. She didn’t want to make more trouble for herself.

She clutched her mother’s note.

Make me proud.

She stood up.

TyLee had saved her, it was her turn to save someone else. Even if it got her in trouble. Even if Azula wasn’t in any danger at all. She supposed she’d rather look like a paranoid fool then…

Then what? What did she think was going to happen?

In the back of her mind she knew exactly what she was fretting.

She checked the bathroom first, it was empty.

Her next thought was to go to the parking lot. She racked her brain for the image of Azula’s car. It had been a while since the girl had pulled up to give her a ride. She supposed that she would know that car if she saw it.

She scanned the lot, trying to keep her fear from rising. She couldn’t afford to be frantic, lest she overlook the car. At last she spotted it. But she froze up. What if her presence just made things worse. What if Azula didn’t want to see her.

The panic was settling it, she didn’t know how to handle this one. She heard a ruckus and caught sight of Teo. He came to a stop and locked eyes with her. She pointed to the car and watched him wheel to it. She would let him keep Azula company, that was probably the safest route. Her job was to go back inside and get help.

.oOo.

She watched them load them load Azula into the ambulance. Her body was so pale, she didn’t think that Azula had made it. She didn’t know anyone living who had skin that shade.

Her arms were achy from trying to keep Azula from hurting herself further during her spasming.

Katara felt so defeated. She let herself become a victim and she had let Azula die. She should have talked to her sooner. She should have let her spite go when she heard Chan making his ridiculous jokes. She wondered it it would have made a difference if she would have told Azula that Chan was wrong. If she would have told her that she was still a pretty girl. The sort Katara envied. But then, who knew how long Azula had been planning this one.  

She looked at her mother’s note. “I tried, mom. I really, really tried.”

She wasn’t much up for physical contact, but she thought that Teo could use a hug. He was much closer to Azula, this was probably tearing him apart. Principal Roku, ever so stern, broke up the embrace and motioned them back to class.

For awhile they lingered in the hall and she vented to him about Sokka, about her case, and about how everything was just such a general mess."This school is such a disaster.” As Teo had noted.

"It was never like this at my old school."

She wished that she had begun talking to him earlier on.  "I wish I never met Jet." She concluded.

"Tell me about it." He replied, making her yearn even more for a time machine.

.oOo.

The rest of the day dragged by agonizingly slow. She thought about what she was going to tell her mother. Honesetly, she was at her wits end. How much misery could cling to and surround one person. She didn’t know what she had done to deserve this. Save for making one mistake, one simple mistake. Save for being too trusting.

She shut her locker and looked to the one next to hers. Azula’s locker was a mess of printouts and what looked like soda. She picked up one of the sheets and cringed. An Usha trademark that reminded her of Halloween all over again.

She is filled with regret all over again for not trying to help Azula sooner. For letting her spite get the best of her. She groaned to herself, maybe she ought to learn from this one. She whipped out her phone and asked Suki if she wanted to drop by her house in an hour or so. "Are you okay, Katara?" Katara jumped. When she turned around to see TyLee she replied. "I…too much is happening at once." Her voice was growing all weak. "What's going on?" It was hard for her to choke the words out. But finally she got the there. “She killed herself, Ty." And her tears flow, unchecked. It settled in, in full that she could have saved Azula but didn’t because she choose to harbor anger instead. It was just the kind of thing her mother didn’t like her to do.

"Who?"

"Azula." "How do you know!?" TyLee cries. "Teo and I found her." She answered miserably. "I…she talked to me before…" She should have seen it sooner. She really should have. Azula had made it pretty plan a number of times. At the very least, her distress had been obvious. "She talked to me too." TyLee replied softly.  She too had some tears to shed. "I was going to drive home with her today…" Her hiccuping matched Katara’s own.  "Is she really gone?" Katara wrapped her arms around her.  "I'm not sure.” She paused, she really hoped that she was wrong. “It sounded like it, but I don't know. They wouldn't tell me anything." She really didn’t understand why they were keeping her in the dark. She was one of the people who had found Azula! As if things couldn’t be any more miserable, TyLee noted, "I was going to drive home with her, Katara. We were going to go to my house and I was going to show her my new hamster and we were going to catch up…" Apparently, Katara wasn’t the only one with a heap of ‘if only’s’.  "We were going to be friends again…"

She somehow knew the feeling, she thought that she might have been ready to give Azula a chance.

.oOo.

Suki was snoring on the sofa close to her. On a normal day, sleepovers weren’t allowed on school days. But her mother didn’t put up a fight when Suki asked if they could have the extra time to talk things over. Kya had agreed, under the guise that Katara could use the company.

If she were being honest, even with the hours of chatter and discussion, Suki still didn’t give her a satisfactory answer as to why she thought it was a good idea to have her alone time with Sokka. Eventually Katara resigned to accepting, “okay, it was a horrible idea, I was just tipsy and horny.”

A horrible excuse, but at least it was an honest answer.

She was still furious but she didn’t want to leave Suki entirely alone to deal with her pregnancy concerns and the guilt.

Afterall, guilt was eating Katara alive, she wouldn’t ever willfully impose that on someone else. So Suki slept on the sofa in her living room and she took the floor. A bowl of spilled popcorn littered the room for her mom to fuss over.

The baby had Suki sound asleep and she was ready to turn the TV on to drown out mental images of her in only a bra and Azula on a stretcher. She feared that the two events would merge into one horrible scene courtesy of a nightmare, so she refused to sleep.

Her phone sounded. Instinctively she feared the buzz. She reminded herself that Jet was either in the hospital with no phone or in a cell. She picked it up, hoping for maybe Aang. Or better yet a message from Sokka telling her that they had decided to let him go after all.

She had received neither. But she supposed that the message she did recieve was a blessing in its own way. It was a simple, albeit, awkward thank you.

Katara looked at the clock. She wouldn’t be sleeping easy. She hadn’t expected anything of the sort, but she conversed with Azula for a good portion of the night.

