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faeriekit · 1 month

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Health and Hybrids (XXI)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... Wonder Woman! Robin! Impulse! Danny! Dick drawings! Who says that occupational therapy and learning a second language can't be fun?

Trigger warnings for this story: body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) | my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

EXTRA TW for: vomiting, panic attacks (this chapter only)

Danny can hold a spoon now. He is unstoppable.

So, when the lady isn’t there to feed him dinner (more mush), one of the not-the-lady nurses gives Danny a tray, and lays a mat over his lap so that he can eat without completely messing up his bedsheets.

Eat he does. Slowly. Maybe a little messily, and it’s kind of embarrassing to have to admit to himself that food definitely spills out of his mouth and onto his lap. The doctor/nurse/medical person, whoever they are, turns on the television, and Danny doesn’t try to ask for the remote. The television only gets something like ten channels, and none of them are cartoons at lunch hour.

So. News it is.

Most of the news follows the same cycle; the weather, sports teams Danny can now recognize the colors of, traffic cameras, and events with long, scrolling text to detail the happenings onscreen. There’s something about dogs? That’s fun. The scientist/nurse/tech, whoever they are, says something in the tone of Aaw, aren’t they cute? as puppies run about and wrestle on screen.

Danny kind of misses Cujo. He picks at his bedsheet, and doesn’t say anything.

The dog program transitions away— there’s a bright banner in its place. Danny’s seen it before: it’s something to the equivalent of Breaking News. It’s usually weather, or crime, or something.

Um. But it’s not that. Danny’s spoon drops, because a ROBOT LADY lights up the screen with a glistening silver suit, not unlike the Ecto-Skeleton his parents used to keep in the basement. Or, well…this one might be more streamlined?

Danny shifts. He can’t help. He’s here, in the hospital. Or. Uh. The space…hospital. His body is very broken.

But there’s a robot lady wrecking a town on Earth.

And Danny can fly.

…Could fly. Could have flown. If he was. Well.

Danny’s not well, and his body aches and his hands don’t work and his legs work even less, but there’s people out there who need help. People who are getting shot at with rays and Danny can fight them, and humans can’t. Danny can help. He—

His core throbs. Danny chokes. He pulls at his chest, trying to find some kind of purchase on his medical gown to tug himself—up?? Out?? He can’t fly right now, but maybe—?

“Whoah, whoah, whoah, abide, abide.”

Danny grits his teeth. “Look!” he snaps, and jams a finger at the television. “There’s—look! There’s a giant robot out there punching buildings!”

“Wacie,” the human protests, but at least turns up the volume so that Danny can see better. “Wacie, þær eart firas þær nou.”

What does that mean?!

Danny hasn’t lifted himself in forever. His legs don’t work, but his arms…might.

He presses his palms down to the mattress. He pushes.

There is a liberated fraction of a second where Danny’s whole weight is on his arms.

—And then he comes crashing back to reality, his elbows snapping back into place. His butt slams back onto the bed and the whole frame jitters.

Danny pants. His arms quake.

The medic completely barrels through Danny’s usually meticulously-kept personal bubble, trying to make sure Danny didn’t dislodge his IV or rip his ligaments and tendons or tear his muscles or. Something. Danny barely notices, barely cares, because someone else blasts onto the television screen in a red bathing suit and gold boots.

And suddenly, both the people on screen are fighting. It’s brilliant. It’s bloody—it’s physical, in the way that flesh and bone and metal must be. Danny’s never seen serious fighting like that before.

And the new woman flies.

Danny stares.

She flies. She fights. She wins—narrowly dodging or displacing lasers with something shiny on her arms, and getting long hair singed in the process. In the end, the robot is tethered down with some kind of shiny metal rope, screaming and kicking all the way.

…Danny barely remembers to choke in air. That's so cool.

The medical person says something reassuring, but Danny’s too tired to listen. He watches this new woman take her applause, floating down on nothing but air to meet the reporter and answer questions. She looks poised. Confident. People clap. People shout things out. People smile. People cheer.

…No one is screaming. No one is running.

There are no ghost hunters in the crowd.

Danny’s exhale is manual. So is his inhale. His heart monitors are making all sorts of funky pictures most likely, but that’s not his business—he watches a woman in armor who flies take off into the sky, free to come and go as she pleases.

It…it hurts. It’s so beautiful and so peaceful and gentle and it hurts so much.

His eyes well up with tears. Why did she get this? This…niceness? Everyone had hated him when he'd tried to help—the teachers, Vlad, the town, his parents. They’d hated him! All he ever wanted to do was help like she did!

What made him so different?! Why was it Danny who got hunted down and shot at? Why was it Danny who got kidnapped and taken hostage?!

Tears burn his eyes like fire. It’s got to be the salt. Danny’s strangled whine turns into a choked off sob before he can catch it. His hand goes to his mouth, but he can’t stifle the noise.

He doesn’t want to. He wants to cry. He thinks he deserves it.

The tears come until he is sobbing, crying, wailing—because WHY WHY WHY was it so easy to hurt him?! WHY DID THEY HURT HIM, WHY DID MOM HURT HIM, HE DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG!

A towel appears in his hand. They’re so nice to him here. So much nicer than when Mom and Dad had—

Danny’s cries are as much screams as they are anything else.

There are hands on his shoulder. On his back. Rubbing. Danny wants to shove them off but the lady isn’t here, which means that it’s one of the staff-members who isn’t supposed to touch him. They’re not supposed to touch him in case Danny hurts them but one of them gave Danny a clean towel to scream into and is rubbing his back because he’s crying.

They’re trying to be so nice and gentle but EVERYONE JUST WANTS TO HURT HIM.

They’re smart, though. They notice before Danny does, and have a bucket ready by the time heaving sobs turn into outright vomiting.

At least the mush mostly makes it into the bucket.

…So.

Having a breakdown…sucks.

Danny has to carefully brush his teeth with an extra-soft bristle brush and rinse out his mouth before he gets more water.

Someone is being very nice. There’s artificial fruit punch flavoring in his drink. He wants to feel grateful but he mostly feels dead.

…His eyes slide listlessly across the room. Ha. Dead.

Danny is horizontal and wrung dry and too tired to do anything but pant by the time the lady comes back to his room. She’s in quicker than usual—her gown is sort of sloppy, hair sticking out of her hair net, and she’s still looping her mask around her ear.

She gets down on her knees beside his bed. She asks him if he’s alright.

Danny’s not alright. He isn’t sure he’s been alright in…ages. Ages and ages. Before he was trapped and tied down. Before he was hated. Reviled.

…Before he was Phantom, maybe; before Danny Fenton had died a shocking, senseless death.

Tears try to wring themselves out of his aching eyeballs, but he’s too dry-eyed to cry; the lady make sad, wet eyes for him, and that’s probably enough between the two of them. Danny’s misery is a vast, gaping void, and all he has to show for it is the shovel he’s been digging through all this shit with for the last few years.

The lady brings her hands closer to his hairline, curled fingers hovering in the air. Her word’s don’t mean anything to him, but the gesture is clear: May I?

“…Mm,” Danny agrees. His eyes fall closed when she gently scratches at his scalp with her fingers.

No one’s touched him gently, on purpose, in…ages. When he was little, Dad used to pop him between him and Mom in bed. Mom would brush out Danny’s bangs with her fingers and Dad would hum. It was always something ill-fitting and silly. Guns N’ Roses. Led Zepplin. Santana. Sometimes Jazz would sit with them, crushing him until Dad had to pull him up and out of harm’s way.

In the quarantine lab, hurting him had just been part of the scientific process. What if there was some new discovery under his fat layer? On the other side of his ribs? Nestled between his alveoli?

Danny sniffles. He’s too dry to cry. He blinks invisible dust off of his eyelashes, and focuses on the weird lady who’s with him now.

Up close, when his eyes work, she looks nice. She has blue eyes, like him. Like Dad. They’re kinda…glowy, maybe? Sparkly? They remind him of ice in the Far Frozen—inhumanly brisk, and impossibly clean. She has eye crinkles where she smiles, tan skin making them more defined than their actual depth. Between her hair net and her medical mask, little wisps of black baby hairs shine through.

She pets him. She smiles. Danny isn’t sure why, but. Whatever. Jazz used to insist that human skin-to-skin contact was an essential need, so this is probably, like, also medical care.

