#so I had to rely on drawing stick figures and figuring it out from there

[cdlum]

I just wanted to say I think your art style is awesome! I was wondering if you had any tutorials on how you draw anatomy in your style (hips and legs especially)? Sorry if there's already one posted and I just didn't see it 🥲. Happy New Year :>

thanks for the kind words. i tend to draw people pretty stylized and then some so a good bit of artistic licence gets used. these tips are just what i use so feel free to take them with a grain of salt. with anatomy in particular you can kind of talk in circles because human/animal bodies are that complex so ill just zone in on the points you specified. here's a little image with a bunch of pointers:

the above image condenses a lot of the points I'd make, but basically the key parts are to start with the bare essentials and build up that complexity. using a line of action is a good way to get a quick, rough start. you draw a line out in the general direction of the pose and do your best to adhere to it to give the pose a sense of flow.

you can also draw smaller, thumbnail versions that throw a lot of caution to the wind but capture the basic energy of what you're going for. even having a tiny little stick figure version of your idea can make for a good guideline of where to take it forward.

when it comes to actual limbs, you wanna consider how they integrate and work together, kind of like how chains do. you can see on some of the parts of pear i've drawn out these wireframes to kind of portray how the mass of her legs works in a three dimensional space. for aspects like the waist/hips, i use that X technique i highlight above a lot, particularly for the lower torso. a lot of the times, even when drawing a character totally naked, imagining them wearing things like skintight underwear can help a lot to guide you in the right direction.

its also a good idea to consider things like gravity and weight to a degree. humans are essentially big meat sacks and gravity is always pulling down on that, but theres all kinds of aspects that effect that, such as character build or clothing. pear technically isn't naked in this, but i've tried to imagine her as such and take that into account.

if you are drawing digitally, don't be afraid to take advantage of the convenience you get with that workflow. you can retry and iterate on things a lot faster that pen and paper, and do things that aren't really feasible at all when it comes to editing and modifying your existing work. things like resizing certain bodyparts, instantly flipping the canvas, or using selection tools to completely adjust the positions of parts of your drawing. to give you an example heres a timelapse with all the little edits i made just to this demo drawing:

you don't have to use these techniques linearly, either. sometimes ill have a really solid idea for a piece in my head, and go back to basics with certain elements if they’re not coming out right or i just want to brush them up a bit more. some of the tutorial-y parts i added in i didn't actually use during the drawing but often do use so they're there just for demonstration. not every drawing i do starts as building blocks or a really basic version, often ill just start with a face and build it out from there.

i always encourage liberally using references (this can include yourself) and trying out stuff like life drawing or looking at things like existing photographs of real people/places/things if you can, the more you use learning material the better you'll draw up a mental inventory in your head that you can rely on more and more. some of these tips are things i've learned from other artists over the years (the chin one especially i remember seeing a tutorial about lol), so this is a lot of knowledge i've amassed from other sources over time myself. there are plenty of times ill use all sorts of reference material and its all in service of arriving at the final destination as smoothly as possible. learn by doing, as they say. hope this helps!

[charmed-quill]

Burrow Bound// B.W x Reader Chapter 8

Authors note at end.

Originally requested by @littlegreenteacup

summary: Y/N, an American half-blood witch newly arrived in Muggle London, stumbles into the warmth of the Weasley brothers after a serendipitous meeting in Diagon Alley. Drawn into their world, she finds herself at the Burrow more often than not. Meanwhile, Bill Weasley is learning to navigate life as a single father, relying on his mother’s help to care for Victoire. Though their worlds orbit each other, Y/N and Bill’s paths never seem to align—until one evening when fate finally draws them together. Will it be the start of a love story, or will they be left with nothing but heartache?

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word count: 4.5k

The invitation arrived a few days later, hand-delivered by an ecstatic Victoire in the middle of the Burrow’s living room. Y/N had barely stepped inside before the little girl raced up to her, clutching a bright blue card in her tiny hands.

“I’m turning six!” Victoire announced, her voice ringing with excitement as she held out the slightly crumpled invitation.

Y/N knelt down to Victoire’s level, accepting the card with a warm smile. “Six?” she exclaimed, her tone matching Victoire’s enthusiasm. “That’s so special! You’re practically a grown-up now.”

Victoire giggled, shaking her head. “No, not yet. Daddy says six is still little, but I told him it’s a big little.”

“A big little,” Y/N repeated with a laugh, opening the invitation. It was clearly handmade, the edges a bit uneven, with colorful scribbles and stick-figure drawings of a girl with curls standing next to a dragon. “Did you make this yourself?”

Victoire nodded proudly, bouncing on her toes. “Grandma helped with the letters, but I did the dragon. It’s my party, so there’s going to be dragons everywhere!”

“That sounds amazing,” Y/N said, her smile widening. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Victoire threw her arms around Y/N’s neck in a tight hug. “I knew you’d come!” she said happily, pulling back just enough to add, “You’re one of my most important people, so you have to be there.”

Y/N’s heart swelled at the little girl’s sincerity. “Well, I wouldn’t miss it,” she said softly, brushing a curl from Victoire’s cheek. “What kind of present does a big little like you want?”

Victoire tilted her head thoughtfully, her curls bouncing with the motion. “Maybe something for my dragon?” she suggested, holding up her stuffed toy. “He doesn’t have a treasure chest yet.”

“A treasure chest for your dragon,” Y/N repeated with mock seriousness, tapping her chin. “I think I can manage that.”

Victoire grinned, hugging her dragon close. “You’re the best!”

Just then, Molly appeared in the doorway, her apron dusted with flour. “Victoire, darling, let Y/N sit down before you overwhelm her,” she said fondly, though her tone lacked any real sternness.

Y/N laughed, standing up and ruffling Victoire’s curls. “It’s fine, Molly. She’s just excited, and I don’t blame her—six is a big deal.”

“It certainly is,” Molly agreed, her smile warm as she gestured toward the kitchen. “Stay for tea, dear. We were just about to sit down.”

“Tea sounds perfect,” Y/N said, following them into the kitchen with Victoire skipping ahead, her dragon clutched tightly in her arms.

As they settled at the table, Victoire chattered on about her party plans, describing every detail from the cake to the decorations. Y/N listened attentively, feeling her excitement grow with every word.

As the evening at the Burrow wound down, Molly found herself alone with Y/N in the kitchen. Victoire had run off to the living room to plan more details for her party, and the house had fallen into a rare quiet.

Molly busied herself tidying up the counter, her movements deliberate but unhurried. “Thank you for agreeing to come to the party,” she said, her tone light. “It’ll mean so much to Victoire to have you there.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Y/N replied, sipping her tea. “I’d never miss it. She’s been so excited about turning six.”

“She’s been planning this party for weeks,” Molly said with a fond chuckle. “Every day, she comes up with a new idea. Dragons, treasure chests, knights—it’s going to be quite the event.”

“She’s got quite the imagination,” Y/N said, smiling.

“That she does,” Molly agreed, setting down her towel and turning to Y/N with a warm but knowing look. “She’s also very particular about the people she cares for, you know. If you’re in Victoire’s circle, it means something.”

Y/N felt a flush creep into her cheeks. “She’s such a special kid. It’s easy to love her.”

“And her father thinks the world of her, too,” Molly added, her tone casual but carefully placed.

Y/N nodded, unsure where this was going. “It’s obvious how much he loves her. She talks about him all the time, like he’s a superhero.”

Molly smiled, leaning slightly against the counter. “He’s been through a lot, you know. Losing Fleur was difficult, but he’s done everything to make sure Victoire is happy and secure.” She paused, her eyes softening. “But I think he’s forgotten how to let someone else in.”

Y/N tilted her head, surprised by the shift in the conversation. “Molly, I only just met him. He seems like a wonderful father, but I doubt he’d be interested in... well, me.”

“Nonsense,” Molly said, waving her hand dismissively. “You’re kind, thoughtful, and you’ve brought so much light into this family since you’ve been around. Bill noticed that, even if he’s too stubborn to admit it.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed deeper, and she shook her head with a small laugh. “I think you’re reading too much into it. He barely knows me.”

“Perhaps,” Molly said, her tone taking on a teasing edge. “But first impressions matter, don’t they?”

Y/N looked down at her tea, unsure how to respond. The idea of Bill, strong, steady, and clearly devoted to his daughter, being interested in her felt almost absurd. He had so much on his plate already.

Molly, sensing her hesitation, patted her hand gently. “I’m not saying anything has to happen right away. But sometimes, people come into our lives at just the right moment, even if we don’t see it at first.”

Y/N smiled faintly, her heart warming at Molly’s words despite her doubts. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said softly.

“Good,” Molly replied, her smile widening. “Now, let’s get back to Victoire before she drafts us into her dragon party planning committee.”

The evening passed in the cozy chaos that Y/N had come to associate with the Burrow. Victoire was brimming with excitement, pulling Y/N into her intricate plans for her upcoming birthday party. Together, they sketched out ideas for dragon-themed decorations, a treasure chest cake, and games fit for a proper “big little” six-year-old.

Molly, ever the gracious host, kept the kitchen humming with activity, offering tea and freshly baked biscuits to Y/N while joining in on Victoire’s chatter. The warmth of the house, the easy flow of conversation, and Victoire’s infectious joy made the hours slip by unnoticed.

It was nearing bedtime when the sound of the fireplace crackling in the living room signaled someone’s arrival. Moments later, Bill stepped out of the fireplace, brushing soot from his coat and running a hand through his hair.

“Daddy!” Victoire cried, her curls bouncing as she bolted toward him, her stuffed dragon flopping in her grip.

Bill caught her easily, scooping her up into his arms. “Hey, princess,” he said softly, his tired eyes lighting up as he hugged her. “Did you have fun tonight?”

“So much fun!” Victoire exclaimed, her voice brimming with enthusiasm. “Y/N is helping me plan my dragon party!”

Bill’s gaze shifted from Victoire to Y/N, who stood in the doorway of the kitchen, a small smile on her lips. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the room seemed quieter, the warm hum of the Burrow fading slightly into the background.

“Thanks for keeping her entertained,” Bill said, his voice low and genuine as he adjusted Victoire in his arms.

“It was my pleasure,” Y/N replied, brushing a curl behind her ear. “She’s got some big ideas for her party. I think you’re going to have your hands full.”

Bill chuckled softly, his gaze lingering on her. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

There was a brief silence, a weight between them neither seemed willing to acknowledge. The air felt charged, though neither spoke of it, their smiles faint but carrying a quiet tension.

“Daddy,” Victoire interrupted, tugging on his collar. “Can Y/N come to the party early? She has to help with the decorations!”

Bill glanced back at Y/N, his lips curving into a small, slightly awkward smile. “Looks like you’ve been recruited.”

“I wouldn’t dare say no to the birthday girl,” Y/N said lightly, her smile softening as she looked at Victoire.

“Well, we’d better get going before someone stays up past her bedtime,” Bill said, his tone playful but firm as he kissed Victoire’s cheek.

“Goodnight, Y/N!” Victoire said cheerfully, waving her dragon at her as Bill carried her toward the fireplace.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Y/N replied, her voice warm as she waved back.

As Bill stepped into the fireplace, he cast one last glance at Y/N, his expression unreadable but lingering a moment too long. 

The soft whoosh of the Floo deposited Bill and Victoire into the cozy living room of Shell Cottage. The house was quiet, save for the distant crash of waves against the shore. Victoire clung to him sleepily, her dragon tucked under one arm as she rested her head against his shoulder.

“Time for bed, princess,” Bill murmured, kissing the top of her curls as he carried her upstairs.

Victoire stirred, mumbling softly. “I don’t want to brush my teeth...”

Bill chuckled, shifting her gently to one side so he could open her bedroom door. “I think we can skip just this once. Don’t tell Grandma, though, or we’ll both be in trouble.”

Victoire giggled weakly, her eyes fluttering open just enough to give him a conspiratorial grin. He laid her down on the small bed, tucking her in carefully and placing her dragon by her side.

“Did you have fun tonight?” he asked, smoothing the blankets over her.

Victoire nodded, her voice sleepy but firm. 

“Y/N is coming to my party,” she said, clutching her dragon. “She’s the best.”

Bill smiled faintly, brushing a curl from her face. “She’s pretty great, isn’t she?”

“Mm-hmm,” Victoire mumbled, her eyes already drifting closed. “Daddy... you like her, right?”

The question caught him off guard, but Victoire was already too close to sleep to notice his hesitation. 

“Get some rest, princess,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“’Kay...” she murmured, her breathing evening out as she slipped into dreams.

Bill lingered by the door for a moment, watching the steady rise and fall of Victoire’s small chest. Her words echoed in his mind—simple, innocent, and yet unsettling in their clarity.

He descended the stairs quietly, heading into the kitchen where a single lamp cast a soft glow across the room. The familiar hum of the house surrounded him as he poured himself a glass of water, but his thoughts refused to settle.

Molly’s voice from a few days earlier surfaced, unbidden. “You deserve happiness too, Bill. Someone who makes you smile, who lightens the load.”

He had brushed her off at the time, dismissing it as typical maternal meddling. He wasn’t ready to think about things like that, not after everything with Fleur, not with his focus so firmly on Victoire. But now, he couldn’t ignore the way Y/N had lingered in his thoughts since their brief meeting.

Her warmth, the easy way she connected with Victoire, the genuine interest she’d shown in his work, it all felt... natural. 

Effortless, even. And that unnerved him more than he wanted to admit.

Bill sat down at the kitchen table, running a hand through his hair as he stared at the faintly glowing embers in the fireplace. It was too soon, wasn’t it? He barely knew her, and yet, there was something about her that had unsettled the careful rhythm he’d built for himself and Victoire.

