#i want to be sure that every page i draw can be someone's favourite :)

[phoenix-clan]

i'm about 7 pages into the sketch phase for 6 and this expression is drew for smallpaw keeps making me giggle when i come back to it

[hestzhyen]

Chapter 64 Samurai Posting

HELLO, VOID! We got some excellent stuff this chapter. World building, character dynamic exploration, character progression, all told with awesome action- this is peak Kagurabachi! Bit shorter than usual because IRL is steamrolling me...

Rough TL of the Editor's Notes:

Front Page: 座村の娘イヲリを狙う久々李. チヒロを前に…? [Samura no musume Iori wo nerau Kuguri. Chihiro wo mae ni...?!] Kuguri targets Samura's daughter, Iori. Chihiro stands before him...?! Last Page: 逭せるなら今のうち♪ [(ni)seru nara ima no uchi] Now's the time to escape♪

The Fight

World building!

So all the bearers were chosen because of their skill and personal approval from Kunishige! Makes sense. Gotta have solid fundamentals to make the most of using these swords- but where does that leave Chihiro?

Pissing off Kuguri, the guy who studies the blade instead of going to parties and having normal social interactions!

So he's kind of scuffed with how he fights sans Enten. Also makes sense. But trying to learn in the middle of battle is a bit risky, isn't it?

He won't become a sword master after this fight but I wonder how he'll keep improving. Will he pick up random moves to copy? Maybe the Sushi Bearer can help him with the basics once this fight is done? Inquiring minds would like to know...

HMM

Chihiro is narrating this and we don't know if he got details on what actually happened from Shiba in the hospital yet or not. All he knows is propaganda that everyone else is taught. So this throws theories of Magatsumi's wielder being a child who accidentally picked up the sword causing The Incident into serious doubt, but doesn't totally deny it... god, we need more info. Please, Hokazono-sensei! I'm going numb from all the teasing!

But at least this explains why Samura et. al. are leagues above Chihiro. He's been figuring things out on his own like Hiruhiko wants to do and his fundamentals are actually pretty shoddy. He can tap into the blade's True Realm easier, and draw out more of it's abilities, but his stance and such leave him wide-open to experienced swordsmen.

Trying to summon the Great Serpent of Ronka...?

For the record, all these clangs and screech effects are to show how messy Chihiro's swordsmanship is. Someone who could fight properly wouldn't be dragging the blade around when parrying or swinging it like a club. Kuguri's got a lot to teach Chihiro...

Someone... listened to me?!

I'm pretty sure he's going to be yelling instructions at Chihiro on how to fight better while trying to kill him and I can't wait to see it. His need to fight and slice got tangled up with being taken seriously as a learning resource and I hope the results continue to bring the laughs! I'm completely won over by this guy and the "while you partied, I studied the blade" energy he radiates. I gotta know how he came to idolise Sojo but thank you for keeping the slightly ridiculous takes on "to clash is to converse" alive. Hokazono-sensei is keeping his favourite guy around even if it's in an indirect way.

It was really funny to see that John spoils Hiruhiko rotten and Kuguri can't fuckin' stand it. They're basically oil and water. I like that we are getting these great dynamics between the villains too- I'm even starting to warm up to Hiruhiko as John's special little boy that everyone else sort of tolerates. I'm genuinely interested in the backstory of how they all came together and... I say this every time, but... I hope we don't have to wait too long to find out.

As for what all of this means for Chihiro and his personal sorcery, we could find out what it is this arc but I think it will leave off at him learning to apply it to his swordsmanship. He's not adept at using his spirit energy like Shiba and had no foundational training like Hakuri did. All he's doing is dumping it into the weapon and using the White Lotus Iai move that Uruha explained and Samura demonstrated. The question of what his sorcery is would come up as more of a legacy question I think, as in if he could make more enchanted blades or whatever his mom could do (that blood test is still hanging around, don't forget).

There's ambiguity in what the sword contract means too- does it permanently remove the Bearer's ability to use their sorcery even if the bond is broken? Or is it only redirecting the flow to itself while bonded? ...Yet another question that will get answered eventually. Hopefully.

Can Someone Who Doesn't Feel Guilty as Fuck Please Stand Up?

You better believe I'm ranting about this with ship goggles strapped on at the end of this post.

And so, Chihiro does in fact blame himself a hell of a lot for Hakuri's current predicament. Never mind that Hakuri has his own personal issues that drove him to this point, Chihiro's adding to his burden of his own accord and no one's gonna stop him. The Masumi are doing their best but there's no getting through to everyone's favourite traumatized MC. I sincerely hope they stick around to keep trying though (and shoving food in Chihiro's face because it's funny).

The phrasing is interesting to me- remember this?

Chapter 58... feels like ages ago.

I'm definitely going to bet on Hakuri making some kind of grand gesture down the line- something in the vein of "we're friends so stop blaming yourself and let me help you!". There's so much tension being set up over Chihiro's complicated feelings involving Hakuri and feeling like he got the guy involved only to let him down by being weak, after all. Toss Hiruhiko's misunderstanding of friendship in the mix and we've got an angst cocktail garnished with crazy. I've got ideas about how it'll play out, but the author will be the best one to tell his own story so I'll just patiently wait to see what happens. Something something Hakuri/Uruha and Chihiro/Samura parallels right?

At any rate, we take a break from Hollywood block-buster action movies to do some super traditional shounen things this chapter and I'm completely in love with the execution. Chihiro's guilt and his insecurity as a swordsman are eating away at him, and now that he can't use Enten, he's actually not gonna fare too well with someone who's studied the blade. The only thing he had an advantage on others was sheer time spent with the enchanted blade- his basics are actually pretty poor! Makes sense since being able to cleanly cut a training dummy is nowhere near the same as fighting someone one-on-one. And a slicing freak like Kuguri who apparently cares quite a bit about technique would be too much for him... if not for some inspiration and Chihiro's ability to adapt.

Some Cool Shit

Small appreciation here:

Talk about making an impact.

I'm in love with how the キン (KIN, sharp clang) sound effect forms the border to separate Kuguri's face from the action shot. It's incredible use of non-traditional paneling and I hope it's not removed in the EN volume release! It would be ruining the artistry of the page to remove it!

Alright, and now...

WARNING: Ship Brainrot Ahead

I'm completely normal about this chapter after months of Chihiro and Hakuri not interacting with each other. Hokazono really saw me complaining in private about them being separated for four months in real time and gave us... this.

"Power of Friendship"? Never heard of it.

Yeah.

The title of the chapter is ビカム侍, "Become a Samurai". But they didn't have to have this flashback- Samura and Uruha are both clearly inspired by samurai already and they were the reason why Chihiro was able to pull off the awesome Iai move he did. It simply could have been a reference to those two and Chihiro learning more swordsmanship to become like them.

BUT NO

We had to know that he was doing this because of Hakuri. Specifically because Hakuri called him a samurai when they first met. Even though Chihiro doesn't seem to recall the "that's you!" part, he still wants to be that samurai Hakuri needs.

I. AM. VERY. NORMAL.

Like, even as a friendship thing, isn't that kind of... intense? Everything about Hakuri is intense, yeah, but I don't know man. Chihiro wanting to live up to the high regard that Hakuri had of him from the start and become the samurai his friend thinks of him as is... I ship this for a reason, okay? Every time I think "surely this will not go so far" the author trounces those expectations and says "NAH I'm making this gay as hell".

We finally got Chihiro's response to Hakuri saying "I need you in my life", and it's "I will become the person you think I am so you don't get hurt for my sake ever again". His feelings towards Hakuri were a bit unclear until now but it's obvious that they're burning bright. He cares so, so much about his "equal partner". HNNNGH YOU CAN SEE WHERE I'M COMING FROM, RIGHT?

And just as a reminder, not even two weeks have passed since they met each other.

So normal.

Both of them are trying to be the better person the other sees them as.

I'm having a Kuguri-style brain implosion right now.

I gotta say, it's really nice to see this sort of push to be better that isn't built off of rivalry but rather mutual respect. Chihiro and Hakuri both see each other as the better, stronger person that saved them and it compels them to keep improving themselves. They just have to work on the personal issues that drive them to hurt themselves in pursuit of this goal.

Friendly rivalry isn't a bad or unhealthy dynamic at all, it's just a bit over-used in shounen as the default relationship type between the MC and his deuteragonist. But that might be what happens to Chihiro and Hiyuki. With Hakuri, it's all about admiration from both sides. You know, the stuff the strongest relationships of any kind are built off of (but especially romantic ones).

The conflict in their relationship comes from the unhealthy personal issues each of them have, I think. Because as wholesome and sweet as Hakuri and Chihiro are with each other, their flaws are what's adding tension. For Chihiro, it's guilt over getting Hakuri involved and over-relying on him. For Hakuri, it's the Sazanami mindset of giving one's all compounded with his guilt over Ice Lady. This whole arc seems to be about addressing guilt, so hopefully both of them will be able to start forgiving themselves and become better partners to each other by valuing themselves a little more.

See you later, kind void, I've got fan fiction to write if I can find the time. Take care and hope 2025 is treating you well so far.

[respawned-dove]

hihi!! really excited to see the content u make. can i get headcanons for a yan!scout? pretty please?

1st requests, and it's one of my favourites! You didn't give particular specifications on the reader character, so the reader is neutral on every trait.

yan! Scout x gn! Reader Headcanons

CW/TW: obsessive behaviour, controlling behaviour, stalking, home invasion, inappropriate touching, dubcon, guilt-tripping, death threats, sex mentions, manipulation, forced isolation, physical threat, threatening of family members, death of family members and friends, lovebombing, guns

Both BLU and RED Scout's basic instincts are to run, hit, scare off, or cling very hard, and those traits leak into their ways of showing love and obsession.

Scout is actually quite impressive, outwardly. Even with his more annoying aspects, he's cool and charming, he's good with girls (even if not so with ladies), he has an athletic body and he's very funny. It's not hard for him to draw people into his circle initially. As long as you're there and willing to compliment him and build up his ego then you are exactly who he wants around him for a night. For most people he is flirtatious with, he keeps them around for one night stands and for sleeping with. Someone distant yet all over him is just what he's always wanted. But some people are different... They actually like him, and they actually seem to desire him in an intimate way. This treatment very easily translates into romantic affection, as his idea of what would be a good relationship is very shallow. "If that person genuinely enjoys being around me, then that must mean they want me bad."

The crush forms, and the fear sets in for him. Someone is getting close to him, and therefore might see through the dents in his ego and find out the 'truth' about him. (There is no underlying truth, but Scout believes he, deep down, does not live up to his place in this world, and therefore doesn't live up to even who he is as a person.) And he could never bear to lose the positive attention you give him. For a phase, he becomes very distant from you, not necessarily cold, but he definitely seems to be avoiding you, and there's an air of performance to all of your interactions. Scout considers it a test, quizzing you in a way you're not aware of. If you keep seeking him out when he pulls away, if you chase him and continue to want him around, then he will consider that a confirmation that you want him, just as much as he does you now.

Scout continues to keep a distance, but more like a 'walking twenty feet behind you everywhere you go" sort of distance. It's not stalking, he tells himself, he's just making sure he knows where you are that day, knows if you talked to anyone about him that day, to make sure he knows you have that gift he gave you in your room, and he knows you're getting home safe. Seeking validation that you like him even when he's 'not there' (he will be there). He has a weapon, but that's just in case any creeps tried to follow you home or something!

Speaking of gifts, Scout gives them pretty often. He actually found something to spend his massive income on besides Tom Jones merch, and that something is you. It's not his specific love language, but it is a way to make sure you stay there with him another hour or two, always waiting to get the gifts he pulls out. You start getting gifts in the mail too, marked as from Scout. You don't remember giving him your address... Eh, he probably used the yellow pages for it, is all.

His actual love language is physical touch and words of affirmation.

For one thing, he can't seem to keep his hands off of you, even if it's in subtle ways. Things that could still be considered friendly, like a hug that lasts slightly too long, or grabbing your hand when he's showing you something and 'forgetting' to let go. Slowly, they get less friendly, and it turns into things like holding your shoulders from behind you, getting caught eyeing you up, or 'accidentally' touching your hips and chest. It's easy enough to laugh it off, he's a silly guy who's most likely playing around with you. A lot of his playing around is annoying like that. But the more you let it go, the further he pushes your boundaries. Touching your chest without removing his hand for much longer, grabbing you by your hips to move you around, touching your face for far too long to be comfortable. You still don't feel comfortable calling him out for it, not when he's so friendly and nice to you the majority of the time. And hey, him being nice to you makes you feel special! He can be a dick to others, and right now, you get to laugh at it from the other side rather than be stuck in his ire.

For the other, his need for approval from you knows no bounds, and he puts himself in a lot of risky and stupid situations just to hear you praise or fawn over him and how cool he is. He wants to feel adored, admired, appreciated, valued. And if you can give that to him, then you will never get rid of him. Scout can become so compliment seeking that it's uncomfortable for you, begging non-verbally for your affection like you're his mother or something. Sometimes very demandingly forcing you to look at him while he does something 'cool', expecting heavy praise from you for it. Not giving him that praise is arguably the worse option, because he will get cold and angry at you, sometimes pouting or refusing contact for multiple days. Usually when he gets back and you apologize, it comes with what you think is a playful threat to kill you if you keep it up. You hope it's playful.

