#another math notebook sketch

[sweethartlullaby]

you, among the art

word count: 1550 genre/theme: fluff and angst later, sculpting series, graduate student and her professor/supervisor, female and male pairing as always, imagine whoever you would like... find part ii here sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist

“Have you picked out your supervisor?” Her friend asks as they stuff their books into their bags. Thursdays are always the calmest days. Students get let off early so professors can meet for their weekly meetings. Her friend likes to call them cult meetings. 

They probably do rituals and all the statues come to life before they talk.

“Yeah, I think I’m going with…you know who.” She says as they step out of their lecture hall. She knows no name needs to be spoken for her friend to understand. 

“You’re joking.” She shrugs as they keep walking.

“Do you not remember that horror story last year? He made that girl cry!”

“But she graduated with three job offers. That’s two more than the average.” She reasons. 

“You know how you always say that this class, or that project, or this team, or whatever it is, will be the death of you?” She shakes her head with a small smile before they push through two big doors, going into the library. 

“Having him as your supervisor will actually be the thing that takes you out.” 

“I think the rumors are exaggerated.”

“You just tend to be naive.” She gasps and her friend only raises her hands in the air as if to say, I said what I said. They stop where the hallways meet and she turns to her. 

“He might not even accept me. Maybe there’s another project more up in his alley.”

“I guess we’ll see next Thursday.” That’s when it hits her. It’s next week. 

Her big presentation for a supervisor to scout her is next week.

“Shit, I’ve got to go.” She hisses before she waves goodbye and rushes to her studio. She snakes around the maze of hallways, thinking about what to work on today. It wasn’t like she was far from finished, but sculpting consumes more time than you think.

Even though it is in the same building, her assigned studio is far from the classrooms. She likes to joke that it is her weekly bout of exercise. When she passes the familiar statue of an angel opening her arms, she knows she is near. 

Despite the distance, she loves that this is where she works. It’s quiet and it allows her to burst with so many ideas; sometimes, it feels too much. From the windows in her space, she faces the back of the angel, the illusion of her skirt pouring onto the floor. With the windowed dome above, rays of light shine on the statue, creating the most beautiful sight on this campus. 

She takes her notebook out and flips to her most recent page. She was up figuring out the math behind her sculpture. It’s inspired by her favorite movie, Black Swan. The ballerina curls into herself as wings shoot out of her back in different directions. It is meant to portray the dancer falling into darkness as she tries to hold onto the pure image she currently has. How does she balance both at the same time?

The thing she isn’t quite sure about is the face. She’s always struggled with them and this time, she wants to perfectly capture the fear and excitement in each half of the face. There is only so much one can show with a still statue but she wants to make sure that it is the most that she is showing. 

She looks back between the sketch and the statue a few times before she starts her work. She doesn’t have to finish it before Thursday, that’s what the supervisor is there for. However, she does have to show enough to convince the professors that her work is worth investing in. Scoring a supervisor will give her many benefits. Not only does she gain help in this final graduating project, but she gets more opportunities than if she were on this journey alone. 

As she works, her mind drifts back to what her friend says. Yes, he has high standards. Yes, he made that girl cry. Yes, this might be a little ambitious. And yes, she is a little scared of him. But that isn’t enough to convince her not to go for it. He is the only one that she has considered as a supervisor. She’d be grateful for any other, but it’s him that she has her eyes on. 

No, this isn’t crazy. This is just getting out of your comfort zone a little.

Seven days fly by and now she’s standing on the stage with her work behind her, and seats full of professors in front of her. 

Her heart beats in her ears and she has to grip the microphone with two hands so no one can see her tremble. This is unlike her. She’s usually outspoken, the first to answer any question thrown at her. But for some reason, the faceless people seem to be terrifying her.

“Uh…” Breathe. They’re just people, after all.

“H-Hello.” Good. She introduces herself before taking another deep breath. 

“I’m here to talk about my project, which is an inspiration from my favorite movie, Black Swan.” After that, it’s a breeze. She feels her muscles loosen and she starts actually speaking to her audience. She only has five minutes to present, with the next five for any questions.

They applaud when she finishes and the lights come on. Professors begin to raise their hands to inquire about her project and vision. 

“I’d like to know why you chose that movie.”

She opens her mouth to answer but a short burst of laughter erupts from somewhere in the crowd. She thinks she must be imagining it from all the nerves but when she tries to speak again, it happens once more. She quickly looks for the source and her eyes find him trying to contain his laughter.

“My apologies, please continue.” He says but she is too stunned to speak. Did he, the professor that you’ve been eyeing, just laugh at her work?

“I…”

The room feels like it’s spinning for a bit and she has to remind herself that there are other people interested in what she has to show. But she can’t speak properly. She feels as if all hope has been sucked out of her soul.

“I chose…that movie…”

The rest feels like a blur. Those last five minutes felt like an eternity of shame and embarrassment on that stage. She answers the questions with as much enthusiasm as she can muster. It isn’t much. 

When she finally steps out of the hall, she feels her knees collapse beneath her. 

It’s over. He thinks I’m a joke. Everyone in that hall probably thinks the same. 

She doesn’t know what to feel. Shame, anger, sadness? She sits there for a while, trying her best not to burst into tears. 

“Letters are sent out.” 

She doesn’t even want to check. She hasn’t told anyone about what happened. It’s too embarrassing. 

She tries to avoid it as much as possible. Maybe she won’t ever have to open it. It’s probably a rejection letter. Maybe he had the time to write out what he didn’t like about her project and why he laughed at her. Maybe she is alone on this journey after all.

But as soon as she enters her studio, she finds the letter that has been slipped under her door. 

She has heard many stories of this moment. They say interested professors leave their contact information on slips of paper. Some of them come with messages, others are just addresses and emails.

She clutches the pieces of paper in her hands, reminding herself to breathe. 

“This isn’t going to break you. It’s just words. It’s just words.” She repeats to herself as she opens the first letter. 

…Below is the list of professors who have expressed their interest in becoming your supervisor. Should you choose to contact any of them, please refer to the following pages on how to reach them. Congratulations and we wish you all the best.

The list isn��t long. There are only five names. And the very last one almost sends her heart flying out of her chest. His name, with the words ‘Preferred Choice’ in brackets right next to it. 

She doesn’t believe it.

She flips to the last page and to her surprise and fear, there is a paragraph waiting for her. 

Hello, 

First and foremost, congratulations, and thank you so much for having me as your preferred choice. I wasn’t expecting anyone to even look in my direction after last year. I would like to take this time to apologize for my actions. I cannot fully explain why I laughed that day but I do want to stress that it wasn’t because I was undermining you and your work. I think what you have going on is brilliant and I am very excited to see how it turns out. I believe you have great potential and it would do me the utmost honor to guide you on this journey towards greatness. I understand that asking you to choose me after what I have done is audacious. But I promise you, I will do my best to make you a successful artist. I do hope you accept my request and I look forward to hearing from you soon. 

a/n: hello!!!! i'm starting a series! this is part one of it and i'm really excited to release the rest. it might take a while since it is finals season but i will definitely aim to get everything out before the year ends or early in the 2024! thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy! i also hope you've all been well in this busy time.

#angst #bts #jeon jungkook x reader #kim taehyung x reader #jung hoseok x reader #kim namjoon x reader #park jimin x reader #kim seokjin x reader #min yoongi x reader #bts angst #kpop imagines #svt x reader #seungkwan x reader #seungcheol x reader #vernon x reader #minghao x reader #joshua x reader #jun x reader #jeonghan x reader #wonwoo x reader #mingyu x reader #dk x reader #dino x reader #hoshi x reader #woozi x reader #kpop scenarios #txt x reader #seventeen angst #kpop #sweethartlullaby ꕤ

[lilyofthevalleyys]

Classroom (Microfic)

Main ship: Rosekiller

Minor ship: Dorlene

Words: 988

Summary: Evan notices a boy across the classroom

TW: Cursing

Evan pulled frustratedly at the sleeve of his sweater. Fuck Math. It was as if the professor was speaking in another language. Giving up, he flipped his notebook open to a new page. He’ll ask Pandora to explain it later. He drew a small bunny, for Pandora. Then a little fennec fox for himself. Marlene refused to claim an animal for herself, so Evan just drew a quick sketch of Marlene. It didn’t turn out that bad, but Marlene would definitely shit herself laughing. Flicking his notebook to a new page, Evan checked the time. Ten minutes left. Drumming his fingers on the table, he eventually decided to just rest for the last ten minutes. Laying his head on his arms, which were folded on the table, he turned to the right.