His mother’s words tugged at him again. “Sometimes, the right person comes along, and they make it worth letting those walls down.”

Bill sighed, leaning back in his chair as he let the thought linger. He wasn’t sure what to make of Y/N yet, or the quiet pull he felt toward her. But as the waves crashed outside and the house settled into silence, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Molly might have been right.

Perhaps, he thought reluctantly, it was worth considering.

—

The golden morning light spilled into Shell Cottage, painting the cozy living room with warmth. Bill was already awake, busy in the kitchen as he flipped pancakes on the stovetop. The smell of butter and syrup filled the air, and the soft crash of waves outside made the house feel particularly peaceful.

Today was Victoire’s birthday, and Bill was determined to make every moment special. He had spent the previous night decorating with strings of little dragon cutouts and balloons in bright greens and golds, Victoire’s favorite colors.

The sound of tiny footsteps pattering down the stairs made him smile. Victoire appeared moments later, her curls an untamed halo around her head, clutching her ever-present dragon.

“Morning, princess,” Bill said, crouching down to scoop her into a hug. “Happy birthday.”

Victoire grinned, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I’m six now!” she declared proudly, pulling back to hold up six fingers.

“You sure are,” Bill replied, laughing softly. “And six is a big deal. Are you ready for birthday pancakes?”

“Yes!” Victoire squealed, her excitement infectious as he set her down at the table.

Bill placed a plate of pancakes in front of her, stacked high and topped with whipped cream and fresh strawberries. She clapped her hands together, her dragon tucked tightly under one arm, and immediately dug in.

“What kind of treasure do you think dragons eat for breakfast?” Victoire asked between bites, her tone completely serious.

Bill tilted his head as he poured himself a cup of coffee. “Hmm, probably jewels and gold,” he said thoughtfully. “But I bet they’d like pancakes too.”

Victoire giggled. “Maybe I should save some for my dragon!”

By mid-morning, Bill was back in the kitchen, tidying up while Victoire played in the living room, arranging her dragon figurines in an elaborate “treasure hoard.” The decorations for the party were mostly set, but there were still a few last-minute details to finalise.

A knock at the door startled him from his thoughts.

“Who’s that?” Victoire called, looking up from her game.

“Not sure,” Bill replied, brushing his hands on his jeans as he made his way to the door.

When he opened it, he was greeted by Y/N, standing on the step with a small smile and a brightly wrapped gift in her hands. She looked a little unsure, as if she were worried about arriving too early.

“Hi,” she said, her tone soft. “I got your letter. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Bill blinked, caught slightly off guard. He had written to her a few days ago, inviting her to come early and help set up, per victiores insitance, but now that she was here, he felt suddenly unsure of himself.

“No, you’re not,” he said quickly, stepping aside. “Come in.”

Y/N smiled as she stepped inside, her eyes immediately taking in the decorations. 

“This looks amazing,” she said, her voice warm. “Victoire’s been talking about this party for weeks, and it’s even better than she described.”

Bill scratched the back of his neck, feeling a little awkward under her praise. “Thanks. Victoire’s had a lot of ideas. I’m just following orders at this point.”

“Daddy!” Victoire’s excited voice broke through as she spotted Y/N. She bolted across the room, her dragon bouncing in her hand. “Y/N!”

Y/N crouched down to meet her, holding out the gift. “Happy birthday, darling,” she said with a grin. “This is for you.”

Victoire gasped, taking the present with wide eyes. “Is it treasure?”

“Only one way to find out,” Y/N teased.

As Victoire dashed off to open her gift, Y/N stood, her smile lingering as she looked at Bill. He found himself clearing his throat, suddenly unsure where to put his hands.

“Thanks for coming early,” he said, shifting his weight slightly. “We could use an extra pair of hands.”

“Happy to help,” Y/N replied easily, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “What’s left to do?”

“Uh, games outside,” Bill said, gesturing vaguely toward the back door. “And... well, probably lots of things I haven’t thought of yet.”

Y/N laughed softly, her gaze warm. “No problem. Just point me in the right direction.”

There was a brief pause, the air between them charged with something unspoken. Bill caught himself glancing at her for a moment too long, the easy way she fit into the house making him feel both at ease and strangely unsettled.

“You’re really good with her,” Bill said suddenly, breaking the silence. “Victoire, I mean. She lights up every time you’re around.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed slightly, and she looked down with a small smile. “She’s a special kid. It’s hard not to love her.”

Bill nodded, his own smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yeah, she is.”

Their eyes met again, and for a moment, the noise of Victoire’s excited giggles in the background seemed to fade. But before either of them could speak, Victoire burst back into the room, holding up her gift.

“Daddy, look! Y/N got me a treasure box for my dragon!” she exclaimed, running over to show him.

Bill crouched down to examine it, grateful for the distraction. “That’s perfect, princess. Your dragon’s going to love it.”

Y/N watched them with a fond expression, her heart warming at the way they interacted.

“Come on,” Bill said, standing again and glancing at Y/N. “Let’s get those games set up before the chaos begins.”

“Lead the way,” Y/N said with a grin, following him to the backyard.

The backyard was alive with activity as Bill and Y/N worked together to finish setting up for Victoire’s party. The sun was shining brightly, casting a golden glow over the dragon-themed decorations that fluttered gently in the breeze. The tables were set with colorful plates and napkins, and a big banner reading “Happy 6th Birthday, Victoire!” stretched across the back fence.

“Do you think we’ve overdone it with the dragons?” Bill asked, adjusting a cluster of balloons shaped like dragon eggs.

“Impossible,” Y/N replied, stepping back to admire the setup. “This is a dragon lover’s dream. Victoire is going to remember this forever.”

Bill smiled at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Yeah, she’s been buzzing with excitement all week. She’ll love it.”

Just as they finished tying off the last of the streamers, a loud pop echoed across the yard. Charlie appeared near the garden gate, carrying a brightly wrapped gift under one arm and wearing his signature grin. His eyes sparkled as he looked between Bill and Y/N.

“Well, don’t you two look cozy,” he teased, his tone light but laced with mischief as he placed the gift on the table.

Y/N glanced at Bill, whose ears had turned suspiciously pink, before she turned her attention to Charlie. She set her hands on her hips, raising an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, her tone playful.

Charlie shrugged innocently, his grin widening as he stepped back from the table. “Nothing, nothing at all,” he said, clearly enjoying himself.

Before Y/N could push further, another pop announced Fred and George’s arrival. The twins materialized, each balancing an absurdly tall stack of brightly wrapped gifts that wobbled precariously as they made their way into the yard.

“Why bring one gift when you can bring five?” Fred quipped, his voice muffled as the top box teetered dangerously.

“Or six,” George added, grinning as he caught a falling present with impressive reflexes.

Y/N laughed as she stepped forward to help steady one of the stacks. “Are all of these for Victoire?” she asked, glancing at the twins.

“Of course!” Fred said, setting the stack down with a dramatic flourish. “She’s our favorite niece.”

“She’s your only niece,” Bill said, rolling his eyes.

“Which makes it even more true,” George chimed in, handing Y/N a particularly sparkly package. “Here, this one’s lighter. You look trustworthy.”

“Thanks?” Y/N replied with a laugh, placing the gift on the table as the twins began inspecting the decorations.

Not long after, Ron arrived with Hermione, his fiancée. 

She had already heard so much about the woman from Molly and Ron, but this was the first time they had been formally introduced. 

“Y/N! I’ve heard so much about you,” Hermione said, shaking her hand warmly. “You went to Ilvermorny, right?”

Y/N nodded, surprised by her enthusiasm. “I did,” she confirmed

“I’ve read about Ilvermorny, but I’d love to hear about it from someone who actually went there,” Hermione said eagerly. “What was your house? Was the Sorting Ceremony really different?”

Y/N chuckled. “I was a Thunderbird. And yes, from what charlie has told me, the Sorting Ceremony is completely different, it’s more about what your soul craves than your personality. It’s hard to explain.”

Hermione’s face lit up even more as she launched into questions about magical education in America, and Y/N found herself enjoying the conversation more than she’d expected.

The next arrivals were Molly and Arthur. Molly was balancing a huge tray of dragon-shaped biscuits, each one intricately decorated in bright colors.

“Y/N, dear, could you help me with this?” Molly asked as she stepped into the yard.

“Of course,” Y/N said, quickly taking the tray from her. The biscuits smelled heavenly, and Y/N couldn’t help but admire the detail. “These look incredible, Molly.”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Molly said modestly, though she looked pleased. “Just a little something for the party. Victoire will love them.”

Y/N placed the tray on the dessert table while Arthur greeted her warmly. “Good to see you again, Y/N,” he said. “Victoire’s been talking about this party for weeks.”

“She’s got big plans,” Y/N replied, smiling. “It’s been fun helping her bring them to life.”

Not long after, Ginny and Harry arrived with Harry’s godson, Teddy. Y/N had met Harry briefly before, but this was the first time she’d been introduced to Teddy.

“Teddy, this is Y/N,” Ginny said, nudging the boy forward gently. “She’s a friend of Victoire’s.”

Teddy, with his bright purple hair and curious eyes, smiled shyly. “Hi.”

“Hi, Teddy,” Y/N said warmly. “Victoire’s been waiting for you. She’s got so much to show you.”

Teddy’s face lit up, and he immediately ran off to find Victoire. Y/N watched him go, chuckling softly. “He’s sweet.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, he and Victoire are inseparable when they’re together.”

As noon approached, Percy arrived—precisely on time, as the invitation had stated. He gave a polite nod to Y/N and handed her a neatly wrapped gift for the table.

“Everything looks well-organized,” Percy said approvingly.

“Thanks,” Y/N replied, biting back a smile. “We’ve been working on it all morning.”

By now, the yard was buzzing with activity.

Y/N floated between groups, chatting easily with everyone and lending a hand wherever she was needed.

As Y/N drifted off toward the snack table, where Fred and George were enthusiastically debating the merits of dragon-shaped biscuits versus their “explosive” new treats, Charlie stayed back with Bill. His usual mischievous grin softened into something more sincere as he clapped a hand on his older brother’s shoulder.

“You’ve got a good one there,” Charlie said, his voice quieter now, nodding toward where Y/N was laughing at one of Fred’s outrageous jokes.

Bill’s brow furrowed slightly as he followed Charlie’s gaze. “What do you mean?” he asked, trying to sound casual but failing to hide the slight tension in his voice.

Charlie smirked, stepping back to lean casually against a nearby tree. “Come on, Bill. Don’t play dumb. I see the way you’ve been watching her all morning.”

“I haven’t been—” Bill started, but Charlie cut him off with a knowing look.

“Mate, I’ve known you my whole life,” Charlie said with a laugh. “You’re not exactly subtle. You’ve got that look, the one you get when you’re trying to figure something out but don’t want anyone else to notice.”

Bill crossed his arms, his expression defensive. “She’s great with Victoire. That’s all. It’s good to have someone like her around.”

“That’s all, huh?” Charlie raised an eyebrow, the teasing glint in his eyes tempered by something more serious. “Look, I get it. It’s been a long time since... well, since Fleur. And you’ve had your hands full with work and raising Victoire. But that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to let someone in.”

Bill looked away, his jaw tightening. “It’s not that simple, Charlie.”

“It never is,” Charlie agreed, his tone steady. “But just because it’s not simple doesn’t mean it’s not worth it.”

Bill hesitated, his eyes flicking back to Y/N. She was now crouched down, helping Victoire arrange a tiny treasure hoard for her stuffed dragon. Her laugh carried across the yard, light and genuine, and the way she interacted with his daughter made something in Bill’s chest tighten.

“She’s been good for Victoire,” Bill said quietly, almost to himself.

“She’s been good for you, too,” Charlie countered, his voice firm but kind. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed. You’ve been less... wound up since she came around. More like yourself again.”

Bill didn’t respond right away, his thoughts tangled. He wanted to argue, to tell Charlie he was wrong, but deep down, he knew there was truth in his brother’s words.

“And she’s not just good with kids, you know,” Charlie added, his tone shifting to something more thoughtful. “Y/N’s the kind of person who makes people feel like they belong. She’s got this warmth about her, like she really sees people for who they are. Not everyone’s like that, Bill.”

Bill sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not that I don’t see it,” he admitted finally. “But what if... what if I mess it up? Victoire’s my priority, and I can’t afford to bring someone into her life unless I’m absolutely sure.”

Charlie nodded, his expression understanding. “I get that. And you’re a damn good dad, Bill. But you’re also allowed to want things for yourself. You don’t have to make a decision today or tomorrow or even next week. Just... don’t shut the door before you’ve even opened it.”

Bill let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “When did you get so wise?”

Charlie grinned, clapping him on the back. “Comes with the territory of wrangling dragons. You pick up a thing or two.”

Bill rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He glanced back at Y/N, who had now joined Hermione and Teddy in a spirited debate about the best magical creatures.

“I’ll think about it,” Bill said finally, his voice low but resolute.

“That’s all I’m asking,” Charlie replied with a satisfied nod. “And hey, if you don’t, I might just swoop in and steal her myself.”

Bill shot him a warning look, and Charlie laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Kidding, kidding. She’s all yours.”

With that, Charlie pushed off the tree and strolled toward the snack table, leaving Bill standing there, a mix of emotions swirling in his chest. For the first time in a long time, he found himself considering the possibility that maybe there was room in his life for something more.

tagged: @navs-bhat @neenieweenie @buendiabebeta

a/n: ooh Bill's got a crush. also i have such a soft spot for charlie i really want to write something for him so if you guys have an idea for a series im all ears. also i was NOT intending for this chapter to be almost 5k words long but whoops. Also I wanted to space these chapters out more but i just get too excited to post and just post them anyway lol

[not-neverland06]

How About a Nuke?

