chalk on the block

Oh my God, we're so sorry we blocked your doorway. Now go get your ear muffs.

I’ve had a long respectable career in game development. A couple of years ago I’ve abandoned it for a cushy corporate job, and now spend most of my days missing gamedev.

This story takes place about 10 years ago at the apex of my career.

I was the lead on a AAA project. Our parent company, for which videogames was just one of many lines of business, was going through changes. We had to move offices three times in one year. Second of the three moves, always intended to be temporary, put us into the basement of an older building long occupied by satellite departments not involved with development.

The basement we were given had been empty for years, save for the most distant office. You entered the basement through a dimly lit staircase. Then, after you snaked through a horror-movie-like maze of corridors and interconnected small rooms, you’d eventually arrive at the farthest room of all.

A golden plaque was on the door.

Trademark Compliance Department.

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Please Don’t - Haechan

*The repetitive notion of you unowrthiness was clawing up inside you, you weren’t good enough for him- you never will be.


anon request

Characters: Haechan, Reader

Pairing: Haechan/Reader

Genre: Angst // Hurt/Comfort

Word Count : 2K


It didn’t take long for you to start throwing yourself into the familiarity of self doubt once you and Donghyuck started dating. You could rack it up to about a solid month of conscience-free bliss before you started looking in the mirror a little too long in the mornings and staring at the girls on the street a little too hard as you walked by. It had been easy enough to block out at first, chalking it up to your dating inexperience and the fact you just wanted to be the best you could be for him. But then, as weeks and months dragged you through a mental mud puddle, you couldn’t ignore the nagging insistence that you were never going to be enough for him.

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Sweep em off their feet- Ethan Nestor

Pairing: Ethan x Reader

Descriptions: I got two requests for a gymnast!Ethan imagine so I kind of combined them a bit aye??? I;m also adding a bit of my ideas in to it so yeah ok I hope y;all are cool with that

(I had to do research for this by the way ur welCOmE)

Warnings: I mean the only I can think of is the reader gets hurt a lil and they have a bit of body insecurity so Ye

(ETHAN NESTOR DO NOT READ THIS JUST CARRY ON)

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The kids on my block keep making “surveys” in sidewalk chalk and leaving out little pieces of chalk so people can answer them. It’s the cutest thing

Companions AU Chapter 3

Lance woke up feeling much better than before, and stretched out in his bed with a yawn. He slid out of the sheets and padded over the the closet, checking his phone along the way.

Hunkulicious:
4:27pm: Hey Lance, the surgery went great! Stop by the hospital when you can! :D

Prince Lancelot:
5:13pm: hey, just woke up, how’s he doing? I need to go buy some stuff before I drop by to bring him home :3

Hunkulicious:
5:16pm: he’s still asleep, I have him on tranquilizers until you get here so he doesn’t freak when he wakes up in an unfamiliar place with weird people. And what do you mean, bring him home?? You adopting him or smth?

Prince Lancelot:
5:17pm: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Hunkulicious:
5:18pm: LANCE

Prince Lancelot:
5:18pm: ;)

Hunkulicious:
5:19pm: you’ve been hanging around Pidge too much =_=;;

Prince Lancelot:
5:20pm: ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Laughing, Lance put his phone down and went back to pulling on a fresh change of clothes. He had some shopping to do, after all.

First stop was the clothing store. He sorted through the Hybrid section first, looking for Maine Coon clothing. He selected a few soft long sleeve shirts and hoodies, as well as sweatpants and boxers specifically tailored to a Cat Hybrid like Shiro. He figured the Cat would appreciate softer clothing than the weird purple shirt and black boxers he’d been found in.

After that he picked out some clothes for himself and paid before lugging it all to his car.

His next stop was the grocery store. If he was going to let Shiro live with him, he’d best stock up so that the starving kitty could eat as he pleased.

Once he’d gotten everything done, he hurriedly put everything away inside his house, food in the fridge and Hybrid clothes in the guest room drawers.

He texted Hunk to let him know he was on his way and stepped on the gas. His phone chimed with two new messages, one an acknowledgement from the Vet and another from Pidge saying she had something to show him at her place.

He pulled up to the hospital and jogged inside, Coran already waiting for him by the reception desk. “Room 524, Hunk’s weaning him off the tranquilizers now.” The mustached man directed, Lance nodding his gratitude and hurrying inside the elevators.

He stepped into the room, fingers crossed. Hunk was examining a chart, face pulled into a slight frown. Shiro was asleep on the bed, bandaged up and peaceful.

“Hey, Hunk. How’s he doing?” Lance asked, sliding the door shut behind him. Hunk looked up and smiled slightly.

