#ive done it in crayon before

[73647e]

todd anderson is the only person in the world who has a cup with only five fully sharpened pencils sitting on his desk

[blushingbubbles]

tonight was hard

bodywriting is one of those things that im sooo excited about before i start.

invariably though there's one moment that knocks me down and its really really hard to bring myself up again

why do i keep doing it?? i literally have no idea.

if i do another bodywriting task i will be purchasing childrens water-based markers beforehand. i will also be purchasing cheap lipstick because frankly mine is too expensive to use like a crayon, and "wasting it" (i know its not wasting but please understand what i mean) in a scene just burrows guilt in my gut.

i recently discovered micellar water is great for sharpie removal, so i thought id be okay tonight. thought that if that moment happened i could easily take the offending words off.

but tonight when i was done, i was DONE. hard stop. i wanted everything off. it wasnt one thing. it was all of it.

i wanted to be done. wanted to be clean and cozy and out of play. i was done looking at the degrading words. i was done objectifying myself. and the "done" ness came so quickly i got whiplash.

i couldnt move fast enough. despite the micellar water, the markings weren't coming off, and the words i had written started getting to me. id been looking down at my breast so long that when i met my eyes in the mirror and saw "whore" across my cheeks and "dum cunt" across my forehead, i completely broke down.

tonight, i just needed help cleaning myself off. but when no help came (naturally, because all of you are online) i had to be the one to take care of myself. (and that of course makes sense. i know it makes sense. but having to feel it?? the loneliness?? the fact i couldnt get the words off?? the inadequacy laid plain in the "dum cunt" smeared across my forehead??? pull my teeth out one-by-one before you make me go through that again. god it was fucking awful.)

all of you are online. and ive been perfectly fine and content with that -- from play to aftercare -- until tonight.

tonight was a big blow, and im still working through the feelings. still crying (only because im writing this and reliving). still trying to get the words off. a lot of them are still there.

i wanted to post this for any other subs out there starting to or already in any kind of dynamic like mine. if u feel anything like this it's completely normal. nothing is wrong with you and it's okay. get waterbased markers.

and any new Doms who want to know what's going on in a sub's head??? here you go. if you're playing online one-on-one with your sub, i personally suggest going back through every single word written on their body during aftercare and countering the splinters of objectification that embedded during the scene. (looking back on tonight, i think i wouldve benefitted if someone had told me to slow the fuck down and go one by one over everything. but i was so desperate for it to be over i dont know if i wouldve listened anyway.)

[rollingsins]

all hers, part vi

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi | part vii | part viii | part ix | part x | part xi | part xii | part xiii | part xiv | part xv | part xvi | part xvii | part xviii | part xix | part xx | part xxi | part xxii | part xxiii | part xxiv | part xxv | part xxvi | epilogue

summary:  For as long as Tara could remember, she’d had this thing inside her. Ghostface!Tara origin story. 

warnings: 18+ reference to murder.

word count: 2.6k

a/n: sorry this one took so long, appreciate all the love for this fic! let me know what you want to see next, looking to maybe take some more smutty suggestions for gf!tara ;) 

For as long as Tara could remember, she’d had this thing inside her. 

This hot, horrible, blackout anger that lived in her bones. Lurking just under the surface. It left her in shivers, cold sweats. It left her aching, panting. There was nothing quite like it. 

Her Dad used to call it “The Rage”. 

“Get a handle on The Rage, Tara.” He’d warn before dropping her off at school, “Remember. It’s just an emotion. Like any other emotion. You can control it.” 

He was wrong, Tara couldn’t control it. No matter how hard she tried.

She couldn’t control it the day Peter Millwood stole her crayons. She’d whacked him across the face with her ruler with all the might of a four year old girl. Might have done worse had Mrs. Parker not frog-marched her straight to the Principal’s office. 

She couldn’t control it the night her older sister Sam had stolen her barbie when she was six. She’d wrapped her hands around Sam’s throat, choking, choking, choking until Sam was screaming and her mother was prying her off and smacking her so hard over the backside it left angry, red welts for days. 

Her childhood was scattered with incidents like that. Possessive. Child councilors had whispered to her father. Doesn’t share well with others. 

They’d prescribed therapy sessions, pills that made her so sleepy she couldn’t concentrate in class. Her Dad hung up a poster on the back of her door; a picture of a thermometer. A sliding scale of five numbers: one, a little picture of a cartoon boy smiling, was happy. Five was a little old man, scowling and angry. 

She’d gone to their sessions over and over. Their words in one ear and out the other. Nothing they said ever worked. “Five.” She’d growled at her father in the backseat of the car on the way home from a soccer match. A girl from the other team had tried to take the ball from her. The coach had stopped Tara before she could tackle her to the ground. 

“One.” She’d announced happily sitting in the nurse's office after recess with a swollen hand. A boy much bigger than her had tried to bully her out of her lunch money. Tara had punched him square in the jaw. 

Months flew by. Tara watched as her father turmoiled; no pill, no therapy session could fix her. 

The night before Tara turned thirteen, her father walked out on them. 

Sam blamed herself, but Tara knew the truth. It was her. It was the Rage. He’d spent every spare dime he had trying to fix her but it was impossible. She was a lost cause, after thirteen years, he’d finally figured it out. 

Her mom seemed to think so too. She buried herself in work, business trips, vacations, boyfriends. Anything that kept her away from Woodsboro. Away from Tara. 

Tara cried herself to sleep for two months straight the night he left. 

The Rage had cost her a father, a mother and a sister. It wasn’t what she wanted. She didn’t like the things it made her do. It was like this thing inside of her that took over. Like a demon, swallowing her whole. It was angry, violent. It wanted to hurt. 

And nothing or no-one could help her. 

Sam moved out. Tara learned to spend her nights alone. She taught herself how to make simple foods, like pasta and steak. Her Dad hadn’t taken much when he’d left, so Tara worked her way through his film collection. She didn’t care much for the westerns, or the gangster flicks. She scrunched her nose up at the heist films and the rom-coms. But the horror movies? It was love at first sight. 

She worked her way through the Halloween movies first. Then Nightmare on Elm Street. Texas Chainsaw Massacre. 

Finally, came the Stab movies. 

She’d grown up in Woodboro, she’d heard the stories about Ghostface. 

Stupid name, she’d first thought. Stupider mask. 

But the more she watched the more he grew on her. He began to fascinate her. His motives were always asinine, much like The Rage. The hairs on the back of her neck stuck up at every kill. She became obsessed. First it was the movies, then it was the books. She read every article, spent countless hours on youtube - interviews, theories, facts. She watched them all. 

By the time she’d finished middle school, Tara could recite every stab movie by heart. Better than that -  her focus on the Stab movies meant The Rage had finally lessened. 

She didn’t flip out about trivial things anymore, like someone borrowing a pen, or eating her last stick of gum. Instead, she pictured herself in a Ghostface mask. The blade between her fingertips as she drove the knife deep into said pen-thieving, gum-stealer’s chest. 

Then it had been enough. Just the thought of doing it. Back when she didn’t have anything worth stealing. 

And then she met you. 

It was like fate, kismet. Just like all the tales in all the stupid rom-coms she couldn’t stand to watch. 

She’d been sitting in biology class, doodling in the line of her margin. When she’d looked up, you were there. Beautiful, ethereal. Her heart had almost stopped the moment you’d locked eyes. 

She knew right then and there you were destined to be hers. The Rage purred. It coiled from her around you like an invisible string, tying your fates together. 

The next day she’d asked you out. The next week she’d kissed you, soft and slow, under the gentle hum of your porchlight. And the week after that you were hers. Officially. 

