#i drew it on paper then cut it out and stuck it in my book cuz im dumb

[circeyoru]

The Spirit’s Favourite Human _ Part 2

SURPRISE! I can't take the suggestion out of my head and written another one. But it's long................................................

[Human!Alastor x Spirit of the Forest!Reader]

Part 1

Part 2 (here)

Maybe you shouldn’t have put your hand in his offered one after several more of his visits to your forest to ‘chat’ with you. Because now you found yourself clinging to Alastor’s side as the lack of nature elements frightened you, it was odd to hear the sounds of humans chatting over the chirps of the birds or the bellow of the trees. The only comfort and safe haven you had was Alastor and you stuck to him like roots to the soil

Alastor didn’t mind the closeness of you hugging his arm, not at all. He loved it since you hardly came close to him, even during his visits to the forest, as those birds would come to you for any gossip that he couldn’t understand. Though it was wonderful to hear you speak to him in his mind, it was like you were everywhere around him

What he minded was how onlookers would stare at you and your perfect form. You’re clothed, yes, but it was off and revealing. He didn’t even notice until he was with you in the streets with people around and not the creatures of the forest

He placed his coat over you as he led you to the boutique. Picking a bunch of clothes that he thinks would look good on you. But they were too formal. So he had to change to another shop

You caught onto what he wanted to do and looked around while he took a break at a bench. A flowery shop drew your attention as you pulled Alastor along to see what was inside. It was another boutique with more comfy and casual wear that he wouldn’t like. He was going to bring you away but the look on your face stopped him and he let you pick whatever

The moment you stepped out from the changing room, he felt his heart drop and his body freeze over. Oh, you looked so divine he didn’t think it was possible. Flattery came from his lips like a song dedicated to you. The blush on your face was a good look on you, but don’t hide that expression from him. He brought everything you tried on and then some, he was glad you didn’t have the concept of money else you’d be declining his gifts and the bags that decorated his free arm like jewellery 

Last destination was his home. He noticed that look you had, it was wonder and curiosity. He knew you liked it when you dragged him around and had him open doors and fiddle with other objects that fancied you. There was one place you hated. The library or study he had

You suddenly bend over and place your hands over your ears as screams and cries come at you. Alastor thought the radio he had on was too loud and left to turn it off. When he left, you stepped forward, looking for what the screams and cries were directing you to. The books, the papers, the shelves. It was all made from the trees that gave you home

When Alastor returned, he only found you amidst the flying books and papers he used for his radio show. Your fury was another side he rarely seen, your lips moved and your eyes glowed as you glared, not directed at him, but he felt your rage. “Humans. Hurt. Home.”

So you knew some words and expressed yourself. He understood, the trees were hurt and turned to another form by humans. He only had that idea to try and soothe your pain and anguish. He’ll show you his basement that you have yet to pry into. He was going to let you find out during your fun tour of his house but it seems now’s a better time

He led you out of the study, ignoring the paper cuts that accidentally got him. He shut the door as he disregarded the state of the room you turned into. Had you been someone else, he’d bring them to his basement for another reason entirely

“Humans aren’t your woodland friends, my dear.” Alastor spoke as he opened the hidden doorway, lighting the way before the two of you began your descent. “You’ve seen my work and helped me in the forest. But before you pushed down those bodies…” He showed you the room where his tools lie and the heavy smell of iron remained. “I bring them here, if I could, to make them cold.”

Your raging emotions seemed to simmer down. Right. Cold. Death. That’s what you can associate. Alastor kills his kind, no different to the predatory birds that would eat other birds. The place Alastor calls home was like another forest. A place where the strong survive

Those trees lacked a spirit like you to protect them, you’ll protect your home. You weren’t a gentle spirit that would let humans cut down your friends in your home. Your duty was to protect the forest and its residents

You turned to Alastor, he was a human yet you weren’t angry with him. Not even when he hunted deers and other animals in your home. Well, he didn’t go over the line. You’ve seen other hunters that were disrespectful. No, Alastor honoured his prey to the best of his abilities

You cupped his face by his cheeks, healing his paper cuts and restoring his energy. “You. Protect. You. Good human.”

His smile melted to a smaller and more comfortable one as he leaned against your hold. “You’re a blessing in my lonely life, my dearest spirit. I’ll protect you as well.”

So started your life with Alastor in his human city. The first thing he taught you was communication in the human tongue. He found out the easiest way to teach was through songs and singing. You had some basic knowledge of words. But he was beyond surprised to see you imitate questionable phases and movements, saying that you watched other humans and listened to try and learn some

He added more targets to his list after that

You were a quick learner. Easily managing the new human knowledge that Alastor taught it, you chalk it up to his voice and demeanour being pleasant to you and you didn’t think it was useless to you since you liked Alastor and wanted to stay with him

Of course, you weren’t always in town with him. You had your duties back in the forest. And Alastor understood that. He’d bring you bodies of humans to bury and offer as nutrients for the forest. In turn, you offered him something you didn’t realize you were doing. A connection and care that he missed after his mother’s death

Alastor and your relationship became the talk of the town. The once famous and popular radio host that seek no relationship had someone that can invade his personal space without being shoved aside! Big news!

Someone had came up to ask the closest of your relationship with Alastor once while you were out shopping for some plant seeds to add to Alastor’s backyard so you could be alerted if the situation need be. But Alastor hadn’t taught you much about relationships, since it’s was closeness. You’d agree you and Alastor was close

“Is Alastor courting you?”

Courting. Alastor had mention it was done to someone close to another, and you and Alastor were very close that he’d share with you those ‘dark secrets’ as he called it. So you nodded and said ‘yes’ then left

When the news went to Alastor, he thought someone found out about his plans to formally court you. There was a reason why he didn’t teach you about relationships. He wanted to surprise you since nature was your ally and you’d know everything after getting a topic, it was like you knew all. To his surprise, you were the one that said yes before he had the chance to propose his courting to you

“My darling, you never cease to amaze me.” Alastor came back to you that night and hugged you like no tomorrow. You were confused but welcomed the touch. Then came Alastor’s explanation and your blushing to the next realm. “You’re not planning on backing down from your claim, now, are you?”

There was not much change, but Alastor did bring you out more often and showed you off more, even on his radio show. You can’t help but smile and blush at his praises. But his listeners would be envious of you two, sometime Alastor would have some comments coming in to tell him to get a room or move onto the next topic. That gave both of you a good laugh

That aside. You were the perfect accomplice. Your powers completed what he lacked. While his current methods were satisfactory and allured the police from pointing fingers at him, with you by his side, it was even better! Bodies can go missing for weeks and no one would know, only the missing posters increased, but not the number of murdered victims. He gave him a sense of thrill, power, and control every time he had to report it on his show

You sometimes couldn’t understand why Alastor would reveal where some of the bodies were on his radio, saying it was a tip from someone anonymous and pointed the police to find the body that was somewhere else (ones that wasn’t buried in your forest)

Still, as long as Alastor was happy and your home was safe. You didn’t mind. There was a term for this. Not just the romantics that Alastor announced to those around him. No, it was something you never showed to the other humans. Maybe to some children that would visit the forest, but never to this extent

“Favouritism.” You spoke as you caressed a black rose, sitting by the open window that gave you a clear view of your forest. A bird came by with a note in its beak, you recognized the cursive to be Alastor’s writing. You smiled as you kissed the petals of the rose. “My favourite human.”

Note: This would be the stuff that happened before that ask I answered

Another thing. You guys love the {Demonic Companion} one huh. Question, should I do a masterlist to include links to the posts? Or is without one okay? Or should I wait till there's more stories posted?

(″ ´ワ` ″)

Circe Y.

MASTERLIST

#The Spirit’s Favourite Human #alastor headcanons #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #human alastor #Circe's Nighty Writings

[spockandawe]

Now. Here's the big project! I made a test notebook for once in my life, but I've never enjoyed making notebooks and I'm always chasing that sweet, sweet dopamine. So the test notebook was like... 90% in parallel with the actual book, just rehearsing each step real quick before I did it on the real thing. And what I did was a fresh binding of 'it's about the bones 👌' by @sunderedstar. I had a typeset file ready to go, I'm in the middle of relistening to the audiobooks, it was perfect! And then I zoned out and accidentally cut a whole cover's worth of leather and not just a spine and the whole project ESCALATED 🤣

First, the k118 binding went beautifully. I really do recommend it. It can be done with an oxford hollow to give you a breakaway spine, but I... didn't do that! I stuck to the old timey examples I've seen where it's a tightbacked style and, yeah, it still opens SO far, it's an absolute doll. The style is characterized by vellum strips on the spine used to attached the cover boards and give them the security and flexibility without added bulk. I got impatient trying to differentiate between PAPER vellum and ANIMAL vellum in search engines and just said screw it and went in with the paper vellum. I still have actual vellum getting shipped to me, but truly, the paper stuff worked amazingly. I'm not sure how durable it is, in terms of years of life, but if feels REAL good now. Also. Finally had a thematic excuse to use this beautiful lacquered paper.

I also remain very proud of my typesetting for this book. Warning that you can glean HtN and NtN spoilers if you read the text closely! But scope out that hand I subbed in for the emoji in the title, that's important.

Because now that I was committed to all this leather. Something I've been procrastinating on for MONTHS is learning how to properly tool leather. I have a set of brass stylus tools that ought to be up my alley! Freehand drawing was my first creative hobby of note! This interest dates back to like, fifth grade, and it was time to GO for it. So. I modified the ninth house skull to have some sick shades, made the IX on the forehead more scrawled and scratchy, and drew a skeleton hand over the art I used for the title page. I printed my lines and traced them through printer paper with unheated tools. This was extremely rad, but I couldn't stop there. The next day, I went back over my lines with heated tools, and the level of crisp was SO delightful. I'm still very new to this, still learning how these tools and the material even handle, but oh man. I am actively antsy to find the next project to do this for, this was SO much fun, I enjoyed it so much, and I love this book to pieces!

#crafts #bookbinding #k118

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Drawing chaos; Peter Quill x toddler reader

*Author’s note*

So this comes from @white-wolf-buckaroo​ who I thank for being sooooo patient with me and I hope this is the continuation you were looking for. After seeing the Groot shorts on Disney+ the Magnum Opus short was BIG inspiration for this fic so I hope you as well as all my readers enjoy this little drabble.

No warnings just some pure, unadulterated fluff.  This can be served as a sequel to this story here.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@queensdivas​

@queen-paladin​

@gay-and-ready-to-cry​

@austynparksandpizza​

_______________________________________________________

It had been four years since the Guardians had found little (Y/n) and to say their lives had changed well—it definitely had its fill of surprises.  Like the one time when they were on a mission in Tamaran to stop a Leviathan attack and (Y/n) (who had just started learning how to walk) had gotten out of the ship and while completely and blissfully unaware of the dangers on the planet, walked through the forests of Tamaran and nearly got eaten by an alien plant.  Of course Rocket managed to spot her and get her out of there.

Or the time when she was three and her father Peter had to stay behind on a mission because he had injured his arm pretty badly.  Though he enjoyed spending time with his daughter, he almost had a heart attack when they were playing a game of hide and seek and he couldn’t find her anywhere. It took over 2 hours of him having a panic attack searching every nook and cranny of the Milano but he couldn’t find her.

Only to have the team come back, yell at him before helping to find her until Gamora saw that she had slipped under Peter’s bed and had fallen asleep.  Of course as soon as Peter saw how cute she looked asleep, he couldn’t stay mad at her and took her back to her room (but he did give her a lecture about scaring him like that again).

Now at four years old, (Y/n) could walk and talk and she seemed fully invested in her world of the Milano.  She was especially good friends with Groot, or Baby Groot, again. Yep, another incident had made Groot burn up and he had once again become Baby Groot.  And of course when you get a baby as mischievous as Baby Groot and a curious toddler like (Y/n) Quill, things can get a bit chaotic.

The Guardians were out cruising through the galaxy when both (Y/n) and Baby Groot had decided to make something for their dads. Together the two of them got the supplies they needed to make their drawings.

They got to lounge room where they had their meals, coffee breaks or wanted to take some time away from the others.  (Y/n) and Baby Groot set down their supplies and set down their papers.  Groot began to white out the ALFIE comic book cover he had taken from Quill’s collection while (Y/n) was using an old page torn out of a Laskavarian translation book.

Groot then used some glue and placed it not only on the paper but also on the tail hair he had cut from Rocket’s tail.  While (Y/n) used her markers to draw her pictures.

“I am Groot.” He said to her.

“No my picture will be better.”

“I am Groot!”

“No mine!” (y/n) stuck her tongue out at Groot before returning to her drawing and Groot back to his.  (Y/n) capped her red marker before picking up the green one next and drew the next person she was going to draw.  She then looked up to see Groot holding her father’s boot which had his rocket propeller. “Hey that’s daddy! He wouldn’t like you using that.”

“I am Groot.”

“You better or I’m gonna tell on you.”

“I am Groot.” He mumbled before placing the broken shades over his face and activating the rocket boosters and placed it over his picture to draw off the glue.  After a while their pictures were almost done when Groot got the idea for how to get glitter.

He placed one of Rocket’s makeshift bombs on top of a green glittering hard drive Groot had pulled from the ship and then took him and (Y/n) out of the room with the detonator.

“I am Groot.”

“No I wanna push it.”

“I am Groot!”

“You can push it.”

“I am Groot.”

“No you push it.”

“I. Am. Groot.”

“Okay, I will.” She had tricked him thanks to an old gag she had seen on a cartoon show.  Groot gawked at her then pouted as she hovered her finger over the big red button before she pressed it and the room exploded loudly.  After the smoke cleared and the massive wave og glitter than shot out of the room had fallen to the floor, the two kids raced back inside with their pictures to use the glitter as they saw fit.

Suddenly Groot almost tripped over a large hole that had been made in the ground by the bomb.

“Uh-oh.” Said (y/n).  Groot pondered before racing over to the cabinet drawers and pulled out a roll of duct tape.  He raced back over and pulled apart the tape and together the two kids tried to patch the hole up before anybody noticed.

Walking through the hallway was Quill as he looked around with both a curious but worried look.  All day he hadn’t been able to find (y/n) and he knew she wasn’t playing another game of hide and seek.  For one thing she hadn’t finished her lunch which was odd because (much like her dad) she never leaves food behind.

He came into the engine room where Rocket was doing some repairs to the control panels that had been acting up and glitching on his side of the ship, preventing him from taking control of the ship when he wanted to.

“Hey Rocket.” Peter called out.  Rocket peeked out from the floor and lifted up his goggles holding both a hammer and blowtorch in each hand.

“What do you want Quill? Can’t you see I’m very busy fixing up my ship.”

“Uhh first of all it’s my ship. And second, you hadn’t seen (Y/n) or Groot around have you?”

“I’ve been down here doing repairs Quill, hadn’t seen hair nor twig of em.”

“Well I haven’t either and I’m starting to get worried.”

“Alright, alright. If it’ll keep your pants on, let’s see if we can’t find them.” Rocket said lifting himself up from the floor, set down his tools and took the goggles off.

The two of them walked along the hallways when they felt the room shake as well as the big boom that sounded off.

“Oh no.” they both said worriedly as they both took off running.  As they turned left, they saw that the room that lead into the lounge area had gone up in smoke and the fire alarm was blaring off. “Groot! (Y/n)!”

“(Y/n) can you hear me!?” Peter called out.

“Groot are you dead!!” Rocket exclaimed as they looked around frantically for both their children only to look down at the floor to see them both completely fine as they continued to patch up the hole with duct tape.  “Oh there you two are. Wait are-are those the ship’s fuel rods?!” Peter gawked as he pointed out the entire destruction in his ship.

“And how did the walls collapse like that and why is everything on fire!? And more importantly what smells like something died in here?!”

“Wait a minute is that….” Rocket sniffed the air before bending down and picked up the purple soap bar.  “Drax’s soap?”