[kusunokihimea]

★ five times Ryuu thought Sasuke looked breath-taking, and the one time she voices it (in their senjutsu/traveling verse.. if Sasuke can even be breath-taking lol XD)

[send me a symbol for ][ @kyuuzuchiha ][ Accepting ]

     Hm…he said he’d be back by now…I hope they didn’t get carried away… After all, the last time Naruto and Sasuke really had a chance to do anything by way of battle, it nearly resulted in catastrophic geographical destruction.

     But given she hasn’t heard any explosions - at least, from this range - Ryū’s going to hope for the best.

     Seated outside a small cafe, she’s got her chin in her hand, mostly tuning out as she waits. Her lunch is half-eaten and now mostly forgotten, free hand absently twirling her cup of tea. Sasuke said he wouldn’t be long. Something about catching up with Naruto…which evidently translated into a spar. One that’s lasted far longer than she’d thought it would…

     Watching the few last dregs of amber liquid spin, there’s a pause before looking up at the approaching signatures. The pair of them are…certainly worse for wear, scuffed up and dirty. But Naruto has a companionable arm around Sasuke’s shoulders, laughing at…goodness knows what. Eyes closed, Sasuke manages a small scoff and an upturn of his lips. His normally-mussed hair is all the more untamed, clothes dusty and half-shed, skin both flushed and sweaty.

     It’s not anything unusual, or even entirely notable. But for some reason, the sight makes her heart skip a beat.

     “Yo, Ryū!” Naruto drags himself off his former teammate, still grinning ear to ear. “Look what I dragged back to ya in one piece! Though - heh! - just barely!”

     “You’re the one who was leaning on me, dobe.”

     “I wasn’t leanin’! I was just -!”

     Snapped from her stupor, Ryū gives her head a little shake and smiles reflexively, stubbornly ignoring the extra few beats pounding in her chest as her heart works overtime to make up for its stutter. “D…do either you need any patching up?”

     “Nah, we’re fine! Nothin’ a shower and a nap won’t fix, eh teme?”

     Sasuke doesn’t reply, staring at the healer with a furrowed brow. Greys glance bashfully aside at his scrutiny.

     “…teme?”

     “…yeah. I’m fine. C’mon, Ryū - Naruto’s late for his Hokage lessons. We’d best leave him to it.”

     "Oi! You’re just jealous!”

     “Of course I am. Now, I’m going to go shower, and you’re going to go let Kakashi lecture you for a few hours. Have fun.” With that, Sasuke gives a jerk of his head that clearly says, “Let’s go.”

     Scrambling to her feet, Ryū leaves her paid bill on the table. “C…coming!”

     Sitting up in bed with a sigh, Ryū takes a moment to rub palms at her face. It’s a little late…she’d best get up and get going. Dressing second naturedly, she indulges only in a cup of tea before heading out.

     …he must have gotten up before her.

     Taking the path from the manor toward the largest peak, Ryū eventually makes her way up the many stairs and switchbacks that lead to the plateau where her master waits. Each torī gate standing over the turns gets a familiar pat, until she reaches the one that crests the top where Suigin’s cave and the shrine sit.

     And, this particular morning…Sasuke, too.

     He’s about ten paces from the threshold of the stone staircase, perfectly still and positioned in a meditative pose. If not for the subtle swells and shrinks of his chest, Ryū would almost swear he was a statue carved up from the rock. Eyes are closed, expression neutral.

     He looks so…at peace. Ryū can’t help but stare a moment, a funny feeling beneath her sternum.

     Then one dark eye peels open, startling her. For a moment she’d forgotten he could move. “…Ryū,” he greets, a small hint of question in his tone.

     “Sorry, I…o-overslept.”

     “I haven’t been here long if you want to join.”

     “…sure.”

     A few sunsets later, Ryū comes in through the manor’s front door, leaning against it with a sigh once it snaps closed. What a day. Maintaining the valley and its self -sufficiency isn’t easy by any means, but some days are harder than others. And this was one of them.

     Add in the fact that, despite the late hour, she has yet to make dinner…and she’s only all the more disheartened. Partially at her own loss, but also because of Sasuke’s.

     Removing her shoes, she pads silently, barefoot, into the main room. Most of the lights are off, and it takes a sweep of her senses rather than her eyes to find him.

     He’s laid himself atop a settee, head propped up on a decorative pillow and more than obviously asleep. If not judging by his calmed chakra, then by his slack features and deep breathing.

     The guilt gets a little worse. Getting close with intent to wake him before she starts supper, Ryū stills as she takes in his features while vulnerable with sleep.

     He looks so…different. No suspicious crease to his brow, no hardness to his eyes, or set to his jaw. Everything softens as he slumbers, breath whispering past parted lips and a few stray locks cast over his face.

     Ever so carefully, heart quickening in her chest, Ryū brushes inky strands from his skin. His face tilts ever so slightly with just a breath of sound…but he doesn’t wake.

     Looking him over, Ryū sets her jaw against…whatever that was before retreating to the kitchen. For now…she’ll let him rest.

     More time passes. For a while, she can let herself forget. But after readying for bed one night, she goes to bid him goodnight…only to find him missing.

     …where…?

     Spreading her senses, she picks up his signature down at the first bridge from the manor. It’s well past sunset - what’s he doing out there? Heaving a small sigh, Ryū adjusts her yukata and slips on her sandals before heading out to chide him to sleep.

     The moon is high in the sky, bathing the valley in sharp contrast of black and white. It’s almost as though all the color has bleached from the world. Picking her way carefully along the still-overgrown paths, the healer comes up behind him, trying to lean and catch sight of his face.

     Sasuke leans folded arms across the crossing’s railing, one hip cocked and gaze staring out north up the valley toward its entrance. His usually-sharp features are thrown into even harsher relief. It’s almost like an old painting of ink on white paper rather than a living, breathing body.

     A bit breathless at the sight, Ryū eventually recovers and steps up beside him. “…are you all right?”

     “Hn. Just…thinking.”

     She lays dainty hands atop the same wooden railing, feeling the smoothed wood from generations of hands before hers. “…anything you want to voice?”