He's been stalking you for months as he pretends to be your friend, and he knows so much about you now. He knows exactly how to make you laugh and exactly what you like in a person. He knows what your closet draw full of underwear looks like and he knows that you sleep on your side with one leg placed higher than the other. He knows your typical meals for the day and sometimes buys them for you before you even ask for them. From your view, Scout starts to seem awkward around you. You can kind of guess why, seeing as he hardly leaves you alone for 24 full hours at this point.

He ends up asking you out, properly. Not just friends or even his usual FWB relationships. No, he wants to date you now! Forever, hopefully!

cont.

—

If you accept his request, you will be in for the sweetest honeymoon phase of your life, full of gifts and nonstop affection and a boyfriend that craves your approval like a puppy. But he won't remain that way forever. Scout's senses run on fear like a wild animal, and the longer he gets to keep you, the more he needs to cling, to keep you secured to him. He starts trying to have sex daily, just to confirm to himself that you desire him. Sex starts to become aggressive, grabby and demanding, gripping you by the hair and ordering praises from you.

Scout needs to be where you are at all times, he must control what you're saying about him and what you think about him by being near you no matter what.

He starts to do everything for you, from cooking to holding doors open to driving you everywhere to paying all of your bills. Slowly you begin to realize you aren't doing anything independently anymore. Scout makes enough money for the both of you, so his request to quit your job feels like a no-brainer by now. He can and does pay for everything you need, and if you didn't know before, you definitely know he's doing something illegal for a job now.

He eventually begins throwing out the idea of you not leaving the house all together. Just think about it, he offers, cleaning his guns off in a way that is definitely unrelated to this conversation. What's the point of it when you have everything you could ever want here? Why do your friends need to see you outside when they can visit us here? Are you saying things to them I can't hear? No, of course not. So start staying here all day, where it's safe and I can always get to you.

Scout comes home covered in blood sometimes. You would question why your friends stop calling after those days, but you're not stupid. He slowly narrows down your circle until you don't talk to anyone but him. Even your family no longer contacts you, and you don't blame them with how threatening Scout can be. Scout has an entire family of people that could 'take care' of them and he made sure they know it.

On the surface, he still is a very loving, doting boyfriend who hangs off your arm and fulfills almost any request you have. He can provide for you and he clearly adores you in the way he seeks your approval all the time. You really do have a great partner, at the end of the day, one who takes care of you so well. What do you deserve to complain about? Scout is everything anyone could want. Murder and control issues notwithstanding.

—

If you reject his request, he will take it as a huge blow to his ego. If you offer to still be his friend, that's an even bigger blow. He thought you liked him back just as much. How could he be wrong? No, he wasn't wrong. You're just confused, surely. He just needs to double down somehow, to remind you of what you want. People love it when you patiently wait for them to change their mind. As little patience as he even feels like he has at this point. He's still following you home, and this night, he waits until you're asleep, and then sneaks in through a window you left unlocked. Why would you have left it unlocked, every time he comes here. It must mean that you know he's been doing this. That you do want him like this, but you can't admit it to him. He watches you sleep. You're beautiful when you sleep.

He takes something from your clothing drawer that night. Something you wear all the time, something he can be certain you'll notice. If you bring it up to him in a certain way, then he can tell if you know that he's doing this. He can't sleep that night, staring at your clothes on his desk chair. He's certain it must smell like you. So he tests it. And it does. Not the proudest J.O. of his life, but definitely one of the best, with your smell right there with him, your clothes wrapped around his dick for him to thrust into.

Two days go by and you haven't noticed. He puts the soiled clothing back into your drawers. Now there's no way you won't notice. And you do, bringing it up as an oddity that only might be something creepy, and nothing more. He's left you no reason to be suspicious so far either way, so him as the culprit doesn't cross your mind. But to him, it's the sign he needs that you know it's him.

He breaks into your house again that night. And again the next. He starts to practically live inside your house at night. He's doing poorly on the battlefield, and no one on the team really talks to him anymore, because the only thing he talks about is you, your rejection, your 'secret' of still loving him. That's fine, fuck those guys. Why does he need their approval now when he has you? You're the only thing he can seem to care about since then.

Around then, he asked you out again. Though the circumstances may be a little different. He breaks into your house while you're awake this time. Not only are you shocked to see him, but he has a gun as well. A gun pointed right at the side of your head as he asks, moreso demands, that you date him. There's a shaky desperation to his words, and a look in his eye that glints with the intention to harm you if you act out of line. There isn't any choice but to say yes, really. And he makes sure you don't call to anyone for help, either, staying with you through the night with the phone lines to your house destroyed.

He keeps you in the house the entire weekend, but on Monday, you have to go to work. And you beg him to let you leave just to cover your shift. He paces as he thinks about it, tapping his gun in his hand with his face screwed up in consideration. "Alright, you can go. But you know good 'n well what I'm capable of. You tell anyone, and they won't be alive to do anything about it."

And he's there to make sure of it, too. At least once an hour you swear you see him come into your work and loiter, watching you. It seems like every time you look up he's there somehow. Yet, when you get home, he's on your couch eating like nothing ever happened.

You're his partner now, whether you like it or not, and you will be kept with him through any coercion or cruelness necessary. One or two of your family members do die before you learn to keep your mouth shut and give him what he wants. Attention, admiration, approval, value. You are what gives him value. You will adore him or you will die. You should know to be a good partner by now instead of pissing him off.

[writingfics-passingtime]

Look at you superpowering your way through that fic. I haven’t had time to read in sooo long but I’m definitely going to put some aside to read OTR parts 2 & 3 as I adored part 1. Anyway, here’s my prompt for the song request! The song is Hey Girl by Stephen Sanchez (my little sister’s wedding song apparently, though she’s also said that about a hundred other songs lol), & the character is Andrew’s Spiderman. Have fun!

Head in the Clouds

This drabble is part of JJ’s Mixtape - a mini series based on my followers’ favourite songs and characters. You can read more of them here!

Song Prompt: Hey Girl - Stephen Sanchez

Pairing: Peter Parker x female reader

Word Count: ~2000

CW: mentions of crime and death

Note: Cas, do forgive me for the fact that this took nearly two years. I hope it was at least a little bit worth the wait. Thank you for sharing this song with me, it is so sweet and tender and this idea flowed out of me. Hope you like it!

The subway car hummed with the rhythm of its own chaotic life. Peter sat slouched against the seat, his head low, the rim of his hood shadowing his face.

He didn’t want to see the city today.

Didn’t want to see the ghosts that lingered in the faces of strangers, or worse, the ones that followed him like a haunting memory. The night before replayed in loops that wouldn’t stop. The mugging. The panic. The older woman he couldn’t save.

He curled his fingers into fists inside his jacket pockets, the faint tremor in them making him nauseous. Every sound - the faint screech of the rails, the muffled conversations, the hiss of air brakes - rubbed raw against his frayed nerves.

Then you stepped onto the train.

Peter didn’t look up at first. He was too lost in the cavern of his thoughts. But something shifted in the air - subtle, like the faintest hint of a spring breeze brushing through a winter morning. A quiet presence, steady, unassuming. You sat across from him, balancing a sketchbook on your lap, pencil already in hand. He caught a glimpse of your headphones, wires trailing into the folds of your coat. Whatever you were listening to must’ve been good, because your lips tilted faintly upward, your expression soft and serene.

For a while, he didn’t dare move. Didn’t dare look too long, didn’t dare make himself known. But his gaze kept drifting toward you, a fragile kind of curiosity building in his chest. You weren’t just sitting there, zoning out like everyone else. You were drawing.

Peter watched the way your pencil glided across the page, your hand light but sure, creating shapes and shadows that looked effortless. You tilted your head, studying someone across the car - a man in a rumpled suit who looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Peter saw the way you captured him on the page, not cruelly, not mockingly, but with a surprising kind of reverence. You made him look… important. Worthwhile. Seen.

His chest tightened. How long had it been since he’d felt like that?

The train jostled, and you didn’t even flinch. Your hand adjusted, your lines precise. You worked quietly, invisibly to everyone else, but not to him. Peter watched the way your brow furrowed slightly in concentration, the way your lips twitched when you got a line just right. There was something almost magical about it - the way you turned the mundane into something remarkable.

The man you sketched got off at the next stop, and Peter thought maybe that would be it. Maybe you’d close the book and tuck it away. But you didn’t. Your gaze wandered briefly, settling somewhere near him, though not directly on him. He held his breath as you started to draw again.

Was it him?

Peter’s heart thudded. He resisted the urge to pull his hood tighter, to shrink into himself. Instead, he stayed perfectly still, letting the rattle of the subway mask the sound of his shallow breathing. He dared a glance down at your page. The lines were faint but unmistakable - long limbs, slouched shoulders, a figure weighed down by invisible burdens. You captured him, but not the way he saw himself. You didn’t draw the guilt, the failures, the shame. You didn’t draw Spider-Man. You drew Peter Parker - someone who was tired, yes, but still human. Still real.

Something inside him cracked.

Weeks and months passed, and Peter found himself noticing you more and more. He couldn’t explain it. The way you seemed to bring light to such an ordinary space felt like a balm to his fractured world.

if he was really lucky, he’d end up in the same train car as you once a week.

Still, every morning, he looked for you, his chest tightening each time he spotted your familiar frame, your sketchbook in hand. Sometimes, he’d catch glimpses of your work - portraits of subway performers, a mother holding her baby, a tired worker slumped against a pole. Every face told a story. Every face mattered.

One morning, Peter’s resolve crumbled entirely. He hadn’t slept. The weight of his failures clung to him like a second skin. He barely managed to drag himself onto the train, collapsing into a seat near the door. He pulled his hood low, resting his elbows on his knees, his head hanging in defeat. The last thing he wanted was to be seen.

But then you sat down next to him.

Peter froze. He didn’t dare turn his head, didn’t dare look at you directly. But he could feel you there, close enough that the faint smell of your shampoo reached him - a hint of something floral and clean. Your sketchbook was open again, your pencil moving with quiet purpose.

This time, he couldn’t resist. He risked a glance from the corner of his eye. You weren’t looking at him - your gaze was focused on a mother and her young son sitting a few seats away. The boy was clutching a balloon, his wide eyes full of wonder as he chattered about something Peter couldn’t hear. You smiled faintly as you worked, capturing the scene with the same delicate care as always.

Peter’s chest ached. How did you do it? How did you see the world this way, even when it was so often cruel and unforgiving? How did you find beauty in the cracks and crevices, in the quiet, unremarkable moments no one else noticed?

The train lurched, and your pencil slipped. You frowned, erasing the errant line with quick efficiency before continuing. Peter almost smiled at your determination. For the first time in days, the heaviness in his chest lifted, if only slightly.

And then, as if sensing his gaze, you turned. Your eyes met his, and Peter’s breath caught.

You didn’t say anything - your headphones still nestled in your ears - but your expression softened, your head tilting slightly in silent acknowledgment. Peter felt a lump rise in his throat. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words tangled up inside him. Instead, he gave you the faintest of nods.

You smiled, small but genuine, and turned back to your sketchbook. Peter let out a breath he’d been carefully holding. The train rattled on, the city blurring past the windows, but for once, he didn’t feel lost in the noise.

He watched you sketch, the quiet rhythm of your pencil grounding him, reminding him that there was still beauty in the world. Still hope.

Still something worth fighting for.

The next time Peter saw you, something was wrong.

The train doors slid open, their mechanical groan pulling him out of his thoughts. He glanced up instinctively, eyes scanning the platform. And then there you were - only you weren’t quite you.

Your usual energy, that quiet, creative spark that seemed to light up the gray monotony of the subway, was missing. You stepped onto the train slowly, your shoulders slightly hunched. No sketchbook was tucked under your arm. No pencil rested behind your ear. Your hands clutched the straps of your bag, gripping them tightly as though they might anchor you to something solid.

Peter sat a few seats away, unnoticed. At first, he wasn’t sure it was really you. The vibrance he had grown accustomed to - seeing you sketch, lips sometimes moving faintly to the rhythm of your music - was gone. You sat down heavily, not directly across from him this time, but on the opposite side, a few spaces to his left, staring down at your lap.

You fiddled absently with your bag’s straps, the leather creaking under your restless fingers. The movement was almost hypnotic. You were present but not here, your gaze vacant and distant. Your headphones were in, the faintest buzz of music leaking out, but whatever song you were listening to clearly wasn’t helping.

Peter’s chest tightened. Seeing you like this felt like seeing a bird with its wings clipped, something small and free now tethered to the ground. He’d never spoken to you, but in the months he’d spent in your presence, you’d become a quiet constant, a beacon of life in his otherwise heavy days. You made the world look softer. Brighter. Now, you looked like the light inside you had been dimmed.

He couldn’t ignore it. He couldn’t just sit there.

Peter’s fingers twitched against his thighs. What could he do? He wasn’t sure what had happened to you - whether it was something big, or just the weight of a bad day. But the thought of you sitting there, carrying whatever invisible burden had settled on your shoulders, made him ache in a way he didn’t quite understand.

