#ignore the awful way i colored the lighting in that one drawing

[acidsaladd]

i missed him 😪

[id: It is two drawing pages of Kai from ninjago. In the first page the first drawing is Kai looking to the side and raising one eyebrow, he has a band aid on his cheek. Next is a drawing of him looking straight to the camera while drowning and pouting, also with a band aid on his cheek. Next to that there is a sketch of him grinning and raising one eyebrow while going “oho!”. Below that is a drawing of him on his gi looking down with a confused frown, one hand on his hip and the other one directing a small fire ball with his finger; there is a small text bubble next to him that reads: “ha?”. Next to that he is drawn laughing embarrassed with one hand on the back of his head. Lastly there is a smaller head shot sketch of him giving a crooked smile to the viewer.

In the second page, the first drawing is of Kai slightly hunched over, defeated and annoyed, saying “Jay wtf did I just tell you”. Next to that is a smaller drawing of him as a lego shouting “FIYA!!!” while holding one hand up with a fire ball over it. Next there is a sketch of Kai holding his phone on his lap while Nya is on her phone, leaning her back on his arm, Lloyd is on his other side laying his head on Kai’s lap while holding a game console over his head. Lastly is a sketch of Kai smiling but with a concerned look in his eyes, carrying Lloyd on his back. Lloyd has his head buried on Kai’s shoulder as Kai says: “did that tea really make you bigger? Cuz you kinda weight the same to me. Maybe I’m just that strong really”./ end id]

[hom3landr]

"just lie to me, okay? just this once."

Necessary Lies

CW - Major Character Death, descriptions of gore and sickness, ANGST ANGST ANGST

Homelander’s intentions had been pure when he arranged to dose you with Compound V. He’s reminded by a friend that’s how the road to hell is paved

You aren’t getting better.

Homelander’s stomach turns.

You aren’t getting better.

He’d done everything right. The whole process was done under the supervision of all of Vought’s best doctors and scientists. Even as you screamed and begged, he’d been confident that any complications could be swiftly dealt with. Sure, you’d been an adult when the V had been introduced into your system but you are strong. You have to be. You have to.

He watches you in your room. It doesn’t seem right for you to be surrounded by so much blank white. You are color and light but even you can’t withstand the way the awful room dims your soul. Maybe if you could see the sun you’d get better. But the doctors insist you are too fragile to handle any environment except the sterile one you are contained in.

He bites his lip anxiously as you continue to hack up blood, the bright crimson automatically drawing the eye. His instincts tell him to scan you, to watch as the V twists your DNA and transforms you into something greater.

I told you not to get your hopes up. You tend to have a less than stellar track record when it comes to mud people.

He shakes his head and tries to ignore the little voice in his ear. He’s wrong this time. It’s a hiccup that’s all. You’re strong. You are.

The voice is blocked out but not by his own efforts. A horrible cry leaves your lips as your bones crack and shift under your skin. More red spews on the floor. He winces at the wet splat as a chunk of something hits the floor.

That was juicy. Wanna bet that was a lung?

Homelander tastes iron as he splits his own lip. It feels like it’s your blood he’s tasting. It’s your blood he’s spilt.

That one was a little mean, I admit. But buck up Bucko, this is what you signed up for. Maybe you’ll listen to me next time.

He’s done this before. Why the fuck were you the one with complications?

“There’s a good reason Vought doesn’t do it.”

That’s what he told Madelyn that fateful night.

He’d killed her too

He steps to the side as a squad of sour smelling scientists rush in to stabilize you. But what can they do? What can they do now that the only outcome is for the poison to run its course? He vividly fantasizes about popping each one’s head like a ripe melon as punishment for not fixing this. It doesn’t make him feel better.

Please

He begs the voice in his head.

Just lie to me, okay? Just this once.

The once dependable steady rhythm of your heartbeat is dangerously erratic.

You smell like death.

Please!

He worries the cut on his lip with his tongue. It feels strange to have a wound. The scientists flutter around you nervously. They know you’re a lost cause but Homelander’s icy gaze compels them to at least pretend to be helpful. Their terror burns his nose. He decides to make their demise slow.

No can do Buddy, you know that’s not what I’m here for. I’m the only one who’ll never lie to you.

Your heartbeat grows fainter. Your breaths rattle.

One of the scientists pisses himself.

Please…

You turn your head and despite your eyes meeting his, he knows you can’t see him. You wouldn’t be able to even without the wall in the way. He doesn’t think you can see much of anything anymore.

I told you so. Better go in and say your goodbyes.

I hate you

Aw buddy, I’m the only thing you have left.

Your heart stops and a noise all too terribly familiar leaves your throat. The last noise you’ll ever make. A wail just as wretched leaves his lips.

He didn’t even say goodbye. He let you die in that awful room alone. He wasn’t even holding your hand. You were alone like he was alone all those many years ago. Being poked at like he was.

He vomits bile onto the floor.

You’re gonna need me more than ever now. Better get used to it.

[galamalion]

୨୧. 𝐏𝐔𝐌𝐏𝐊𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍'

summary. you and sanji go on a date to pick out some perfect pumpkins for the season.

⤷ contents. vinsmoke sanji x gn!reader, fluff + romance, sanji being a sweetheart

⤷ notes. hello! i'm going to try and write a lot until the end of october in order to get out all my halloween ideas, so this'll be the first! enjoy this little pumpkin date <3

autumn was your favorite season for a very long list of reasons.

first of all, its beauty had no comparison. watching the leaves change colors from emerald to cherry red all over the course of a couple weeks was a sight you could never tire of, in awe of nature’s power over its creations.

secondly, the anticipation for halloween was impossible to ignore, and you already had both your costume picked out and a list of activities to take part in the moment the calendar turned october first.

and lastly, the flavors that arose during the chilly season were absolutely exquisite. a hot apple cider for those cold afternoons, or a slice of pumpkin pie made by your one and only personal chef.

“ah, mon chou~! how about this one?” he called out, holding a pumpkin high above his head for you to see.

sanji really was a dream come true, acting as your prince during your weekly fall outings, participating alongside your autumnal activities. he would find you the most brilliantly red leaf among a raked up pile, helped to sew your matching costumes, and he would make your favorite fall treats for you! he was attentive, elegant, and the greatest boyfriend you would ever get.

“a little bigger, sweetie! i wanna do some pumpkin carving with it!” you shouted back, scouring the field for your dream pumpkin,

“oui!” he exclaimed, gently setting the pumpkin back onto the ground. 

you grabbed a nearby small pumpkin, “how about this one, sanji?” you asked, spinning it around for him to see.

“less blemishes, sweetheart! i’m looking for firm and plump!” you didn’t miss the way he wiggled his eyebrows at you, drawing an eye roll from you in response.

an hour of pumpkin judging passed between you two, and a few contenders had risen to your high standards. you carried around five tiny pumpkins in your tote bag, though sanji was aiming for ten due to luffy’s voracious appetite. sanji was hauling two perfectly symmetrical pumpkins, one for each of you to use.

the sun hadn’t quite set yet, a glow still rested on the field for you and sanji to continue picking, but the sky was slowly beginning to fill with oranges and pinks which cast a pastel shimmer of color across your face. sanji stared at your appearance from across the field, taking in the way the soft light struck your visage and framed you beautifully, like a divinity choosing to grace him with your presence. 

“you think ten will really be enough for luffy?” you shouted, picking up a pumpkin to examine it.

sanji snapped back to attention, blinking rapidly as he formulated his thoughts, “i- well i suppose no, when taking his prior portion sizes into account…and if we invite sabo and ace there as well…” 

“at least sabo has manners!” you yelled, chucking any spoiled pumpkins over your shoulder. “i once saw ace use someone else’s pants as a napkin! not even his own! can you believe that, sanji?”

sanji’s focus once again faltered, watching as your lips moved wildly in your frustrated-amused rant. god, how he wanted to kiss you right now. i mean, you both deserve a break right now, right? you’ve been working so hard these past few hours…a little break never hurt anybody, right?

you continued raving and skipped across the fields, unaware of sanji’s devious musings, searching for some more perfect pumpkins for your perfect boyfriend. your deep and intense focus on your little pumpkin hunt led to you missing your perfect boyfriend disappearing from his row of pumpkins, silently creeping up behind you. 

“oh mon ange,” he whistled, “i believe just found the prettiest pumpkin in the pumpkin patch!” his slender, long fingers wrapped around your waist, lifting you high above and eliciting a shriek.

“put me down, you sneak!” you teased, jokingly kicking your legs in an attempt to get loose of his hold.

“but then my pumpkin might run away!” he lamented, twirling you around in circles, sidestepping any precarious pumpkins in the way of his feet. 

“as if i’d run away from you,” you replied, trying to ruffle his blonde locks up in the air.

sanji contemplated your words, throwing you down into a bridal carry while he pondered your response. after a minute of totally-real reflection, he flashed you a big ol’ pout.

“you pinky promise?” he whined, kneeling to the ground with you still in his arms, slipping his arm out from under your knees to offer a pinky.

“i pinky promise, my love.” you kissed him on the forehead, causing a heavy flush to don his cheeks and he rolled around the dirt-covered fields in bliss.

you approached his squirming body and gently touched him with the tip of your foot. “get up, mr. prince, i still need someone to carry our pumpkins!” you sung, slinging your bag across your shoulders and attempting to heave sanji to his feet, “unless you’d like me to leave you here…”

immediately sanji arose in dramatic fashion, sprinting back to grab the pumpkins he had abandoned. with ease he lifted them, returning back to your side as if he wasn't carrying two extremely heavy gourds.

“your prince is here! now what are your next commands, my liege?” he announced, dropping to one knee and kissing your hand.

“hmmm…” you brought your hand to your chin, tapping it in 'deep' thought, “you have to help me find more of your pie-pumpkins, and then we can go home and make cider!” you cheered, grasping his hand and running towards the baby pumpkins.

“anything for you, mon amour,” he swooned, watching the sun cast a luminous amber glow across your skin, “anything for you.”

[auriidae]

more of these guys :] (part 1) (part 2)

classpect thoughts under cut! yippee

these absolute fools gave me SO much trouble. i changed each of their classes and/or aspects like twice while drawing this lmao.

pearle was going to be a rage player initially! i had her down as one for the chaos — yknow, ‘red’s my favorite color’ and all that. but the catch ended up being that in this au, as rage represents in-game chaos and bloodlust, it only exists while the game is in effect, and so rage players don’t have much dominion over stuff that happens after that period ends (which has all sorts of delightful implications for grienn’s character, but anyways). meanwhile pearle definitely continues playing and also grows as a character even in times of peace. i was thinking in terms of comparing her arc in double life to secret life in particular — ‘she left the tower’ and all that, yknow? she went from being terribly isolated and functioning on a completely independent scale, winning only for herself, to being a key member of a team and finding a purpose in helping them. which is pretty incredibly space-coded, in my mind! my personal qualification for space players is that they’re destined to be lonely, often physically separated in some way from others, for a while but not forever — because space is about creation, after all. and if you look at being a witch from the perspective of reinvention — what pearle manipulated or reinvented here was herself. she found her place in the story and the person she wanted to be. witches are also some of the most powerful characters in terms of specifically manipulating their aspect, i think, which is great because i’ve heard she's pretty great at pvp lol

ignore that martyn’s color palette is not particularly great it’s hard to unify the design of a character who is super rustblood-coded but also inextricably linked to the colors green and yellow of all things. i’ll redesign him later. anyways! at first i had thought there might not be any light players in this session — since light is about sort of seeing through the laws of the game and often deliberately defying them, as well as having a certain degree of control over narrative agency due to this. and because, yknow, the life series is a minecraft youtube roleplay series, realistically the ccs aren’t going to be playing any characters that go out of their way to completely ruin the game or refuse to play it by the rules altogether. but then i started thinking — and i don’t know an awful lot about martyn’s character so forgive me if i’m going a little bit off the rails here — does martyn want to understand? because if he as a character tries to understand and affect his destiny even though he’s ultimately limited by the nature of the story itself, then he could totally be a light player. so that’s where i was coming from here. think about how he won limited life in the end, for instance — not by playing into what the game itself had been leading up to, but by acting on and finishing his own story. he’s a knight because i do think knights are a certified Narrative’s Little Guy class — they persevere through so much pressure and often also have that sort of dual persona thing, both of which are particularly endearing to an audience. it’s hard work, keeping up with the narrative and fulfilling his own quest for understanding while he’s at it!! but he does it!!

renn is Such a blood player guys he is such a blood player ohhh my goodness. playing the game in terms of your relationships with others, right? basing how you go about it on allies and interactions, and being a leader above all else? i’d say that’s pretty ren the dog coded tbh. i don’t have too much to say here because i think seer of blood renn is pretty self-explanatory — he sees the entire game as a game of relationships and ties. he has a lot of knowledge about this field specifically, and shares it with his allies in the way he helps direct them and keep them alive. the reason he’s blood instead of light is because he puts his allies over knowledge, i think — he’s far too busy dealing with all that stuff to speculate for too long what the purpose of it all might be, and that would detract from his goal (of winning alongside others or dying nobly), anyway.

again questions abt them are open forever always :3

[sicknessbysalem]

ong i adore saylor! i’d love to see a sickfic of her soon but i don’t have any specific request ideas haha i loved the new story!

ask and you shall receive!

i adore these two! they have such a fun relationship dynamic to play with.

if you have any questions, comments, or requests, send them my way!

tw emeto, nausea, scat (as a symptom), affectionate bullying, fever, implications/mentions of a recurring health issue

The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the courtyard where Saylor was hard at work on her latest mural for the school.

Her hands moved easily, the spray paint can hissing as vibrant colors came to life on the wall. The mural, a swirling mix of abstract shapes and bold lines, was already drawing admiring glances from passersby.

Saylor had been asked by the school to complete this mural. To fix the boring, empty wall in the courtyard before someone else got their hands on it and did who knew what with it.

Julian stood nearby, watching Saylor with a mix of awe and admiration.

“That looks incredible, Saylor," he said, flipping through his own sketchbook, "You've outdone yourself this time."

Saylor grinned, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. "Thanks, Jules. I'm really feeling this one."

As she continued to work, a sudden wave of nausea hit her, causing her to pause mid-spray.

She frowned, pressing a hand to her stomach. Beneath her hand, she felt something. Gurgling, bubbling, something uncomfortable.

“That's weird," she muttered under her breath.

Julian noticed her discomfort immediately. "Hey, you okay?" he asked, stepping closer. "You look a little pale."

Saylor shrugged it off, trying to focus on the mural. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's probably just the paint fumes getting to me. Plus it’s hot…”

Julian's concern deepened. "Maybe we should take a break. Get some fresh air and grab something to eat. You haven't eaten since breakfast, right?"

Saylor hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah, you're probably right. A break sounds good."

They put the paint cans up against the wall and headed towards the campus café. The walk was short, but Saylor couldn't shake the uneasy feeling in her stomach.

At the café, they found a quiet corner and ordered their meals. Saylor chose a simple sandwich and a side of fruit, while Julian opted for a salad and a smoothie.

They chatted casually as they waited for their food, Julian doing his best to keep the conversation light and distracting.