Part VIII / Part IX

(Completed) Series Masterlist

Cooper Howard x fem!reader, The ghoul x fem!reader A/N: PLEASE READ, we have reached the end of their journey and I am so sad/happy/excited about it. I don’t even know how to feel honestly. I just want to thank everyone who has commented, messaged or reblogged this story. Your kind words and funny little depressed memes have been really uplifting for me. I was actually considering just giving up on this blog when I posted the first chapter. I haven’t had much inspiration lately or interaction I feel like, and you all have helped reignite that spark within me. Summary: There’s something keeping you tied to Cooper Howard, an invisible string wrapped around you both. You’ve fought against it as long as you could but he’s not gonna let you fight for much longer.

It’s been a month and the bounty on her head gets bigger everyday. Normally the compound hires privately, they don’t like going through the agencies. He figures with Sylvie dead they’re struggling to find a new leader and they’re falling apart. Or they’re just desperate for her head on a stick. 

He sees her face everywhere, crudely drawn images of her varying in their accuracy. In some she has a hat like his on, in others her nose is the wrong shape, or her eyes are all wrong. No one seems to have a good grasp on who she is. Out of curiosity and a strange need to know she’s still alive, he’s asked around. 

There are different rumors as to where she’s hiding out. Some think she’s taken to hiding out in the caves near Filly. Anyone with half a brain knows that the area’s overrun by irradiated bears and other mutated freaks. 

There are those that say they’ve seen her wandering through the sands. Following that lead had led him nowhere. He doesn’t know where she is and it’s driving him insane. She’s like a constant itch in the back of his mind that he just can’t scratch. Days and nights are spent thinking about her and he hates it. 

He’s not sure what he’d do when he does find her. Whether he’d shoot her to repay the favor or just tie her up to keep her from leaving again. He’s conflicted on how he feels about her. He’s bothered that he feels anything towards her at all. And he knows that when she shot him, she was shooting to kill. 

She had no way of knowing that he would heal from that bullet. She’d watched him bleed out on the ground and left him for dead. He was impressed, as much as he wanted to be mad, he was almost proud in a way. 

Throughout their tumultuous lives and times together she’d always had to be guided by him. He’d shown her the ways of whatever world they were living in. She’d relied on him and he enjoyed it. The time had to come when eventually she wouldn’t need him anymore. 

It’s outside of Filly that he finds the most accurate poster of her so far. She looks like she did in their first movie together. A proper outlaw, wanted all across the Wastelands for her crimes against a bunch of sick fucks. If he could kill Sylvie again, he would. He’d kill all of them. 

Not that he’s condemning them because of what the compound’s doing. He’s dabbled in organ trade before, eaten people, he’s done a lot of fucked up shit. But he draws the line at trying to hurt her. He’s the only one who should be allowed to fuck with her.

He takes the poster down and whistles softly at the price under her name. It’s enough to keep him happy for a longtime. If he never wanted to take on another bounty he wouldn’t have to. Course, he was never in this for the money. A man’s gotta have something to entertain himself with at the end of the world. 

He wonders if she’s even still alive. Maybe a Deathclaw got her a day after she left him behind. He could have walked past her corpse and never even known it. He folds the poster up and slips it in his bag. He doesn’t know why he bothers keeping it. Possibly because it’s the closest thing to her that he’s got, but he doesn’t feel like lingering on that thought for long. 

He tugs his hat lower on his head and heads through the tunnel leading to Filly. He’s caused a lot of issues here over the years. Usually he kills most of the people who could identify him as an instigator, but he doesn’t feel like pushing his luck today. He needs more supplies and he knows Ma June won’t sell to him if he causes a fight beforehand. 

It’s louder than normal today, more people rushing around. They’re all congregating around something in the center of the marketplace. He turns to the left, heading up the stairs to try and get a better look at what’s got everyone so excited. 

“They found her!” A boy shouts, fidgeting in his spot next to him. He glances at him from under his hat and the boy pales before scurrying away from him. His lips turn up in a cruel grin and he finally gets a good look at what’s happening. 

She’s kneeling in the middle of the marketplace, two Knights on either side of her. He’s more surprised by the fact that she actually has picked up a hat in her time away from him. 

She seems to be playing into the outlaw routine more than he thought she would. 

You’re embarrassed, honestly, that you let these two idiots capture you. Them and their useless little squires. 

You’ve found odd jobs through the Brotherhood when they need assistance looking for relics of the old world. Though, you’re really not sure how much use a toaster oven can be to them, but they pay good money for it. 

Once your bounty was posted and they figured out who you were, though, that stopped being useful. You can’t even hunt bounties because the agencies would just grab you and turn you over to the compound.

They clearly didn’t give a shit about women, you don’t get why they’re making this whole Sylvie situation such a big deal. 

You had to bribe Ma June by buying some of her junk, but eventually she’d helped you find some work in Filly. The people here are stupid enough that they don’t recognize you when they see you. Most of them are high or drunk so the only thing you have to worry about is wandering hands and not stepping in the middle of their brawls. 

From the patrons of the bar you hear stories about yourself. How you slaughtered the entire compound, even the children, which is so far from the truth you can’t help but scoff. Or how you apparently slept with a ghoul and you're carrying his mutant baby. 

You don’t even know where they got that one from. 

They also seem to think you wander through the sands, shooting anyone who gets in your way. It’s a comfort that no one seems to have caught onto you yet. But it’s also disheartening to know that all that’s left of civilization is a bunch of psychopathic idiots. 

What happened to natural selection?

You know your stint in Filly is up when two Knights walk in, their squires struggling to carry their bags behind them. You pull your hat further over your head and duck behind the bar. You try to keep your back to them and let the old man, Marley, who runs the bar deal with them. 

His shaky voice is cautious as he greets them, “What are Knights doing so far out here?”

One of their distorted voices rings out through the, now quiet, bar. “We got bored. Wanted to shoot some shit.”

You roll your eyes and focus on cleaning the cup in front of you. You spit into it, not enough water to properly clean it, and scrub at it with a stained towel. Marley hums, clearly displeased with the answer. You can hear his tottering steps approaching you and wince, praying he’s not going to do what you think he is. 

He tugs on your shirt with a shaky hand and you slump forward in defeat. “Deal with these jackasses,” he mutters, taking drinks over to a different table. 

You pour the only alcohol the bar has into two cups and keep your head down as you approach. “Heard that a woman took over for Knight Damien.”

One of them scoffs and shakes his armored head, “What the fuck is this world coming to?” You don’t know how they’re planning on drinking their liquor with the helmets on but you’re not going to ask stupid questions. You drop the cups in front of them, but your hand slips and one of them tips over into a Knight’s lap. 

“I’ve got it, sire.” Their squire lunges forward and begins vigorously scrubbing their armor. Your face curls up in distaste and you’re about to walk away when a metal hand grips your wrist. 

“Holy shit, it’s her!” Oh, you’re so screwed. 

They’ve got a fucking leash on you, it’s humiliating. The scarred and dirt-covered faces of the citizens of Filly surround you. They’re all leering, shouting at you and begging the Knight’s to share in the bounty. But the Knight’s aren’t listening, they’re just congratulating each other. 

“What do you think they’ll give us?”

One of them shoves their squire and he goes toppling into his large bag, feet flailing in the air. “Hopefully better fucking squires. I’m getting sick of this one’s stupid face.” 

The squire kneels down and shouts in a shaking voice, “I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you, sire!” God, you really hate these people. You wished they would just shoot you. Having to sit here and listen to them talk was making your brain go numb. 

The Knight’s distorted laugh rings out through his helmet. The other one glances over at you, “What do you think she did? I’ve never seen the compound this pissed off.”

“I dunno. Hey!” You know he’s talking to you, that they want an answer, you really don’t care to give them one. “What’d you do?” They stare at you for a moment and then he sighs when you don’t respond. He shoves his squire towards you and the kid goes stumbling over his feet. “Make her talk.”

He nods rapidly, head bobbing up and down. “Of course, sire.” Your hands twitch to your side and you give him a wicked grin as he approaches. 

He’s debating going down there and trying to help her when the first shot goes off. He doesn’t even see it happen, he just watches as one of the squires drops to the ground. 

Those who don’t want to get caught in the crossfire are quick to move away from the area, hiding in their shops or shoving past him to get through the tunnel. He heads down the stairs, taking his time and trying to figure out where the shot came from. 

The second squire moves towards her and his head flies back, a hole between his eyes and his brains splattering across the ground. One Knight shoves the other one and points at their dead squire’s, “Did you not take her fucking gun?”

He’s been in those suits. He remembers how it felt, the power you get from being in them. How they make you feel like a big man. He also remembers how fucking slow they could be. She’s on her feet and running for cover before they can even start to grab her. 

She dives behind a stall and tugs a knife out of her boot, sawing at the ropes around her wrists. He can’t reach her before the fighting starts. Someone in the remaining crowd shouts, “Grab her! Get the bounty!” And all hell breaks loose. 

Someone runs at him and he shoots them before they can grab him. Shots start going off, the Knight’s mowing down anyone who tries to swoop in on their bounty. Everyone else is shooting blindly, just trying to get rid of the competition so they can claim her bounty as their own. 

He ducks under the hail fire and slides next to her as she’s reloading her gun. She glances over at him and frowns, “Didn’t I kill you?”

He hears a shout and watches as some half-feral woman charges at them. She shoots her dead and turns back to him. He gives her a wry smile, “You want to do this now, sweetheart?”

She peers over her cover and surveys the chaos going on around them. She sighs and glances back at him, “Why aren’t you dead?” 

He tugs one of his specially made bullets out of his bag and loads it into his gun. He lifts himself to his knees and aims at the weak spot on the Knight’s chest plate. They both watch as blood explodes out of the neck of the power armor, the Knight’s friend cussing as he watches him die. 

“Next time,” she turns to look at him, “aim for the head,” he instructs. She glares at him before making her way to Ma June’s shop. He follows, not willing to let her out of his sight again, and she ducks behind the barrels of supplies in front of the shop. 

“Clearly,” she winces as the Knight’s gun starts firing off again, “I’m not making it out of here on my own.” They dive to the side as bullets rip through the barrels they’re leaning against. They’re not gonna have cover for much longer.

He grins at her, “Sounds like you’re asking me for a favor, darling.”

The sounds of screams and bodies dropping is nearly deafening. A few feet away a bullet catches a man in the throat and he drops to the ground. They watch as he chokes on his blood and tries to claw his way to safety. Steps rapidly approach them and she turns to shoot a different man, his body dropping an inch away from them. 

He turns back to her and his lips turn down, “After you tried to kill me? You want my help,” he laughs at her and she glares. 

Before she can speak a voice rings out above them, “I got her!” He shoots at the woman on the upper level above them, half of her leg gets blown off and she tumbles over the railing, narrowly missing the pair. 

He turns back to her, “You’re asking a lot, darling.”

“You’ve fucking shot me, twice. I’m not asking you for anything.” Her lips turn down in a sneer and she looks at him like the very sight of him disgusts her. “I don't need your help. I don't need you.” She glances back over her shoulder, surveying the gore and the bullets flying around them. She checks her gun and he sees just how little ammo she has left. “I’ll handle this myself.” She snaps the chamber of her gun closed and moves to get up. He grabs her wrist and yanks her back down, ignoring the angry expression on her face. 

“Look, you might not want my help, but you need it, sweetheart. Just stay here.” 

You watch as Cooper runs off, his guns firing before he’s even fully standing. You only wait a second before you’re running into Ma June’s and out her back door. She shouts at you as you barrel through her shop, knocking over her displays and shelves, but you can’t waste any time getting the hell out of dodge. 

You’re surprised Cooper was stupid enough to think you would actually wait for him. The Knight’s had called for an air evac out of Filly and if you stay there any longer you’ll be back in the compound before you can blink. 

You’ve spent a month evading them, you’re not about to let yourself get caught because of Cooper. 

You can’t believe he’s not dead. It’s not like you’ve been losing sleep over killing him, but it’s been hard to cope with the fact that you killed the man that was once the love of your life. Seeing him again, though, you wished you had shot him in his smug face. 

You’d forgotten, in the time apart, just how condescending he could be. He seemed to think you needed him to survive. You didn’t. 

At best, he provided the comfort of company. Poorly. 

Despite how much he undervalued you, you were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. You didn’t need him to save you. You would have figured your way out of there on your own, eventually. You’ve handled yourself a month in the Wastelands without him. You learned how to carve an existence for yourself out here and you did it without help. 

You race into the woods beyond Filly, putting as much distance between you and the sounds of fighting as quickly as you can. The trees around you begin to shake, the ground vibrating and a swirl of dirt and leaves rises into the air and whips you in the face. 

You look up and begin pushing yourself faster. One of the Brotherhood’s Vertibird’s is circling Filly. “This is not a hostile landing! Please remain calm!” You blame your distraction on the announcement. 

You would have heard him coming up behind you if you hadn’t been listening to whatever the Brotherhood was saying. Rope loops around your arms and you’re yanked backwards. Your head thumps painfully hard against the forest floor, rocks scraping you as you’re dragged across the ground. 

Cooper’s face appears over yours, a cruel smile on his lips. “Now, this seems awfully familiar.” He walks around you, boots straddling your waist and grabs you by the front of your shirt, yanking you back to your feet. “I thought I told you to stay put, sweetheart.”