His eyes dropped to his backpack, slumped against his feet. An idea - reckless, impulsive - began to form. Slowly, as inconspicuously as he could manage, he unzipped the bag and rifled through it.

Books. Notes. Crumpled papers. Pens. He didn’t have much to work with, but he didn’t need much.

He found a scrap of paper tucked between the pages of his physics textbook - half an old assignment, blank on the back - and a cheap blue pen that was on the verge of running dry. He hesitated, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

You hadn’t moved. Your hands still toyed with the straps of your bag.

Peter straightened in his seat and pressed the paper against his knee, clicking the pen. His heart thudded as he bent over the makeshift canvas.

He wasn’t an artist. Not like you. His lines were awkward, shaky. The pen smudged slightly, leaving faint streaks on the page. But he kept going. He drew the way your hair framed your face, the slight downward tilt of your head, the way your hands gripped your bag. He tried to capture the quiet sadness in your posture without letting it define you, the same way you’d drawn others with tenderness and care.

It wasn’t good. It wasn’t even close to good. But it was something.

The train slowed, brakes screeching as it approached his stop. Peter hurried to finish, his fingers trembling slightly as he folded the paper in half. He shoved the pen back into his bag and slung the strap over his shoulder, standing as the train lurched to a halt.

His eyes flicked to you one last time. You still hadn’t looked up.

He didn’t think. He just moved.

As he stepped toward the doors, he passed your seat, hesitating for only a fraction of a second. Then he dropped the folded paper into your lap, the motion quick and deliberate, a secret passed between strangers.

You startled, your fingers freezing mid-fidget. Your gaze lifted briefly, confusion flickering across your face as you looked at him. But Peter didn’t stop. He kept walking, his heart pounding in his ears.

The doors slid open, and he stepped out onto the platform.

He didn’t look back.

Inside the train, you blinked, staring down at the folded paper in your lap. For a moment, you weren’t sure what to make of it. You glanced toward the doors, catching a glimpse of the guy in the hood as he disappeared into the crowd.

Curiosity tugged at you. Slowly, you unfolded the paper.

The drawing stared back at you - a clumsy but earnest portrait of yourself, captured in pen on a crumpled scrap of paper. The lines were uneven, the proportions a little off, but there was something in the image that stopped you cold.

The figure in the drawing looked… real. Recognizable. But there was more to it than that. He hadn’t just drawn you - he’d seen you. Even in the shaky lines and imperfect strokes, there was care. There was tenderness.

There was hope.

You pressed your lips together, your vision blurring slightly as your grip tightened on the page.

For the first time that day, something inside you felt lighter.

On the platform, Peter shoved his hands into his pockets, walking briskly toward the stairs. He didn’t know if you’d unfold the paper. He didn’t know if it would mean anything to you.

But he hoped it did.

And for the first time in a long while, Peter felt like maybe, just maybe, he’d done something right.

[armysantiny]

My Exception – HRJ

P: Renjun x gender neutral reader | G: drabble, fluff | Inc: reading corners, movie nights, renjun and y/n being really soft, pastries, movie snacks, hot drinks | Wc: 600 | W: food (bc pastries/snacks) | R: G

Summary: Renjun’s reading time is sacred; a dedicated few hours every weekend spent with him, his wax melts, a book, and a hot drink. Though he can make an exception for y/n. He can always make an  exception for them.

Min's notes: Everyone say thank you to Kyu <;33

Renjun inhales as he settles down in his loveseat, the sandalwood and cardamom wax melt covering his little reading corner in warmth. The air around him smells inviting, tempting him into drifting away into the world of his books. He’s already got a book in mind, picking it out from his stack of books and returning to where he last left his bookmark. It’s a romantic thriller, pulling at his imagination as soon as he begins to read.

Y/n’s on their way back from an outing, he’s got a coffee beside him, and he’s got a good book. What more could he ask for?

It’s silent in the shared apartment, bar the occasional turning of the page and hum of interest. The twists in the novel have already started to appear, one by one in a slow but addicting pace, and Renjun finds himself theorising more as he goes along, taking sips of his coffee and making a note to thank y/n again for splurging on the Nespresso machine. It’s a thing of beauty.

“…home baby~!” y/n’s voice pulls Renjun out of the scene he was reading, drawing his attention to the door where his partner’s taking off their shoes. He leans forward, grins when y/n eventually spots him and waves his greeting. He looks for his bookmark, slotting it in between the pages and returns the paperback to the mini library stand of books. Sure, he could go back to reading his book, knowing all too well y/n would be more than happy to respect his reading time, but he’s missed them.

He can pause his reading time for his favourite person.

“I brought some pastries from that café you like, wanna have some later?” Y/n asks, making their way over to Renjun’s little reading nook and draping themselves over the back.

“Sure. Movie night?”

“Movie night.” They confirm, tapping their lips for a kiss, a pleased smile on their face seconds later when Renjun grants their wish. “How’s the book?”

“It’s so good! The police just started hunting down one of their suspects,” y/n chuckles as Renjun starts becoming more and more animated, “but if you ask me, I don’t think the professor did it at all, he’s clearly trying to cover up for someone else.” Renjun’s review continues, and a little ball of fondness grows in y/n’s chest as they listen, admiring the man they get to call their own. They subtly ask him to budge over and take a seat beside him, half sitting across the grey Hampshire loveseat and half hanging over the armrest.

It's comfy. They’re comfy, with him.

The wax melt burner sits on the tv stand this time, a new wax melt on the surface melting away as y/n brings a tray of cookies from the kitchen, Renjun holding their drinks. It’s a movie night, there’s a shower of rain outside and the Netflix menu screen stares back at the pair, awaiting to play their first of many films that evening. Renjun’s the first to sit down, open arms inviting y/n to cuddle up beside him as they rest on the sofa.

“Want to pick first?” Renjun offers, a simple thing of a gesture and he basks in the soft affection he feels when they nod, a languid smile on their face. He watches them pick, eventually landing on a movie they’ve been putting off for a while now and rests his head on top of theirs.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep just yet,” y/n warns, a smile in their voice. “I’ve been dying to watch this with you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

© copyright work of armysantiny 2023-2024

Networks: @kwritersworld, @kdiarynet, @ultkpopnetwork, @whipped-kpop-creators, @blankjournal

If you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading! Consider reblogging, leaving some feedback or donating to my kofi!

Taglist: @teeztheflag, @jeonqquk, @mikailo666, @babyboobean, @taem-min, @iiindigocheesecake, @xavi-in-kpopland, @flowerjun, @marxenash, @tinystarstay | Taglist form

[moons-of-dewclan]

I was curious how to get your clan really set off? I recently (LIKE EARLIER TODAY JFJSJFJ) started my own clangen blog but idk if it's worthy of Tumblr😭

How can I improve my art and improve my process? You're one of my BIGGEST inspirations ngl you're literally him (or her or they I'm so sorry I never caught your pronouns) but I was just curious on how to be better? If you wanna look, don't. It's like, rlly bad so.... save your eyes. Have a lovely nighttt <33

HELLOOOOO I'M NOT 100% SURE WHAT YOU MEAN BY SET OFF I'M SORRY :{ if you mean to get people reading it, i think it's vastly just luck also appealing to an audience by accident i posted my art online for 10 years (i started posting in 2010 as a wee ka- told you i'm an adult haahahueu) before anyone showed consistent interest and i valued those two or so commenters who occasionally had something to say about my stuff, so much LAKSNLKD. that entire decade i got between 2 and 30 favourites for every piece i posted- usually between 2 and 10- until around 2021 when a making a comic aANNND joining a wolf ARPG group exposed me to many kindred art-enjoyers that wanted to keep up with my goofy stories then for some reason, i posted Dewclan's first page on tumblr and it got way more engagement than any other piece of art i've ever posted SO LAKSDNLKDAS WE CANNOT PREDICT THESE THINGS.. at least i can't if you're looking for engagement, pLS AIM FOR ENGAGEMENT THAT FEELS MEANINGFUL over anything else IN MY OPINION, and it's just my opinion- part of being 'better' is, first and foremost, being able to enjoy your art alone. and then being excited with what you choose to share! even if you don't care about your quality of art, care about the story. if you don't care about the story, care about the process and just having fun. but you have to have fun in doing it, and do it for your own eyes primarily. like if you were alone in a room and creating only for yourself! because, until you happen to find others who like what you're liking, you are then when someone is interested and you get to share that excitement, even that ooone comment on something you care about is OOGHHH SUCH A NICE FEELIN. enter communities, comment on other artists' work, try to make friends! but make sure to remember, if you create with the hopes others will like it, without liking it yourself, you're going to be really broken down if someone doesn't like it FOR you :{ loving your own art is tough work but it's integral to your longterm relationship with drawing ON IMPROVING.. for me, nothing is more integral to improving than finding a way to practice that suits you (looking at live figures doesn't help me at all. i don't know why. it's insane), and having fun doing it. i can't grasp anatomy unless i break it down with shapes. SHAPES ARE EVERYTHING. study the shapes of what you want to draw. break em down by tracing simple shapes over your subject. see if the leg is the same length as the head from muzzle to neck and lock that info in. STUFF LIKE THAT on the technical side of things, it can be super helpful to dedicate half an hour or so to drawing a day- eventually it becomes a habit and you just default to 'oh i think i wanna draw' when you've got nothing else to do. more drawing, more improvement!

HONESTLY THO another important thing is not putting yourself down. i know it's a hard habit to break (i struggle with it outside of art myself!), but it doesn't do you any favours. the more you rag on yourself, the more it'll manifest as something that actually damages your art, AND your relationship with it. let it be fun- don't sabotage yourself! you can be critical of your work and still kind! little tip here, improving can take a while, but experimenting with styles can make an INSTANT shift in how you perceive your stuff. ALSOOO EXPERIMENT WITH DIFFERENT BRUSHES FOR SKETCHING AND LINING. I PROOMISE. PLS DO IT. IT'S LIKE A MAGIC TRICK. i cannNNNOT sketch with a hard brush. everything looks horrible. marker brush tho?? so smooth. full of character. lovely. binary brush sketches? suddenly i'm Anime. pencil brush?? i digidevolve back into baby ka who loved to crosshatch and do semi realism. airbrush??? i explode into atoms actually

i find for a lot of people, they don't need to improve or be 'better' at art, they need to learn to enjoy what they're capable of doing now, and improvement is a byproduct. from what i've seen through the years, unless you work to curb it the negative view of your art will stick with you no matter what 'skill level' you get to bc the calls' comin from inside the house, yknow what i mean 3: it can be a long process to learn to accept your art, and sometimes you just plain grow out of it over time! but in the meantime it can't hurt to make efforts to fight your d e m o n s

I'M SORRY I WROTE SO MUCH IK YOU DIDN'T ASK FOR THIS ALL IT ISN'T JUST TO YOU, ODESSY-CLAN BLOG RUNNER, IT'S AIMED AT ANYONE WITH ARTSY SELF DOUBTS. i hope i phrased everything kindly bc i meant it all kindly 3: i hate to see an artist doubt their work, but THERE IS NO SHAME IN IT. i want to encourage loving it regardless of any flaws tho, even though it takes time!

[skylinx2o]

Admittedly, I've been feeling terrible lately. I didn't even finish my weekly drawing and broke my now months long streak. I thought I would be able to do it, but my emotions weighted me down too much. I might go back to drawing one art every two weeks.

Anyway, I feel like I should do more fun things. I mean, drawing is fun, and I love creating stories for my OCs, but I do have a lot of other interests. And tho I'm sticking to talking about LEGO today, I want to talk more and get out of my shell. And maybe give you more insight into me as a person.

So today I'm going to talk about my favourite LEGO themes and why I love the series, plus how I personally got i to all of them. It's not a normal review whatsoever, just an excuse to ramble about my interests freely. Just remember this is my experience and my feelings.

(And it's not at all like I'm making this post because I need all of this to prepare for a speaking class and the only way to motivate myself is by making a post about it o _o Come on, I'm killing two birds with one stone here!)

Okay, so, my all-time favourite themes are (in chronological order to when I found them):

1. Bionicle

Honourable mention: Hero Factory

2. Ninjago

3. Legends of Chima

4. Monkie Kid

5. Dreamzzz

1. So. Bionicle. I have a weird history with Bionicle. My dad's friends used to get movies for us, and one day it just happened that my dad's friends gave us a pen drive with Bionicle: Legend Reborn on it. I think I would be around... Seven or eight when I watched it I've seen fans say that it was a pretty weak film, but I didn't know Bionicle back then, and I really enjoyed it! That movie was a soft reboot of the series, and as someone who started their Bionicle obsession with that movie, in my opinion it worked really well as a standalone supposed to capture new audiences. I really loved the sense of mystery that was probably lost on new fans. It wasn't exactly explained what or who Mata Nui was, besides him being a warrior who lost his people. And the ending... I really thought there would be a sequel to it, and was really intrigued by whom the great beings were, and what happened to the world, why Mata Nui knew them, what the giant ahh robots were supposed to do.

Of course, when a few years later in middle school I looked for the sequel, I didn't find it. And to be honest, the ending was disappointing to me. However, there was a whole other storyline in Bionicle to catch up on! And so one faithful summer was spent reading all the comics I could find, reading wiki pages one after another, playing Mata Nui online game obsessively, refusing to use a walkthrough. Believe me when I say I was obsessed!

