#maybe because drawing with a pen is little easier

[tubes-the-ann]

that feeling when you seemingly can't art

[icewindandboringhorror]

I made a few new wax seal stamps out of clay (like the ones I did for my worldbuilding stuff forever ago), this time just of random symbols that I thought might look good done in the style of painting over the raised part of the wax or etc. :0c Some of them aren't carved deep enough to really show up that well, but overall they worked okay for being clay lol

[woso-dreamzzz]

Secret

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Baby!Reader

Summary: Ingrid's got a secret

"Skatten min," Ingrid coos to you softly," It's okay. It's okay. Let's try and calm down."

You whine helplessly against her, knocking your head against her collarbone as you suckle randomly.

"Skatt," Ingrid laughs," You're not getting milk out of there."

You don't know any different and suckle a bit harder. It's not exactly ideal but Ingrid's happy that you're no longer crying.

You've been tearful ever since she came home from training, wanting nothing more than to be close to her. Usually, Ingrid would give in to your demands but she'd had a meeting with a media outlet back home so had to put you down.

You whined and cried the entire time and have only now quietened.

You were not the most clingy of babies but now that you had both made the move to Spain, something must have flipped in you.

It was hard going. It wasn't that Ingrid was trying to keep you a secret (it's not like you were really a secret if Frido knew who you were) but it was easier to keep football separate from her private life.

Here, at home, it was just you and her and no language barrier to navigate. It was nice and sweet but sometimes Ingrid missed the companionship of people in the apartment.

Frido came over sometimes, always to see you and try to convince you that she was the cooler Scandinavian but no one else on the team knew about you so getting people to come around without blowing the big secret was kind of difficult.

"You calm now, skatt?" Ingrid teases as she sits down on your playmat and draws some toys closer. You reach out easily for your plastic ladybug, hitting the button that makes it sing happily.

You giggle when it starts to sing, babbling along surprisingly in tune for someone so little while Ingrid sings along to the actual words. It's your favourite toy of all time even though Ingrid hates it because it's always so loud.

It's so loud in fact that Ingrid almost doesn't hear the doorbell ring. It goes twice in a little tune and she gets to her feet.

You screech when she moves away but she soothes you with a fond swipe over your hair and an offer for your dummy. You suck it into your mouth quickly, bobbing it rhythmically before smacking your ladybug again.

Ingrid rolls her eyes at you with a little smile before pulling open the door. She expects it to be a delivery man. Her mother has been quite vocal in her annoyance about Ingrid still playing football abroad when she had such a little baby to look after so she had been sending regular gift boxes to the apartment.

She's already reaching for the pen to sign for the package when she realises that it's Mapi.

She freezes.

Ingrid likes Mapi (maybe more than likes her) and her day always brightens after seeing her but there was no reason for Mapi to be waiting outside of her door.

"Has something happened?"

Mapi looks a bit embarrassed to be waiting outside and she clears her throat, holding up a tin. "I made too many cookies," She says," I was wondering if you wanted any."

The tin looks suspiciously like one you buy at a supermarket and the cookies look completely uniform as well, like they've been bought rather than made at home.

"Oh..." Ingrid's face goes a little red like Mapi's too. "Thank you." She takes the tin, brushing her hands against Mapi's with a small smile.

They stand awkwardly on the doorstep, just staring at each other before Mapi jumps out of her skin as the annoying jingle of your ladybug filters through the door.

You screech your own babble to it before there's a loud crash.

Ingrid turns immediately to investigate and Mapi slips through the door before she notices.

"Skatten min," She sighs," You're not meant to throw your toys."

Your ladybug is sitting upside down quite a way away which is fairly impressive for a five-month-old to do. You're still singing along to it though, clapping your hands to the tune and then getting distracted by the fact that you have feet.

"That's a baby. Whose baby is that?"

Ingrid doesn't realise that Mapi is even there until she speaks. She knows the jig is up now and the number of teammates who know about your existence climbs from one to two as Mapi stares down at you.

"My baby," Ingrid admits as she puts the tin of cookies on the counter. "Mapi, this is y/n."

You recognise your name, turning your head to look at her before going back to inspecting your feet.

"A baby," Mapi says again," You have a baby?"

"Yes." Ingrid knows she's being a little bit rude but Mapi's yet to say anything of substance on the matter and she'd rather go in defensive and be surprised rather than calm and end up in an argument.

"But..." Mapi stares at you. "She's so little." She squats down in front of you and waves. "Hola."

You look at her strangely before bum shuffling over to your ladybug, hitting it repeatedly even though it's upside down and you can no longer reach the button.

"Does she not like me?"

Ingrid has to admit, the pout on Mapi's face is adorable. "She likes no one more than that stupid ladybug."

You've worked out how to flip it over again and finally slam your hand on the button, sending it into a new wave of the song.

"She's adorable," Mapi says, standing," Why haven't we seen her before?"

Ingrid shrugs. She doesn't really have a good excuse so she settles on the one that she used on Frido. "It's a hassle, isn't it? There would be no one to watch her if I took her to practice."

"We can all watch her!" Mapi insist, suddenly looking very excited," Someone's always injured so they can take her! Oh, please, Ingrid! She's so cute! She can be the team mascot."

"I don't know..." But Ingrid does know. She's been wanting to take you to practice for a while now but she'd always chickened out, deciding that it was too late to come clean about her little secret.

"Please!" Mapi begs, already moving away to sit next to you. "I promise that there'll be someone to watch her. We can use her as a weight at the gym!"

You look at Mapi oddly again, confused by this strange girl with pictures on her body. You don't do anything though, just hit your ladybug when the song stops and poking at your own feet.

She starts clapping along to the tune though. Mapi doesn't sing like Ingrid does (mainly because the words are in Norwegian and she doesn't know that) but she still tries to engage with you.

You let her and then clamber a bit closer. You're still occupied by your ladybug but you do sit yourself in Mapi's lap and she takes that as a win.

"I guess..." Ingrid says as she watches the way you take Mapi's hand, forcing her touch the button now. "Maybe next week. And only for a few hours."

"Yes!" Mapi pumps her fist into the air before looking down at you. "Did you hear? You're coming to training soon!"

You ignore her, focussed entirely on your ladybug.

[sgt-tombstone]

My take on the "Shut up Soap" trope but make it fluffy because I love soft Ghoap

----

Almost everyone on base has told Soap to shut up at some point, to piss off, to go bother someone else. He tries not to take it personally; the military is a stressful career for anyone, much less the special forces he's surrounded by. He doesn't blame anyone for wanting a little peace and quiet every once in a while. He's even started to anticipate it, going into every conversation with the expectation of getting brushed off or, worse, told off. It makes the disappointment a little easier to bear, at least, and he's always pleasantly surprised if it doesn't happen. Win-win in his books.

The only person who's never done it, who's never made his presence feel like a burden, is Ghost.

He's never once told Soap to go away, to take his energy and chatter elsewhere. Even in the middle of tense missions or sleepless nights, he listens. Or, at least, he lets Soap talk. Doesn't tell him to be quiet.

Soap should know better than to question it, because the fastest way to make a good thing disappear is to draw attention to it, but like always, he doesn't know when to leave well enough alone. They're sitting in Ghost's office, the man himself busy with paperwork while Soap sits on the couch, deep in thought, when he finally gives in to the ill-advised urge.

"Why do you do it?"

As soon as Soap speaks up, Ghost caps his pen and sets it down, turning his full attention to his sergeant. He tilts his head in question.

"Do what, Soap?"

"That," Soap says, waving an arm towards Ghost as if to encapsulate the entirety of his being. "Ye never... Ye never tell me to be quiet."

"I enjoy your company," Ghost says with a shrug, as if were that simple, but Soap frowns.

"Aye, sure," he mutters. "So does Gaz, but even he's told me to piss off before. You always pay attention."

"Is that so odd?" Ghost asks, his eyes narrowing slightly, and Soap has gotten good enough at deciphering his masked expressions to know it's out of confusion rather than suspicion or condemnation.

"You're the only one who does, sir," Soap admits, a little meekly, chewing on his lip to ease some of the discomfort of the admission. "Even when you're knackered or getting shot at or ragin', ye don't tell me tae fuck off."

"Would you rather I did?"

"No!" Soap says quickly, maybe a little too loudly, and he's quick to settle again. "I just dinnae ken why, that's all."

Ghost is quiet for a long moment, his gaze heavy where it sweeps across Soap's face, and he can see the moment that Ghost comes to a decision.

"I know what it's like," he shrugs, aiming for nonchalant and missing by a mile. For the first time since Soap started talking, he drops his eyes to his desk, as if the weight of his confession dragged them down. He picks up his pen again but doesn't uncap it; he just fiddles with it, the only nervous fidget Soap has ever seen from him.

"What what's like?"

"To feel like a ghost in your own life," he says, so quiet that Soap has to lean forward to hear him, hanging off of every word. "To crave the connection that comes so easily to everyone around you. To feel immaterial."

Soap isn't sure what to say to that. It's like Ghost dropped a bomb in the middle of the room that neither of them are willing to address in case mentioning it lights the fuse. He's never heard his own feelings expressed so succinctly, especially from someone else's mouth, and it stuns him into silence, his eyes wide and lips parted in shock.

"You deal with it differently than I did," Ghost continues, looking back up. "You fight back; refuse to let yourself disappear. I embraced it, became the ghost I felt like."

"Do you," Soap starts, his voice raspy in his dry throat, and he swallows before starting again. "Do you still feel like that?"

"No," Ghost says after a pregnant pause, the single word steeped in meaning. Soap feels the gravity of it, caught in the warm depths of Ghost's eyes. "Not anymore."

And as Soap grins, comfort flooding his veins, more potent than whiskey, he thinks that they may have solved each other's problems after all.