“You look better.” The Vet commented, lowering the chart to eye his friend approvingly.

Lance chuckled. “Thanks, but I’m more interested in how Shiro’s doing.” He asked, noticing the flicker of unease in Hunk’s eyes. “Hunk? Is something wrong?” The smile dropped from Lance’s face, and blue eyes scanned worriedly over the Cat Hybrid.

“Well… Shiro was definitely abused. Badly. In fact, I think he was part of one of those underground fighting rings, Lance. He’s at least twenty seven, and he’s an Omega. But there’s no sign of any sexual abuse, so my guess is he got away before they tried anything. If he’s lived this long, he was probably one of their top fighters.” Hunk listed off grimly.

Lance frowned. “That’s… not good. Do you think they’ll come for him? His old owners?” He asked, concerned for the Cat Hybrid he’d gotten attached to in such a short time.

Hunk shook his head. “I doubt it. In fighting rings, the prime fighting age is between the years of thirteen and twenty-five. If he hadn’t escaped he’d either have been put in a Hybrid mill or killed. Poor guy… he’s been through a lot, if all the scars I saw were any indication.”

Lance moved over to brush his fingers against Shiro’s forelock. “Well, I’m definitely keeping him now. He deserves better. When I gave him a bath and some food it was like I’d hung the moon for him, Hunk. Nobody, not even a Hybrid, should go through something as terrible as a fighting ring for the amusement of others.” He growled, free hand clenching into a fist.

His fingers brushed against Shiro’s cheek, and the Cat Hybrid’s eyes slowly fluttered open. Lance quickly changed his facial expression to a kinder one, not wanting to scare the injured Cat.

“Hey kitty, feeling better?” Lance prodded carefully, relief at the soft smile and nod he got in return flooding his chest.

Checking his chart, Hunk hummed idly and scribbled something down. “I’d like him to stay one more night here to make sure he doesn’t get a fever and that his arm heals properly. Sickness caused by infection often shows up when the body relaxes and lets its guard down. It’s just a precaution.”

Lance nodded. “Hear that buddy? You need to stay here and rest for a little while, okay? I’m gonna go and run a few more errands but I will be right back. I promise.” He soothed, ruffling Shiro’s forelock affectionately, eliciting a happy purr from the Hybrid.

He pulled away and began to leave. “Hunk will take good care of you and make you feel better, okay? I’ll be back.”

As he headed to his car, he wondered what Pidge wanted to show him.

—————————-

From under a pile of rubble called writer’s block, a dusty chalk covered hand barely manages to push this chapter towards you. The writer isn’t entirely happy with it, but it’s all she’s got for now. She apologizes and hopes you enjoyed the short chapter.

I’ve decided to start posting some of my writing on my blog. For the last 12 months I lost the motivation to write. Chalk it up to writer’s block or perhaps just lack of inspiration. But the wheels in my head have begun turning again, and my imagination is back on track.
A little bit of back story: for the last few years I’ve been working on a YA fantasy novel, which will most likely end up being a trilogy. As time goes on, I will reveal more of a synopsis but, for now, I just want to find the courage to start sharing some of my work on here, and I hope that in the future I’ll have an audience who is interested in the whole story. 💕

anonymous asked:

What's your process for the bird paintings? Do you use multiple layers to keep organized? Do you use layer modes (multiply, overlay)?

It depends!  Usually it’s all the same thing, 2-3 ref images, a layer with everything, and then a multiply and overlay.  The more complicated the bird, the more layers I use-  one or two to sketch it out and then more for specific parts, but overall the entire bird is painted on one layer.  It’s easier for me when I don’t have to keep track of where everything is, even if it is annoying to make adjustments with.  I start out with a 7x7in image and expand if needed.  I’m using the bearded vulture and the green cheeked conure as an example for this–

for the conure, it was six and a half hours and a lot of refs and the painting on one layer, and two sketches- a blockier one for the general shape and a refined one.  Using a rough chalk brush I block in the form, not worrying about it being 100% opacity everywhere:

Then it’s just picking a spot to start and, using the chalk brush, detailing it out.  I keep the color blocks on the same layer as the bird.

For feathers, I make the pattern with a lighter color and a larger brush, you can kinda see it in the one above, then outline it with a darker color, adding highlights and shadows to make it not uniform and give it variety.  A lot of the time I’ll have the dark outline and then go over it with the lighter one.  All of this is done without multiply and overlay, those are added at the end when all of the detailing is done.  It makes it annoying sometimes, when I can’t get the color how I’d like it and it also saves problem areas.  The rim lighting around the edges is just something I like to do, and that’s linear dodge (add) when I remember it.

and the bearded vulture with guide lines for the neck feathers (there’s a lot to go on this still and the beak is bugging me a lot now ajwofihoqwj), but the feathers on the neck in this case started with the dark outline, while the face ones started with a light block:

I could probably make a better one of these someday, if anyone is interested?  I don’t have the best screenshots of the process on hand and I’m not sure if I explained it right (plus it got long).

