i do not own any of the pictures i used

“I work at a disposable razor factory. We used to have seven hundred workers. There were lines of people down conveyor belts. Now there’s only four hundred left, and most of those are just temporary. Machines do everything now. Anything that required hands, at least. We used to look at the razors through microscopes– trying to find imperfections. Now the computer just takes a picture. Even the forklifts drive themselves. Soon there will be nobody left. People are just too expensive. You can’t stop it. I tried my own little protest for a while. I told myself that I wasn’t going to buy any of the cheap stuff from Wal-Mart. But that didn’t last long. I couldn’t afford anything else.”

kogaylien  asked:

Hey! I have a lot of trouble with drawing eyes :( i struggle with size and shape especially... any tips?

Oh heck, hello haha um honestly I don’t really know what I’m doing, but I’ll try to answer as best I can!

I like to take pictures of my face and practice from my own eyes. here’s one and Here’s another one (this one’s a few years back heck)

those ones i just traced a base line over the pictures and then eyeballed the coloring. That’s really useful for getting shapes and angles down when the head is turned. good for drawing the same eye with different expressions and things.

I’m actually doing one right now for some new practice. this one I didn’t do a base sketch at all, I just started SLAPPIN’ color on there. I’ll post progress pictures once I finish it.

ALTHOUGH IF YOU DO THIS, I WOULD RECOMMEND SWITCHING IT UP A BIT AND USING OTHER PEOPLE EYES TOO. because I have a slight difficulty drawing girls with different eye shapes than my own haha oops

I would also recommend paying attention to lid shape, eyelash length, and the angle of the eyes as well as the basic shape. just little details that will set them apart from other eyes. 

learning from real life is always super great

here’s my eyes, compared to my sisters. just showing how related people have similar but different eyes

sometimes starting with a circle helps

the same shaped eye with different lids

size differences

for coloring: Eyelids make shadows. eyelashes make shadows. light shows through the iris, depending on the angle.

hope that helped you a bit. mostly just learn from real life for coloring and shape and everything. and then apply it to your style. sorry if this wasn’t that helpful or anything. I’ve been a bit scatterbrained lately as well as busy. I hope i wrote everything i wanted to D:

🌀 Energetic Healing; Waterbending Style 🌀

A method of healing inspired by Katara, and other waterbending healers. It is as close to my heart as this show is. Below are two ways I use this method ~

In the Bath ~ 

🌀  This method is best used for self healing

🌀  Create your own “spirit water” by adding amethyst, moon water & healing herbs to your bath. I like to use rosemary and bay leaves.

🌀  Lay back, and close your eyes. 

🌀  Visualize yourself in the water. Picture a ray of light scanning back and forth over you, like above. 

🌀  As it sweeps over you, visualize it to removing any negativity.

🌀  Sometimes I notice it get “stuck” on a certain area, or start to move slowly. This usually indicates a blockage. Focus on those areas a little more intently.

🌀  When you are finished, stand up, and do one last sweep, downwards.       Imagine the water droplets falling off of you are the last of your negativity.

🌀  As the bath empties, all negative build-up goes with it.

Healing Yourself & Others ~ 

🌀  This method is done purely with visualization and moon water, specifically charged with the intent to heal.  It can also be done in the astral.

🌀  Place the moon water in a bowl in front of you. Bonus: drop a piece of quartz in to amplify it’s effects. An infusion like the one used in the first method can be used as well.

🌀  Visualize the water rising up out of the bowl and surrounding your hands, like Katara does.

🌀  Now, like the first method, start scanning. Run your hands over yourself or your client, searching for blockages. (If you already know the area you’d like to heal, you can skip this step.)

🌀  As your hands work back and forth across the area you are healing, visualize the water sweeping through, washing away any negative or stagnant energy. 

🌀  Allow it to break through any blockages, clearing them.

🌀  When finished, let the water fall back into the bowl, taking all negativity with it. Thank the element, before safely disposing of it.

Things to Consider ~ 

🌀  Visualization and intent are key. You don’t need to use physical water, I just find it helps.

🌀  Do what feels right to you. Intuition is so important in healing. This method came to me one day while I was soaking in the tub. I instantly connected it to how Katara heals, and built off of that. Since then, the series continues to inspire my methods. I use hand movements often while doing energy work, so it works for me.

🌀  Healing takes time. It may take a few sessions to really clear away any build-ups or blockages. Be patient with yourself. 

Happy Healing! 

The Goddess Anahita

“Anahita is know as the divinity of the waters and hence associated with fertility, healing and wisdom”

I have been for wanting to do a PWG Art series. This series will include pictures that I truly like, and pictures that represent the Persian culture and the Persian Goddess of Water, Anahita.

I hope everybody will enjoy the pictures as much as I do. Futher more, I do not own any of the pictures used in this art series.

Greetings, all! I hope you’re having a good day! Today, I’ll be giving a small, practical tutorial for a neat new altar/workspace setup I’ve recently been using.

I developed the idea out of necessity, because it takes up less space. It is quite safe if you’re burning things, and looks nice and elegant. I hope you enjoy this tutorial and even try it!

I’m sorry I don’t have any pictures of my own, but it looks wonky because it’s small and I’ve been using it a lot. I may post some pictures of it after I do some cleaning!

To begin, you need a large tabletop planter or flowerpot sort of thing! You want the kind that large houseplants go in. In theory, you could use a planter meant to set on the floor/ground. 

I prefer a tabletop one so I can set it next to my Tarot space on the table. The concept is the same, either way!

Choose one that looks nice to you! It should fit with your view of your craft, whatever that means to you, personally! Availability is an issue, but if you’re able to order online, there are a lot of nice options.

You can also get a simple, plain and functional one. You could decorate it with paint and such, if you like. Either way, it should not be plastic or flimsy. You want something ceramic and large, with a wide opening.

You also want one that is quite deep, at least a couple inches or more. If it’s too deep and big, you might have trouble moving it around. You don’t want that, but still, choose one that is exactly as large as you can manage.

Place it on a table where you’re planning to do most of your work. You might consider this your altar, or a workspace. I call mine a workspace, but it can function as an altar sometimes, too. Your space is, of course, yours, and only you can decide how you think of it!

I put mine on a table right next to where I’ve laid out a cloth for my Tarot and Lenormand readings. I also keep my working charm bottles on the same table, as well as other tools. If you have less space, a small nightstand table can work fine, provided the planter fits on it and is stable.

Once you’ve got the planter in place, go out and get some sand. I used really grainy sand, but fine sand should work, too.

You don’t want large pebbles (or even small ones). You want sand! You can get some at a home and garden store, especially in the summer. Buy a small amount, but enough to fill the planter.

Then, fill the planter with the sand. You want it full, but not piled up. Make it level, and don’t fill it all the way to the top. Leave some space.

Now that it’s done, what the heck do you do with it? Well, you can…

  • Place burning incense sticks into the sand, allowing the ashes to fall into the sand.
  • Place candles deep into the sand, such that it acts as a sturdy candleholder for them.
  • Lay out gemstones in the sand to form a crystal grid or pattern.
  • Sketch sigils and symbols into the sand with your fingers or a stick.
  • Leave offerings to deities and spirits. Be sure to remove them if they’re perishable, once they’ve served their purpose!
  • There’s a lot more that you can do, limited only by your imagination! You can also simply have a relaxing time playing in your mini-sandbox altar!

I would recommend only using this altar for positive purposes. I’m not one to shame or be a jerk about curses and such, though. The thing is, this altar is unique! The sand collects fragments of your spell ingredients. 