[dunmeshistash]

Interview to celebrate the opening of the Ryoko Kui Exhibition

About Delicious in Dungeon: Story making

Q1. Your first long-running series has lasted for about 9 and a half years. Has it been different from your previous experience drawing short stories?

A1. Compared to short stories, the series has been easier because the same characters appear each time. But I was surprised to find that I got tired of drawing the same characters too many times.

Q2. You have said before that the overall structure of the story was decided before serialization began, but how much of that had you communicated to your editor? Also, what kind of communication did you have during the series production?

A2. The goal was something we discussed and had decided on from the beginning. The goal itself was simple, but the path to get there was more difficult and took longer than imagined.

Q3. Regarding the overall story concept and development, did you write out or put anything down in writing (such as the plot)?

A3. I did, but it was simple.

Q4. Did you come up with the dishes based on the monsters you wanted in the story? Or did you come up with the monsters based on the dishes?

A4. It depended on the story, but usually the story came first followed by the monsters or food. I feel like that was most often the order.

Q5. As you progressed in drawing the series, what elements of the characters, story, or world expanded or grew in the most unexpected way?

A5. Nothing particularly unexpected perhaps. When I used to draw web manga, I tended to think up inconsequential settings. So, from the beginning I tried to restrain myself as much as possible and not expand too much. I was surprised when my editor said "Let's expand it more," in the second half of the series.

Q6. "Delicious in Dungeon" starts with a relatively simple setting, but as the series and the labyrinth exploration continues, the map slowly expands little by little in the readers' minds. It becomes more three-dimensional, revealing the secrets of the world, and taking on a multilayered structure. Are there any sources that you used as a reference, or which influenced you in creating this multilayered structure?

A6. A long time ago, when I was working on my personal web manga (fantasy), I drew it however I wanted, thinking that "Only people who can read this will read it," but I regularly received feedback that it was "unreadable", so I tried to make it as easily. accessible as possible.

Q7. The series combines many elements, including "fantasy", "gourmet", "battles", and "puzzle solving", but I think it's also important that it is a "comedy" which makes people laugh. Could you let us know if you have a creative commitment towards depicting humor?

A7. My hopes are that I can make it fun for people to read.

[page 5]

About Delicious in Dungeon: Drawing manga

Q1. Please tell us about the drawing tools you currently use, both digital and analogue.

A1. In terms of analogue tools, I use a light box, a G pen, a round pen, and a brush pen. And for digital, I use CLIP STUDIO PAINT and a Wacom LCD tablet. Screentone pasting is always done on the computer, so ultimately it all ends up as a digital manuscript.

Q2. Do you have any rules or reasons for using digital and analog separately?

A2. I'm always looking for ways to draw better and save time, so the exact approach is probably different for almost every chapter. Personally, I feel that analogue methods create more appealing lines, but I feel like digital saves time, so maybe I'll do a digital rough sketch and do the inking by hand… I might have been using a G pen, and maybe I'll try out a turnip pen, or this time I'm short on time so I'll draw it entirely digitally, but with digital I can redo it over and over, so maybe analogue is still faster, and so on and so forth. I'm indecisive in this way and so haven't developed a consistent process.

Q3. I understand that you prepare 3D data for your assistants to draw the backgrounds. What kind of data did you make for "Delicious in Dungeon" ?

A3. You could call it 3D, but it's not a proper model, just something to help with the rough sketching. I line up cubes to share the perspective and sense of scale, and they use it as a reference.

Q4. At the beginning of the series, the characters and backgrounds were somewhat simply drawn, and it seems like they became richly detailed over the progression of the story. What was your intention behind using these different styles?

A4. It's simply that my technique isn't stable. I thought I'd put a lot of effort in at the start. I remember being confused when my editor asked me to add more in to the drawing, and I wondered "Where…?"

Q5. Thinking about the food, were there any menu illustrations that you were particularly satisfied with, or which you struggled with?

A5. I've never liked my own food illustrations. But the times when I read other people's manga and thought "That looks delicious," I think it's been more an influence of the movement, the staging, and the situation than the drawings.

Q6. For the world maps and the terrain of each continent, did you refer to any maps of the real world? I feel like the shape of the 'island' is similar to the shape of Fukuoka Prefecture or Kyushu.

A6. I didn't reference any specific geography, but I did try to put thought into things like whether a developed city would be near a river or the sea, and what the coastline would look like. I'm pleased if it feels similar to a real place, because it means my interpretation was pretty accurate.

About Delicious in Dungeon: Other

Q1. Which is your favorite monster?

A1. Nightmare.

Q2. I'm sure you have received a lot of feedback from readers in countries and regions outside of Japan. Please tell us if there was anything from them that made you happy, was unexpected, or which made a lasting impression on you.

A2. When you play foreign games, there are times when you think "Why did they translate it into Japanese like that?" But having been on the side of having something translated, I've realized some things are unavoidable, or endless, and there are many things that don't matter either way from the author's perspective, so it was interesting.

About Ryoko Kui's short story collections and herself

Q1. Dragons are a consistent and important motif in your work. Was there any particular work or experience which inspired this? Also, are there points about drawing dragons which you find interesting or have had to work hard on?

A1. It's less about liking dragons, and more that I'm interested in the worlds in which dragons exist. When I draw dragons, the depiction in itself has a sweet feeling to it. I have never had a pet reptile, so I don't have a very good understanding of them.

Q2. Unomiya University in your story "The dragon's school is on top of the mountain" has a Faculty of Dragons, Department of Environmental Studies, and Department of Technology Studies, and a Faculty of Veterinary Medicine. If you were to enroll in the university, which department or faculty would you like to enter?

A2. I probably wouldn't be accepted….

Q3. The collection includes a short story staged as an essay manga. Are you a fan of essay manga? Please tell us about any genres of essay manga that you like.

A3. I love all kinds of essay manga. I read them often.

Q4. If you were to make your own game, what kind of game would you like to make?

A4. I prefer being a player when it comes to games.

Q5. When did you first start drawing illustrations (doodles)?

A5. I don't exactly remember when I first drew a picture, but I think I started drawing manga around the fourth or fifth grade of elementary school. in my notebooks and had my friends read them.

Q6. What is the most fun part about drawing manga?

A6. Every part is fun and hard in its own way.

Q7. Please tell us if there is anything you "just can't stop no matter what".

A7. My procrastination habit.

Q8. Could you please tell us if there's something you want to draw now?

A8. I've been working continuously since the serialization, so I'd like to take about 2 to 3 months to just draw whatever I want.

[milswrites]

Stubborn Little Fox

~ Eris Vanserra X Reader

Summary: Eris struggles to look after his stubborn mate when you are sick.

Warnings: Poorly reader but it’s pretty much fluff. Maybe some suggestiveness.

Notes: Just a silly little fic to tide you over until I finish the angst I’m writing. Dedicated to @sarawritestories who wrote me this exact scenario in an attempt to get me to stop writing and go to bed 😌

Your bed was empty.

Again. 

The wrinkled covers pulled back to reveal the bare sheets of where you had once laid, where Eris was supposed find you soundly sleeping upon entering the room.

The Autumn Prince cursed lowly under his breath, knuckles turning white with frustration as he tightly gripped onto the tray of food he had prepared for you.

It was easier to control his hounds - Eris thought as he carefully placed the tray down on the edge of the bed, lest he toss its contents onto the floor in his anger.

Eris was used to completing impossible jobs, and yet nothing has been more difficult than trying to wrangle his sick mate and convince you to sleep away your illness. Your inability to sit still making caring for you harder than Eris had initially anticipated.

He needn’t try too hard to find you, a swift wander down the hall and to his office was all Eris needed to walk before he opened the door to find your sickly form hunched over his desk with a pen in hand. Scribbling away at whatever documents had been left for you once you had recovered.

It was impossible to stop the exasperated sigh which fell from his lips as he took in the paleness of your face and the worrying sheen of sweat which had coated it.

“And why, pray tell me, aren’t you in bed where you’re supposed to be Little Fox?” Eris snarled, all comfort forgotten as he once more found himself trying to coax you back towards your bed.

With shaking hands you reluctantly place your pen down, guilty eyes meeting the burning stare of your mates unforgiving glare. “I’ve got work to finish!” You defend, gesturing to the stack of paperwork which had only grown during your absence from your job.

At your excuse, the red-haired male inhaled deeply, a disbelieving hand coming to pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance. And it wasn’t until Eris exhaled his frustrations that he allowed himself to reply as softly as he could, “work can wait until you’re feeling better.”

“It can’t,” you reason, a disappointed sigh drawing from your sickly lips, “I’m far enough behind as it is. Another day without work and I’ll never be able to catch up. Besides, I’m fine. I feel much better now.”

Whilst Eris prided himself on holding back the roll of his eyes which threatened to occur, he failed to stop the raise of his brow as you proceeded to burst into a fit of coughs after your weak-willed reassurances.

“All better?” He mused, a small smirk finding its home on his lips as he watched you pitifully try to compose yourself. Innocent eyes meeting his own as your incessant coughing eventually came to a halt.

“I have to say Little Fox, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you like going against my orders” Eris chided, slowly walking towards you as he spoke. Each step forward drawing you deeper into his hypnotic trance. “Would I be correct in assuming you keep leaving your bed because you want me to scold you?” He asks teasingly, bringing his face down to meet yours, until his playful eyes were level with your own.

“I can’t say I’d hate it if you had to take care of me” you replied honestly, unable to help the way your gaze drifted towards your mates slightly parted lips.

“Is that not what I’ve been doing all this time?” Eris feigns hurt which fails to read through his wicked smile, “Taking care of my mate?”

“I can think of a few more ways I’d like to be taken care of” you answer, hoping to be seductive but ultimately failing as another round of coughs wrack your chest.