You frown at him, shoving your leg up between his. He groans, doubling over while you shimmy out of the loose rope. “Honestly, after all the shit that’s happened you think I’m gonna listen to anything you say?” You step back from him, brushing the dirt off your clothes as best you can. 

You sigh in frustration when you realize that when the Knight’s had grabbed you, you’d lost your supplies. Cooper looks up at you and scoffs, “Missing something?” You eye his bag on the ground and start to go for it. He pulls the hammer of his gun back and you glance towards him. You’d forgotten what a quick draw he could be.

He’s fully recovered now, eyes narrowed in on you and gun pointed right at your chest. “See, a bullet to the chest might not kill me, but I reckon it’ll do a hell of a lot of damage to you. Why don’t you back up for me, sweetheart?”

You let go of his bag and slowly back away from him. He keeps his gun trained on you and stoops down, throwing his bag back over his shoulder. Your eyes dart to the hat on his head and your lips curl up when you spot the hole you’d put in it. 

Two hundred years and he’s kept that hat nearly pristine, you take no small amount of pride in being the one to ruin it. 

“The Brotherhood will be swarming these woods in a few minutes. They’re not gonna be too happy about one of their Knight’s being dead. Come with me, I can help you out.”

You scoff, “Like I’ll ever trust you again. You’ve shot me, sold me, and left me for dead, Cooper.”

He huffs, eyes narrowing and lips curled in a sardonic grin. You can tell he’s getting pissed off. “The choice is yours,” he tucks his gun back in his holster and turns on his heels. You watch in surprise as he stalks away from you. You had fully expected him to put up more of a fight, it almost hurts that he left so easily again. 

Then you hear the sounds of orders being shouted behind you. Metal creaking and stomping through the underbrush and you realize he hadn’t left but forced you between a rock and a hard place. You could follow him or let yourself get captured by the Brotherhood. 

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. You risk a glance over your shoulder and spot a rapidly approaching party of squires. You run in the direction Cooper went and find him leaning casually against a tree, a satisfied look on his face when he spots you. “Don’t say a word,” you warn, shoving past him. 

He glances at her from across the fire and finds himself feeling almost at ease for the first time in a month. It’s been a while since he’s looked up to actually find her staring back at him. She might look like she wants to kill him, but she’s here. 

“You have to admit, we make a pretty good team, darling.”

She gives him an unimpressed look, “Yeah, Cooper, we’re so great at murdering people.” She looks over to the dead bodies of the raiders they’d stolen this camp from and shakes her head. “I forgot how much death you surround yourself with.”

“I surround myself with? Might I remind you, you fired the first shot, sweetheart.” Granted, he had shoved her out of her hiding spot and given her no choice about it. 

Her head shoots up and she glares at him, “You made me!” She opens her mouth and he grins. He enjoys provoking her like this. Even if the last time he had she’d shot him because of it, but it’s fun to rile her up. She always gets so pissed off, it entertains him to no end. 

To his disappointment, she closes her mouth and shakes her head, choosing not to engage with him. He sighs and rips off a piece of jerky. “When did you turn into such a wet fucking blanket?”

Her eyes flare with anger, despite that, he can hear how hurt she really is. “Maybe when you sold me!”

He tilts his head and runs his tongue over his teeth, “You ever gonna let that go? I told you it was a mistake. How was I supposed to know they were gonna breed you like a prize pig?”

She scoffs, the noise high pitched and shocked. She shakes her head and stares at him with wide eyes, “You are unbelievable.” He shrugs and takes a swig from the flask he’d stolen off one of the raiders. He’s not sure how they make their alcohol, or if they trade for it, but it’s fucking disgusting. He frowns at the flask and drains the rest of it before tossing it into the woods behind him. 

She sighs and runs a hand over her face, her voice tired as she asks, “What’s the plan here, Cooper?” 

He picks at his teeth and shakes his head, “With what?”

She leans against the log behind her and gestures at herself. “With me. What, are you going to wait for me to pass out so you can tie me up and send me back to the compound? I’ve seen the price on my head. I know how valuable I am to everyone in the Wastelands.”

He doesn’t know why what she’s saying bothers him so much but it does. “You really think I’d send you back there?”

Her face is devoid of anything as she responds, “Why wouldn’t you?”

It’s the bluntness with which she asks that, that bugs him. Like there’s no other possibility but him betraying her. Taking advantage of her while she was vulnerable and weak and then handing her over to the people who want her dead. He wouldn’t do that to her. 

He didn’t go through all this fucking trouble to find her just to lose her again. He wants to tell her as much but she’s on her feet and grabbing her bag before he can. “Look, I appreciate the help today, but I’m not interested in starting this partnership back up again. I think it’s better if we just part ways.”

He whips his gun out before he can think about what he’s doing. She freezes, still bent over and eyes his gun warily. “I’m afraid that’s not an option, darling.” He can’t let her leave again. And maybe this isn’t the best way to go about it, but he doesn’t know how else to stop her. 

“You gonna shoot me, Cooper?” She whispers, her own hand twitching for the revolver at her side. He stands up and grabs her wrists, ignoring the way she struggles against him. He binds her hands with his rope and he sits back down, 

“I’m not gonna turn you in and I’m not gonna shoot you. But you’re not getting out of here that easy, sweetheart.”

Her eyes narrow in on his, her fists clenched tightly in anger. “I killed two men with my hands bound today. What’s stopping me from killing you?”

He shrugs, “Nothing. There’s nothing stopping you, just like there’s nothing stopping me. But I’m not killing you, am I? See,” he leans forward, “I’ve fought too hard and spent too much time looking after you to just let you go now. We’re in this together, whether you want it or not.”

Her lips split in a sneer and she throws herself down on the log. “You’re all the fucking same. You treat me like a goddamn dog that needs to be beat into submission. I’m not some misbehaving pet, Cooper!” Her eyes well up and her voice breaks, “You don’t get to just leash me and expect me to be okay with it.”

“I’m under no illusions that you’re happy here, sweetheart.” He runs a hand down his face and she shakes her head in disbelief. 

“Then just let me go,” she’s bordering on begging now and his chest squeezes the longer she stares at him with those pleading eyes of hers. It’s not something he’s familiar with, this feeling, this longing for her to just shut the fuck up and stop making this so damn difficult for him. 

“I can’t,” he mutters, wanting her to just drop it. 

“Why not?” She snaps, dropping any pretenses of trying to get him to sympathize with her.

He surges forward and grabs her by the jaw. Her eyes widen in shock and he smashes their lips together, teeth clashing painfully. There’s nothing gentle or sweet about this kiss. Her teeth are ripping into his scarred lips until the taste of copper is spreading on his tongue. He groans, digging his fingers into her cheeks until her lips part. 

His tongue probes against hers, the taste of his blood spreading into her mouth as well. She whimpers, the noise stirring something in him he’d forgotten about. There’s an old desire bubbling in him that’s making him blind to the rest of the world. He wants her, more than he ever wants to admit. 

He’s wanted her for a long time before this and they both know it. How hard he’s fought against it, against moments like these. He didn’t think he was still capable of this feeling, this desire for her. But it’s consuming. She’s ruining him, running him in circles until he thinks he’s going insane. 

But it’s not the same gentle passion it once was. It’s as twisted as he’s become. The desire to possess, consume, covet until she’s his and only his to do with what he wants. His teeth dig into her, letting her blood overcome the taste of his own. He groans, his free hand grabbing her waist and yanking her closer. 

She tastes so much sweeter than he does, he wants to rip a chunk of her off and eat her whole. He’s so distracted he doesn't even notice her pulling out her gun until he’s shooting back from her. He lands roughly on the forest floor and groans, hands clutched over the bleeding hole in his gut. Pain radiates through his abdomen and he rolls onto his side.

He looks up at her in shock. She’s spitting their blood onto the ground, her bound hands wiping at her lips. “Asshole,” she mutters. She tucks her gun back in her holster and looks over at him. 

His eyes are wide in disbelief as he struggles to sit back up. The movement causes another wave of pain and he hisses through gritted teeth, “You shot me!”

She rolls her eyes and gives him a blank look, “You’ll live.” He limps back to his own seat and lifts his shirt, watching as the hole closes over slowly and the blood stops leaking. She watches as he heals and sighs, “Unfortunately.” He tugs it back down and sighs at the state of his shirt. 

“My shirt won’t.” He digs a finger into the hole and tugs on it, watching as it rips wider. Two hundred years he’s kept these clothes, she ruins them in a month. Un-fucking-believable. 

“Sew it,” she gripes, still wiping at her mouth. “I can’t believe you just fucking kissed me,” she frowns and spits again, bits of crimson lingering on her lips. 

He sighs and leans back against the tree. “Felt right in the moment.” It did, he wants to do it again. They’re even now, they’ve both shot each other twice. No reason for her to shoot again. 

He wants to feel the way she shivers against him and moans into his mouth. She can be pissed all she wants but she kissed back, she can’t deny that. He’s sure if she wasn’t tied up she’d be a bit more receptive to him. Or maybe she just needs time to cool off after the whole compound incident, a month seems like a reasonable amount of time. Then again, women are so damn unreasonable. 

She tugs a knife out of her boot and positions it between her knees. She places it between her wrists and saws at the rope until it falls free. She slides the knife back in her boot and tosses the ruined rope at him. 

He catches it with a sigh and glances up at her. “Why didn’t you do that earlier?”

Her eyes are alight with a challenge, “I wanted to see if you would let me go yourself.” Well, clearly, he had failed her little test. “I wanted to see if there was even a possibility I could ever trust you again.”

He gives her an unimpressed look, slightly pissed off about his shirt. He never should have taught her how to shoot. If he’d known it would come back to bite him in the ass he wouldn’t have. “And?”

She gives him a disbelieving look and shakes her head. “And instead of letting me go, you kissed me.“ She throws her hands up in astonishment and glares at him. “Why the hell would you think that was a good idea?”

He smirks and revels in the way she shivers at the sight. “Well, darling, I’ve always been better with actions not words.”

“Yeah,” her voice is a challenge, eyes hard and jaw clenched tightly in frustration. He loves the sight of her all riled up. He loves it even more knowing he’s the one getting her like this. “What were you trying to tell me with that little display?”

He doesn’t answer her question, not wanting to just yet. “You liked it, didn’t you?” Her mouth snaps shut and she looks away from him. He laughs, leaning back and giving her a smug look. “You can be pissed off at me as much as you want, sweetheart,” the nickname rolls off his tongue like a taunt and she sneers at him. “But you want me just the same as you used to.”

“Do you like hurting me? Is that why you keep me around? You’ve been alone for two hundred years, Cooper. And for the majority of them you’ve harbored this hatred for me because you thought I had abandoned you just like everyone else.” 

Her words strike a place deep inside him that has him on edge. She knows what she’s doing. He’s forgotten, in his time with her, that in the same way he can get under her skin, she can do it too. She knows him just as well, she’s just always been the better half of their duo. She never feels the need to stoop to the level he does. But she’s doing it now and it feels like a kick in the teeth. 

“And I’m the only one that’s actually stuck by you.” She laughs, but there’s an underlying pain to it. She looks away from him and wipes at her cheeks and his fists clench within his gloves. “Is this your revenge? You think by torturing me you get back at everyone whose ever fucked you over. I’m sick of it, Cooper. I’m not gonna let you use me anymore.”

“I feel for you,” he forces the words out. He doesn’t want to tell her this. He shouldn’t have to tell her this. She should just stick with him, it’s what they’d always done, it’s how it always should be. Them, together. But she’s fighting against that, against him, so much that he doesn’t have a choice. 

She’s backed him into a corner he doesn’t know how to get out of. “In a way I haven’t in a very long time. I can’t let you go. Don’t you get that, sweetheart? We’re in this together.”

She shakes her head and he sighs. “No,” she looks at him and just shakes her head again. “No, you don’t love me, Cooper, or you don’t want me at least. I’m not the same girl I was, that’s what you’re after. That idea in your head, of us together, that’s who I was. You were right, the Wastelands changes you. I can’t be her for you and I don’t want to be.”

He chuckles and she shrinks away from the sound in suspicion. “Newsflash, darling, I’m not the same man. I loved you a long time ago, sweetheart, but I’m not capable of that anymore. Not for the girl you were, anyway.”

She nodded, her arms wrapped around herself. She looked like she accepted the answer, but he could see beyond that, could see that she thought he was rejecting her. It hurt, she could hate him as much as she wanted, but that still hurt her. “Good,” she muttered, “she’s gone.”

“Well, good.” She shrank further into herself and he grinned.  “You. You as you are now. That’s what I want. I don’t give a shit about who we were, the only person I’ve wanted since I’ve been out here has been you. You’re the only person I’ve met who can actually keep up with me. I don’t give a shit if anyone in this godforsaken Wasteland lives or dies, but I give a shit about you. You’re also the only one who can knock me on my ass.”

Her eyes darted to the hole in his shirt and a small grin came over her lips. “Haven’t been shot a lot, have you, cowboy?”

“No,” he chuckles again and grins at her, “I haven’t. Though, I am still pretty pissed about the hole in my hat.”

Her tone loses a bit of her playfulness and she glares at him, “You more than earned that.”

He acquiesces and holds up his hands in surrender, “Maybe.” She scoffs at that and rolls her eyes. “But I think we’re even now.”

“Barely,” she mutters, rubbing at the bruises on her wrists. She glances up at him and sighs, a surrender in her eyes. “But, it’s close enough now.”

He stands up and she eyes him warily as he throws himself down on the log next to her. He holds out a hand, “What do you say, darling, partners?”

