#usually when i draw I get tired or discouraged

[aqua-terra-ventus]

really thinking about purchasing a tablet for drawing after i get my ps5..... I want to be able to draw digitally anywhere. right now I just have a cheap one that hooks to my pc, and it's so hard for me to sit down and draw at my computer for some reason.

i've been thinking so much the past couple months abt how i used to draw SO MUCH but depression kicked the motivation out of me and then life gave me little time to even attempt to draw

And some things happened that made drawing rather painful emotionally (lost someone who i used to draw with and she loved my art and it was hard to cope with that)

But I genuinely am starting to feel like I might be re-entering an era of art. I hope it's true bc I so much miss creating and feeling proud of it

Sooo idk. Gonna wait a bit and see how I feel

[kosmicdream]

Hello. After drawing webcomics for 10 years and making about 10,000 pages of comics, here are some things i have learned/observed in that experience..

1) making comics does not get easier.. Not really

Making comics is a tedious and slow process and with so many different facets of the experience to learn - you’ll never run out of stuff to learn or weaknesses to work on. I’m not saying this to discourage but to just give the frank reality that it really takes a lifetime to understand. Be patient with yourself and try to set healthy expectations. 

2) Read your own comics after making them.

I don’t know if this is as important to other people as it is to me, but I do think that sometimes its easy to not re-read your own work and just go from your own memory of it, or maybe you’re tired of looking at it because of all the flaws. I don’t personally get sucked into the “rewrite/remake” cycle that I know is common with comics, as I sort of just accept things as they are, but re-reading my work does help me see where I have come from and where I need to go to next. I personally don’t like to lose sight of that, and I think re-reading helps ground me in the planning process of my work and gives me a better perspective on all aspects.

3) A lot of comic advice should be taken with a grain of salt, because its the person talking to themselves. (including this)

I see a lot of advice that never would have worked for me, or just simply wasn’t something I was ever going to follow. “Dont start with your big epic long stories”! Is a common one. I don’t think that’s bad advice exactly, but how many young artists are going to listen, especially if they’ve never told a story in the first place? Yes, the advice to start small and build yourself up with experience sounds great, I’m sure people do it, but if you’re an artist you’re probably not gonna be that responsible. And for me, when i tried to do this with eggshells, my house burnt down and i kinda gave up comics for a while because i lost a lot of work. 

Writing short stories is still something I struggle with, its just not easy for me. I have gotten better at it but i don’t think that makes me less of a comic artist because I haven’t gotten good at that particular format, or that I jump around on my projects. Is it more impressive to have more completed work under your belt, sure. But I also think that.. Idk.. what is the advice actually saying, because with that one it sort of feels (often times) as a warning that you’re setting yourself up for failure/embarrassment by attempting a comic like that. I don’t know how to tell you this, but comics are gonna be embarrassing no matter what you do and there’s no guarantee you’ll be more successful/not experience failure by avoiding your passions. Something to think about anyway. 

4) Don’t draw every leaf. Unless you really want to.

I’m the kind of comic artist that kind of doesn’t care about the art as much as the whole package of the comic. When i see a very impressively drawn panel/page, with laborious detail that is well drawn and maybe even colored ect.. That usually is kind of, I guess, a turn off for me as part of the reading experience. The thing is, when i encounter that, it usually signals to me that someone has poor planning skills for comics. It says to me that comic is probably not going to see its end or that artist is overworking themselves in an unnecessary way, that ends up concerning me about how they’re doing. Because i know how hard it is to draw comics. When an artist phones things in a bit, or has a limit on how much they work on a page, its a relief for me to see! because I understand they have healthier boundaries and expectations, and the art itself usually is less stiff too. This is all an overgeneralization, but I think with a lot of webcomic artists we are usually drawing a comic for the first time ever, so it makes sense we want to do our best and try as hard as possible - that just usually isn’t the smartest plan to put all the stock in the visual department. This also kinda frustrates me to see because most comics (professional or not) will also (generally) not reel the art in ever or make a more simple style. Generally I see it always trying to outdo itself, which leads to burn out. I personally only work about 1hr on each page i draw, that hasn’t changed in the 10 years I have been drawing comics, but i used to spend hundreds of hours drawing detailed lineart for eggshells and it didn’t even read well and i’d be disappointed with the results, feeling more lost with my goals than ever. PLEASe.. Just draw worse, its usually better looking in the end too. (because you wont have the experience to judge visual clarity until you’ve been drawing comics for a while imo..)

5) Don’t draw ahead, draw those inbetweenies.

“Inbetweenies” are the pages for the “boring” ones. They are also usually the most common KIND of page. Its the pages that are necessary, but “inbetween” the action. The impact moments in a scene, ect. You gotta draw them. They’re always gonna be there. They’re the pages where maybe, the character is walking somewhere, thinking, ect. The after impact from an action.. There’s a million examples, but hopefully you’ll understand what I mean when I say they’re both necessary pages/panels, sometimes so mundane/redundant, but also required for telling the story.. As a comic is a sequence of images. This is why, the previous advice is also important IMO- because if you really want to “draw every leaf” - maybe you should save that energy and effort for those impact moments that you want to impress the reader with.. And not for the inbetweenies, which are the foundational support, but also not the most important moments. If you conserve your energy a bit, the contrast OF that effort will also pop more. I personally find it funny when I put more effort into a page and end up tricking my readers into thinking I got better at drawing, when really i just have been able to draw better and only save it for moments like this instead of always.

Also, when I say don’t draw ahead.. I mean I draw each page at a time before going to the next one. I have no idea if this is an unusual practice or not, and I know a lot of people will draw their chapters/episodes/whatever in sections like sketch/ink/color/ect.. But I personally draw and finish page by page, unless its the thumb/sketch stage. Even then, i don’t go ahead much. I think that you can control flow/pacing better by doing chapters all at once of course, I see that as a benefit. But i also think that makes things very overwhelming and can also result in a lack of flexibility if something isn’t working. No matter HOW much planning you do- comics are always going to have an aspect of IMPROVISATION with the result you get in the end. There are way too many factors in play to be in complete control of all of them and always know the result of the reading experience. SO for me, this technique is easier and has been something that continues to get me to working effectively. Plus, rumiko takahashi said that’s what she does. And i think she has some of the best visual flow/compositions in comics. So that’s what I do.

I could write more personal advice or rules that i follow..but I think those are the ones I find are the most important to me anyway. Of course, comics are a strange medium and not everything that works for me will work for you. That’s all for now.. Bye bye…! 

Oh by the way, my comics are here: feastforaking.com nastyreddogs.com https://kosmic.itch.io/ Support me on patreon! https://www.patreon.com/kosmic

[flowerandblood]

Play with my heart (Epilogue)

[ modern actors • Aemond x Strong • female ]

[ warnings: semi-public sex, smut, angst, fluff, sexual tension, little domination & praise kink ]

[ description: He gets the main role in a series about a great family and dragons, which could change his career. He is set to play the uncle and love interest of his childhood friend. When he meets the actress who plays her role, he begins to lose track of what is an acting and what is his real feelings. Sexual tension, grumpy, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: Yeah. I talked about it and I did it. You don't even know how much fun I had doing this. Of course, my characters play in a series whose script is an exact copy of my story The Fall from the Heavens. In this universe, Aemond (playing the One-Eyed Prince) and Rhaenys (playing the Princess) are of course not related – the other characters are also just actors. This three-part series is my gift to all fans of the original series, thank you so much for your support. "Rhaenys" in this story is her artistic pseudonym which she use instead of her real name. You can read this as a standalone story.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

The first months after the shooting were both wonderful and terrifying for him. Contrary to his grandfather's predictions, he did not stop thinking about her; moreover, he missed her so much that he did not know what to do with himself.

He got used to their daily conversations, the embrace of her warm arms, falling asleep between her soft breasts, watching Disney movies together with her with a big bowl of popcorn.

She brought a breath of fresh air into his life, a smile, lightness and laughter, forcing him to let his inner child that he had always suppressed within him come to the surface.

With her, he was not ashamed to be weak, tired, sad, discouraged. She gave him the comfort of knowing that all his feelings as a human being were natural and desired by her, no matter how ashamed he might be of them.

They tried to see each other every two weekends, taking turns visiting each other. Although he wanted to spend time with her walking around museums and parks, they usually ended up staying in bed all the time off, trying to make up for lost time.

They also saw each other at interviews to promote the series, for which the producers sent the actors in pairs, and unfortunately, although they tried to hide it, a few gestures and glances during them caused both her and him to be flooded with a wave of comments from fans so large that they had to block them from being added to their profiles.

Nooo, they're not a good match. 😫

It's just a promotional trick. They're going to break up after they finish airing the series. 😒

Leave my prince alone!!! 🤬🤬🤬

I'd love to fuck her myself, not gonna lie 👀

It's already clear where the chemistry between them comes from, lol. Pathetic. 🤮

Both of them were very much affected by the nasty comments and criticism, fearing that the production would draw some consequences against them, but it turned out that this made the whole project generate even more interest before the premiere, which pleased them.

However, in between the nasty, bitter remarks, they also received messages filled with good emotions, wishing them luck, saying that they were great to watch, that they complemented each other perfectly in interviews, that it was clear from the trailers that there was genuine affection between them.

They tried to cope with it all by talking for hours on the phone, sometimes crying together from sadness and exhaustion, falling asleep with speakerphone on, waking up in the morning and seeing that they hadn't hung up all night.

He felt he was ready to move on and thought everything through, at the same time wanting to surprise her.

"– how was your audition? –" She asked softly, excitement in her voice.

"– unfortunately, not very successful –" He lied, fiddling with his pen between his fingers, sitting at his desk, having just exchanged emails with the director of her theatre, with whom he had spoken personally a few days before about the terms of his future employment.

"– oh no – I'm very sorry – how are you feeling? –" She asked clearly worried, making him feel remorseful for a moment that she would believe he was suffering.

"– fine – I wasn't feeling that role – I'm lucky that I can be more choosy now – and how are you, little one? –" He hummed, writing back in an email that, as agreed, he would turn up in three days to sign the contract in their town.

His girlfriend grunted, clearly very excited by the news she had to share with him.

"– apparently they've hired a new actor in our theatre, but no one knows who it is – the director is very mysterious –" She said, her voice light and warm, filled with joy.

"– mmm – are you excited to have a new colleague on stage? –" He murmured as he sent the email, closing his laptop with a quiet click.

He heard her laugh at his words.

"– not in the way you suggest –" She said.

"– are you a good girl when I'm not around? –" He hummed, licking his lips involuntarily, feeling the pulsation in his trousers at his words.

"– well –"

"– are you touching yourself? –"

"– I –"

"– answer me – don't lie –"

She was silent for a long moment making him grin, biting his lower lip.

"– so you haven't been a good girl, or am I wrong? –" He sneered and heard her swallow hard.

"– you know what happens to bad girls, don't you? –" He asked, looking at the display of his screen, feeling his heart pounding fast.

"– but –" She finally mumbled out in embarrassment.

"– mmm – I'll see you soon –" He murmured and hung up, knowing that he had left her in complete shock for sure with her panties wet with her moisture.

The third thing he enjoyed most right after fucking her and talking to her was teasing her.

The next day the removal van took his things to the flat he had rented on short notice figuring they would find something together later, and after two days he drove to her town straight to the theatre building.

He went inside through the main entrance and ran quickly upstairs, praying not to meet her on the way, heading for her director's office. The man welcomed him warmly, saying that he was very happy that an actor with such charisma would be performing on his stage.

From the audience it was impossible to see whether his eye was real or fake, and his scar could be covered up with make-up if necessary.

His grandfather was furious, saying that he was giving up a world-class career for second-rate theatre, but he was relieved.

He didn't want to go through again what he was going through now – being torn apart by paparazzi and fans, being in the spotlight all the time.

He was tired of it and decided that, although it was a great adventure, like her he wanted to work in theatre, where artistic sense, monologues and dialogues counted more than nudity and sex.

It was what he wanted for both of them.

The director said it was time to introduce him to the whole crew.

"– I kept it a secret from everyone so that she wouldn't accidentally find out about anything –" The director laughed, a short, grey-haired man with a warm voice and a good-natured face, a visionary and a lover of the classic literature he was staging in his theatre.

"– I can see you with the eyes of my imagination in the roles of Hamlet and Ophelia – you've been wonderfully matched, I have to give you that –" He said softly, and he nodded, thinking in the back of his mind that indeed, this was a fantastic idea.

He felt excited like a little child and thought in the back of his mind that it was because of her, that she had changed him, making him fight for his fulfilment, his comfort, his joy.

"– my dears –" He called out, stepping onto the stage during their rehearsal for The Wedding of Wyspianski, his Rhaenys dressed in Slavic folk costume and a garland on her head turned towards them along with several other people.

Her eyes grew big in disbelief at the sight of him.

