#usually I attempt to do decent drawings and end up starting a new project because I didn’t think the first one would turn out well
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My fanart of Zoya Zabini! Click the pictures for better quality :)
Inspired by this picture (found on Pinterest):
#this is the first time I post fanart…#usually I attempt to do decent drawings and end up starting a new project because I didn’t think the first one would turn out well#one small mistake and I lose all my patience LMAO#this one took me about three hours? I think?#definitely need to start using references more often#i’m getting better at drawing faces#hair for boys is still difficult tho lol#ellastag#jamstag#zoya zabini#muses era#hogwarts#potterverse#ms zabini#mrs zabini#the hoodie was SO RUSHED IGNORE THAT PLS
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old archie x maxie (hardenshipping) doodles i never posted, from 2017 or 2018. they were related to some of the doodles in this post.
I have a lot of unpublished drawings of these guys, and i never did elaborate on my headcanons for them. The truth is, I was (and still kinda am) very anxious and embarrassed about this fixation, probably because it centers around villains and “woobifies” them, but also because after playing and researching more into ORAS, i discovered that my personal canon was contradicted by actual canon and i felt invalidated.
For the sake of posterity, I’ll summarize my old headcanons below. (It’s still pretty long, ugh)
A grunt in Team Magma’s hideout says that Archie and Maxie “used to be on the same team.” In canon, this probably implies that they worked together on New Mauville, Sea Mauville, or another unnamed project, depending on how old they are and how long ago those projects started and ended.
However, like many other fans, I thought this meant they used to be in Team Rocket together, and I elaborated an entire backstory based on that:
+ Maxie and Archie were part of a group of Rocket recruits attempting to start a branch of Team Rocket in the Hoenn Region. The project failed because soon after they arrived, Giovanni was defeated in Kanto and officially dissolved Team Rocket, causing a schism to form within the Hoenn team over whether to give up the project or not. This eventually lead to the team splintering into two factions, one lead by Maxie and the other lead by Archie, which eventually grew and rebranded themselves into Team Magma and Team Aqua.
-Maxie and Archie met and connected enough to start dating, though they were emotionally dysfunctional. As problems arose and the Team began to splinter, their relationship also broke down and their separation was very messy.
Maxie clung to the ambition of staying in Hoenn and building up the Team as a paragon of human industry, pushing away Archie and anyone else he deemed as “not useful.”
Archie also wanted to make the Team work, but not in the way Maxie and his side wanted, at the expense of nature. Archie felt hurt and betrayed as Maxie pushed him away and disagreed with him, making him contradict and lash out at Maxie even more.
This all culminated in a huge fight between Archie and Maxie and their respective sides, involving both Pokemon battling and actual fist-fighting. Local authorities were called in, causing the teams to scatter, but not before Archie and Maxie promised to face each other again, reforging themselves as bitter rivals.
-- Maxie
+ Maxie is (the pokemon equivalent of) German/Japanese, and was born on Cinnabar Island. His birth name was Maximillian Matsubasa Von Brandt, but he prefers simply “Maxie”. He IDs as bigender, asexual and demi-homoromantic.
His father is a Kanto businessman named Masaru Matsubasa. His mother is from somewhere in or near Kalos, named Melissa Von Brandt. They were both wealthy and successful business people who frequently left on business trips, Masaru travelling between Kanto and Johto and Melissa to her home country.
Maxie was often left alone or with a nanny at home. He was well-provided for and self-sufficient, but he was lonely and emotionally stunted. He had a passion for geology and engineering, and showed interest in contributing to helping Cinnabar’s local issues, which were often tense because of the limited land space. Homelessness and unemployment were high, and development plans to alleviate these were stymied by parties who lobbied for the preservation of the local Pokemon wildlife by any means.
Maxie’s parents were skeptical of his choice in career but still supported him, if only half-heartedly. This lead Maxie to study Cinnabar’s volcano, which he found to be very much active and possibly dangerous. He developed a plan to build in and around the volcano in such a way that it would utilize extra space inside the mountain for housing/businesses and its magma for natural energy to power the city, possibly circumventing its eventual eruption.
He presented this plan to Cinnabar’s city council, but was practically laughed out of the meeting for such an ambitious and dangerous idea, especially by the wildlife parties. This damaged his reputation and caused him to be fired/demoted from his job. His parents reprimanded him, regretting their decision to support him.
Lost and disgusted with his life, Maxie found recruitment with Team Rocket and left Cinnabar to join their efforts on the mainland. When he presented his research to their higher-ups, they were impressed enough to pass it along to Giovanni himself, and Maxie ended up contributing to the construction of some of their underground lairs, like in Celadon City.
This also made him a prime candidate for the Rocket Hoenn project as a lead engineer and scientist, and he joined the project with high hopes.
+ His interest in Pokemon was soured by his past and usually only extends are far as his ambitions, which means he views Pokemon only as things that can be useful to whatever projects he’s working on, otherwise they are a nuisance. After becoming the leader of Team Magma and having to train a personal team to defend himself with, he warms up to Pokemon a bit more.
+ Maxie plays up his confidence and genius, but does have moments of crippling self-doubt and anxiety. Deep down, he’s socially awkward and has trouble expressing his feelings, tending to bottle things up until they spill out in moments of anger.
+ Maxie used to be a semi-heavy smoker in his youth to cope with his anxiety. After becoming the leader of Team Magma, his health was suffering and his grunts were visibly uncomfortable around him, so for the sake of his own health and that of his team, he quit, with help and advice from Courtney and Tabitha.
+ Maxie hates his parents and hasn’t contacted them since he left Cinnabar, which was over ten years ago by the end of ORAS events. He avoids them to the point that he uses a forged identity in Hoenn, named “Maxie Stormfront.” ‘Stormfront’ is a reference from one of his favorite metal bands, the Doom Hounds, because he is a nerd.
+ Years later, Cinnabar’s volcano did erupt and destroy the town, displacing its human population. Maxie has mixed feelings about this – he’s not sure if it’s righteous karma for the City Council rejecting his plans, or a sign that his old plans were doomed to failure and he was better off leaving Cinnabar after all.
-- Archie
+ Archie is (the pokemon equivalent of) Black/Hispanic and a Hoenn native. His birth name is Archibald Rodriguez. He IDs as a cis man (or trans?), pansexual and panromantic.
He was born to his father, Alexander Rodriguez and his mother, Alicia Fuentes (Rodriguez after marriage) in a small fishing town on one of Hoenn’s coasts, with its fishery being its only major industry. Most of its residents are middle-class or poor, and few members pursue an education after high school, usually joining the local fishing industry.
In his youth, Archie didn’t care much for school or work, preferring to spend his days playing with the local water Pokemon and his friends, Matt and Shelly. However, this exposed him to the effects that overfishing and pollution had on the local wildlife, and he eventually grew to want to pursue a career as a Veterinarian, specifically for water pokemon.
His parents didn’t believe he would be successful and his town had few resources to help him. The most he could do was research at the local library and a then-primitive internet.
Worse, his town was outright apathetic to the damage their industry was causing to the local wildlife because they depended on its capital to survive.
+A possible traumatic memory involves a young Archie nursing a sick Magikarp back to health for weeks, only to later discover it trapped in the nets of the fishery his father worked at, doomed to become food/products. When he attempted to cut the nets and save the Magikarp, his father restrained him and reprimanded him, claiming “it’s just a fish, boy! They’re all just stupid fish!”
Eventually, Archie was a depressed drifter in his 20s, unable to hold onto work and unable to afford to leave to a larger city. He often fought with his abrasive father and his mother was coddling, but unsupportive. This made Archie a prime candidate for Team Rocket recruiters as they arrived on Hoenn, promising a way out of his backwater town, decent pay, and a career where he’d be appreciated and be able to work with Pokemon to change the world. He joined as a lowly Grunt, but was talented and well-respected within the Team.
-Archie has limited contact with his parents since he left home, only calling them once a year or so.
-Archie doesn’t like being referred to as his full name, it feels pretentious and brings back uncomfortable memories of his family.
+I used to headcanon Archie and Matt as biological brothers because of the “bro” thing, but I’m not sure about keeping that. If so, Matt’s name would be short for Matthias Rodriguez, because their parents liked pretentious names.
-Like some of his dialog implies, Archie is kind of depressed, pessimistic and cynical deep down, but hides it behind his boisterous, reckless attitude. At his worst, he’s downright bitter, uncaring of his own life or the lives of humanity in general, in favor of Pokemon.
#hardenshipping#aqua leader archie#magma leader maxie#rocket hardenshipping#pokemon oras#jeminy3 art#jeminy writes#long post#headcanons
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Her Matching Pair of Socks - George Weasley
Title: Her Matching Pair of Socks Pairing: George x Fem!Reader, Adrian Pucey x Fem!Reader (ish, not really) Summary: George will always protect Y/N, even if it means confronting his true feelings . A/N: for the anon who wanted George being overprotective of the reader who was being teased!! The house of the reader is unspecified b/c it truly doesn’t matter but I pictured her as a Hufflepuff as I wrote, please do with that what you will haha. Feedback is always welcome!!! Tags: @feltondarling @pandaxnienke @raerae27 @thefifthweasley
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“George? George?” Y/N asks, waving her hand in front of his face. She giggles as his eyes seem to refocus on the world and he smiles at her. “Were you listening to anything I just said?”
George nods as he searches his brain, trying to see if any part of it retained any of the things Y/N had been talking about just a second ago while he’d been daydreaming. Y/N is magnetic. She has warm eyes, a kind smile and the biggest heart George has ever seen. She draws people in with one look, and once she’s captured them they have no chance of getting away; not that they’d want to. Unfortunately for George this means he rarely gets a moment alone with her, which is something he so desperately craves. Y/N has been the star of George’s thoughts since the first moment they met when she had quite literally saved his ass.
He and Fred had just pulled a prank on a few Slytherins and were running away from Snape. They had split up at some point, and as George ran away he could hear Snape gaining on him. George was sure he was about to be caught when a hand grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him into an empty classroom. Y/N had simply placed her finger over her mouth and winked at him, and as soon as Snape ran by their hiding spot she’d burst out in a fit of giggles. George had never heard anything so beautiful, and he sat there with her for hours, sometimes talking, but mostly just watching her knit. Y/N is sunshine encapsulated, and George could have sat there for days, basking in her rays of light and warmth.
Fred had found him eventually and dragged him back to the Gryffindor common room, and George worried that he’d never see her again. But the next morning at breakfast the hat she had been knitting was sitting in his usual spot waiting for him, and when his eyes met hers across the Hall she winked. From that moment on George has been caught in Y/N’s magnetic field, constantly swirling around her but never quite connecting the way he wants.
“Were you? Then what did I say?” she questions with a grin, one of her eyebrows raising.
George’s heart melts and he leans in closer to her, resting his chin on his hand. “I’m sorry, love. I wasn’t giving you the attention you deserve. Tell me again.”
Y/N rolls her eyes playfully and puts her knitting needles down so she can ruffle George’s hair. “That’s okay, Georgie. It wasn’t that important anyway. What’s on your mind?”
“Just this Transfiguration assignment,” he lies. George isn’t quite sure why he hasn’t shared his true feelings with Y/N, and it’s not as if he hasn’t tried either. There have been quite a few times when his confession was resting on the tip of his tongue, but each time someone ended up being drawn to Y/N and stole her attention away. “McGonagall’s really giving it to us this term.”
“Maybe your assignments would be easier to handle if you didn’t wait until the last minute to do them?” Y/N suggests with a wink.
George’s heart flutters in his chest and he has to take a deep breath to calm himself down. “Ah yes, but if I didn’t leave my homework until the day before it was due then who would sit here with you and keep you company while everyone else is outside soaking up the last of the weekend?” George is sure that anyone Y/N asked for companionship would drop everything to sit with her, and he feels honored that she always chooses him.
“Now how can I argue with that?” she teases, picking her needles up once again.
Watching Y/N knit is one of George’s favorite pastimes. She’s tried to teach him a few times, but he always ends up just creating a big knot of yarn and using the needles as drumsticks. The way her fingers move mesmerizes George to no end and he loves watching whatever she’s making start to take form before his eyes. More often than not whatever she’s making somehow always ends up in George’s possession, not that he’s complaining. So far this school year he’s added two new jumpers, three hats, a scarf and half a dozen pairs of socks to his wardrobe. Every item radiates the same warmth Y/N does, and on days where he can’t have her to himself he puts something on and when he closes his eyes it’s as if she’s right there with him.
“Whatcha makin?” George asks, completely abandoning any attempt at finishing his homework. McGonagall will probably be shocked that he did any of it at all, and he doesn’t want to put her into an early grave by actually finishing it.
“A sweater,” she responds sweetly, not looking up from her work. “And before you ask, no it’s not for you,” she chuckles and gestures towards the skein of yarn she’s using. “Though you may recognize the yarn.”
The yarn Y/N is using is a soft lilac color with glitter interwoven throughout the soft strands and George recognizes it because he’s the one who bought it. He and Fred had ventured into Diagon Alley a few days before Christmas to check out the space they were thinking about opening their joke shop in, and the yarn had caught George’s attention from a window display. He spent quite a bit of money buying every skein the store had, but it was all worth it to him. Lilac is Y/N’s favorite color, and George would do just about anything to see her smile. He gave it to her on the first day back from break a few weeks ago, and he can practically still feel how tightly she had hugged him.
“Does look kinda familiar, I bet a world class bloke gave that to you,” he jokes. Y/N laughs, and it makes George’s stomach feel queasy.
“Best bloke I know anyway,” she compliments with a wink.
George can feel his cheeks heating up, and he’s thankful for the distraction when students start to pour into the Great Hall for dinner. He sighs heavily and starts to pack his homework up, disappointed that his time with Y/N is already coming to an end. “See you in class tomorrow?”
Y/N nods as she stands up, gathering her latest project into her arms. “Most definitely, Georgie.” She leans over and boops him on the nose, before turning away and heading towards her house table.
“Hello lover boy,” Fred greets suddenly.
George jumps, having been too focused on Y/N to notice his brother’s sudden presence. He glares at Fred as he plops into the seat next to George, and he smacks him on the chest. “Screw off.” Suddenly the tables in the Great Hall fill with everything needed for dinner, and George starts piling his plate with food. “You get everything we need?”
Fred nods as he does the same as his brother. “Oh yeah. We’ve got enough Chinese gun powder to level all of England. It’ll be delivered to the store next weekend. We can apperate to Diagon Alley from Hogsmeade to meet the delivery person.”
“Wicked,” George responds, a glint of mischief in his eye. Fred had used the secret passageway into Honeydukes basement to meet a guy who deals with explosives at the Hogshead Inn. They’re starting to put their plans together for their joke shop, and the first step has been to find decent suppliers so they can start producing some stock. “You take care of the other stuff I asked?”
Fred rolls his eyes and hands George a bag from Honeydukes. “Yes, you big softie. I got everything on the list, don’t you worry.”
“Thanks, prat.” George takes the bag from Fred and peers inside to make sure he actually did pick up everything George requested. Y/N’s sweet tooth is one of George’s favorite things about her and he’s always sure to have a stash of her favorites on hand at all times. “Where’s my change?”
Fred grins and pats his pocket. “Consider it my fee so you could spend the day staring at Y/N inside the warm castle, while I tread through a dark underground tunnel.”
“Whatever, drama queen,” George huffs with an eyeroll. He puts the bag down and starts to eat, turning his attention to Y/N. She’s sitting with her friends talking happily, and George can feel his heart rate increase as a smile spreads across his face. But just as quickly as it appears it vanishes, when Adrian Pucey comes up behind Y/N and taps her on the shoulder. He watches her nod as they talk, and when Adrian walks away he looks way too smug with himself.
“That didn’t look good,” Fred comments, nudging George with his elbow.
George shrugs, trying to seem like his stomach isn’t churning with dread. “You know how Y/N is. People like talking to her. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
-
“What did Adrian want yesterday?” George asks Y/N the following evening, trying to sound casual. They’re sitting in the library working on a Potions assignment, and it seems like there has been a never ending stream of people approaching them to speak with Y/N. He’s been dying to ask her about Adrian, but he wanted to wait until they were alone.
Y/N bites her lip as she looks up at George. “He asked me on a date, actually. To Hogsmeade next weekend.”
“Oh,” George says softly. His stomach has dropped into the floor and it feels like he was punched in the chest. “What did you say?”
“I told him that I would think about it.” Y/N gives George a look and there’s an unreadable expression on her face. “Do you think I should say yes?”
The tips of George’s ears feel like they’re on fire, and he has to put his quill down so he can wipe his sweaty palms off on his school trousers. What he wants to say is no, that she should go with him to Hogsmeade instead, and then lean forward and kiss her. But instead he shrugs and says, “If you want to, I guess.”
“Oh, okay,” Y/N responds quietly, twirling a piece of hair around her finger. “Thanks, I guess.”
George refocuses his attention on his homework for once, hoping that the sound of his heart pounding in his chest isn’t audible.
-
The next day by lunch time word has gotten to George that Y/N agreed to go on a date with Adrian. It makes his chest feel hollow, and he avoids her gaze at all costs. He avoids her in the hallways and when she asks to study with him in the library George brushes her off, claiming that he already has plans with Fred. He can tell that she’s upset, and it breaks George’s heart as he walks away.
He’s never been jealous over Y/N before. Even though he craves her presence and would give anything to spend every moment of every day with her, George has never minded sharing her with others. He’s spent countless hours with Y/N where they never even speak because her attention is captured by other people. Whether it’s people catching her in a casual conversation, or someone who takes a seat with them for a deeper interaction. George has always been content to just sit there and watch her face light up as she talks about whatever topic is at hand. Even if he’s not around Y/N, he loves to watch her from across the room as she talks to people. He finds everything she does absolutely adorable, and Fred often teases him for how hard he swoons.
But the thought of Y/N being alone with Adrian fills his chest with so much jealousy it feels like he’s drowning in it. He knows he has no right to be jealous, he’s never shared his romantic feelings with Y/N, and she isn’t his girlfriend or even a girl he’s casually dated. She’d even asked his opinion on whether she should accept. And instead of doing the smart thing and just telling her how he feels, he’d basically brushed her off.
As much as George wants to avoid Y/N, he’s still stuck in her orbit, so on Wednesday afternoon during break he parts ways with Fred and heads over to Y/N. “Got room for one more?” he asks, grinning down at her. Y/N moves over but doesn’t say anything. George frowns as he sits down. “What’s got you down, clown?”
Y/N cracks the faintest smile before she lets it fall from her features. “Just wasn’t sure you were talking to me is all. You haven’t been around lately.”
“I’m around now,” George points out, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’ve just been a bit busy with Fred is all. You’re still my number one girl.” George’s heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest as he raises up one of his pantlegs. “I wouldn’t be rockin’ these bad boys if you weren’t.”
Y/N giggles as she looks at George’s sock, shoving him playfully. It’s neon pink and is truly the most offensive piece of clothing she’s ever seen. The yarn had been left over from a Christmas present she made for a young cousin a few years ago, and Y/N needed to use it up somehow. She originally planned on leaving them in her sock drawer for a few months before donating them to a charity, but the second George saw them he nabbed them from her, and he’s worn them quite a few times sense.
“They look wonderful, Georgie. Though I think it’s best you keep them hidden, they clash terribly with your Gryffindor tie and your fiery hair.” Y/N reaches up and tugs on a strand of George’s hair and he can feel his blood pressure spike.
“Well in that case.” George leans down and rolls up the cuff of both his pant legs, so a few inches of the socks are visible. “How do I look?”
“Ravishing,” Y/N says with a laugh.
It’s the most beautiful sound George has ever heard, and it sends a shiver down his spine. “Bet you wished you kept these for yourself now, don’t ya?”
Before Y/N can respond, one of her other friends swoops in to talk to her about her upcoming date with Adrian, and George sneaks away to avoid the heart break.