And then out of nowhere in 2015 g2 came out, and I was stoked since I missed out on practically the whole g1 as it was being made. (I mean, it's understandable, I was born the same year the first Bionicle movie came out.) I mean, can you blame me for being excited? A dead franchise that I just started becoming a devoted fan of is suddenly revived from the grave. I felt like the luckiest person on earth that day. Honestly, g2 was a lot simpler than g1, but I really like it, even if most people said it sucked. Sure, it wasn't exactly like g1, and even I cringed a few times when watching the g2 show, but for what it was, it was cool in my eyes, and loved finding all the g1 references. And there were quite a few of them! The story of g2 was simpler, but for little kids I think it would've been fine. But alas, LEGO did a crap job promoting it, and it died early, with an ending that was so bad even I can't defend it. It just didn't make sense, and it was rushed as hell. But I still wished it would've continued.

I love both generations for different things, and I'm sad I didn't get any g2 sets when they were out (Lewa was my favourite one). But years later I managed to get a promotional anniversary set of Tahu and Takua, and you wouldn't believe my happiness when I was building it. It's strange being a relatively new fan compared to others I see online, but I still remember seeing Bionicle commercials, and even have a very vague memory of seeing a Phantoka commercial on our ancient TV. I mean come on, I was so into it, I even learned the Matoran alphabet! My mom had to listen to my countless rambling, and if I ask her about Bionicle today, she still remembers some answers, that's how much into it I was. Hell, this blog started as a Bionicle blog before I moved fully to Monkie Kid content.

Okay, this Bionicle ramble is getting a tad long, so I'll wrap this up. Would I recommend Bionicle to anyone? Well... Not really, unless you like long lore researching adventures. The story is so convoluted, with many sides stories, and it went on for so many years, that despite my obsession I still probably missed like, 40% of the lore. G1 at least, wouldn't vibe with casual audience probably. G2 might be easier on the brain, despite it having some deeper lore too. Plus, there's the cultural appropriation issue, that I'm not qualified to talk about, but others already made pages long blogs and articles about. Plus the weird gender situation. But, it's still a good story in my eyes, despite its many faults. But that's just me, and if you didn't catch on yet, I'm already deep in this hole and there's no getting out of here now.

Honourable mention: This brings us to Hero Factory. I watched the first few episodes at around the same time as the first Bionicle movie. Came from the same source as before. I think it deserves a mention, because I still loved it, and did some lore digging, but I wasn't as obsessed with it as the other positions on the list. I didn't like the later stuff as much, tho some concepts were really cool too. But the story of the first episodes was really well done, and worked great as a movie. The fights were tense, and when watching it for the first time, I couldn't really know if the characters would be okay. Honestly, it got me really excited and invested. A factory of heroes is a unique concept, and I always found it intriguing how they made the robot society work. But, I don't think it needed more time than it needed, unlike Bionicle, where I didn't like the ending of either generation. I think it wrapped things up quite well with the first episodes, and the later ones just feel like cool side stories, and it works in my opinion.

This one I would definitely recommend, because I feel like it's underrated, and it's not long. Like I said, the version I got was just a one movie like compilation. I checked and there's just 11 episodes. It would probably take 1–2 hours to watch it, not counting the later movies and all.

2. Next one is Ninjago! I started watching it almost from the start. I must have been around ten or so... The episodes aired on TV, so I had easy access to it! I almost never missed an episode, and watched even the reruns. And believe me, I was hypnotised when watching it. Tho, starting from rebooted I watched the episodes online, first in my native language, then in English since I started getting too impatient to wait. This was my first obsession. For the longest time, when people asked me what I wanted to do, I said I wanted to be a ninja. One of my oldest OCs is Mika, and she grew up with me. Whenever a new season was to come, I would design a new suit for her. I have a whole dedicated blog to her, I wonder if you all can find it lol. Anyway, for a kid's show, the first seasons were really well written, and the show could be dark when it wanted, but it didn't lack jokes, and most were very funny. And honestly, Ninjago had a really big impact on my life. It taught me not to give up, and it made me want to make the world a better place. Grade school was a horrible time for me, and Ninjago was like my escape. Tho, I might have daydreamed about it too much at one point...

I started distancing myself from Ninjago around hands of time. I didn't watch the show as regularly, catching up on seasons long after they aired. I think that's also where the writing quality started dropping… I just didn't like it as much any more. But it should've been expected with a series that went on for so long. I'm not one of the people who think old Ninjago was better than anything. It wasn't perfect at all. But I didn't like the short format of newer seasons. But then secrets of forbidden spinjitzu dropped, and i as a person started getting better too, so I went back to Ninjago, and while it wasn't still the best and people had a lot of issues I loved those few next seasons. I mean, they somehow hit right into my interests with those seasons. First the adventure movies like atmosphere with the Egyptian like tomb, then they get sucked into a video game, then the very DnD like feeling Shintaro. It was right up my alley. My love for Ninjago was back in full force by then. So you can imagine how sad I was when the word that Ninjago was ending started going around. The series has been with me for half my life. My friends even knew how much I liked it, my best IRL friend even bought me a Ninjago set for Christmas one time. But you know, I thought it was probably Ninjago's time. Nothing can last forever after all, and it had a very good run. Why not end it when the story was still quite alright? And then… Crystallized happened. I didn't watch Crystallized. I heard the spoilers, and I wasn't… thrilled. Especially with Harumi. And people hated that season. It left a bitter taste in my mouth. It didn't feel like a send-off Ninjago deserved.

So you can imagine how damn happy I was about Dragon Rising! And surprise, it's the best Ninjago has been in a while! I absolutely loved the first season. The new characters are wonderful, and that change was certainly what Ninjago needed. And the fact that it's merged with one of other of my beloved LEGO series only makes it better. And that's probably my cue to move to it hehe

So, would I recommend Ninjago? Yeah. Its story is easy to follow, you just need to watch the show. If you're ready to watch sixteen+ seasons that it! Even the worse seasons have some value to them I'd argue. But I may be biased with how close to my heart that series is.

3. Yeah boy, Legends of Chima! I started watching Chima around the same time I started watching Ninjago, and I was equally hooked. And yes, my mom remembers this one as well, I watched it every time it was on too. Actually, I think the first fanfiction I've ever written was about Chima. With a pencil on paper. I think that, while the other series captivated me because of magic or the setting or the action, in Chima it was the characters and their dynamics mostly, despite there being plenty of magic powers and action too, plus a unique setting. The main characters all have distinct personalities, and it's fun to see how their personalities clash or work together. I think it's cool because the conflict between lions and crocodiles takes the main stage in the first season. Later seasons are great too, and they shake things up to make things interesting quite well. The lore isn't as broad as in other series, but it's pretty cool and interesting either way. There were some unique concepts there. I can't explain my love for this theme as well as with other series, because I don't think there was anything big that made me like it. It's just a cool show. I think what there was has been satisfying, tho young me was really sad and angry it ended anyway. But it's great for what it was. But I can't say I'm not happy that Chima is now merged with Ninjago, and it works so well together, and I absolutely love Lord Ras.

I would absolutely recommend it. It's a fun show, and only three seasons long. It can be both fun and serious, and I definitely had a blast watching it.

4. Now one of my newer obsessions! Monkie Kid! I watched the pilot in Chinese when it came out, then I promptly forgot about the series and binge-watched it all when season 3 came out. I was reading about Journey to the West long before the series was announced, since I have a liking for old stories and legends and myths and stuff. And Asian cultures fascinate me. I blame Ninjago with its Japanese influence and all the martial arts movies that were on the TV all the time. Plus Mulan and Kung Fu Panda. Anyway, I can't say much about how accurate it is or anything since I'm not Chinese, but I think the show is great. I noticed a lot of references to Journey To The West. No shocker here, it's inspired by it. But being in this fandom made me learn a lot of new things about China, tho I still have a bunch of things to learn. I'm no expert yet. Tho, I try my best to be respectful.

Umm... Like I said, not much to say about how accurate the story is. But I really liked Journey to the West, so naturally I like Monkie Kid too. Plus, MK i really relatable to me. I feel like my personality is really similar to his, tho I'm more introverted. For some reason, I relate to this portrayal of Macaque and Wukong as well.

I dare to say that from all the series so far, I find this one to be the most well written. I just find the writing to be the most impactful. Plus, the artstyle is very different from other LEGO shows. Action scenes are really fun. The artstyle definitely works in its favour. And yeah, I would recommend this show 100%.

5. And finally, the newest addition to the LEGO series, Dreamzzz! The show is really new and just starting, but I love the concept and the writing! Plus again, I really relate to Mateo. The characters feel like real people you would meet, and how they interact feels realistic. And I found myself liking even the characters that annoyed me, because their personalities were the realistic type of annoying, one that you might find out in the wild. And the concept of a dream world just really speaks to me. And it gives the creators a lot of creative freedom. All wacky things can happen in a dream after all. One thing I didn't expect in the show was the secret agency, and I think it's a clever addition to the story.

I would recommend this series. I hope it'll have a bright future, and that the writing will stay this good.

Well, time to wrap all of this up. Whoever suffered through this whole ramble deserves a juice and a cookie 🍪🧃 For a few finishing thoughts... I noticed a lot of the series I like blend magic powers and technology together. I just thought it's interesting. And I wanted to mention that the songs for Bionicle, Ninjago and Chima absolutely slap. I used to listen to them on repeat all the time lol Even my mom really enjoyed those songs

Yeah, I don't know what this post was for, I just felt like writing all that :v

[fairyringtaxiservice]

heyy! sorry in advance for my english isn’t my first language so if there r mistakes just look over it please ⭐️

I never wrote something like this to someone so If this will sound weird or something like that sorry for that too!🙏🏻

Anyway this isn’t exactly a question I just wanted to write that ur fanfiction Binary Star is one of my favourites. The characterisations, descriptions, writing, scientific view and story telling is so freaking wonderful I get inspired from it every time (the DNA data storage is so interesting I wrote it down for future myself to research more).

I also understand that writing a story that is scientifically based is hard and I respect you for that! 🫡

And your notes at the end of chapters is something I always waited for while reading the chapters since they r so fun!

Now I found ur Thumblr and ur drawings just bring the pieces even more alive and as a fellow artist I like ur style and lineart. 🫵🏻

This is already long but in shortcut, I wanted to say that I appreciate ur hard work and I am exited for the future of the fanfiction and chapters. 💟

Hey! First of all, thank you so much for sending me such a kind, sweet message! I really appreciate it! I wish I could have responded earlier when I first saw it, but I was at a four day event and couldn’t get to it. Second of all, English is my first language but it’s not my only language, so I can totally understand feeling a little weird about sending a message in a language you’re not as confident in, so don’t even worry about it!

Again, thank you so much for all the compliments! I do try to put a lot of work into characterization to make sure it feels right for those characters and it feels nice that people are telling me that I’m doing a good job. And I’m also just happy people can nerd out with me about the science stuff, because I’m trying to take a page from Dr. Stone itself and hopefully present it in a way that is both interesting and digestible.

(DNA data storage is hella interesting! I’m really excited to see what comes from it! There’s a couple problems with how expensive it is, the errors that can appear during sequencing and synthesis, how long it takes to write, etc, etc, but with how physically difficult it is to build increasingly smaller and smaller electronics compared to how much data can be stored in a gram of DNA, I’m really excited to see where it eventually goes! Absolutely look into it yourself because it’s so interesting and wonderful.)

That’s kind of how I hope all the ‘science dlc’ comes off in Binary Star. Just some really neat stuff that makes you go, “huh, no way!?” (Even some of the more gruesome stuff like rabies and diseases.) And makes you want to think and learn about it a little more. Again, I really liked that about canon, so I can only hope it’s replicated in a somewhat satisfactory way in my own fic.

I also just legitimately enjoy researching things. My friends lovingly tease me about how much research I do.

I have also been hoping that my end notes weren’t annoying or too long, because I always try to make them thoughtful and informative, so I’m glad to hear you look forward to them!

Being in any fandom and posting about OC stuff sometimes feels like ‘ha ha I’m being cringe and everyone can see it,’ but I’m over it!! Thank you for liking my little OC fic and art and telling me about it! It really made my day and I loved hearing your thoughts!