But usually these take like, 30 minutes to an hour unless I really want to go all out, then it takes 5+ hours or several days. 

Not Supposed To Happen

This was requested by anon. It’s a Hotch x Reader where it’s a few years after Haley’s death, Reader is the first person he has truly loved since Haley’s death. They are engaged and she’s a very good mother to Jack. She is pregnant and roughly 7-8 months. He tries to convince her to take time off, but she doesn’t want to stop helping people. On a case she gets shot in front of him and is rushed to hospital and he has flashbacks with Haley and it’s lots of feels and heartbreak.


You never expected to fall in love. It was an inevitable thing that fell from the sky right into your life. But now, you were happier than ever engaged to the man of your dreams and carrying his baby. Plus, you worked with him. He was just as happy as you. You were the perfect match.

You also never expected to get hurt. Just like falling in love, the pain and suffering was an inevitable happening. But you never expected it to be so literal.

Even though you were very pregnant with Hotch’s child, you managed to get him to reluctantly agree to allowing you to continue working. You would be driven insane if you didn’t work and Hotch knew that. You had a constant determination to help absolutely everybody that could not be stopped, not even by the precious child in your stomach.

At the beginning of the case, you had that nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach that it would be a bad one, a painful one. But you ignored the feeling, telling yourself that it was how you always felt and you were pregnant so the hormones were making you paranoid. Boy, what a mistake that was.

It was such a routine thing, canvassing the neighborhood. It wasn’t supposed to be dangerous. That was why Hotch agreed to allow you and Spencer to walk around and talk to the victim’s neighbors. That persistent warning feeling that you had felt earlier in the morning returned as you and Spencer walked up the steps of the one dingy house on the block. You chalked it down to your stomach not liking something that you had for breakfast and continued on.

The second that you and Spencer had identified yourselves as FBI you knew that something was off about the man that answered the door. He froze unnaturally, an artificial smile pasted on his face. The man politely invited you into his house.

He locked the door behind him and you immediately knew that something was wrong. You crept just behind Spencer and inconspicuously pulled out your phone. You texted your fiance your address. You knew that trouble was coming. You needed him.

You protectively wrapped a hand around your round stomach, instinctively shielding the baby from the harm you knew was on its way from the man.

He lead you and Spencer into a cramped, ill-matched living room that smelled of staleness. Your stomach rolled at the smell. You really did not like this place.

The man politely asked the two of you to take a seat on the couch and you reluctantly did so as he sat adjacent to you in an ancient chair that matched nothing else in the entire room.

You and Spencer asked him numerous questions involving the murders that you were investigating. You could tell that he was lying through his teeth when he said that he had heard about the murders on the news, but knew nothing more of it than what had been broadcasted. Your heart was racing in fear for your unborn child and the indefinite danger that you predicted lay ahead of you.

You could tell that Spencer was agitated and worried, too. His foot was tapping fretfully, rapidly moving up and down due to nerves. The team had profiled that the guy would be ruthless and would hold no mercy for you because of your pregnancy. Your child was sacred to the entire BAU. They were family. Spencer scooted toward you protectively as the man sat comfortably across from the two of you, his arm stretched out nonchalantly across the back of his chair. You could see the ghost of a smile meeting the edges of his lips.

Where was Hotch? He needed to get you guys out of there! And soon!

Suddenly, you heard sirens blast down the street, loud and blaring. Within moments, the creepy room had flooded with red and blue flickering lights from the cars that covered the driveway and yard. Hotch had come for you, thank goodness.

Before you knew it, a team of agents and police officers broke down the door of the unsub’s house, rushing in to save you and your coworker. Unfortunately, the sudden appearance of the cops greatly rattled him. He did not like it one bit and instantly felt substantially threatened.

He gracefully pulled a gun from a hiding place between two inconspicuous throw pillows, and grabbed the nearest person as a hostage. You.

Hotch immediately took a concerned step forward, his gun raised. He couldn’t lose you. He had already lost Hayley and his son had finally regained somebody to act as a mother. He couldn’t lose his unborn child either. He was so concerned and scared for you, he tossed all inhibitions in the wind without a second thought and took several large thoughtless, confident steps toward you and the unsub.

“Please, take me. Let her go. She is pregnant.” He begged

The unsub cackled, “Ha! Like that matters! Leave us alone, and maybe I might just let her leave.”