-
“Are you excited for your date?” Y/N’s friend Emily asks as they head towards the entrance to the castle.
Y/N nods happily, letting her eyes scan the crowd of people heading out of the castle. She gets her hopes up when she spots a shock of ginger hair bobbing above the crowd, but they evaporate when the person turns around and it turns out to be Fred. Y/N hasn’t seen George in three days, and his absence has been driving her crazy. She’s friendly with everyone but only has a few true friends, and she considers George to be one of them. She would even consider George to be her best friend, and it feels weird to not have spoken to him in a few days.
“What are you guys going to do?” Emily asks, pulling Y/N’s attention back to the present.
“Just have some butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks, hang out, talk. Nothing too super crazy. I don’t really know Adrian that well, so I think it’ll give us a nice chance to get to know each other.”
Y/N had agreed to meet Adrian there, so when her and Emily reach Hogsmeade a few minutes later, she parts from her with a wave and heads right into the pub. She grabs a drink at the bar before settling in at a table in the back corner. When Adrian is 5 minutes late Y/N brushes it off, figuring that he got caught up leaving the castle or lost track of time. When he’s 30 minutes late, Y/N has already ordered another drink, figuring that he’ll be there any minute. And when he doesn’t show up after an hour Y/N decides to throw the towel in and head back to the castle.
Y/N feels emotionally drained as she makes her way back up towards Hogwarts, and she blinks back a few tears. Even though she’s not particularly interested in Adrian romantically, it had felt nice to be asked out and she truly was looking forward to getting to know him more. She always gives anyone who wants it a piece of her day, and Adrian not showing up make her feel as if she’s been taken advantage of. Her plan is to try and forget this ever happened until dinner that evening.
Y/N turns around when she feels something hit her in the back of the head, and when she turns around she can see Adrian, Marcus Flint and Theodore Knott laughing amongst themselves. There’s a piece of balled up parchment on the ground, and Y/N tries to ignore their stares as she leans down to pick it up.
How was the butterbeer? Lonely?
Y/N’s cheeks feel like they’re on fire, and she quickly turns back into her seat, shoving the piece of parchment into her pocket. She forces her tears away as she tries to get back into the conversation going on around her, unable to stop herself from searching George out in the crowd.
-
For the next week it seems everywhere she goes Adrian, Marcus and Theo are following a few paces behind. They never directly talk to her, but they talk about her loud enough for her to hear.
“Can’t believe she actually thought I wanted to go out with her!”
“How pathetic. I can’t believe it took her over an hour to realize you weren’t going to show up! What a moron.”
“She’s such a weirdo, no wonder she has no actual friends.”
It doesn’t help that George seems to be avoiding her as well. He doesn’t pass her stupid little notes in class anymore and when their eyes lock across the Great Hall he immediately looks away instead of giving her a cheeky grin. Every time she tries to ask him to come sit with her in the library he turns the other way in the hall before she catches him, and when she catches a peak of him and Fred outside pelting snowballs at Ron, he’s wearing his Gryffindor beanie, instead of one of her knit caps.
She misses George like crazy. He’s one of the only people who doesn’t want something from her. Most people only spend time with Y/N when they need to vent or ask her a question. George is the only person who is content with just sitting there with her in silence while they do their homework, or she knits. She could sit in silence with George for hours and just exist, so having him gone while also being tormented by Adrian and his gang has left Y/N with a deep ache in her chest and a pit of loneliness in her stomach.
-
Avoiding Y/N has to be the hardest thing George has ever done, and he once spent a week with his Great Aunt Tessie when he was 8. He craves her presence, but the thought of hearing about Adrian endlessly makes his stomach churn. Watching Y/N’s face fall every time he dodged her absolutely broke George’s heart, but he can’t stand to see someone else make her happy.
“You think she’s going to cry?”
George grimaces when he’s brought from his thoughts of Y/N and notices that Adrian and his goons are a few feet in front of him. Most of the school is in the Great Hall having dinner, but George didn’t feel like eating. Y/N had spent most of Transfiguration trying to get George’s attention, and ignoring her has left his stomach queasy.
“Reckon she might with how soft she is. Bet she’s cried herself to sleep every night this week.”
He has no idea who they’re talking about and he figures they’re tormenting some first year who is walking ahead of them. George is a little too far behind them to see who it is, but he decides to follow them anyway, in case he needs to intervene.
“What a stupid girl.”
Adrian’s words cut George deep. How could Y/N be interested in someone like him? George clenches his fist and starts to walk faster to catch up with them. He’s been wanting to smack Adrian and his smug face since the day he asked Y/N out, and this seems like a perfect excuse.
“Will you leave me alone!” Y/N shouts, and George’s blood runs cold. Her voice is shaky, and George knows that if she’s not already crying she will be soon.
Adrian, Marcus and Theodore stop in their tracks and cackle, and the sound makes George even angrier.
“Aw, poor pathetic Y/N has finally managed to stand up for herself. How cute,” Adrian taunts.
Y/N sniffles, and George can feel anger swell up in his chest. “Standing me up wasn’t enough for you, was it? Now you have to torment me about it too? Is that why you asked me out? So you could be mean to me?”
“Why else would someone ask you out? You’re not worth anyone’s time.”
George reaches them then, and he grips is wand tightly in one hand while the other grips the collar of Adrian’s shirt. He pulls him back sharply, causing Marcus and Theodore to take a few steps back as well. George takes one look at Y/N’s tear stained face and lets the anger in his chest consume him completely. “Leave her the fuck alone,” he spits, turning to face Adrian.
“Shove off, Weasley. Can’t you see we’re in the middle of something,” Adrian seethes, squaring up against George.
“Not anymore you prick.” George can hear Y/N crying, and he moves slightly to shield her behind his back. “Now get lost before I make you.” Adrian takes a step forward and George raises his wand, pressing the tip of it to Adrian’s throat. “Unless you want to end up in the Hospital Wing for the next three weeks I suggest you move along.” George’s jaw is clenched, and his voice is deep and dark. George doesn’t move until they disappear down the hall. Only then does he drop his wand and turn around to hug Y/N.
Y/N presses her face into George’s chest and lets out a few more tears. “Thank you, George,” she mumbles.
“Of course, love. I will always be there for you, you know that.” George squeezes her tighter and resists his urge to kiss the top of her head. Instead he rests his chin there, and his eyes flutter closed as he soaks in her warmth. “How long have they been bothering you?” George asks quietly when he starts to feel like himself again.
“Since last Saturday, after Adrian stood me up.” Y/N pulls away from George’s chest so she can look up at him. “How come you’ve been ignoring me, Georgie? I’ve missed you so much.”
George’s heart breaks, and he brings a hand up to wipe away the last few tears from her cheeks. “I’ve missed you too, Y/N. I was being an idiot, like usual.” He takes a deep breath to prepare himself for what he’s about to say. “I’ve liked you Y/N, for as long as I’ve known you. And after Adrian asked you out I got so unbelievably jealous that I couldn’t be around you, I couldn’t hear you talk about your date with him and how excited you were because just the thought of him being alone with you made me want to throw up.”
Y/N bites her lip as she considers what to say next. “You’d do anything for me George, right?”
“Of course, Y/N. Anything,” George confirms, cupping her cheek gently.
“Kiss me,” she breathes.
George hesitates for a second before he leans down and presses their mouths together softly. Their lips move together slowly, and George can feel his head spinning. His knees shake when they pull apart, and when George looks into Y/N’s eyes they shine brighter than the sun.
-
“Nice sweater,” George compliments as Y/N joins him in that Great Hall that Sunday. She giggles and does a little twirl for him and George feels like he’s soaring through the air.
“Thank you, my boyfriend gave me the yarn I used to make it.” Y/N leans over the table to press a kiss to George’s cheek before taking the seat across from him. She digs around in her bag for a moment before pulling out a pair of socks, knit from the same lilac material as her sweater.
“For me?” George asks, giving her a bright smile. He takes them from her excitedly and kicks off his shoes so he can pull them on.
Y/N laughs as George bring one of his feet up to show off the lilac sock, letting the glitter in the yarn shine. “Of course. What’s a sweater without a pair of matching socks?”
George leans over and kisses Y/N gently. “I’m always down to be your matching pair of socks.”
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The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 17/?
Word Count: 3.8k
Author’s Note: Y/N - Your name.
So, when I started this, I didn’t expect it to become what it is, or for it to really be taken seriously. I wrote it because I wanted to get better at storytelling, and now I’m averaging 20 notes a day. That’s insane to me.
Warnings: Eludes to sex, mentions of trauma, mentions of court system, victim blaming, mentions of injuries, swearing, No beta bitch we die like Jason Todd
(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)
Waking up next to Jason was becoming something of a routine for Y/N. It had been 4 days in a row that she woke up next to him or with him in arm’s reach. She loved that about their relationship, how quickly they both could fall asleep with each other.
She rolled over in her bed and realized Jason was sweating and clutching the sheets. She leant over him slightly and turned on the fan, hoping he would sweat less so he could be in less pain.
She didn’t know what would actually stop the pain, she didn’t actually know if he was in pain. She reached out to stroke his back, just trying to comfort him, it seemed to work. He didn’t exactly reject her advances to rub his back. But he did jump a bit when she touched him.
She didn’t want him to be hurt by her touching him, so she did attempt to wake him up. He didn’t answer her though, so she got up from her bed and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked rough like she had been crying all night about the trial. Makeup running, eyes puffy, bloodshot. But what else did she expect after that trial? She didn’t remember anything.
She decided to shower, in her own shower. It had been 3 days since she last showered, which was okay but it wasn’t something she was used to.
She got into her shower and just thought. She was fucked up. She had been fucked up this entire time, she had hidden secrets from Jason, from everyone. She thought it was selfish, immature, and irresponsible that she did that. But she also didn't know how to talk to them all.
How do I even start that conversation? Hey, I’m fucked up, help me. I’m sorry, I messed up, she thought, I can’t do that, I can’t.
She got out of the shower and glanced at the clock like she would normally, it was 4:00am. That’s new, she thought, I didn’t know it was this early, maybe I should not have showered.
She smiled to herself a bit and took care of her face, doing a facial routine, just trying to calm herself and come off that high she was on for the majority of the day before. She knew she had to take care of herself to help her become stable again.
She knew what she did yesterday was linked to trauma, she just knew it. She didn’t know what it was, or how to combat it. But she knew she would probably not be mentally capable of watching the rest of the trial, and that was okay with her, she didn’t want to watch the rest of the trial. She would ignore her professor if he asked her to write anything about the trial. She knew he likely couldn’t because of her connections, but she wasn’t going to get mad at him.
She didn’t want to get mad at anyone for this. Opinions about the trial, asking her to talk about it, anything, she didn’t want to hate.
Jason was still asleep when she reentered her room. She smiled at him, wishing he was awake with her at that moment. She went to her notes at her desk and sighed, she guessed she would sit down and do some work. She pulled out her journal and wrote;
To each member of my family, somehow we reached here,
I’ve ended up with people wanting to hurt me,
Here we see the pain of there,
Maybe three.
I guess I can’t write poetry,
Maybe it’s all I see,
The pain, the torture, the people who hurt,
What am I doing?
She scribbled down a dying rose. She didn’t know why she did all of that. Normally she didn’t feel like that. Poetry was a good way to get all of the emotions out. Her journal had a lot, a lot, of insane writings and drawings of things she felt.
She guessed she was fucked up. But she thought the things wrong with her would make her art better. She needed therapy, probably. She was going to look into that, she decided in those moments. Therapy may help her cope with a lot of the stuff that she dealt with.
Or was she aware that she’d never be fixed?
----------------------------------------------------
She sat at her desk after making a quick coffee. It was still only 5:00am, and she was organizing her notes, just thinking. Maybe she’d paint something. Maybe she’d get a picture of the Wayne Manor Gardens and paint it. She just wanted something to fiddle with if she was going to be harassed if she left the house. She probably wasn't going to be able to leave the house for a while.
She was fine with that, she didn’t like it but she didn’t hate it either. She just wished for the trial to be over, even if the man was found not guilty of the charges.
And the longer the painting project, the longer she could spend locked away from the media. That was just all that she wanted, to walk away from the media while still keeping Jason.
He was still sleeping. She didn’t notice because she was so entranced in her own art, but he was struggling at that moment.
And then she noticed.
She got up and went to her bed and sat beside his head on the floor. She stroked his hair and tried to comfort him when he woke up.
“Hey,” she whispered.
He didn’t answer.
“You alright?” she asked.
He turned his back to her, so she stroked it.
“It’s okay if you’re not alright, baby,” she said, “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
She crawled into bed with him and became the big spoon for a bit. She didn’t say anything to him, he didn’t say anything to her. He was sticky and sweaty, but she didn’t care.
Silence was killing for most people, but she sat through it and allowed him to be quiet.
She wished for the stories behind his scars, but she didn’t want to push for them. They hadn’t been together for long enough for her to ask about it. But she loved to trace his scars with her fingers, just letting him know she knew about them. She didn’t know how he felt about it. But she tried to be kind and loving towards his scars.
Some were small holes. Some were small lines. Some were long lines. One was Y-Shaped on his chest. One existed on his cheek and she couldn’t make out what it was.
She didn’t think that he was lesser because of his scars. He thought he was lesser for his scars.
“Hey, Jay. Do you want to eat breakfast? It’s 6:00am, we can dip to get food?” she asked, trying to make him feel better.
“If you don’t mention the nightmares, sure.”
“I won’t.”
He rolled over to her and smiled before kissing her.
------------------------------------------
They got up a couple hours later, clothes strewn across her room, boxers and pants torn. She laughed, hoping he would still have clothes to wear.
“Don’t laugh, I might have nothing to wear!”
“I hope you have something to wear, babe.”
“And what if I don’t? We were pretty messy.”
“We were, but still. If you have nothing we’re kind of fucked,” she said, glaring.
“Yeah, yeah. You’re cute. Just stop staring at me like that! It takes two to tango!”
“The forbidden horizontal tango,” she said between laughs.
“The forbidden horizontal tango is now the only way I am going to refer to sex.”
“I mean as you should.”
“My family is going to kill me for calling sex that.”
“I mean as they should,” she laughed, “Did you find clothes?” she asked, having already gotten dressed.
“Okay that’s unfair, you can’t wear new clothes when I’m stuck with ripped boxers.”
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have worn them in the first place,” she said, laughing, “And to be fair, Jay, I’m the one with clothes and you didn’t follow your own suggestion for an overnight bag.”
“Okay, listen, first of all,” he grabbed her, “That’s obviously my fault but shush, secondly, you’re dressing very black today,” he observed.
“Felt I would look the part of dating a Wayne.”
“No one’s going to see you.”
“That’s the point. I’m an invisible partner of a Wayne.”
“Well, I think you look nice.”
“I’m glad,” she laughed, “How ripped are your clothes?”
“Decently. Not noticeably, but decently.”
“Fun! Shall we go?”
He laughed and grabbed her arm, pulling her lightly to the car and getting in to drive.
“You ever think the vigilantes around here have complex lives?” she thought aloud.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, do they have crazy, fulfilling lives like us, or are they just there to be heroes of the night? Are they sitting there wondering if they’re going to come home to their partners or if their parents are worried about them?” she questioned.
He sat there, looking forward. If only you knew. If only you knew what I go through, what everyone goes through. He managed to laugh and blow her off, “Maybe they’re just robots made to fight crooks in alleyways.”
“I’m serious. What if they’re all out there worried they’re going to die?”
“C’mon now.”
“Jay! They’re people!”
“They’re probably okay, baby. I doubt they’re out there almost dying.”
She wanted to say ‘You almost died’ but she bit her tongue, “That’s probably true. But it’s always something I thought, even when I lied in Metropolis with god damn Superman. I always wondered if he had a home to go to.”
“Who knows. Who knows.”
“They would. Maybe I should get a job as a reporter, interview some of them. Say ‘Fuck it’ and know if they have homes.”
“That’s dangerous.”
“How?”
“My Aunt, Iris, Barry’s wife? She’s a reporter. She’s on the frontlines for the supervillains and the small-time crooks of the world.”
“So anything and everything in between? Festive.”
“Well, that’s the life of a reporter. Journalists? Like my Uncle? He deals with a lot less bullshit unless they link him to Bruce. Iris is a reporter so she’s constantly there, Clark is usually never there.”
“Well, we at least know the elusive reporter and journalist have families,” she joked and he laughed.
“The elusive reporter and journalist in their natural habitats, my favourite National Geographic episode.”
She looked out her window at the streets and the people. She hadn’t been outside at night recently on the streets of Gotham, and she missed it. There was always something about it that made her keep coming back. Maybe it was the orphaned kids that she would go and make sure were okay. Maybe it was the fact that she watched one of the vigilantes swing to another roof.
She still remembered that moment well. She thought it was amazing, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for her to have experienced. She wished she knew more, even if she just knew which one they were. So she could go on the forums and ask if people had spoken to them. Maybe it wasn’t a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, maybe others had witnessed what she did, but she wouldn’t know if she did not know which it was.
“Hey, random question, do you know the vigilantes' names in the city?” she asked Jason.
“Uh, yeah? Why?” he responded.
“Okay so, the first night I walked home from your house after my car got towed right? I saw one of them. I’m not familiar with the vigilantes of the city, so: Do you know which one is the one with the blue bird symbol on their chest?”
“Oh, that one’s Nightwing. He seems cool, I don’t know, never actually met the guy.”
“Don’t Wayne Galas get attacked by villains on the regular though?”
“That doesn’t mean we get to talk to them,” he laughed, “It would be cool if we did, though.”
“Yeah it would. Would be a killer story for your Uncle and Aunt.”
“They are the only tabloids I liked because they leave us alone.”
“No reports from the Daily Planet about the Waynes?” she joked.
“God, Dad would probably half-jokingly sue Clark over that. Like sue him for 3 dollars or somethin’ levels of jokingly suing him.”
“Now, that, that would be a story for the tabloids.”
“Remind me to tell Dad about that, maybe it’ll get the press off your back.”
“You say that like your extended family cares about my trials.”
“They do, they wonder how you found yourself wrapped up in 2 crimes in the span of 2 weeks.”
“I wish I knew how I did that.”
He laughed, “If only we knew.”
“I guess we go get breakfast now, fast food?” he asked.
“Obviously, I’m not eating in a restaurant with this high of a profile recently, my god,” she laughed.
“Alright, anything in particular? I can just order for you if you’re not up to talking to some people.”
“Go for it.”
“Alright.”
She didn’t pay attention while he ordered, instead she opened her lovely cellphone. And there they were, the tabloids click baiting the trials she was involved in. She rolled her eyes, knowing most of them were wrong, when she saw the article written by Clark Kent about it. She was tempted to read it, to know what Clark said. She figured he’d be an unbiased source fo information, but also likely more on her side than the defendant’s side. She didn’t even know the defendant's name.
She tapped on it and began reading.
The Case of The Court Versus David Brown.
Brown is a man known to the courts of Gotham, and the county jail of Gotham. When he was accused of assaulting a young woman, Ms. Y/N (Last name), not many members of the Gotham Police Force were shocked.
On the first day of the trial, Brown was asked to plead, to which he said, “Not guilty, your honor,” which is under a lot of scrutiny of those who have seen the video of Ms. (Last name) running from Brown in the alleyway where she head-butted him.
The prosecution opened their case,
“Ms. (Last name) was assaulted by the defendant, there is no question about it. The question here is if his motive was for the ransom Ms. (Last name) referenced in her interview with police after the event. The defendant very clearly went after Ms. (Last name) because of her ties to the billionaire Bruce Wayne, who would have easily paid the ransom for her if she hadn’t escaped.
The defense opened their case,
The question of whether or not my client assaulted Ms. (Last name) is not up for debate, he did assault her. However, it was in self-defense. She had assaulted him first, pulling him into the alleyway and attempting to make advances on him. She twisted the story in her on words to include the head-butting incident, in reality, my client punched her for her advances.
