By Rights Obi-wan Should Have Been Able To Talk Anakin Down, When You Think About It

The (Scottish) Cabin in the Woods

Chapter 4

Consequences don't just fall to the perpetrators. You learn a new name.

Phew! I was sweating over this one, I hope you all enjoy it. One more chapter to go before this story is wrapped up. All my love, appreciation, gratitude, and smooches to my two lovely betas, Soleil and SentientCave.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/49842430/chapters/139337776

Is this still a thing??

Tumblr Code.

Soft and Light & Dark and Hard

Warnings: Implied Smut. Some dirty talk.  Purgatory!Dean. (Look at that gif - it needs a warning!) Canon type violence.

Summary: What happened between when Dean popped out of purgatory and when he resurrected Benny. There's a "four days later" section of time that is unaccounted for. This is my attempt to fill that time.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader (Y/N)

Word Count: 2685

A/N: This was an idea that wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it.

I LOVE Purgatory!Dean. Hope you enjoy - there might be a sequel.

😉 Unbeta’d. All mistakes are mine. 😊

Y/N’s dad would have been very disappointed in her. She was no hunter, he’d made sure of that, but he’d certainly taught her to keep her wits about her and made sure she knew how to protect herself.

Yet, here she was, slammed against the cabin wall, with what felt like a band of iron at her throat. The man’s forearm wasn’t crushing her windpipe, but it was pressing hard enough that if she struggled at all, she would crush it herself. She was made completely immobile by him. He towered over her, pinning her body against the wall easily with his own, much larger one.

She stared up at him and, despite her best efforts, knew her terror was evident.

The man was filthy, covered in blood and mud. His face was almost obscured by it, his brilliant green eyes sparkling dangerously out of the mostly dark, late evening.

She looked down at the massive fist that held a knife to her heart and was suddenly sure she was going to die at the hands of this bloody stranger. Without warning she felt tears well up in her eyes. It wasn’t often that she cried, but she’d promised her father she would take care of herself and stay safe and she hadn’t even lasted a full week without him.

She closed her eyes and felt a tear escape to trickle down her cheek.

Suddenly the weight of the man’s body was gone. She opened her eyes in time to see him take his forearm from her throat and step back.

“Who are you?” He asked, his voice a literal growl. It was exactly what she had expected this man to sound like.

She tried to rally her scattered, terrified senses and take stock of the new situation. The man had let her go, he was still holding the knife, but it was lowered at his side. Progress.

“Y/N.” She answered, stuttering slightly.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, his voice less of a growl, but still impossibly deep.

“I…this is where I live.” Y/N said, which wasn’t one hundred percent accurate, but it was close to the truth and she didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t anger him.

The man’s scowl deepened, Y/N hadn’t believed that to be possible. “This is Rufus Turner’s cabin. Are you related to Rufus somehow?”

A light bulb went off and Y/N began to understand; at least she hoped she did.

“I’m sorry. No…I…yes, it was Rufus’ cabin. But…I don’t know if you know, he’s…he’s passed away now. My Dad told me about the cabin a little while ago and when I had nowhere else to go, I came here. I’ve been here about a week and…well, it’s started to feel like home I guess. And my attention was…well, I was distracted coming back up here. I didn’t know you were in here until I came through the door, or I would have let you know I was coming, called out or something. But the…the lights were all off.”

She knew she was rambling. The man’s utter stillness and intense stare were very disconcerting and when she was nervous she tended to babble.

She cleared her throat and tried again. “You’re…you’re a hunter, aren’t you? A friend of Rufus’? My Dad told me other hunters used the cabin sometimes too.”

The man was silent for another minute, long enough to make Y/N begin to squirm. His piercing green gaze was unnerving but also slightly mesmerizing and Y/N began to feel a little like she was in a trance.

Finally she saw the man relax ever so slightly, and put the knife away in an inside pocket of his dirty leather coat.