You felt tears spring from your eyes. This couldn’t be the end for you and your baby. It couldn’t be. Hotch didn’t move an inch. He stood defiantly where he was, calculating how he could save you. You didn’t move your eyes away from him at all. Just the sight of him gave a slight ounce of condolence from the overwhelming fear that you felt.

You felt as if all hope was lost. The team of agents that had marched into the house were slowly backing away toward the door. Spencer cautiously moved with them, careful not to be noticed by the man that had his hold on you. But Hotch stood recalcitrantly in the center of the living room, making complete direct eye contact with you. He was not about to give up on you.

Spencer abruptly made a swift movement toward the man that held a tight grip on you. Hotch moved at the same exact time. The unsub was thrown off by the unexpected attack on himself and loosened his grip on you, allowing you to take a step away from him. He was still able to let out a shot at you before he tumbled to the floor in a not-so-graceful manner and Spencer cuffed him.

But he hit you. The single shot that had been released from his gun in the flurry of movement had hit you directly in the leg. The pain immediately took over you and you froze where you stood before your head spun and you fell toward the ground. Hotch hit you just before you hit the hard floor.

He cradled you in his arms, noticing the blood. You just barely noticed that tears were streaming down his face just like yours.

“Don’t leave me, y/n. Please. Please, y/n, please.” He pleaded with you but you felt really tired and your head spun insanely fast. You could not go through a complete coherent thought without being taken over by the immense pain radiating from your gunshot wound.

You were lifted onto a stretcher and rushed to the hospital. They performed surgery on your leg where you had been shot. The doctors carefully fished the bullet from the inside of your leg and stitched you back up, all the while carefully monitoring the status of your baby.

Thankfully, you and your child made it through the traumatic injury.

When you woke up, dreary and in tremendous pain, the first thing that you noticed was Hotch. He sat close by your hospital bed with his head in his hands. You just stared at him, and you soon realized that there were tears spilling from his eyes.

“Hey.” You croaked out

He looked up at you and wiped his eyes. He smiled a wet smile and sniffed before moving closer to you, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Hey,” He whispered quietly to you, “You’re awake.”

“Are you alright?” You rasped

He nodded solemnly, “Yeah, I’m fine. This is just a lot, you know. I keep thinking about how this happened with Hayley. She’s gone because of me. I would not have been able to live with myself if I lost you, too.”

“None of this was your fault, babe.” You consoled him. You reached for his hand and squeezed it gently.

He moved his face away from your gaze and sniffed. When he turned back to you, tears had continued to cascade down his cheek.

“I’m so sorry, y/n.” He whispered

You reached a hand up and cupped his cheek in your hand. “It’s okay, Aaron. I love you.”

He gave you a quiet smile, trying to convince himself that your words were true. “You should get some sleep. You need to heal. I love you.” He said. You drifted off to sleep while he remained wide awake for hours, eventually falling into a restless sleep that did little to comfort his wrong thoughts.

About a week later, you found yourself in the hospital again. Only this time, you had your newborn daughter cradled in your arms.

Jack bounded eagerly into the room, overjoyed to finally meet his baby sister.

“Hey, Jack.” You smiled at your soon-to-be stepson, “I want you to meet your little sister, Jemma Hayley Hotchner.”

The young boy carefully sat himself down on the edge of your hospital bed and looked down at his new baby sister with a gleeful smile. He reached out a hand and warily placed a delicate hand on her smooth hair.

You looked proudly up at Hotch, who was staring down at the three most important people in his life with a wistful smile.

“I love you.” You said to him, breaking him from his thoughts.

He smiled at you and leaned down, pressing a loving kiss on your lips, “I love you, too, y/n.”

A few months later, the two of you got married with your beautiful daughter, amazing son, and loving family of friends by your side. None of it was ever supposed to happen, not the pain, not the happiness. But you were so, so glad that it did. It was all worth it.

I Forgot

Pairing: Reader x Dean Ambrose

Word Count: 1750

Prompt: Can I request an imagine where y/n is Dean’s girlfriend. She gets in a fight with Dean because he stays too much at the gym and he forget their date. y/n decide to give Dean the silence treatment but Dean organize a surprise dinner with flowers. He apologizes and they end up back together like nothing happen

A/N: Don’t write for Dean much so this was nice :) Hope you all enjoy.

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aweekofsaturdays  asked:

I wish you would write a fic where.. AU Sciles just gets to love each other, I feel like they could use a happy moment rn :D Maybe a lil kissing too.

All right! This is a teacher!Scott, ITdude!Stiles AU, because I love the idea of Scott as a teacher. I suspect I am vastly overestimating an American High School’s IT budget, capabilities and endeavors. 

Key to Friendship (Scott/Stiles, G)

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