It was perfect. You were perfect. 

Her special, perfect thing. 

Instead of lonely nights on the couch, watching movies by herself, you were there. 

She cooked for you, made you all the recipes she’d spent her early teens learning. Showed you all her favorite horror movies. Spent nights on nights making feverish love to each other. She was your first, and you were hers. Not two months in, naked and entwined, she told you she loved you for the first time.

She was completely and utterly enamored with you. 

“Tell me about your first kiss.” You had whispered one night, laid across from her on the sofa. 

Tara’s first kiss had been awful. With a boy from middle school who hadn’t bothered to take his gum out. You’d giggled at that. 

And then she’d made a colossal mistake: she’d asked you about yours.

Aaron was his name, you’d recalled. He was cute. He’d made your stomach flip. Sometimes you’d see him in the halls. He had long hair now, and he didn’t really look too dissimilar to Tara.  You’d told her so. Nudged your elbow in her stomach. 

“Maybe I have a type.” 

Tara had felt herself get light-headed. Her mouth prickled uncomfortably. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. 

Her heart hammered. White hot jealousy coiled through her veins. Her stomach dropped; It was back, worse than she’d ever felt it before. She could feel The Rage taking over. 

Not at you, never at you. 

Aaron. Some punk kid with long hair who had dared touch you before she even knew you. 

Her hands itched, she’d needed to hurt something. Someone. Aaron perhaps. 

She imagined him under her, screaming out as she drove her knife into his throat.

“You okay, baby?” You’d asked. Your hands on her back, rubbing softly, “I was just kidding.” You leaned in, pressed a kiss to her cheek, “You’re way cuter than Aaron.” 

Tara had kissed you hard. Shelved The Rage. 

The Rage had ruined everything good in her life, it wasn’t about to take you as well. She’d do everything in her power to protect you from it. 

English class. Her knee was bouncing. 

Withdrawal maybe, from you. It was the only class you didn’t share together. You’d been dating for months now, barely a moment without her. Everyday you were hers, The Rage got stronger. 

It wasn’t just Aaron. You’d had a girlfriend before her, Sadie. You still shared a class together. The Rage wanted her gone, just like Aaron. Your best friend, Chase, watched you with moon eyes. You never noticed but Tara did. The Rage did. It coiled inside her, beating its fists against her chest, screaming to be let out. 

She was pale today, dark circles underneath her eyes. She hadn’t slept a wink. She’d held you tight all night, gripping you as if Aaron or Sadie or Chase was about to break in and steal you from her. 

Over her dead body. 

In fact she was so exhausted, she’d thought she’d imagined it when she heard the boys two rows in front of her saying your name. She tilted her head, listened a little harder. 

“YN. I have Math with her.” Sounded one of the boys. The other one groaned. “Lucky, dude.” 

“Tell me about it. She’s so fucking hot.” 

Tara leaned in. Gripped her pencil so hard it snapped. The blood rushed to her ears as she felt The Rage taking over. 

“I might try to hit that this weekend. She’s always at Freeman’s parties.” 

The other boy had scoffed. “Dude. She’s with Tara Carpenter. Good fucking luck.” 

“Please.” Leered the first boy, “Chicks dating chicks is hot and all, but I bet she’s missing the D. All it would take is a couple of drinks and she’ll be all over me.” 

He had leaned back in his chair with all the swagger of an eighteen year old virgin. 

“Besides. Who knows. Carpenter’s pretty hot too. Maybe she’ll join in.” 

Tara didn’t remember getting home.

She was shaking. Blood rushing to her ears. She’d got into the shower, fully clothed. Turned on the facet, straight to cold, hoping she could shock it out of her system. 

One, two, three. The breathing exercises her Dad had taught her. 

Five, five, five. Kill him, kill him, kill him. 

It had never been this strong before. This wild. When she was a child she’d wanted to hurt, sure. She’d want to punch, or kick, or choke. In her fantasies she stabbed people - but it wasn’t real, it was just a daydream. This time, she’d wanted to kill him. A fantasy wasn’t enough. 

One. Two. Three. 

The cold water wasn’t working. She turned it to hot. Let the water scald her skin. 

One. Two. Three. 

She let out a long, dry sob. It felt like her insides were burning. Rage filled every part of her - from the painful throb of her chest to the fire-like blood flowing through her veins. She could feel her cheeks red, angry. 

One. Two. Three. 

“Baby?” Her head jerked up. It was you. You pried open the bathroom door. 

“Tara?” You stared for a moment. 

She looked a sight. Fully clothed, shoes and all, sat at the bottom of the shower dry heaving. 

You were at her side in an instant. 

“Baby.” You’d cooed as you pulled her to her feet, “What happened?” 

The Rage pounded at her chest, like angry fists trying to claw through her ribcage. She could barely speak. You had turned off the facet, pulled her soaking body into yours. 

“Come on, baby. Let's get you out of these wet clothes.” 

You wrapped her in a towel, dropping to your knees to untie her shoes. She stood, soaking wet and shivering as you pulled jeans down her legs. 

“You’re freezing.” You’d said. Wrapped her tight in your arms. Her body was shaking, but it wasn't because of the cold. If anything, she felt too hot. You had rubbed her arms, kissed her forehead. She’d buried her face in your chest, her hands gripping tight around your waist. 

Mine. The Rage growled. You’re mine. 

You’d fussed over her. Drying her hair with a towel, trying to coax her into bed. 

When you’d leaned over her, pulling the sheets up to her neck, she had grabbed you by the wrist. 

“YN.” She murmured, “YN. Baby.”

“It’s all right, sweetheart.” You had said, “I’m here. I’m just going to get you a hot water bottle and then I’ll be right back-”

Tara shook her head, tugging you down a little harder. 

You let out a quiet gasp as she grabbed you by the hips, pulled you down to her. 

“Shhh.” She’d murmured. Wild eyes. “I need to fuck you. Now. Please.” 

You hadn’t put up much of a protest. She was feverish. Angry. Rough. Each thrust of her hips sent shockwaves through your entire body. 

“Mine.” She had growled in your ear as you came hard around her fingers. 

But not even fucking you could satiate The Rage. It thumped, still there, ever present. It was tormenting her. Flashes of you on your back, the boy from biology thrusting deep inside you. Another flash, you on your hands and knees, him pounding you into the mattress. It made her sick. It made her hands itch with anger. 

It’s you or him. The Rage sing-songed at her. Stick your knife in him before he can stick his cock in her. 

Your fingers on her cheek had snapped her out of it, only for a moment. 

“Tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart.” You’d said. “Where did that come from?” 

She’d looked down at you: lips swollen from her wild kisses. Angry red marks on your hips from where she’d grabbed you and held you down. She’d swallowed hard. She knew what she had to do. 

“Don’t worry.” She’d said. Pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, “I had a problem. But I think I know how to fix it.” 

She’d dropped you home later that night.

Then, she drove into town and bought herself a Ghostface mask. 

-

She was spiraling. 

She could feel it, thrumming, taking over. She was losing control. 

The first murder was sweet relief. She hadn’t meant to kill two of them. Dan was his name, the awful boy who had plotted to get you drunk and steal you from her. She’d been halfway through tearing her dagger down his stomach when his older brother had walked in. 

She’d had to kill him too. No witnesses. She did it quick, felt kind of bad about it afterwards. 

The boost of serotonin at the look on Dan’s face when she’d driven her knife into his stomach more than made up for it. 

For the first time in her life The Rage was satisfied. 