“Yes.”

He’d been silent so long it took Y/N a moment to remember what she’d asked. But then she remembered he was confirming he was hunter and a friend of Rufus’.

“You can’t stay here.” The man said bluntly before turning away to light the two kerosene lamps that sat on the table.

“What, why?” Y/N asked, taken aback.

“Because I’m staying here.”

Y/N’s fear of the man fled in the face of his absolute audacity.

“Um…excuse me…you don’t own this cabin. Rufus left it for any hunters to use, not just you.”

The man turned back to face her and in the now bright room she could see, even through the layers of muck and blood, that the man standing in front of her was unbelievably beautiful.

His face was sculpted into perfect lines and planes, like a master artist had carved him out. His jaw was strong, cut square and sharp and his cheekbones were high and flawlessly chiseled. His lips, however, were molded by more gentle hands, full and lush. Y/N was suddenly aware of a desperate desire to run her thumb across his ripe bottom lip, something she didn’t think she had ever desired in her life before.

It took Y/N a moment to realize the man had said something, asked her a question maybe? Her brain was suddenly mush and she had to give herself a little shake to recover.

“What?” she asked stupidly, realizing her distracted response was likely undercutting her argument a little.

“Are you a hunter?” The man asked again, annoyance clear in his tone.

Y/N was tempted to lie and say yes, but she was nearly positive this man would see right through her.

“No. But…”

“Exactly. Then Rufus didn’t leave you anything.” The man said, turning away to the table again to begin rummaging through a backpack that sat there.

Y/N could feel her temper flare again at the man’s abrupt dismissal. She folded her arms and began to tap her foot.

“I don’t see why we can’t just both stay here. There’s plenty of room.”

“Because I have crap to do and I don’t need a civilian getting in my way.” The man answered in his growling voice again as he swiveled back around to face her.

Y/N stomped up to him. She wished she’d stopped a little further back so she wouldn’t have to crane her neck quite so much to look up at him, feeling, inexplicably, that his immense height gave him a slight advantage in the argument.

Y/N tried to make up for this by pushing a finger into the middle of his chest. “Look, buddy. I may not be a hunter, but I’m hardly a civilian. My dad’s been a hunter my whole life. I know what goes bump in the night okay.”

The man scoffed and flicked her finger off of him like she was a bothersome fly. “Great why don’t you call your dad to come get you out of my hair?”

“Because I burned his body to ash a week ago.”

Y/N clamped a hand over her mouth as though she’d said a bad word, or spilled a secret. She was silent for a minute, her mind reeling.

She shook her head and spoke from behind her hand. “That’s…I didn’t mean to…” she sat suddenly, glad there happened to be a chair behind her.

Her hand fell into her lap. “That’s the first time I’ve said it… that…that he’s dead. I haven’t heard the words.”

Y/N felt her throat constrict around the lump of unshed tears forming there. She looked up at the man standing in front of her, his expression inscrutable. She smiled weakly.

“Sorry about this.” She waved her hand toward herself. “It’s been a hard week.”

The man tilted his head slightly before he sighed deeply and pulled up the other chair and sat. He rubbed his hand across his face. “Yeah, me too.”

A silent moment passed before he spoke again. “What was his name, your dad?”

Y/N swiped at the two tears that had managed to escape, marveling at the fact that she had now cried twice in front of this stranger. That was more tears than she had shed in years.

“Steven Lane.”

The man shook his head. “I didn’t know him.” He caught Y/N’s gaze again. “I’m sorry.”

Y/N shrugged a shoulder. “Yeah, me too.” She said, echoing his earlier statement. A sudden realization dawned on her. “I don’t even know your name. Sorry, I didn’t ask. Rude.” She smiled.

He didn’t return the smile, but stared at her hard for a minute. She soon realized her mistake; most hunters didn’t like to give out a lot of information to strangers.

“Sorry.” She said quickly. “You don’t…”

“Dean.” He interrupted.