“Later” Eris chuckled, his strong arms coming to lift you from where you were sat, “for now you need sleep.”

You furrow your brows in protest, opening your mouth to argue with your mate before he beat you to it. Eris’s soothing voice acting to calm you, “Don’t worry, I’m going to have to cuddle you just to make sure you don’t run off anywhere else.”

Eris’s warm lips came to meet your aching forehead, his kiss already working to dissipate the uncomfortable pulsating of your sore temples. Your mates healing touch enough to already have you drifting off in his comforting embrace.

“My stubborn Little Fox,” he uttered as he began to move back towards the bedroom which you shared, cradling you close to his body in hope that the heat which he emitted would soothe your aching joints, “you better feel well again soon, I’ll be waiting to deliver your punishment for disobeying me.”

You hum happily in response, nuzzling your face into his warm chest to hide your smirk of anticipation, “I’m looking forward to it, My Prince.”

It was only once you woke, when your fever had broken and the ache in your muscles had quelled, that you noticed that Eris was no longer holding you. That it was his turn to escape the comfortable confines of your sheets which had now grown cold in his absence.

Stepping out from the warmth of your covers, you walked barefoot across the cold wooden floors. Seeking the ever-lasting warmth of your mate. You followed the call, moving through the hall until you found yourself outside his office, the strong scent of crackling wood and chestnuts enough to tell you the male was waiting inside.

Cracking open the door you peered inside, noting the way Eris was slumped over the freshly inked papers you had saved to work on when your health had improved.

Your mate - your selfless, loving mate - had completed them all. No doubt seeking to ease your worries and provide you with the extra hours of rest you would no doubt need once you had woken.

Quietly pulling the door to, you move to the kitchen to prepare your love a warming tea. Because as much as Eris longed to take care of those he loved so dearly, sometimes what he needed was for someone to take care of him in return.

[charcoaldustonmyfingers]

Kinda oddly embarrassed to send this but oh my god your art is so pleasing to look at for some reason

I think it's just the soft shapes you use and how amazingly 3D everything tends to look?? Like the angles and proportions are just so perfect that I find it easy to imagine most of what you draw as a 3D model or something

And like I don't think I could nail it like you (maybe with time!!) But I am definitely taking inspiration from it because it DOES get me thinking about how you use shapes and angles and wonder if I could practice that because oh my god I wish I could absorb your art

Do you have methods or techniques to make it look so 3D? if you know what I mean? I tend to use grids to try and map out the shapes in a vaguely 3D plane, so I was wondering if you had tips kinda like that to share with the class? or if you're just winging it and it's a lot of practice?

Thank you so much!!! It really means a lot to me when others take inspiration from my art, it reminds me of all the artists I used to look up to and emulate when I was first starting out on MSPaint with a broken trackpad for a pen, you don’t have to be embarrassed! You’ll definitely be able to harness 3D space and create fantastic work, you’re already well on your way! Having passion and a desire to learn will take you far :)

My biggest focus whenever I draw is to make the characters feel real, as though you could reach out and enter the space they’re in to sit next to them on the couch. I’m so glad that I’m able to pull it off! Thanks for the rose, I’ll be sure to cherish it :)

As for my methods and techniques…

Drawing on a 3D grid plane is definitely something I do! Its perfect for comic panels or storyboards, to set the scene and ground characters or props to their environment.

I did a lot of classical study, that is life drawing and still life drawing, but simply using reference for buildings and anatomy also helps a lot and is a lot easier to find. I’d also sketch my hands, plastic animals, and my surroundings, as well as people watch for inspiration for character mannerisms or fashion. It’s useful to know a little bit about the inner workings of anatomy, as there are places were bone makes a person inflexible, while places with more muscle or fat are affected by things like gravity or pressure that change their shape. Drawing a flour sac to act out different emotions is a great way to practice weight and character acting!

Having studied animation, I did a lot of turnarounds to get characters consistent and able to be rotated in 3D space. It can be pretty tedious for some people, but it really does help solidify the characters’ shapes and design, and serves as great reference to look back on if you need it! If you don’t want to do something so stiff as a turnaround, simply drawing expressions and poses from dynamic angles helps too. I’ve found that breaking a character down into basic shapes that are easy to draw in a 3D plane also can help my anatomy and foreshortening be more accurate.

Most importantly, find something that brings you joy to draw! Every “traditional” method of study can be applied to things you like, so don’t feel the need to burn out thinking you can only draw the Mona Lisa or whatever. I’ve done anatomy studies on the Rise turtles to figure out their skeletal structure, and friends of mine have painted some mind blowing concept art inspired by Sonic and D&D!

I hope this helps some? Best of luck, and have fun! :D

Below are a couple of examples of some of my studies:

[robiinurheart33]

Soap likes it when they’re alone.

Don’t get him wrong, it’s fun when 141 are all together, the four of them kicking ass on a mission. But when it’s just two of them on a mission, it just feels.. different. Like he has Ghost all to himself. They work wonderfully together as a duo, which is probably why Price never separates them. Also probably because Gaz is his favourite, that prick. (He misses them.)

They’re currently on a stakeout, and Soap was supposed to be asleep 2 hours ago.

He’s sitting across from Ghost, dressed in his sleepwear which was a sweater and old sleeping shorts he used to wear back in secondary school. Ghost was wearing a large hoodie, some sweatpants and the mandatory balaclava. They were both sitting in front of two windows next to each other, the wooden blinds pushed open and moonlight illuminating them both. The cooling air seeps into the room, and soap breathes in deeply. He glances down towards his journal, a finger stuck between the pages, the other hand twirling the pen around. It’s quiet.

His journal is far from neat, pages sticking out waywardly and the leather ripping off from one side of the cover. Soap resists the urge to pick at it. It’s filled with notes from missions, sketches of his loved ones. Mostly sceneries of places he’s stationed at.

He looks up at Ghost staring out of the window. Soap turns his head back out the window, wondering what Ghost was specifically looking at, what he was thinking at the moment, whether he would scold soap if he said he wanted to slip out to buy some supper because he’s hungry. Soap flips back open his journal, and can feel ghost attuned to his actions, even if he wasn’t currently looking at him. Soap likes him for that. He pays attention. Soap wants to return the favour. He wants to know his ins and outs, wants to pay attention. He’s always been an attention-seeking child, which meant that most adults and classmates would ignore him. Endless nights of young dumb teenage John Mactavish sobbing into his pillow about insecurities, his future and the people around him. The things he used to do for attention, each one more drastic than the last. He can’t count the amount of times his Ma had to bail him out, the amount of stress he caused her, his dear Ma.

He likes the natural attention the army brings him, big brute having the green light to legally kill people for a living. It was liberating for a while, but eventually that too died out. At the not-so ripe age of 30-whatever, Soap learns to savour the portions of attention and praise he’s delivered, especially when he joined 141. Maybe in another universe he would be just a little easier to love, little easier to endure. It’s not something he really dwells on nowadays (lie), but he would have preferred somebody be actually interested, not just for the sake of taming him.

Soap looks back on the half-filled page of his journal, clicking open his ballpoint pen, and starts to sketch Ghost. He’s a pretty good subject, not really needing to focus a lot on anatomy since most of his face is covered anyways. He’s familiar with the strokes. He eventually gets lost in it, thoughts fading away and autopilot coming to take over the wheel, the skktch of pen on paper is repetitive and soothing to his ears. It’s the only sound between them now, the crickets and wind opting to stay out of their safe little bubble.

So when Soap looks back up again and sees Ghost looking back, he physically bristles. They lock into a strange sort of stare-off, Ghost’s eyes upturned slightly in a way Johnny knows that he found it amusing. They look at each other for about a solid ten seconds, enough time for him to memorise his blond eyelashes and his eye shape, clocking in internally on how to draw him even better, tempted to just look down and sketch them as fast as possible, so he wouldn’t forget. Ever.

“…Wha’?” Johnny’s fine with breaking first.

“You’re looking at me.”

“Astute observation, LT. Is it still night time?”

“Wha ‘ave you got for us?”

Soap covers his journal in a sort of bashful kind of way, feeling like a schoolgirl covering her diary.

“Didn’t know you got yourself a little diary.”

Soap tsks. “It’s a journal.”

“Right.” An indignant huff.

“Am’ no lying!” Soap feels heat rush to his cheeks, strangely defensive of his pride in front of his lieutenant.

“Never said you were. Drawin’ me now?” His manc accent was suddenly getting very annoying. Ghost’s eyes skirt down to his hands covering the pages, and suddenly Johnny is very aware of the skin wrapped around the muscles of his hands, down to the bone. He feels the dirt under his fingernails, the ink smudged against his fingertips and palm. He wants to turn his hands in and out, inspecting them himself to see if they’re worthy of being looked at by Ghost. Acutely aware of the sheer pressure, the weight of ghost’s attention on him, his skin gets all prickly and he wants to hide.

Is he doing that on purpose?

“Yer a good subject, never movin like a statue. It’s good for practicing my still life.” Soap’s ring finger twitches, and he knows he’s been given away.

Ghost’s eyes glint in the moonlight. His eyes are almond shaped, bigger than most. His pupils are dilated, dirt brown, like the whisky he likes to choke down. His eyelashes are long, so blonde they’re almost white. they shine so brightly soap wants to reach over and close them, just to calm his poor heart a bit. Soap wants to jab his pen into his eye. Soap knows how many strokes it takes to draw Simon’s eyes.

“…. At least get my good side, Sargent.”