But it wasn’t to last. It itched at her, the fact there were still people out there that had known the taste of your lips on their mouths. The Rage wanted them dead. Tara wanted them dead. Ghostface wanted them dead. 

It was far too much to fight off her natural instincts. She was tired of fighting it. Exhausted. Now she’d known the feeling of her knife sinking deep into someone’s flesh, she didn’t think she could stop it even if she tried. 

Aaron was next. She’d slit his throat while he begged for mercy. 

Then Sadie. She’d stabbed her twelve times in the back. Once for every day you’d been hers. 

Then Chase was all that was left. 

And the worst had happened. 

“Don’t be scared.” She’d murmured as you stared back at her, eyes wide and fearful. Lip trembling. Chase’s blood still dripping off her hands,  “I would never hurt you.” 

It was true. She’d never hurt you. Not even if you had run from her that night. Not even if you'd called the police. She’d turn her knife and drive it through her own heart before she’d ever lay a finger on you. 

But you hadn’t run. You’d stayed, loved her despite the monster that lived inside her. 

The Rage had taken everyone else, but not you. 

Mine. It murmured everytime she was close to you. Sometimes she’d say it aloud. You’d nestle into her, hold her tight. 

Yours. 

Next part

[xmewwemx]

hello, i am Very Sick ; w ;

but i did manage to try out some homemade scratch art in between all the coughing and having to lie down, which was fun because ive NEVER made any before!

what you do is:

scribble a whole page of CRAYON, then

mix black (or whatever color!!) acrylic paint with dish washing liquid in a 1:1 ratio, then

paint it all over the crayon, then

wait for it to dry, then

scratch away the surface with a toothpick!!

(when youre done you can apply some pva glue to the top to seal it all in, but that's optional)

[torchstelechos]

i realize how nothingish this question is regards to like answerability but like how do you get.... ideas...? or. i dont really ever have any kind of bigger things i want to draw its always like small stuff.... or... idk.... i want to make things that are like.. more... i want to make stuff that like... means something makes you think something... most of my stuff is just tiny little things with nothing behind it just something to get it down but i like want to make things that are interesting to look at.... idk..... okay wait ill share a self portrait i did.

^ im really hapoy with this stuff theres color theres studf going on! an eclipse! right like its. its neat theres things theres associations being made theres questions theres something there this is the only thing ive made where i actually feel like ive expressed something that was in me and i just dont know how to do that again i want to make more things like that i want to get more out of my art than just putting stuff down thatll be forgotten the second its down i want what i make to be meaningful to me and idk how... uhhhh anyway thanks for reading thisif you do i just needed to get thoughts out or smth frustrated with this. doing this for six years and its just. ive managed like a handful of things id want to show people everything else is just things made because i just have to do this urghhh sorry about all this

Howdy! I had to take a bit to think of an answer for this question. I didn’t want to fall back on the statement everyone gets when they ask about art (practice), especially since you specified ideas rather than art appearance/style. So! Lets get into that! (gonna be kind of long oops)

First I want to say that I enjoy your self portrait, its very colourful and I LOVE colour. The choices in colour also complement each other very well, as yellow, orange, and blues go well together. Not only that, but the saturation of each colour help bounce off each other and bring it all together. Now, I assume the materials are a blue pen, and crayons? It might be markers, but the way the orange moves across the yellow makes me think of crayons. I adore it! I love crayons and haven’t been able to use them in a while, so it’s nice to see them being used. 

Now, your question, I feel needs some context from my side of things before I can properly answer it. I have been doing art for about 15 years now, and I have done multiple mediums including painting (water colour, oil, and acrylic), drawing (crayons, pens, markers, pencils, etc.), fiber arts (knitting, sewing, crocheting), baking/cooking (i think the presentation counts and how its a medium that takes combing lots of things to make a singular outcome), and a few I wont share right now. I’ve had official art classes that made me do things very specifically, one that taught me art history and how different genres of art were introduced, another on creativity and how to help flourish ideas, and some others on how to use different mediums and styles. I also watch speedpaints, animatics, and animation progress videos to learn some quick shortcuts in digital art since I was never taught officially on digital art. Including all of these, I also have done LOTS of practice in art. Having said this, lets get into some of my own thought processes. 

When I make art, the first things I tend to ask myself is “what do I want” and “what do I think would be interesting”? These aren't mutually exclusive, but they can be answered very differently depending on how I want to do something. For the Siffrin during the Mal du Pays fight piece, I actually started it by seeing a cat picture and thinking, “I want a discord reaction with Siffrin face down on the floor” which went into drawing Siffrin as the cat and then asking myself, “Wait, why is Siffrin face down?” which went into Oh! It’d be funny if it was Mal du Pays! So, doing that I decided to make it in the king's room which meant I had to draw a background. Eventually that transformed into “Okay but it doesnt look right, why?” the answer was that it didnt look like the game so I had to add some texture details and ta-da! Siffrin face down! 

But this also comes from years of practice in knowing what I want and knowing how to draw it, some of my art pieces were, “I think it would be cool if I drew a character looking down at me in front of a skyscraper” but um,, I didnt know how to draw that ;-; so I had to just let my hands kind of try and finish the piece even if I didnt like it. At that point, I realized I needed to practice the character and my style more until I COULD draw what I wanted. Which led into my drawing, a LOT of things I couldn’t and didnt like. 

As for symbolism in art, and how I got ideas for it, a lot of it comes down to knowing the character and how you want to translate your thoughts of the character into art. One of the ways I started doing this was adding flowers to the characters art, or learning what flower I considered “theirs” that way I could add hints to  it in the drawings. Some of it also came from animals, others came from art genres and their historical significance, and some come down to theories (such as colour theory in art). 

Finally, it really does come down to practice. As much as I hate to say it, a lot of the art pieces I do and share tend to lean towards “practice” or concept doodles so that I can better understand HOW I want to add it to a bigger piece. Most of my Siffrin and Loop drawings tend more to that as I need to better understand how their shapes and lines communicate to an art piece (Loop being a fucking star gets me so much) before i can add symbolism and make a bigger art piece. Even then, sometimes it doesnt work and the bigger art piece needs to be put to a back burner before i can communicate my thoughts on the characters as I wish to. 

(Here’s also a neat little trick I do, write out what you want to draw and then draw thumbnails so you can figure out the composition of the piece you want. It helps you know where something goes and how you want it to appear without keeping it in our brain for a long period of time. Some of the things I share are concept doodles but I’ve shared pictures of me doing this before! It can be annoying but trust me, it helps when you can’t figure out the draft at all.) 

Also, heres some of my REAL old art for reference when I say I’ve practiced a lot and didn’t always know how to do big art pieces ;;;;

Hope that helped answer some of my thought process on ideas and how that translates to art? I could go into more detail if you need me to discuss something further

[conanssummerchild]

hi :D ive never done this before but my ao3 is flopping so why not promote my own fic on here

Summary:

"It's okay Mike, hey, it's okay."

"No it's not!" Which—okay—fair enough, it didn't feel very okay to Jonathan either, but he was so out of his depth right now. He'd comforted Will countless times, he'd comforted Nancy, El. Hell, he'd even comforted Mike a bunch of times when he was younger.

A lot younger.

He'd comforted Mike over a broken crayon, or a scraped knee, or Will being sick and not being able to go to school for a week—that one had required a lot of comforting—but that had been a long time ago and those were all just silly, trivial things kids cried over. Now Mike was crying on a dirty bathroom floor, blood tainting his arms, and Jonathan couldn't just give him a new yellow crayon to make him feel better anymore.

if u checked it out it would b cool lol

TW SELF HARM (in the fic)

[ask-the-clergy-bc]

Papas with an so who age regresses (like when they’re stressed they’re kinda child like?)