Almost instantly, he noticed a boy at the other side of the classroom, head on the table as well. Dark hair and vivid green eyes, rings on his hand. Evan stared at him, star struck, eyes tracing along his features.

Right then, their eyes met. The boy seemed surprised, but Evan couldn’t find it in himself to turn away. Unable to control himself, he smiled slightly. The boy’s lips parted, dragging Evan’s gaze down to them. A hand shot up, hitting the boy’s shoulder. The boy winced, and god forbid, he actually started pouting, sitting up to face the boy next to him.

A quiet chuckle slipped out, which of course drew Pandora’s attention immediately. “What’s so funny?” She asked. Evan shrugged, lifting his head to face Pandora properly. “Something’s up, Ev.”

“It’s nothing,” Evan insisted. Pandora hummed non-committedly, her eyes seeming to catch on something. A smug smile lit up her features. She hummed again, this time with an obvious meaning to it. “Shut up. Who is he anyway? Just curious.

“Sure, just curious. I’m not sure, but next to your little crush is Regulus Black, and the girl with braids in front of them is Dorcas Meadowes. Marlene seems to have an eye for her actually,” Pandora said. Evan looked at Meadowes. Yeah, seems like the one that caught Marlene’s eye during lunch. Then the first few words registered.

“Not a crush, Dora,” Evan mumbled back. Pandora hummed for the third time, staring pointedly at him. “It’s not!” He glanced towards them. The boy was already looking back at him. A small smile tugged at Evan’s lips, as he blushed lightly.

A loud, sudden thump from the front. The professor had dropped his book on the teacher’s table. “Regulus Black and Barty Crouch Junior! Be quiet and listen up, because this is important for your exams…”

Pandora burst into a fit of giggles. “Barty? You fell for a guy with the name Barty?” She asked, sounding extremely amused. Evan sighed, shaking his head lightly. Turning once again, he watched the boy laugh at something Dorcas said. Evan could hear the light peal of laughter, and it was a beautiful melody. Heavens help him, maybe love at first sight really existed, as he’s fallen for a boy named Barty Crouch Jr.

#SOMEHOW I WROTE THE SAME NUMBER OF WORDS FOR BOTH VERSIONS?? #ok but anyway #they’re adorable #marauders era #dead gay wizards #barty crouch jr #evan rosier #regulus black #dorcas meadowes #marlene mckinnon #rosekiller #dorlene #pandora rosier #dorlene microfic #rosekiller microfic #microfic

[stacywaters]

Falling for You (JHOPE)

Hoseok stands idle in the locker bay, watching her from afar. She grabs her notebooks and slams the door shut, promptly walking away to class.

"What are you- oh" Jimin says as he tracks Hoseok's gaze.

"What?!" He jumps in surprise. Awkwardly, he fixes his hair and adjusts the straps of his backpack.

"Dude, if you like her, why not just ask her out?"

"I don't like her! N-not like that. We're just... friends"

"When was the last time you talked to her"

Hoseok pouts, "I... haven't"

"Well then," Jimin straightens his back, "you wouldn't mind if I asked her out?"

He jumps, "y-You're not... not really her type. I wouldn't" the bell for class suddenly rings out. Hoseok begins racing to his class, yelling out a quick, "I gotta go! I'll talk to her today!"

He then proceeds to drop his notebook, and then trip directly after picking it up. Flashing a thumbs up to Jimin, he stands and continues the race.

Jimin smiles softly, "you got this, Hobi"

-----

Hoseok shuffles into class late.

"Jung Hoseok, you're late again," the teacher scolds, "one more and you'll have after school detention"

"Sorry.." he stumbles to his seat in the back. Glancing to where you sit by the window, he sighs. You're busy highlighting your notes, and didn't even notice him. Do you ever notice him?

Class seems to go by quickly, but maybe that's just because he fell asleep. Suddenly, that wretched bell is screeching through the small classroom.

Hoseok is sleepily walking to the door to exit, when a book falls flat at his feet. He goes to pick it up. Unfortunately, he drops his books as well, making a mess.

"Ah, I guess I just made it worse" he laughs, "maybe I'm not the one to be..."

He looks up to see who he's talking to, finding your eyes staring back at him.

"...helping"

"Two peas in a pod, aren't we?" You laugh.

You sit down next to him and sort the books.

"I'm Y/N" you said.

"I kno- I mean, I am.." He stutters out, mesmerized by your smile, "I'm Hobi"

He doesn't even realize he offered you his nickname until the syllables spill out sweetly from your lips.

"It's lovely to meet you, Hobi"

With a smile, you stand and walk out of the classroom, leaving Hoseok lovestruck on the ground with his pile of books.

----

"Ugh, why does math always have to assign so much homework?" He mutters to himself as he opens his math book.

As he works his way through the assigned problems, he finds a slip of notebook paper folded between the pages. He curiously opens it, finding a drawing of his side profile. You must have sketched it while he was asleep in class today.

The drawing is paired with a short note: I can't seem to tell you how I feel in person, so this is the best I can do. I like you, Jung Hoseok.

His smile grows into a big grin, eyes shimmering, "she's liked me all this time?"

He lovingly holds the drawing to his chest, pacing around his room.

"Wait," He stops, "did she... drop her books on purpose?"

-----

"So she beat you to it?" Jimin laughs.

"Don't make fun of me! I still talked to her, didn't I?"

"Sure.." he laughs. Something catches Jimin's eye in the distance, "it looks like you'll get another chance"

"What? When?" Hoseok asks.

On cue, Jimin walks away. Hoseok's eyes focus, and he gasps as soon as he sees you walking towards him. It must have really shocked him, because he steps on his shoelace and falls face-flat on the ground. His math textbook falls from his hands. The carefully-folded drawing he cherished also flies out right as Y/N got to him.

Her eyes widen. He makes a grab for the drawing, but she scoops it up quicker and hides it in her pocket.

"Wait! Give it back, I-"

"N-no.. it's stupid. It was a dumb idea" she looks away.

"Hey!" Hoseok defends, "it was not dumb! I loved it, and it was a perfect way to confess! It was unique, it was you"

She looks at him a bit confused, probably thinking something along the lines of, so do you like me back? Or do you just like my drawing?

He brushes off his knees and stands. Trying to muster up as much confidence as he can, he says, "I like you, and I know that I haven't had many proper conversations with you, but I've been watching you for a while and... no! That sounds weird. What I mean is- I notice when you talk in class, I love your smile, especially when you laugh, I always check to see if you notice me, and I wish I didn't fall so much in front of you"

You stand there shocked. Hesitantly, you pull the drawing out of your pocket and hold it out to him with both hands. He takes it gracefully. You two stand there for a moment, just two kids in love.

Then the bell rings. "We're going to be late!" You say.

"That's okay. I don't wanna miss this moment"

You walk together through the empty hallways.

"So, I didn't know you were an artist!"

"I dabble. Now, I have to know, do you fall so much in front of every girl?"

"No, I save that just for you"

Sunlight peers in from the windows as two pairs of shoes tap through the halls. Notes of their laughter can be heard, soft echoes on the hazy afternoon. In this moment of bliss, Hoseok thought, falling really isn't so bad when it's into love.

#bts #bts army #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts x reader #hoseok #hobi x y/n #hobi x you #hobi x reader #hobijhope #jhope x y/n #jhope on the street #jhope fanfic #jhope imagine #bts jhope #jhope x you #jhope x reader #j hope bts #hoseok x y/n #hoseok x you #hoseok x reader #jhs #jhsdaily #bts jhs #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts one shot #BTS oneshots

[messyoungie]

✰﹒ 𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐘 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄 !

✰﹒ 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐄

hello, i’m messyoungie!

✰﹒ 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒

✧ kpop

✧ anime & manga

✧ literature

✧ art

✧ fashion

✧ the color pink

✧ stationery

✧ summer

✧ valentines day

✧ psychology

✰﹒ 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒

✧ math

✧ lizards

✧ bees

✧ dry conversations

✰﹒ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄

hey, thanks for checking out my blog! you’ve probably already noticed that im messyoungie, a self improvement blogger!!

im head over heels for all things pink, glittery, and girly. im a bit of a stationery nerd and love to collect stickers and notebooks. another thing i luv collecting is cute trinkets! i have a few fave hobbies such as reading, sketching, painting, journaling, and listening to music.

i have my foot in way too many fandoms and have a habit of stanning disbanded/inactive groups. my fave groups are itzy (my ults), pristin/pristin v, aoa, bts, x1, and red velvet. but i listen to a little bit of everyone from kara to weki meki.

my fave animangas are horimiya, jjk, assassination classroom, and saiki k.

i also watch kdramas, im currently trying to start doctor slump!

this is just the tip of the iceberg, if u wanna know more just send an ask!! :)

#blog navigation #about myself #pink #kpop #self improvement #that girl #wonyoungism #jang wonyoung #wonyoung motivation #the wizard liz #becoming her #becoming that girl #mindset #wellness girl #dream girl life #it girl lifestyle #it girl tips #it girl #pink pilates girl #pink pilates princess #self concept #self care #self love #self confidence #confidence

[yukikoizumi]

He Tian’s Other Notebook

A short Fan fic

Summary: Directly after chapter 374, Mo Guan Shan finds another notebook in He Tian’s bag and a lot of… other things are written in it.