Yeah. Danny squints. …Sure.

Whatever. It’s nice.

So Danny gets petted and it’s fine. He almost doesn’t notice the giant gauntlet under the paper sleeve of her gown, but then it’s right in his field of vision, and. Hey. Didn’t he see that on TV, like, an hour ago?

Danny stares.

He can’t actually tell if they’re gold under the pale blue color of the gown, but. The color is certainly some sort of unusually colored metal, cold to the touch even through the paper-like material of the gown.

…He doesn’t want to touch her, or let her know that he’s touching her. But. He brushes the back of his wrist against the bracelet, and it hums against the paper gown between it and his bare skin.

The lady blinks. She looks down at where they made contact, and asks him if he’s alright.

Danny looks away.

She knows she saw him reach out to her, though, so she takes her hand off of his hair (…hey…) and pulls back the sleeve on her gown. “Sest,” she offers. See?

It is the same kind of bracer he saw on TV. Up close he can see the designed etched into it—geometric lines stretching down from her fingers to her elbow, terminating in something structural. Not quite diamonds. Just…strong.

There’s a couple of very, very tiny letters down towards the bottom. His eyes strain when they try to make any sense out of them; they’re too small for him to actually focus on, which sucks.

She steps back, and pushes her sleeves down to show off her gold bracers. She lifts up the hem of her gown, revealing red boots that go waaaay up her thigh. They have the same gold metalwork as she does on the bracers.

Danny just saw those on the television. His eyes widen.

“You—“ he starts, and then remembers their difference in language. He points his hand at the television. “You fought? You were on TV?”

“Hwæt?”

“The TV?” Danny repeats. She doesn’t understand. Danny doesn’t know how to tell her what he means. “The…you were there?”

She looks at him to expand. Danny looks back at her.

…So they just stare at each other silently.

The door cracks open; the person who’d mediated Danny’s breakdown pokes their head in and says something. “Eower feoht wæs an þe box todæge.”

The lady blinks. Danny blinks. Wait. Did they just call the television the box?

“…Box?” Danny clarifies, and lifts a hand to shakily point at the television again.

The lady blinks, and grins. “Yea!” she returns, pumped up. She stands, to the powerful height she’d had on the television—excuse him, the box—and flexes her now-exposed arms to show off massive biceps.

Holy moly. Danny hasn’t seen any bigger biceps on his Dad.

She flexes one arm, the other, both—in front, and behind. If Danny had that much definition, he’d be showing off too! She leaps back impossibly far—and holy crap she can fly— to show off some mock punches at invisible enemies at speeds that Danny would be hard pressed to follow even with supernatural abilities.

He goggles.

She laughs at him, but she doesn’t sound mean—she sounds show-boating and silly, and teasing and playful, but not mean.

She’s like him. She’s not a ghost but she flies and she’s not human. She’s not human just like Danny. Just like that one green guy. Like the fast kid who visits him.

It’s such a relief. It’s so scary. Who are these people? Why are they healing him? Why are they keeping him?? Why do they have access to so many non-human people? What do they want him for? Is Danny supposed to fight like that?

He would fight. If he had to. He’s done it before.

If they make him fight, Danny’s pretty sure he’s going to fall apart like cheap glass.

The lady comes back when Danny goes quiet, her gloved fingers brushing up against his knuckles. The sensation is enough to bring Danny out of his…fog. Sometimes everything is so cloudy and vague. The pain medicine makes it go away, and the pain medicine brings it back.

Danny curls his hand into a shaking fist. He bumps her knuckles against his.

She makes a surprised noise. Danny feels her gently move his fingers, rearranging, moving where his thumb goes—

He huffs out a laugh. His fist wasn’t good enough to her standards. Her fist bump meets his in the middle with a smirk and a laugh, victory written all over her face.

#Whoever told you healing was linear was LYING TO YOU #my boy has PROBLEMS #'he's healing' Physically? Yes!#ngl I got through the whole chapter and wrapped up and started updating this post and THEN went. Wait. Is this a panic attack?#turns out! It is!#health and hybrids #dp x dc #danny phantom #dcu crossover #dpxdc #dcxdp #tw medical #tw gore #tw body horror

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meglyfer · 8 months

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Preservation

Close ups

You guys better like this, because I have been working on it since AUGUST 28TH, ALMOST THREE WEEKS AGO AND BESIDES THAT, WHEN I WAS FINISHING THE THING, MY PROGRAM KEPT CRASHING BECAUSE SAI WORKS LIKE SHIT

I need to get a new drawing program

#mistborn #mistborn era one #mistborn era 1 #vin mistborn #vin venture #vin #sazed mistborn #sazed #kelsier mistborn #kelsier #mistborn spoilers #Poor Leras nobody draw this man crying emoji crying emoji skull emoji #meglyfer art

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inyujidraws · 1 month

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More RadioMoon, yay. Impromptu marriage arc that happened after 4-5 years since Creon crash-landed in this timeline. They adopted.

Thanks everyone who came to my streams, watch me draw and talk cringe.

The rando in the first batch, he was a new comedian trying to break into the industry. While on the same way to work, Barry (placeholder name) introduced himself and started sharing some puns and jokes. Alastor didn’t find Barry impressive, and he refused to break his facade. Fun fact, Alastor would’ve murdered Barry later after that encounter, if not for Creon.

Barry got to live, because Alastor’s fecked-up face made Creon laugh so hard, it caused a chain reaction of laughter within the vicinity. So Barry became another reluctant friend in Alastor’s tiny circle. Occasionally Barry was a 3rd guest on Alastor’s radio program. Sadly the Great Depression wasn’t kind to Barry.

It took Alastor and Creon some time to figure out that their feelings for each other. They were quite comfortable staying a couple without the whole marriage ordeal. That changed when Creon stumbled on their soon-to-be son, Daniel. Creon was initially going to find another family who could take the kid in, but she grew attached. Alastor also warmed up to Daniel, especially when they bonded over their trauma of having garbage fathers.

I hadn’t thought about Alastor’s mother. Originally she would’ve passed away before Creon crashed. But where’s the fun in that? I wanted to add more chaos. Creon had returned from her international hobo trek, and accidentally bumped into Al’s mother Léonore. While staying as a paying tenant at her home, Creon saved Léonore from her canon death.

So Al’s mom got to be a grandmother later on. Didn’t really think about how she’d react to finding out Creon’s secret. I think Léonore would treasure Alastor’s happiness of finding love, even if the future daughter-in-law is a bio-engineered vampire.

Daniel grew to have an eccentric, but happy childhood after being adopted. Creon elected to stay home and raise and homeschool Daniel, instead of having Alastor split his time.

During the Great Depression, the “Marriage Bar” allowed employers to fire newly-wed women, or not hire married women. Creon still kept some side hustles, like doing tailoring. Also education wasn’t a huge priority for kids helping to bring money to the table. Some schools closed down, or were horribly underfunded.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin mimzy #human alastor #human mimzy #hazbin hotel oc #radiomoon #creon gilead #alastor x oc #alastor's mom #dad alastor #alastor's kid #sketchdump

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pranklinfierce · 1 month

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When I started this it was just supposed to be a doodle to test if I could draw digitally with my finger (since now I've lost my tablet pen and my real pen broke 💔) but then I started trying and my program kept crashing and 😮‍💨 ... at least it's done

#i was planning on doing more with this but im too tired now #james buchanan #my art #acctag: presidents

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foreverindreamlandd · 2 years

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Locker Drama

Pairing: Neighbor!Steve Harrington x Plus Size!Reader

WC: 2.3k

Summary: Your locker neighbor, Tommy, can't seem to stop being an asshole to you. Even though they're technically friends, Steve draws the line when it comes to picking on someone who is apparently extremely important to him.

Warnings: Bullying, body image, fatphobia, protective Steve, does not contain spoilers for the show Stranger Things. Unedited because I am a piece of human garbage :,)

Note: Okay....so this is going to be the first fic within the Neighbor!Steve Harrington x Plus Size!Reader world. It's going to be a very loosely-structured series, friends to lovers with no real timeline (next fic could be them married with ten kids....kidding but you get the gist lol....hopefully). I hope you enjoy it! :)

*****

“All I’m saying is that when I grow up, I’m going to become Vice Principal of a school and tell any student athlete who thinks they have the right to skip finals and not do their homework to fuck off.”