She sighs and stares at his hand for a long time. He doesn’t mind, he leaves it there, hovering between them. He knows she’ll take it. “Deny it as much as you want but this is how it’s meant to be. You can keep fighting it or save us both some time.”

She reaches forward and tentatively wraps a hand around his, she uses it to yank him forward, their faces separated by an inch. “Shoot me again,” she whispers, “and I won’t miss the next time I knock you on your ass.”

“Oh shit,” you jump at the kickback on the rifle and nearly drop it to the ground. Cooper laughs and reaches around you, taking it from you. 

“Maybe I should have started you off with something with a little less kick to it.” He props the rifle against the tree and glances over to the cans you’d been shooting at. Well, you’d gotten one out of five at least. 

In all fairness this was the first time you’d ever handled a gun, you’re sure you’re doing fine for a beginner. He sucks on his teeth and looks at your targets. The serious look on his face cracks and he’s clearly trying to fight off laughing. 

You shove at his shoulder, smiling, “Shut up. I’ve never used one of these things before.”

He picks the rifle back up and starts laughing now, “You mean a gun?” 

You throw your arms in the air in defeat and slump into the patio chairs he’s dragged to the back of the cabin. “This is pointless, anyway.” He cocks the rifle and lifts it up to aim properly. In quick succession he knocks the remaining four cans off the fence. You roll your eyes at him, “Show off.”

He smiles and takes a seat next to you. You remain silent for a while, gazing across the yard and to the towering mountains across from his cabin. You appreciate him inviting you here. When you’d told him how overwhelmed you’d been feeling with all the new publicity you hadn’t expected him to drag you all the way out to his mountain home. 

You wouldn’t have accepted if you’d known it was just going to be you and him. You’d thought he was bringing his wife and kid, too. Spending a long weekend playing house with Cooper wasn’t going to do anything in getting rid of your crush. It was just getting worse the longer you were around him.

Waking up everyday and having him be the first person to greet you was going to send you into an early grave. You swear your heart’s never beat this fast around anyone else. He seems to be the only man who's ever had you feeling this head over heels. 

“I think it’s important you learn.”

You glance over at him, surprised at how serious he sounds. He’s still staring out at the mountains, but his gaze is distant. His mind is some place else. “Why?” You ask, voice quiet, afraid to spoil the moment.

He finally blinks, gaze darting down to his hands and the rifle still in them. “It’s easy for people to dismiss the war nowadays. They weren’t there, they didn’t watch as hundreds of good men and women died for them.” You frown, sometimes it’s easy to forget that he’d been fighting on the frontlines. He’s so good at being a socialite, you feel guilty that even you sometimes forget he was a soldier before he was Cooper Howard. 

His voice is heavy, the tension thick around the both of you. “They seem to think the war is over. I know it’s not, it’s just going to get worse. People can bury their heads in the sand as long as they want, but when the fighting is at their front door, what are they going to do?”

You reach out, hand covering his own. He finally looks up at you and you smile. “I appreciate it, Cooper.”

His eyes quickly look at your hand before looking back at you. “For what?”

You shrug, moving closer to him and lacing your fingers with his. You shouldn’t indulge yourself like this, but you can’t help it. He seems so sad and you only want to make him feel better. You just want to take care of him, the way he takes care of you. 

“For always looking out for me. You’re always there, I appreciate it. I appreciate you.”

The sad cast over his face finally breaks and he smiles at you. His hand squeezes yours once, then again and he looks back out at the mountains without saying anything else. You don’t think he needs to, that either of you needs to. Sometimes you understand each other better without words. 

You’ll always be there for one another.

You eye him warily and he holds the jerky out further. “Aren’t you a little curious?” He taunts, waving the jerky around in front of your face. You know he thinks you won’t take it. That he’s just screwing with you. He’s been doing this ever since you agreed to tag along with him. Teasing you at every given opportunity. 

You snatch it from his hands and rip a piece of it off. It kind of tastes like beef, if not a little sweeter. There’s also that metallic radiated tang to it. You chew it slowly, savoring the slightly caught off guard look on his face. You swallow it down, forcing your face to stay straight and not give away how disgusted you feel right now. 

He chuckles, leaning back and looking at you with something that seems like appreciation. “I hope you know that was ass jerky.”

You gag now, glaring at him and tossing the rest of the jerky at his smug face. “You’re such a dick.” You take a swig from your canteen and swirl the water around your mouth. It gets rid of the taste well enough but you’re never going to get over the fact that you swallowed a part of someone’s ass. 

He suddenly gets serious, swatting at your arm and motioning to the front of the store. You crouch beside him, watching as a raider walks out of the front doors. You don’t get why they chose an old movie store for their hideout, but Cooper had it on good authority that they had a decent cache of supplies inside. 

The last time you’d followed him into one of these things, you’d nearly died, and then he’d sold you. You’re still not fully trusting of him. The only reason you’re with him now is because you need extra security from bounty hunters after getting booted out of Filly. 

If he wasn’t such a good shot, you would have never given him a second glance. Despite how much he insists the compound was an honest mistake, you find the trust slow to come. You’ll let him take the lead on this one, you’re not confident in him having your back if things take a turn. 

He moves forward and you hang back, keeping watch while he slits the guard’s throat. He lowers the body quietly to the ground and you creep behind him, following him through the doors of the store. 

This group is smaller than the last one you dealt with. Only five of them with no extra guards outside. Cooper ducks behind a dust covered shelf before they can spot either of you. You go to the other side of the store, moving slowly along the edge until you have a good shot. 

You take out one man and Cooper manages to hit two more before they start firing off their own guns. You dart back behind the shelf, willing to let Cooper handle the last two. But one of them dives behind the shelf and grabs at you. 

Another shot goes off and his friend’s body hits the ground while he rounds the corner with you. He’s got an arm wrapped around your throat and the barrel of his gun pushing so hard into your skull you can feel an indent forming. 

It wouldn’t be hard to shoot this guy, you still have your gun in your hand. Cooper seems to realize that, too, from the questioning look he gives you. You drop your gun to the floor, you want to see what he’ll do. 

Maybe you’re stupid, gambling with your life like this. But you don’t feel any fear, not from the guy holding you hostage at least. You just keep your eyes locked on Cooper’s. They’re so familiar to you, yet so distant. Like a stranger you’ve known all your life. 

He slowly rises from the floor, hands raised in the air in surrender. “Alright, let’s just see if we can’t talk this out like gentlemen.”

The guy holding you jerks you roughly, gun banging painfully against your temple. You wince but remain quiet. “Stay back or I’ll blow her goddamn brains out!”

Cooper’s eyes dart from your face to the guy. He huffs, frowning and pursing his lips like he’s trying to think of a way to talk himself out of this. He could leave, he’s got enough time to make it through the door before he fires at him. 

Or he could help you. 

It’s the only reason you let yourself get caught. If he wants your trust he’s going to have to prove it. Cooper looks at you and a grin splits across his face. It’s like he’s read your mind, from the knowing look on his face you think he might’ve. 

Then again, you never really needed words to talk to each other. 

With a speed that never fails to catch you off guard his hand darts under his jacket and he draws his gun. He’s shooting the man before you even get a chance to brace yourself. Your body gets dragged back slightly by the dead weight but Cooper moves forward and wraps a hand around your shirt, tugging you into him. 

Your hands shoot out, bracing yourself against his chest. He peers at you from under his hat and grins, “You didn’t really think I was gonna let you go that easy did you, darling?” Your eyes dart down to his lips, you feel like you can still taste him. 

The timing of his kiss might not have been appropriate, but he certainly hadn’t made it forgettable. Nothing about him was forgettable. As much as you wished he could be. You hated yourself for still letting yourself fall into his trap. 

Hollywood might have once labeled you as the most seductive actress of your generation, but Cooper had you beat. He kept you coming back even when you knew you shouldn’t. He had you wrapped around him and all you wanted to do was squeeze until he let you go. 

You push off of him, ignoring how much you want to pull him closer. You move towards their pile of supplies, “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

There are a few different posters set up in the old movie store that intrigue him. But the one that’s caught his attention the most is set up directly behind her. Her back is to it, so she hasn’t gotten a chance to see it yet, but it’s all he can focus on. 

The Outlaw and The Sheriff

Their first movie together. 

He looks at her and huffs out a laugh, she glances up at him for a moment before she begins rifling through her bag again. She looks like she walked right off the fucking poster, hat and all. She’s the spitting image of herself, but she seems so different. 

Maybe it’s the eyes. The light there has changed, dimmed slightly from how it used to be. She used to seem so naive to the world, like a little lamb that just needed some guidance. Now, he wonders just how much of the world she’d seen before he found her. If maybe she had never been as innocent to it’s cruelties as he’d once assumed. 

She stepped into this new role of hers just as quickly as he had. You didn’t just change that quickly without knowing already just how awful people could be. 

“Sweetheart,” she looks up and he points behind her. She turns around and looks up to the poster.

She scoffs, moving to stand beside him, “I always hated how I looked in that.”

He glances over at her and shakes his head, “Probably shouldn’t show you a mirror anytime soon, then.” Her hands reach up to fiddle with the brim of her hat and she smiles, a real smile for once. 

“No, I suppose not.” Her hands trace over her lips, he glances back at the poster. At that old signature of hers. She always had to have those red lips. “It’s so different,” she whispers and he knows she didn’t mean for him to hear. Her eyes glisten and he frowns. 

He shouldn’t have shown her. It’s not like he enjoyed seeing those fucking Vault-Boy posters, he sure as hell hated seeing clips of himself. Why would she enjoy seeing who she used to be? Who they used to be?

Things used to be so simple. He loved her, she loved him. Now he’d fucked up so much he wasn’t sure she could ever look at him the way she used to. He didn’t want who she was before, he couldn’t handle that. This new her, well, he didn’t give her near enough credit. 

But he wouldn’t hate seeing someone look at him like that again. Endless adoration and unflinching loyalty. He knew he would follow her anywhere, he’d realized that a while ago. He didn’t have anything in the Wastelands, nothing but hate and spite to keep him going all this time.

Now, he had her. He just needed her to realize that she had him just the same. She had him wrapped around her and he hated it and loved it at the same time. Hated her and loved her for it all the same. 

He tugs his glove off before he reaches for her. He cups her cheek, thumb tracing over her lips before she turns towards him. His eyes meet hers and he smiles slightly at the familiarity and mystery to them. So much of her he recognizes and then there are these new parts he’s yet to discover. 

He wants to discover all of her. Learn everything he can about her all over again, feed his desire to consume her entirely. 

She pulls him in this time, her lips chapped and cracked. Her arms wind around his neck, yanking him closer and he tugs at her. She tastes as sweet as he remembers and it only makes him crave more. More of her, more of anything she’ll let him have. 

She pulls back from him, pressing her hand against his chest, slowly backing him against the wall. He lets her ease him to the floor and she throws a leg over his lap. She settles herself above him, both her hands tightly grasping his neck, crushing their bodies together, eyes gazing intently into his own. He doesn’t know what she’s looking for in him but she seems to find it when she leans in once more. 

She isn’t giving him a chance at control, she’s got a leash on him, pulling back anytime he tries to lead. He relents, following her as she slowly explores him. 

He’s not sure how long this peace between them will last before one of them inevitably fucks up. But they’re stuck together now. It doesn’t matter what happens, he’s not letting her get away from him again. 

She’s his, always has been, always will be. It’s been that way since before the fallout. He’s led her, guided her.

He had loved her as a different man. History always seems to repeat itself with them. As twisted as the world is, as twisted as they’ve become, they always seem to drift back together. No matter how much the both of them fight against it. 

He’s giving in now, giving into her. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the game/show Fallout, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[burnedwriter]

Messmerized

A/n:Messmer fuckers this one is for you

Summary:Guided by Miquella through the land of shadows,taking down anything that stood in the way of completing his journey.After a long trip with your trusty steed,torrent,you made it safely to your final destination.Miquella informed you that the only target blocking the way was a demigod named Messmer the impaler,one of the most fearsome figures and the mastermind behind everything that has been happening in the lands.Exchanging your last good byes before parting ways,you head inside the castle never to be seen again.....

---

Preview:

Getting off torrent you take a look towards the bridge, it was full of foot soldiers along with their respectable commanders, their sole goal was guarding the front gate of the castle.''stay here torrent,i will come back for you,i promise''you gave him a treat and a pat on the head to calm him down before your departure.As you were walking away ,Torrent bit down on your cape trying to pull you back but to no avail.His reaction frightening you to your core,you have never seen him act like this not once on your travels and you have killed every demigod in the lands between,hell you even took him to fight Radahn together and he never acted this way.Deciding to brush it off as you make your way towards the soldiers,killing every foot soldier you saw,swinging your sword left and right,leaving no survivors.This is the castle Miquella has guided you as you stand before the gates.Nescent butterflies appearing from thin air,creating the form of the small empyrian,who did not dare to come any closer to the gate but keep his distance''Messmer is the last obstacle,he is the one that controls the shadow lands,please dear tarnished.You are my only hope''Miquella said clenched his small hands pleading you ''put your worries to rest Miquella,you can rely on me,I did not became the elden lord for no reason.I guess this is where we part our ways for now.We will meet again soon after the battle''you reassured him before turning your back to him.Putting your hands on the colossal gate ready to open it.Looking over your shoulder for a brief moment Miquella bows down in approval before disappearing quickly into a sworm of butterflies just like how he appeared.Leaving you all alone.