Note: This has been sitting in my drafts since 374 & I totally forgot about it! I also don’t really have a good ending so if the ending seems abrupt it’s cos it is (; But here, fandom; FEAST! ✨

Slight NSFW warning ⚠️

An unmarked Notebook, Mo Guan Shan thinks nothing of it at first. But his curiosity leads him to open it and take a peak. At first glance it just looks like a simple student notebook used to write down reminders, school work and notes. It didn’t have a specific subject attached to it like his Maths, History & Literature notebooks. Gaun Shan almost stopped flipping through pages, sure it was just a boring notebook full of random stuff he didn’t care about. But before he did, one more flip of a page and he’s looking at more sketches of what he can only assume is his chibi version. He Tian really does doodle everywhere. Mo finds himself chuckling at the thought. He mumbles the words ‘idiot’ under his breath. But as he turns the pages he almost can’t believe his eyes.

Short, quickly written words begin to line the pages of the notebook the more Guan Shan flips through. He slightly skims over them, and finds nothing that catches his attention until he flips a couple more pages. His own name catches his eyes.

I found out the name of the short tempered red head I met the other day, it’s Mo Guan Shan. I’m gonna tease him and call him his name in English. He seems fun, I think I’ll continue to tease him.

Mo rolled his eyes. ‘asshole’ he thought. But he couldn’t help but feel almost nostalgic reading the sentence. He knew it was from the few months ago he had met He Tian. Once again his curiosity got the best of him. Quickly he peaked around the room before making the decision to continue snooping through the notebook. He once more found his name.

Little mountain has quite the temper, but I think i’m growing on him. He is such an amazing cook, how can a guy my age be so good at cooking?

Today I saw Cheng, they’re up to something with Jian Yi. I need to keep my eyes open.

The girls in school got a little too intrusive today. They wanted to know my sexual history. How annoying.

Mo Guan Shan paused for a moment to realize what it was he was reading. “Is this, like his diary”? Mo wondered to himself aloud. The question left him feeling guilty that he could be reading something private. But something inside him desperately wanted to read more. Specifically the ones about him. To ease his guilty conscience he skipped a few pages, because not reading every single entry was the most privacy he could give Tian right now. He was once more too curious.

I did something stupid, but I didn’t think the redhead would have reacted like that. It was just a kiss.

Mo stopped in his tracks, and he felt his body tense up. He’d almost forgotten about the kiss, the kiss that felt like it happened so long ago. But he remembered every second of it. Slowly, he brought his hands to his lips. “Shit”…. He mumbled to himself and decided to ignore his thoughts by continuing his snooping.

I need to keep an eye on She Li. I’m not sure his history with little mo but for now he’s dealt with.

Cheng says father has been asking about me recently. I wonder if he’ll force me home.

Theres so much I don’t know about little mo, and I want to know everything there is to know.

Why is Cheng hanging around more often? And why is brother Qui always around Jian Yi…?

I wonder what would happen if I stopped trying in all my subjects. I doubt Cheng or father would care.

Mo read threw a few pages, surprisingly only seeing his name pop of a few times. And the more he flipped the more it just looked like random notes, doodles and reminders. He was about to put the unmarked notebook back inside the bag he grabbed it from, but once he reached the middle he saw there was much much more. “Shit… what am I doing”? Mo grumbled to himself before checking his surroundings again. He figured He Tian was busy resting. His eyes began skin over the notebook once more and he couldn’t help but catch his name in… every single entry. But the one that caught his eye, at the very top of the page was where he decided to start reading from.

I like him. Do I really disgust him?

Does he know how cute he is when he’s always grumpy like that?

What’s his history with She Li? Why was he the one that pierced him? But, Mo asked me to buy him new studs…

Mo found himself blushing. But he kept reading as he recognized the following entry from the night all four of them spent the night at He Cheng’s estate.

Little mo wouldn’t sleep in the same room with me last night. But I couldn’t get upset once I saw him sleeping peacefully. He really is so beautiful when he’s sleeping, his frown is adorable but I told him he’d look more handsome if he rested his eyebrows. I want him to want to lay with me though… I wonder if I still disgust him?

In an embarrassed fit Mo quickly flipped through a few pages, desperately looking for something less mushy to read. But the page he landed on had everything he wasn’t ready to accept written on it.

I cant help but fall for Mo Guan Shan more and more everyday. He is so much more than I took him for. If I could beat my old self up for putting my hands on him the way I did then, I would. All I want to do is cherish him now. Every time I think I’m getting somewhere with him he seems to pull back.

What if he doesn’t like men?

I don’t want to leave here. I want to stay close to him, and continue to get to know him. I want him to know me too.

When he opened up to me about She Li, and let me hug him I couldn’t help but notice how perfect he fit into my arms. What do I do ?

His waist fits like a glove in my hands. His hips too. I imagine our hands would fit perfectly together as well.

I cant help myself, but what is it I like the most about him? Shall I make a list~

His fiery eyes and the color of them.

His long and slender neck.

His ass, for a lean guy like him it’s very plump.

The curve of his back.

His soft red hair.

His bravery

His love and loyalty to his family.

Him. Just him.

If he didn’t have that scowl on his face all the time, would people notice him more?

I bet he tastes amazing. I bet he feels amazing. I want him.

The color of his nipples are the same color as his tip. I cant help but wonder if his entrance is the same beautiful color.

Mo Guan Shan almost audibly gasped as he slammed the notebook shut with record speed. His heart was beating a thousand beats a second & he could feel something unfamiliar running around in his stomach, almost like nervousness but he felt extremely flushed & embarrassed as well.

“Fuck”… He simply said to himself before quickly returning all the items back into He Tian’s bag and putting it where it was.

As much as he didn’t want to process what he’d just read, being alone in a huge apartment with nothing to consume forced his mind to remember the scandalous words He Tian had written about him…

“Me?..” mo said aloud in a questioning tone, as his thoughts ran wild.

#19 days #he tian #mo guan shan #tianshan #19days #old xian #fanfic #shorts #raunchy #he’s h*rny your honor #he tian x mo guan shan #momo

[arixwrites]

Marcus Baker x OFC Pt. 4

Pt 1  Pt 2  Pt 3

Marcus Baker x Allison Littman

words: 1.2k

Marcus and Allison were in art, their last period of the day. The seating arrangement was very flexible in the class, you could sit anywhere you like. Ever since Marcus and Allison did shrooms together (and kissed), they sat together every class period. Their “spot” was the table all the way at the back of the class. They were both finished with their assignment early, so they were planning what they would do after school. It wasn’t explicitly said but they were keeping the fact that they hang out away from their twin sisters. They liked staying inside their own bubble. They didn’t want any attention on this weird situationship that they had because then that would lead to questions and labels. They were both happy with just hanging out. However, they had not communicated this to one another. And that’s why this is on Allison’s agenda for today’s hangout. Allison will finally ask the question: “What are we?”  

Marcus was immersed in a sketch on the margin of his notebook. Allison rested her head on her hand and quietly admired the way his hair fell into his eyes, ‘You want to come over after school?’ 

Marcus looked up and flicked the hair from his face, ‘Yeah. I can pick up Blue Farm and meet you there’, Allison agreed, ‘What do you want?’

Allison smiled sweetly, ‘Turkey club with sweet potato fries, please. And ranch! Do not forget the ranch. Joe’s is the best.’ 

‘Yes, ma’am’

_______________ 

Allison rode home with Abby after school. Abby peeked her head into Allison’s room, ‘Are you sure you don’t want to come hang out at Norah’s? I know you’re just going to be sitting in your room alone.’

Allison shook her head, ‘No, I’m fine. I have a load of math homework to catch up on anyway. Believe me, I wish I could go.’ 

Abby knocked on the door frame, ‘Have fun!’ 

‘Oh, I will!’ Allison yelled back. Her sister had no idea.