You blanched at your best friend, shaking your head as you put your math books in your locker. “Robin, I’m pretty sure if you told a student to fuck off you would be fired on site.”

Robin groaned, head tilting up in frustration and leaning against the closed lockers beside yours.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll just give them the detentions they deserve rather than just letting them off the hook for being the golden children of the school. Us band kids have more brains and talent than any of those boneheads and we get diddly squat.”

“At least we can find solace in the fact that we most likely won’t peak in high school.” You grabbed your supplies for science class. “Well, you might actually, if you end up working at one, Mrs. Vice Principal.”

Your lips quirked up into a smug grin as Robin groaned again, this time turning to lean her forehead on the locker.

“Okay, new plan,” she said. “How about-”

“Can you believe Mr. Cooper gave me an F on my paper?” You fought back a groan as the whiney voice of your locker neighbor approached. “I know I got every answer right because I was copying off of that redhead’s work!”

Tommy Hagan - whom you affectionately referred to as Freckles - strolled over to the locker next to yours, head turned in the other direction at his girlfriend Carol as she pressed her body against his.

Though she was tiny, it was enough force to knock Tommy back and bump into you.

He turned to sneer at you. “Watch it, Tubby.”

Your heartbeat quickened as both rage and shame flooded through you. At least the nickname you had given Freckles was somewhat tame. Tommy gave you one look up and down at the beginning of the school year and immediately deemed you as Tubby.

The first time he said it, you had thought you were hallucinating. It had always been your biggest insecurity, ever since you had put on weight in middle school, and kept putting it on up until this point no matter how many miles you ran and how many diet programs your mom had you try. Still, most of your peers had the courtesy of not saying anything, just letting you exist as long as you kept quiet and didn’t cause any problems.

Not Tommy, though. He just liked to push people’s buttons, and although he was dumb as rocks, he had a knack for identifying the things that hurt you the most.

The nickname stung like salt to a wound, but you knew to keep your head down and stay quiet. You saw what happened when people tried to fight back with Tommy. It only made him want to ramp it up.

He relished in the attention.

Your dearest, hot-headed best friend did not understand that, though, so when she heard his crude remark she scoffed. “Excuse you, numbnuts. But you’re the one who crashed into her.”

You narrowed your eyes at Robin, silently telling her to stop as Carol mewled. “Watch out, baby, you’re upsetting the freaks.”

“Yeah, well, I’m upset that I have to be in such close proximity as them all day!” Tommy’s voice grew louder as he opened his locker, side intentionally bumping into you once more to make a point. “All I’m saying is that it would be nice to have a locker next to someone who took up so much space! I can barely move around here.”

Carol giggled as tears started to burn your eyes. You kept your face in your locker in an attempt to hide your large frame from the world.

Maybe if I stand still for long enough I’ll just blend in and no one will notice me.

With your locker door still open, Tommy was out of view, so you only heard the slam of his door and a small yelp from Carol.

“That’s enough, Tommy,” a familiar voice declared.

Tommy scoffed. “Come on, Harrington. Just airing my grievances.” You could hear the dumb smile on his face.

“No, you’re just being a dick.”

You allowed yourself one small, almost unnoticeable smile.

“Why your panties all up in a bunch, King Steve? Am I being mean to your girlfriend or something?”

Your smile dropped.

There was a few moments of silence, and you could only imagine the type of disgusted face Steve was making then.

“Just shove off and get to class before another teacher flunks you and you can’t be on the team anymore,” Steve responded, the fight gone from his voice, switching to the charismatic popular guy that almost everyone knew and loved.

This Steve made you sick to your stomach.

Regardless of the disappointment you felt, Steve’s shift in demeanor was enough to distract Tommy. “Ms. Pine would never flunk me, especially now that her daughter is on the cheerleading team. Gotta make sure our team makes her look as good as possible, which means I get a free ride through history.”

You heard him mumble a let’s go, baby to Carol and then the hallway immediately became less tense.

You still couldn’t move, though, still horrified by the public humiliation.

“I’ll kill that asshole,” Robin muttered, crossing her arms.

“It’s fine,” you whispered, quickly wiping your tears.

“Hey.”

The familiar voice, now much softer and more sympathetic, was right behind you.

You closed your eyes for a second and willed the tears away before turning.

Steve Harrington stood in front of you, hands in his pockets and shoulders sagged, hair perfectly swooped to the side.

His lips were pressed into a thin line. “Sorry about that.” He shrugged. “Tommy’s an idiot.”

“He’s also a jerk, and still your best friend,” Robin cut in, glaring at Steve.

You watched him bite the inside of his cheek as his eyes flashed to Robin, running his fingers through his hair.

“It’s fine.” It seemed as if those were the only two words you were capable of saying.

“It’s not fine,” they both said at the same time, Robin with much more bite and Steve with a quiet assurance.

They both locked eyes in shock that they managed to agree on something, horror painting across their faces.

You couldn’t help but giggle at it.

Steve’s eyes went back to you, smile spreading across his face at the sound of your laugh.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked, head tilting down a bit, making it so that his large, deep brown eyes stared into yours through his long lashes.

You fought the butterflies as they tried to swarm your stomach.

“I’m fi- okay,” you said, switching words when Steve’s eyes narrowed.

He nodded. “I’ll deal with Tommy. Meet you after school?”

You nodded back. “Sounds good, Steve.”

His smile grew ever so slightly when you said his name, and after making eye contact with Robin - who continued to glare at him - he walked down the hallway to his next class.

“You know I love you,” she said, shoulder leaning against the locker, “but I’ll never understand why you let that guy breathe the same air as you.”

You huffed. “It’s not like we’re besties, Robin.” Well, you used to be, but that was before Steve started high school and became an instant celebrity at Hawkins High. When Steve Harrington was just Stevie, and he was your favorite person in the entire world.

Now?

“He’s just my ride. As if I’d give up the BMW so I can ride the bus where the rest of the bullies dwell.”

She pursed her lips, still not buying it.

You sighed. “He’s a good person, Robin, I promise.”

At that, she scoffed, shaking her head and wrapped her arm around your neck to lead you to your next class.

“You’ve spent too much time in close proximity with Freckles, Y/n,” she muttered. “His idiot brain is starting to run off on you.”

*****

“How the hell do you have a B in chemistry?” Steve asked, shaking his head as you both got out of the car. “Erikson is brutal. I barely managed to get a D.”

“Hate to break it to you Steve,” you said while swinging your backpack over your shoulder, “but some studies show that doing your work and paying attention in class helps you learn enough to get a good grade.”

He whined, steps falling in line with yours as you approached the school building. “I bet it’s all a hoax. You actually suck at school and have found some new top-secret method of cheating.”

You gasped, feigning offense. “How dare you try to unveil my master plan and risk destroying my reputation as the school nerd?”

Steve laughed, opening the door for you as you walked in. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

The two of you shared a small smile as you headed down the hallway. Your locker was closest to the entrance, so you prepared to break away and not see Steve until the end of school.

So it confused you when his stride continued to match yours, slowing as you both veered off to your locker.

Your eyes narrowed at him, slowly putting in your combination. “Listen Steve, I know you promised to keep things with Tommy handled, but I promise you don’t have to be my bodyguard anytime I’m at my locker.”

Steve’s head jerked back as he gave you a confused look, raising his hand to the lock of Tommy’s locker. “What do you mean? This is where all my stuff is.”

Your fingers began mindlessly turning your own lock, suddenly forgetting the combination as you stared at him wide eyed. “What…”

“I switched lockers,” he said with a casual shrug. You could see the corners of his lips twitch as he fought back a smile.

“You what?”

“What? It’s no big deal, Y/n. Tommy seemed to have such a big issue being here, whereas I think this is prime real estate.”

You bit your bottom lip, stomach turning to knots. “Steve…”

“It’s fine, Y/n. Besides, it makes sense that we’re neighbors in school and at home.” His face turned serious for a moment. “I told you I’d handle it. Now, you don’t have to worry.”