The people who watched the first event of the trial have noted being “Disgusted” and “Annoyed” at the practices that the defense brought to court, “Slandering the name of Ms. (Last name) when she is the victim.” many people are upset with the defense in this trial.
The next day of the trial should take place within a week. Until then, the questions are not going to be answered.
She looked at the defense's argument numerous times. She was in shock that they would accuse her of such bullshit. She was terrified that they would get away with this, when Jason pulled her out of her thoughts with a coffee.
“You shouldn’t get so involved in the tabloids right now, love.”
“Sorry, if it makes you feel better your Uncle wrote it. And thank you.”
“Anytime. I guess Clark wrote it well, but you watched the trial?”
“I don’t remember it.”
“You’re probably not going to watch more of it, are you?”
‘No way,” she said while drinking her coffee as they drove back to her house.
“That’s fair. No one expected you to be able to be able ot watch it.”
She nodded and kept drinking, “They made up so much bullshit.”
“They did, oh my god, I was pissed, baby. I was so god damn mad. Because what the fuck do you gain from lying?”
“Don’t even put that question in the universe, you know they’ll try to answer it the next time they’re in trial.”
“God you’re right,” he laughed, “Got you a breakfast sandwich. At least the dammed tabloids can’t take that away from us.”
“Thank god,” she laughed, “Thank you.”
“Seriously, anytime. It’s worth it.”
“You’ve spent so much money on me.”
“Pocket change.”
“Well, duh. Trust-fund baby.”
“Ouch.”
“I’ll take you somewhere when I’m less high-profile. Maybe we’ll fake a breakup to keep everyone off my ass so we can go somewhere.”
“Fake a breakup? Wouldn't that just make you hated?”
“I’m already hated. I’m a gold-digger, a whore, a cheater, a statistic, a suicidal maniac, a homicidal maniac, a psychopath, I can go on and on about the shit being said about me.”
“Man, people need to keep their mouths shut.”
“You could say that again- don’t actually. But like, what the fuck did I do to deserve this, honestly? All I did was go on a date with you to get bombarded, yes, I do treat the press unfairly, but I do my best to never say a bad word about them publically, just jokes,” she joked, “I hate this,” she laughed.
“I hate tihs too,” he laughed, “You’re worth it though.”
“Oh man, a week into dating, two weeks into knowing each other and we’re here.”
“We should be anywhere else but in the midst of these terrible circumstances.”
“It’s unfortunate.”
---------------------------
Drinking her coffee on her bed with Jason beside her was something else, it was probably the most they had branched out in 4 days. The silence was lovely now that neither of them were having issues. They ate and drank in silence. They didn’t need constant conversation to prove that the enjoyed the presence of each other.
She took a minute to take it all in, the messy shelves in her bedroom, the place on her desk where her laptop belonged, the broken handle to her bathroom door, the sheets on her bed which had been pulled and ruffled from Jason and her having fun.
She looked out her window and looked at the rain starting to pour and decided to cuddle closer to Jason. He was warm but had a presence of underwhelming coldness to him, like he gave off fake body heat. She didn’t know what it was, but the extremes of his body were something she enjoyed but hated.
The exposition between his black hair to his white tuff of hair, the rough eyebrows to the small and delicate freckles, the blue of his eyes which seemed to glow green. The way it was like she was driving down a road, full speed ahead, and crashed into a wall, that was how it felt to be with Jason.
But who doesn’t love to die in a fiery accident into a wall at 500mph?
She laughed internally at her own joke about him before grabbing his hand and yanking him into the living room and past her roommate, A/N. A/N did not question it, because there was a new life to her roommate recently.
She dragged him out into the rain, to which he protested.
“What the fuck, respectfully?”
She laughed, “Don’t be respectful, and trust me. I’m going to make a movie moment.”
“I’m getting wet.”
“That’s my job,” she joked as she turned on a slow song before going to Jason and dancing with him.
“Well, can’t say I’ve done this,” he said.
“I don’t think most couples do.”
“Then why are we?” he asked
“Uh, yolo? You only live once, might as well dance in the rain with one of your lovers?” she retorted.
“One of them? Am I not the only one?”
“Oh no, you are,” she laughed, “But who knows, maybe we’ll fuck monogamy up the ass,” she joked.
“Probably not.”
“Probably not.”
And they danced for a few hours. Twirling and dipping in the rain. Watching the clothes they were wearing get more and more wet until the the white parts of Y/N’s dress were see-through, which took a while considering how small they were.
Their hair was soaked and her makeup was running but they didn’t care. They were having fun, and no one was going to stop them, not a villain, not a vigilante, no one. He would wipe away her makeup since it was basically already off her face and laugh.
“Your makeup looked nice before we came out here.”
“I bet! The rain’s probably washing it all way, did I look like I was crying?”
“You looked like you were sobbing.”
She laughed, “You love to see it, you really do.”
The music was basically drowned out by the rain. It was on her phone, so it was probably water damaged from the rain, but no one cared. They just wanted to have fun.
But the dancing got tired because of the fact that Y/N was in heels, so she went and picked up her phone. It wasn’t damaged. She looked at her recent texts while Jason tugged her lightly to the bathroom, to see that Bruce Wayne, Jason’s dad, had paid off her car and it was being driven back to her house.
“Hey baby?”
“Y/N?”
“Did you tell your dad to pay off my car?”
“Oh, yeah. I figured it’d get impounded and my dad could just wait a while for you to pay back. It getting impounded was going to cost you more money.”
“God you're right and I hate that.”
He laughed and kissed her before turning on the shower.
--------------------------------------------
That was the second time that day that they had had sex. It was impressive that they had had sex that many times, and that many rounds. They thought it was fun as all hell to have sex whenever they had the chance.
Maybe they were saying “Suck it” to Bruce, or maybe they were just having fun. Maybe it was both.
“You look so cute with my hand around your neck,” he said behind her before lightly grabbing her neck and pulling her head back to his chest. He buried his face in her shoulder.
“He says while looking down,” she joked.
“I’ll squeeze.”
“Jay, we just showered. C’mon. Keep it in your pants.”
He groaned, “No fun,” he tilted his head into the crook of her neck and started leaving little kisses.
“Jay, C’mon.”
He sighed, “Fine. Fine, fine, fine. I guess we can stop,” he jokingly-whined at her, “At least we can kiss.”
“That’s true, but get dressed.”
“Get dressed!” he whined to her, “In this economy!”
“God dammnit,” she laughed, “Stay naked then and I’ll eat your food.”
“Don’t you dare.”
#dcu#dceu#dc#jason todd#jason todd x reader#jason todd x fem!reader#jason todd x y/n#jason todd x you#jason todd fluff#red hood#red hood x reader#red hood x fem!reader#red hood x y/n#red hood x you#red hood fluff#male oc#female oc
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T H E B A S I C S Given Name: Rafael Caleb Isserlis Nicknames: His family all call him Ray, but most people just call him Rafael. Age: 30 Birthday: June 6th Zodiac Sign: Gemini Birthplace: Sunnyvale, California Current Location: Barcelona, Spain Speaks: English, Spanish, some Castilian, a bit of Hebrew but not much. Dominant Hand: Right Education: He graduated from UC Berkeley with a Bachelor of Arts degree. His original focus was Computer Software Engineering, but he switched his focus to Drawing and Painting in his sophomore year. Occupation: Bouncer at a strip club, and he has been working on a comic book with a friend (Rafael is working on the art, and his friend is the writer/story creator) for about a year. They hope to publish and sell it at some point soon. Vehicle: 2003 Opel Zafira in silver. Not the most attractive car, but he got it for cheap and it has been very reliable for him. Worldly Possessions: Lots of art supplies, a bunch of comic books, tons of dog toys, a photo album full of family pictures (put together for him by his mother before he moved to Spain), and tons of blankets and pillows because he loves to be comfy~ Pet(s): A black and white Mucuchi named Oreo. Rafael loves taking Oreo pretty much anywhere that dogs are allowed, and Oreo is always very happy to go on adventures.
A P P E A R A N C E Height: Just under 6’ Hair: He generally keeps it trimmed short just because it is easier to take care of, though he occasionally grows it out a little longer so the curls really show. He’s never dyed it before, so it is his natural dark brown color. Facial Hair: He always has at least a little bit of facial hair, even if it’s just some light scruffiness. He does like to let it grow out more sometimes. Eye Colour: Brown with some flecks of hazel Skin Tone: Dark, though the tone varies depending on the time of year. He is quite a bit darker in the warmer months thanks to his love of the outdoors. Clothing: He dresses casually for the most part, lots of jeans and t-shirts (especially band tees). If he’s working, he might wear a nice jacket as well. He almost always wears combat boots, unless he’s going running or hiking, then he’ll wear comfy sneakers. He loves wearing beanies, especially in colder weather, and he has them in a bunch of different colors. Although he doesn’t have much reason to dress up, he does look great in a suit and has some nice clothes on hand just in case. Distinguishing Marks: He has a couple of large tattoos on his chest, and a half sleeve on his left arm. He plans on getting more tattoos at some point, but he hasn’t decided what he wants or where. Face Claim: Jordan Calloway
H E A L T H Physical Health: Rafael is in excellent health– he loves doing any sort of physical activity, especially if it involves being outdoors, so he's very fit. He works out on a regular basis and eats quite healthy (though he's not opposed to a little junk food now and then). He gets sick now and then, just minor things like a cold or a mild case of the flu, but he's never been seriously sick or anything. Basically, Rafael takes great care of himself. Physical Abilities/Limitations: He can lift very heavy things thanks to his weight training at the gym. He's got good endurance/stamina– he can hike or run for quite a long time before needing a break. He's a good artist with a very distinctive style; he is constantly drawing, doodling on napkins, just keeping his hands busy whenever he can. Addictions: No addictions to speak of. Allergies: Citrus in general makes his mouth hurt, but sometimes he eats it anyway because he just can't resist. Mental Health: Generally good. He had a very stable upbringing with lots of supportive friends and family around. He is lucky enough to never have experienced any sort of mental illness or any really traumatic events in his life.
H I S T O R Y Summary: Rafael was born in Sunnyvale, California to wealthy parents (his mother is an OB/GYN, and his father is a very successful software engineer). He was the fourth of five children. He grew up surrounded by a very loving family, including much of his extended family, and had a near idyllic childhood. Growing up, Rafael always showed an aptitude for art– he was quite a skilled artist from a young age, but he also had a deep interest in his father’s work and loved all things to do with technology. He taught himself to code when he was about twelve years old and even made a couple of very basic games just to practice. Rafael was always a great student, not exactly straight A’s since he had a bit of a hard time in his literature classes and some of the more complicated math classes, but he never got any grades lower than a B, and he always tried his hardest and studied a lot, did extra credit whenever he could, etc. He also always had a lot of friends and was a bit girl crazy in high school, so he was always dating a new girl. He was on his high school’s soccer team as well– the PE coach always wanted him to go out for the football team, but Rafael hated football and still does, so he never bothered, preferring to use the time to do various volunteer projects or just hang out with his friends. Thanks to his excellent GPA and a wealth of extracurriculars and volunteer experience, Rafael had an easy time getting accepted into UC Berkeley. He initially majored in Computer Software Engineering, as he’d always planned��� but after a trip across Europe with some of his friends just before his Sophomore year of college, he had a shift in perspective and realized that he really wanted to focus on his art after all. He changed his major to focus on Drawing and Painting, which was a bit of a surprise to his family, but they were, as always, very supportive of his decision, especially since it turned out he wouldn’t lose any progress toward his degree. After graduating, Rafael decided to do what he’d always wanted to do and live abroad. He decided on living in Spain, since he had taken nearly eight years of Spanish between high school and college and was almost fluent at that point. He spent a few years just travelling around Spain, exploring, working odd jobs, meeting people, just having a good time. Eventually he ended up settling in Barcelona after meeting a particularly good group of people, finding himself a quaint little house in the heart of the city, and getting a job as a bouncer in a local strip club. He has been there ever since. Job History: He didn't have his first job until college– he worked as a barista at a Starbucks on campus for his entire college career, which he actually really enjoyed. Once he moved to Spain and started traveling around, he did tons of odd jobs helping out with manual labor, working in restaurants, helping out around people's houses, doing yard work, just anything he could find that didn't require a lot of commitment. Once he settled in Barcelona, he took a job as a bouncer in a strip club because it paid decently well and fit into his schedule very nicely– that is where he's been ever since. Fondest Memories: Lots of happy childhood memories, too many to list actually. One of his fondest memories is his trip across Europe with his college friends. Plus all his adventures across Spain and the various times his sister Eliana has come to visit him. Worst Experiences: His paternal grandparents both died in a car accident when Rafael was fourteen, and that was probably the single worst experience of his life. A couple of his breakups were particularly rough on him as well.
C O M M U N I C A T I O N Speech Pace/Style: Definitely not a smooth talker, but not super awkward either (unless he’s trying to flirt). He’s laid back when he speaks, not overly formal, always seems pretty relaxed (again, unless he is attempting to flirt). He doesn’t talk excessively, but he’s not quiet or shy either, always loves to jump into a conversation, especially if it’s about a subject he’s interested in. If someone gets him started on a subject he’s passionate about, he gets very animated and excited about it. Accent: American accent, which sometimes comes through in his Spanish– though his Spanish accent, for the most part, is pretty good. Favorite Phrases or Words: He says “oh snap!” a lot when speaking English, something that rubbed off on him thanks to his younger sister. Usual Curse Words: He doesn’t curse a whole lot– it’s not that he’s offended by cursing or anything, he just kind of doesn’t think to curse unless he’s angry or really passionate about something.
P E R S O N A L I T Y, M I N D S E T, A N D B E L I E F S Personality Type: ENFP-A Sense of Humor: Rafael loves to laugh and has a pretty open sense of humor. The only type of humor he doesn’t vibe with is super offensive or raunchy/sexual humor, that’s just not his thing. But anything silly, clever, wordplay or puns, non-sequitur/weird humor, all of that is totally his cup of tea. Habits: Rafael is a bit fidgety and always has to be doing something with his hands. He can be still if he actively focuses on not fidgeting, but it's a little difficult for him. He's constantly drawing on napkins or little pieces of paper, on himself, and on others if they'll let him. If he doesn't have a pen handy then he'll crack his knuckles or he'll kinda rock back and forth on the balls of his feet. He just really cannot hold still unless his mind is fully occupied with something. Fears/Phobias: The whole idea of ghosts or demons really freaks him out. He also sometimes has a touch of existential dread and wonders if he’s going to be alone forever, but that usually doesn’t last long, just a sleepless night or two and then he gets past it. Strengths: Rafael is a very caring, sweet person who is genuinely interested in other people and loves to help whenever he can. He is attentive to people’s needs and tends to anticipate those needs in advance, so he is quite a thoughtful person. In general, he’s an optimist who likes to look on the bright side of things no matter how bad the situation may get and tries not to let the little things get him down. He is also very protective of those he loves, and though he is friendly to people almost all of the time, if anyone is rude to or tries to hurt someone he cares about, he won’t hesitate to speak up on behalf of or physically protect his loved one. Flaws: While his optimism is often a positive trait, Rafael sometimes takes it too far and doesn’t allow himself to just be sad or angry now and then, even when it would be good for him. He tends to suppress any emotion he perceives as negative instead of actually processing his feelings. In relationships, he can be a bit possessive and jealous at times, but he knows that’s his own problem and he really tries not to take it out on his partners. Hopes/Desires: He really hopes to get his comics published at some point– he just really wants to get them out there, even if they don’t get super popular or anything, he’s just really proud of their work and wants people to see it. He also really wants to find someone he can settle down with (or go on adventures with), someone he can spoil with tons of love and affection. He would love to get married and maybe have kids someday, but if his partner didn’t want children he would be okay with that also. Self-Esteem: Super good, honestly. He has his moments of insecurity just like anyone else, but overall he is comfortable with himself and believes himself to be a good person. Religion: Kinda Jewish, kinda atheist. It’s complicated.
R A N D O M Sleeping Position: Curled up on his right side, usually. Boxers or Briefs?: Boxers Day or Night?: Night for sure, he is naturally a night owl. Top or Bottom?: Probably top more than anything, but if he was with a partner that wanted to switch it up, he would happily give it a try~ Partying or Relaxing?: This would be a really hard choice for him, but he would probably have to go with partying. He loves the atmosphere of a good party.
R E L A T I O N S H I P S Closest Friend: Besides his younger sister, Rafael's best friend is Isabel Maduro, a woman he met when he moved to Barcelona. They have been working together on a comic book series for a while now; she is a very talented writer who comes up with stories that blow Rafael's mind. They see each other fairly often not just to work on the comics, but to go on walks or out to lunch, or on the occasional hike. Relationship History: Rafael had a ton of relationships in high school, many of which lasted two weeks or less and obviously those relationships didn't get serious at all– Rafael was just kind of playing the field at that point. He didn't actually have sex, or a serious relationship, until his first year of college. He then dated his first serious girlfriend, and they lasted about six months before she broke things off because she felt he was more attached than she was and she didn't want to waste his time. That is actually how all of Rafael's relationships have gone since then– he always gets broken up with before a year has passed (often much sooner than that) because they're not as into him as he is into them, or he's just too much, being too intense, etc. As a result, he's now reluctant to express his feelings at all because he doesn't want to put pressure on anyone. Sexual Partners: Rafael doesn't exactly get around or anything, but he has had about a dozen sexual partners in his life, all of them women. Thoughts About Sex: Rafael loves sex within the confines of a relationship but doesn't have much interest in it other than that. One night stands, flings, anything like that is not for him. So far, Rafael has only been with women. He's been attracted to men before and he knows he's definitely not straight, but he's always been way too nervous to try and flirt with men. He has never come out to anyone but if he were to end up in a relationship with a man, he wouldn't hesitate to come out– his sister Eliana is a lesbian and currently engaged to another woman, and was readily accepted by their family, so he knows they would all support him if he ever told them.
P A R E N T S Name(s): Shira and Booker Isserlis Age(s): Both 64 years old. Social Standing: White collar for sure, and they are in very good social standing. Occupation(s): She is an OB/GYN who is set to retire in a couple of years, and he is a computer software engineer who doesn’t plan to retire anytime soon. Religion: She is Jewish and he is agnostic, but does observe/celebrate Jewish holidays and events. Quality of Relationship With Their Children: They love and support all of their children unconditionally. They do worry about Rafael sometimes just because he’s more of a wanderer than their other children, he’s a bit more aimless, but they know he can take care of himself. Living/Deceased: Both alive and in excellent health.
S I B L I N G (S) Name(s): Daniel Isserlis, Itai Isserlis, Tamar Huang, and Eliana Isserlis (soon to be Eliana Florakis). Age(s): 34, 32, 31, 29. Yes, their parents basically had all of their children back to back. Social Standing: They have all done very well for themselves, and are all in good social standing. Occupation(s): Daniel is a software engineer and works with their father. Itai is a forensic accountant and he has helped to arrest many white collar criminals. Tamar runs a non-profit organization that helps underprivileged children by providing housing, food, education/tutors, and after school activities. And Eliana is an event planner who specializes in weddings. Religion: Daniel and Tamar are still devoutly Jewish. Itai and Eliana are more like Rafael– they appreciate and enjoy aspects of Judaism but they don’t really believe in it. Quality of Relationship with Character: Rafael loves all of his siblings and would do just about anything for them, but he is definitely the closest with Eliana out of all of them. He really only sees/talks to his other siblings a few times a year, but he talks to Eliana all the time. Living/Deceased: All alive.
D A I L Y L I F E Living Arrangements: He lives in a cute little one bedroom house right in the heart of the city, on a very busy street. He loves being right in the middle of everything, so it’s ideal for him. The place was a bit rundown when he first bought it, but he has fixed it up quite a bit and although no one would say it’s luxurious or anything, it’s definitely nice and comfortable. He loves having guests over and has lots of seating and a large TV, plus a pull-out couch in the living room just in case anyone stays the night, not to mention a spacious king sized bed in his room.