“He’s been bothering me looking for that thing, won’t shut up about it.” Peter said.  The two parental figures then turned to the kids and Rocket scolded them both.

“Kids, why does it look like a bomb went off in here?” As Baby Groot pulled on the roll of tape he said.

“I am Groot?”

“Don’t give me that boldface lie. There’s no way this was a gas leak!” Rocket reprimanded him.  Peter crossed his arms over his chest before looking to (Y/n).

“(Y/n) Meredith Quill, give me the truth or it’s no music for a week.”

“We used the-the bomb for the glitter.” She said.

“WHAT!? How did-Rocket I told you to keep your bombs out of reach of the kids!!”

“Hey don’t you put this on my Quill!”

“You’re the one leaving bombs easily available for the kids to get to! Who else am I gonna blame!?”

“How bout the two gremlins who caused the explosion in the first place!?!?” the two of them looked down at the kids who were now looking down shamefully at their pictures. “Now don’t you two think you’re getting out of this by being cute.” Rocket scolded.

“He’s right. What you two did was completely dangerous and unsafe! You could’ve been hurt or worse killed!” the two kids looked at each other before holding up their pictures.

“What? What’s this more trash? Better be a written apology.” Rocket said as he took Groot’s picture while Peter took (y/n)’s. Rocket pulled out a pair of glasses and set them along his muzzle as he looked at the picture.  “Huh this is….hmm…..wow this is, this is pretty cool. Oh this is very nice!”

“Let me see.” Rocket showed Peter Groot’s picture to see that it was all of them together with Groot encompassing his arms around his friends and family.  “Wait why am I crying in the picture?”

“Cause you’re always a crybaby Quill. Face it, you whine more than these two do.”

“I do not!” Peter whined.  Rocket raised his brow with an expression that said, ‘really?’ Peter grumbled before clearing his throat and said.  “Well at least my baby girl sees her father for what he truly is. BAM! Top that!” Peter then turned over (Y/n)’s picture.

She had drawn each of the Guardians in a way she always remembers them.  Her and her dad dancing to music, her aunt Gamora’s hugs, climbing onto uncle Drax’s shoulders pretending he’s a mountain, and Rocket along with Groot (in his current state) with machines.

“Hmm. Impressive job there kid. Even though I still disagree with how you drew your old man.” Rocket ruffled (y/n)’s hair.  “We’re gonna have to get these two pictures framed, maybe even put them on top of the refrigerator.”

“You really like them?”

“Of course squirt, you and Groot did a pretty good job on each of your pictures.”

“I am Groot?” Peter and Rocket looked at each other before Peter said.

“As long as no one was hurt, I guess we can’t really fault you guys. Besides Rocket can fix this up.”

“WHAT!?!?”

“Your bombs, your mess. C’mon kiddo.” Peter picked (y/n) up and they walked back to their shared bed quarters.

As promised, Peter managed to find an old picture frame that he had kept and placed the picture inside and sealed it up before setting it right by the bed.

“There. Perfect spot for it.”

“Perfect spot for it.” (y/n) repeated which made Peter chuckle softly as he ruffled his daughter’s head.  “You know baby girl, that was pretty unsafe of what you and Groot did, I thought something bad had happened to you.”

“I sorry daddy. Just wanted to make the picture more prettyful.” She softly said.

“I know. But next time don’t follow Groot’s instructions on using bombs to make glitter. At this stage Groot’s a little psychopath.”

“What’s a psychopath?” she asked mispronouncing the word but Peter understood what she was saying.

“Well….it’s a person who doesn’t understand right from wrong and makes bad choices everytime. Which is something I don’t want you doing promise me okay?”

“I promise daddy.”

“That’s my girl. Now go to sleep.”

“Will you sing for me?”

“Of course. Which song shall it be tonight?”

“My song! My song! My song!” she cheered as she got under the covers.

“Alright, alright, alright calm down. Get settled in and I’ll sing it.” Once he tucked her in, Peter softly began to sing ‘Ooh child’, the very song she’s always loved ever since he officially adopted her what felt like a short time ago.

#guardians of the galaxy #guardians of the galaxy fanfiction #peter quill #peter quill x reader #peter quill imagine #peter quill imagines #peter quill fanfic #peter quill fanfiction #Rocket Raccoon #peter quill drabble #peter quill fluff #rocket raccoon imagines #groot #drax #gamora #guardians of the galaxy imagines #guardians of the galaxy imagine #guardians of the galaxy fandom #gotg x reader #gotg x child reader #marvel fandom #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #mcu oneshot

[greenhorn-art]

Castles in the Sky by Shadaras @shadaras

Fandom: 全职高手 | The King's Avatar

Rating: General Audiences

Category: Gen

Relationships: Chu Yunxiu/Ye Xiu

Words: 36 613

Here are two truths and a lie: Chu Yunxiu is Misty Rain’s captain. Chu Yunxiu is dating Ye Qiu. Chu Yunxiu is happy to have the Shu twins on her team. Of course, a lie can become true if you believe in it enough… (A Chu Yunxiu character study.)

About the book:

FONTS: Alegreya [Google Fonts], Raleway [Google Fonts], Catchy Mager [purchased from MyFonts], Segoe UI Emoji

IMAGES: Clouds from Rawpixel (ID: 9581058); Misty Rain logo from The King's Avatar Wiki (stretched slightly horizontally and traced)

MATERIALS: Domtar Earthchoice multipurpose copy paper, cream, 11"x17" cut in half to form short-grained letter size paper; Recollections' Gilded Ink paper pad; Cialux bookcloth, black; heat transfer foil, gold; 2mm binder board; waxed linen thread, 30/3 size; wheat paste (this time I used 1:4 flour to water ratio, and heated until conditioner-like consistency. An improvement over last attempt.)

PROGRAMS USED: typeset in LibreOffice Writer; title page mocked-up in Procreate then designed in GIMP; imposed with Renegade's Community Imposer.

I spied this fic towards the top of the kudos and kept it in the back of my mind while trawling for more HanYe fics. Thought, well it's gotta be there for a reason so should be good! ooh look aroace queerplatonic relationship 👀👀 Definitely bumping up to top of Read Next!

The amazing thing I've found about The King's Avatar is that the CP possibilities are endless! The characters are both friends and rivals, there's respect and history and it all mixes and clashes creating more possibilities and chemistries than I've ever seen in a fandom before. The fact that AllYe is so popular (and not just in an NSFW way) is testament to it, and also, in part, what drew me to this fic. Asexual representation is scant, aromantic even more so — especially in fandom (in my experience of it at least).

If I were to add a tag to describe Castles in the Sky it would be 'heartwarming'. Shadaras' writing and characterization is wonderful, and I really enjoyed the both the story and the aroace representation. They took a character with relatively little content (in comparison to others in fandom. I have not read the source material) and gave her a voice, dreams, and made me really care about her. I was touched, and after finishing it I jumped to my laptop and set about turning it into a physical book.

So, onto the details.

The thing that stuck out and stayed with me the most about the story was the aroace aspect (Shadaras fed my smol aroace heart so well), so that's what I focused on design-wise.

The title page features a large black ring, referencing the black ring worn usually on the middle finger of the right hand as a symbol of asexuality. The colours of the asexual pride flag are also represented: the text is purple; the clouds colour the page in shades of white and grey; and the ring is black. For the endpapers/cover backing I chose paper that mixes green, purple, and blue: green for the aromantic pride flag; purple for the ace. I also found the green-blue mix of colours to be rather fitting, inspired by the description of Misty Rain's HQ with the "cool blues and greens of Misty Rain's walls" (chapter 5: Transformations). While I personally find CYX's relationship with YX significant, her relationship with her team is just as important.

When choosing which cover each endpaper goes on, I thought about how the story begins with CYX and YX's relationship, and about how after it's established we see her team and it's future at the forefront of her mind. Following that line of thought I put the paper with more purple on the front cover (purple for aroace CYX), and the more green-blue paper on the back (Misty Rain's colours).

The process of foiling the cover took me 3 hours (the length of the movie RRR — good movie actually, would recommend. Which is surprising because I usually find Oscar movies rather boring). The foiling was done with a heat pen. Three hours is not the norm: first, I had the foil backwards and foiled my template instead of the cover; then, my power banks kept dying, so I had to take charging breaks, and I also went over everything again just to make sure that I didn't miss a spot; and of course I was also watching a movie while working, so that ate up some time too.

I had initially planned to bind it as a casebound book, but I didn't have enough time to do it (I was about to go on vacation and wanted to read the book in my downtime). Instead, I did a Coptic binding. The covers were pulled from the press and foiled leaving me 5 hours of sleep to spare.

I went simple on the outer covers to contrast the fun paper on the inside of the covers. I used black Cialux bookcloth instead of my green-blue 'petrol' Iris bookcloth for the contrast, and because it picks up the black from the title page. The text foiled onto the cover is a simple sans serif (Raleway, the same as used inside), and the image is Misty Rain's logo from the donghua. (Image came from The King's Avatar Wiki. It was stretched slightly horizontally because it seemed a bit squished compared to other versions seen on Google, and then traced). Using the colourful paper inside was a practical choice: I couldn't get two covers out of one sheet of paper, but one sheet would do the inner covers with some material leftover.

The sewing and construction of the book was done while camping — I'd packed up what I needed and brought it with me: the signatures (folded and punched); the finished covers; thread; a needle; and an awl. As for the actual sewing, it's supposed to be Coptic but don't look too closely. This was the second time I've tried Coptic stitching and I didn't have any instructions with me. (My first Coptic binding was a thin 2-signature notebook I did a few weeks ago. It was for taking notes at the event I was at, Pennsic War 50).

Book is primarily set in Alegreya. It's currently my favourite body font, and has a matching sans serif family. The fonts used in the title page are Raleway and Catchy Mager. Raleway is also used for titles, headings, etc. Segoe UI Emoji was used for any emojis that cropped up throughout the text (Pretty sure they're the same emojis as seen while reading on my phone and laptop). Catchy Mager was purchased from MyFont. (The first and only font I have ever bought, but I saw it used in a fic's title art and fell in love.)

Lastly, onto The Comedy of Errors, or: When-You-Finally-See-All-the-Typos-and-Mistakes-Once-You're-Done-and-Can-Only-Laugh-While-You-Cry-Inside.

Appendix's footer says 'Epilogue', so I must have missed something with the paragraph style for the Appendix heading.

Forgot about using Segoe UI Emoji font and did not include it in the About the Book.

Missed fixing the archive info for gnomen in the Author's Notes — the copy/paste of metadata into Notebook to remove formatting also removed the commas and spaces between tags.

Because I hadn't planned cover materials/design before printing, there isn't a section for that in the About the Book. Also the reason why the artwork on the cover is not credited in it, as I had not planned to use it.

#bookbinding #fanbinding #Castles in the Sky #Shadaras #qzgs #tka #the king's avatar #hopefully the video works. #first my computer cant view videos taken on my phone. then adding the video to the post from my phone removed allll the text in the post #and it's quality also went down :/ #almost feels like just trying to POST this should be on my Comedy of Errors section lol #ALSO #so much rambling in this post because i had more downtime than planned and i reread it all and highlighted stuff and was FULL OF FEELS #sidenote: it was a bit windy out when i filmed that so its nice that the pages weren't flipping in the wind! (that wasn't the 1st take lmao

[lvxybby]

it kills me to love you (Kai Anderson x Reader) Angst (it will get better <3)

Ive been part of kais cult for about 4 weeks now. we have known each other before his cult was formed. its been 5 months since he gathered people to join, but he never told me about it until he proposed the idea for me to join. me and kai have always been big on getting things our way and if that didnt happen, there would be consequences for the person. but never killing them. or at least that idea was never in my mind. i dont know about him. i dont know much about him anymore. hes gone mad. absolutely crazy. and theres this woman. Meadow. Meadow Wilton. That stuck up bitch. And she is all over kai. i mean all over him. it goes from doing his hair. to sitting on his lap. to all out make out sessions between them. and me? im jealous as FUCK cause of it. that fucking bitch. ive loved and cared for kai for 2 years! i have given him every last bit of my attention. but he turns a blind eye every SINGLE time. but meadow. oh no...she slits some guys throat and "oh dear god meadow! your the best! you've done so much for me!" In kais eyes. fuck him. im DONE with his bullshit. "Kai!" i heard winter shout from downstairs. "Kai! meadow is here!" she shouted again. i heard very quick, heavy steps walk in front of my door than trail down the stairs. i sighed before grasping my journal to doodle in. my pencil lead dwindled as i drew on the plain white paper. i pressed harder as i drew faster. and faster. the grey color faded into a shiny black as i drew more lines. i stopped to enjoy my drawing. ive been good at drawing since i was about 13 and took art classes in middle school. the drawing was just a really detailed drawing of some spirals, something in really like to draw. but now...i wasnt feeling it. i closed the book shut and threw it across the room. i focused on the sounds around me. i focused more and more. on the sounds. "kai! oh kai yes!" i heard very muffled through the walls. why couldnt i cry out his name like that. did he not want me around? did i not do enough for him? ive been TRYING for years to please him! i cant stand to be in the same house with meadow and now im barely able to be with him. i couldnt bear to hear meadows moans for longer. i stuff my phone into my pocket and grab my tiny bag that has my wallet and other essentials in it. i walk downstairs and see winter on the couch. "where you heading?" she asked. "i dont know... anywhere but here...i cant stand your brother anymore..." i said before walking out the door. i walked for a bit before coming across a nice park. im slightly familiar with it cause they have some bird feeders, and me and kai along with everyone else poisoned them all around the city. i sat on one of the benches. after about 30 minutes my phone began to buzz. i looked at it and saw kai was calling. i also saw he left 12 messages, that i had unopened. i looked at the screen before answering. i took a deep breath in. "hello" i said. "where the fuck are you?! why havent you opened my messages?!" he shouted through the phone. "kai dont yell at me...talk to me" i said a bit angered. "no fuck that! answer my da-" he was cut off as i hung up with him. oh fuck im in trouble.

#part 2 soon #kai anderson #kai anderson x reader #american horror story kai anderson

[sashasylva]

This is a bit stupid but im kinda proud of myself. For context: For my Comics class, we made single panel joke comics, 6 of them on one page and a cover and back, formatted on a page so that when you fold and cut them in a way they fold together into a little book. I drew the panels with traditional media, scanned it in, edited a bit and formatted things and then had to print 26 copies to then fold into books for the class. Now I'm sitting here, and after folding 3 of them noticed that due to the printer adding margins (because I originally accounted for margins but then it added margins around my margins creating way too much white space, so I just. removed the margins and went with whatever the printer did), this made it so the panels on the left and right werent perfect lined up when you fold it twice, so I had to add the extra step of trimming the margins off the side of each piece of paper before folding them. Not a big deal normally, but I have ADHD. I'm here with 9 mini books folded and telling myself I'll go to bed after I get 10 done... and then I just... don't. I executive dysfunctioned I guess. Just the step of having to trim off the margins first is insurmountable all of a sudden. I'm not great at folding super neatly so they arent perfect, but good craftsmanship is important (Which is why im going through the trouble of trimming them so the folds line up in between the panels properly) and I'm just Stuck. Now here's where I'm proud of myself - after about 45 minutes of refreshing tumblr and stuff, not even continuing the video I was watching because I was watching it 'as I was working' I recognized I'm stuck and I just... Wasn't awful to myself. I'm going to go to bed. I didn't get that 10th one done, and its okay. I'd still have 16 more to do tomorrow anyway, so I'll just do it then. Its so easy to get stuck on a task that you've told yourself you have to get done before you can do something else, but I've been making so much effort to recognize when it happens, and be able to be kind to myself. It's NOT a moral failing on my part, my brain just bugged out. And I need sleep more than I need to torment myself over this damn little book. And I can recognize that. And I'm proud of myself that I can. There once was a time where I might have just sat here until 4 AM just frustrated with myself for being too Stupid or Lazy to just DO it, leaving me both upset and sleep deprived. This isnt constructive or helpful. I can step away now, I've given myself permission.