You scowled. “He’s still your friend, though. So he can come here and harass me anytime he wants-”

Steve shook his head. “Nope. Told him if he stepped foot anywhere near here that I’d have coach put him on the bench for the rest of the season.” He opened his locker, tossing his bag in and grabbing his books. His brows rose when he turned back to your still stunned expression. “Are you going to open your locker yet? Don’t want to be late for class and ruin that master plan of yours, Miss Cheaterpants.”

A bark of a laugh erupted from your chest and you lightly slapped Steve on the arm, pulling giggles from your new locker neighbor.

It brought an overwhelming sense of relief, having him by your side instead of Tommy. For months, you dreaded stopping here between classes, shielding yourself for another snide comment from Freckles.

Now, you didn’t need to worry. Steve was here, and though you weren’t the best friends you had been your whole lives, having him by your side made this spot finally feel like a safe space.

You turned your attention back to your lock, opening the door and grabbing books for your first class.

The worst part about Tommy’s complaints were that technically it was sometimes true. You did take up more space than others, meaning that your arm would inevitably wiggle around in his area as you moved.

And so, of course, the same thing would happen with Steve.

When your hip bumped against his, any sense of relief you had felt crumbled in seconds, the familiar feeling of shame the only thing left in its wake.

Steve felt your body go rigid, and he rested a hand on your shoulder. “Hey,” he said, turning your body to face him. There was a tenderness in his face that you hadn’t seen in years. “The shit that he said yesterday, what I assume he’s been saying…it’s all bullshit, Y/n.”

You tried to shrug and force a smile, but Steve knew you better than that, and his hand squeezed your shoulder. “No, listen.” His eyes pierced yours, face leaning forward until it was inches from yours. “What he said was absolute bullshit, and he’s a complete idiot for not realizing how lucky he was to be so close to you all the time.”

His breath tickled your skin, causing you to blink a few times as you tried to identify the tone he was using as he said this. This was nothing like the Steve you grew up with, nor was it the voice of King Steve, ruler of Hawkins High.

This was something different, and it brought heat to your core.

He seemed to lose himself for a moment, leaning less than an inch closer and the movement was so overwhelming your breath hitched. That seemed to be enough to break the tension, and Steve swallowed, standing straight and grabbing his books.

“I should get going,” he murmured, using his free hand to run his fingers through his hair. He gave you a small smile. “See you next period?”

You blinked a few more times, bobbing your head up and down slowly.

Steve bit his bottom lip, staring at you for a few more seconds before closing his locker door and heading down the hallway.

Your gaze remained on the spot he had been standing at moments ago, a part of you wondering if you were dreaming.

Maybe the new locker situation wouldn’t be as easy as you thought….

*****

Thank you for reading! :)

Main Masterlist

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #neighbor!steve harrington #plus size!reader #neighbor!steve harrington x plus size!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things imagine

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cleothelittlerockstar · 7 months

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=×⭐Aren't they gorgeous?⭐×=

Who? The new Starmaker?

🌟 Yes

🌟⭐ Them.

🌟⭐♥️ I mean..

🌟⭐♥️⭐ Just

🌟⭐♥️⭐🌟 look at

🌟⭐♥️⭐🌟🌟⭐♥️⭐🌟 them...

🌟⭐♥️⭐🌟🌟⭐♥️⭐🌟🌟⭐♥️⭐🌟

=×=×=×=×=×=×=×=×=×=×=×=×=×=×=×=×=×=×=×

🌟

\___________________♥️_____________________/

,,I mean, I guess they are."

/+\+/+\+/+\+/+\+/+\+/+\+/+\+/+\+/+\+/+\+/+\

(Click the image for best quality)

I decided to change up the formula for this post because I am just so fuckin proud of how this turned out so a rant about my progress and work on this peice under the cut!

HAZAH! BEHOLD!

FOR I BRING ANOTHER DRAWING TODAY!

This one is called The new Starmaker!

It is based off of an AU/HC I had for a while based on the fact that the more Crowley (as an angel) began to question things during his conversation with Azi his wings turned darker and darker.

Sooo...

What if, days, hours maybe even moments before his fall...

His wings became a galaxy, an omen of hope for him that maybe he was doing the right thing questioning things before God struck him down.

But yeah! All in all, I am really proud of this one♥️, it took me half a day to finish in total because Pixel studios kept crashing on me. Fuck you Pixel Studios (I love you) and I actually did two vers of the BG on this one!

So let's look at it together!

So this is Ver. 1

-Basically just a void behind him, I thought it added a nice contrast and people I showed it to seemed to like it but when I came back to look at it I dunno

-It just kinda felt bland, ya know?

-Like yes the colors do contrast nicely and the lil stars around him pop more but eeeeeh

-I dunno, I just didn't vibe with it with that bg

So I went to Ver. 2!

-I liked this one a lot more than the original one because why yes, I am a sucker for color

-Oh and it gave me the chance to test out the brushes Pixel has to offer

-I really like the cross looking ones!

-Okay but back onto the art

-I just genuinely liked the vibe of this one more than the last

-(Also got to give my boi a halo so WAHOO)

-And I got to play around with a lot of details for the bg and stuff

So with that out of the way, as a closing touch I wanna just show off some of the bits I had the most fun with while doing this!

(Again, click for better quality)

So first off! I had so much fun with the bg gradients it isn't even funny. Like the lil pixels scratch my brain just right when I drew them.

Oh and the wings. They were REALLY fucking fun to draw.

Love em, need em, gonna do more of them soon ^^

But my most favourite part of this was ♥️Crowley's hair!♥️

Like I just zoned out for a good forty minutes, made the hair look like a galaxy on accident, had the program crash on me and erase all the progress and do it all over again.

But like.

In my not so humble opinion (because I have the ego the size of a blue whale, deal with it) I think it turned out TERRIFIC!

Like I just MWAH!

I love how I drew it!

===×=×==×

But yeah, that's pretty much it! Thank chu for reading my art rant and see you on the next post, baiii!

#good omens #crowley #<3 #art #good omens s2 #good omens 2 #ineffable husbands #digital art #starmaker!crowley #angel!crowley #Art rant #fanart

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necromancer-mango · 11 months

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[start image description: A digitally drawn black and white comic that is 16 pages long.

The first page depicts a person staring through a car window as buildings pass by. They have a funeral program in their hands, and it is late in the evening.

The second page depicts the same person from the previous image now exiting a house. They are wearing a large jacket. A wide shot of a dark quiet neighborhood is accompanied by the shushing sound of waves.

The third page depicts the person stopping in a sandy area and taking off their shoes. The last panel widens out to show that the person has walked to an empty beach at night.

The fourth page depicts the person rolling up their pants and walking into the water. As they walk, the waves crash into their feet.

The fifth page is just an image of the beach, with the person walking along the shoreline somewhat in the distance.

The sixth page depicts the person scratching patterns in the sand alone, until suddenly they notice someone else with them. Looking up, they see themself but younger across from them, also making patterns in the sand.

The seventh page depicts the two of them continuing to draw in the sand. The younger speaks to the other, "You can still draw with me, I’m not going to mess up your pictures. I haven’t seen you in a long time, you haven’t visited." The other person replies saying, "I moved away, remember? We decided to leave years ago."

The eighth page continues the conversation from the previous one. The younger asks, "Was it scary?" "What?" is the reply. The person looks away as the younger says, "Leaving! You went so far away from everyone." The person avoids looking at the younger as they say, "Hm, well. I still called my parents. Kept in contact with friends. It wasn’t bad. After a while I got used to the change, so no it wasn’t that scary." The younger begins to stand up. They reply to the person with, "Well! If it wasn’t scary, then was it as good as we thought it would be?"

The ninth page depicts the younger beginning to walk away from the person. The person begins to say, "Oh, well. I just-" as they get up, only to pause. They watch the younger bend down by the water, facing away from the person still.

The tenth page shows the younger startling as the person begins to speak again: "I felt stuck. I just kind of thought that staying here would mean I’d never be able to go anywhere, so leaving would be a reassurance that I could do anything anywhere and not just here for the rest of my life. I figured it would make me feel better." As the two of them stand near the water, the tide rises and falls against their legs. The younger pulls a large shell out of the sand. They gesture to the person, calling out, "Look, this could have come from someplace far away, maybe deep in the ocean." The person admires the find, "Oh wow, very nice."The eleventh page depicts the younger turning to the person and suggesting, "Hey, let's go look for other ones." The two agree on this and begin to run into the water, the elder of the two

taking off their jacket in the process. They remain out in the water for some time, taking up multiple panels. In the last one, hands can be seen breaching the surface of the water, air bubbles trailing off their hands.