This imbues the altar and sand with your collective intentions. Of course, you want to make it a truly welcoming place for you. I’d suggest doing baneful work elsewhere and leave this altar for the positive things! That’s my view, anyways.

After a while, the altar and sand will be deeply tied to you on a magical level. They will have absorbed your intentions and energy. This means that the sand itself is even useful!

Sometimes, you might do a spell away from your altar, too. In that case, you can use bits of the sand to add the strength of your essence to the working. You can use the sand as a sort of magical signature.

Of course, you will need to change the sand eventually. I recommend doing this at major turning points in your magical journey. Save some of the old sand in a bottle, and using it as a symbol (in spells, or just in general) of time in your life!

I hope this article gave you some fun ideas for creating a magical workspace!

🌳🌳Pagans for Puszcza🌳🌳

Dear Pagan Tumblr,

There is something I want to ask of you today.

As some of you may know, I am Polish. As some of you may also know, Poland is currently having big problems with its borderline-totalitarian government.

That government is doing all sorts of incredibly harmful things to our country, on all fronts - from commercial laws through women’s rights and ending with ecological vandalism.

The territory of Poland contains a part of Puszcza Białowieska (Białowieża Forest) - a vestige of a primeval forest that has once covered most of Europe. It is a thing, a place, an organism of immense beauty and value, recognised by UNESCO.

However, the current government is not interested in things like that. Motivated by greed, by sheer arrogance, and by hatred of everything that falls outside their extremely narrow, rightwing-bigoted-christian morals, the government has changed the environmental laws and allowed for the Puszcza to be treated like any other state-governed woodland. Which means not only human intervention in its natural processes (such as removing fallen trees, which interferes with the normal cycle of an ecosystem) but also allows logging.

Yes. The government has allowed for trees to be cut down in the last vestige of UNESCO-protected primeval forest.

The EU is trying to pressure them to stop, but it becomes increasingly apparent that they are simply too stupid, or too arrogant, to do that. Brought before the European Commission, a Polish Minister claimed the EC “has their facts wrong.”
Many citizens of Poland are afraid that the actions of the government are a deliberate attempt to have Poland thrown out of the EU.

What does all that have to do with the Pagan tumblr? Well, I want to ask for your help.
There are many ways in which you can help. The best way is, of course, money, but I know most of witchlr is broke young people, so today I’m talking about something else.
(If you nevertheless want and can help financially, I will write a separate post about that).

Many among the activists fighting to stop the logging are Pagans of various shades. Some of them are currently in the Puszcza Camp - a small campsite of activists set inside the Puszcza proper, where they physically stop the logging activities by chaining themselves to the harvester machine wheels.
Those of us who cannot be there physically assist them in other ways, such as making it possible for them to leave work, picking up the slack they leave behind, chipping in for the fines they get (they get fined for each day of “obstruction”), and prayers.

Today, October 19th 2017, on the new moon, a group of Pagan activists has arranged to perform mass rituals in order to help and encourage those fighting for the Forest, as well as the Forest itself. Our rituals are to start today on 19:00 CET, but as the activists camp there for weeks, I don’t think the time is the most important part of it.

Our group decided to use the symbol pictured below as our spiritual anchor - every sub-group (or solitary practitioner) will do their thing tonight, but including this symbol as a demonstration of intent. One of us who is present on site has made the same symbol out of twigs out there, consecrated it in her own rite, and left it in the forest.

That is our anchor, that is where we send our energy, our magic, our prayers.

If any of you want and can do the same, I strongly encourage you to do so, and thank you from the bottom of my heart.

The Value Of Just Shutting The Fuck Up Sometimes

A few weeks ago, I was doing an interview with a reporter and she was asking about almost every weird GamerGate conspiracy theory that had come up about me in the last few years. I’ve honestly forgotten more of them than I remembered at this point. She didn’t seem to understand why I’d never addressed most of the accusations which had ranged from whose dick I touched to literally murdering people. She said in researching me for the piece, she’d only ever found the weirdo accusations but not my version of events, and seemed to not understand why I wouldn’t just say what actually did or didn’t happen.

I can’t blame her for being curious. I think whenever we hear something wild, especially about someone or something we care about, we want to know answers. Lord knows if you’re the one being lied about, it’s a natural impulse to want to set the record straight or give your side of anything.

Sadly, that’s extremely short sighted. No one thinks about what might happen next.

It’s been over three years of being accused of all kinds of shit from all kinds of people, and if I’ve learned nothing else, I’ve learned the importance of restraint and the responsibility that comes with having a large platform and gigantic visibility. It makes me feel like a kaiju where any small movement could potentially tip over a building. I’ve written a bunch in my book about how engaging with bad-faith accusations and signal boosting them just to refute them can easily backfire and ingrain false information in people’s minds even further. That can sometimes just come down to a math problem - if someone with an audience of 50 makes up a rumor about you, if you respond to it with your audience of 500, more people are going to see the false stuff than would otherwise. To complicate matters, there are enough people out there who think that even refuting something at all makes you look guilty. There are people who want you to be guilty because they already don’t like you. Frequently, bad-faith accusations will not be addressed by proof to the contrary, because you can’t reason someone out of something they didn’t reason themselves into in the first place. People are complicated.

But when you put your side of anything out there, the thing that comes next isn’t usually “oh, okay”. The thing that comes next is usually escalation. It’s people digging into shit trying to prove you wrong. It’s invasive, and it can have so much collateral damage.

For example, when people ask me why I didn’t address my ex’s claims about who I did and didn’t sleep with, even when I had the floor, I get why they’d ask. My own desire to keep some remaining shred of my privacy aside, those claims aren’t just about me. I’ve been accused of sleeping with people I haven’t ever really talked to, people who are pretty private in general who just want to be left the hell alone. I don’t have the right to drag them back into a messy situation that involves probably getting stalked and yelled at by nazis just to try and save my own skin, especially since it’s more likely than not that people are just going to believe whatever they want to anyway. Or maybe that’s me being cynical after watching years of people claiming that I fucked someone for a review I never got from a website I already had written for in the past. I honestly have, I think understandably, lost a bit of perspective on that particular point.

This is especially complicated by situations like mine, because I am under constant surveillance by people who hate my guts who are looking for people to hurt, and people looking to feed on “drama”, and people looking for new targets. If you think that’s being dramatic, there are places I know of that have threads specifically about stalking me *to this day* with literally thousands of posts in them. Bad faith actors aside, my audience is in the hundreds of thousands. The responsibility that comes with that is something I take extremely seriously.
It’s something that I encourage everyone else with big online platforms to take extremely seriously too. I think a lot of us internet famous folks ended up here without really trying to, and it’s easy to feel like “well I didn’t ask for this and it’s not my fault if something happens” and while, yeah, sure, you can’t take responsibility for the actions of other people (especially people who are super out there and just looking to hurt someone regardless of whatever you’re doing), I see no reason to not try to minimize harm. A power dynamic doesn’t cease to exist just because you didn’t explicitly seek that power out, or maybe didn’t even want it in the first place. People who have less resources than you will still have less resources than you regardless of how you feel about it.

When there’s a significant power differential at play, there’s harm algebra to be done when it comes to addressing disinformation. It’s not as simple as “just setting the record straight” in public, because once you make something public you give up a certain degree of control that you cannot get back. It might mean putting someone who is already hurting or has so much less than me in more harm than I’d ever face by just taking the reputation hit.

Sometimes there’s situations where I just have to take it on the chin, because nothing happens in a vacuum. Sometimes I just have to let it go, no matter how much it fucking sucks to have people out there tearing into you for reasons that really have very little to do with you, because the collateral damage is too much on too many people to justify any potential repairs to my reputation.