"So, I heard Ethan's been avoiding the art building since his little 'incident,'" Julian said with a smirk. "Seems like he's embarrassed to show his face."

Saylor chuckled, though it was a bit forced. "Serves him right. Maybe he'll finally stop acting like he's better than everyone else."

Their food arrived, and Saylor took a tentative bite of her sandwich. She felt fine. In fact, swallowing the bite made her stomach growl, and she was almost sure it was just that she was hungry. Her stomach felt… better? She couldn’t tell.

They finished their meal, Julian doing most of the talking while Saylor listened, grateful for the distraction. Despite her attempts to ignore it, Saylor's stomach felt unusually heavy, an uncomfortable weight that settled low in her abdomen.

“I’m going to use the bathroom real quick,” Saylor said, pushing her chair back and standing up. Julian nodded, his eyes still filled with concern, but he didn't press her.

Saylor walked to the bathroom, each step making her more aware of the uneasy sensation in her stomach. She pushed the door open and locked it behind her, leaning against it for a moment. The cool surface of the door provided a slight relief against the growing heat of her discomfort.

Taking a deep breath, she moved to stand over the toilet, unsure if she was going to throw up or not. Her stomach churned ominously, sending sporadic waves of nausea up her throat.

She bent over slightly, placing her hands on her knees for support, and tried to gauge whether she was actually going to be sick or if it was just a false alarm.

Her stomach gurgled, and she felt a pressure building in her chest. She burped, the taste of acid lingering unpleasantly in her mouth. She waited, hoping it would pass, but another, stronger burp followed, making her gag slightly.

She dry heaved, but nothing came up, leaving her feeling even more unsettled.

She stood there for a few moments, her breath coming in shallow, uneasy gasps. Her mind raced, trying to convince herself that it was just a passing discomfort, that she would be fine if she just took a few deep breaths.

But the sensation in her stomach didn't ease. If anything, it seemed to grow worse, a persistent, gnawing feeling that made her question her earlier nonchalance.

She couldn’t be sick. Not now… right?

-

Saylor stood in front of the mural once again, the afternoon sun now casting longer shadows across the courtyard. She took a deep breath and picked up a can of spray paint, the familiar hiss of the aerosol bringing a slight sense of normalcy.

But as she began to work, her stomach continued to churn uncomfortably, each stroke and spray reminding her of the unsettling nausea that had been plaguing her since lunch.

Julian sat nearby, watching her. He had his fashion book, a bag of fabric swatches next to him.

"Hey, Saylor, how about I take your jacket and give it a little makeover? I've got some fabrics and materials that would look awesome on it."

Saylor glanced at him, one eyebrow raised, as she took off the dark purple and blue faux leather jacket. “Knock yourself out. Just don't turn it into one of those pastel nightmares you love so much."

Julian laughed and took her jacket, laying it out on the grass. He pulled out some of his supplies—a mix of fabrics, patches, and small embellishments. "Don't worry, it'll still be you. Just with a little extra flair."

As he worked, Saylor tried to focus on her mural, but her stomach continued to rebel. It felt like a cauldron of acid, bubbling up her throat.

She suppressed a small burp, tasting the bitter tang of stomach acid. She winced and pressed a hand to her abdomen, hoping the sensation would pass.

"Everything okay?" Julian asked, glancing up from his project.

"Just a little indigestion," Saylor replied, trying to sound nonchalant. "You know how I get when I eat. I'll be fine."

Julian nodded, “You do know that’s not objectively normal, right?”

Saylor waved him off, determined to push through. "I'm good. Besides, what can you do? I’ll be alright. Just need to lose myself in the art for a bit and stay standing, that usually helps me digest better.”

But as she continued, the discomfort grew worse. Her stomach felt like it was tied in knots, and each passing minute made it harder to ignore the urgent signals her body was sending. The acid reflux was relentless, each burp bringing a fresh wave of bitterness to her mouth. This was more than just her stomach having a hard time digesting food, it was never this bad.

She tried to keep painting, but a sudden, intense cramp doubled her over. She gritted her teeth, determined not to show weakness.

But the feeling was undeniable. Her lower stomach seized, gurgled. Saylor felt a pressing urgency to find a bathroom. She impulsively wrapped an arm around her stomach.

"Saylor, are you sure you're alright?" Julian's voice was tinged with concern.

"Yeah, just... just need a minute," she muttered, trying to keep her voice steady. "I'll be back in a sec."

Saylor set down the spray paint can, feeling a sharp twist in her stomach as she bent over. The sensation was unsettling, a queasy mix of nausea and cramping that made her pause.

Standing up slowly, she felt a wave of dizziness, the weight in her stomach growing heavier with each passing second.

"I'll be back in a minute," she said, trying to keep her voice steady as she began to walk towards the nearest building.

With every step, the urgency increased, her stomach gurgling ominously, each noise a warning of what was to come.

Her pace quickened as the pressure in her abdomen became more insistent, each step sending fresh waves of discomfort through her body. It felt as though her stomach was a ticking time bomb, the gurgling and churning growing louder and more frantic.

By the time she reached the bathroom, Saylor was nearly running. She slipped into a stall, the cold metal of the door pressing against her back as she fumbled to unzip her leather jeans.

As she collapsed onto the toilet, her stomach let go, releasing a rush of diarrhea that left her bracing her arms against the walls of the stall for support.

The sensation was both a release and a torment, her stomach twisting painfully with each wave. She took deep, shaky breaths, trying to steady herself as her body continued its relentless revolt.

Sweat beaded on her forehead, her face flushed with exertion. She could feel the muscles in her abdomen contracting uncontrollably, each spasm sending another wave of liquid out of her.

Saylor leaned forward, resting her elbows against her knees and her against her hands on the side of the stall, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

She felt drained, her body trembling from the effort. The nausea that had been a constant undercurrent now surged to the forefront, making her gag, forcing her to cover her mouth though nothing came up. Another wave of liquid poured out of her.

She stayed there for several minutes, caught in a vicious cycle of cramps and nausea, each seize of her stomach punctuated by more liquid splattering into the toilet. This was way more than her stomach not wanting to digest lunch right.

Saylor’s mind was racing with a mix of frustration and desperation. Finally, the immediate urgency began to subside, though her stomach still felt unsettled and raw.

Taking a few more deep breaths, she wiped her face with a piece of toilet paper, trying to regain some semblance of composure. She cleaned up as quick as she could.

Her legs felt weak and unsteady as she stood up, her reflection in the small mirror above the sink confirming what she already knew—she looked as bad as she felt.

She splashed some cold water on her face, hoping it would help settle her nerves and ease the lingering nausea.

Finally, she pulled herself together and headed back out to the courtyard.

When she returned, Julian was still working on her jacket, his concentration evident. He looked up as she approached, his expression shifting to one of concern.

"You okay?" he asked gently.

"Yeah, just needed a quick bathroom break," Saylor said, forcing a smile. "What's the verdict on the jacket?"

Julian held it up, the added fabrics and patches giving it a unique, personalized flair. "What do you think? It’s not done yet but…”

Saylor examined it, her eyes lighting up despite her discomfort. "It's awesome, Jules."

She picked up her spray paint can and turned back to the mural, determined to finish despite everything. Julian stayed close, while Saylor fought to keep her discomfort at bay.

Saylor's stomach churned violently as she continued to work on the mural, each stroke of the spray paint feeling like a monumental effort.

The colors blurred before her eyes, and she found it increasingly difficult to focus. Her stomach roiled with an uneasy mixture of nausea and cramping, making her movements jerky and uncoordinated. Minutes turned into an hour, and it was taking every ounce of strength for her to not start shaking from how nauseous she felt.

Julian, still working on her jacket nearby, glanced over with concern. "Saylor, you sure you don't need to sit down for a bit?"

She forced a smile, trying to keep up her usual bravado. "Nah, I'm good. Just gotta power through, you know?"

But as she tried to engage Julian in conversation, her voice wavered. "So, Jules, any new campus drama I should know about?"

Julian looked at her, his brow furrowing. "Not much. Just the usual gossip. Are you okay? You don't look so great."

Saylor's stomach twisted painfully, and she pressed a hand to her abdomen, another small burp sending acid licking the back of her throat that she muffled behind her hand, trying to ignore the growing urgency in her lower stomach again.

“Yeah, just... the paint fumes, and the heat, I guess," she lied, knowing full well it was more than that. "I'll be right back.”

She dropped the spray paint can again and hurried towards the bathroom, her pace more urgent this time. Her stomach felt like it was filled with molten lava, each step sending waves of nausea through her body. By the time she reached the bathroom, she was almost running.

She barely made it into the stall before another bout of diarrhea hit, leaving her clutching the sides of the stall for support once more. She felt her shirt sticking to her back.

The nausea grew worse, her stomach churning violently. She took deep breaths, hoping it would pass, but the sensation only intensified.

Saylor stood up shakily, making her way to the sink. She gripped the edge, her knuckles white, trying to steady herself. Her reflection in the mirror showed a pale, sweat-drenched face, her eyes wide with distress. She swallowed hard, feeling the bile rise in her throat.

A few moments later, Julian entered the bathroom, his worry evident. "Saylor? Are you okay?"

She turned to him, shaking her head slowly, "I... I don't feel so good, Jules."

“Is your stomach giving you trouble?” Julian asked, “Usually, sandwiches are easy to digest for you.”

“I… don’t… feel… good…” Saylor’s words were choppy, small gags interrupting her sentence.

Just as she said it, another wave of nausea hit, and she stumbled back into the stall. She barely had time to brace herself over the toilet before she started to vomit, her body heaving violently. Julian rushed to her side, holding her hair back and steadying her as she retched.

"It's okay, Saylor," he murmured, his voice soothing. "I'm here. Just let it out."

Saylor's body convulsed as she threw up, the contents of her stomach coming up in powerful, relentless waves.

Each heave sent a fresh surge of vomit into the toilet, and she could feel it burning her throat and nostrils.

Julian's steadying hand on her back provided some comfort, but the sickness was overwhelming.

Julian rubbed her back in slow, comforting circles, his touch gentle yet firm. "Just breathe, Saylor. I've got you."

Her stomach contracted again, forcing more vomit up her throat. The taste of bile was sharp and acrid in her mouth, making her gag even harder. She could feel the chunks of sandwich pour out of her.

Saylor heaved again. She could feel the vomit coming out of her nose, the sensation burning and painful. She couldn’t breathe, just coughed. Which made her vomit again.

Julian shifted from rubbing her back, to placing his hand on her abdomen and rubbing hard circles over her stomach. The same thing she did to him.

The motion, meant to comfort, only intensified her nausea, causing her to vomit even harder. She could feel her body shaking with the effort, the retching so intense it left her gasping for breath. She was thankful for it.

Julian held her steady, hand pressed to her abdomen, his other hand keeping her hair out of her face. "God, Say, why is your stomach always set to exorcism when you throw up?”

Saylor's stomach heaved again, sending another torrent of vomit into the toilet. She smacked his hand with her own to his comment, and he only held her tighter.

She could feel her body weakening, the relentless sickness taking its toll. The vomit came in frequent, abundant waves, leaving her feeling drained and miserable.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the vomiting began to subside. Saylor collapsed against Julian, her body trembling with exhaustion. He held her gently, his arms providing a steady support as she wrapped them around her, holding her just above her chest.

"It's okay," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face and wiping her cheek with his finger, brushing away a tear. “You're okay now, blackberry."

Saylor nodded weakly, too tired to speak. She closed her eyes, focusing on the feeling of Julian's comforting presence.

“Deep breaths…” Julian said, “That’s it…”

Saylor nodded, taking deep breaths. In through her nose, out of her mouth. She reached blindly but somehow managed to grab toilet paper and wipe off her face.

She leaned back against Julian, who placed the back of his hand on her cheek and her forehead.

“Oh, Say, you’re really warm,” Julian said softly.

-

Saylor lay on her bed, curled up on her left side. Her stomach still churned ominously, the discomfort making it impossible to find a truly comfortable position.

Julian sat beside her, his hand gently rubbing her shoulder in slow, soothing circles. He had pulled up a true crime article on his phone, his voice soft and steady as he read aloud.

The familiar rhythm of his voice was comforting, a steady presence that helped distract Saylor from the turmoil in her stomach.

Saylor felt her stomach seize, tasted bile. But she didn’t want to throw up again. It hurt, and she hated it.

"And the detectives soon realized," Julian read, "that the seemingly random clues were part of a much larger, more sinister pattern..."

Saylor closed her eyes, trying to focus on the story and let herself drift off to sleep. But each time she felt herself slipping into unconsciousness, a fresh wave of nausea would surge through her, pulling her back to painful alertness. Her stomach felt like it was tied in knots.

Julian glanced at her, his brow furrowed with concern. "You okay, Saylor? You look really pale."

"I'm fine," she murmured, though her voice was strained. "Just... trying to sleep."

Julian continued to rub her shoulder, his touch gentle and comforting. He was better at comforting her than she ever was with him. Or, this was how he comforted her. This worked for her, and what she did worked for him.

“Do you want me to stop reading? I can put on some music or something if you think that would help."

"No, keep reading," Saylor said, her eyes still closed. "You have the kind of voice that would make teenage girls lose their minds"

Julian chuckled softly before he nodded and resumed reading, his voice a steady, calming presence.

But Saylor's stomach had other plans. She could feel the nausea building, a slow, creeping sensation that made her mouth water and her skin break out in a cold sweat.

She swallowed hard, hoping to quell the rising tide, but it was no use.

She shifted slightly, trying to find a position that would ease the pressure in her abdomen.

Her stomach gurgled loudly, a sharp, painful cramp making her wince.

“Was that your stomach, blackberry?” Julian asked.

Saylor nodded slowly with a small whine.

"Jules," she said, "I think... I think I'm going to be sick."

Julian immediately set his phone aside and helped her sit up, his hand still on her shoulder. "Do you need the trash can? Or can you make it to the bathroom?"

Saylor shook her head, feeling the nausea intensify. "Trash can... please."

Julian grabbed the small trash can from beside the desk and brought it over, holding it out to her just in time. Saylor leaned over it, her body tensing as she felt the first violent heave rip through her.

Her stomach contracted painfully, forcing up a rush of vomit that splashed into the trash can with a sickening sound.

“You know, Say, you should audition for if they ever make another exorcist movie,” Julian said, pulling back Saylor’s hair again, “You’re a natural.”

She retched again, the force of it making her whole body shake. Julian kept a steady hand on her back, rubbing gently to offer what comfort he could.

Saylor's stomach heaved again, bringing up another torrent of vomit. The taste was bitter and acrid, burning her throat and nostrils. She could feel tears prickling at the corners of her eyes from the effort, her body straining with each violent retch. Somehow, having less coming out of her made her retches sound even worse.

Julian's hand moved to her hair, holding it back from her face as she continued to vomit.

He whispered soothing words, his voice a steady anchor in the storm of her sickness. "You're doing great, Saylor. Just a little more."

Each heave seemed to come harder and faster, leaving her gasping for breath in between. She could feel the vomit forcing its way up her throat, her body betraying her with its relentless need to expel whatever was causing her so much discomfort.