#yeah you can tell I have ADHD this could have been a lot more brief I bet but idk how to be #I love my tangents I love my context evberyone needs to know the CONTEXT or maybe I'm not clear enough #I love to type Words. #anyway. be kind to yourself when your brain doesn't cooperate. Its frutrating and distressing enough. be understanding this isn't your faul #if you arent in an urgent rush to get it down NOW and you CAN work on it later. do that. maybe you can do something else in the meantime #adhd #adhd problems #adhd brain #self care #just my thoughts really. okay to rb i doubt anyone will actually see this #I dont usually put my thoughts out there like this but idk. felt potentially helpful. and Im making more original posts the past few weeks #its kinda fun

[sanversandfriends]

One way to spark a writer's enthusiasm about a WIP is the promise of accompanying fan art. Not only is it exciting to see your story brought to life, but to paraphrase @Morganastorm24, even a small shift in perspective can inspire you to take a wildly different approach. Today, she'll share some of her inspirations along with advice on how to get started or unstuck.

Tell us a little about yourself. How long have you been creating fan art? What were some of your first subjects and what ships/characters in the SG universe have you illustrated?

I mentioned in my writing answers that I've been doing it for as long as I can remember, and the same applies with art. I'm generally a very creative person - writing, drawing, crafting - you name it, I'll happily do it. 

I inherited my creativity from my grandparents, or so I'm told. My grandfather used to drive buses back in the 50s and 60s and on his breaks he'd park up somewhere and sit and sketch his surroundings. For no reason other than he wanted to and liked doing it. He also enjoyed woodwork and crafting miniature models of things out of wood. He built me my very first dolls house and I helped him to decorate it and furnish it with miniature furniture.

My grandmother was a seamstress for the theatre and made all the costumes for various productions. She'd sketch the designs out first, and then sew all the costumes by hand. She was also a writer, though she kept her stuff very private, because it was a hobby for her but not one that she felt comfortable enough to share. Sometimes, I can understand why, because I feel the same. Growing up, I loved spending time with both of them because they shared their skills with me. 

What are your favorite mediums to work with?

Photoshop is a big favourite of mine, because you can do pretty much anything, so long as you can find the right images to merge together. I also love using pro-markers and other comic book markers.  What kinds of scenes do you enjoy illustrating? Do you have any favorite tropes or themes? Imagery that you like to work with?

I love to do anything, as long as I have a clear vision of it in my mind (when using photoshop), or I have an image I can use as a reference (when I'm drawing by hand). The only thing I can successfully draw freehand without any reference is a horse (my lifelong love of the animals showing through there). When I worked in a children's nursery, we often drew large images for the kids to decorate which would then be displayed on the walls. I was always the one who ended up drawing said images, and to be honest I loved it. When I left that job to start my current one, I was gifted two of the last things I'd drawn - the rose from Beauty and the Beast, and the Coca Cola Christmas Truck. I've kept them to this day, and they're in a protective folder in storage. 

Any advice for aspiring fan artists?

One thing I learned in art lessons when I was at school (and it has stuck with me to this day), is that if you're struggling to draw something, change the perspective. My art teacher told us the following story about a disabled man, and I've tried and tested this method myself. It really does work!

A young man in a wheelchair was asked to draw his wheelchair. He hated the thing, saw it as a hindrance that cut him off from everything that he'd been able to do before he was confined to it. It was a reminder of his past life and everything he had lost, so when he tried to draw it, he was full of anger and resentment, and eventually threw his pencil down in frustration, declaring that he couldn't do it.

Instead of giving up on him, his teacher took the wheelchair, turned it upside down and told him to try again, but don't draw it as a whole. See the individual shapes and draw those. Focus on one shape at a time. So the young man did. He drew what he could see - circles, squares, triangles, rectangles, cylinders - and when the teacher took his piece of paper and turned it round, he had drawn a wheelchair.  All because changing the perspective of the subject and breaking it down into basic shapes had made his brain approach the task differently.  So if you're ever stuck on something and you don't know how to move forward, or do what needs to be done, try looking at it from a different angle. It could be literal, like turning the chair upside down, or it could be figurative, like seeing a circle instead of a wheel, a tube instead of a handle, that sort of thing. Change the perspective and you might just surprise yourself.

Thanks for sharing with us, Morgana--and for making us continue to swoon over Alex!

And Maggie!

And Lena!

And...

#Supergirl #Fan Art #Finish the Fic #Sanvers #SuperCorp #Creativity #Getting Unstuck

[eddiebillysteve]

cat and mouse

(( harringroveson prison au )) chapter thirteen | find the rest here

a/n | find this chapter and my rambling a/n on ao3 HERE & find @leticheecopae's sister fic pit of vipers HERE - pls go read it and then talk to me about it because i am simply OBSESSED and more people need to sEE THE CONNECTIONS ok

warnings | daddy kink, dom/sub themes, possessiveness, slight feminization because makeup mentions?, neil hargrove is an asshole, steve being a gay panicked confused mess (this is a permanent tag), he's also being trained with candies and i'm not sorry about it, general prison talk, stuff like that !!

tag list | @whoringrove @darkandstormyslash @devotionsofmaryoliver @nowhereinthedenn @cherixsays - let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future updates or removed from the list !!

moodboard by @a-redharlequin !!

Billy and Eddie had learned Steve’s birthday wasn’t actually for a few more days; they hadn’t missed it, the card from the boys had just been early. It meant they had time to plan, throw a few things together. 

Argyle and Jonathan were in charge of the cake. It wasn’t a real cake, instead having to be made of whatever snacks they could get from the commissary to pile into the shape of a cake with a cigarette stuck into the top of the mound as a makeshift candle. Eddie was in charge of making a birthday card for him, one from the two of them, and Billy was in charge of the presents. 

He rang Max up to tell her what he wanted brought in the day after Steve’s card from the boys arrived – even though it took a lot of bribing to get the guards to allow him to walk to the phones. Already he knew he was going to give Stevie his blue bear from when he was a child, but he wanted a couple of other things, too. The first was a tiny little bit of makeup, just a tube of lipstick, mascara and a small eyeshadow pallet – which was definitely more for them than Steve. Another was a book, one that Eddie had told him to get so that the three of them could read it together, and the last was a cassette player. They were allowed inside, as were radios, but very few of the inmates had them. They were nearly always stolen and getting family members from the outside to bring in cassettes got old quickly. 

But the inmates knew much better than to dare steal anything that belonged to Billy or his pets. They knew the consequence would involve every last bone in their greedy hands being broken so they wouldn’t be physically able to steal anything for a long time, and then, while recovering, their own cell ransacked for anything of value to be taken away from them.

He struggled with choosing which cassettes to tell her to buy because he wasn’t sure what kind of music Steve was even into. He wound up telling Max to ask the record shop keeper for whatever was popular in metal, rock, and pop, and to get one of each. If he'd had more time, he would have asked Max to make him a mixtape of a list of songs he’d gotten from Steve, but that would be for another occasion. 

Maybe it’d be his special treat after Billy tore through his pretty little asshole, which was planned for the night of the day of his last check up in the infirmary. From what he could tell – and he had gotten Eddie to look for him, which had involved him threatening to knock all of Eds’ teeth out if he even thought of ever teasing him about it – the stitches were healing perfectly, which was a miracle in itself from the amount of moving he was doing.

The ‘party’ they were planning was scheduled for Steve’s actual birthday day, a Tuesday, as soon as the work shift was over. Since Billy was off the entire week, he was able to ‘wrap’ the presents in colorful paper stolen from the art room and get the cake situated on top of the closed toilet seat. It didn’t look amazing given it was all makeshift, but he even drew and cut out some paper balloons like he had for Eddie’s first birthday inside to stick onto the walls.

He hadn’t gotten to celebrate his birthday for years. From the day his Mom left to the day he’d met Chrissy, he’d pretended he just didn’t have one to try to make the fact that he wasn’t allowed to celebrate easier to deal with. Chrissy had turned a painful day around for him, had showed up outside of his camaro holding a cupcake with a candle in it and a little gift for him, and since then he loved birthdays, always wanted to try to make them as special as he could for the people he cared about.

“Well, well, 62097. Who are we celebrating?”

Billy froze up when he heard the too familiar voice from behind him. He’d gotten three full days of freedom without Creel creeping up behind him, but now it was over. After a second of internally panicking, he put on a smirk and turned around. 

It almost dropped when he looked Creel in the eye, but he managed to keep it up.

“Doesn’t matter because you’re not invited. Sorry.”

Creel laughed softly, a sound that could be mistaken for human if someone didn’t know how demonic he could be. His posture was painfully straight, hands clasped in front of him. “Well, that’s not very nice. Why wouldn’t I want to come to my pet’s party?”

Every muscle in Billy’s body stiffened. “What do you want?”

“I’m here to collect you for an appointment ,” Creel drawled, and Billy nearly dropped to his knees, ready to burst into tears and beg to just be left alone. Every word he spoke felt like a taunt because Creel was the one with the power and they both knew it. “Relax, 62097. Not with me, I’ve got to wait for you to heal a little bit first. Someone is here to evaluate your mental state. Make sure you’re okay to stay here and not be transferred to a hospital.”

It was an empty threat, Billy knew that. There was no way in hell Creel would let him go somewhere where he wouldn’t have access to him anymore.

“Come now. She’s waiting for you in the infirmary.”

Creel’s hand pressed to the small of Billy’s back as he slid past him in the doorway, and it felt like he’d been prodded with a hot iron. He flinched away so hard that he nearly fell over, and Henry laughed at his suffering, rolling his eyes at his dramatics.

No one was in the hallway, all the other inmates on their work duties, and Billy could have kissed Nurse Betty’s feet when he saw she was waiting in the infirmary doorway for him. It meant he wasn’t alone, that he wasn’t going to be trapped in a room with Creel again. Someone would be there to hear him if he screamed.

“Just this way, Mr. Hargrove,” She gave Billy a polite smile and brought him into one of the private rooms. 

A woman stood inside, hair as dark as Argyle’s but up in a bun so tight that Billy didn’t understand how it could have been even slightly comfortable. She held a clipboard in her hands, red nails tapping against it, impatiently waiting for the inmate to be presented to her.

Betty gestured to the bed and Billy eased up to sit on it, having to shift his weight carefully to avoid any pain. By the time he was comfortable, the nurse was long gone and he was trapped in a tiny room with Creel and the woman he was now realizing was the Flayer . The psych doctor from Chrissy’s letters, the one that was just as fucked up as Creel, if not worse in her own way.

Bodies could withstand a lot of physical pain by disconnecting from it; it was the mental torture that broke humans down. 

They stood between him and the door. Even if he was in tip-top shape without a bruise on his body, he would have no way of escaping to the door. The panic that crept up his spine made it feel like the walls were closing in, forcing him closer and closer to the blonde guard and the dark haired doctor. 

He hadn’t eaten a girl out in a long, long time. Years. He wondered if they were going to tag team him, if Creel would laugh while he struggled his way around a pussy. 

“So this is 62097.”

The woman’s voice was sweet but not soft. It didn’t sound genuine; it was like she was putting on an act of complete bullshit to try to come across as sweeter than sugar. Her eyes didn’t have much light in them and they were the same colour as Creel’s, Billy realized.

“It’s Billy. And who are you?” Billy asked.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of them, looking between the two of them standing side by side like he was trying to find more similarities. Their jaws looked a little similar, both sharp, and they were both thin with the same painfully straight posture. The woman was shorter than Creel, though, maybe by a foot or so. 

“I’m Mrs. Rogers, the psychiatrist assigned to your case. I’m going to be asking you some questions today, 62097. Is that alright with you?”

Billy then realized that every question was going to be a test, a trick. There was a right and wrong answer to whatever she was going to throw at him, and he had to learn the correct ones if he wanted to keep from going on antipsychotics or whatever else it was that could be prescribed to turn him into a mindless zombie. 

“Yeah,” Billy answered, casually, eyes flicking back to Creel. “He gotta be here?”

“Of course. For my protection,” The woman raised her eyebrows a little. “You’re a convicted criminal with a history of violence and untreated mental illness. Unless you would rather we use a pro-straint chair?”

Creel’s eyes darkened at the mention of the chair, the all too familiar glint of insanity flickering through them as too many ideas filled him.

“No thank you,” Billy spoke as politely as he could, even though his throat suddenly felt trapped in a vice grip. He knew the look in Creel’s eyes, it was the same look that always came before one of his especially fucked up ideas.

“Let’s get started, then, shall we?”

******

It was past dinner time by the time they’d finally released him back to his cell. He found it empty, figuring the boys were in the cafeteria, and he sat on Steve’s bunk with his head in his hands for a while. 

His mind went to Chrissy and her girls, the ones that had to deal with the Flayer like he had to deal with Creel. It was fucked up. Part of him wanted the woman to stay here so he knew Chrissy was safe, but then Eddie and Steve would both be targeted. He thought it was a complete miracle that they were still unscathed by Creel. 

There was a gentle knock and Billy stood up, about ready to throw his fists up, but it was only Eddie. He poked his head into the cell door. “There you are. You weren’t here when we got off, I didn’t want you to miss the surprise. We went over to Argyle’s instead.”

“Good boy. Well done,” Billy gave him a smile, but it didn’t reach his ears. He hoped his eyes conveyed that he didn’t want to talk about it, not while it was Steve’s birthday and the focus was on him. It wasn’t exactly a light conversation to have during a party. “The birthday boy there?”

“Yeah, hang on.” The cell door shut again, and when it was shoved open again, Eddie was behind Steve with his large hands covering Steve’s eyes. “Relax, baby. This is what you do for surprises. You don’t get to look until we say,” He cooed into his ear, and Billy had to try not to laugh. It was obvious their baby was incredibly nervous, but he really had no reason to be. It was a good surprise; a great one, even. “Three, two…”

“One,” Billy finished, and Eddie uncovered his hands. Steve blinked for a few moments until he registered what he was looking at.

Billy, the almighty Hargrove, had spent the day cutting out pretend balloons and wrapping presents, even if it was the worst wrapping Steve had ever seen in his life, and he didn’t know why. 

He didn’t know why he deserved it.

His lip quivered the tiniest bit, and Billy reached out to pull him into his arms. Steve’s arms wrapped around his waist, holding him tight, and Billy bent down to murmur into his ear. “Happy birthday, sweetheart. You’ve been such a good boy, and good boys get treated real good, don’t they? Bad boys are punished, and good boys get rewards. Especially on their birthday.” His hand went to Steve’s hair, very gently tugging at it to turn his head from his neck to look at the presents. It wasn’t enough to hurt him at all, he just wanted him to see them. “All for you, princess. Wrapped ‘em myself.”

“I’m impressed, Bills’. They’re way better than your wrapping at Christmas. Did you practice?” Eddie asked, deadly serious as he looked them over. They were a complete mess, Steve couldn’t even start to wonder how bad they’d looked at christmas time if these were considered amazing, but he loved them all the same. The fact that he’d even tried to wrap them meant the world to him. 

“Argyle gave me some tips, actually. They’ll be here for cake before lights out. Wanted to do presents just between us,” Billy leaned over and kissed Eddie’s head, too. It was impossible not to feel better when he was with the two of them; after a rough afternoon with Creel and Alice, he needed them, needed the distraction of seeing Steve so happy. 

“These can’t all be for me,” Steve said then, eyes still looking over the gifts. Billy had wrapped everything up individually so he’d have more to open – each cassette was in its own little package instead of putting them all together.

“It’s not either of our birthdays, is it?” Billy raised his eyebrows at him. “They’re all yours. Sit down, baby. Papa’ll hand them to you.”