_________________

Marcus had called in their order right when they got out of class, so by the time he made it over to Blue Farm it would be ready. Unfortunately, it was not. It was unusually busy today, so Marcus still had to wait for his order. He texted Allison, ‘blue farm’s busy. be there in a bit’

Allison liked the message and responded, ‘k. don’t forget the ranch!’. Marcus laughed and rolled his eyes. ‘i wonttt’ His order number was called at the counter. He grabbed the to-go bag when the shrill voice of his twin sister piped up behind him, ‘Hey Marcus! Whatcha doing here?’ Maxine stood behind him with Norah and Abby flanking her. 

‘Getting food, Maxine. What else?’  He replied in a purposefully condescending voice. 

She dug through his bag, ‘Hmm.. that’s a lot of food.’

‘Yeah, I’m erm,’ he cleared his throat, ‘hanging out with my chem partner, so I got us some food.’ No one knew about these meet-ups that he and Allison were having and he wanted to keep it that way. He also didn’t want his sister knowing all of his business.

‘At home?’ Max asked.

‘No, at their house. Can I go now?’ 

‘Yeah, whatever. Have fun, ' Maxine responded. Marcus walked out of Blue Farm and started skating to Allison’s. ‘Geez, what’s up with him?’ Max looked over at Norah and Abby for reassurance. They both shrugged. 

When he was halfway to Allison’s he realized he forgot the stupid ranch. 

____________________

Allison answered the knock at the front door and let Marcus inside, ‘Hey.’

‘Hey,’ Marcus responded and shut the door behind himself. He set the bag of food on the table by the door and grabbed Allison by the waist. He gave her a long and hard kiss. Allison moaned in delight as Marcus pushed her against the wall. Allison wrapped her arms around Marcus’s neck and ran her hands up into his hair. 

After a bit longer, Allison pulled back but they still kept their arms around each other, ‘What was that for?’ 

Marcus gave Allison a quick peck and a smile, ‘I forgot the ranch.’  Allison couldn’t help but laugh.      

Her jaw dropped and she lightly pushed Marcus away, ‘Oh my… you said you wouldn’t! I even reminded you!’

Marcus picked up the Blue Farm bag and they both walked into the kitchen. He sat down at the island, ‘I know, I know, but I have a good reason.’ Allison went to the fridge and grabbed them both drinks. Marcus started pulling their take out boxes out of the bag, ‘I ran into Max and your sister at Blue Farm. Max wouldn’t let me leave without asking a bunch of questions first.’ 

Allison gasped, ‘What kind of questions? What did you say?’ She rounded the island to sit in the stool next to Marcus.

Marcus placed Allison’s box of food in front of her and grabbed one of the drinks Allison placed on the table. He shook his head, ‘Just Max being her usual pushy self. She started asking me questions about what I was getting, who I was getting it for, and where we were going to be. I didn’t know what to say, so I just told her that I was hanging out with my chem partner.’ 

‘Oh,’ Allison munched on a fry. Allison guessed this was as good a time as any to bring up their “relationship”, ‘Yeah, I’ve been wanting to ask you: What are we exactly? What’s the plan here?’ 

Marcus swallowed his food, ‘I mean, I like spending time with you. I like kissing you,’ Allison blushed, ‘I just don’t want a relationship right now.’ Marcus feels like an asshole for saying it, but it’s true. After losing his friend, he just doesn’t think he has it in him to get so attached to someone like that for a while. He has a lot of fun with Allison, but he doesn’t want to deal with the inevitable hurt that comes with a relationship. He knows he’ll fuck it up somehow. 

Allison is quiet. She takes a bite of her sandwich to gather her thoughts. ‘I guess we’re on the same page then because I really like kissing you too and I’m not looking for a boyfriend right now either. My last boyfriend was a bit of dick,’ Allison shrugs, ‘So, I am OK with continuing whatever it is that we’re doing, this “no strings thing”, but I do have one condition,’ Marcus nods for her to continue, ‘No one can know. We need to keep this under wraps just like we’ve been doing. If people find out we’re doing this you’ll probably get a high five, but me? I’ll get labeled a slut by everyone at school. So, do you agree? We keep this secret.’

Marcus nods, ‘Yeah, if you’re okay with it then I am too. To everyone else we’re acquaintances. We barely even know each other. We just also do this from time to time,’ Marcus put his hand on the back of her chair and leaned in close. Allison met him half way and their lips touched. Allison ran her hands through his hair and tugged. Damn she loved his hair. Marcus groaned and Allison snuck her tongue in. Allison leaned back and gave Marcus a soft peck on the side of his mouth. ‘Mm, those sweet potato fries taste really good,’ Allison laughed. Marcus smirked and grabbed a fry out of her box.         

#marcus baker #marcus baker x ofc #marcus baker fanfiction #marcus baker fanfic #marcus baker imagine #ginny & georgia #ginny and georgia fanfic #maxine baker #abby littman

[ruki--mukami]

Nunnally was lying on a carpet close to the fireplace. She had her book opened and was writing something in her notebook. She definitely seemed quite busy with whatever she was doing. But Nunnally was only giving the impression that she was hard working. She was deep in her thoughts and she herself was not completely aware of what she was doing. It took her a longer while to realize that she was not making math calculations anymore, bur drawing Ruki, who was sitting on the couch reading a book. She made two sketches before she realized what she was doing. This discovery flustered her immediately, she closed a notebook more abruptly than she intended and tossed it away drawing more attention to herself than necessary. She looked at Ruki and out of the blue asked him a question that was most likely wandering somewhere deep in her mind:

“Ruki, do you still hope I’ll call you my master one day? Or are you now just fine with us being…” – Nunnally paused; she was not sure what they really were, but whatever that was she liked it – “…as we are? We are happy now, aren’t we?”

“Anyway, I am.” – she thought.

“And Ruki…” – Nunnally added more quietly; her cheeks turning even redder – “If you ever get married would you require your wife to call you master? Do all men require that?”

"Well, I'd appreciate the title very much from you in particular, Nunnally. But, as you may have surmised, it is no requirement. 'Ruki' shall suffice, so long as you continue to behave yourself. As for how we currently are…" the Vampire traipsed forward, taking a seat beside the girl. "If we're not 'Master' and 'Livestock,' then what would you consider us, Nunnally? I'm curious to hear it directly from your lips."

The florid complexion of her face instilled what would've been a resounding beat across each chamber of his undead heart from the mere sight alone, reminding Ruki that she, too, had her adorable side. At times, he likened Nunnally to that of a spoiled princess out of touch with reality, but others, he couldn't help but want to dote on her. Not as a protective older sibling, but as something further. A bond further than that of kindred caring for one another unconditionally. Taking a peek at her notebook, a small smile crept upon his ashen lips in pure amusement.

"It is a bit old-fashioned of men to require their wives to call them 'Master,' I do admit. Contemporary marriages look nothing like that, ergo it's a farfetched leap to assume all men enjoy the epithet. However, hearing it from you would be nice, Nunnally. It would be a sign that you've entrusted yourself to me—if you're genuine about it, of course. I'm great at detecting sarcasm as you already know. And I would prefer it if you only called me by that title. No one else, otherwise there is no point in it. No one else... Not even Karlheinz-sama. I couldn't ask that of you," he wrapped an arm around her waist, "or at least, that's what I would like to say."

Confiscating the journal from her, Ruki stared at his own image, sketched by her hand. Now all the blushing finally made sense.

"You're quite gifted at this, aren't you? If only you put this much effort into your studies as well," chuckled the Vampire wryly. "Somehow I can't help but feel honored to be your muse in art, even if only for a moment. I don't want you to discuss marriage with anyone else, Nunnally. Or draw anyone else, for that matter. So, with that said, I must ask in return: if you were to find a husband, would you want to call him 'Master'? Such a title ought to be reserved for someone who not only takes full responsibility over you, but also someone who genuinely cherishes and loves you with all that he is."

A hand curled around her cheek, fingers tipping on the back of her neck.

"Someone who makes your heart flutter, your breath quicken, your pulse race. Have you found someone like that, Nunnally?"

#diabolik lovers #ruki mukami #mukami ruki #ask #rp #diabolik lovers rp #nunnally sakamaki #lured-into-wonderland #runally #(( apologies for the late reply ))

[loveeroselin]

Daily Wally Drawing #31. Wally Darling: Happy 1 Month, Neighbor!

Hello, hello! I can't believe that it's officially been a month since I first started drawing Wally! From a little sketch of him in my math notebook using my memory on how I'd last seen him, to being able to stick to his canon design while being able to adapt him into my art style and making me love my art so much more!