     “…not yet.”

     “Well…you should head to bed soon. It’s late.”

     “I will. Just not quite tired yet. You go rest.” He turns to face her, visage equal parts light and dark.

     “…goodnight, Sasuke.”

     “Night.”

     Sitting on the front step and sewing up a torn shirt of her companion’s, Ryū’s gaze drills into the task. A needle passes to and fro through the fabric, slowly but surely pulling the rift closed. He really needs to stop managing to tear such gaping holes in his garments! At this rate she might as well just make him new ones, he seems to damage them so often!

     Sighing, she brings it upright between her hands, eyeing her handiwork. Her last few stitches are a bit off…she’ll have to pull them out and try again.

     All the while, in the front garden, the soft sound of footfalls and measured, huffed breaths carry through the still, misty air. Going through his morning kata regimen, Sasuke moves himself through a series of stances, strikes, and held positions before letting himself relax between each set.

     Subtly, Ryū peeks over the shirt at him.

     He currently lacks one, hence her work. Instead, he works in nothing but typical trousers, feet bare with wrapped forearms and hands. Though not as intense as sparring, the rigorous work still leaves him gleaming with a thin sheen of sweat, a look of absolute concentration upon his features.

     …not to mention the tension in his muscles leaves them well-defined.

     A bit lost as eyes traces over his musculature, Ryū snaps back to attention as he finishes another set, losing rigidity and glancing her way. She makes a show of keeping the shirt aloft, staring at her stitching and trying to will away her blush and racing heart.

     “…are you done with it yet?”

     “A…almost!”

     She’s never been one much for fancy parties. But given this is the first anniversary of the shinobi alliance peace treaty that Sasuke has actually been present for…Ryū decides they should go. He was, after all, a major instrument of said peace.

     At least…in the end.

     Finishing up adjusting her kimono, Ryū carefully picks up the hem before approaching the bathroom door of their room. Knocking, she asks, “Um…are you done yet?”

     “Just about. You can come out.”

     After a slight pause, she does just that, opening the portal to the rest of their room. Sasuke has his back to her, adjusting a new set of hakama and haori. All of his top garments are a midnight blue, the hakama a soft grey, lightly patterned. Apparently done fiddling, he turns and gives a small gesture of critique.

     Along the front of both shoulders of his haori, bright white and crimson, are twin Uchiha crests.

     As before, her chest seems to still for a moment.

     Crossing the room, she releases her hold of her garment, fidgeting his ever so slightly. In truth, there’s nothing wrong with it. She just…needs a moment, head tilted down to stare at the fabric to avoid his gaze. A subtle blush dusts her cheeks.

     “…you look perfect,” is her murmured reply, daring to lift her eyes to his face as palms rest against his chest, greys flickering between onyx and amethyst. By now, both the sight and proximity have her heart racing - surely more than noticeable by someone of his ability. There’s little doubting it by now: why she reacts the way she does. Only her bashful nature seems to stand stubbornly in the way of admitting it. How much she’s grown to care about him.

     …how much…she loves him.

     Eventually her nerve crumbles again, and she ducks her face to avert her gaze. “Should…should we go, then? Surely everyone’s waiting on us by now, n-ne?” Ryū retreats half a step, folding her hands at her front.

     The tactic largely fails, however, as Sasuke insists on taking one as his own, fingers weaving. Looking up in surprise, she jolts as he lowers his brow to hers.

     “…let them wait,” he rumbles in reply, stare pinning her in place. “…we’re taking this night at our own pace…Ryū.”

     She stares back, barely daring to breathe as her heart beats overtime. 

                                                   “O…okay.”

[zigsexual]

Theoreticals; part 1 (maxwell x mc)

lol remember when i started this in july and am just now posting it? also remember when i said that i would post it yesterday ha ha ha lol anyway it’s too long for one post so imma break this shit down into PARTS!!! 

this is the final companion piece to hypotheticals and empiricals, and honestly if you haven’t read those then u probably should because this one has a lot of plot throwback and also tbh its like very divergent from the main storyline seeing as i started writing it in JULY

summary: the coronation is actually happening feat. private planes, maxwell as a baby????? an unfortunate run in with some potpourri, dancing, drake, and an uber driver

word count: 3700+

Riley paces across her room yet again, halfheartedly feigning an attempt to pack for the upcoming trip to the palace. Her suitcase, empty but for a single black camisole and jeans, is splayed out across her bed next to Maxwell, who is also splayed out across her bed.

“Do you think I should bring my boots?” She asks. “My other shoes have like, no tread, and all of the roads by the palace are old-ass rocks so tread is probably important. And what if it rains?”

“I don’t think it’s supposed to rain,” Maxwell replies, but she’s already tossed the boots in his direction.

“Okay, so if I bring the boots, I need boot socks,” Riley tugs open a dresser drawer, rifling through it. “Except I’m pretty sure I only have red boot socks, and that’s going to clash with all my outfits, so maybe I should just stick with a bootie? Except then the tread is an issue again.”

Maxwell laughs. “Riley, it’s two days.”

She whirls around, brandishing a boot sock. “Yeah, two days in the goddamn palace!”

He breaks his gaze from the ceiling to watch her as she makes another futile pass towards her closet, sitting up and leaning back on his hands. “You really want to keep pretending you’re going to finish this tonight?”

She sighs, dropping her things onto the floor. “It’s already too late to give up.”

“Few more hours won’t hurt.” He reaches over and closes the lid, then holds out his hand. “Come on, let’s go on a walk. You’re all strung out.”

She takes his hand, in spite of herself yet again. Everything about him, about this, is in spite of herself and her better judgment. But it’s midnight on the eve of what may be their last chance at anything, and she doesn’t care that much anymore.

It’s dark in the house, the sconces dimmed, and they walk through the second floor hallways like they have the entire place to themselves. Maxwell is still holding her hand, his other shoved into his pocket, watching the portraits on the walls as they pass.