[sleepingdeath-light]

how he’d be as a father hcs ; barnaby

requested by ; anonymous (21/05/23)

fandom(s) ; welcome home

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; barnaby b beagle

outline ; “Hello! I LOVE your welcome home fics so much! 👉👈 would it be ok to request Barnaby adopting the reader/ being the reader’s father hcs? I love the idea of Papa Barnaby,

Hope you are having a wonderful day!”

warning(s) ; none, just fluff!

barnaby is, first and foremost, a dad who is trying his best — he’s not a perfect parent (then again, who is?), but he does whatever he can to keep you happy, entertained, taken care of, and accommodated in whatever ways you need (whether that means cooking old favourite meals in new ways to accommodate any allergies or aversions, asking howdy to order in medications for the bugdega, helping you decorate your mobility aides, or taking you out of the neighbourhood to go to check ups)

he calls you his ‘pup’ and is constantly bragging about how amazing his kid is to anyone who will listen — he’s the ultimate proud dad and will celebrate each and every achievement of yours, no matter how small, with the same level of boundless excitement towards you and everyone nearby (which is usually his best friend, and your ‘uncle’, wally)

he’s protective of you but he’s not overbearing — he wants you to explore and have fun and make mistakes and learn (of course he’ll be there for you every step of the way, though), but the moment someone tries to be cruel towards you, you can bet that barnaby will be stepping in and correcting that behaviour as swiftly as possible

he saves every drawing and painting and card you make/write for him — hanging them up on the fridge until there’s no room left and then buying a bit folder to keep the rest in (and when you’re an adult, you’ll catch him flipping through its pages often with a nostalgic smile on his face — and the pictures on the fridge never get taken down)

barnaby is forever joking around with you — encouraging you to have fun and be yourself whilst providing an endless stream of puns, dad jokes, pranks and more (and he gives as good as he gets, complimenting you for a prank well done and laughing at every joke)

he also loves playing games with you — whether that’s something sporty, something active that you just made up, a board game you bought (for two shiny pebbles and a really pretty leaf) from howdy, or something completely different — because he loves making you laugh and smile

he’s not afraid to ask for help from his neighbours when needed and he makes sure that you have a good community around you as you grow up: uncle wally and aunt sally are always there to help you explore your creative side, your uncles eddie and frank are happy to help you get a thorough understanding of the world (with the latter arranging the actual topics of learning and the former turning them into fun and memorable activities to make sure it all sticks), uncle howdy calls you his ‘little helper’ and is always willing to lend a hand (or four) to look after you when your dad is busy whilst helping you develop a solid work ethic, your aunt julie is there to help you learn to express yourself and find your style whilst developing your confidence as a young person, and your aunt poppy is always the first to volunteer to babysit you (helping you develop key skills like cooking and cleaning and baking whilst being a comforting presence for you to talk to about any topics that you’re nervous to discuss with barnaby)

and on top of it all, you also have your beloved grandmother there to spoil you rotten — always visiting with stacks of gifts and foods piled up in her wings, smothering you in affection whilst your dad puts everything away (well, the delicate things anyway — the hardier stuff just gets left in a pile somewhere out of the way)

[rustingcat]

20 questions game

Thanks @fazedlight for the tag:)

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

11, but I think most of them are art.

2. What’s your total AO3 words count?

82,665. But there's a good chance I'll pass the 100k mark a bit after supercorptober!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Supercorp.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Privileges

Of science and Love

The Power of Pasta

Ghostly Presence

The Art of The Game

(Skipped one artwork due to the fic being tied to someone else)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes! I try to respond to every comment.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Alone

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Beside Alone, they all have happy endings!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I had a few comments with a commenter who was very keen to let me know just how much they hate Kara for some reason. But they haven't responded to recent chapters.

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I have yet to attempt smut.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I have not written any. I am a fan of AUs, though.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know. I know that my art has been running around some Facebook groups, though.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I know.

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Yes! I have 2 WIPs that I'm cowriting, and I'm super excited about them! There's one project I hope me and my friend will be able to finish before the end of the year (though with current progress I'm not sure anymore), and another one that's gonna be a really really big AU that I'm really looking forward to (although I'll be grateful if we manage to finish it by the end of next year).

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

Supercorp has a really strong hold on me. This is the ship that made me start being active on tumblr, draw fanart, and let me discover my love for writing for the first time in my life. Saying that, Percy/Vex from critical role had my heart for quite a while, I think that at some point I read almost all of their AO3.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I intend to finish all my WIPs. That's why after I finish The Art Of The Game, I plan to start uploading only once most of the fic is done.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think I'm pretty good at structuring the story. I have pages upon pages of story flow and arcs for most of my big project. I think just for TAOTG I have 7 different files (probably more).

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Oh, so much. For now, I'll say that I have no idea how to use comma correctly and just use it randomly😂

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I haven't tried, but it I'll probably ask a native speaker. (Or someone who's really into kryptonian)

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Supercorp!

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

My proudest work is probably The Art Of The Game. It's my biggest project yet, I've spent a LOT of time prepping the story structure, and it's also my first fic, and the reason I started writing in the first place. You can probably see my writing journey just by reading it (even if I did edit the first few chapters after the fact).

No pressure tags! @snowydragonscave @inkedroplets @spaceman-earthgirl @missluthorwillseeyounow

[lucero-is-here]

DANCES IN WEARING BONTEMPS’ HAT, KATHERINE’S JACKET, AND A SUIT THEY TOTALLY DIDN’T STEAL FROM LAWSON.

Ladies, gentlemen and folks! Welcome to the cabaret show! Today as our star, Marla De Paradis!

Requested by:

Now I don’t know her the most- but let’s go.

- she spends a lot of time on her appearance. She wants to look beautiful, and that takes a lot of time.

- she has a lucky charm which she brings with her everywhere, because she hopes and wishes it does bring her some luck in life.

- she wears heels most of the time. Her heels are usually red, black or blue

- she takes such a long time to do her hair it’s exhausting-

- she hit someone with a frying pan before, and it may or may not have been Issac.

- she will not hesitate to punch someone. Yes she’s a badass. Yes she will resort to violence if the situation requires it.

- drinks so much coffee it’s amazing she can survive without caffeine.

- she’s pansexual.

- she loves kids so so much- she finds them so adorable and so innocent and is protective of them if you hurt a kid in front of her, make sure you can run because she can get relentless in chasing you down.

- she can run in high heels.

- amazing spice tolerance-

- majority of her wardrobe are dresses and outfits she will wear for a while.

- she likes…Pans. She can cook with them, boil water with them, hit people with them, put things with them…Yeah really useful!

- she has a great relationship with her family, but they aren’t living in Concordia sadly, but they write her letters every now and then!

- she can dance really really well. She’s a beautiful and talented dancer, and knows a lot about dancing too.

- she can play the piano. She isn’t as good as it as she is when it comes to dancing, but she can still play really well.

- she reads horror or thriller novels a lot. She is always enticed by them, and thinks they are really interesting to read. That said she knows a lot more about anatomy and the human body than you would expect.

- she has a pet parrot. She finds the parrot really really funny, and when it spoke, it repeated something Bontempts said. So she named the parrot Bontempts. The actual Bontemps has no idea whether to feel honoured or offended, and Marla laughs about it a lot.

- she likes history and art! She is really interested in history, and art is one of her favourite subjects since she can paint and draw and learn more about artworks!

- she has a brother, who’s a piano teacher somewhere. He taught her how to play the piano.

- bad memory. In the moments when she needs to remember something, she forgets it. In the moments she doesn’t need to remember something, she also forgets it. So technically, it’s a win.

- after she adopted the two kids in that one case, she has loved them and gave them the best lives she could ever give them.

- she has a diary, and several pages are dedicated to dissing off the people she doesn’t like. Like…JUSTIN LAWSON- AND DORA UMBRIGHT-

Okay I’m pretty much braindead, so posting has been really slow- I’m so sorry if your requests are only answered after a few days, but I am going through something now, and I need some time to answer your requests- but anyways! If I think of more somehow, a part 2 may or may not be posted! Now- I have to go! Bye-bye!

Lucero jumps out the window and escapes, leaving the camera running. That was when the door was broken down, and the camera turned off.

[novaviis]

20 questions for fic writers

I was tagged by dear @victorianpining

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

52.

2. What's your total A03 word count?

921,539.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mostly DC/Young Justice, but also Inuyasha and Hetalia

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

The Bridge

Fireworks in July

The Floor is Lava

The Bird and the Worm

you lost the starlight in your eyes

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to! Granted I don't always, but when I get a comment asking a question, or one that particularily touches me, I usually respond. But even when I don't, I read and reread every single one.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I'd say as a whole, I'm not interested in angst without pay off. I'll absolutely drag my stories through the angstiest plotlines imaginable, and I'll do it gleefully, but there is nearly always some sort of pay off in an ultimate happy ending. That said, if we're looking at fics as individual stories (particularily in the case of Watercolour as a whole series), I'd say the angstiest might be Arctic or Au Revoir

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

If I'm measuring the happy ending in terms of the angst it took to get to it, definitely Light Me A Lantern.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I think the closest I've gotten is misunderstandings? Particularily when it comes to how I write Dick Grayson's lineage in Watercolour. I've had misunderstandings where people thought I was erasing his Romani identity and making him Romanian instead, when I write him as both - there is a lot of Romani history and a huge population in Romania, and I decided to play into that. Sometimes it gets lost in translation so to speak.

9. Do you write smut?

When I feel like it!

10. Do you write crossovers?

I used to, not really so much anymore.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of! Ngl I'd be pretty upset.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! The incredible @minakok translated Light Me A Lantern into Spanish (Enciéndeme un farolillo) and @eldescensoseduce has been chipping away at translating the beast that is Watercolour into Spanish as well. The first two chapters of Un Giorno Per Noi has been translated into Chinese as well!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I've had beta readers and been a beta reader and had an absolute blast with both - but in terms of actually sitting down, plotting out and writing something together with someone? Not yet. Although the closest thing has probably been the roleplay I've been writing with a friend over discord. That beast has AUs of AUs.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Don't do this to me.

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I don't want to say I doubt I ever will because I really really want to, but... I have to say Der Unsterbliche Preis.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I would say dialogue and writing actions sequences. They're both things that I've struggled with in the past and worked very hard to figure out how to do properly.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I think I still struggle with pacing at times. I don't want to rush into the action and the exciting stuff so sometimes I draw it out more than I really need to and the pacing gets away from me.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

All for it! If I'm using a language I'm not familair with, I'll translate it back and forth a few times trying to make sure I have the nuances as close as I can get to accurate, and I always include translations in the notes. However, if it's a long scene of dialogue, I will just write in that the characters have switched languages, just to make thinks flow better. I don't want to have to scroll up and down the page constantly when I'm reading.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Oh god. It was either Digimon or Pirates of the Carribean. Eons ago.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

This is painful. I definitely have my top fics, the ones I'm most proud of, but Un Giorno Per Noi is a fic that I have reread every christmas since I finished it, so by a percentage of a margin, I'll say that one. Close behind are Light Me A Lantern and Terminal Velocity.

I'm tagging @hanmajoerin @flashhwing and whoever would like to do it because I'm a cop out ✌️

[purplerose244]

Watched the eighth episode of LEGO DreamZzz: Loved it!

EVERY NEW EPISODE IS MY FAVOURITE EPISODE! I feel very attached for all five of them, I want Mateo to keep working on his confidence, I wanted Cooper to keep walking his own way, I want Izzie to save her friends, I want Logan to better himself, I was Zoey to have more friends I... I... 😭😭😭

Also side note, the how to draw videos are super cute, Mateo is super good and also...

Mateo: I'll make a tutorial on how to draw all of these wonderous creatures, quite fascinating right? Anyway TODAY I'M GONNA DRAW MY VERY COOL FRIEND ZOEY

Yeah I'm pretty sure this guy has a crush 😂 And he thinks her eyelashes are pretty 💕💕

I'm super curious! ONTO THE EPISODE

(Yes I watched the whole first season already, and I was wondering if anyone knew where the second season is? I know someone on Youtube post it, but how? Where did it come out?)

THE BIGGER PICTURE

THE THUMBNAIL IS SHOWING MATEO AND ZOEY! ARE THEY FINALLY INTERACTING?!? I feel like we got lots of time to define Zoey's character, so I wonder if we'll see Teo showing more of his crush

DUDE THESE COMICS ARE SO COOL LOOK AT MY BABY GO 😍😍😍

Lol Mat dedicated two whole pages to Zoey and Zian, sweetie you're no subtle, it saves you only your shyness 🥰🥰

AWW HE WANTS TO TALK TO HER 💕

I know that he got a crush and obviously that's a major reason, but I really like how it's so simple. Mateo thinks she is really cool, she wants to talk to her. He really reminds me of me a lot 😅

Ah, the whole important milestone for every artist in school: having the courage to show his art to someone else

So not even Coop saw these comics? Only Izzie did? Interesting...

Logan is up to stuff apparently?

LOL we're finally seeing other professors aside from prof Oz and that one jerk coach! Interesting change from sensei Wu from Ninjago and sir Brickland from Nexo Knights, she seems nice

LOGAN IS BACK IN OUR TEAM?!?! 😍

Awww, he did have a bit of a change of heart! Did he realize Mateo is actually kinda great at leading and wants in? Or just really likes the team? Whatever the reason, welcome back mah dude! 💪💪

Gotta say that Izzie got great instinct, whenever something is wrong she feels it right away, so I'd trust her about this Insomniac Club

... or maybe it's a bunch of people playing Spyro or Ratchet and Clank, who knows 😂

Noooo stealing is a bad idea

NOOOO STEALING IS A BAD IDEA

Vincent's characters are quite different from each other, but they do have a common pattern: they make some pretty amazingly bad decisions 😂😂

TEO NO DON'T AGREE 😱

My baby got confidence only in the Dream World while not in the real world COME ON SWEETIE YOU CAN DO IT

Oh so we are using that locator thingie! It seemed very useful when they found it in the Night Bureau, even though the discarded it so easily

Is that thing not enough to find the Sandman? I guess not?