The twelfth page depicts the submerged limbs of the two people in the water. The younger strikes up conversation again. "Did it make you feel better?" they ask. "What?" The other replies. "Leaving. We wanted to so badly. New places, new people. You said you thought it would make you feel better, so did it?" is the response. "I don’t think anything ever gets less confusing," the person looks at the younger as they continue to speak, "I don’t know, It was nice for a time. I didn’t really want to come back, I think." The person pauses for a moment before continuing to speak, "Hey. I’m sorry. I don’t think I'm what you wanted me to be at this point. I know we wanted to leave. But now that I’m back everything just kind of feels the same." Turning away from the other so the face is not visible, the person exclaims, "Which doesn’t even make any sense!" Cupping water in their hand they continue, "I can go, and things have changed so much, yet everything is still here. I don’t feel that different even though I feel I should. I can just go to my old room, or to the store, or go here and nothing has changed. I don’t know why I even bother trying." The younger interjects, "Do you really think it will be like this forever?" Hand hovering over the water, the person replies, "Maybe. I don’t know to be honest. It’s just. It’s hard to let go, I realized. And now I don’t know if I want to do that at all in some ways. You know, I take it back. It is scary to leave." The younger is faced away from the other, the back of their head and shoulders are the only things visible above the water. They comment, "Well, I wouldn’t want to be here forever. I like that we left. If anything I think it will make things easier for you." "Easier?" the person questions the younger.

The thirteenth page depicts the younger peeling away from the other, waving a hand in a nonchalant fashion halfway through the water. "I know you wanted to talk to me because it would remind you of a different time. But while I’m still here, there’s things about you that I can’t be. You may never be what you wanted to be but at least you did something," They say. "Hey…hey don’t go out too far," The person cautions, starting to move to the retreating youth. The younger is almost completely submerged in deeper water as they look back and say, "And it’ll be okay, I think. Maybe you can’t go back but you can always try something new, and then you can look back and maybe you really wouldn’t have changed as you said. But I don’t really think you want to stay like this, at least not with how you are right now. Give it some time." In the last panel they dip out of sight, leaving the other person alone by themself.

The fourteenth page depicts the person diving under to follow the younger. As they dip a bit lower, they water gets darker. The page shifts to pitch blackness.

The fifteenth page is completely black.

The sixteenth page depicts the sound of waves against sand. A hand is visible, zooming out to reveal the person sprawled against the sand. The waves lap at their submerged hand and lower torso. They do not get up. /end image description]

Did this for an ecocinema class. The original project just had to be a five page script, but the professor allowed me to make a comic out of it. Here is the bibliography containing all the literature I referenced when writing this.

Basso, Kieth H. Wisdom Sits in Places: Landscape and language Among the Western Apache. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1996.

Bennett, Jane. Vibrant Matter. A Political Ecology of Things. London: Duke University Press, 2010.

Iovino, Serenella, Cesaretti, Enrico, and Elena Past. “Walking Roots: Knitting Past and Future through Italy’s Woods.” In Italy and the Environmental Humanities: Landscapes, Natures, Ecologies, 235-241. Charlottesville: University of Virginia, 2018.

Nixon, Rob. Slow Violence and the Environmentalism of the Poor. President and Fellows of Harvard College, 2011.

Slovic, Scott, Iovino, Serenella, and Shin Yamashiro. “Water in the City.” Concentric: Literary and Cultural Studies 34, no. 1 (2008): 157-170.

Tsing, Anna, Swanson, Heather, Gan, Elaine, and Nils Bubandt. “Ghostly Forms and Forest Histories.” In Arts of Living on a Damaged Planet: Ghosts of the Anthropocene. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2017.

#art tag #image description #comics #this was an italian ecocinema class and i was under the impression it either had to be placed in italy or about the movies we watched #buut someone wrote about the grand canyon so UHH oh well #that being said its very much not obvious #but they are in gela

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mybeingthere · 8 months

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Mark Laver was born in 1970 in Victoria, British Columbia and raised in a rural area of Vancouver Island, where he spent his childhood exploring the surrounding beaches, tidal swamps, creeks, and forests. This early immersion in nature has resurfaced as a major influence in his current work.An avid drawer into his teenage years, Laver nevertheless had almost no exposure to art history or painting until he moved to Victoria at the age of 19 to attend a two-year visual arts diploma program. “At some point in first year I fell head-over-heels in love with painting,” he says. His first instructor agreed, saying emphatically, “Mark, you’re a painter, and you are just going to have to paint for the rest of your life.” A year-long backpacking trip across Europe followed and he met his future wife in Edinburgh in 1993, with whom he now has three children. In his mid-twenties he was recruited to join a small collective of artists who believed that contemporary art had not kept up with thinking in other fields—and he applied ideas from quantum physics, evolution, and non-Euclidean geometry to experiments with pictorial space, color, and narrative. Around this time, Laver also pursued a BA in Art History and Philosophy at the University of Victoria where he specialized in phenomenology, philosophy of art, and the history of pictorial space in painting. “I did this solely for my art,” he says. “The idea was that I would learn the history of thought (philosophy) and the history of art at a higher level than I would at art school and this, in turn, would benefit my work. I figured I could continue to develop the technique part on my own." Laver has also been working all along, as a cook, food writer and jewelry assembler, part-time when possible, enough to support his family, while leaving as much time, and mental space, for his art.After the more theoretically based work of his early years, he spent about ten years painting what he called Rural Disasters, paintings of car crashes and rural structure fires inspired by documentary photographs found online. As a counterpoint to the more ambitious studio work, Laver has also painted landscapes onsite, both in daylight and at night, finishing each work outdoors in a single intuitive burst.His current and ongoing body of work depicts landscapes of a mysterious beauty that is at once luscious and moody, cohesive and in flux. Without reference to photographs, drawings, real places, or even conscious memories, Laver starts with a limited palette and no pre-existing plans, and discovers his paintings in the act of painting, arriving at the composition last. Each work provides its own surprises, as new symbols and motifs emerge, grow, and repeat, adding to his ever-expanding invented world. https://www.riccomaresca.com/.../47-mark-laver-a-wild.../

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daily-smallishbeans · 1 year

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Challenge!!!

Can we get an after life jizzie drawing in the worst art/paint app you can find

Ps take your time, don't rush!

-Prince, xoxo

hello prince! you are in for quite the story

so I go on the app store because thats where gems lay in the dust (or whatevers the sayig) and I get two apps: one drawing literally in sand and another way too cute not at all functional one

these are the results of those two and dude I struggled so much with the first one the app kept crashing on me and there was literally no eraser bruh

so I went on the web to try to find better (worser) programs and there were like actually quite good online ones like look at this:

very similar to my medibang work

also you can tell I like blaze!Joel and racoon!lizzie

#answered #not a daily bean #smallishbeans #ldshadowlady #afterlife smp #afterlife joel #afterlife lizzie #blaze joel #raccoon lizzie #idk wtf these tags are #anon prince #joel smallishbeans #lizzie ldshadowlady #jizzie #shadowbeans

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probablyhuntersmom · 8 months

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"i don't mind therapy questions relating to hunter" ahh i don't really have any at the moment so i'm willing to throw it to you! here is a carte blanche to talk about any sort of hunter therapy gunk you can think of. i'm eager to hear what you have to say

Oooh very cool, thanks for this ask @lewvithur! Thanks for your patience as I've been working on it bit by bit. I could def infodump about how counselling microskills work, which all exist to aid in the main objective of therapy i.e. building rapport. And I'll explore this in the context of a therapist seeing Hunter as a client. Let me see if I can more or less sum it up without being too wordy.

The 3-year training program I was in (it was supposed to be 2 years, but worldwide Covid slowed down my internship hell of a lot), had this model in arguably our most important textbook:

It's called the hierarchy of counselling microskills, and it's arguably our fundamental guide (of the particular course I was in anyway, I'm sure there's a variety of textbooks, authors and supervisors that different training centers use) on how to achieve results in therapy sessions. In the pyramid, we work from the bottom and go upwards. The pyramid's foundation is about being sensitive towards our clients and how to listen well in order for them to feel heard and to build good rapport and trust with them.