I hope this is what you are looking for! :)

And to avoid confusion this is NOT to be confused with the 18+ Subject of DD/LG or any kink content related to it!! THIS IS NOT FOR ANY SORT OF NSFW SO DO NOT INTERACT WITH OR TREAT IT AS SUCH!!! I DO NOT WRITE FOR THOSE KINKS NOR DO I WANT THIS TAGGED OR FOR IT TO BE ASSOCIATED WITH IT!!

This is for the very real coping mechanism utilized by therapists and individuals. :) Also looking into it I wasn't sure if you meant full regression or just very casual, so I did more casual stress relief.

Also a very minor content warning in the tags because this is a coping mechanism for many and can be related to trauma.

Papas with an S/O who Age Regresses

Papa Nihil: Honestly has no idea what the hell that means or what it is used for in therapy, but he tries his best! And it makes you happy so who cares? Papa is very good about using a baby tone or child like tone when talking to you if that's what you prefer. After all, he had three kids so that's not hard for him to do! Nihil doesn't typically assume any sort of care taker role for you. But he does get you whatever you want! You are quite literally a kid in a candy and toy store on days you need it! He just hates seeing you stressed in any capacity.

Papa I: Out of them all, Papa is the most familiar with Age Regression. So he recognizes immediately how it helps you and makes you happy. He has sat you down before to express that no, he is not put off by your coping mechanism. Instead, you both have a good long talk about what you need from HIM during times of regression. Papa doesn't skip a bit when you start speaking in a childish tone or ask for help for 'grown up' tasks. He's very gentle and patient, and happy to give you words of praise when you get things done! Very good with head kisses and giving you treats to make you smile.

Papa II: Usually when you regress he leaves you to it, knowing you are decompressing and managing your stress. He's never sure how to exactly engage with you, but Papa is not one to push you away during. He's never been good with childish things or situations. But it makes you happy so he's content to let you be happy. His main concern is that you feel safe and loved when you do regress. On one occasion you were a bit self conscious of your regression because you were scared what others would think or that Papa found it weird... but instead he handed you a toy you put back the last time you went shopping. "Don't like fools shame you for what brings you peace."

Papa III: Papa is a refined and dignified gentleman... but that sure as Hell doesn't mean he wants to grow up either!! He is happy to see you do the same, and even happier when he knows it helps you. Papa makes sure you have the space to regress and feel safe in doing so. There has been more than one times he has taken one of your stuffies to make it talk, dance, and sing for you. He's also happy to tuck you in for naps and sing to you. His main concern is only that you always feel comfortable when you regress. But he would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy doing simple childhood activities with you. He didn't exactly have the most stress free youth so it brings him comfort too.

Papa IV/Cardinal Copia: For a long time he thought you were just very young at heart and sometimes loved to express it. He thought it was adorable! The closer you got the more you eventually opened up about what you were doing and how this state of mind helps you manage stress. Copia did his research immediately so he could help! While he doesn't offer a care taker role, he certainly likes to help! There was one time he surprised you with a coloring book when you were having a particularly rough week. His logic? "When I was a boy I loved crayons... I thought you would enjoy them too! eheh!"

[whumpshaped]

Fuschia, teal and a secret additional color that means I'm always happy to see your writing. Maybe one of those metallic copper crayons.

FUCHSIA: I wish I could become your best friend through the internet.

my besties need to stop sending this one i swear /j

TEAL: We have quite a lot in common.

WE DO. well ngl u kind of moulded me to ur tastes by the sheer power of ur awesome writing. if u go back im pretty sure ive done close to zero vampire/hypnosis/vampire hypnosis pieces before finding you😭

METALLIC COPPER CRAYON: I'm always happy to see your writing.

:D !!!!

[random-shit-writing]

naw, but why did i spend three hours drawing fanart instead of finishing the fic that was due yesterday for a fic exchange. im a writer. im not an artist. ive never drawn before. my artistic ability is limited to using crayons and a colouring book. but my ass busted out the equivalent of MS Paint on my phone and decided to draw for several hours, something ive never done nor wanted to do before, just so that i didn't need to write. this is next level procrastination 💀

[penumbrialhexandroga]

I started drawing "when i could first hold a crayon", my mother told me.

Growing up, i was always a quick learner. I learned to read before i was in school, i could always pick things up really easily; my mom would show me a shape and label it and i would get it immediately. I cant remember ever not being able to read.

One of my earliest memories is of being in school, maybe kindergarted on first grade? And they were having us all write down the letters they spoke for a quiz. A classmate leaned over to me and asked me if we were supposed to write the letter or spell the letter? I said "i think spell", thats what i had been doing lol. Later on they told us all that we were supposed to write the letter, not spell it out lol.

"Ay", "Bee", etc. I wish i could go back and read how i spelt it all, 8m interested how i wouldve spelt out "C".

But back to drawing. I cant remember ever not doing it. I was always the "best" artist in my class growing up. I think ive spent far more of my life drawing than socializing. But as ive gotten older i stopped being the best artist for my age. Im at a point now where although im confident in being able to replicate things or my technical skills in being able to make a portrait is pretty good. I always feel like i really struggle creatively.

I remember when i was in maybe 4th grade? And one of my friends/classmates had wanted me to teach her how to deaw a wolf. I was trying to show her how you were supposed to start with simple shapes , just squares and circles, to start the construction of the body, and then you draw the actual more complex form over that and then erase the simple sketch. Obviously not in those words but i realized that she wasnt understanding it, i had shown her what to do but i just remember being in this moment and it was one of those things that you know youll always remember. I can remember being in that room, in the school library at the circular table that must have been on the floor. My back was to the windows and it was an overcast but bright day. I think i must have been wearing a red, short sleeved shirt. My classmate had very light blonde shoulder length hair that flipped out on the ends. She was wearing a pink shirt. I remember she was getting stuck on how you make the more complex form over the guidelines and then erase the guidelines, i tried to show her by having her go along with me step by step but it just felt like there was a block. Like when youre taking a test and you know you dont know the answer vs. When you think you might know the answer and you can logic your way through or come back to it later.

Anyways i cant comprehend how people are so friggin amazing at composing things. I never feel like im a skilled artist until i go back and look through my art or my sketchbook. I love doing gesture drawings and very quick things but i really struggle with making complete compositions. Its something i know i just need to practice to improve at but i can never stick to a single thing for so long! When i do even 10 minute figure drawings it feels like im taking so so long!

Though, thinking i can focus for long enough if i do live figure drawing sessions in a class setting. Its always been easier for me to focus or get things done if im in a classroom setting. I miss school and learning like that so much! I really want to start taking art classes when i can. Or go back to community college.

[ashstar1111]

babysitting storytime?? not a good one tho lol

its kinda long so be aware. also, sorry for any spelling/grammer mistakes, english isnt my first language.

ok so BACKROUND: theres this couple + two daughters (7 and 5 y/o) who lives two floors below me & my family, and both the parents had to work and they needed someonw to watch their girls from 8am to almost 5pm (so about 9h). 