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Muse
Prompt 1: Just like some people sleep-walk, you tend to paint or draw while in your transformed state because it calms you down. And apparently, people really like your art.
Prompt 2: A is a popular artist, and B messages them without thinking one day. They didn’t expect to become friends, and they definitely didn’t expect to become more. Person B just felt that connection between the two of them.
Prompt 3: A/Werewolf has a tendency to curl like a dog in front of the fireplace a lot (usually in their werewolf form, but it’s not uncommon for them to do it as a human). (Sources in master list)
Word count: 3,721 words
Genre: Fluff, romance, supernatural
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
I put up with the long commute to and fro between home and work for two reasons, and two reasons alone: the decent rent for a place with a picturesque view and that catered to my monthly needs, and the glut of time to catch up on my reading. And by ‘reading’, I meant ‘scrolling through the handful of social media feeds that survived my latest cull of shit that was taking up my time and storage space unnecessarily, and occasionally attempting (and failing) to pay attention to my Kindle’. Hey, at least I was aware I had a problem …?
Instagram was my first hit of the day. I flicked past images of makeup, friends in situations I wouldn’t be finding myself in anytime soon, and cute animals. The occasional meme and comic draw out an exhalation of air from my nostrils. I marvelled at artwork and photography, half wishing I were half as good as the people I followed and admired, half chiding myself for not practising either enough and losing interest quicker than I’d dropped money on new equipment in the name of my new endeavours. You could say one of my hobbies, the ones I’d been consistent about, was amassing gadgets obtained to indulge my whims and fancies.
My heart skipped a beat — or was it the pothole the bus went over? — when I came across a new post by George. I didn’t know him personally to refer to him by his first name like that, but hadn’t social media broken down boundaries between people, making them seem closer to each other than they really were? He was an illustrator whose work I chanced upon on Reddit a while back. His portfolio was a patchwork of subjects, often portraits, rendered mostly in traditional media like watercolour and oil paint. He sometimes shook things up with abstract, contemplative pieces. He had something for almost everyone. For me, it was his attractive, angular yet distinctive faces and statuesque figures, use of watercolour, and versatility: one piece could be superhero fanart, followed by a collection of moody, atmospheric paintings of the English landscape with some fantastical additions.
It also helped that he seemed to be a nice, chill person, and a handsome one at that, too, based on the smattering of pictures he had of himself on his feed. Please, let me imagine a world in which someone as ideal as him — or what I knew about him — wasn’t beholden to anyone for a moment.
His latest post was a drippy bust of a snarling wolf with full moons for eyes. The caption simply read: ‘Mood.’ I smirked as I hit the like button. Did I mention that he drew wolves a lot as well? Sometimes his wolves were feral; sometimes they were humanoid, but still wild. The latter featured heavily in his conceptual works, albeit as hazy, indistinct forms, like blurry photographs. In any case, I liked that he had a fondness for wolves and werewolves, as the constant presence of the full moon in art of the latter would suggest. Anyone who liked wolves was a-okay in my book. Anyone who liked werewolves was even more so. Because.
An interrupted connection between my brain and my reflexes led me to visit his profile. Instead of returning to my feed, my thumb gravitated toward the message button at the top of the screen. Not a single cell in my body resisted this turn of events despite the restored connection. Oh, what the hell. Why not? Like, what were the chances he’d read my message? He had tens of thousands of followers, a likely considerable chunk of them being bots aside. He must receive DMs every other minute. I’d be another sycophant in his sea of fans. Or he’d see my homely mug and locked profile, and he’d think I was driven to add to his never-ending count of unread messages simply out of misguided thirst.
The beauty of the Internet was that it made ‘out of sight, out of mind’ fairly easy to put into practice.
I got the following out of my system and into his inbox: ’Hi! Hope you’re doing well. I’ve been following your Instagram for a while, and your latest post just made me want to say your art is amazing. (I can totally identify with the sentiment behind it.) I especially love your more abstract pieces. There’s something so … raw about them. And I like that you seem to like wolves a lot, too. They’re beautiful animals, and your art really captures that about them. Anyway, keep up the great work! Take care.’
I exited Instagram, not caring about the rest of my feed anymore and not wanting to feel like I was stalking my notifications for something that’d never come. My phone buzzed with several notifications as I went down my Reddit homepage. I swiped away the banners with green icons that pelted the top of my screen. Those could wait. What couldn’t were the banners stating that I had a new message and a new follower request from —
‘Oh, my God!’ I said, loudly enough for me to hear my own voice above my music (the chorus of Walk the Moon’s ‘Shut Up and Dance’ at half of maximum volume, so … loud). Not one soul on this lightly populated bus acknowledged my exclamation — not even the woman sitting next to me. (Come on, lady, the front was mostly empty.) Thank God for technology making hermits of us all. Or my sudden outburst paled in comparison to the shit that could happen and had happened on public transport. When you took long journeys as I did every day, you’d see some real shit in due time, too.
I launched Instagram for the second time this morning (stop judging, Screen Time) and the first time ever with trembling hands. The notifications were real. I approved his request first. My mind raced to recollect anything on my profile that might make him regret his decision to let my piddling photos of food, myself, my cat, and random junk take up precious space on his feed. Nope, couldn’t think about that now, because I was now staring at an actual, honest-to-God message from George:
’Hey! Thanks for reaching out, and thank you for your kind comments. They mean a lot to me, especially what you said about my experimental stuff and wolves. They are stunning creatures, aren’t they? And yeah, I drew that last picture after a particularly rough night. You could call it a self-portrait of sorts, I suppose.’
I snorted. Change the fur colour and make the eyes normal, and it was a portrait of myself every full moon. Okay, not something I could tell someone I just met, let alone a popular artist on the Internet …
Before I could recover from the shock that my inbox held an actual, honest-to-God message from George Holden (that was his last name — the oxygen made it to my brain for me to remember that he had his last name on his profile), he sent another one: ’Anyway, how are you? I took a look at your profile, and it looks like we have quite a number of things in common.’
What, really? No way. Was it the lashings of sweet treats I subjected my stomach to every weekend? The horror and science fiction titles, celebrity memoirs, and comics, sometimes paired with an iced coffee at either a café I put down roots for the afternoon or the one-bedroom house in Waltham Forest I called home, I showcased to put forth some form of air of intellectualism? The cross-stitch projects featuring memes and popular culture icons? His profile was quite barren of anything that could provide insight into what else he enjoyed doing besides his art. Which, hey, was perfectly fine: no one was obligated to share their personal life online.
I replied, ’I’m fine, thank you. I’m on my way to work. Favourite part of my day, really. And really? Like what?’
Most of my notifications that day were from him.
✦✧✦✧
I was a bustling hub of activity in my seat: A sip of my drink. A shake of my knee. A lift of my phone. A turn of my neck. A shift of my weight from one butt cheek to the other. I was certain I was generating enough electricity to power a lightbulb in five-second intervals. I couldn’t help it. I was so, so excited — and so, so nervous. This was my and George’s first time meeting each other in person. There’d be no screen between us. Actually, what difference would that make? We’d been talking to each other for months, either through text or video calls, the latter more common in the weeks leading up to today. We’d seen each other even on our ‘I’ll put on a clean shirt, brush my hair, and hope for the best’ days. What could either one of us do in person that would irrevocably alter our friendship for the worse? Well …
The sound of someone entering the café stopped me from starting on a list of things that I could do to fuck things up. I looked up, probably the seventh time I did so in the last ten minutes. This was on me. I grossly overestimated the amount of time it’d take me to get somewhere as usual; a natural by-product of living far from the city. Seventh — probably — time was the charm: it was George — and right on the dot, too. His punctuality added to his attractiveness, which had already gone through the roof and was heading straight into the stratosphere. I bit my lip to suppress any unfortunate exclamations. He was a friend, Evelyn … just a friend, and I had no illusions otherwise.
I called out to him. He waved at me and joined me at the table I picked out for us. And the second our eyes met, devoid of any barrier between us, everything about him — and everything about us — clicked.
He was just like me.
And I was just like him.
And he was as astonished about it as I was, going by the long silence that passed between us, a first since we got to know each other.
‘Hi! Oh, my God, it’s so good to finally meet you!’ I said with a grin to break the tension. He broke out into a smile, his posture relaxing. Success. Should I go in for a handshake? No, that’d be too stuffy for a months-old friendship. A hug? No, that’d be too intimate for a months-old friendship, and an online one, too, no less. Was it obvious this was my first time meeting someone I met online?
‘It’s good to meet you, too,’ he said, his expression of cheer unabating. ‘I’m going to get myself a drink first, and then we can shoot the shit.’ His smile turned into a grin. ‘Do you want anything? My treat,’ he added as he spotted me reaching for my wallet.
‘I was thinking a red velvet muffin, please.’ I didn’t know why I didn’t get one earlier. ‘Thank you.’
‘No problem. I’ll be right back.’
As he left, my nerves turned into happiness that I met another werewolf. It was rare to meet other werewolves just about anywhere. What were the odds that two werewolves, one of whom was Internet-famous, would become friends because the other one had a brain fart one morning to send a message to the Internet-famous one? You couldn’t make this shit up. In all the years I’d been a werewolf, George was the first one I knew. I didn’t even know the one that turned me. I got bitten one night, and that was my life changed forever. I figured everything out on my own — I had to. And my puny social network of werewolves made sense: this wasn’t exactly the kind of thing anyone would advertise about themselves.
Once George settled down and courtesies were out of the way, the first thing out of his mouth was ‘I never thought I’d meet another one like me’.
I moved my chair closer to him so that we could speak at length about what we were without the fear of being overheard. ‘Me neither.’ Then it hit me, and I quickly said, ‘It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it, though.’ Personally, I was okay with what I was. No existential dread here, contrary to what one might expect of a werewolf. It happened. I learnt to manage it in a way that made it not have any kind of significant impact on my life. I refused to let it define me. And honestly, I lived for particularly bad days that coincided with full moons.
‘Are you kidding me?’ His face lit up with boyish glee. ‘I’ve been waiting for this day for so long! As in, us meeting up in person for the first time and me getting to know another werewolf. Two birds, one stone: the only kind of killing I endorse. And I’m so fucking chuffed it’s you. I always felt like I could talk to you about anything, and now that really, really means anything.’ It was his turn to be able to power a light bulb, but in twenty-second intervals this time.
‘Same. How were you turned?’
‘I was bitten during a camping trip with friends a couple of years back. You?’
‘Secondary school. I was walking home from the library.’
‘Shit, that was some time ago, huh?’
‘Almost half my life a werewolf.’
‘Do you know the werewolf that did it?’
‘Nope. How about you?’
He shook his head. ‘Nah. Kind of sucks, doesn’t it, that you’ll never get to know the person who’s changed your life so … deeply? They won’t remember either that they turned someone. If only having kids was like that, yeah? Absolutely no sense of responsibility whatsoever.’ He gave his teaspoon a lazy twirl, causing a faint plume of milk to rise and sink into the dark, bittersweet depths from whence it came. ‘I struggled with what I’d become the first couple of months. The transformations were one thing.’ Oh, yeah. ‘I felt … grotesque. God, the amount of self-pity, like, why was I the only one who had to go through this every month when there were four other guys ripe for the picking? So, I decided to start incorporating wolves in my art to get to know and reclaim that part of me. I didn’t want to see it as something ugly. I mean, you get to experience a kind of rebirth every month. That’s extraordinary if you think about it. And I told myself that like myself, the wolf didn’t ask to be born. Ha, ha. Millennial humour. Anyway. Then the most miraculous thing happened one full moon: I woke up next to a coherent painting that wasn’t there the night before.’
‘Oh, my God.’
‘Right? My more artsy stuff? The ones I hate coming up with captions for? Almost all done while I was transformed. I’d started some of my art — bet you can’t guess which one — on full moons, too, and I finished them after I changed back. It’s as if the wolf knew we were now cool with each other.’ He took a big chunk out of his apple crumble and jammed it into his mouth. ‘Sorry if that sounded like spiritual woo-woo. I’ve been wanting to tell someone about this forever.’ Crumbs fell out of his mouth as he spoke. ‘Shit, I’m such an’ — he shot me an impish look as he swallowed — ‘animal, aren’t I? Fuck, I can make stupid references like that now, and someone would get it!’
I laughed. He was such a dork. ‘It’s not “spiritual woo-woo”. It’s amazing. How is that even possible?’
‘I have no idea.’ He held out his hands in front of him. ‘So thankful we get to keep our hands and not have them turn into paws.’ He waggled his thumbs. ‘Fuck, yeah, opposable thumbs. And I want to say it’s like when artists get high and make stuff. I do know artists who do that, and hey, no judgment. To them, I do the same thing, too.’
‘And here I am, feeling accomplished whenever I make it through another full moon without waking up in a trashed place. Seriously, that’s amazing.’
‘I think that’s what’s keeping me from losing it while transformed. I was surprised people liked those pieces when I started posting them, considering they’re such far departures from what I usually post.’
‘That explains why they’re so … visceral.’
‘Yeah? I figure you’d appreciate them even more now.’ He smirked. ‘And you know, no one really talks about my wolf art, and especially my werewolf pieces. Maybe if I didn’t make them blurry and made them more explicit …’ Oh, he’d get a different breed of followers altogether. ‘But that’s fine. I don’t want my lycanthropy to define me and my work. It’s just a part of who I am.’
‘My turn to say something possibly corny: I like your wolf art because … they make me feel seen, because they’re drawn by you.’
He put a hand on his chest. ‘That’s not corny. I’m happy my art makes you feel that way. You know I don’t care about the likes or comments. It just so happens I like drawing things that make me get likes and comments.’ He pushed his plate toward me and motioned at me with his fork to try some of his apple crumble. I obliged him. ‘Did you ever suspect anything? Not that, you know, I purposely drew wolves and werewolves as a kind of signal for other werewolves to pick up on. That’d be giving me way too much credit.’
‘No, I just thought you like wolves a lot.’
‘Same here. What you said about wolves being beautiful creatures when you messaged me the first time … that made me feel something, too.’
‘Then I’m very glad we got to be friends,’ I said. Born from the same blip in brain activity that set us on this path, my hand found itself on top of his. His touch had a pleasant, almost familiar heat to it.
‘Me too.’ He turned his hand over and clasped mine.
‘I have an idea,’ I said, mostly to distract myself from how right this felt. ‘Do you want to meet on the next full moon?’
‘Sure. I can’t wait to see what kind of inspiration will strike with another werewolf around.’
‘Your place, then?’
He nodded. ‘Unless you’re cool with me possibly trashing your place with paint and stuff. That hasn’t happened before, but who knows? What if wolf-me doesn’t like change?’
I stared at him in disbelief.
‘I can’t help it. You have no idea what kind of beast this has unleashed. Oops.’
We sat and talked in the café the entire afternoon; we took turns treating each other to food and drinks to justify our occupancy. Our conversation moved on to other topics besides the one special, biggest thing we had in common. Just like we didn’t want it to define who we were as people, we made a promise to each other, and we did so over a strawberry custard tart, that we wouldn’t let it become the foundation of our friendship from this point on. It’d be unfair to the moments we shared before this. We were friends because we cared about each other, we brought out the best in each other, we could truly be ourselves around each other, and, honestly, I didn’t think anyone else would have the patience for his goofy in-jokes.
✦✧✦✧
I lay in front of the fireplace, rejoicing in the warmth it offered on this cool night, while George was working on his newest painting. Since getting to know each other in these forms, we’d been able to exercise better control. For me, that meant greater peace of mind; for him, that meant a more refined grasp of his artistic sensibilities. As with much about our condition, we didn’t question this. What could possibly be a drawback of us spending more time in each other’s company? I now understood why animals curled up by a fire was a common sight in media and real life, too. Wait, what if this, and not George’s presence, was what I’d been missing all my life?
My tail wagging like a fiend when I felt his breath on my skin begged to differ. I licked his face. He gently parted my lips and slid his tongue onto mine. Our tongues engaged each other in a playful scuffle; the fire crackling in the background could only dream of coming close to causing the rise in temperature in the pit of my stomach. The tussle between our tongues didn’t get to turn into something more: he’d had a long night. I nuzzled him to convey reassurance. He lay down beside me and wrapped his arms around me, his hold firm yet tender. We fell asleep like this, keeping each other warm long even after the fire had died out.
We wished each other a good morning with a kiss — no, two kisses, and we got ourselves ready for the day. As we were having breakfast, George piped up, ‘Do you want to see what I painted last night, love? I’m really proud of it, and I think you’d love it, too.’
I nodded excitedly, my mouth too full of scrambled egg to speak.
He returned as quickly as he’d left the table. His hands held on to a painting … of me curled up by the fire last night. The figure was the clearest, most detailed he’d ever done; the lighting was phenomenal. ‘It’s beautiful,’ I said, tearing up a little, frankly. ‘I love it. It’s going to look so good in our new place’, along with the recent paintings he’d made of a similar nature. He’d come so far from the gauzy forms that once populated his attempts at capturing his — our — condition on canvas.
‘Of course, when I have the most stunning model.’ He gave me a peck on the cheek. ‘I love you, my muse, my mate.��
#exophilia#terato#werewolf#monster love#monster romance#mine#fun fact#I wrote this story in early october last year#and it's kind of truth in television for me now
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#100daysofwriting | days 029-035
a daily writing challenge created by @the-wip-project // tagging fellow writers joining in on the fun: @thelittlefanpire, @hopskipaway, @kinetic-elaboration, and @easilydistractedbyfanfic
I spent the last week in the mountains with absolutely no wifi, so I’ll use this one as a catch up post for all of the past ones before jumping back in with new entries!
For the first time in a while, I didn’t spend any time thinking about writing. Didn’t do any daydreaming about it, didn’t do any note taking or planning on my phone. Partially because I was finally seeing friends for the first time since 2019, but even during downtime I didn’t. I took photos and worked on some drawings. And damn it felt good! Not to say I’m ending my relationship with writing, and I know it’ll feel rusty coming back after a decent break, but it felt really good to clear my mind and enjoy other activities. So in that vein, I might just answer a few of these entry questions and call it for these posts as I warm back up!
What’s a common theme in your writing?
I really enjoy writing stories where the setting feels like its own character. Where the details and interactions of the characters are impacted by the location as much as the plot. I also really like writing about characters dealing with personal struggles and how they can fight through the hard times to make the right choice in the end! Ideally that’s what most of my stories focus on and I’m hoping to lean even more into the gray area for the struggle portion of that.
What kind of gestures are your characters often using? + How do you describe sounds?
If I had a nickel for every time my characters looked at each other and I overly described their eye movement, I’d be able to quit my job. I’ve even googled phrases for describing eye movement because I feel like I’ve overused all of the ways. One day I’ll find a new way to write it or to focus on it less and work on other gestures to convey interactions.
As for sound, I think this made me realize that I usually focus on describing textures of things (fabrics, skin, items) than I do sound. I’m really curious to skim some of my past work and see where maybe I’ve done it, but also now use this as a chance to try and use it more in my stories. Especially since my whole goal is to make my stories feel like you’re watching a movie, that would be a good thing to improve! I do think that’s why I write so much about eye movement, I relate it to a headshot in a film where a viewer would very distinctly see a character’s reaction. So I definitely want to up the use of sound descriptions in my writing now!
Fic(s) Worked On:
I didn’t actually work on anything as I wrote earlier, but here’s my upcoming list of things that I want to focus on this month!
Finish outlining my Bellarke, Tarzan AU –– I’ve got a decent idea going so far where I want to take it, but a lot of my earlier writing for it was stream of consciousness for scenes that I just had in my head for it. While I do still really like those scenes, I really need to flush out a full outline so I know where I’m taking it. The goal is to keep it a one shot if possible!