The force of her vomiting was so intense that it left her dizzy and lightheaded, each wave taking a toll on her already exhausted body.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the vomiting began to subside. Saylor leaned back, panting heavily, her body trembling with the effort.

Julian was there, holding her steady, his touch a reassuring presence in the midst of her misery.

"You're okay blackberry,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her sweaty forehead. "It's over now. Just breathe."

Saylor nodded weakly, her eyes closing as she tried to catch her breath. Her stomach still felt uneasy, but the immediate urgency had passed. She leaned against Julian, grateful for his unwavering support.

"Thank you, Jules," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Julian smiled, his hand still gently rubbing her back. "You'd do the same for me, Saylor. Now, let's get you comfortable and see if we can get you to rest a bit."

With Julian's help, Saylor lay back down.

Julian set the trash can aside, before gently wiping the tears off Saylor’s face again.

“You did good, Say,” Julian said, “Just breathe, okay?”

[putaposyinyourhair]

Slowly but Also Like All at Once

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7

noah diaz x mirage (they’re def boyfriends)

warnings: goddamnit noah cheer up dude (also death/bodies mention)

mirage tones it down with the pet names but then comes in hot at the end with a big one + dad doesn’t seem to approve

“Is the rider part of Arcee?” Noah inquires, watching as the Ducati ahead navigates the curved exit ramp of the Sunrise Highway— Noah is kind of transfixed honestly, awed by the way the early morning light shines off of the pink and white finish of Arcee’s altmode.

“Nah, that’s holomatter,” Mirage reveals offhandedly.

“Holo-what?”

“It’s a projection,” the mech clarifies. “Can be light or solid. We use them to draw less attention to ourselves. Be kinda weird to see a bike drive itself, right?”

Noah nods. Definitely weird. His lips pout to one side, watching Arcee and mulling over the idea of hologram-like projections for a moment before he starts, wide gaze flashing down to Mirage’s radio.

“Wait, can you do that?” he questions pointedly.

“Yep,” Mirage pops the ‘p’ cheerfully, before his radio makes a small, muted buzzing sound. “Well… I used to.”

Noah stills.

“My projector was damaged pretty badly after Peru,” Mirage admits softly, kind of wistfully. “I can project light. I mean, sorta. It doesn’t last very long and it’s really buggy but…”

The mech trails off for a moment.

“I can’t do solid anymore,” he confesses finally, faintly.

Noah sinks into the seat, forced down by the sudden, all-encompassing guilt.

Shit.

“Ratchet tried to fix it but it’s just one of those things, y’know?” Mirage goes on, his pitch rising in volume as if in response to Noah’s physical reaction to his admission. “Bumblebee can’t talk. I can’t use holoforms. No biggie.”

The bot isn’t a very good liar, Noah realizes.

He has zero doubt in his mind that losing a piece of yourself like that has got to be terrible. But he’s not going to acknowledge that out loud though. Not when it’s probably his fault.

Damn it.

The inward confession makes his chest sting.

Noah shakes his head, not wanting to think on it anymore. He’s already cried once. He’s not about to do it again. Mirage is going to start thinking he’s some kind of giant wuss or something.

He sucks in a sharp breath and forces himself to lift and drop a shoulder.

“Who needs hologram—form���things,” he stammers out a bit awkwardly. “When you’re already cool as fuck anyway, dude.”

Mirage chuckles, the sound vibrating through the seat beneath Noah. The leather warms up for a moment and Noah realizes that comfort is exactly what that sensation is supposed to convey.

He’s just not sure it’s working this time around.

The seconds crawl by and neither of them moves to speak again and so they fall into a strange, sort of unsettling silence. Noah, for as much as he tries to not think about it, can only do just that; stew in the guilt.

Because it is his fault.

Mirage had almost died for him.

Mirage had to be rebuilt and repaired from practically the ground up because of him.

Mirage had lost parts of himself because of Noah.

Noah’s a walking, talking hazard around the mech.

He frowns, pulling his feet up onto the seat so he can wrap his arms around his legs and curl into himself— ignoring the way the seatbelt kind of digs into the skin of his neck. In the distance, amidst fog and cloud-cover, he can see Manhattan’s skyscrapers reaching for the heavens.

“Hey, Noah?”

He glances down at the radio— it’s backlight cycling through a few different colors; blue, yellow, green, and red, before it settles on its usual light blue.

“I’d do it all over again in a sparkbeat, y’know,” Mirage claims boldly. “If it meant keeping you safe.”

Noah’s eyes widen so quickly, he half expects his eyeballs to drop right out of his head for a moment. His breath catches in his throat and his chest heaves— his heart stuttering over a couple beats.

Oh, fuck.

Noah’s not one hundred percent sure, but he remembers Mirage once saying, ‘Cross my spark, hope to die,’ and so he assumes it to be the cybertronian version of a heart.

The declaration is… overwhelming, to say the least. In a good way.

But also in a way that Noah feels he is undeserving of.

It compels his own heart to keep pounding away, essentially doing somersaults underneath his ribcage. Which— under the recent revelation that Mirage can actually feel it thumping away— is embarrassing as all shit. But Noah can’t help it.

He’d do it all over again.

Noah doesn’t think Mirage even realizes how much that one sentence means. Or maybe he does. And he actually means it. Noah hopes that’s not true.

He never wants Mirage to do it again.

The radio warbles and Noah watches the backlight flicker again.

“Mirage,” Arcee’s voice comes through, clear and urgent. “We’re needed back at base-ops stat.”

Immediately, Mirage groans— in a long and suffering kind of way that reminds Noah of Kris every time he starts whining about how he still can’t get past Bowser.

“I’m gettin’ my aft chewed out for breems,” Mirage gripes with a sharp huff. “Fraggin’ Ratchet, man. Messin’ with my game. What a hater.”

Noah has no idea what half those words mean but he’s pretty sure he understands the gist of it all.

Which is why he isn’t all that surprised when, instead of driving back into Brooklyn, Arcee leads the way north into Queens and then across the East River into the Bronx.

Noah shifts quietly in his seat.

His ma’s gonna be so mad when he does eventually make his way home. He hasn’t checked in with her for hours, which is unlike him. And Breanna Diaz don’t play when it comes to her kids.

But at the same time, he thinks he can understand the sort of urgency a call from Optimus Prime himself might instill in the autobots.

Both he and Mirage are silent as they make their way into a neighborhood of the Bronx known as City Island— a fitting name. At this point, the sun has risen high up into the sky and the inhabitants of City Island are starting to slowly make their way outside in preparation for another day.

Arcee and Mirage pull into what looks like some kind of junkyard marina at the far end of the island, where old boats have been left to rust in every corner of the property, shadowed by dilapidated warehouses. At the water’s edge, a rickety dock bobs in response to the waves below it.

Noah reaches out and white-knuckles the Porsche’s door handle as Arcee and Mirage roll slowly over the surprisingly sturdy wooden slats of the dock. There’s an antiquated ferry at the end, and Noah does his best to hold in a frightened little yelp when both bots lift off the dock— only half-transforming for a second— so they can step onto the ferry.

Once they’re safely aboard, Arcee’s holoform swings her leg over the Ducati and heads off— Noah assumes to start up the ferry.

“You want out?” Mirage inquires, the driver side door popping open with a muted click.

Noah bites into his bottom lip, thinking for a moment. He thinks he knows exactly where they’re heading.

Hart Island is located just to the east of City Island. It’s a place that’s pretty much synonymous with death, with deserted buildings from different eras lying in an array of ruins all over it— the island having been left abandoned to its’ own destruction since the late seventies.

Honestly, it’s kind of the perfect place for the autobots to hide out.

Noah’s not going to lie and say that it doesn’t freak him out though. Supposedly, there’s thousands of bodies buried in the ground at Hart Island.

So he shakes his head and shimmies away from the open door— not ready to step out quite yet. Mirage quickly closes it with another soft click.

“Okay,” he acknowledges. “I gotchu.”

Noah decides he really needs his friend to stop reminding him of that fact.

He knows.

The ferry sputters to life beneath them and after a moment, it rocks forward— pulling away from the dock lazily.

Noah inhales deeply then blows it out through his nose. And forces himself to think about something else, anything else— aside from the fact that he’s currently on a rusting metal death trap headed towards a possibly haunted island to face alien life forms that probably don’t even like him.

His distraught gaze lands on the Ducati parked off to the Porsche’s right.

“Arcee help you sneak out?” he questions. If a holoform is needed to operate the ferry, it has to be the only explanation. Right?

“Yeah,” Mirage admits, but not like he’s shy about it— more like he’s proud of it. “She’s a real G.”

Noah can’t help the smile the words pull from him.

He’s glad that, despite what he thinks is a clear disdain for him on the part of Optimus, Arcee doesn’t seem to hold any negative opinions when it comes to Noah.

He knows Optimus sees him— them, humans— in a different light now. That the battle in Peru— and both Noah and Elena’s drive to fight for their planet— had changed the giant mech’s opinion of the human race.

But the surly leader of the autobots had only begrudgingly allowed Noah to try and fix Mirage, at first, at the behest of Arcee and Bumblebee. When he’d failed, Optimus had been quick to change his mind, quick to take Mirage away.

Leaving Noah wondering, for months, if he’d ever see his friend again. His best friend, probably.

He’s quickly starting to realize Mirage means that much to him.

“Aw, scrap,” Mirage grumbles suddenly, his altmode shuddering slightly around Noah.

Noah looks up from the steering wheel— from the spot he’d been staring at whilst in his head— to see another dock gradually approaching. Rusting, multi-colored shipping containers stacked at its edge, providing cover for the two autobots standing just beyond them; Optimus Prime and an unfamiliar blue and white autobot with a star of life insignia across his chest plates.

Noah assumes he must be the infamous hater; Ratchet. An immediate thought tickles at the back of Noah’s mind as he recalls his first contact with the autobots in that warehouse months ago.

He frowns.

“How’s Ratchet ‘round humans?” he asks warily, just as the ferry gently bumps into the edge of the dock, their short trip across the water coming to a, thankfully, safe end.

Mirage’s radio drones out a low buzzing sound and Noah takes it for exactly what it is: Ratchet is not a fan of Earth’s native species.

“It’s okay, though!” Mirage advises him cheerily as Noah watches Arcee’s holoform return. “I got your back, bro.”

Noah isn’t all that convinced. Not that he doesn’t trust Mirage or anything.

And it must show on his face because as soon as they’re off the ferry— Mirage gently pushing him out of the Porsche’s cabin, so he can transform into his natural rootmode, Arcee doing the same beside them— he leans down closer to Noah, who is staring up at the clear disapproval on the faces of both Optimus and Ratchet.

“He’s not as mean as he looks, I swear,” Mirage testifies in what Noah thinks is supposed to be a whisper but is clearly heard by the others, including Ratchet who scowls at Mirage. “I won’t let him mess witchu, cariño.”

Noah absolutely freezes.

… what.

[blackroseguzzi]

Hi dear, how are you?

I saw you are taking Kai requests and I'm still reeling from chapter 3 of Otherworldly. So, I wanted to ask if you'd be comfortable writing some dark(?) smut for him x fem!reader? You choose how dark or vanilla the fic will be.

Feel free to ignore/decline and have a wonderful day 💙

SHOW ME 🔥 😈

Kai Anderson x Fem!Reader

A little Dark and a little Vanilla-personalities of our lovely Devine Ruler; Kai Anderson 🖤

Summery: You meet Kai at a party and something draws you to him. As you become intimate with each other you ask something of him without realizing what it means to him. There are a few sides to this complex human. The two sides confuse you yet make you completely melt into him.

Warnings: sex, sex, Smut, lots of language that you shouldn’t read if you’re not 18+, ITS SMUT- THATS A WARNING IN ITSELF. Also, my red flag Kai Anderson as my favorite warning.

Okay, I need to go shower because I feel so dirty hehe.

Winter won then battle with Kai about her Neon Glow birthday bash in the basement tonight. She had pleaded with her older brother to let her have her 21st birthday in their home - specifically his sacred quarters down in their basement. Kai had continued to object her requests until one night she had told him that if he allowed her to transform the place into glowing neon wonderland that she would attend the next Trump Rally with him. They shook on it, and Kai had even helped her with decorations.

Kai was not one to party, and he was currently locked inside of his room at his desk, his laptop open to a website about global security. He turned up the volume on his laptop as he watched videos to try and drown out the sounds of “one kiss” by Calvin Harris. He swore he heard this song 5 times since the party had started an hour ago. He sighed heavily, slamming his laptop and pushing back in his desk chair. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the noises from below. He could feel the vibrations of the base, a few muffled men’s voices mixed with the shrill voices of some of winter’s obnoxious girlfriends. He was curious to see what was unfolding down there and decided to check things out. Winter had politely asked him to stay the fuck away from her party, but clearly his listening skills needed some work. He felt like if she was using his sanctuary for her unearthly colorful millennial party, that he at least could assess the damages during the event.

The basement door was open, and he took a step in front of the party abyss. Down below was the blackness of the room, just a few flashes here and there of bright pinks and blues and neon green. Kai kept his statue-like composure as he descended down the steps. The music was vibrating the wooden planks with each step. He could see a crowd of people dancing provocatively with red solid cups in their hands. They were all dressed in white clothing or an awful shade of neon that glowed annoyingly in the black light Kai had helped place next to the make shift bar. He was surprised to see how full the basement had become. He didn’t realize his sister had known that many people, and that she actually liked parties like this. It was sickening to him that someone would enjoy this much color.

He took a seat at one of the bar stools, grabbing at an unopened Bud Light that was on the bar top. He twisted off the cap and took a swig- god awful. He could never understand the hype of beer. It was grotesque, and the way people pounded it like water repulsed him.

He scanned the room for any familiar faces but his view stoped at two people in the corner of the room. Their bodies illuminated by the fireplace that had been on.

There was one male, clearly intoxicated as his body swayed as he talked. He was in a white shirt splatted with the ugliest colored paints. It was vile to think he had purposefully done that to a perfectly good white t-shirt.

There was also a female, and she struck Kai’s interest immediately. In the sea of brightly colored clothing, she was dressed in a black turtleneck and a pair of ripped black jeans. Her hair was even dark, cascading down her shoulders. She looked extremely unimpressed with mr. paint splatter as he inched closer to speak to her over the music. He narrowed his eyes as he examines her closer. She was not one of the girls Winter had ever brought over, he would have noticed that porcelain skin and the shape of her curves.

He watched as your tongue moved around the straw of your drink, guiding it into your mouth. God, he wanted your lips around him like that.