“Full o’ shite, you.” he chuckles, the spell breaking as soap rests his knee up on the table and placing his journal against it. It would be a little harder to sketch ghost now, but it’ll be a cold day in hell if Ghost ever sees what he does with his journal. (Would probably be more inclined to call it a diary, old fuck.) Although, he can’t help but admit that it’s a beautiful night in this particular day. It doesn’t count that Ghost and Soap’s legs are in between each other’s under the table, just short of touching each other. It doesn’t count that Johnny pointedly ignores the way that Ghost is still looking at him from the corner of his eye. It doesn’t count that Simon allows Johnny to draw him out when he would break the neck of anyone even trying to look into his eyes too deeply.

It doesn’t count that here, in their little fake apartment with one bed, sniper gun concealed under the window, two toothbrushes side by side in a cup in the bathroom, that they allow themselves to be Simon and Johnny.

They fall back into comfortable silence, Johnny 2 hours and 30 minutes over his allotted time to sleep.

Ghost’s pov

[salvadorbonaparte]

How to set up a research journal

This is just one way you can set up a research journal but it's helping me tremendously so maybe it also works for you. My set-up is partially inspired by this video by Answer in Progress and I suggest you check out their curiosity journal.

Preparation

First you need a notebook. The trick is to find a notebook that you're not afraid to "ruin". We all want a really neat, aesthetic research journal, but the reality looks more like hasty scribbles, but that's okay, that's where the research breakthroughs happen.

I personally bought a cheap lined notebook from Søstrene Grene that I thought looked cute and put a sticker on it. That way I feel good about using it but I also don't mind when my handwriting gets messy because it was only like 3€.

You should also stock up on pens you like writing with. Different colour highlighters and post-its are also a good idea but not a must. Keep it cheap but comfortable.

Title Page

Here you should put down all the really important information: year, title, deadlines, word count, supervisors. Maybe add an inspirational quote to spice it up but keep it simple and relevant.

Key

This should either be your next or your last page. I personally use the last pages of my journal so I can add thing and find it easier. Your key is there to list abbreviations and symbols.

For example, I have different symbols for statistics, dates, new terminology, questions, breakthroughs, important notes and abbreviations for the most important terms in my field. It's shorter to write T9N than Translation.

The trick here is to have enough abbreviations and symbols to save time and effort but not so many that you constantly have to look back and forth between your page and key. They should be memorable and not easy to confuse.

Topic Mind map

If you hate mind maps you can skip this of course or use a different method but what helped me is to visualise all the topics that connect to my research project in a mind map. I then colour-coded the main groups of topics with my highlighters. It helps me to keep an overview on how many topics I need to do research on.

Proposal

If you're writing a thesis/dissertation it can be helpful to have a page set aside for your proposal and take some bullet point notes on methodology, chapter structure, research context, aims and objectives and think of some titles. You can also do this for your lit review and a list of works to include.

Hypothesis and Question Pages

I set aside four pages for this but you can adjust this to your needs. The first page is my hypothesis. It doesn't have to be fully formed yet, it can just be bullet points with five question marks. You can always revise and update it but it is important to keep an eye on what you're actually trying to find out.

The next idea is basically just stolen from Answer in Progress: a section for big questions, medium questions and little questions. These aren't necessarily hypotheses you aim to answer but questions you have about your topic that might be good to look into (maybe they lead somewhere, maybe they don't).

Research Notes

Now comes the big, fun part. Research notes are allowed to be a little messy but you should have some sort of system so you can actually find what you're looking for afterwards. I'm currently just looking at books and articles so that's what my system is based on. You can totally adjust this to include other forms of research.

What I do is that I put down and underline the author and title of my source. Underneath that I use my highlighters and mark the topic of the paper based on how I colour-coded them in my mind map. You might have to do this after you've finished reading. For example, if a text talks about censorship and dubbing in Germany, three of my topics, I will draw three lines in light blue, dark blue and red, the colours I chose for those topics. This way you can easily browse your notes and see which pages are talking about which topics.

When it comes to the actual research notes, I include the page number on the left and then take bullet point notes on whatever is relevant. These are often abbreviated and paraphrased but if something is especially important I will write down a full quote.

As mentioned earlier, I have a key of symbols I use so I can simply put down a '!' in order to differentiate a research breakthrough from a normal note. You can insert your own thoughts much more easily when you know you'll be able to tell them apart later on. At the end of each article, book or even chapter I write down my main takeaway.

Other Notes

This is your research journal and you can do with it what you want. I also added lists of films that might be relevant for my research, a list of databases and publishers to check for papers and tips on research strategy.

If you're working with interviews or surveys you could write down your questions. If you're nervous about your research you could include a list of reasons why your research project is important or why you're doing it. You can include a to-do list or a calendar to track meetings with supervisors. Anything that helps you with your research.

[mushimatsu]

choromatsu handwriting post

compiled all of choromatsus handwriting that i could find bc i love him

i realize these were all made by different teams and have different sources (anime/games/webkuji/etc) but there are some similarities between them all and i think its cute. i'll try to make it easier for ppl that cannot read japanese too

(note: some of these may or may not be valid criticisms, im not a native japanese speaker but i got my bachelors in japanese. idk if this means anything to anyone im just pointing out things that im noticing and maybe it will be interesting to you. if you notice anything else interesting feel free to add)

commonalities i noticed:

sometimes will combine multiple character strokes into one (normal thing to do, i've seen some native speakers do this)

with a few exceptions (mt takao for some reason), generally neat handwriting. proper and easy to read. not too big, not too small, not over stylized, but not messy either. very choromatsu

letter in s1e24

very nice handwriting, legible and neat. this is closest to how i think i would picture his handwriting. i know that the staff across different ososan things probably don't care too deeply about keeping minute handwriting details consistent and that's why they're all gonna look different but i like this one best for him.

new years cards in s2e13

very cute, love the stupid drawing of himself. everything very nice and tidy. to me these characters look a much curlier and rounder than the ones in the letter.

for both the letter and the new years cards it looks like he was careful to properly write out all the strokes of the kanji, even for more complicated ones like 緊張 and 就職. we see in mt takao that his handwriting gets a LOT messier. i know the real reason is because it was probably different animators that did his handwriting, but i'm choosing to believe that in canon it's because both of these are more fancy/formal letters addressed to people, whereas the trip guide is just for him and his brothers and doesn't necessarily need to look nice.

also i adore his tendency to add little drawings to things, like this and the mt takao guide he's everything

trip guide from mt. takao s3e8. his handwriting here, for some reason, is exceptionally bad especially compared to everything else. he writes like a little kid and i love his shitty little drawings. he's so cute.

my teachers would always correct my kanji down to the tiniest strokes, if i wrote like this is class i would get scolded so bad. you can see him combining his strokes together for 記念撮影, this will continue for the other pictures too. cute detail imo

the 昼 in 昼食 is definitely written wrong, but the second kanji 食 might be a little nitpicky. technically that bottom part is three different strokes, not two crossed over each other

more of him combining the strokes together. i wouldn't necessarily say that's wrong, since i've seen people do that before; it's probably just a habit that happens over time. i do it in english too

HOWEVER, he did write the 日 radical in 撮影 wrong here. previously, i thought he was just combining strokes again so that it looked like three lines instead of two (note 3 and 4 are two parallel lines, he just didn't lift his pen up)

but when you look at this it's clear that he very much did write three lines this time. that's the wrong radical

anyway

another example of him writing a two stroke character with just one. again, this is fine, ive seen people write their characters like this. however it looks bad when he does it here

i love how he wrote "campfire" i love how for some reason he didn't keep the letter sizing consistent or straight. also his little campfire drawing

１９時

キャンプ

ファイヤー

also there's two ways to write そ, its just a matter of choice its not important but he writes it the second way. and he messed up a kanji again

these next ones are maybe less canon cause they're not from the show itself

Airport Matsu

very tidy, combines a couple strokes together. both 松 (matsu) characters look like he combines the last two strokes together instead of writing them as two separate ones

and he does a similar thing with the right half of 野 in Matsuno

nostalgic moments webkuji

this one he writes every stroke and doesn't combine them and that's probably because different people worked on these and the tiny details like this don't matter to anyone but me. or you could say that he wrote a little neater in high school and started simplifying things as he got older.

Rock School

he drew himself again lol

i think his handwriting looks very good here actually. idk how to describe it but i like when handwriting looks like this specific way in japanese. i've seen other people that have handwriting like this and it just looks so nice. like the characters seem to vary in size, but somehow it makes it a little easier to read imo?

like in the first bullet point (underlined in yellow), the す in 多すぎる is a little big, but like it looks nice. in the second bullet point (blue), the の in 世の中 is slightly smaller but it emphasizes the kanji on either side of it. the stroke on the side of the か characters are written a little longer than usual (red). like it just looks nice, everything is shaped really nice and whenever i see people that have this handwriting i always try to emulate it lol

Neetpro

this one is a bit messier than the others. the way he wrote チョロ just doesn't look as nice as the way he wrote it in airport matsu and nostalgic moments. the way the て is written is more curved compared to the others. also the 界 kanji (blue) is written in a way that looks weird to me, and kara from this same set also writes the kanji that way so i think the same person might have written all of them lol

also interesting is that he writes き differently in this one

i was told by one of my professors that you're supposed to write さ and き with the upper and lower parts disconnected when writing by hand. it's only in text that they're connected. but i've still seen some people write them in the connected way

in all the other examples, choromatsu doesn't write them connected like that, just this one.

sukiya app

my lovely boy and his nonsense words and lies. the handwriting here comes off as very cutesy to me, at least compared to the others. some of the ways he writes, especially any box-like shape, seems round in a way. he also connects the right half of 野 again.

overall writes very neatly, altho a lot of the kanji here seems like its very big on the top and smaller on the bottom, and a lot of the letters seem more rounded. all the other examples just feel like the writing is a bit more angular, with the exception of the new years cards.

extra: coloring book

the way he wrote his name here is messier than the other examples. i like that he added little commentary on his own coloring though ("looks good!" "the tail was black too i believe") maybe he colored this with a paintbrush????? the strokes look as if he was trying to write quickly with a brush as if it was a pen. so maybe that's why its a little messier

anyway thanks for reading. i love choromatsu

[aajxs]

always and forever , SATORU GOJO !

the one where you're gone and satoru is reminiscing.

pairings - satoru gojo x fem!reader

contents - angstttt!!! , hurt/little comfort , mentions of death , mentions of blood , satoru gojo is bad at feelings , maybe ooc gojo (??) , arguing , idk what else to add so lmk if I missed anything

w/c - ???

a/n - the highly requested part two to 'meant to be'. I didn't really know how to end this but I hope it turned out okay 😭

masterlist , part one .