I decided I wanted to use a reference that would make this day memorable, so I decided to use one of @partycoffin old art pieces of Wally! I knew I had to complete this before the clock striked midnight tonight, and so here I am meeting my deadline.

This might just seem like another Wally Drawing that doesn't have much significance, but to me, it is. I've never had such a fixation on a personal project such as Welcome Home, especially on one character named Wally Darling! I can't wait to continue to draw him, possibly daily if I'm still able to, or at least every other day.

@:) <33

#artists on tumblr #traditional art #fanart #wally darling #welcome home #welcome home fanart #wally darling fanart #i love this so much #I plan to make anniversary drawings when the time comes #thank you also to the people that have been liking my art #:))

[bigmouthsmallmind]

For you

I like you so much. But not more than how much I want you to like me. I like the way you talk. I like the way you move your hands as you speak. The way your head tilts and nods ever so slightly. I like the way you slowly blink when making a point. 

I like that you’re not only smart but passionate. I like your passion has nothing to do with my passion. I like that you don’t assume I’m passionate about anything and you don’t judge me for it. 

I like that you’re good at math. Something I’m horrible at. I don’t like that you're good at writing. Something I’m great at. 

I like that you’re funny. Really funny. In a clever way. In a way most people aren’t. 

I like that you’re artistic but you’re not an asshole about it. You don’t carry around a notebook with your sketches but people know you’re talented when they see your piece in the hall and see your name attached to the bottom.

I like your hands. They look like they belong to a beautiful woman and not to a scrawny teenage boy. They’re delicate and slim. I can’t imagine all the work they do in the labs, building and making stuff out of nothing. Labor that should make them rough and calloused but instead they feel so soft when they’re pressed against my cold fingers. 

I hate your posture. It makes you look shorter. Like a boy. 

I like that your views are somewhat shocking. In a good way I suppose. It reminds me that I don’t know you. I like that you don’t claim to know me. Because you don’t. I don’t know you. We agree on this. 

I like you’d call me an enigma when I might be the most readable person there is. I like that you say I’m interesting to talk to when I’m not at all. I can’t tell if you’re just saying that to make me smile. You’re interesting to talk to. 

I don’t like when you compare me to other girls even if I’m being praised in the process. It reminds me one day you’ll meet another girl and do the same thing but I’ll be in the opposite position. 

I like that I’m nervous around you. You make me think about what I say. But you’re not critical when I’m in the process of thinking. I don’t care if you’re silently judging me. Ignorance is bliss. I like when we make eye contact. I like when we exchange a few words when we pass by each other. 

I don’t like I always speak first. 

I don’t like you in that way. You don’t like me in that way. But maybe. Maybe I could. But I want you to first.

You’re clueless. I don’t know if I enjoy it or hate it. Maybe a mix of both. For one, it’s comforting knowing you’re completely unaware of my feelings towards you. The intensity of them. My all-consuming thoughts. My admiration. My searching eyes. You’ll just continue to smile and nod. Make conversation while the butterflies in my stomach flap undetected. I fear this unawareness is a sign of disinterest. If that is true. I wish you could tell me. Tell me now. Before I fall deeper into this obsession. Tell me so the last of dignity could be spared.

I wonder what you think of me. Of our interactions. Do you seek me out in the room? Purposely take a route knowing we’d cross paths? Do you stare sparingly in hopes of making eye contact? Do you run and rerun the conversations in your head? Do you think about when our bodies are close but not close enough to touch? Do you think of what could happen? What might happen? Do you want to know me? Do you want to try to understand me? Am I interesting to you? Am I a meaningless figure in your life? A girl that floated right by you? Am I better than the other girls you’d liked before? Worse? Do you want to kiss me? I might just let you.

I want you to think this way about me. Badly. More than I want to talk to you again. I want you to ask me again on a date. I want you to say ‘I like her’ to your closest friends. I want you to think of me before you close your eyes. I want you to daydream about me. I want you to get nervous around me. I want you to want me. 

I can’t like you. I won’t like you. It always ends up this way. I do it to myself. I never learn. I thought I’d learn my lesson by now but I’m one to make the same mistakes over and over again. You’ll look at some other girl and I’ll pretend not to care. Because I don’t like you. We’ll never talk again and I’ll pretend not to notice. Because I don’t like you.

Most times when I like a guy I’m concerned with them wanting me. I’ll look for them in the halls because I want to catch them looking at me first. With you. It’s the same thing. But also I want to look at you.

I think you do the same. 

There’s a lot of silence between us. I think both of us are too afraid to say anything. I don’t want it to be that way.

You’re the only person who’s touch I crave. I want to feel your arm around me. Your lips on mine. Fingers intertwined. I like when you rest your head on mine. When your hair tickles my check and I have to brush it out of the way. I like being close to you. It’s a strange foreign feeling.

I want to talk about you. All the time. You consume all my thoughts that I have an obsession. I’ll talk to three different people repeating the same interaction. You’re a parasite in my brain. I hate it. I love it.

I want to talk to you. Even more than I want to talk about you. I want you to know that. I like to listen. I don’t say anything out of disinterest. I’m quiet because I like hearing the sound of your voice. 

I dislike but love kissing you. I can taste everything you’d had on your lips. I won’t tell you this because I want to keep feeling your lips on mine. It’s dark. My eyes are closed. I’m too scared to open them. I grab onto your neck, your hair, your shoulder. You caress my jawline, my collarbone, my neck. Your fingers dance around my chest hesitant to touch. I’ll let you touch me. Maybe when you're sober. 

I kiss you sitting. I kiss you lying down. I kiss you standing up. 

The act of kissing is odd. It’s boring. Our mouths smack against one another as we transfer spit through our tongues. Our hands roam but not as much as we secretly want to. I don’t know how long it's been but it feels like forever. It’s like a hug that goes on too long. But when our lips finally pull apart I want to do it all over again. Kiss me. Again. And again. And again. Kiss me. 

Your grip tightens around my waist like you can’t get enough of me. My body melts into yours until we become one whole puzzle. You can’t live without me. You need me. I pull you closer and say yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.

I like how you hold me. Your arm wrapped around the side of my waist, pinching at the flesh by my sides. I don’t jerk away like I normally do. I let you touch as I relax by your side. 

You pull me in so I’m forced to hang onto your neck for support. I’m taller than you when we stand like this. I’m on my tip toes and you slouch to give me the upperhand. My head is buried in your hair that smells like sea salt while yours rests against my cheek. I don’t mind it. Your skin is always surprisingly warm.

You worship me in the quietness of the bedroom. Your gaze never leaves my body. Your fingers flicking over my bare skin. You don’t want to see me leave. You let me lie on your arm and watch me as my fingers float around your chest. You let me explore. I wished you would worship me all the time. Verbally. Physically. Even when I’m not there. 

I think the more I write about you the less attraction I have. I’m realizing you are not my imagination. You are real. You are flawed. Whatever is romantic to me you think nothing of. When I wait patiently for you to text back you ignore it. It’s not your fault. We come from very different worlds. Mine full of fantasy and yours full of logic.

Then why. Why do you stare? Do you seek? Why do you show up? Why do you tell your friends? Why did you hook up with that girl? Why do you hold me? Why do I like you? Why do you like me?

If you miss me, express it. It gets boring waiting for nothing. It gets tiring carrying all the burden. The seesaw isn’t fun when no one is on the opposite end. You make me hate you. And me. Just speak. It’s not that hard. I won’t judge you. I promise.

I will ignore you tomorrow. I will try. I will fail. Fuck you.

I’m one for routines. If my routine is messed up I freak out. I have to talk to you everyday. Not because I want to. But if I don’t I believe you’ll lose interest. I have to see you once a week, alone. If I don’t you’ll forget about me. It’s routine. It’s a cycle. You’re not one for routines. You go with the flow. You let whatever happens happens. I can’t do that. I’m a planner. I have to plan when I speak to you, when I see you, how I feel about you, what I say to you. I hate it. I hate hate hate it. Why can’t I just let the world do its thing? Maybe I believe the world is working against me. If I follow this routine it will work. The world doesn’t work that way.

I have to let go. Let go. Let it happen.

You seek me out. You always do. But it was really me making the first move. I purposely sat to the side in hopes you’d catch my figure. You caught my eye but I was already staring at you first. You come over to talk but I was already counting your steps towards me. 

I’m obsessive. Not for you. But for the attention you provide.