You moved your head slowly over to Kai’s glare and for a moment the two of you synced eyes. You smirked shyly, the straw still between your velvet red lips. Kai swallowed down another chug from his beer bottle as a new song came over the speakers. You turned your attention to paint splatter and grabbed the collar of his ugly t shirt, dragging him to the middle of the basement where everyone was gathered dancing. You made sure to flash your eyes over at Kai as you grind her body on paint splatter. Kai felt his pants stiffen slightly and he was relieved that he was in dark clothing. He watched as your body moved slow and deliberate against the man behind you, yet you kept flashing looks to Kai as if seducing him. Kai’s heart thumped in his chest, watching as paint splatter decided to ruin his own party by grabbing your ass a little too aggressively. You pushed away, but he only leaned forward again, this time grabbing your neck and pressing your lips to his. Again, you pulled away more forcefully this time- and that’s when Kai stood up, chucking his empty beer bottle in the trash and sneaked onto the dance floor. His face stone and devilish, he approached Paint splatter and politely tapped his shoulder. The drunken man turned to face Kai who leaned in to whisper in his ear. Whatever he had said made Paint Spatters’ eyes widen and he looked between you and Kai before nodding and backing away into the crowded dance floor apologizing and yelling about getting more beer. Kai turned his focus onto you, smirking lightly.You could feel your face flush. You were extremely turned on by his harsh black eyes and blue hair pulled into a half bun. His smirk exposed the perfect kind of dimples that made your panties wet. He put his hand on the small of your back and pulled you close, “I’m Kai.” You felt your nipples harden as his breath hit your ear. You leaned in close so they were pressed on his chest as you whispered your name in return. He snaked his other hand onto your ass and pulled you close to his body and started moving slowly to the music. One of his thumbs had made it up in the hem of your shirt, touching your bare skin and you could feel your pussy throbbing. Kai nuzzled into you like he was trying to protect you from everyone else around you as they danced. He could feel you rubbing your body in all the right places onto his. He glanced into your eyes as you moved - You looked like a little lamb, one that he also was about to sacrifice.

You twirled your body around so that your ass was pressed tightly against his erect penis. You moved slowly up and down and pushed your ass further into him while he gripped your waist. Kai planted a careful kiss on your neck and you knew that tonight you were going to fuck this man’s brains out. Your throat yearned for his hands and his dick to be around and inside it.

Hell, you deserved to be adored, but also fucked so hard that afterwards you couldn’t stand up.

Kai moaned in your ear as you pushed your ass harder into him. He moved your hair so carefully from your ear to get as close as his lips could take him to your face.

“Get yourself another drink, and walk up to the second floor. I’m the first door on the right.” He let go of you slowly. You turned quickly and watched him slither in between the abyss of ugly neon drunken college students. His black shirt and striking blue hair standing out as he snuck back up the stairs. You ran your hands through your sweaty hair and took a breath. That was Winter’s brother? You had just become close with Winter over the last year. She had complained about her brother on multiple occasions. The way she talked about him made Kai seem like he had some major issues, but you reminded yourself that you loved a good walking red flag.

You bit your lip and looked around at the preposterous excuse of a ‘rave’. You surly wouldn’t miss it if you snuck out and up to Kai’s room.

You made your way to the makeshift bar, grabbing two solo cups and pouring a generous amount of fireball in both before descending stealthily up the stairs- headed to Kai’s room.

As you hit the top step the air became less foggy as you quietly made your way towards the stairs.

“Y/N?” You cursed to yourself before turning at the sound of Winter’s voice. “What are you doing up here? I have so much to tell you- Kelly totally just made out with me in the bathroom,” She drunkenly made her way over to you and pointing to the solo cups in your hands. “Are you double fisting or did you actually find a man friend down there to share shots with?”

“I was actually looking for you. We need to take a celebratory shot!” You did not want Winter to realize that you were about to go bring not only the drink, but your body to her brother upstairs.

“Oh cool, thanks babes.” She grabbed one of the solo cups and hissed as the fireball burned down her throat. “I’m so glad you came. Are you having a good time?”

“You know, it’s actually not as bad as I thought it would be,” You smiled at your friend who raised her eyebrows in shock at your words.

“Good, go back down there! There’s nothing up here except the bathroom and my idiot brother.”

You didn’t know how to respond so you decided to fill the void by shoving the edge of the solo cup in your mouth and letting the warm alcohol coat your insides with cinnamon flavored heat.

“Well, I’ll meet you down there. I need to freshen up in the lady’s room.”

Winter smiled at you before turning to descend back down the stairs to her party. You let out a breath, knowing how distasteful it was to fuck the birthday girls’ brother while she waited for you in the basement. There was just something so enchanting about Kai that you needed to feel him inside of you - just this once.

Quietly, you tip toed up the staircase towards Kai’s room. Your lips pressed together as rose your hand to knock. You could feel your heart in your throat as you saw the door knob turn and Kai appeared in front of you, that smirk of his forming once he saw you.

“I’m happy to see you decided to join me up here.” Kai threw an arm out and inviting you inside his room. It was dark, except for a lamp that was on at his desk. His room was filled with book shelves chalked full with novels and his walls were a dark Navy. You also noticed lots of paperwork stuck to bulletin boards above his desk - This was the room of a busy man.

“Mmm, I like a man who can enjoy the voice of Lana Del Rey,” You smiled as you walked over to Kai’s old record player, ‘Ride’ playing softly through the speakers.

“She has a beautiful voice,” He stated, walking up next to you. Having his body so close sent electric shockwaves through your vagina. You licked your lips before looking up at him. He had such strong features, and those eyes literally sent you over the edge. His hand raises, sweeping hair from your face as he cups your jaw, bringing your lips together. The softness of his kisses made you completely let go. Kai deepened the endearment and felt his erection welcome the both of them between their bodies. He could taste the fireball on your tongue and he walked your intertwined body over to his bed.

“I don’t do missionary,” You spoke, slightly out of breath. Oh, Kai liked you before but now he was loving you.

“Good, get naked right now and let me fuck you from behind.” Kai ripped off his shirt quickly and let his jeans drop to the floor. He watched you pull your top off, drooling over the way your breasts bounced as they fell from your bra. He took one of your nipples in his mouth and felt the shiver of your body as you moaned sweetly at his actions. He moved his mouth to your neck, sucking it aggressively. You dug your fingers into the flesh on his back and he groaned in enjoyment. He spun your around so that your ass was up against his dick and he slipped his fingers into your wet pussy, his digits tasting you. “I want the side of you that you don’t show anyone else,” You whispered as your backside was pressed against him, your hands reaching up to play with that blue hair that drove you crazy. His fingers explored your insides as if you were a road map to a treasure.

“Drop down like a good girl, and I’ll fuck you like a bad one.” Kai’s words sending goosebumps over your body. You leaned forward, your palms propped you up on the bed as he entered you from behind. He moved slow at first, until you were dripping at your folds, then he started to really hammer into you. You loved the way he smacked your ass and then would gently rub your hips. He was the perfect mix of pain & pleasure.

He exited you and gently pulled you up to face him.
“Your face is so… wow.. it’s just beautiful,” Kai spoke in between hungry kisses. You smiled against his lips at his words. Usually a man you just met that engaged in sexual acts with you only complimented your pussy, not your face. It made you crumble even more for Kai.

He jumped onto the bed and you crawled on top of him, your wetness letting him slide effortlessly back inside of you. He watched with a wide smile as you rode his dick, while rubbing your clit. You moaned deeply as his hands massaging your tits, making you go wild.

“Spit in my mouth.”

You looked down at Kai with a smirk, he was a kinky one. You licked your lips before sucking your saliva into the center of your mouth. You leaned forward as he opens his mouth for you. You forcefully spat your saliva into Kai’s open mouth and he hummed as his eyes closed, savoring your taste before he swallowed it. You grabbed his cheeks in your hand and let out a sinful giggle.

“You are a wicked one, Kai Anderson.” You pushed yourself down on top of him and feverishly kissed him, taking in his bottom lip between your teeth every so often, making his growls and groans more erotic each time.

You moved your hips around and sat back up throwing your head back in pleasure as Kai moved between pinching your nipples and needing them between his fingers. His hands were soft, and you kept getting a nose full of his oaky masculine scent that almost drove your animalistic instincts crazy. You had read somewhere that a woman was always sexually attracted to her partners smell. You had never enjoyed a man’s sweat until right now. It all came together to make so much sense, just like your pussy came together with his hard long and delicious cock. Kai sat up as your bodies stay linked and he snaked his hands around you so that one hand was on the small of your back and the other on the back of your neck. He pressed his forehead to yours as you moved your body. The earth seemed to slow down as your ears only filled with the sound of his breathing and the faint echoes of Rey’s ‘Tomorrow Never Came’. Your vulnerability in that moment made you slightly embarrassed. The way his thumb stroked your middle back and then when he kissed the tip of your nose you knew this man was some kind of mythical creature you possibly dreamed up in a drunken state. “Should we take this to the shower?” He whispered as your body continued to move up and down on top of him. Your nodded, happy to break the intense moment between the two of you. If you lasted any longer you knew you’d be utterly attached to this guy whom you barely knew.

You slid off of him, and he takes your hand and leads you to the attached bathroom. He turned on the shower and you immediately felt the steam engulf both your bodies while continuing to actively kiss. He cupped your ass and before you know it, your legs were wrapped around him as he carried you into the hot shower. He slowly re-entered you as he slammed your back into the shower wall, the water cascading down both of your sweaty bodies. You felt his dick so far up inside of you that you felt like you were getting the most intimate part of him. He pulled from the kiss to watch your face as he thrusted deep inside of you, your legs wrapped tightly around him, his hands still grabbing your ass cheeks to keep you from falling.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” Kai moaned as he went in and out of you pleasurably. He was panting hard when you grabbed each side of his face in your hands and smashed your lips together again feeling your orgasm rising. You threw your head back as Kai started pounding you harder and faster. Kai was staring back at you with his intense eyes. He raised one arm up, throwing his hand around your neck, his arm wresting perfectly in between your perky breasts.

“You like when I choke you? Cum for me baby girl.” He squeezes your neck a little harder. You moaned in pleasure and suddenly you could feel Kai release himself inside of you, which in turn made you relax and let your orgasm come to fruition.

He slid out from inside you as your legs gently unwrapped from his waist and you planted them on the shower floor. He refused to let you go and you both just embraced in the shower, the water washing away the sinful things you had just done. What had possessed you to partake in this aftercare that Kai was giving you was unknown, but you stood there as your legs shook lightly from the orgasm that had overtaken your body moments before.Kai stroked your hair as your head lay on his chest-Eyes closed as the water pelted down on your skin. When it felt like you both hand lingered too long, you pulled away shyly. Kai shut the water off, hoping out of the shower and walking naked towards the cabinet of towels. He handed one to you, thanking him quietly before wrapping yourself into it.

He dried off his body before throwing the towel around his waist. You both didn’t say much as you exited the bathroom. Kai walked over to the record player and changed out the record. You loved the song that had started playing - Not Allowed by TV Girl.

“You want to lay in bed and listen to some music with me?” Kai asked, looking to you with a raised eyebrow. You were surprised at his eagerness to spend time with you after the relationship you shared this far had been strictly sexual.

“Ahh..yeah okay.” You rang out your hair in your towel before grabbing your clothes that were laying on the floor.

“No, no clothes,” Kai said quietly as he wrapped his arms around your naked body. He guided you to the bed as the sounds of music played in the air.

You felt the goosebumps appear as Kai’s fingers made little circles on your shoulder.

“So, I have to ask you a questioned- Why were you at this party tonight? You don’t fit the scene,” Kai’s body vibrated your ear as he spoke.

You smiled on his chest. “Winter is a good friend of mine actually. We share a lot of classes at college. To be honest that party doesn’t really fit her scene either.”

You moved so that you were now laying beside Kai, faces inches apart. His eyes were softer now, more relaxed and playful. He was a really handsome man, and you adored the small freckle on his nose and the way his eyes squinted when he smiled. Oh, and you couldn’t forget the dimples.

“Well I’m extremely grateful you came tonight, pun intended.” Kai chuckled as you playfully hit his chest.

“It’s my turn to ask you a question.” You propped yourself up on your elbow so that you could look down at Kai’s calm expression. He raised his eyebrows in anticipation.

“Are you always this intimate with girls after you just fucked them?” Your lips pressed together and you narrowed your eyes at him.

He shook his head “Never.”

“Then why are you being this way with me- a girl you plucked from your sisters basement party?”

He smiled and put his hand to your face to stroke your cheek “it’s simple- You told me to show you a side of me I don’t show anyone else.”

He smiled and put his hand to your face to stroke your cheek “it’s simple- You told me to show you a side of me I don’t show anyone else.”

He smiled and put his hand to your face to stroke your cheek “it’s simple- You told me to show you a side of me I don’t show anyone else.”

He smiled and put his hand to your face to stroke your cheek “it’s simple- You told me to show you a side of me I don’t show anyone else.”

He smiled and put his hand to your face to stroke your cheek “it’s simple- You told me to show you a side of me I don’t show anyone else.”

“Then why are you being this way with me- a girl you plucked from your sisters basement party?”

He smiled and put his hand to your face to stroke your cheek “it’s simple- You told me to show you a side of me I don’t show anyone else.”

[azems-familiar]

more of the ascian Azem au beneath the cut: aka i finally wrote the Sundering (and wow was it hard to get the tone right)

They’re standing on a street corner conferring with Elidibus and Lahabrea - or rather, Hades is conferring with them and Azem is only half-paying attention to the conversation, keeping their eye out for their little follower, who they last saw skulking in the shadow of a nearby residential building half-destroyed in the Final Days and yet to be reconstructed. They should try to get her name out of her when she follows them home tonight, Azem thinks absently, and maybe some paperwork to establish their apartment as her current residence. If- if she wants to continue staying with them. Someone will need to have guardianship of her if she’s to be properly taken care of, and she at least seems to allow Azem to help.

The first sign that something is wrong comes from Elidibus. He stops speaking abruptly, turning to stare up at the strange white satellite that’s been visible in the sky off and on since Zodiark was imprisoned. “What is She doing?” he says, voice low - and then his eyes widen behind his mask and he almost sounds like Themis again, younger and far more present, when he says, “No, don’t!”

And the sky fills with Light. There’s a sound, more felt than heard, like shattering glass, like a crystal cracking down the center, and the world warps around them - ripples on water, wind through leaves, sunlight on windows, a reflection that shifts and morphs and grows, the very ground beneath their feet folding in on itself and then stretching apart on a spider’s web of a million invisible fractures. Against the glaring brightness of a magic just as if not more powerful than Zodiark’s creation, a brightness that sears Azem’s very aether, a bitter burn they can feel all the way to their soul, all they can think of is the child, and they sprint in her direction, ignoring the way Hades cries their name.

They barely make it to the building before there’s a grinding sound that seems to come from everywhere at once and the Light turns so bright they can’t do anything but close their eyes and cower away from it, away from the blade that passes by them so close they can feel the wind of its passage against their skin. It isn’t a real blade, it can’t be, but they feel something cleave anyway, and there’s that awful noise like the star itself is tearing apart-

Then all at once, it stops.

The silence in the air is absolute. Azem opens their eyes, slowly, and- and still they stand where they were a moment before, just inside the main entrance of a residential building’s lobby, but there is something inexplicably wrong about it, as if everything around them has somehow…diminished. Become lesser. A drabness, like the haze of grey they’ve lived in since Helios’s death has manifested over the star itself, all color dimmed and the sunlight shading in through a window weak and thin as if it’s falling through a heavy layer of water. And the aether, when they look at the world through that second sight, drifts past in pale streams so faded as to be nearly intangible, like motes of dust in a sunbeam. One spell, were they to cast it by drawing on the star itself the way Helios has always done, might drain those currents entirely dry.