"– I would like to introduce you to your new colleague, who from now on will be playing on the stage of our theatre – I am very pleased –"

Everyone looked at her and she just stood there, looking at him and his grin full of satisfaction, breathing loudly through her mouth, her bright eyes hot with affection, disbelief and happiness that apparently shook her body.

Several people laughed as she threw herself into his arms and burst into a loud, panicked sob, whooping and panting with her own tears, his broad hands stroking her hair and back while his lips placed warm, reassuring kisses on her face hot with emotion.

"– shhh – it's okay, little one –"

She looked at him in disbelief, gushing with energy and joy as she introduced everyone to him one by one. He was relieved by the warm welcome given to him by the other actors, some of whom could have been his parents or even grandparents.

They seemed very close to each other and addressed each other warmly.

He was allowed to stay in rehearsal to see how they worked, so he watched as his girlfriend played a young bride, a village girl marrying a nobleman, during whose wedding many unexplained, mysterious events occur.

He smiled the whole time, watching her, satisfied that apart from one brief kiss there was no intimacy on stage between her and her partner, exactly as she had described it to him in their telephone conversations.

When it was all over she ran up to him in her folk costume, all hot, breathing loudly through her mouth, field flowers entwined together on her head.

"– what do you think?! –" She asked, and he hummed under his breath.

"– I really like your staging – I need to read this drama – you look amazing –" He hummed. He smiled under his breath as she sat on his lap – the seats in the audience were sunk in darkness so the people on stage couldn't see very well what they were doing.

"– I can't believe it – you've been lying all this time –" She muttered simultaneously embittered and delighted. He shook his head at her words.

"– I told you I had an audition – I just didn't say where –" He stated.

"– you said you did badly –" She said, wrinkling her eyebrows – she squealed as he caught her around the waist and pulled her closer, making her feel the hard bulge in his trousers.

"– that was my subjective assessment which was clearly not shared by your director –" He grinned, looking at her with his lips slightly parted. They both sighed as her hips rubbed against his pulsing erection, her gaze hot and misty.

"– my little girl can't stand it? – shall I take you to the toilet? –" He sneered and she swallowed hard, red with embarrassment and nodded.

Nothing more than panting and moans left their throats as they locked themselves in one of the cabins, their mouths immediately clinging to each other in greedy, loud, messy, sticky kisses. Their saliva clicked each time their lips pulled away from each other, his hands pulled up the material of her skirt and petticoat, pulling her panties off her thighs.

"– turn your back to me –" He commanded, and she did so without a word of objection, in a natural reflex leaning over and bucking her buttocks towards him, knowing what he wanted to do. His hands exposed her bare hips to him and what was between them, her opening glistening from her wetness, pink and swollen.

He hit her womanhood with a sharp, short slap and she jumped up with a quiet squeal and whimpered.

"– quiet – I warned you – I said: no touching – didn't I? –" He asked, gently rubbing and massaging the little spot that pulsed all over and leaked from his stroke, teasing the puffy bud between her plushy folds.

"– 'm sorry – I tried –" She confessed with embarrassment, panting heavily, rolling her hips to the rhythm of the strokes of his hand, trying to find a better source of squeeze.

"– the deal was different –" He said coolly, parting and rubbing her throbbing, dripping wet slit, her cheek pressed against the wall all red with pleasure, her lips parted in a helpless moan.

"– it's all mine – the sight of your fulfilment, your moisture, your little cunt is meant for my eyes –" He continued, as if he was explaining to her some essential, eternal principle, something obvious and logical that she could not change. She trembled as two of his fingers slipped between her slick, throbbing walls, stretching her core.

"– yes – I'm sorry – I missed you so much –" She mumbled, rocking her hips to the rhythm of the thrusts of his fingers, which teased and pressed the spongy bud between her fleshy folds deep inside her, from which a trickle of her moisture ran down her thigh.

"– mmm – I know, baby – I missed you too –" He confessed, recognising that although he wanted to, he couldn't last much longer. This sight and the euphoria that gripped his body made him let go of her as his hands slid down to the belt of his trousers, undoing it – her eyes opened in hope, her breath accelerated and uneven.

"– please –" She muttered.

"– shhh –" He hushed her, grabbing her by the waist, the other releasing his throbbing, fat erection, the tip of which he guided to her leaking, swollen slit.

"– thaat's it – there you go – fuck –" He exhaled, slowly forcing his way between her hot, fleshy walls, clenching greedily around his cock, sucking it inside her.

"– yes – yes, God, please, yes –" She mewled, immediately beginning to roll her hips to the rhythm of his impatient, fierce thrusts, fitting his pulsing erection inside her again and again, though they tried to restrain themselves, their panting and moans echoed around the restroom.

"– Rhaenys –" He muttered, sinking his face into her fragrant, hot neck, her scent wonderfully familiar, her insides moist and warm, welcoming him with ease. He thought about it, thrusting into her with slick, sharp stabs – how deep he was in her body, how much they united in this chaotic, viscous act of desire.

"– Aemond – o-oh, fuck, fuck, oh, God –" She cried out as he imposed a fast, aggressive pace on her, pounding into her with the deep, sharp pushes of his hips, opening her wide with his manhood throbbing painfully with longing.

"– shhh – shhh, little one – just a little more – yes, that's my girl –" He praised her, panting heavily as he felt her reach the edge, her breath heavy and loud.

Nothing more than moans and grunts left her lips, her little cunt gave him a few more thirsty, steady squeezes before she shuddered with sweet fulfilment, her wetness running down his thighs as with the last, loud slaps he reached his peak inside her with a sigh of delight.

Since she was taking the pills, he could fuck her whenever and wherever he wanted.

"– fuck –" He breathed out, embracing her tightly from behind, while still rocking his hips inside her and hugging her like a little, longing child.

He wished she would say that they were going to watch some new cartoon or comedy in the evening, that they were going to lie in their sweatpants, spread out comfortably on her bed, cuddled up, eating popcorn, kissing and caressing each other.

"– m-maybe – maybe let's go to my place – we'll watch something and relax – I can cook you something, but we need to do some shopping –" She whispered, stroking his arm, and he purred, delighted by her words.

"– yes – yes, that's what I need –"

[6xillaa]

If requests is still up then - Can you please do a kenji sato x best friend/ extrovert x introvert relationship. Where kenji likes showing off , reader is reserved. And like a balanced relation?!🙏

Kenji x !introverted bestfriend reader

my requests are open dw! actually this is my first ever ask, so idrk how i'll do- but i think i got what u wanted correctly? (pls tell me if im wrong) also, as usual i dont proof read so mind my mistakes! (Ｔ▽Ｔ)

cw: ken sato x gender neutral reader, relatively sfw, introverted reader, (pre-relationship) best friend reader, reader is a pessimist, ken is aggresively kind (kinda)

-bestfriend! kenji who aggresively shakes you while holding your arm. "y/n!" kenji yells excitedly, this made you drop your book, bending its pages. "oh my- what do you want ji?" you grumbled, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down. "you~" he flirted while smirking.

-bestfriend! kenji who gets a flick in the middle of his forehead. "you made me drop my book." who'd rub the spot with a pout playing on his lips. "that hurttt" he whined. "and what do you want me to do about it?" youd query, picking up your book tryying to find the page. "a kiss to make the pain go away?"hed smile.

-bestfriend! kenji who's smile would grow wider once he felt your soft lift press against his head briefly. "thank you!" hed drag out before swinging an arm pver your shoulder to bring you closer. you know, regular friend things.

-bestfriend! kenji who always forces you out of your comfort zone by dragging you to events such as concerts, parades, festivals and most recently the movies. the movies where hed buy everything for you both, eat an absurd amount of snacks you both knew would make his tummy hurt and yet he still did. putting on a mask to not draw any unwanted attention to you both. forcing you to watch horror movies with him that had an excessive amount of blood and nightmare fuel, making you cling onto his arm whenever itd make you jump. not that he minded. of course he wouldnt mind, he never did when it was you.

-bestfriend! kenji who'd rent out the entire theater if you really didnt want to interact with anyone. youd always try to discourag him from doing so, saying he shouldnt spend a lot of money on you, but he always says its fine. he loves to show off his wealth to you, and he also loves to spoil you. buyinng you gifts and practically anything you wanted. just say the word and youll have it. perks of having rich baseball players as a (sadly) best friend.

-bestfriend! kenji who'd drag you into various fancy stores that someone of your working class would have no idea about just so you could rate the things hed grab. "does this shirt look good on me?" hed ask, as if he could look bad in anything. and youd nod, a slight warmness in your cheeks when youd watch him change in and out of each shirt. trying your best to not stare.

-bestfriend! kenji who'd lay his head on yours or on your shoulder after a tiring game. only wanting to sleep. and you didnt mind, just ruffling his hair and enjoying the company of your friend. all while ignoring the little voices in your friend that were desperately trying to change the word friend into something else.

-bestfriend! kenji who promises to always be by your side in larger crowds. tuggling you close enough so that you felt the warmth generating off of his body. you especially liked this warmth during the winter, he was like your own personal fireplce wrapped in a ball of cuteness and a ribbon of sarcasm.

-bestfriend! kenji who you may or may not have feelings for. the same kenji who just asked you out on a date.

(i hope i didnt dissapoint, ty again for submitting an ask, i hope i did u justice!)

[acewritesfics]

Study Time | Eddie Munson

⚠️ THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS. UNFORTUNATELY, I HAVE TO DO IT THIS WAY. MORE INFO IN MY PINNED POST.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Request: From Anon

Warnings: Self doubt, feelings of failure. Implied smut.  

Word Count: 845

Credit: @/firefly-graphics for the hellfire club dividers.

Tag List: Open - acewritesfics taglist sign up

Stranger Things Masterlist

Y/N is startled awake as the trailer door slams shut. She hadn’t intended to doze off while she awaited Eddie’s return from his Hellfire Club meeting. She was more tired than usual since this week at the video store had seemed busier. She wasn’t sure if it was the upcoming spring break or the fact that everyone had chosen to host a movie night this week. She was sorting through the returned VCRs when she started falling asleep at the counter, and Steve had instructed her to go home. 

As Eddie entered his bedroom with a discouraged expression on his face, she sat up on the bed. The mischievous gleam in his deep brown eyes had faded, and his shoulders slumped. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked as he flung himself on the bed next to her. His face hit the pillow as he screamed in frustration and murmured something she couldn’t quite make out. “I’m sorry. What was that? I don’t understand your pillow grumbling.” 

He groans into the faintly stained pillow once more before turning onto his back and looking up at her. “I’m failing yet again.” 

“No, you’re not,” she responds, perplexed as to why he would believe so. He assured her that he was passing his classes, albeit not with an A or even a B, but he was well on his way to graduating.  

“Ms. O'Donnell told me today that I was barely passing her class,” he informs her. “I have to pass her final or I won’t graduate…again.” 

She frowns, remembering her days in the old teacher’s classroom, Prior to starting a relationship with Eddie, she had never had any problems with the teacher. In fact, she had warned her against being in a relationship with Eddie, claiming that the metalhead would only bring her down to his level. “I’m pretty sure the old hag just has it in for you.”  

He sighs, “Or I’m just stupid.” 

She reprimands him for talking so negatively about himself by giving him a little tap on the shoulder. “You’re not stupid. You just struggle sometimes. You are not failing, either. "You just need to pass this final, like you mentioned.” 

“And how am I going to achieve that?” he asks cynically. 

“I’ll help with your studies,” She gets up from his bed and walks over to the desk, which was across the room. She searches through the notebooks until she locates the one she gave him that had all of her notes from the previous year. He sits up as she returns to the bed and settles back down next to him. “Have you gone over my notes from last year?” 

He has a remorseful expression in his eyes as she glances at him. He hadn’t even glanced at her notes, if he were being completely honest. In order to create room for the notebooks that contained all his notes and campaigns for his Dungeons & Dragons adventures, he pushed her notebooks aside and quickly forgot about them. 

“You haven’t, have you?” His silence was all the answer she needed. “Edward Munson.”  

He rolls his eyes, “Jesus Christ, don’t you start on me.”  

He hated that he was letting her down. He didn’t want to. She had been by his side through both his failure to graduate while she graduated herself last year. She had the opportunity to end their relationship and move on to someone else, but she stuck with him, offered him support, and continued to love him through it all. 

“Look through my notes. I’ve highlighted everything that should be helpful,” she instructs him. “I’ll do my best to help you if there is anything you need help with.”  

“I’m struggling with everything,” he admits, leaning back against his headboard. She feels Eddie drawing circles on her back. His light touches her, sending a thrill through her body. “Where are you up to in class?”  

As he tells her where they were up to, he leans closer, his chest against her back, kissing her from her shoulder to her neck. She chews her lower lip as she flips through the pages, looking for the necessary notes. 