Papa was the name Eddie had settled on. It was that, or Mommy, which he didn’t feel connected to. It was too feminine. Steve was the only one that could have gotten off on being called something like that. Billy had suggested Master, since he was so into D&D, but Eddie didn’t think that felt right, either. It sounded too harsh when he was even softer towards Steve than Billy was.

Steve sat down on the bottom bunk, and Billy sat beside him, leaning back on one of his hands as Eddie plucked the first gift up to give to him. 

It was the book, which Steve had never heard of, but was incredibly grateful for all the same. Eddie immediately launched into an explanation on it and after a few minutes, Billy had to cut him off and tell him to put it on hold until later so Steve could actually get the rest of his presents open before Eddie had to go back to his cell.

The cassettes and player were a hit, too. It was going to be monitored, of course; if Steve wanted to use them, he had to ask for Billy’s permission. Eddie may have been above him, may have been in charge of him, but Daddy was the one that had the final say. Both boys had to ask him for permission. 

When it came to the makeup, the eyeshadow was opened first. Steve was confused by it at first, but once he opened the lipstick, the realization dawned on him a little and he looked to Billy with eyes bigger than saucers. 

“Didn’t I say I wanted to dress you up all pretty?” Billy smirked at him, at the big bambi eyes and almost frightened expression. “Gonna get Argyle to throw together some dresses for you too, princess. Think you’ll look real good as our little doll.” 

When his smirk turned a little more predatory, Eddie was shoving the last present into Steve’s hands. Billy rolled his eyes to look at him, giving him a little dramatic pout for ruining his fun, and Eddie shrugged a little bit to try to play innocent. 

It made no difference. Once Billy was in good enough shape to fuck again, he would be smearing the lipstick on his lips to watch it rub off first onto his cock, and then onto the sheets when Billy fucked him open from behind. He wanted to watch the eyeshadow and mascara run and make a mess on his cheeks while he cried and begged for more, more, more.

The thoughts went straight to his cock, and for a moment he thought he was going to have to redirect the princess onto his knees right then, but Steve’s tiny little gasp pulled him out of it. 

“Already named him for you. Figured if I took this one, Papa could name the other one,” Billy murmured to him, watching his eyes look over the patchwork bear. It wasn’t new like the one Eddie had gifted him – it was worn out, old and raggedy, some of the blue fabric barely even blue anymore. “It’s ‘Mar,’ the Spanish word for ‘Sea’. Because he’s blue, just like the ocean. Get it?”

The name had been originally given to the bear by his Mother and it felt bizarre to say it outside of his head. She’d handcrafted the bear, sewed every piece of fabric together and made sure it was perfect before gifting it to him when he was too little to remember. 

For many of his teenage years, he couldn’t look at the bear. It was the only thing of hers he had left, and it always stayed tucked away in his closet, far away from his father’s leering eyes. It used to be stored with a little picture of him and his Mom, the only one he kept, but Neil had caught Billy showing Max it when she was little and wouldn’t stop asking about her. He’d just wanted to shut her up, maybe bond with her a little, because he knew what it was like to be eight years old and ripped away from your preferred parent. 

The picture had wound up torn into a million pieces across his bedroom floor.

Max had tried to collect them, did her best with her little eight year old fingers to try to put them back together like a puzzle, while Billy stuffed Mar underneath boxes of junk and old clothes that were too small for him. They’d tried to put it back together for awhile, but when they got halfway through it and Billy realized how horrible the tiny pieces looked, he dubbed it pointless and flushed the paper bits down the toilet. 

“Hargrove?”

“Hm?” Billy snapped back to the present, yanked out of the memory with his eyes still on the dumb blue bear. It had gotten him through a lot, and now it would get Steve through a lot, too. Except the lot Steve would be going through would be because of Billy, not a nightmarish father.

The realization made Billy’s gut twist up.

“I just said thank you. I love it, all of it.” Steve slipped his arms around Billy’s torso, a little hesitantly, and hugged him tight before standing up and going to throw his arms around Eddie’s neck in an even tighter hug.

“Everyone needs presents to open on their birthday,” Billy smiled at the two of them, watching Steve pull back from the hug to press a kiss to Eddie’s lips. “Don’t I get a kiss, too, Stevie?”

“Do you remember what we talked about?” Eddie murmured, nodding his head towards Billy to encourage Steve to go to him. It wasn’t Stevie’s fault that he was nervous around Billy, that he was afraid of him, but Eddie wanted to get them closer. He’d told him what to do, how to sit on his lap and bat his eyelashes and sink into him to soften Billy up. Steve just had to put the plan into action. 

With a nod, Steve let him go to tiptoe back over to Billy, who raised an eyebrow. He wanted to see what he was going to do, what Eddie had taught him to do, and he was pleasantly surprised when Steve sat himself down on his lap. He was careful, obviously trying not to put his entire weight down onto Billy’s lap, but that ended quickly with Billy’s arms wrapping around his waist to force him to sit down properly.

Steve gave another glance back at Eddie, who nodded to silently encourage him, and then proceeded to press his lips to Billy. At first, Hargrove was fairly still, letting Steve’s hesitant mouth get used to him a bit more before his hand grabbed his chin and he got a little rougher with him. 

“Open,” Billy’s words were a hushed murmur against Steve’s mouth when his lips didn’t automatically open to give him access, but he didn’t have to be told twice, at least. The tongue in his mouth made him want to shy away, but the big hand holding his face a little too tight kept him still, made him obey.

When he was released, Steve shifted downwards to rest against Billy’s chest, instead. Eddie was looking at them, watching them both closely, and he was smug for all of two seconds before he met his Daddy’s eyes and the smirk shifted into a smile, instead. He didn’t want to ruin the party by having Hargrove smack the smug look away.

“Good boy,” Billy murmured to Steve, eyes still on Eddie. “What else has your Papa said to you while I’ve been away? I’ve heard you’ve been very good. Earning lots of sweets.”

“That I have to listen to you,” Steve’s voice was soft. “And I can ask you questions because you have a lot of answers and know the rules.”

“Both of those are correct. You listen to what I say,” Billy tipped Steve’s head up to meet his eyes. “Even if Papa says yes to something, you check with me, as well – unless I’m not around. I hope I won’t have to go back to the infirmary for a long time. But your Papa will remind you of that, anyway, won’t you?”

“Of course,” Eddie nodded.

Steve’s arms curled around his new comfort item as he looked over Billy’s face. There was so much he wanted to ask, yet his mind felt blank. All he could think about were his presents and how good both the men were at kissing. And the cake, composed of twinkies, poptarts, ding dongs, zebra cakes and swiss rolls.  

“What’s on your mind?” Billy prodded, reaching to brush Steve’s hair out of his face. “Hm?”

“Cake.”

“Cake?” Both Eddie and Billy repeated it, trying not to burst into laughter. They would have thought he would have said the kiss, or Billy’s rules, or even maybe Mar, but the answer was surprising. Steve nodded his head, innocent as ever.

“We have to wait for Argyle and Jonathan to cut it. They were the ones that made it,” Billy told him, looking over at where it was propped up. “How about a sweet for now? For being a good boy.” He nodded at Eddie, a silent signal for him to get one out.

The sweet Eddie got out was a lollipop, and Steve blushed when it was handed over. He remembered how he was told he was supposed to suck on lollipops and everything similar, with big eyes and hollowed out cheeks, and he still didn’t know why. Eddie had just said it was the rules, that it would make Daddy so happy and get him on his good side, so of course he would obey.

It was worth it, though. He craved the sugar and high that came with it now that it was associated with doing a good job and being a good boy. 

“Thank you,” He chirped, repositioning himself so he was facing Billy in his lap with both legs wrapped around his waist before peeling off the wrapper and putting it into his mouth. Eddie gave him a minute, a silent test to see if he’d remember what he’d been instructed to do with them in Daddy’s presence – which he did. 

When he was sure Billy was watching his mouth, he pulled it out enough to suckle on it, keeping eye contact even though it was difficult; his cheeks were red, he wanted to look away, but Eddie’s voice in his head was urging him on and he kept it up. After a second he sucked hard, enough that his cheeks hollowed in, too, and Billy nearly hissed.

“ Jesus, you are a good boy, aren’t you?” Billy murmured, hands sliding to grip onto Steve’s hips. He shifted him, ground him on his lap the tiniest bit, and Steve pulled the lollipop out to look down at Billy’s lap. He could feel it, the bulge in Hargrove’s sweats, and for a second he panicked. He wanted to get up and off, go to Eddie for safety, but Billy held his hips down a little harder. “Just relax, sweetheart. Suck on your lolly, don’t focus on anything else. ‘Atta boy.”

“He looks really good with something in his mouth, doesn’t he?” Eddie came up behind Steve, rubbing his hands down Steve’s shoulders and down onto his chest. He crouched so his chin was resting on Steve’s shoulder and he was able to see Billy’s face close up, letting his smirk come back just the tiniest bit. 

After a second, his hands slid down further, gently moving Hargrove’s hands away so he could replace them on Steve’s hips, instead. “Daddy’s had a hard week,” He murmured into Steve’s ear, eyes still plastered on Billy’s. “Move just like this while you have your lollipop. It’ll make him feel real good. Like a massage, almost, baby, that’s all.” He guided him along, grinding him down and against Bills’ lap until the man let out a groan and rested back on his hands. “Now your turn. You can do it, just roll your hips.” He kept his hands in their places, but he didn’t move him anymore, instead letting Steve jut his hips and grind himself while he suckled. The hand that wasn’t holding the lollipop held his new bear tight to his chest. “Good boy. Such a good boy for Daddy and Papa. Look how happy Daddy looks, yeah? Feels so nice.”

There was a slight knock on the cell door, and Eddie’s hands tightened on Steve’s hips. All three of them knew it would be his reflex to stop at the intrusion, but it was only Argyle and Jonathan and he didn’t have to. Steve twisted his head around to look at them, but Billy reached out to snap it back, not wanting to lose a second of him working the lollipop. 

“Thought we were having a party?” Argyle joked, and Billy smirked lazily at him. 

“We are, amigo. This is just the entertainment. C’mere,” He nodded to the space on the bed beside him, and Argyle plopped himself down to have a look. Steve’s eyes were wide, cheeks redder than ever, but he knew better than to stop. “Pretty, right?”

“Hell yeah, dude,” Argyle reached over to clasp his hand in Billy’s before looking properly at Steve. He was definitely a sight for sore eyes with the teddy in his arms, too. “Happy birthday, Stevie. Like your presents?” 

Steve nodded, about to pull the lollipop out to speak before Billy grabbed his wrist, forcing him to keep it between his lips. “You can talk when it’s gone. There’s not much left now,” Billy instructed. “Can you be a good boy and sing for us? Let Argyle hear how sweet you sound.” 

There was hesitance, he didn’t immediately start to moan, not until Eddie’s hands gave a warning squeeze. 

Billy nearly groaned himself at the little sound Steve gave. It was a little longer than a whimper, not quite a moan, but just so sweet. 

“That’s it. Louder, sweetheart. One more, a good one, and then you can have your cake,” Billy’s coaxed. The second one was a bigger moan, louder, pulled out from the depths of his chest, and Billy let him come to a slow stop after it rang through the air. “There you go. Think we’ll have to try that during cards on Friday. See what the other men think. Have to get you to practice those sounds a bit more, Stevie, but you’re good. You’re a good boy.” Before lifting him off, Billy pulled him in for another kiss, one that was surprisingly gentle. Billy could taste the strawberry sugar flavor on his lips.  

Jonathan was just as red cheeked as Steve, eyes trained on the floor until his friend was off Hargrove’s lap and able to turn to look at him. “Hey,” Steve mumbled, the tiny last bit of the lollipop clinking against his teeth before he bit it off. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Of course,” Jon looked up and gave him a tiny smile. “Happy birthday. Made you this.” 

He handed over a card, one made and doodled on the previous night in his art therapy. Some men had anger management to go to in the evenings, others addictions counseling, but he had art therapy. He had snapped, aftercall, had been nearly declared insane for the acts supposedly committed against his brother by the courts. The therapy was supposed to be extra punishment, but it was actually something Jonathan enjoyed a fair bit. Argyle had signed up to go, too, even though he wasn’t forced like Jon, and they got to spend a few evenings a week painting and drawing – Argyle usually spent his time trying to sketch out different things he could have potentially made out of old sheets, like dresses and skirts.

They were a hot commodity amongst the men that were into feminizing their cellies.

The card was pretty simple, covered in birthday related doodles – a birthday cake, candles, presents, balloons, whatever he could come up with. He didn’t consider himself to be a great artist – his brother had gotten the drawing talent – but the card was cute and colourful. 

“Oh, Jon. Thank you,” Steve murmured, admiring the front before opening it to read the message inside. It was sweet, a few words about how they’d celebrate properly one day on the outside with pizza and soda and real presents, and signed off with both their names. Once he’d read it, taken everything in, he pulled Jonathan in for a hug, Mar squished between them.

He got along really well with Jonathan. The boy was probably the only one in the entire prison that was innocent and incapable of hurting anyone.

“I love it. Thank you,” He repeated as he pulled back, and he kissed Jonathan’s cheek before turning around to give Argyle a hug, as well. Argyle wasn’t rough like Billy, and he wasn’t overtly sexual. He went along with Billy’s antics a lot of the time, but he would never push Steve to do anything he didn’t want to do. Steve felt safe with him, liked spending time hanging out with Jon in their cell. Argyle could also make him giggle, even in the moments he felt full of despair. “And thank you, too.”

“You’re very welcome, little buddy,” Argyle patted his back. “Jonny worked real hard on that. I wanted to opt for stickers, but nah. He’s the real deal, full of talent.”

“Is he ever. I can barely draw a stickman,” Steve grinned as he pulled back, giving Jon a thumbs up. “I’ve been so spoiled. I don’t deserve it.”

“You do deserve it, baby,” Eddie said, scrounging around for Billy’s lighter. “We couldn’t get an actual candle, and there’s no way Billy would have let us waste nineteen cigarettes, so we did the best we could.”

“I love it,” Steve chuckled when he turned around to look at the cake. “Seriously. I love it. This is the best cake I’ve ever seen.”

Once the cigarette was lit – not that Steve would actually be able to blow it out – Argyle started them off with a rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ sung so dramatically bad that Steve was almost out of breath from laughing so hard by the time they finished. 

He realized, after he ‘blew out’ his candle, that both Eddie and Jonathan were right when they had told him when he’d first arrived that there weren’t all bad moments. Prison held a lot of good ones, too, and he was in one. It made him weirdly emotional – made him feel more at home than he had in a long, long time, all while being in a tiny cell with four other convicted criminals. Eddie handed him over a ‘slice’ of cake, which was just one of the many snacks stacked together, before giving everyone else a piece, too. Billy was the only one that didn’t accept any, instead opting to smoke the cigarette ‘candle’ as his dessert. 

Steve didn’t ask about it, as much as he wanted to. He wanted to ask why Billy always took the protein from his trays at every meal, why he never ate breakfast and why he always removed the bread of his sandwich during lunch – but he didn’t. Instead, he sat on Eddie’s lap to eat his birthday cake and spend time with the few people that wanted to spend time with him in return.

#harringroveson #harringroveson au #harringroveson fic #harringrove #steddie #mungrove #stedilly #billy hargrove #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing #cat and mouse

[sonicenvy]

a solid 80-90% of my coolest craft/art/writing/making ideas come to me at the most inconvenient of times:

late at night when i am trying to sleep

in the shower

at work while im helping someone out with a thing

while i am biking or driving

when i am on a train car or bus having to stand instead of sit

tonight's inconvenient idea was for a new, different embroidery hoop that wasn't the pattern i downloaded and printed onto my dissolvable stabilizer, stuck onto fabric and mounted into a hoop (and then bought the thread for) and started on.