Horror builds in their throat like nausea. This is wrong. This is wrong. Sickly and feeble and empty, a distorted shadow of what should be-

They suck in a shaking breath, turning in a slow circle, and everything is as it was but nothing is as it should be. They- they can barely feel Zodiark’s presence anymore, His power a muffled pulse that echoes across some unimaginable distance. Not long ago they probably would have been glad for the space between them and His overwhelming Darkness, but now they just feel cold.

Footsteps draw their attention and they turn to see- golden hair, red eyes, their little follower, drifting across the floor towards them. Her mask is gone and there is something- different about her, a dullness to her eyes - and in the aether, in the aether she is nothing but a shade, less present than the weakest animal, more a ghost than anything living. She’s not- she’s not a person anymore - the tiny, fragmented soul they can sense would barely elevate her from the classification of ‘arcane entity’. There is no life in the empty gaze she casts briefly over Azem, unrecognizing, before she simply moves on, a spirit borne on the wind.

She looks exactly as Helios had, when he laid there unmoving on the dirt, unseeing and unhearing and gone.

Azem gathers their aether and pulls themself across the aetherial sea to the aetheryte near the Capitol, something desperate clawing its way through them, as if- as if they can prove that this is just an outlier, as if the world will suddenly change - but everywhere they look they see dead faces somehow still walking, empty-eyed husks shuffling through a fragmented reality, all of them walking away as if driven by some echoing impulse. These- these are not Azem’s people, who they love, who they have given their life to shepherding. This is some ghastly mockery, puppets being drawn across an invisible stage, except they recognize the barest traces of aether left behind in many of these bodies. 

They can’t- breathe. The air is too thin, the aether is too thin, the star is too thin-

Hydaelyn did this, they think numbly, and it feels like ice freezing slowly over the surface of their soul, sealing them away within. Not Venat - Venat is gone, has to be, if there was any shred of her left she would never have struck such a blow, would never have broken the star and the people the way Hydaelyn has. These faded and frail reflections of life - why would She do this? Light lingers still in the air, a persistent sharpness that sinks into their bones, and they stare up at the sky, at the satellite that mars its even curve, and wonder if Her blow had missed them so deliberately as some sort of punishment.

Bear witness to what your failures have wrought, they can nearly imagine Her saying, with that hardness in Her eyes that Venat had developed the moment she learned about the future. It feels apt. One last lesson to the wayward student who has ever been the lesser choice for their seat: abandon your duty and it will be taken from you.

Perhaps Etheirys should have burned, if this is to be its fate.

Some indeterminate time passes around them. A breeze stirs up; it blows right through them. They are not here. They are not anywhere, adrift on the ice floes of their soul. The sky darkens, the stars spill across it like pinpricks of fire against an endless expanse of ink, and Zodiark and the souls He is made of remain frustratingly out of reach. They do not need to look to know that Amaurot is empty.

A warm hand on their shoulder brings them back to the ground, eventually. They blink away the static and lower their head, wincing against the crick in their neck, almost afraid to turn - but then they do, and standing next to them is Hades, his mask loose around his neck and his cowl down. His eyes ache with unshed tears, but they are alive - he’s alive. Hydaelyn’s blow missed him too. That simple fact - that they are not alone - makes them want to cry, though they don’t.

“...everything is dead,” Azem says, as hollow as the rustling leaves. “I’ve seen the people. What is left of them, the shades they are. But…” They swallow, gaze drifting away from Hades’s face to the silent street behind him, and whisper, “I do not know if they are the condemned ones.”

Hades makes a soft, choked sound almost like a sob and pulls them closer, wrapping his arms around them, and they let him maneuver them until he can rest his head on their shoulder, his face tucked into the crook of their neck, his tears cool on their skin. For a long moment they just- stand there, eyes caught on a faded lavender leaf swirling in little circles over an embossed sidewalk panel, caught in the grooves in the material, and then they slowly let out a breath and slide one arm around his waist, tilting their head sideways to lean their cheek against his temple.

When Lahabrea and Elidibus find them later - the last four living things in all of Etheirys, spared the blade of Light in what cannot in even the most twisted sense be called a mercy - Azem does not let go.

[desultory-novice]

These comments seemed to deviate a bit from my “villainous Magolor” post where I discovered them but they also inspired me, so I’ll go with it and deviate some more on the topic of the “villainous friends”...

Now, personally, I've never seen the Mage Sisters as all that heroic. I mean, I adore them. I don't doubt for a second they're part of the good guys "now" but heroic? They're still wearing their evil cult (cough) "religious" uniforms! I imagine all three of them still lean a little hard on the "murder is okay!" side of things.

They helped because they had a reason to help. But are they still going to have “goat sacrifice Tuesdays” for a while? ...Possibly! (It could just be me, but I do think it's hilarious when the entire Jamba gang continue to be blatant worshippers of a dark god while chilling with the rest of the cast.)

I do think that this topic is nearing the core of why my feelings on Magolor have been in flux since DX. I’m happy for him to have a redemption arc, but I really don’t want to see him de-fanged...? I never did write that translation comparison post, but I’m endlessly thankful to the English translation for the “I just want to hear everyone scream...” :pause: “...with laughter!” exchange because it at least shows that Magolor has an unusually grim sense of humor, as opposed to him being a wholly innocent victim of the Crown. 

(Obviously, he did what he did in RtDL. No one’s questioning that. They wouldn’t name a song “Atone for One’s Misdeeds” otherwise. But I am concerned about the implications that the Crown was manipulating him from the moment he landed on Halcandra. Manager Magolor is fun and all, and while I don’t want to have a “Magolor is still the bad guy lol” Kirby Light Novel situation, I hope the sussy wizard stays somewhat sussy down the line.)

Anyway, the long and short of it is my love of gray morality characters is why I fell in love with so many of them and why I try to write all the former-antagonistic Dream Friends as still being in possession of a few villain traits. I really don't want to see anyone "brainwashed into being good" or must-always-be-on-their-best-behavior now. I want to see these flawed individuals make nice but flawed, characterful decisions.

I want the three Mage Sisters to occasionally each say really messed up things in a blithe way without realizing why said thing is weird. I want Susie to think she can solve most things in life by throwing enough money and science at them. I want Taranza to openly white-knight his beloved tyrant queen and naively blink his eight eyes over the awful things he did in her name. 

I want Magolor to engage in shady business practices with a smile and a wink, walking away while counting his cash. I want Dark Meta Knight to whole-heartedly believe murder is a "reasonable" option to most everyday situations. I want Daroach to casually purloin the cast's possessions when they're not specifically watching him, just because he can. I want Marx to break into loud hysterical laughter when someone trips and falls or breaks a plate.

The Dream Friends might as well be 10 different colored Waddle Dees if we expected them to all act good and peaceful and harmless all the time.

-

I just wanted to say though, @icedragonlizard​, I don’t know what kind of convos are going on outside my own little space on the internet, but I think people really aren’t as upset or /neg about Susie as they used to be.

There are maybe a few holdouts out there - I wouldn’t know as I don’t really go searching - but you’ll most likely never change those peoples’ minds and its best just to ignore them while shoring up a space for yourself where people aren’t attacking your blorbos just to get a reaction out of you or to spew unhappiness everywhere.

Here, have this “Deal With It” Susie w/ shades!

(PS: I recently learned I had been drawing both Susie and Taranza quite off-model! Her helmet actually goes down way longer than I thought, less of a “headband” and more like a metal boudoir cap. And Taranza’s lowest set of hands start at the middle of his body and go up toward his head. I thought I remembered them as starting at his waist and going down instead. Oops!)

[cevans-is-classic]

Atlas Rising

The festivities are marvelous, crowds of people as far as the eye can see. The statue of Atlas The Carrier lifting his hands to the sky in the middle of the square. It was everything you’d said it’d be, and Djarin already wanted to go home. 

Grogu loved it. 

The kid also loved the coveralls you made for him. The moss green highlighting the darkness of his eyes. He kept waving his sleeve to show off his mudhorn sigil and Djarin had to admit that was his favorite part, too. 

Djarin himself had two moss green wraps around his arms, one with silver lining the hems to match Grogu and the other with purple to match yours. 

He grumbled when you’d shown him the stitching, waving it in front of his helmet. He’d agreed to wear them, but refused to be excited about it. Djarin didn’t want your ego to grow anymore than it already had. 

(He’d never admit it made him happy. You looked like a family.) 

The first thing Grogu noticed was the food stands — his hands reaching out towards the assortments. There were more than he’d ever seen here before, all dressed up to be eye drawing. Some stands boasted fire fried food with sweet sugars, others meats, spices, and rubs. A few had simple sweets stacked high on the tables; made up of beautiful designs and colorful candies. 

It took both of you distracting him to keep the food on the tables. Didn’t stop the kid from raising a hand every time you turned away.  

He sighed when a cake made its way toward him. Djarin turned Grogu around, ignoring the affronted noise his son made. 

“Lucky Green look.” You pointed towards a group of dancers. They all wore brightly colored garments. Their feet were bare and bells hung around their ankles. As they moved, silks of different colors spun with them. It created a sea of colors, moving amongst one another, green flowing into blue as it blended with purple. Grogu’s eyes were wide, mouth open in awe. 

As a trio, you moved closer, your body follow the sound of the music. When you lifted your arms in the air, spinning around and around, Djarin watched the bracelet he’d gifted you. It wrapped around your wrist, down to your forearm in a band of silver and purple. The small stones that adorning it captured the lights. 

A year.

It’s been a year. 

Earlier you’d made breakfast with a soft smile painting your lips. You’d hummed under your breath as you slid bowls in front of them. As Djarin had grabbed him to move towards his room, you’d caught his wrist. 

“Let Grogu finish, then I’ll take him outside. I don’t want you seeing your garments yet.” It’d had him flushing even as agreed. 

He glanced down at the wraps once more than back up at you. 

You moved like water in the stream.

“Look at them.” He held Grogu higher. 

You moved between the dancers, laughing, heads thrown back with joy. Some dancers reached for you, your hands slipping together to move around the circle. 

Grogu cooed his hands waving along with the music and Djarin felt his cheeks ache with a smile. 

When the music changed and the dancers slowed, you came back to them. Your eyes were electric, alive, bursting with stars. 

You laughed, “That felt wonderful.” 

Grogu reached for you seamlessly, moving from Djarin’s arms to yours. He watched his son touch your arm, fingers slipping beneath the bracelet. 

“This and my little friend are the best gifts you could have ever given me.” You were beaming. 

Djarin tilted his head. “You said that about the plants we put along the house.” 

“Different kinds of gifts bring different kinds of joy, Din Djarin. Come,” You reached for his hand, “I saw raoguls Grogu could ride.” 

Through the crowds, you dragged him, bouncing from one activity to the other. Grogu squealed as he rode the large mammals, cheered when you put him on a hover ride with other kids.

Damita and her mother and step-father found them when they stopped for food. Djarin’s never met Damita’s step-father and wasn’t expecting to meet a Keshiri. 

First time for everything.

They shook hands, standing beside each other as Mita and Grogu slurped lava slime and showed off their prizes. 

(A large lava glow light and inflatable kitten for Damita and a row of star stickers with a frog inflatable for Grogu.)

Mita had orange and red ribbon braided into her hair. It looked like fire when she shook her head. Grogu stroked the strands with awe. He showed off his new clothing, twirling for his friend to see the whole getup. 

“Told you.” You nudged Djarin’s shoulder. 

He rolled his eyes, turning his head towards you to show his annoyance. 

You grabbed his hand, squeezing it, “Happy Anniversary, Din Djarin” 

Djarin held your hand tighter, pulling you closer until you rested against his side. His chest swelled with happiness as he took in his small clan. 

This is his family. 

His. 

Grogu played with the young girl, waving their inflatable in the air and laughing. You leaned into him, humming along with the music, your eyes closed. 

He can’t comprehend how he’d gotten this lucky. 

When Damita’s stepfather offered to take the children to a painting booth, Djarin hesitated, then thought about spending time with you. 

“They’ll be fine.” You assured him.

He agreed, making it clear to meet them at the center square when they’re finished. 

“Proud papa.” You poke at him. 

Djarin grabs your hand and holds onto it once more. His fingers are larger than yours, bulky with the gloves on. He remembers the feel of your skin against him in his dream — how warm you felt. He could hold your hand, curl your fingers with his and never let go.

He knew you’d let him. 

“Oh, listen!” You bounce, pulling him closer to the music, “Listen to this! The way it surrounds you Come here.” It’s not a fast song, not slow enough either. It moved through the middle, wrapping around the crowd and drawing couplings together. 

Djarin knew what you were about to do the second you lifted onto your tiptoes. 

“Dance with me, My Mandalorian.” 

He danced. 

It was clumsy, his feet missing steps, but he held steady and moved with you. After a few turns, you shed your sandals and climbed onto his feet, the pressure holding him down. 

“For someone who is always in control.” Your voice dropped in a mimic of his, “You are terrible at dancing.” 

“What part of my life says I’m in control?” 

“I was giving you the benefit of the doubt, Din Djarin.” 

With that, you rested your head on his shoulder, letting him step side to side as people crowded the space. 

If someone had told him ten years ago, he’d be dancing in the square of Navarro. His arms around a force sensitive stranger while his force wielding son got his face painted. He’d asked how much Flameout you’d been drinking. 

He glances around out of habit. Many people have joined the festivities. Colors of all kinds created a rainbow across the crowd. Children ran free as parents followed with smiles. Small babies looked around with wide, baffled eyes. 

One older couple sat at a table with a plate of hardened jellies between them. One old man was wiping the sugar off before handing them to his partner. The other man would smile, bring it to his lips and suck the flavor into his mouth. 

A few guards stood around the perimeter, mingling with the others. A few Droids manned booths, cleaned tables, and offered help with older adults. He’s amazed at how lively everything was. 

A movement out of the corner of his visor snapped his head to the left. You pulled back, looking in the same direction as a stranger moved closer. 

You stepped off his feet.

“Gal-” 

“Mr. Grogu’s Dad! Look!” Mita came barreling towards them. Grogu ran behind her. They painted her face with colored swirls. She had wings on either side of her eyes and little stones along the bridge of her nose. 

He nodded, “It’s good.” 

“Look!” She turned to Grogu. 

Djarin balked beneath his helmet. 

Grogu had a painted Mandalorian helmet covering his face. They lined his eyes with black, still wide and bright. They’d circled his ears, covering his head with silver paint and shadowed his cheeks with dark green. 

He’d look a little ridiculous, comical even, but he was smiling wide and looked happy. 

“Well, then.” Djarin kneeled down. “That must have taken time.” 

“We showed xim a sticker of yours! Grogu wouldn’t get anything else.” He half believed that. Grogu loved when you painted yellow flowers on his cheeks and refused to budge until you did. 

Mita’s stepfather came up behind them and scooped the young girl into his arms, “Come on, Meet, Mama is waiting.” He nodded at Djarin, “Thank you. She loved seeing him.” 