Pushing the heavy door with all your might,just enough for you to slip inside.Immediatly  drawing your sword,ready to fight as you expected more soldiers to show up with all the rackus you caused outside but there was nothing....no one was there,the inside was empty,no balistas,no soldiers,no commanders not even Messmer himself waiting to attack you.Walking sheepilish further into the castle.The castle itself was dark and foggy to the point where you could barely even see where you were going, the smell of previously lit candles still filling the air,making it hard to breath.When it came to the decoration of the castle ,some could say that it was long abandoned, with ripped curtains litering the floor and the paintings ruined,uneven and stained with blood.As you continued further,the castle still had no source of light but only 2 red candle right outside of a long corridor that seemed endless.What took your interest were the flames,they looked more of blood than flame.As you took a step closer ready to enter the long corridor,''what is going on in this place?''making you jump in suprise,the candles lit on their own right before your very own eyes,with each step another set lit, guiding you through the darkened castle.But where could they possibly be guiding you? Traveling through the castle,you made a brief stop as you see a statue hidden away,soon to realize it was a statue of Marika only destinct by her extended arm that was sticking out under the cloth.''Why would a statue of Marika be here from all places?''You went closer towards the statue, pulling down on the cover,making them fall , revealing a disturbing secret.The statue was beheaded,you felt unease like you just discovered something that you were not supposed to see,making you panic and go back to following the bloodflame candles like nothing happened. After sometime the candles lead you to another set of heavy doors but there were no ordinary door,they had a unique isignia on them,a giant circle cut in two halves,on the left side a flame while on the other a snake eating its on tail.It was Messmer's throne room.

link to the full fic:https://archiveofourown.org/works/55361947

[quibbs126]

Well I also did this today. Sketches so I could try and figure out that skystar fankid since as mentioned earlier, I’ve been trying to think about him

I’ve been trying to draw other stuff today, but honestly after drawing Jazz, my creative juices have not been flowing as much. I tried to do more color palette drawings, but Megatron’s shoulders give me so much trouble I couldn’t figure them out, and I tried to draw Ironhide but he wasn’t turning out right proportion wise and I realized by them I was kind of just forcing it

But then I was bored and needed something to do creatively, so I tried to at least attempt some amount of designing this kid. Though first I needed to try and draw Starscream and Skyfire’s helms (since that’s on of the main things that don’t rely on alt mode) to see how I could combine them

I mean, I think I did all right. It is very much still a work in progress though

Probably shouldn’t have even posted it, just kept it to myself for future reference, but I have a problem of wanting to share literally everything I make with very few exceptions, so here we are

I have multiple alternate color schemes here as well because I just didn’t know what to pick

Honestly my biggest problem here for me is that Skyfire doesn’t have any design in Transformers One, at least not as far as I can tell. And he doesn’t really appear in much outside of that, so I’m really just stuck with his g1 design to base off of. So most of what I do have to work with comes from Starscream and the other Seekers

So like, I feel like this kid looks too much like Starscream, but I don’t know how to fix it

By the way, while I haven’t settled on a name for him yet, the one floating around for me right now is Overdrive? I don’t really know why, and it unfortunately is already a character’s name, but shush

It may change, but for now, in this post, his name is Overdrive

There’s also the problem of the color scheme for him here. Because like, Skyfire and Starscream technically have almost the same color schemes, just that Starscream also has black/grey and they’re dispersed differently. So I’m trying to find a balance here that works without looking too much like one or the other

I had a brief idea to base Overdrive’s color scheme on the original Jetfire toy, and honestly I do think it could work, with the mainly white with red and black accents, it's just that for whatever reason, I don't like how it looks when I make his middle part red. Maybe I've been watching too much g1, because there's a lot of red Autobots, and characters having white and red on their helms isn't that uncommon either. So I just keep it blue so he looks distinct in my head. I might switch it over to the Jetfire color scheme later though

Also you see that for one of the visors I toyed with him having green eyes (his eye and visor color match btw, the eye's only there so you can see it), because some people decide that pre-betrayal Starscream had non red optics. But I didn't just want to stick with plain blue, and I knew that we see a number of miners with green eyes, so why not green? I changed it because I thought maybe he didn't look Starscream enough, but eh

Oh yeah, I do have a few other notes on his design here, since I'm realizing I've mostly just been complaining

Why did I give him a visor? Eh, why not, Skyfire and Starscream don't have them. But I based it on how it looks on Thundercracker and Skywarp

As for his side vents, I wasn't really sure how to do them, but I didn't want them to be the same as Starscream. I tried to base them off of Slipstream's, but the way the vents folded looked weird to me, and I ended up cutting them off and making his face into what you see in the bottom left there. It didn't turn out exactly the way I wanted in the colored version though, and I think I ended up circling back to Starscream's vent shape. But oh well, things to change later

Oh yeah, pictures of Thundercracker, Skywarp and Slipstream to know what I’m talking about. Or more accurately, this is what I used

Also those things on his sides? They were supposed to be like Skyfire's side cheek things he has in g1, but I also made them puff out for some reason. I don't know why. I'll probably tweak it, but I want to keep some aspect of it I think

*sigh* to be honest, I really don't know what I think of this design. It really isn't finished at all. I'm really not even sure why I'm showing it, other than to say I'm working on it and I didn't just abandon it? But I mean, we'll see how long that lasts

Do I have anything I added on to Overdrive's character at least? Well no, not really. By this afternoon I think I had mostly creatively drained myself, I mostly just wrote what I had originally again

Namely that he came to be after Sentinel's betrayal, and as such Starscream doesn't know he exists and Skyfire thinks Starscream's dead. Overdrive still has his cog, it never got stolen, either because Sentinel hadn't thought of it yet or he didn't have a believable means to have it taken without it being suspicious. All I really know is he's a jet, but isn't outfitted for military work of any kind, his profession probably being closer to Skyfire's

As for Skyfire, I'm stealing his role here from another fanfic I read, where he's a scientist who was trying to figure out the cause of the Energon shortage and the lack of the miners' cogs (unaware that latter part is a lie, but he was growing suspicious with the discouragement of that line of research), though he also races occasionally. So maybe Overdrive's a scientist too? I don't know, I don't think he needs to be, but I don't know what to make him

Also a note that isn't new to me but I don't think I ever mentioned, due to Skyfire's research, he's met the miners plenty of times and was generally considered one of the nicer cogged bots to them. Overdrive has by proxy met them on occasion as well, including D-16. So as it happens, Megatron does in fact know about Overdrive and the fact that he's Starscream's kid (Skyfire probably mentioned his former conjunx at some point), but he doesn't know that Starscream doesn't. So he hasn't told anyone because he assumes everyone already knows

But yeah, I have Overdrive's backstory, but I really don't have anything about his actual job or personality. To be honest, I think some of it's me being paranoid I recreate Locket in some way, since I like seeing stuff on the Locket AU. I suppose I try making him closer to Skyfire's personality? But for whatever reason, my brain can't rectify that in my head. I don't know

Still don't have an answer on his alt mode either. And it gets even trickier now because they don't have Earth alt modes, they're Cybertronian (even if they don't all look the most different from Earth vehicles here). I did learn about the existence of triple engine jets today, and I kind of want to do that, but I don't know if I will. I also don't know how to draw planes yet, or how they entirely translate to robot mode

But yeah, I think I'm done here, just updating you on what I've been up to this latter half of the day

[ilovedrpepper1]

so I’m starting to see more of this again…

um first of all it was clear Reiner had a split personality (soldier/warrior) so Bertholdt had to remind him that HE IS NOT A SOLDIER HE IS A WARRIOR! A WARRIOR GET THAT THROUGH YOUR THICK SKULL! “Verbally abusing” my guy… most of the seasons bertholdt didn’t talk til last episodes of s2 and first few episodes of s3.

even a friend of mine explains it better🙄👎

anyways, pls understand bert’s character before hating on him👋😭 matter of fact just leave him alone if you hate him that much then fine but don’t be bad mouthing him. Reminder Bertholdt Hoover is an animated character A FICTIONAL CHARACTER!! So to be saying these things is wild, especially saying kill, torture because I have seen those haters day rhat about bertl. Bertholdt is not an abuser. Reiner was not being abused, it was his split personality cause from Marcel’s death as well. Bertholdt did not support Marley’s cause. He was a child brainwashed, only a child to help his father who sadly passed away after bertholdt’s desth (I forgot).

He also said he considered the scouts as his comrades, a true marleyan would not consider them as friends more, just distant themselves from the “devil island”

and now this…get ready

1. Bertholdt Did Not Abuse Reiner

The post states that Bertholdt “constantly abused” Reiner and “verbally abused him” whenever Reiner acted in a way he disliked. However, throughout the series, Bertholdt is portrayed as reserved, passive, and hesitant to express strong emotions, let alone be abusive. If anything, Bertholdt often follows Reiner’s lead.

• Bertholdt never physically or verbally abuses Reiner.

• On the contrary, he is often shown supporting Reiner despite his worsening mental state.

• The only time Bertholdt speaks harshly to Reiner is when he confronts him about his dissociation between his Warrior and Soldier personas—something Bertholdt does out of fear and concern, not malice.

2. Bertholdt Was Not Dismissive of Reiner’s Issues

The claim that Bertholdt was “completely dismissive of Reiner’s issues” is false. Bertholdt acknowledges Reiner’s mental struggles multiple times. However, Bertholdt himself is also struggling with guilt and fear, making him less equipped to provide emotional support.

• In Season 2, Episode 10 (“Children”), Bertholdt directly admits to being terrified of their mission and hints at the trauma they both carry.

• Instead of dismissing Reiner, Bertholdt passively goes along with Reiner’s dual identities, likely because he doesn’t know how to help.

3. Bertholdt and Reiner’s Dynamic Was Built on Mutual Dependence

Rather than a toxic or abusive relationship, Bertholdt and Reiner rely on each other heavily as fellow Warriors sent on a mission that has taken a heavy toll on their mental health.

• Reiner is the dominant force between them, and Bertholdt often follows his lead.

• However, Bertholdt does not reject Reiner or treat him with cruelty—he stays by his side until the very end.

• In Season 3, Episode 16, Bertholdt even expresses that he considers Reiner a close friend, despite everything.

4. Bertholdt Did Care for Reiner and Arguably Comforted Him

While Bertholdt is emotionally reserved, that does not mean he never supported or cared for Reiner.

• His loyalty to Reiner is evident, as he sticks by him even after their mission becomes increasingly dire.

• In their final moments together, Bertholdt still considers Reiner his friend, despite their impending doom.

Conclusion: The Post Misrepresents Bertholdt and the Relationship

The idea that Bertholdt was an abusive, unsupportive figure to Reiner is unfounded. Their relationship is built on camaraderie, shared trauma, and reliance rather than toxicity. Bertholdt was not a cruel figure in Reiner’s life—if anything, Reiner was the more dominant, forceful one between the two.

1. Marley ≠ Nazi Germany

Marley is not a one-to-one representation of Nazi Germany. The show’s world-building draws inspiration from multiple historical events and regimes, but it is not meant to be a direct allegory.

• Marley is an imperialist power, not a fascist state like Nazi Germany. It has been at war with multiple nations for centuries, using Eldians as expendable weapons.

Calling Bertholdt and Reiner “Nazi soldiers” is an oversimplification that ignores the show’s deeper themes of manipulation, war propaganda, and moral struggle. They were victims of a larger imperial system, not willing participants in genocide. Using such comparisons is misleading and trivializes real-world history.

I hope this LONG EXPLANATION WILL MAKE IT THROUGH THAT PIG BRAIN OF YOURS because hating on a fictional character is lame and especially saying very concerning things about him👎

In conclusion, shut up,

[orange-coloredsky-archive]

i cannot believe ive never posted this. probably because it looks like shit. anyways heres my pepe silva ass scrawlings about what i think this guy's mods are for.

translation of the nigh unreadable text under the cut

REAL AND CANON DIMA LORE PART ONE: What The Hell Are All Those Doo Dads

(i'll start from the head and go down)

HEAD

functionally blind. constant exposure to moisture from the fog pretty much turned a lot of him into mush and short circuits, including whatever optic nerves he had going on in there. so he mainly relies on sound and memory to get around. some of the shit sticking out of his head actually works like echolocation devices. pickinh up the sound around him and translating it into something that lets him know "oh, theres a fuckin table there. it does not always work. (fun fact: thats the reason why his memory game is based on abstractions and sound. while exploring nick/kellogg's brain we got visual input. dima doesnt have that)

all of the other tubes are basically just typical vacuum tubes. used to reroute voltage to make sure he doesnt overload himself with all the extra mods. make sure you dont stand too close to him during a thunderstorm

TORSO

basically an external disk drive. his main way of utilizing holotapes and shit. i like to draw a lil heart on it

looks like guts. gross. i cant figure out what this would do (i now believe its a liquid cooling system)

LEGS

so it turns out sitting in a damp ass cave on your ass in the dirt for 365 days doesnt do wonders for the skin. especially when that skin is just shitty rubber. basically his fuckin leg parts rotted away and just his metal skeleton remained, which is wrapped in his weird duct tape yoga pants. the metal frames are for extra support. because of this as well as his age he cant really stand for long periods of time (ignore the part where he stands in acadia forever after you get deeper into his questline) and when he INSISTS ON DOING SO he requires some form of mobility aid. usually in the form of faraday or chase walking alongside him

typical synth skeletal feet, but augmented to actually flex/extend like talons. he is weirdly skilled at picking things up with his feet.