Honestly, it’s really not worth it to me to escalate a situation just to make a frequently pointless attempt at getting people to be more critical of the wild shit they read about me online, especially when it means probably hurting someone else. It’s been years and I still don’t know how to navigate a lot of this. I’ve tried so much already - talking about bigger stuff, proving what actually happened, attempting to prove negatives, responding only with screenshots of fighting game win screens. It’s not like people making shit up about me, regardless of motivation, is a novel occurrence in my life. It’s not like I’ve made the right call all the time - I’ve arrived at this method of dealing with shit after making a lot of *wrong* calls. I’ve been pretty open about being a bad fit for being a public figure of any sort - I was (and still feel) vastly unprepared to handle being a weird symbol to so many people who want all kinds of things from me regardless of if they need a villain or a hero or a symbol of whatever the fuck.

Frankly I can’t live my life around playing whack a mole with whatever new horseshit slithers out of the corners of the internet on any given day that ends in Y, because when I was trying to do that it really almost cost me my life.

A fun side effect of being a survivor of domestic violence is how easy it is to slip back into doubting your own life and experiences to a hyperbolic degree. A fun side effect of depression is feeling like everything you say and do is bad and wrong and that you’re worthless on a regular basis. A fun side effect of my PTSD is flashing back to being in that fucking elevator shaft when GamerGate started and I couldn’t sleep or eat and was convinced everyone would turn on me and I’d be alone forever any time some conspiracy comes up that hits me at just the right angle that it gets under my armor.

But I know that’s squarely out of my control. All I can do is manage what I do with that. I don’t know what else to do other than seek external advice from people smarter than me when something comes up that really gets under my skin or makes me doubt my own version of events even when I damn well know something didn’t happen to help counter the trashbrain filter that the disinformation comes in through because having those issues doesn’t let me off of any hooks. I don’t want to use any of that, or even my status as someone who is frequently targeted with shit that I’m too exhausted to type out so just picture me gesturing vaguely at everything to absolve me of anything. I don’t ever want to think I’m above reproach, so I check in with people around me who will be honest and call me on my shit. When I do fuck up, and I do because I’m a human in an extremely weird fucking situation, I do whatever seems like the right thing to do, not the face-saving thing to do. Sometimes, this is shit that’s done in private. I don’t know why people assume everything has to be handled extremely online. But overwhelmingly more often than not, shit is maliciously made up, and more often than not the only right move that will de-escalate shit and hurt the least amount of people is just letting it go and praying that people will see through it, or they’ll actually talk to me if they see some wild accusation. And if people wanted to look for reasons to think the worst and get the knives out immediately, honestly, I feel extremely done with anyone looking to build people up only to gleefully tear them back down. I’m tired and I’ve watched too many communities devour themselves to want any part of that, and am only interested in working toward a future that’s centered on restorative justice instead of exclusively punitive systems in different settings. I’m tired of enthusiastic disposibility masquerading as community. All that behavior says to me is that I was never safe around you in the first place.  

I know I’m taking a gigantic risk in even posting this to begin with because I know it’s an uncomfortable subject, but it feels like a bigger, longer-term risk to watch my comrades, siblings, and friends all scared and lost on either side of the power dynamic - both as people who have grievances with people with gigantic platforms, and as people who have gained both visibility and the jealousy and hatefollows that come with it. I’m tired of talking about this stuff in dms with other scared people who don’t know what to do. And by no means do I think this is the only way to deal with any of this - this is just how I feel, and how I approach being someone who went from being some random weirdo to being a cultural football. Your mileage may vary. Hopefully I figure out a way that’s less dehumanizing, and if I do, I’ll be sure and let you know. But again, I’m a random weirdo game developer. I’m figuring this shit out as I go, and I lean into my skids and wear my heart on my sleeve and if y'all want to throw me in the trash over being aggressively vulnerable and human at you, that’s ok. You don’t have to like me or support me, and I like trash anyway.

Shit’s pretty fucked up in the world right now (duh), but the very least we can do is really interrogate how and what we use our varying degrees of reach and visibility for. We have to see ourselves as part of something larger and look at our impact instead of just our intentions. For me, sometimes that means that being right doesn’t mean a damn thing and is unrelated to doing the right thing. Sometimes, for me, that means knowing when to just shut the fuck up and let people think what they’re gonna think. And if nothing else, I’ve seen that on a long enough timeline, people tend to figure out who makes shit up without my involvement.

So I’m only gonna say all of this once, here, so that I never have to say it again and I can point at it any time I’m asked to weigh in on something someone said about me on the internet, because god damn I’m tired and I’d rather spend my time and effort trying to help people and make dope shit than fuss about what people think they know about me.

attitude check

AUTHOR: @wydobrien

WORD COUNT: a whopping 6,278

WARNINGS: descriptive violence, blood, roughness, choking, rough spanking, daddy kink, oral (m & f) and generally just hot mitch rapp overall. nsfw smut.

listen to me

i’m still rusty on writing smut and writing in general, since i’ve been on a writing hiatus for quite a while. but after watching both trailers for american assassin and reading some awesomeness from @writing-obrien​ and @sincerelystiles​ it has brought me out of my hiatus-hole !! i hope you all enjoy this as much as i did writing it. ;-) big thanks for @thelittlestkitsune​ for being the usual angel she is and helping me power through writing this. i also felt like i rushed the ending but :)))))). if you want a part two or anything, please please let me know !!

also, obv (y/n) = your name and (y/l/n) = your last name.

  It’s not like you had given up, everything you had worked for has been temporarily stolen from you. All because you had done the one thing that is most discouraged in your line of work. You had made things personal for you.

  All of the hard work, the sweat, the energy. Constant time in the training room, constant gun training, constant sleepless nights. You are always so doused in anger, so energized with the desire of vengeance, it has made you into this cold, killer machine no one had the power to turn on and off. Your instructor, especially, has been at her wits end trying to make sure you keep your ass out of trouble, being busy with her own conflicts. Recently you had broken one of her recruit’s wrists during a wrestling match in the training room, and your instructor had snapped. And that is what led you to your environment right now, being driven towards some random home in the middle of absolute nowhere.

  The deep green and brown colors surrounding you did little to ease you, and with your instructor being the one driving, it annoyingly erased the chance of turning around. You’re a soldier, an agent, an assassin; top of your classes, ruthless with a gun and merciless with its trigger. Not a child having to be driven to her babysitter because your agency can’t handle the insatiable fire roaring inside you.

  “You did this to yourself, (y/n).” Your instructor’s voice is stern, just how it always is, and you turn your head to look towards her, her own attention focused on the dirt-clad road ahead. “The only reason you’re not kicked out is because of me convincing them to do this.” You squint your eyes with a small scowl across your face, crossing one leg over the other as your eyes bore into your own window to your right. You feel like you’re being treated like a child. But, you still said nothing. All that was brewing in your mind was how long you had to stay wherever your instructor is taking you.

  The rest of the drive, fortunately, is short and quiet.

  Once she turns the last corner, the home is revealed. It appears to be like any other house, despite being surrounding by thick trees and dirt. You feel like you’ve been here before, but, you can’t seem to place when. Maybe it was just your head playing deja-vu on you.

  Your instructor exits the car first, with you following suit patiently, lugging your bag from where your feet had been onto your back. You shut the door with your calf before meeting your instructor at the steps of the home, the heavy smell of earth entering your nose quickly. “Who lives here?” You mumble, and your instructor turns towards you as soon as the sound of a doorknob wiggling to unlock itself. Immediately, your attention is pointed towards the door, watching the face that reveals itself when the door finally opens. It’s an older man, possibly in his mid-to-late 40s, but has a strong build and a seriously firm resting bitch face, looking towards your instructor. He looks like someone of big authority, however, so you made sure being polite was at high remembrance each time you saw this man.

