#oc scene

[mothrotz]

Old Will n Nikki from A few months ago :3

[animalsjaw]

piece i just finished of my friend's oc, diablo. traced some parts of the ref but i sketched over 'em

do not repost, reuse, or use to train ai.

[shiri-qi0]

Attack on Darkxada!! (Af)

[nylonfizz]

All she wanted to do was help

[simple-study-of-story]

“You wanna know something I've noticed about you?” Haeli leaned against the bars of Austra's cell. “You don't have much of a sense of self-preservation. Can you tell me why that is?” Austra was silent. “Do you even know why that is?” Haeli stared at her. “Come on, I'm trying to have a conversation with you.”

She glanced up at her and moved to a corner between the wall and bars, leaning back and closing her eyes. Haeli moved closer to her, sitting down as she heard Austra mumble something. “What was that?”

“… Your voice is loud.”

Haeli chuckled. “What, you want me to whisper?”

She shook her head slightly. “Am I safe here?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Austra didn’t respond for a while. “What happened to… to him?”

“Who?”

“The one who… the one leading the charge.”

“Uh… painfully golden full face mask of the sun?” Austra nodded slightly. “You’ll be happy to hear that we lost him; we weren’t able to capture him, so we expect your rescue within the coming days.”

She shook her head. “No. No… rescue.”

“A lot of people say they won’t be rescued, they’re too unimportant or whatever, but that’s almost always false.”

“No. I mean…” She glanced up at her, then back down, sighing. “Don't let them. Please…”

“What?”

“Don't let them take me back.”

Haeli was silent. She turned to get a better look at Austra. Her short blue hair was mixed with dirt and maybe some flakes of dried blood; it was hard to tell at the distance she was at. She tried hiding it, but Haeli could tell her hands were shaking, her whole body was shaking. It was hard to tell if she was scared or anxious because of the current situation or from a possible future scene. Her hands and arms were covered in faded scars, like shadows on her tanned skin. The veins under her skin stuck out as well, forming a spiderweb-like road map from her elbow to her fingertips. Her eyes seemed distant and blank, dully looking at the opposite corner of the room, and her face looked frail, her cheeks sunken.

Must be some sort of drug. If she were addicted, shouldn't she been trying to fight her way back to them? Haeli thought, then she shook her head. There's more I need to know before making assumptions, but she doesn't look to be in a talking mood. Surely no harm in trying though, right? “Your real name isn't Austra, is it?”

Austra hesitated. “N… no…”

“Can you tell me what your real name is?”

“… Can you tell me your real name?”

Haeli thought for a second. “Good point. How about this: we prevent your rescue - that is what you want, right? - and I tell you my name in exchange for yours. Does that seem fair?”

Austra was silent. Haeli could tell that she was confused. After all, she had offered her two gifts - her protection and Haeli's identity - for the price and exchange of her identity; she didn't even suggest that Austra tell her what other knowledge she knew about the Syndicate and their alliance with Scria. It was a very risky gamble.

“… You promise to stop them from rescuing me…?”

“Mhm.”

“Simply in exchange for my name?”

“Yep.”

Austra looked at her closely. Haeli could feel her eyes studying her. “Swear to Vier.”

Haeli hesitated and chose her words carefully: “On Vier's name and domain, I swear… to… keep you… safe… and away… from rescuers from Scria, including but not limited to the Burning Sun Syndicate, in exchange for your name.”

Haeli saw Austra's shoulder relax slightly. “May Vier hear those words and uphold you to your promise,” Haeli heard her sigh. She could hear the tension in her voice almost melt completely. Almost. A risky gamble, she reminded herself.

“So, your name?”

“Nova.” It sounded like it was the first time she felt her true name on her lips. “My name is Nova.”

“Very pretty name, Nova.” Haeli's voice softened with a smile. She could tell Nova rested all her hopes on the oath. “I'm curious to know how much you know about me before i reveal my identity.”

Nova thought for a bit, then responded, “With your mask on, you are Rose Gold, leader of The Roses of Adelphie.”

Haeli hummed in agreement. “Anything else you know?”

“Yes.” Nova paused. “I do believe I should hold you to your deal first.”

“Tell you my name first?” Nova nodded. “Hm… you did tell me yours first…” Haeli removed her mask and extended her hand through the bars. “Nice to meet you, Nova. My name is Haeli.”