Rework the outline for oh but dear, the sky is low –– I have other fics I need to focus on before this one, but since I want to attempt this D&D style of dice rolling for outcomes within the outline, I definitely need to start working on this earlier than later. The reactions to this fic have been very luke-warm anyway, so I think this will help me stay excited about this fic since none of the follow up chapters were prompted and I can now turn it into a very personal project for myself!
Finish writing my Clurphy, X-Files AU –– this fic isn’t due until October but I’ve probably got about 70% of it written so I really would love to focus on the remaining sections of it and get it out early!
link to my ao3 | masterlist of these posts
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ITS MY BLOG AND I GET TO INFODUMP ABOUT MY CHARACTERS >:D
Disability and gender experience
CW for ptsd, panic attacks, su*c*de [I will talk about at the end if you still want to read this and will add another warning] , gender dysphoria, mild transpobia and abelism both internal and external
Disability
Lyla has osteoarthritis that is due to Burns' pretty fucky genes. She found this out when one evening they literally couldn't get out of bed for anything due to intense pain in the knees. Waylon had to come and get them and when he got there Lyla was pretty much on the brink of tears. Lyla then got a diagnosis. At first she was frustrated because it changed everything about his daily life. He was prescribed pain medication that dulls the pain to a manageable degree and was recommended to use a cane to get around during mild flare ups. It initially upset her. He thought she was too young to be going through something like that and hated having to limit how much they work. They later realized that stigma was ableist and bullshit and eventually sucked it up and decided to just embrace his new way of life and let her Grandfather help him learn how to cope due to experience with chronic pain [which means its lifelong] . On some days they get around just fine with pain meds but on bad flare up days they have to use a cane or chair to get around. She eventually mastered working with the aids and can even pop a sick wheelie on his chair. The pain still gets to them and it really sucks but he does swallow his pride and allow themselves to rest and be supported by others.
Sometimes with her partner Ashley he'll get snuggled and taken care of by her. Lyla is pretty dang light like his grandfather and Ashley has no problem carrying him around. Lyla secretly loves being carried. He's pretty fucking privileged to have Mr.Burns allow her disability support. Lyla is very privileged. Sometimes they like to make his cane/chair look cool with spray paint and whatnot. Very cripplepunk. Lyla probably found a disabled community of people his age to help her feel less alone.
Abbey has undiagnosed innatentive type adhd and ptsd that she gets full on panic attacks from. Neurodiversity was something taboo and not talked about in her childhood and didn't even realize she was struggling more than she should be. As a child she struggled paying attention to long boring sermons/lectures and was shamed alot for it. She didn't understand how she occasionally made people uncomfortable with very weird and unconventional topics she talks about. Loud sudden stimuli and intense buzzing overwhelms her and can make her cry. She didn't do very well in school and barely graduated high school. She prefered watching her favorite movies and playing dolls with her sister over studying. She's extremely sensitive to fabric and only has certain types of blankets and clothes that she can stand. She absolutely hates the feeling of fabric draping against her legs too much so sometimes she either wears tight-ish pants and avoids skirts/dresses. She hates sitting and walking in dresses. She never wanted to wear them lol they feel bad to her. She refuses to sit up straight and will cross her legs. Abbey hyperfixates on animation, cinema, and dollhouses. She likes binging movies and making doll projects. She tends to bond with people through movies and model making. She struggled to make friends outside of her circle and just stayed friends with people she grew up with at her church. They all escaped that mormon hell. Abbey struggles with her emotions and usually gets overwhelmed too much which can often leave her drained and tired. She has an intense oral fixation and uses stim necklaces to chew on, before she would chew on her sleeves, pen caps, pens, her hair, her shirt, her sleeves, bottle caps, ect. She was a very curious kid and tried to eat playdough, dirt and grass lol. None of them where good. She is decent at working at the video store and feels happy with her job being related to her interests. Because hrt therapy is so expensive she doesn't feel she can afford any kind of therapy or medication and it's very overwhelming for her to have to prioritize one aspect of her health over another. But with financial support from close friends and her boyfriend Tim she gets by ok.
Gender
Lyla assumed that it was completely normal to have a fuzzy fluid gender due to believing gender is a lose concept for most people. He didn't realize most people have static genders that don't change at all. It wasn't something they never questioned. Later in Lyla's 20s they started to learn more on gender and realized she wasn't as cis as he thought they where. The term genderfluid fit his experiences perfectly. They never felt still in their gender. Even if they felt more towards one gender over another it wasn't a firm feeling. It felt fluid and lose. As a teen they dressed in goth fashion and was a self proclaimed tomboy. But they realized tomboys or most gnc women didn't dress up very feminine on somedays or even wear dresses. She loves wearing dresses and she loves wearing lose jeans and a lose men's tee.
Lyla's gender tends to shift weekly but it may present or change depending on who they're with or what media/environment they're exposed too. For example he might feel more feminine with certain friends and more masculine with strangers. Sometimes they feel more comfortable being agender or a nonbinary genders with certain people such as their partner. Sometimes they only use certain pronouns with certain people. He/she/they at work, she/he with parents, she/he/they/it with siblings, she/he with some friends, and she/he/moths/rots, rats, its with their partner. Lyla will either tell people upfront on pronouns for the week or use a pin.
Most of the time clothes don't dictate their gender that week but there are some key differences. Lyla will not wear dresses on more masculine days and may draw on facial hair with a mascara brush. On more feminine days they dress more like a nature witch and loves floral stuff. They are more likely to have fun with makeup on those days.
Lyla doesn't want to undergo any kind of surgery or hormone therapy. Lyla may bind a bit with a sports bra but doesn't really feel uncomfortable with his chest and mostly doesn't mind having visibile tits on masc days.
Abbey always felt different from her birth sex and felt very frustrated learning she wouldn't just naturally grow into the chest and genitals she wants growing up. It was an extremely taboo and forbidden subject but despite that something inside her soul knew she was a girl. Her parents pushed very strict gender roles on her growing up and causes her to struggle with her femininity as an infertile woman who could not stand dresses. It made her feel a bit lost but she later felt better knowing other women cis and trans who don't conform to gender roles.
Abbey gets intense physical dysphoria from her crotch and for a long time she had to just deal with it until surgery was an option. Some days she could tolerate it but some days [especially when she got on estrogen and felt very hormonal] it was unbearable and a wet dream or boner would trigger a depressive episode that consists of cacooning a cover, watching her favorite movies and long naps. It was a toll on her mental health that was already pretty bad. But emotional support, understanding and patience from her friends and boyfriend helped her carry on though it. She eventually does get bottom surgery and it's a HUGE weight off her chest.
Abbey usually dresses in sweatshirts, graphic tees and cute jeans. Whatever's comfortable on the skin. She wore tank tops more when her tits grew in. And they grew in pretty dang fast and big and ah it hurt. She's a c cup which she loves but God they where tender for awhile. Double puberty isn't fun. Her transition was a bit rough and long being low middle class but she pulled through.
TW for su*cide. Leave the post now if this triggers you.
Abbey is a suicide attempt survivor. She suffers ptsd from her own husband taking his life leaving her a widow. She felt trapped and tired in her unbalanced emotions and uncertainty of ever feeling okay or getting the medical attention she needed and attempted to OD. Fortunately she was with Timothy who immediately called an ambulance. She was very tired and at first a bit disappointed she was still alive but also a bit relieved. She then had to cope with feeling suicidal.
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Just a Bend in the Road
Something is wrong with Tony, Peter is sure.
At least they’re only three hours out from the lakehouse now; Pepper will be able to figure out whatever it is that’s going on with him. Just a few hours, Peter thinks. They can do that.
Turns out, that was a bit optimistic.
Happy Birthday to @ravenclaw-lair, who asked me for a carsickness-turned-worse fic with the Iron Family. This is set in my favourite post-Endgame AU where Tony lives and Peter finally gets to meet Morgan and Pepper.
A million thanks to @whumphoarder for beta reading and coming up with an ending :) And special thanks to @heyjupiter for the East Coast university expertise.
_____________________
“You know Pete,” Tony starts for the nth time this weekend when they pull back onto the road after a rest stop, “you could still go for MIT. I know the person in charge of the admissions office. And when I say know, I mean”—he glances through the rearview mirror at Morgan, who is contentedly listening to audiobooks through her tablet before lowering his voice—“we had some pretty intense late-night study sessions in the physics lab together back in the day. And by intense, I mean -”
“Stop, please stop,” Peter protests, rapidly shaking his head to get rid of the mental image. “I don’t even wanna think about that. And besides the fact that May would never let this happen, I don’t want to get into MIT just because you know someone there. That would be unfair to everyone else who had to apply. Plus, I really liked Culver.”
“Whatever you say, kiddo…” Tony sighs. “But let me know if you change your mind.”
Peter is sure he won’t. His grades are good, but, due to his nightly superhero activities, not quite outstanding enough for MIT, and he’s actually fine with that. He did like what he saw of Culver University during their open day - it’s not as top ranked as MIT or the Ivy League schools, but the quality of teaching and their hands-on research approach sounded cool. Plus, it’s Bruce Banner’s old university, and he comes there to give guest lectures from time to time, something Peter would be thrilled to witness.
Peter just hopes that Tony isn’t too disappointed in him for not trying out MIT - he’s seemed a bit distant throughout the whole trip.
“Do you want some trail mix?” Peter offers. Food is usually a failsafe way to lift his mentor’s mood.
“Nah, I’m good,” Tony declines.
“I WANT TRAIL MIX!” Morgan shouts from under her headphones, about six times louder than necessary.
“Morguna, keep your voice down,” Tony scolds.
“Sorry,” Morgan stage-whispers. “Can I have some now?”
(Needless to mention, food works wonders on her, too.)
Peter holds out the bag and Morgan reaches into it with both of her hands, grabbing so much at once that half of it spills back into her lap. Grinning, Peter turns back to Tony and offers the bag once more. “You sure? It’s the good stuff - half M&Ms and no raisins.”
Tony seems to pale a little bit. He shakes his head tightly. “Not hungry.”
Peter frowns. There is no way Tony can’t be hungry. He skipped breakfast that morning, claiming that he’d rather have a long and undisturbed shower, but by the time Peter and Morgan came back, stuffed full of hotel food delicacies, he’d still been in bed. And, thinking back to last night, Peter recalls that Tony barely finished the small pizza he’d shared with Morgan.
Now that he’s paying attention, Peter notices the thin film of sweat forming on his mentor’s forehead despite the almost too-cold temperature in the air conditioned car. “Are you alri-”
“What’s that shrieking noise?” Tony interrupts, nodding at the radio playing something from the local station. “Doesn’t even deserve to be called music,” he grumbles, passing Peter his phone. “Here, play something decent.”
Peter connects the device and pulls up one of Tony’s playlists, but the worry in his gut only increases at the man’s not very subtle attempt at changing the topic. At least they’re only three hours out from the lakehouse now; Pepper will be able to figure out whatever it is that’s going on with him. Just a few hours, Peter thinks. They can do that.
Turns out, that was a bit optimistic.
Forty-five minutes later, Peter is idly texting with Ned about their current Lego project when Morgan suddenly takes off her headphones. “Daddy, are we almost there?” she asks, her tone just bordering on a whine.
“It’s at least another two hours,” Tony replies, glancing at her through the mirror with a frown. “What’s bugging you, Morguna?”
“My tummy doesn’t feel good,” Morgan complains, bending forward and wrapping her arms around herself.
“Do you feel carsick?”
Morgan nods, pressing her lips together.
“Okay bud, hold on a second,” Tony reassures calmly, already taking his foot off the gas. “I’ll find us a rest stop and we take a break.”
They reach the rest stop without incident, much to Peter’s relief. He used to get carsick a lot as a kid and remembers just how awful it felt. Tony makes Morgan walk around the car a few rounds to get some fresh air and then coaxes her into drinking half a bottle of Sprite.
Tony is kind and patient as always when he talks to Morgan (something Peter still isn’t used to, despite having had a few months now to get used to Dad Tony™), although Peter can’t help but notice that his mentor seems a little out of it.
After ten minutes, when the colour has returned to Morgan’s cheeks, Tony moves gingerly around the car to put her back into the booster seat, his lips pressed together almost as if he’s in pain. Both his real and prosthetic hands are shaking slightly when he clicks the seatbelt.
“Break’s over, back to the road,” Tony’s voice knocks Peter out of his thoughts. He tosses the car keys to Peter, who catches them in confusion. “Your turn, Underoos. I’ll sit in the back with Morguna until she feels better.”
“What? No!” Peter protests. “I can’t drive!”
“What do you mean, you can’t drive?” Tony rebuts. “Do you have a license or not?”
“Well, yeah, but...” Peter does have a license, and he’s definitely come a long way since the day he nearly wrecked Flash’s car, but that still doesn’t mean he feels comfortable behind the wheel. “This car is crazy expensive! What if I break something?”
“Then I’ll buy a new one,” Tony says simply.
That was definitely not the answer Peter was looking for. He lets out a sigh and Morgan giggles a bit from where she’s pressed against Tony’s arm.
“Come on, kid, please?” The tone is joking, but there’s a hint of desperation under the surface. Something is very, very wrong.
“Okay,” Peter gives in. “But no comments about me driving below the speed limit.”
Tony gives a half-hearted grin. “Deal.”
“Deal!” Morgan echoes, which makes Peter smile a little.
Peter is so nervous as he steers them back onto the highway that he hardly dares to draw a full breath. But after a few minutes, he realises that this car runs much smoother than May’s old Toyota Corolla. It’s almost as intuitive as navigating his Spider-Man suit, and after a while, Peter feels himself relax to the point where he is nearly enjoying it.
Then, he hears a cough from the backseat that quickly turns into a hitching gag. Peter glances in the rearview mirror, fully expecting to see Morgan throwing up. But instead, the girl is staring at her father with a mixture of fear and surprise. It’s Tony who is now white as a ghost and pressing a sleeve-covered hand to his mouth, visibly trying to keep himself from being sick.
“Pull over,” he says through gritted teeth.
Peter is flabbergasted. “I can’t just -”
“Daddy?” Morgan asks, her voice wavering.
“Pete, pull over,” Tony urges, his voice sharp.
“Okay, okay...” Peter mumbles. He forces himself to concentrate on the road. He indicates to the right to change lanes and then pulls off onto the highway shoulder.
The car has barely come to a stop before Tony throws the door open and stumbles out of sight behind the vehicle. Peter hears a painful-sounding retch, then the sound of liquid hitting the asphalt.
“Daddy?” Morgan asks again in a small voice, starting to unbuckle her seatbelt. Figuring the audience of an anxious six-year-old is the last thing Tony wants at the moment, Peter stops her.
“Morgan, wait. Stay here with me,” he says. “Just give your dad a minute, okay?”
She looks at him, her eyes wide. “Is Daddy okay?”
“I- I think he’s a bit sick,” Peter admits. “But he’s gonna be fine,” he adds when he sees Morgan’s eyes fill with tears, irrespective of the worry tightening in his own stomach.
“Can you look for a water bottle and tissues?” he asks, mostly to give her something to do.
Morgan nods earnestly and then starts digging in the back pockets of the seats. She finds a packet of tissues and has just pulled out a water bottle when Tony returns. He climbs back into the car rather unsteadily, and sinks down into the seat with a heavy sigh.
“Sorry for that,” he states, his voice hoarse. He looks pretty bad, his face almost grey now and with a feverish gleam to his eyes that makes them stand out even more.
“Daddy!” Morgan exclaims. “Are you okay?”
Tony puts on a forced smile as he turns to face her. “Yeah, I’m okay, sweetie. Sorry I scared you.”
“Did you get carsick?” Morgan asks, mimicking his adult tone.
“Yeah, um, I was carsick,” Tony replies without looking at either of them.
Peter doesn’t buy it for one second, but he doesn’t want to freak Morgan out. “Morgan, give him the tissues and some water, okay?” he instructs instead.
She holds the items out to Tony.
“Thanks, munchkin,” he says softly, then takes a sip of water to rinse out his mouth. He leans out of the door to spit it out and can’t suppress a pained groan when he comes back up. “Okay, let’s just get home.”
Morgan snuggles against her father for the rest of the ride, her eyes half-closed, but she doesn’t really fall asleep. Tony seems to be barely holding it together. He is breathing shallowly, wincing slightly every now and then. More than once Peter can hear him gulp as if trying not to puke again.
“Tony, seriously, tell me when to stop,” Peter whispers when he hears his mentor draw in a sharp breath after a curve.
“Let’s just get to the house,” Tony mumbles before burping sickly into his sleeve.
Peter has never been happier to turn onto the forest road that leads them off the highway and towards the lake. The moment they stop, Tony is out of the car again, shuffling - almost limping - towards the house as quickly as he can. Peter parks the car and tells Morgan to go find her mom before following Tony to - who would have guessed - the bathroom.
Peter can hear him throwing up from outside the door. He knocks, but the only response is another retch. Worry takes over, his spider-sense humming in his ears, and he opens the door without waiting any longer.
Tony is hunched over the bowl, his left arm braced on the toilet seat and the prosthetic one wrapped tightly around his abdomen. He’s in the middle of heaving up bile, his whole body shaking from the strain of it. Peter waits until the current round is finished before tearing off some toilet paper and handing it over for Tony to wipe his mouth with, which the man does clumsily with his left hand.
“Don’t kill me,” Tony rasps, not looking up at Peter. “I just didn’t wanna freak out Morgan - she’s just always so worried since I lost my arm and all.” He drops the paper into the bowl and reaches up to flush the handle, his face contorting into a painful grimace as he does so.
“And that’s why you didn’t wanna tell her that you got a stomach bug?” Peter asks incredulously.
“Um...actually…” Tony swallows. “I think it might be appendicitis.”
Peter blinks. “What the hell, Tony? You should be in a hospital.”
“Morgan is really scared of hospitals - it would have terrified her if she'd seen me get wheeled off to surgery again. I’m sorry, kid, but what was I supposed to do?” Tony tries to sit back carefully but then just sort of collapses against the wall, his right knee pulled up to his chest.
A hundred possible answers to this question spring to Peter’s mind, all of which include Tony telling him what was going on about three hours ago. But he swallows them down - now is not the time.
“C-Can you get Pepper?” Tony asks in a sort of pitiful voice.
He’s looking a lot worse than he did just ten minutes ago, and despite his anger, Peter feels a pang of sympathy when he realises just how much Tony must have been holding it together in front of Morgan.
“Sure.” Peter nods. “But don’t think we’re done talking about this.”
Despite the misery he’s in, Tony manages a weak grin. “Yes, Dad,” he teases.
Peter just sighs.
He almost bumps into Pepper when he opens the door to the living room where Morgan is watching TV.
Pepper takes in the look on Peter’s face and frowns. “What did he do this time?” she mouths.
“Appendicitis,” Peter whispers back. Pepper’s eyes widen a bit in concern, but otherwise she doesn’t seem nearly as shaken as Peter feels. Two decades of life with Tony Stark seems to have brought her anxiety threshold to an entirely new level. She steps out into the hall and pulls the door shut behind her.
“Are you sure?” she asks.
“Tony seems sure. And the symptoms match - I think he’s been feeling sick at least since yesterday, and it’s just getting worse.” Peter bites his lip, suddenly overcome by guilt upon thinking about how long it took him to figure out that something was off.
Pepper seems to catch on to this. “Hey, enough of that. It’s not your fault, okay? Tony is a stubborn idiot who’d rather have the whole world believe that he’s a class-A asshole than admit to being sick.”
Peter swallows, thinking back to the little he knows about the palladium poisoning period of Tony’s life. His admiration for Pepper instantly increases tenfold.
“I’m gonna drive him to the hospital,” Pepper continues. “I know we were supposed to drop you back with your aunt later, but do you mind staying with Morgan until Happy can get here?”
“No problem,” Peter reassures. Pepper nods gratefully and then walks briskly past him to the bathroom, where, from the sound of it, Tony is being sick again.
Peter’s enhanced hearing picks up Tony’s croaky, “Hey, Pep,” when she enters.