The more I talk about you the more I realize I don’t like you. I like what you do. Your actions. But your face. Your name. Your body. It can be replaceable. Anyone can kiss me. It just so happened to be you. You are a special person but I need to learn you are not special to me.

I need to know what you think. But the fact you refuse to say anything speaks louder. When you are silent I grow to despise you.

I will have the upper hand because I need it. This is no longer about you. This is about me. And that’s where it’s all going to come crashing down.

I hate feeling desperate. And you make me feel like a starving woman. I’m an addict and your validation is my drug. Everytime I look your way I feel amazing and guilty all at once. I’ll destroy my mind over you.

If you caught me at a different time I might’ve been gone by now. But the stars have aligned in your favor that I will sit patiently waiting for you time and time again. I will wait and I will devour the crumbs you’ll feed me like they are a five star meal. I deserve better. I know this. But I can’t think of anyone who would bother to serve me at this time.

Sometimes the person I kiss is different in my head than the person I find myself getting coffee with. 

You’re so gentle. So shy. So quiet. When it’s just us two. You let me speak first. You make a joke but you look to me to laugh. I make a joke and you smile. Maybe that’s what it’s supposed to be like. Who likes the public anyways?

You’re so loud. So immature. So distant. You treat me like an average person passing you by on the street. As if I didn’t show you my tits the other night.

The more I’m away from you the less I begin to care. 

I like your smile. Your perfectly sharp teeth all lined up. You most definitely had braces though never explicitly confirmed. Your face grows even more narrow when you smile. But I like it anyway.

I love your hair. Soft and pillowy. I like that you let me play with it. Let me tangle the roots and comb them out with my fingers. Your hair smells like sea salt but the gel makes it slightly greasy. Still I rake my hands through them. It gives me something to do while we’re kissing.

When it’s just us two I have all the power. I enjoy it. I like that you’re flustered. Hesitate. Distracted. Hard. All because of me. 

The person in the bedroom, not even sexually, has become separate from the actual person I know you as. I fear this is just a cheap way to spare my emotions. But it is working. When I see you again I might forget it was your lips I was kissing.

How can someone be so romantic and so insufferable? How can you say you’re willing to wait for me on something as stupid as going over to my house but leave me on read? How can you worry about how far I’ll be for college but hook up with another girl? How can you say I’m interesting when all we ever do is makeout? You’re confusing and horrible. But still I replay all your sweet affirmations in my mind to distract myself from the fact you’ll never text back.

You are obsessed with me. You think of me all day and everyday. You text me. You call for me. You like me. Do it now. Before it’s too late.

You appear in my dreams from time to time. Some encounters are romantic while others are unmemorable. Just like real life. In my last dream we sat on a rooftop. You tell me you can’t stop thinking of me. Everything reminds you of me. You long for me. You’re scared to kiss me again knowing it’ll be the only thing on your mind until the next time we meet.

I woke up thinking it was real. Your confession was true. It is. Except I’m the one who can’t stop thinking of you.

After maybe a month of this unfolding you have taught me many things about myself. I have grown because of you and I suppose I have to thank you for that. But I don’t think the benefits would ever outweigh all the wrongs you have done to me. You make me feel stupid. So stupid. 

It’s funny how I can go from wanting to be with you so badly to wanting you completely out of my life. That is a lie. 

I want you to apologize. I want you to make up. I want you to care about me. Be nice to me. Be the person you are in the confines of the backseat of my four seater car in real life. At school. Over text. In person. I want you to hold my hand but not when you’re trying to take back all the hurtful things you say. I want you to want me. Always. Not just my body. My convenience. My validation. I want you to want my mind. My stories. My time. My presence. I’m not some girl on your list because you’re not just some person on mine. 

Or maybe this is all my fault. Because I gave you expectations that you had no clue you had to meet. Maybe I romanticized our dumb situation. Maybe I read too in between the lines. I’m sorry. I’m sorry it’s all my fault.

I feel stupid. I feel angry. I feel embarrassed. I feel all these things because of you. But more because of me.

So what do we do now? Where do I draw the line? When do you completely leave me? Where does this all lead to? You’ll repeat. I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. That’s not good enough. I need an answer. 

If I'm done with you that means you're done with me. I think that’s what scares me the most. I need to stay with you. Live in your mind. I need to take over your thoughts. You need to long for me. Always. I will move on but you can never look at another girl without thinking of me. That is what I want. I want you to always want me for as long as you live.

I despise you. I despise how I act around you. I’m so desperate. And you barely look my way. I hate the way you're a pushover. Not to me. To your friends. You’re so rude. So disrespectful. You’re not very nice. You’re not nice to me. 

I’m embarrassed of myself and you’re the reason. The pity and sympathy I get from everyone while you get to sit on your high chair and be adored by all. I’m embarrassed that I’m embarrassed. I’m embarrassed that I believed you cared. That you liked me. That you wanted me. That you even think of me.

People say it’s you’re lose but we both know you won. And I’m a sore fucking loser.

Tomorrow is your last day of school. Tomorrow I will ignore you. Tomorrow you will apologize to me. Tomorrow you will make things right. Tomorrow I will no longer despise you. Tomorrow please make things right. Tomorrow, ask me out. Tomorrow, kiss me. Tomorrow, hold me. Tomorrow tell me you like me. Tell me you miss me. You’ll always miss me. Please. Tomorrow I will no longer feel stupid.  

There will never be a tomorrow.

A friend used the analogy of closing the book but keeping a finger to hold their spot in case they wanted to keep reading. People say when you let things go they’ll come to you. Is this what I do? Put a bookmark in my novel. Will I ever read it again? Or will just collect dust and ebb away with me forgetting how that story ended? Maybe I’m at the end of the story. This is the end. What a pathetic ending.

#hate #rant #writing

[goalofthecentury]

directors notebook on these because i promised one in the tags of the original post and never did one lol my bad. anyway

ok so to be honest i don’t know where these came from. like i knew i wanted to create something for creations sake and tbh i originally had a few sketches of alamein that i was gonna put in front of some slightly surreal backgrounds but idk. i felt like i could twist it further than that. like my first idea was a sketch-turned-portrait of alamein on the phone drawn against & incorporated into a background that made him look as if he was underwater (which is where the first one came from), but it ended up not really making sense in my head? i still like the idea & might end up using it one day but it wasnt what i wanted

anyway. on to the actual DRAWINGS. they’re both essentially a more surreal way of presenting boy’s ideas about alamein - he’s a deep sea treasure diver as seen from the depths and lit by a sun even further away than usual, and he’s the captain of the rugby team winning trophies and accepting regional honours on tv. i wanted to create a sense of surrealism, more specifically a sense of childlike wonder & nostalgic haze; they’re not just what boy wants to imagine, they’re the pictures he sees when his mind wanders, the way his brain has collaged so many aspects of what he knows (and doesnt know) about alamein with things from the rest of his life. of course, it has to be said that in the film boy’s initial ideas of alamein (outlandish) are contrasted with how theyre presented during that opening monologue (normal), but we can imagine the reverse (in which boy’s fantasies get more and more down to earth as his perception of alamein changes, until they’re barely even fantasies at all). this might be crossing into the ‘classic nz cinema’ territory that taika has talked about avoiding & might not make much narrative sense but hey. it doesnt have to ! it’s my art and i make the rules

something both drawings have in common (something that is more subtle in the second than the first) is the incorporation of physical, real world ‘illustration’ into the background - the kitchen mural in the first one and the map of northern egypt imposed onto the wall in the second one. the kitchen mural in the first one a) acts as a space filler, b) switches out underwater sea flora & fauna for those we would find above ground, and c) serves to ground a somewhat grandiose image in a setting that is entirely familiar to boy. regardless of who drew the mural i wanted to create a sense that boy is imagining alamein in this crazy situation and is still linking him back to their home. similarly with the map in the second one - it’s much more subtle but for boy it acts as a physical link between the alamein he knows (and with whom he shares a name), and the alamein he imagines (a man he watches on tv, who wins trophies and acclaim). because ultimately i wanted the surrealism to be tied completely to the place boy considers to be home to both him and alamein ("hey dad! welcome back!").