“Is that you?” Riley asks, pointing at one of the frames. It’s a painting of a boy who couldn’t be more than eight years old, posed like the subject of a renaissance art piece and clearly none too pleased about it. He’s got the same soft brown hair and mischievous eyes as Maxwell, his face dusted with freckles and mouth pulled into a barely concealed pout.

“Oh my god,” Maxwell laughs. “Yeah. That’s… yeah.”

“You were cute.” Riley bumps her hip against his, grinning. He reaches up and rubs the back of his neck, looking at the painting sheepishly.

“My parents, they were really into the ‘nobles’ thing,” he says, “You know, ridiculous estates and portrait painting and etiquette classes, all that. I mean, I guess you have to be when you are a noble. I mostly let Bertrand handle that stuff now.”

Riley holds out her free hand and traces the curve of his painted face, the rough brush strokes in sweeping lines under her fingertips. She smiles.

“Bertrand would kill me if he knew I was letting you touch the paintings,” Maxwell says.

“Bertrand would kill you if he knew you were letting me touch you.”

“Touché.”

She steps back from the portrait, squeezing Maxwell’s hand gently. “Your parents, what were they like?”

He doesn’t say anything at first, and she worries she’s treaded into inadmissible territory. She turns to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Sorry, you don’t have to—“

“No, Riley,” he smiles, but it’s sad. “It’s fine.”

He looks up at the painting for a long moment, and she wonders how much of that baby-faced boy is still a part of him. He still has those faded freckles across his cheeks, that air of something…. more, like he’s privy to a thousand secrets one could never hope to know. She suddenly wishes he were as much of an open book as he likes to say he is.

“My parents were… well, I guess they’re pretty self-explanatory.”

“What do you mean?”

He’s still got his eyes on the painting, but his jaw is set. “You’ve been in the study.”

“Duh.”

He breaks for a moment, to shoot her a smile, but then he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. “So, that’s my dad.”

“The study?”

“Yeah.” He frowns. “We didn’t change anything in there after he died. It just… felt weird. And there’s already all these rooms in this place, it’s not like we needed another one. So now it’s just there, filled with polo trophies and fencing equipment and all that ‘nobles’ shit.”

“And Drake,” she adds, a tentative step towards levity. Maxwell pulls her closer, letting go of her hand so he can slip his arm around her waist. He doesn’t have to say it, but she knows he’s grateful for the reprieve.

“And Drake. Unfortunately.” He looks at her and smiles. “You would’ve liked my mom.”

“Yeah?” Riley smiles back.

“Yeah. Well, I know she would’ve liked you, anyway.”

They make their way down the rest of the hall, passing more portraits and art pieces and the occasional odd sculpture, everything in brocade like something out of her high school history books. She runs her fingers across gilded wallpaper and marble shelves, still marveling at the fact that this, somehow, has become her life.

“What’s New York like?” Maxwell asks her. “I mean, I know what the tourist parts are like, thanks to Liam, but what’s your part like?”

“My part?” She tilts her head. “Uh, not that great, honestly. My part is a shitty studio in Queens with an elevator that doesn’t work, a roach problem, and a toilet that only flushes half the time. I don’t even have a bedframe, I just sleep with my mattress on the floor, and sometimes if I’m lucky, there isn’t a drunk guy peeing on my stoop when I come home from the late shift.”

“Sounds like a dream,” Maxwell says, and the funny thing is that she can’t quite tell if he’s joking or not.

“Can I quote you on that? My landlord keeps asking me to leave him a Yelp review.”

Maxwell looks puzzled. “I thought… you didn’t have nobility in America?”

Riley shoots him a bemused look. “We don’t.”

“But then, why would you…?”

It takes her a moment, but then she shoves his shoulder and laughs. “Oh my god, wait, are you talking about my landlord? That’s the guy who owns the place I rent. It’s just like, a name for rental property owners. God, you’re such a one-percenter.”

“Shut up,” He rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Things are different in Cordonia, okay?”

“I can’t believe you didn’t know what a landlord is. I can’t believe you thought landlords are literal lords of the land.”

Maxwell makes a face at her, and she doesn’t even remotely try to stifle her giggles. “Excuse you, the only ‘landlords’ I know are literal lords of the land, so it was a logical conclusion.”

Riley taps him on the nose before turning away dramatically, hand on her heart. “Deepest apologies, Lord Beaumont. I would never disrespect your status or your land.”

“Hilarious.” He crosses his arms, but he’s smiling.

“Please accept this token of my atonement,” she continues, lifting some imaginary skirts so as to further sashay down the hall, “Imported from the duchy of Newest York, one hundred — no — one thousand of our finest Manhattan pigeons.”

Riley dips down in a ridiculously low curtsey, stumbling forward a bit and catching herself with a laugh. “Perchance would you like to visit with one of our most prestigious landlords? He is so terribly fond of — Max!”

She shrieks as he comes up behind her, arms around her waist, pulling her close and spinning her. She can feel the breath of his laughter against her neck, his whispered, “Shhh, you’ll wake everyone up,” and the way his fingers linger on her when he sets her down.

Riley, flushed, brushes her hair out of her face and adjusts her shirt. “You’re the worst.”

“I accept your pigeons,” Maxwell says with mock formality. “And I would love to meet your landlord.”

“Oh, you really shouldn’t, the pigeons are fucking gross.”

“Okay, pass on the pigeons then.”

“My landlord is gross too.”

He sighs. “You’re not making a great case here.”

Riley smiles, and compelled with a sudden irresistible urge to touch him, reaches out and runs her fingers along his jawline. She almost expects to feel the brushstrokes there too, a perfect likeness of his childhood painting, all grown up and still off-limits.

“You could come visit, if you want,” she says softly. “The mattress is a twin, but we can make it work.”

He kisses her, and she closes her eyes and lets herself believe for a moment that they’re not here, not in this ridiculous world full of princes and balls and family portraits, but somewhere else, somewhere loud and brash and filled with the scent of street food and smoke and dreams yet to be realized.

But of course, they aren’t.