This idea was to do some of the images from the book of kells. I am especially fond of the very famous folio 27v which is from the gospel of matthew and depicts the symbols of the four evangelists (matthew, mark, luke and john as the man, the wingèd lion, the wingèd calf and the eagle). The one that seemed to be the least technically difficult to stitch in my mind was the wingèd calf (luke) so I cut the image out of the page in photoshop, enlarged it and printed it out. Once printed out I made a (clumsy) tracing of it onto another paper, which I'll have to refine and ink later. For now, I'd call that proof of concept.

After inking, ill probably scan it back into the computer and make a vector of it and print that vector out on the water dissovlable stabilizer to attach to my fabric. I decided to go about this route because, frankly, I'm shite at tracing things digitally with my ancient wacom tablet (and my ipad is too old to do apple pencil + procreate which would probably be better. Plus, like, I have a light box, why not use it?

As a side note I cannot draw AT ALL, but I am passable at tracing because of embroidery and because I traced stuff all the time for assignments back in primary school that we were supposed to draw stuff for if I couldn't get away with doing layer collages cut out with my x-acto knife for the project instead. (yes i was a single digit age child with an x-acto knife. my dad had an a+ parenting moment when I was like, maybe 5 and taught me how to cut out things (mostly my paper dolls) with an x-acto knife. I didn't even know how to use scissors at the time lmaooooooo. because x-actoing shit out is soooo much better, as I result i still stink at scissor cutting things.)

anyways. in case you were wondering about what the little guy im planning to embroidery looks like.... boom!

he's just a little guy! medieval monks drew all kinds of fun and funky creatures and frankly, dear old irish/scottish medieval monks, im obsessed. y'all dont get me started on medieval art and illuminate manuscripts or ill be here for 100000 years. my bones will be telling you about medieval art.

the other embroidery projects that are totally still going to happen:

the sea shell pattern i downloaded. good thing i didn't have to pay for it....

a blue morpho or a paper kite butterfly.

some kind of stitch sampler

other fiber art projects:

that crocheted shawl i downloaded a pattern for a kajillion years ago

the giant blue crocheted scarf that I got about 60% of the way through making from that pound o' love yarn skein.

mending. so. much. mending.

#margaret babbles #personal bs #obviously the actual thing that i need to be doing is working on my sleep and applying to grad school but hey here i am instead.... #this post completely ignores the at least 5x projects i have going on in the pottery studio.... #so much art ideas and soooo little completion #don't talk to me or my 10000000000000000 art concepts ever again lmao #also lets not think about my ever growing list of fic wips and giffing ideas #no siree

[patamon]

Hikari Yagami week: [Day 3 Prompt: Career and/or Hobbies]

Admittedly, I am not familiar with Japanese schools and their structures, so I borrowed liberally from what I know of the Canadian education system.

Also, inspired by true events :) because I have a bone to pick with the education system

Title: Miss Yagami Characters: Hikari Yagami Word Count:  7824 (😦😦😦) Summary: They warned her the first year of teaching would not be easy, but they did not warn her about the politics and the paperwork of it all, that behavioural management and lesson planning would be the least of her problems, that every night before bed, she would lay awake wide-eyed, questioning if she, one small teacher, would be big enough to make a difference in the world

Cross-posted on AO3

Read below the cut 👇🏻

Miss Yagami

Tomorrow, my school is having a bake sale.

That’s what I learned today at show-and-tell. In my first-grade homeroom, we have show-and-tell every day after lunch. That’s when Miss Yagami picks a student, sometimes two or three students, to come up to the front of the classroom. Then, they share something cool they have, like a toy or a book, or they talk about something interesting, like their trip to Kyoto with their family during new year. 

I never have anything cool or interesting enough to share, but I like sitting and listening to my friends talk about their toys, because then I can close my eyes and imagine myself playing with Hiro’s Batman toys or Higashi’s Transformer robots after dinner, instead of my sister’s old dolls with the missing arms.

Today, Miss Yagami picked Mika and Sachie for show-and-tell. I was surprised because two people don’t usually show-and-tell together, but Mika and Sachie did. They walked up side-by-side holding a large picture they drew together.

“Tomorrow, the Gymnastics Club is holding a bake sale,” Mika proudly touted.

“Yes, so bring your money to buy lots of stuff,” Sachie declared.

They stood quietly for a moment, Mika twirling in her position, Sachie picking at the picture, while the rest of us watched and waited. Finally, Miss Yagami cleared her throat and stood up beside them.

“Thank you, Mika and Sachie. Can you tell us what we can buy tomorrow at the bake sale?”

Mika and Sachie looked up at Miss Yagami while she continued smiling her warm Miss Yagami smile. After a while, she pointed to the picture they held in their hand and asked.

“Perhaps it’s in the picture you drew.”

Mika and Sachie broke into matching grins. Mika spoke first, pointing to the brown circles in the picture.

“Cookies, you can buy cookies”

My stomach rumbled at the word, saliva poured into my mouth when I remembered the taste of the chocolate chip cookies Hiro shared with me last week.

“What else?” Miss Yagami asked. She kneeled down until she was on her knees, so that she didn’t look so tall.

“Umm…there’s cupcakes too,” Sachie commented, pointing to some fluffy, cloud-looking drawings on the paper.

Cup…cakes.

I have never heard of cupcakes. I have heard of cups, and cakes. Perhaps cupcakes were cakes made of cups, the idea doesn’t sound very delicious to me. I stuck my tongue out, thinking the class would comment on how strange it was. But instead, everyone around me clapped and smiled. Hiro’s hand shot up into the air, his fingers dancing and wavering to catch Miss Yagami’s attention.

“Oh oh oh, Miss Yagami, Miss Yagami,” he called out

Miss Yagami stood to face the class once again. He put her hands behind both Mika and Sachie’s back and motioned to Hiro’s seat.

“Mika and Sachie, I think someone has a question for you”

Mika made a face, while Sachie snickered. Our entire class knew of Mika’s disdain for Hiro. Nevertheless, she fixed her posture, standing up tall and pointing to him the way Miss Yagami would when she calls on one of us.

“Yes, Hiro?”

“Will there be chocolate cupcakes?”

Chocolate cupcakes?

How would that work? My mind went into overdrive, imagining cakes of cups with chocolates inside each cup, or perhaps the cups were coated in chocolate?

Mika turned to Sachie, who turned to Miss Yagami. Miss Yagami kept her smile on and waited, until Sachie turned back to the class and nodded

“Yes”

“What about peanut butter cupcakes?”

“Yes”

“And red velvet cupcakes?”

“Yes”

“And cupcakes with cream cheese frosting”

“Yes”

My head churned. I was getting dizzy, imagining how cakes of cups could have so many flavours. Perhaps Hiro likes collecting cups, that’s why he knew of so many types of cup cakes.

“Alright now,” Miss Yagami spoke over the delighted murmurs of the class, “Mika and Sachie, what will your friends need to buy the cookies and cupcakes at the bake sale tomorrow?”

Mika and Sachie turned to one another, then responded in unison.

“Money!”

The class laughed, even Miss Yagami held back a giggle before asking again.

“How much money?”

Mika and Sachie held up their index finger before responding together.

“100 yen. Only 100 yen.”

“Yes,” Mika nodded, “All you need is one 100 yen coin, or, like Miss Yagami taught us, two 50 yen coins, or ten 10 yen coins,” she glanced at Miss Yagami, waiting for her nod of approval before continuing, “or one hundred 1 yen coins.”

The class erupted in laughter. Beside me, Hiro slapped his table and rocked on his chair while he laughed. But I didn’t find anything funny. Instead, my stomach did a weird flip, the way it did when I’m hiding my lunchbox from my friends, so they don’t see the half-sandwich my dad packed for me before he goes to work every morning. I never want anyone to know about my lunch, because somehow, it felt little and sad next to Hiro’s bento box with the fresh-cooked rice, crispy radish, and deep fried tempura that still looked so crispy and delicious by lunch time.

“So, don’t forget to bring the 100 yen coin,” Mika proclaimed.

“Yes, your parents probably have hundreds of 100 yen coins in their purse. I know my mother has tons of 100 yen coins, and 500 yen coins, too,” Sachie commented

“Yes, remember what Miss Yagami said? One 500 yen coin is the same as five 100 yen coins, so that means you can buy 5 cookies, or 5 cupcakes if you bring a 500 yen coin.”

“My father has more 500 yen coins than everyone else,” Hiro called out.

“My mother has a big jar of yen coins,” Higashi responded.

Hiro snickered, “Yea, but they’re probably all small yen coins, like 1 yen and 5 yens.”

“That’s not true! They’re all 500 yen coins…”

Higashi might have said something else, but I didn’t hear it, because everyone began speaking over one another, some people were laughing and giggling. Here and there, I caught small bits of things people said, about where their parents kept their coins, and how many coins were in their house. But I kept silent, because I was busy imagining where my dad would keep his coins. I couldn’t remember the last time I found a yen coin in our small apartment.

From the front of the class, Miss Yagami stood up. I saw her face change suddenly, from happy to serious, the smile transformed to a stern frown. I gulped. I knew we were in trouble.

“Now class, please settle down” she commanded in her loud voice. 

Half the class became quiet, but there were some people, like Hiro and Higashi, who continued to talk and argue, despite Miss Yagami standing tall with her arms crossed. Finally, she picked up the special bell at her desk and rang it three times. Our hands shot up in front of us in response, fingers dancing and wiggling as we listened hard for the echo, like Miss Yagami taught us. In truth, I never know what it is we’re listening for, just that it’s fun to dance our fingers all together. Jazz hands, that’s what Miss Yagami called it. Sometimes while I’m waiting for dad to come home at night, I practice my jazz hands to forget the rumbling in my belly.

Miss Yagami waited until we stopped wiggling our fingers, then placed the special bell down and stepped back to her place between Mika and Sachie.

“Thank you for sharing with us today, Mika and Sachie.”

Mika and Sachie beamed, but while Sachie understood to return to her desk, Mika stayed beside Miss Yagami at the front of the class, the poster still in her hand.

“One more thing, Miss Yagami. Can I tell the class one more thing?”

Miss Yagami nodded with her Miss Yagami smile, her eyes softening once again as Mika turned her attention back to the rest of us.

“Please everyone, remember it’s very important you ask your parents before bringing the 100 yen coin.”

Miss Yagami nodded, “Yes Mika is right, we have to ask our parents for permission to bring 100 yen to school.”

Mika nodded, she seemed to grow taller the happier Miss Yagami became.

“It’s not hard to ask our parents, right?” Mika continued, “They have lots of yen coins, they can give us one.”

The class nodded and said yes and yeah and that’s right. But I remained quiet, because I remembered the last time I asked my dad for a yen coin to buy ice cream at the convenience store. And I remembered how quiet he got, and even though he didn’t say anything, I knew I was in trouble for asking. 

I sank down in my seat, my tummy turned again, and the urge I had to hide underneath my desk returned. I wished and wished with all my heart that I could disappear through a gate and go somewhere else, but instead, I stayed in the classroom with that horrible feeling in my stomach, remembering my dad shaking his head quietly after I asked him for a yen coin to buy ice cream.

I looked up to see Mika finally returning to her desk. All around me, the other kids were busy whispering to one another. At the front of the class, Miss Yagami stood with her eyes on us, scanning the class with her hands together. But then, her shiny eyes flicked at my face, and I saw something changed in the way she looked at me. I don’t know what it was. I only know it felt like magic, that maybe she could read my mind, that she could tell my stomach was flipping and turning, and that I wanted to disappear and never come back to school. I thought maybe, just maybe, she could hear my dad talking to me in my memory, when he finally answered my question about the 100 yen coin for convenience store ice cream. I thought for sure she could hear him say those words now echoing in my brain…

I’m sorry Kota, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

—

The school day was over.

One-by-one, my classmates tucked their chairs into their desk, placing books and pencil cases into their shiny backpacks. Miss Yagami is at the door, saying goodbyes and reminding people about their lunchboxes. I took my time like I always do, packing away my books into my sister’s old backpack, then rearranging it and rearranging it, waiting for everyone else to leave. I’m glad my backpack is old enough that my friends can’t tell it used to be pink, even the pictures of butterflies and kittens decorating the front were too faded to make out what it was. But still, it would be nice to have a shiny backpack like my friends, maybe one with Spiderman on it like Hiro’s.

Before I knew it, the classroom was empty, all except for Miss Yagami, of course. She stood by the door with her Miss Yagami smile, her brown hair tied into a ponytail. I say ponytail because that’s how Onee-chan calls it when people tie their hair back. But I think it’s kind of silly that it’s still called a ponytail when the hair is as short as Miss Yagami’s hair. I once tried calling it a rabbittail, because it was short like the tail on the school rabbit. But Onee-chan laughed and said they were all called ponytail regardless of how short Miss Yagami’s hair was.

Miss Yagami walked towards me until she was close enough that I could see the yellow flowers on her sweater, then she kneeled down like she always does, resting on one knee and leaning forward. I don’t know any other teachers or adults that do this, but I kind of like that Miss Yagami isn’t afraid to shrink herself so she’s as short as us. It doesn’t hurt my neck to look at her, and I can see the light in her eyes and study her Miss Yagami smile. It always made me feel warm, like everything was going to be okay. She reminded me of mom, back when mom was still home to cook me dinner.

“Hello Kota, how was your day?” she asked me.

“Good,” I responded.

“I’m glad to hear. Is your sister coming to walk you home today?”

I nodded. Onee-chan goes to the big kid school, and they finish later than our school. Even though I never told her, somehow, Miss Yagami knew I sat in the courtyard every day after everyone had left, waiting for Onee-chan to come by to walk me home. Sometimes I walk home on my own, but since Onee-chan was the one with the key, that would mean waiting in front of our small apartment for a long time for her to come home.

Miss Yagami had no more questions, but she stayed where she was and kept her gaze on me. I was worried she could see the rip on my shirt, or that I wore the same pants to school for three days now, so I pulled the zipper up on my jacket and shouldered my bag, then smiled at her.

“Thank you for the lessons today, Miss Yagami,” I bowed, the way Onee-chan taught me when we’re speaking to someone older, then made a move to leave. But just as I got to the door, I remembered one more question, and I knew Miss Yagami was nice enough to answer me without laughing or getting angry.

“Miss Yagami?” I called back.

Miss Yagami stood up and tilted her head, “What is it, Kota?”

“What’s a cake cup?”

Miss Yagami scrunched her eyebrows together, but then the light hit her face again, and her eyes opened wide.

“You mean a cupcake?”

I blushed, “Yes, sorry, cupcake. I wanted to know what cupcakes are. Is it like a cake made out of cups?”

Miss Yagami smiled. It was a nice and soft smile, one that made my inside calm

“No, Kota, a cupcake is a cake the size of a cup,” she put her hands side-by-side, and curved it up like she was holding something inside.

My mouth watered again, thinking of the cake Sachie brought in for everyone to celebrate her birthday last month. She said it was a strawberry cake, Hiro had made a face and said he’d rather have a chocolate cake, but I think it was the sweetest and most delicious thing I ever ate. It tasted better than all the convenience store ice creams put together.

“Wow,” I whispered, “That must taste good”

I sighed, wishing I had a 100 yen coin, because then I could buy a cupcake tomorrow, and I could taste for myself how good it must be.

Just then, my stomach grumbled, loud enough for both me and Miss Yagami to hear. My cheeks felt hot as I clutched my stomach, my eyes were now studying the stains on my shoes, not daring to look up at Miss Yagami.

“Sorry, Miss Yagami,” I mumbled, then turned to leave, but then I heard her voice calling me back.

“Wait, Kota.”

I wanted to pretend I didn’t hear her, but that might get me in trouble, so I stood still and waited for her with my head still bent low. I heard her steps click closer and closer, until I could see the clasps on her pink shoes. When I looked up, I was surprised to find her holding something round in her hand, angled in my direction as if she was offering it to me.