Y/N nodded absently for a second before her eyes widened and her mouth dropped into an “O”. Fragments of information began to filter into her mind and she started to piece them together. His size, his speed and agility when he’d pounced on her coming in the door, his fierce demeanor, his aura of power and strength, his ridiculous good looks.

His bright green eyes.

“Winchester?” She asked in a whisper before answering herself. “You’re Dean Winchester.”

She’d heard the stories of the Winchesters almost her whole life. First John. Then Sam…and Dean.

He nodded abruptly and looked away. She was suddenly, acutely aware that she was basically fangirling over him. She shook her head and tried to get a grip.

“Sorry.” She said, apologizing for what felt like the hundredth time since coming through the door. “I...it’s just…I know who you are.”

Then one more piece of information filtered into her frazzled mind. “I thought you were dead.”

Dean slapped his palms onto his thighs before rising from the chair. “Yeah, I get that a lot.” He grabbed up the backpack from the table and moved toward the couch. “Look, I just need the day tomorrow and then I’ll be out of here. But I don’t want to answer a lot of questions okay, so let’s just stay out of each other’s way.”

Y/N nodded slowly. “Sure, we can draw a line down the center of the cabin a la ‘I Love Lucy’.”

Dean looked back at her, his expression saying he was unimpressed with her attempt at humor. Then suddenly his face crumpled and he grabbed his left arm tightly, a small grunt of pain escaping him.

Y/N jumped up. “Or you can let me look at your arm and patch you up.”

Dean stepped away from Y/N quickly. “It’s fine. Just a cut. It’s healing.”

“Well, let me look at it.”

“No!” Dean barked at her, all his tense anger returning. “This is exactly my point. I’m fine and I don’t need anyone poking at me.”

Another wave of pain hit him and he half sat and half fell on the couch. His teeth were bared in a painful grimace as he pressed hard on his forearm. Y/N was very used to dealing with salty hunters who were too stubborn to listen to reason. She grabbed the first aid kit from the kitchen counter and returned to stand in front of Dean.

“Take off your jacket and pull up your sleeve.” Y/N ordered, feeling surefooted for the first time since walking into the cabin that evening. This was what she did. This was how she fought the good fight. She was a healer. Never able to go to school like a normal kid because of the life she and her dad lived, Y/N had, nevertheless, excelled in science and had always wanted to be a doctor.

That was impossible, of course, she knew she'd never become a doctor with her shoddy schooling record. So she learned to be a healer. She taught herself. She studied medicine, folklore, magic, and botany and combined them to become a hunter healer. She took care of her dad, but also all of her dad’s friends and a lot of victims that her Dad and his friends managed to save.

So she issued her directive and expected Dean would listen. But he ignored her easily. Not daunted, she simply climbed onto his lap, straddling him and pushing the jacket off his shoulders. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d forced healing onto someone bound and determined to suffer.

But in her comfort in her role as a healer she had momentarily forgotten that she wasn’t dealing with an old hunter or a traumatized victim. In spite of the pain in his arm, Dean was a virile, powerful, healthy, grown man; a hunter legendary for his strength and skill.

He grabbed her wrists tightly and she gasped as she was startled back to the reality that she was sitting in Dean Winchester’s lap and he had complete control over the situation. For some reason that idea, an idea that should have scared her, instead caused her stomach to tighten and heat to pool at her core.

Dean continued to hold her wrists firmly, but not painfully as he shrugged his jacket back onto his shoulders. He lowered their hands to rest between their bodies on his lap.

“I said, I’m fine.” His voice was a low rumble in his chest and it fell on Y/N’s ears like a drop of smooth bourbon on the tongue.

He let go of her wrists but made no move to get her off his lap. Y/N didn’t want to move, so she reached into the first aid kit and pulled out some rubbing alcohol and gauze.

“At least let me take care of some of this blood and these cuts on your face.” She said, her voice more of a ragged whisper than she’d meant it to be.