“Come on,” he says, his voice gentle against the sudden sharpness of the moment. “Let’s go finish packing.”

They walk back to the room hand-in-hand, and Maxwell helps her fold things and find things and then sits on the suitcase so she can shove everything in properly and zipper it away. The sky stops getting darker and starts getting lighter, and the laughter between them grows less practiced and more delirious as they finish up.

She smiles when she steps out of her bathroom, face washed and hair up, to find him tucked in against her pillow, finally stolen into sleep by his own exhaustion. It’s a rare occasion to find Maxwell so utterly still, and she stands there for a second watching him.

She’s known for quite some time that she’s fucked. This whole situation: the competition, the prince, the stupid stupid boys. She’s just fucked, no way around it.

But as she lingers in the doorway, memorizing the rise and fall of his chest, it occurs to her that she is now — for lack of a better term — royally fucked.

---

It’s as if she’s barely slept at all when she feels his hand on her shoulder. “Riley? Hey, time to get up.”

She burrows her face back towards her pillow, trying desperately to shut out the light filtering in through the curtains. Maxwell, however, refuses to be shut out.

“We’re leaving in an hour or so, if you want to get ready.” He sounds just as tired as she feels, and she realizes then that he’s most likely spent the entire night here, with her, probably shoved into the corner while she bundled herself in covers. The thought makes her sit up suddenly, blinking blearily into Maxwell’s face, only a few inches from hers.

“Oh,” he says. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she says back.

They look at each other for a moment, Riley squinting up at him as she adjusts to the rush of sunlight. Under the sudden scrutiny of his gaze, she pulls the blankets up around her, a flush spreading into her cheeks as she realizes what she must look like: hair a tangled mess, sleep marks across her face, oversized t-shirt hanging in a particularly unflattering way.

“What’s the ‘Knicks’?” Maxwell asks.

“Hmm?” She quirks an eyebrow in confusion, and he nods at her shirt. She looks down. “Oh. Basketball team. They’re the… uh, the professional team for New York.”

“Do you like them?”

“I like their shirts.”

He laughs, turning away from her to slip down onto the floor. “Sometime, will you teach me what basketball is?”

“You guys don’t have basketball in Cordonia?” Riley lets the blankets fall back around her and pushes herself out of the bed with the intent to follow him, but the hardwood is like ice against her feet. She lingers near the familiar warmth of the covers while she watches him go.

“We don’t have a lot of stuff in Cordonia,” he answers. “Basketball, Disneyland, those breakfast things you like.”

“Pop-tarts?” Riley grins, crossing her arms. “Yeah, real bummer on that one.”

“Prom, Costco, monster trucks,” Maxwell continues, “And we’ve barely even got you for much longer, so.”

The words hit her harder than expected, and the smile drops from her face just as her arms fall to her sides. The chill of the floor spreads up from her feet, twisting its way through her body and settling in her heart.

Maxwell heads towards her suitcase. He lifts it down off the table, yanks the handle up until it clicks. “Come on, you gotta get dressed. I’ll take your bag out to the car.”

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, hands fiddling with the hem of her shirt. “Will you come back?”

He turns his head, eyes ghosting over her face as she bites harder into her lip.

“Riley…” he says, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, totally.” She crosses her arms over her chest, pulling her shoulders up in what she hopes looks like a nonchalant shrug. “Just, big day, you know.”

“Understatement.” He smiles at her, and the sinking feeling subsides.

“What should I wear?” she asks, in a feeble attempt to keep him in the room a few moments longer.

“Definitely just that. The king and queen will be so impressed.”

“Shut up.” She sticks her tongue out, reaching back to pull the comforter up from the bed and around her shoulders before crossing toward the closet.

“No I’m serious, the press will not be able to stop talking about it. Bertrand will love that.”

She whacks him with the comforter as she passes. “You know what else Bertrand will love?”

“What?”

“You spending the night in my room.”

He laughs. “Okay, okay, point taken.” He turns to grab her suitcase, but not fast enough to keep her from noticing the blush rising in his cheeks. She laughs too, pulling open her closet door.

“Go get dressed,” he calls after her, “I’m actually taking your stuff out this time.”

“As you wish, Lord Beaumont.” She twirls around to drop in a curtsey, blowing him a kiss as he makes a face at her and heads out the door.

---

Riley wakes up to Maxwell once more, her face smashed in against his shoulder in the back of the car. She lifts her head, blinking the sleep out of her eyes, only to meet Bertrand’s disapproving ones.

“You have lines on your face,” he says disdainfully. “You look wretched.”

Riley sits up, rolling her neck and wincing. “Thanks, B. Are we at the airport?”

“Yeah,” Maxwell answers, seemingly unfazed by her using his arm for a pillow. She hopes she didn’t drool. “There’s coronation traffic, but that’s to be expected. We’ll be at the plane in five.”

Riley looks out the window, expecting to see the familiar bustle of brake lights and taxicabs that punctuate all her visits to JFK. However, all she finds is a great wide sea of black tarmac and planes.

She turns to Maxwell and Bertrand. “Wait, where are we?”

“The airport.”

“No, I — yeah, I know that. But where are the people?”

Maxwell looks confused. “…On the planes?”

“Don’t we, y’know, have to go through security and stuff? Or is that not a thing in Cordonia? Or like, don’t I need to show someone my passport and check my bag?” She nods her head in the direction of the trunk. “That thing is not gonna fit in an overhead compartment, I can already promise you that.”

The car slows to a stop and Maxwell laughs. “What? Riley, we’re broke, but we aren’t fly commercial broke.”

Riley says “Oh,” and then someone in a full suit and black sunglasses is opening her car door and saying, “Lady Riley, I’ll be taking your bags,” and she says “Oh,” and Maxwell says, “Thanks, they’re in the trunk.”

Riley whips her head around to face him, eyes wide. Maxwell shrugs. “Liam has a plane.”

Her eyes go even wider, and she pauses to make sure Bertrand is mostly out of earshot before whispering, “You didn’t think to tell me we’d be in an enclosed space with Liam for an extended period of time?”