The textbook's authors also came up with a 5-stage interview structure (Relationship—Story and Strengths—Goals—Restory—Action), that you could say is the bigger umbrella under which this pyramid is placed. The 4th stage, restorying, is particularly interesting since it involves reframing or introducing new and more helpful perspectives, especially for how a client can look at terrible things that have happened to them (this doesn't mean that they aren't allowed to say those things were and are painful to remember).

The 1st stage - trust between therapist and client - is the ultimate driver of their sessions.

Notice the word "strengths" in the 2nd stage: it's related to empowering the client by reminding them of resources they already have within themselves e.g. proactiveness, compassion, sensitivity. It's related to how the therapist doesn't supply these to the client but instead draws them out of the client in the safety of the therapy sessions.

-------------------------

Coming back to the pyramid - the rest of this post will be a little crash course on some of its levels from bottom to top.

Below are the foundations of what a therapist does, some of it overlaps with other fields like nursing and social work...

Ethics and Multicultural Competence:

Hunter spent the majority of his foundational years in the Emperor's Coven. What more, he was raised in it. I believe that in parallel with the relevant authorities investigating what happened behind closed doors in the castle, and investigating the particularly toxic culture within the Emperor's Coven...Hunter would be on his way, via therapy, towards dismantling and unlearning a lot of unhealthy practices and habits that were previously normalized and even encouraged during his years as a scout and as the Golden Guard.

His therapist would have to ethically protect him and balance out some core ethical principles e.g. encouraging him to make his own decisions, ensuring his welfare, doing no harm, and honouring commitments with him as their client. Plus be sensitive towards his cultural background. I personally doubt that Steve's therapist was also in the Emperor's Coven with him; even if they were, their hands would be tied for so much of the time or worse, they may have been encouraged to engage in malpractice, which is a possibility that disturbs me the most. I can't imagine what manner of malpractice Coven Heads such as Hettie Cutburn were getting up to. Though...it's even possible that Steve kept the therapist's existence a secret from the Coven(s).

A clear example of multicultural competence applied here is that the therapist should take note of any assumptions or biases that may pop up in their own mind, once they learn that their new client Hunter used to be the Golden Guard and is a grimwalker.

One big question here would be whether the therapist already knows in their first session that he used to be Belos's right-hand man, or that Hunter doesn't disclose this yet (it's very possible! Maybe his parents ensure that he's protected like this and is given full choice re: when he will disclose that huge piece of info to the therapist). I don't think he'd keep major info like this a secret from his therapist forever; from my perspective, if it isn't ever disclosed it would not be effective for his healing because it provides pretty much the foundational context for the difficulties he faced.

Attending Behaviour:

The program I trained in encouraged us to follow the "SOLER" formula. Sit squarely, Open posture, Lean slightly forward, Eye contact, Relaxed body language. Basically letting our clients know that we are interested to hear all that they have to share, and that we aren't closed off, unreceptive or tense in any way. There is the annoying pattern I often see in fictional media where therapists cross their legs while sitting, which is absolutely discouraged irl.

There's also the 3V's + B formula: Visual (appropriate eye contact with client), Vocal (warmth and no judgment in voice), Verbal (tracking whatever the client is saying), Body language (being yourself: clients are often pretty perceptive of how genuine a therapist is).

While the therapist should definitely sit squarely to face Hunter, there are sensitivities that I keep imagining such as getting the distance between themselves and him just right. We know that Belos has cornered him in close proximity, torsos directly facing one another:

So depending on the intensity of any given session for Hunter, the therapist might want to try a softer, more diagonal seating angle:

It matters because the therapist has to bear in mind how short a leash he was on, with Belos.

Observation Skills:

It's about picking up on the client's behaviours, observing what's going on between therapist and client, both verbally and non-verbally. Every client's story is unique, and they would have key words that lead their therapist closer to themes in their life.

"Help", "family" and "supposed" seem to be Hunter's key words.

His therapist would have to listen out for repetitions of these words and possibly other relevant words or phrases too. Along with his voice tone, posture etc and whenever any of those shift, and gently exploring those shifts. In this case, observation matters in order to pick out the things that hold a lot of meaning for the client.

With an average session lasting an hour, each session could be said to be broken down into "chapters" based on whatever the client is sharing that day. The vibes in a session can shift, e.g. when the therapist gently confronts the client, and say, the client's body language drastically changes when they start to clutch a pillow to their chest and curl up their body, to feel safer and self-soothe, putting more of their guard up.

Observation also involves looking for signs of contradiction or conflict, whether in the client's verbal story and/or non-verbal language. After all, stress is the result of such conflict or incongruity and therapy could help guide a client towards managing that stress.

Monitoring how guarded/tense/uncomfortable vs. open/relaxed/comfortable Hunter is during his sessions, would be a way to sum up this section.

It's fairly common to encounter something called a "doorknob confession" where a client opens up about something significant only in the final minutes of the session, after being nervous and reluctant to address that matter in almost the whole session. They might burst into tears suddenly, become chatty after almost complete silence, etc. We'd have to prepare for that and set the appropriate boundaries, yet tend to their pain so they are stable and equipped as needed, to leave the session.

Sudden shifts like that have happened before to him

(If you listen back to his voice here, it becomes raised, high-pitched and reflects how much pain he's in. Being distracted by the two palismen struck a raw nerve)

-------------

Next are some basic listening skills...

Questioning:

The general rules are that open questions (like those starting with "what" and "how", or instructions like "Tell me more") are for encouraging clients to open up, to talk about their emotions. We call this being "process-oriented" and it is emotion-focused. Closed questions (starting with words like "are", "is" or "were") are generally for getting info and facts, or being a bit more direct if using open questions isn't effective. This is "content-oriented", which is fact-focused/information-focused. Some questions like "where" questions are interesting since they could be either open or closed, depending on he context in which you ask them. "Where is this feeling coming from?" is open (to encourage exploring the emotional process), while "Where did X happen?" is closed and is asked in order to obtain factual info.

There's no fixed formula as to what ratio a therapist should use the open and closed questions in, since each client is unique. But it's about following the client's rhythm, behaviour and personality, getting a sense of how to lead them towards how they wish to benefit from the therapy sessions. There are general pointers, though: if a client is getting too comfortable talking about content e.g. describing events in a flat cold manner, in order to detach from and avoid emotions that they should be connecting with, the therapist would want to use more open questions to steer the session towards the client's emotional process. If a client is experiencing intense emotional flooding due to feeling intensely triggered, open questions may not achieve much to stabilize and ground them. Closed and more directive questions to get info and facts may work better to check in with them, since the client could benefit from a sense of clarity.

Hunter is no therapist, but! He is empathetic, sweetly asking a distressed Willow a closed question here, to help in reeling her back:

Hunting Palismen and Labyrinth Runners each have a fantastic example of open questions, even though Luz and Gus aren't even therapists:

Luz and Gus each ask an open question, a "what" question, which prompted Hunter to take a risk and be more vulnerable with emotions. Open questions are designed for their recipients to take ownership and do the legwork. Therapy is a chance for Hunter to experience much more of this feeling of being heard and welcomed.

On top of the above, a therapist can phrase questions as more directive or non-directive. "Tell me about what happened that day", "What happened that day?" and "Would you like to tell me what happened that day?" each have a different feel, though of course they all must be asked with a warm and open voice tone. Obviously one shouldn't be too directive with Hunter at all, since that can be too Belos-like, it'll more easily feed his deeply ingrained shame and he might see the sessions as an assessment for how well he can please the therapist (big no-no...).

There are times where I imagine one should be firm with him, but overall it is extremely important to empower him by offering him options/choices and letting him learn ownership of his newfound freedom.

Showing Empathy using Active Listening:

Involves three components: using encouragers, paraphrases, and summarizing. They would be great for Hunter since he will feel fully heard and seen, compared to being used to Belos cutting him off and dismissing him.

Encouragers are used in order to keep a client talking. Examples are the therapist nodding their head, and saying the classic "Mhm", "Right" or similar. Even the use of silence at the right times can be an encourager. Silence can be powerful and a gamechanger, since I think it's never exactly a "quiet" period: because that's when the client's having an important internal conversation with themselves via their thoughts.