Dean shook his head slightly. “Most of it isn’t my blood.” But he didn’t stop her from reaching out and gently cleaning away some of the blood and mud from the small scratches and wounds along his hairline.

Y/N could feel Dean’s scorching gaze intent upon her face as she worked. It made her breath catch and her hands tremble slightly and she desperately avoided catching his eye for fear her heart would just stop beating.

There was a small abrasion on his chin and as Y/N dabbed at it gently with the gauze, her focus shifted to Dean’s plush bottom lip. It looked so soft, such a contrast to the rest of him. Her thumb was so close now; she could probably get away with touching it under the guise of checking his lip.

And before she could stop herself or admonish herself for her lack of boundaries and propriety, she was swiping her thumb along the silky smooth line of his lip. She heard a quick inhale and couldn’t actually tell if it came from Dean or her. Her thumb rested in the middle of his lip and almost reflexively Dean’s tongue pressed gently against it, before pulling the very tip in between his teeth and biting softly.

Y/N slid her gaze to his finally and the smoldering heat she found there did indeed make her heart skip several beats. Her breathing more ragged than ever, she pulled her hand away and replaced it with her lips. The kiss was chaste and soft, her movements deliberately slow, giving him ample opportunity to pull away or push her off of him.

When she pulled back slightly his eyes were still open and he studied her. When he finally spoke his voice was so soft and low she could only just make out his words.

“You shouldn’t stay here, Y/N. You should move.”

“Do you want me to?”

“You should want to.”

“Why?”

Dean grabbed hold of Y/N’s hips and pressed her down on his lap so that she could feel the hard bulge that pushed against the front of his jeans. Y/N’s eyes widened and Dean nodded.

“Because I really don’t want you to. I want you to stay right where you are. I want to rip the clothes from your body and taste your skin. I want to pound into you until oblivion hits. Because it’s been too long and I don’t have it in me to be gentle.” He paused and grabbed Y/N’s face between his palms.

He pulled her lips to his and crushed them against his own. His tongue swept into her mouth, hot, hard and wet. He pulled away only far enough to pull her bottom lip into his mouth and suck on it before biting down, leaving an imprint of his sharp white teeth in the soft skin.

“No, I won’t be gentle.”

Y/N felt a shudder of anticipation race through her.

"Don't be.”

Paint With Me ( Pt. 1 )

{ markus x reader }

{ word count : 1,220 }

[ thank you! It took me for-fucking-ever to write it. And I’m happy there are people who actually enjoy my writing so, I hope you all enjoy this one :’) I wanna make this two parts…so that’s whats happening] 

—

The cold Detroit winter wind brushed across your face as you walked towards the house of your longtime friend Carl. You shivered severely as you rang the doorbell. Rubbing your hands together and trying to blow warm air in them as you looked around behind you. The door opened, you turned expecting to face a lady care android. But what you came to eye contact was something you didn’t expect. The tall man before you that wore a black sweater held the door. “Can I help you?” His soft and gentle voice is what knocked you back into your shivering reality. “O-Oh I’m Y/N L/N? I’m here to see Carl?”

“Markus! Just let her in, it’s freezing out there!” You heard the old man grumble as he wheeled into the foyer, Markus nodded and opened the door wider granting you entry. You smiled and walked in slipping off your boots almost immediately after ‘Markus’ closed the door. You then unzipped your jacket and began to take it off until you felt someone pulling at the shoulders of, You turned slightly seeing Markus look back at you innocently, “Excuse me, I should have asked-“ “It’s fine…” You said with a smile. Allowing him to pull the rest of it off.

“Y/N, this is Markus…my android.” Carl said, a smile on his face, you grinned back rolling your eyes, “I mean, I see that.” You giggled following Carl as he made his way back to the studio. You watched as he got back into his lifting chair. Markus pulled back the sheet and your eyes were met with the most beautiful sight. “Dear god Carl.” You said gazing up at the wall, the older man looked down at you, “What? Not good?” He asked real concern in his eyes, you looked up at him and grinned, “It’s amazing! Oh my God Carl!”