[illarian-rambling]

Yay, unsolicited advice time! Or, not really advice, more like miscellaneous tips and tricks, because if there's one thing eight years of martial arts has equipped me to write, it's fight scenes.

.

Fun things to add to a fight scene (hand to hand edition)

It's not uncommon for two people to kick at the same time and smack their shins together, or for one person to block a kick with their shin. This is called a shin lock and it HURTS like a BITCH. You can be limping for the rest of the fight if you do it hard enough.

If your character is mean and short, they can block kicks with the tip of their elbow, which hurts the other guy a lot more and them a lot less

Headbutts are a quick way to give yourself a concussion

If a character has had many concussions, they will be easier to knock out. This is called glass jaw.

Bad places to get hit that aren't the groin: solar plexus, liver, back of the head, side of the thigh (a lot of leg kicks aim for this because if it connects, your opponent will be limping)

Give your character a fighting style. It helps establish their personality and physicality. Are they a grappler? Do they prefer kicks or fighting up close? How well trained are they?

Your scalp bleeds a lot and this can get in your eyes, blinding you

If you get hit in the nose, your eyes water

Adrenaline's a hell of a drug. Most of the time, you're not going to know how badly you've been hurt until after the fact

Even with good technique, it's really easy to break toes and fingers

Blocking hurts, dodging doesn't

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Just thought these might be useful! If you want a more comprehensive guide or a weapons edition, feel free to ask. If you want, write how your characters fight in the comments!

Have a bitchin day <3

[luna-azzurra]

How to Write a Death Scene

So, you want to write a death scene that hits your readers hard, right? Something that sticks with them, makes them feel something real?

First, give the death meaning. You can’t just toss in a death for the shock factor and call it a day. Even if it’s sudden or unexpected, the death has to matter to the story. Think about how it changes things for the characters who survive. Does it mess with their relationships? Their goals? Make sure this moment sends ripples through the rest of your plot. It’s gotta affect everything that happens after, like an emotional earthquake.

Then, think about timing. You don’t want to drop a death scene at the wrong moment and ruin the vibe. If it’s part of a big heroic moment or a heartbreaking loss in the middle of the story, it should feel earned. The timing of the death decides how your readers will react, whether they feel relief, gut-wrenching sorrow, or are totally blindsided. The right moment makes all the difference.

Next up, focus on the characters’ emotions. Here’s the thing, it's not always the actual death that makes a reader cry, it's how everyone feels about it. How do the characters react? Is the person dying scared, or are they at peace? Are the people around them in shock, angry, or just completely destroyed? You need to dive deep into these emotions, because that’s where your reader connects.

Make sure to use sensory details to pull readers into the scene. What does it feel like? The sound of their breathing, the stillness when they’re gone, the way everything feels heavy and wrong. Little details make the death feel real and personal, like the reader is right there with the characters, feeling the weight of the moment.

If your character has the chance, give them some final words or actions. What they say or do in those last seconds can really hit hard. Maybe they share a piece of advice, ask for forgiveness, or try to comfort the people around them. Even a simple gesture, a smile, a touch, a last look can leave a lasting impression. This is your last chance to show who this character was, so make it count.

Finally, don’t just stop when the character dies. The aftermath is just as important. How do the survivors deal with it? Does your main character fall apart, or do they find a new sense of purpose? Are there regrets? Peace? Whatever happens next should be shaped by the death, like a shadow that never quite goes away. Let your characters carry that weight as they move forward.

[kabumisun]

read left - > right

she ace on my trap til i pola

[chubsette]

Since I'm here, I might as well share this, which I drew for a friend while discussing the many benefits of a fat body, like the two scholars we are

[choccy-milky]

smooth, seb 👍 ((redraw of this scene from the goblet of fire))

[mothrotz]

Losers!!!

[tri4ge]

Thank you for flying with XD Airlines aboard our 7Scene7

[magspeaches]

Jumpscare

[nylonfizz]

A long, long night…..

[cephiwyrm]

AT THE CONCERT

[simple-study-of-story]

Zekiel looked at an empty spot in an art exhibition. Normally, it wasn’t empty. It usually had the only painting that had truly caught his attention. It depicted a crowd of people, their faces blurred in their movement as they crossed the streets, crossed the painting’s frame of view. Buildings and shops stood in the background, also blurred, giving them the same anonymity as the people. Everything and everyone anonymous… except for one person at the center. The one person with details on the canvas. In the monochrome world created, this person at the center of it all was blasted with color. Their raven black hair contrasted with the dull whites and greys around them. Their sapphire blue eyes sparkled with life against the soulless ones around them. Highlights brought attention to their jawline, their nose, their cheeks. He could see every detail in the character’s side profile, from the out-of-place strand of hair hanging above their eyebrows to the smallest faded scar that ran under their ear.