both of them reference colour theory in one way or another; admittedly less so than they once did (the first one was once upon a time lit entirely in red from below) because balancing meta and nice looking colour palettes is harder than it sounds, but it’s still there. the sea in the first drawing is far more green than perhaps it should be, but there’s still a decent amount of blue (mostly where the mural intersects with the background - the hope is tied to how boy incorporates his idea of home into the image). there is still red coming in at the bottom, there’s not much i can say here other than the fact that grief underpins the whole narrative and every relationship therein so you know. you do the maths lol. in the second one, alamein wears a blue & yellow rugby jersey. theres two reasons for this - firstly, it’s boy’s idea of hope winding its way through the narrative, and secondly (in an incredibly serendipitous turn of events), that’s the kit of the bay of plenty rugby union. sometimes things just work out i guess. it also works because i wanted it to be regional rather than local or national because that’s what i imagine boy means by the rugby team - a big enough honour that it still qualifies as projection but not too big that it takes alamein out of boy’s life in a tangible way. alamein in the all blacks doesnt make sense because boy still wants him to be tied to his concept of home. & of course not forgetting the red light to the right of the screen. there is grief in everything

speaking purely visually, they both have a haze to them, especially the second one. its the tv we see in their living room, because i wanted to place the image specifically within that context but with the feeling of being seen in a dream or through several layers of cellophane. it’s blurred around the edges, the colours separate from each other, it fades red into blue and back again; alamein is crystal clear but everything around him bleeds into everything else. boy is taking this made up image, putting it on tv, and putting the tv back in their living room. in essence it’s being filtered through at least three layers of memory and wishful thinking and hope, and then sold to us as the real deal. which to be honest sums up the whole film pretty well.

again visually, there’s a definite contrast between the drawings in terms of point of view. as i said before the second one is placed within their living room and is therefore from the perspective of someone in their house - par contre the first one is completely removed from that sort of context and actually exaggerates the surrealism in how we see alamein from below as if (story in a story moment) he’s in a blockbuster of his own. but it’s this difference that unites them; each pov is equally unlikely in their respective context and serves to round off each visual by placing it distinctly out of reach when contrasted with its relatively simple context [boy’s opening monologue - a child’s description of his life].

anywayyy pour conclure. i love this film so much oh my god i love narratives and peaceful conflict and grief and creation of identity and projection of identity and ‘never meet your heroes’ and ‘i met my hero and it went so wrong’ and and and. i love you red and green and blue and i love you unreliable narration. and i love putting all of that in a completely different context to what it was originally born into. i hope this all made sense & i hope it gives both of these drawings more context because i had a lot of fun putting all of this in there! and i hope you can all forgive the copious anachronisms in the second one lol

#i think. i THINK thats everything but if i forgot anything ill add it in later !! #like i love symbolism and themes etc and i put so much in those drawings. also i think its fun to see the behind the scenes sometimes

[panthera-tigris-venenata]

After about a month, I finished another one of my everything notebooks. It contains:

One (1) quote from the angsty CJ fic I wrote, repeated over and over. (Literally. I rewrote it at least five times.)

Huma comfort flash story. And it's vague continuation from the PoV of Captain James Hook.

A page full of math formulas

Chemical calculations formulas

A rant. Literally just free flow of my thoughts. (Three times)

Relationships for the 1920 mafia AU (two times)

Two periodic table of elements

Five pages of chemistry

Three pages of Descendants crossover with The Locked Tomb

A concept of flash story about Gil and Chad

A list of responsible people on the Isle of the Lost

Supernatural traits of the Isle kids

Idea for the gift exchange thing (two times)

The same sketch of unknown male character (two times)

The Locked Tomb poem

Goniometric functions

That thing about Claudine

Two pages of notes for computer science exam

Literally just an alphabetical list of Descendants kids

A flash story for the quote „I hope you find your peace, standing on your knees“ featuring Harry Hook

[attzi-gearburst]

Not Schematics: Stalling (and the benefits of living alone)

Summary: Attzi worries. A lot.

Attzi grabbed for the rag sitting to her right and began wiping oil from her fingers. The light was beginning to fade from the window at her front, so she switched on the lamp at the edge of the massive desk she was sitting at. Immediately, her little office got significantly brighter, glinting off the guts of the partially-assembled watch spread across the desktop. She pushed her multi-lensed glasses up into her hair and rubbed at her eyes for a moment, letting them have a rest.

She’d been in her office all day, working on a prototype of the watch she’d been meaning to have Megahes approve for the Contingent to sell. It wasn’t clear to her who she’d talk to for approval before he was back, but Attzi had needed something to focus on in order to distract herself from the almost physical pit of worry in her stomach. She felt wound tight as a mainspring, and so…. 

A pang of hunger distracted her just as she was about to reach for her notebook to check her sketches and see what needed to be done next. Some quick mental math made her realize she hadn’t eaten since breakfast, so she rose from her chair and stretched as she walked out of her office and into the kitchen. That was a perk of living alone; it was relatively safe to leave unfinished projects lying around. 

Even still, she shut the door as she went. Her house was prone to cross-breezes.

Attzi grabbed a peach out of a bowl on the counter and then hopped up to sit on the countertop, kicking her legs idly as she ate. Keeping busy, keeping in motion, prevented the worry in her middle from growing too big for her to contain. 

“You’re stallin’,” she muttered to herself, looking to where her radio sat on a small table by the door. “Ya feel like an ass, an’ you’re worried, an’ instead a doin’ anythin’ about it, you’re hidin’ behind a watch.” She sighed after saying the words aloud, and ran her peach-free fingers through her hair. 

Another perk of living alone: it wasn’t strange to talk to herself. 

Attzi tossed the remains of the peach at her trashcan. It missed, but Dave Jr. scuttled over on its fingertips and cleaned it up. The movement made her flash back to the Scourge they’d dealt with Friday; she hadn’t ever encountered them before, but she was firmly in the not a fan camp after walking up that stairway. Of course, that had just been the appetizer.

“Nope. Not thinkin’ about that.” She popped her index finger in her mouth and began licking the rest of the peach juice off. 

Yet another perk of living alone: no judgment.

She eyed the radio as she moved on to cleaning her middle finger, but didn’t leave the counter. She’d been checking in on her coworkers since Friday’s disaster– the ones she knew decently, at least. The ones who had been more upset than angry. Naturasu had been responding, but she didn’t sound right. That made perfect, heartbreaking sense. Conversations had been brief, but Attzi was trying. Unfortunately, Nat wasn’t the only person making Attzi so worried.

Kappi was such a private person, though, that she was worried reaching out would cause more harm than help. She pulled her fingers from her mouth so she could bite at her lower lip, and continued staring at the radio. 

Something else was going on with him. She’d gotten hints here and there since they’d started working together, but seeing him so shaky just before he disappeared suggested to her that the situation had hit closer to home than it would have if it were just work-related. It wasn’t like him to skip out before they had a clear plan in mind. Sure, he always disappeared on them, but this time there had been no goodbye. Mako had also expressed her worry, and she sounded like she knew him way better than Attzi did.

And below all that was the fear that she’d made it worse. That was why she was stalling.

Still. She liked him. She needed to put her big girl pants on and treat him like her friend. With any luck, she’d be less worried after they spoke, though she suspected the chances of that weren’t high.

“Fiiine,” Attzi whined quietly as she hopped down off the counter. “Worst case, no response.” 

She walked toward the radio, taking a deep breath and steeling herself. She checked that she was on the right channel, and then keyed it up with a gold-painted claw.

A moment's pause to keep the squelch from cutting her off. Then: “Heya, uh... Kappi? Ya there? I was wonderin’ if I could meet up with ya an’ talk for a li’l bit?”

She quietly winced at how nervous she’d sounded as she held her breath and waited to see if there’d be a reply.

#not schematics #attzi gearburst #attzi's co workers and friends!

[a-bishvare]

✧ Loner Page ✧ pt.1

Hey, hey - welcome! Here, I'm back with the series I promised to post.

And well, I've got none better idea for the title so... 👾 It is what it is ╮⁠(⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)⁠╭.

Me when the when the.

Just to remind, it's going to be a series of something like sketchbook tour, but hell yeah I do have over 7 sketchbooks so~ (I mean. None of them is totally finished, there some pages in each that just aren't fully filled and in the latest ones there are the empty ones. ¯⁠\⁠(⁠◉⁠‿⁠◉⁠)⁠/⁠¯)

Anyway, it's gonna be

💥Fun🎉

Okay let's start form the beginning, read it - the first official sketchbook, I started it in early October 2021. It's called "1/6"

Yeah my ✨creativity✨

And that's how the cover looks like. This one isn't a brand sketchbook idk just a simple notebook with white pages.

(I think the rose - on the cover - was for my Maths teacher for the Teacher's Day, it was definitely drawn at school. I adore her so much, she made this subject my freaking passion when I was in the primary school. I still like Math so much but.. in high school... well I have different teacher and the subject itself is harder here. It kinda sucks. It was the only thing I enjoyed in school and now, now nothing is fun about this hell.)