“Oh, Tony,” Pepper replies. “You’re burning up. You’re a hot mess, you know that?”
Tony chuckles weakly.
“Do you think you can get up?” she goes on. “We need to get you straight to the hospital...”
He’ll be fine, Peter tells himself. He’ll be alright.
He straightens up and opens the door to the living room. “Hey kid, what are you watching?”
*
Several hours later, Peter and Happy are sitting in front of the TV, Peter pretending to study his chemistry notes and Happy pretending to watch Grey’s Anatomy while mostly being caught up in their own thoughts. It took Happy a while to get to the lakehouse, and then Peter decided against driving home. It’s exam season and he can just as well study here. Plus, he wants to be able to visit Tony in the hospital the next day.
Morgan has finally succumbed to sleep after Happy read her four different picture books. She was cranky all evening, first asking for pudding and ice cream for dinner and then demanding extra TV time, but no one had the heart to stop her. Both Happy and Peter realised that that was just her way of dealing with the worry they’re all experiencing.
Happy has almost fallen asleep on the couch when his phone starts to ring. He startles, then reaches out to pick it up. “Pepper,” he informs Peter.
Peter shamelessly eavesdrops when Happy answers the call.
“Hey,” Pepper greets on the other side. “It’s over. He’s awake now.”
Happy lets out a small exhale the same moment Peter feels the tension leave his own body. “Everything went well?” Happy asks.
“Yeah, the operation went as planned. He was kind of out of it when he came around just now, sort of confused and anxious. Seems like Morgan isn’t the only one carrying around bad memories from the snap.”
Yeah, Peter thinks, you don’t say.
“They gave him a light tranquilliser and he’ll probably sleep for the next few hours. I’ll stay here overnight if that’s alright with you, and if everything’s fine, you can bring Morgan here first thing in the morning. Peter too, if he wants to come.”
Happy raises a questioning eyebrow and Peter nods emphatically.
“Yeah, he’ll come with us,” Happy reports.
“Great.” Pepper lets out a sigh. “Tell Peter thanks for getting him home safely. Tony was asking about them - Morgan and Peter.”
“I will,” Happy says. “Try and get some sleep, boss.”
“You too.” Peter practically hears the tired smile in Pepper’s voice. “Good night, Happy.”
“So,” Happy turns to him after setting down the phone. “I suppose after today I should extend an official invitation to the official ‘Stark’s a Stubborn Idiot’ support group. We meet every other Thursday from seven to eight,” he deadpans. “Activities include dragging his ass to the hospital, dragging his ass to bed, dragging his... actually, mostly just a lot of ass-dragging.”
Peter laughs a bit at that. “Do I get a free t-shirt?”
Happy snorts. “I think that could be arranged.”
______________
If you liked this, you might also enjoy my 13k Irondad Endgame fix-it.
All my fics
Taglist: @toomuchtoread33 @yepokokfine
@badthingshappenbingo This is my fill for the ‘Appendicitis’ square.
#Irondad#Sick Tony#Tony!Whump#Ironfam#whump#tony stark#peter parker#morgan stark#pepper potts#Happy hogan#the whole fam basically#only rhodey is missing#post-endgame but Tony lives#sickfic#vomiting#fever#the official 'Stark's a Stubborn Idiot' support group
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dancing cartoon - partial lyrics credit, partial composition credit, partial production credit.
date: january 2021. word count: 1,275, not including lyrics. 1. this is so bad, 2. my knowledge of music production terms is extremely rudimentary, but 3. i’m trying, ok this is 4am ramblings from a girl whose musical education is limited to singing lessons, i know my vocal ranges and that’s about it and uh 4. i am going to bed. edit: 5. will i ever not ramble holy shit calm down girlie (i’m girlie)
CW: mentions of alcohol.
the idea for dancing cartoon is planted during that damn cruise that the companies sent everyone on. truthfully, eunah had a rather decent time, holed up with her books for company either in her room or in the onboard library, but she’d still find a reason to complain about it -- like the fact that she’d had cameras thrust in her face at every opportunity, and to a lesser extent, being forced by social obligation and pressures to show her face at one too many parties.
but, shockingly, she’d enjoyed herself, especially on new year’s eve. she relaxed for once. totally, fully relaxed. the idea of a party song wormed its way into her head the next morning, right next to the hangover induced headache.
the idea wanders out of her mind again, until she’s sitting in a production studio with a producer she’s become particularly close with over the last year, fiddling around with different beats as they run after that spark that means they’ve got something special -- and then, over the uptempo, lighthearted beat they’d just loaded up, it hits her. it begs the question, how to make a party song, but keep it in line with the rather vague guidelines dimensions gave them of ‘light’, ‘thoughtful’, and ‘nostalgic’? on one hand, eunah’s glad they trust her with her solo music, but as they’re filling out the tracklist options, she’s anxious to submit as much good, actually listenable work as possible, just in case they take back their trust. she still hasn’t gotten a song on a 7rophy release since blow your mind, after all.
with a starting point finally in hand, they turn to the melody. eunah goes back and forth for hours between the guitar she brought from home, and the keyboard provided with the room, singing nonsensically to pin down a tune, before she even thinks about the words.
“i want it to be danceable, if you know what i mean?”
a nod.
“but, in, like, a,” as an example, rather than describing the vibe with words, eunah bops her head back and forth, accompanied by a weak raising of her arms, “like that. something ... oh, mellow. mellow. that’s the word.”
the vibe they ultimately settle on -- because vibes are an important component of any eunah song, probably too important -- is the feeling of standing at the edge of a party, catching someone’s eye, and the way it almost feels like the world closes in. the party becomes its own place, out of time, out of space. the track that they slowly build, one layer after another, aims to replicate that sensation. it has a retro feeling without feeling old fashioned. at least, eunah hopes it doesn’t.
“would it be cheesy if maybe, later on, we added in some party noises in the back of the track? like, voices and things -- or it could be at the start. at least. uh, maybe. or not.” she’s second guessing herself but they eventually come to the conclusion that, yeah, maybe it would be a little bit cheesy, but it would also contribute to the overall mood of the song.
dancing all the night i’m dancing like I’m crazy gonna forget about you today drink so much right? so sweet like soda pop, i can’t get drunk
lovesickness, the fleeting feelings for someone you see across a crowd that never looks back. eunah’s not usually one for one night stands or casual sex, but she’s felt this way before anyways, captivated by someone whose eyes look right through her. in eunah’s case, they usually can’t see her in the crowd. she’s too small, too unassumingly dressed. still, the party persists. drinks keep on flowing, and sometimes you don’t even feel them hit you, never realising just how drunk you are until later. but here, later doesn’t exist. the idea is to match the lyrics with the timelessness of the beat, and the placid multi generational appeal of the melodies starting to bounce off the walls around them. it’s somewhat twee, she thinks, and she almost feels like she’s writing down to herself, and underestimating the types of concepts she could potentially pull off.
but, she’d argue, party girl is a lot different to artsy girl or emo girl, and it’s a concept she doesn’t feel confident enough to pull off without her members standing next to her. puzzle from mezzanine was very out of her comfort zone as a soloist, for example. and so, they stick to simple, formulaic sequences of notes, but eunah likes them nonetheless.
baby woo i’m so dizzy woo i’m leaning on you feel so high feel so good it’s like dancing cartoon tonight
dancing all the night drink so much right? it’s getting hotter i’m getting crazier tonight is perfect because there’s no tomorrow
the song starts to build up, becoming less of a sit and sway track, and more like a song eunah thinks she’d dance with her friends too if she was to get particularly drunk, clasping each others’ hands and spinning around. it fits the mood perfectly. it’s exactly what she was trying to convey with her original, embarrassing little chair dance. though, it sort of implies that the narrator managed to get with the guy, especially with the lyrics about kissing and falling in love that her partner amends into the final chorus, and that typical third act key change they implement. eunah doesn’t think she does get the guy though -- to her it feels more accurately that they’ve written a song about a girl at a party who dances the night away, getting absolutely sloshed, in an attempt to forget about the man that keeps showing up in her peripheral vision, but won’t spare her a second glance. it’s getting hotter and she’s getting crazier because her inhibitions are down thanks to all that too sweet alcohol she didn’t realise she was drinking. she’s dizzy, but she’s having fun, and the world around her has turned into a dancing cartoon. eunah draws a little squiggle under that line. a title like that might point to her real intentions behind the meaning of the song, even if it does admittedly just sound like a fairly tame crush ode.
she repeats the line ‘tonight is perfect because there’s no tomorrow’ for the song’s final line, drawing a line under the enclosed singular world of the eternal party they’re throwing by way of the song. a lot of songs with this kind of sentiment, she thinks, have a lot more explicitly sexual connotations, and though there’s nothing wrong with that, eunah quite enjoys her personal, more dreamlike angle.
they layer up her vocals during the choruses and pre-choruses, but allow the high note that beckons in the bridge to speak for itself, before the voices and party sounds from the fade in intro come back in, in an attempt to suck the listener into the cartoonish party world that the song exists in. the instrumental by itself has that nostalgic vibe that dimensions said they were looking for, for sure. it’s a good song for relaxing, eunah thinks, when she listens back to the finished project. a good song for dancing too, like she intended, but somehow it turned out as less of a song to play at a party, and more so a song to listen to while imagining you’re at a party.
oh well. introverted as she is, that works too. it’s probably more fitting for her. after all, most of the time she spends at parties is against the wall. save for new year’s eve, eunah really doesn’t have much experience with dancing and drinking all night. all that’s left to do is submit it, and hope that the company don’t call her out. even if the song is a finished project, with a start and end, even if she likes it, eunah knows that its instrumentals and lyrics are derivative of countless other pop songs -- brimming with potential to get lost in the crowd.
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Warrior Season 2 Episode 3 Review: Not How We Do Business
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This Warrior review contains spoilers.
Warrior Season 2 Episode 3
“Not How We Do Business” sums up the latest episode of Warrior in two ways. First, it’s a line that Zing (Dustin Nguyen) lays on O’Hara (Kieran Biew) when he finally breaks away from being a debt collector for the Fung Hai. “Not how we do business” also works on a meta level, this episode only has one Kung Fu fight. That’s weak for a Bruce Lee inspired show. There are two other fight scenes, but they’re scrappy brawls the likes of which can be found in any action drama.
Bruce Lee fans want Kung Fu, and not just any Kung Fu. As part of the Little Dragon’s legacy, it must be great Kung Fu. The lone Kung Fu scene in this episode is good and serves to introduce a pivotal new character, but that’s not enough. It’s not how we do business.
This episode begins with a missed opportunity where Ah Sahm (Anthony Koji) is in the Barbary Coast Fight Pit, facing off against another challenger. That would be great, but the fight is already over. The opening shot focuses upon his burly challenger, but he has already been knocked out and is just standing stunned, then there’s a shot of Ah Sahm, and then the challenger falls.
Seriously? No Kung Fu? Starting in the Fight Pit is fine dramatically but shortchanging the audience out of a fight is not the way to go for this show. It’s a big ripe piece of low hanging fruit left to rot. Bruce Lee fans crave gratuitous Kung Fu. Whenever Warrior goes to the Fight Pit, there had better be a fight.
After that, Ah Sahm’s fight manager Vega (Maria-Elena Laas) teases him with the promise of a bigger purse in some other international arena, a place where Warrior will hopefully go at some point this season, but not in this episode. Chao (Hoon Lee) pulls Ah Sahm aside and implies that he knows about the molasses plot that he and Young Jun (Jason Tobin) are cooking up, and that he’s concerned over Ah Sahm’s rivalry with Mai Ling (Dianne Doan). Chao comments “I don’t see any version of that ending well” which comes as no surprise to anyone. If this all ended well, there’d be no fight scenes.
Enter Hong – the New Guy in the Hop Wei
The centerpiece of the episode is the introduction of a new character, Hong (Chen Tang). Chen Tang just portrayed Yao in the new Mulan. In the original Disney animated film, Yao was Mulan’s hard ass comrade, and in contrast, he’s the shortest character (unless you count Mushu and Cri-Kee). The live action Mulan changed a lot – Yao was still the hard ass, but now he’s 6 feet tall and a less significant role. Nevertheless, Chen is a great addition to Warrior, exuding a southern charm because he was raised in Memphis and has a natural southern accent in real life, but he covers that up for Warrior.
Read more
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Warrior Season 2 Episode 1 Review: Learn to Endure, or Hire a Bodyguard
By Gene Ching
Hong arrives ‘fresh off the boat’ with a batch of new recruits, hatchet men ordered from China by Father Jun (Perry Yung). Their appearance makes Young Jun nervous that Father Jun might be on to his non-Chinese molasses scheme. He’s also suspicious of Hong’s attempts to weasel his way in with them. Nonetheless, Young Jun and Ah Sahm agree to take Hong to a brothel. There Ah Sahm discovers Hong is gay but sympathetically keeps that secret.
After that, the threesome stumble across some Fung Hai gangsters in the streets and Hong, either eager to impress or just hungry to kick some ass, takes them all out by himself. It’s a good introduction and reveals his expertise with whip chain. A whip chain is a traditional Chinese weapon, one that can be easily concealed as a trusty everyday carry for a Tong man. Chen Tong delivers a decent first fight scene with it. As weapons go, the whip chain requires more skill to wield than a nunchaku. Hong deploys both the whip chain’s striking and entangling methods proficiently, although the scene is in a dark alley and the shadows can conceal a multitude of sins. Chen Tong lists skills in Stage Combat, Karate, Kung Fu and Tai Chi on his resume and claims he did some preparation for the role of Hong studying Chinese whip chain and the Japanese equivalent manriki-gusari.
One of the best things about Warrior is the relationship between Ah Sahm and Young Jun. They have an earnest chemistry as two gangsters being gangsters, delivering beat downs, slinging molasses, and chasing sticky. This camaraderie is commonplace for buddy films and TV partners but it’s exceedingly rare and delightfully refreshing to see this for two Asian men in a Western production. Both Ah Sahm and Young Jun have a lot to prove and their connection is palpable. Hong brings a new lighter tone as the third wheel to their partnership. They already seem to be bonding as a threesome which is promising for the rest of the season.
In the Room Where It Happens
Mai Ling (Dianne Doan) and Li Yong (Joe Taslim) pay a visit to the Fung Hai lair so she can scold Zing (Dustin Nguyen). Walking into Zing’s room is a gutsy move for Mai Ling, but with Li Yong at her side, she’s fearless. Zing agrees to Mai Ling’s terms, but not before she shares a ritual drink of mare’s milk with him. Mare’s milk, or Kumis, is a unique fermented drink because few alcoholic beverages are dairy derived. It’s usually not that strong, nor is it the disgusting chunky chowder depicted in Warrior but the Mongols are stereotyped as barbarians, just as they were in Mulan, so it’s depicted as revolting. Mongolians are poorly represented in film and television. Project their media depictions upon any other race and the generally disparaging tone is evident.
On the way out, a Fung Hai thug gets up in Li Yong’s face and gets throat punched for his trouble. Don’t mess witjj Li Yong. Knowing Li Yong could destroy his crew, Zing calls off his man saying “Be thankful for your pain. It means you’re still alive.”
Much to Li Yong’s dismay, Mai Ling echoes this line towards the end of the episode, making him wonder if his boss is headed down the wrong path like Zing. While everyone in Warrior has their dark side, Zing has emerged as the villain with no redeemable qualities. Taslim brings a guarded nobility to Li Yong as Warrior’s most badass fighter; he’s loyal to Mai Ling, his lover and boss, but not blindly so. This, along with Taslim’s martial expertise, makes Li Yong one of the more intriguing characters. Mai Ling, like most of the rest of the cast, is another character with a lot to prove.
Read more
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Warrior Episode 2 Review: There’s No China in the Bible
By Stephen Harber
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By Gene Ching
Later, Zing, being the barbarous Mongol villain, threatens Chao (Hoon Lee) over delivering weapons. Chao, always the manipulator, discusses Zing with Mai Ling. Then later, Chao meets with Li Yong alone. Over bowls of noodles, Chao proposes a way to avoid war, teasing some coming intrigue to take Zing down. Everyone is aligning against Zing and the anticipation of this inevitable showdown is promising.
Sophie (Celine Buckens) sneaks into Leary’s (Dean Jagger) back room at the Banshee and finds his map of factories that use coolies. While she’s smart enough to realize that Leary is behind the factory firebombing, she somehow overlooks that Mercer Steel has got to be among those circled on that map too. Clearly her sister’s company is on the Irish workers hit list because they were beating up the coolies headed to Mercer until Penny (Joanna Vanderham) hired the Hop Wei for protection against them. Sophie and Leary finally hook up and Leary unwittingly echoes Chao saying, “This isn’t going to end well.” By now, the audience is well aware it’s not going to end well and has their collective fingers crossed that it will end in a massive Kung Fu fight at the very least.
As they have a post-coital stroll, Sophie suggests that Leary get into politics with a nod to Hamilton by suggesting he should “be in the room where it happens.” Leary calls Sophie out when she says she “knows.” She’s an entitled upper-class woman and hasn’t seen the tragedy that Leary has. He tells Sophie of some of the horrors he witnesses, of friends and family starving, and starts to pull away from her until she draws him back. It gives Leary more context.
Given the era, Leary likely escaped the Great Irish Famine (1945-1849). Over a quarter million Irish emigrated to the New World and Leary would be part of that generation. The Irish are struggling too. During that period, Irish immigrants made up most of San Francisco’s working class and about one-third of the city’s population. This is another way Warrior sheds light upon a dark period of history.
Police Beatdowns
The other two fight scenes come from the cops. The first is short. Lee (Tom Weston-Jones) returns to Nora’s (Gaosi Raditholo) tavern where he got rolled last episode to exact revenge. He goes full copper, night-sticking and shooting up the joint until he gets his cash back. With Lee, Weston-Jones is echoing his role as Kevin “Corky” Corcoran, in his previous TV show Copper. Corky was an Irish detective in a period drama set in the late 18th century, the same era as Warrior. This is not so much of a bar fight as it is a cop taking out a few unarmed barflies.
When a debtor’s wife flashes a gratuitous boob at O’Hara, offering him sex to pay her husband’s bills to the Fung Hai, it’s the last straw and he finally quits the Fung Hai. Even though O’Hara has repaid his debt, Zing exacts revenge by sending Tong men to invade his home and threaten his family. This happens right after dinner where Lee had been their guest. Lee comes to the rescue, revolver blazing, and a scrappy bit of violence ensues where O’Hara’s son and wife must defend themselves too. It’s a brutal sanguineous scene, leaving everyone dead or splattered with blood, ending this episode in a bloody mess.
Warrior Season 2 can be seen exclusively on CINEMAX.
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April 4th-April 10th, 2020 Creator Babble Archive
The archive for the Creator Babble chat that occurred from April 4th, 2020 to April 10th, 2020. The chat focused on the following question:
What is something you’ve improved with in regards to writing or comic creation thanks to working on your story?
carcarchu
Oh this one i can answer definitively. it's 100% lineart. forcing myself to have to do lineart for hours everyday is definitely a way to force yourself to get better at it while i still don't like it it's something that i can do now without being scared about it
shadowhood (SunnyxRain)
Colouring. I had to get really creative in expressing emotion and hinting plot devices with colour. Also got much better with drawing gesture drawings due to looking at a lot of references!
Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)
Either writing dialogue or drawing/painting backgrounds... I used to be particularly awful at writing dialogue. It was too stiff and formal, and sounded a lot like old prose. Now, because of writing a comic and going through several scripts, the dialogue is a lot more natural, and the pacing is more realistic to actual conversations. And the other: backgrounds. I really used to not even draw them at all, and doing a comic forced me to have to think about environments in scenes. So I went from drawing floating characters to having to consider where they are and how it affects the story/mood.(edited)
Feather J. Fern
Paneling! That was my main focus to figure out how to do good paneling to have clearer pages
Deo101 [Millennium]
Honestly? Everything. It's all gotten better and I've learned so much. I would say my biggest improvement is probably in my time management, and art wise is probably composition and layouts. But it's hard to pick because I've grown so much in every aspect!
chalcara [Nyx+Nyssa]
Biggest thing I learned was to keep the story small and focused - and that the smaller, more human struggles are much better in creating tension than the whole default "the world's gonna end!" thing. Mind you, I still love a good "world's ending" story, but you gotta make people CARE about the people in that world first!