He smiles sheepishly. “Well, the thought crossed my mind, but I was worried you’d try to cut your losses and run before we got here. And besides, he told me he wanted some time with you. To talk about something.”

Riley shoots him a pointed look before turning to slide out of the car. Talk to her about something! Great. What a mystery as to what it could possibly be.

The man in the suit, most likely a member of Liam’s security team, is already unloading their things from the trunk. She squints into the sunlight, eyes settling on the enormous white jet just a few hundred feet from their stop, its wings ringed with gold and an egregiously large Cordonian seal plastered along the side.

“Discreet,” Riley mutters, sighing as she heads off towards the staircase lowered down from the plane’s back entrance. She’s never boarded a plane like this before, not without hours of waiting and TSA screenings and watching as every other boarding group took their place ahead of her in line. The tiny staircase seems too easy, and the staff waiting at the bottom are too quick to offer her their arms as she climbs up into the ridiculous fixture of luxury.

As she makes her way inside, wandering slowly towards the aisle, she gawks at the interior: a scaled down recreation of the palace sitting areas, complete with ornate lamps and crystal stemware and what looks to be an entire grand piano off in the corner. Riley feels her stomach clench at the sight of it all, a reminder of how desperately she doesn’t belong in this world of opulence and glamour.

There’s a rustle of a curtain and footsteps behind her, and she turns, expecting to see Maxwell on his way in. She’s already whispering, “Max, I think I should—” before her eyes settle on the person who’s actually in front of her and she stops mid-sentence. “Oh, fuck.”

Drake looks her over and frowns.

“What are you doing here?!” she hisses, shoving him in the shoulder. “And why are you sneaking up on me?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he answers, leveled. “Pretty sure your boyfriend is still back at the car.”

Riley shakes her head, letting out an agonized sigh. “I am truly not in the mood for this, Drake.”

“Aldridge, you going soft? Can’t handle the banter anymore?”

“On Liam’s goddamn plane? Yeah, maybe it’s not the ideal choice of venue.” She crosses her arms, but her defense wavers. “Drake… you didn’t… I mean, you didn’t say anything, did you?”

He rolls his eyes. “Relax, I’m not that much of an asshole. Liam’s on a conference call in the diplomat suite anyway.”

“Diplomat suite?”

“It’s a big fucking plane.”

Riley lets her hands fall back to her sides, glancing around the room once more, eyes following the rows of soft leather seats.

“Well, thanks, I guess.”

He shrugs, looking everywhere but at her. “I know you’ll talk to him. You don’t need me to do it for you.”

She lets out a sigh. “Maxwell said he invited me on the plane so we could talk, so if you’re awaiting my downfall, it might come sooner than you think.”

“I’m not —” Drake looks taken aback, “Riley, come on, you know that’s not how I feel.”

She starts to say something in reply, but the sounds of footsteps coming up the staircase echo loudly into the cabin. Drake turns, and Riley feels her nervous tension ease. Maxwell is finally here, he’ll know how to handle Drake and she can just —

“Riley,” an all too familiar voice calls, “Is that you harping on and on in there?”

Riley grabs Drake’s arm, face twisted in horror, and mouths, Olivia? He nods, looking slightly pained, and then there she is at the landing — mouth twisted in distaste, red hair spilling out of a white fur hat, sheathed in some sort of emerald green evening coat that could probably cover Riley’s apartment rent for the next ten years.

Her mouth curls up into a smile when she sees them. “Oh lovely, I was right.”

She steps into the room, her heels clicking against the hardwood, and drapes her arm across Drake’s shoulder, leaning against him as she surveys Riley. “You do know we’re going to a coronation ball, right?”

“Wonderful to see you too, Olivia,” Riley replies with a grimace.

Olivia smiles again, straightening up and patting Drake dismissively on the back. “Hey Drake, will you be a dear and roll out the bar cart? I have a feeling we’re going to need some drinks.”

Drake rolls his eyes so hard it almost looks painful. “Sure Olivia, I will happily roll out the bar cart. For myself.”

As he turns and pushes past her, she frowns, watching him walk away with a hand on her hip. When he disappears through the cabin door, she looks back at Riley. “Is he always so pleasant?”

“Pretty much, yeah. You’d think you two would get along.”

Olivia arches an eyebrow. “Cute.”

She hears someone else coming up the stairs and prays it’s Maxwell this time. When she sees him step inside, she releases an audible sigh.

“Hey Riley, did Bertrand already come up here? I think he — oh.” His eyes fall on Olivia, who flutters her fingers in a wave. “Olivia?”

“And Drake.” Riley smiles through gritted teeth. “Isn’t it wonderful? Gang’s all here.”

Maxwell blinks. “Uh. Cool?”

Drake emerges from the door then, glass in hand, and stops short when he sees Maxwell. “Hey Max! Long time no see. Great talking with you in the study last night.”

Riley glares with the ferocity of a thousand suns. Maxwell blinks again. Olivia looks between all three of them and rolls her eyes. “You guys are so fucking weird.”

She turns toward the closest seat and settles in, draping her legs across the length of it so the red bottoms of her high heels are on full display. She pulls an eye mask out of her purse, tugging it over her head. “I’m going to take a Xanax and listen to Ryan’s Roses. Do not even think about speaking to me.”

“Trust me,” Riley says under her breath, “It was the least of our concerns.”

part two.