“Eddie,” she breathes softly, a whimper caught in her throat. As he puts his lips on her sweet spot, his teeth graze her skin. To prevent any further moans from escaping her throat, she bites her lip more firmly. “You need to study,” 

“I can do that later,” he replies, moving away from her neck and turning her head towards him. He takes the notebook from her grasp and tosses it to the side, while he crushes his lips to hers in a bruising kiss. 

He pushes her back into the bed, as he crawls over top of her, running his ringed hands beneath his Dio shirt that she’s wearing. With one knee bowed against his hip and the other wedged between his legs, she pulls on his shirt to draw him closer. She was aware that he was doing this to divert her attention from his difficulties. She would allow the distraction… this time. 

TAGGED: LINK TO TAG LIST SIGN-UP ABOVE.

[dandelion-system]

Complicated news!

So. Obviously it’s been Christmas. The most I’ve gone out for the past like, two weeks? Has been maybe 30 minutes at the grocery store. A small grocery store, may I add, where I did not push the trolley or carry any of the bags. Basically I went for a very slow, short walk.

Anyway. It’s been like, two of those trips and a few five minute walks around the block with my dog. I take my dog out a couple times a day because he’s small and can’t handle long walks, but he still needs the walks and we don’t have a garden for him to use as a toilet.

And I’m still in pain. But so, so much less pain.

I still get hand cramps drawing or playing video games too long- but I can do it much longer than before. I still get aching joints when I sit still too long, I still click when I move and my joints still feel wobbly and unstable. I still get a little dizzy standing up too long.

But you know what? I would say my baseline at the moment, is a 2. A 2! My baseline is 4, tipping towards 5 most of the time! And by the end of the day, I’m usually up at an 8 or 9. But over Christmas? I’ve been waking up at a 2, and stayed a 2 all day!

I’ve not gone to the gym. I’ve not changed my diet. I’ve not changed my meds. I’ve not done anything different, except rest. I’m just not going into uni, carrying heavy things and walking around all the time. I’m still using my joints, enough that I still feel like I can control them, and I enjoy talking short walks! 5-30 minutes is plenty of walking for me to feel like I’ve moved plenty in a day and just stave off that stiff-ache.

This is only adding my hypothesis that I have a hypermobility condition. But, I guess we still have to go through all the tests. Mum is, well, we’re pretty sure she’s still convinced it’s our meds. I guess if all else fails, we can give that a go. See if it really is.

I guess, on the one hand, I’m like ‘I knew it! I told you I knew the circumstances for me feeling better! I told you i felt bad because of this!’ But at the same time, that leaves it as an ‘unfixable’ problem. One where the doctors tell me to use pacing and discourage me from using mobility aids so I end up just stuck at home constantly. That’s my biggest fear. That I get a hsd or heds diagnosis and get told to just pace. ‘Oh yeah so if it doesn’t hurt when you don’t do anything just, don’t do anything.” BUT IM SO BORED. I’m literally counting the days till I’m back at uni because pain be damned I’m so bored and tired of my family being stuck inside. I want to go and do things! But, professionals don’t like mobility aids unless you’re old or have a more ‘severe’ disability.

Anyway. It looks like I’ll probably have to give up ice skating, which sucks. Idk. I should probably keep this to talk about with my new therapist.

[newta]

THIS!!! I HAD LOTS OF MEDS AND PROFESSIONALS FOR YEARS AND I DIDN'T THINK I WOULD EVER BE BETTER! BUT I'M BETTER NOW!

I started with watching cooking videos and trying it out. Just easy cheap meals. At first even those weren't good but I keep trying! I became a vegetarian and discovered that you just need to know how to prepare vegetables and now I like nearly all of them! Also try making smoothies with frozen food & honey (bonus: add some frozen spinach in your smoothies. You won't taste it!)

I take walks listening to music or podcasts! Sometimes i call my friend or mom to talk while I walk. I try to look around and discover precious little things! I saw swans nest the last time I went out.

Also. I always told myself I was a night owl/more productive at night. Thats not true. Go to bed at a set time EVERY night. And don't try to sleep till late afternoon! I usually try to wake up at 10 am and go to bed at midnight!

I take a self care bath once a week but shower during the week! It makes me feel better!

If your body hurts or you feel tired after waking up. I recommend 10-20 min yoga tutorial you can do in the morning to wake up! Your body will stop hurting.

I also discovered going on runs. I'm not good at them and at first I felt like dying but I kept going and now I started to enjoy them!

Try to find things you can do in your city. Go on a walk discovering & learning about herbs. Go to a museum. Do some pottery painting. Ask your friends to go with you! They also want to do things!

If you are home, don't just scroll. I try to find hobbies i can do with my hands! Stitching, crocheing, sewing, drawing, painting, writing etc. You can find a lot of things for those at dollar stores. They wont be high quality but you can try them out and see if you like them! If you're not sure how to start, there are a ton of youtube tutorials for free!

Start telling your friends & family you love them. At first it will feel awkward. But they appreciate it & will start saying it back!

Don't be discouraged if something doesnt work out at first! (I hurt my feet running in bad shoes when i started going on runs. It hurt. They healed and I restarted after I did research. I wasn't very good at crocheing but I kept going and now I don't need patterns anymore! Etc.)

It gets better. Even if you don't want to live rn or you don't think anyone will miss you. They will! You will find friends and love and joy! It will get better :)

me when going to bed at a normal time, eating fruits, having less caffeine, not socially isolating and taking silly little walks actually improves my mental health, knowing that i avoided it for years because i didn’t think it would do anything

[crazy-void]

Important update

(sorry for my english, it’s not my native language)

Hello everyone, I'm not usually the type to make these posts, but I think this time it's really necessary.

First of all, about the Bots and Pizza fanfic, for all the fans and especially that anonymous fan who once asked me how the chapter was going, I have to say that yes, I said that December I would release the chapter starting part 2, but I haven't managed to finish it. I only have half of it, and I'm currently having a creative block finishing a particular scene, which I've already changed several times. As I still have to finish it, correct it, translate it into English, correct it again, send it to the person who does the final English correction, it may not even be finished in time this month. I can provide you with some poorly translated excerpts if you're curious, without too many spoilers. The chapter will come out, I just can't promise dates anymore. 

Now, this is the hardest part for me to tell you, but I have to be honest:

I need to slow down.

"Wait, didn't you used to say that you were slow at drawing?" "Don't you already post once a month, without a schedule?" Yes, I have a slow pace for posting, but with this change, it may take me a lot longer to post.

In 2023 a lot of things happened in my life, from graduating, reconciling study and work, increasing the pace of drawing and writing, increasing livestreams, having several long leaves from home that unfortunately prevented me from continuing my projects, and adding all the fatigue of reconciling all this, this year was one of the worst for my mental and physical health.

I don't like to talk too much about my private life, I didn't want to write a long text explaining it, but I think that for those of you who follow me I need to explain why I'm disappearing so much and not being on schedule.

Since the last chapter of Bots was posted, I've had the worst months. I got sick, my cat had an emergency and underwent surgery which meant I had to keep an eye on him for 24 hours, combining that with work, spending Christmas with a horrible cold and pain from falling down the stairs.

And after spending New Year's away from my cat, who had to stay in a hotel because I wasn't going to bring him to the beach, going through all the stress of him trying to attack the cat they brought and thus making his wound worse, which was finally closing up, spending almost all my vacation on the beach, and every day worrying about what the next complaint would be about me for simply trying to do something for everyone, I'm just tired and exhausted.

The problem itself isn't my family, they're amazing, I wouldn't swap them for anyone, but sometimes I can't make myself understood and I can't express myself.

It doesn't help that I'm already a person who for 20 years hasn't known what it's like to relax, I've always done everything as if I were holding a weight on my back, even more so when, even though I'm in pain, I keep pushing myself, going beyond the limit and thus getting worse and worse.

I was doing that a lot throughout 2023, and it just wrecked me. In terms of mental health, I'm very passive, I try to impose myself, but I always lose the argument and do what they want, and I just accept it and swallow it, until at some point it all explodes and I'm left with a mess of emotions.

Little by little, I was getting more and more discouraged, just living each day according to routine, trying to find some happiness in anything at the moment. Drawing, writing, reading, doing anything involving subjects I love was helping, but I was having more and more obstacles, interruptions, I was forcing myself to do things, and not being able to do what I wanted during the day was frustrating me more and more, combined with my increasingly frequent pains.

I had a plan to post more than 6 drawings in the month of December, showing more OCs, as well as finally continuing Not so Superstar. There was going to be a special Christmas drawing. Did I achieve that? No, I didn't even come close. Of course, it's my fault for having imposed this on myself, but each day was more frustrating than the next, and this only added to all the frustrations of the whole year that I don't even feel genuine happiness anymore. I smile because I have to, but I don't fully feel that good happiness. And that frustrates me. 

I've also started to have problems with my body, I don't feel comfortable with certain parts of it. It sounds silly, but it's only helped to increase my discouragement.

With all this, I'm tired.

And I want to change that.

I'm already looking for help to improve, even by 1%, so that next New Year, I can really smile.

I'm not the best example, but if you're reading this and you feel something similar, try to seek help, whether through psychologists, through your faith, or even through friends. Sometimes all you need to hear is that someone cares about you and that everything is going to be okay. And if you're that friend someone has chosen to open up to, reach out, sometimes a simple "I'm here, you can count on me" is all they need.

Anyway, I know it's a huge text, but I needed to explain at least a little to those who care, and that me slowing down doesn't mean I'm going to stop everything, I may even become more productive, who knows? But I won't be promising dates. I'm not going to disappear from the socials, I intend to look at them more often, so you can interact with me just fine.

I hope that by the end of the year, I'll be able to return to this post and see that I've improved, that I no longer feel disappointed and tired, that all the help I'm getting has made me smile for real at the turn of 2025.

Thank you for listening, you are one of the reasons I keep going.

[a-v-j]

RULES FOR NEW COMERS(or everyone really in general)

Most especially if it’s a newly-made account and/or empty blogs or obviously recently filled with with likes from my work to not look empty

*Don’t ask me for requests or free drawings, i only do that for my friends(or announced events)(requests are currently closed, commissions open tho)

*Make good first impression(dont just compliment me that won’t work)(whether if it’s dm or ask), otherwise you’ll be labeled as troll alt acc and will be blocked after 3 violations(no notices, no warning). Automatic block for those who intentionally violate rules

*Know my work first before trying to befriend me(genuine interest in my work=genuine interest in me)

*Know im not always nice but will try to keep things friendly as much as possible

*It’s ok to make a mistake, but don’t make the same mistake twice

*Take note i occasionally make 18+ skeleton materials so when you happen to bump into one and it’s totally not your cup of tea, know that it’s on you for not reading this pinned post

*I’m very keen in details, so better get names right if you want me to have a good impression on you

*Don’t do “what’s everyone’s reaction to this” “what do you think of my oc” in my Ask box. Ask one to two characters only because like you, i get tired drawing too. Unless the question including multiple characters of mine is answerable with words then ok

*Note that i answer asks in three ways; with words only(occasional old art for visuals), drawings(static or animated) or not answering at all. So in such case i dont answer immediately with words, then your ask might be answered with a drawing(or with a gif if it’s taking longer, no promises) or has been ignored due to technical difficulties that i don’t want to answer it.

*Do not submit to me your oc that isnt even related to my characters, im not gonna be some advertisement ad to showcase your stuff in my blog even if that’s not your intention and im not an art teacher who you be submitting your art to. Im sorry, i just can’t give any genuine opinion on things i didnt make or not interested in(it requires me to think harder than i should and I don’t want that) but im not saying your art is bad or anything

*Jesus, one ask from one person at a time. If curiosity gets the best of ya, compile it in one ask. Youre giving me quite a workout, kid

*If you get blocked, im sorry, but you didnt read the rules

*Do not ask me for my favorite things because my head usually doesnt keep record of what they are, I would try answer my friends of course

*When sending an ask addressed to a character, make sure they are residents of Avjverse. See the full list here**. Asking a character i don't have will result in a block under the belief youre just deliberately doing it on purpose to spite me. So read for your own sake

**note: not everyone in this list are available for Asks

*If youre a new acc, DNI, especially as an ask. Your acc must have been 2 weeks active or had been filled with posts. I have issues with previous trollers opening new acc and trying to befriend and exploit me so take in mind it's not to personally attack you i just dont want more bs coming from these people. If youre unable to post anything in your blog make sure your ask or dm to me is within rules so I'd have a good impression on you. It's hard to trust new accounts, im sorry

*DONT send an ask twice because either it's in queue to have a drawing or I DO NOT want to answer it. DONT DM me saying to answer your ask

*Any roleplay fanblogs not run/authorized by me that includes my characters, do not claim youre official 'cause that's a dick move, bro but any one's free to open one. I discourage any acts that could potentially ruin any of my character's image. Refer to this blog for the canon stuff

*No, i do not support Anti_ErrorxErrisk. For Anti, Errisk is A CHILD. So dont creep him up or make him a creep please, make sure Errisk in your version of the ship is of legal age.