  “This is the one, Irene?” He asks, and you tilt your head at his rude tone of surprise. Your instructor, Irene, visibly nods and he looks at you up and down, as if analyzing you in disbelief. “I’m Hurley. From what I heard, and what I’ve read from your records, you need an attitude check.” Attitude check. Seriously. You bottle up any irritation from the belittling phrase and simply lift your chin.

  “Yes, sir.” You speak monotonically, and Hurley scoffs. You grip onto your bag’s shoulder straps tighter and he moves to the side for you to step in, which you do. Once again, this looks just like any other, normal home. Framed pictures of family, the home is neat and organized, and there is even a clean smell of a candle somewhere in it.

  Irene and Hurley meet you on each of your sides before they step in front of you, wrapped up in their own small, private conversation clearly involving you at the hushed tone of voice they were using. “I know exactly what I need to do with you, (y/n).” Hurley speaks, and you gulp, but quickly brush off the sheepish gesture by rolling your shoulders and peering up at your, apparently, new instructor. “There’s rooms upstairs. Pick one, get dressed and get ready in ten. You’ll have time to unpack later.” You lick over your lips and brush past Hurley, walking towards the set of stairs. And, this time, you can hear their conversation from a few feet.

  “You know I’m not going to have proper time for this, Irene. They’re already sending that other one you were talking to me about, with a case just like this one, and I have the rest of the Orion group I’m training. I’m not a babysitter.” Hurley’s voice sounds evidently impatient, and as much as you want to listen more, you keep walking up the steps at a normal pace. Unfortunately, you are unable to listen to what your previous instructor has to say, something you wish had heard before your future.

  “But you’re what she needs, Stan. Trust me, when those two meet, they’ll be something you’ve never seen before. Put them with guns and they’ll definitely be something this agency hasn’t ever experienced before. Trust me when I say this, Stan, Rapp and (y/l/n) will be unstoppable.”


  With white, hot anger coursing through your body, you, once again, take another leap at your competitor, your mind flashing with images of much more violent, but similar, events that have happened to you.

  “(y/l/n), what did I just say?” The frustrated voice speaks through your ear-piece as you slip into the room with ease. The sleek, form-fitting gown that is draped over your body brings moderate attention towards you, with your target being only three feet away. Scum is what your target is, being no different than all the rest of the bastards you’re trained on killing. “Get your ass back out to your team outside. You’ll cause too much commotion. Listen to me, dammit. (y/ln)-” You brush some fallen strands of hair behind your ear, slyly turning off your cleverly hidden ear-piece in the process as you make your way to your target with a sickly sweet smile.

  Grabbing onto your competitor’s arm, your legs have his way of escape blocked as you yank it behind his back, slithering one of your legs from your lock-hold to his back, where you knock his knees in, with you pushing down on his back till the side of his face hits the sweaty mat.

  Once the door is locked, your target immediately goes for the thin shoulder straps of your dress. All that is buzzing through your mind is that one day, that one day, where your normal life was snatched away from you. Hand snaking to your back to reach for the tucked-in holster behind your bra strap, you manage to get good grip on the handle of the knife before swinging it out and immediately going for the throat. And with the close proximity, you were able to brush the blade clean across the midsection of his throat, unable to drive it right through like you had wanted. The target curses, holding the sliced skin with one hand while the other reaches behind him, ready to pull out his gun. You kick him square in the chest with your heel instead, slamming him up the wall and handling your knife once more, lifting it ever-so accordingly to your differentiating heights as your target’s blood splatters down your cheeks, neck and chest.

  “Release!” The sudden order goes over your head as you hold your competitor down with your foot, watching as his tightly shut eyes and tense body try to move against your hold. “Release (y/l/n)!” Once more, you numbly tilt your head to the side, bringing two hands to your competitor’s arm, the one pinned behind his back, getting a good opposing hold and gently lifting it from his back, grip tightening.

  The knife wedged in his throat, you reach for the gun he had recently tried to grab for, pulling it easily and cocking the pistol to ready the bullets in the small barrel. You point the barrel right between his eyes and pull the trigger, standing firm against the blast as his blood spews behind his head onto the silky white wallpaper. You pull the knife out of his throat with your free hand and dig the tip of it into the bullet-hole of his head, pulling the bullet out and smiling to see it drenched in hot, deep scarlet. Setting the gun in the same hand you have your knife in, you grab the bullet with numb fingers and stick it right between your target’s lips and into his mouth, before letting him fall to the floor. Loading the gun once more with the knife’s handle in-between your free fingers, you scowl down at the target and finally find it in yourself to turn your ear-piece back on with your free hand.

  “The job’s already done. Backup in ten, I can already hear more of them coming up the stairs.”

  You feel hands grab at you away from your competitor, hearing him gasp out in breath of relief as you blink rapidly. Hurley is the one holding you, but you quickly escape from his grasp and breathe heavily, looking at him with squinted eyes. “I told you to release. You’ve been here for a month and still can’t follow a simple order.” You huff, turning around to face him and being slightly surprised to see a new scruffy face standing next to him, the honey-golden eyes staring intently into your own. “Fucking unbelievable, (y/l/n). You need a leash? Or do I need to watch you train like the child you are?” Your mouth opens in frustration, ready to lash out at your instructor but finding last-minute control as you fall from your high.

  “No, sir.” Hurley rolls his eyes and gestures his head towards what you guessed to be the newest recruit. You can see the defined muscles easily of the new recruit in his jacket and shirt, his dark brown, almost black, messy hair complimenting his sharp features. You lick over your lips and wait for the introduction of this new person, suddenly really finding interest in hearing his name. Or- last name- considering first name’s are discouraged.

  Hurley folds his arms neatly across his chest. “Good. Because this is your new partner. Introduce yourselves, get acquainted, get friendly, because I’m tired of you almost breaking bones in my training room.” And he turns away, ready to leave us alone. Partner? Oh hell fucking no.

  “Sir, I don’t need a partner. I don’t need to be training with some newbie who probably references off of action movies for his own training.” Hurley snaps his head back with cold eyes, appearing stressed as all hell. “This is not necessary.”

  “Well, good thing I didn’t ask you.” And that is all it takes for you to shut your mouth after that, not looking forward to another month being added to your sentence for your back-talk. You sigh frustratedly and snap your head to your new ‘partner’, his looks now completely thrown out your head. He looks annoyed with you already, probably from the small diss you’ve already laid on him without even saying hello to him, but he drags his tongue along the skin inside his mouth below his bottom lips, the protruding bulge of it causing your eyes to follow its short path from right to left.

  Stretching your back some to pop some of the creaks you had, you peer up at him with a single eyebrow rose high-enough to show your sour attitude towards him. “Rapp.” Is all he says for his own introduction. He doesn’t hold out a hand or anything, which you didn’t expect him to, and you place your hands on your hips, lifting your chin almost arrogantly.

  “(y/l/n).” You retort back. “I suggest you get your gear… or else you’d like to train with your head pinned against the floor as well.” And with that settled, you turn around and sway your hips in a confident, but heated, stride. What you didn’t see is that his eyes raked your figure as you did so, but, that would be the least of the subtle things that would happen between you two. “Ridiculous.” You whisper inaudibly underneath your breath.

  Partner, you spat in your head, partner my ass.