“Of course.”

Damita waved goodbye excitedly. Grogu waved back, cooing as they walked away, his head swaying side to side. 

“You had fun?” He nodded once. “Good. Gal, are you ready-” He turned around, and you were gone. 

His blood ran cold. 

The stranger. You must have gone to them — why would you wander off like that? Well, that’s a dumb question, he scolds himself. You’re the worst wanderer he’s ever met. 

He scanned the crowd. The stranger and you had disappeared — he looked for the top of your head. You’d clipped a silver band in your hair — it stood out. 

Grogu made a noise. “They’ve wandered off. I’m not sure where.” His skin felt tight, chest squeezing. Why?

“Keep an eye out, okay?” In a split decision, he heads towards the council building. He’ll be able to see the center from there and have Karga look over cameras. 

Noone stood out as he walked, moving left and right, turning around when someone in purple moved close. Grogu made a high-pitched noise and waved his hand. Djarin followed the movement, seeing a flash of red and a quick turn of purple. 

“Dank Ferrick, Gal.” He made his way towards you. 

The strangers pulled their hood back to show a golden mask covering the bottom half of their face. They were talking to you in quiet whispers, nodding along to what you said in return. As Djarin moved closer, their eyes caught him and the conversation dropped. 

You smiled at him, “Mandalorian. Oh!” You reached for Grogu, pulling him from Djarin arms, “Just like your Dad. It’s a spitting image,” you tilted your head, “Well, you’re cuter.” 

You flashed him a smirk. 

He looked back at the stranger. 

“Ah yes,” A manic flash went through your eyes, “Mandalorian this is-” You paused. 

The stranger held their hand out. He noticed the dark twist of their hair at their neck and followed the way they moved. Nothing about the stranger seemed threatening — he’d been fooled before.

“You may call me Re.” He clasped his hand with theirs and shook once, “I was talking with you partner here. They’d mentioned your child. You have a beautiful family.” 

“Thank you.” His fingers itched to reach for his blaster. 

Re’s eyebrow jumped as they leaned back. “Well,” They nodded at you, the golden mask pressing into their cheeks, “I’ll leave you be. I’m happy you showed me your dressings.” 

There’s an edge to how she talked. His hand fell to his hip, curled around his holster until you moved closer to him and slid your arm through his. Re’s face went still as you pressed yourself against him. 

“Thank you for talking with me.” You looked up at him. “I think it’s time to get this little guy home, yeah?” 

When he looked back at Re, they were gone. 

“Who was that?” 

You pulled him forward, swinging Grogu towards him until he grabbed the child.

“I thought their mask was interesting.” You spoke in a sing-song tone.

Djarin shook his head. “There’s more to it. You knew them.”

“No.” Your feet were still bare. You avoided cracks as you walked in front of him. “I didn’t.” 

“You’re lying.” 

That stopped you dead. 

“I’m not lying, Din Djarin.” With a deep breath, you spun around to face him. “Question.” 

Whether he liked it or not, you would not budge on this. It caused a burning feeling in his stomach. 

“What?” 

Your eyes dimmed, your smile fading, the glow that surrounded you seemed to go out, “Do you have to leave tonight?” 

He forgot about that. 

“Let’s go home.” 

-

They’d packed their gear, leaving it sitting on the table with the commbot resting on top. 

You looked at it, ran your fingers over the red lines, “Let me get Grogu cleaned up.” 

Djarin opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Your shoulders slumped, drooping, as you walked towards the bathroom. Grogu toddled after you, his ears wiggling. 

He didn’t want to leave. A piece of him wanted to stay here with you, pull out the holoboard or play with Grogu and Keyosa. 

You could go with them — he’s sure if he asked again you’d consider — but you’d expressed no interest in joining. Bo had already agreed to come tomorrow, and you had the commbot with you. 

The thought of it being a quick job replayed in his mind. This was a run of the wheel task, in and out then home before he knew it. Grogu’s training was advancing — he’d help with the pickup. He’d be home in two days max. 

Once they’re back they’d be home for months, bar an emergency or call from Bo. Even in those times he could bring you along with them. If you want to go. 

A sudden thought sprang to life inside him. When did staying in one place become something he wanted? Three years ago he traversed the galaxy as a Mandalorian ought to do. Now he — he has a family. A child he’s raising and training. Someone who gives him more reason to come home every day.

When did his life change? 

Grogu burst from the hall with soap still on his face. You followed with a washcloth, your hand held out for Djarin to grab. 

“He got impatient.” You rolled your eyes. 

He loves your eyes. 

“Grogu.” He kneeled down to lift the child onto the couch. The rest of the soap and lingering paint came away with a few swipes. Grogu pouted at him when he cleaned the back of his ears. 

“Do you have everything?” You mumbled. 

“Yeah.” Djarin stood up with Grogu tucked against his hip. 

You nodded, “Good. 

It fell silent as you moved through the room, checking their packs. Djarin watched you, his eyes following from the kitchen to the living room and back. You kept your head down, eyes averted. 

It hurt. 

“Gal-”

“I think you guys are ready.”

“Gal- what’s wrong?” He tried to stop you, but you pushed through, biting your lip. He followed you out the door. 

You waited by the house as he settled the bags in the starfighter. Grogu climbed inside, shuffling into his pod. 

With a breath, Djarin turned to you. 

You had tears in your eyes. 

“Gal-”

“You don’t have to go.” You whispered, “I’m sure Teva will understand this once.” 

Djarin reached his hand out, touching your arm, sliding it down to your hand. “It’s supposed to be a quick trip. In and out — this one will get us through the rest of the summer.” 

Your eyes stayed glued to his. “I’m not worried about the rest of the summer.” 

He lifted his other hand to cup your cheek, sliding his fingers into your hair. You tipped forward with a harsh breath. “Bo will be here if you need her. You have Pilot to keep in constant contact and before you know it, we’ll be back.” 

There’s a silent beat, a soft sound escaping as you step forward and rest your forehead against his helmet. The soft thud made him smile. 

Your hands came up to rest on either side “Din Djarin,” He saw a star filled sky looking back at him, “Come home.” 

You stood there. Your forehead pressed to his helmet — his hand holding yours as the other keeps you in place. 

In this moment, he wishes he could feel you pressed against him. This feels different — alive — a moment that could change the galaxy. 

Din Djarin loves you.

He loves you. 

With a shaky breath, you stepped back, still holding his hand, and looked over his shoulder. 

Grogu was watching you, waving his hand in a slow movement.

“Go.” Your voice sounded small. 

Djarin looked at you once again, stroked his thumb across your cheek then released your hand.

Walking towards the starfighter shouldn’t have felt like walking away from you.  

When he climbed inside, settling into the seat, he had a flashback of when he tried to leave Grogu. The image of him being left behind with that Imp. 

The only thing that’d ever hurt him like this was watching Luke walk away with the child. He’d felt his reason for breathing disappear one step at a time. 

“We’ll make it quick, kid.” He started the starfighter. 

Grogu made a cooing noise. 

Djarin looked at you before taking off, saw you wave towards them before wrapping your arms around yourself. 

“Let’s get this over with.” You blended into the fading light as they rose higher into the sky.

-

-

Ashha steps out of the shadows, moving around the home to rest a hand on your shoulder. “He’s here.” 

The sound of a ship hovering nearby filled the air. 

You look over your shoulder to see the hazy outline of your friend. “I’m sorry.” 

Ashha smiled. “We knew this would happen. We knew he’d use me to find you. Ritu will be prepared — Gal —” 

“Don’t,” The world went quiet, “I knew this was coming. There’s nothing that can stop it.” 

“We tried.” Ashha stepped back towards the shadows. 

“Leave.” You looked up at the sky. “Be safe.” 

“We’ll find you. He’ll find you.” Ashha disappeared. 

You heard the heavy boot steps of storm troopers surrounding you. “I know.”

Galaxy Eyes

Pedro Pascal

I'm working on the final story. It's going to take time, but I felt like this was finally ready enough to post.

Please enjoy

[vinyl-shelf]

THE ARTIST.

Wednesday x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Some making out

Word count: 1.7k

Summary: Wednesday asked to see your collection of artwork, which went well.

A/N: Hey everyone. This is my first uploaded fanfic, I hope you like it! I surely will upload more, I take requests!!

"Y/N Y/L/N, you're late." Ms. Thornhill spoke. Your sudden appearance stopped her mid-teaching.

"Pardon me, Ms. Thornhill. I was doing- business." You chuckled sheepishly, your eyes glancing at the students one by one, trying to search for a specific presence.

You were interrupted when Ms. Thornhill asked you a question, "Now Miss Y/L/N, could you please tell me the name of this plant that I'm holding?"

You stared at the plant as you walked closer to it. Studying and analyzing its color, petal, and smell. At that moment, you instantly knew it was the one unique-looking poisonous plant. "Ah! That's Aconitum. Also known as Wolf's bane." You answered with confidence in your voice.

At the same moment, you didn't realize that one particular girl was intensely staring at you with a hint of admiration.

"Perfect! Thank you, Miss Y/L/N, you may take a seat." Ms. Thornhill gestured to the seats.

Of course, you scanned the room to look for one girl, hoping the seat beside her is empty.

And it was.

Your gaze stopped at the alluring figure who was softly flipping the pages of her textbook. You walked up to her and sat down beside her quietly.

"Hi, Wednesday," You greeted, knowing she'll only reply with her signature death glare.

"Y'know, you could also try saying hi too for once." You joked, with a hint of seriousness.

"I don't want to dissipate my time talking to mindless people." Wednesday replied flatly, as usual.

Not knowing how to respond to her statement, you replied with a simple nod. Fetching your sketchbook from your backpack, instead of your textbook. You started scribbling something, and the girl beside you averted her eyes slowly to the direction of your sketchbook. Staring with curiosity.

"If you want to watch me draw, just say so. I won't mind," You stated, finishing off your sketch with a gentle brush from your thumb, revealing it to be a detailed drawing of a stalk of black petunia. "Black petunias, it somewhat reminds me of you." You added.

Without you realizing, you have made the girl's stone-cold heart flutter a little. But she hid it with an eyeroll and proceeded to ignore you once again. You smiled either way and continued to sketch the whole period.

-----

"I despise her, Enid. She makes me feel abnormal things." Wednesday spoke as her fingers were clicking on her typewriter.

"And what are those 'abnormal things' that you're referring to?" Enid replied while having her nails painted by Thing.

"The way she makes my heart stir a little after telling something about me or the way my eyes light up everytime she's close by, I don't like it. It's quite agonizing." She replied, emphasizing the last part.

"Awe, Wednesday, you're just in love. You should go talk to her, I heard she likes you back!" Enid replied with energy, slightly moving her hand and accidentally smearing the nail polish all over her finger. "Oh, shoot! I'm so sorry, Thing. I'm way too ecstatic. Wednesday has a crush!~" She teased, walking up to the girl working on her novel.

"Enid, stop. She doesn't like me, and I don't like her." Wednesday retorted, tidying the pages of her novel.

"I could help you get close to her, if you want." Enid spoke, standing beside Wednesday and nudging her shoulder.

Wednesday contemplated for a while, and with a face of disappointment, "How?" She asked and sighed.

-----

Steadying your posture, you pulled the arrow back, took a deep breath, and released the arrow. Much to your surprise, it landed right in the center.

"Dang, nice aim." Xavier said, dabbing you up.

"Please, these are too easy." You joked while making stupid celebratory movements.

You were doing archery with Xavier, your archery teacher and partner in crime. You and Xavier have lots of similarities. Like how you two have impeccable talent for drawing, the only difference is that Xavier has the ability to bring his illustrations to life.

"So, how's that thing going with Wednesday?" He asked, suddenly bringing up your crush.

"As usual, man. She's hard to impress." You replied promptly.

He laughed and punched your shoulder lightly as a response. You slapped his stomach afterwards.

You were preparing to shoot another arrow when you sensed the presence of a raven-haired girl beside you. As a reflex, you flinched, causing you to let go of the arrow and it landing on the center again.

"Shit, Wednesday! What the hell?" You screamed, dropping your bow and placing your hand on Xavier's shoulder, who was also startled by the girl.

"Y/N." The girl spoke.

"Hey? I thought you didn't want to 'dissipate your time talking to mindless people', why are you here?" You asked with seriousness.

“I wish to see your art room.” Wednesday spoke up out of nowhere, her emotionless face on display.

You were puzzled by her suddenness of the favor, "Why-"

"Please don't ask questions, am I permitted to see your art room?" She asked, cutting you off.

"Uh- well- I guess?" You replied, stuttering.

Wednesday nodded and looked up to you and Xavier before walking back to wherever she's going to.

You and Xavier looked at eachother, "Dude, go! Your chance!" Xavier spoke, slapping your back.

You, still puzzled by the girl's question, nodded and followed the girl.

"About time you catch up." Wednesday stated, her gaze fixed on the scene in front of her.

"Why do you want to see my art room? And, now?" You asked, piling up questions.

"Yes, now. When again?" She returned, ignoring the first question.

You nodded, still on the way to your dorm. When you two were almost at your dorm, your mind reminded you about all the Wednesday portraits you drew. You widened your eyes at the sudden thought. Your heart was racing, and cold sweat was starting to slide out of your head.

When you were already infront of your dorm room, Wednesday was waiting for you to open it. "Wednesday, I, uhh, I don't think you can see my art room today." You spoke nervously, earning a glare from the girl.

"Why? You were fine with it just a few minutes ago." She asked.

She wasn't patient enough to wait for an unclear reply from you, so she opened the door and went inside, with you joining her seconds later. "Uh, welcome to my domain, Wednesday. I have no roommate because I requested not to have one. I needed more space for my art." You explained in hopes that Wednesday wouldn't discover your incredibly detailed sketches of her.

"I could only wish." Wednesday retorted while going through the pages of your illustrations.

"Your drawings are incredibly detailed, Y/N. You must have an amazing pair of hands." She complimented, flipping through the pages of one of your sketchbooks that she picked up.

If you are stunned by her comment, she would owe Enid a hug and Thing a hand lotion. If you aren't, she'll give them the opposite- or maybe even worse.

"Oh, um, thank you! I will treasure that compliment forever." You replied, smiling uncontrollably.

Great. Now she needs to give Enid a hug and buy Thing some hand lotion.

Wednesday was slowly walking up to the big canvas you were worrying so much about without you realizing it because apparently you were still dazed by her compliment.

Once you're back to your senses, her hands were already pulling down on the sheet covering the canvas. Widening your eyes, you screamed, "Wait no, not that one!"

Too late.

Wednesday took a step back to see what the drawing was, and when she realized it was her, she turned to look at you who was standing like a stone statue then back at the drawing. She fairly studied the sketch. It was when she was playing her cello. She could tell you drew this thoroughly and accurately. What she was most interested in was how you drew her face. You drew her face as if she was trapped in the feeling of playing the cello, which she was.

"I'm sorry, I feel like a creep for drawing you. To be honest, I have a bunch of them," You took a step closer to her and fetched one of your sketchbooks from a pile of them. You showed her the label attached to the book, which said 'Addams'. You handed the book to her, and the girl opened the book and saw pages of sketches of her doing something.