Usually my little sis babysits for them but she had plans + she didnt feel like shes ready to babysit for so long (its the first family shes babysitting for), so she offered me the job. and me, being me, took it without thinking twice (spoiler alart, BIG MISTAKE).

so i wake up in the morning and i feel really ill, i almost threw up a few times and my stomach really hurts, but i dont have much time to worry about it so i suck it up like a big kid, drink my coffe, take the dog for a walk, come home, finish my coffe, and go to their house. 

so, get to these girls apartment at 8am sharp, and everything is fine for the first few hours, they’re snacking some chips and drinking WAY to much chocolate milk, as well as watching wired youtubes on the tv, they were honestly very well behaved at the begining tbh, so i just let them be. 

at like 11:30am they started being hungry and they asked me for some fruites, so i was like “okay :)” and went to cut some fruites and stuff for them. i cut them a peach and washed them two different types of grapes, put it all on a plate and brought it to them.

then, they said they want corn schnitzel and i was like, “okay, well you can eat the fruites while i make u some” and went to the kitchen. what i didnt know was that they were starting to play with the fruits instead of eating them, so i came back to find the grapes, still uneaten, but covered in green liquid sope (???), and one (1) pice of peach was eaten. thats it. no girls.

at this point its about 12:45pm and they’re not in the living room where i left them. why? because APPARENTALLY, they decided that braking into their parents room (which was locked, btw, dont ask me how tf they got in) to steal some Mentos, was the best thing to do after murdering fruites.

i caught them right before they found the Mentos, and brought them to the dining table to eat the schnitzel they asked for. after they ate they decided to play a game called “trying to get into mom and dad’s room to steal stuff”, and i had to literally STAND AND GAURD THE DOOR TO MAKE SURE THEY WERENT STEALING SHIT. 

then, as they relized that I was the main problem, they decided to start trowing things at me. moestly shoes and crayons and markers and dolls. i asked them to stop multipul times and tryed to talk to them like big girls, until they decided to take it one step forwared, and throw a PAIR OF SCISSURES directly at me. 

it didnt hit me bc i moved, and then i yelled at them that they’re not supposed to be throwing sharp stuff like that, especially not at people. they didnt give TWO SHITS, and their way of showing me that was to throw the scissures at me AGAIN.

at that point i kinda gave up, maybe bc i was tired, maybe bc i was feeling kinda ill, maybe bc i was hungry, or maybe bc ive had enough stuff thrown at me a this point. fuck knows, the point is, i fucking had it.

i got away from the door and yelled at them that i hope they treat the next babysitter to watch them better than that (bc FUCK IT im not going back in there, especially not for enother 9 fucking houres.) and that ill be telling their mom everything. 

they obviusly were like “yeah we dont really care”. and when im telling u i was so close to snapping, i mean i was SO FUCKING CLOSE. so, i did what every reasonable adult would have done, and i sat on the couch in the living room and had a silent meltdown while the girls i was supposed to be watching were stealing cendy from their parents :).

after about 15 muinets (so it was about 2pm) of silently crying, they came to apologize to me, but i was so fucking angry (i still am and its 10pm) that all i did was telling them that i dont want their apology, and again, that i hope they would treat the next babysitter better, and then i got up and went to the kitchen floor to text heir mom.

long story short: their mom called me and scolded them that it wasnt ok and shit, but im still angry (both that they think they have the right to throw a pair of scissures at me, and that they actually made me scared. the rest of the babysitting they behaved and shit so i hid in the bathroom, bc i was shaking (im still a bit shaky for some reason) and honestly i didnt feel like i could face them).

[whump-bunny]

Whens the next chapter of asas light coming out??

Oh my! I am flattered that you're interested! I don't have a specific date at the moment (University is a b*tch lol) however, I have been working on a continuation of A Choice to Make.

Here's a preview as thanks for being patient ^^;

It isn’t often that Asa gets a moment of clarity to himself. But he supposes that’s his own fault.

The first few weeks of his confinement to the basement were filled with constant screaming and wrists worn bloody. He refused food and water; he bit and scratched whenever Adam came near, all while screaming at him… begging for him not to release the serum. Little did he know that it was already done.

It wasn't long until Adam brought the IV down. He claimed the drugs were for Asa’s own good, to help stop his so-called “panic attacks.” But they both knew that was a lie.

Now, the only time Asa is allowed consciousness is when Adam comes to visit. And oh, how insufferable those visits are. He'll wax on for hours about how Asa is “ungrateful,” how if he would only play along, then the world would be his.

Asa does his best to tune it out most of the time, but the constant chattering makes it hard to think when Adam's around.

That's why moments like these, when Asa is both alone and able to think clearly, are precious. And yet, there's a bitterness to them as well. No fog blocking his mind means nothing to stop his thoughts from wandering to… dangerous places. Memories that need not be revisited. People that would be better off forgotten.

Every time he closes his eyes, he sees the flash of a freckled smile, his brother’s smile. A smile that shifts constantly from comforting to an unbearable reminder of all that he's lost. Worse yet, it's the only thing that Asa can still remember clearly. He doesn't know if the drugs have permanently messed up his brain, or if it's a natural effect of passing time, but every day, Asa finds it harder and harder to recall exactly what shade of green Liam’s eyes were, or the sound of his howling laughter whenever Asa cracked a joke.

It's as if his memories are being rewritten in crayon, losing details until there's only the vague impression of his brother, smiling that smile and smelling vaguely of cigarette smoke. 

Asa wonders how long it'll take before he doesn't remember Liam at all.

He shakes the unwelcome idea away, and turns his thoughts to the matter at hand: Bella.

She'd given him the gift of clarity, if only for a little bit, but the price might be higher than either of them are prepared for. Asa’s stomach churns as he ponders what Adam might do to them if he finds out.

An image of Bella, strapped to a chair and rotting in the basement, flashes through Asa's mind. He flinches, as if he's been burned.

That can't happen. He won't let it.

But hadn't he said that about something else?

The serum. Adam’s “perfect” world. Asa tried everything to stop it, and yet, if Bella is to be believed, he's already failed. The world is dying. Half-aged corpses litter the streets. And the unlucky few that survive have been cursed with immortality, doomed to spend eternity in a world that never grows and never changes.

Just like him.

-

Hope you enjoyed that snippet ^^; I will try to finish up the whole thing in a timely manner. Thank you so much for reading!

[bansheeoftheforest]

Art school application exam really invokes something in ya, huh

[purpleoffbeat]

holy shit op my brain grew 3 sizes every second i spent reading this post. took me a long while but,

so all those years ago when i read the comment or w/e abt the designs being so consistent, all i could notice that seemed intentional was the white across all designs, so its rly funny that thats the first thing u mention lmaoo

re: the mg's madoka saves in ep12. only a couple of them seem to have white in their mg costumes: the viking girl and the volcanic area girl. so the theory that white as a unifying color is a holy quintet thing seems to hold up! for the record (ha), magia record doesnt have a modicum of design consistency, because a bunch of different artists do their own magical girls. theres a lot of (too much?) variety of different artstyles, to the point where if you just look at the difference in eye designs u could swear its not the same media. and as far as i give a shit magireco isnt madomagi...

i think its hilarious that you say mami "ties everyone together" considering at least part (if not all) of her magic is about manipulating ribbons. i fully believe that mamis entire magic is just ribbons maniulated into different kinds of those muskets she has (note the big twin guns she has during the charlotte fight, plus tiro finale itself). regarding the soul gem containers, theyre gold for every magical girl, including non-holy quintet so im not sure abt that part. but sayaka having only mamis color on her is so on brand oh my god, during her whole "thankless vigilante" crusade shes always going on and on about how "its how mami-san wouldve done" or whatever, except she doesnt have the maturity and levelheadedness mami had which is why she refuses grief seeds even when its killing her. when sayaka tells kyouko shes grown more mature since the final timeline pre-rebellion i really feel like that was more than just about moving on from kyousuke. and i agree 1000% that madokas ideals didnt influence sayaka as much as mamis did, but it seems like sayaka also doesnt influence the others quite as much: while a few colors are shared here and there, nobody but sayaka has blue. poor kid lmao

so kyouko having pink on her outfit, ive never thought that could be because of momo (not that thats a bad interpretation, its actually super interesting! i also didnt know kyoukos name meant apricot, despite knowing momo can mean peach ahaha~). instead ive always felt it was more of a reference to how kyouko is religious, and when shes talking abt her dad im p sure he foretells madokami (even if maybe the move there was more abt the writers going "ohoho the foreshadowing is gonna make everyone freak out when they realize!" but idk). kyouko prays just before taking oktavia with her, which to me is clear proof shes always stayed religious even after her dads murder suicide. but what i mean is, she mightve been praying to madoka all along...