“This is for you, Kota.”

I looked closer, and saw the thing in Miss Yagami’s hand was a small orange. It was the smallest orange I have ever seen. I giggled.

“That’s a really small orange.”

“It’s a clementine,” Miss Yagami explained, “It’s not an orange, but it’s like an orange.”

I giggled again, but accepted the small-orange-clementine from her all the same.

“Thank you, Miss Yagami.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Goodbye, Miss Yagami, I’m leaving now.”

“Goodbye, Kota, have a good night.”

We waved at one another, then I turned to leave. But I couldn’t go very far, because right by the door, wearing her brown suits that always seem too tight, and holding a matching brown envelope in her hand, was Principal Ao.

She looked down at me through her thick glasses, a tight smile on her lip. I shivered without knowing why, and pulled my jacket tighter around me.

“Why, hello Kota,” she greeted me in her deep voice, “Did we have a good day today?”

I nodded quickly, then took one big step to the side, attempting to escape Principal Ao. But then, her cold bony hand hit my shoulder. I couldn’t help it, I cried out in surprise and clawed at her hand, but she kept her grip on my shoulder, digging her fingers in until it started to hurt.

“Kota, when an adult is speaking to you, it’s a sign of disrespect if you walk away from them.”

My stomach dropped at the word disrespect, and I hung my head low, avoiding her eyes as hard as I could.

“I think you owe me an apology,” Principal Ao declared.

“I’m sorry, Principal Ao,” I mumbled with my eyes still low

“I forgive you, but don’t do it again. Now what are you still doing here? The school day is over, Kota. Is Miss Yagami keeping you back for detention?”

I shook my head without responding, which earned a sharp click of the tongue from Principal Ao.

“It’s disrespectful to not answer with your words when you’ve been asked a question.”

“No, Principal Ao, I was just leaving.”

“Very good, and what do you have in your hand there?”

I looked at the small orange-clementine in my hand, the memory of Miss Yagami’s warm smile as she placed it on my palm was enough to lift my chin up again.

“It’s a clementine, it’s like a small orange, Miss Yagami gave it to me”

“Oh? Did she now?”

Even though the question was for me, Principal Ao had her eyes on Miss Yagami as she asked the words. I did not like the way she sounded. Her voice was low and dangerous, like I was in trouble. Like we were all in trouble.

“Very well, run along now, and don’t let me catch you at the courtyard again. Unless you have student clubs or classroom cleanup duties, once the bell has rang, you must leave at once.”

I nodded quickly, then remembered last minute to use my words.

“Yes, Principal Ao,” and without waiting for a response, I dashed out of the classroom and down the school stairs, running like I was in gym class.

Despite Principal Ao’s warning, I still sat in the courtyard to wait for Onee-chan. But I made sure to hide behind the large cherry trees so she wouldn’t catch me. While waiting, I peeled the clementine slowly and split each wedge. It was delicate and soft, the taste was sweet and comforting, enough to wash away the bitterness of Principal Ao’s words. 

It reminded me of Miss Yagami’s smile. 

—

Despite the dread brewing in the pit of her stomach, Hikari stood tall with her hands folded neatly before her, her racing mind keenly aware of every tiny detail on her person as Principal Ao’s eyes burned holes into her very existence.

After nearly six months teaching at this school, she can safely say no digital monsters or caped enemies were quite as imposing as Principal Ao. 

“Hikari,” she began, “We spoke about this” 

A sigh of frustration threatened to seep out of her, but fear and unease held it all back. Instead, Hikari widened her forced smile and evened her breathing. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Principal Ao pinched the top of the brown envelope in her hand. She recognized it as her proposal on how to spend the extra funding the school received last quarter. She had spent all weekend writing it up, running it by her helpful writer fiance again-and-again until it sounded justified.

“Um, we spoke about many things. Could you remind me what you’re referring to?” Hikari asked innocently, although she suspected she knew where the Principal was heading

Principal Ao rolled her eyes, “The clementine, Hikari. I have spoken to you numerous times about this: We are a school responsible for teaching children. We are not a charity”

Her neck felt oddly stiff, but somehow, she located the muscles to nod in response. She kept her lips sealed, because beneath the forced smile, she could sense her words spilling into one another, the resentment rising within her as she continued her staring match with Principal Ao.

“I know, Hikari. I know Kota’s home situation. I know his mother is back in rehab. I know his father is working two jobs and taking care of both kids on his own. It’s unfortunate, I know, but regardless, you must think about everyone. How is it fair to give gifts to only one student? What about the rest of the class? What about the rest of the school?”

Hikari knew the answers. She knew what to say because she spent many dinners ranting to her fiance as they ate, his blue eyes sparkled with mirth as he listened to her speech about the injustices of it all, about equity and not equality. But in front of Principal Ao, she was a new teacher at the district’s most highly accomplished school. So in front of Principal Ao, she kept silent through clenched teeth.

“I have no problems with you bringing in gifts and favours for your students, Hikari. But, like we discussed before, it has to be for everyone. It can’t be offered to one student, because that could show favouritism, and trust me Hikari, many parents are not happy about that f word”

“Yes, Principal Ao. I understand”

“Anyways, never mind that. I’m here because I wanted to discuss with you the proposal you submitted”

Hikari stiffened. Her attention honed in on the typed report Principal Ao was now retrieving from the envelope.

“I see you put in a suggestion for…a breakfast club?”

Hikari nodded fervently, “Yes, one of the schools I was placed in during college practicum had one. It was very helpful for our students.”

“I have no doubt it was helpful for that school, but a breakfast club wouldn’t be needed at our institution, Hikari. Our students don’t need free breakfast in the morning because unlike those parents, our parents can actually afford to feed their kids.”

Hikari’s mouth dried up. A chill gripped the base of her spine as she struggled to keep her breathing calm. Principal Ao folded up Hikari’s report, the one she spent hours typing and drafting, then dropped it into the garbage can with a shake of her head.

“I understand this is your first year as a teacher, so these are lessons I want to give you, Hikari. You have to understand the dynamic of the school you’re working at. Not all schools are the same, and it’s up to you as the teacher to learn about their priorities and goals. That’s part of fulfilling your duties to your students, too. Our goals here at this school are all about academic achievements, providing students with extracurricular opportunities so they may flourish in life. For the proposal, it would have been appropriate if you suggested something like a French club, or new technology for the library. But I’m afraid a breakfast club will be a waste of the extra funding. Do you understand, Hikari?”

For a split moment, Hikari thought she would nod in blind agreement, shrinking back to the obedient, dutiful girl she was raised to be. But then, her eyes strayed over to Kota’s desk, and something within her snapped. She found herself standing taller, her hands clenched into fists as she dropped them to her sides.

“With all due respect, Principal Ao, I don’t understand”

A gasp escaped Principal Ao’s wide mouth, she took a step back and clutched her pearl necklace, a look of horror on her face as she seized Hikari up

“I beg your pardon?”

“I see them, Principal Ao. I see the students that are being left out of the school curriculum. The ones that come in hungry every day and wear the same jacket from Fall to Spring because their parents can’t afford anything else. I see them, and they struggle to keep up in school because they can’t focus in class. I really mean every word on that proposal, we need a breakfast club. It would help everyone, not just the students that need it.”

In spite of Hikari’s passion, Principal Ao seemed unconvinced. She fixed her posture and squeezed her eyes shut, inhaling audibly before donning her strained smile.

“I suppose you are referring to Kota.”

“Yes, Kota, but not just Kota. There are other students, too. But it really shouldn’t matter, Principal Ao, because all it takes is one student. One student is enough reason for us to do something about it. And another thing, we need to reconsider holding school fundraisers, it’s unethical to assume that all families can afford…”

“Miss Yagami,” Principal Ao snapped.

The sharpness of her tone was enough to dampen Hikari’s spirit. She took a step backward in fear, waiting for the inevitable repercussion of her borrowed courage.

“I know they tend to romanticize things at teacher’s college. They preach the importance of making a difference and inspiring social change and all that stuff. But give it a few years, Miss Yagami, you’ll understand the reality of it all.”

Without another word, Principal Ao turned and marched down the linoleum hallway with purposeful steps, the clicks of her high heels diminishing off in the distance until eventually, Hikari could only hear her rapid pulse in her ears. 

By the time Hikari donned up her spring jacket, the sun had set low beyond her classroom window. She eyed the dying light of another weary day, mentally cataloguing her growing to-do list amidst daunting report cards and upcoming parent-teacher interviews.

They warned her the first year of teaching would not be easy, but they did not warn her about the politics and the paperwork of it all, that behavioural management and lesson planning would be the least of her problems, that every night before bed, she would lay awake wide-eyed, questioning if she, one small teacher, would be big enough to make a difference in the world.

—

Today was the day of the bake sale.

I could smell something delicious as soon as I entered the school courtyard. It made my mouth water, remembering Hiro’s cookie and Sachie’s strawberry cake. But I reminded myself that today, the cookies and the cupcakes had to be bought with a 100 yen coin. Today, I can’t wait and hope that someone would offer them to me if they were nice enough. So I stuffed my fist inside my empty pocket, and walked deeper into the school yard.

I tried to not wonder about what a cupcake looks like. But it was hard because I dreamt about it all last night: little cakes shaped in cups, the inside hollow so I can fill it with chocolate milk. Maybe that’s what a chocolate cupcake is, and if I fill it with strawberry milk, it would be a strawberry cupcake.

It became harder to not think about the cookies and the cupcakes when I neared the front of the school building. There was a pink banner hanging above the entrance, and three long tables set up with boxes and boxes of food. Principal Ao was there, talking to some adults I didn’t recognize, and behind the tables, I could see Sachie and Mika amongst some other girls.

Despite a little voice telling me I shouldn’t, I walked closer to the table. It was as if something or someone was pulling me closer. Maybe it was the delicious smell. Maybe it was the idea that I will finally know what cupcakes look like. 

In one box, I could see the cookies. Round and brown with little bits of chocolate on top. I imagined biting into one of the cookies and my inside squeezed tight. I shook my head hard, then looked to the other table, and at long last, I finally understood what cupcakes were.

Just like Miss Yagami said, they weren’t cakes of cups. They were cakes, they looked soft and spongy, the colour dark brown like chocolate, others were white like ice cream. But they weren’t shaped like cups with a hollow centre. They were whole and round, filled in like puffs of clouds in the sky. I imagined putting one in my mouth, maybe two, or three. The thought made me shiver with excitement.

Beside me, I heard a familiar laugh, and turned to see Hiro at the table counting out his yen coins.

“I have five 100 yen coins,” Hiro announced to the tall lady behind the table.

“Excellent, then you can pick five items from the table”

Hiro clapped his hands, and I retreated away, because my stomach was doing its weird flip again, and my body wanted to fall down a hole and disappear.

“Oy, Kota!”

I turned at the call of my name and saw Higashi coming at me with a bag of cookies, a half-eaten cupcake in his hand.

“Did you buy a cupcake?”

I froze on the spot, not knowing how to answer. I could lie and say I bought lots of cupcakes, and ate it all already before he came. Or I could tell the truth and say I haven’t bought any cupcakes. But would he laugh at me? Would he ask why I haven’t bought cupcakes? Would he find out my dad doesn’t have any spare yen coins for me to bring to school today?

“Kota! Higashi!”

Relieved, I turned to find Hiro walking towards us with his new purchases, five cupcakes balanced in both his hands.

“I had five 100 yen coins, so I bought five cupcakes,” Hiro announced, “One, two, three, four, and five”

“You only had five 100 yen coins? My dad gave me five coins, and my grandma gave me another five, so I bought five cupcakes and five cookies”

“Whatever, my mommy said she’ll come by at lunch and give me more coins if I need it”

Higashi stuck out his tongue, then turned to me again with the cookie bag still in his hand, “What about you, Kota?”

“Umm…”

“Oh don’t bother asking him,” Hiro laughed, “My daddy said his family is poor, that his mother had to be go to…to an in-tu-ti-tion because she’s a bad woman that drinks too much sake”

“Liar, women don’t drink sake,” Higashi piped up. He turned to look at me, expecting me to agree and declare Hiro a liar. But before I could respond, he spoke again.

“Well, his mother does, and his father doesn’t have enough money for him to buy even half a cupcake,” he pointed his cupcake-smeared fingers at me, and for some reason, that flick of his finger got me so mad. 

I started seeing red everywhere, all I could think about was how stupid Hiro was. Stupid Hiro. Stupid Hiro with his shiny Spiderman backpack. Stupid Hiro with his Batman toys. Stupid Hiro with his five cupcakes.

Next thing I knew, I was stomping hard on the ground. My breathing and my words began acting on their own, it felt too heavy and too quick. Then my body started running away from me, and before I could stop myself, I pushed stupid Hiro. Hard. So hard he fell to the ground and dropped all the cupcakes in his hands

“SHUT UP! SHUT UP!” I screamed, “I already bought 20 cupcakes and ate it all this morning so SHUT UP!”

“KOTA”

I gasped, turning in time to see Principal Ao coming our way, her movements oddly stiff in her too-tight brown suit. In a blink of an eye, she had her hand on my ears and was pinching it hard, so hard I yelped. Behind me, I could hear Hiro crying. But when I turned to look at him, I didn’t see tears, just him pressing his fingers against his eyes.

“My daddy was right. He told me not to play with you because your family is bad. I’m never talking to you or playing with you again”

“Kota, what do you have to say for yourself?” Principal Ao demanded

“But Principal Ao, Hiro said bad things about my mother and my family”

“Oh really? What did he say?”

My throat went dry all of a sudden, the words all lost on my tongue. Everyone, all the girls behind the table, all the adults I didn’t know, were now staring at me while Principal Ao twisted and twisted my ears.

“Did Hiro lie?” Principal Ao continued, “Because Hiro, you know that lying is a bad thing”

My heart plunged into my stomach. Even though I was angry, I knew in my soul that Hiro didn’t lie. I haven’t seen my mom in a long time, no one spoke of her in my family, and my dad didn’t have any spare yen coins, so that must mean we’re poor. And it must mean Hiro’s dad is right, that because my mom went away and my dad is poor, we must be a bad family.

“I did not lie,” Hiro declared. He stood up, his face remarkably dry for someone that had just cried his eyes out. But before more can be said, I heard the steady steps of someone else entering the scene.

“Principal Ao? Is everything okay?”

I looked up to see Miss Yagami walking in with a serious expression on her face. Miss Yagami always brought happiness and sunshine with her, but right now, with Principal Ao pinching my ears and Hiro’s cupcakes smashed on the ground, Miss Yagami’s warmth warped into hot spears slicing my inside, and I felt like I was bleeding lava all over the ground. I couldn’t look at Miss Yagami. Even after Principal Ao released my ear and pushed me towards her, I kept my face down and bit my lips.

“Ah, Miss Yagami, good that you came by just now. I just witnessed Kota pushing poor Hiro to the ground. I expect that he will be punished appropriately for his behaviour.”

With my head down, I couldn’t see Miss Yagami’s reaction, but it hurts my chest imagining what it could be. I counted ten seconds of silence in my head, then Miss Yagami cleared her throat and finally spoke.

“I’m sure there must be a misunderstanding.”

“Miss Yagami, I was there, and I can assure you there was no misunderstanding. As his teacher, I expect you to fulfil your duty and punish him as you see fit. I suggest a week’s worth of detention, perhaps a reflection essay on the impact of his bad behaviours.”

Principal Ao turned to leave, but not before bowing to the mystery adults standing by the table. I finally found courage to look up at Miss Yagami, and saw she had a sad look on her face, the same look I saw on my dad’s face last night when I asked him if he had a 100-yen coin for the bake sale today.

I don’t know why, but of all the expressions I could name on an adult’s face: happiness, anger, surprise, the one expression that always made me feel sick and scared was the one I seemed to see most on my family’s face, from my father to my auntie to my sister, that scrunch of the eyebrows and the shadow in their eyes, the lips weighed down by something too heavy for words.