*Yes, its totally fine with me to draw fanart of my characters (and to tag me lol) There's no need to ask permission. But i do discourage any fanart that is intended to cause bad image to my characters, any acts relating to hate, racism and assholism. Im against that. Im ok with fanarts with ships(my character x oc/another Avjverse/nonavjverse character). As long as you dont claim it to be the official one and/or canon, im ok with it. If i say i dont like a certain ship, you can still make fanart just dont tag me.

*Dont initiate RP that is meant to be long and reblogged in the asks, i dont do that. Well, occasionally with friends only, and most likely not in tumblr

*Note i block accounts that had been deemed enough to be hot listed

*I prefer not to be tagged in a post where someone is requesting to draw my characters, solo or in group. I had this notorious troll who was very rude and theyre adamant in requesting many people to draw my characters which i honestly dont want them to since they have zero respect for my characters at all and theyre also notorious in changing acc names as well as creating new ones, their usual intro is "hi, im new here" when they're actually not. I just don't want to be in the same post as they are so i request to not be tagged in such situation.

*dont start with "hi i love your art/your oc, can you draw <request>", it's registered in my brain negatively, leads me to think you're only complimenting me/my art/my characters because you want something from me. My brain will hotlist you, even if you were of good intention

*know that AVJ is unpredictable and the way our head functions varies from moment to moment. We're working on our part and it would be a nice if you also take part on yours

A mini guide on how to get around AVJ, brought to you by 10:12,07/01/22 AVJ and et al

[decafbat]

I assume you get tired of having to act polite and nice to tactless jerks online but dont want to deal with the almost certain overreaction to you actually expressing urself like a person with real emotions and limits

damn this ones loaded. some parts yeah some parts nah? for one, i dont exactly know what my actual full self expression would entail, but it is something i fear when considering doing nsfw art particularly. its something id like to be doing more of, but i would definitely be hesitant, less due to a fear of an overreaction but more an unintended reaction. im sure for some, my characters fill a fetish niche, and thats not something i can control, but id like to do my best to discourage that kind of perception. the "tactless jerks" part i can link to people in my comments who have decided to make their fetishes my problem. people get weird about leica sometimes, and cath too but to a lesser extent. i dont want to get into a discussion about fatfurs, all ill say is that i sort of wish they wouldnt assume everyone drawing a fat character was doing it with fetishistic intent. leica's fat because i'm fat and i enjoy drawing characters that match up with my body type. i rarely feel motivated to establish boundaries, because i honestly appreciate that people find my characters attractive, even if theyre being weird about it. ive been plenty weird about fictional characters before. ill be honest though, and i think this is the most important takeaway here, these types of comments are vanishingly rare. much more rare then i might have let on in past posts about my experience on twitter. in reality, the fear of a mob of people out to misinterpret and degrade your art is usually more detrimental then any reality that idea is based upon. i felt pretty afraid of my audience on twitter, but im thinking lately that it was at least 80% in my head. so to answer the first question at the end of my long rambly paragraph, its not that im tired of tactless jerks, its that im tired of feeling afraid of nothing.

[midnxght-sweet-time]

Can i request (naib x doll f.reader?)

(Actually i has going to request wu chang x doll f.reader but wu chang is not there in lists 🥲)

So like reader is hunter. who know hunter nickname is "broken doll" she die by suicidal or someone killed her bc they are jealous bc of her. her skill is like she can summon the mini doll version of survivor whenever some survivor is close to her the mini survivor doll will be puff of out of nowhere and if she hit the mini survivor they will have a damage of it. And the problem is f.reader is so easy to kite bc of her skill every time when she use her skill the mini survivor doll will be gone bc survivor. some of them are really fast and some of them drow pallets at her and f.reader can't speak bc you know someone killed her or suicidal.. after that some survivor will going to bully her every match. And there is nain who going to save/protect f.reader whenever someone is bullying her. And if you don't mind in ending where reader will going to revamp that she can finally sing or talk.😅

𝙰 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚊𝚢

❥︎ Paring: ♤Naib Subedar x F!Hunter!Reader

⚠︎ TW: Hurt to comfort. Naib also being a little ooc, but I pretty much soften his personality, Ganji being ooc cuz idk how he acts usually but i know he no like richy ppl n i based reader off a noble singer so ye-. Edgar being a prick. Survivors bullying hunter reader. Mentions of reader's death like poisoning.

᯽ A/N: Im not really fond of the usual damsel in distress reader especially when its a hunter but i aint here to complain.

This was pretty long as i had a whole scenario in my head n took a 5 min break doodle along wif it-

I rather draw y/n that has some hair n eyes than them being bald n almost faceless lmao.

Reader died by poisoning cuz i need a reasonable explanation how she cant speak n not she just died. Almost every hunter died n only Mary seemed to have vocal issues cuz of her chopped head n jojo having asthma cuz he probs smokes-

The sound of wood colliding on the hard cold edge is always a discouraging sound that smashes into your eardrums as the rough material scratches the side of your delicate face. The pain burns on your cheek like a familiar fire that you have gotten used to that hot tears streamed down your face on cue. 

Every match was the same; a pallet to the face, the pathway kept clean, and emotionally tiring hours that brings you to a state of depression. You watched with a blurred vision as the doll on your hands slowly disappeared and footsteps of your prey got further and further away. You could never get a win. It's either a tie or a loss. Even the ties are just lucky shots being paired with the weak kiters, or the few friendly survivors that would spare you some pity.

Of all the hunters, you were the weakest, making you an easy win. You wished you'd never ended up here. If only you had been more careful in your past life, maybe you wouldn't have drunk the sweet nectar that was spiked with poison from the one you have so foolishly trusted at first sight. 

Blaring alarms pierced through your ears like needles. Your eyes caught the small figures of the survivors rushing towards the door to make their escape. Their tiny bodies from a few distance away sway with the wind, scaring the crows that rested there and relishing in their victory with small bits of laughter your abnormal ears can catch; you know for sure their cheerfulness dripped with venom for you. 

Defeat overwhelmed and pulled you to the ground. Your knees scraping on the blades of grass that are more merciful than most survivors that torments you for your lack of experience or disadvantages. You watch as they celebrate like it's a holiday party and continuously making mocking gestures by the open doors. A lump drops to the bottom of your stomach. The feeling of failure felt like a harsh grip; suffocating you like the poison that deprives you of any oxygen and burns your throat til your voice becomes shallow and hoarse. You remembered how you were unable to call for help as your humane life left your body and your corpse left as an artifact of who you once were. Tears blurred your vision as an attempt to shield you away from the disheartening sight and attempt to cool the burning sensation on your cheek, only to make it sting more.

A quick electric sensation courses through your veins, three times in a pattern; the game's psychic signal to you that some survivors have escaped. The daunting feeling  stacked on your back like falling bricks that's building a tower in tetris. Silence filled the air now. The breeze of Lakeside attempted to comfort you with its cooling touches, brushing your hair away from your face. The empty sight however, only reminded you of your despair. It has become oddly peaceful now that the survivors are gone, even if your heart feels heavy with guilt. 

That's when you noticed— you're not being sent back to the manor.

A honking noise caught your attention, followed by the consent squawks of the crows that alerted you of their location. Your head shot up at the sudden alarm; someone hasn't escaped yet.

But why?

Out of instinct, your body rushed to where that survivor might be. The crows are your aid, running their beaks, mocking the poor survivor and leading you straight to them. Your feet flew with the wind, carrying you to the upstairs of the giant ship. The red light you emit strangely from your eyes acts as a flashlight in the dark fog. The crows disappear upon your arrival.

It's almost unnoticeable, but the glowing heartbeat gave away the green hooded man that's curled up on the floor behind a batch of barrels in front of a cipher. His body was shaking, his head low to the ground and his hands were by where his ears were supposed to be. It seems like he barricaded himself in the barrels, scared of whatever monster that lurked in his imagination.

What was the mercenary still doing here? 

You awkwardly stood around for a few minutes, trying to understand the position he was in. It's like he's hiding from something. Seeing him in that small space, scared and alone reminds you of a stray kitten that was abandoned in a bush. You approached closer, as slow and quiet as you can, like approaching a child. The creeks of the old worn floor made him shot up. His eyes looked at you, startled, before his brows furrowed and his growling at you like a hostile animal– wary and distrustful, but within those same eyes that glared at you, you can see a hint of what seemed like fear. 

You backed up, hoping the mercenary won't attack you right then and there. Your fingers slipped loose, forgetting you ever had your weapon and it dropped, making a thud that caught him off guard. Confusion replaced his hostility once he noticed you werent here to kill him. He looked around before bringing eye contact to you. "Is- is the match over?" His body slowly loosened up the tension when he saw you nod your head. You pointed towards the open gate below the ship, in a way telling him his teammates are gone. 

He became silent. The mercenary was about to walk over to you until he realized his position; trapped between barrels stacked sideways. His face displayed pure innocent confusion you never thought you'd see from him. 

This was just very awkward.

The moment he places his hands on the barrels to push aside, he immediately recoils his body in pain. A loud groan erupted from his throat, making you step forward in concern. Your hands involuntarily grabbed onto a barrel and helped him push it off to the side. Shock now covered his face as he backed up to a wall when you were kneeling in front of him, your form towering above him. You were about to grab onto his hand to take a look at his injuries, but realizing you may scare him off, you just stood there with your hands out. 

Even you were surprised at how upfront you can be.

He clicked his tongue when he finally realized what you wanted from him. "I'm fine, thank you. I don't need any help from a hunter." His head turned away from you, averting his eyes and shoving his injured hand behind his lap to avoid your sight on it. 

You didn't move. Your eyes focused on him and the signature red light shone on him like police headlights. You're very close to him, making him feel slightly uncomfortable at your unnerving presence.  

You and the mercenary don't really encounter each other a lot so it's reasonable why. 

That's when you remembered; You're close enough to manifest a doll of him.

Strings of different colors appeared from thin air as the hand you had out for the mercenary created a cute little doll of him. The mercenary felt a strange sensation on his body, like the feeling of thinning into a string and being tied into a knot. Like when the white guard would siphon his soul– only the pull of his soul seems to be attaching himself with the doll as he feels compelled to it. He can feel his heart stopping, as in he doesnt know how to react , standing still in time and watching helplessly..

The big button eyes of the doll stares at you with the same bright blue as his eyes. You noticed his doll version has a slight torn opening, little specks of cotton threatening to spill out from that crack.

That must be his injury. 

"Woah, what are you doing?" His tone was skeptical and you responded by lifting up the doll and pointing to its mimicked wounds. Your head tilted at him to ask how he got that. He seemed to catch on quickly and looked at his own injury. 

"Honestly– I don't know…" 

You looked around, seeing any signs of sharp objects until you caught sight of the familiar crimson color on the edge of the cipher nearest to you. The cipher's light gives you a clarification of its dull color which tells you the blood has dried. You pointed at the dried up blood, wondering if that's where he had hurt himself. He looked at where you pointed at and for a moment his eyes widened and his pupils shifted from the edge of the cipher to the cipher itself. 

He was speechless, he didn't say anything until you snapped your fingers in front of him, crashing his train of thoughts. "Oh- I must've been careless." Scratching the back of his neck. You can see a single sweat rolling down his head. 

Your focus is back on the doll. A needle suddenly appeared in your other hand, making the mercenary even more tense. Lining up the sharp tip, you pierced through the delicate fabric of the doll, causing the man in front of you to suddenly twitch up in response, feeling the poking sensation on his skin. "H-hey- what are you doing?!"

You ignored his yelping. Stitching away at the small slit, securing back the cotton to its rightful place and closing the gaps. By the time you snapped the excess string to proclaim your completion, the thread that was stitched into the hand slowly morphed with the fabric, disappearing without a trace and making it look as good as new.

The mercenary watched you before looking back at his hand. Sure enough, just like the doll counterpart of him, his wound is gone. Like his injury never happened.

"T-Thanks." The hooded man nodded as a small mimic of bowing. The confusion never left his face. He was in pure shock but also sparkles of curiosity mixed in those same eyes. 

His head lifts up once again, catching the gentle expression on his face. Your hair flowing with the wind as the moonlight showered you in its heavenly glow. He spotted the scratch on your cheek and reached out to touch it, but the moment he touched your skin, not only you moved away, he also retracted his hand in surprise.

"What the fuck-?" He muttered before touching your face again, making you recoil again. "What the fuck?!" The confusion was beyond you at this point, making your head swirl, thinking what you did wrong. Was it because you moved away from his advances?

"You're fucking wood!"

Ah nevermind, that's why.

You slowly nodded your head at him. Your eyebrows furrowed with deep concern, opening your mouth and pointing at the thin line by your chin that shows you are a wooden puppet. How is being wood even remotely more astonishing than the other hunters you're sure he has seen before, like the octopus god, the Feaster or the literal lady made of wax on Phillip's shoulder?