BACK

basically his whole back is just Gone, minus the structures needed to hold up those ports because dima is very prone to overheating. was easier to just get rid of anything blocking the flow of air than to install a bunch of heat sinks. faraday's smart but hes on a budget.

these are the cerebral (spinal?) connections he uses to be plugged into his chair (not dissimilar to the placements of the connections in the institute mind wiping chair ☹️)

[darlingdickie]

One Last Flight

Weeks. It had been weeks. Slade had taught him through experience how to gauge time, even under duress. In the back of his mind, time dripped along, going from days to weeks, to a month, to two. Three. Chime came intermittently, trying to throw him off with feeding times, watching Dick fly and fly and fly, making little mocking comments if he fell. (Dickie had figured by now Chime had rigged the trapeze bars to fail him, but he needed to see the sky, just a little.) He even showed Dick what his future would be, in a drawing of feathered earrings. The sadistic asshole also caught on how quietly desperate Dickie was to not be alone, and at random would disappear for days at a time, using a drone to drop food to his captive. He always felt slightly dizzy with relief when Chime would show up again. He wasn't forgotten, or left to beat his proverbial wings against the cage until the feathers fell out entirely. But then, suddenly, Chime stopped coming. Dickie couldn't figure out if he'd done something wrong during their last meeting. Chime had pet his cheek, and the petite acrobat had been so touch starved by this point that he'd leaned into it, letting the feeling linger. (Slade's methods had been different, but Dick knew in his heart then, as those fingers curled gently along his cheek and jaw, that he'd broken once more, all the same.) The food stopped too, leaving Dickie to rely on drinking water from his sink more and more. He knew that soon he'd be too weak to fly any more. It had been almost a month now, of no food. No contact. No mocking words from the speakers stationed around his cage. Four months total, in this gilded, hellish cage.

There was one bar left. He'd been saving it, just for this. One last flight, one last time to see the sky he longed for, and then Dick would force a fall, one so bad that he knew he'd die quickly. On his own terms. And he'd see his parents again. They'd catch Dickie in their arms, hold him close and call him their little Robin. Then he could tousle Jason's hair, make it stick up all over, and hug his little brother tight and never let go. Dick scaled the ladder slowly to the platform, sitting on the edge briefly with swinging legs. He'd found in his dresser clothing reminiscent of the Flying Graysons, yellow and green and red. He felt like Robin, about to take his first jump with a grapple. The colors felt like home, one he hadn't been to in some time. Warm, familiar. (Dances by the fire, laughing and singing in all sorts of languages, foods that blazed against his tongue. Hugs after bad dreams. A stuffed elephant toy, now long left behind. Home. He was almost there.) Rising to his feet, Dickie gave a flourishing bow to his audience of ghosts, to the cameras Chime would likely check. (To those who might miss him, after.) He then launched himself out into the air, grabbing hold of the last trapeze bar. He twisted about it, spinning and flipping, the brilliant sunset a glimmer in the corners of his eyes, shining against the dark mane of his loose hair. The last performance of the last Flying Grayson. Home, so close he could touch it. There it was, a subtle give Dick had learned to notice over the months. Any moment now-

And the wires snapped.

Dickie laughed as he fell, as he angled to hit the ground head-first. It was his last sunset. His final dance. He was ready to see his family again. "Sorry, Lucifer, don't think I can come in to work tonight," he whispered into the air, letting his eyes slip shut as the ground rose to meet him. @le4ves-1n-the-w1nd @morningstarscratch

[milliondollarnooboo]

Rules for my BACC

- currently, there’s not that many. I’ve very loosely referenced the approach of other BACCs around me for a sense of structure but then everything else is just me playing however I feel like.

Here’s the framework though:

1. Starting off with some kind of founder, and from which there must be a mayor figure. I started with 6 sims - one of each aspiration, because I figured it would be a good way to get a balanced mix of personalities in. I didn’t want to stick to just one founder because I honestly don’t have the energy for that.

2. Starting with only one community lot, with the rest to be earned as certain milestones are reached. I truthfully haven’t looked around much for rules on this and will likely be drawing inspo from The Redmond Flats approach. I really liked how @ennysimmer did it in their Neptune BACC - it seems the lots were being determined mostly by necessity along with the aspirations of their sims.

I built a deck/dock by the seaside to give the outside world access to the island. This will help me to explain the daily visits of NPCs like the paper boy and eventually, NPCs who will serve at other community lots. I actually got this idea while reading one of @ennysimmer 's BACC posts where they weaved into the story that the paper delivery person had to commute every day to deliver the paper. I loved that little detail.

My dock/deck (idk man, I'm from a landlocked country leave me aloooone lol) has a little 'office' where visitors and deliveries from Sim City are recorded. There's a few boats on the water because of regular visits from necessary NPCs. Unfortunately, Unsavory Charlatan thinks himself a necessary NPC, too.

Anyway I added a few community-activity items to give my sims somewhere to hangout when they're not at their houses. I tried to keep it simple and rely more on the natural traits of a beach lot (sunbathing, sandcastles, etc) to keep them busy.

3. Limited but still modern access to certain things. In most challenges I've seen they usually start out with minimal access to electricity, plumbing, and technology. In my hood though I am giving each of my adult sims cell phones because it's just more convenient that way and is generally a crucial part of my gameplay. I even weaved it into Natasha's character by making her a streamer with a following that she has to check in with often.

They'll still have to earn access to other more complicated instances of technology and the other things.

4. I can build or download my lots and modify them accordingly. Yes, I know that building your own lots is common practice in this challenge but sometimes I just can't be bothered and anyway I may prefer someone else's approach to building over mine. For instance, the house at the top was a starter home I downloaded off MTS (I would have linked it but I can't find the specific download :( ).

It also gives me time to enjoy gameplay more.

5. Whatever happens, happens. I will do my best not to interfere with the events that take place and will try to maintain continuity in the story even when something unexpected or undesired happens. For example, if a certain sim keeps getting pregnant despite having a million kids already, I will still have to let it happen even if it bothers me. It will all be dependent on their autonomy though because I'm not going to encourage it, lol.

6. I townify sims that I can’t be bothered to keep up with then I reintroduce them into the main story where necessary. Some may never be reincorporated and may be killed off if everyone else from their generation has passed. I know that part of what makes a BACC an actual challenge is the commitment to playing each sim but I get overwhelmed veeeery quickly so… yeah.

7. Birth control is allowed. I know rule 5 suggests otherwise but this is for the same reasons as rule 6. I wasn’t going to do this at first until the first baby was born and I immediately felt it would be too much for me if several of my sims became parents at once. So I toggle on and off with birth control depending on what makes sense for my story or the mood that day.

--

So far, this is it. It's still pretty early in my gameplay to have developed much. I want to allow myself to add things or take them away as I go along because at the end of the day, the priority is to have fun.

[rocketco]

a lot of the way the CG behaves specifically reminds me of Alternia which I really enjoy. Alternia is a planet completely run by kids who have no adult supervision other than the drones that are partially controlled by SOME adult trolls in space. During the trials and the sign assignments grubs are assigned roles based on their castes that instruct them on how to move forward and if done correctly they recieve government stipends to fuel their economy. Trolls don't have bosses or supervisors unless they're hired on commission by another troll with s government stipend. This is why theres many janitor trolls who don't clean certain places but just sort of mosey around cleaning Anything, they were assigned role of Cleaner and their life on alternia relies on them roleplaying that role until adulthood when they actually get to BE a janitor in space.

The CG feel somewhat similar to me but much more loosey goosey. They dont have stipends or anything to enforce any of these rules, but everything they do is essentially roleplay to stave off boredom. I keep making homestuck comparisons but its the best thing I can draw from, imagine you're unkillable, you have all the resources in the world to fuck around, you can do everything EXCEPT leave. You'd start larping! You'd start breaking things for entertainment. It sort of brings up an old fear I had growing up about heaven where I just felt like what was described was so boring it'd become a hell of its own. It makes sense to me that Red was saying they'd get so bored they'd die, and I think it makes sense that Orange was the one to come around and finally agree with Red that if it weren't for him they wouldn't have experienced what they did. Its crazy when you compare all of this to someone like Purple who lives on and grew up in stick city. Shes experienced real life, she has lived it for real. She isn't shocked to see them like they are her because shes seen other stick figures her entire life, where as Green and Blue practically shit themselves seeing a new stick figure for the first time. Their idea of stakes and situations are all completely skewed because they know nothing else other than punching the fuck out of eachother and roleplaying.

[sortiarus--de--naturas--daemonum]

The Beginnings of my workings with Stolas

TW, Substance Abuse

So, it was 2020-21 and I was still holding dearly on to my faith as a progressive christian and it was slowly dying out. I kept "talking" to God but would get little to no response. Eventually, I created an OC based on Stolas to have in my webcomic story. I would draw his sigils on my work and I'd feel....love and relaxed after doing such. That's when I knew he was trying to contact me.

Eventually, he came to me in a dream as a blue owl with red eyes, then shapeshifted into a mexican striped owl with purple eyes and white pupils (my ocs owl form).

Despite some former friends being really angry about me getting into demons, I invoked him anyway with S.Connolly's demon enn, a blue candle, and his sigil. I originally would hear a faint voice, where we would start talking together, until he decided to no longer be invoked in my house and instead, stick around full time to help me with my mental health.

Eventually, I left that toxic friend group, much to Stolas's advice and things got better for me.

Stolas eventually started to take the form of my oc and he ended up taking physical form in the form of my oc, humanoid but with orange eyes and a cross-crown.

Is that all you have to say about him, shayerah?

Nope. In fact far from it. I eventually learned in November of 2022, that Stolas appeared in earlier grimoires than the Psuedomonarcha Daemonum. and unfortunately by a fan of the fascist occult author, Tarl Warwick. This person was giving themselves alcohol poisoning to get information out of Stolas when they could have simply used a wikipedia article on the Livre Des Esperitz/Even King Paimon's Wikipedia article, the Esoteric Archives Psuedomonarchia Daemonum website to find the Book of Oberon pdf, bought and read Stellas Daemonum (which was suggested by SO many people on that subreddit this person was in), or Bought and read Jake Stratton-Kent's Pandemonium. They ALL were more reliable methods of getting information that hurting yourself with alchohol and telling us partly false information regarding my patron.

Eventually, I met @localluciferian who got me a free pdf of Stellas Demonum so I didn't have to rely on the free trial by Everend to read it all.

Now, Shayerah, how is Stolas like since you didn't offer up to talk about that part?

He's very kind and understanding. He had helped me greatly with my mental health, taught me about witchcraft, introduced me to Amduscias, and Buer. Buer he mentioned is his very good friend and the two even have similar energies.

I also forgot to mention, Stolas is very affectionate (he likes to touch my back and shoulders) and was with me since I was a child...how I know is he confirmed he was the hooded figure I saw at 12 years old, he touched me on the back before the tornado started in 2012, and it was a match of energy. Also, I was very drawn to space and owls as a child.

Special Thanks

@stellae-de-baphometis Also helped me out alot in my practice. He helped me learn more about Stolas and even was there for me when I had no one irl as a friend to talk to. I think he deserves a section on here especially since he's writing his own book on the Goetia and their past appearnces beyond that!

Closing:

☆ Ave Prince Stolas ☆

[yayforocs]

I!!! ok ok these were who i was actually originally going to make helsmets for but then i remembered aron was originally a minecraft oc and she Immediately Took The Spotlight bUT I!!!! made some helsmets of the minecraft crew (even tho their helsmets would certainly not be a crew) to fill @silverskye13's sandbox with!!!!! i will ramble!! under cut!!

SO FIREMITE

He was like the first one (maybe second??) that i came up with an idea for, and it was actually the redesigns that did it! i mentioned that he kept his more sculk-y eye and half of his face hidden bc it could freak ppl out and then also i realized that i'd kinda visualized him as a happy ray of sunshine all the time and it perfectly opened the door to! suppression. like if he's perfect beam of sunshine all the time then he's gotta be suppressing/hiding A Lot Of StuffTM, both physically (hiding as much of his warden influence as possible) and emotionally (only showing others his happiness), so i made his helsmet based off that! :V it's also kinda what firemite is afraid to be seen as i think, bc if he saw his helsmet all he would see is what about himself would scare ppl.

Tyratone was my second!! I'm pretty sure! she might've been first. but Tyr looks around at her friend group and sees that everyone else contributes- fire brings up resources from underground, aqua makes connections to other folks to keep them on good terms, and razor keeps the group protected from physical threats. She just.. has her little indoor farm. Collects crops every so often. Mostly keeps her cats alive. Messes around with firemite n tags along with razor to scout out sometmes. Like what does she even do. (She provides for the group but thinks it a task that any of them could do and that she's not really needed, even tho they do all rely on her to keep them going. Any of them *could* step into that role alongside what they do, it's simple enough, but they all appreciate having her around bc she's fun and enjoys simple things, and keeps the group together.) She thinks it only a matter of time before she's kicked out bc she's not really doing much, and so her helsmet is based around proving her worth through what she can do for other people!

Aqua took me a bit to fully realize; i had a vague idea for a while but it was toeing the line of similarity to tyr's and i didn't want repeats, so i sat and thought for a bit. in his original bio, i'd put that he kinda missed only having two ppl in the group, and that he thinks he's the leader but isn't. ok, so throwing these two things together, i can kinda figure that maybe he missed only having two people bc it meant that his opinions carried more weight, because it was only ever up against one other, instead of three others. he gets ideas of what he thinks is best and what he thinks they should do at any given time and the others tend to go with razor's ideas more than his, and it gets to him. he feels like they don't really listen to him at all, which they do and give consideration to his input, but he gets jealous and upset that razor's ideas are gone with more. so his hels is someone that constantly strives to be heard and to be listened to and to be viewed as important! i'm not actually sure if how i ended up implementing that works or not, but that's what i was able to come up with :V (the cane is just to look neat, and also it's netherite so heavy bonking stick as well should he need it sdklfj)

and then razor! razor. good night he gave me trouble. i wanted to draw him so badly and could not for the life of me figure out what his hels would be of. like i knew he'd be a fighter, but like. why would he exist in the first place?? i kinda thought about how i'd designed him and what personality traits i'd given him- he wears a lot of layers, most of his face is covered, long sleeves, it's a kinda closed-off wardrobe. and he's phlegmatic, so he goes with the flow a lot. maybe his thing is that he's doing what he can to keep the group safe, sure, but he also wants to try to stay a little closed-off, so that if he fails one day to keep them safe, it won't hurt as much and would be easier to move on. tossing around the idea that maybe that had happened with folks he was previously with- before he and fire met aqua and tyr, and maybe even before he met fire. not sure yet, (still not entirely certain on his hels concept at all tbh) but that's the fun of being in the middle of developing characters and their stories!! trying stuff out and seeing if it sticks!!