LOOK AT THE SCHOOL 😂

ZOEY IS THERE 👏👏👏👏👏

"Hey broseph, que pasa?" I just love these little spanish snippets, love to see some rep, especially in a LEGO show!

DUDE WHAT IS THIS COACH DREAMING

Interesting this aspect of this world, I thought that dreams were just the people landing on these realms and exploring, but I wonder if these worlds change according to the influence of the person dreaming

Julia seems like a very sweet lady... unfortunately she teaches math, therefore making her the evil incarnate 😡

I hate math sorry miss school memories

LOOK AT Z BLOB PUSHING MATEO I LOVE HIM SO MUUUUUUCH 💚💚💚💚

Zoey playing the guitar 😍 Well she has always showed she was a musical person, between the song and recognizing music notes in the seashell message, I didn't realize to which extent! It fits her

Is the Rad Radioactive some sort of narrative about drinking junk stuff before going to sleep? 😂😂

I... did not expect the Nightmare King to straight up say "dude-bro" 🤣

Awww, is Logan becoming self-conscious over causing so many troubles? I realize I've been very against him in the past but in retrospect, that must have been tough

Hey Nightmare Kin- I mean, Lance

Dude you're seriously using his insecurities against him? HE IS A KID DANG IT

I LOVE MATEO SO MUCH I CAN'T EVEN I SWEAR 😭😭😭😭😭 We got so many wonderful protagonists in the past but all with ego, with confidence, with inner strength, which is great. Then there's this kid who struggles so much into the real world, he's self-conscious about his art, he can't even talk to the girl he's into and he feels so little about himself

THIS KID WILL LEARN THAT ONE STEP AT THE TIME YOU CAN GET EXACTLY WHERE YOU WANT TO BE AND I'M ALL HERE FOR IT 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Also can I just say, love me a guy who thinks his girl is the coolest person ever 👌👌

Fun fact, in the English dub Mateo says "T-That was amazing! Your song, I mean...", while in the Italian dub he says "Beautiful, amazing... your song!". It makes his feelings even clearer 💕

WELL HELLO MORE ANGST FOR ZOEY? Gotta be honest I did think that the song debacle was a big weak, but I didn't think there was a whole thing about losing everything, included a best friend! My poor super cool girl 😢😢😢

... is... is Zian the best friend? Did the Night Hunter hit the best friend, making it a night terror, but managed to break free and now he looks like this?

HEADCANON MOMENT DON'T MIND ME JUST HAVING A BLAST 😍

Now I get why Zoey was adamant over Izzie not calling her her friend... but I think this group is making her change her mind 💕

Logan, sweetie, why did you think rapping was a good idea? 😅

Okay, new theory... what if Ms. Castillo is Lunia? Maybe when defeated, Lunia retreated into the Waking World and stayed there. She seems to be always there to help, I kinda think it could be true

PLAN TIME WITH MATEO- Logan no stop what are you doing- DROP THE MATTIE NICKNAME DANG IT HE DOESN'T LIKE IT

I know you're trying but come on

I KNOW YOU'RE TRYING BUT STOP

YEEEEEE ZOEYYYYYYYY 😍😍

"That's what friends are for, right?" I'm super happy for her but also I love that Mateo is not smiling, he looks genuinely shocked like "DID I MANAGE NOT TO MESS IT UP?!" 😂😂

THERE'S A FROG TAXIE 😵‍💫

Julia seems like another stressed character, she just wants to play her music and relax for once in her life... yeah, she teaches math, that's understandable

Okay, see, Castillo is the first one to clap! I feel like she knows more than what she lets on and after my experience throught Ninjago and master "there's something I should've told you" Wu, I don't trust old LEGO people not to know stuff

They got the answers... still bad idea 😅

LOOK AT THAT EXCHANGE OF LOOKS THEY DIDN'T HAVE TO TALK ZOEY KNOWS NOW THAT HE WANTS TO BE HER FRIEND AND STRUGGLES WITH TALKING AND OMG LOOK AT HOW SHE LOOKS AT HIM WHILE HE WALKS TO HIS DESK SHE LOOKS HAPPY AND I BELIEVE GRATEFUL AAAAAAA- 🥰😍🥰🥰😍🥰🥰

Yes I might be shipping them, we'll see what happens but so far I like what I see 🥰🥰

Ah, so the answers were useless I see

And Teo knows they screwed up, alright that's nice that he didn't loose his integrity over something like this 👌👌

Okay but did all the other people hyped up the Destroyers the entire episode to troll them or because they actually fear them? Just how mean are these middle school students, seriously 😅

Yeah Teo needs to train, my son sucks at sports just like moi 😅😅

Nice to see Cooper is not letting Logan off the hook on this one! And still Teo is kind enough to apologize for being hard on him... even though he had rights for it 😅😅

Noooo Logan don't do something stupid

Logan??

LOGAN????

ONLY TWO EPISODES LEFT AND OMG I'M LIKING THEM MORE AND MORE 😍😍😍

[forthesanityofstorytellers]

Hey friend!

19. FEAR - What is your greatest fear as a writer?

28. ILLUSION - What is the best line of description in your WIP?

30. LOVE - What is your best writing advice?

31. LUST - Who is your hottest OC?

42. SOUL - What is your favourite WIP?

@bloodlessheirbyjacques 🤟

FRIEND! 💖 *hugs hugs hugs*

Hi 😁 And thanks for the ask!

From this ask game

19: Greatest fear as a writer? Honestly it's probably losing anonymity. Like...I like just being able to be me. I don't want to be a writer that's recognized on sight. My pen name, sure, and my writing itself recognized and attached to said pen name. I know there's probably ways around it but I've physically panicked before about the idea that strangers might recognize my face because they saw it on a book once (like intentionally meeting people is one thing, but I like blending into a crowd when no one there is supposed to know me specifically)

28: I don't know about the best, but I can share one of my favorites (from Abracadabra)

The orange of a dying day crossed through a dirty window behind her, obscuring the sunlight coming into the old smithy and turning her wiry body into a mere silhouette.

30: Again, I don't know about my best advice. I guess maybe it's to pay attention to yourself. Learn what works for you as you write and take other helpful hints as secondary. Know thyself, writer? lol But seriously, advice only works if you're someone that it applies to; I'm ADHD, a plantser, and have social anxiety...so writing advice like "make a routine and stick to it" "outline every step of your story" or "find a writing group" have never worked for me and likely never will. Things that HAVE worked, however, were things like "creating specific environmental cues that remind my brain that it is time to write in very specific areas of the house", "remember that it's okay to spill words on the page and clean it up later, so long as you're having fun with it", and "curate/participate in what you consider to be a positive experience with other writers". (I'm not saying everyone should do these things, btw, it just goes back to my "know thyself, writer" thingy above) Annnnd I'm gonna stop here because I can ramble for FAR too long if given the chance 😂

31: As an ace I feel unqualified to answer this question, lol. I can try and dig out sketches/drawings I've done and let people vote on the hottest tho 😂 EDIT: Wait wait wait, I've thought about it more and if I understand the terminology correctly it would have to be Jules. Jules would be my hottest OC lol someone go look at the Picrews and tell me if I'm right.

42: My favorite? Gotta be the unnamed chaos @adie-dee and I are writing. It's just. It has All The Things and it's just so much fun 😂

And then of course Abracadabra is a very close second. Gotta give my annoying trickster magician his due, lol

Ty for the ask!

[godbirdart]

welcome to art fight it’s one of my Favourite things

the site is live all year even though the event only goes on during the month of July! you can submit your characters any time under that little Submit drop down. the option to Attack other players will appear in this same drop down when the event starts.

try and upload a good reference image of your OC that is flat coloured and clear! write some personality notes about your OC in their bio. this will help give other artists a better feel for your character and generate ideas on how to draw them. aim for a bullet point list of traits [example: smug, cheerful, playful etc] instead of dumping five paragraphs of lore in there. that said, a few sentences will work fine too! just cover the basics.

you can also link an external page if all their personality info is already on another site such as toyhouse. this link will show up on their profile. here's my character Adontis' page for example;

the next important thing to set up for your characters is Permissions! these are boundaries you establish for what is and isn’t okay when other players are drawing your character.

you can set up permissions for your characters individually, or make global permissions that appear on every character’s page so you don’t have to write it in for each and everyone one manually.

you can see my global permissions in that screenshot above. i recommend keeping it short and to the point in a bullet list. global permissions appear on each character's page by default.

if you want to make a character whose permissions differ from your global rules, you can fill in unique permissions for them on their profile and click the “disable global permissions” checkbox. this will get rid of the global rules on that character’s profile and only leave the custom ones you made for that character.

Tags are a newish feature on art fight. there wasn’t really a way to search for characters you wanted to draw before [beyond the random button under the Browse drop down, which would just pull up any random character regardless if the player was active or not].

I recommend tagging the essentials: what species your character is, your username, etc.

when it comes to the actual attacking part, read through the Attack Guide! when submitting an attack, YOU have to score your own art based on what you drew. the guide is pretty thorough about how to score your work. if you’re unsure, go with what feels best. just don’t go giving yourself Maximum Points for every attack if the art doesn’t merit them and you’ll be fine. the mods do go through submissions and tally points after the event's done. be warned, though: you cannot edit attacks AFTER they’ve been posted! that means no last-second edits to the main piece after you hit send! you can edit thumbnails though.

if you’re attacked you can Revenge that attack! when submitting an attack there’s often a button on that page for Revenge [or something similar] if you're attacking someone who previously attacked you.

be sure to check the team of the person you're attacking! when on a character's page their name, and the player's username, will turn up in the colour of their respective team. mine is still green because I was on Team Bloom last year and the new teams won't take effect for a bit yet.

you can friendly fire against someone on the same team as you, but it doesn't grant you any points; even if you revenge them. neutral players exist too. they are users who haven't yet chosen a team whose names [usually?] appear in grey. if i recall right, attacking neutral players doesn't grant you points either.

a thing to note: don't feel like you need to make elaborate, grandiose attacks. it's a casual internet game. it's meant to be fun, not stressful. no one expects you to churn out a magnum opus for each and every attack. you can make all your attacks shitposty ms paint doodles if you want. sure, it won't net you as many points per piece, but that is completely allowed.

in my many years on the site, the first few days of art fight are often laggy, as in: the site will crash repeatedly or load at a snail's pace. i recommend looking up some characters you want to draw and saving their refs in advance to work on during the first couple days until the site is stable. of course, now that i've said that the site will likely be fine. but you never know.

anyway i accidentally wrote a novel on this and i'm VERY sorry oops i am just quite enthusiastic about this game

very excited for art fight ;w;

animated icon by seandunkley

character icons by beehemoss

[rosepetalsinwinter]

Meant to Be — Bucky Barnes (3)

Chapter 3 — Ceux Qui Rêvent

Pairing: mafia!bucky x innocent!reader

Word count: 6,170

Summary: Nothing is as it seems. A new character is introduced and her life is altered. Can the girl at least find solace in her dreams?

Note: This chapter was a long time coming! The last half is a dream, so the writing is more abstract. Hope it's easy to follow along! Happy reading! &lt;3 <3

Ao3│Wattpad│Ko-fi

Main Masterlist│Series Masterlist│Series Playlist

Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4

"Alone with thoughts of what should have long been forgotten, I let myself be carried away into the silent screams of delirium."

— Amanda Steele

April 25, 2018

When she was a little girl, she loved to explore her house when it was too hot to play outside. She would hide in the dumbwaiter, scare the unsuspecting maids and cover herself in bubble wrap armour to save her dolls from the horrifying monster who lorded over the living room. There was an adventure to be found in every nook and cranny of the house.

In Vancouver, she had a similar place that helped satisfy her imagination. The Irving K. Barber Learning Centre was a three-minute walk from the bus loop, eight minutes from her Developmental Psychology course and only five minutes from her work. Known as the "Harry Potter Room" for its winding staircase and portrait-plastered walls—it was one of the girl's favourite places on campus, and she often went there to draw. The light streaming from the floor-length windows made it the perfect spot.

It reminded her of home, and while she usually avoided anything related to it, the library in New York held a special place in her heart. Many hours were spent amongst pages detailing great adventures, whether she was fighting Sauron's army on Middle-earth or looking for buried gold in Treasure Island.

It was surprising, then, when it took her a moment too long to recognize her surroundings when she first woke up on a couch, a blanket covering her now-dried form—Dried and clothed.

She shook her head and tried to collect her thoughts. She was on her way to her dorm from the party when... what happened exactly? She remembered salt, the taste of sand in her mouth, and—Oh. Someone had grabbed her. The girl looked around frantically, realizing, with a start, that she wasn't in the Learning Centre as she had initially assumed.

The library was dark, the moon barely illuminating the room in front of her. It gave the space a sinister feel, and she was sure that any second, Lord Voldemort would round the corner with Nagini at his heel and use one of the unforgivable curses on her.

In front of her, however, hidden in the shadows, sat someone far more dangerous than Lord Voldemort; and far more real. The girl had not seen him in five years since she left home and never looked back.

Dressed head to toe in Italian silk, Danial Burgundy sat in a leather armchair in front of the girl, ankles crossed and languidly nursing a cigar. "Welcome home," came his gravelly voice, just as stern and commanding as she remembered.