  There is nothing but heavy, gruff breaths between the two of you, the drive back to the place you have become more accustomed to less than pleasant. “You just never listen to anyone but yourself, don’t you?” His harsh words are meant to be harsh, but you find no offense in them because they are right. Still, you’re pissed off, and Mitch knows better than to edge you in when you’re pissed off. “You had to jump on him. You had to ruin the game-plan because you can’t control yourself.”

  You turn your body towards him in your seat, crossing your arms. “That’s because I’m not a pussy, Rapp. Something you and I don’t have in common. You know I’m famous for going my own way. They fucking deserve to rot and I don’t wait for the right time to kill them when any given amount of free time is the right time.” Mitch tsks, one of the hands he had gripped on the steering wheel smacking against it.

 “Being ignorant is not ‘not being a pussy’, (y/n). You’re so desperate to get killed, why don’t you just go running straight into their fire like your some Goddamn Wonder Woman? Out of everything you have taught me, I’m just glad being a foolhardy idiot wasn’t on the list because that is just something you’ve learnt all on your own.” This time, something pangs into my chest at his rant, and I grip onto my seat, glaring directly onto the profile of his face, a sharp look of anger hitting my features. “We don’t have a lot of things in common, (y/n), but not being a pussy is not one of them. Just fucking- fucking- fuck!” The car suddenly goes to a stop, both of our bodies being yanked forwards. Mitch hits the wheel once more angrily, the veins popping out from the tops of his large hands and along his forearm easily.

  “What the fuck Mitch?” You sneer, and he turns his head towards you quickly, unbuckling himself.

  “It’s the damn car, bitch. Not my fault.” You chuckle with no humor in your voice, readjusting yourself in your seat. He yanks his door open and stands for a second, looking at the steam flowing out from the hood of the truck you two had borrowed from your agency for your guy’s mission - the same one you had apparently ‘almost ruined’.

  Running a hand through your hair, your glare still remains firm on Mitch. “It is your fault when your dumbass was so focused on arguing with me rather than your own driving-” Slam. He shuts his door on you before you can even finish, leaving you to slump back in your own seat and growl beneath your breath. “Such a cunt.” It seems like he can hear you through the thin glass as well because next thing you know he’s throwing a middle finger towards your way, and you roll your eyes. Fortunately, with the sky quickly darkening and the urgent task at hand he was busying himself with, Mitch couldn’t see the fact that you’re flipping him off back with both hands. And for a while, when your middle fingers curl back into your fists, you’re left to sit there while your grumpy partner tries to fix your only way of transportation back to the house.

  However, the short time period of silence left you to sit in your head for a while, which is something you usually either avoid doing or never had the time to. Your thoughts often open too many wounds for you to handle, but, your phone is dead and the one person you actually enjoyed talking to, believe it or not, is being an asshole by himself outside and doesn’t want to hear another word you say. Normally what clogs up your head is what if the attack hadn’t happened. You’d still be together with your boyfriend, you’d be more focused on your writing instead of guns, you’d be… whole. Not what you are now. Incomplete, still picking up the pieces of yourself, forever cracked. You’re sure your mentality will never be the same. Beforehand, you found yourself to be discomforted by the idea of guns. Now, you feel most safe and content with one loaded in your hand. If the incident hadn’t happened, you would’ve been a good person. Sweet, kind, like you used to be. You used to be sympathetic, a gentle breeze that people always welcomed.

  But that’s not what you are anymore.

  You gulp and wipe at your face, before shaking your head and gripping the door handle to open it, the sounds and smells of the night filling your senses. You slam your door shut and maneuver to where Mitch is, ignoring the short cold glare he spikes towards you. “Having fun?” He doesn’t answer. “What, cat got your tongue? Normally Mitchie is one for comebacks. Something only I have been able to bring fully out of you.” Though that last part is slightly bleak in truth, it seemed completely true and honest to you. Originally, you had thought Mitch to be a kiss-ass. An arrogant kiss-ass that the agency still favors over you because he knows how to listen and you don’t. Most people call that jealousy, you call it bullshit. “You’re so handy with guns, but you can’t handle a few nuts and bolts.” At this point, he’s still not amusing you with a retort back, so you turn your back to leave him, finding more enjoyment playing with the dirt if playing with his anger wasn’t getting you anywhere.

  “Oh my God, can you just shut the fuck up.” Instantly, your head snaps his direction, stopping mid-step to face the red-faced man yourself. Your eyebrows crinkle together, with your lips slightly tilted downwards and eyes squinted to exhibit your anger at his spat towards you. He stands in front of you, staring directly at you with his darkened eyes, fists tightly balled on each of his sides, skin glistening with sweat from all the steam from the hood hitting him and the humidity of the night from the woods surrounding you two. You act fast in your irritation, placing both hands flat on his hard chest and pushing threateningly.

  “Make me.” Your words are sharp and clear, but you are still unable to catch the smirk on his face. You move to push him again at his delayed response, but, he catches both of the small of your wrists, yanking you towards him till your chest hits his own. His nose bumps yours in the sudden movement, and he speaks before you can retaliate.

  His breath his hot against your face, the air between you and him thickening rather quicker than you would’ve ever expected. “Oh, trust me, babygirl.” He leans towards your ear, a shiver being coaxed out of your body from his breaths tickling the quickly sensitizing skin. “I will.” This is not a side you have seen Mitch show at all, and it leaves you, for once in your life, in shock. This new attitude he’s showing you and is about to show you knocks you clean off the pedestal you had spent months building. And judging from the smirk still on his lips, he likes it.

  His movements are fast, still gripping onto your wrists and using his torso to help push you backwards. For a split second, he releases one of them and diverts his line of sight off of you, but only to slam your waist against the side of the hood of the car. You had expected a sneer, a glare, a cold insult. Not this. Not any of this. You still aren’t sure how to react, you had never felt intimidated before. And as soon as that thought hits you, you feel another scowl hitting your lips. You’re a counter-terrorist operative, you aren’t some damn damsel who obeys when someone like Mitch, someone who you have never been scared of, suddenly decides to go into this random ass alpha-mode. You suddenly jolt forward, attempting to push out of his grip, but you are yet again surprised with the amount of strength his pushes back with, keeping you firm in place. Slowly, his head turns back towards you. “I’m so fucking sick and tired of your Goddamn attitude.”

  Before you know it, you’re spun around, front facing the side of the hood of the truck. But Mitch doesn’t stop there, he uses his free hand to harshly push your front flat onto the metal, the side of your face hitting the hood. A tiny moan slips from your lips, the roughness making things in you squirm that you never knew had been there. He notices the sound as soon as it leaves your lips. “You’ve never listened to anyone in your fucking life, but that’s not how things are going to work tonight. You listen to me, understand?” You can’t find it in yourself to answer right away, too caught up in the heat of the moment. You hear a low growl rumble behind you, and you feel him push against you even harder. “Say you do.”

  “I understand.”

  “Show some fucking respect.” You had never called anyone m’am or sir unless it was someone you considered of high authority. For Mitch, it had always been dumbass, cunt, Mitchie, because he never questioned what you called him, just for the fact that you pretty much treat everyone you didn’t like, which was a lot, like shit. Mitch must’ve just felt lucky you even acknowledged him enough to call him out. But, not tonight; tonight is full of surprises. The heat starting to pool between your legs being one of them.

  “I understand, sir.” He hums what you assume to be a dark laugh, and you seem to find relief in him being pleased with you. But, instead, he drags his free hand up your back and into your hair, wounding it around his fist.

  Pulling your head back, he leans his face forward, this time planting small kisses and bites below your ear. “That’s not good enough.” He pushes his hips forward into your ass, giving you the opportunity to feel the slowly growing erection pressed against you.