Let's see~ what's inside~~

(I'm not gonna show some pages cuz. I simply don't waNT TO.)

Sooo~ that was drawn at my Polish classes (and yes I'm from Poland uwu). Since we finished all exercises the teacher told us to draw the iconic manor from our school lecture called "Pan Tadeusz" by A. Mickiewicz (it may sound strange for some of my fellows but I actually DO like this writer's work. Idk I always understood his poetry etc. wth is wrong with people). And well, my Polish teacher knew about my hobby and appreciated my TaLeNt so she liked it as always. Also, on some auction (it was for charity) she bought my another painting (inspired by this lecture too) and I made it a month later than this above. You can see it here.

Right up here (as you can see cause it's written) an outfit (Seulgi's) from the Music Video "Monster" by Irene and Seulgi from Red Velvet. I used to have a little obsession with Red Velvet' music back in October 2021 (I still love them 💗) like "Psycho", "Peek-a-boo" and ofc "Monster". Such a Halloween vibe. 🎃

This one is a sketch of an outfit that I used for my mom's portrait (she has birthday in October also). Please ignore the title on the picture ʕ⁠ノ⁠•⁠ᴥ⁠•⁠ʔ⁠ノ⁠ ⁠︵⁠ ⁠┻⁠━⁠┻. I was never good at English but as I had written some days ago that thanks to my 10 h per week of this language now I'm a master compared to me in the past 💥. This dress was inspired by Pinterest ofc.

So, the last one are a.. fanarts?? that I've made while thinking of some movie idea and the characters above were inspired by Red Velvet members. These girls are sth like ghosts idk, they were supposed to be main (hidden) antagonists in my "imaginary" scenario. It was meant to be an horror movie inspired by "Peek-a-boo" Music Video and the cannibals motive. Could've be good actually..

Well, we're enough for today. (I had no idea that there's a limit of pictures in one post here to be honest 👾) That's it for this part, I think I wrote all about those pictures and that I didn't forGOT ABOUT ANYTHIN-

Thanks for those who even liked this and even more for those who actually READ EVERYTHING.

Hope somebody will even see this 🦇

Y'all, have a g'day, I'll be back with the next parts soon 💗 Adios 💥

(artwork from October 2021) ☕👽✌🏻

#artists on tumblr #art #sketch #sketchbook #rv #red velvet #kpop #tour #loner page #monster #peek a boo #psycho #rose #painting #artwork #my art

[mystic-lilac]

Here are some sketches I’ve made since I’m in college now and can donate time towards my hobbies!! Here’s a sketch of my OC Ida Forbannet from my math lecture notebook.

Content Warning: Gaslighting, and mentions of child abuse/neglect on the next image. View at your own risk

For a while I have been wanting to make a comic for my OCs but I desperately need to do more research, flesh out the characters, and make a world bible or reference book.

Anyways here’s a sample concept of Ume standing up to her abusive grandfather

Transcript to interpret my messy handwriting is provided below the image!

Ume’s Grandpa: You are abandoning your family for another kingdom!

Ume, tired of his shit: Respectfully, your majesty, you abandoned your own family by locking your granddaughter in a cellar.

Ume’s Grandpa: You really have to get over this childish nonsense, Ume.

Ume: And you have to let go of the fact that you can’t control your children.

The poor servant who just wanted to give the Emperor his tea: 👁️👄👁️

Also Ume’s Father’s kingdom is based off of East Asia so any advice on how to avoid stereotypes in my writing of this world is greatly appreciated as my ask box is open!

#original character #Ume Forbannet #Spring Kingdom #drawing #Ida Forbannet #sketch

[clarktooncrossing]

May the Fourth be with you, people of today and robots of tomorrow! It is I, Clark, back for another #throwbackthursday. With today being Star Wars day there was no other pic worth reposting then this piece I made for National Cartoonist Day back in 2017. This is my little ghost friend Bumper, seen primarily with my best friend Crocie. Nobody knows how the little marshmallow died, how old he was when it happened, we don't even know what gender he is. His past is a total mystery, something the orphaned Croc can relate to all too well. All they know for sure is that whatever killed Bumper said, "Boo," which is now the only word the little ghost can say. Think of it like how Groot can only say three words, it's the basis for its own language. Regardless of all that it doesn't stop Bumper from enjoying life however he can. That includes dressing up like Darth Vader, admittedly looking cuter than David Prowse ever did. Honestly there's not much else to say about this picture asides from that, so allow me to throw in a bonus pic for free!

That same day back in 2017 saw me posting a bunch of artwork that's aged surprisingly well, including this comic featuring my character Pizza Monster. He first popped into my head back in Middle School, my brain wondering during a particularly boring session of math class. I wondered to myself what would Cookie Monster be like were he more obsessed with pizza than cookies, then suddenly there he was scribbled into my notebook. I really wish I had saved the original sketch. Luckily I saved other PM artwork that's perfect for sharing, such as this comic where I experimented with shading. Remember folks, anything is edible so long as it's atop of a pizza! May the glasses be with you!

#ClarktoonCrossing #Clarktoons #cartoons #Star Wars #Darth Vader #Darth Bumper #Bumper #ghost #cute #Sith #spooky #Pizza Monster #pizza #comic #may the fourth be with you #National Cartoonist Day

[christina-stark-skarlet-stileto]

Exhausted Day 18

The next night, Damian was putting Amethyst to bed again. She had been sleeping well the past week, but tonight, she especially didn’t want to go to bed. Damian had been reading to her for about an hour, and she was still being stubborn. Christina was out patrolling with the rest of the team. Amethyst got another book down, and he started reading it to her. Her eyelids were drooping, but she refused to sleep. After another hour of her fighting sleep he decided to sing to her again. When he was done with the first song, she had fallen into a light sleep. . He knew better than to leave just yet, because if he got up, she would wake up again. After another hour, he left. . Christina had gotten back, and was already asleep by the time he got to her. It was four in the morning when she started shaking, nearly punching Damian in the face in her sleep. Damian shook her gently and woke her up.

"Ari, wake up, it's just a dream." He said softly. Christina woke and sat straight up.

"Damian?" She asked barely above a whisper.

"I'm right here, Ari." Damian responded. By the time he had calmed her down enough to go back to sleep, it was five in the morning, and they had to get up in an hour anyways, so they just decided to stay awake. They got Amethyst and Leia to school, while Peter decided to drive himself. Amethyst was sitting in on their classes that day. They went to Mr. Harrington's first. Flash had finally left, and decided to finish at a different school. Thankfully, Flash's parents also pulled his sister from school, so Leia was bully free. Damian was helping Amethyst with her math. She had mastered PEMDAS already, and now was working on coordinates and graphing. Damian was trying to keep her from falling asleep. Christina was fighting a losing battle with exhaustion. Damian was also trying desperately to not give in and fall asleep. Peter was just watching them thinking he missed something. MJ was watching all of them, and sketching Damian in her crisis notebook.

"Damian, what is the slope of this line?" Mr. Harrington asked.

"It's y=5x + 6 Mr. Harrington. " Damian answered, somehow still being able to calculate math while half asleep.

"Very good, Damian. Eyes up here, please."

After Math class, they had a free study period. They went to the library, got books, and took a small nap. The nap was enough to hopefully keep them from falling asleep during class.

They made their way to English. The teacher was a bit annoying sometimes. They had to learn about some really messed up stuff that year, and Damian wasn't even going to explain some of it to Amethyst. Damian was teaching Amethyst about some Christian authors and the Mandie series. She really liked the series. They were going over the first book. Damian had her write him a report on it. He looked it over, and graded it with a rubric. He was blown away at how good it was for a child her age. He was still exhausted, but he had a smile on his face. Christina was watching both of them and took a picture, and sent it to her mom. Christina was almost asleep when her teacher called on her.

"Christina, what story have we been reading, and what is its setting?"

"How Green Was My Valley. The setting was a coal mining town in the nineteen hundreds." She replied.

"Yes, that is correct, pay attention please." The English teacher replied. The day dragged onto lunchtime. They went to their lockers, then met Peter and MJ in the cafeteria.

"Rough night?" Peter asked once they sat down.

"Yeah. Speaking English is mentally taxing right now." Damian replied.

"Gotcha." Peter replied, and they ate in silence. Gym was exhausting to the two already-exhausted teens and the little child. Thankfully, they got through it without collapsing. Reading was good if not calm. Science was already easy, but focusing was hard. When they got home, Damian, Christin, and Amethyst went to sleep and didn't wake up until seven p.m..

#angstpril2023 #Day 18 #Exhausted #star wars #spiderman