When he first saw the piece, Zekiel stopped in the middle of the walkway in shock. He walked over to it, amazed with how much was captured in a single frame. What intrigued him most, however, was how the artist knew. That was his face at the center of the masses. His face in full color, his face in full detail. That scar under his ear was from a fight with the villain, Syren. She had managed to scratch him with her claws as he tried to stop her from robbing the bank. No one should have been able to get this much detail on his civilian identity.

Now, the spot was empty, replaced with a radius of caution tape, a pair of cops, and a detective. Someone had stolen it the night before and left no trace, except for a couple drops of water from what he heard. It irked him, to say the least. He wanted that painting back, if not for the public but for himself. There was something about it that made him feel… something. That bothered him too: he didn’t know why he felt such a strong connection to the piece. It didn’t make sense to him. He wanted to make it make sense.

He already had a suspect in mind. It was time to pay her a visit.

---

Blix stood against her window, staring at the painting before her. She never named it. It was only known as “Man in a Crowd,” which did the piece no justice, not because it wasn’t true but because there was more to it. It was the feeling of isolation, loneliness, and longing behind it that made it as gorgeous as people said it was. A lonely man in full color, standing out against a sea of unknown faces, in a world that meant nothing but at the same time meant everything.

She wiped away the drops of water resting on the outer bronze frame. How could she have sold this for only 500? None of her pieces should be sold at such a low price, especially not this one. I suppose it was better that I made it famous first before stealing it back, she thought. That way I can sell it at a higher price, again and again.

Someone knocked on her door. Blix looked at the clock. 11:06 am. He’s a bit late, she shrugged before donning her midnight blue jumpsuit and her scaled masquerade mask. It’s all just formalities at this point, she thought as she fixed the mask loosely around her eyes.

Blix went to the door, opening it as she ran a hand through her hair and leaned against the doorframe. “You’re late, darling.”

“I told you to stop calling me that.” The Mask sounded irritated. Just as she expected.

“When have I ever listened to you, darling? And besides, I’ve been led to believe you like being called that.”

He sighed, his mask frowning. “Where is it?”

“Where’s what?”

“Don’t play stupid with me. You know what I’m talking about.”

“Honey, there’s a lot of things you could be talking about right now. You know me, you need to be specific.”

He scratched his head in frustration, making his hair stick up. “The painting.”

“What painting?”

“Syren for the love of the gods I am not in the mood right now, just give me the damn painting.”

Blix feigned a look of hurt. “No need to be so rude about it,” she mock-pouted. She held the door open wider for him. “Come in and look for it yourself.”

“I’m not going in there.”

“Look, darling, if I had traps set in here, they’d be disabled because I am inside the house. It’s safe for you. Unless, of course, you piss me off real good and then I’d be obligated to try and kill you.”

The Mask sighed, irritated. “Fine.” He stepped inside carefully. Blix had half a mind to yell “BOO!” and shake him up at that moment, but knowing how he could be when angered, she figured that wouldn’t be the best thing to do.

When he found that he was still alive after the first few steps inside the house, she closed the door. “Feel free to explore, look around for whatever painting you’re looking for. Just don’t go to the basement, that’s where I keep the bodies.”

He gave her a look. She sighed. “Ok fine, I don’t keep bodies in there, just their organs.” He glared at her, not at all amused.

Blix huffed. “Okay, damn, just trying to have fun here. I’m gonna make some tea. You don’t have to drink any if you’re paranoid but I’m making enough for two. Enjoy your search.”

---

Zekiel walked around the house. Boxes and papers were strewn around in about every corner he could see. If she was expecting me, the least she could have done was tidy up right?

He walked around the house. Where could she keep a massive painting? He peeked into a hallway. There were three doors, one of which was slightly open. He looked back towards the kitchen, where he could hear Syren boiling water. Was she seriously making tea? He shook his head and walked to the open door, peeking inside.