SATORU WAS ASKED the same question a lot. 'Is there anything you don't have?' He'd laugh this question off, give the person a cocky smirk and continue with his day. If he could, he'd give an entire list of things he doesn't have. Your name would be at the top of the list every time.

Satoru couldn't stand the atmosphere around jujutsu high now that you were gone. He used to sleep well knowing you were only a few rooms down peacefully sleeping, bundled in blankets and hugging whatever stuffed animal you had chosen out of your large collection that night.

Satoru always teased you about it, but that never stopped you from buying new ones. You had given him one of your favorite stuffed animals awhile back, and even though Satoru let out a laugh when you handed him the bear, he treated it with the utmost care simply because it was yours.

Before your room was emptied, Yaga allowed Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko to go through your belongings and take something to remember you by. Even if it was probably against the rules, he knew the four of you were close. The distant look in Satorus eyes said everything, and Satoru Gojo was never distant.

"Try to make it quick," Yaga said, patting Satoru on the shoulder as he walked out of the room. Your walls were littered with posters and polaroids, your nightstand had a book on it, your bed wasn't made, and everything felt so natural. Satoru knew that Suguru and Shoko would probably want some of your polaroids, so he only took the ones that had the two of you in them.

Your closet was still full of clothes. Extra uniforms because you always somehow ruined yours on missions, comfy clothes for when you weren't in your uniform, and the occasional t-shirt or pair of sweatpants that you had stolen from Satoru (He let you have them, but he always swore you took it simply because he liked being petty).

A part of him didn't want to take any of his stuff back, but he knew that if he didn't it'd probably be thrown away. Satoru went through your closet and grabbed anything that belonged to him, throwing it over his shoulder. When he was done, he turned around and strode towards your nightstand.

Satoru squatted down and opened the drawer to your nightstand and rummaged through it for a moment. There were notebooks that were mostly empty, and then sketchbooks filled to the brim with drawings. Satoru always saw you doodling whenever you got ahold of paper, and couldn't help but get curious. He would peer over your shoulder when you weren't paying attention and look at your little drawings.

He always thought it was cute how you'd keep a small notepad and a pen on you at all times just so you could draw. Whenever you and him would walk together to meet up with the others, you would occasionally stop to sketch the scenery.

"Why do you keep doing that?" Satoru questioned as he loomed next you, peeking curiously at what you were drawing. "Doing what?" You ask, glancing up at him for a moment before returning to your sketch. "You keep stopping to draw or whatever, why?" He asks again, this time a bit closer to you. "Well," You started, "It's easier than waiting until later when I don't remember all the details." You quickly explain, not caring to go into depth.

Satoru hummed and continued to watch you sketch. "I try to sketch out the base when I first see it, then make a better drawing later." You add as you glimpse at Satoru again. "Well hurry it up, we're gonna be late again." Satoru commented with a small smile, making you grin at him.

Satoru put down the notebook he was once skimming through, and grabbed one of your sketchbooks. He skimmed through it, most were of scenery, but there were a select few that caught his eye. There were a few drawings of Shoko and Suguru, and enough drawings of him that he couldn't count it on two hands.

Satoru blinked and a few tears he didn't know were welling up in his eyes fell onto the page. It was a drawing of him, it wasn't clear what he was doing in the drawing, but his face wasn't fully visible but from what he could see he looked focused. It was as if somebody snapped a photo of him and slapped it onto the page.

He cursed under his breath before picking up the notebook that he had put down earlier and placed it back inside your nightstand. After wiping his eyes, he closed the sketchbook in his hand and stared at it for a moment.

It wouldn't hurt to keep it.

Satoru took a deep breath as he stood up, taking in your scent one last time before exiting the room. Yaga was leaned against the wall, patiently waiting for Satoru to finish up. "What's with the clothes?" The teacher asked without thinking, slightly raising a brow in the process. "What do you think is with the clothes?" Satoru snapped, giving Yaga a look before trudging off to his quarters.

"Are you alright Satoru? You've been avoiding me and Shoko all day," Suguru voiced as he sauntered over to Satoru, who was sat under a large tree that was somewhat close to the school. "I'm fine, jus' been thinking, that's all." Satoru chirped back, sliding something into his pocket.

Satorus jacket was laying next to him, leaving him in his white button up. Suguru soundlessly made his way over to Satoru and sat down next to him, "Seriously, Satoru, what's up with you?" He asked gently, giving his friend a concerned look.

"I'm fine, Suguru–" Satoru began before getting cut off by a scoff from his best friend. "No you're not, tell me what's been going on." Suguru said, his voice stern. "Don't push it!" Satoru snapped his head towards the man next to him, an evident scowl on his face. Suguru visibly flinched away from Satoru.

"Ever since Y/N, you've been an asshole to everyone." Suguru said as he stood up, "She wouldn't want this." Before Satoru knew it, he was on his feet and Sugurus collar was bunched in his hands.

"Don't you dare try to tell me what she would want! You don't know her like I do!" Satoru yelled, his grip on Sugurus collar tightening by the second. "You're right, I didn't know her like you did," Suguru says, somehow keeping his composure, "And maybe I don't know you like she knew you, but I do know that this isn't you." He says while gesturing to Satoru with his hands, making his grip loosen slightly.

"I know it must hurt, but you need to understand that the rest of us are grieving too. Don't be selfish." Suguru says, and Satoru hesitantly removes his grip on his collar. "Me? Selfish? It's like I'm the only one here who actually cares!" Satoru curses, throwing his arms into the air in frustration.

"Y/N died in my arms! I came back here covered in her blood! It's almost like I'm the only one who actually gives a shit around here! Ever since the news broke, you assholes have acted like everything's normal! Like everythings not fucking ruined now that she's gone!" Satoru yells, shoving Suguru away from him, "Don't you dare try to call me selfish, you weren't there, Suguru." Satoru breathes shakily before snatching his jacket off the ground and walking off, leaving his best friend stunned.

That was the first time since your death that Satoru openly admitted that you were gone. Out of touch, in a place where not even Satoru Gojo can reach you.

After the incident with Suguru, Satoru tries hard to make it seem like he's okay. Like he's slowly getting over you. Over your death. In truth? It felt like it was getting worse. Satoru didn't eat or sleep, and he didn't have the energy or stimulation that his cursed technique required to be at its full power.

To a stranger, you and Satoru were simply best friends. Two people that understood each other through and through, even if there were a lot of ups and downs. To people close to the two of you, you were the only people who didn't realize the feelings the other had, and it caused a lot of problems in your friendship.

To Satoru, you were like his emotional support person. Better yet, his person. You were there for him when Suguru or Shoko couldn't be, you witnessed (one too many) of his breakdowns, you knew Satoru like the back of your hand. You were his and he was yours, even if neither of you realized it. Losing you meant he had one less person to lean on when things went bad.

Maybe Satoru was a little selfish after all.

The more Satoru thought about it, the more he realized your death could have been prevented. They should've given you a partner, they should've sent him or Suguru with you. If he got there a little earlier, maybe he would have been able to save you.

Satoru knew he would have to learn death sometime in his life, but if he knew you would be the first lesson, he would've let himself die a long time ago if it meant he wouldn't have to suffer the loss of you.

Satoru stared blankly up at his ceiling, recalling moments that reminded him of you.

Him and Suguru were walking in town earlier that day, and he caught a whiff of the perfume you used to wear. He froze in place and turned to look at the woman who was wearing the familiar scent, images of you flashing quickly through his mind. After that small moment, it felt as if Satorus mood had deflated like a balloon for the rest of the day.

Then, Satoru had taken off his glasses for a few minutes while in a large crowd, and a splitting migraine quickly formed. He recalled that there were many times when you two would be on the subway together, and maybe he had forgotten his glasses that day. You would drape an arm over his shoulder and cover his eyes with your hand.

You knew that his six eyes became overwhelming at times, and when he forgot his glasses it was hard for him to not look like he was in pain. You would always remind him that he needed to keep them on him at all times, and even convinced him to buy an extra pair to keep inside the pockets of his uniform just in case.

"Satoru, you can't keep forgetting them," You'd say as you held your hand over his eyes. At first he'd flinch away, and you would apologize before taking your hand away from his face. Then it'd be Satoru apologizing and grabbing your hand to place it over his eyes again, his lips curving upwards slightly at your sweet gesture.

It would always be you, that was something Satoru embedded into his mind. Even when he's older and has students of his own. Even when he's the strongest jujustu sorcerer in the world and has many people after him. Even when he's beginning to forget your face and what it felt like to hold you.

It would always be you, whether he wanted it to be or not.

© AAJXS

[hisui-dreamer]

CONGRATS ON 1K RINNAAAA :((( YOU WERE ONE OF MY FIRST MOOTS EVER AND ITS MAKES ME SO HAPPY AND PROUD THAT YOU HIT THIS MILESTONE!! THANK YOU FOR BEING ONE OF THE MOST WARM AND WELCOMING PEOPLE IVE MET IN THIS FANDOM <33 YOURE SUCH A GIFT ITS INSANE!!!!!