ANYWAY if u read all of that bLESS YOU ilysm these were really fun to figure out and make!!! also cannot believe i hecking. i did all these today, this afternoon/evening dslkfjsdkl i'm going to bed Extremely LateTM but it is worth it!!! i did it!!!! i'm so happy i love them sm qvq ty silver for writing such a cool hecking story that provides so so much inspiration and such a fun world to play around in, this was a fantastic exercise in character development for these four, who just existed as bullet points prior :V

[viktoriaashleyyx]

Thank you for the tag @yaralulu !! Its nice to feel included ♥

Describe your writing process from idea to posting/publishing?

I get the best ideas while driving or showering and then struggle to remember them later.

Its a mess, it truly is, i have thrown away everything my hs teachers taught me. I have 35 WIPs that as soon as I think of a scene, ill spit it out and then move onto the next. I am writing CH 15 of my fic while CH11 remains bare and empty.

Are you a plotter or a pantser?

I have no idea what a pantser is tbh, I just started writing 2 mos ago. Still catching up with the lingo and all the different sites I need to learn.

I generally have an idea of a plot, and at the top of every CH or Word doc I will write a brief synopsis of what I want to happen, but for the most part i am possessed by the characters and I am just as shocked as yall are about what came out of my fingertips.

What do you listen to when you are writing?

Studio Ghibli Study music. I draw a lot of inspiration from BVB, MIW, Heather Dale and Misbehavin Maidens, but while I am actually writing I cannot listen to lyrics because my ADHD paired with my dyslexia will have me out here just writing the lyrics down.

There might be a Tarquin Bonus Chapter coming that is based off The Maiden and the selkie by Heather dale but shhh!.

What’s your drink of choice(while writing)?

It depends on Time of Day but I am the stereotypical 3 drinks at once person: 1 for hydration (water), 1 for caffeine (tea or coffee, I have a terrible addiction to both), and 1 for fun (hot cocoa, dr. pepper, or kool aid)

Promote yourself! What’s your favorite thing you’ve written?

I do really like my main fic A Court Reborn, it is a self indulgent fun story to write and a few people seem to love it, which I am floored by. I honestly did not think it was going to do well being my first multi chap fic and all. It often has me crying over my keyboard going "Lucien will be happy if it kills me." While it is a Pro Tamlin, Tam x OC, It also focuses on building and encouraging Lucien and Nestas healing to set them up for Elucien and Neris respectively.

But I also love the accessibility of my one shots/ drabbles, reader fics. Not everyone has the time to invest into reading a full fic so a quick chap to make you feel better before you continue scrolling is great.

Share a fic of yours that you think is underrated/deserves more love.

I did kinda hope for Lucien and Eris Make Up to do better than it did, but I am a new writer, not everything is going to stick and do phenomenal. I like it, and thats what matters ♥

Do you have any advice for new writers?

Comparison is the thief of joy, but also, it is understandable that you would like some feedback for your writing, I feel the same way!

I miss a lot on here, if you are one of my moots and you feel your fic did not get enough love, tag me! Send it to me! I will hype you up!! I follow you for a reason, and that reason is that I think you are great and anything you post, even if we have never had a conversation before, I want to read it!!

What is a writing style/technique that others do really well that you'd like to get better at?

Slowing down, fleshing out the scene. I get too excited when I write and rely heavily on Cannons depictions of the places themselves. I feel I am getting better at it though and reading back through my fic I can see in real time my writing improve and I think that is pretty cool.

Is there a character you were surprised you enjoyed writing as much as you did?

Lucien. I am enjoying babying him. "Yes you are a powerful Heir to Day Court, but you also deserve head scratches and forehead kisses." No my OC is not going to end up with Lucien romantically, my goal is to convey a loving older sister figure to him. Yes there will be a part where she clashes with Eris over him "hes not YOUR little brother"/ "he is now"

On the flip side, Tarquin is proving more difficult. In my head he is so calm, cool and collected, but I myself am chaotic. I am trying so hard to do his character the justice he deserves.

I am tagging: @farintonorth @1800naveen @matrixsss @positivelyruined @merwgue @bxriles @sad-scarred-sassy

And anyone else!!

[ironloki3]

Because I feel like it I want to share a sort of design history for my Character Vxy and give some insight.

On a technicality, this would be the first instant of a god-sona for myself. While at this point, Vxy himself wasn't even remotely my goal, but I still want to share it. I unfortunately don't know the exact date of this picture but I should have sprung about in 7th grade where I was about 12 or 13.

The second sort of reference but still not quite would be this drawing about a year or so later (maybe even earlier, I didn‘t date anything back then). I don't remember if this was a reference to a god-sona or just to myself but here the tree elements first show.

Now we have the first part of Vxy's design that would stick around for a while and we also finally have a date (yippee). At this point I was about 15 (if my math doesn't fail me lol).

Half a year later I did a slight redesign of his facial features but they were reverted back a few month later. Also here you can start to see my influence from norse runes. They will also stick around for some time though in recent artworks I chose to remove them.

This is the first full body drawing of Vxy, both the sword and the shield had a meaning and their own name but I'm kinda to lazy to decipher the runes again to figure out what I planned for them. Also ignore the drawing below this one bleeding through.

This is more of an honorable mention as it isn't Vxy, but the idea I had here was what inevitably made Vxy. Also some themes will later appear for Vxy.

This is the first fully coloured version of Vxy and by this point he was definitely my god-sona, though he only got name Vxy this year. Before that he was nameless.

Now we go to the design some of you already know. This was drawn in 2022. This is also a major design change to more reflect my feelings and thoughts about Vxy.

An often forgotten version of Vxy (even by myself) came about last year where I thought another redesign was necessary. This version is more or less scraped though as it was more tied to an inside joke than what Vxy represents for me.

Lastly we get to his most recent design from this year. While I did not put as much affort in it as I would have liked I'm still happy with his current look.

Now onto Vxy as a Character. He is quite strong and protective of himself and the people close to him. His sense of justice sometimes gets in the way of his own desires and needs. While out to the public he seems like a very well put together person he is flawed in many ways. His desire for controll and power often consume him and cloud his judgment. He is not part of any pantheon as he views them as weak and doesn't want to rely or share power with others. Though at the same time he doesn't outright antagonize them as he is aware that that would only lead to more problems. His only exception to this is maybe Volac. But their relationship is a chaotic one. I might touch on that in a different post.

[comfortlesshurt]

Saw that post about fic-writing-related questions to ask you and so:

1. What's the word that appears most in your current draft?

2. What's your preferred writing font?

3. Where do you get your inspiration? (And is it possible to learn this power?)

4. What's your favourite place to write?

5. Talk about your writing and editing process

6. What's the most interesting topic you've researched for a fic?

7. How do you recharge when you're not feeling creative?

8. Besides writing, what are your other hobbies?

omg yes, thank you!

I just started something last night but it's only 40 words, so I'm gonna jump over to a more substantial WIP to get a better answer for this one. For chapter 6 of the bigger fic I'm working on, the top three are: Keith, Shiro, and time. (Or if you want to exclude names, time, when, and enough!)

I picked Times New Roman 12pt when I was like... 12, and I never abandoned it.

It jumps around! Over the past year, it's honestly mostly been from reading others' fics! (Which is also why I've gotten more fanatic about using the "Inspired By" feature on AO3 recently, because I fully think it's okay to take inspiration from others, but the other person deserves a little boost in reads too!) In the past, I've pretty exclusively relied on other people giving me prompts, but I had to figure out something else when I desperately wanted to write and there was no outside interest.

This one's probably boring, but I can't stand writing on my phone or a laptop, so I exclusively write at my desktop in my living room.

For writing: 1) Get idea (the hardest part). 2) If it's multi-chapter and I know that from the start, I'm not allowed to write anything until there's a basic outline jotted down. 3) The actual writing: Active writing doc on one monitor, outline on the other (if it's a multi-chapter work where I need to keep track of how the current part interacts with other parts), and Spotify in the background! For editing: I'm awful about it. I'm one of those people who edits as I write even though it frustrates me every time. BUT in exchange, the final editing is a lot easier because I've already edited it during every drafting session. I try to do the editing at the start because then it doubles as me reminding myself what I've already written and might give me ideas for what I want to write in the rest of this session. The final editing session after the writing is done is usually just me googling synonyms for the words I think I overused!

Oh man, I'm sure I'm blanking on something more interesting from further in the past, but a recent one has been the actual timeline for Voltron. Like, I always knew it was set in the future, but I never thought about exactly when since the show seems to be intentionally vague, and I had to dig into fan theories to get a good answer to that. Usually if I need to research something, I'll stick to an overview because I will go overboard if I give my brain half a chance, and a brief overview is usually enough to avoid writing anything completely wrong and immersion-ruining.

Ooh, I switch hobbies for a bit! I used to think you can't really call it a hobby if you don't do it almost every day, but that's a silly idea and I've given it up. If I don't feel like writing, I don't write. Usually, I'll get really into reading again during those times, but I might also go back to playing the guitar or drawing. It doesn't matter what it is, as long as it's fun and it's not writing. I just do that until I feel like writing again. That keeps me from associating writing with being frustrated and upset since I only write when I actively want to.

Oops, kinda went into them above already! But other than those ones, I also obsess over statistics, coding, and general math nerd stuff since those are what I went to college for. There are probably other hobbies, but of course they've all popped out of my head now that I'm trying to think of them!

[thepatchycat]

Hi, I’m a real new shiny here (on Tumblr, but also at drawing), and it’s the first time I ask anything, so I hope it’s ok. I must say first that I love the way you draw TCW characters (especially the clones)! 😍 I just came across this sketch you made on canvas (if I remember correctly) https://www.tumblr.com/thepatchycat/729224397978828800 and I was wondering, if you don’t mind sharing, how do you get the perfect white background on non-digital drawings? I currently use a scanner app on my sketches and the results are always inconsistent and far from that white… thanks a lot in advance!! 😊

Welcome to the Tumblr crew, shiny! ;) And thank you kindly!

So my dirty secret for that sketch is... it actually is completely digital! I drew it in a program called Rebelle 5, which is designed to mimic traditional canvas/paper and pencils/paints. I picked it up for super cheap during a huge sale last year, and it's a lot of fun; unfortunately, it's usually pretty expensive, as many art programs are. I highly recommend keeping an eye out for sales though if you ever get into digital drawing--and if you'd like a free program, the one I use most of the time is MediBang. But those programs are really mostly helpful for digital art, not so much for scanning actual pencil sketches.

While I tend to stick to digital drawing nowadays, I definitely feel you on the scan cleanliness issue; phone pictures and even proper printer scans tend to end up either kind of dirty or faded. The short answer is that I don't actually have an easy and effective solution, but there might be some things you can try depending on what you have available. I wouldn't be surprised if you've already explored more methods than I have, and there are definitely people with better ideas and more experience than me, but I'll share what I've tried.

Long(er)-winded rambling under the cut!

So, I currently have an unfinished piece sitting in my files that began as a traditional drawing, one that I want to keep all the pencil details for. Here's the sketchbook page, scanned using a household printer:

Not terrible, but it'd be nice to have clearer contrast between the lines and the background. In MediBang, I can adjust the contrast by going to Filter>Levels (or Ctrl+L), which gives me a little box that looks like this:

I don't technically know the nitty gritty of how it works, but by my understanding, the outer triangles for the input and output indicate the range boundaries. Adjusting the input--particularly the darker boundary--so that the output boundary exceeds it basically tells the program to make the darker parts even darker, resulting in this:

Better! As you can see, though, the darker parts of the background also show up a bit more. Rather than relying only on contrast adjustments, what I actually ended up doing was carefully erasing the background around the drawing after adding a plain white layer underneath, and also going over some of the lines digitally. I did this first in MediBang (the only art program I had when I started working on it), then transferred the file over to Rebelle.

MediBang (left/top) has the pure white background, while the Rebelle (right/bottom) canvas settings I chose are a little off-white and more textured, which I think blends a bit better with the texture and shading of the image. It's possible to add textures and the like in MediBang, too, but Rebelle has it built into its design, so it's a little easier to figure out there; I'll likely finish this piece in Rebelle (whenever I get back to doing so, haha), since the canvas and brush settings will be easier to match to the texture of everything that came directly from the drawing.

Most of this is much easier to do with a drawing tablet/pen, unless you're a wizard with a mouse. As for traditional means... the best suggestion I can come up with is to try inking sketches, or at least darkening them further with a pencil. The more contrast you can get between your lines and the background, the more easily you can digitally tease that contrast out even further. I think most photo editors have at least some contrast, color, and brightness adjusters, and probably more useful functions I don't even know about--it never hurts to mess around with any program's filters and settings to see what happens!

Good luck, and happy drawing! :D