Paraphrasing is basically reflecting what the client said back to them, in the therapist's own words. It is needed to "help a client complete their storytelling". It also says in the textbook that "A client who has been through trauma may need to tell the story several times", and the paraphrases of a therapist add to this repetition of the story. If e.g. a traumatized confused client is finding trouble to describe and understand what happened to them, paraphrasing from their therapist is important.

Summarizing is roughly done at the beginning, middle and ending of a session to mark "chapters/sections" in the session. It helps to structure the session, helps both client and therapist be up to speed with what has been shared so far, also to check in with the client if anything has been left out in the conversation. Doing this may also alert the client of any themes etc that might stand out to them, helping them have a "light bulb" moment.

Reflecting A Client's Feelings Back to Them:

Sometimes I tell my clients that I'm a person who holds up a mirror for them to see themselves, instead of simply dispensing easy advice for them. I'm there to empower them to feel their emotions and make their own decisions, instead of me doing that work for them.

The skill of reflecting feelings back to a client can help them get more comfortable with emotion language (examples: mad, scared, confused, frustrated, disgusted, devastated, numb), especially if they have come from an upbringing where emotional expression was frowned upon or even dangerous.

They can be encouraged to enter more depth of emotions, like digging through layers, to get closer to connecting with their pain before deep healing takes place. Sometimes they may want to stay in safer zones such as confusion, numbness or anger, and may need time before taking a bold step to connect with the hardest emotions such as shame, terror or loss.

Hunter having his feelings reflected back to him would be a good next stage beyond subplots such as Gus's efforts to help him open up in Labyrinth Runners.

In the two scenes above, there isn't emotion language yet.

But his "I'm just scared" here, a few episodes later? Tadda! Emotion language. It's a good sign of naming and owning his feelings, and of him trusting Flapjack as a safe trusted space for him to even say that. Notice that he only spoke like this with the one he trusted most: Flapjack.

-----------

Next are the more intermediate skills...

Focusing:

This involves directing the conversation towards relevant areas, e.g. if a client has not shared enough about their family background. A therapist would have to use this skill differently with clients who have stronger and more headstrong personalities versus those who are more accommodating.

A therapist can choose from different areas to focus in more depth, depending on what they feel is best to get the client closer to their goals. Such areas include the client themselves, their main theme/issue, other people in the client's life, the client's cultural background, or what is specifically happening in the moment in the therapy session.

Empathic Confrontation and Challenging a Client:

There may be times where a client is encouraged to look at contradictions or areas in which they are stuck, which produce more stress. Such confrontation by a therapist must be gentle, it must be an invitation instead of coercion, and must make the client feel that the therapist is still rooting for them: and both can work together towards possible resolutions for those conflicts in the client.

When done right, this kind of confrontation makes room for new levels of creativity, courage and other positive qualities in the client. It's not recommended to try this out in any early stage of therapy until rapport is more solid between therapist and client. Sometimes, a client does this work and reaches this awareness all on their own, knowing how stressed they are e.g. when they express "I'm torn between X and Y".

We see this to some extent below i.e. the contradiction between the Golden Guard never being scared, versus him feeling scared in the current moment:

It shows that there is still some Golden Guard in him, but the rest is unchartered territory which is making him frustrated. He is torn between places.

Other clients may require a gentle push from the therapist to reach this place, and there's nothing wrong with that, but Hunter definitely has his moments of determination and being proactive.

-----------------

Next are what are called "influencing skills" which are usually only used in later sessions once trust between client and therapist is strong...

Reframing:

Helps to potentially generate new angles on something the client has shared. Hunter's therapist might ask him for example, "How might you bring Flapjack's gift of restoring your life, into the new things that you would like to learn?"

It's a very open question that would prompt Hunter to reflect deeply. He really needs to trust his therapist first in order for this to work, because if it's done too early in their relationship, he might be overwhelmed or intimidated. Open questions like this, where an attempt at reframing is in action, are often followed by periods of silence in the client which is completely normal. It would afford Hunter a very important amount of headspace to have an inner dialogue with himself.

Self-Disclosure:

May be used depending on the difference in power between therapist and client, but it has to be used with particular caution. It'll more likely be used if the client is from a minority group, or if the age gap and life stage between therapist and client is wider.

While I can't share details of the toughest case I've handled so far in my career, I'll say that this skill was needed for the first breakthrough to happen with that client and earn their trust.

Safe to say that Hunter's therapist might utilize this skill more than in the average IRL therapy session: because the Isles would be experiencing collective grief while rebuilding is taking place. Belos was happy to have genocide on his list, after all. And Hunter was highly isolated growing up which puts him in a very vulnerable position.

Immediacy:

A bit of a wild card skill. It is risky but in some cases, may be the best way to repair/enhance a conflict between therapist and client, shortly before the client might decide to never come back to further sessions.

This skill overlaps a bit with confrontation/challenging above: because it is also used to point out contradictions in the session, but the distinguishing feature of immediacy is it's about something that's happening in the current moment and which has happened a few times e.g. a client's suddenly clenched fists, or them avoiding a certain topic.

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A therapist has to draw upon multiple frameworks per session, which would have to work together like a nicely oiled machine, and be prepared for any sort of shift or development from the client's end. For example, affirming the client's strengths at regular intervals throughout the session, and helping the client take note of their resources so that it's not just about the negative stuff i.e. client sharing unsavoury details and experiencing unpleasant feelings in session.

Intuition and instinct combined with experience and these skills...all make up the therapist's personal style of conducting therapy, which is refined over time. All this translates into the treatment that Hunter's therapist would provide for him, knowing when to invite him into exploration mode, to be curious about his pain as opposed to shutting it out

versus slowing him down and grounding him when an emotional flashback sends him into a flurry

Thank you for the ask - it gave me the opportunity to geek out like this! :D

#loz's ask box #loz writes a meta #hunter goes to therapy #toh hunter #huntlow #the owl house #ahahaha as usual this got lengthy

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balshumetsbaragouin · 3 months

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Chapter Seventeen has been let loose upon the world! Inside, Valerie finally gets to hang out with Ellie, and the two chill together in the Zone for a picnic...

We are rapidly winding our way to the end of the Second Act. The next chapter is on pace for Wednesday. Next Saturday will be the beginning of Act Three and the beginning of the final stretch.

Something else out this week is Adoration of the Abyss, my Siren!AU one-shot. Give it a read!

Still not convinced you want to read THIS story somehow? Have a sample below!:

She checked over her list of items one last time, humming along to the Dumpty-Humpty album blasting out of her speakers. On her bed, open and bulging full of snacks, sat the messenger bag she’d take to the Zone. The curse skirmishes were dying down, incidents growing less and less frequent, as she and Phantom blanketed the town in blissful radiation. A few citizens complained, loudly on the forums and in person, about the process to cure the tech, but it was for their protection. Half of the humans inhabiting the greater Amity area were dullards, and the other half conspiracy cranks convinced the government was planning to steal their property or experiment on their bodies.

She picked up a textbook off the floor, setting it into her backpack with another hum. Unfortunately, she’d needed Phantom’s help to vanquish the machines once and for all. The gruesome specter had shown up for his meeting two weeks back, punctual if looking awkward, and held out a flash drive towards her. She had her suit scan it twice before it shot out and plucked it out of his open palm. He’d promised it only contained the waveform for the counter-signal and an algorithm to set it into some form of weapon. He hadn’t had much to say after that, likely aware their truce of convenience was on borrowed time. He’d blabbered something bland about eating, tried to make conversation and ask about her weaknesses through inquiring about her health. Phantom’s ploys were so transparent. Why had she ever worried about the simpleminded ghost? He’d need running out of Amity and back into the Zone soon enough, but she was a girl of her word. Until the machines slept the permanent unconsciousness of the destroyed or were forced back into stillness, they were still allies.