"Do you ever talk?" He grumbles at your lack of speech. You stayed silent, your eyes narrowed at him as to give an obvious answer he already knows. A sigh escaped his mouth as he slowly reached. out to the scratch on your cheek, this time you stood still and his fingers hovered ever so slightly above your hard flesh. 

"Does it hurt?"

You shook your head. It doesn't hurt anymore with minutes to recover. The scratch would recover once you returned to the manor.

"Do you… have a name?" 

Your ear twitches at his words. Your name? Do you even remember ever since appearing here? You stared at him with wide soulless eyes, deep in thought. Searching the darkest and deepest parts of your mind in search of anything that represents your identity. 

Nothing. 

Your head feels numb.

You can't remember.

Why can't you remember?

You remember your death but now who you are?

Who are you?

Why are you even here?

"Hello?!"

You focus on two hands put together in front of your face. The clap that followed with it took a little bit more time to process. What were you thinking about again? You shook your head to clear your mind, but it seems like the mercenary took it as a sign of no. 

"Well- uh. This is awkward…"

Silence filled the air, an awkwardness accompanying the both of you. The right index finger slowly raises up and points to him. The mercenary didn't seem to understand and even pointed at himself to mimic you. "Yes, me?" Your mouth creeks open as the wooden edges scrap each other. The mercenary stared at you for a moment as you stood still with your mouth still agape, wondering what you were trying to ask for. "Are you… hungry?" He queries, head tilted as to wonder if you hunters even need to eat. 

Your expressions showed signs of struggle as your head twitched back and forth, leaving the poor man in front of you with even more concern. To him you look like a cat trying to hack up a hairball and with the sudden hoarse moans you just emitted, he was very much worried for you— as weird as that sounds to him. 

"Y–our. Na–m–e." 

His eyes widen at you, not because you suddenly spoke but the fact your voice sounded worse than an obnoxious squawk of a duck. Does being a puppet mean you have horrible vocal cords? Or did something happen when you died that damaged your ability to speak?

"Naib. Im- Naib." He subconsciously voiced out, not realizing he revealed his name to a hunter until he snapped out of his own disbelief. "Nya–eb-" "Stop. Just– don't speak. You're hurting yourself." He puts his hand out as a gesture of concern much to your disappointment. It's not just because your voice is ear wrenching, but more because he can tell you're struggling to even pronounce a single letter; and he can't help but cringe at your attempt. 

You hang your head low, your eyes hiding behind your fringe and struggle to maintain eye contact. The mercenary, who you now acquainted to be Naib, let out a heavy exhale as if he'd been holding his breath for too long. You flinched when he stood up from his spot and stretched his limbs. The sound of his bones cracking made your eye twitch. Naib stood in silence for a brief moment, looking over the open door that called out to him to escape. His eyes then shifts to you, your head still looking down and your thin index finger drawing imaginary shapes on the dusty wooden floor, feeling fiddly with embarrassment creeping up your back; hoping the mercenary would leave and end the match entirely.

"Hey."

You shot your head up. His hand right in front of you, an offer to lift you up from the same hand he refused to give you to check on his wound. You stared back at him with wide eyes, wondering if his action was sincere. In embarrassment, he looked away with his eyes furrowed and lips in a sharp frown. 

He normally wouldnt do this, especially not to a hunter. But with you he knows you are more docile than most. Perhaps it wouldnt be so bad to trust you, right?

-

Another match that had you sentence to misery. 4 ciphers has already been done over the course of this match. You have grown tired and eventually decided to avoid any coming survivors and decided to roam free in the map you're held captive in. The crooked circus music invaded your ears as the carousel horse slowly guided you into a never ending loop. 

You were in blissful peace. Following along to the distorted tune with your raspy voice. Ever since you're meeting with the mecernary, you have been exercising your vocal cords. Mary has also encouraged you to do so. Saying if you keep exerting your voice and cough once in a while, you will be able to speak normally soon. So that's what you're doing.

The last cipher popped in the near distance and the blaring alarms of the exit doors lit up either sides of the map like a beacon. The loud noise stings your ears like a loud cry of a child, warning you to leave the area and wait for the survivors to escape. Slowly letting yourself fall from the metal saddle on the back of the horse. Your inhumane legs carried you from the middle to the bridge, your footsteps echoed as your heels made constant contact to the stone floor of the bridge. As you went in to the main building, shifting passed the large curtains thats a makeshift door, your eyes caught something specific.

A lone canvas with it's stand supporting it in the middle of the stage. Oddly reminds you of yourself whenever you sat quietly on the comfy chair of the waiting room. The colors on the white material were vibrant and eye catching, hypnotizing you with its glorious image. You went closer and noticed— it was a painting of you. A painting of what you looked like without your wooden doll features. 

What you once were. 

Your mouth hung agap and your hands once again dropped your weapon to the floor. Something about this painting mesmerized you. Was it because it was a picture of you in a certain way? Or was it because of the radiant colors that blend together perfectly?

A sense of collusion crashed onto the back of your head, causing you to stumble on your feet and crash onto the painting you were jusg admiring. 

"You insolent fool! My creation is now ruined!" 

You lifted your face up, your dress and face tainted with specks of paint that was still left to dry. You wince at the slight pain that came with the fall. Another harsh bump on your head. If you were ever human, it could leave a bruise.

"Oh shut it with your fine art. We got bigger fish to fry."

Laughter filled your ears, and not the good kind. You look up to see both the Painter and the Batter in front of you. The painter with his arms cross and sneering above you with a snobby look while the Batter had a more smug look. 

"Look at this one. How can they call her a hunter when she acts more like a mouse." 

The painter's words seared through your wooden skin. His shadowed eyes piercing through your weak form like predator in the dark. Meanwhile the Batter juggled a ball in his hand, he was more focused on the noble dress you wore that was now tarnished. A snicker slipped passed his mouth, a twisted satisfaction was clearly expressed on his face.

You watched helplessly, you were about to grab your weapon until it was knocked away by the feet of thr painter. His other feet stomping on your hand that tried to attempt your escape. "Dont even think about it. How are your little dolls now?" A ball was dropped onto your head before rolling back to the Batter as a taunting game. "Can we leave now? I dont see any reason to continue this." The taller male was now the one to cross his arms. 

Bang!

The sound of a well known flare gun fired. The Painter was quickly interrupted by a sudden blast to the face, making him stumble and fall off the stage. Both you and the Batter seemed shocked. You were too scared to look behind you after what you just witness as whoever shot that flare made his presence known with the slow steps that held so much animosity with their approached. You closed your eyes, internally grateful for whoever shot that flare gun but still too much in shock to move. 

A small breeze flows passed you, your savior dashed in front of you. Their voice sends you into a sense of warmth when they finally spoke.

"Stop fucking around. Lets go." 

It was Naib. 

You looked up in surprise seeing the mercenary holding the Batter by his collar pushing him forward to the exit before walking over to the Painter by the floor still writhing from the aftermath. "If you dont want another hit to your pretty little face, I suggest you leave." His grip is now on The Painter's collar. You can see from a small angle, the anger om his face. His eyes fold so tightly with his lips raised up high til his nose scrunched up and teeth revealed. 

Yeah that man's pissed.

The shorter male in his grasps looks at him with the same angered look, challenging his death stare but didnt dare to talk back. He only gave Naib the click of his tongue as a spitful agreement before shoving the mecernary off of him. Standing there for a good few seconds before running out of the building. 

Naib looked out at the exit for a few moments. His face still filled with fury before closing his eyes to take a quick breather. Turning back to you he picked you up by the shoulder. Slowly bringing you to the stairs and letting you take a seat there.

"Fuck your not alright." 

You were slightly taken aback at his straightforwardness. Yet his keen observation was much appreciated. You nodded sheepishly, dusting any remaining dirt off your dress. Naib sighed and scratched the back of his neck, looking at the stage where the left behind balls and the empty flare gun accompanied the broken canvas stand and the tarnished painting; all laid on the middle of the stage like a wreaked performance just happened. He growled, catching you off guard before calming himself down. 

Another whiff of silence flew passed you two before Naib reached his hand out to caressed the side of your cheek, making you perk up. When he noticed his irrational action, he quickly pulled away and held onto your shoulder instead, correcting his action. 

"You go back and take care okay? I want you to report those two to Miss Nightingale. She will ban them from matches for a month for that."

You nodded your head, a warm feeling crept up your chest. He nods back at you before turning his back, about to leave you. You quickly stood up, jumping down from a step of the stairs you sat on with your voice croaked out to him. He stopped and looked back, his head tilts to your attention. As the distance sound of the gate opening and the tingling sensations buzzing in your mind. The cool breeze that had always been there for you, encouraged you; giving you to confidence to finally speak like a chirp of a bird.

"Thank you."

[norteigr-if]

Hmmmm

Are the ROs sought after by many people (or a few times) 🤔 if so how do they feel about it?

well, vargi is, for his status. i mean who wouldn't try to win the heart of a future jarl who is to inherit power and riches? plus he's a berserkir so he would have strong children, which is always a thing to consider in an unforgiving environment. those who pursue him are quite shallow though. as to his opinion about, he's just exasperated and tired. having people lounge near him and interrupting training really grinds his gears and that's why he just opts to ignore them altogether.

broki has people swooning for him all the time, he has that charm that has people infatuated. it's not for marriage, definitely not, but his entire being radiates fun and intrigue, so it's an experience many want to have at least once. those who aim to keep him are sorely disappointed though. he loves the attention, and knows he's quite a heartbreaker but does he care? no. it's all about having fun.

everyone knows svala is off-limits, but there's still some who hold buried adoration for her, and would pursue her if she wasn't bound to gods as she is. some have even tried to get her to run away with them, but that's a hard no on her part and that person usually gets ostracized by the town of they find out. svala herself tries to gently discourage such affections when she can.

and barely anyone seeks to court randveig. not because she's undesirable, but because people are quite simply afraid of her. when someone tries to get her interest, or show interest in her, they get discouraged by her attitude which is rather cold. the mystique and rumors do draw people to her, but she's just not interested. she gives zero reaction, and that usually drives people away before they even get to know her.

[after-witch]

Title: A Gift [Yandere Sesshoumaru x Reader]

Title: A Gift [Yandere Sesshoumaru x Reader]

Synopsis: Your demon lord captor presents you with an unusual and unexpected gift.

Word Count: 2200ish

notes: yandere, kidnapped,  blood/violence

Your captor seems unusually on edge--he has been since this morning, when he soundlessly bid the group to pack up camp and began trekking further into the forest much swifter than usual. You don't know why. He wouldn't tell you, even if you dared to ask. So you didn't ask, and merely helped Rin roll up your supplies in a pack, ignoring the way the growing tension in the air made your skin prickle.

You don't know much of anything lately, except the feeling of the ground under your feet as you relentlessly walk from place to place, bound to go where he goes. Being carried on the strange demon beast is no longer a terrifying prospect but a welcome reprieve from the endless marching. You’d walked more in the past months than you ever had in your entire life; you’d lived in a small village, never roaming very far out of fear of animals and bandits and other unknown dangers. 

One of those dangers, as it turned out, had been the demon lord Sesshoumaru.

You don't know why you were taken. You don't know why he refuses to let you leave, why he demanded that you join his group, his company, whatever it can be called.  

You do know that you fight in what little ways that you can. Which, you admit, aren't many. You pack up deliberately slow, hoping to earn the rare annoyed look that breaks his normally impassive visage. You used to deliberately slow down when you knew he was in a hurry, dragging your legs or feigning a limp. Though once he caught on to your trick, he'd quietly suggested that he simply carry you from then on, and you'd dropped the act.

There is one concession you will never make, no matter what he says. Your biggest weapon against him. You refuse to call him my lord, as he commanded. As Jaken routinely harps on about. As even Rin, in a light, easy way, wonders why you won't. (But there is so much the child doesn't know, and doesn't understand, about your situation.)

Today, you are almost tempted to address him--no lord, of course--to ask if something is wrong. The tension is eating at you, and if the nervous glances of Jaken are anything to go by, you're not the only one who notices it. Perhaps there's something or someone that you can't see, another demon, detectable only by scent. Perhaps he's thinking about his brother, a subject you've only learned about in snatches of conversation, though you learned enough to know that you should never bring him up.

You're tempted to ask, but you don't. Instead you try to take in the scenery around you, walking quietly and pretending for a moment that you're alone. You're walking in the middle of the group, as you usually do; Sesshoumaru ahead of you, Jaken, Rin and the beast behind. This is probably to discourage you from running--not that you've tried to run in a long time. Getting recaptured, losing the thrill of hope in your heart when you think you just might make it this time, is incredibly tiring.

Your feet are often tired, too, but you truthfully you have enjoyed seeing more of the world, more than you would have ever seen near your village. If only it was under different circumstances. You've learned over the months that happiness needs to be taken wherever it can, or else you would simply give in to despair. 