IM SURE THIS DOESNT SURPRISE YOU BUT!!! for the 1k event i was thinking soulmate au with azul (HEHE) except its the doodle one? LIKE WHERE YOU DOODLE ON YOUR BODY AND YOUR SOULMATES GETS THE SAME MARKINGS YK

and i have a habit of doodling sea creatures like octopi and morays on my arms and hands so i think it'd be cute for him to like, take his gloves off one day and just see a little eel on the back of his hand :((( squishy guy <3333

headcanons or a drabble is totally fine, whichever one is easier for you!!!! thank you for easing me into this fandom :(( i will never be able to thank you enough for making my anxious ass WAY less nervous <3 and no pressure if this doesnt inspire you ofc hehe you're never obligated to write anything !!! :D

the doodles that drew us together

Pairing: Azul Ashengrotto x gn!reader

Synopsis: Azul thought all his life he didn't have a soulmate...

Tags: soulmates au (doodling), reader is yuu, fluff, comfort, reader likes sea creatures, bot proofread

Word count: 591

Notes: aubbie thank you so much!!! I'm so glad we became moots, you're one of my closest friends and everything I see something azul related I think of you haha! I hope you'll enjoy this azul soulmate au ♪⁠ヽ⁠(⁠･⁠ˇ⁠∀⁠ˇ⁠･⁠ゞ⁠)

Masterlist

Azul had been fascinated by the idea of soulmates as a young mer

it was something that gave him hope, that despite all the other mean mers who would make fun of him, there was someone out there who would understand him and love him

and so he kept drawing on his arm, doodles of shells and other fish that caught his eye

but there wasn't any response.

maybe his doodles were too ugly and his soulmate didn't like them?

and so he learned to draw better, drawing again and again, hoping he would get a response

but still not a single mark would appear on him

it had been a tough blow to him, but he eventually accepted that he didn't have a soulmate

if he was going to be alone for all his life, then he had to take care of himself (because nobody would)

he became super greedy and selfish, always prioritising himself and his materialistic needs

although he also had a friendship with the tweels, he really only befriended them because they could help him out (but he did get attached to them over time)

and so, he opened the mostro lounge and became the sly businessman that we all know

on the first day of his second year, as he was going over documents after closing the lounge, he felt a slight tingle in his hand

Azul's eyebrow rose in response to an unexpected sensation. A peculiar warmth, like a gentle caress, emanated from the back of his gloved hand. Intrigued, he swiftly removed his gloves, revealing smooth, pale skin. A gasp of astonishment escaped his lips as his eyes fell upon a minuscule masterpiece, a tiny, adorable octopus delicately inked in pen.

"Is this...real?" Azul murmured, his voice tinged with disbelief. A surge of hope surged through his entire being, dispelling the weight that had burdened him for far too long.

With a trembling hand, he grasped his own pen and cautiously began to sketch his own octopus upon his wrist, with one tentacle reaching out, holding hands with your octopus.

And he can't stop he smile that graces his lips when a little heart appears between the two octopi.

What a hectic day it had been! For a magicless student to arrive in NRC and for him to finally connect with his soulmate!

...?

Oh. Azul had to speak to said magicless student as soon as possible.

when the two of you start being a couple, Azul does everything and anything for you

when you're in exams and your nervously doodling sea creatures, he'll draw some flowers nearby to help calm you down

no he doesn't help you cheat by writing you the answers, he's already given you the perfect study materials, you shoud put in some effort too

he gets jealous if you draw other sea creatures too much though, especially moray eels

he lets you work at the lounge with a very high pay, making sure you're not working too hard, and always offers to tutor you if you're struggling

his soulmate had to go to a different world just to find him, you'll be sure he helps to settle in and hopefully never leave again

Insert clingy octopus wrapping his tentacles all around you because he can't bare to let you go

when you have dates and appointments, he'll help remind you by writing on his arm

this man has waited for you his entire life, he's ready to lay the world down at your feet if you ask him to

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

[juuuulez]

📰 | part twelve: capulet.

info: Carl Grimes x Saviour!Reader, no pronouns used for reader, slow burn, teenagers in love, cute Judith moments, dialogue heavy chapter, kinda just pure fluff, reader is an artist.

summary: You, Carl and Judith share a picnic away from all the troubles of war. Alternatively: the calm before the storm.

okay this was so so so so so cute!!! a very dialogue heavy chapter, but juicy so hopefully you all enjoy!!

next chapter will be…a LOT (pretty angsty) because guys it is our LAST CHAPTER!!! then there will be an epilogue to package everything up nicely

don’t worry, there will be waaayyy more xSaviour!Reader one shots to come because it’s my favourite trope, and i can work through tones of cute requests to keep us all with our required dose of carl grimes ;P

-> masterlist <-

You watched as Judith scribbled with her crayons, drawing nonsensical shapes and patterns onto her page. She seemed at peace with your presence, which made you a little bitter, knowing nobody else from Alexandria could ever see you in this light. After catching your staring, a chubby hand reached out, offering you a crayon.

“What’re we drawing?” You asked, leaning down to hover next to Judith. She didn’t answer, giving you that shy little smile, but nonetheless pushed a piece of paper towards you.

“It’s easier to find crayons than pens now,” Carl remarks, seated next to you on the blanket, “Do you guys have pens? At the Sanctuary, I mean.”

“Yeah. We’ve got pens.” You entertain the small talk, drawing a tree onto the page in waxy blue crayon. It starts out as a vague shape, though you slowly give it more and more detail, hatching in shading and even patches of grass at its base.

The silence resumes, though you’re content with that. Carl is, too. He’s just happy to have your attention, in a scenario without Alexandria or the Saviours or a war.

Despite this, you find yourself talking again, unable to keep these thoughts bottled up. Sometime, when you’re nervous, you run your mouth. Maybe Carl is making you nervous.

“Judith is lucky to have you.” You tell him, still colouring on the page. The admission catches Carl’s attention, and though he isn’t shocked with its contents, he’s a little surprised by the blatant display of.. vulnerability? He isn’t used to you being so personal.

“I know,” He agrees, “My dad says that family is the most important thing nowadays. He’s right.”

The idea leaves you thinking for a moment, and Carl can practically see the gears turning in your head. He liked digging deeper, seeing what made you tick, what was going on underneath those walls.

“Yeah,” You end up nodding, “I think I agree.”

“Y’know, that’s why we won’t punish you. When this war ends.”

It garners your attention, finally looking up from the paper. Carl is sitting next to you, whilst you’re lying on the blanket with Judith. He looks serious, but maybe a little solemn, not intending to steer the conversation down this dark path, yet viewing it necessary to discuss. He wants to be on the same page.

“My dad won’t kill Negan,” Carl continues, sounding quite sure of himself. “He thinks he will, but he won’t. I’ll convince him. I know I can.”

You look back down at the page, but don’t continue colouring. It’s a weird idea, that Rick would spare Negan. You couldn’t see how that would happen. But knowing Carl wanted to advocate for peace was nice. Comforting.

“Negan’s gonna kill Rick.” You eventually tell him, though it doesn’t hold the same certainty. It’s a bitter reality, loosing faith in your own people, yet with each day, this war is seeming more difficult to win.

Yet you know one thing. If given the chance, Negan would kill Rick. You knew he would. Carl knew it, too.

“That’s why you guys can’t win.” He tells you, not sounding too proud of the fact. Months ago, and he would’ve happily rubbed this in your face. But now, it made him feel a little nauseous.

You let the silence sit for a moment, and Carl worries he’s upset you. He hasn’t, but the whole situation is upsetting. Not that it’s his fault, which you keep reminding yourself.

So, you speak quietly, trying to be nice. “Can we not talk about this?” You suggest, throwing another glance up at Carl.

He takes pity on you, understanding that this was supposed to be a break from everything, though he feels a little better knowing the idea doesn’t make you outright hostile.

Carl lies down on the blanket, next to you, on his back whilst you lay on your stomach. He tilts his head towards you and Judith, brown hair pooling on the blanket and falling over his shoulders, bangs sweeping over his eyepatch.

You get an idea, shifting a little, focusing a tad harder on the drawing. One arm holds the crayon, and your other creates a barrier between Carl and the paper. Though, he doesn’t seem very focused, instead watching you.

“Does your head hurt?” He asks, eyes unconsciously drawn to the bandage wrapped around your head. It was almost silly, the way you matched, but Carl struggled to find any joy in that fact.

“Kinda. Just a headache,” You tell him, still drawing. At one point, Judith reaches out, trading you a yellow crayon in exchange for the blue one. “Did you find the bastard who shot me?”

Carl scoffs, a smile spreading onto his face. “Yeah. Someone from the Kingdom. Nobody you’ve gotta worry about, though.”

You roll your eyes, unbeknownst to how Carl inspects every inch of your face. “Who names their community the ‘Kingdom’? Pretentious assholes.”

“Like the ‘Sanctuary’ is any better.” He points out, which forces a smile onto your face, knowing that he has a point. It is a little silly.

Judith reaches out again, handing you a red crayon. You take it, giving her the yellow one you’d been working with, to which she happily continues scribbling on her side of the paper.

“Do you ever wish that things were normal?” Carl asks, once again prompting conversation. “Like.. would we have been friends, otherwise?”

“We aren’t even friends now,” You point out, sparing him a glance and smiling at his curious expression. So cute. “But no.. I don’t mind things how they are. I didn’t like my normal very much.”

This causes Carl to think, pondering on that statement. A light breeze brushes past, tussling his hair slightly, though he remains focused on you, looking so peaceful while you draw.

“Your normal… with Negan?” He begins, hoping that you would get the hint and fill him in. All this time, and yet he knows nothing about you.

You take the hint, giving a small shrug. “No. With my father.”

Carl tries to read your expression, to gauge how deep this wound is, but he struggles. “You didn’t get along very well?” He asks, voice soft and free of judgment.