(side note: its imo mega interesting because it seems to me that despite homura apparently also having attended a christian school before mitakihara junior high, she clearly worships madoka at least after her godtiering, and then literally becomes the devil herself like some chuunibyou. and kyouko may be a shoplifter but shes a christian shoplifter dammit. my point being, kyouko may have done some things that are illegal (stealing), or immoral and dangerous (remember she lets go of familiars so they drop grief seeds? that crayon familiar mighta killed someone), but shes always remained devout. homura on the other hand, while most likely being raised religious, ended up being a devil of sorts against the one god she always worshipped, she always loved, and who she considers her enemy now too.)

homuras black being found in mamis and kyoukos outfits but not in madokas or sayakas also makes a shitload of sense. shes the one who knows the truth of magical girls the best, shes the only one who at the beginning of the anime is fully aware of the entirely of the system. she knows all about the corrupt system the kyuubeys invented, and while mami and kyouko dont know abt the whole witching out thing, they know firsthand of the dangers of making a bad wish and the magical girl infighting. on the flip side, i would say homura has the most white in her mg outfit as well. to me this makes sense considering homura held out hope for a ludicrous amount of time, ironically having unwavering hope until the timeline where a kyuubey tells her shes the one who caused madokas abnormal karmic destiny. i like to think of it as, to counterbalance the bleakness of her situation, she kinda has to have enormous hope. much like the magical girl system operates on a sorta-law of equivalent exchange, except not really, homura had to have unbreaking resolve, except not really, because of course it would run out at some point.

a wonderful segway into my next point, which is that its a metaphor for capitalism and how the supposed-neverending cycle of work to profit to more work to more profit is bound to collapse at some point since humans arent machines we are flawed and uh

oh yeah colors. so madokami is an interesting case on all fronts, and first off i love how u see the literal universe being the underside of her dress as a way to say "homura did an incomprehensible amount of stuff for her sake and now she finally understands" like YES madoka is her whole world! literally? anyway!

i only made this headcanon like a couple days ago, but i rly like to think that junko choosing the red ribbons as opposed to the yellow ones is indicative of her not wanting madoka to... do something. she never finds out abt magical girls and she doesnt seem to be opposed to madoka growing into her own person, but i mean, she does slap her at the first act of defiance. granted, she was abt to casually walk into a supercell storm, so that scene is always kinda ruined for me. but junko does trust her, because she knows her daughter has a good reason. nevertheless, i genuinely believe if only junko knew what she was gonna do to her own existence she woulda slapped her again. what mother wants to lose her child? in other words, if junko can choose, she chooses to keep madoka. just as she is. this brings me to the ribbons: she chooses the red ones because theyre in a way reminiscent of "plain ol madoka", being more in line with her pink than a yellow. its the predictable choice, the closest to her natural tendency. it should be noted madokas eyes are a darker pink than her hair...

and if yellow is indicative of mamis ideals of justice, then its a no brainer that madoka becomes justice for all magical girls and their wishes when she was so heavily influenced by her. its also kinda tragic, since madoka appears to feel like shes directionless in life and has no strong points, but she chose a radical path to achieve a purpose. anyways, my point is that madoka effectively became more mami-like due to her wish, and whether thats accurate or not, its undeniable that she erased her own existence as a human, aka she kinda died, aka no mother would approve of such a thing. of course junko prefers the red ribbons. and its no wonder homura does too. since i somehow forgot to mention it, yes this does tie into the eyes changing colors thing.

but about her hair, i only found out some weeks ago due to some post that reached my dash, that the girls' hair colors change when theyre transformed. its veeery slight, but they become more saturated. madokamis hair also changes a tiny tiny amount, the pink becomes "less red" and "more purple". im not a color scientist so i have no clue how to put that eloquently... but the difference is so negligible that im sure its not even visible in most official art.

and that concludes my obnoxiously long thesis on how madomagi applies color theory like its fucking breaking bad.

So I recently noticed something about Homura Akemi’s magical girl outfit that I’ve never seen anyone else mention. Probably because it’s honestly a bit of a stretch but I think it’s fun.

So in her magical girl design she has this weird chain of diamonds down her leggings (boots??? Both???) that always confused me because of how much it looked like Kyoko’s chains. It’s was then also realized that she and Mami are the only girls to have a ribbon neck tie and a bow at the back of their dress. And I tried to see if she had design aspects that aligned with Sayaka and Madoka, and I think sayaka’s is a little bit of a stretch, but they both wear a pleated skirt that is their theme color with a white trim at the end of it.

But I realized something fun when I got to thinking about madoka’s outfit and seeing if anything matched, and I realized that both she and Madoka have a hairstyle that comes in two and are tied with ribbons (Madoka has twin tails, Homura has twin braids). Homura later wears Madokas red ribbons after she becomes Madokami. And then I realized that Homura doesn’t have anything matching Madoka for most of the series. The only thing that tied her to Madoka she renounced to try to save her, and she only gets something that ties back to her after she failed.

Anyways again bit of a stretch but I think it’s fun :)

[kimoralov3]

i just realized I've never done a post about just random was headcanons, and that is something that needs to be remedied

enjoy these random shang-chi headcanons :)

also mild spoilers? i don't think its anything too big that you couldn't have guessed from the trailers

i think i speak for everyone when i say: this man is fine as fuck

and i feel like subconsciously he knows that, he just isn't one to brag about it

i feel like he gives the greatest hugs i mean have you seen those arms

idk why but i felt like he ate crayons/play doh when he was younger (its ok babes i did too)

he's definitely the type to admire you from afar

like he thinks you're really sweet and adorable, but he just doesn't think that he's your type (which is a lie this man is everyone's type)

honestly there's only a 45% chance he'll ask you out without some sort of push from katy

but if katy isn't pushing him to ask you out

and you're pursuing him (flirting, insinuating that you're free, etc.)

he would take a while to catch on

if he doesn't catch on, one of two things will happen

either katy tells him to stop being oblivious and tells him that you're hitting on him

or you just straight up tell him

"shaun, i have been flirting with you for the past 6 months. do you wanna go on a date or not" "you were flirting with me?"

im sure ive said this before, but he is literally the sweetest boyfriend ever

like i feel like he can't cook for shit, but he's willing to learn just for you (he'd probably sign the two of you up for couples cooking classes)

if he can tell you'd had a bad day at work/school he'd make you your favorite tea and giving you a massage without you even needing to ask

i feel like he's the type of boyfriend to make you a playlist of songs that remind him of you

once you guys had been dating for a while (like at least a year) he'd finally tell you about his past

he was scared as to what your reaction would be, but he couldn't keep the truth from you for any longer

"so to hide from your dad, you changed your name from shang-chi to shaun? babe i love you but c'mon." "i was 15!"

nothing really changed between the two of you after that, in fact it weirdly brought you closer to each other

he no longer had to hide his panic attacks and nightmares from you, because now you could help him through them

but he'd definitely be worried about your safety, even more now since you know about his past, so he'd teach you how to fight

"i couldn't handle it if you got hurt because of my past."