  “I understand…” He pauses his actions, seemingly anticipating for the next word that is about to leave your mouth. “Daddy.” Shivers, once more, attack your spine, now truly comprehending the situation you’re about to go head-on into. Part of you suspected he’d be into that kind of thing, but you, of course, would’ve never believed you would be able to experience the answer of your inquiries first-hand. He slips his hand out from your hair, and you sigh in slight sadness, enjoying the slight burn in your scalp it brought. Despite of how much dominance he’s already exhibited to you, there’s still that fire inside you. The one telling you to take charge back. Hell, if you two are going to get into this, you feel as if you might as well make it worth it. You didn’t want Mitch to think you’re easily submissive. You move against him once more, and this time you succeed to slither out of his hold. You grab his face to yank his lips down to yours, crashing into it with teeth and tongue. He growls into your mouth, firmly grasping the back of your thighs and lifting you off your feet, wrapping your thighs around his hips.

  You huff a breath of frustration through your nose, before all the air is knocked out from your lungs as he roughly brings your back down onto the side of the hood of the truck. “Disobey me like that again and expect much more. Now, scoot up some and open your legs more for me. Don’t grab onto anything; the only thing you’ll be grabbing onto is my hair when I get hands on you properly.” A shaky moan leaves your lips. Despite all the things in your head to do otherwise, you finally oblige to his orders entirely, which makes him hum another chuckle. “That’s what I thought.” You sit up on the car-hood, the slightly curved surface causing you to fear that you might slip. But Mitch’s firm hands tell you otherwise as he skillfully unbuttons your jeans and yanks them off in record time. With his eyes on your black thong you had chosen to wear, dropping your jeans on the dirt road next to his feet.

  And, just as he had told you, your hands found a home buried in his hair as soon as he crouched down, his hot breath fanning across your covered core. Leaning in even more, he licks a long stripe from your entrance to your clit, tongue massaging into the wet spot that had formed on your thong at the top. Your back lifts instinctively up on the hood, the spike of pleasure it brings you from just that singular movement blowing your mind in all directions. He hums in appreciation, sending vibrations to your core. “Lay back, babygirl.” He tells you, and you stay still, feeling frozen. He then moves you for you, placing the palm of his hand flat on your stomach and pressing down. Your thighs tense against the sides of his head, his wild and long hairs tickling the insides of your thighs. The new position causes your hands to pull from his hair, leaving them to brace themselves atop the hood of the car. He looks up to you, making sure you’re watching him, before leaning up slightly so his teeth can snag the top of the material of your thong. A single eyebrow is risen on his face as he pulls the thong downward, one hand still on your stomach while the other is gripping one of your hips.

  Once he successfully brings your thong down to your ankles, he lets that, too, fall to the ground, baring you entirely. He is too engulfed with his own desires that he leaves your top and bra on, and dives right in, pressing multiple open kisses against your clit. “You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to do this these past few weeks.” He mumbles, and you barely comprehend what he’s saying. “To bury my head in-between your legs, to be the one that makes you squirm and shake. Because I am the only one that can ever make you feel this way.” He kisses against you the way he would kiss your mouth, occasionally dipping his tongue and his lips brushing against your bundle of nerves. You inhale a sharp breath through your nose as he brings one of his hands down to you, the tips of his fingers gently tracing the edges of your entrance.

  “Oh, Daddy…” You breathe, fingers curling into the metal of the car.

  “That’s it, babygirl.” Mitch sighs against your clit, slipping a finger inside you and starting to pump. His pumps are in-sync with your sighs and moans, never once stopping, and he works his mouth against you, transferring from one technique to the next. From sucking against you to drawing shapes and impossible to decipher phrases onto your clit, letter by letter. His pumps start to become more rapid, which makes you feel utterly boneless, the hand that is not working inside you still holding you down. He adds another finger into the mix, twisting and turning his wrist to try out new angles, all while keeping his erratic pace. Your moans become more volumized and heavier as you reach your edge, leaning closer and closer over it as his movements only quicken. He curls his fingers as he buries them to the hilt inside you, his mouth moving back to pressing small kisses against your heat. “Come.” He demands, pushing a third finger in you, stretching you deliciously, and bringing them out only to slam them back in.

  It’s like your body is under his command because as soon as he curls his fingers once more, your orgasm rolls over you in waves. He doesn’t stop his fingers, but instead moves his face up to yours, slamming his lips atop of yours as his tongue explores every corner of your mouth, his teeth nibbling down on your bottom lip every now and then. You moan breathlessly into his mouth, which makes him only chuckle hoarsely in response, scissoring his fingers to reach newer places inside you. Your body is still shaking from the orgasm as he only built you up for a second one, milking every bit of you out onto his fingers. “I-I can’t, Daddy.” You whimper, breaking your kiss with him.

  “Yes you can.” He speaks firmly, his fingers reaching an unbelievable pace as he continuously slams his fingers inside you, all the while until his thumb reaches up to your clit, rubbing in a circular motion vigorously. “Come on babygirl, let go.” It takes a few seconds longer, but, you find yourself reaching another high and crashing down from it, coming all over his fingers once more. Slowly, he slips his fingers from you and wraps his lips around two of them, sucking graciously. He lifts the third finger up to your lips, the smirk returning to his features. “Taste yourself for me.” Mitch says, and you obey, allowing him to push his finger past your lips. He only growls in response to the feeling, pulling his finger from your mouth and pulling you to your feet.

  His hands are feisty and needy, clawing at any clothing you still had on. He lifts your shirt over your head and unclips your bra, while also stripping himself of his shirt, jeans and shoes. Fortunately, the ground is dry, so both Mitch’s and your clothes won’t be ruined.

  “Get on your knees.” He orders, already pushing down on your shoulders as he stares darkly down onto you, a slight tilt in his head - a motion only you had become famous for. You can only oblige, blinking numerously as your shaking hands move to the elastic of his boxers. Now, this is your chance. Your own smirk finds your face as you look up to meet his eyes as one of your hands move over to palm over his completely hardened erection, wrapping your fingers around the covered cock you had, secretly, wondered about. But, from the bulge straining against his boxers, you can tell he was bigger than you had thought. He sneers at you and tangles his hands in your hair, creating two fists. “You better get that mouth to work babygirl, before I do it for you. You aren’t allowed to tease me.” You don’t listen to his warning and continue your actions, planting gentle kisses against his hard-on.

  Mitch doesn’t tolerate it for another second, gripping onto your hair even tighter and bringing his hips closer to you, giving you a clear message that he meant business. You obey, tugging down his boxers enough to where his erection springs free. Mitch moans at the feeling of being unconfined, and your eyes widen at the size of him. You remember his words, but you toss them away for a handful of seconds, slowly sliding your tongue along the underside of his cock, right till the tip, where you kiss it once. You feel him shiver as you take just the head of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip and sucking in your cheeks, all while holding eye-contact with him. His own are shut for a split second, until he snaps them open, and you can see the darkened color of them.

  “What did I tell you?” He seethes, pushing your head further down on his length till his tip is brushing against the back of your throat. He even cants his hips forward, and his mouth hangs open as a empty moan flows right out through it. “Your mouth is only for my cock, got it?” You don’t say anything in response, but rather suck him hard as you bring your lips slowly up his cock. He licks his lips, already pushing you back down, right until it’s his hips doing most of the work. You still remember to use your tongue and even lightly brush your teeth against his cock each time he slips it out from your mouth, starting a punishing rhythm with his hips until it becomes increasingly erratic. “Oh, babygirl,” He moans, “that pretty little mouth wrapped around my cock feels so good.” You simply continue on with your own actions, wanting to bring him to his own orgasm just as well as he brought you to yours.