A flower species you've never seen, a stunning ray of sunshine through the leaves of the trees, a glimpse of an animal not native to your village. You catalog these things in your mind and think about them at night, counting off the times your heart has been made lighter by them.

So you look around in the hopes of adding new memories to your catalog. Only there isn't much new to add. If anything, you've seen all of these things before. But maybe that's not such a bad thing. Your gaze lingers on a particular bush dotted with bright pink flowers, just like the ones you used to pick, and you half-close your eyes, pretending that you're taking a break from former daily errands; your mother often scolded you when you returned home with a basket full of flowers, but she never hesitated to tie them into your hair or lay them on her  table as delicately as a treasure.

The daydream is made easier by the fact that these space is full of old things, old things you once knew. Even that patch of trees is remarkably similar to the ones you knew all your life, trees where you would sometimes be sent to collect bark; and that large rock, it even has the same markings, the same drawings carved in by children in some older generation. A small pond up ahead has the same pebble path, painstakingly laid by the elders for easy fishing grounds.

Oh.

Your legs feel heavy as lead and you stop, suddenly. Jaken yells something behind you about your sudden halt, but you can't make out the exact words. They don't matter, anyway.

That's why he's so on edge. That's why you've been so on edge.

The old things are not just familiar: they're exact. You're near your old village. You know these plants, these trees, the grass beneath your feet. No wonder he's tense, no wonder he's been keeping a breakneck pace since the morning. He wants to get away from this place--does he think you'll try to run back? You're not that stupid, he could kill your entire village in moments if he wanted to. And he might, if you tried to seek shelter there.

The realization weighs you down, even as Rin runs up to you and lightly takes your hand. She tugs you along, and you're gently jerked from your heavy realization until your legs continue to move, barely from their own free will. You glance forward and see that Sesshoumaru is watching, his head tilted back--to see what you would do, you think.

Rin lets go of your hand and runs on ahead, practically skipping past Sesshoumaru in a sudden sprint of childish speed, gaily ignoring Jaken's squawk of protest. Jaken knows better than to break the implied status quo--keep you in the middle--so he grumbles and maintains his slower pace.

But Rin doesn't get all that far ahead of Sesshoumaru before she, too, stops in her tracks.

"Look," she says, lifting her arm and pointing down past the trees, towards what you know will be a view of your village.

You resist the urge to sprint after her, to bridge the gap between you and catch a hill's-eye view of your village that you used to take in almost daily during your errands. You force your feet to remain steady, one-two, one-two--when Sesshoumaru suddenly pivots, and turns towards an opposite path, away from the village and away from the view.

"This way," he says.

"But. Lord Sesshoumaru--" Rin doesn't get a chance to finish when Sesshoumaru begins walking. She merely looks back towards the village with an odd expression, before running to catch up with him.

But you weren't going to be turned away so easily. You deserved a look at your village, didn't you? Just a glance at your former home? He stole your freedom, your life, he couldn't possibly begrudge you a look. 

So you keep your feet walking, quiet and nonchalant, intent on getting as far as the clearing where you know you'll be able to see the familiar buildings, the public square where festivals were held,  your own home, small and unassuming as it is. Glancing at them again might give you an image to hold onto, something you can think about before bed.

"Come on!" Jaken has pressed on ahead of you, and he's waving at you with the horrid staff he always carries. "Don't be so slow!" He swoops his staff towards Rin and Sesshoumaru, who is now standing still, staring at you. It's unusual. The entire day has been unusual. He doesn't normally bother with something as mundane as waiting--it's up to you, to Rin, to Jaken, to follow and catch up if need be. But he's waiting for you. As if he does begrudge you so much as a look.

"I just--" you start to say, inhaling a deep breath to gather your nerves.

It's then, with this deep breath, that you smell the smoke. It's then that you look up and see it, grey and thick, wafting above the trees, a detail you'd missed in your anxious haste to catch a even glimpse of your former home.

It's then that you push past Jaken, ignoring his protest, and reach the spot where Rin had stopped in her tracks.

Your village--what is left of it--is on fire. Hot, smoking buildings, crumbling and destroyed. You can see dark, red pools of blood--bodies. It was a fresh attack.

In an instant, you take off, barreling down familiar paths that you still know like the back of your hand. You hear your captor say your name, you hear the sound of twigs breaking as he moves to follow you, but you can think of nothing but your home, your family, and what might be left of them. 

You reach the village in precious little time, and it feels like walking into a nightmare. Hot air seems to simmer around you from the flames lingering inside buildings, the granary, even the market. The stench of death--blood and fire--makes you gag, and you cover your mouth with your hands. An unidentifiable body, burnt beyond humanity, is curled up against what used to be a home.

The sight propels you through the ruined streets, stepping over blood and remnants of belongings and bodies, until you reach your family’s home. Or what remains. The doorway is open, missing its door, and you cautiously peer inside the humble home that used to be all you knew.

You drop to your knees at the sight of your parents and your little brother, dead on the ground. You crawl towards them and your knees become wet with their blood. You reach out and feel the soft cheek of your mother, a cheek you'd kissed so many times as a child. It's still warm. 

You feel the weighty presence of Sesshoumaru behind you and turn around, getting shakily off your knees. He’s standing in the doorway, watching you.

You feel dizzy. You feel sick. From the smoke, from the sights, from the realization that your entire family--your entire world--has been lost.

It's then that you remember his sword. That you remember the story Rin gleefully told you around the fire, about how he'd saved her from death with it. About what it could do, if it was wielded.

You hesitantly step towards him, mind reeling. "They're dead,” you say, as if he can't tell from their lifeless, bloody bodies. "Can you... are they still..." Your voice is hoarse and hurting.

His face is impassive, but he doesn't tell you to leave. He continues to stand in the doorway, staring. You look at him, and then at his sword.

Without hesitation, you get back down on your knees and bow low, ignoring the smell of blood beneath you.

"Please," you say. "Please, my lord Sesshoumaru. Can you save them?"

You don't look up--you can't, out of fear that he'll reject you, your former pride no longer a concern with your families lifeless bodies within arm's reach--but you hear a short, quiet intake of breath in response. You keep yourself still, thoughts racing with memories and empty, fervent prayers without words.

"Go." His voice is low and commanding. "Jaken and Rin are waiting in the clearing."

Your legs seem to obey his command without question, pushing you off the floor and out of your ruined home as you make your way back through the village. You pick up your pace, wanting to wipe away the memory of seeing villagers you knew--villagers who carried you on their backs when you were a child, children you played with, the market women who gave you extra treats--dead on the ground. You don't stop running until you see Rin and Jaken up ahead, Rin looking at you with concern and Jaken--well, you already know you'll hear about your transgression for miles and miles.

When you reach the top of the hill, you spin around and stare at the far-away, ruined building that was your home.

Ages seem to pass before you suddenly see Sesshoumaru emerge from the opened doorway. He walks with no hesitation away from the village, not even glancing at the bodies or ruined buildings around him. He'll be here soon enough. But... was it too late? Did he save them? Did he leave them where they lay? You can feel your family's blood drying on your clothes.

And then, in the ruined doorway--your mother, your father, and your brother peering out cautiously after the demon who'd just saved them. You clap your hand over your mouth to avoid crying out, to avoid calling out. Mercy, mercy, mercy. It's a mercy that you know could never be given twice. They're alive.  They'll start over somewhere else and make a new life, somewhere safe, no doubt. Tears flow freely and for the first time in ages, they are not bitter, painful tears, but tears of relief. 

You stare at the small figures of your family, watch them disappear back into your home and emerge with cloth sacks strapped to their backs, until they walk down the ruined streets and are blocked from your view. As if on cue, Sesshoumaru walks into view of the clearing. Rin waves, cheerfully; Jaken splutters out ignored questions about what he was doing down there, anyway. 

You watch him with tear-filled eyes, eyes that for once are not glaring or hate-filled. He gives you half a glance--did he nod at you? or did you imagine it?--and then looks away, continuing wordlessly down the path he'd taken before you saw your village.

"We're leaving," he says. And you follow.

[chasingpj]

𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞

"You’re really sweet, water boy.”

pairing: percy jackson x child of hecate!reader

words: 5,379

warnings: angsty, mentions of breaking down, one curse word

timeline: post sea of monsters

if you want to be tagged every time I update this story click here

a/n: hi hi! I hope you guys like this chapter. If you have any feedback let me know. i've read this chapter over like 1,000 times while editing so i can't even give my own opinion on this chapter lol. i hope someone likes it at least cause i'm a little iffy about this one.

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

“Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality!”

The singing voices of the Apollo cabin harmonize as Atticus stands in the middle of their cabin, eyes closed with his arms swaying side to side in the air. You sit against the window frame at the end of the room, your lips curl in a soft smile as Harvey prances around his feet, enjoying the spotlight as much as Atticus is. You were glad that Atticus was still up for karaoke night despite his mood. Although you didn’t plan on coming yourself, you had hoped that he would as he needed it as an outlet to let loose. A part of you wasn’t surprised when Atticus was begging you to come with him, insisting that your plan of staying in and sleeping early was too lame for a Friday night at camp. You didn't want to make him upset so you decided to suck it up and go with him. Besides, you did need to get out.

The past few days, you’ve had your nose in books, drowning out your thoughts with everything from studying demonology to enjoying fantasy novels. You’ve been keeping an eye on Lou Ellen as well, noticing that she too was avoiding her feelings by drowning herself with books back to back. And now, as a result of your similar coping mechanism, you two have an exclusive book club where you spend hours reading and mercilessly criticizing Twilight. Meanwhile, Atticus has been up and around, constantly surrounding himself with people to distract him. He seemingly was doing fine on the surface, but it was a facade. Sorrow was radiating off of him like never before. Even if you didn’t have the ability to sense his emotions, his song choice for tonight was a dead giveaway. Bohemian Rhapsody is his comfort song.

“I’m just a poor boy. I need no sympathy!” Atticus sings passionately into the microphone. Cheers break throughout the cabin, and you giggle, joining in, cupping your mouth as you whoop for him. You look over at Lou Ellen, talking and laughing with a few girls across the room. You smile, content that for right now, the two of them are occupied and happy. You, however, couldn’t get into the mood. Sure, the chaos of the Apollo Cabin easily entertained you, but you were having trouble shaking off the heavy feeling in your chest. You frown, your hand coming down to pet the top of Ambrose’s head, the other nuzzling his snout against your leg to comfort you. You look down at him, smiling softly as a silent thank you, and you sigh, hoping to lighten the feeling in your chest, but to no avail, it remained.

A nudge on your shoulder draws in your attention, and you turn to face the boys standing to your left. You meet Lee Fletcher’s bright blue orbs, a smile plastered on his flushed face.

“You’re next!” He shouts over the music, pointing his index finger at you in the same hand he held a red solo cup in. You scrunch your face, moving a little closer to him and the group so they’ll be able to hear you.

“I’m not really in the performance mood tonight,” you say, and the immediate protests from the boys around him made you smile. They insisted that you had to sing tonight and that they were going to make sure you went after your brother. On any other night, you would have agreed, gladly taking the mic. You weren’t a stranger to singing karaoke, and you had to admit you did enjoy it just as much as Atticus did. Last week, you sang an interesting rendition of Wannabe by the Spice Girls with Lou Ellen, Silena, Katie, and Sage. You were Scary Spice, of course; you wouldn’t have been anyone else. But tonight, you were unable to see yourself singing. Now that the boys returned to whatever they were talking about, you were planning your escape. You tune back into the song, realizing that Atticus was almost finished.

“Nothing really matters; anyone can see. Nothing really matters. Nothing really matters, to mee.”

You take a deep breath for a moment, accepting your fate. It’s only one song, you tell yourself; it’ll be quick. You cringe, expecting to be pushed up to the front by the others any second now. Suddenly, chanting fills the cabin,

“Encore, encore!"

Atticus smiles, bowing like a Broadway actor as the crowd cheers. You sigh, relieved, and you hoped whatever he picked would be able to conceal your exit. There was no way Atticus was going to pass up the microphone, and over the chanting, he announced his next song choice: Dancing Queen.

He’s so depressed.

You didn’t want to miss your opportunity, slowly scooting yourself away from Lee Fletcher and the others. As the instrumental of Dancing Queen fills the cabin, a chunk of people get up from the bunk beds and the floor to dance and sing along. You take your chance now that everyone is distracted, and you walk into the crowd, carefully weaving through bodies.

The cool summer night air was refreshing on your skin compared to the stuffiness of the crowded cabin. The collective singing of Dancing Queen becomes faint as you make it across the camp. You didn't realize how loud the song was while you were in there, and you could just imagine what the other cabins were doing. You couldn’t help but smile at the idea of an annoyed Ares' cabin, all of them with pillows covering their ears in an attempt to drown out the music and screaming.