Home. The word made bile rise in her throat. She was shaking like a leaf and sweating, despite the cold air surrounding her. She fell to her knees on the ground and grabbed the nearest object—an unfortunate potted plant—emptying the contents of her stomach. The sound of her gagging echoed through the large room.

Danial winced sympathetically. "You're a lightweight, I presume?"

The girl closed her eyes to stop the room from spinning, trying to collect her nerves. She wiped her mouth with her sleeve and fell back against the couch. Trembling fingers inched the thin blanket back up her shoulders to stop her body from shaking.

"Where am I? What do you want?" Her voice was surprisingly strong, if not a little raspy from disuse and thick from the fear coursing through her body. The girl already knew where she was—there was no mistaking the intricately arched ceiling or the columned walls—but she wasn't sure what she was doing there.

Danial ignored her question, opting to ask one of his own. "Do you realize how much trouble you caused when you ran away?" He didn't sound particularly bothered, only mildly annoyed. "I looked everywhere for you."

"Not hard enough if it took you five years," she murmured, and her snarky remark took them both by surprise. Perhaps the effects of the wine were still running through her body.

Danial gave a short, sarcastic laugh and unbuttoned the top of his suit, loosening his tie. "You are just like your mother."

At the mention of her mother, she couldn't help but whimper. "Where is she?"

Again, Danial ignored her. "You think I'm some fool? Unable to manage my only daughter?"

She shook her head, looking for an opportunity to speak, but her father persisted. "On November 7, 2014, you saw a homeless man in an alley and gave him your coat."

The girl stared. It was cold that day. She herself was shivering under her measly layers, so when she saw an elderly man with only a cardboard box for shelter, she didn't hesitate to give him the clothes off her back. Her dorm was far, and she caught a bad cold that lasted a week, but she never regretted her decision.

"Jace? Was his name Jace? I forget."

"Jason," she whispered, eyes wide with disbelief. "How do you know that?"

Danial laughed humorlessly. "I knew exactly where you were going the second you stepped foot outside of New York. I know that you accelerated your studies and that you took money from my safe. I know all about the week you spent on the streets and how you lied about your age at the shelter."

"No," the girl denied, "that's not possible. I was—"

"What?" her father challenged. "You were careful? Vigilant? Not nearly enough, daughter."

The girl thought of all the contingencies she had so carefully prepared for. Her life was half lived, and for what, when he had found her despite it? "What will you do to me?" she asked.

Danial took a long drag of his cigar, standing up and making his way over to her. "It's not what I'll do. It's what you will do for me."

"I won't do anything for you!" The girl craned her neck to look up at her father. "I want to go home."

He leaned forward and grabbed her chin. "You are home."

Despite her struggle, hot tears still managed to plop down on the carpeted floor. Her lips quivered as she fought the sob threatening to push past her lips.

Danial pursed his lips. "After your brother's passing, I planned to give it all to you."

"I don't want it!" she exclaimed, but her words might as well have been silent because her father completely ignored her.

"I was going to give you everything!" Danial hummed. "Then you left and proved you don't have what it takes."

For the life of her, the girl couldn't understand why her father was telling her all of that. Danial Burgundy owned Manhattan, as well as a sizable chunk of Staten Island. He was a mob boss, using various family businesses as a front for a vast underground smuggling network. He also had many properties all over the world, but she was never inclined toward them.

"George Barnes," her father announced, "is looking to expand."

Indistinctly she recognized the name, having come across it some time in her life. A nondescript shadow flitted through her mind, one with brown hair and an intimidating smile.

"His son is perfect for the job."

The girl frowned when the meaning hit her. Her heart ached at the thought of anyone replacing her brother, even if it was for a less than respectable job. Again, she wondered what any of that had to do with her.

Danial sighed at his daughter's lack of a verbal response. "Eleanor never wanted this for you."

The mention of her mother stopped the girl in her tracks. "What?" she whimpered.

"But I think she would understand at the end of the day that I had no other choice."

"What do you mean?" She was almost afraid to ask.

"George Barnes and I came to an agreement... You are going to marry his son, James."

There was silence, so loud that it would have been unnerving if the girl had not begun to laugh. Her tears came down faster, and she gasped for breath between hysterical sobs and panicked giggles.

"You find this funny, daughter?" Danial asked with a tick in his jaw.

"No," she sobbed.

"No, you don't find this funny?"

"No, I don't want to marry him."

Danial simmered. "Good thing I wasn't asking for your permission then. You will marry James Barnes, daughter."

"I won't marry him," she promised. "I won't! You cannot make me!" There he stood, casually enjoying an imported cigar as her entire world came to an abrupt halt.

Danial merely hummed. "Charming that you think you have a choice in the matter." He sighed deeply. "But I believe you. You get your stubbornness from me."

The girl refused to acknowledge any similarities with her father.

"Dove Myra Rivers," Danial announced after a brief pause. "Pretty name for a pretty girl. Don't you agree? Your mother originally wanted to give you a similar name—did I ever tell you that? But I won in the end, and here we are. It's that stubbornness, you see."

The girl went cold, paling all over, unable to speak or make sense of anything.

"A business major, correct? But you and I both know her real passion lies in music."

The girl's voice was just above a whisper. "How do you know that?"

"She thinks you're at work," he continued, "so she's waiting for you to come home so you can pack up the rest of your things. You were planning to move out over the weekend, weren't you?"

Fresh tears gathered in her eyes as the reality of the situation finally hit her. "No."

"She's very vulnerable right now. Understandable, though, after the night she's had. Wouldn't you say?"

"Father, please."

"If I were her, I wouldn't think to double-check the door—"

"Father."

"—and I definitely wouldn't think to check the coat closet for anybody hiding there."

"Please don't hurt her." Try as she might, all her pleas landed on deaf ears.

"Oh, I don't want to. Believe me." He squat down to her height, elbows on his knees and a solemn expression on his face. "But if you leave me no other choice..." he trailed off, the implication clear.

"No," she whispered.

"Yes," came his reply.

"Father, don't. Please." Her voice shook, and her breath hitched.

"Tell me you will marry him," Danial demanded, confident that he had worn her down.

"No!" she shook her head.

"Tell me!" he shouted. "Now!"

"I don't want to! Please, don't make me."

"I need an answer, daughter."

"I'll do anything else," she pleaded. "Anything but this."

The telltale sound of an incoming call stopped the rest of her ramblings. Danial stood straight and answered his phone. "Ah!" he exclaimed after putting the device to his ear. "She's getting a drink of water from the kitchen. Seems as good a time as any. Won't you say?"

"You don't have to do this." Her voice was a whisper. Fear laced her features. She did not know her father to be a liar.

"Oh, but I do. Tell me, will you behave, or will you make me sin tonight?"

Her body tensed, and she shut her eyes, wanting to disappear. Wanting to wake up only to find that the entire night had been a cruel nightmare. What wouldn't she give for all this to be some dream?

"It will only take one word to seal your friend's fate. Either a "yes" from you, or a "now" from me."

The girl's form visibly deflated, along with her resolve. This was the last thing she wanted. The reason she never let herself close to anyone. Dove had been an anomaly. She came into the girl's life like a storm and whisked her off her feet. Forced her to let some of her guard down and be vulnerable.

She never should have let Dove close to her.

"Don't make me choose for you, daughter. I really rather not."

"Yes," she concurred. There was nothing else to be done. She wouldn't have cared much if only her life was at stake. But she could not put her friend in danger.

"Yes?"

"Yes, I'll do it," the girl said evenly. "I will marry James Barnes."

Danial's lips stretched into a smirk, quirking slightly at the corners. "Leave her be," he spoke into the phone, promptly ending the call. He took another long drag of his smoke, blowing black clouds onto the girl's face. "Good choice, daughter."

The house was just as she remembered it. A sleek pebbled driveway led to large marble columns and an uninviting door. Big and intimidating. For the past five years she had been gone, not one thing had changed. Almost five acres of land that housed her entire childhood stood as arrogantly as it did when it was first erected.

A circular driveway with a fountain decorated the middle, surrounded by grounds on both sides. Trimmed hedges and meticulously placed decorations gave the hundred-year-old mansion a more modern feel. The marble and stone were a welcome contrast to the even older trees lining the property—trees the girl spent the first half of her life climbing with her brother.

The fenced property, where she used to find comfort, was now a cesspool for all the nightmares that followed her from her dreams. She ran away because she didn't feel safe, but now, the adage "time heals all wounds" became blatantly refuted when she felt her heart weep in pain. Cuts that had long since been closed, reopened, and all the feelings she had kept at bay, dreading the moment they resurfaced, came rushing back with such swiftness that she was left winded.

It felt all too real now. The weight of the situation drooped the girl's shoulders. She fought against the hold on her arm, grabbing onto the sofa, but her father's men were huge, and it took only one of them to drag her out of the study.

She dug her feet into the marble of the foyer—anything to delay the inevitable. "No!" she screamed, and her father merely rolled his eyes as if she were some toddler throwing a tantrum. All her efforts were futile.

The inside of the house dripped with wealth. Crystal sculptures and priceless paintings adorned the walls—as if the outside were not blatant enough, and one needed an additional reminder of the wealth the Burgundys had.

There was a time when she was ignorant of her family's wealth. It wasn't until the girl was sleeping on the streets and eating out of dumpsters that she understood how privileged she was—even if it was at the expense of others.

Now, being towed past the white hallway, all the girl could see was red. The blood of all those her family had wronged stained the walls and seeped into the floor.

A portrait decorated the hallway. The girl, her parents, and her brother, fourteen years younger, with bright smiles on their faces. She remembered the day they had posed for it—a week before her brother's birthday, only a month before his death.

He was so handsome.

With a silent sob, she looked away.

At some point, her legs stopped resisting the forward pull, and she let "Barton," as her father called him, take her to the second floor.

When they passed her mother's room, the girl craned her neck to peek in, but was pushed unceremoniously down the hall and through a door before she could see anything of value. It was dark, and she tripped on the carpet, falling to her knees.

Her father's shadow loomed over her, blocking what little light had managed to escape from the hall. "Use the day to rest and get yourself reacquainted," he suggested. "We'll talk tomorrow."

The girl looked down at his feet, glaring at the size ten Italian Leather, wanting—but knowing she could never be courageous enough—to spit on it.

Her father turned to her with one foot out of the door. "And I don't think I need to remind you what's at stake here, do I?"

"You mean, who?" she wanted to retort. Instead, she shook her head. "No."

And he left, locking the door behind him, leaving the girl in complete darkness for the second time in her life.

"Why do you work for him?" she asked the french girl drawing her a bath.

"I needed a job, and Mr. Burgundy needed a maid."

"But don't you know what he does? How dangerous he is?"

Fleur, the french girl, tsked in annoyance before sighing and softening considerably. "Girls," she started in a heavy accent, "who know how to keep their mouth shut are in big demand—strip, chérie."

The girl waited for Fleur to turn away before taking off her clothes and submerging herself in the scalding water. "I kept my mouth shut," she murmured sadly.

From the moment they met, Fleur made it her mission to prepare the girl for her upcoming nuptials. She said nothing when she walked in to find the girl hunched over the toilet seat, sobbing and heaving uncontrollably. She merely squared her shoulders, cleaned the unfortunate mess and sent the girl to rest with a cold pack and a bottle of Pepto-Bismol.

Fleur hummed. "Not tight enough, maybe?"

The girl guffawed, settling deeper into the water. "I guess not."

Despite her rough exterior, Fleur had a soft heart, which was apparent by the sweet names she gave the girl.

"Oh, ma chérie, where were you just now?" Fleur asked as she massaged the girl's scalp with a floral-smelling shampoo. "Dunk." The girl submerged her hair in the water and vigorously shook her head to wash away the suds.

"Nowhere," she distractedly replied when she re-emerged. "Fleur? How did you get to New York all the way from France?"

"Ah! You are curious?" Fleur questioned.

"Oui," the girl nodded.

"Some things are better left in the past. Are you sure?"

The girl said nothing.

"Très bien. I am from Marseille," Fleur began. You know it?"

"Oui," the girl replied. "It's a port city in the south."

Fleur hummed in satisfaction. "I grew up in the... how you say? L'orphelinat?"

"An orphanage?" the girl supplied.

"Oui, orphanage," said Fleur.

"So, you have no parents?" the girl asked.

"I have parents," Fleur said with a nod. "They just did not want me."

"I'm sorry," said the girl.

"Non, don't apologize. Mama wanted me, and Papa didn't. I was a... They were not married. Papa was rich, and Mama was not.

"Dunk," Fleur commanded, and the girl submerged herself in the water, washing away the conditioner.

"I was seven when she gave me to l'orphelinat. I began working as a maid when I turned sixteen and married when I was seventeen."

"Seventeen? But you were just a child!" the girl exclaimed.

"Non," said Fleur. "I stopped being a child long before that. I was a woman when I married."

"But... you're so young!" the girl exclaimed, lightly skimming a finger over Fleur's left hand. "And you don't wear a ring."

"I am twenty-six. That is not too young for me," replied Fleur. "And there is no ring because I am not married anymore," Fleur replied.

"Who was he?" the girl asked after a brief pause.

"The youngest son of the family I worked for, only two years older. He was a writer. Mon Dieu the most beautiful I ever saw. He had a way with words no one else did and made the most beautiful poetry." Fleur's words softened towards the end of her sentence as she became lost in memories.