The older man grinned then went back to painting, this was one of the reasons why Carl was so much of an inspiration to you, he was the reason why you began painting yourself. “Y/N? Do you mind passing me that paint?” He asked pointing the paintbrush over in the direction of a tall ladder with a bunch of paints on the top. “Oh…OK?” You said making your way towards the ladder before Markus’ voice broke through the air. “I can get it.” Carl glared at him from above, “No Markus. She’s got it, why don’t you get us something to drink?” You looked over at Markus, the Android paused for a second, “Yes Carl..” He looked at you for a second. “Oh- I’m fine, maybe a water?” You asked before turn looked back up at Carl. Markus nodded and walked out the studio door. You looked at the way he went and furrowed your eyebrows, looking back at Carl then shrugging. “He’s very special to me.” You smiled at the cute way he said that.

You and Carl had met when you were at an Art show in Spain with your parents, who were critics for the world. You were only around sixteen when you first met him and now you would be knowing him for over ten years because of your now turning twenty-six. You had been close, him of course as stated before being the inspiration for a lot of your art and the whole reason for your beginning as an artist in general. You smiled at your reminiscing before climbing the ladder. It gave a soft groan before cracking a bit. You looked down, your movements ultimately stopping. Fear overcame you slowly, you reached for the paints from the step you were at.

They were still too high, you furrowed your eyebrows and slowly went up another one, the ladder cracking under your weight. It was an old ladder, no one had been on it since Carl lost his legs, and you met him in a wheelchair. So why there were paints on top of a 20ft ladder, maybe he wasn’t afraid of heights when he started, who knows? You knew that you were uncomfortably high and the higher you went the more the old wooden ladder snapped and cried out in painful groans.

You gave a shaky breath reaching for the paints again when you grabbed the bottles you needed you let out a soft yes and lent back, beginning to come down before you foot slipped through the gap between the other step. As you flew back you felt as if everything was in slow motion, you were too high in the air to not hit the ground without severely hurting something, but you watched as the paint had slipped through your finger-tips and flew to the ground. Carl had yelled your name and as you felt something that you presumed was the floor hit you, you braced yourself. Only no pain can.

You blinked, shaking lightly before you looked up. Making eye-contact with light green orbs, “Are you alright?” The smooth voice asked, making heat rise to your face. “I- Thank you,” You said, your hand by slight accident, you felt his heart…or what you guessed was his heart. It was, beating, like a human. And you watched as his eyes gazed over you, they squinted…his LED flashed yellow, then back to blue. You heard Carl come down and get into his wheel-chair rolling over to you.

Markus gently let you down, “Good God! Are you alright? I’m glad you came back in time Markus.” Carl said taking your hand lightly. You looked around seeing broken glass on the ground near you. You turned to look for Markus who began to clean it up. “Y-Yeah, I am too.” The dark male looked up and smiled, “I knew that I had to move fast for a reason. Whether it was to get you your drink, Carl. Or save a damsel in distress.” He said, winking. Carl laughed, “Wow. I’ve taught you well.” Carl said.

The older man sighed looking over at the spilled paint bottle. Blue and Grey paint crossed together to make an ugly mark on the floor. “Damn.” He muttered wheeling over to it, You bit on your thumb. “This was my fault, Carl. I’ll get you some new paints…on me.” You said holding the older man’s shoulder softly. He looked up to you and waved his hand, “That’s not necessary Y/N.” He said shaking his head beginning to roll back to his lift. You jumped in front of him. “No, Carl I insist.” You said crossing your arms over your chest.