It isn’t difficult to read your behaviour these past months. You’re snappy, easily agitated, and weirdly flighty yet strong and resilient at the same time. In many ways, your attachment to Negan is unnatural, though Carl presumed there to be a driving factor behind it all.

“No,” You confirm, “He was a heartless bastard.”

Carl nods, still lying on his back. The silence doesn’t last for long, as he still has more questions. “Did you have any other family?”

His curiosity didn’t piss you off, like it usually would. Maybe it’s because your guard was down, or maybe you felt you owed it to Carl, to open up with him a little.

“I had a sister. Younger,” You begin, speaking whilst you draw, “But she died at eight weeks old. My mother died with her, in childbirth. She was nice.”

There are a few beats where nobody talks. Even Judith has stopped playfully mumbling, though she pays no mind to your conversation. Your gaze flickers up to Carl, finding that he’s still watching you, seeming to be in thought. It’s like he sees something more: something beneath your surface, something you can’t even touch.

Or maybe he just relates. It’s surprising how much Carl understands you, to the point where he’s a little unsettled by it.

“Don’t ask depressing questions if you don’t want the answer.” You finally chime, trying to clear the air of this strange tension.

“No, it’s not that. I get it.” Carl concludes, his voice remaining in that soft tone, one that makes the hairs on your neck stand up. He doesn’t want you to feel bad.

You nod, reassuring him. “I know you do.”

Having such a personal conversation is strangely liberating. It makes you feel good, better than you usually do, better than anybody has had the ability to make you feel. For once, there’s a sense of peace, as you know Carl understands you.

The silence returns, but it’s pleasant this time. Trees in the distance rustle slightly in the wind, an atmosphere void of groaning corpses or yelling and fighting. You’ve never experienced that.

After a few more etches with the crayon, the drawing is complete. You spin around the piece of paper, sliding it to Carl with a smile. “For you.”

Carl sits up on his elbows, taking the paper to inspect it. It’s a sketchy crayon drawing of… well, him. Lying there, on the blanket. It’s surprisingly realistic, shapes accurately blocked out in a combination of yellow, blue, and red crayon. The very edge of his hat had been coloured in, messy pink scribbled roughly inside the lines by Judith

“When did you do this?” He asks, not having noticed you creating this masterpiece throughout the duration of the conversation.

You stifle a laugh. “Just then. I was gonna let Judith keep colouring it in.”

Carl nods, still fixated on the drawing. Nobody has ever drawn him before. “Can I.. keep this one?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll make Judith something else to colour.” You agree, already pulling out another piece of paper to sketch something a little simpler. Though you viewed that drawing of Carl a breeze, he was amazed by how you’d managed it in such a short amount of time.

“I didn’t know you could draw.” He says, finally taking his eyes off the paper, to inspect your newest creation. This time he’s set on paying attention, wanting to watch how it comes together.

That, and he thinks it’s very sweet that you were drawing with the intention of letting Judith colour. A lot of artists would probably be protective of their work, but yours served the sole purpose of making others happy.

You decide to draw the tree line, using an unnatural colour like orange to outline the landscape, in hopes that Judith would colour it green. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” You tell him, a strangely cagey answer, but Carl isn’t put off.

“I do want to know you.” He urges, and the conviction in his tone causes you to glance up at him, before back down at the page.

“You will. Maybe when this is all over.” You land on responding, an answer Carl can’t be unhappy with, as it fills him with the semblance of hope that you’re willing to open up to him. That you see a future where you get along.

He sets the artwork down, laying back on the blanket. “So… you agree? That all this will end?” He tests the waters with another question about the war.

“Don’t push your luck.” You immediately shut him down, a playful grin on your face.

Carl doesn’t mind, not when he’s already picked your brain so far. To him, you’re like a stray cat, any further and you’d start hissing and run away. He’d like to maintain this peace for a little longer.

So, Carl laid there whilst you drew an illustration for Judith. Eventually, the toddler gleamed with joy when you handed it over, eagerly scribbling in the lines with her colours. It was messy and unorganised, but brought you happiness to see that she was so immersed.

The two of you soaked in the sunshine, enjoying the quiet surrounding the clearing and absence of responsibility. Carl had somehow managed to coax you closer, to lay next to him, his hand guiding your head to his shoulder. It felt good, and you weren’t used to letting yourself feel good.

He ran his hand through your hair, careful not to disrupt the bandaged wound, finding it surprisingly soft. In a way, a lot of you was soft, and sweet. It was just buried underneath this rubble of anger and aggression, but Carl knew he could wiggle it out.

When this whole war ended, he hoped you’d be happier.

Regardless, the picnic was a nice getaway, though you tried not to seem too bothered when the sun had begun to set, and you knew you’d return to the Hilltop. It wasn’t your home. It was just some place where they held you captive.

“You’ll actually come and visit me, right?” You end up asking Carl as the pair of you pack up, you holding Judith while Carl stuffs the blanket into his bag.

He nods, “I will. I’ll come by your room every day until Negan takes this deal. Promise.”

That satisfies you, for now. At least you’d have some company, though the idea of being a hostage any longer was slightly sickening. For now, you’d put it out of your mind.

Carl leads you back up the hill out of the clearing, finding the car that he’d hidden away. You throw the bag onto the car’s floor, and buckle Judith into the back seat while he gets it started.

However, the bags zip wasn’t done up, fabric splaying open slightly to reveal that Carl had accidentally left the gun inside. It’s shameful that your first thought is to steal it: make an escape right now, leave for the Sanctuary and screw up this entire plan.

You lean down, palming the metal object. It would be a pretty large hike up there, but worthwhile if it gave the Saviours any power. Carl wouldn’t be able to stop you, as long as you had his gun.

Biting your lip, you pocketed it for the time being, coming to sit in the passenger side.

“When we get back, I’ll go ask Michonne how the deal is going. She’ll probably end up telling me,” Carl suggests, “You’ll feel a little better knowing what’s going on.”

The suggestion catches you off guard, watching Carl with a slightly surprised expression as it sinks in. That he’s willing to give you information simply to provide peace of mind. It’s a stupid idea, really, betraying the trust of Michonne and Rick and everyone else… but it’s sweet.

“You left this in the back.” You end up telling Carl, offering him the handgun. The words spill out before you can hold them back.

His brows furrow in concern, and mild irritation at his own forgetfulness, accepting the gun and hooking it back into his belt. “Shit. Thanks, wouldn’t want Judith grabbing it.”

The engine starts in a low rumble, filling the silence as you begin to drive back. Guilt wells in your stomach for even thinking about turning on Carl, and for the better part of the drive, you settle for watching the boy as opposed to the scenery.

“You alright?” He eventually asks, sparing you a glance before looking back to the empty expanse of road.

“Mhm,” You hum, “Just… grateful that you did all this..”

The admission causes Carl to grin, feeling an unfamiliar swell of pride, your thankful attitude boosting his ego. Even without words, the look he gives you makes you scoff, rolling your eyes and looking out the window.

A smile still grows on your face, knowing that he’s earned this victory. You reach out towards the dash, taking Carl’s hand and just holding it while he drives, allowing him to revel in his prize for a little longer.

taglist: @ilov3carlgr1mes @eminemxxeminem @strxwbxrrymarx @ilaaishi @iamaslytherin0 @grimeslvrr @anotherbook-obsessedhoe @kmsatm @ilovespiderpeople @hearts4mitski4 @jkvolgs @mysouleaten

[physalian]

There’s this unskippable Google AI ad on YouTube where this girl consults the robot about how to cancel dinner plans with the people across the table in the most annoying voice (likely because I have seen this ad now and had to listen to her asinine questions 20 times at least) and this ad, right here, speaks to my frustration around AI:

It disincentivizes critical thinking.

I know the ad is a joke and meant to be lighthearted and I’m only this annoyed because it’s unskippable and irritating af, but every time I see it all I can think is “if you can’t manage enough creativity and critical thinking to come up with your own excuse to cancel on your friends, maybe you shouldn’t have those friends.”

I have a relative who is firmly in the ChatGPT camp and, for example, yesterday I was trying to figure out how to compress a video file and was venting to them about it. They sent me back something I didn’t read from ChatGPT. Meanwhile, I looked up a YouTube video and figured out how to do the rest on my own, and getting the file compressed was immensely satisfying. Far more than mindlessly and thoughtlessly consulting the robot.

“It’s just like a YouTube video!” They’d told me.

No, a real person put time and effort into that video. That robot stole their content without their consent, didn’t credit them, and spat it back out. I used to patronizingly refer to ChatGPT as "the magic conch" and now I can barely do that anymore because that metaphor is becoming all-too real.

While I can understand the barriers it lowers—like if you struggle with writing the robot does it for you, or if you need a piece of art and are too poor, you can generate it for free. Mindless, repetitive tasks that eat up creative juices that can just be automated by a robot, too (even though everyone can tell when a response is canned and artificial and no one appreciates talking to a machine).

If you keep consulting ChatGPT for how to articulate what you want to say, or just straight-up having it do the hard work for you, you’re never going to learn. Yes it’s taken me 8 years to reach the quality and skill of writing I have but as another Tumblr post out there said: The time will pass anyway.

I can’t draw to the skill level that I’d like to. Doesn’t mean I’m not going to keep practicing until I get there. I thrive off that sense of accomplishment. There’s no little hit of dopamine from typing in a prompt and clicking a button and I certainly don’t appreciate the final product scalped without consequence from real artists.