She’d flown back to her apartment soon after, not seeing much of a point in continuing the conversation with the ghastly creature. She’d scanned it a third time, to be sure it contained no executable files, before setting it into the blank settings of an extra gun she kept in her closet. The tech took to the code nicely, the OS recognizing the language and updating itself to match the instructions inside after she gave it permission. She’d expected to need to fiddle with the settings, or break open the coding to build a bridging program herself, but whoever Phantom had as one of his resources was good at this. The gun worked wonders too, sending wigglers back into stillness with a single blast. It no longer fired something resembling ecto-weapons’ lasers, but the energy pulsing from the business end of her favorite new toy cured cursed tech all the same. As each piece of technology settled back into a blessed inanimate state, her elation grew. Every clunk and crash sounded like the ringing of a bell, heralding the end of the wigglers’ reign of terror and drawing the time of her liberation ever closer. The death knell rang for the curse and for Phantom every time the screech of metal against stone or brick sang out through the air.

The song ended, and the next one started as she triple checked her bag one last time. With the miserable little event winding down, she could finally meet up with Ellie. She’d promised the other girl a hangout session weeks ago, and now the reward was in sight. She tapped her foot against the carpet of her bedroom floor, dancing along to the drum solo for Tomorrow’s Never Coming, and forced the last plastic container inside the bag. She pushed the fabric together, forcing the bulging top close enough to zip, and patted it. “You’ll be much emptier when I get back, so just hang tight until then.” She chuckled at the idea of talking to her bag, and walked back into the quiet kitchen containing their new chest freezer. It hummed away dutiful and otherwise quiet, obnoxious creaking lid silenced. ‘Bertha’ was the first thing she’d blasted with the new gun. She couldn’t very well leave one of those filthy things moving around her front room. She reached inside the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water and walked back into her room, puzzling out how to shove it into the mesh covered side pocket where she wanted it. She carefully pried it away from the bag, and shimmied the plastic bottle inside, satisfied.

#Danny Phantom #Danny Phantom Fanfiction #DP #DP Fanfic #Passion and Plasmatic Plague #PaPP #Balshumet's Baragouin #Chapter Seventeen

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foreverrunningfree · 7 months

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@czigonas wanted to see me answer those artist questions and I did them all so it’ll be under the cut

1. Art programs you have but don’t use?

As of rn I cannot draw on my laptop/tablet so technically paint tool SAI and photoshop(idk what version). But I guess I hadn’t used photoshop for /years/ back before my drawing hiatus. Sorry but SAI is so much nicer to look at and to use, for me personally.

2. Is it easier to draw someone facing left,right, or forward?

I flip flop my canvas a ton to a) look at it for wonkiness and b) to get specific lines in a direction that feels good, but the actual act of drawing I typically like to have them looking left cause most the the lines flow from top right to bottom left which is nicer to do since I use my right hand to draw even tho I am ambidextrous.

3. What ideas come from when you were little?

This question confuses me on what it’s actually asking soooo? When I was like 12 I had to write a story for school so I did a story about a plane crash in which the survivor came face to face to a rat/bat/cat/dog creature thing? I’ve always wanted to redraw the creature, idk if I have the original drawing I did and I don’t feel up to digging to see if I kept it during all my moves.

4. Fave character/subject that’s a bitch to draw?

My favorite animal color patterns aka brindle, merle ,roan, spots/stripes. So time consuming. In terms of shape, human faces for sure.

5. Estimate of how much of your art you post online vs. the art you keep for yourself?

Before hiatus, probably 90% /shared/. Currently, probably 75% /posted/cause I can’t post the porn to tumblr lmaoooo but I have shared them with like half a dozen friends.

6. Anything that might inspire you subconsciously?

I’m sure there’s a ton but if it’s subconsciously then how would I consciously know?🤔 ok serious answer, probably every single 2D animated movie or show I’ve ever seen, and all the various artists I follow. I mean, there’s parts of my style I can pinpoint you to what it’s inspired by.

7. A medium of art you don’t work in but appreciate?

I’ve never /seriously/ tried oil paint, acrylic paint, or pastels but that shit always looks so good. Also watercolor even though i have tried and enjoyed using watercolors but I am far far faaarrr from being proficient in them. Non drawing wise, I fucking love dioramas, especially those that are then filled in(?) with acrylic(?). I watch a lot of those videos on YouTube.

8. What’s an old project idea you’ve lost interest in?

Most of my old animal ocs I had in the same universe in my mind and had a comic planned that I never got around to. I still love and wanna revisit those ocs. But also my dragon age ocs who I’ve SERIOUSLY BEEN CONSIDERING drawing in @soaps-hoe-141 universe 👀

9. What are your file name conventions?

Before hiatus/ on my laptop, subject or character and whatever was happening in the pic. Now using procreate on my iPad? I don’t think I’ve named a single one lol.

10. Favorite piece of clothing to draw?

Nothing, no clothes, nude, nakedness please and thank you. lol but I guess I do sorta enjoy figuring out clothing in general, folds and shit, getting that practice in. Like how it hangs and creases in poses since I’m not used to drawing it.

11. Do you listen to anything while drawing?

I don’t usually listen to /only/ music while drawing, I much prefer having a favorite movie playing in the background and/or a show I enjoy rewatching/am actively watching. I also watch a lot of gamer YouTubers I put on as background noise/short watch breaks that their voice is just soothing to me even if I’m not /watching/.

12. Easiest part of the body to draw?

I’m not sure… maybe boobs/pecs for humanoids. General body shape for animals?

13. A creator you admire but whose work isn’t your thing?

Honestly can’t think of a single one. I mean, plenty of artists do work(or with a medium) that I can’t or don’t want to do/use personally but I read the question of “isn’t your thing” as “subject you don’t enjoy”. If that’s correct, then idk what to tell you. I don’t follow or remember people who majority does things I can’t enjoy on some level.

14. Any fave motifs?

Quite a lot of religious imagery I guess ex. Circles around a persons head. Less serious answer is drawing characters in meme formats lol

15. Where do you draw?

Please don’t tell any physical therapists I live like this… on my back on my couch with my head on the arm rest while holding my iPad propped up on my chest like 8 inches away from my face lmao

16. Something you are good at but don’t really have fun doing?

Idk???? I do shit for my own enjoyment so I’m not sure? Maybe perhaps backgrounds? Like I could do something decent if i wanted to but I’m not into it so I usually just don’t?

17. Do you eat or drink while drawing?

I take breaks… but while actively drawing? I often drink aka let the horny demons out while I enjoy whiskey lol.

18. An estimate of how much art supplies you’ve broken?

Broken broken? Next to fucking none? some charcoal sticks but otherwise…. None… I majority do digital art so really nothing to break there lol

19. Fave inanimate objects to draw?

Idk? I like doing life charcoal drawings? Of whatever, but particularly statues if that counts? I usually have living beings as my subjects.

20. Something everyone else finds hard to draw but you enjoy?

Ok, I hate this question, cause we are all good at different things. Maybe it’s just most of those I follow have different strengths than me???? But I guess if I had to pick, recreating from life(or picture) is a lot easier for me than some others(like making it life like/very accurate).

21. Art styles nothing like your own but you like anyways?

Yooo, anything I’ve reblogged honestly. Love everyone.

22. What physical exercises do you do before drawing?

Absolutely none, again don’t let the pros know cause damn. But I will do stretches or take breaks as needed.

23. Do you use different layer modes?

Absolutely. Mostly for lighting and shading but yes, if I’m doing digital imma take advantage of it.

24. Do your references include stock images?

Yes? I don’t really understand what it’s asking?

25. Something your art has been compared to that you were not inspired by?

Idk? I don’t usually get feedback of that sort.

26. What’s a piece that’s viewed a wildly different interpretation from what you intended?

Again idk? I guess my shit is straight forward?

27. Do you warm up before getting to the good stuff?

Almost never, again don’t let the pros know lol I do sometimes jump between pieces or start a new sketch before going to something farther along.

28. Any art events you have participated in, like zines?

Nope, wanted to and have tried before but I tend to NOT do something if I feel pressured to do it.

29. Media you love but doesn’t inspire you artistically?

Again I feel like this is a weird question or maybe it’s just my understanding of it but I can feel inspiration from all sort of artist shit even if it’s something I’ll never do(ex making a crochet animal or dioramas). I guess I can feel inspired to create from other creators even if it’s not direct inspiration/subject/medium.

30. What piece of yours do you think is underrated?

Underrated as in no one has seen aside from a few people irl would be my colored pencil pieces I did during afternoon naps when I worked at a daycare a few years ago.

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