"This one is my personal favorite," you said, pointing to the large canvas.

"I saw you playing the cello the other day, you looked very passionate playing that cello of yours. I've never seen you so energetic like that, so uh, I drew it." You explained.

"Don't be sorry for something you're not guilty of." The girl infront of you commented, looking at you right in the eyes.

You saw this as a chance to open up, so you did.

"Can I tell you something?- Actually you know what, I'll say it right away," You took a deep breath, Wednesday looking at you in confusion- and hope.

"I...like you, Addams. I've liked you since our first conversation ever, which was, I think, two months ago...yeah. I like you. Heh," You spoke fast, too fast.

The raven haired girl stared at you in awe, you were worried that she wasn't comfortable about this.

To ease the tension, you spoke again, "Look, I know you don't like me back and such, but-"

Wednesday cut you off by pressing her lips against yours. Your body jolted by the sudden gesture but you joined the kiss right away. You cupped her cheeks and smiled to the kiss, confident that Wednesday could sense your happiness. The kiss was soft and passionate. Wednesday's lips felt good on yours. You tried to extend the duration by heating up the kiss. The two of you enjoyed this moment too much. Too much, the both of you were obsessed with eachother already.

-----

Wednesday entered Ophelia Hall quietly, which startled her roommate a little when she heard the door close.

"Oh Wednesday! So, how'd it go?" Enid asked, elongating her words.

"Nothing much happened." Wednesday shrugged and walked over to her typewriter.

"Aww man! But tell me, what happened there?" Her roommate asked out of curiosity.

"I became her girlfriend." Wednesday replied, starting to type on her typewriter.

At that moment, the room was filled with Enid's squeals of excitement. She also did a victory dance, which slightly annoyed Wednesday. But she was also slightly happy that she now has a thing with you.

[rusty-gloinks]

May I ask art tips on coloring? I often have trouble getting colors to blend well together and I often make them too bright or make a boring palette

OKAY, this’ll be a long post! I got carried away!! :’]

An example of this drawing, notice how the actual drawing itself without the lighting is desaturated, as well as dark parts, whereas lighter parts are more saturated and the complete opposite? The colors also match the environment they’re in! almost like a dark blue.

Here’s another one, the colors here "compliment" each other! This drawing shows a mix of warm and cool colors (warm being pink/salmon, yellow, orange; cool being blue , white-blue, green, etc.)

To add, when using white or blacks (for coloring, using them on lineart is fine) make sure they aren’t the pure color, more to match the area or character. If in a dark environment use dark blues, purples, reds, etc on your character/object, If in a white environment, don’t use pure white, use the example shown! Basically like a very light blue , but this can apply for anything.

I’ve also made an example with a much older piece of art:

This looks sad to glance over. There’s no light source in one direction! The light is coming from the top, not even the sun. The lineart is lighter than the actual colors used, etc etc.. I could go on.

here would be some ways to adjust this!

The colors on the left are the original colors, the new ones are on the right. See how much better that looks?

As for the background, it doesn’t have to be too detailed, but notice how the colors in the farther back look lighter, it’s because it blends with the back so the more saturated colors on the front have your attention.

(Ignore my awful writing on these screenshots) -coloring lighting tips as well!

Use this mode with the color red over the light (overlay) , Saturation gives it more color.

Colors in bg (background) are more cool, so you may use these! (Cool colors for shading.) These colors are more warm (pointing at warm colors outlined in blue)

On the shading layer, blend red on the shaded parts closer to the light source! After, add more saturation on the red parts.

Finished product!! :)

hope this somewhat makes sense!! If you need like further explanation , ask me! :’D

[rk1kinspiration]

Flirting through bookstore window’s au

North is done. Officially, totally done.  

Markus pining for the cute guy who works in the books store across the street? Sure, she can deal with that. Markus lacking work because he's staring too much? She can handle it. Markus making their posters love themed? Fine, why not. Markus getting excited because the book store now also has love themed poster? Kinda adorable and perfect material to tease him over.  

But this is where she draws the line.

“Seriously, Markus?”

“What?” Markus asks, looking up from where he's painting the poster. There's a bit of paint on his cheek, and North raises her eyebrows. “Is it not good?”

“Look, I’ve let the ‘Our menu tonight is Me-n-u' slide, and ignored the ‘Did you just come out of oven? Because you're hot’ one. But this not gonna go up.”

Markus pouts, holding up the colorful poster he just painted, their foods clearly on display, highlighting the awful pickup line he wrote on it. “Why not?”

“Why not?” North nearly yells. She is so burning this poster after their shift. “Markus, look what it says.”

“He wrote ‘Is that a hardcover, or are you just happy to see me?’. I need to respond properly.”

North facepalms herself, groaning into her hand. She does not get paid enough for this. “So you decided that the best way to do that is with ‘You're thicker than a bowl of oatmeal’?”

Markus blinks. “Yes?”

“Okay, no. This ends here.” North rips the poster out of Markus’ hands and walks to the exit, dumping the poser in the trash as she leaves. “North? North! What are you-” Markus’ protests get cut off as she steps outside, barely bothering to watch out for traffic as she crosses the street.  

The bell of the book store dings as she opens the door and marches up to the only employee in the store. The young brunet smiles at here. “Hello, how can I h-”

“I need your phone number.”

The man frowns, “Eh... I'm sorry?”  

“Your phone number. Because one more pickup line and I'm setting something on fire.” North pulls out her phone and looks at him, waiting.

He glances away, nervously biting his lip. “Oh. The posters. I'm sorry but they were not really...”

“I know they're not for me,” North sighs. “But Markus is never going to leave our store and you're not leaving yours and I can only take so much pining. Just give me your number so I can give it to him and you can finally date.”

The man blinks at her, seemingly processing her words. Then holds out his hand. “You make a compelling argument.”

North hands him his phone and he fills in his number. When he hands it back, she thanks him, turns around, and leaves.  

Within seconds she's back in her own store, Markus staring at her with big eyes. “Here,” She tosses her phone to him, pretending that she wasn't aiming for his head. “Now just call him and give me my peace.”

Markus stares at her, then at the phone, then back at her and his face lights up. He types the number over in his own phone, and turns away from North as he presses call.

North walks back to the counter, leaning heavily on it. Finally.  

“Hey Connor,” she hears Markus say. “It’s a good thing I have my library card, because I am totally checking you out.”  

North drops her head on the counter and groans.

She does not get paid enough for this.

[pinkprincesscouture]

My Heart Belongs to You Chapter 1

Note: This is honestly my first time writing so any constructive criticism is welcome! Since I'm heavily inspired by manhwa, manga, anime, and light novels I hope to incorporate illustrations in future chapters! Thank you and happy reading! (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

*There’s this aching void in the middle of my chest. The more people I’m surrounded by, the deeper it gets, the more it aches. I want to reach out and grab someone, anyone. I want them to look at me but sometimes it’s just easier to sit and let the void grow bigger. I’m scared if the void disappears, If the aching disappears, I may really be left with nothing. I may really be alone.*

Despite being surrounded by servants who waited on her hand and foot, Rhoan still felt alone. She should be happy; after all she’s now living the life every girl dreams of. Anything she needed; she could get at the snap of her fingers. She had the finest clothes designed by the most sought-after designers in the entire capital, she had the most luxurious and expensive jewels and perfumes. What more could she want? She was no longer worrying about making enough money for rent. She was no longer a poor commoner; she was now the Crown Prince’s wife.

She had her own room, double the size of a small greenhouse. The walls were the color of a soft dull rosewood accented with pale gold roses. The long, heavy drapes that covered the big double-doored windows matched her walls; so much so that they almost blended into each other. Against the wall was a stunning white vanity with gold handles. In the middle of the room was a desk, on that desk was a vase filled with yellow Alstroemeria and yellow Roses. Every morning the maids would come in and replace them with fresh ones. Rhoan wasn’t particularly fond of those flowers, she had previously asked the maids to replace them with pink roses but to no avail. They continued to bring the yellow roses and yellow Alstroemerias for they were the previous Crown Princess’ favorite. Rhoan grew to hate the flowers, to her they only served as a reminder that this room wasn’t really hers.

Though Rhoan was grateful for her new life, nothing in this palace she now called home belonged to her. She came here with nothing, everything given to her here was owned by the previous Crown Princess. From the clothing, jewelry, shoes, perfumes and even the way her hair was styled, they were all inherited from the previous Princess. As daylight penetrated the gaps between the thick drapes, Rhoan slowly sat up, taking in the beauty and luxury that surrounded her. Though it’d been a while since she’d gotten to the palace, she was still in awe. She rolled around in bed, placing the pillow tightly on her face so no one could hear her frantic giggles. Suddenly there was a knock at the door.

“Princess Rhoan, it’s time to get ready for breakfast,” said the soft yet firm voice that came from the other side of the door. Before the door could open, Rhoan leaped out of bed, frantically brushing her hands through her hair, and brushing the wrinkles out of her nightgown. The door gently opened and Rhoan greeted the head maid, Margret with a large smile. The middle-aged maid looked at the young woman with furrowed brows and a frown. Rhoan tried her best to ignore the clear disdain on the woman’s face.

“Hurry, get in the bath, I will pick out your clothes.”

Rhoan softly nodded. With her head down and her long black hair covering her face, Rhoan made her way to the bathroom. While drawing her bath, Rhoan carefully looked through the fragrances neatly organized on the counter. She leaned over examining and smelling each fragrance. As she hummed and ran her fingers over the top of the fragrances Rhoan thought, “This is nice, this kind of thing should be my biggest worry, nothing else”.

While trying to decide on the scent she’d wear, she wondered if she’d finally see him today. Would he like the one that smelled of lilac, or maybe the one that smelled of roses?

“I wish I could use them all,” she said jubilantly.

As she exited the bathroom, Rhoan again greeted Margret as she motioned her to the vanity. This was the part of the morning routine Rhoan dreaded the most. “sit” said Margret. Margret began brushing Rhoan’s hair. Each time the brush passed through, Marget became more and more aggressive. It was as if Margret was trying to rip Rhoan’s hair straight from her scalp. With each fierce motion, Rhoan flinched. Tears began to well in her eyes; however, she couldn’t let Marget see her break. She swallowed her pain. She thought this won’t last long—I’m used to it, this much I can bear. It was over, Rhoan let out a sigh of relief. Glaring at Margret through the mirror, Rhoan smiled and thanked her. Rhoan walked over to her bed to see the dress that had been picked out for her. It was Gorgeous. It was a long dress with a hollowed-out piece on the chest. The long sleeves puffed out at the end and tightened around the wrist. On the wrists were golden embroidery that matched the turtleneck and the window on the chest. It was a tad bit flashy for her taste, but she wouldn’t dare complain, not that she particularly wanted to. A large grin came around her face, as she raised her left hand to hide it from Margret, she used her other to feel the fabric of the dress. It was soft, so soft that she felt as though it’d melt from the warmth of her hand.

The two women made their way down to the dining room, stepping through the palace corridor many maids were seen doing the daily cleaning. The maids paid Rhoan no mind, as usual. The Palace corridor was bathed in radiant light. The large windows that lined the halls served as a look into the magnificent garden. Every single color you could imagine was in that garden. Tall Cypress trees lined both sides, animal shaped hedges surrounded the glorious fountain that decorated the middle of the place. There was one part of the garden that many considered to be the most beautiful, it was the most recent addition filled with the yellow Alstroemeria and yellow Roses. They were planted in dedication to her. The maids and butlers of the palace took great care of that particular section of the garden. Every single day, no matter the weather, they made sure those flowers were properly looked after, made sure their beauty matched those of their beloved late Princess. The late Empress loved those flowers, they were her absolute favorite. They suited her well, everyone in the Capital could see that. She was radiant, her smile was as bright as a thousand suns. Her ivory skin and her long flowing blonde hair were truly a sight to behold. She was the embodiment of perfection, even he couldn’t help falling for her. Being the exact opposite, Rhoan felt inferior. Her hair black as coal, eyes the color of dark roast coffee, her sepia skin accompanied by an angelic childlike face haggard with worry and stress. A series of heavy footsteps echoed through the corridor, his were the loudest and strongest of all. Every one of his swift clops on the porcelain floor were attentive and controlled. His militaristic posture made anyone in his path shake. Rhoan’s heart began beating rapidly. With each beat they got louder and faster, so loud that Rhoan felt as though her ears would burst from the sound of the thumping. Rhoan held her breath hoping it’d settle her heart. There he was leading his court. His blonde hair glistened where the sunlight touched, his blue eyes drew you in like a whirlpool. His beauty was that of an earth-bound Adonis. Contradicting his angelic beauty was his cold and stoic gaze, a gaze that would send shivers down the spines of those in its way. Prince Cillian Chalhart was the treasure and pride of the empire, never had it had such a fearsome leader. He’d fought countless battles and led our empire to victory during the brutal Bastilian war. His beauty did not take away from his brutality, he’d crush anyone who threatened his beloved empire.

“Hello, your highness”, both Margret and Rhoan bowed. With her head lowered, eyes closed, Rhoan held her skirt and placed her hand on her chest. She couldn’t bear to meet his eyes, not that it mattered. The Prince swiftly passed the two, not even bothering to spare the two women a glace. Still, she was happy to see the Prince, even if it was just for a second. She believed he’d only gotten even more handsome since their wedding day. Just as swiftly as he had appeared, he disappeared. The maids in the corridor began to snicker.

“Poor girl, he didn’t even bother to acknowledge her. How cruel,” said one maid.

“How embarrassing, can she really be considered his wife?” said another.

Rhoan could hear their comments and see their condescending looks through her peripheral vision. In an effort to control the tears that began to well in her eyes, Rhoan tightly bit her lip and made her way to the dining room. She sat down at one end of the long table. The entire room was empty aside from the presence of Rhoan and head maid Margret. In front of Rhoan sat a plate of two slightly burnt eggs and sausages. On the side, there were two pieces of toast, that were surprisingly well toasted. Rhoan turned her head to Margret and asked her to send her thanks to the kitchen staff. It seemed the staff had decided to start preparing her food with a bit more care after the slight tantrum she threw last time. With Margret gone Rhoan felt comfortable enough to eat. As she took a bite of the dry bread, Rhoan looked around the large dining room. She began humming and softly kicking her feet. The only times she had the pleasure of being alone were during her meals, the rest of her day was spent with Margret, other maids, and various tutors. Each part of her day is meticulously mapped out. At times this both bored and caged her; however, sometimes she enjoyed the structure and routine. It took away her need to think.

In the evenings she’d have her English lessons in the palace library. Her tutor Julian was a young man in his early twenties. Tall, with short dark hair. His body was muscular yet lean. As he rolled up the sleeves of his blue collared shirt, Rhoan noticed his scars. Some were flat and pale, others were raised. His eyes were the most striking, being the color that’d find themselves camouflaged in leaves found in the Amazon. Despite their cool color, anyone who looked into them would be filled with warmth.