Holmeaa - working on WAYFINDERS
ohohohoooo I have done more drawing in photoshop in this short time I have worked on Wayfinders, than the rest of my life! That has given me some skills for sure! Coloring is another one, and generally just efficiency and flow in a comic
Nutty (Court of Roses)
For me it's been my use of color, and getting more confident in experimenting with it to really drive home a scene's mood!
LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)
The clearest improvement I always notice is my layouts - I’ve gotten more adventurous with panel shapes and placement as time has gone on, experimenting with more interesting designs for the whole page. Some of those experiments haven’t been totally successful but it always feels like a worthwhile try. I’ve gotten some really, REALLY cool layouts out of these experiments, and I love seeing how dynamic the panels have become compared to my first chapter. Also speed. I’m so much faster now. Thank gooooooodness (edited)
Eightfish (Puppeteer)
@LadyLazuli (Phantomarine) I've definitely noticed the experimental panel layouts! They're really cool.
AntiBunny
Planning. Book 2 is when I started using sketchbook thumbnails to plan ahead. The luxury of that first draft meant I could rethink panel layouts and how to best express the events happening if I first had an idea of what was happening laid out.
Also digital art by necessity since I switched to digital during the current arc. I was decent at lineart already, but other aspects have really challenged me to grow as an artist. I had to totally rethink the way I create backgrounds for instance. During this time the background quality actually declined a little while I got used to a new method, but experience has improved my skills greatly as I force myself into new methods.
DanitheCarutor
Hmmm maybe paneling, speechbubbles and backgrounds? My current project is my second real attempt at doing a comic, but I have learned a lot of stuff from the community and general art and story tutorials. Backgrounds and bubbles were the worst for me when first starting out, I only read manga before starting so the speechbubble shapes did not fit with how English is written. Plus I've only drawn wooded fantasy settings before making my comic, so using a ruler, figuring out perspective points and drawing buildings was very new to me. I still hate drawing cities and such, but I've gotten a lot better at it and it is easier to do now. Since I mostly stuck with B&W before my current project, coloring also kind of improved? Depending on who's looking at it. Lmao If I were to think about story/characters/dialogue, I have no idea if I've improved. Honestly, I don't pay much attention to the quality. Also my brain kinda says it's all bad regardless of what I make.(edited)
Joichi [Hybrid Dolls]
For my Improvements: I'm getting better at my comic panels, as I adjust to the vertical style. Before I've always drawn the standard format. It's more than just boxes, I try to keep a variety of sizes. I'm picking up roughly how much 'gutter space' I need per 2-3 panels.etc I'm also improving on choosing colors that fits my love of detailed linework.(edited)
OH! I'm also learning about Clip studio shortcuts, how to use the assets they provide which makes the process, abit easier on me. Things I need to change, is I want to get a good speedy coloring style, without referring to my usual coloring.(edited)
Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)
the more I worked on the comic, the more I feel ambitious in making different angles and perspective. So it's really hitting me out of my comfort zone which is good! lol Though I'm trying to keep in mind of my speed, what I feel like I've improved a bit is trying to keep in mind of paneling and dialogue.
FeatherNotes(Krispy)
Process! Space and i have definitely figured out the most productive way to produce content at the rate and quality that also provides us with time for our own projects. Comics are a useful tool that helps you discover ways to better organize your creative workflow for sure!
sssfrs (JOE IS DEAD)
I think probably scenery. I used to dread drawing inanimate objects but now I feel more confident in filling in a scene & even look forward to it sometimes. Maybe also page composition and paneling but I still have a lot to learn there
eli [a winged tale]
One of the reasons I embarked on the webcomic journey is to push myself to improve not only storytelling but also utilizing art to create a reader experience that would be difficult to replicate with just words. I’d like to think that 9 months into making A Winged Tale, I’ve improved on deciding when is a good opportunity to invest more into backgrounds vs character dynamics and when should be focused more on sequences of panels and composition. While the comic is written in a four panel format, more and more I’m finding areas where the story could be told by breaking those rules (attached pic). It’s a balance and I hope going forward I will improve more in pushing the limits of panels and find ways to express the story in fun and interesting ways.(edited)
Joichi [Hybrid Dolls]
Wow that's a very good description @eli [a winged tale] I look forward to reading more of your story journey
eli [a winged tale]
Thanks so much Joichi! I’m eager to keep learning~
Capitania do Azar
I'm gonna go with planning and actually getting it done. I'm so much faster because now the process is much more streamlined to me
kayotics
My whole comic was started s an exercise to just get better at comics generally so I’d probably say every part I’ve improved at? The biggest things are probably colors and the upfront planning process
Phin (Heirs of the Veil)
Ooof hard question. I think my main improvement lies with page and speechballoon layouts and writing natural feeling dialouge. I'd say maybe also character acting?
Joichi [Hybrid Dolls]
I'm slowly learning how to create more engaging comic narrative. I read and research in the polished prem webcomics to see what makes them engaging? Like I'm going to challenge myself by creating a series of short stories with a reoccurring set of characters. Every new comic series I create is an experience, trial and error. Sometimes I skip the writeup and just go in blind, trust my own instincts. I'm glad to reach out and talk about it than in my own head. I hope by this year, I'll have at least 2 chapters of Hybrid Dolls out.(edited)
keii’ii (Heart of Keol)
I've definitely gotten better at planning/ outlining multiple chapters ahead of time. I did not even do this when I was doing the first 10 something chapters. (I did attempt an outline before I began the comic, but the story changed significantly from the outline by the time I started the comic, and I did not try to do it again for a long while.) I can't remember when I started, but I do recall having a lot of trouble the first time I tried to do it. It's gotten a little easier each time, though. In fact, I just spent the past few days outlining the next few very important chapters, de-tangling some big tangles. I'm really glad my outlining (and overall writing) skills had leveled up, because HOO boy, I don't think my 2014-2015 self could have done this!
I also became friends with enviros. I had already become somewhat comfortable drawing perspective when HoK started, but I had a sort of mechanical approach to it, like "oh I need some enviro for these establishing shots, guess I'll draw them." But now I LOVE drawing enviros! (some types anyway...) It's my comfort activity, something I treat myself to after a long day! In the thumbnails for my next few pages, there's a few enviro-heavy panels that I have to remove, because I drew too many of them (and the pacing got too slow as a result). I have to stop myself from drawing too many of these.
My biggest improvement is probably I've come to understand my characters and my themes much better, but that's more of a "I got better at making HoK" than a "I got better at making comics." There's definitely a difference between the two.
Joichi [Hybrid Dolls]
@keii’ii (Heart of Keol) ah I totally understand I tried the outline method before I start but my story changed alot after I drew it. So it start to feel like a waste of time for me, but I'll still write an outline to make sure to plan where my story heads(edited)
keii’ii (Heart of Keol)
Yeah! I needed to draw those first few chapters to understand the direction of my own story.
The drawing part is an essential part of self-reflection, to try to understand what it is that I want out of the story. The answer has always been there in my heart, but I'm not able to see it clearly from the get-go.
Joichi [Hybrid Dolls]
I end up breaking scenes and put them in for future episodes, since I want to get a certain flow in the story.
It could be tricky to see what it is you want out of the story until you are in at least 3 chapters in?
keii’ii (Heart of Keol)
I needed way more than 3 chapters -- though granted, my chapters are short, so that could be a part of it
Joichi [Hybrid Dolls]
I see the early first script as testing the water. like a test to figure out the characters personalities. Unless you are bringing in old characters which you knew before?(edited)
keii’ii (Heart of Keol)
Even if the characters have been with you for a while, unless I have made a comic with them, there is a big chance that the characters will completely change, too.
DanitheCarutor
You know, I was thinking about about this, mostly about how I wouldn't have been happy if I was able to finish my comic the day I started. Then I realized I'm happy that I didn't. The first chapter wasn't the best, I was just learning how to coloring a comic, still fleshing out my characters and was still brainstorming small kinks in the story. I also still didn't have as much of an understanding of perspective, or panel and bubble layout. Even though I still have a lot I need to work on, I've gotten a lot better in all those aspects. Even though my use of color is weird, I've definitely gotten much more confident in it, enough so that I experiment and take a lot more risks with style. Even though my panelling can be boring, I have a much better understanding of how I want a page to look. I've improved a lot with my planning as well, like even though my thumbnailing/storyboarding only takes maybe 30, I've learned to step away for a bit if I don't like a layout, or analyzing why I don't like it and brainstorming ways to make it better. If I had magically finished the comic all at once, it would look really bad and may have been less readable.
Joichi [Hybrid Dolls]
That is inspiring to hear about your improvement @DanitheCarutor
Natsu-no-Hikari
Chiming in! Just this week, Miko (my co-creator) and I were discussing how far we've come from when we started our first comic (https://liarsgotoparadise.com/) vs. where we are now. I think there have been a lot of learn experiences, such as art, dialogue, general editing - but especially with pacing and character interaction. We regret that we didn't stop to focus more on that interaction, as we wanted to move ahead in the story...and now we can't change that, except to start now and not allow ourselves to grow impatient. Take our time and enjoy the journey - that's our new motto. There's a time to rush ahead in perilous moments, but there's also definitely a time to catch our breaths and let the characters mingle and speak. It's an improvement that will become more noticeable going forward in Liars and our second comic as well.
#ctarchive#comic#webcomics#indie comics#comic chat#comic discussion#creator interview#comic creator interview#creator babble#comic tea party#ctp
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stars, hide your fires
this fic has been started approximately four different times, & no matter how much i cut or rearrange, it still ends up as a multi-chapter, so i’m giving up the fight & doing it. it’s been a challenge, but one i’m enjoying. currently, i’m guessing this will end up at about ten chapters, depending on how it goes. my goal is to update twice a week -- feel free to keep me accountable. :)
based on this prompt from @roswellprompts: “post-finale. malex eventually, preferably. alex goes undercover with his brothers to learn about the weapon they're developing and pretends he's on their side. everyone suspects he's truly gone dark. even alex can't tell the difference sometimes.”
thanks to @soberqueerinthewild for letting me rant about this fic, reading over it, & for basically being the best. also, thanks to @ubiestcaelum for Hunter’s name & being generally awesome.
“Manes, come on,” Valenti whines from behind Alex, sounding more like a disappointed teenager than the fully grown, mature man he’s supposedly become. “Liz is cooking at Evans’ tonight, and neither of us get enough home cooking to miss it.”
The feel of displaced air on the back of his neck as Kyle steps up behind him makes Alex tense a little -- it’s hard to relax with people out of his line of sight, even when it’s someone he trusts. Old habits die hard, and Alex has plenty of reason to remain vigilant. But since Kyle Valenti has somehow stepped back into his life and decided to fill the position of ‘best friend’ that he’d vacated back in high school, Alex doesn’t react, and only rolls his eyes at the whining.
“You’re only this desperate to go because you know Liz is bringing Arturo’s enchiladas,” Alex teases him, knowing full well that no one would be this excited over Liz’s cooking. The woman is a genius with lab equipment, but she lacks when it comes to measuring cups and kitchen timers. He’s learned that the hard way over the many dinner get-togethers their little circle has held in the last several months. It’s a habit Liz started when Rosa was first brought back, and she, Michael, and Isobel were still grieving Max, and it’s continued even now that Rosa has fully reintegrated to Roswell living and they’ve successfully managed to bring Max back from the dead.
Alex won’t admit it aloud, but those dinners have quickly become his favorite part of the week. Having Liz and Rosa around so often is a balm to the loneliness he’s been battling for months, and when Maria joins them -- still, unfortunately, in the dark about the alien truths -- Alex can almost pretend everything is back to normal. And on top of that, he’s found that he actually likes Max and Isobel Evans, despite rocky beginnings. In some tangential way, they’re family; no matter what his relationship status with Michael, that will always be true.
And then, of course, there’s the fact that those dinners are the one time that he’s guaranteed to see Guerin smile. They’ve passed the awkward exes phase, and now that the relationship with Maria has died a natural death, Alex doesn’t even feel guilty when their eyes meet and he feels that old, familiar chemistry flare between them. It’s a slow, delicious burn, and he’s looking forward to the resolution.
“Obviously,” Valenti agrees with an unconcerned shrug, drawing Alex back into their banter and away from distracting thoughts of Guerin. “But if you tell Liz I said that, I’m telling her that you fed the last meal she left for you to the beagle after she left.” He shoves playfully at Alex’s shoulder, and takes the return swat in stride before returning to his attempts at persuasion.“But, seriously, we’ve been through those files a thousand times already. You’re not going to find anything we haven’t already seen, so I think whatever this is can wait until tomorrow so we can go get some decent food for once. Don’t you?”
It probably could wait until tomorrow. There’s no reason for Alex to believe the incongruous firewall he’d just run into in some of Project Shepherd’s newest files is hiding anything more than the usual information on alien torture disguised as science -- but something in his gut is telling him that he needs to dig deeper, to find out what lies behind the wall of code that had been cleverly hidden in plain sight. And if Alex learned anything during his time on active duty, it’s that he should always trust his gut.
“You go ahead,” he tells Kyle, most of his attention still directed at the complicated coding sequences he’s creating with sharp, precise movements of his fingers over the keyboard. “Tell everyone I’ll see them soon, but there’s something here, and I --” Alex blinks in surprise, cutting himself off. “-- wow. It’s like they’re not even trying to keep me out.”
Like most of Jesse Manes’ sad attempts at cyber security, the firewall keeping Alex from the information he wants buckles under the weight of less than five minutes of Alex’s direct attention. He’s not even surprised, anymore -- his father has always been more of a bruiser than a thinker, and coding takes a certain kind of creativity, an ability to create. A man who only knows how to destroy could never possess that skill.
Both men go silent and still as images begin to pop up on the screens, and Alex swallows convulsively to quell sudden nausea. Surveillance footage from Roswell -- all from the last six months. Somehow, Project Shepherd has remained up and running despite Alex’s father’s sudden disappearance from the scene, and whoever’s behind it has been watching both Evans’ houses, Michael’s trailer, and the Crashdown, from the looks of things.
Panic begins to swell in the back of Alex’s mind as he remembers all of the things that have happened in those locations -- all of the suddenly not-dead people who have walked through those entryways, all of the alien powers that are showcased so cavalierly in the sanctity of their own homes. Michael’s got his bunker beneath the Airstream, for crying out loud! So many secrets. So many possibilities for discovery. And if Project Shepherd knows the truth, it’s only a matter of time before Michael and his siblings are dragged off to another off-books facility to suffer the same fate as the people they’d watched die at Caulfield.
Fuck.
If the surveillance was the worst of it, Alex could have dealt with it. Deleting the photos and video is the work of a moment, and he knows that his brothers -- who have to be heading things up in Jesse’s absence -- don’t have the skills to protect anything online from him. It’s a pain, and he’ll have to keep checking to be certain that new cameras haven’t been positioned, but overall, the situation would be manageable. He could control the intel received, could make sure there was never enough solid evidence to move against Michael or the twins.
But Alex has no power over the half-drawn schematics of the weapon he’s staring at now.
At least, that’s what he thinks he’s looking at -- he’s no engineer, and the scribbles on the scanned paper may as well be written in Mandarin, for all Alex knows. But the info dump says it’s alien tech of some sort, geared toward taking out their own kind -- and Alex knows, immediately, that he cannot risk his brothers or any military personnel gaining access to it. Not when Alex’s world still at least half-revolves around Michael Guerin, despite their newly minted status as friends. Not when Max and Isobel have somehow become part of his family, too, through his determination to keep Michael in his life and help bring Max back from the dead. Not when Liz and Rosa and Kyle could lose everything, if all of this were brought to light by the wrong people.
“What do we do with this?” Kyle asks finally, breaking the tense silence in the bunker. It’s been at least twenty minutes of staring, horror-struck at the screen, and Alex is no closer to an answer than he was when they started. “We have to warn them. There’s no way whoever’s running the show --”
“Flint,” Alex interrupts, his voice hard. “It has to be Flint. And probably the others, too. Dad always drags Charlie along with him on whatever he’s doing, and Hunter’s never too far behind.” Alex’s comment to Flint about mindlessly following the flock is accurate for all of his brothers. With the occasional exception of Charlie, who Alex knows tried to be a better brother to him for a while, they’re all soldiers, highly decorated and respected in their fields -- but none of them have ever been willing to go against their father.
Kyle’s lips thin, but he nods agreement. “Fine. There’s no way Flint knows about all this and isn’t planning a move, Alex. We’ve gotta get them all out of town. And probably ourselves, too. If they manage to develop this weapon --”
“We’re not running,” Alex snaps, punching the power control on the monitors so that the screens go dark. He spins his chair to look at Valenti, and knows that the expression on his face is far from reassuring -- he’s simultaneously panicking and furious, and he can’t contain it all within himself without just a little spilling over into his features.
Because slowly, an idea is forming in the back of his head. No one is going to like it -- God knows Alex doesn’t, but it’s the only way out of this fucking mess that Alex can see, and he’s desperate enough to protect Guerin and the others that he’s willing to take the risk.
“Alex, I don’t think we have a choice,” Valenti tells him firmly, and Alex’s eyes aren’t the ones that are wide and full to the brim with a frantic need to move, to do something. He starts to pace around Alex’s chair as he speaks, picking up speed with every word and step until it’s hard for Alex to understand. “Even if I was okay with the idea of your dickhead family marching in and kidnapping Evans and the others, I’m the one who put your dad in that coma. How long do you think it’ll take them to connect those dots? They’ll find him. They’ll wake him up, and it won’t just be the aliens they’re after anymore.”
There’s a moment of tense silence as Alex levers himself out of the computer chair and takes a few steps, working the stiffness from sitting too long out of his bad leg. “We’re not running,” he repeats, and this time, his voice is full of purpose. “I have an idea. It’s -- awful, but it’s the only way we’re going to be able to live out our lives without constantly looking over our shoulders.” Alex straightens his spine and stands at his full height, regarding Kyle solemnly and making it as clear as he can that he’s not going to hear any arguments.
“I’m going to infiltrate Project Shepherd, and we’re going to bring them down.”
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Understanding
I finished and edited another old project: 50 sentences about Sorata and Ryuunosuke this time! I’m hoping to do the same with a few more old projects next year.
You can read it on AO3 or FF.net, or down below!
1. Restless
“There's five concepts here, six if you count last one as two potential ideas-—” Sorata thumps down the pile of papers on top of Ryuunosuke's desk, and looks at him intently “-—I want your honest opinions on them, go ahead and rip them to shreds if you must, just help me make them better, alright?”
2. Understanding
“I just don't understand him,” as he tosses his phone aside, Sorata mutters to himself — he doesn't really care to, either (at least, not quite yet).
3. Right
“It just doesn't sit right with me, living with someone who I've only met face to face once,” Sorata argues, raising his hand to knock on Room 101 even as Jin and Chihiro try to talk him out of it.
4. Hope
“Akasaka...” Sorata peeks around the door hopefully, “Jin-san and Misaki-senpai took over my room playing games, mind if I hide here for a while?”
5. Hinder
“You're only holding yourself back with that kind of attitude,” Ryuunosuke starts, but Sorata doesn't want to hear that from him, of all people.
6. Kite
Rita takes them up to Hampstead Heath where she and Mashiro used to fly kites; Sorata isn't expecting it to be quite so much fun until his and Ryuunosuke's kite outfly the others by a considerable height.
7. Closed
“Misaki-senpai said you play games too, want to join us—” Sorata winces at the sharp sound of the closing door.