By the time you reached the beginning of the woods, the disco instrumental was long gone, and you took in the stillness of the night. There was barely a breeze tonight; the only sounds were the faint chattering of campers hanging around the hearth and taking walks. You stare into the forest, uncertain if you should venture by yourself. You hear a soft whine come from Ambrose, signaling you that it was a bad idea. It was a couple of hours away from curfew, and you can already hear the faint roars of monsters. That wasn’t enough to turn you away, though. Your desire to be somewhere silent was more prominent than your fear of the monsters.

You walk in without another thought, your pace slow and slack, and Ambrose unwillingly follows close behind you, checking around to make sure you are safe. As you walk farther in the forest, the thoughts you had sent to the back of your mind were returning with a vengeance.

The departure of your siblings felt surreal. When you had woken up to their empty beds the next day, you had chosen to believe they had left for breakfast earlier than usual and that everything that happened was a dream. Yet, as the days went by, the absence of your siblings became more apparent. A part of you refused to grieve. You had wanted to declare your brothers as monsters and convince yourself that you didn’t care. You had hoped that deciding to hate them would allow you to move on, but even that came with a desolate aftertaste.

You had blacked out in your thoughts, allowing your feet to take you where they wished, and you find yourself at a familiar boulder. You look to your left at the picnic table, staring longingly at it. It was quiet for a moment before the sight of your brother and sisters sitting on the top of the picnic table, their feet resting on the bench, appeared. They sat quietly, Atticus frowning as he looked out in the forest.

“Focus on your breathing. You won’t shift if you’re impatient.” Your gaze snaps in the direction of the voice. You saw yourself slouched in defeat as Alabaster’s hands gripped your shoulders. His green eyes peered into yours.

You were the only one that hadn’t become ethereal after trying for the past 30 minutes. Atticus had transformed on his second try, Lou Ellen on her third, and the others followed close after. But you had lost count, growing more tired and discouraged after every failed attempt. Alabaster noticed you were on the verge of tears, your lip trembling, and he easily saw that you were crawling into a bad headspace.

“I can’t do it,” you sniffled, feeling embarrassed as your siblings waited for you. You were aware they weren’t judging you and had instead been encouraging you the entire time, but you still felt ashamed. The voices in your mind taunted you, making you forget any positive feedback you received that day. You were the weakest link of the group. You were never going to be powerful as your brothers, and so you’ll never be recognized by your mother, it said.

“You can, Y/n. You’re getting too in your head,” Al reassured you, his hands falling to his side, taking a step back. You were confident that he had given up on you, and you didn’t blame him. You looked down at the ground and fiddled with your fingers. It was silent for a moment before you heard him sigh.

“Try again,” he said softly.

You groaned and rolled your eyes at yourself. You were drained from trying so long, and you were ready to accept your defeat and stomp away. You looked at Alabaster again as he patiently waited for you.

You swallowed hard, and you closed your eyes as you heard the encouraging words of your siblings. Their words failed to cancel out the negative thoughts in your own head, though. You were already bothered by the little voice that said you would never transform. You dwelled on being the last one and what made you feel worse was that it was nighttime - when your magic is at its strongest - yet you still hadn’t transformed. Maybe you weren’t as powerful as your brothers gave you credit for. Disappointment swirled in your stomach, clouding your brain, and your fist clenched as you tried to shake off the thoughts in your head. You were well aware that your mindset was holding you back. You inhaled deeply, somehow finding the will to set aside your negative thoughts.

You decided you won’t allow yourself to be the only person who couldn’t transform. You weren’t going to let your insecurity of being the “weakest link” get to you, at least not on that night. You huffed out and felt a tug in your core before your fingertips and toes began to vibrate. You gasped, and your eyebrows furrowed tightly, the vibrating sensation gradually becoming more intense to the point where it almost hurt.

You heard an excited cheer come from one of your sister's lips as the feeling crept up your arms and legs. It finally met your core, and it was as if a ball of warm, electric energy sat right in the pit of your stomach. You opened your eyes, immediately seeing the bright smile on Alabaster’s face. A relieved laugh came from your lips as a few tears ran down your face from your previously pent-up anger.

“I told you.”

You snap back to reality, looking around you to see that you were still alone. No one was at the picnic table other than Ambrose, who was laid down at the foot of it, watching you cautiously. You swore you heard the sound of Al’s voice as if he was right in front of you, but that wasn’t possible. As much as you wished for it to be, you knew your siblings were long gone.

Though you were incredibly grateful for Atticus and Lou Ellen deciding to stay, the dynamic that your siblings had as a whole was something that you wouldn’t be able to get back. Now it was the three of you, left to figure things out on your own. It’s not as if you three were incapable of figuring things out, but you’ll miss your brother's guidance.

You think perhaps if your mother didn’t give them the okay to leave, they would have never left. You couldn’t help but be mad at her, and lately, you’ve been a little petty towards your mom. Tonight, you had decided to go to dinner and dedicate your burned offering to Hestia instead. You’ve been praying to her every night as well, hoping that maybe she’d be able to bring your siblings back to you.

You hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary to inform you if your mother was aware of your silence or if she cared. You also found yourself wondering what she thought of you for not leaving. How could she not visit you? Were you really not worth, maybe, five minutes of her time? Did you have to prove yourself worthy? If so, how? You were yearning to know, but even for that, you were unable to find the answer.

Your jaw clenches, feeling your sorrow shifting to rage in your core. Take a deep breath, Ernest would say, and you do, filling your lungs to their capacity, and you hold it. Think of your surroundings. Meditate on the question: If I erupt, will I hurt someone? If the answer is yes, take a step back, breath in for 10 seconds, out for another 10 until you’re calm. If the answer is no… well, fuck it. Everyone needs to be angry sometimes.

Your head tilts slightly, taking in the clear night sky for a moment. From your peripheral vision, you can see your green aura wildly swirling and flickering around you. You close your eyes, and your chest expands, ready to release the air you’ve been holding. There was no rustling of the trees or grass, no monster screams, no sounds of the surrounding camper. The forest was still until it wasn’t as you let out a deafening scream.

After hearing the news of your siblings running away from camp at the counselor's meeting a few days ago, Percy had made a mental note to check up on you. In the time between his activities, he had checked the strawberry fields, the arts and craft center, even the arena in an attempt to find you. For a moment, he had thought you had left with them, but when he saw that Atticus was still at camp, he knew you had to be somewhere. It wasn’t until he passed by the Hermes dinner table the other day did he decide to ask your brother where you were. By then, you had not shown up for your meals for two days straight. Atticus told him that you weren’t doing too good, deciding to isolate yourself in the company of Lou Ellen. He had offered to let Percy come with him to drop off your dinner, but he had decided not to go.

He figured that you needed time for yourself, and he didn’t want to intrude. He was also worried if it would have been weird to check up on you. Surely, you were friends? You considered him as a friend, right? He hoped so since he had considered you one. He thought maybe he was overthinking it but then he began to worry that you would blame him. He had to do some mental gymnastics to come up with a reason why you would be mad at him, but he was able to come up with something. He would understand if you were mad at him since he is, well, suspected to be the child of the prophecy. So obviously, none of this would have happened if he wasn’t born? Right? He had told Annabeth about it, and from the way she blankly stared at him, he knew that the reason wasn’t solid, but still, he was nervous.

He was surprised to see you walk out of the Apollo Cabin. After hearing that you were hiding away, he didn’t expect you to attend one of the most lively events tonight. From afar, you seemed upset, but you also glinted with determination as you walked with purpose. He was seated with Annabeth, Grover, and Thalia by the campfire, listening to Annabeth ramble about the architecture of the Palace of Versailles to Thalia and Grover. It was her newest hyper fixation, and Percy had been listening though he got a little lost at some point. He didn’t want to lose his chance to approach you, not sure when the next opportunity would be so he quickly finished up the s’more he was eating before getting up from the bench.

“Um, I’ll be back,” he says. The only person who had heard him was Grover, who nodded to acknowledge him while Annabeth didn’t miss a beat in her ranting.

He checked in the usual places you would hang out in, but you were nowhere to be found. He found himself walking along the gravel road in front of the forest. He slows down, turning toward the trees and he hums,

“Did she go in there by herself?” He mutters softly, becoming concerned. It was kind of an unspoken rule that campers shouldn’t venture out on their own.

He looks over when he hears chattering, the wood nymphs slowly making their way out of the forest. They seemed to be gossiping about something as they huddle in a circle right outside of the trees. Percy found it strange that they were away from their homes, especially at this time, and he noticed they all looked a little stunned.

“Hey,” he smiles as he walks over to them. He halts hesitantly, the girls becoming quiet as they turn to him. “Have you guys seen, y/n?”

They exchange looks with each other, Juniper shifting on her feet as she stands in front of him. “Yeah…” she trails off, facing the dark trees. “Just keep walking. You’ll hear her.”

Percy furrows his eyebrows, unsure what they meant by that, but he takes their advice anyway. It didn’t take him long to find out what they meant, hearing your yelling before he saw you illuminating in the dark. He had imagined that you would be upset, but he definitely did not expect you to be yelling at the sky, rapidly throwing blasts of energy at a boulder.

Seeing you like this was odd. It was so different from the calm and collected demeanor that you gave off. He had considered you as the quieter twin. Compared to your brother, you weren’t as out there. He hadn’t seen you have many interactions with Atticus, but he could tell that you took on the big sister role. You just seemed more mature.

“How could you- how could you offer something like that?! I’ve never seen you once an- the first message I get from you is to join his stupid army! You took them from us!” You ignore the burning in your throat and the trembling of your arms. You felt lightheaded, and you didn’t know if it was due to how hard you were yelling or the amount of energy you were burning out. “I HOPE YOU KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING!” You shout weakly, looking up at the sky, hoping that your mother was listening to you. You wanted her to know how you felt betrayed, angry, and heartbroken.

Despite your anger, you still held back on what you said. You were wary not to push too far, preferring to not meet your mother's wrath the first time she visited you. You wanted an explanation; you wanted to hear the orders and the promises she made from herself. But you doubted she would appear.

Hot tears roll down your cheeks, your breath ragged, and you wail, blasting the last long beam you were able to muster at the boulder. You stumble from your own force, a sob leaving your lips, and your forearm wipes your tears.

“I really hope you know what you’re doing,” you strain in a whisper.

You gasp as you hear a twig snap behind you. You freeze in your spot, your heart beating hard in your chest. You were confident that you had summoned your mother. You took a deep breath, ready to face her, but to your surprise, you were met with Percy.

Percy's body tenses the moment you snap your gaze to him, swallowing hard as your glowing eyes bore right into his. He was hoping that his speculations of you being mad at him were wrong. The burning smell from your beams filled the air, and he definitely did not want to be charred up like that boulder. To his relief, he watches your clouded expression soften. He shifts, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Are you okay?” He asks, immediately cringing at himself afterward. Of course, she isn’t okay, why would you ask her that?

You sniffle, and you nod, “Yeah, I’m just doing my nightly prayers.” Though you tried to lighten up the mood, your voice was sad and hoarse.

Percy frowns, and he steps over a log in his way. He walks over to you as you plop down to sit on the grass with your legs crossed. Ambrose comes to your side, resting his head on your thigh, and you pet him softly.

“I heard what happened,” Percy’s tone is soft as he hesitantly invites himself to sit beside you. He wasn’t sure you wanted to be comforted right now, but you didn’t tell him to go away, so he took that as a good sign. He hums, looking down at his hands, “Travis reported it during the counselor meeting the day after,” he mentions. “Atticus told me you weren’t doing too well. I can’t do much, but if you want to talk about it, I’m listening.”

You didn’t want to dump everything on Percy, but the genuine concern in his tone made you feel comfortable enough to consider laying all your thoughts out on the table.

You haven't had the chance to discuss your feelings yet. There was a silent understanding between you, Atticus, and Lou Ellen that none of you were ready to bring it up and would rather go along your days pretending it didn’t happen. But as you continued to avoid it, it began to fester like an infected wound.

You were so lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize for how long you were quiet. In your silence, Percy waited patiently, not wanting you to feel pressured. Every once in a while, he would look over, noticing the flickering of your aura slowing down until it’s absorbed into your body, leaving you both with the soft white light coming from Ambrose’s body. If you decided not to talk about it, he told himself he wouldn’t pry, but he would be worried about you for keeping everything in.

You didn’t know how much Travis had said at the counselors meeting. Your mind was rushing with thoughts, asking yourself where you should start while also deciding if you should be completely honest with him. It wasn’t until now that you were faced with all the conflicting feelings you’ve had in the past few days. They came at you all at once, and a sniffle cuts through your silence. You sigh shakily, resting your head on Percy’s shoulder.

Percy looks down at you, able to make out some of your features in the dark. Your eyelids were a little puffy from crying, and you look exhausted. He frowns as a small sob leaves your lips, shifting to wrap his arm around your shoulders. He debated if he should say anything to you. He didn't find that this was a situation where an “it’s okay” was appropriate. Kronos was rising, war was on its way, and Luke was recruiting campers, 5 of those campers being your siblings. None of that was okay. He felt a pang in his chest, grasping on to the fact that you’d be fighting against them when it was time for battle.