It was sadness

—

Today was the first day of my week-long detention.

It wasn’t bad, I guess. At least now, I have an excuse to sit and wait for Onee-chan to come by after her school is done. And even though Miss Yagami didn’t mention it, I decided to listen to Principal Ao and write a reflection essay. But it was hard because I didn’t know all the kanjis yet to describe my feelings, so I drew a picture instead.

“Kota?”

I lifted my head to see Miss Yagami looking down at me with her soft Miss Yagami smile on her lips

“What are you doing?” Miss Yagami asked

“I’m drawing a picture about what happened this morning.”

Miss Yagami pulled out a chair, then sat beside me and looked at my drawing.

“What’s in the picture?”

I sighed, “This is Principal Ao, and this is me. On the ground is Hiro, and these are all the cupcakes that fell to the ground when I pushed him.”

“Oh, I see.”

Miss Yagami was quiet for a moment, while I continued colouring in the broken cupcakes on the ground.

“Kota, can you tell me what happened this morning?” Miss Yagami spoke again.

Miss Yagami’s question took me back to that morning, and I felt like I was there again, with Principal Ao pulling my ears and Hiro crying with his cupcakes on the ground. I felt itchy all over, like my skin was trying to run away from my body. I shook my head and shrugged, then realized I forgot to use my words to answer Miss Yagami.

“I’m sorry, Miss Yagami.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“I forgot to use my words. Principal Ao said it was disrespectful to not use my words to answer a question an adult asked me”

To my surprise, Miss Yagami chuckled. I looked at her and was shocked to see her still with her Miss Yagami smile, instead of a disapproving frown like I thought she would have.

“You know, Kota, there are times when everyone loses their words. Even me, I lose my words sometimes too.”

I scrunch my face in confusion, trying hard to imagine how words can be lost inside our body. Maybe because I was so hungry today, my stomach ate them out of desperation.

“Really?”

“Yes, and I think it’s a normal part of dealing with our emotions and feelings. Sometimes, we get so sad we lose our words. There are also times we get so angry, we not only lose our words, but we might lose control of our body as well.”

I immediately hung my head, remembering how angry I got this morning, how I lost control of my arms when I pushed Hiro to the ground.

“Do you get so angry that you do things you can’t control?” I asked Miss Yagami

“Oh of course, Kota, but it’s because I’m human. Living with our emotions and feelings is a part of being alive, but so is learning how to process them. As I grew older, I learned to recognize anger when it comes, and that has helped me control myself better so I’m not doing things I regret later. And one day, I think you’ll learn to get better at controlling yourself, too. Just like I did”

“Really?”

“Yes. But I’ll tell you a secret. Sometimes, I still get so angry that I might do or say things I feel I have no control over, usually at my fiance,” she giggled. The sound of her laugh was so infectious, I giggled with her, even though I didn’t fully understand what a fiance was.

“But I always apologize to him afterward,” she continued, “And I try my best to learn from what happened so I don’t hurt him again with my anger. But anger is normal, because anger is part of being human. So you see, Kota, even though what happened today was bad, it’s a perfectly normal part of growing up, because then you can learn from what happened and be a better person tomorrow. You’re allowed to be angry, Kota. Trust me, you are.”

I nodded. I still didn’t really understand, but somehow, I felt better knowing that Miss Yagami gets angry sometimes, too. But like Miss Yagami said, I had to be careful not to hurt people when I’m angry.

“Miss Yagami?” I called out

“Yes, Kota.”

“Am I…am I a bad person?”

Miss Yagami chuckled, “Of course not, why would you think you’re a bad person, Kota?”

“Hiro said today that I came from a bad family, because my mom is away and my dad is poor. Does that mean I am bad if I come from a bad family?”

“Oh…” Miss Yagami got quiet then. I could see her biting the corner of her lips, her fingers picking at the sleeve of her pink sweater as she looked out the window.

She wasn’t using her words to answer my question. Maybe that meant her stomach was turning and flipping like mine does when my words get lost, or that she wanted to disappear, too.

“It’s okay, Miss Yagami, you don’t have to answer. I understand”

Miss Yagami’s eyes widened. Then, she placed her warm hand on my shoulder and put on her Miss Yagami smile. All of a sudden, I wanted to cry.

“Kota, I don’t know much about your family, but from what I have seen, I can see that your father and your Onee-chan loves you so very much, and they try their best to give you a happy life, and that alone means they are a good family.”

I nodded and returned to my picture, blinking hard so my tears don’t fall in front of Miss Yagami,

“But Kota,” she continued, “I hope you understand too that there are things in your life that you have no control over, and I don’t want you to feel bad about these things, because they are not your fault.”

“What things?” I pressed

Miss Yagami sighed and shook her head, “You’ll know what they are one day, when you’re older.”

“Oh,” I uttered quietly. I don’t like it when adults say when I’m older. Sometimes, I want to hear things now, but because it’s Miss Yagami, I swallowed the disappointment and flashed a smile, which seemed to make Miss Yagami happy.

“Now, I have something for you,” Miss Yagami announced.

I sat up straight in my chair, the picture before me forgotten as Miss Yagami walked to her desk. She pulled something out of her drawer, then returned and placed the item before me. It was wrapped in tissue paper, so I couldn’t tell what it was.

“What is it?” I blurted out

“Why don’t you open it and see”

I followed Miss Yagami’s direction, pulling aside the tissue then…gasped in delight. Perched at the centre of the white tissue paper was a small round object, fluffy and spongy like clouds on a spring day, the colour chocolate brown, enough to coat my tongue in saliva. 

It was a cake…the size of a cup.

A cupcake, right before my eyes.

I didn’t understand how something as small as this cupcake could feel so big in my heart. But this moment with Miss Yagami before me, this moment meant everything to me, and I’ll remember it for as long as I live.

“Go on,” Miss Yagami prodded

I hurriedly wiped away tears in my eyes, then moved to pick it up. It felt so light and airy, nothing like how I imagined it to be.

“Now you’ll know what a cupcake tastes like,” Miss Yagami said with a twinkle to her eyes

My mouth watered, and I considered popping the entire cupcake in my mouth. But then I looked up at Miss Yagami, and I realized something didn’t feel right yet. 

I felt so…overwhelmed with good feelings, so full of warmth and joy, and I wished Miss Yagami could feel it too. Suddenly, I had an idea. I pinched the middle of the cupcake, splitting it in halves as best as I could before offering it to Miss Yagami.

“This is for you, Miss Yagami” I declared. Miss Yagami stared back at me in shock.

“Oh no, Kota, the entire cupcake is for you”

“No, Miss Yagami, you told us once that sharing shows how important someone is to us, so I want to share this cupcake with you”

Miss Yagami’s eyes became shiny, like she was about to cry. But then the smile on her face widened, and she accepted the half-cupcake in my hand. Together, we ate our share.

“Mmmm….” the sound escaped before I could stop it. It tasted like a chocolate explosion in my mouth. I chewed slowly, holding the taste on my tongue for as long as I could before swallowing it.

“I think I know what I want to be when I grow up now, Miss Yagami”

“Oh? What is it?”

“I want to be a cupcake maker. I’ll make as many cupcakes as I can, millions and billions and gazillions of cupcakes so I can give one to every kid on this planet, so that no one needs to spend 100 yen on a cupcake, so everyone will know how delicious it is and that it’s not a cake made of cups”

Miss Yagami laughed, “That sounds like a good plan”

“Is there a name for a cupcake maker?”

“Yes, they’re bakers. Although bakers bake all sorts of things, like cookies and birthday cakes and bread, but you can be a cupcake baker if that’s what you’d like to do”

“Okay, I’ll be a cupcake baker”

Miss Yagami beamed, her warm eyes shining down on me as I swung my legs happily on the chair. It was like magic, the way Miss Yagami made me feel like she could see me. Like really see me, not the way Principal Ao or Hiro or Higashi sees me. It made me feel whole, it made me feel complete.

It made me feel like I’m me.

“Thank you, Miss Yagami”

“You’re welcome, Kota.”

She returned to the front of the class, busying herself with tidying our classroom. I think maybe Miss Yagami thought I thanked her for giving me the cupcake, but that wasn’t the reason why I thanked her. Truth be told, I didn’t have the right words to explain why I wanted to thank her, I only know that school was the best part of my day, that Miss Yagami made me forget about my rumbling tummy and my dad’s sad faces when he comes home from work, that when I see Miss Yagami smiled, I know everything was going to be okay, and that I will see my mom again soon.

Even if I am one student, I hope one day, Miss Yagami knew the difference she made, and how important it was for me that Miss Yagami was my teacher.

#Digimon #Digimon Adventure #Hikari Yagami #hikariyagamiweek2022 #Breewrites #this got weirdly political LOL #also did you catch the takari hint #just gearing my brain up for takari week #hope im not too exhausted to write for takari week by then LOL

[pastedpast]

Another one of my artistic heroines, Mrs. Mary Delany (1700-1788), features in several of my earlier blog posts, and this is a book about her life that I bought from a second-hand bookshop in Glasgow last year. She made the most wonderful paper collages from tissue paper detailing a wide range of flowers set against a black background and, what's more, she started her artwork at the age of 72! Although, as the book recounts, she had already made a name for herself in eighteenth century privileged society* (she was on close terms with King George III and Queen Charlotte) for her exquisite embroidery, decorative shellwork and landscape sketches.

*On page 92 there is an example of one of those what I call the-size-of-a-small-sofa dresses, known as 'mantuas', that were favoured by the ladies who attended royal court. Mrs. Delany designed and made her own court dress from black silk which she embroidered with over 200 flowers on the overskirt alone. Her dress was not as exaggerated as those worn by the very fashionable ladies, but instead sounds like perfection, decorated with a veritable Eden of blooms: winter jasmine, hawthorn berries, sweet pea, love-in-a-mist, lily-of-the-valley, anemone, tulips, convolvulus, bluebells, roses, and many others.

POSTSCRIPT: I've actually started reading the book, instead of just grabbing notes from the back cover and flicking through to look at the pictures - and it's a real page-turner! She was more or less forced into a marriage of convenience at the age of seventeen to a wealthy man of nearly sixty, whom she described as a "large, unwieldy person, [with a] crimson countenance." After the wedding, she wrote: "when I was led to the altar, I wished from my soul I had been led, as Iphigenia* was, to be sacrificed." Poor Mary would rather have been dead than marry this decrepit oaf. But she was stuck with her gout-ridden and frequently drunk husband for six long, drawn out years, until she woke one morning, drew back the curtains of their four-poster bed and discovered him lying there drained of all life, face black.

At the age of 43 she married again, this time in a union far more agreeable to her, although the 'lowliness' of her husband's background (he was the son of a servant to one of Ireland's top judges) met with strong disapproval from the male members of her family. Despite their misgivings, Mary went ahead with the marriage to Dr. Patrick Delany and spent the following twenty-five years living in marital bliss. Indeed, her husband penned this charming poem about his beloved, in which he compared her to a rose:

O fairest emblem of the fair My pride, my life, my bliss, my care! Where all the lovelinesses meet - Beauty and grace, both bright and sweet! Emblem of Mary, gift divine. Blest be the hour that made her mine!

*In Greek mythology, Iphigenia was the daughter of King Agamemnon and Queen Clytemnestra, and was sacrificed by her father to appease the goddess Artemis before setting out with his men to fight the battle of Troy.

Photograph of the embroidered fabric used in Mary's dress. It was cut into sections and framed by her ancestors.

[italianpitbullartworks]

Horses were the first/main thing I drew since 1996, however the original Spirit film made me want to draw cartoon horses. One of my favorite books growing up was the little pony called Misty. The sequel book, Stormy (her foal) was ehhh. The old film based on the book was even worse. So much of the story was cut. I always wanted to go to Virgina to see the ponies in person. The breed's story is interesting. I mean everyone has heard of the mustangs out west, but I wish Misty and her band would get an animated film as good as Spirit 🧡

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I used to have a ton of horse & Hamtaro drawings from 2001-2002 but scanning stuff or taking photos of it back in the day wasnt a thing. Some of my papers stuck around over the years so I'm just posting whatever photos or scans I have. The internet back then wasnt like it is now 😂 so there wasnt really places for me to share the art.

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Ykno, for being freehand and zero references, the old stuff really isnt that bad! Eventually school staff/adults started telling me I was really good at this and saw it as a good thing instead of constantly being told I was being a nuisance. The downside to that was they just wrote it off as "kids stuff" and "he'll grow out of it". My parents age group (the people who were in their 40s/50s at the time) were weird. Its like giving a kid praise for anything would have killed them.

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Questions for writers 7, 14, 19, 25

Thank you so much for asking, @pazizz!

Cut because long!

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

It's an outlet. I get to pull all the shit I'm living with out of my head and put it to paper (well, Word document). It might not make me feel better every time, but at least I don't have to carry it around with me in the same way anymore. And when people can relate to the thing I wrote, it's even better. It's nice to know I'm not alone.

14. Do you lend your books to people? Are people scared to borrow books from you? Do you know exactly where all your “lost” books are and which specific friend from school you haven’t seen in twelve years still possesses them? Will you ever get them back?

I do lend books to people. It doesn't happen that often anymore since everyone I know buys more books than I do myself (I use my local library instead), but I did lend out a quadrilogy this past winter. I got it back. I don't have any lost books, everything's been returned. (Maybe it's because I'm a librarian, maybe it's because I've chosen to surround myself with people who respect other people's possessions, idk.)

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

Well, we'd have to go back to 8-year-old Cas who wrote/drew a picture book about a horse having a baby. (Wt ACTUAL f?) I started writing fanfic in 7th grade, but didn't know it was fanfic. There was no internet, no context for the little X-files stories I wrote. (Wait, I remember writing some fanfic for The New Adventures of Robin Hood as well, but I never showed that to anyone.)

I wrote poetry in high school/at university (of course) and short stories. I think I sent something in to magazines, too, but don't think I was ever published. In high school, I started writing fanfic, and by now the internet was a thing, and fanfic had became a concept for me. I wrote for Cats the musical and LotR, dabbled in Moulin Rouge and lots of other stuff that struck my fancy. Had a long relationship during which I didn't write (I've never felt the need when I'm in a relationship and having all my needs fulfilled by an actual person instead of a fictional character).

Between 2008 and 2014-ish I wrote a lot for different fandoms. I never published anything until 2012 when I joined my previous fandom and became quite a prolific writer there. That's when I really cemented myself as an OFC writer. I can't help it: I love creating OFCs, making up back stories, putting them together with my broken little Blorbos, watch them do stupid stuff together because they're both too loser-y to confess they like each other <3

I didn't write for the years I worked on my dissertation, didn't have the need, was too immersed in the writing process and absolutely thrilled about it. Then I watched Narcos and The Mandalorian during Christmas/new year's of 2020... and the rest is history.

I learned a lot in my previous fandom, both about writing in general, my own writing in particular, and writer/reader relations. But I've never learned so much about writing as I did from writing my dissertation. I know I've said it before here but I'll say it again: writing a dissertation really taught me how to sit down and write a little every day, despite not "feeling like it" or "not being able to". (There is no such thing, is my strong stance now. Either you want to, or you don't. If you want to, you just do it. Write anything. You can always revise later.)

25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story?

Hmm. I've tried to come up with something but I can't seem to think of any? I'm not a very detail-oriented person. (Then again, I can get stuck on details that I finally just discard because nobody is going to care that women probably aren't allowed in Delta Force, or weren't in the armed forces during the Gulf War, so Jay and Eva's occupations aren't a problem. Those aren't irrelevant details, of course, but things I can get snowed in on.)

Jay can't sing? Then again, neither can Frankie.

#asks #writing asks #pazizz

[crypticsolitairexx]

I did a fusion of two of my favourite pokemon!