  When he does, he pushes you down on his cock further than before, your nose buried in the hairs of his happy-trail, with his warm seed hitting the back of your throat. “C’mon babygirl, take it all like a good girl.” Mitch speaks, and you do as said, your own wishes of dominance diminishing by the second. For the first time since the incident, someone has put you in your place. You had no desires to disobey.

  You pull from his cock, a string of saliva following afterwards. He heaves for a split second, trying to recollect himself, and does it efficiently, already yanking you back up to your feet and turning you around. “There’s no time for me to be teasing you, no time at all. All I want to do is just fuck you.” He sighs, pushing your front flat back onto the side of the hood on the truck, kicking your legs apart till he thought it was good enough space for him. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard, so good, you won’t be walking straight for weeks.” He promises, and you believe him. One thing he hasn’t made you do yet is beg, but, he knows that even with the state you are at right now, begging is what you will never do. With a gun to your head, or on the highest peak of pleasure, you don’t beg. “Now, scream my name.”

  He rams inside you, not allowing you to adjust. He starts a quick, punishing pace, hands gripping on your hips roughly. You’re assured there will be bruises in replacement of his fingertips, but, you’re loving every second of this. “Next time you decide to not listen to me,” He starts, leaning in to suck hickeys onto your neck, one after the other, “you remember me fucking you like this.” Mitch sinks his teeth into the hot skin of the crook of your neck, and you let out the loudest moan you have this entire time. His pace never quivers, and it remains hard and fast, his hips snapping against your ass mercilessly. His name leaves your lips like a prayer. A sudden slap causes you to jolt forward, followed by two more, blood rushing to your ass cheeks as his hands continue to take turns slapping your ass till the skin is as red as a cherry, maybe even till purple spots started to show. “Come babygirl. Come for me.” He huffs, a hand reaching around to cup your neck, squeezing firmly but not inflicting too much pain. His hips start to lose formation, now ramming into you sloppily, his tongue still working over your neck. And with a final thrust and slap against your ass, you come undone, and he does too soon after, pulling out and tugging rapidly over his cock till white spurts of his release paints your lower back.

  You’re both out of breath and out of energy, and he presses a hand on the car next to you, pulling himself together. “Holy fucking shit.” He says, beneath his breath, and you nod slightly, body trembling from the intensities it just endured. Mitch laughs tiredly, picking up his clothes and redressing himself, and soon helping you as well. His hands massage over the covered sore flesh of your ass, humming against your neck as he brings his lips back up to yours once more, this time more gently than before.

 “You still gonna fix the car?”

  “You know, after everything we just did, you still always go back to the same you.” Mitch retorts, removing himself from you and moving back to the hood of the truck, popping it open and sighing at the little progress he has made.

  “Ridiculous.” You mumble beneath your breath, a smile making its way onto your lips as you re-enter the car, waiting for Mitch to fix the truck and for the new changes about to come your way into your life. Maybe it was time to be a little nicer, a little more obedient. You shake your head as you peer back up at Mitch, still smiling. Never.

anonymous asked:

Do you have any tips for painting backgrounds?? oh my god i am STUNNED by your work!


as for some tips…just…references LOL. look at pretty pictures. both photography and paintings of places u think are cool! they usually give me a good basis for starting palette and space, and then from there I kind of build my own place depending on the composition. (Because I’ve pretty much been using backgrounds as a supplement to the piece, secondary to the figures involved..)

It’s not hard though! I’ll walk u through… (the meadows) (ha)

… *puts bob ross wig on*

throw in a sky

some foreground elements

flesh out some middle ground. I specifically kept the hills under their shoulders for emphasis on their heads, yknow??

add some happy mountains.

sprinkle in some flowers

throw on some extra lighting (mine is coming in from the right)

maybe add some happy clouds

some extra foreground elements to put icing on the cake!

I’m always adjusting my colors and values with the HSV slider (CTRL/CMD+U)

For this one I wanted a really pink/red thing goin on for Valentine’s day so that was my goal~ Hope this helps a little bit!

Seunghyun’s neck appreciation post

(useful tip: Keep in mind to breathe between the following pictures. Seriously.)

and now



@keisume160 if you’re still alive, happy sinful birthday!! 🎉
and my deepest condolences to all my fellow sinners’ ovaries 🙏🙏

[I do not own any of these holy pictures/gifs. All the credits goes to the original owners]

Illustration from Photography

I love taking pictures, of everything. It’s an open source of inspiration you can find everywhere. I would like to share with you a work process I used (still rough, it’s my own way, but still a work process) to work with one of this pictures as reference, and do an illustration from it.

1. Take a picture you love

I took this photography you can see below last week ; and when I was looking to the result on my phone, I just could not believe my eyes ; it looked so magic ! I could not let it by itself, I had to do something from it. But I believe now that the same process can be applied to any other picture I took in the past ; I can work with them if I want to, from the moment a picture is giving me an emotion, I can just try to think how to push this emotion by using my art skills.

2. Thumbnail

At this stage, I just drawn on a side of my sketchbook a Thumbnail (a small drawing from the picture, as you can see bellow) and then, I just had fun letting my imagination working with the photography : pushing shapes, creating a character from the light, an other on a side…. thumbnails are really useful to just let things getting alive, without getting bored by details !

3. Let’s Draw !

Now, it’s just about drawing skills ; put back thumbnail’s proportions on my sketchbook, draw in rough all elements, try to clarify shapes…

Then, to clean up and put all details, I chosen to use a black fine felt (it can be anything, it’s on your good will). I tried to put smartly my details (a good tips : always think when you draw !! it should be your golden word, in any situation, if you want to progress) The space was not very clear on the picture, so it was kind difficult to create my interpretation of the floor, stares, bushes, plants…

4. Shadows and color

I’m steel learning colors foundations for the moment, so my technique is not that good yet … Hope I’ll get better by practicing ! I can still share with you my way, but I’m sure, others are much better than me to advise how to color at this stage !

Well, here what I did : I’ve put shadows with promarkers, then a color pass with water color (a very bad idea, promarkers and watercolor are reeeally not working well together ; well from this experience, it was catastrophic) then I used polychromos (white and black) to save back my drawing by pushing B&W, and finally, some colors/balance corrections on Photoshop.

5. Conclusion

Now it’s done, I’m not very satisfied yet by the result… but it still was a great experience, and I really would like to try it again ! My technique still need to be perfected, but I think sharing this experience with you guys could just help ; I hope you’ll be able to try by yourself with your own references (I took a picture but it can be anything) and make amazing art with your own method !

Have fun with your pencils, and see you next time !

Clark’s Niece - Part 2

Part 2!! Yay!!


You let out a gasp when the Zeta tube deposits the three of you in the Batcave. “Wow! Dami, look!!”

“Yes, Beloved, I am aware of the T-Rex … yes, the Batmobile … of course you can ride in it later …”

Bruce chuckles as Y/N continues to zoom around the cave, Damian walking calmly behind her, explaining things, and just making sure she doesn’t get lost.

“Damian, Y/N! Come here” Damian stands in front of his father and Y/N hovers upside down, still smiling. “Damian and I need to shower and change into civilian clothes. I would like you to go upstairs, Alfred is up there, Clark should have dropped off your clothes by now”

You float down so you’re on the ground again, “But, Dami …”

“It is alright, Beloved. I will be quick. Pennyworth is a good man; he will care for you while I am preoccupied.”

You nod, darting forward for a quick and fierce hug before you slowly drift up the Batcave stairs.

“Hello there, Young Miss” An older man is standing at the top of the stairs, hands behind his back.