"Did you love him?" the girl asked with a smile.

"Non, not at all," Fleur replied nonchalantly with a shake of her head. "Maybe in the beginning. He was mean and liked to punch walls. And when drunk, he liked to punch me."

The girl gasped, surprised at the turn Fleur's love story had taken. Her heart hurt for sweet Fleur, who was only a few years older than the girl. "Fleur."

"He kept me secret for many months, until he couldn't anymore." Fleur continued sadly.

"Why couldn't he keep you a secret anymore?" the girl asked hesitantly, though she suspected she already knew the answer.

Fleur began brushing the girl's wet hair with gentleness—the girl suspected—that only came prior to delivering heartbreaking news. "I was almost five months when I found out. He was the first person I told... and the last."

She knew where the story went from there. She just knew. The grief in Fleur's eyes, the deep sadness in her movements, could only hint at a single outcome. "Fleur?"

"Turns out, falling two flights of stairs," Fleur answered, "is very dangerous for unborn babies."

The girl turned her head and kissed the hand near her shoulder, grasping it tightly to provide Fleur with some strength. She could not begin to imagine the grief that came from losing a child. If it were anything close to losing a brother, then she wouldn't wish it on anyone.

"That's when Mr. B—When Mr. Burgundy found me," Fleur continued after a deep breath. "He promised me a job in exchange for my discretion. I've been with him ever since."

The girl absently ran a loofah over her chest and shoulders, taking in Fleur's story, looking for a silver lining. She found none.

"Do you..." the girl hesitated before asking.

"Go on," Fleur encouraged.

"Do you think you will ever love again?" the girl asked meekly.

"Oui," Fleur replied without hesitation. "I will always keep my heart open."

"I don't think I'll ever be in love, Fleur," the girl whispered.

Fleur drained the tub and passed the girl a bathrobe. They entered her closet, filled with clothes she didn't want and wouldn't wear. The girl picked out the least ostentatious pyjamas she could find and made her way to where Fleur was looking out the bay window.

The two sat in comfortable silence for a moment, admiring the expansive trees lining the property.

"I don't want to marry him, Fleur," the girl confessed, internally wincing when her voice cracked.

Fleur sighed and enveloped her in a warm hug. "I know, ma chérie. I know."

April 26, 2018

It was just past three when she opened her eyes with a groan, trying for the past few hours to fall asleep. The sheets were too scratchy, the air too stuffy, and the house too silent. She missed her tiny two-bedroom dorm that she could barely afford, and her neighbour who stayed up late complaining to her mother about her "no good boyfriend who could never keep a job." The girl missed being woken up by Dove in the mornings because she was so tired after her shift that she couldn't make it to her room. Her entire body would ache, but it reminded her that she was real. Alive.

There was nothing to ground her in the empty shell of a house she was now living in.

Her room remained unchanged, with the same floral wallpaper lining the walls and the little dents in the wood that displayed her height throughout the years. All her jewelry, makeup and little trinkets were precisely where she had left them. But she felt restless instead of finding comfort in the little things or revelling in the familiarity.

Her feet carried her towards her door, which she opened slowly, surprised to find no one standing guard outside. A walk ought to clear her mind, she thought, as she perused the hall. The slate flooring was cold under her bare feet, so she walked on her tip toes instead, stepping on bits of soft carpet whenever some appeared.

She stopped outside a familiar brown door with a black handle. Her hand reached for it, but she hesitated. The light was off, and it was late. Her mother must be sleeping, and the girl didn't want to wake her. She could see her in the morning when her father wasn't around.

She continued walking, letting a finger trail the wall as she went downstairs.

The house was silent and eerily so. People always seemed to be hovering around the property when she was younger, taking over the kitchen and the living room, even in the dead of night, when her little feet pattered down the stairs after a bad dream, looking for her "Papa."

She hadn't known back then what the men were there for—she never even asked. Their existence was as normal to her as the simplest of mundane things. She never thought to question it. And so, finding the house empty now brought a chill to her spine. It started from her toes and spilled into her eyes, creating fat droplets.

The girl wiped her face and made her way to the kitchen, using the side entrance to leave. She walked barefoot across the drive, past the fountain and towards the garden, where her mother's azaleas inhabited a sizable portion of the lawn.

Her red azaleas were surrounded by many other of her prized possessions; blue Windflowers, Snapdragons, as well as some daisies and orchids. The girl leaned in closer for a smell. In her proximity, she realized the horrible state of the flowers. They were wilted and weak, drooped disgracefully in front of her.

Her mouth dropped open in shock. Was Eleanor Burgundy aware of the state of her precious garden? Surely not. From what the girl could remember, her mother took a special interest in her flowers and didn't even let the gardener near them. She would wake up before dawn to water them. Then why were they in such a state?

In danger of going crazy from the contemplation, the girl shook away any worrying thoughts and walked farther from the house. Her eyes were obviously playing tricks on her.

"Stop it," she chastised herself when more negative thoughts threatened to invade the silence. She was soon distracted, however, by a large, imposing tree a few minutes' walk from the flower garden.

The girl craned her neck to take in the hefty treehouse perched underneath the canopy of the small forest. There it stood, her adolescent escape, in all its glory, just as it did years ago.

"It's still here?" Her awed whisper lost itself in the wind as she mindlessly grabbed the wooden planks nailed into the tree and hauled herself up. She didn't know if she would fit through the door. Hell, she wasn't even sure if the wood would hold under her weight, but she could think nothing of it as she climbed higher and higher, until she stood up on the balcony-like platform encircling the entire structure.

"One, three, one, two," she whispered, knocking lightly on the wood.

If she closed her eyes, she could almost hear her brother's reply, "Thee may enter," in exaggerated Shakespearean. He always was the more dramatic of the two.

The girl ducked her head to accommodate for the low ceiling and entered, tensing slightly when the floor creaked under her. It was dark, and the only light came from the large window on the right, overlooking the house. She grabbed a flashlight from the table near the entrance giving it a try, not expecting it to work.

With the space suitably illuminated, the girl took in her surroundings. Books piled high in one corner, Beanbags, one blue, one purple, in the other. Mountains of blankets spread all over the floor, with model cars scattered all over.

"Oh, God."

A barbie was sitting in one of the larger cars, and the girl bent down to examine it. She ran the light over the button of the toy car, looking for something. When she found it, she let the car drop from her hands and jerked away from the object.

"No." The girl rubbed her eyes and continued with her exploration. She went to the window and looked out, letting the soft breeze cool her burning face. Her left hand wrapped tightly around the flashlight while her right idly traced patterns on the bottom sill.

Left and right, left and right, she went until her pointer snagged on the edge of something. She bent down to inspect, using the light to find an engraving etched into the wood. Her brows furrowed in confusion as she tried to make sense of it. A pair of initials, surrounded by a jagged heart. B plus B. B plus... She didn't remember carving this, but one of the B's must have stood for Burgundy. And the other? If she hadn't etched this, then her brother was the culprit, and perhaps the second B stood for a friend.

But what sort of friend? A girlfriend? Her brother was only twelve when he... and well, he hadn't ever mentioned a girl to her before.

"What the hell?" The girl plopped down on one of the beanbags, freezing momentarily, before sinking in deeper when she realized it was blue. She needed to come to terms with the possibility that perhaps she didn't know her brother as well as she thought. That, maybe, she didn't know anything.

She pulled one of the blankets up around her shoulders, sighing at the warmth it provided. Slowly, but surely, she felt herself drifting away, felt her eyelids get heavier and heavier as every second passed. The last thing she saw before she became dead to the world was her brother's name, written in black ink on the bottom of a large toy car.

She wouldn't eat. She wouldn't even drink water, not when their chef made her favourite pancakes, not even when her little tummy grumbled and groaned in response. Her mother was worried, though her father was not. She told them she was on a hunger strike until they promised to keep her brother home. It was non-negotiable, she said. She would do it all day, she promised.

She didn't last very long. By lunch, her brother had coaxed her to take "Just a small bite" of the chocolate éclairs their chef made that morning. One bite turned into two, two into three, until the siblings finished the entire batch of éclairs and were sprawled on the treehouse floor, rolling around, giggling, and holding onto their full stomachs.

It was tradition for the Burgundy men to attend Le Rosey, the world-renowned Swiss boarding school. Her brother had finally turned eight years old, and it was time for him to fulfil the family legacy. He would leave home as a little boy and return as a young man, ready to take over his father's business.

And though it was not traditional, as his own sister had stayed home with a private tutor when they were younger, Danial decided to send his daughter to Le Rosey as well. Only, the youngest Burgundy was an impatient little thing and did not want to be separated from her dear brother even for a few days, much less four years.

Nothing her mother said managed to calm the little girl. "He'll visit us during holidays," she promised. "We'll go to Switzerland to see him," she swore. "You'll be so busy with your friends that you won't miss him."

And her mother was right, save for one thing. She never once stopped missing him.

In a few months' time, when her father and brother got in a car on their way to the airport, the girl's five-year-old heart broke at the sight of her older brother, her best friend, through the tinted windows of a Cadillac Escalade. His hand flat against the interior as he looked out at her with a sad frown on his face.

"Take me with you!"

The girl ran with the car as fast as her short legs could carry her before being scooped into the warm arms of her mother, who whispered reassurances into her hair and kissed her tear-ridden face.

Her mother was right. Her brother visited them during holidays, as did they, and though he had changed—became confident and self-assured—he was the same as he had always been. Funny, animated, and oh-so caring. She missed him more every day.

But life kept her busy. Four years passed in the blink of an eye. And if the girl knew the fate that awaited them after her brother's twelfth birthday? She would've appreciated every second more, committed it all to memory.

His frown, the crease between his brows whenever he was concentrating—all his little quirks would've been fresh in her mind. Instead, she felt him slowly wash away like watercolour from between the ridges of her brain.

She could no longer remember his smile.

Her family had just taken a picture together. Mr. Burgundy planned to hand it in the main hallway for everyone to see. Her brother was home for the summer; his birthday was just in a week.

"It's going to be an extra special year. I can just feel it."

"How do you know?"

"You're joining me in September, aren't you? That's how I know."

She had met death that day. Stalking them, dressed as hope and longing, deceiving them with his glamour that all was well; like he hadn't huddled them into a corner, waiting for his chance to pounce. Death was also patient, it seemed.

After the cake cutting, the brother and sister camped out in the treehouse, under a fort of blankets—surrounded by sugary sweets and salty chips—and he told her a story.

She didn't believe him then—How could she? It seemed impossible.

She had laughed at him. "It's a story. It's not real."

"It is a story, but it is real." he shrugged nonchalantly, like it didn't really matter if she believed him. As if it would change the truth. "I knew you wouldn't believe me." And they later passed out from exhaustion, their fingers still sticky with sugar.

Her heart was pounding, and her breath was ragged. Where was she now? Images flashed behind her eyes before slowly settling on one. Something was covering her eyes until it wasn't. Her brother stood in front of her, hands bound and with a smile on his face. Her own features were contorted with fear.

"Believe me now?" he asked.

The girl nodded and blinked away her tears. She did. "I do." The story he told her on his birthday had been true, and confirmed mere minutes ago.

Her brother positioned his knee and lowered his hand in a swiping motion, easily breaking his binds. The girl flinched at the suddenness, but he merely laughed. "Amateurs."

"How did you do that?"

"Le Rosey," he answered, producing a small knife from his back pocket. "I took martial arts there." He released her hands. "You'll learn too when you join me next month. Papa will make you."

Like straight out of a movie, the scene in front of her changed, and darkness surrounded her once more. This time the girl's screams echoed through the room when yet another light shattered. Deafening sounds bounced through the space, making her cry at every movement. A flash of light—illuminating a figure around her—then dark once again.

She clutched her brother's limp body in her small arms, shaking him periodically and willing him to open his eyes. His dirt-ridden face and slack jaw presented themselves to her in the most horrifying manner whenever the overhead light landed on him. Though try as she might, she could not look away.

"Wake up," she told him. "Wake up, wake up, wake up!" And for the first time in her life, her brother ignored her, lying limply in her arms as she shook him periodically, willing him to open his eyes.

Someone yanked her. "Let's go!"

"No!" she screamed as loud as her tiny frame could muster. "Not without him!"

"Come on, he's right behind us, kid." And she was whisked away despite her protests. "Pretend it's just a dream."

"It's just a dream," she repeated, covering her ears with her hands. "It's just a dream, it's just a dream, it's just a dream."

She kept chanting the same thing over and over again, even after the building behind them engulfed itself in angry blue flames. "It's just a dream," after her father grabbed her face, forcing her to look at him as he frantically asked if she was okay. "It's just a dream," while she cowered in the car on her way home. "It's just a dream," as she was rocked back and forth, safe in her mother's arms, but forever without a brother.

"It's just a dream," after she woke with a gasp, wiping her tear-stricken face as reality slammed into her. The girl shuffled around to peer out the bright window at the call of her name.

"Miss!" shouted a guard from the ground. "Mr. Burgundy will see you now."

She shook the lingering remnants of the nightmare away and made her way down on shaky legs. There was no point in beating around the bush. When Mr. Burgundy called, people bent over backwards to answer. And it was her turn.

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