He laughed, “Oh sweet Y/N. You’ve always been so stubborn.” He rolled his eyes. You grinned, “Fine, Markus…take the girl to Bellini’s, you know what to get.” He said to get around you and hopping into his lift. “Now hurry please.” He said, you looked over at Markus, he smiled back. He felt his pump begin skipping slightly as he saw your smile. The way he looked at you was….special.

Tags:

@glitch-girl318 / @sodatune

w: hinted dark themes, dark romance?

Victorian AU where Reader moves to the secluded manor in the countryside as Lord Simon Riley has hired her to be a caretaker of the house. She barely sees him around, an odd yet respected man, but the cheery gardener Johnny keeps her company most of the time, walking by her side through the lawn swallowed by thick mist. 

As the winter approaches, she realizes there are no other living souls in the house than her, the Lord and Johnny. Some lies had been told and she started to doubt Simon’s true intentions of her stay here.

Something about that old manor is unsettling. Or rather, its residents.

Working on a longer piece, just need your patience. If you're interested.👉👈

(personal sun);

.

an: very merry christmas to @drmsqnc and belated happy birthday~ I didn’t have much time at all but I still hope this makes you smile Vina~

.

“I can’t believe you did this.”

Markus’ happy expression flattered slightly at your dull words.

“If you don’t like it—”

You almost shoved him. The fact that he even questioned whether or not you would like this was insane. Of course, you liked it—loved it, in fact, because it was truly that stunning.

“Don’t talk to me right now,” you said, turning towards him. His gaze was warm, but slightly worried, as it took in your expression. “Markus this—it’s incredible. How long did it take you?”

His expression smoothed with your words, a small grin twisting the corner of his full lips. A soft brush of his fingers registered against your cheek and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch, into the comforting warmth of his touch.

Markus was like the sun.

There was something about him that just pulled you in, drew your attention towards him. You could understand why androids followed him so willingly, why even humans listened to him and no one else but him. He was special, he had the charisma that you couldn’t quite escape or remain indifferent towards. You could understand all the androids that were willing to lay their lives down for him. Sometimes when he spoke, you felt like that too. Like you could follow him to the edge of the world without a second thought.

He was beautiful and warm and determined and—

He was too much. This was too much.

“It doesn’t matter how long it took,” he argued firmly but softly, and you rolled your eyes at his reply. “As long as you like it,” he added again, and you could read the self-cautious tilt to his words.

Your heart swelled at his worry—at his clear display of vulnerability. He was always self-assured and strong in front of everyone but you. When it was you two, he let his cast crumble away to dust. With you, he could just be himself.

“This is the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen Markus,” you told him and gave his large hand a reassuring squeeze. “I can’t believe this is supposed to be me. Are you sure—”

“Very,” he interrupted softly, and taking your hand in his brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss against it. “I wanted you to see yourself how I see you. Strong, smart, beautiful. I wanted you to know that I think you’re…incredible.”

Warmth bubbled in your chest and you turned your eyes away from his in clear show of embarrassment. How he could he say stuff like that with a straight face, you didn’t understand.

The portrait stood in front of you on a display. The colours were rich and beautiful; a delicate mix of reds, greens, yellows and oranges. The portrait was warm and earthy; almost ethereal in its wild beauty. It was a side profile that made you appear like some woodland nymph. If this is how Markus saw you…

“You need to be stopped,” you whispered weakly, shooting an irritated look his way when you heard him chuckle. It was a deep and warm sound, warming you despite the bitter cold outside. “I think I’m going to have words with Carl—”

He didn’t let you finish, tugging you slowly towards him, and kissing you softly. It was slow, gentle; with his arm curling around your waist and his lips pressing against yours with a passion that made your breath hitch. His embrace was a cocoon of safety and love, and you would not trade it for anything.

You pulled back first, desperate for breath as he grinned at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“Merry Christmas, (Name).”  

The Cyborg and the Savior [Markus/OC] Part 1

HERE WE GO! HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY AND LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT MORE. 