Also please excuse the horrible colouring, either my pencils are crap af or my colouring skills are crap af or both.🙃 I usually use markers which is nicer, but some ran out 😓 anyway the drawing ain't a masterpiece, but I did have fun making it 😁

I also like the contrast of a dark, scary plush toy and an adorable little squishy fetus 😂

#pokemon #doodle #banette #art #reuniclus #fusion #mega banette #i suck at coloring #i drew it on paper then cut it out and stuck it in my book cuz im dumb

[nuclevi]

17 reasons to love you. [yuuji i.] warnings: none

his 17th birthday. 17 years of his annoying, stupidly beautiful self on this earth and you wouldn’t have it any other way. another year of being thankful that he’s with you, because there will be a time — a birthday of his that you would have to spend alone, only his memories to keep you company. but you don’t want to think of that right now. because, yuuji’s right here with his head on your lap and that’s all that matters at this moment.

17 reasons to love him. a little journal put together by you and his two bestfriends, megumi and nobara — for yuuji’s 17th birthday. its a cute little thing you three crafted by cutting pieces of paper and stapling them together to shape it like a book. each page had one reason written. nobara stuck little heart stickers and drew smiley faces on the cover surrounding the title ‘17 reasons we love you’. it’s smaller than yuuji’s palm, well thats also considering how big his hands are.

yuuji looks up at you from his place on your lap, a soft smile adorning his face, “this is really cute.” if you look closely, you can find the corner of his eyes watering amongst all the love that swims in his eyes. “kugisaki, look!! yuuji’s cryi-” your attempt to call nobara from the kitchen fails as a hand — the same large one — clamps on your mouth before you can say any further. “shh. i know you want to troll me along with kugisaki for being a crybaby, but.. but let us just be together in this moment. before everyone else joins and snatch you away from me.” yuuji grumbles, snuggling further on your thighs.

you laugh and peck his forehead. he was right tho, this was probably the only time you could spend this day together before inumaki and others joined for yuuji’s birthday celebration. right now, nobara was in the kitchen with megumi and helping him with the food while you and yuuji lounged on the couch in the dorms. you are sure they won’t leave anytime before 2 am, or possibly not leave at all.

you slip your fingers in his pretty pink hair as he opens the book in his hand and start reading. megumi had decided to write the first three reasons, although a bit reluctantly as he wasn’t good with words but still wanted to make this special for yuuji. nobara had written the next 4 and the rest were all you. you could come up with 50 reasons as to why you adored him, but maybe some other day.

17 reasons we love you.

1. your strength

2. you make the world better with your kindness

3. you always put others needs before your own

4. you always carry my shopping bags for me

5. you accept me the way i am

6. you’re cool like me

7. you laugh at my jokes

8. you give the sweetest hugs

9. you make me happy

10. the way you look at me

11. the headpats you give me

12. you’re so handsome

13. you always watch out for me and keep me safe

14. how you make sure to take care of me

15. the way you kiss me

16. your hands

17. the way you and i fit so perfectly, like i was written for you and you for me

by the time he’s done, yuuji’s full on bawling his eyes out with snot running down his now pink nose as he buries himself in your embrace, muttering thankyous. you all come to a silent realization that none of you want this moment to pass, you don’t want to lose yuuji — you don’t want to be anywhere that is not his arms.

a few of your own tears slip your eyes and you’re sure megumi is clenching his fists and biting his lip to not cry. kugisaki is laughing her ass off and trying to snap a few shots of this emotional shitshow, for later purposes. but you don’t have to look at her to know there are tears in her eyes too.

#yuuji itadori #yuuji x reader #happybirthdayyuuji #jujutsu kaisen #jjk headcanons #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #jjk yuuji #jjk megumi #jjk nobara #jjk inumaki #inumaki toge #nobara supremacy

[starlessea]

Eye For Detail (Daryl Dixon/Reader)​

Sequel to Sketchbook Confessions

Summary: You try to sketch Daryl in return. Except, you draw his smile a little crooked, and the eyes are wonky... And Daryl completely loves it.

Words: 2490

Warnings: Language.

The courtyard was still and quiet, free from the dinner-time rowdiness going on behind prison walls. Well, it was almost quiet; Daryl's scribbling over paper sounded out faintly beside you, as you watched him work. At first, he'd been opposed to the idea of company, but after a while it has become almost like a weekly tradition - in which you'd both bask in the comfortable silence together. You'd even started to bring your own notepad, in your attempts to learn how to sketch from the man.

At first, your drawings were anything but good. Sometimes, even you couldn't tell whether you'd drawn a landscape or a strange, abstract fruit bowl. Yet, Daryl was a good teacher. Where he lacked patience normally, it seemed like he had ample to spare with you. He'd shown you how to use the different charcoals, and had even come back with more art supplies after his latest run.

It was coming up to dusk, and the sky was a brilliant mix of blue and grey hues. There were clouds gathering overhead, too, and you wondered whether there was a storm brewing behind them. Your notepad remained closed over your lap, since you still hadn't gathered the confidence to open it yet. Daryl hadn't noticed, however - too absorbed in his own work to pick up on the way you tentatively thumbed over the spine of your book.

"I tried to draw a person the other day," you finally admitted, "I don't know how you do it."

Daryl stopped what he was doing, rubbing circular motions over the paper to try and blend out his charcoal lines. He looked over at you, and you laughed gently at the black fingerprints littering his cheeks.

"Who was it?" he mumbled, eyeing you as you gathered your sleeve over your hand.

You shuffled over to the man slightly, and used the material to wipe away the charcoal stains over his skin, feeling him squirm slightly beneath your touch as you did so.

"It was you," you told him, and finally he kept still.

His stare bore into you, and suddenly it felt as though you'd been set on fire. You regretted the words as they came out of your mouth, and edged away from Daryl as soon as you'd finished cleaning him up.

You cleared your throat, trying to think of an excuse you knew he wouldn't believe. You sighed, knowing it was no use.

"Well, it was a poor attempt at Daryl," you confessed, glancing down at your sketchbook sheepishly. "Maybe a Darren at best."

You'd expected him to laugh at your joke, but he didn't. Instead, he seemed intrigued. He closed his own notepad, and you worried about whether the charcoal would smudge.

"Show me." Daryl said softly, his eyes flickering over to your lap.

You bit your lip, wiping off the cover of your sketchbook before opening it.

"Don't laugh," you warned him, shaking your head slightly.

You didn't think that he would, but you suddenly felt self-conscious. You'd drawn the portrait in your cell a few nights ago when you couldn't sleep - with the page illuminated by soft lamp-light. You remembered the feeling of the linen sheets beneath you as you sprawled out over your mattress, trying your best to shade the stubborn parts. You had tried - really you had. Except, you'd discovered that art came more naturally to some than others.

"Your eyes are crooked, and I drew your nose too big." you grimaced, settling your gaze over the portrait as you inspected its faults. "I'm sorry."

In natural lighting, it looked a lot worse than you had remembered. You tried to snap the book closed, but Daryl's palm prevented you from doing so. He was silent, and you watched his eyes slowly trail over the paper, taking in all of the details.

"Fine, you can laugh," you exclaimed, overwhelmed by his lack of response. "Okay, just say something-"

"Can I keep this?" Daryl interrupted, glancing up to meet your eyes.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no sound came out. It took a few seconds to comprehend his words, before you finally shook your head a little too quickly.

"No!" you cried, trying to snatch the book from his grasp. "I can draw you a better one."

Daryl didn't give up his grip, and only shook his head back at you in return.

"Nah, I wan' this one."

Any argument you had bubbling up was quickly quelled when you caught sight of his expression. He seemed deadly serious, and you felt your own fingers loosen over the sketchpad as a result. The man slipped it away from you, and brought the book onto his own lap, continuing to look over it.

"But it's bad," you retorted, weakly.

You knew you had lost at this point. You had learned your stubbornness from Daryl himself, after all. The man never was one to know when to back down.

The courtyard seemed a lot darker than it had only a few minutes ago. The clouds had gathered to be more dense and thick, and blocked out the remaining light left over from the setting sun. It would be hard to keep drawing like this, you thought - yet, Daryl seemed more preoccupied now.

"E'eryone gotta start somewhere" he told you, "an' I don' want ya to throw it out."

You watched as he trailed his charcoal-stained, calloused fingers along the page - careful not to leave any marks over the pristine, white paper. Even your sketchbooks looked worlds apart from one another. Yours was neat, each drawing labelled, and your lines clean; Daryl's was a collection of blackened fingerprints alongside scrawled handwriting, and the occasional crumpled page.

"Shoulda seen my first drawings," Daryl went on, looking out towards the field, and at the forest behind it. "Merle found one when I was a kid an' told me it was a shit donkey."

You cocked your head to the side, listening to him.

"Was meant to be superman," he explained, with an expression far too serious for his words.

You snorted, and the man whipped his head over to scowl at you.

"I'm sorry-" you choked out, not missing the way his lips quivered as they fought back a smile of his own. "I must have swallowed a bug."

Not long after that, the feeling in your gut turned out to be right. The storm clouds had finished gathering, and soon the first droplet of rain landed over your paper - smudging the line you'd just drawn. You glanced over at Daryl, but before he'd even had time to reply, the downpour started. It went from a single raindrop to a raging storm in a matter of seconds, leaving you both scrambling to collect the strewn sheets of paper and charcoal pieces trembling over the ground. With your supplies bundled up in your arms, the two of you ran towards the cellblock - yelling through the sounds of the rain along the way.

Once you had reached Daryl's cell, you were soaked through. The man had dragged you there since it was closer, but it hardly made a difference. Your shirt was stuck to your skin, and you were left clutching soggy handfuls of paper - bleeding ink over Daryl's stone floor. He helped you set down the supplies onto his desk, gathering up whatever was salvageable, and throwing the rest away. Luckily, most of the pastels and charcoals had been kept safe, but a lot of loose sheets had been sacrificed to the greater good in the process.

You laughed, taking in the sight of the man. His hair stuck damply to his forehead, and you watched as stray droplets ran over his cheeks. He quickly glanced around the room and retrieved one of his shirts, before offering it to you. You took it from him and smiled, waiting for Daryl to turn his back on you before starting to change.

"Looks like the weather had other plans," you noted, pulling the dry shirt over your head. "At least it washed away that god awful drawing I did of you."

You untucked your hair from the collar, and smoothed out the material over your body. Behind you, you heard the sound of a zip, and peered over your shoulder to see Daryl taking off his own leather jacket. As he did so, you noticed that he'd been concealing something beneath it, and squinted to try and make out what it was.

"Looks jus' fine to me," the man mumbled, holding up the dry piece of paper for you to see.

You scoffed; he'd stuffed your drawing there to keep it safe. You couldn't prevent the smile spreading over your face as you looked at him in disbelief. He gave you a teasing smirk back, before setting the picture carefully onto his desk with the others.

"Y'know," Daryl said quietly, "s'a lot easier to draw from real life."

You glanced over at your drawing, knowing what he was getting at. You were acutely aware of its flaws, but you just didn't have the experience to know how to fix them yet.

"I know what you look like," you quipped back.

It was the truth. Perhaps you even knew a little too well.

"Mhm," he hummed back, before walking over to where you were standing.

You could tell from the tone of his voice that he didn't entirely believe you. One of the first things he'd taught you was that there could never truly be a good enough replacement for the real thing. Though, you had to disagree. You felt like you knew exactly how Daryl Dixon looked - you just couldn't translate it to paper.

The man stopped directly in front of you, so close that you could see his chest rising and falling. He lifted one hand slowly, tentatively even, so that you didn't get scared by his actions. Then, he hovered his palm gently over your eyelids, flicking them shut so that your world went dark.

"What colour are m'eyes?" he asked.

His hand was cold over your face, from where the rain had soaked his skin. You knew that he was trying to teach you a lesson, but you thought that perhaps you'd use the opportunity to teach him one back.

"Blue," you answered, without hesitation.

You desperately wanted to see the man's expression, but all you could do was imagine it.

"An' what-" Daryl continued, but you cut him off.

"A greyish blue," you went on, not entirely satisfied with your answer. "Like the colour of the sky before a storm."

Daryl removed his hand from over your eyes, but you kept them shut. Your fingertips brushed over the hem of his shirt that you were wearing, and you felt like you could picture the way it looked in your mind just from the texture of the material.

"Your hair is brown. The same shade as that desk near your bed," you told him, pointing in the direction you remembered it to be. "And it falls just above your neck, and is slightly curly at the ends." You laughed, considering your next words. "Especially just after you wash it."

Daryl remained silent, and you tried to picture the type of look he had in his eyes. You thought that perhaps you should stop, that you'd made your point clear - but you were in too deep to turn back now.

"And you have two moles," you said quietly - and wondered whether he had heard your voice tremble, too.

You reached out your hand slowly, trying to find the other man. Your palm made contact with his chest, and you let your fingertips trail up until you reached his neck, and then his face.

"One by your nose," you told him, resting your palm over his cheek, "and the other near your lip."

You tried to find it, but your thumb accidentally brushed over his lip, instead. Your heart jumped in your chest, and your eyes flickered open unintentionally.

"I'm sorry-" you blurted out, but the words tapered off as you noticed Daryl's stare.

The man stood perfectly still in front of you, letting your hand rest over his cold, damp skin. You quickly pulled away, glancing off to the side nervously. Though, the both of you knew that you'd gone too far to make any poor excuses now. You'd passed a boundary, but you couldn't say that you wanted to take a step back, either.

"Tha's one eye for detail ya got," Daryl said, after a few seconds had gone by.

You shook your head. "Only when it comes to you," you admitted.

Daryl looked off to the side, and then back, but you continued before he had the chance to interrupt.

"I know I'm not the best artist, but I wanted to show you how you look through my eyes, too."

Daryl raised his hand again, but this time it wasn't to block out your sight. Instead, he just rested his palm softly over your cheek - and despite how cold it was, you leant into his touch.

"Ya jus' did," he said, and gave you a small smile.

You could still hear the storm outside, as the occasional breeze whistled its way past the cracks of the cell block, or made the tree branches batter up against the windows. Sometimes, the draft even made those loose sheets flutter over the desk, in a kind of muffled, paper applause.

"Maybe I should just swap out pencils for words," you told the man. "They seem to do the job better."

He nodded in agreement, letting his hand drop back down to his side.

"Hey, Daryl?" you asked, but you already had his full attention.

"Mhm."

You decided to put your words into practice straight away, so that you wouldn't forget exactly how you felt in this moment.

"You mean a lot to me," you admitted, "in a way I don't think I'd ever be able to describe."

Daryl's eyes widened slightly, and you wished to have the talent to capture that expression with pencil and charcoal one day.

"But I still wanted to try," you finished, and waited for his response.

Except, Daryl wasn't a man of words - and he reminded you of that as he reached for his sketchbook. His fingers were still damp, and you watched as they left watery prints over the pages as he flicked through them. He finally stopped once he reached the last one, showing you his latest sketch.

It was stained with raindrops that hadn't dried yet, from where the storm had first broken out and Daryl hadn't reacted quick enough. Yet, even though it was a little smudged and wrinkled, you could still make out that it was you - from where you had been sitting right next to him in that courtyard.

The man set the book down so that the page remained open on his desk, and picked up the other loose-sheet drawing that you'd done of him - and placed them together.

"Me too," Daryl said.

And that was all you needed to hear.

Feedback is always welcomed; I love hearing what you all think - so feel free to comment, send in an ask, or just message me if you want to chat!

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Send me a message if you want to be added or removed from the taglist!

A/N AHH. I just loved this 2 part story.

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#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #twd #the walking dead #twd fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon imagine #twd imagines #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x oc #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #twd fanfic #twd drabbles #the walking dead imagines #daryl x you #daryl x y/n #daryl x oc #fanfiction #norman reedus #writers of tumblr #writeblr