[mysticsparklewings]

Covered in All the Colored Lights‪

Well, this looks wild and different coming from me, doesn't it? If you've been a Sparkler long enough, you may remember this character of mine from ages ago when I made This Is Where You Wanna Be, which featured her. Her name is Windith, and she's a performer who likes mixing old-time circus elements with more contemporary stuff.   (She was originally just a circus performer but that felt too limiting for me, and I'm thinking it might be a little too passive for her personality. I don't have a set story for her, so her character will perpetually be in development ) This drawing was also me testing out some new paper and the new Skin Tone marker set from Ohuhu. Which I simply had to get because it meant more colors of their brush tip markers that I've tested out in the past. (Ohuhu Brush Marker Review and Sweet Ohuhu Snail) I'll cut to the chase for those that aren't interested in the longer version: I kinda hate this paper and it, unfortunately, was not the best choice for what was supposed to be a mostly-marker illustration. But I like the markers! The markers themselves are nice as always, and I like the addition of the new colors, but the one thing I have to point out is that Ohuhu is still lacking in good colors for super pale skin that doesn't have a strong pink or gray undertone. They're doing really good with peachy tones, mid-tone, warm browns, and the new colors add some really nice darker/cooler browns, though. In fact, the new marker colors are what primarily inspired me to bring Winidth back into the fold in the first place; some of the colors looked like they would work really well for her skin tone in particular, and I've avoided drawing her traditionally in the past because I wasn't sure I could capture it accurately with the supplies I had. And...that's really all I have to say about the markers, actually. As brush markers, virtually nothing has changed from the last two rounds of testing I did with the Ohuhus, and thus the only thing I can really comment on is the colors. I really appreciate having more to pick from, especially because some of the colors in the set really do stand apart from the rest of my alcohol marker collection, but a lot of the "light skin tone" options are either too orange/pink or too yellow or just generally too dark for a light/pale skin tone. So, my final commentary is the same as always: More colors, please! Now, as for that paper... I picked up a new sketchbook from my local Ross, which I've known for a while now as having a surprisingly good (maybe not the best, but surprisingly good) art supply section. This paper is by a brand called Craft Smith, which as far as I can tell seems to be very into making scrapbook/craft paper and doesn't appear to be actively selling/promoting sketchbooks currently. (At least not anywhere I could find online.) It also claims to be "Mixed Media Paper 120 lb (180 gsm)." I actually have some 120 lb mixed media paper that I use semi-frequently in the form of a sketchbook by Denik. And funnily enough, that's the same paper I used on my other two Ohuhu marker pieces. So we have both a baseline for comparison in terms of performance and in terms of feel. Now, I'm not an idiot. I did inspect the paper before I actually bought the sketchbook, and it's alarming how deceptive this paper is. It definitely has the right weight/thickness to it, even compared to the 120 lb. paper I already had once I got it home. The only truly notable differences are 1. This paper is a brighter white (the Denik paper is almost on the blue/purple side) and 2. This paper feels smoother. And the second point was actually one of the reasons I bought it, as I thought it was make for a really nice marker paper. (Smoother paper tends to be a better option for brush markers so you don't wear out the nibs as quickly)   Oh boy, how wrong would I be! So, let me explain just by going through my process for the art, since that and discovering the atrocities of this paper go pretty hand-in-hand. Trying desperately to get used to my current tablet situation, I started by doing the lines for the illustration digitally, having been inspired for a pose/facial expression by some Ball Jointed Dolls over on Instagram. The lines didn't turn out perfectly, but they were good enough that I felt comfortable printing them out and re-inking them traditionally as I did for Fairy Enchanting, the artwork featured on my Commission Sheet. In that process, I would end up with a 1/2 of the drawing that didn't print correctly, the proper print out I used to do the inking, and also similarly to Fairy Enchanting, a first attempt at tracing my lines that was not turning out how I wanted that got scrapped. So, essentially, I had 1.5 test pages just for colors/color placement (as they were on regular printer paper), and 1 to see how this paper would actually handle my supplies. And while normally I'd be scolding myself for wasting paper and ink, in this case, it's actually a very good thing that happened. My second attempt at inking on this paper went a lot smoother (I think I just needed to loosen up the inking part of my brain), and I was actually pretty happy with how the lines turned out. So much so that once I discovered major problems with the paper, I actually scanned the inked version in to preserve it, just in case. And I even inked it a third time on to the Denik paper I mentioned earlier, extra-just in case so I could even do a side-by-side comparison of the two papers to show "this paper is crap, this other paper is not." (Fortunately, I don't think I'll be needing that third inking despite the tale I'm about to tell.) I started out by using the different test pages to make sure I had the right tones/colors I wanted for the skin. The swatches looked okay, so I went ahead and tried coloring the skin to test some blush and shading. Right away I noticed that 1. The ink feathers/bleeds across the page (outside of lines) way more than it should for a paper this thick, and 2. once the ink settles into the paper, it's kind of patchy/spotty. And 3. If you trying layering a light color over a darker color with alcohol markers, it makes the patchy/spotty-ness more apparent. Obviously, these things combined make layering and blending tricky without the end result looking strange and uncomfortable. Just in case there was something this paper didn't like about the Ohuhu markers, in particular (and also because I wasn't super happy with my color choices for Ohuhu for this particular hair color), I did try a test blend for the hair with some Copic markers. Nope, still feathering badly and doing the weird spotty thing. Still not layering very well without re-working the entire area. Briefly, I panicked. The whole idea for this paper was to be for markers, and I had largely intended for this illustration to be pretty markers-only. But this paper, quite apparently, hates markers. Okay, okay. I tried one more blending/coloring test, this time just seeing if I could do the skin and get it to look decent on this paper inside my lines, and while not super ideal, I did manage to get something I was mostly happy with. Likewise, my next step was to do that again on the final piece. At least then I'd have the most important part--the skin--for this piece done and then I could proceed with whatever seemed like the best option for the rest of it. So the skin actually turned out okay in the end because I was being exceptionally careful to work with the issues I'd already discovered. By nature, it's not the best (as in it would look better on better paper), but it works. I still had at least a small problem on my hands though. To be fair, even before I printed the lines off I was thinking I might try washi tape for her clothes/shawl/whatever, so the paper not liking markers really just re-enforced that idea. The problem was I still had the hair to do. I tried a couple more blending/coloring tests, trying desperately to make