As he expected, boxes were piled to the ceiling and papers were everywhere. But there were also jars of discolored water, brushes, canvases, and paints. An easel was propped up in the center with the back of the canvas facing him. He opened the door wider and stood there. The entire room was full of art, from paintings to sketches and drawings. Sketchbooks littered the bench before the massive window facing the door. There were birds, flowers, fruits, trees, mountains; one was a cottage in the woods with a garden and a fox waiting patiently next to it. But what caught his attention the most were the still frames of moving scenes, similar to the painting he was looking for.

Zekiel walked in, careful not to spill the jars of water or trip on the loose newspapers laying around, protecting the flooring. He saw a frame of a laughing child, a singer on the streets, kids running with a ball between them, a couple leaning on each other on a park bench. He saw himself as the center of many still frames, giving a flower to a little girl, drinking with friends at a pub, carrying a crate of flowers. Hell, he remembered doing all that. There was even a still frame of him fighting Syren on the beach, where he managed to… well, subdue her, he figured, in her own element. But in all of these still frames, he should have had his mask on.

There was no mask in any of these works.

He circled around the easel at the center and found the painting he was looking for propped up on it. Zekiel marveled at the piece, at every work he saw before him, every little detail he could see, from the pollen in the flowers to the mole on a child’s cheek. It all looked gorgeous. Beautiful. The whole room looked like pieces of a fragmented soul, scattered on the walls, hidden in the eyes of the people drawn, hidden in the beauty of the iris flowers sketched. It was all breathtaking.

“So you found it.”

Zekiel tore his eyes off the works of art and found Syren leaning on the doorway, a cup of tea in each hand, the scales on her mask shimmering in the sunlight that entered through the window. He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Yeah I found it.”

“The one on the easel, yeah?”

He nodded. She smirked a bit, a soft smile that he had never known she could do. “Would you like a cup of tea before you take it? I assume you’ll be heading back to the exhibition to drop it off.”

“You didn’t poison it or anything right?”

She chuckled. “If I wanted you dead, I would have tried killing you the second I answered the door. You of all people should know that.”

“Fair enough.” Zekiel walked over to her and took one of the cups from her hand. He took the cup and raised it to his lips before realizing that he still had his mask on. He paused. She took a sip from her cup, flinching as she realized it was too hot. “How long have you known what I looked like?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s been ages now,” she said, blowing on her tea.

“How did you find out?”

She paused. “You know how you go to the beach to calm down after every fight?”

He blinked in surprise. “Yeah…?”

“Where do you think sirens live, darling?”

Zekiel was silent. Then he started feeling a little self-conscious. “How… how much do you… do you see…?”

Syren laughed, a melodious laugh that washed over him like a wave. “You don’t have anything to worry about darling,” she consoled him. “You have a good body if that helps your ego.”

“Oh gods, please tell me that’s all you see.”

“What do you take me for, a full-time stalker?” she said, sounding mildly offended. “I’m not a creep, alright?”

“If you’re not a creep, then explain the paintings and the sketches,” he said. “You could have just told me you’re obsessed with me.”

“Oh please, like you would have believed that that easily.” Syren sipped her tea carefully.

Zekiel looked around. “I just… you could easily make a living off of your work, you know?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s easy to make a living off of this. But also, what did you think my day job was? Some behind-the-desk phone operator or something?”

“Fair enough.” He held the tea to his lips again, then remembered his mask was still on. He set the cup back on the saucer and touched his mask. “I guess there isn’t much need for this stupid thing, huh?”

Syren shrugged. “It’s up to you.”

“Can I close the window curtains at least?”

“Sure,” she said, flicking the lights on.

He went over to the window and drew the curtains, then sighed. “If I’m going to remove my mask, you should remove yours too. It’s only fair.”

Syren was silent, then sighed. “Alright. That’s fair.”

Zekiel exhaled. “I’m taking mine off now then.” He held his mask by its chin and lifted it up, moving it so that it was on the side of his head. Then he turned.

Syren’s mask was in her free hand as she moved to hang it on the easel. Up until now, he had never noticed her eyes. They almost blended in with the shimmering scales of her mask. Now, he could see that they sparkled like golden honey. They were warm and comforting, the complete opposite of what he would expect a villain’s eyes to look like. She looked truly human, and truly gorgeous.

She looked at him. “You’re staring darling,” she chuckled.

He blinked and came back to reality. “I understand why you’re a villain now,” he said, regaining his sanity for a second. “It’s a crime to look as gorgeous as you.”

She blinked, stunned, then grinned. “I’m glad to know that you can flirt back. I’ll be expecting more of that from now on.”

“Would be a shame to disappoint.”