8. Confuse
“You thought I was a ghost?” Ryuunosuke wrinkles his nose, apparently confused, “really, Kanda?”
9. Presence
“Well, you didn't exactly radiate a comforting presence!”
10. Rough
Sorata pats the space on their sofa next to him as Ryuunosuke flops down with a groan, “let me guess, the meeting ran overtime again?”
11. Edible
Ryuunosuke defends his attempt at cooking dinner as both edible and nutritious, which is really all that defines food, when you think about it, though Sorata insists that what you cook needs to taste good too.
12. Learn
“If you won't eat it, we can just order someth—” Sorata drags him to the kitchen for a cooking lesson before he can finish.
13. Posture
“Here, if you lift your chin a bit, and straighten your back—” Sorata holds onto his shoulders and steps back a bit to get a better view at him, Ryuunosuke's attempts to deter him doing nothing, as usual “—you'll thank me for this later, Akasaka, you'll make a better impression on them if your posture is good!”
14. Team
“I don't like team games,” Ryuunosuke says, not unexpectedly, but Sorata is pretty sure he and Misaki will manage to rope him into a few anyway.
15. Listen
“You just don't want to admit that she's actually really good for you,” Sorata starts heatedly, but Ryuunosuke is out of the door before he can finish.
16. Distance
“You know, you could at least admit that we're really good for you,” Sorata tries, his tone softer this time as he slumps back on Ryuunosuke's bed, looking at the ceiling, “just like you're really good for us... we've come a long way together.”
17. Subject
“It's research...” Sorata waves the console at him imploringly; Ryuunosuke turns away, hiding a smile, “...come on, Akasaka, just one game?”
18. Length
“You're just about the only person here I could tolerate living with for longer than two years,” Ryuunosuke mumbles sleepily one night, not expecting Sorata to really remember it.
19. Grumble “...oh, alright, I suppose I've got some time to spare...” Ryuunosuke rolls his eyes, but Sorata is all but beaming at him.
20. Assisstance
“Kanda, I...” the words seem to cost him something, so Sorata waits patiently for him to finish, “...you... you were right, and I need your help.”
20. Chord
“You could stand to treat your friends a bit better, Akasaka,” Sorata bites back harsher words, but the ones he calls out seem to strike a chord with him too.
22. Miss
“I think I'm missing something, Akasaka... your girlfriend sent you a lovely, thoughtful gift for your birthday and this situation is terrible because...?”
23. Gift
“...her birthday is several weeks away, that's plenty of time to come up with a gift idea, Akasaka.”
24. Distress
“Do you think I'd be panicking about it this much if I thought I could think of something in that time?!”
25. Unite
“Combining what we both do... so you're talking about some kind of art software...” Ryuunosuke frowned slightly, looking from Mashiro, to Sorata, to his desk and the computer screens, “...even for someone such as myself... making an art software from scratch on my own in under a month... isn't exactly feasible,” he says finally.
26. Serious
Mashiro looked from Ryuunosuke to Sorata, “Sorata, I thought he was supposed to be a genius.”
27. New
“I'd like to see you make software from scratch in three weeks,” Ryuunosuke muttered, leaning back again, as Sorata and Mashiro returned to the drawing board.
28. Smug
Sorata passes his driving test on his first try with flying colours; he offers to drive Ryuunosuke to and from every in-person meeting he has, so Ryuunosuke can't really complain about how smug he is about it.
29. Amount
“I can't imagine he'll be able to eat that many tomatoes,” Sorata said, eyeing the grocery bag that Jin had begun to unload.
30. Aviation
“I'll miss her too,” Sorata smiles when Ryuunosuke looks away abruptly from the rising plane, “but I think we all know she'll be back again soon.”
31. Gloom
“He likes programming and... tomatoes,” Sorata echoes gloomily, wondering how he's supposed to use those to start a decent conversation.
32. Routine
It had become some sort of a routine to bump into Ryunnosuke in the kitchen in the early hours of the morning on the days when insomnia kicked in.
33. Conduct
“I had hoped they'd be tired out by now,” Sorata sighs sympathetically when Ryuunosuke shoots a glare in the direction of today's chaos that Misaki and Jin seem to be conducting in the garden.
34. Appreciate
“Tomatoes are best enjoyed in their natural form, but I do appreciate the soup, Kanda.”
35. Victory
“Akasaka-” Sorata bursts into the room with what seems to be explosive, uncontainable delight “- I did it, I passed!”
36. Second
The second time they celebrate by the school pool, (despite Nanami's protests) Ryuunosuke decides to come for the food, but flat out refuses Sorata and Misaki encouraging him to join them in the water.
37. Visit
Mashiro comes by for a visit just as Sorata is giving Ryuunosuke a cooking lesson... he's surprised by how well it goes.
38. Rest
“Overworking yourself never did anyone any good,” Ryuunosuke scolds him; it's a sentiment that Sorata makes sure to repeat back to him on occasion.
39. Between
Between them, they'd managed to fix the broken kitchen sign with a lot of success... and the smile on Misaki's face certainly made it worth it.
40. Moment
“It's pretty good...” Sorata could almost swear that he was grinning, “it needs work, of course, but for a start...”
41. Certain
“Ryuunosuke-sama, a certain someone seems to be sending you a lot of messages for advice on his current project... should I block him?”
42. Split
“If we're going to be living together, we're splitting the grocery shopping 50/50, got it?”
43. Role
“Alright, I'll bring them to him,” Sorata huffs as Shirayama-sensei piles a stack of papers into his arms, wondering when he'd signed up for the role of passing on assignments.
44. Found
“Akasaka, have you seen K—” Sorata grins when he sees a familiar shape curled up contentedly on his friend's lap.
45. Lecture
“You're really going to lecture me about working out a good schedule when you pulled two allnighters to finish that project?!”
46. Exception
“Thanks, Kanda, I...” to his surprise, Ryuunosuke slumps against him after the awards ceremony; Sorata can feel his knees shaking a little still, “...I'm glad you came with me.”
47. Attitude
It's a wonderful thing, Sorata thinks, to see your friend smile more and more throughout the years.
48. Reject
He'd expected Sorata to turn his back on him, he'd expected all of them to, and yet...
49. Unexpected
With Ryuunosuke being the only other resident home, Sorata isn't expecting much attention while he sneezes the day away, but it's a pleasant surprise when Ryuunosuke comes in with reheated soup, medicine and a bag of Sorata's favourite snacks, even if the latter is dumped rather unceremoniously on the end of his bed.
50. Change
A lot of things have changed for him over the past few years, he realizes, wincing a little as he helps Sorata carry the last box of his posession through the door of their new home, but he might have changed the most.
#sakurasou no pet na kanojo#the pet girl of sakurasou#kanda sorata#akasaka ryuunosuke#fanfiction#my post
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So uhhhh I drew a lot of RWBY this year... only two of these are non RWBY and tbh I could have just as easily put something RWBY for June Template
Retrospective under the cut bc it’s LONG
RETROSPECTIVE January: First piece of the year! I still like this piece and I think it shows how much I improved from the original version of it. Also I just like looking at it bc it's soft content of my rare pair. I do think I made the rose look photorealistic which looks... bad esp with all the other more stylized flowers, and I got lazy with the bleeding hearts by just drawing one set and flipping them. Emerald's hair also could look better. February: I made this around GNG week, which was a fun, good time, long before the server imploded on itself. I got really lazy with the backgrounds, obviously, but I do like the poses in this one, tho it helped that I based it off of screenshots from Young Justice. I also just really like how Merc looks in this one. March: March wasn't a very prolific month for art, I don't think I produced much besides this and one comic piece for GNG week. I'm not sure why exactly, I can't find any specific reason why I would be unproductive that month. I'm gonna just assume I was drained from work all the time and didn't have the energy to put out good art, and also I was getting into a slump bc all my art was starting to look same-y. This piece isn't very good, but I chose it because I did it without a reference, and at this point that was going out of my comfort zone. It's obviously not super dynamic, but at the very least you can tell I intended there to be motion to it. April: This also wasn't a very prolific month for art, not as bad as March, but for the same reasons. I was also really starting to feel burnout from the RWBY fandom, specifically wasps and conflict within the GNG server. This was also when the Art vs the Artist meme was popular, and I realized I didn't want to do that meme because my art was too similar and boring, which also brought me down a peg. Though I put out a few good chibis in April, I chose my Mercury redesign bc I was really proud of it. I could never get the Emerald redesign to mesh quite right, but I can say I'm really proud of how Mercury's came out. May: May had me bounce out of my art slump and in full force trying to expand my skills! Specifically exploring painting. Although May was about as prolific as April, what I did create I put a lot into. It was difficult to pick between this and my app of Edison, because I'm really proud of both, but in the end I went with this commission of Mercury because I pushed myself to try and use an interesting perspective for the piece instead of my usual stand still and face the camera pose. Because I pushed myself out of my comfort zone, this was one of the best things I made all year, and may be my favorite piece of the year. June: TIME TO STRESS OUT ABOUT CONNECTICON! So if you follow me on twitter, you might have noticed I made a lot of posts at the beginning of the year low key throwing shade at myself for drawing my oc's instead of more "important" art. Well, that important art that I was procrastinating was con merch, and con was the second week of July, so I really had to get my ass in gear to finish merch on time (spoiler, I didn't finish a lot of it on time). This piece and July's piece are both posters I made for Connecticon, and while I like July's much better, that doesn't mean I find this piece bad. I really should have known that no one at con would realize it was a goonies reference tho -_-; I also lost a lot of love for this piece after season 6 of Voltron, which I watched while I was about 60% of the way through this piece, so I had to force myself to finish it. July: I love this piece!!!! Don't get me wrong, I know it has flaws, but look at it! The lines are so crisp, the colors look good, Roman and Merc's expressions are mwuah chefs kiss, and I just love all of them!!! ... except for Neo. I really didn't do her justice in this piece, her hair is too fluffy, her head is way to oversized to the point that she looks like a bobblehead, and her eyes are too close together. Really if you take out Neo's head that whole problem goes away. I also love all the tiny details I put in this one, from emerald's chaps to roman's rose to Neo's lace parasol. You can tell I was way more passionate about this piece than I was about the Voltron piece. August: pretty sure this is when I quit my job cashiering, and thank god bc customers suck. If I was going off of sheer popularity, Chibi Pyrrha would have taken this slot no contest, and while I love chibi Pyrrha, I don't think it was the best of the month. I chose this little princess and the pauper au doodle because I tried a year ago to draw these two dancing, and it looked like dog shit. It was flat and ugly. But this has motion to it, and even looking at it now makes me feel warm and happy inside. It's just a good cute drawing of my otp. September: My piece for the RWBY tarot project! I have a lot of mixed emotions about this one. on the one hand, I love how mercury looks, his expression, the lighting, the visceral gore from his legs (ESPECIALLY THE VISCERAL GORE ON HIS LEGS) and the hands of the undead, all look stunning and I don't think I could be more happy with how they turned out. And then we get to the background. The caduceus isn't the worst thing ever, but it's severely lacking in quality compared to the rendering on mercury in front of it, and a lot of it is clearly pixellated from me trying to stretch and squash it just right. And the fire is a hot (no pun intended) mess. It's flat, incoherent, and doesn't lead the eye anywhere. It's a shame too because I wanted to do more with it, but I a) didn't have enough time or patience to figure out what I needed to do to fix it and b) didn't want to go outside of my comfort level, so I gave up and decided to be satisfied with what I had. October: October was another good month for art, I made a turnaround sheet for Moss, painted a full body (and slightly lewd) Rudy, and made a decent attempt at inktober. Ok, so I got like 2 days in, but I improved a lot on inking from last year! Fun fact! this piece was originally going to be fan art of Lindsay Jones, but after I did some thumbnails to figure out a pose, I thought it would suit White Diamond better, and I could also sell it as merch. I love this piece. I think I captured the sinister mood well, and conveyed the story I wanted to without any dialogue (at least the notes on Tumblr make me assume I did a decent job, lotta people really wigged out lol) I really worked hard to get the lighting right on this one, and I think it shows. My absolutely favorite thing about this piece funnily enough, is Amethyst. I think I just did a great job drawing her and I'm proud of myself ok. Stevens bubble and my trouble figuring out how to get WD's leg just right are the only things that I dislike about this piece, but I might go back and fix those. November: IM SO PROUD OF THIS COMMISSION!!!!!! I worked so god damn hard on this chef's kiss poifect, and it really shows. I started using a new brush at this point, the Ojing series on Clip Studio Paint, which I recommend and have been using a lot since. I've also been using this shading technique since drawing this. I love how it sort of fades out but it's still really crisp. I also love all the little details that give this piece character, like her shoes and the stripes on her jacket. This piece really takes a lot of the stuff I learned over the year and combines it into one piece, and I could not be prouder of it. I have absolutely no problems with this one, though I do find the weapon a bit plain, but it's what the client described. December: AND NOW IT'S CHRISTMAS!!!!! I had been working on this piece since August, going back to it every now and then and getting frustrated. I'm really glad I came back to it and finally finished it, since I love this pair and I put a lot of effort into it back in August. However, I'm also really glad I completely overhauled a lot of it, specifically the flowers. Though I'm not 100% happy with the mums in this one, they look a thousand times better than the mums I had originally sketched back in August, and were part of the reason I had such a hard time finishing this for months. I also thought it would be nice to end the year on the same note it started; with a flower couple. I've definitely learned a lot since January, and I hope to continue growing in 2019! 2019 GOALS!
Work on backgrounds for the love of god
Draw more stuff that isn't RWBY
Perspective
Make more speed paints and post more to youtube in general
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Weirdest. Thanksgiving. Ever.
Welcome to the last rural week installment of this blog! Sorry it’s taken me a while to get around to writing it…in the midst of the final crunch these days.
To start off last week - Monday was a national holiday and because of course we still had class, we got to experience an empty city. There may have been minimal lunch options available, but we were thankful for an empty bus ride in the morning. We had a cool opportunity that night to interview our host mom as part of our research methods class and we got to learn a lot of things about her life here in Argentina that we wouldn’t have otherwise. On Tuesday we headed off to our final rural stay in the town of San Antonio de Areco, about two hours outside of the city of Buenos Aires. Unlike our last two rural stays this one didn’t feel quite as authentically “rural Argentina”. The most rural parts of Argentina aren’t accessible by a couple hour bus ride so we settled for this town, known as the Capital of Tradition for its gaucho heritage which is their version of a cowboy. It felt sort of like a cross between a ranch town and a beach town in the midst of its off-season. We got to see some gauchos in action, running with horses and wrangling a cow, and heard a little about their history. We participated in a traditional asado (barbecue), getting to see how they cook the meat, and then getting to taste the DELICIOUS food. We met with members of the municipality who talked to us about the three pillars of their strong local government which work to try to keep members of the community within San Antonio de Areco. They do this through initiatives regarding housing, education, and job opportunities.
In general, the week was a nice break from the usual schedule…for once we had a decent amount of free time and minimal assignments to work on! The group was divided up into two hostels for the week and it was so much fun to be living with more of the group again. We had a lot of group meals, played games after dinner (if you want a super fun game look up Salad Bowl and get on playing that ASAP), went on runs, and my hostel had a tiny little pool which we utilized at the beginning of the week when it was a scorching 92 degrees out! Those first few nights in a 10 person room with that heat were something else, but it was nice to be surrounded by some of my closest friends again.
Thanksgiving also fell during this week and boy was that a day from start to finish (or what I’m going to refer to as “The Thanksgiving Shit Show”.) For reasons that I can’t disclose because they aren’t my story to share, I was up for most of the night on Thanksgiving Eve and had to deliver some unpleasant news to the larger group in the morning. Because of this discussion, my lack of sleep, everyone being a weird place from not being with their families for the holiday, along with starting the day with a “what we’re thankful for” share that made me especially sad, the day was off to a bit of a rough start. It was also the first day it had rained the entire week and by rained I mean torrentially downpoured. Half of the group had to walk in the rain to visit a clinic and my half of the group visited the local hospital, but the combination of having a not very informative tour, on top of all the other things that had already happened that day, everyone was in probably one of the lowest spots collectively we’d been at this entire semester. But wait the day is only half over! After we had lunch things were starting to look up as we headed to our case study visits. Maternal and Child Health got to meet with a woman who spoke to us about the “respectful delivery” program that Areco uses as its birthing model. Women are giving a lot of power over their deliveries and are able to choose not only who is with them while they give birth in terms of support, but in what way they want to deliver: the traditional method of lying down, squatting holding onto suspended fabric, or seated on a type of chair. This was an incredibly cool interview and was full of all the things that get me SO excited about women’s health. The woman touched on a lot of what I’d learned and read about for a research paper I wrote my freshman year of college, the business of birth in hospital settings and unnecessary interventions, and it got me JAZZED. After coming out of that meeting I was beginning to ponder if being a doula or having a job that is more directly involved in this niche of women’s health would be something I’d consider in the future. Who knows, but very cool!
As you can see the day started to turn around from there and it ended up containing one of the most fun memories I think I’ll have of this trip: our makeshift hostel Thanksgiving. When I hopped out of the shower, some of the girls in my hostel were busy decorating the place with balloons and candles and drawing those hand turkeys for everyone that you make as like an art project in elementary school. Music was playing and everything was all of a sudden incredibly festive. People from the other hostel started to arrive and then our country team showed up with loads and LOADS of chicken, salad, bread, mashed potatoes, and apple crumble that they had gotten catered especially for us to simulate the holiday. We ate and drank wine together, sitting on the floor and laughing about how the day had completely turned around. Throughout the week one of the student-run committees had decided to organize a superlative/paper plate awards ceremony for the dinner and had sent out a form called The IHP Dundies (for you Office lovers out there) so people could fill it out and vote for their fellow peers. They presented the awards after dinner and the range of tailored awards based on peoples personalities and inside jokes was absolutely HILARIOUS. I got the “most likely to be reincarnated as an otter award” because of my love for water and the way I rub my eyes apparently? Sam has been telling me throughout the entire semester that when I rub my eyes I look like a small mammal and everyone always FREAKS out when I do it so it was hilarious and fitting that I had to do a demonstration for the whole group once given that award. After that, another girl organized an activity where we all attached papers to our backs and wrote messages to each other (kind of like a year book) which just kept the love right on flowing. Even the clean up process was fun as Tess and I worked an assembly line of dishes and others cleaned up the dinning room area. It was honestly some of the most fun I’ve had in a long time and I was so grateful to be able to be celebrating Thanksgiving in this non-traditional way with this group of 30 that I’ve gotten to know so well over the semester. For a day that started off with tears and included so many bumps in the road, it sure did turn out to be an a-okay day and for that I am thankful.
When the week was over, we traveled back to the city and got some lunch at a fun dumpling and beer restaurant, then attempting to go to a sports bar to watch the 2nd game of a rivalry fútbol series that was taking place in the city. Unfortunately, some rowdy fans threw things at one of the teams’ busses and the game got delayed and rescheduled which was a bit of a bummer because we wanted to take part in that part of the culture here before leaving, but what can you do. That night we did the full on Argentine going out experience which started with me leaving my house at about midnight to start meeting friends and ended at about quarter to 6 in the morning with the sunrise before heading home to sleep. Glad I can check that experience off my list - not a sustainable lifestyle at all! Finally on Sunday, after approximately four hours of sleep (from 6:30am-10:30am) my roommate and I ventured to the San Telmo market to explore for a bit, and then later, joined by my pal Carlie, we head to La Boca to see a colorful street called Caminito that was reminiscent of the original immigrant housing that once stood there. There we ate empanadas, looked at art, and talked about the semester thus far.
It’s really crazy to me that in a few days I will be starting the final week of this program and I’ll be back home with all you people and the cold, cold weather once again. I’m really looking forward to being back, but know that the transition is going to be hard, especially because some of my closest friends will now be dispersed all over the U.S. and across the globe.
I’ll post the blog from this week in a few days, thanks again for reading. Love you!
Em
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