[xerayn]

Day 3- Data @khoc-week

This is my longest one shot and took a while to write! My ocs don't use too much electronics except occasionally texting each other every now and then, so I decided to mix things up a bit and add Daybreak Town to the mix.

Today also includes Crayon, but with her nonbinary twin, Pencil. Story under the cut again

(a really old drawing of Pencil)

Day 3: Data

Crayon and Pencil

Gwynn was used to suffering. She’d been suffering for some time herself, never mind the trials her friends went through. Being forced to fight your twin to death since you could walk. Being used as a slave over and over for people’s selfish demands, no free will to be seen. Having to abandon an innocent life, filled with family and friends, only to face the harsh truths of reality. Being fragged by fate to keep the dark forces at bay, over and over, sacrificing more and more. Gwynn’s own suffering did not really matter in the face of all that. After all, Gwynn created her issues. It was only for herself to blame.

So, when the final large battle at Quadratum had finished, she thought she was finally done with suffering. She could live her life more peacefully. But fate had a break from messing with Sora, Riku, and Kairi and decided to have fun with Gwynn.

It first began when Gwynn went to the Final World for her usual updating of the TransText. The TransText was a device Carla made initially to keep in touch with one another between worlds, but when the Misfits found out about gummiphones being far more efficient, the TransTexts were discared. However, the TransText could do one thing that the gummiphone could not; communicate between different realities (albeit glitchy at times). So, Gwynn kept hers and created a portal to the Final World every week to update it and fix the weekly bugs. The Final World was between the two connected realities after all.

Gwynn reloaded the chat app, and several messages came through, mostly from that morning.

bluestreamer: Morning

                                 Pencil hasn’t woken up yet

                                 I’m boredd

                                 @everyone we should do something together

chattyninja: I’ve been busy but I can do l8r

pinkwhiteblack: love to!!!! :D

secretlyamindreader: @bluestreamer ive been up for the past 2 hours!

                                                 Oh is this more #craynn i see??

charmer: ifweregettingsnacksimin

bluestreamer: What did I say about spaces Sky?!

Gwynn squealed in excitement at the prospect of spending more time with Crayon. Things had been rocky recently, with arguments flaring up between Pencil and Crayon, forcing Crayon to leave the group for a while. But now that was all in the past now. Pencil apologized to Crayon, and Crayon apologized to Pencil.

The TransText beeped once more and with a large goofy grin, Gwynn looked back down while leaning against the white building in the Final World.

destinysembrace: Hiya, we have exciting news!

chattyninja: ooh what is it?

rtodawn: When Aqua and Terra were searching through records to figure out the whereabouts of Sora, an old book was unearthed. It is called the Book of Prophecies, and someone called the Master of Masters wrote it

vacanthearthotel: and u guys noe abt him m ore than us soooo

destinysembrace: Could you come to Radiant Garden some time?

chattyninja: uhhh you know Radiant Garden??

destinysembrace: Yeah, actually it’s my homeworld before I lived at the islands

chattyninja: cool cool cool

destinysembrace: Why d’you ask?

chattyninja: oh no reason.

bluestreamer: You’ve never said anything about Radiant Garden before 8-)

secretlyamindreader: back on topic, we dont know much abt m of m but ill definite come how about the others?

charmer: ifcarlaistherethenofcourse

chattyninja: If I can help in any way I will just as long as others join

bluestreamer: Actually, who knows about MoM??

pinkwhiteblack:... I have a little exp.

dont want to go in2 though

Korynn also knew stuff too, as well as @charmer

bluestreamer: That idiot knows stuff? :O

charmer: ofcourseidoimamazingateverything

secretlyamindreader: when do you want us over

rtodawn: anytime, but today would probably be best

bluestreamer: I’ve got a scheduled stream soon, but four hours time works

secretlyamindreader: ^

chattyninja: ^

charmer: 6

pinkwhiteblack: Ill need to let folk know but otherwise ^

destinysembrace: That works for us too! See you soon :)

Gwynn looked up at the endless blue sky. Once, Gwynn was trapped in the Final World and almost thought she was in heaven. It became a hell for her. But now, it was a place to get away from the monotony of Quadratum.

Master of Masters, huh? I hoped that I didn’t have to deal with you again. I didn’t tell anyone, but I think you orchestrated all the events in Quadratum and caused the clash between Korynn and me again.

Gwynn doubted herself once more. It turned out the person she saved on That Night was none other than the Master of Masters. But should Gwynn have rescued him? Was he actually evil?

Whose side are you on? What’s your plans?

The clouds drifted along, giving Gwynn no answer to her silent questions. She sighed, before looking down at her TransText once more. Gwynn quickly sent a quick text to her dad.

pinkwhiteblack: hi dad, a new thing popped up in the other reality. Gonna be away for the afternoon, hopefully be back for dinner. Tell Fushi Ill bring him along next time

Gwynn tucked away her TransText back into her green bag before removing herself from the building’s wall. She formed a portal in front of her to Agrabah (Pencil and Crayon’s home world) before stepping into it with a sigh.

***

Everyone assembled inside Ansem’s secret lab in Radiant Garden. Sora and Kairi were talking casually in a corner, while Riku was talking to one of the scientists. He had long blonde hair and wore the uniform (Crayon assumed it was uniform) all the scientists wore, a white lab coat buttoned up and a purple puffy tie. Sky and Pencil seemed indifferent to the meeting, while Carla was anxiously pacing around, completely unlike herself. Gwynn was deep in thought all the way to Radiant Garden and seemed unaware of her surroundings.

Another scientist walked into the lab, whose hair was a health and safety nightmare. He had silvery blue hair which completely covered one eye and went down to about his chin, as well as wearing a similar outfit to the other scientist. Carla turned around, saw him, and had a horrified look on her face. She scanned the room quickly and tried to hide. Meanwhile, said scientist stood with an agape face.

“C-Carla?!” He nearly screamed in surprise.

“Hehe… hi Ienzo…” Carla spun around and nervously giggled.

“What are you doing here? Where were you all this time?! Have you been eating ok? Did you have to fight the heartless?!” Ienzo bombarded Carla.

“For the book, in a different world, yep and yep. No time no see.”

“So that’s how Carla became so chatty…” Pencil put their hands to their chin.

“Oh, I recognize you now. Hello Carla. You certainly have grown into an average women.” The other scientist came over too.

“Uh, Carla? How do you know these guys?” Crayon frowned.

“Long story, but I kinda am from Radiant Garden before I found the Star Shard and went world hopping. Never figured out how to get back here until a while ago, and too much time had passed at that stage. It was just easier to never return than trying to figure it all out.” Carla had never looked so sheepish before.

“Well, since everyone’s here, then I’m gonna go in.” Sora lifted a book up and began to open the cover.

“Wait, Sora…! We haven’t finished analysing the data! We don’t know if it’s safe!” Ienzo quickly shouted.

Crayon and Pencil were the closest to Sora and rushed to grab the book. The three of them were touching the book when Sora finished opening it and halted in his tracks. Unfortunately, it was too late and the three of them disappeared into the Book of Prophecies.

Gwynn blinked blankly before looking at everyone else, who were not surprised. “So… is this a thing that happens often or…?”

“It has happened before, but we only know of two examples. They should be fine though,” The other scientist reassured Gwynn. “And excuse my manners. I am Even, formerly Vexen, which I dearly regret. A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I believe you are from unreality?”

“Um, I guess. Although it’s just a different reality.” Gwynn continued to stare at the empty space where Pencil and Crayon were, while the conversation continued.