the markers work for that, but it just wasn't happening. The way I blend hair just requires too many layers for this paper. So my next solution was to try some tests with colored pencils. For smooth, flat color, this paper is actually pretty nice for colored pencils. For layering and blending, however, (just as I suspected before I even tried it) it's too smooth. Blending works pretty okay if you're just doing 1-2 layers, but anything beyond that is just slippery and unsatisfying, to say the least. That was my two main mediums thrown out the window. Now what do I do? Because I was largely at my wit's end, I got a little crazy and tried some tests using some Faber Castell gelatos to see what they would do. And I have to say, putting the gelatos to this paper does feel exceptionally good, as the smoothness of the paper suits the creamy texture of the gelatos. Although the gelatos don't blend out super well when you add water to them on this paper, so that limits what you can do with them by a fair amount. Not really knowing what else to do, I broke out some actual watercolors and tried those. Fortunately, while the paper does warp fairly easily (that's to be expected with any paper less than 140 lb.), the paint lays down and blends fairly smoothly and nicely. And so I finally had something to work with. There's a reason when I work with watercolors I usually don't go for a hard illustration like this, but I think I managed fairly well to get the paint to do what I wanted. I knew going in it wouldn't have the same look or dimension as my markers or pencils, so I made my peace with that ahead of time. The main thing I wanted was at least the suggestion of shading and relatively smooth coverage. There are some small areas where the paint just did what it wanted anyway, but it's little enough I don't think it ruins the whole thing. I'm sure I could've worked with the hair more to get arguably better results, but by this point, I was so relieved the paint was working that I decided not to push my luck. (I did end up having to digitally tweak it because it shows up as a little more blue on the scan than it actual is, but that's not really the paper's fault.) Since I wasn't sure what exactly I wanted to do with the face/makeup at this point, I moved on to dealing with the washi tape. Fortunately, this ended up working out fairly easily. I actually put the tape down on my inking-gone-wrong (as the areas where I needed to cut it turned out well enough it would work for this) and used an Exacto knife to carefully cut the top of tape away to make the neckline and keep the tape from covering up the little bit of hair that reaches down that far, the hair being the tricker part to cut. Even so, I had a less challenging time than I thought and I only minimally dented/cut into the very top layer of the paper underneath. (Which was why I wanted to cut the tape on not-the-final-piece in the first place; I knew indentions were going to be made from the knife no matter what I did, but it's hard to predict how bad it'll be until it's usually too late.) Once that was done, I could simply peel the pre-cut tape off of my test page and re-apply it to the final one. Naturally, the cut wasn't 100% accurate, but it was close enough that the little bit that wasn't quite right was easily disguised but going back over my lines again and filling any gaps. I went back to the face once that was taken care of, and I ended up relying on the heavy feathering this paper does to get Windith's eyes right. Originally when I drew her, I tried to give her "oil slick" eyes. As in, her eyes are black but have a rainbow sheen to them, like how if you ever see oil in a parking lot, it's black but has that really pretty rainbow shine to it. I never had to consider before how this might translate into a traditional drawing though since that drawing was done digitally and at a time where I thought digital art was going to be my primary medium going forward.  (My oh my, how the tables have turned indeed...) After a couple of failed tests (failed due to personal preference and actually not the paper this time) I ended up going with a dark selection of alcohol markers in very teeny tiny dots to make a pseudo-rainbow. It's not a perfect translation of what her eyes are supposed to look like, but it's close enough to suit me. Then came the makeup. Originally, I was going to just make her lips a more natural color and largely call it done, but I didn't want them to blend in too much with her skin and even when I tried a less natural berry color I just couldn't get the blending right in such a small space on this paper. And I was also thinking it would be nice to give her eye shadow and bring the colors from her shawl-thing up into the face area a little bit. But I'd already discovered colored pencils weren't the way to go and I had a feeling I wasn't going to like how this paper handled pastels either, so I just skipped testing that altogether. After some thought, since I originally thought of Windith as a circus performer, I deiced to do some testing with gel pens (which I figured would handle just fine on this paper, given the nature of gel pens in general) and this simple kind of clown makeup. (I'm sure there's a more proper name for it out there somewhere but I haven't the foggiest idea what that said name is.) I ended up really liking that, especially with how the bright colors pop against her dark skin tone, and in that, I thought a bright color would work well for her lips, too. I tested my orange gel pen, but it was a little too bright and just a little too imprecise for my taste, so I opted for a little fluorescent orange watercolor instead. I know the makeup probably looks kind of silly to most, but I really like it and how it ties the colors together better. And besides, I think it says a lot of about Windith's character that she can wear makeup like that but still looks as confident and determined as she does here.   But I wasn't done quite yet. I wanted to do something to fill the empty space in the background, but as I mentioned earlier I really was not keen on finding out how this paper would handle pastels after the struggles I'd already been through. And also I didn't really think any of my pastel colors would work all that well with the other colors going on here. It's not too much, but I ended up defaulting to some of my dollar-store stencils to add some florals and a little butterfly back there. I figured that would tie in nicely with the floral washi tape, add a bit of color, yet not totally overpower everything. I also ended up with some artsy white dots because I somehow got some random ink dots/smudges around a few edges and once I covered those up I added some more dots so it would look like an intentional part of the look. Unfortunately, said white dots did not show up on the scan.   The final piece is definitely far from perfect and this paper is not good for a lot of things I was hoping it would be (I can report it seems to work pretty good for regular sketching, though, so it won't go to waste!). However, I still managed to get something pretty decent out of the equation, I think. Small victories? I may not be looking forward to making more finished pieces with this paper, but I am looking forward to playing with the Ohuhu Skin tone markers more, that's for sure. I've got a few sketches that I'm thinking about turned into a mini-series illustrating a few different skin tones with them, but I haven't decided 100% on that just yet. I do have a couple of other projects definitely coming down the pipeline though, so stayed tuned. P.S. The title is a reference to The Greatest Show, the opening them from "The Greatest Showman," the same song that largely inspired the first time I drew Windith. It's just kinda her thing now.   ____ Artwork © me, MysticSparkleWings ____ Where to find me & my artwork: My Website | Commission Info + Prices | Ko-Fi | dA Print Shop | RedBubble |   Twitter | Tumblr | Instagram