Also, I’m tagging @finding-jericho cus they are super sweet and wanted to know more about my sweet revolution leading daughter. Hope you like it, honey! ^.^

ANYWAY, I LEAVE YOU ALL TO THE STORY.

GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!

~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER

P.S: WHAT IS WITH THE GIF, YOU ASK? IDK EITHER, BRUH. JUST THOUGHT IT WAS CUTE! XD)

“Alexandra, come down here, please!” Dad calls, and I set my book down.

“Coming!” I call, coming down the stairs and spotting Dad’s friend, Mr. Kamski (addressing him formally seems right, considering he started Cyberlife) and – Shoot! I trip over my feet and almost go crashing into either Mr. Kamski or Dad, but something hard (too hard to be human) catches me, easily setting me upright again. I blink. Is that an android? “Thank you.” I mumble, my eye noting the android who caught me is an RK200 model, serial number 684 842 971, to be exact. I ignore that, turn and smile at our, uh, other guest.

“You’re welcome.” The android muses, smiling and sounding genuine as I move to greet Mr. Kamski.

“Mr. Kamski! How nice to see you.” I greet politely, accepting his hug briefly before allowing him to kiss my cheek.

“Hello, my dear. I’d like you to meet Markus, you and your father’s new domestic android.” I turn to him, offering my hand for him to shake.

“Hello, Markus.” I greet. Markus seems puzzled for a second, then shakes my hand.

“I look forward to getting to know you and your father.” I can’t help but think his design attractive, as if Mr. Kamski knew I’d like the look of this new addition to the house. Like he could read my thoughts, Mr. Kamski smirks.

“I’ll leave you all to get acquainted. I’ll see you around, my friend.” He says in parting to Dad. Dad sniffs, but nods.

“Yes, if you must.” He says. I wave Mr. Kamski goodbye and turn to Markus.

“Um…I suppose I’ll give you the tour, shall I?” I suggest, feeling out of place and awkward. How exactly does one talk to an android? Markus nods.

“That would be most helpful. After all, I need to be familiar with the layout to better serve my purpose.” I swallow. It was hard not to hear the robotic, clinical edge to Markus’ voice, even when it was meant to sound human.

Keep reading

hot artists don't gatekeep

I've been resource gathering for YEARS so now I am going to share my dragons hoard

Floorplanner. Design and furnish a house for you to use for having a consistent background in your comic or anything! Free, you need an account, easy to use, and you can save multiple houses.

Comparing Heights. Input the heights of characters to see what the different is between them. Great for keeping consistency. Free.

Magma. Draw online with friends in real time. Great for practice or hanging out. Free, paid plan available, account preferred.

Smithsonian Open Access. Loads of free images. Free.

SketchDaily. Lots of pose references, massive library, is set on a timer so you can practice quick figure drawing. Free.

SculptGL. A sculpting tool which I am yet to master, but you should be able to make whatever 3d object you like with it. free.

Pexels. Free stock images. And the search engine is actually pretty good at pulling up what you want.

Figurosity. Great pose references, diverse body types, lots of "how to draw" videos directly on the site, the models are 3d and you can rotate the angle, but you can't make custom poses or edit body proportions. Free, account option, paid plans available.

Line of Action. More drawing references, this one also has a focus on expressions, hands/feet, animals, landscapes. Free.

Animal Photo. You pose a 3d skull model and select an animal species, and they give you a bunch of photo references for that animal at that angle. Super handy. Free.

Height Weight Chart. You ever see an OC listed as having a certain weight but then they look Wildly different than the number suggests? Well here's a site to avoid that! It shows real people at different weights and heights to give you a better idea of what these abstract numbers all look like. Free to use.

Excuse me while I go cry now 😭😭😭

Extremely sad headcanon:

(Tw: death)

Another reasons clones get unique hair cuts and tattoos on their faces (besides being individuals) is so when they look at their fallen brothers they don’t have to see their own face.