***

“Woah!” Crayon screamed as she fell through the air. She landed in a heap on the ground while she saw Sora helping Pencil land gracefully on their feet. “Hrgh...”

“Where are we?” Pencil looked around as Crayon slowly groaned to her feet.

“Woops. We’re in the book now.” Sora’s face apologized for him.

“We’re. Inside. A. Book. Why aren’t I surprised?” Crayon sighed exasperatedly.

“Let’s have a look around and try and find a way out?” Sora ran in a random direction. “Come on!”

“He’s even more tiring than Carla…” Crayon face palmed before turning to Pencil. “We better…follow… Pencil, you ok?”

Pencil was clutching their head and slightly bent over. Their eyes were dulled and unfocused, and Crayon instantly knew what happened.

Crayon gently began to shake them. “Pencil. Pencil. They’re just thoughts. You can tune them out like usual. I’m here still.”

Pencil’s voice wavered when they eventually responded, and too quiet for Crayon’s liking. “It’s so loud. Why can’t everything be quiet for once. And why are kids suffering so much…?”

“Tell me what you need, ok? My hatred is paused.”

Crayon looked anxiously around, and saw kids no older than Gwynn wandering into the square area they landed in. They all wore strange combination of clothes, some having red jet packs on their back, or pink frog hats, or even had a pumpkin head. A thing which connected them was how exhausted they all looked, as well as how beat up they were. A thing which looked far too similar to the twins, and brought back unpleasant memories.

“New kids? Here?”

“They look pretty old.”

“I thought Master Ava said only the Dandelions were to flee. I don’t remember them.”

“What union were they in?” The children began to mass whisper to each other, making Crayon uncomfortable.

“We’re going to move to a quieter place, ‘kay?” Crayon grabbed one of Pencil’s arms and slung it over her shoulder before walking away from the whispers.

After only a few hundred steps to a place right beside the water, Pencil looked far better. Crayon unslung their arm and let Pencil lead while she surveyed the surroundings. The buildings were newer fashioned than in Agrabah, although not like Quadratum. They were mostly yellow, with purple designs and purple roofs. The town was pleasant, calm, and Crayon could clearly hear the clear water rushing peacefully. But it was almost too quiet, too nice. It was giving Crayon bad vibes.

She turned back to her twin, who was massaging their temple. “Are you doing better?”

“Yeah. Thanks for the save. You really do care.”

“No I don’t. You’re just the only one who can heal me, is all.” Crayon punched Pencil’s chest gently, pretending to be annoyed.

“Those kids worried me though. From the thoughts I accidentally heard, they… they’re like us. The only way that I can describe what they’re doing is being child soldiers. They collect something called ‘Lux’? And fight constantly to keep on trying to get more and more. They have friends and stuff, but I can see them doing this job all their lives.”

“That’s too twisted… we need to help them.”

“We’re inside a book though. If we mess up the storyline, then we could wreck everything. Unfortunately, I don’t know if we can help.” Pencil rubbed their arm.

“We should at least try!” Crayon exclaimed.

“We need to find Sora, that’s what we should do. We should try and escape.”

“You must remember how our lives were hell when we had to fight everyday! How much we wanted to escape from those lives. And these guys are fighting for much higher stakes! I can’t just sit around and do nothing.” Crayon stood in front of Pencil, blocking their path.

“But-” Pencil began, voice breaking, before a new stranger walked around the corner.

He was still younger than them, but older than the kids at the square. He had short curly hair, almost like a cloud, and wore a short black jacket, white top and grey bottoms. He also wore a bright red scarf which stuck out like a sore thumb compared to the rest of his outfit. Likewise to the other children, he was severely drained of energy but was still smiling.

The stranger spotted Pencil and Crayon and ran over. “Hey, stop fighting! It won’t get you anywhere.”

“Who are you?” Crayon asked at the same time Pencil said, “We weren’t fighting.”

“I’m Ephemer, I don’t think I’ve seen you guys before. Are you Dandelions?” Ephemer tilted his head.

“Um…”

Pencil took the lead. “Yep, yes we are. About to go do our mission and we just wanted to do different ones, that’s all. We better get going.” Pencil began to tug at Crayon’s sleeve, but Crayon did not budge.

“Why… why is everyone overworked? Why is everyone gaining ‘Lux’?” Crayon asked boldly, and Pencil let go of Crayon.

Ephemer sighed. “This will take a little explaining. Let’s sit at the fountain and chat.”

Ephemer led them back to the square, with Pencil giving Crayon a glare. Crayon mouthed a ‘sorry’, but did not look guilty at all.

Ephemer sat at the ledge of the fountain in the middle of the square, barely in a dry spot. The two twins sat to the left of him, while Ephemer took a moment to organise his thoughts. Pencil looked worried, but decided to let Ephemer speak in his own words what was happening.

“You ask why we collect lux? Well, it’s to recreate the world again,” Ephemer sighed before continuing. “A while back, there was a massive war between all of us Keyblade Wielders. There was a traitor amongst the foretellers, and well, the war was the outcome. The whole world was destroyed because of that, and the darkness would rule if nothing happened.

“But Master Ava gathered up the strongest hearts filled with light from all different unions. The Dandelions. We fled before the Keyblade War happened, to here. We now collect lux to restore the outside world, and to preserve the light. Does that make sense?”

“But, the outside world, what is-”

“‘In reality, this place and the worlds connected to this one is all made of data, constructed from the Book of Prophecies,”’ Pencil answered. “‘Most people here had their memories erased about the war from their ‘chirithies’, and think the foretellers are still around. And now, I and four others have to take the role of foretellers and pretend nothing happened.’ Is what you want to say, right?”

“How d’you do that?” Ephemer said with curiosity.

“Just something I can do, don’t worry about it. I don’t mean to do it.” Pencil tried to cover up their mistake.

“Please don’t tell anyone though!”

“Yeah, don’t worry ‘bout it. I’m more worried about you. Are you doing ok? That sounds really tough.” Crayon looked with worried eyes.

“It’s tough, but I’m ok. I’ve got friends who help me out. Anyway, I’ve wasted enough of your time. You should probably get back to whatever world you came from. I know you guys aren’t Dandelions.” Ephemer waved Crayon’s worries away.

“What?! How did you find out?” Crayon was stunned.

“All the missions are over for the day,” Ephemer chuckled. “Also, you were asking questions all the Dandelions already know the answers to. You aren’t dangerous, so I thought I would help out. I had those same questions too once upon a time!”

“Aw dusk. Pencil, I thought you came up with a good excuse!” Crayon sighed in defeat.

“I’m sorry ok! I came up with it on the spot!”

It was at that moment Sora came running back in. “Heya. I found a way out!”

Pencil stood up and ran towards Sora. “Great! We’re coming now.”

Crayon however stayed sitting for a little longer, wanting to say one last thing to Ephemer. “Look. I know I’m a stranger and all, but… just stay sane, ok? This battle will eventually be over. Make sure to rely on your friends, even ones who are annoying. Because it will get worse before it will get better. I have a little experience with things like this.”

“…Thanks.”

Ephemer was deep within thought as Crayon rejoined Pencil and Sora, and Crayon knew she had done the right thing. For there was a glimmer of hope in Ephemer’s eyes that was not there before, and sometimes that was all that was needed to keep on going.

When the three off-worlders popped out of the Book of Prophecies, everyone was relieved. As Sora began to tell his side of events, Pencil looked at Crayon. And Crayon looked back at Pencil. It was only a split second, but Crayon could tell what Pencil was saying.

‘You’re right. Thank you.’