“H-hello” you stutter, nervous around the new person. “My name is Y/N”

Alfred gave you a soft smile, “Yes, and I assume you know my name?”

“Bruce calls you Alfred, but Dami calls you Pennyworth?”

Alfred chuckled, “Yes, Master Damian refers to me by my last name, but you may call me Alfred. Your uncle has dropped off clothes for you. Would you like to change?”

You nod, reaching out to take Alfred’s hand, “Thank you”

“Master Bruce’s other sons are also here tonight, Miss Y/N. I hope you don’t mind the company”

“Dami said he had big brothers! I already know Timmy. He’s Kon’s best friend!”

“Yes, I do believe that Mr. Connor will be joining us for dinner as well. It will be nice to have a full house tonight”

You change at super speed, eager to meet Damian’s other two brothers and to see Kon. Alfred leads you to a huge room, it looks like Uncle Clark’s living room, but it’s ten times bigger. Kon is already there, talking to Timmy. There are two other men also in the room, one of them, the one with the white streak, is almost as big as Bruce, and the other one is doing some kind of weird bend over the back of the couch.


“Kon!” You zoom over, slamming into his chest, “You didn’t tell me you were coming!”

He chuckled, “I didn’t plan on coming, but Alfred called and invited me. He wanted everyone to meet you, and I thought it would be good for you to have some family over”

You giggle, leaning over to look at Tim, “Hi, Timmy!”

“Hello, Y/N. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen you”

“It’s been too long! Kon wouldn’t let me come over, he said you were busy” you pout and drift down until you’re sitting in Tim’s lap.

“Come on, Tim! Don’t hog the littlest Super!”

“Calm down, Dick. Y/N, I’d like you to meet Dick, the oldest, and that’s Jason, he’s the second oldest.”

You gasp, darting over to the older men, “You’re Nightwing! And – and you’re Red Hood!!” You wrap Dick in a hug and then dart over to Jason, clinging to him, you lean down whispering in his ear, “You’re one of my favorites”

Jason puls back, his eye brows raised, “And who’s you’re first favorite hero? Is it Kon? Superman?”

“Nope! It’s Robin! He’s my favorite!”

“That is pleasing to know, Beloved”

You whip around and shoot across the room, straight into Damian’s arms. “You took too long”

“I apologize. Father and I needed to speak to one another alone.”

“Was it about me?” You lean back so you can look Damian in the eye.

“Indeed it was. Nothing bad, of course.”

You nod, snuggling back into Damian’s chest. Glancing over at the door you make eye contact with Alfred, “When will dinner be ready?”

“It is ready whenever you are, Miss Y/N”

Dinner is great. Alfred is the best cook in the entire world, and you make him promise to teach you how to cook when you realize that no one else knows how. After dinner everyone ends up back in the living room. Kon had to leave, there was an emergency that he had to take care of. Timmy and Bruce are working on some business stuff, and you, Dick, Damian, and Jason sprawl across the couches and watch a movie. Of course they pick a scary movie, you don’t really like those, but you don’t want to seem like a baby so you stay quiet.

Later that night you can’t sleep. All you can think about is the ghosts from the movie, and how you’re all alone in this big house. You extend your hearing until you hear Damian’s heartbeat, only two rooms away from yours. Unable to stay in this room any longer you scramble out of bed and run over to Damian’s.

“Dami?” You knock softly, “Dami, are you awake?”

The door clicks open, “Y/N? What is wrong, Beloved?”

You sniffle and wipe your eyes, “’m scared. I-I don’t wanna sleep alone”

Damian open the door the rest of the way, “Come. You may sleep with me”

You dart into the room and climb onto Damian’s bed. “Sorry I’m such a scaredy cat”

Damian sighs softly, gently wrapping an arm around you and pulling you closer. You rest your head on his chest, instantly soothed by his heartbeat, “You have no need to apologize, Y/N. I am the one who should apologize. I should have known that the movie and a strange environment would affect your sleep”

You curl in tighter, gripping Damian’s shirt in your hand, “Thank you. Goodnight, Dami”

“Goodnight, Beloved”

Alfred walks into Damian’s room the next morning and immediately turns around to walk back out and get Bruce.

“Master Bruce, I believe this is something you would like to see”

Of course the other boys can’t be left out so they follow the two older men and stop outside of Damian’s room. Inside is the most adorable sight that any of them had ever seen.

Damian is laying on his back with Y/N curled up practically o top of him. Both of Damian’s arms are around her, and his nose is pressed into her hair. This is also the deepest sleep that anyone has ever seen him in. For once the kid looks his age.

“The kid actually looks cute, B” Jason whispered. He slowly crept closer, pulling out his phone and snapping several pictures. “I’m going to use these when they get married”

“You had better send those to everyone, Jay”

Alfred reaches out, pulling Jason by the back of his shirt out of the room and firmly, but quietly, shutting the door. “While you may send the photographs to everyone present, they will not be used against either of the children. I do not want any of you pressuring them to get married. Their relationship shall move at its own pace without interference.”

Bruce cleared his throat, “Of course, Alfred. However,” he grins, “I’m sending the pictures to Clark”

Alfred nods, “I can accept that.”

Later that day Clark’s phone buzzes, it’s a picture message from Bruce. All it says is “Told you” and then the picture loads. It’s a picture of Damian and his niece, curled up in bed together, sound asleep. Clark just stares in horror at the image before thudding his head on his desk. He guesses that he needs to start getting used to the idea that his niece is going to marry one of the Bats.

(apologies for the awful graphic omg
EDIT: oh gosh i just realized it says “our” instead of “out” why do i embarrass myself like this !?)

hey loves!! ♥ i haven’t posted any printables in a while, but i had some lying around in my google docs, so here are four great printables that aim to improve different aspects of your life!!

  • daily reflection [ download it here! ]
    sometimes, we’re so busy with school or extracurriculars or part time jobs that we forget to take a step back and just reflect. this is a simple, quick sheet you can print out whenever you want to think about your day. it’s meant to make you think about the positive aspects of your day, as well as how you hope to improve yourself!

  • sweet dreams [ download it here! ]
    one of the problems with working so hard is that you don’t always remember to take that much-needed break. this is a simple sleep tracker you can use for three weeks to make sure you’re meeting your sleep goals. try to get at least eight hours of sleep every night!

  • priorities [ download it here!
    the famous time management quadrants: urgent and important, not urgent and important, urgent and not important, and finally not urgent and not important. this printable allows you to set your daily tasks in order of priority so that you are getting the right things done!

  • make or break [ download it here! ]
    everyone has habits that they want to curate or break. with this simple, 30-day challenge, you can set yourself up for success! mark down every day you complete the habit successfully, and every 5 days you can write an adjective about how you’re feeling. whether it’s “excited” because of your progress or “discouraged” because you seem to be lacking motivation, keeping track of how you feel during your journey is important!

anddd that is it for today!! i hope you like these printables and find them useful! please send me mail with critiques if you have any so that i can offer better printables in the future ♡ aLSO if you post a picture using one of my printables, tag #heyacdemic so that i can reblog it! :)

hannah’s printable terms of use ;; please do note that i make all of these by myself and each one does take a bit of time! i don’t watermark them: please do not claim them as your own or redistribute without permission. ♥ i make these to help you study, and they’re meant for personal use only!

Hawkeye! Kim Taehyung moodboard.

“You know, I’m not so sure I want to be part of a team I have to rescue every week.”

Part of the BTS: Avengers series.

Hoseok: Iron Man - Namjoon: The Hulk - Jungkook: Captain America - Yoongi: Loki - Seokjin: Thor

[Credits to owners, I do not own any of the pictures. Please do not use without giving credit and do not delete the caption]