Or, like when I had to fire a beta reader for flagrant abuse of AI in her work: I can copy-paste my manuscript into ChatGPT, too. I’d paid her for a human response, not garbage feedback that couldn’t understand what I was writing beyond that there were words on the page. I wanted so badly to ask her why she does a job in a creative field if she's just going to have a robot do all the fun parts? I beta read at a great loss of profit because I enjoy beta reading and it's a fiercely competetive market. Surely if she wanted to scam people, she could have done so in so many other ways. You don't need to know how to pen complex prose in your every day life, but by god, you do need to know how to effectively communicate, contextualize, and argue your perspective and this ridiculous ad joking about cancelling dinner plans sure is funny, until it isn't.

And I know the people who made AI probably did so with the best of intentions but people can be lazy and cheap and we love taking shortcuts to save money and I stand by this: "Your scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could, they didn't stop to think if they should."

So. Yeah. This is a writing advice blog and this post has almost nothing to do with it, but that ad annoys me to no end and I had to say something somewhere about it. Bottom line: Robots were supposed to make the hard jobs, the monotonous jobs, the overcomplicated jobs, the belittling jobs easier, not make us all into pudding-boned Wall-E people. If you want to write, learning is absolutely free - write on the back of your grocery receipts for all I care. If you want to draw, pick up a notebook and pack of pencils from the local dollar store and start drawing.

What you made will always mean more to you than something that didn't cost you time, effort, brain power, or even money to obtain.

[sutherlins]

Down In The Heart SydCarmy Short Set about 2 and a half years after their first date written for my beloved @conceived-angel

I love the taste of you in the morning Maybe if I'm lucky, you might stay the afternoon I love the thought of us in the evening I knew you were the real thing When you walked through the door

Carmy took the front entrance to The Bear for a change, smiling at the sign in the window as he unlocked the door.

The Bear will be closed until July 1st due to a family event. We are excited to welcome our guests back to dine with us then. Thank you.

Once inside he locked the door again and dumped his things on the bar, making himself a coffee and returning to his desk for the day.

It had been almost an hour and the only thing on his notebook was her name.

Sydney.

It wasn’t that he didn’t have things to put down, it was how to put the magnitude of his feelings into words that was his struggle. He was so engrossed in the paper in front of him he didn’t hear the back door open, or the footsteps making their way closer. Didn’t notice until a hand tapped the notepad and pulled him from his thoughts.

“You good?” Nat laughed

“Yeah, no, yeah.”

“That a yeah, a no or a yeah?”

Carmy laughed and closed the notepad. “I’m great, just struggling to write my vows.”

“Ahhhh.”

“How did you write yours?”

“We got married in Chapel remember?”

“Oh yeah, no freestyling.”

“No freestyling.” She laughed, and poured herself a glass of water. “We did write each other a letter to read in the morning though. Pete wrote about our first date and everything he wanted us to do in life together”

He couldn’t help but smile at the way her hand stroked at her ring at the memory. “What did you write about?”

“The little moments. They mean more to me than the big ones.”

“I love the little moments too.”

“Then write that.” Nat grabbed her bag and then took a folder from under the bar. “You good?”

“Yeah, where you going?”

Nat smiled at his question. “To meet my soon to be sister in law, we left the vendor shit here a few days ago.” She said tapping the folder in her hand.

Carmy smiled at just the thought of his future bride. “Tell her I love her.”

“She already knows but I will, and... Bear?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t overthink it. Little moments. The important shit.”

“Thanks, Sug’”

Natalie left him alone once more and he opened his phone, swiping through his photos, the last image he took was from that morning, she was in bed, sitting up against the headboard, smiling at him. He put his pen to paper.

Sydney, I used to dread mornings and wish for the next one to never arrive, and then I found you, and now the idea that every morning I get to wake up with my arms around you make me think a life I no longer wanted to live will never be long enough.

He returned to his phone, swiping through photos that included meals, his nieces, and things around Chicago he wanted to draw. It wasn’t long before he came across another photo of Sydney. This one was taken late one evening, she was sitting on the sofa, the sun setting outside the window behind her and she was staring at the TV, her face was set in a soft smile and he had taken the photo because it was easier to do that than confront how overwhelmed he felt in his love for her. The ink started to flow as his feelings spilled out.

Sydney, nights used to be so lonely, nothing could tear me away from the kitchen because finding distractions from my life got me through the days. Now the only distraction is you. You tear me away from everything just by existing and I’ve never been happier. In those quiet evenings when I get to sit with you, I wonder how I survived before you. There will always be a before you, but there will never be an after and I’d go through all of the before a million times again to end up here with you.

He swiped some more, the photo making him laugh, it was a photo of her through the peep hole of the apartment door. The small window making a fish eye lens and she had her face pressed close to the door making it even funnier to him. He was writing once more before he even realized.

Sydney, the first time you walked through a door and into my life something shifted cosmically. Every time you walk into a room I’m in it’s like that day all over again, the world shifts a little, and everything wrong corrects itself.

He brought his phone back out, swiping some more. The photo of him and Sydney at the park, the bright mid day sun shining in the sky. The photo had been taken by Gia. The angle was low, as she pointed the camera up at them. That day they had been on babysitting duties and he’d had a sudden vision of a future date, their own kids joining them.

Sydney, to be your husband and the father of our children will be the greatest accolade I could ever achieve in my life. I will spend every day of my life making sure you know that. The lazy or rushed mornings, the content or chaotic afternoons, the slow and relaxed or the frenetic nights - as long as the rest of mine are spent with you I don’t care what they look like. I am so excited to be your husband, and have you as my wife.

Just as he was about to put his phone away it rang out with an incoming face time call. He swiped, smiling as she appeared in front of him.

“There was an issue with the napkins so we need to pick new ones. What do you think?” She jumped right in, ignoring the pleasantries and she switched the camera, pointing the phone at five napkins. He liked the second one, the simplicity of it. He knew she would like the third one the most, the little ruffle trim was something she would love.

“I like the third one the best.” He lied.

“You do? Me too, okay gotta go, love you!”

“Love you too.”

The call disconnected and he put his phone away, packing up his stuff and heading home, grateful for a life that gave him Sydney.

~

On the day of their wedding, with his hand in hers, he let her lead them to their sweetheart table. As they passed through the long rows of tables he admired the way the tables were set up, and the ruffled napkins lining the tables.

When they finally got to their own seats he laughed hard and kissed her deep when he spotted their place settings, the simple napkins he secretly liked more sitting beside their plates.

[dorims]

make you fix me [ sneak peak ]

gif creds @/endiness

roman roy x therapist!reader

wc. ~550

genre. fluff, angst,

spiraling into a more than confusing dynamic, roman roy's relationships have always disrupted the balance between professionalism and an HR complaint. It wasn't his fault his authentic-roy-ways didn't follow the 'being a decent human being' guidebook. People fell in love with their therapists all the time anyway, and being a nepo-baby billionaire didn't save him of that fate.

tags. WORKING TITLE, NO BETA AS OF RN, prone to grammar mistakes !! the story is set some time after s4 as of rn, gif is not representative of the timeline this takes place in, allusions to abuse, being dismissive of therapy, roman uses the word looney as an insult once, tags will be added as the story progresses, these are mainly for the text below the cut

a/n. this is a little sneak peak of one my wips! the full document has 3.5k words ish but im aiming for at least 7k, maybe a little more. if anyone wants to join the tag list for this fic please send me an ask off anon or with your url

“Are you writing that down?” He frowned, “why are you writing that down? I literally just said I wasn’t.”

Yet again, another bold demonstration of your therapeutic ineptitude. You dared to look up at him for a couple of seconds too long, scanning him over until his eyes widened in confusion while he jostled his hands in the air, preparing to retaliate. But just when he started stringing words together, you decided to start what seemed like a new sentence.

“What are you even writing?!” He wanted to tear all his hair from the roots. “I haven't said anything!”

“Well, you have.”

“It doesn’t matter!” Groaning in protest, he scooted closer to the edge of the couch, almost like he wanted to stand up. “I said nothing that means anything.”

“Then,” you clicked your pen, and his gaze immediately zeroed in on your fingers toying with the shiny metal. He gulped, knowingly so, like waiting for the stationary to stab him in the neck. But nothing had happened, and instead, he missed the way you [had noticed] “There’s nothing you should worry about.”

His shoulders dropped with the heavy weight of being scrutinized. One would have thought he would’ve been used to it by now. But from experience, he had learned that the everlasting bitterness of getting examined under a microscope would always linger. No matter what he tried, the only way of coping with it was to wait for it to pass with his tail between his legs. 

“Can you just like stop? Writing?” With his elbows resting on his knees and his face burrowed against the nook of his hands, his voice came out pityingly muffled, much like the hint of the child he had been tasked to cast aside way too soon.

 “Why?”

“Because, it’s, fuckin’ weird?” He forced himself to stare straight at the spot right between his Oxfords, shaking his head in disbelief as he attempted a laugh. “I’m not paying you to scribble on your looney book.”

You had hummed once more, and he had wanted to tell you to stop. With his gaze still zeroed on the floor, he failed to notice how the plain Moleskin had been pushed to the side, neatly closed in a genuine display of concern. Or as genuine as a therapist would allow themselves to be during their first session. 

“Then what are you paying me for?”

“To like, you know,” he shrugged in disbelief. “Ask me to draw a stick figure under the rain and tell me how to fix this.”

“Fix this?”

“Yeah, this.” The words had left his tongue sitting, heavy in his mouth, and the rest that wanted to tumble out felt foreign in size and shape, though similar in weight to that of shame. The same one that had seeped from between his teeth and gums and skin countless times when the inconceivable consequences of his actions caught up to him growing up. Shame so thick it would put blood to shame, though they sure shared the same taste. And it had always been easier to spit it out in private, drown the aftertaste with fierce scrubbing and hide the searing imprints on his cheeks underneath the covers. But the walls surrounding him were no longer the ones in his childhood bedroom, and you were still waiting on an answer. “Fix, I don’t know…me?”