“I’m sorry,” your voice quivers. You hated feeling as if you were losing control of your emotions. You didn’t want Percy seeing you like this, and you began to feel embarrassed.

“Don’t be sorry,” he shakes his head, and he opens his mouth to say something else but is too stunned when you pull away abruptly. Your gaze is fixed in the opposite direction as you try to catch your breath, hiccuping and gasping softly for a bit. “Y/n?”

“I almost left, and I feel guilty because a part of me regrets not leaving,” you blurted out the confession that was eating you up the most. It was what you were afraid to admit out loud, especially to Atticus and Lou Ellen. You didn’t want to admit that you, the one who found the courage to voice your opinion to your brothers, the one that declared she was staying at the camp, had begun to regret her decision. As much as you wished to not regret it, the what-if questions that filled your mind were hard to avoid. Were you actually missing out on the opportunity to be taught by your mother? Was it true what James said? Was deciding to stay a death wish?

You refused to look at Percy. You were wondering if he thought he was talking to a potential traitor to the camp. You were wondering if he would think of you differently now that you have confessed to having the slightest thought of joining Kronos.

Percy was lost for words, his face flashed with surprise, and he was glad you weren’t looking at him. He didn’t want you to think that he was judging you because he wasn’t; he was just taken aback. The tension between you started to thicken the longer he stayed quiet. His eyes scan the ground, frantically searching for something to say.

“Why did you stay?” He asks hesitantly.

Your teeth chew on the inside of your lip, and you now regret saying anything. You didn’t know if the shift in the air around the two of you was in your head, but either way, it bothered you.

“Because…” you trail off. The list of reasons why you stayed was long, and you didn’t want to go through all of them. You were determined to keep this conversation short, afraid that if you keep dwelling on this situation for too long, you will find more reasons to be angry.

“Because I’m not going to die for a cause I don’t believe in,” you declare. “I understand their side. I understand why they decided to leave. Alabaster was always saying that he wished things were different for us here at camp. I mean, so do I. They also had the approval of our mother, and they were promised to be taken care of if Kr- the Titan Lord wins. I can’t blame them for not giving that up because even I was hesitant to give it up,” you confess.

You sniffle softly, peeling the skin around your fingers before continuing, “But… for the change they're looking for, I don’t think this is the way to do it. Like really? Allying with him? Yeah, the gods are big jerks, but I don’t understand how he would be any different of a leader.” You sigh, “I considered leaving just to be with them, but I couldn’t go through with it. I wouldn’t feel right. I tried to convince them to stay, but they were set on leaving.”

Percy was quiet for a moment, and you found the courage to look up at him. His vision is fixed on the forest ahead before he meets your gaze. “I don’t think you should blame yourself for regretting not going. I think if I were in your position, I would have thought about the same things. They mean a lot to you. They’re your family.”

You nod, relieved that he understood where you were coming from. “Atticus was my last straw. If he had decided to leave, I would have left despite everything.”

“Understandable. He’s your twin,” Percy shrugs. You sigh shakily, your chest feeling a little lighter after being able to voice your thoughts. You felt more satisfied with yourself now. Your challenged morals felt solidified, and you decided with confidence that your choice was right for you.

“I give you a lot of props, Y/n. You were in a tough situation, and it must have been hard to stand your ground, especially since most of them decided to leave.”

“Yeah…” you say softly, and you realize that maybe you should have been kinder to yourself for having that feeling of regret.

“I think it’s really awesome what you did. Doing something like that takes a lot of guts,” Percy says, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Thanks…” you say shyly.

A soft smile plays on his lips, and he can tell you were starting to feel better. He was glad that he could help because he understood what you were feeling. He didn’t exactly go through the same thing, but he knew how it felt to second guess your choices and how it was easy to spiral when you dwelled on it for too long.

“You’re really sweet, waterboy. Thanks a lot," you say playfully as you return the smile. Your heart flutters as Percy’s face brightens before sheepishly looking away from you for a second.

He didn’t get compliments like that often. Well, he has, from his mom, but he didn’t count that. It wasn’t the same as getting the compliment from a girl, a girl as pretty as you are.

“I-it was nothing,” he moves his hand in a dismissive wave, and you giggle. “Well… I don’t know if you were done with your ‘prayer,’ but I think you should go back to the party in the Apollo Cabin. I’ll come with you. It sounded like a lot of fun in there."

"Ugh, but they’re going to make me sing,” you slouch, and Percy laughs at the slight pout on your face.

“I’ll sing with you,” he says, and you furrow your eyebrows, surprised at his offer. You’ve only seen him at karaoke a few times, and he always stayed on the sidelines.

“You can sing?” You ask, amused. Percy definitely didn’t seem like the musical type.

“Nope, I’m pretty much tone-deaf, but I’ll embarrass myself for you since you had a rough day," he nudges you softly before standing up. You look up at him as he pats down his pants, and you lean back on your hands.

“I’m gonna pick a ballad so you can embarrass yourself even more," you smirk at him, and he stops patting his clothes, squinting at you.

“Don’t make me take it all back,” he jokes. He reaches his hand out to you, and you grab it, letting him help you up from the ground.

“You know, I’d kill to hear you sing a Britney Spears song," you mention as you pat your own clothes down and begin to walk out of the forest, Ambrose acting as your guide by trotting ahead of you.

Percy is quiet for a moment, and you glance over, positive that he's starting to regret his offer to sing with you.

"Please don’t do that to me.”

You laugh at him; the thought of Percy singing a Britney Spears song was way too funny to you. Percy gave you a cautious look, not sure if you were serious or not. “Fine, fine! I shouldn’t take advantage of your kindness,” you admit as your laugh ceases. Percy nods, playfully agreeing with you. “You listen to My Chemical Romance?” You ask, and he scoffs,

“Of course, I listen to My Chemical Romance.”

“Let’s sing Teenagers then,” you suggest. “It’s a crowd favorite. Everyone sings along, so no one has to suffer through your singing. What do you think?” you tease, and you take in his bright smile as he nods his head,

“Sounds good to me.”

masterlist taglist: @nct127bee @xxyrr @mochabreezeee @minamisulemisa @yanfeisluvr

[ladylyra]

do you have any tips on not getting burnt out on a nuzlocke? ive always wanted to complete one but i usually end up losing interest after a while or just giving up completely when a pokemon dies ;;

crafting the story-side of a nuzlocke has always made me want to finish things, but what really will keep me playing the game is if i actually enjoy the game. i never got tired of starting sacred gold over or losing because the game itself was fun and there was enough in the game (variety of pokemon, interesting battles) that no two runs were the same. however, if i had to run ultra moon or any 6th or 7th generation game more than once, i'd probably get bored pretty quickly since those arent exactly my favorite generations and they're slower.

what usually makes me discouraged after the death of a pokemon is the fact that the pokemon was essential to my core team or would have been key to a future battle, also the fact that grinding in a lot of games is very annoying and having to grind up pokemon that are sometimes leagues of levels below my current team late-game is not fun gameplay. there's absolutely nothing fun about grinding. i've heard some interesting solutions people have to this. i love emulators a lot because you can speed up the game and it makes grinding go by a million times faster. a youtuber i watch has proposed the use of rare candies (by cheat) since grinding itself is a tedious and useless part of the game, but this assist is counterbalanced by placing a level cap so you can never bring your pokemon above the level of the next gym leader's pokemon and, if they do, you can't use it. i DID use this in sacred gold. it makes the game a lot better since it skips grinding and gets you right into the interesting part of the game--actually building your teams and battling real trainers. it made things go faster, but i still ended up with a box full of dead pokemon when i finished my final run because it didn't give me an unfair advantage against anything, it simply made things fair.

when i knew i didnt have to agonize about grinding pokemon to my current level, rebuilding my teams wasn't as heartbreaking.

this was my team after fighting whitney (on my last successful run) i had basically lost everything, but it took me like 5 minutes to make a new team, so i was back up and running again in no time. it sucks when you lose a pokemon that was core to future battles, but they're dead now. now you have time to think about maybe a more creative way to beat a gym leader or rival battle or whatever you're scared of. if you are still using items in battle, i HIGHLY recommend making use of x-items. they're incredibly broken if you know how to use them.

the goal to nuzlocking should be to make a game that is challenging, but that challenge shouldn't be at the cost of making the game not fun. put a randomizer in your game! play a romhack with a spiced up story! if a death really tears you up that much, allow yourself a death per pokemon, whatever it is that can inch you more into the style if you really aren't used to losing pokemon and it's gonna tear you up that much.

maybe nuzlocking isn't for you at all, if you continue to lose interest. that's fine! nuzlocking is pretty much the only way i play pokemon, but i only play pokemon probably, like 10% of the time out of all the video games i may play (i know this looks like a lie with all the gijinka stuff i draw vs everything else) so when i get annoyed with a nuzlocke or get bored i just turn off the game and play something else. if you play when you're annoyed it's only gonna make your experience worse. hope this helps a little!

[mellowshipsu]

Hello I’d like to be shipped with someone from twisted wonderland!

I’m masc presenting (he/they) and bisexual

When socially interacting with others I get tired in big groups but overall I’m honestly pretty sociable. I love physical affection ! And I feel like I always care a little bit too much about what others are feeling, especially if they’re people I care about. I either get very focused on something and finish it in one sitting or it’s never getting done. I like fashion and I own and make my own accessories, I also enjoy a lot of other creative mediums like digital art. I’m usually willing to try new things but I do get a lot of anxiety about it, but I at least try new things at least once. Motivation is hard for me to find a lot of the time but when I am motivated to do something then I do tons in a short amount of time while only focusing on that thing. I’m very opinionated and open minded to basically everything (which tends to make me overthink a lot of the time) I like rambling to others and explaining my interests but I’d also like to think I’m a good listener.

An artist shows the beauty of the beholder.

Ignoring the world around them, sometimes with a cold shoulder.

Your beautiful skills caught the eye of someone new.

He noticed how your social circle grew and grew.

Say what you will.

Your handsome self caught the eyes of---

Vil!

(Image by: twisted-rubbish-bin)

Is it odd that Night Raven College even has an art curriculum? A college that concentrates on magic does appreciate the arts, just not a lot of people participate in it.

You sat in an empty classroom with your drawing tablet, but you didn't have motivation to draw. You sighed to yourself and sipped some ice coffee, in hopes the caffeine helps crank your brain a bit, but nothing. If only there was something that could inspire you.

Then a miracle happened. Vil Schoenheit walked in with all his beauty in the classroom. He was surprised to see that you were the only person there and claimed he wanted to see if there were interesting artists. You just shook your head, "No, just me." How bold of you to say you weren't an interesting artist. He then walked towards you and sat, he asked if he could see your progress but you answered no, there was no progress for you had no motivation.

"Well perhaps I can offer you some motivation?"

What? You looked at him confused as he handed you a flashdrive. He explained that he made a new album but needed cover art. So he asked you to listen to his music and see if you could draw something for him. He will pay of course. He wrote an estimate of the first payment to you on a peice of paper.

Of course he will accept!

You smiled and thanked him for the opportunity. Vil smiled back and said that you were welcome to observe him also. Which you did.

Days passed and you observed Vil a bit and took pictures of him. You watched him jog with Jack, do yogi in Pomefiore, and dance in the studio. But not much inspiration came to you. Till one day he permitted you into his room to ask about your progress, you lied and told him you were doing well. He said good and he couldn't wait to see your work. He then took off his makeup and brushed his hair. Your eyes widened, he was so beautiful. And you took a picture. This was the inspiration you needed! You quickly got up and excused yourself, you then headed to your dorm to start drawing.

After a few days, you finally mustered up the courage to finally show your drawing to Vil. You waited till he was alone and showed him your work. He took your tablet and was silent.

You drew Vil with his hair down, in comfy clothes, staring longfully out a window on a cloudy day. Sad and sorrowful you saw him. A beautiful caged bird in your eyes.

The silence he omitted discouraged you. You guessed he didn't like it at all. You failed your assignment. You failed him...

Then you noticed one tear roll down his face and he quickly wiped it away. He thanked you and said he loved it.

Really?

"Why did you draw me like this?" He asked.

"Because that's how I see you." You answered.

Silence filled the room again. Till Rook came in and interrupted. Vil was needed. Vil excused himself. You went back to your dorm and haven't heard from him in days. But you kept getting deliveries of little fancy chocolates, watches, CDs, clothes from him. Why?

He then approached you one day and explained that he was going to use your art for his album. Cool. And he couldn't stop thinking about the art and you. What?

Vil wanted to learn about you, more than just the artist. He then gave you tickets to an art exibition.

"Would you honor me with a date?"

You were quiet before nodding. He smiled and took your hand.

Vil was glad to have found you.

"Do you mind if I commission you again? Even better, you'll be my personal artist from now on, how's that sound? ... Why? Because you're the only one who sees the real me."