He didn’t seem like a man who’d take on tutoring as a profession. To Rhoan, he seemed better suited for the battlefield. Rhoan thought perhaps he’d pilot a Goliath for the imperial army, ah he’d really look good in their uniforms. During their time together, Rhoan would often find herself being unable to focus. His beauty was too distracting. Though of course, his looks couldn’t compare to that of her husband’s, he was beautiful, nonetheless. He was very friendly, something unfamiliar to Rhoan inside of this place. For Rhoan it was a pleasure whenever he was around, though he was her teacher, Rhoan viewed him more as a friend. The only one she had in this palace. She could speak comfortably with him, and she didn’t have to worry about him seeing the flaws she exhibited that were unbecoming of an Empress.

“Rhoan, did you manage to get through the book I gave you yesterday?” asked Julian.

“Yes! I really liked it!”

“It’s getting a lot easier to get through these books, I think I am ready to read the secondary school level books” exclaimed Rhoan as she held the thin book up to her chest.

Growing up outside of the capital Rhoan didn’t have much of an opportunity to go to school. Often times her mother was working two jobs, one in the morning and one in the afternoon. There was no time left in the day for her mother to take her to school. In her area there was only one school, it wasn’t small; however, it wasn’t too big either. Due to the lack of access to transportation, many children would have to walk to school. That wasn’t really an option for Rhoan given how far she lived, it was much easier for her to stay home and wait for her mother. Rhoan was a bit resentful at this lack of opportunity, as before moving to Asteria she was receiving decent schooling at a small school inside of the capital.

Putting his hand on top of her head Julian said, “I’m very proud of you Rhoan, you’ve improved greatly these past couple of weeks.” Rhoan’s eyes sparkled with happiness, she enjoyed the praise. Julian’s words were the only things that built her confidence and self-esteem.

“I told you I’d get it in no time” she gloated.

Even though they were only children’s books, Rhoan was still very proud of herself, and Julian made sure to reinforce that feeling. A part of Rhoan longed to share her progress with Emperor Cillian. Is an accomplishment, not something a wife would want to share with her husband. Though they did not share such an intimate relationship, she still wanted someone other than Julian to be a witness to her growth. With the thought of this desire, her eyebrows and eyelids lowered, and her shoulders began to shrink as she tightened her grip on the book and held it closer to her chest.

“If I shared this with him, would he acknowledge me, would I finally be worth his time?”

[mejomonster]

Feel free to ignore this. Just little bits of art advice i've found useful over the years in case it helps:

It's okay to use a sketchbook to sketch, to experiment, to practice. It can be messy, look awful, and many pages likely will be full with failed attempts and practice as you learn how to do a technique and improve. If you feel like you can't ruin a sketchbook? Then get looseleaf paper, printer paper, a notebook even, anything and practice on it. You can throw it away later (though i find them useful to look at later to reference how X technique worked successfully or how it failed so I can skip that learning step next time). Better quality paper may be needed for some technique experimentation (such as testing watercolors needing a paper at least durable enough to not rip). You can also write notes along with these experiments. Test out materials you're going to use, sketches of the compositions you want to draw, still lifes and reference drawings to use to figure out how to draw X, color palette tests, notes. It's okay that your test sketches/experiments are not all "perfect" looking.

Learn the color wheel. Learn some basics about color theory like contrasting colors, complimentary colors, primary and secondary colors, lightness to darkness (and shading), saturation, cool and warm tones. Play around with color palette combinations, look up color combinations other people have used, look at art you like and note to yourself the color palettes they used.

Learn shading, line pressure, line variation. Just the basics will do. Can you shade lighter and darker? Can you make thicker or thinner lines? Can you make straight and curvy lines? Again, look at art you like and note to yourself what they do and why you like it or don't.

Warm up exercises. (I skip these cause I'm ToT but if your hand isn't cooperating, they're good to know and do). Big circles, little circles, drawing points and connecting them with straight lines. Drawabox.com has a lot of free lessons and the intro ones include a lot of good drawing exercises.

Fear making mistakes? Again I can't emphazise enough find a paper of some kind you can let yourself draw on and make mistakes. Loose leaf paper if you can't do it to a sketchbook. I personally also like drawing in pen, marker, and highlighter when I'm just sketching. Because I can't erase those, and so I either accept my mistake or move onto the next sketch. (I also like the fine control of a pen as far as it being easier for me to shade with then say a marker). I often found myself becoming overly critical when drawing digitally since I could completely reverse any mistake, making casual practice much more difficult for me. I switched to paper pen sketches for practice and it helped me get more drawing practice actually done so I could make more progress. (Pencil also works fine I just personally liked pen since I'd often be at work or out eith a pen in my bag and printer paper nearby).

Being able to draw what you see: a few things go into this. There's the idea you can draw better things in your mind, the better you can draw things from reference. Not everyone's going to match up to that, but it's been true for me. Learn how to draw from reference, and when I make up a scene I can find references for pose or a landscape or a flower or a hand in X position if I've never drawn it before, or if I need to look at several references to figure out how to compose the picture in my head in a way that makes proportional sense. Learning to draw from reference: fold an image you use as reference (or draw a grid/paste a grid over a digital image), fold a blank paper (or put a grid over a digital blank canvas), attempt to draw what is inside each grid square one at a time. This can help you focus on shading instead of lines if you need to, and help you stop seeing images only in terms of preconcieved symbol (for example in people's mind eyes are often Important and hair is Up High, so often people mess up proportions when imagining what a human face looks like and trying to draw it, but use a grid and you'll be forced to make the hairline lower like its actual position on a head and forced to make the eyes smaller like their actual size). This exercise can be helpful for noticing noses aren't really a curve or a triangle but a bunch of weird bends and shades of color (or that eyes aren't perfect ovals but have folds and dips), as is a lot of stuff. Similar exercise: scrunch up a fabric and draw a still life of it, focusing on shading. Since a scrunched up fabric has no standard shape in your head (versus a folded sheet as a square) you can practice drawing the shapes and curves and light/darkness you're actually seeing. You can also use weird shaped vases and lamps, any interesting shaped items and put them in a pile that overlaps. The grid is to help you break down an image into smaller parts, the still lifes is to help you draw what you see with objects you hopefully have less internal symbols of so you can practice drawing whats actually there. You can do a grid with anything, or turn a reference picture greyscale to focus on learning the shading and how the lighting falls. Look up various things and start getting better at drawing things as they actually appear in the reference image (or in real life in front of you). You may want to focus on real items, photos, things in real life for this part.

Now drawing with symbols? Assuming you've learned to draw what you see in terms of color, shading, actual shape and sizes and proportions? Then learning to break down items into symbols in your head again can be helpful. Such as quickly figuring out a guide for how to draw humans in the manga proportions you want to emulate, so you need to translate real reference images you see into manga style. Or you draw a lot of flowers or faces and want to draw them from memory, so a mental idea of symbolic shapes and proportions will allow that. Drawabox.com also has helpful later lessons that go into how to visually start breaking references down into cubes, cylinders, spheres, pyramids, and other shapes. This can help you get an idea of how to start breaking down reference images in your mind into easy to proportion shapes, a series of easy to draw shapes you can then refine back into more detailed drawings like the actual references later. Learning these shapes will help with coming up with your own poses, translating to less realistic art styles, and coming up with new poses or angles of an object you have various references for. Those "draw 50" art books often have lessons that break down objects this way. The Michaels art books for sale often have guides on breaking down common objects into these shapes. A ton of artists online include these kinds of breakdowns in tutorials (i still have "do a human X heads tall, X heads wide, eyes on X line nose X far down" guides memorized in my head because i rely on those broken down proportions so much). Many portrait drawing books have more specific guidelines written out for humans. But the main thing is: once you can break reference images down by visualizing them yourself into certain shapes, you can make these shape approximation guides yourself. Then you can truly draw anything you can reference: both as a realistic drawing, and tailored to your own art style or perspective or however far your composition needs to be from the reference images you have. And you can start drawing a lot more with less reference as you get used to certain shape approximatipns you draw a lot. Exercises: 1. I greatly recommend drawabox.com for this, and any art tutorial books that focus on objects you draw often. 2. You can take pictures digitally, open them in an art program, and draw the simple shapes over them (cubes, cylinders, spheres etc). You van print pictures and draw the guides shapes. And of course: on you sketch pages (or digital canvas) look at reference images and draw a TON of attempts to make these guide shapes, then refine them into the specific thing youre drawing with its unique curves and details. So again, trying to draw what you see based on reference but this time with guide shapes. Do it a TON. Many will be the wrong size, or look odd, this is fine, note where you misjudged a size or detail and try again. If you plan to draw a lot with few references or in a unique art style thats not particularly realistic, you'll want to do this a TON. For the guide shapes practice: start with trying to draw references from real life like photos or in person. Once you get a feel for it, you can also start using this strategy to draw based on other art references. You can reference varied styles and use your guide shapes approximation to practice learning those style's unique proportions.

You can also try finding a piece of art you like, and attempting to replicate something about it: say you like the way the paint strokes look or blend of color, you practice on your sketch sheets to paint in a way that resembles it. Or you like the way they shade people and have this almost glowing light, so you attempt to create a similar effect on your sketch. If artists you like have tutorials such as painting tutorials, they may have explanations you can read and repeat the steps of to practice the same technique. Following artist tutorials often will include the guide shapes and proportions they used, so you can practice attempting to do the same. At this point, you can draw anything or at the minimum find a Reference and attempt to draw close to how it looks, getting better every time.

Material techniques: part of this is experiment a TON in your sketch pages. The other big advice is: go to youtube for beginner/basic tutorials and then tutorials on how to do specific techniques, or find art tutorial books that go in depth on that for the materials you wish to use. You'll find critical information for beginners such as what paper you need for X material, how that material blends and what it's compatible with, how to achieve shading and color blending with X material successfully. More in depth techniques can be learned through a combination of finding specialized tutorials on youtube/obnline, in books, and identifying art you like and trying to guess what techniques they used so you can look the techniques up. If you get lucky the artist may make their own tutorials that show how to do those techniques. Theres things about colored pencils i didnt even learn until this year. Theres a ton about watercolor im still learning. If your art is looking like a hot mess, and you havent learned basic techniques of that material and what they require (and then practiced it gratuitiously on your sketch pages etc) then this could be a key thing making your art look worse than you meant for it to. A simple pencil, pen, or charcol will accomplish basic shading of light to dark for practicing drawing based on reference images and learning how to draw from reference better. But once youre going beyond that with colors and materials, if things are looking not quite the may you intended then material using techniques may be the culprit. Art classes in like high school tend to use acrylics a lot for assignments, maybe because it mostly mixes the way you assume it will and layers over itself fairly fine (as in if you hate a dark chunk you painted you can usually wait for it to dry and then put white or a lighter color on top). Thats what i practiced with, and i was used to it from painting display ceramics. But theres a ton of materials that can do a ton and work uniquely so you may find through experimenting and preference some materials look way better for your uses.

Theres also stuff like lines of motion, capturing general shapes and movement over realism, which im still working on cause im just another learner too. There are tutorials for these, which is where im at presently.

[wabbitriii]

On a broader I’m also just exceedingly fucking an noyed at the tictokification of serious mental illnesses and terms; yeah man things like depression, anxiety, intrusive thoughts, and suicidal tendencies are more than just drawing pretty little lines of blood in a large bathtub full of rose petals while shedding three(3) tears, stealing glances to the rain pitter-pattering on the windowpane as fall leaves coat the building of whatever stupid fucking dark-academia castle were in right about now,

and neurodivergency isn’t rainbow loom bracelets on a toddler mat with cutesy little toys in perfect rows color coordinated and sorted and it’s all goo goo gaa gaa babies that need to be pwotected fwom da cwuel owtside wowld owo

god fuck that shit, lets start with neuroatypicals

it’s not very fun to overindulge in harmful, destructive behaviors because seeing past 5 years is nothing, it’s not very fun to expect to end up dead before life can even begin, it’s not very fun to actively look on living as nothing more than the “hard way”, it’s not fun to constantly think everyone around you is plotting your demise, in fact they all fucking hate you, and you’re not even good enough to stand around others, so hole up! hole up in your disgustingly messy bedroom realistically contemplating what it’d be like if you were dead, and how people would react! hole up and ignore every text, every message, every outside interaction because the very movement to pick up a phone and open up that avenue makes you sick and want to vomit

oh hey on that subject, let’s go to neurodivergence! when my cat died and my mom held her corpse, my brain decided to put the image of maggots in my mind. maggots everywhere. oh hey wouldn’t it be funny if you took a bite of her? doesn’t the smell of fucking death sound appetizing? hey if you don’t stand that pen up you’ll kill your sister. hey here some more cute thoughts of your parents and you, now shake your head like a fucking dog to get rid of them! hey go twitch in class, like a classic horror movie possessed character, im sure no one likes to gossip about that! oh hey here’s anxiety back to tell you to kill yourself!

fuck I wish it was playmats and rose baths- oh wait we haven’t even TOUCHED on schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, bpd, psychosis in general, actually, did, and the whole other side of neurodivergency that nobody likes to look at because “those people are psychos and schizos, and are, like, ACTUALLY crazy!!!! not just plain old delulu like meee!! my intrusive thoughts won,,, my hair is pritty pastel pink now hehe I’m just so ocd about-“ oh my god shut UP addison, you aren’t a cute yandere psychotic, you aren’t a neat freak ocd girl boss, you aren’t a delulu manifester or whatever the hell tiktok idiots keep coining it, keep it in the brain and pipe down

but fuck me, for I am a hypocrite, and every day I wish I could be as pretty as those cute little dark academia girlies or boys or ESPECCIALLY those very fem boys but not in the femboy way but the longish haired (mullet prolly) gnc pretty boy bishonens yaknow? like what a life to live huh! to also be able to take the most pretty and romantic parts of awful situations and apply them all to yourself and get zero repercussions, I bet I could be that person if I was skinny- oh wait a minute, I haven’t even began to talk about PHYSICAL disorders!!!!!

ok that’s enough. that’s enough. I know I’m directly feeding into this negative feedback loop, I know it’s uninformed people having fun, or even people who yes ACTUALLY have these disorders and are using platforms like tiktok to find a community where they ordinarily couldn’t, and yes I KNOW my situation is far more ideal than so many others are, but fuck me, I’m tired of idiots making light of the struggles I do have

maybe (yeah it is) part of this is me being insecure about my own identity, my own feelings and stupid dysfunctional brain, about my own appearance, about, fuck, everything that’s happening, and I just yearn to have that sort of innocent happiness yknow?

here comes the depression again, to shut that the hell down

god I’m tired, this should probably be in a notebook

this probably won’t be posted anyways

“we’re doing a thing called a ✨✨mental diet✨✨ where if you think unpleasant things,,, just think of something different!!!!!!!!! 🎀💗🎀”

ok thanks I’ll remember that when I get horrific obsessive intrusive thoughts that last for minutes at a time

wow ive been cured, didn’t realize I could simply think of something else that one time I hit myself in the head repeatedly to stop the thoughts about bugs in/on my skin

didn’t realize I could simply think of something else those many times I can’t face dishes/dirt/old food due to the upsetting thoughts that flood my head

yeah man this’ll help out so much, I’m sure I’ll stop the corpse - eating thoughts in no time 💕